Island Page 9

  “Everyone sit down,” Roscoe called loudly.

  Carole turned off the faucet and wiped her hands on her shorts. Meredith rolled her wheelchair into place at the table. Belinda sighed and handed Donald a wine glass. He was still looking at her questioningly.

  “Come on, Donald, sit down,” Roscoe said.

  Belinda checked to make sure everyone had wine. They sat in a circle: Roscoe, Meredith, Belinda, Carole, and Donald.

  “Now,” Roscoe said, his dark eyes gleaming. “I’m going to reveal to you the order of the evening’s events. First, we will begin with magical predictions involving numbers.”

  “I have a prediction,” Meredith said. “A storm’s coming.”

  “Oh, rubbish,” cried Belinda. “The moon’s already out.”

  Carole got out of her seat and stepped onto the porch. “She’s right,” she said, returning. “The moon is out. It’s beautiful. And there’s a wonderful breeze blowing. Maybe we should sit out there.”

  “Do you mean to diminish my numerical predictions?” Roscoe cried in a roguish voice. He waited for Carole to sit again. “Now, someone choose a five-digit number, please, and we’ll get started.”

  “94462,” Belinda called out.

  “No fair,” Meredith cried. “You live together. Who knows whether you planned this ahead of time?”

  Belinda rolled her eyes. “Believe me, honey. The only trick I ever plan is how to trick Roscoe into forgetting about his tricks.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Still,” said Meredith. “I think one of us should choose the number. Preferably me.”

  Donald said, “Stop gulping your wine, Meredith. You’ll get sick.”

  “Oh, let the kid have a little fun tonight,” Belinda said.

  Meredith bit her index finger and gazed at the ceiling. “23851,” she cried suddenly.

  “Okay,” Roscoe said, scribbling down the numbers. “Now, this number that the beautiful Meredith has chosen is going to be our sum. By magical methods which I cannot reveal, we will now choose five four-digit numbers at random and find that they equal our sum.”

  “I can reveal them,” Belinda said.

  Ignoring her, Roscoe continued. “I will choose the first number. Let’s see … I’ve got it. 3853.” He wrote that down.

  “Oh my,” Belinda said. “That number looks suspiciously like the sum.”

  “Don’t ruin this,” Roscoe sang. “Okay, who would like to choose the second number in our five number series?”

  “I will,” Carole said. “How about 1641?”

  “Good!” Roscoe cried. “1641 is a fine number. Now, I’ll add one to that. Let’s see …” He chewed on the pencil’s eraser and thought. “8358,” he said.

  “Me next,” said Meredith. “4266.”

  Roscoe added Meredith’s number to the column. “And now, I’ll add one more of my own, 5733, I think.” He handed the pad to Donald. “Now,” he continued. “Since, with the exception of Carole, we’re all doing so well with our wine, I’ll get another bottle while Donald adds these up.”

  “My stomach’s been queasy,” Carole muttered. “Too much seafood, I guess.”

  Donald added the numbers. “Bravo!” he shouted. “They add up to 23851!”

  “Bravo!” Meredith and Carole echoed.

  “I can tell you how he did it,” Belinda said.

  “You have no sense of … of … enchantment,” Roscoe said, returning to the table with a third wine bottle.

  “I want to know,” cried Meredith. “How did you do it?”

  “Ask Donald,” said Roscoe smugly.

  “Why me?” Donald asked.

  “Why not?” They both laughed. It was an old joke between them. “Seriously. I didn’t hear you offering any numbers. You must know the trick.”

  Donald hesitated, his bottom lip stirring restlessly.

  “Do you?” asked Carole, her eyes wide.

  “I figured it out,” said Donald, reddening.

  “Oh, Donald!” Carole elbowed him. “You’re no fun!”

  “So,” said Meredith. “How is it done already?”

  Donald accepted the pad from Roscoe. “First,” he said, “Someone chooses the five-digit number. Then, the … um … magician, takes the first digit of that number and adds it to the last. So, if the number is, as here, 23851, the 2 gets added to the 1 on the end here, making 3853, which, you will notice is the first number Roscoe chose for the four-digit sequence.”

