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The Bracelet

Kimberly J. Jones

    Two in the morning. Amy squirmed between the sheets and fingered the bracelet again. He’d said it was for friendship. He’d said not to tell her parents; people didn’t understand. She flapped the top sheet, as if shaking out a rug, letting the breeze cool her. The gold felt hot against her skin, and even though the links were delicate, the chain around her wrist was strong.
    He came over the next day to swim. She imagined he must watch the glimmering water through a window until he saw her and Barbara file out the backdoor, running across the driveway separating the houses.
     “Hey girls!” he said, grinning behind aviator sunglasses.
    Barbara narrowed her eyes, watching him unlatch the gate while Amy bounced from foot to foot, knocking her flip-flops off.
    “Watch this belly flop,” Amy said.
     Hank asked, “Finally going to race me, Barbara?”
    “I’m not staying long, Mr. Monroe,” Barbara said.
    “Call me Hank, Barbara. I’ve told you, it’s okay to call me Hank. Amy does.”
    Amy glanced at her older sister, but Barbara focused on her magazine.
    “That means it’s all you, Amy. Last one in is a fat stewardess.”
    Amy splashed in before Hank could get his shirt off. She surfaced and treaded water, laughing when he pretended to get tangled in the neck hole and sleeves. He slung the shirt on the decking and cannon-balled into the water. After popping up, he dunked her with one hand. She surfaced, spit water into his face and swam to the shallow end. At the side, she rested her elbows against the edge like her Mom’s friends did. Leaning that way pushed her chest out, almost enough to fill her new bikini top. Amy peeked to see if Barbara was watching.
    “When do you leave again?” Amy asked.
    “Dallas and back tomorrow. Pull a LA trip after that.”
    “I wish I only went to school three days a week. You’re lucky.”
    He said, “Pilots have to work weekends and holidays. And no summers off.”
    “Dad works all the time and never gets to swim with us,” Amy said.
    Barbara’s lounge chair scraped against the concrete. “You’re leaving?” Amy asked.
    “It’s too hot out here.”
     “See you later,” Hank said. Barbara only held up a hand and gave a little wave. The backdoor slammed shut.
     Amy whispered, “She’s such a jerk.”
     “Hey, how does the Queen Bee get around her hive?” Hank asked.
     “How?”
     “She’s throne.”
     Amy giggled as Hank moved next to her on the submerged steps.
     “Like your bracelet?” Hank asked.
     Amy touched her wrist even though the bracelet was hidden in her room. “I love it.”
     Hank smiled and allowed his hand to land on Amy’s knee. “It’s not as pretty as you are.” He cleared his throat and stole a glance toward the house. “You hid it, right?”
     “I put it inside an old teddy bear of mine. He has a hole in his foot.”
     Hank squeezed Amy’s knee. They sat that way for a few minutes not talking, but watching the bobbing float across the pool. Amy could feel the warmth of Hank’s hand despite the cool water. Her mother interrupted by coming out with a sweating glass of iced tea. “Hank! I didn’t know you were here. How are you? Ann still at her mother’s?”
     His hand floated to his own lap. “No, she’s back. Her mother got a last minute invitation to a friend’s house in West Palm.”
     “That sounds nice.” Amy could practically hear her mother blabbing about Ann’s contacts and money, all the ‘people’ she knew. Her mother tugged her short cover-up over her thighs and spread a large towel on the chair Barbara had abandoned. Before she could sit, Amy crawled out and perched on the end. Her mother scowled.
     “Can I have some?”Amy asked, pointing to the iced-tea.
     “There’s more inside.”
     Hank climbed out of the pool and shook his head like a dog. His close-cropped hair dried almost instantly like his hairless chest and thin arms. Only his blue trunks stayed wet.
     “Are you done?” Amy asked.
     He shrugged and held a finger up, then answered her mother. “She can keep Palm Springs. All that society stuff.” He leaned in close to Amy’s mother. “Load of crap if you ask me.”
    They laughed and Amy walked inside. She knew Hank had to act strange sometimes. He’d explained that. It didn’t stop it from bugging her.
    Inside, Barbara sat at the table with her feet up, reading her driver’s ed. manual.
    “Thought we were going to swim,” Amy said.
    “Didn’t want to.”
    Amy waited. “You used to like hanging out with him, too.”
    Barbara turned a page.
    “You’re fun when you try. Maybe laugh more or something. People like you too.”
    Barbara set down the book and leaned forward. “He takes your picture. Do you know that?”
    “He takes all the kids in the neighborhood. He’s into photography.”
    “Mostly you.”
    “I’m expressive. I show a lot of vibrancy.”
    Barbara’s eyebrows shot up.
    “The photography contests look for that.”
    Barbara grabbed her book and scooted away from the table. “It’s weird, Amy. He’s weird.”
    Amy watched her sister leave. It wasn’t weird. She was photogenic.

