Lydia's Island #6
Teddy's Last Day Part 3
Teddy could hear the whalewatch boat's loudspeaker, Dicky talking about Tamarack and Arrowhead, the islands beyond Lydia's. Those two were strange mixes of enormous summer houses and beat-up shacks. Most of the people who lived out there had boats of their own to get back and forth to the mainland, but Teddy had heard that they were trying to get a regular tourist ferry to make the crossing a couple of times a day. He didn't have much of an opinion about that, as it didn't affect him much, but he knew Lydia wouldn't be happy. She wasn't very tolerant of tourists. He smiled as he motored around his wife's island.
Lydia certainly wasn't the friendliest person he knew, but he understood that she was really just shy. That first night, he had stood beside her, and he could feel her nervousness, how she couldn't quite figure out how to hold her arms. "Want to go outside?" he had said. She nodded, just barely, and they walked out together. The town hall had a false front and a wide porch, like a Wild West saloon. They walked to one side of the porch, and as she walked ahead of him he felt an overwhelming sense that he knew her already. He told her so, and she didn't say anything, just gave that little nod again. She had black hair, and those light blue eyes, and that red dress. It was 1952, and he should have asked her politely if she wanted to go out sometime, maybe get a Coke. He should have asked about her family, gotten a sense of how strict her father was, found out if she was seeing anyone. Instead, he followed her into the dark corner of the porch and when she turned around he kissed her full-on, pressing her against the wall, and she kissed him back.
Teddy went past the island into the open water beyond. He planned to set a couple more experimental traps out here, just to see what he got. The other guys would say that there was no point, that the current was wrong, that it was too deep and nobody ever caught anything out here. If they saw him, they'd laugh at the long lines he'd tied together, but he didn't care. It was good to try new things. When Teddy was a kid he was forever building rockets or paper airplanes or mixing things together to see what blew up. Nobody ever got anywhere by doing what everyone else did.
He cut the motor again, and looked at the island from the back side. He was a couple of hundred feet away from it. The dark rock rose straight up to a cliff covered in trees. It was a beautiful rock, shades of dark and lighter gray with swipes of white lines as if a huge tanker had passed too close to it. Teddy guessed they were left over from the glaciers, but he didn't know much about geology. The rock had a brown stripe at the bottom, outlined in black. The tide line. He knew that much.
He poured himself another cap of coffee and set it on the gunwale. He got his notebook and made a note about where he would throw the trap, then set the notebook by the steering wheel. The island was on his right, and he would toss the trap out to the left. He picked it up, the wire mesh in his work-gloved hand. The sun glinted on the water. The top few inches of water were clear, sunlit green. He rested the trap on the gunwale, then threw it, and as the line unfurled behind it, he realized that the knot wasn't tight enough. He grabbed for it, an awkward movement, and then the shock of cold water made him gasp. His hand was caught in the line, he couldn't make it let go. He saw, as if he were still in the boat looking up, Lydia standing on the top of the rock, as she looked that first night. Then nothing but water.
Teddy could hear the whalewatch boat's loudspeaker, Dicky talking about Tamarack and Arrowhead, the islands beyond Lydia's. Those two were strange mixes of enormous summer houses and beat-up shacks. Most of the people who lived out there had boats of their own to get back and forth to the mainland, but Teddy had heard that they were trying to get a regular tourist ferry to make the crossing a couple of times a day. He didn't have much of an opinion about that, as it didn't affect him much, but he knew Lydia wouldn't be happy. She wasn't very tolerant of tourists. He smiled as he motored around his wife's island.
Lydia certainly wasn't the friendliest person he knew, but he understood that she was really just shy. That first night, he had stood beside her, and he could feel her nervousness, how she couldn't quite figure out how to hold her arms. "Want to go outside?" he had said. She nodded, just barely, and they walked out together. The town hall had a false front and a wide porch, like a Wild West saloon. They walked to one side of the porch, and as she walked ahead of him he felt an overwhelming sense that he knew her already. He told her so, and she didn't say anything, just gave that little nod again. She had black hair, and those light blue eyes, and that red dress. It was 1952, and he should have asked her politely if she wanted to go out sometime, maybe get a Coke. He should have asked about her family, gotten a sense of how strict her father was, found out if she was seeing anyone. Instead, he followed her into the dark corner of the porch and when she turned around he kissed her full-on, pressing her against the wall, and she kissed him back.
Teddy went past the island into the open water beyond. He planned to set a couple more experimental traps out here, just to see what he got. The other guys would say that there was no point, that the current was wrong, that it was too deep and nobody ever caught anything out here. If they saw him, they'd laugh at the long lines he'd tied together, but he didn't care. It was good to try new things. When Teddy was a kid he was forever building rockets or paper airplanes or mixing things together to see what blew up. Nobody ever got anywhere by doing what everyone else did.
He cut the motor again, and looked at the island from the back side. He was a couple of hundred feet away from it. The dark rock rose straight up to a cliff covered in trees. It was a beautiful rock, shades of dark and lighter gray with swipes of white lines as if a huge tanker had passed too close to it. Teddy guessed they were left over from the glaciers, but he didn't know much about geology. The rock had a brown stripe at the bottom, outlined in black. The tide line. He knew that much.
He poured himself another cap of coffee and set it on the gunwale. He got his notebook and made a note about where he would throw the trap, then set the notebook by the steering wheel. The island was on his right, and he would toss the trap out to the left. He picked it up, the wire mesh in his work-gloved hand. The sun glinted on the water. The top few inches of water were clear, sunlit green. He rested the trap on the gunwale, then threw it, and as the line unfurled behind it, he realized that the knot wasn't tight enough. He grabbed for it, an awkward movement, and then the shock of cold water made him gasp. His hand was caught in the line, he couldn't make it let go. He saw, as if he were still in the boat looking up, Lydia standing on the top of the rock, as she looked that first night. Then nothing but water.
posted by Elizabeth Thorpe at 11:30 PM
2 Comments:
Hey all,
Any opinions on whether I should include this at the beginning of the book? Right now, it's not clear how Teddy dies until at least halfway through, and no scenes are from his perspective.
thanks, B
I really think this had possibilities towards that end. I'd cut the first paragraph and go right into his feeling for Lydia. That way you kind of get this pciture of her at the outset which contrasts with who she is through much the rest of the book. I'd cut the first paragraph because it doesn't flow nearly was well as the others. Which flow great, not intended as a pun on the water scene. Okay....that's enough procrastinating young lady. Now get back to work.
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