Always Chloe and Other Stories Read online

  I’m not sure why it should matter.

  I’m not sure why that should be any worse than starving to death in a little boat.

  But right at this moment, when it’s ready to happen, it matters. It just does.

  Only he’s not eating me. Just looking.

  Part of me is glad for the extra time. Part of me wishes he’d get it over with.

  The moment goes on. I’m not sure how long. Long enough to count to five? Or ten? It’s hard to tell. Especially when you’re not counting.

  Then I hear that noise again, and it scares me.

  Whoosh.

  I jump straight up in the boat and drop my paddle, because it scared me so bad. And I scramble for it, because I can’t lose my paddle. I can’t be out at sea without my paddle.

  Then I wonder why, because I’m probably too far out to paddle back, and besides, I’m about to be eaten alive by a giant sea monster. But by that time, I’ve already managed to grab it before it falls out of the boat.

  I look up just in time to see what goes with the sound.

  The sea monster has this hole in the top of his head. It looks like a little mouth. You can see how he could clench it. How it’s something he can open up or hold closed. He’s just clenching it shut again.

  I’m beginning to think if he was going to eat me, he would have done it by now.

  He does the noise thing again.

  Whoosh.

  This time I can see the whole thing. He opens that little mouth on the top of his huge head and blows air out. You can see the air blow out, because this spray of water blows out with it. The spray shoots way up in the air, and then he clenches the mouth shut again.

  Some of the spray of water drifts over and lands on me. Like the mist you take in the face when you’re boating up close to Niagara Falls.

  Then, just like that, he goes away again. The eye just sort of slides away and disappears under the water. There’s this flat circle left where he used to be.

  I hold tight to the sides of my boat, thinking he’ll flip it over. But it’s like he was careful.

  I know that sounds like a weird thing to say. Because how can I know what a sea monster is thinking? But the boat just barely rocks, and it seems like it couldn’t have happened that way if he hadn’t been careful.

  Then I see something very exciting. Something that makes everything else fall into place and make sense.

  I’ve seen it before, and I know. Right away.

  It’s a fluke. It’s a whale tail.

  It rises up out of the sea about twenty or thirty feet from me, with these sheets of water falling off the back edge. And then it disappears again, leaving that same kind of round flat spot in the ocean. Leaving me staring at the spot where I saw it.

  I saw a whale fluke before. When Jordy and I were coming down the coast. It was the moment I knew everything was going to be all right. Only it’s not all right, is it? If it was, I wouldn’t be here.

  Only…only, maybe it is. Because a whale came up and looked me right in the eye. So maybe everything is all right, and I don’t know it.

  I hear another blowing sound behind me, so I spin the boat around. I know how to do that. I’m good with this boat. You paddle only on one side, and it turns.

  But the fog is so thick, I can’t see anything.

  I spin the boat back, trying to see where my whale friend has gone. But it’s so foggy. Once something gets a few feet away, good luck seeing it. Unless it’s really huge and dark like a whale fluke, it might as well be on Mars. And besides, now I can’t even figure out if I’m facing in the right direction.

  He’s just gone.

  Why did he come right up and look at me? Right into my eyes? Was he trying to tell me something? Or did he just think I looked interesting?

  Maybe he thought I was cute, and he was happy I let him get close, so he could really look at me. Like I do with the seals.

  I guess I’ll never know.

  All I know is, wait till I get back and tell Jordy I was two or three feet from a whale!

  Whoa.

  Isn’t it funny that I would think that? Force of habit, I guess. I mean, I always go home, right? I always did before. Kind of hard to adjust to the idea that I never will again.

  It hurts to know that I’ll never get to tell Jordy about the whale.

  I sit here for a minute, holding my paddle across my lap and feeling the ache from thinking about that.

  Then I wonder if I still have choices here. I’m a good paddler. Maybe, depending on which way the wind is going, I could still make it back. Only I might not make it before dark. I have no idea what time it is. Could I stop if it got dark, and paddle more in the morning? Or would I drift out to sea again in the night?

