Cristina Read online

  The short, portly man made his way toward the tired group of movers, an enthusiastic smile on his face.

  “Oh, boy,” he said as he approached. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see someone moving in after all this time.”

  When no one spoke, he continued, “You must be the new young lady of the house. Cristina, right? That’s what the real estate agent told me. I’m Jack Benning. I teach at the community college. History mostly. But I also teach remedial civics in the fall. And I used to have a few more classes too, but the bureaucracy of it all got me so frustrated I had to take a step back a few years ago. Sorry, I’m rambling. I do that sometimes when I get excited. How are you?”

  He offered his hand. His mouth bent into a grin. The friendly sparkle in his eyes dented Cristina’s cautiousness. She couldn’t help but return a smile of her own as she shook his hand.

  “Hi, sir,” she said.

  “Oh, no, no, no, no. No sirs. That makes me feel as old as I look. How about Jack?”

  “OK, Jack. Nice to meet you. I’m Cristina.”

  She introduced her friends and told Jack about their earlier confrontation.

  “That would be Rick,” he said, shaking his head. “I wish I was surprised. Needless to say, he’s a jerk. Thinks he’s some kind of survivalist getting ready for the end of the world or something. Sometimes he spends weeks out in the woods rolling around like an animal. If it was up to me, he’d have been out of here a long time ago. The truth is though, from what I’ve seen at least, he isn’t as tough as he acts. Sounds like you really put him in his place, though. I wish I could’ve seen it.” He paused and then continued. “But if you want to know more about him, I’ll tell you once you get settled. I don’t want to do anything to dampen what should be a momentous occasion. I know it sure is for me.”

  Cristina thought for a moment and then said, “You know what? You’re right. It is a big day for us. We can’t let one jerk ruin it. That would be like letting him win.”

  Jack’s face lit up. “Exactly.” He spread his arms and added, “Hey, you guys look pretty beat, can I make you all dinner tonight? It would be my pleasure.”

  Cristina thought about it for a moment. She considered asking for a rain check, but instead said, “Well, since our fridge is completely empty, I think we might just have to take you up on that. You can meet my daughter, too. Her name’s Anise. She’s conked out at the moment, poor baby. It’s been a long day for her.”

  Brian stepped in and said, “Well, Jack, me and the boys here would love to join you all, but unfortunately I have to get them back into their cages before the zookeeper realizes they’re missing. Next time?”

  “Sure,” said Jack. “So, two for dinner then? I’ll make your reservations for around six, if that’s OK.”

  Cristina agreed.

  After saying his farewells, her new neighbor walked back to his place, whistling a happy tune.

  Halfway across the courtyard, he started to skip.

  6

  Anise and Cristina were busy eating edamame at Jack’s kitchen table. They greedily slid soy beans into their mouths as their host stood at the countertop chopping ginger and green onions on a cutting board.

  “These are delicious, Jack,” Cristina said, covering her mouth as she chewed. “What is it you’re cooking?”

  “I hope you like fish. I found some great fresh-caught salmon at the farmer’s market today. This guy was probably swimming this morning.”

  Anise looked at her mom with some doubt but didn’t comment.

  The fish turned out to indeed be amazing. The best Cristina had ever tasted.

  Everything about the meal was wonderful.

  To go along with the fish, Jack prepared green beans and some kind of squash. The fish sat atop a scoop of perfectly-cooked brown rice, something Cristina normally didn’t care for. But somehow Jack managed to make it taste more like popcorn than the soggy lump she usually produced. For dessert, fresh local strawberries with a bowl of melted chocolate to dip them in.

  Cristina smiled at the way her stout, scholarly-looking neighbor seemed a bit guilty as he took his fourth and fifth strawberries. She loved that he went for it anyway.

  The whole dinner experience made her feel like a mature, responsible adult.

  During dinner, Jack told Cristina a bit about himself and the history of the town. As he spoke about these things, his voice changed noticeably into that of a teacher, though it wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest.

  He said he’d lived in Pleasure Point since he was a boy. His parents both worked at the cement factory their entire lives.

  “Although it’s become a tourist town in recent years, Pleasure Point was built on the business of extracting limestone and clay from the earth, and then processing it into cement. For almost fifty years, in fact, that was the lifeblood of the whole area. But when the factory and its quarry closed ten years ago – or, I should say, when the greedy owners moved the whole operation to China – the entire town was devastated. What was once a thriving enclave of working-class people soon saw its unemployment rate rise to nearly fifty percent, almost overnight. When that happened, Pleasure Point was transformed, for a time, from paradise into a desperate shadow of itself.”

  He stopped there. They put the dishes in the sink and moved outside to sit on the back porch.

  Their timing was perfect.

  As the three of them each claimed a place to sit under a standup propane heater, the blood-orange sun was ending its day by painting the sky with a full palette of brilliant colors.

  Despite the fact the beach beyond the cliffs was still a good distance away, Cristina could clearly see the waves as they folded over themselves. Offshore, the wind diced the water full of whitecaps.

  A number of sailboats traced a path across the glowing horizon. Above them, seagulls and pelicans soared, gliding more than flapping. Every so often, one dipped down into the sea, coming up a few moments later with a mouthful of water, and presumably dinner.