*
    
    “What’s the big deal?” Barbara yelled while Amy’s mother tried to watch the black and white kitchen TV, craning her head around Barbara. “Nancy’s had her license for over six months. No wrecks. No tickets.”
     Amy’s Mom turned up the volume. “Your dad said no riding with other teenagers. That’s it.”
     “Call him and ask. I told everybody we’d meet them at the mall.”
     Amy fiddled with the Pop Tart on a paper plate in front of her, breaking off the crust and squeezing out the jelly filling. With her finger, she wrote out Hank in the purple goo.
     “Dad’s at a convention.”
     “He’s never here, Mom. Make a decision yourself.”
    Her mother sighed. “Fine, I’ll drive you. Want to come, Amy?”
    “Will you take me to the library?”
    “It’s not on the way – another day. Just stay here. Don’t get in the pool.”
    “Can I if Hank comes over?”
    Her mother’s eyes flicked in the direction of the house next door. “I don’t think so. Just stay inside. Read or something.”
    Amy went to her room and put the bracelet on, then padded up the stairs to her parents’ bedroom at the end of the hall. She passed by the scatter of her mother’s clothes, heading straight for the bathroom. Pulling the chair out from the vanity, she paused. Her mother’s lipstick and brow pencils, shadows and eyeliner lined out in the beige dust of powder before her, the tools of adulthood. Amy practiced gliding the black eyeliner straight across her eyelid, then rubbed the pink blush into circles on her cheeks.
    Amy saw the razor perched on the side of the tub. The pink, serrated handle clashed against the bright white of the porcelain. Like the hair on her head, Amy’s leg hair was blond and fine. It should have been invisible. Instead, the hairs fluffed up in all directions. She felt like Sasquatch.
    She picked up the razor, held her leg over the tub and wet it under the faucet. Starting at the ankle bone, she dragged the razor up to her knee in one, long stroke. It stung. Amy inspected her leg. Some of the hair came off, but more remained on her legs in stubble like a poorly cut lawn. She re-wet the razor and tried again, pressing harder this time.
    Getting the hang of it, Amy pointed her toes and held her leg up in the air, like a movie star. She rinsed the long hairs out of the blades and reset the razor, finishing along her shin with a twisting flourish. The razor sliced the thin skin near the bone like deli meat. Before the pain hit, beads of blood emerged like droplets of sweat. She dropped the razor and yanked the toilet paper, loops uncoiling on the floor after her.
    She’d seen her Dad dab tiny bits of tissue on his face to soak up the occasional nick, but the white pieces she stuck to her skin saturated red and fell off. Blood began dripping down her leg to the floor. Amy clutched more toilet paper against her leg and hobbled down the stairs to find bandages.
