"I’M PREGNANT," SHE SAID. "I’M GOING TO HAVE a baby."
Laddie felt a dull ache spread over him. Somehow, this was the way he'd always known it would turn out. Ever since that first summer two years ago. He looked up at her, squinting his eyes against the sun. "How do you know?"
She spoke quietly, as if she were just talking about the weather. "I’m late," she said simply. "I've never been late before."
He looked down at his hands. They were sun-darkened against the white sand. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," she answered. Her white-blond hair glittered in the sunlight as she turned and looked out at the ocean. "If nothing happens by tomorrow, I guess I'll have to tell Mother."
"Will you- will you tell her about us?"
"No," she said swiftly, in a low voice. She picked the next question from his lips. "I'll tell her it was Tommy, or Bill, or Joe," she answered, still not looking at him.
Despite himself, he felt a twinge of jealousy. "Did you- with all of them?" he asked hesitantly.
Her dark eyes fixed on his own now. "No," she said emphatically. "Of course not. Only with you."
"What if she talks to them? Then she'll know you're lying."
"She won't," Rina said positively. "Especially when I tell her I don't know which one it was."
He stared at her. In so many ways, she was older than he. "What do you think she'll do?"
Rina shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. There's not very much she can do, I guess."
He watched her walk down the beach to meet some friends, then rolled over in the sand and placed his head on his arms. He groaned aloud. It had happened. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had always known it would. He remembered the night just a few short weeks ago.
They had come down to the beach that summer as they did every year. But this time, it was going to be different. He had sworn it to himself. And he had told her, too.
"No more," he said. "It's stupid, it's kid stuff. You stick to your friends and I’ll stick to mine. We'll only get in trouble if we keep it up."
She had agreed. Even promised. And he had to admit she had kept her word. It was he who had broken his vow. And all because of that damned bottle of orange pop.
It had been a rainy afternoon and they were alone in the cottage. It was hot and humid and the air clung heavily to his body, sheathing it in an invisible choking blanket. His shirt and trousers were wringing with perspiration when he went into the kitchen. He opened the icebox but the usual bottle of orange pop he kept there was gone. He closed the icebox door angrily.
He went upstairs and past her open door before his mind absorbed what his eyes had seen. He walked back and stood in the open doorway. She was naked on the bed, half reclining, the bottle of orange pop in her hand. She was staring at it intently.
He felt the pulse begin to hammer in his head, the perspiration break out anew beneath his clothing. "What are you doing with my orange pop?" he asked. He knew he sounded stupid, even as he spoke.
She moved her head slightly on the pillow and looked at him. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and hazy. "Drinking it," she answered huskily, putting it to her mouth. "What do you think?"
The soda overflowed her mouth and ran in orange driblets down her cheeks, across her breasts to the convex of her belly and onto the white sheet. She smiled at him and held out the bottle. "Want some?"
As if he were someone else, he saw himself cross the room and lift the bottle to his lips. It was warm from her touch. He felt the sweetness of the liquid spill into his mouth. He looked down at her.
She was smiling up at him. 'You're excited," she said softly. "And you said you wouldn't be any more. But you are."
Some of the orange soda spilled down across his shirt as he suddenly realized he had betrayed himself. He turned to go but her hand caught him around the thigh. He almost screamed with the sudden inflaming agony of her touch.
"Just this once more," she whispered. "And then never again."
He stood frozen, afraid to move, afraid he would stumble and fall because of the trembling within him. "No," he said hoarsely.
"Please," she whispered, her fingers opening, searching.
He stood there as if paralyzed. An anguished moan came from deep within him. There would be no more of this, no more humiliation, no more groveling before her. This time she would learn to leave him alone.
With one hand, he seized her wrists and bent her back to the bed. Her eyes were still confident, still unafraid as they watched him. Suddenly, he pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth was warm and moist and still tasted of the orange soda. Then he moved his head and his lips were traveling down her body, across her throat, over her breasts.
It was then she began to fight him. "No!" she whispered, writhing away from him. "No! Don't touch me!"
But he didn't even hear her. He could feel the red rage pumping in his temples; there was a congestion in his chest. He felt her hand pull loose and rake his chest, leaving a clean, hot path of pain in its wake. Bewildered, he looked down at himself and saw the bloody traces of her fingernails on his flesh. A terrible anger rose up in him.
"You cock-teaser!" he yelled, swinging his free hand. The blow caught her on the side of her face. knocking her back against the bed. She stared up at him with frightened eyes.
"You bitch!" he said, tearing his belt from his trousers. He raised her arms over her head and lashed her wrists to the iron bedpost. He picked up the half-empty bottle from the bed where it had fallen. "Still thirsty?"
She shook her head.
He tilted the bottle and began to laugh as the orange soda ran down over her. "Drink!" he said. "Drink all you can!"
The bottle flew from his hands as she kicked it away. He caught at her legs and pinned them against the bed with his knees. He laughed wildly. "Now, my darling little sister, there'll be no more games."
"No more games," she gasped, staring up into his eyes. His face came down and his mouth covered hers. She felt herself begin to relax.
Then the fierce, sharp pain penetrated her body. She screamed. His hand came down heavily over her mouth, as again and again the pain ripped through her.
And all that was left was the sound of her voice, screaming silently in the confines of her throat, and the ugliness and horror of his body on her own.
Laddie rolled over on the sand. It was all over now. Tomorrow his mother would know. And it would be his fault. They would blame him and they would be right. No matter what, he shouldn't have let it happen. A shadow fell across him and he looked up.