  How did you figure that out?” Carole asked.

  Donald lowered his head. “I got it when Belinda said Roscoe’s first number looked suspiciously like the sum.”

  “Shit, Belinda!” Roscoe said.

  “Then Roscoe has someone else choose a number. It doesn’t matter what they choose because when it’s Roscoe turn again, he subtracts each digit of the chosen number from nine to arrive at his third number. The process is repeated, and Voilà. The five add up to the predicted sum.”

  “Okay,” Roscoe said smiling. “That was an easy one, I admit it. But you won’t get me on the next one.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a deck of cards. “I am now going to perform The Missing Card trick!”

  “Ah God,” Belinda said. “Not that one again!”

  Roscoe shuffled the cards. Belinda poured herself another glass of wine and then poured some for Meredith. Donald saw her from the corner of one eye, but said nothing.

  Roscoe handed the deck to Meredith. “Cut it,” he said, “and then pull one out.” He turned so that he was facing away from the table. “Make sure everyone sees it. Then hide it where I won’t be able to see it.”

  “Okay,” said Meredith. “We’re ready for you.”

  “Okay,” said Roscoe, turning back to the table. “Give me the deck. Now, I’m going to deal out all the remaining cards face up into one pile. I’m going to do this very quickly, so that I can’t possibly memorize each card.”

  “He can’t possibly memorize each card. I can vouch for that,” Belinda said.

  Everyone laughed. Roscoe smiled and dealt out the cards. When he was done, he wiped his hands together and laughed. “Piece of cake,” he said. “The card you’re hiding is the seven of spades.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Carole cried.

  “I want to know how you did it,” Meredith demanded.

  “Well, Donald?” Roscoe grinned.

  Donald looked down at his hands.

  “Ah, Jeez!” Roscoe said.

  “I’m sorry,” Donald muttered.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  Donald looked up. “You would have all figured it out if he had done it a few more times,” he offered. No one responded, so he went on. “It was obvious from the start that some form of addition is employed. I just happened to figure it out. You give each card a value, see? The number cards are worth the same as the number written on them. Jacks are worth 11, queens 12, and kings get a value of 0. Then, if you can add quickly, you arrive at a sum which represents the total value of the 51 cards. That sum gets subtracted from 312, 312 being the value for the entire deck. If your final sum is 312, then only a king can be missing, since kings were assigned a 0 value. In this case, the total sum was 305. So 305 subtracted from 312 leaves a remainder of 7.” He turned to Roscoe. “I don’t know how you determined the suit though.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I’ll tell you.”

  Donald blushed.

  “Maybe you already knew the trick,” Carole said to her husband. Then she turned to Roscoe. “Maybe you showed it to him years ago when you knew each other in West Virginia, and he remembered it on a subconscious level.”

  Roscoe shook his head. “I didn’t even get into cards and numbers until Key West.”

  “And besides,” Belinda said. “Donald’s memory isn’t that good.”

  Donald looked up at her with a pained expression.

  “Will you juggle for us now?” Meredith asked.

  Roscoe looked at Belinda sheepishly. “I can’
t,” he said. “I promised I wouldn’t juggle during the vacation.”

  “Go ahead,” said Belinda. “Juggle. Just do it from the floor and don’t ignite anything.”

  “Deal,” cried Roscoe, jumping out of his seat. He returned a moment later with several thick storm candles.

  Carole stood up, her eyes bright. “Do you feel that breeze blowing? I think I’ll just go and stand outside for a few minutes and stretch my legs.”

  Roscoe was warming up with the candles. “Wait. You can’t go yet,” he said, his eyes mirroring the rotation of the candles. “What time is it?”

  “Almost ten.”

  “Okay. At eleven sharp we are all going to take turns telling stories. So while you’re outside, you can be thinking of the story you want to tell. The others can think while they’re watching me juggle. Watching juggling is very conducive to thought.”

  “Roscoe, I can’t tell a story!”

  “Sure you can. It’ll be fun. It can be about anything, as long as it’s not true. Then, after all the stories have been told, we can pull them apart to see what each reveals about its creator.”

