Coldwater. Diana Gould

by the ocean air. My appearance didn’t seem to bother her.

      She cast a quick glance behind her. I followed her gaze, but saw nothing but the multi-million dollar beach “bungalows” that lined the road.

      “You’re all grown up! I can’t believe it! Look at you!”

      It wasn’t only that she was beautiful; it was the layers of time her appearance carried. A teenager stood before me, but in her, I saw the little girl in a tutu I’d sprinkled with fairy dust before sending out to trick or treat. The eight-year-old in a snorkel mask whose squiggling body I held in the shallow water in Kauai. I remembered the two of us baking a cake for Jonathan’s birthday, collapsing in giggles at the sludge we produced but eating it anyway because, after all, it was chocolate. If only I could have been the person Julia thought I was when we snuggled as I made up Susie-Q stories how different my life would have been.

      She shifted from foot to foot, scanning the beach from one end to the other, her eyes filled with fear. She still said nothing about why she’d come.

      “You want something to eat? A coke or something?”

      The beach was a private one, shared only with the neighbors, and at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday morning in February, it was empty of all but a few sandpipers. She agreed, and we began walking back up to Gerry’s.

      “How did you get here?”

      For the first time, she smiled. “I drove. I’m sixteen now. Dad and Lynda gave me a Prius.”

      “Sixteen!”

      When was the last time I’d seen her? I tried to think back. For a while after Jonathan and I split up, I’d had an apartment on Sunset Plaza Drive, and occasionally Jonathan would let me see her, although he wouldn’t allow her to stay overnight. I railed at him for taking her away from me, but she was his, not mine, and in some part of me, I knew he was right. It wasn’t long before it was more important to have money for drugs than for rent, and I was forced to move to a cheaper place on Hollywood Boulevard, and I was embarrassed for her to see it. I’d kept the same cell phone number, so she could reach me, and for a while she kept me abreast of news of school, or friends, or Jonathan, who quickly began seeing another woman, whom I was gratified to know she didn’t like.

      On her fifteenth birthday, I’d arranged with Jonathan to drop her off at Musso and Frank’s, a restaurant not far from my house. But I’d fallen the night before, and as I was leaving the house to meet her, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had a big black and blue mark on my face, and I’d chipped a tooth. I thought she could only have the same feelings for me I had for myself—disgust, contempt, and hate. I got drunk and didn’t show up. I thought the best thing I could do was stay out her life. Now I realized how much I’d missed.

      “Wait till you see this house. It’s incredible.” As we walked back up the beach, I couldn’t help but ask, “What’s with the tattoos?”

      “They’re stick-ons. Cool, huh?”

      “Way cool.”

      Gerry’s house was a designer showcase, pristine and sleek, photo ready. The ocean side of the house was glass; the kitchen and dining room looked out over a large wooden deck. A few grasses sprouted on the dunes by the house then the sand extended, clean and bright, to the shoreline, where it turned darker and wetter in the low tide. The sun was high, the sky bright blue, the ocean calm. I opened the Sub-Zero refrigerator, took out two Diet Cokes, and poured them into two glasses over ice. I was about to add a shot of rum into mine but stopped myself. In that moment, I knew for the first time that, for me, there was no such thing as one drink. I didn’t want Julia to have to watch me get drunk. I put the rum back and took the two Cokes out to the deck, where Julia had her back to me. Instead of the ocean, she was looking at her cell phone and texting someone.

      “Incredible view, isn’t it?” I said. “I’ve got this place until April when Gerry gets back.”

      Julia finished texting but still wouldn’t meet my gaze. If there was one thing I was familiar with, it was fear, and I recognized it in Julia’s eyes.

      “Something’s happened to Caleigh.”

      Caleigh (whose name rhymed with ‘gaily’) Nussbaum had been Julia’s best friend since first grade. Marty and Erika Nussbaum’s only child was as close to a princess as American democracy allows.

      “She’s disappeared.”

      “What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?”

      “She’s not at school, she’s not texting back, hasn’t posted on her wall; nobody knows where she is.”

      “Did you ask her parents where she is?”

      “You know Marty and Erika. Anything they said would be a lie.”

      I certainly knew Marty. We used to say about him that the way to tell if he was lying was to see if his lips were moving. I’d met Erika a few times, but she’d made little impression on me, other than being the sort of woman who always defers to her husband.

      “When was the last time you saw her?”

      I recognized this too: riffling through the mental alternatives before coming up with the most presentable story. How awful to see Julia taking on my worst characteristics.

      “At school. Two days ago.”

      Somehow, I knew it wasn’t the truth. A liar can usually recognize another.

      “Are you sure she’s not just home sick and not answering her phone?”

      My suggestion didn’t even warrant a reply.

      “What do Jonathan...and Lynda say?” I tried not to choke on the name. Jonathan and I had lived together but never married. We’d talked about it, and each of us wanted to at different times but never simultaneously. He married his next girlfriend quickly. There’d been some overlap. It had been a sore point. To say the least.

      “They work for Marty. They’re not going to want to rock the boat.” She turned towards me, and I could see the apprehension in her eyes. “I need you to help me find her.”

      I was startled. “Me?”

      “You used to write that detective show.” She paused. “And you’re not all caught up in that Hollywood bullshit.”

      In my show, Jinx Magruder solved a murder a week. The more scared I was, the braver she became; the more my life spun out of control, the more commanding was Jinx.

      “Honey, that was television! Make believe. It doesn’t have anything to do with real life. You should know that better than anybody.” I took a swig of my Coke. “If you’re really worried about Caleigh, tell Jonathan and Lynda. Let them talk to the Nussbaums. It sounds like maybe the police should be involved.”

      The sun was warm, but a breeze rippling from the ocean was salty and cool. My palms were starting to sweat, and yet my skin felt clammy. A wave of nausea turned my stomach, and I thought perhaps I should have poured myself that shot of rum after all. I pulled my sweater close to me, hoping Julia wouldn’t see that my hands were trembling.

      “There’s this big merger in the works. Poseidon is being bought by Alliance. If it goes through, everyone is going to make a ton of money, including Jonathan and Lynda.”

      “But surely, if something’s happened to Caleigh that would be more important than money...”

      The words weren’t out of my mouth before she shot me a look that reminded me that to Marty Nussbaum there was nothing more important than money.

      “...at least to Jonathan?”

      Julia looked out at the ocean, as if weighing how much it was important for me to know. I followed her gaze. A few sandpipers scampered at the shoreline, leaving tiny footprints in the wet sand as the tide rolled towards them and away. A lone seagull flew low over the water.

      “If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell