CHAPTER X
Given time, wounds heal; given time enough, they reopen.
With Abigail and Brant, Cornelius shared more happiness than any mortal within his singular demographic constituency.
He was good with his big hands, and that much better when Abigail explained and demonstrated any number of methods to her new husband, whose desire to learn astonished even her.
Their pale grey clapboard house, on Mermaid Avenue, was a twenty-six minute stroll from Education Hall. Workshop downstairs, home and nursery upstairs, the house was inherited from Abigail’s parents, who drowned the Sunday after her high school graduation.
Her father, landlubbing fisherman who spent his weekends at the end of Steeplechase Pier, lured black crabs from the polluted deep with caged raw chicken parts, preferably legs. A surprise, a celebratory crab feast was planned for Abigail. Dad insisted that Mom accompany him, as she rarely did, to help him transport traps, bait and cooler filled with beer out to Steeplechase, and the dozens of as yet uncaught crabs back.
He could swim, somewhat.
The twelfth raw chicken leg, instead of slipping compliantly from plastic bag to wire cage, exploited the bungle caused by the twelfth can of beer; the leg flew out of his hand that cloudy, windy afternoon. Dad reacted most precipitously, leaped for his leg and sank, trap in hand, into the Atlantic. Mom jumped after him; the crowd howled; but with rip tides so strong and lifeguards too late, neither was seen again.
The young Ekes couple worked together. Their costume enterprise stumbled along; Brant throve. Evenings, while their boy slept in her lap, Abigail might ask, Play something, will you? Tired, Cornelius played, perhaps only a movement, only to please her. She would listen even in her drowsiness, and know that he was there with her, with them.
During Polar Bear season, Sundays were saved for a swim—Brant a devotee at twenty-eight months—and then, twice a month, to Grandpa’s. Uncle Liny came when he felt well enough; to everyone’s astonishment, including his own, he usually did. Mrs. Ekes, often dizzy, wheezy, and less amenable to cooking than ever, refused to leave the house, excepting visits to doctors. It fell to Irwin, with Abigail’s cheerful help, to prepare dinner for six, plus two children, whenever Dilly and Oca attended.
In June, some five years after Brant was born, Abigail was pregnant again.
There was no hiding the old tension between Dilly and Cornelius even now, but each was polite in avoiding the other. Cornelius said little to anyone as long as she was there; as alibi, he ate. They all followed an unspoken protocol, set years earlier when Dilly was restoring the self-confidence that blossomed to immoderate aplomb. They listened.
“Did you see the article last Tuesday? About Treatment?” Dilly asked. She knew no one had, but gave Irwin, beside her, another chance. “Daddy?”
“No, sweetheart, no.”
“I was mentioned, Daddy. Twice. It referred to my experiments in sub-chronic geriatric developmental manifestation. A tie-in with the course I’m teaching next year at Treatment’s new CC wing.”
“What? Seas?” asked Liny.
Dilly showed Liny more contempt than usual this afternoon, and ignored him.
“CC,” Irwin said.
“What’s that?” Liny asked.
“Chocolate chip,” Cornelius said, and felt a pinch, Abigail’s hand on his thigh.
Head tipped, smiling at the ceiling, “Isn’t anyone awake? Our Crisis and Critical Care Center,” she said, heartened to have snared someone, if only Liny. “We abbreviate at Treatment. Use time efficiently. Life is short.” She tasted Abigail’s crab casserole and pushed her plate away, toward Abigail and Cornelius, who sat, eyes averted, opposite her. There was silence, save for dishes and cutlery, and Oca and Brant, scrapping under the table.
“Did you swim?” asked valiant Liny, looking at Cornelius, but Abigail answered for him,
“Not today. We start again in the fall.”
“The cold water’s warm, that’s what these love birds tell me,” Irwin said, and winked at Abigail, “and Brant loves it, just like his mother.”
“Cold water warm heart,” said Mrs. Ekes, and confounded them all by kissing Abigail’s hand.
“Oca likes the water, too,” Irwin said.
“She’s an excellent swimmer. We prefer pools,” said Dilly.
There was more silence.
“Abigail,” said Liny, “you’ll have your hands full, working, the new baby, Brant and Cornelius to take care of. It’s no honeymoon.”
“We never had one,” Abigail laughed, “but we could use one now.”
