Page 32

Twenty-Two

Stella

This is what I get for letting my guard down.

One moment, Huck and I are laughing in the water, enjoying each other as if there isn’t a history of hurt between us, and the next, well, I’m thinking of the warning Teddy’s mom gave me that year on Bald Head.

They’re called sea nettles…the name sounds mild, but they sting like a mother, and somehow Huck and I managed to do our synchronized swimming-slash-water-polo-style brawl right in the middle of a school of them.

I don’t even hear Teddy’s rapid footfalls on the walkway over Huck’s yelps and my own Pterodactyl-esque screeching.

I spot Teddy right before he’s about to launch himself into the water.

“Don’t!” I squeal. “There’s jellies in here. A lot of jellies.”

“Shit,” Ted says. “That was a close one.”

“We’ve got to swim for it,” I tell Huck.

I know this may mean additional stings, but we don’t have a choice.

The options are fuck it and go fast or try to be careful , which takes longer.

It’s a lose-lose situation. I choose fast because I know soaking in hot water and applying some antihistamine lotion as soon as possible will ease the pain that’s searing my skin.

Huck seems to go with careful, but given the expletive he just shouted, that approach doesn’t appear to be turning out so well for him.

He zooms up next to me. Teddy helps us both out clumsily and manages to knock my clothes in the water in the process.

“What’s going on here?” Teddy asks, as he fishes out my sopping sundress.

“We fell,” Huck says.

“I shoved him in,” I confess, leaning down to examine my torso, where a long slash of fire is welting up on my skin. I stick my feet back into my boots.

“Okay,” Teddy says slowly. He hands my dripping dress to me while he processes. “Okay, let me get this straight. You dunk-tanked our unsuspecting guest and then decided to join him?” His speech is slow, sticky like the cobbler we’d eaten.

“I never claimed to be the logical one,” I say, shrugging and wringing the water out of the dress. I turn to Huck. “How’re the sea legs?”

Huck takes off a shoe and dumps out the water that’s filled it.

“Covered in stings,” he says. “But I believe my vestibular issue is more or less resolved, so I thank you for that.”

“Well, you’re both in luck,” Ted says. “I got sidetracked at the bar on my way to the bathroom, and I was just about to finish my journey when I heard you both howling out here, so I’m all stocked up to treat your injuries.”

“Huh?” Huck looks confused. “What does he mean?”

“He’s offering to pee on us,” I explain.

Huck shakes his head, grimacing. “Is that necessary?”

I step closer to him, hiding my own discomfort.

Huck has quite a few stings, and I’m sure that they hurt as much as mine do, and I feel bad about that, considering I’m responsible for flinging him in.

His white polo shirt is stuck to his chest, and his Bermuda shorts cling to his thighs, so he’s safe there.

Unlike me, who decided to strip down and provide the vicious little creatures with quite a canvas of sensitive skin to attack.

But I can’t help but have a little fun at Huck’s expense.

“You’ve got extensive stings,” I say dramatically. “It could be serious, so we need to neutralize the venom quickly. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what ?”

Teddy, who I’m realizing now is quite drunk and has been holding a highball this whole time, sways as he reaches for his zipper. “I got you, man. Friends for forever. I almost did you in when we were kids, now I pay my debt.”

“What about you, Stella?” Huck exclaims. “Ted, listen, take care of her first. I’m okay. I’m bigger than her so the venom will probably take longer…”

Teddy turns to me. “Anything for my grill…girl.”

“Keep it in your pants there, cowboy,” I say to him.

He looks at me, incredulous. “I got enough for you too, honey. Or were you going to help him yourself?”

Huck is frozen, his face awash in sheer terror. He closes his eyes and holds out his arms. “Go ahead, then, I’m ready.”

I stifle my laughter. “No one is peeing on anyone, Huck, okay? We were messing with you.”

“I wasn’t!”

“It’s an old wives’ tale. We need to get back to the boat and wash off. There’s some liquid Benadryl in the first-aid kit.”

