Oona Out of Order Page 5

  “How is this possible? How do you look younger than me?” Oona put a hand to her face, as if she could read the mark of years like Braille.

  “You’re afraid of needles, my dear. To say nothing of knives.” A kind chuckle at her daughter’s perplexed expression. “Plastic surgery. You frown upon it. I adore it. In fact, you’ve accused me of being a little obsessed with it. But look at me. You’d never think sixty-eight, would you?” Madeleine twirled around.

  “I don’t know what to think, period. Why weren’t you here last night?”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you—2014 You—thought it would be best that way. I may be well preserved, but she—you thought it might be frightening to see me older so soon, before you had a chance to read the letter and let it all sink in a bit. Goodness, I can’t imagine how trying this first leap must be for you. Come, let’s eat, and then we’ll have a little adventure.”

  Madeleine stepped aside to reveal Kenzie in the hallway, bundled in a royal blue scarf. “Good morning.” He held out a lidded plastic cup. “Before you say or do anything else, try this.”

  Was it always going to feel this way, like being thrust onto a treadmill, running to catch up as everyone around her calmly walked? Oona took a sip from the offered cup—coffee, but with a creamy, nutty flavor. “It’s good.”

  “Soy latte. See? Not gross at all,” he added with a wry smile.

  “Plus you don’t have to worry about me breaking my robot coffee machine.” Oona smiled back. The coffee and friendly faces added a normal patina to the morning, crammed the darker feelings away like closing an overflowing junk closet. It would all come tumbling out eventually, but the door would hold for now. “Mom just told me we’re going to have a ‘little adventure.’” She graced Madeleine with a quick eye roll. “Because when I woke up today, thirty-two years into my future, you know what I decided I needed most? Adventure.”

  Madeleine swatted her shoulder. “You don’t even know what it is.” A shake of her head, a look as if she were trying to find her daughter in a crowded room. “It’s going to be like having a moody teenager again.”

  “I am a teenager. Who just lost decades of my life, so excuse me if I’m a little moody.” Oona rubbed the back of her neck. Her body ached like she’d slept on boulders, not on a high-end mattress.

  “You haven’t lost decades, sweetie, your life has just been … rearranged.”

  “You make me sound like living room furniture.”

  Forming his hands into a T, Kenzie stepped between them. “I have an idea. How about less arguing and more birthday brunching? I made a reservation for you two at Applewood. Understated, but just fancy enough.”

  “You’re not coming?” Trying to hide her disappointment, she covered with “Not that I’d expect you to. You should take today off.”

  “Oh.” Warm surprise colored his cheeks. “I just thought you and your mother would want some time to…”

  “Catch up on the last three decades?” The idea of which made Oona want to go back to bed. “I, um—I don’t think I’m up for a fancy brunch right now. Maybe some toast in my fancy kitchen instead?”

  “Fancy kitchen toast, coming right up,” he said.

  “It’s bad enough I kept you up late last night. I can make it. Or have Mom show me how to use whatever high-tech contraption toasts bread nowadays.”

  The three went downstairs and, after checking to make sure Oona didn’t need anything else, Kenzie left, and the two women headed to the kitchen.

  Madeleine took out a loaf of bread and some plates. “If it makes you feel any better, toasters haven’t really changed.”

  “That makes me feel so much better. Makes up for everything.” It wasn’t intentional, this tendency toward sarcasm; Oona never understood how her mother triggered it so easily.

  “So how are you … handling everything so far? Did you read the letter?”

  “Yeah, and it doesn’t mean anything. I could be insane or have Alzheimer’s or…” She placed her hands on the kitchen island’s cold granite, overcome. Wake up, wake up, wake up.

  But the stone was unyielding and her mother’s stroking the back of her head offered little comfort.

  “Listen, sweetheart. I know this is going to be a tough year for you—you told me so yourself last week. But you can’t remain in denial.”