  “Ah God,” Belinda said. “The last time you made everyone tell stories, we had a terrible argument with the Bradburys. My friend Lillian,” she said turning to Carole, “told a story about a little girl on a seesaw. And Roscoe here interpreted it—in front of her husband, mind you—as meaning that Lillian wanted to have an affair.”

  Carole laughed.

  “No, it’s true,” Belinda said, her green eyes widening. “And the worst part was that Lillian had just told me the day before on the phone that she’d been thinking about having an affair. So naturally when she heard Roscoe’s interpretation, she assumed I’d told him. And she was so upset that she forgot her husband was there and came right out and accused me of telling Roscoe that she wanted to have an affair. And then of course her husband got crazy.… It was just awful.”

  “Nothing like that will happen this time,” Roscoe said.

  “I never tried to make up a story,” Carole said.

  “I think it’s a good idea,” said Meredith. “Father, may I stay? I already know what my story is going to be about.”

  “Only if you promise to stay out of the wine.”

  “But if I get drunk, I won’t notice how badly the adults behave.” She laughed. Donald gave her a look.

  “Okay,” Carole said. “I’ll give it a try. Only Donald has an edge here too. Fiction is his business. If he wasn’t the honest, respectable man that he is, he could tell us a story he knows by some obscure writer and we’d never know the difference, or at least I wouldn’t.” She winked at Donald and went outside.

  Carole walked around the side of the house to the front. The door there was open, and at the end of the long hall and the breezeway beyond it, she could see the others. Their voices, however, were muffled by the sound the wind made rustling through the thick trees and shrubs that surrounded the house. In the distance, Carole could hear the sea pounding.

  She turned from the door and walked toward the street. The house across the way was dark. So was the church at the end of the street. She lifted her hair from her shoulders and held it over her head. Then she tilted her face to the moon and smiled as though they shared a secret.

  She let go of her hair and turned suddenly. She walked back to the front door and sat down on the stoop to remove her sandals, putting them to one side. Then she went back to the street barefoot and looked up and down again. Still there was nothing but dark silhouettes: the trees, the house, the church, some shrubs, all set against the darker darkness. Keeping her eye on the house across the way, she slipped out of her shorts, stooped down and spread them out at her feet. Quickly, she pulled off her t-shirt, placed it on top of the shorts and rolled up the two garments together. On tiptoe, she ran back to the stoop and set down the bundle beside her sandals. Again she examined the illuminated kitchen at the end of the dark corridor. Roscoe was no longer juggling. He was standing behind Meredith with his arms draped over her shoulders. Meredith had a candle in each hand. Donald was pouring himself more wine. Belinda had turned sideways on her chair. She had one leg up on it and was running her fingertips up and down her shin.

  Carole turned and scampered away. At the street, she stopped again and looked in both directions, stretched out her arms and spun around once. The wind picked up her hair and swept it over one shoulder. She looked back at the house, at the little illuminated rectangle in the dark—a second moon. Then, with her arms held out and her face tilted toward the sky, she began to run, skip, leap, and whirl her way down the dark street.

  Meredith

  Once there was an old mermaid who was so wicked no merman would have her, and so she mated with a marlin and thus became pregnant. And when the time came for her to be delivered of her burden, she left the plankton-rich sea-shallows, intent on attaining the lightless depths where the young who survive the icy cold are born eyeless. But she stopped on the way to gloat on her evil, and there upon the steep slopes of the dim-sea zone, where the young are born large-eyed and luminescent, her offspring sprang.

  They were twenty-six in number, and as each was expelled and the old mermaid saw that they had neither her traits nor the marlin’s—neither vice nor bulk—her sum-hate and her self-hate boiled in her body like a storm and she elected to do away with them all. And so taking up the first born, the old mermaid, who was something of an abecedarian, said, “You shall be called Abdallaha, and it is my wish that you shall swim hither until you find, attached to a rock, the sturdy stalk of the bright Anemone. Seduced by the blue-green blossoms straining from his trumpet-bell mouth, you shall approach him at once and thus die trapped in his stinging tentacles. This is your fate. Now swim away.” And with little tears shimmering on the rims of her large yellow eyes, Abdallaha swam away.