“Oh, thank god!” Huck says.

“In that case, I’ll just relieve myself over here.” Teddy winks at me and stumbles toward a bush. I take the opportunity to put my dress back on.

···

Peg, resident saint and proprietor extraordinaire, mixes up a concoction of seawater and baking soda to rinse our stings.

According to her, it’s supposed to stop any remaining stingers from continuing to cause damage.

Then she gives us a ride back to the boat in her station wagon.

It’s a good thing she takes pity on us, because my wounds are throbbing and Teddy can’t walk in a straight line and has launched into an ear-splitting rendition of “Satisfied” from Hamilton complete with Eliza’s rap, which he manages to get through several times with increasing volume despite the fact that his speech is slurred.

I haven’t seen Teddy this drunk in a while, not since the night at Huck’s cabin in Iceland.

I love him, I do, but I’m not a fan of him when he’s like this.

He’s sloppy. And reminds me of all the times I slid half-full cans of stale beer from my dad’s hand while he slept before he left.

Ted accidentally whacks me in the face when he tries to throw an arm around my shoulders in the car.

Sober Teddy would be managing this situation, making sure that Huck and I were okay via legitimate means instead of urination, and he certainly wouldn’t have peed in our friend’s shrubbery.

In the marina parking lot, Huck and I thank Peg, and Teddy does a weird military salute before he’s back to Hamilton with a very pitchy version of “Aaron Burr, Sir,” which I assume must’ve popped into his mind when he clicked his heels together and sent Peg on her way like George Washington.

Huck and I flank him on the way back to the boat, making sure he doesn’t fall in—we don’t need any more emergencies tonight.

“Look, it’s my boat! Hercules Mulligan!”

“Let’s get you to bed, Ted,” Huck says, crossing the deck toward the stairs.

Teddy wobbles and stops inches from Huck’s face. He scrunches his nose. “I want Stella to do it.”

I hand him a water bottle and steer him toward his bunk. “Go a little easier next time maybe,” I say. “The first mate isn’t supposed to get trashed at dinner.”

Teddy lets out a vicious puff of air that is so rank with alcohol that I come dangerously close to violating my own no-puking-on-the-boat policy. “Me? Drunk? That’s ridaclous. Ridiclesuos.”

“Yup. Totally ridiculous.” I gesture toward the bed. “Get in, friend. Your nice comfy bed awaits.”

Teddy complies, and Huck and I work together to take off his shoes and pull the blankets over him.

“We should make sure he’s on his side,” Huck says, “to be safe.”

“Good idea.”

Teddy is already snoring loudly by the time we tiptoe out of his room.

“Does he drink like that often?” Huck asks when we’re out in the hallway.

“Sometimes.” I shrug. “Not for a while.”

Huck hesitates. “There was that time at the cabin.”

The passageways on the ship are narrow, which forces Huck and me into a proximity that is only made more uncomfortable by the nostalgia.

He’s referring to the night we first kissed, when Teddy had gotten blitzed and had to come home early from his date.

“That was a one-off, I think. We should head to the galley. First, we need to use hot water to destroy the bad proteins in the venom. And the med kit’s in there anyway.

I think it has Benadryl or cortisone cream at least.”

I lead the way, trying desperately to push the recollection of that night, that kiss against the bookshelf, the closeness in my bed afterward, out of my mind. There’s not much left to focus on except the lingering pain of the welts that have sprung up across my torso and thighs.

“It’s probably nothing,” Huck says. “Ted used to be the life of the party in school…I guess that part of him hasn’t changed. Maybe it has a little.” He heats some water and wets a kitchen towel for me.

“How so?” I press the hot towel to my worst sting.

“He didn’t sing then.” He laughs but it’s short-lived. “He loved to showboat, though, and was constantly causing some sort of chaos with his antics.”

“Like the golf cart–stealing incident?”

“Exactly. He was always up to something, like streaking large events, sneaking into the headmaster’s house to raid his pantry.