  “We’re lucky,” Jack said. “There’s no fog tonight. The ocean must like you guys.”

  Anise curled into a ball on an oversized beanbag chair and fell asleep almost instantly.

  Jack had brought out a bottle of port, which he said he’d been saving for a special occasion. He poured some into two small glasses.

  “None for me, thanks,” Cristina said, sounding harsher than she’d intended.

  “Oh, OK, very good. Not a fan of port, huh? I suppose it’s not for everyone.”

  “No, it’s not that. I just don’t drink.”

  Jack studied her. “Well, you can tell me that story another day.”

  He smiled and held up one of the glasses.

  “To new neighbors,” he declared.

  “Yes!” Cristina answered cheerfully, raising her glass of water into the air.

  Jack sipped his wine.

  “You want to hear more about the town?” he asked, leaning in conspiratorially. “I have to warn you, it gets a little ugly from here. We should make sure Anise is asleep. I wouldn’t want her to hear what I’m about to tell you.”

  As he paused, they could hear her gently snoring.

  “I guess that answers that,” Jack declared.

  He downed the first glass and went to work on the second as he returned himself to teaching mode.

  He said that after the factory closed, homelessness skyrocketed. Then the drugs came in. And for about five years, there was a whole lot of destitution and not a lot of hope.

  “It got so bad, there was even a weird cult that became pretty prominent, made up of speed-freaks and junky types. The guy who led it was sort of this Manson type. I mean, I don’t know how much of it’s true, but people say he tried to make doing drugs into a kind of religion. Apparently, they even had their own little bible and everything.”

  Cristina tried to listen without reacting. It was hard. She felt sick to her stomach, and could feel the color rushing out of her face.

  Jack t
old her, “I’m not telling you this to scare you or anything. I can stop if you want me to. In fact, I should do that. I’m not sure what I’m doing, anyhow. Filling your head with all this nonsense on your first day here.”

  “No, it’s OK,” Cristina assured him. “I’m fine. It’s just hard to believe something so ugly could exist in a place that’s so perfect and beautiful. But go on. How did the town recover?”

  “Well, I’m not sure I would go so far as to say that Pleasure Point has really ‘recovered,’ per se.” He curled his fingers into quotes as he said the word recovered. “But it does seem like things have started to turn around. At least in some ways. Probably the biggest factor is tourism. Once the town got so bad, property values plummeted, and eventually a group of developers and businessmen saw it as an opportunity to make some bucks. A few years ago, after the feds arrested that cult-leader scumbag, these developers started reopening stores down by the amusement park. A lot of us locals were pretty skeptical at first, and to be honest still are, to a degree. These business guys definitely seem to have their own ideas about what’s best for the future of Pleasure Point. But I have to admit, that part of town looks a whole lot better than it did. And a lot more people around here have jobs now, even if the work pays significantly less than those same people made working at the quarry.”

  Cristina nodded and said, “I’m surprised I’ve never heard about that cult. It sounds crazy. What was the guy’s name?”

  “Charles Walters. I’ll never forget that. Sounds kind of like the name of a TV weatherman or something.”

  Cristina snickered, holding her hand against her lips as it morphed into a yawn. She closed her eyes for a moment and then rubbed them.

  “Well,” Jack said. “Looks like it’s time for mom to hit the hay, too.”

  Cristina tried to make herself alert. “Oh, no. I have to help you clean up, Jack. It’s the least I can d—”

  “Fagettabout it!” he said in a fake Italian accent. “Get that little girl and yourself to bed. Although, normally I’d take you up on it. I cook. You clean. That’s a deal I’m always game for.”

  Jack walked Cristina, Anise snuggled in her arms, across the now dark courtyard.

  Above them, a blanket of stars twinkled with a brilliance Cristina had seldom witnessed growing up in a light-polluted city. She was distracted enough by the sky’s beauty that she only casually glanced in the direction of Mr. Psycho’s house. His lights were all out, anyway, making the place barely visible in the shadow of several towering redwoods.

  They paused in the middle of the courtyard to gaze down at the shoreline. The crickets hummed a steady stream of chirps around them. The property suddenly felt quite remote. And at the same time, so beautiful.

  As if highlighting the thought, the rising moon, almost full, reflected a brilliant silver light onto the fingers of rock below. Even from a distance, Cristina could hear the water thunder against the cliff, each rumbling wave sounding louder than the one before it.

  “Wow,” she said, almost to herself.

  “Yep, south swell. That’s when we get the big ones down in The Cove.”

  He turned to her, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

  He asked, “Did anyone tell you about Pirate’s Cove?”

  She shifted Anise in her arms and raised an eyebrow.

  “No. Is there a treasure or something?”

  Jack answered her with a hearty belly-laugh that showed no concern for the fact they were outside.

  He said, “You could say that. Actually, it’s one of the prettiest stretches of coast in all of California, and probably the world, if I do say so myself. When the current is like it is tonight, it has some of the biggest waves around, too. And when it’s coming from any other direction, the break goes out a bit and it’s actually a pretty nice place to swim. But . . .”

  He started laughing again.