  “This is denial? How do I know you and Kenzie aren’t trying to make me deny my true reality?”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “Maybe because…” The lump in her throat made it tough to dislodge the words. “Maybe soon I’ll forget all of this anyway. Maybe it doesn’t matter what you tell me, so you’re taking the safe route, trying to keep me from totally cracking up.”

  Madeleine’s head jolted back. “Does that sound like something I would do? Take the safe route with you? If you recall, I’ve done everything to encourage you to take more risks. I’m the one who told you to give Dale a chance when you were uneasy about dating an aspiring musician. Who made you play hooky once in a while so we could go shopping. Who bought you clothes you said were too loud or too slutty.”

  The toaster clicked; the bread popped up.

  “True.” Oona thought on this for a moment. “That was pretty messed up. Why would you do that?”

  “You were always a cautious kid, but after Charles died, you walked around like the world was made of eggshells. So scared of making a misstep—”

  “I’m scared to go on boats. I think that’s understandable, seeing what happened to Dad.”

  “It’s more than that. I wanted you to be open to taking risks now and again.”

  “Oh, like the kind of risk that made you get a fake birth certificate to land your dream job at Pan Am only to lose it because you got knocked up at seventeen?” Her hand flew up to her mouth. “That was mean. I’m sorry.”

  An eyebrow twitch and a smirk. “Apology accepted. Yes, my teenage daughter is back, all right.”

  “I didn’t mean it. I’m just—I wish I could make sense of all this.” Oona closed her eyes and forced her brain to pluck a memory from the void of missing years. But no matter how much she strained to cast a light into the dark corners of her mind, the most recent time she could illuminate was the party at Dale’s. And, god, it was so vivid. The Christmas lights, the rough scales of her sequined dress, the astringent gel Dale used on his rockabilly pompadour, the whispery scratch of the Talk Talk record before the cascade of drum machines and synthesizers ushered in a string of hey-hey-heys. But when she opened her eyes, the scene before her was less vivid. The pale green kitchen, the cold counter, the smell of buttered toast, her mother calling her name.

  “Oona, listen to me. Hard as it is to believe, you do still have your whole life ahead of you.”

  The toast was brittle and scratched the roof of her mouth as she chewed. “How would you even know?”

  “Because you’ve hinted at things. Fabulous things.” Madeleine’s inflated lips curved into an enigmatic smile.

  “What things?”

  “Why ruin the surprise? You have some hardships ahead of you, but you also have some marvelous experiences on the horizon, ones that would be robbed of their wonder if I told you.”

  The plate screeched against the granite as Oona pushed it away. “Then just tell me the bad stuff, so I can avoid making the same mistakes again. Did I end up going to London? Was that a mistake? Tell me, so I can choose the band next time, if this insanity is even real and I ever go back to the eighties.”

  Madeleine shook her head. “It doesn’t … you can’t. You’ve learned not to play with your fate. Apart from the stock market, but maybe it’s your fate to be wealthy. I’m sorry, Oona, but I have to respect your own wishes not to reveal your past or future.”

  “Can you at least tell me about my tattoo?”

  “I can’t.”

  An invisible hand tightened around Oona’s throat. “Why do my earlier self’s wishes matter more than the me in front of you right now?”

/>   “Because that you is wiser. She’s had more time to consider how to craft a meaningful life. And because you once told me something about my future that hurt me deeply. I vowed I’d never do that to you.” Her mother looked away. The dish trembled in her hand.

  “I’m sure I didn’t mean it.” How strange, to feel contrite for something impossible to recall.

  Madeleine rinsed off the plates. “It’s fine now.” She turned back around. “Now let’s take a break from finding order and do something a little wild.”

  “We’re two old ladies, Mom. Both probably lacking in mental faculties.” Folding her arms across her chest, she shifted her weight to one leg, the pouty teenager pose at odds with her middle-aged body.

  “Wrong on both counts. Now stop sulking and open your birthday present.” Her mother handed her a flat package, its wrapping paper covered with antique clocks.