Rina was standing there. She dropped to the sand beside him. "What are we going to do?"
"I don't know," he said dully.
She reached a hand out to his. "I shouldn't have let you do it," she whispered.
"You couldn't have stopped me," he said. "I must have been crazy." He looked at her. "If we were anybody else, we could run away and get married."
"I know."
His voice turned bitter. "It isn't as if we were really brother and sister. If only they hadn't adopted- "
"But they did," Rina said quickly, and with a sure knowledge. "Besides, we can't blame it on them. It wasn't their fault." She felt the tears come into her eyes. She sat there silently as they rolled down her cheeks.
"Don't cry."
"I- I can't help it," she whispered. "I'm scared."
"I am, too," he said. "But crying won't help."
The tears kept rolling silently down her cheeks. After a moment, she heard his voice. She looked at him. His lips moved awkwardly. "Even if you are my sister, you know that I love you?"
She didn't answer.
"I've always loved you, I guess. I couldn't help it. Somehow, the other girls were nothing when I compared them with you."
"I guess the reason I was so bad was because I was jealous of the girls you went with," she confessed. "I didn't want them to have you. That's why I did what I did. I couldn't let any other boy touch me. I couldn't stand them."
His hand tightened on her fingers. "Maybe it'll turn out all right yet," he said, trying for reassurance.
"Maybe," she said, a dull hopelessness in her voice.
Then they ran out of language and they turned and watched the surf run away with their childhood.
Laddie sat at the helm of his small sailboat and watched his mother in the bow. He felt a gust of wind take the sail and automatically he compensated for the drift while scanning the sky. There were squall clouds coming up ahead. Time to head for the dock. Slowly he began to come about.
"Turning back?" he heard his mother call.
"Yes, Mother," he replied. It seemed strange to have her aboard. But she had wanted to come. It was almost as if she had sensed there was something troubling him.
"You've been pretty quiet this morning," she said.
He didn't meet her gaze. "I have to concentrate on the boat, Mother."
"I don't know what's the matter with you children," she said. "You're both so moody lately."
He didn't answer. He kept his eyes on the squall clouds up ahead. He thought about Rina. Then himself. Then his parents. A sorrow began to well up inside him. He felt his eyes begin to burn and smart.
His mother's voice was shocked. "Why, Laddie, you're crying!"
Then the dam broke and the sobs racked his chest. He felt his mother's hand draw his head down to her breast as she had done so often when he was a baby. "What's the matter, Laddie? What's wrong?" she asked softly.
"Nothing," he gasped, trying to choke back the tears. "Nothing."
She stroked his head gently. "Something is wrong," she said softly. "I know there is. You can tell me, Laddie. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ll understand and try to help."
"There's nothing you can do," he cried. "Nothing anybody can do now!"
"Try me and see." He didn't speak, his eyes searching her face for something, she didn't know what. A curious dread came into her. "Has it- is it something to do with Rina?"
It was as if the muscles that held his face together all dissolved at once. "Yes, yes!" he cried. "She's going to have a baby! My baby, Mother," he added through tight lips. "I raped her, she's going to have my baby!"
"Oh, no!"
"Yes, Mother," he said, his face suddenly stony.
The tears sprang to her eyes and she covered her face with her hands. This couldn't happen to her children. Not her children. She had wanted everything for them, given them everything. After a moment, she regained control of herself. "I think we'd better turn back," she managed to say quietly.
"We are, Mother," he said. He looked down at his hands on the tiller. The words slipped from him now. "I don't know what got into me, Mother." He stared at her with agonized eyes, his voice strained and tense. "But growing up isn't what it's cracked up to be, it's not what it says in books. Growing up's such a crock of shit!"
He stopped in shock at his own language. "I'm sorry, Mother."
"It's all right, son."
They were silent for a moment and the waves slapped wildly against the hull of the boat. "You mustn't blame Rina, Mother," he said, raising his voice. "She's only a kid. Whatever happened was my fault."
She looked up at her son. A glimmer of intuition pierced the gray veil that seemed to have fallen in front of her eyes. "Rina's a very beautiful girl, Laddie," she said. "I think anyone would find it difficult not to love your sister."
Laddie met his mother's eyes. "I love her, Mother," he said quietly. "And she really isn't my sister."
Geraldine didn't speak.
"Is it terribly wrong to say that, Mother?" he asked. "I don't love her like a sister. I love her" – he searched for a word – "different."
Different, Geraldine thought. It was as good a word as any.
"Is it terribly wrong, Mother?" Laddie asked again.
She looked at her son, feeling a sorrow for him that she could not explain. "No, Laddie," she said quietly. "It’s just one of those things that can't be helped."
He took a deep breath, beginning to feel better. At least she understood, she hadn't condemned him. "What are we going to do, Mother?" he asked.
She looked into his eyes. "The first thing we have to do is let Rina know we understand. The poor child must be frightened out of her mind."
He reached forward and took his mother's hand, pressing it to his lips. "You're so good to us, Mother," he whispered, looking gratefully into her eyes.
They were the last words he ever spoke. For just at that moment, the squall came roaring in from the starboard side and capsized the boat.
Rina watched stolidly as the lobstermen brought the pitifully small bodies to the shore and laid them on the beach. She looked down at them. Laddie and Mother. A vague spinning began to roar inside her. A cramp suddenly seized her groin and she doubled over, sinking to her knees in the sand beside the still figures. She closed her eyes, weeping as a terrible moisture began to seep from her.