    In the kitchen, she scooted the day’s dishes to the side and hopped on the counter, rifling through the cabinet containing the first aid supplies. She grabbed the rubbing alcohol, a box of Band-Aids, and a roll of white gauze. Holding her leg over the sink, she pulled off the toilet paper and poured a capful of alcohol on the bleeding gash. She jumped and the bottle of alcohol splashed over the counter. When she grabbed it, a plate crashed to the linoleum . Mixed with the alcohol, the blood seemed to gush down her leg, the pain eye watering. She wished Barbara was there. She’d make fun, but could have kept her from screwing the whole thing up so much.
    On the verge of tears, Amy looked up, saw Hank, towel around his shoulders, reach up to knock on the glass door, peering in. “Amy?” he said, squinting, then dropping his hand and pulling the door open himself. “What on earth?”
    She blushed and looked down. “I cut myself and Mom’s not here.” She watched the useless wads of paper drop to the floor like tiny chunks of flesh. “I was only shaving my legs.”
    Hank crossed the room, putting his hands on her shoulders and looked down. “I think you’ll be okay.” He picked her up under her arms, setting her on the counter. Digging through the cabinet for ointment, he patted her leg, then covered the wound in Band-Aids, five in a row, aligned down her shin.
    As she watched him clean up the alcohol and broken plate, she said, “That’s never happened to me before. The razor must be too dull.”
     He rinsed the scattered dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then used a paper towel to wipe the gold Formica. He put his hand on her knee. “Better?”
    “I’m sorry,” she said.
    “You have to use soap. Something to make it glide.”
    Amy dropped her chin. “I will next time.”
    He pointed at the bracelet. “Better take it off before your mom gets home.”
    “Okay.” Amy looked at the Band-Aids, biting her lip.
    “What’s wrong?” Hank asked.
    “It’s ugly.”
    Hank caressed her thigh. “There is not one ugly thing about you. This will leave a little scar, but it won’t hurt for long.”
    They heard her mother’s car pull in the garage. Amy watched his eyes dart to the door. He tried to help her to the floor, but she squeezed, pinching his legs between her shins.
    “Not funny,” he said.
    Amy cradled her leg, examining the Band-Aids. He tried to hoist her down again, but she scooted further away. Hank kept his hand on her arm, squeezing almost enough to hurt, then took a deep breath and began washing his hands in the sink. She slipped the bracelet into her pocket.
    Doris came inside holding grocery bags. “Hank, what are you doing here?”
    He took one of the bags after wiping his hands dry on his pants legs. “Had a little altercation with a razor over here. No worries, disaster averted.” He put the brown sack on the counter.
    Doris kneeled down to look at Amy’s leg, then smudged the pink off her cheeks with her fingers. “Aw, baby, you’re too young for all this.” She stood up and turned to Hank. “Thanks for helping. Amy and I need to have a little talk, I guess.”
    Hank walked to the backdoor and winked at Doris. “Trying to look as pretty as her momma.” Doris smiled and Hank asked, “Mind if I swim tomorrow?”
    Doris held Amy’s knee. “Least we can do. Come anytime.”

