The Incident Read online

  ‘I’m not going to be anyone’s taxi home.’

  Nevertheless, it seemed perfect.

  Victoria’s parents were going to dinner just down the road at the Levys’ that night. They left with the usual warning about her eleven o’clock curfew. She was, in their minds and hers, one year away from a midnight curfew. One year and she’d become another Cinderella. Her mother didn’t notice that she was wearing her bathing suit under her school T-shirt and bright madras plaid Bermuda shorts. She thought she would say something about her wearing shorts at night, but only her father made a comment, telling her that, contrary to popular belief, Bermuda shorts did not originate in Bermuda. ‘They were created by the Brits servin’ in tropical climates,’ he explained.

  ‘Trivia to die for,’ her mother said with a histrionic sweep of her right hand and then told him to move along or they’d be rudely late for the Levys’ dinner. Was there any other kind of late?

  ‘Lock up,’ her mother called back.

  Victoria went to check on her hair and add some makeup her mother would have disapproved of.

  She set out for the village full of anticipation. Despite everything, even years later, she could vividly recall the tingling all over her body as she hurried to the village that night. There was no doubt that what made it more exciting was the forbidden nature of what she was doing – going to a lake party at night, where surely there would be alcoholic drinks and all sorts of wild activity. There would be boys she didn’t know, and the boys she did know would be very surprised to see her there. Would one or more of her girlfriends drift off with someone? Would she dare?

  She practically ran all the way into the village. At the corner of Wildwood and Main Street, she cut through the path worn down through the bushes and saplings behind the Millers’ house. It wound around to the right and came out in the alley between Kayfield’s Bar and Grill and Trustman’s vegetable market, enabling her to reach the action in the center of the village at least ten minutes sooner. It was already quite busy. All the stores were still open. They had these ten weeks of summer during which to make their year’s income. Like most resort communities, the season was live or die. Putting in twelve or more hours of work was the norm.

  But there was also that thunderous excitement in the air created by a weaving of the music, the laughter and the sounds of cars, their engines being revved up, their drivers and passengers taunting each other and girls on the sidewalk. It was as if all these teenagers had broken free, as if their childhoods were a form of enslavement of the senses. Unchained, they would rock the earth itself.

  She had no way to explain why or how the normally sleepy little village took on the look of a Hollywood movie set. There were dogs sleeping on the sidewalk, their eyes half open as if they were just as curious about the changes in the hamlet. Cats peered out from under stairways, curious but afraid. Residents looked out their windows, some amused, some annoyed. The elderly men and women who were practically fixtures sat in front of Weintraub’s department store reliving their own youth, just the way they did most any chance they had. There were no balloons, no spotlights and no extra decorations. It was her hometown, miraculously transformed into a place full of promise and excitement. Normally, it was the subject of jokes, a one-horse town where you could die on the street and not even be noticed by the undertaker.

  Jena and Mindy were in front of George’s, Mindy hiding a cigarette behind her, watching for anyone who knew her parents and then taking a puff, blowing the smoke with her back to the street. At the lake, no one would have to hide anything. They could wear the darkness as masks and lose their names in the shadows.

  ‘Wearing your bathing suit?’ Jena asked as soon as she saw her.

  ‘Yes. What about you?’ If it was difficult to see that she was wearing hers, it was impossible to know if Jena was wearing one. She looked as if she had thrown on her grandmother’s house dress, something she would wear to wash floors or vacuum.

  ‘Yes. I forgot to bring a towel, though. You don’t have one either, Victoria.’

  ‘We won’t need a towel,’ Mindy said. ‘Jesus, Jena. This isn’t physical education class.’

  ‘Maybe Toby will have one,’ Jena offered weakly. Mindy shook her head.

  ‘If she does, it will be just for herself. Toby’s not going to be here until eight thirty,’ Mindy told her. ‘No one’s going to the lake before it starts getting dark anyway, so don’t get your balls in an uproar.’