  Satisfied with her first proclamation, the old mermaid took up the second of her offspring, and said, “You shall be called Baobella, and it is my desire that you shall be betrayed by the swift-swimming Barracuda. This is your fate. Now swim away.” And looking back over her shoulder, blowing bubble kisses back to her fearful sisters, Baobella swam away.

  To the third born, the old mermaid said simply, “Caldelia, you shall be my gift to the Currents,” and whipping Caldelia once with her great cod-like tail, the old mermaid sent her whirling into the deep cold poleward aiming current. Taking up Drac, the old mermaid declared, “You shall be struck hard by the poisonous dorsal of the Dogfish. Now swim.” To Ester she said, “The snake-like Eelpount lives among the stones in the plankton-rich shallows. Find him.” And she kicked poor Ester in an upward direction. “Frucia,” she said taking up the next, “Look you hard upon the soft sea sands and you shall find gliding there belly-bound the cross-eyed Flatworms waiting anxiously to burrow their larva beneath your milk-white skin. Go. Ah, Gretch,” she cried taking up the next. “Do you know the Gold-leaf Gorgonian whose golden branches would do most anything to tangle in their golden twigs the likes of your golden locks? No? You will!” And laughing, the old mermaid sent Gretch spinning with her tailfin flip. To the next she said, “You shall be called Hundra. Go hunt the Hagfish, Hundra. The sticky slime that oozes from his body when he wraps himself around you will hold you still until he enters your mouth and eats you slowly from the inside out. As for you, Izonia,” she said to the small frightened face that floated next before her, “I have something special planned. It is my desire that you shall swim into the stagnant waters caught in the canyons where no current stirs and die of Isolation.” To Joianna she said, “You shall be the bride of the blue-black Jewfish who, when he tires of your company, will snap you in two, at once. Kelpie,” she said lifting the next high above her head. “It is my will that you shall seek out the kelpbass who hide in their kelp beds. Keep yourself still there until the kelp grows over you and the kelpbass come to nibble—a nice slow death. You, Lillith,” the old mermaid said reaching for the next. But Lillith was slow to come forward because it
had occurred to her that her sisters had obeyed the old mermaid’s whims perhaps too readily. She had been watching, too, the old hag’s use of her great tailfin and thought she had learned something of its ways. And so just as the old mermaid was about to lay hold of her, Lillith curled her own tailfin and released it sharply, striking the old mermaid clean across the face. The fourteen nameless mermaids giggled at the daring of their sister and thrust out their own tailfins. Enraged, the old mermaid grabbed her careless child by her reckless tail and sought for her a fate that would be far, far worse than those she had bestowed on any of the others. And as she vacillated, calling to her mind the most loathsome perils she had ever heard tell of, a great sawfish happened by, twenty feet in length and four feet more for his double-edged blade, and noted the rage in the old mermaid’s eye. “Lillith,” the old hag hissed. “Your slow death shall be the result of—” but her sentence was severed along with her head as the sawfish struck.

  Lillith swam fast to her nameless sisters and together they watched many fish gather to bask in the blood that was turning the sea to the color of carmine as the old mermaid’s body sank slowly into the lightless depths and her horrid head rolled off into the deep, its eyes glowing fiercely, its long black tongue yet flickering madly, struggling still to say the word that would reveal the shape of Lillith’s doom.

  When the dim-sea zone waters were once more quiet, Lillith swam up to the great sawfish and said, “I wish to thank you for your apparent kindness. But it occurs to me that it might have been better had we each gone off to our sundry destinations, for it seems this is a dangerous world.”

  The great sawfish laughed, and his laughter made bubbles which danced in all directions so that upon seeing them, the larger fish laughed too, and the smaller ones, alarmed, swam away. “This world is dangerous, indeed,” he said, “but it is also beautiful. If you will suffer my presence for some time longer, it shall give me pleasure to show you how to survive here.”