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Authors: Alexi Zentner
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water as a boy he’d actually stayed under the sea in the mermaid’s castle, staying awake and waiting, waiting, waiting to resurface. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault except for mine, Cordelia,” he said. He reached out and lifted my chin, his voice going hard.
Second barked again, and we both looked into the water where the dog kept swimming in circles. I began to think I saw something akin to panic on Second’s black face. “So why—”
“Second went in after him, didn’t he? That’s what Newfs do,” Daddy said. “They go in the water and they pull fishermen away from certain doom. I didn’t even do that. I didn’t go into the water. I stayed on deck where it was safe and dry and did my rescuing with a gaff and my hands, but Second went right to the water.” He put his free hand on my shoulder and then glanced out at Second again. “Let me tell you a story, Cordelia, and it’s not one I want to talk about again or want to hear you telling your sisters or your mother, okay? You don’t get to repeat this.”
He stared at me until I nodded dumbly. “You know George had a brother, right? Billy? That the three of us went overseas together, but only George and I came back.” Second barked again, but Daddy didn’t look away from my face. I could have been afraid to breathe—whatever Daddy was going to say, I was sure that I didn’t want to hear it—but I was all reflex and stillness. “It’s more complicated than this, of course. Everything is more complicated. I could string out the story, pretend there was something more to it, but in the end, it’s as simple as this: Billy was killed. That’s what happens in war, I guess. Billy was killed, and we did what we felt like we had to do, which was to bring a punishment down upon the earth.”
He took a deep breath after he said this, and in the moment of quiet I remember thinking how that sounded both like and unlike Daddy: “to bring a punishment down upon the earth.”That sounded like the man I’d seen doing Shakespeare in summer stock plays, taking the part of Henry IV, Caesar, Coriolanus, and Iago, it sounded like the man that I knew from home, his voice roaring through the house when he read aloud a section from a novel that seemed to sing to him. But it didn’t sound like the salt-grooved man who squinted over the water, who fished and hauled and never left anything undone.
“Billy died and we, in turn, killed. George and me and all of the boys who were with Billy when he went down, we killed until there was nobody around to kill and all that was left to us was Billy and the pieces of his body and the understanding that there are times when it isn’t about what you want or don’t want, about right or wrong, but only about what needs to be done.”
He looked down at the pistol in his hand and his voice dropped into something quiet and falling, like the snow that kept coming down over the water and the
Queen Jane
. “Do you understand, Cordelia?” Second barked again, and whatever spell Daddy had fallen into seemed to break. “Of course you don’t. You’re just a kid,” he said. There wasn’t any scorn in his voice. Just fact. “I did what I had to do. And if I could do it again, if I could go back then, to when I was a kid myself, maybe I would have been able to tell myself, tell George, tell all of the other boys, that this
wasn’t
what we needed to do, that Billy’s dying was senseless and bad luck and bad decisions, that spilling more blood wouldn’t do anything for what happened to Billy, but that’s not the way it was. Not the way it is. And maybe in some later year I’ll look back on now and think this isn’t what had to happen.” He took another heavy breath. I wanted to believe, in that momentary pause, that he was going to change his mind, but even then, even as a girl, I knew better. “Right now,” he said, “right here, it’s all I know to do. When everything is over, when everything that can be said is said,
Second barked again, and we both looked into the water where the dog kept swimming in circles. I began to think I saw something akin to panic on Second’s black face. “So why—”
“Second went in after him, didn’t he? That’s what Newfs do,” Daddy said. “They go in the water and they pull fishermen away from certain doom. I didn’t even do that. I didn’t go into the water. I stayed on deck where it was safe and dry and did my rescuing with a gaff and my hands, but Second went right to the water.” He put his free hand on my shoulder and then glanced out at Second again. “Let me tell you a story, Cordelia, and it’s not one I want to talk about again or want to hear you telling your sisters or your mother, okay? You don’t get to repeat this.”
He stared at me until I nodded dumbly. “You know George had a brother, right? Billy? That the three of us went overseas together, but only George and I came back.” Second barked again, but Daddy didn’t look away from my face. I could have been afraid to breathe—whatever Daddy was going to say, I was sure that I didn’t want to hear it—but I was all reflex and stillness. “It’s more complicated than this, of course. Everything is more complicated. I could string out the story, pretend there was something more to it, but in the end, it’s as simple as this: Billy was killed. That’s what happens in war, I guess. Billy was killed, and we did what we felt like we had to do, which was to bring a punishment down upon the earth.”
He took a deep breath after he said this, and in the moment of quiet I remember thinking how that sounded both like and unlike Daddy: “to bring a punishment down upon the earth.”That sounded like the man I’d seen doing Shakespeare in summer stock plays, taking the part of Henry IV, Caesar, Coriolanus, and Iago, it sounded like the man that I knew from home, his voice roaring through the house when he read aloud a section from a novel that seemed to sing to him. But it didn’t sound like the salt-grooved man who squinted over the water, who fished and hauled and never left anything undone.
“Billy died and we, in turn, killed. George and me and all of the boys who were with Billy when he went down, we killed until there was nobody around to kill and all that was left to us was Billy and the pieces of his body and the understanding that there are times when it isn’t about what you want or don’t want, about right or wrong, but only about what needs to be done.”
He looked down at the pistol in his hand and his voice dropped into something quiet and falling, like the snow that kept coming down over the water and the
Queen Jane
. “Do you understand, Cordelia?” Second barked again, and whatever spell Daddy had fallen into seemed to break. “Of course you don’t. You’re just a kid,” he said. There wasn’t any scorn in his voice. Just fact. “I did what I had to do. And if I could do it again, if I could go back then, to when I was a kid myself, maybe I would have been able to tell myself, tell George, tell all of the other boys, that this
wasn’t
what we needed to do, that Billy’s dying was senseless and bad luck and bad decisions, that spilling more blood wouldn’t do anything for what happened to Billy, but that’s not the way it was. Not the way it is. And maybe in some later year I’ll look back on now and think this isn’t what had to happen.” He took another heavy breath. I wanted to believe, in that momentary pause, that he was going to change his mind, but even then, even as a girl, I knew better. “Right now,” he said, “right here, it’s all I know to do. When everything is over, when everything that can be said is said,
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