  “Nice touch on the wrapping. If I’d been attacked by a shark, would it have had a Jaws theme?” She tore into the thin cardboard box. Inside was a black fifties-style halter-top bathing suit. Beneath that was a folded paper, a printout confirming a two-week stay at the St. Regis Princeville Resort in Kauai.

  “We leave on Saturday. Might as well start the year in paradise, right?” Madeleine winked.

  “What day is it today?”

  “Thursday. Go try on the suit. You’re going to need it for today’s adventure.”

  Oona’s muddled mind struggled to process the exchange with her mother, though it had revealed little. “That’s still happening, huh?”

  A serene yet mischievous grin played across Madeleine’s face. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  “And what kind of adventure are we talking about? Like the one in Coney Island when you forced me to ride the Cyclone until I threw up? Or when you took me to see Pink Floyd and I had to babysit you while you tripped on acid? Or how about that adventure we had on my sixteenth birthday when you nearly gave me and my friends alcohol poisoning after spiking our punch? Do you mean one of those types of adventures?”

  Madeleine’s face glossed with the boredom of hearing the same grievances repeatedly. “Go put the suit on. Wear your other clothes over it.”

  Grumbling under her breath, Oona did as she was told.

  Thirty-two years of instant aging above the neck was one thing, and the weight gain was evident from the larger clothing sizes and her sense of the extra bulk, but this was the first real look she had at her body. Once she caught sight of her naked form, she couldn’t keep from staring. In her youth, she hadn’t been exactly thin, but her curves had been proportional, and she’d been comfortable with her fuller figure. It helped that her mother always told her that all bodies were beautiful, no matter their shape or size, no matter what the movies or magazines dictated. It helped that she was raised to expand her aesthetic boundaries and to value smarts over looks. And it helped now, when she felt like she was wearing someone else’s heavy skin. Where she had once been shaped like a cello, she now pushed double bass proportions.

  Fifty-one years old overnight and she’d have to make peace with it somehow, find beauty in the way she looked today.

  “Come on, Oona,” her mother called out. “Adventure awaits!”

  5

  Madeleine parked a few blocks from the boardwalk, removed a tote bag from the trunk, and led the way to Stillwell Avenue.

  “Normally, I’d think nobody would be crazy enough to go to the beach in this weather, but I have you for a mother, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  There was no rebuttal, but Madeleine’s smirk was full of secrets.

  “If you want to walk on the beach, that’s fine,” Oona continued. “It’ll actually be nice to be somewhere quiet, by the water, away from people. But if you think I’m going to strip down and go swimming in January, well, I don’t want to disappoint you, but—”

  “It’s not going to be quiet,” Madeleine interrupted.

  “Huh?”

  As if in response, a cacophony of hooting greeted them when they rounded the corner. The beach swarmed with people.

  The last time Oona had been to the beach was with Dale—months ago, now decades in the past. After watching reruns of Carl Sagan’s show Cosmos, Dale had become obsessed with astronomy and his greater place in the universe.

  “Take all the beaches in all the world”—he’d grabbed a handful of sand and let it seep through his fingers—“and count all the grains of sand.”

  “I know, I know. The stars in the universe would still outnumber the grains of sand,” Oona finished for him.

  “By a factor of five to ten.” He’d held out a fingertip coated in sand, which Oona blew on to disperse the granules.

  “Okay, Sagan, you’ve made me feel tiny and insignificant. What’s the point of being in a band, then, or going to college or doing anything at all?”

  “That’s all the more reason to make our mark on the world, leave a legacy.”

  A tug on Oona’s arm and she was back in 2015.

  “Come on, let’s find a spot to leave our things,” Madeleine said.

  Surrounding them were thousands of people, cheering, dancing, laughing, jumping up and down. Most were in sensible winter wear, while others dressed in costumes ranging from superheroes to sea creatures. Then there were the people in swimsuits.

  “Mom, this is not going to happen. Why would you bring me here?”