Then Dilly, her back so very straight, signaled to them with a two-shoulder shimmy. They were attentive, obedient.
“I have just decided,” she said, “to gift a honeymoon to my brother, with his wife and son before the baby is born.” She pressed her mouth into the peculiar grin that demanded endorsement, which she received, exclusively, from Daddy.
They would fly south to that lush subtropical peninsula, popular idyllic haven for those, like Dilly, who craved heat. Midsummer, rates were low, a perfect honeymoon bargain, and it was hot. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll arrange everything. My assistant sees to details. Consider it done.” She was doing everyone an apparent favor; she would emerge the generous sister. She was the success. Her indigent failure of a brother with his fat little family, he would cringe -- he could cringe all he liked, Ekes politics what they were. Accepting anything from her would irk him more than having nothing, but he looked the spoiler if he refused.
“That’s wonderful, very nice,” said Irwin.
“Nice of you,” and Liny, afraid of appearing stingy if he didn’t offer to contribute to Dilly’s gift, went home early, without his evening snack.
Then Dilly rose from her chair, kissed Daddy and waved to Mom. “Oca?” she called, and Oca left Brant to hug Mommy bye-bye. “Are you my beautiful girl?” said Dilly, whose days and nights were occupied with all sorts of urgencies. “I’ll pick her up tomorrow, after work,” she said, kissed her, took two crummies purchased by Cornelius, and left.
Cornelius knew. They all knew. She’ll phone tomorrow, after Oca’s bedtime, when her little one was better off sleeping, and leave her there until morning. But why abandon her to babysitters? Wasn’t the child better off with grandparents than untrustworthy strangers? Best to come after work, late the following day, or the day after that. So Oca stayed to enjoy an afternoon with her cousin and another invaluable overnight, or several, with Gammaw Gampaw.
“I don’t need her trip,” Cornelius said.
“The trip the tickets,” Irwin said. “The point is it’s an offer. Understand?”
“Sure. And I know what she can do with it.”
“Get up and help me,” Mrs. Ekes said to her son. He pulled her chair away from the table, then supported her until she was standing. “The children shouldn’t hear this,” and she led them into the bedroom.
“That’s her, it’s her way,” said Irwin. “Maybe before we die you’ll love your sister again.”
“Again?”
“You’re adults now. Come on!”
“Let’s try,” Abigail said. “It’s not my choice but I’m willing. End the old war before the baby comes.”
“Son, you got yourself a good girl.” Irwin reached over the table to pat Abigail’s arm and take another crummie.
Brant and Oca were giggling in the bedroom. Mrs. Ekes returned to sit between Abigail and Cornelius.
“It’s up to you,” said Mrs. Ekes. “She’s my daughter. Don’t go if you don’t want to.”
“They should go,” Irwin said. “They’re good kids. Try. This once.”
“It’s no secret you two don’t get along,” said Mrs. Ekes. “She knows you’re my favorite. She knows.”
“Mom, let’s not do this now,” said Cornelius, “Abigail doesn’t need it.”
“Abigail?” Mrs. Ekes asked.
“Talk if you want to,” Abigail said, and leaned past Mrs. Ekes to look at Cornelius.
/> “I may be sick but I know her. Take care of Oca. Always excuses. She’s so busy after work? After work after men. Maybe she’s got Grandpa fooled but not me. No love in her. I pity the poor child with a mother like that. Hasn’t got a chance in hell. That’s why she’s here. Pity.”
“Finished?” asked Irwin, standing.
“I’m finished,” Mrs. Ekes said, and took her son’s hand.
“Listen to your father. Will you do it for me? Cornelius?”
He went with his wife and son.
They swam in the sparkling, warm waters off the east coast; Brant convulsed that night; Abigail fainted. Rushed to the hospital, both dead by morning.
The bodies were shipped back, buried in the plots designated for Irwin and his wife.
At the funeral, Liny helped Irwin hold Mrs. Ekes. Dilly, sunglasses, black sundress with the perky spaghetti bows at the shoulders, held little Oca, in a new pink and white striped organza froth. Dilly looked down at her brother as he sobbed, and expressed her sincerest condolences.
She couldn’t believe her luck.
###
END OF PREQUEL
Jeffra invites you to read the A-QUEL, B-QUEL, and C-QUEL, Parts 2, 3, and 4, of AFFECTIONAIRES.
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