*

    “Barbara has to go to driver’s ed.,” Amy’s mother said. “Invite Maggie over or something.”
    “She’s at camp.”
    “Well some other neighborhood kid, then.”
    “They’re all boys, Mom. I hate them.”
    “Barbara! Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”
    “I want to work on my freestyle. Can I swim if Hank comes over?”
    Barbara shoved past. “‘If’? What a joke.”
    Doris stopped and looked at Barbara. “It’s nice of him to help her with her swimming.”
    “Super,” Barbara said.
    Doris paused with her hand on the door and shifted her attention back to Amy.
    “Mom, it’s boiling out,” Amy said.
    Her mother opened the door. “No swimming alone.”
    “So it’s okay?”
    Amy’s mother kissed her forehead. “Fine. Back in a few hours. Call Daddy’s office if you need anything.”
    Amy watched the car go up the street. She hurried to her bedroom and changed into her swimsuit, the shine of her smooth legs still surprising her. Amy sent a silent thanks to her mom for the lesson with the new Daisy and shaving cream. She wasn’t at the pool fifteen minutes before Hank appeared. “Where did your mom go?” he asked.
    “Taking Barbara to driver’s ed. They have to go every day for two weeks.”
    “What a pain.”
    “She said I could swim if you were here.”
    Hank took his shirt off. “Then I’ll be here.”
    “Want to play Marco Polo?” Amy asked.
    He shook his head.
    “How about a diving contest?” Amy ran to the diving board.
    Hank slouched against the side. “Fine. I’ll judge you.”
    After a few dives, Amy swam up. “Don’t you want to go?”
    “Kind of tired. Why don’t you sit here with me?” Hank drifted to the edge and draped his arms across the sides. As Amy approached, Hank tinkled the water beside him with his finger tips.
    Amy sunk under, coming up beside him. He shifted close enough their legs touched. “Doesn’t Ann ever want to swim?” Amy asked.
    Hank laughed. “And get her hair wet?”
    Amy crinkled her nose.
    Hank slid forward and rested his head against the edge, staring up at the blue sky. “Ann’s not that interested in having fun.”
    Amy rubbed her palms down her shins, then sank under, arranging her hair slick over her face. She surfaced, then giggled, “Oops, got my hair get wet.”
    Hank turned his head, squinting at her. “She’s not fun like you.” He moved the dripping hair away from her eyes. “Your face is too beautiful to hide.” Under the water, his leg twined around Amy’s. “Have you been able to wear the bracelet?”
    “Every night.”
    His leg stilled. Looking into the sky, he said, “Maybe I’ll take you someplace soon. Just the two of us. I can fly free wherever I want and you could wear it all the time.”
    Amy pictured herself on a sandy beach in a flowing dress, her hair blowing back from her face. As the sun sank into the turquoise water, her bracelet would twinkle in the light. She imagined him walking toward her. She focused on their legs touching beneath the water. “When’s your next trip?”
    “Tomorrow. I’m supposed to do a four day leg but I’m going to try to switch with one of the guys. Maybe I’ll be back in two days.”
    “You don’t want to fly?”
    “And miss my afternoon swims?” He kept his gaze on the sky, but let his toes tickle the bottom of her foot. “Ann’s home now but when I get back, maybe we’ll do something else besides swim. That sound good?”
    Amy’s stomach flipped. Something else might mean his hands pulling her close. She stared at his mouth, imagining their first kiss, a hot blush reddening her face. Amy untangled her legs from Hank’s and dove under. She knew he would watch her the whole way to the other side and stroked long and graceful.

*

    Barbara and Amy bounced on their floats, trying to turn the other’s raft over. The driver’s classes had gone half day and to Amy’s surprise, Barbara spent her afternoons swimming with her. Hank sat on the steps alone, watching the girls play. When Barbara’s float popped and began sinking to the bottom, she said, “Look what you did, moron.”
    “I’ll get another one,” Amy said.
    She climbed out of the pool by Hank and walked through the gate into the garage, scanning the shelves at the far end. It took several minutes for her eyes to adjust to the dark.
    “I’ll help you,” Hank said. Amy jumped.
    “I didn’t know you came in here.”
    Hank used the outside of his finger to stroke Amy’s cheek. He leaned in close to her ear. “You said you wanted to do something besides swim, remember?”
    Amy flinched, then turned to face him. “Oh. Well, Barbara’s home and all.”
    Hank dropped his hand, barely sliding it across her butt, and took a step back. “I miss talking to you. Just you, alone.”
    Amy said, “I’m sorry.” Her face tingled. She wished she hadn’t pulled away from him.
    “Ann and your Mom are taking a shopping trip on Saturday. If you make up an excuse for your Dad, think you can come over?”
    “Sure.”
    Hank smiled and shrugged. “You’re the best, Amy. A real friend.”
    “Find one?” Barbara asked, standing in the doorway. With the bright backlight, she looked bigger somehow.
    Amy held a float over her head. “Coming.” She approached Barbara, waiting for her to move out of the way.
    Barbara ignored Amy and watched Hank. “You thought it would be too heavy for her?”
    Hank laughed. Barbara grabbed her towel and went back inside.