  “What?” Cristina asked, now genuinely curious. “What is it?”

  “Oh gosh. You’d think I’m eight years old. I tell you what though, sometimes I feel like it.” He turned and pointed down toward the water. “You see that stretch of sand? Out past where the water comes right up to the cliffs.”

  “OK,” she answered, squinting to show her enthusiasm for the task. “Sure.”

  “Well, when the tide’s down, you can walk along the rocks under the cliff and over to the beach. And, well, uh . . . just be fair-warned that some people . . . OK, I’ll say it, old-fogies like me, sometimes swim or just walk around in their birthday suits down there.” He held his hands in the air. “Now, it’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds. Like I said, it’s mostly just a few of us old fatties who’ve been swimming, “in the skin,” since the seventies. We even have a name for ourselves.”

  It had to be one of the weirdest conversations Cristina could ever remember having, but she somehow felt nothing but positive about it. It was nice to see older people enjoying themselves and being free about who they are.

  Plus, although life had made her a cautious person, she already felt totally at ease around Jack. He had something warm and fatherly about him that she’d instantly connected with.

  What an opposite pair of neighbors, she thought to herself as they stood there, both having drifted their attention back up to the stars.

  “You didn’t tell me the name,” she said, still staring into the sky.

  “Well, maybe I had one too many ports, but the name of what?”

  “Of the . . . uh, the club.”

  “Oh! Well, there are technically two groups. One for men and one for women.”

  “OK,” Cristina said, rocking Anise in her arms.

  “The men are called the Polar Bareskins.”

  “OK, nice. And the women?”

  “Uh, their name is a bit more colorful.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Shriveled Titties.”

  “Oh, damn!” Cristina said. “Who came up with that?”

  “An ornery biker-dyke named Cassie. She’s one of my oldest friends. Maybe you’ll meet her sometime.”

  “I’d like that.” She yawned as she opened the front door. “I know one thing already, Jack. Pleasure Point sure is an interesting place. I can’t wait to explore it some more. Where do you think Anise and I should check out first?”

  He thought for a moment.

  “Definitely hit The Wharf. It’s a great amusement park right on the beach. Eat a fried Twinkie, or ten, for me.”

  “Yah, we saw it when we drove into town. They have rides for this little one?”

  “Oh, of course. Lots. And definitely get kettle corn, too. Other than that, head to the beach and run your toes through the sand. Walk out on the pier and get some fried clams. Anise can get an animal balloon, too. There’s always something interesting going on down in that area. My advice, and I’ll let you get inside finally, is to explore, explore, explore.”

  He used his hands to mimic someone staring into a smartphone and then continued, “You know, what? We do way too much of this these days. People have lost their sense of adventure. And, well, I’m rambling again, so I’ll stop. But you seem like a bright young woman. I hope you’ll really get to know the area and give it a chance. I feel like, after all the stuff I told you, maybe you might be apprehensive about Pleasure Point, but it really is a great place, for the most part.”

  They said goodbye and Cristina closed the door. She flipped on the light switch and was confronted by three stacks of cardboard boxes filled with their stuff. The living room was by no means large, but it was big enough to make their few belongings seem like hardly anything at all.

  She spoke to the still-sleeping Anise as she carried her up the stairs, “Who needs things when you’ve got a nice place in a nice town with nice people? And, most importantly . . .”

  With great care, she lowered her daughter down into bed.

  For a moment, she was sure Anise would stir and wake up, wanting to sleep with mommy. But after a few squirming stretches, she s
ettled. Her head fell to the side and her mouth gaped opened.

  Cristina walked back downstairs and slid open the glass door to the backyard, her cigarettes and lighter in hand.

  Facing away from the ocean, hidden from starlight by the redwoods overhead, the backyard was quiet, dark, and more than a bit creepy.

  The dense forest beyond the fence appeared as a wall of blackness. Her eyes strained for a source of input.

  Away from the sound of the waves, her ears felt muffled. The only noise now was the wind moving through the trees, and an occasional small animal rustling its way from branch to branch. The crickets had all but disappeared.

  She lit a cigarette, and was half-tempted to stand there with the lighter on. Realizing what a ridiculous idea that was, she lifted her thumb, letting the flame flicker out.

  The burning tip of her Lucky Strike pulled the darkness closer. She stared into the emptiness, her eyes producing waves of color. At first, she wanted to look away, then embraced it. It reminded her of being a kid, when she would rub her eyes as hard as she could to “make stars.”

  Somehow, that memory made the night feel less scary. She spent the rest of her last smoke before bed making a game out of turning darkness into brightness.

  “Woah, heavy,” she joked to herself as she stomped out the butt on the single concrete step.

  She hardly even glanced at the hallway door when she walked by it on her way back upstairs. The history of the house and the town didn’t scare her. Cristina felt a sense of pride in that.

  She checked on Anise once more before getting into bed herself.

  Cristina fell asleep smiling.

  Outside, the trees rustled and the wind blew. In the distance, waves crashed against the rock, again and again.

  7

  When Cristina awoke, she had a pair of five-year-old eyes staring her in the face from only a few inches away.

  “Hi,” Anise said, stone-faced.