Powers of Arrest - [2]

“She hates it.”

“She’s thinking, ‘Why did we spend all that money sending him to Summit Country Day and he’s not already finishing Harvard?’ ”

Her laugh was a magical sound, making him laugh, too. She was right, of course. His mother was impatient with him and didn’t understand the Portland adventure at all. He had only spent a semester in college and didn’t do well. But looking at Heather, and beyond to the limitless blue Midwestern sky and electric green of the trees along the river, it was easy to put those worries away.

“I was accepted at Yale and Princeton and Stanford and, oh, Northwestern,” Heather said, ticking them off on slender fingers. By this time they were relaxing on the top steps, watching the people and the river. The sun gave her hair a rich, dark copper glow.

She said, “So it’s Yale for me and I start in the fall.”

“Very good.”

But something sank inside him. He was building a life around her in his fantasy world. She was two years younger but he had a crush on her that went back to the elite prep school they had both attended. They both sang in the choir. He never even thought she noticed him until he got back to Cincinnati and she called out to him one day when he was at the Kenwood Towne Center mall. Since then, they had been to a movie and a concert. He had sent her roses from Jones florist. And she had let him kiss her. Something about him was traditional and romantic.

She was smart, creative, and interesting. She read books as he did, and somehow she seemed different: maybe she was an outcast like him. Her looks did not carry the perfection of many of their classmates. Her mouth was wide and her features were beautifully off-center. That imperfection drew him. Now his brain calculated: perhaps he could go to Yale, too, or she would stay in Cincinnati, even though he hated Cincinnati and hated living off his mom.

He had the kind of rich fantasy life peculiar to young men. He watched the curve of her cheeks, but it could not save him from the growing angst. He already knew she wanted to become a doctor. Her announcement should not be a surprise. Now…well, maybe they could have a summer together. He bargained in his own mind, trying to find the words.

“Heather!”

The shout was a girl’s voice, calling from a boat as it made a dramatic curve, cut a frothy wake, and came to a stop at the foot of the Serpentine Wall. One young man and two teenage girls were aboard.

Heather stood and ran gracefully down the wide concrete slabs, almost as if they didn’t exist. John enjoyed the view of her svelte legs and hips as she moved down to the embankment. Her bottom nicely filled out the shorts. He saw other men watch her, too.

“It’s Zack Miller!”

Her voice sounded different. He looked longingly at the picnic basket, stared at the little plastic ants, counting them until she returned.

“Come on, John. Bring the basket.”

He didn’t even think of keeping the disappointment out of his face as he saw her beckoning him. He packed up, taking time to replace each plastic ant into the Ziploc bag, hooked the hasps of the picnic basket, and rose. He went over to the steps, moving carefully and down, with none of Heather’s easy agility. He had never been well coordinated.

The trio was laughing and making easy small talk with Heather from the sleek new boat. It was towing what at first glance looked like a blue-and-gray lifeboat with an outboard attached. On closer inspection, it was sturdy and, of course, expensive. On the side was an emblem: “Zoom.” John was familiar with that kind of boat.

“You remember John,” she said and the two girls nodded distractedly. They both wore bikinis even though the weather was a little cool for that, their bodies young and flawless, both with long manes of golden hair. They looked so alike that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. But they were ordinary princesses, with none of the special attractiveness of Heather. Zack Miller was at the wheel, skillfully using the engines to hold the boats in place, and he barely acknowledged John.

“We’re going up the Licking,” one of the blondes said. “It’s party time! Hop in, Heather.”

Heather looked over her shoulder and smiled at John. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

He was barely aboard when Zack gunned the engines and swung around, knocking John into a seat. “Sea Ray 260,” Zack called to no one in particular.

“Isn’t this the most epic boat?” Blonde No. 2 said. They were all younger, all classmates. To John, they were rich, stuck-up, and shallow despite their star-quality SAT scores. Exactly the kind of people John hated. Even though his mother had become well-off working at the bank, John identified with the working-class roots of his stepdad. He knew, too, that most of his classmates came from old Cincinnati money and held it against him that his mother had started out as a mere teller at Fifth Third Bank.

The boat accelerated effortlessly, the empty Zoom skimming playfully along behind, as they shot under the big arched bridge that carried Interstate 471. Painted a yellow gold, it was not surprisingly nicknamed the Big Mac Bridge, even though it officially honored Daniel Carter Beard, one of the founders of the Boy Scouts. They moved east, upriver on the wide Ohio, with the condominium towers on the Cincinnati side sprouting out of the lush slope that led up to East Walnut Hills. The headwind destroyed the hair he had so carefully combed. Heather’s lush shoulder-length mane caught the breeze like an auburn sail. Spray from the river made the air wet and warm.