One time he borrowed a wig and costume from the theater department and pretended to be a substitute teacher for a whole week.

I guess I expected him to have grown out of that phase. ”

I follow his lead and soak another towel with the hot water for him. “Are you that different from when you were younger? Sometimes I think I should be more like an official grown-up and know how to navigate things, but I don’t.”

He lets out a hiss when the towel meets his skin.

After a minute he says, “I know what you mean. I feel like a bit of an imposter at times. My dad loved to give me shit about the myriad ways I didn’t measure up.

I was actually relieved when he decided to send me off to boarding school since it was an escape from his incessant verbal assaults.

But he could still call. I guess I expected at some point his words wouldn’t have an impact on me anymore, like I’d outgrow caring?

Not so much. He died years ago, but his voice is still the one I hear when things go wrong.

He’s my mean inner critic anytime I fuck up. ”

“Shit,” I say. “What an asshole. I mean, my dad had his own issues and left me to fend for myself, but he didn’t tear me down any chance he got.”

“Yeah, we both sort of didn’t make out too well in the father department, did we?

It’s almost like some people really weren’t cut out to be parents, but who knows why they are the way they are?

Take my dad. He was hard on me and himself.

I hated what he did, but then I remember that we’re all doing this life for the first time, and I don’t know what he went through before he had me, and that helps. Makes it hurt a little less, maybe.”

“I guess. But what if we aren’t?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. “I think I might believe in reincarnation.”

“I suppose if that’s the case then we’re not doing a very good job. By now we probably should know to look out for jellyfish. But to answer your question, I am different than when I was young.”

“How so?”

“I hope in the important ways—I’m more empathetic and responsible, less impulsive. I think more about other people now. I eat vegetables.” Huck looks thoughtful for a moment.

I pull the med kit from its holder and set it on the counter. “This might sting, but it should help,” I say, getting out the antihistamine lotion. I smooth some on the red welt on his arm.

Huck gives me a sad smile. “You don’t have to do this, Stella. I can manage.” He nods toward his arm.

I pause. Helping him and talking like this had felt so natural, but that was just the magnetism of old rhythms and too much chemistry, I realize. I could learn something from his reserve. I set down the bottle and step back.

“I just meant that you don’t have to take care of me. You’re hurt too.”

I don’t know how to respond to this. The accuracy of his words sends a strange sensation down my spine.

Huck’s voice is low when he speaks again. “If anything, I should help you. It looked like you got a pretty bad sting on your stomach.”

So he had been looking. Was that what I wanted when I’d peeled off my dress to jump in with him, or when I’d put on the dress in the first place?

No. I was notorious for flinging off my clothes and any shred of caution and jumping into water every chance I got, and before that I’d been dying to wear something other than my jean shorts and T-shirt, which had both been getting a little ripe in the sun all day while cruising.

All of that has nothing to do with Huck.

I don’t like him, and I don’t care what he thinks about me.

Actually, I don’t feel anything for him anymore.

Except he picks up the ointment, and now he’s closing the gap between us, and my breath quickens. “Do you want me to put some of this on your stings?” He’s practically whispering, his voice deep and sultry.

I swallow hard. Do I want his hands to trace over my bare skin while he applies the gel?

Stand so close that I can feel the heat of his sunburn radiating from him?

My pulse turns insistent and thunderous in my ears.

I’ll have to take off my dress. I have welts on my abdomen, my ribs, the backs of my thighs.

They’re smarting beneath my clothes, calling out for his touch, for relief.

The anticipation of the feeling of his fingertips traveling over the sensitive skin is too much.

Would it be like I remembered? He knew then exactly how to touch me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow. Don’t forget what it was like when you woke up happy for a second and then he wasn’t there. That pain, the memory of it is here to keep me safe.

The stings, they were a warning. Nature’s way of reminding me that when I get too close to Huck Sullivan—or anyone really—I get hurt.

“No thanks,” I say, more shrilly than I would’ve liked. I snatch the medicine bottle from his hand, and race out of the room before he can follow.