  ‘What balls?’

  ‘Victoria!’

  ‘She’s right. Relax, Jena,’ Victoria said, trying to sound seasoned. ‘We’ll have fun.’

  ‘I’ve only been there in the daytime,’ Jena confessed, ‘and never with a boy – only with my parents.’

  Jena had a terrible habit of telling the truth, Victoria thought, especially in front of boys. She exchanged a look with Mindy, who rolled her eyes. On more than one occasion, sometimes not so subtly, Mindy told her the only reason she invited Jena to anything was because she was Victoria’s friend.

  Jena wasn’t ugly, but she had one of those bodies that looked as if it belonged on a woman much older because of her wide hips and already sagging breasts. She was always dowdy and always wore what Victoria called curtain clothes, because they just hung loosely over her matronly figure.

  She never did much with her dull brown hair either and, except for some lipstick, was afraid to put on makeup – not because her mother would be upset, but because she had no self-confidence. She clung to Victoria’s friendship like someone clinging to a life preserver in the rough sea of adolescence. Blind leading the blind, Victoria often thought.

  The three girls passed the time talking to other kids they knew. Victoria and Mindy were approached by some of the city boys who offered to take them to the lake, but they shrugged off the invitations, teasing with promises to meet up later. Toby arrived and the four of them set out with expectations for a night to remember. As if to emphasize that, Toby revealed a pint of rum she had taken from her home.

  ‘Helps build courage,’ she remarked and passed it to Mindy first who then gave it to Victoria. She drank less than a thimbleful and gave it to Jena who surprised them all with her long swig. Victoria remembered wondering if she wasn’t a secret boozer after all and maybe that was why she couldn’t lose weight.

  Toby, on the other hand, was a tall, lean girl with one of those ironing board figures that suggested she’d been cursed at birth. Her brother Herbie was a stout fifteen-year-old in their class and often in trouble. Lately, he had flirted with Victoria, but she didn’t even return a look. She knew her mother would never approve of her hanging out with Toby, much less her brother. Her father worked as a gas delivery truck driver and had a reputation for a wild temper when he got drunk, which seemed to be a frequent occurrence of late.

  The whole night was fraught with forbidden danger. Every moment she seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the pool of jeopardy. Yet it was exactly that danger that made it attractive.

  By the time they arrived at the lake, there were a few dozen kids and at least a half-dozen bonfires. The sun had just gone down fully behind the mountain and the veil of protection the darkness cast seemed to smother reluctance. The city boys they had met in the village spotted them quickly and invited them to their bonfire, where they passed around more whiskey and cigarettes. All but Jena went into the lake, the boys surrounding them, splashing them, constantly trying to embrace them.

  Mindy was the first to couple up. Two boys were courting Victoria. She entertained the idea of going off with the taller boy called Spike. He said he was a senior and lived in the Bronx. She didn’t have to choose in the end. He practically elbowed his friend out of the way and she let him kiss her while they were still in the water, waist deep. She remembered feeling a little dizzy. She had sipped more alcohol than she had ever had before. When they stepped out of the water and made their way back to their campfire, Jena, who had drunk too much, was sprawled out and practically asleep. She ha
dn’t even taken off her curtain clothes.

  Victoria used her blouse to dry herself some. Spike had what looked like a towel that had been in the trunk of his car for weeks, and she refused it. He sprawled beside her and began to kiss her everywhere he could. At first, she thought it was just weird until he was at the inside of her thighs and then nudging his nose and his lips between her breasts. She looked for Toby or Mindy but didn’t see them. Spike gave her some more to drink. She tried to refuse, but he practically pleaded until she took another sip and another.

