Chapter 15 Una
Una
Una surveyed the array of breakfast foods on the Bernsteins’ kitchen island. There was a bowl of Froot Loops, a square of
Entenmann’s crumb cake, raisin toast slathered in cream cheese, a strawberry Pop-Tart, and a fan of cantaloupe slices. A hunk
of cheese sat on the counter next to a frying pan of untouched scrambled eggs. The eggs had a rubbery sheen, and the cheese
was dry and wrinkled, like an old woman’s skin.
In between a box from Dunkin’ Donuts and a mixing bowl with an oily coating of beaten eggs were cartons of orange juice and
milk. In the corner, a wooden fruit bowl was stuffed with bananas, peaches, and plums.
Una would never get used to the abundance of fruit in the houses she cleaned, let alone the bounty available in every grocery
store.
Shopping for fruit was a sensual experience for Una. She would push her shopping cart next to the ziggurats of apples, oranges,
or lemons and just stand there, admiring the gumball-bright colors.
She’d lean over the berries, which were heaped into green pulp baskets like caskets of jewels and inhale their sweet perfume before running her palm over the smooth curve of a watermelon.
It was impossible to choose between sun-kissed apricots, succulent peaches, and fat-bottomed pears. The plump grapes that
exploded in the mouth with bacchanal pleasure, or grapefruits whose pink flesh yielded when penetrated by the tip of a spoon.
Una was sad to see that the fruit in the Bernsteins’ bowl was rotting. The banana was sagging and tiny flies danced over the
surface of the brown-spotted skin.
“Una?”
Elaine stood in the doorway, cradling a coffee mug. She wore a white tracksuit with blocks of blue, pink, and purple. Her
face was swollen from lack of sleep and her hair looked like the fluff Una emptied from the vacuum bag.
“Why are you here?” Elaine whispered.
Una pictured the Ziggy wall calendar hanging in her kitchen, a Christmas present from Gunnar. The Bernsteins’ name was clearly
written in today’s square. Elaine hadn’t swapped with Beth or Natalie. She hadn’t called to cancel. If she had, Una would’ve
updated her calendar.
Confused, she said, “You don’t want me to clean?”
Elaine moved closer. “Don’t you know what happened?”
Una shook her head.
Elaine drew in a fortifying breath and released it again, very slowly. “Two boys went missing yesterday. During the regatta.
Their boat . . . capsized. And they just—they disappeared.”
Una pictured two boys sinking. Both of them wore Svana’s face. Both of them reached out to her as they were dragged down,
away from the light.
Tears leaked from Elaine’s eyes. “Charles was there. The boat the boys were in was tangled up with his boat. Then a wave separated them and carried the other boys’ boat into the fog.
That’s probably why they capsized—the waves and the wind.
Charles saw something—I know he did. It must have been horrible because he, well, he refuses to talk. ”
“How terrible.”
Elaine gestured at the dirty kitchen. “He won’t eat, either. He’s curled up in his bed facing the wall. He used to do that
when he was little, after a bad dream.”
Una felt time folding in on itself. She was two people at once. She was a schoolgirl in Iceland who’d just lost her sister.
She also was a cleaning woman on Long Island listening to a mother talk about her son. Fear wove her past and present together.
It felt like a rope around her neck. She couldn’t find her breath.
Two boys in the water. Two boys gone. Charles saw something that scared the words out of him.
“The boat,” croaked Una. “Was it damaged?”
Elaine plunged her hands into her hair. The mug in her right hand tilted. Coffee dribbled down her tracksuit. “Not a scratch.
The boys didn’t capsize near the rocks or run into a buoy or another boat. It doesn’t make any sense. Their parents—God—their
parents must be in hell.”
She dropped the mug in the sink and sobbed into her hands.
Una guided Elaine to the sofa and urged her to sit down.
“I’ll make you some tea,” she said, hurrying back into the kitchen before Elaine could see how her hands trembled.
She put the kettle in the sink and tugged off the lid. As she started to fill it, she saw her face reflected in the water.
Then she saw her sister’s face, just below the surface of that dark sea. She saw the black oval of her mouth and the white
marbles of her eyes. She saw her hands, two pale starfish, reaching for the surface.
Save me, Svana’s hands had screamed.
That was the last thing Una remembered from that day. She’d woken, many hours later, to find Amma sitting on the edge of her bed, singing to her. A candle burned in the corner of the room, its weak light throwing shadows on the walls.
The shadows looked like tentacles.
“Sleep,” Amma had whispered when the song was done. The word was an incantation. It pulled Una into its embrace, and she’d
slept for two more days.