*

    On Friday night, while the grill heated, Amy’s parents gathered in the kitchen with Hank and Ann. Barbara and Amy had agreed to stay out of the way during their dinner party, but leaned against the hallway wall outside their rooms, across from the kitchen.
    “To our lovely hostess,” Hank said.
    “To summer evenings.”
    “To tequila,” Hank said. They all laughed.
    The girls crinkled their noses. Barbara whispered, “Let’s sneak in there and steal one of those bottles.”
    “How are we supposed to do that?” Amy asked.
    Barbara peeked around the corner. “Dad just went out to the grill. We’ll both walk in and I’ll distract Mom. You grab a bottle.”
    “But Hank and Ann will see me,” Amy said.
    “Like he’d tell on you? They’re drunk anyway. And all over each other.”
    “They’re what?”
    “She is his wife, you know.”
    Amy peeked around the wall. Her mother sliced limes while Ann sat on a stool by the counter. Hank stood behind his wife with his arms draped around her. Amy saw him whisper something in her ear and kiss her neck.
    Barbara stepped around Amy, walking into the kitchen. “We’re hungry, Mom. Is there anything else to eat?”
    Hank stepped away from Ann.
    “I already fed you,” Amy’s mother said, “Remember? Tonight is adult night.”
    Barbara crossed her arms. “Mom! Sandwiches are not dinner. I just want some ice cream or something.” She opened the freezer door, blocking her mother’s view and waved for Amy to grab the bottle.
    But Amy couldn’t move, just stared at Hank. He stood, intently focused on the drink in his hand. “I’ll go help Walt with the steaks,” he said.
    Her mother shut the freezer door and hissed, “What in the world has gotten into you Barbara?”
    Barbara gave Amy a dirty look. “Fine. We’ll go to bed starving.”
    Back in the hall, Barbara said, “What was that, you idiot?”
    “Sorry. Mom would notice. We’d get caught.”
     “You’re such a baby.” Barbara sighed.
    “I’m old enough. Stupid plan is all.”
    “You’ve got a better one?”
    “Let’s spy some more. They’ll get drunker and we’ll listen for our chance.”
    They heard Amy’s mother say, “They’re at that age, I guess. Hopefully they’ll stay in their rooms.”
    “They’re delightful young ladies,” Ann said.
    Barbara snickered and made a face. “We’re delightful even at ‘that age’.”
    “Shhhh,” Amy said.
    Amy’s mother asked, “Have you thought of having children?”
    “I suppose,” Ann said. “Hank really wants to. He says he can’t imagine loving anyone as much as me, but he’d love to try.”
    “That is so sweet,” Amy’s mother said.
    They heard Hank return from outside.
    “Time for more margaritas,” he said. “What are you two grinning about?”
    “Ann was telling me how sweet you are.”
    Amy pushed past Barbara into her room and tried to slam the door, but Barbara stopped it with her hand.
    “You’re jealous?”
    Amy buried her head in her pillow. She heard Ann squeal, “Stop it, you silly.” Everyone laughed.
    “You don’t understand,” Amy said.
    Barbara sat on the edge of the bed. “Look, lots of girls get crushes on old guys like their teachers and coaches. Happens all the time,” she said, then frowned. “Not that most of those guys encourage it so much.”
    Amy jumped off of her bed and yanked open her dresser drawer. “You have no idea.”
    “I’m telling you, I do.”
    “You’re the one who’s jealous. Not me.” Amy tossed through her clothes. He was only acting. He couldn’t love Ann. Wouldn’t even get her stupid hair wet.
    “What are you doing?” Barbara asked.
    Amy yanked out a black t-shirt she’d outgrown last summer and put on her shortest pair of cut-offs.
    “Those small clothes don’t make you look any older.”
    Amy stuck her chest out, running her hands across her small breasts. “It’s better, though.” She pulled her hair back into a pony-tail like Hank liked and shined her mouth with pink lip gloss, then dug the bracelet out of the teddy bear and clasped it on. She paused in front of the mirror, hiked her shorts up, and smiled. “Let’s go help clean up.”