  Madeleine, a few steps ahead, turned around. “I’m part of the Coney Island Polar Bear Club. We do this every Sunday from November to April. I wanted you to join me today. The New Year’s Day Polar Bear Plunge is an annual tradition and open to nonmembers. I think you’ll find it refreshing. I think you need something to … wake you up.”

  There was no point in resisting Madeleine once she set her mind to something.

  A detached, floating sensation came over Oona. She watched as if from the sidelines as she stripped off her clothes and shoes, put on the neoprene booties Madeleine gave her, and allowed her mother to slather her with sunscreen (“You can still get a sunburn, even in these temperatures”).

  Participants were split up into groups by color and given corresponding wristbands. Oona and Madeleine were in the blue group, slated to swim first.

  I could let the tide carry me away. I’d be reunited with Dad. And Dale.

  Needles of cold pricked Oona’s arms and legs. The towel she wrapped herself in helped little by way of warmth or modesty. It didn’t matter; she wasn’t getting many looks from the crowd, not the way the bikini-clad younger women were.

  I was one of them only yesterday. Now I’m practically invisible. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m not here at all.

  “You’re probably thinking the water will be freezing, but it might actually feel a bit warm because the air is colder…” Her mother continued a cheerful patter about how “awake” and “alive” these swims made her feel as Oona stared at the horizon, a sheet of white broken up by the undulating gray line of the Atlantic Ocean.

  “It’s almost time. Try to relax your mind and body as you go in,” her mother said. “Pretend it’s a hot August day and you’re taking a dip to cool off. The more you can put yourself at ease, the more you’ll enjoy it.”

  Yes, how lovely to pretend, to revert to those summers with Dale. Yet the fantasy was like a vinyl record; it would play out only so long before it ended and needed to be flipped. She’d never been susceptible to nostalgia before—she tried to believe the future held better things than the past. Is this what it means to get older, replaying happy memories because the best times are behind you?

  Before long, the blue group was called forward. They charged the water, whooping and splashing. Oona let herself be carried forward by the people, then by the tide. Her mother was right, the water was warmer than she expected, but it still stabbed at her.

  “Splash some on your wrists and neck,” Madeleine urged. “The sooner your pulse points acclimate, the sooner the rest of your body will.”

  If only acclimating were
that easy.

  Oona waded farther out and dove into the water. Maybe if she swam far enough she’d drown or get washed onto a shore where time hadn’t taken such a big bite out of her life. But the waves resisted, pushed her back where her feet could touch the ground.

  The real cold didn’t hit until she was out of the water, when icy winds chilled Oona bone-deep.

  “The car has seat warmers, so we’ll be nice and toasty before you know it,” Madeleine shouted over the noisy crowd. She led the way off the beach, taking several solo steps before she circled back to her daughter, who was rooted in place with her head bent down. “What’s the matter?”

  Oona gazed at the sand at her feet, not thinking of planets or stars or of being young or old or average or extraordinary. She tried to hold on to the numbing effects of the winter swim, even as each shiver commanded her to feel something.

  “What is it, Oona?”

  If only she could rush back into the ocean and fight against her natural buoyancy. But the tide had navigated her here, so she had to say it out loud. Oona took in a jagged breath and forced the words from her mouth:

  “Dale is dead.”

  * * *

  Oona came home bundled in reticent sorrow, and went upstairs to her bedroom, inconsolable.

  “I’m so sorry. I thought the swim would invigorate you. I shouldn’t have pushed,” Madeleine said through the closet door as Oona changed into dry clothes.

  Do I still have it?

  Running a hand across the garments suspended from the long rack, Oona paced the length of the walk-in until her fingers brushed against the jacket Dale had given her. She pulled it off its hanger. The leather was more pliant all these years later, soft and weathered, the black material now shaded with gray. Its rich scent was also faded, though still prevalent, with notes of cedar and cinnamon. Years of wear and exposure had made it only more beautiful. But she was unable to get her arm all the way through the sleeve. Her armor no longer fit her.

  When Oona emerged from the closet, clutching the jacket to her chest, she stepped around her mother and made straight for the bed. Slipped beneath the covers without a word.