Rest would do Charles only so much good. He needed to tell someone what he’d seen. Otherwise, the memory would haunt his dreams
for the rest of his days.
Una put a steaming mug of tea on the side table next to Elaine. “Could I check on Charles?”
Thrown off-balance by the question, Elaine fidgeted with the tea bag, slowly raising it in and out of the scalding water like
an inquisitor seeking a confession.
“That’s sweet of you to offer, but our rabbi’s coming over after lunch. I’m sure he’ll know what to do.” Elaine glanced down
at her coffee-stained tracksuit. “I think I’ll take a bath. If Charles comes out or asks for anything, please knock on my
door.”
“I will.”
It took Una an hour to package the breakfast items in baggies and Tupperware, throw out the spoiled food, scrub the frying
pan, and clean the rest of the kitchen from top to bottom.
She turned to the laundry room next, where she found a small heap of clothes on the floor. The striped T-shirt, socks, and
shorts were damp and had a tangy, briny scent. They smelled of the ocean. And fear.
Two boys. Gone.
Una pictured a small boat flung onto its side, its young sailors ejected into the water. Had the boys cried out? Had they struggled and splashed? Or had they been struck so hard by a swinging boom that they’d slid into the water with the slippery silence of a seal?
What did Charles see?
Una pushed the clothes into the washing machine and wiped the salt grit on her apron. She passed her hands over her apron
again and again, her gaze locked on the orange-and-yellow Tide box.
You are here to clean. That is all.
She needed to focus on detergent and bleach, lemon-scented sprays, and abrasive powders. Fine rags and feathery dusters. She
had to block all thoughts of Svana and try not to think about the missing boys.
She poured the Tide into the machine and started it, comforted by the thought of the blue-white granules obliterating the
salt spray and sweat from Charles’s clothes. Then she put his boat shoes on the rack in the garage and mopped the floor with
hot water and vinegar.
She was dusting the living room when the doorbell rang.
The sound boomed through the quiet house but didn’t rouse Elaine. Una quickly opened the door to stop the visitor from ringing
the bell again.
Natalie stood on the stoop, looking tired and rumpled.
“I came to see how Charles was doing,” she said.
“I haven’t seen him. He’s resting in his room.”
“And Elaine?”
“Also in her room.”
Elaine must’ve heard the bell after all because she suddenly appeared in the hall. Her hair was combed, and she’d swapped
her tracksuit for a white blouse and dolphin-gray slacks.
“There you are,” Natalie said softly. She opened her arms to her friend, and Elaine stepped into the embrace with a sigh.
Una returned to the living room and resumed her work. She tried not to listen to the two women, but certain phrases drifted out of the kitchen. She heard “nightmare” and “no one knows” and “can’t explain” and “Jimmy took off work” and “what can we do?”
After a flurry of whispers, the women seemed to forget about Una’s presence and spoke at a normal volume.
Natalie said, “Sailing class is canceled next week.”
“I don’t think Charles will be going back.”
“Has he said anything?”
“No.”
“Jill won’t talk about it, either. When I got home after the open house, which was a total disaster, I found her on the sofa
with her head on Jimmy’s lap. He was stroking her hair and drinking whiskey. As soon as I saw them, I knew something was wrong.”
Cupboards were opened and closed. The refrigerator sighed. A spoon clinked against porcelain. Then the women carried their
coffee into the dining room.
“He had a glass waiting for me on the table,” Natalie continued. “We never drink whiskey neat. It scared me. Seeing Jill in
his lap like that scared me, too.”
“I wonder if Jill saw what Charles saw.” Elaine paused for a heartbeat before adding, “Do you think they feel guilty? Like
they know something that could get someone in trouble? An older kid maybe? Or an instructor?”
After a short silence, Natalie said, “I don’t know. Jill gets this look on her face when she feels guilty, and I didn’t see
that. She just retreated inside herself. The only thing she said was that she was worried about Charles.”
“Really?” Elaine’s voice lifted.
“Jimmy got her into bed and was getting ready to turn out her light when she said, ‘I hope Charles is okay.’”
Elaine made a strangled sound, and Una pushed the vacuum into the master bedroom and closed the door behind her.
She didn’t want to hear any more.
But as she sprayed the bathroom mirrors with Windex, scrubbed the toilet, and picked up Elaine’s damp towel, she pictured
Charles and Jill in their beds, their bodies curled like nautilus shells, and wished she could wipe away their memories of
the regatta.
Two boys.
Lost.
She dusted and vacuumed the bedroom, straightened the wrinkled comforter, and kept her face averted from the window.
All she had to do was raise the shade to see Mrs. Smith’s house.
Eel’s Nest.