  And then an even better question: Is that what I want?

  But it turns out it doesn’t matter what I want. Because I don’t even know which way to go anymore. I’m so far offshore, I probably couldn’t see land even on a clear day. And right now, I can only see a few feet in front of my own face. And I don’t even know which direction I’m facing.

  While I’m thinking about this, I’m hearing this noise. Tap. Tap. Tap. I guess I wasn’t paying any attention to it because I live on the Embarcadero—I mean, lived, past tense—and somebody is always working on their boat or building something. And it sounds like somebody banging a hammer on a nail. I guess it takes me a minute to wonder why anybody would be banging on a nail way out here. And besides, I was thinking about something else.

  I look around until I see what’s making the noise. It’s a little sea otter. He’s floating on his back a few feet away and he has a rock on his belly. A round, smooth rock. And he’s holding something in his furry little flippery paws. Something with a shell, like a clam or a mussel. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s not an oyster. I know an oyster when I see one.

  He has the cutest little nose, like a little puppy nose, and long whiskers.

  Every second or so, he brings both his little paws down really hard and hits the clam or mussel on the rock.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Maybe he wants to eat it, and he’s having trouble getting it open.

  “Mr. Otter!” I say. Really loud.

  He freezes, perfectly still. Then he looks at me. I think he might not have even noticed I was here until I pointed it out.

  “Any idea which way is out to sea and which way is Morro Bay?” My voice sounds shivery to me. I must be colder than I thought.

  He disappears.

  I mean, not literally, but almost. I know he flipped over and dove down into the water, and I sort of almost saw it. But it was so fast. It really almost looked like he just said poof, and he was gone.

  I hope I didn’t make him drop his clam.

  I have to stop asking so much from someone when I really don’t even know them at all.

  I’m not totally insane. Maybe a little bit, but not totally. I didn’t think the otter was going to answer me or anything. Or the bird, either. I’m not that bad.

  I was just making conversation.

  Anyway, I still don’t know which way is shore, so I don’t have to try to figure out what I’d do if I did.

  That would have been such a hard decision. It’s almost a relief to have it taken off my hands.

  Only, here’s the thing.

  It only goes away for a few minutes.

  Then I hear the soft, far-off sound of a motor. Like a boat motor.

  Somebody else must be out here. Well, of course. Why am I even surprised? People go out on the ocean all the time, especially from Morro Bay. It’s not my private ocean. I don’t own it.

  So, here’s the choice.

  I can say nothing. Make no noise. Not yell for help. In this fog, probably I won’t get noticed. Maybe a bright yellow kayak would get noticed. Or one of those orange ones the color of a highway-safety cone. But if I stay real still, Blue Boat and I can just slide. And then Jordy and Kevin can get married. And be happy. And not always have to worry about t
aking care of me.

  Or I can yell real loud. And get found. And then maybe I’ll make it home to tell Jordy about the whale.

  I like that part. I like the part where I tell him about the whale. It’s the whole life that comes after that. That’s the part I can’t seem to get worked out. That’s the part that won’t fit right no matter what I try to do.

  The world gets a little lighter while I’m thinking.

  I look up, and I can see a bright circle in the fog where the sun is almost shining through. So I guess the fog is lifting, or burning off, or maybe pulling farther back out to sea.

  And the motor sounds closer now.

  So I’m thinking I don’t have a whole lot of time to decide.

  But then I think, there’s really nothing to decide. If I thought there was any other way to solve this, I would have done it a long time ago.

  I’ll just keep my head down. And be glad that my boat is blue. And hope nobody sees me.

  I pick up my paddle—my nice paddle that Jordy and Kevin bought for me—and I throw it as hard as I can. As far away from the boat as I can throw it. I watch it spin end over end and then land on the water with a splash and float there, out of my reach.

