different one. Sometimes something happens to you, she said, and thereâs no way to be the person you were before. You wonât ever be that person again; that personâs gone. Thereâs a little freedom in every loss, no matter how unwelcome and unhappy that freedom may be.
You have to think of it like a reincarnation. One life ends.
Another begins.
Chapter Six
(1)
T here was a bonfire on the beach, and near it, three kids, two male (one black, one white) and one female (white). The boys were reenacting somethingâa scene from a movie or a video game, something maybe with swords, but also kung fu. The black kid wore a long coat that flapped around his legs. The boys moved in slow motion through an intricate set of maneuvers with much stopping, restarting, and arguing, while the girl watched them both, and Rima watched all three from her bedroom window above.
It was just past sunset, and Rima thought these kids should be getting home. She thought that if she were a vampire, these were just the kids sheâd be looking for. She thought they were probably just about the same age as the ones she used to teach history to, back before Oliver died. The black kid in particular reminded her of Leroy Sheppard, whoâd once told Rima that teaching black children about slavery was just one more way to keep them down. Planned and executed as such. Not that he was accusing Rima; he could see she was just a tool.
The sea was an indigo blue. Rima was becoming a connoisseur of Pacific colorsâa pale, translucent blue near the shore at dawn, but a silvered blue farther out, and the color of sunrise reflected on the sheen of the sand; green waves on a sunny afternoon, though purple in the shade of the dredge, throwing white water into the air; indigo after the sun set and then black, but with lights playing over the surf in small, unexpected reds, greens, and yellows. There was a great deal to see, even at night.
And to hear too. It was Friday evening, and over the sound of the ocean, at reasonably regular intervals, Rima heard the screams of people on the roller coasters. It was a puzzlingly pleasant addition to the score. Except that Rima was just grabbing her coat and would miss it all.
It had been Addisonâs idea that Rima go out for an evening with Scorch and Cody. Addison was concerned that Rima was spending so much time in her room. Sixty-four years old herself, Addison had the impression that the age gap between Rima at twenty-nine and Scorch and Cody at twenty-one and twenty-two, respectively, was not greatâan impression not shared by Rima, Scorch, or Cody.
Rima agreed to go, regretted agreeing, tried to renege, saying that she was still on Ohio time and couldnât make a late night of it (which was even true but caused a fuss, so that she regretted reneging), agreed again to go, though somewhat more resentfully. She would rather have stayed in, read some more of Maxwellâs letters, a few pages of Ice City, sat and looked out the window, which someone should be doing, because there was always a chance the woman from the beach would reappear. Perhaps sheâd be good enough to wear the same green sweater, so that Rima could recognize her.
Addison had given Scorch money for the cover charge and the first round of drinks. This was not quite paying Scorch to take Rima out, but it was just as well that Rima knew nothing about it.
What Addison didnât know was that Rima and Scorch were feeling awkward with each other. Rima had done an online search of obese dachshunds, with such distressing resultsâcrippled legs, broken backsâthat sheâd forced herself to speak to Scorch about the poached-egg breakfast. Scorch had agreed instantly that of course she was in the wrong, of course it had to stop, and she was so very sorry and would never do it again and was really, really sorry, and would Rima please consider not telling Addison, which Rima had never planned to do, so on
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