Salt Water Read Free Page B

mind that, Misha?”
    “I mind the boy part.”
    “European
males
.”
    “How about the rest of you,” Father said, “besides the German part?”
    “The rest is Russian,” she said and explained that her mother’s parents left Russia after the revolution and joined the Russian colony in Paris. “My mother was born there. Strictly speaking, she’s a princess.”
    “How about you?” Father said.
    “Me too,” she said and dove into the water. She came up and swam toward shore.
    “She knows how to make an exit,” Father said.
    We tacked behind her at a discreet distance until she reached the beach.
    After lunch I was sitting on the porch with Blackheart when Zina appeared on the dune and waved us over. Shetook us around to the deck and showed me a dozen of her grass pictures. They were black-and-white and, except for the foot pictures, seemed more like drawings than photo-graphs. The one I liked best was of a single clump with seven blades. Those that bent toward and away from the camera were almost vertical lines. Those bending sideways had the fullest curves. No blade crossed any other. I told her I liked this one best.
    “Why?”
    “It’s the simplest. But they’re all good.”
    “Why?”
    “They’re tense and peaceful.”
    “I love you,” she said. She pulled my head forward and kissed my nose. “Now here are your pictures.” On cardboard she had pasted the snapshots—each was an inch by an inch and a half—one above the other in four groups. The images didn’t mesh, but there she was, opened up and flattened out, two side views, one front view, one back.
    “You’ve reinvented cubism,” she said. “I’m very impressed.”
    When I didn’t say anything, she said, “I really am impressed, Misha.”
    “I just preferred taking pictures of you than of grass.”
    “Nonetheless you are a darling boy—darling male.”
    Sonya appeared, and Blackheart tried to mount her.
    “Stop!” I yelled.
    “Oh, let him! A lady likes to be asked.”
    I was not only embarrassed generally, I was embarrassed for Blackheart, who was half as tall as the setter. He yipped and whined and leaped to reach her. She didn’t even look around to see what was happening.
    “Talk about a flying fuck,” Mrs. Mertz said through the screen door.
    “Mother, come out! This is Misha. You met him on the beach, the drowned rat, and that’s his dog. I don’t give him much chance, do you?”
    “They don’t seem suited,” Mrs. Mertz said and came onto the deck with a drink in her hand. The three of us sat down. Mrs. Mertz caught Blackheart’s attention, and he gave the setter up. I could see from the way the setter folded her paws beneath her and took her place among us that she considered herself somebody. Like the setter, Mrs. Mertz had reddish-brown hair and her arms and legs were long and fashionable. Also like the setter she tucked her bare feet under her. She told Zina to bring me something to drink. Without asking what I wanted, Zina brought me another vodka, which she gave me with a giggle. Mrs. Mertz was paler and thinner than Zina. As I sipped the vodka, I subtracted Mrs. Mertz from Zina to see if I could picture what the father was like. Strong and dark, I thought. I toldMrs. Mertz my formula and asked if I was right.
    “Absolutely. You
are
clever.”
    “What does Mr. Mertz do?” I said.
    “God only knows. I haven’t heard from him for months. Have you, Zina?”
    “One letter.”
    “Well, what
is
he doing?”
    “The usual thing.”
    “Well, there you are, Misha. Zina’s father is doing the usual thing.”
    I didn’t finish the vodka and after an hour left with my pasted-up pictures.

4
The Porch Party
    SUNDAY MORNING FATHER , Mother, Zina, and I sailed from Johns Bay to town and the Church of the Fishers of Men. It had an arrangement with a nearby marina to park the boats of parishioners during services. Mrs. Mertz said she would stay on the Point and worship the sun god. Zina really didn’t belong in