  So that’s that.

  I know I met a whale. That’ll have to be enough.

  PART TWO:

  This Is Just a Couple Months Back.

  March 4th

  Dear Doctor Reynoso,

  It’s me. Chloe. Do you remember me? I hope you do.

  I wrote you a letter last spring. Because Jordy said you wanted us to. I wrote to you and told you what I thought of the world, after Jordy and I saw so much of it.

  I hope you remember.

  I know I said I’d write again when I was ninety, and I guess this means I’m a little early, but hopefully you won’t mind.

  We’re living in the greatest place now. It’s called Morro Bay, and it’s a couple of hours down the little coast highway from where we ended our trip at Big Sur. It’s kind of funny how it happened. We were hitchhiking down the road, and when we got to Morro Bay, we were really hungry. We only had $22 left, so we picked the place that looked the cheapest. The food turned out to be good, but the service was so slow. It took almost an hour to get our food. The guy who waited on us said it was because one of their waiters quit with no notice. Just walked off the job. So Jordy put on an apron and started serving people. Just like that. He said all he wanted was our lunch for free. But the owner (this guy who is really nice, and Jordy calls him The Humanist but I don’t really get why, even though he has tried to explain it to me) loved us for it, and it ended up that we live for free in this little tiny apartment over the restaurant that used to be like a storehouse and that looks right out over the bay.

  I mean the estuary.

  Jordy says it’s called an estuary. I think if that was true, this town would be called Morro Estuary. But Jordy sighs when I say that. Because he has tried to explain it to me so many times. Poor Jordy. It must be really hard always having to explain things to me. And it’s embarrassing for me, because I’m a year older than him. Did you know that? Most people think we’re the same age, but I’m older. And he still has to explain things like I was six. So sometimes when I don’t understand a thing, I keep it to myself.

  We don’t have a kitchen or anything, but we mostly eat down at the restaurant anyway. And Jordy works there for tips only, and I keep the restaurant kitchen clean, and that’s our rent.

  Did I say that it looks right out over the bay?

  Anyway. That’s not why I’m writing.

  I’m writing to say that Jordy is trying to talk me into seeing a new therapist here. And I don’t want one. I wouldn’t really talk to her anyway. Come to think of it, I didn’t really talk to you, either. Did I? But I sort of feel like I can now. Maybe because Jordy thinks you really did care about us, and he doesn’t say that about very many people. Or maybe it’s because you’re there and I’m here.

  I don’t want to tell some new therapist this next thing. I want to tell you.

  Did you know Jordy had a boyfriend right up until he left home? Did he tell you that? Right up until he ran away to New York, and then that’s where I met him. I didn’t know that. And a lot of times I wonder why I didn’t know. But then I think I probably should have asked. He always wanted to know what happened to me before he met me, even when I didn’t want to tell him. I never really wondered about anything.

  So anyway, he’s getting this guy to come visit us where we live now.

  I guess I always knew Jordy would have a boyfriend sometime. But I thought it would be okay, because it would be somebody he only just met. So I would always be the one who knew him the longest. I would always be the one who was there first.

  But he knew this guy since he was thirteen.

  Anyway. Here’s my question:

  Do I have to be happy about this?

  Thanks for answering my question after all this time. I mean, if you do.

  Love,

  Chloe

  EARTH TIME

  So. Here I am. Standing in our tiny bathroom. Reading the note on our great big mirror.

  It’s a note to me.

  I wrote it. In lipstick.

  It says: 1, tell Ethel she’s beautiful. 2, do something nice for Jordy.

  I never wear that lipstick anyway.

  Before I can do either of the note things, Jordy yells in. He says, “Hey, Chloe. Have you seen my good belt?”

  That’s a poser, as Dr. Reynoso used to say.

  “Which one is your good one? They’re all three kind of nice, I think.”

  “The black one with the silver buckle.”

  “Oh. That one. Yeah. That one is very nice.”

