Weeping Underwater Looks a Lot Like Laughter (40 page)

Serving Oktoberfest mugs in the beer garden was a high-profile position. I ran into all sorts of people I hadn’t seen in years, including Tommy Wick from the old neighborhood in Davenport, Coach Grady and his hermetic shifty-eyed wife who no one had ever seen before, and Jessie Walters, the girl wrestler from Winterset who was now engaged to her high school rival, Dave Friberg from Valley. I even ended up being approached by Floyd Truman, the big man from the funeral parlor who practically shook my hand off my wrist, introducing me to his date as his “old pal George” before bragging about his luck shooting thirty-seven ducks in a row.

On the final night of the fair, before Emily even crossed the threshold of the beer garden tent, I spotted her rambling along the midway arm in arm with Lauren and Ashley, attempting to drag them into a soothsayer’s booth called “Fiona’s Fortunes.” Her hair was still dyed jet-black, though it was nearly the same length and style as when I first met her in the hallway outside the St. Pius auditorium. As soon as they stepped into the tent, Ashley and Lauren whistled and shouted my name, beaming like the Fourth of July until Emily snagged the backs of their shirts, thus halting their forward progress. After a brief, secretive exchange, Ashley and Lauren planted themselves at a table facing the grandstand, freeing Emily to make her solemn honor-guard approach. On reaching the counter she draped herself over a prop wooden barrel of ale, then leaned on her elbows to survey the boisterous scene. I continued dunking mugs in the tub, pouring a few pitchers until she turned my way and sighed, gazing all around me like she was searching for something she might have left behind the bar.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Just looking.”

“How about a beer?”

“I’ll be taking the night off, thank you. All right if I stand here a minute?”

“All right by me,” I said.

She tipped her invisible hat, apparently content to catch her breath, mostly fixing her people-watching gaze on a stage barker across the midway playing Guess Your Weight. In the chaos of pop music and drunken sing-alongs, we were almost anonymous enough to feel alone.

“You staying for the fireworks?” I asked.

“Of course. Any word on who’ll be playing the grandstand tonight?”

“That’s top secret.”

“Didn’t tell you, did they?”

“I can’t even tell you whether or not they told me. That’s the biggest secret in the state.”

Emily nodded, playing less than pleased with my snobbery. I had the feeling that unless I did something about it, our conversation would continue just as flirty and aloof as it started. (Perhaps that would’ve been for the best, though I still haven’t decided.) The song changed to an album of screaming country rock. I knew our time was almost up, that soon Emily would tell me what an expert I was at pouring beer, and maybe wink, then return to her table and that would be the end of it. When I felt certain she was ready to go, I spoke up and told her exactly what I was thinking. I told the truth, more for myself than anything.

“You know, when I think about Katie now, I don’t think about the girl with the crutches and the ponytail.”

Emily turned around, pushing a few empty glasses along the bar just as casually as if I’d asked how her semester had ended. “So what’s she like now?”

“She’s changed a lot since then. She’s more mature now and she’s not dead at all. She’s alive and I sort of feel about her the same that she felt about me. Like an immature crush, something that will probably never work out. I know that’s strange, but I hope you don’t take it the wrong way. It’s just that she’s become this beautiful and wise little girl and I can’t help trusting her with all my biggest decisions. I see her all the time, but it doesn’t make me feel sad. Seeing her doesn’t bother me at all.”

Ashley and the others started waving their glasses in the air, calling the both of us over to join them. Emily leaned on the bar, not seeing them, or anyone else. “You sound like a person in love. You sound like you’re in love with her.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I am. What’s not to love? She’s perfect. She always says exactly what I need to hear. And she doesn’t judge me, no matter what mistakes I make. She’s just there to tell me she believes in me and she wants to help out.”

Emily moved a few glasses around, almost like a dealer in Liar’s Dice. She got lost for a few seconds, trying to understand. “What does she do? Like, what is she doing when you see her?”

“Usually I find her standing in some hidden area of wherever I am, just looking at me and waiting for me to notice that she’s there. Once I was walking across the Hy-Vee parking lot when it was raining. I saw her standing under a black umbrella behind the place where they line up all the grocery carts. I was thinking about everything that happened with us, and how I don’t feel like going to college but I’ll probably have to. How I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life. You know, worrying about everything at once. Katie skipped on over to me and put her arm around my shoulder and said,
You can cry, George. Nobody’s watching. Let it all out
.”

Emily looked away, pursing her lips until they lost their color, turning suddenly sad and silent. A waitress shouted an order and I poured a few more pitchers. The beer garden wasn’t the place for such a scene. I regretted making more of the conversation than necessary. I suddenly felt that I’d gone too far.

“You said she skipped over to you?” she asked.

“Yeah, she’s usually skipping, like she’s in remission and feeling strong. Like she might even be cured.”

Emily thought about it, squinting as she pondered the possibilities, like they were all there swimming in my eyes. “You know, the worst is when people ask me how many brothers or sisters I have. I never know what to say. It’s hard when you
used to
be someone’s older sister.”

She paused, waiting for a response. But I didn’t say anything. I had no idea how that must have felt. Emily pushed off the counter, taking another deep breath and smiling. “Good to see you, George. I think I’ll go sit down now.”

I gave her one last smile as she turned and walked away. While I thought I’d made progress in closing my heart to her, at that moment I knew I’d failed. I cursed the fact that there was never enough time, that I still loved her in a way that felt impossible to repeat. She was halfway across the tent when I caught up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. I couldn’t let her go without asking. When she turned around, her hair swung in front of her face and she tucked it behind her ear.

“If someone asked you who was your first love, would you tell them it was a redhead from Davenport?”

“No one’s ever asked me.”

“But if they did.”

“What do you think?” she said, taking a half step back. “What do you think I would say?”

“I don’t know.”

Emily’s gaze sharpened over the swarming crowd. A summer shiver briefly raised her. She replied in one blushing word, deep and stretched and falling.