Jerusalem, which seemed to me as big as anyone could possibly want to be. Marty had a larger oyster in mind. She was going to be in the movies. She thought she had the California look, figured she’d get parts in surfer movies.”
“Didn’t she have a TV show?” Alice says. “I remember reading something in one of those ‘Where Are They Now?’ articles.”
“I saw that, too. Something about an underwater private eye. It was only on down there, I guess. I mean I never saw it.”
“It can’t have really been about an underwater detective, can it?” Alice says. The idea sets her off laughing. “I mean how many underwater crimes are there? Or underwater criminals, for that matter?”
Jesse smiles sheepishly. “Maybe I’ve got it wrong. Anyway, the actress stuff was all part of this grand plan of hers, and a big element in it—although of course we never talked about it—was that she had to take the gold. Which meant she had to beat me.”
Jesse doesn’t say that this is what she turns on. That the friendship was calculated, that the seduction was just a piece of the arithmetic.
Alice puts it together anyway. “And you’re thinking that if you get someone infatuated with you, it’s hard for them to maintain a true killer instinct, to really care about beating you anymore.”
“Oh, I can’t know that for sure,” Jesse says. “It could as easily be true that Marty liked me well enough, and aside from that, simply got through a hundred meters that particular day three-tenths of a second faster than I did. It could be just that.”
“But if she liked you well enough, why did she disappear?”
Jesse shakes her head. “It’s all just stupid to even think about anymore. The times we made have long since been passed by the newer, faster girls they’re making nowadays. What happened that afternoon is something no one even cares about anymore. Except me, and I’m tired of caring. Sometimes I even think I’ve made up most of Marty Finch, invented this big betrayal to transform my own plain loss into something complicated. For sure, I’ve changed her in my mind over these years. Aged her, made her more sophisticated. It’s like I keep translating her into whatever I need to keep the anger going.”
And the passion, she doesn’t say.
“So I can keep pulling a charge off her. Touch the wire. Keep feeling the current twitch through my fingers,” Jesse says, being almost completely candid, almost candidly complete. Holding back only a few things, colors mostly. The night-white light down in the showers, and the aquamarine.
“Here.” Neal pulls Jesse gently by the shoulders, then points up. “Right there.”
At first she can’t see what he’s talking about. He tamps the dead flashlight down on his open palm, and the batteries jostle into place, making a connection that throws a shot of light on the problem—a crack up near the highest part of the vault in the Azure Grotto.
“Do you think it means anything?” she says. “Anything important, I mean?”
“Don’t know. We get to thinking of this as an attraction, our place of business, that it belongs to us. But it really belongs to nature. Nature’s always going to have the last word on it.”
“What’re you going to do?”
He takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand around his forehead and temples, where sweat has gathered. “I’ll call Tim Sutter up in Columbia in the geology department. See if he can come down here and have a look. In the meantime, we should probably close off the grotto.”
“It’s what a lot of people come for. It’s the main attraction, really. Next to the xylophone.”
“We can give a reduced ticket. Hope enough people decide to come down even if it’s not a full show.”
“Oh, we’re going to lose a bundle, aren’t we?” Jesse says. “Why couldn’t this happen in January?”
He picks up her right hand, puts the left on his shoulder. “Sweetheart. What say we do the Dance of Minor Cave
“Didn’t she have a TV show?” Alice says. “I remember reading something in one of those ‘Where Are They Now?’ articles.”
“I saw that, too. Something about an underwater private eye. It was only on down there, I guess. I mean I never saw it.”
“It can’t have really been about an underwater detective, can it?” Alice says. The idea sets her off laughing. “I mean how many underwater crimes are there? Or underwater criminals, for that matter?”
Jesse smiles sheepishly. “Maybe I’ve got it wrong. Anyway, the actress stuff was all part of this grand plan of hers, and a big element in it—although of course we never talked about it—was that she had to take the gold. Which meant she had to beat me.”
Jesse doesn’t say that this is what she turns on. That the friendship was calculated, that the seduction was just a piece of the arithmetic.
Alice puts it together anyway. “And you’re thinking that if you get someone infatuated with you, it’s hard for them to maintain a true killer instinct, to really care about beating you anymore.”
“Oh, I can’t know that for sure,” Jesse says. “It could as easily be true that Marty liked me well enough, and aside from that, simply got through a hundred meters that particular day three-tenths of a second faster than I did. It could be just that.”
“But if she liked you well enough, why did she disappear?”
Jesse shakes her head. “It’s all just stupid to even think about anymore. The times we made have long since been passed by the newer, faster girls they’re making nowadays. What happened that afternoon is something no one even cares about anymore. Except me, and I’m tired of caring. Sometimes I even think I’ve made up most of Marty Finch, invented this big betrayal to transform my own plain loss into something complicated. For sure, I’ve changed her in my mind over these years. Aged her, made her more sophisticated. It’s like I keep translating her into whatever I need to keep the anger going.”
And the passion, she doesn’t say.
“So I can keep pulling a charge off her. Touch the wire. Keep feeling the current twitch through my fingers,” Jesse says, being almost completely candid, almost candidly complete. Holding back only a few things, colors mostly. The night-white light down in the showers, and the aquamarine.
“Here.” Neal pulls Jesse gently by the shoulders, then points up. “Right there.”
At first she can’t see what he’s talking about. He tamps the dead flashlight down on his open palm, and the batteries jostle into place, making a connection that throws a shot of light on the problem—a crack up near the highest part of the vault in the Azure Grotto.
“Do you think it means anything?” she says. “Anything important, I mean?”
“Don’t know. We get to thinking of this as an attraction, our place of business, that it belongs to us. But it really belongs to nature. Nature’s always going to have the last word on it.”
“What’re you going to do?”
He takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand around his forehead and temples, where sweat has gathered. “I’ll call Tim Sutter up in Columbia in the geology department. See if he can come down here and have a look. In the meantime, we should probably close off the grotto.”
“It’s what a lot of people come for. It’s the main attraction, really. Next to the xylophone.”
“We can give a reduced ticket. Hope enough people decide to come down even if it’s not a full show.”
“Oh, we’re going to lose a bundle, aren’t we?” Jesse says. “Why couldn’t this happen in January?”
He picks up her right hand, puts the left on his shoulder. “Sweetheart. What say we do the Dance of Minor Cave
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