Part 5
"Nobody can come in."
"Well, will you tell me from there why you're running away?" Boo Boo asked. "After
you promised me you were all through?"
A pair of underwater goggles lay on the deck of the dinghy, near the stem seat. For
answer, Lionel secured the headstrap of the goggles between the big and second toes of
his right foot, and, with a deft, brief, leg action, flipped the goggles overboard. They
sank at once.
"That's nice. That's constructive," said Boo Boo. "Those belong to your Uncle Webb.
Oh, he'll be so delighted." She dragged on her cigarette. "They once belonged to your
Uncle Seymour."
"I don't care."
"I see that. I see you don't," Boo Boo said. Her cigarette was angled peculiarly between
her fingers; it burned dangerously close to one of her knuckle grooves. Suddenly feeling
the heat, she let the cigarette drop to the surface of the lake. Then she took out
something from one of her side pockets. It was a package, about the size of a deck of
cards, wrapped in white paper and tied with green ribbon. "This is a key chain," she
said, feeling the boy's eyes look up at her. "Just like Daddy's. But with a lot more keys
on it than Daddy's has. This one has ten keys."
Lionel leaned forward in his seat, letting go the tiller. He held out his hands in
catching position. "Throw it?" he said. "Please?"
"Let's keep our seats a minute, Sunshine. I have a little thinking to do. I should throw
this key chain in the lake."
Lionel stared up at her with his mouth open. He closed his mouth. "It's mine," he said
on a diminishing note of justice.
Boo Boo, looking down at him, shrugged. "I don't care."
Lionel slowly sat back in his seat, watching his mother, and reached behind him for
the tiller. His eyes reflected pure perception, as his mother had known they would.
"Here." Boo Boo tossed the package down to him. It landed squarely on his lap.
He looked at it in his lap, picked it off, looked at it in his hand, and flicked it--
sidearm--into the lake. He then immediately looked up at Boo Boo, his eyes filled not
with defiance but tears. In another instant, his mouth was distorted into a horizontal
figure-8, and he was crying mightily.
Boo Boo got to her feet, gingerly, like someone whose foot has gone to sleep in theatre,
and lowered herself into the dinghy. In a moment, she was in the stern seat, with the
pilot on her lap, and she was rocking him and kissing the back of his neck and giving
out certain information: "Sailors don't cry, baby. Sailors never cry. Only when their
ships go down. Or when they're shipwrecked, on rafts and all, with nothing to drink
except--"
"Sandra--told Mrs. Smell--that Daddy's a big--sloppy--kike."
Just perceptibly, Boo Boo flinched, but she lifted the boy off her lap and stood him in
front of her and pushed back his hair from his forehead. "She did, huh?" she said.
Lionel worked his head up and down, emphatically. He came in closer, still crying, to
stand between his mother's legs.
"Well, that isn't too terrible," Boo Boo said, holding him between the two vises of her
arms and legs. "That isn't the worst that could happen." She gently bit the rim of the
boy's ear. "Do you know what a kike is, baby?"
Lionel was either unwilling or unable to speak up at once. At any rate, he waited till
the hiccupping aftermath of his tears had subsided a little. Then his answer was
delivered, muffled but intelligible, into the warmth of Boo Boo's neck. "It's one of those
things that go up in the air," he said. "With string you hold."
The better to look at him, Boo Boo pushed her son slightly away from her. Then she
put a wild hand inside the seat of his trousers, startling the boy considerably, but
almost immediately withdrew it and decorously tucked in his shirt for him. "Tell you
what we'll do," she said. "We'll drive to town and get some pickles, and some bread, and
we'll eat the pickles in the car, and then we'll go to the station and get Daddy, and then
we'll bring Daddy home and make him take us for a ride in the boat. You'll have to help
him carry the sails down. O.K.?"
"O.K.," said Lionel.
They didn't walk back to the house; they raced. Lionel won.
"Nobody can come in."
"Well, will you tell me from there why you're running away?" Boo Boo asked. "After
you promised me you were all through?"
A pair of underwater goggles lay on the deck of the dinghy, near the stem seat. For
answer, Lionel secured the headstrap of the goggles between the big and second toes of
his right foot, and, with a deft, brief, leg action, flipped the goggles overboard. They
sank at once.
"That's nice. That's constructive," said Boo Boo. "Those belong to your Uncle Webb.
Oh, he'll be so delighted." She dragged on her cigarette. "They once belonged to your
Uncle Seymour."
"I don't care."
"I see that. I see you don't," Boo Boo said. Her cigarette was angled peculiarly between
her fingers; it burned dangerously close to one of her knuckle grooves. Suddenly feeling
the heat, she let the cigarette drop to the surface of the lake. Then she took out
something from one of her side pockets. It was a package, about the size of a deck of
cards, wrapped in white paper and tied with green ribbon. "This is a key chain," she
said, feeling the boy's eyes look up at her. "Just like Daddy's. But with a lot more keys
on it than Daddy's has. This one has ten keys."
Lionel leaned forward in his seat, letting go the tiller. He held out his hands in
catching position. "Throw it?" he said. "Please?"
"Let's keep our seats a minute, Sunshine. I have a little thinking to do. I should throw
this key chain in the lake."
Lionel stared up at her with his mouth open. He closed his mouth. "It's mine," he said
on a diminishing note of justice.
Boo Boo, looking down at him, shrugged. "I don't care."
Lionel slowly sat back in his seat, watching his mother, and reached behind him for
the tiller. His eyes reflected pure perception, as his mother had known they would.
"Here." Boo Boo tossed the package down to him. It landed squarely on his lap.
He looked at it in his lap, picked it off, looked at it in his hand, and flicked it--
sidearm--into the lake. He then immediately looked up at Boo Boo, his eyes filled not
with defiance but tears. In another instant, his mouth was distorted into a horizontal
figure-8, and he was crying mightily.
Boo Boo got to her feet, gingerly, like someone whose foot has gone to sleep in theatre,
and lowered herself into the dinghy. In a moment, she was in the stern seat, with the
pilot on her lap, and she was rocking him and kissing the back of his neck and giving
out certain information: "Sailors don't cry, baby. Sailors never cry. Only when their
ships go down. Or when they're shipwrecked, on rafts and all, with nothing to drink
except--"
"Sandra--told Mrs. Smell--that Daddy's a big--sloppy--kike."
Just perceptibly, Boo Boo flinched, but she lifted the boy off her lap and stood him in
front of her and pushed back his hair from his forehead. "She did, huh?" she said.
Lionel worked his head up and down, emphatically. He came in closer, still crying, to
stand between his mother's legs.
"Well, that isn't too terrible," Boo Boo said, holding him between the two vises of her
arms and legs. "That isn't the worst that could happen." She gently bit the rim of the
boy's ear. "Do you know what a kike is, baby?"
Lionel was either unwilling or unable to speak up at once. At any rate, he waited till
the hiccupping aftermath of his tears had subsided a little. Then his answer was
delivered, muffled but intelligible, into the warmth of Boo Boo's neck. "It's one of those
things that go up in the air," he said. "With string you hold."
The better to look at him, Boo Boo pushed her son slightly away from her. Then she
put a wild hand inside the seat of his trousers, startling the boy considerably, but
almost immediately withdrew it and decorously tucked in his shirt for him. "Tell you
what we'll do," she said. "We'll drive to town and get some pickles, and some bread, and
we'll eat the pickles in the car, and then we'll go to the station and get Daddy, and then
we'll bring Daddy home and make him take us for a ride in the boat. You'll have to help
him carry the sails down. O.K.?"
"O.K.," said Lionel.
They didn't walk back to the house; they raced. Lionel won.
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