  She remembered seeing boys she knew from school pausing to look her way and smile and make comments to themselves that triggered laughter. Spike was trying to get her to drink a little more, but she resisted. He started to kiss her harder, kiss her on the neck, move his hands over her breasts, and then he tried to get his right hand into the bottom of her bathing suit. She held his wrist, but he pushed harder until she felt his fingers reach her pubic hair. She struggled to resist, and when he grew more aggressive, coaxing and pleading with her to relax, she pushed him away, leaped to her feet, grabbed her shorts and blouse and ran off.

  She heard him laughing, but she didn’t turn back, even though she realized she had left her sandals behind and Jena was still sprawled out and asleep just a few feet from him. For a while, she crouched in the darkness and watched him. He looked at Jena, shook his head and finally got up and joined some of his friends. As soon as he did, she swooped in, scooped up her sandals and tried to wake Jena, who groaned but didn’t make an effort to stand. Victoria wasn’t about to carry her away.

  She wandered around for a while, keeping her distance from Spike. Some of the local boys approached her, but she was unresponsive, thinking now only of how she could get home. Toby was nowhere in sight and neither was Mindy. Where had they gone? She returned to the smoldering camp fire and shook Jena hard.

  ‘I’m going home,’ she told her. Jena sat up and suddenly began to vomit. After that, she lay down again and said she just wanted to be left alone for a while. The last thing Victoria remembered her saying was, ‘My father’s going to kill me.’

  Father, she thought. My mother would be the one to kill me.

  She rose, debated with herself about what to do next and then decided to leave. When she still couldn’t rouse Jena, she left her behind. She started for the road that led away from the lake. Wayne Gerson, who was heading back with his friend Tommy Marks in Wayne’s father’s pickup truck, saw her walking. They were seniors in her school this coming year.

  ‘You can’t walk all the way back to the village,’ Tommy said, leaning out of the truck window. He sounded pretty drunk, slurring his words. They paused and he stepped out. ‘We’ll squeeze you in. Hop in,’ he said.

  ‘Course, we’ll need a can opener to get you out,’ Wayne said. They both laughed. They knew her; she knew them. At least it wasn’t like being with strangers.

  She got in. It was tight, but she felt rescued as they bounced their way over the dirt road, smoking and laughing. She clutched her clothes against her breasts and held her breath as much as she could because of the heavy cigarette smoke and booze that churned her stomach.

  ‘Have a good time?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘No,’ she moaned and they both laughed.

  ‘There’s always tomorrow,’ Wayne said.

  Neither made any attempt to touch her inappropriately. They seemed happy in their own inebriated world as if sex was an afterthought. They’d get to it sometime probably.

  When she saw the lights of the village, she breathed a sigh of relief. But she couldn’t help feeling a little like a failure. Why were so many of the others, many her age, most only a year or so older, so ready to have fun, explore and take a chance?

  How would she ever have any romance?

  When would she grow up?

  Her mind reeled with sobering questions about herself.

  The last thing she had expected this particular night was a deep sense of frustration and self-doubt.

  She almost decided to return to the lake.

  In the end, she would have been better off if she had. Her whole life would have been different.

  TWO

  ‘Your mother is a great teacher,’ Bart Stonefield said as they pulled away from her house. ‘I mean, she’s tough, but she does make the work interesting, and I’ll have to admit, she challenges you. You can’t be lazy in her class. I regretted leaving her class more than the other classes I took. Whenever I saw her afterward, I felt like a coward. I would cross streets, turn away quickly, do everything I could not to confront her.’

  ‘I do the same thing,’ she said and he laughed.

  He glanced at her and then turned back to the highway.

  ‘Graduated college with high honors. Your parents are so proud of you. Really, what do you intend to do now?’

  ‘Enjoy dinner,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘You have a little bit of your mother in you, you know? Not that it’s bad,’ he added quickly.

  ‘What’s that expression – the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?’

  ‘My father always adds unless it’s at the top of a hill.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘I don’t consciously try to be like her, or my father for that matter. I just try to be me, whoever that is. Mirrors are sometimes more like windows. You’re looking at a stranger in another house.’