  I hear something that sounds like a sigh. But with a door in the middle of us, it’s hard to tell.

  “So, ah…Chlo? Do you know where it is?”

  “Oh. Yes. I do. It’s on the floor next to the couch. I was using it to do my yoga.”

  No sound. Nothing.

  I open the door.

  Jordy is standing there in jeans and his good silk shirt. It’s his best shirt. All his belts might be nice, but he really only has one extra-nice shirt. It’s a sort of deep rosy color. Like the color of one layer of sand in the Painted Desert. I should know. I’ve been to the Painted Desert. I’ve been lots of places. You’d be surprised.

  I bought him that shirt at the Second-Time-Around clothing store as a present.

  He’s getting ready to pick up Kevin at the airport in San Luis Obispo. Which means I’ll have to watch TV or walk on the Embarcadero all alone. Well, not all alone. Ethel will be here.

  “You do yoga?” he says. He has his hands on his hips. “Since when do you do yoga?”

  “I’m not sure. But I saw a show about it the other day. And it reminded me.”

  Speaking of reminding me, Ethel is lying on the bed. I can see her through the bend of Jordy’s deep-rose-colored arm.

  “Ethel, you are beautiful,” I say. “You are the most beautiful dog in the world.”

  She picks up her head. Looks at me. One hairy blonde ear up. One hairy blonde ear over. Like one of those little Benji mutty terrier dogs, but more tan. Her lower teeth stick out. A lot. So she looks like she’s smiling at me. But they always stick out like that. Sometimes people think she’s baring her teeth at them. Funny how it looks like a smile to me and a threat to them. Anyway, she can’t help it.

  Jordy laughs. “Yeah, keep telling her that. She’ll have plenty of other people to tell her otherwise.”

  “So I’ll just have to say it twice for every one of those other people. The more they say she’s not beautiful, the more I’ll tell her she is.”

  Jordy shakes his head and goes off, probably to get his belt.

  Ethel sets her chin down on her front paws and sighs.

  A few minutes later, I open the bathroom door again. I thought Jordy was gone. It was quiet, so I thought he left without saying goodbye. Even though he ne
ver did before.

  He’s right on the other side of the door. His hair looks nice, like he just combed it. Maybe even with some goo to make it behave. He’s holding a belt that’s not leather. It’s that fabric like khaki pants are made of.

  “This is the one that came with my new cargo pants,” he says. Holding it out to me.

  “Right.”

  “But I never wear it.”

  “That’s right,” I say. “You never do. I noticed that.”

  We stand there a minute. Jordy holding the belt out for me to see. I wonder if his arm is getting tired.

  “So you could use this one,” he says. “For your yoga. You can have this one, in fact.”

  “Oh. Thank you. That’s very nice.”

  I take the belt. Figuring we’ll be done now. But somehow not quite. He doesn’t feel done somehow.

  “Who taught you to do yoga?”

  “Well. Let’s see. Ethel taught me Downward-Facing Dog. And that big old tree with the whirlybirds in the backyard in Connecticut taught me Tree Pose. And I already knew Mountain Pose from when we were standing on the very top of Wheeler Peak. Remember that, Jordy?”

  I know he remembers. How can he forget a thing like climbing a mountain? How could anybody? But it makes me happy to remember, so I ask anyway. Just hoping we can talk about it again.

  Jordy is giving me that look.

  “O…kay,” he says. “I’ll be back around nine. Probably. Or maybe a little later. Depending on whether his plane is on time.”

  He heads for the door.

  I wonder if he’s already warned Kevin about me. He does that. He warns people about me before I meet them. He doesn’t know I know, but I heard him do it once. So they won’t be too surprised when I open my mouth. I heard him tell someone once that I was learning disabled, because it’s easier than trying to make them understand that I’m sort of not, but I definitely act like I am. That’s not the easiest thing in the world to explain, so I didn’t take offense.