    Barbara followed Amy into the kitchen and stood behind her near the table. Amy’s mother looked up first, shading her eyes and opening her mouth, but all the conversations stilled as each adult took in Amy’s appearance. “Continue your party. Just paying Mom back for taking me to the mall. Think of me as the maid.”
    “You bought her those clothes at the mall?” Amy’s dad asked.
    Doris stood up from the table. “Of course not – ” She turned to Amy. “Thanks, but –”
    Amy grabbed her father’s plate. Hank’s eyes followed her arm. He seemed frozen to his chair.
    Amy’s mother pointed at Amy’s wrist. “What are you wearing?”
    Amy draped her fingers down the tight t-shirt. “I know. I’m outgrowing everything, I guess, but it’s just for home.”
    “I mean on your wrist.”
    Hank cleared his throat.
     “Does our little Amy have her first boyfriend?” her mother laughed and turned to her husband. “Hank and I caught her shaving her legs.”
    Amy’s father stopped his fork, “You and Hank caught her?”
    Ann pushed away from the table.
    “Is that it, Amy? Your first boyfriend?” Doris asked.
    Amy flicked her ponytail and watched Hank. “Yeah, I have a boyfriend.”
    Her mother smiled. “Sweet. And I can’t wait to hear all about him, but what have I told you about costume jewelry? It’s tacky – makes you look cheap.”
    “Who says it’s fake?”
    “Hank, I think it’s time for us to go,” Ann said.
    Hank remained in the chair, holding the side of the table.
    “It’s real?” Doris asked. “I don’t think any boy your age could afford a real gold bracelet, Amy.”
    “Neither do I,” Barbara said.
    “Who is this boy?” Doris asked. “Walt, I think you may have a phone call to make.”
    Ann turned toward Hank, biting lipstick flakes off her mouth. “Thanks so much for dinner.”
    He hopped up and slapped his palms together, smiling big. “Thanks. Everything was great.”
    Her dad said, “Who gave you the bracelet, Amy?”
    Ann flinched. Then she exhaled and rearranged her face back into a smile, grabbing Hank’s hand and leading him toward the door. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Doris.”
     Amy saw the sweat on Hank’s forehead, his mouth squeezed tight enough to turn his lips white. But Hank met her gaze and she considered the next day, alone with him at his house. Her stomach tightened when she thought about what that might mean. He looked mad. Maybe she’d ruined everything. Maybe he didn’t want her to come over anymore.
     Her father cleared his throat.
     Amy bit her thumbnail, looking down. “Will Jordon did.”
    When she looked back to Hank, he stood up straighter, pulling his shoulders back and smiling.
    Barbara knocked her forehead with the heel of her hand.
    “The kid whose parents own the jewelry store?” Doris asked.
    “We’ll let you all handle this in privacy,” Ann said and urged Hank ahead of her to the door. She opened it and held it for Hank, then took his hand as they stepped out. The click of the latch seemed to echo in the silent room.
    They stared at Amy. “I’ll give it back on Monday,” she said.
    Her mother checked her husband’s expression. “Alright then.”
    Amy’s dad chewed the last of his steak. “See that you do. I want to know more about this boy and why you let him give you such an expensive present. How long have you been seeing him? Why didn’t you tell us about him?’
    “Later, Dad.” Amy nudged past Barbara and walked back into her room, closing the door.
    Tomorrow, at his house, alone, they would talk. About how he acted with Ann, which would have to stop. About how to deal with her parents. About how she had saved him tonight. Amy sat on her bed and spun the gold around her wrist. She would not be giving back any bracelet on Monday. She wasn’t ever giving it back. Amy lay back, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow they would talk about being together.

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