  ‘Yeah, well I know what I see … a very nice, beautiful and obviously intelligent young woman.’

  She smiled but wasn’t sure exactly what to say. Thank you sounded so formal and even phony. How do you know when someone, especially a man, is sincere? Ever since that night, she was suspicious of compliments. Most were like band aids. Those administering them had good intentions, but she was hardened against good intentions. She didn’t want the pity and she certainly didn’t want to be handled. What she wanted, she knew she couldn’t have: to turn back time and erase what had happened so she could be on an even playing field again.

  And it wasn’t simply solved by being someplace where people didn’t know her well or knew what had happened. She had been in that place for four years at college. That was only half the battle, because she knew who she was and she knew what had happened. It was like walking over thin ice. It would break and she would fall through whenever someone new discovered the truth. They might suspect something in her shyness or her introverted behavior, and then the questions might start. She had no confidence in her ability to hide the truth. She feared that other girls, especially ones who had been around the block, as her mother might say, could see through her excuses for rejecting a date.

  How did Bart Stonefield really see her? Did she really look so different now? Had she matured, truly become beautiful? Was she at peace with her past enough to step into the future as a totally different woman and certainly not the wounded bird she had become, never flying, always grounded in sorrow and depression while watching so many her age soaring to new heights, finding a life for themselves?

  She had to respond, say something. Silence could make him uncomfortable and she didn’t want that.

  ‘That’s very nice of you to say so, Bart.’

  ‘I’m a nice guy, even if I have to say it myself.’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t.’

  ‘Well, I do talk to myself because I’m confident I’ll convince myself.’

  She relaxed. He had more of a sense of humor than she had imagined. In this way, he reminded her of her father who was adept at sidestepping controversy and unpleasantness with a joke. He was like a prize fighter who was so good at bobbing and weaving that he didn’t have to throw retaliatory blows. He simply waited for his opponent to grow exhausted with the aggression and then retreat.

  ‘My dad says if you don’t convince yourself of something first, you won’t convince anyone else, least of all a customer. No matter how tough that might be,’ he added.

  ‘You’ll get no argument from me about that,’ she said, immediately worrying that th
e conversation would drift into something depressing or cynical and lead to the inevitable questions. She was always bracing herself for the segue that would take her back down the dark path.

  But he didn’t seem to want that or was sensitive enough to know not to go there.

  ‘So, seriously, what are you going to do now? Are you going to go into teaching, follow in your mother’s footsteps, or what?’

  ‘I don’t know, Bart. I’m toying with going to graduate school, but I wonder if I’m not just looking for ways to avoid making choices.’

  He turned and sped up as they reached what locals called the Quickway. The sky was partly cloudy, the early-evening summer sun blinding when it peeked out between the clouds. He lowered the visor.

  They were headed for Monticello, about ten more miles. The mountains were plush with their deep green leafy trees and bushes. Like most who lived here and took it all for granted, she was oblivious to the natural beauty. This had been especially true for her afterward. It was as if a veil of fog had fallen all around her. Right now, she felt like a distorted version of Sleeping Beauty, woken and confused. She was still quite nervous and terrified of disappointment, but at least she was able to lower the drawbridge and let the world back in, if only for a little while.

  Dr Thornton would take credit for this, she thought – maybe deservedly so. It didn’t help to resent the people trying to help you, even if they were being paid to do so. She had warned her many times. If you didn’t move on, you could go through life demolished or angry or even both. She looked out the window.

  Cars whizzed by. Because it was the summer resort season, there was heavier traffic, especially on a Friday night. The so-called weekend husbands were chugging up the mountain to join their families at bungalow colonies. Tonight and on Saturday night, bedsprings would sing something like absence makes the heart grow fonder. The image of such a symphony, the moans of pleasure and laughter resonating through the countryside, brought a smile.

  ‘No reason to rush into the hectic world, I guess,’ he said, obviously scrutinizing his responses before speaking.