Flesh And Blood

“Fuckin’ shark,” said Baxter, growling happily and gnashing those killer teeth. “Eat eat eat eat eat eat! Grrr!”

Sage laughed.

“Well, aren’t there?” the woman demanded of me. “Big killer whites or whatever – as big as dragons – like from Jaws?” She gnashed too. Small, sharp white incisors of her own. Her nipples had swelled to cherries.

“There just might be some kinds of sharks in there,” I said to the kids. “Sharks and all kinds of other fish.”

“There you go,” said the woman. “Listen to this man, Bax, he knows. With all those sharks and fish and sea monsters in there, you’d be nothing but food, right?”

The boy chortled and tried to break free once more. The woman held on to him and whined: “Stop, you’re hurting my arm – you are really going to kill me. Wild thing – and you should know better too, Sage-a-roo-roo. What got into you, you always hated the water!”

Sage dropped her head. Her lips trembled.

“Oh, no,” said the woman scooping her up. “Don’t start crying, now – c’mon, sweetie nibbins. C’mon, c’mon, no tears now, you’re a good girl, you don’t have to cry – good girls don’t have to cry.”

Sage sniffed. Cried.

“Oh, please, Sagey. Mommy just doesn’t want anything to happen to you. Okay? You understand?”

Sage’s nose began ru

She yanked back, raised her voice. “Now just set yourself down – both of you.” Pushing both children down onto the sand. “Good. Now just stay there – don’t move or… no TV and no pizza or F.A.O. Schwarz or Digimon or Pokémon or nothing. Okay?”

Neither child responded.

“Good.” To me: “You must think I’m a horrible mother. But he’s impossible, never sits still. When he was a baby, every time I walked through a doorway carrying him he used to stick out his head and – bump! Banging his head on purpose! Raising these lumps! I used to worry everyone would think he was abused or something, you know?” A glance back at Sage: “And now, you too!”

The little girl said, “UUUUU!”

The woman blew a raspberry. Smoothed her dress again, heightening the virtual nudity. “She’s usually my good one. What a day.”

I smiled. She smiled back. Stuck out her hand. “I haven’t thanked you, have I? I’m really horrible – thank you sooo much. I’m Cheryl.”

“Alex.”

“Thank you, Alex. Thank you very very much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t…” The green-blue eyes took another trip down my wet suit. “Do you live around here?”

“No, I was just kayaking.”

“Well, thank God you were. If you hadn’t happened to…” Tears filled her eyes. “Ohmigod, it’s just starting to hit me – what could’ve – I’m so-” She shivered, hugged herself, looked at me as if inviting a hug. But I just stood there, and she emitted several high-pitched whimpers, plucked at an eyelash.

Now her lip quaked. Both kids stared up at her. Sage seemed stu

I squatted down beside them, sifted sand through my fingers.

“Mama kie,” said Sage, with wonder. Her lower lip jutted.

“Mama will be fine,” I said, drawing a small circle in the sand. Sage dotted the middle.

Baxter said, “Mommy?”

Cheryl stopped crying. Crouching down, she gathered both children to her artificial breasts.

“Mama fine?” said Sage.

“Yes, I am, nibby-nib. Thanks to this nice man – thanks to Alex.” She held on to the kids as her eyes locked onto mine. “Listen, I want to give you something. For what you did.”

“Not necessary,” I said.

“Please,” she said. “It would make me feel better – to at least – You saved my babies and I want to give you something. Please.” She pointed up at the top of the cliff. “We live here. Just come up for a second.”

“You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Of course I am. I’m – I’ll bring the car down and we can ride up. You’d be helping me anyway. It scares me – the car. I’m always afraid they’ll fall out or something. You can hold on to Baxter, you’ll be doing me a favor. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Her smile was sudden, warm, rich as she leaned over and kissed my cheek. I smelled sunscreen and perfume. Baxter growled.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “For letting me give you something.”

She walked over to the straw hat, lifted the brim, and pulled out a small, white remote-control unit. The push of a button triggered the cable car’s descent, soundless but for an occasional bump where an odd rail protruded.

“Neat, huh?” she said. To the kids: “Neat, right? Not too many people have something this cool.”

Neither child answered. I said, “Sure beats climbing.”

Cheryl laughed, tossed her hair. “Well, you couldn’t exactly climb that unless you were a – a lizard or something, I du

“No way,” I agreed.

“No-ay,” said Sage.

“I could climb it,” said Baxter. “Pizza cake.”

“Sure you could, honey.” Cheryl patted his head. “It is kind of neat, being able to ride down whenever you want. He – it got put in a long time ago.”

Muffled thump as the car came to rest six inches above the sand. “Okay, here we go, all aboard. I’ll take Sage and you hold on to him, okay?”

The compartment was roofless. Glass panels in a redwood frame, redwood benches, large enough for four adults. I got in last, feeling the car sway under my weight. Cheryl sat Baxter down, but he immediately stood. “No way, José,” she said, returning him to his bench and stretching his arm toward mine. I gripped his hand, and he growled again and glared. I felt, strangely, like a stepfather.

“Close the door, Alex. Okay? Make sure it’s locked good – Okay, here we go.”

Another button push, and up we went, hugging the cliff. The transparent walls gave the ride a weightless feel – floating in air as the view expanded to infinity. A brief, dank wave of vertigo washed over me as I caught a stu

The trip was less than a minute of Baxter squirming, Sage growing drowsy, and Cheryl staring at me from under half-lowered lids, as if I had something to look forward to. Her legs were long, smooth, subtly muscled, perfect, and as she flexed she allowed them to spread, offering a view of soft i

Baxter was staring at me. I held on tight to his hand. When we reached the top the car paused for a second, changed course, drifted horizontally, bumped to a halt under the metal arch.

“Home sweet home,” said Cheryl. “At least, kind of.”