"It's like you have a clean slate, no one's sins to overcome or forget. You can be yourself, and anyone who can be an individual these days is lucky, especially if he can make a living at the same time. Speaking of which, I've got to go into town to get some supplies," he added and stood. "Got to earn money. I'll be back in a few hours."
I sat there fuming, feeling as if I had hit another wall of silence about my past. How could he be so cold about it? If he was my f
ather, why didn't he just admit it? Was he afraid I would ask to move in with him? Was he afraid he would have to provide for me?
Maybe, just as he said, I was better off not knowing. I could create my father out of my own imagination and make him perfect. He would have no skeletons in his closet and no sins to weigh on both of us. He would be like some mythical god, who sailed in on a cloud of sea mist and strolled confidently into Provincetown and when he saw Mommy and she saw him they fell in love instantly and spent warm nights on the beach. One day, he was just gone and then I was born.
Now that I was here, one day or one night I would be on the beach and my mythical father would appear and tell me everything was all right. I wasn't an orphan and I had a destiny.
Dreams, I thought. They're the riches of a poor person, stashed in treasure chests buried deeply in the imagination. But are dreams enough?
I cleaned up and took Ulysses for his afternoon walk. The clouds had broken up and the sky had become a quilt with deep, large patches of blue. The breeze was still strong, making my hair dance around my face. The breakers were high and sparkling, and once again I turned to the sea for answers.
I was so lost in my own thoughts and the surf was so loud, I didn't hear the horn or the shouts until I turned to look back at the house and saw that Cary had driven up in his truck and was waving wildly from the top of a dune. I waved back and started toward him.
"What are you doing here?"
"The water is too rough today. My father decided to come in early, so I thought I'd take a ride over to see how you were doing. Where's Kenneth?"
"He went on an errand he said would take him a few hours," I replied.
Cary knelt and patted Ulysses, but kept his eyes on me.
"Has he said anything?"
"Very little. I thought he was going to say something at lunch today, but--"
"But?"
"He said some people are better off not knowing who their parents are.
"He said that?"
I nodded.
"Strange."
"Something's making him very bitter. I wish I could get him to tell me more."
"I guess he will, in time."
"I'm afraid I might be old and gray by then," I wailed.
Cary laughed and stood up, reaching out to help me climb up the knoll.
"Somehow I can't imagine you old and gray." He continued to hold my hand even though I was beside him. His eyes washed over my face. "The sun's bringing out your freckles," he said. When I started to moan, he quickly added, "but that's cute."
"Cute? I'm too old to be cute," I snapped, pulling my hand from his as I started for the house.
"Hey," he called, but I just kept walking. Suddenly I felt like screaming at everyone and everything. "I'm sorry," he said catching up. "I didn't mean--"
"It's all right," I said. "It's just that I'm so sick of everyone treating me like a child."
"Huh?"
I walked slower, my arms crossed under my breasts. The blood that had rushed into my cheeks warmed my face. I couldn't explain why I was suddenly so angry. Maybe I wasn't angry; maybe I was just afraid, afraid that no one would ever take me and my questions seriously. Cary seized my arm at the elbow and I spun around.
"If you want," he said, "I'll just confront him. I'll just come right out and ask him. I'm not afraid of him," he bragged.