The Secret of Surviving in the Sea

The day Adam Balthazar Castleton was born, his mother's best friend, Ida, laid her bundled newborn daughter, Diana, next to him on the bed and said, “Here she is, Balthazar, your new best friend.” That was the last time anyone called him Balthazar, but not the last time Diana vomited on her best friend.

Summertime was glorious in those days. Ida and Charlotte, Adam's mother, sat by the pool and gossiped and laughed about things they thought only they knew. The sun shone like a gift, highlighting Ida's blonde hair and adding hints of auburn to Charlotte's dark waves. Not a day went by that the two babies didn't see each other. Best friends indeed. Diana had a habit of grabbing Adam's soft brown curls and yanking as the two of them lay together in the shade. Sometimes she managed to get them into her mouth with her little fist and suck on them. As the two grew, they crawled over each other like puppies.

As time passed, Diana's red wisps of hair grew thicker and more golden. Her green eyes became saucier, and Adam's little dimple grew deeper. His blue eyes became more brilliant, and his smile was a double-edged sword that could either get him into trouble or just as readily get him out of it. The two three-year-olds ran around their moms and around the yard, splashed in the baby pool, and generally made a lot of noise.

It didn't take long for a curious boy like Adam to discover that outside the confines of his lush backyard, there was dark forest full of the most amazing surprises. He snuck away whenever his mother's back was turned, Diana always following closely behind. It smelled different in the forest. The musty, damp, dark smell of decomposing leaves, twigs, and lichen filled their nostrils and secretly became a part of their collective childhood reality, hidden tightly away from their present awareness.

“Mama,” Adam said when he and Diana offered their treasures to their moms.

Charlotte turned and gasped at the sight of them.

The two three-year-olds held their hands out proudly. Ida actually shrieked. Diana's little dress was smeared with mud, especially where she had knelt on it on the forest floor. There was also a smudge across her right cheek. Adam's knees were likewise covered in mud. But worse were their offerings. In chubby, dirty hands they held all the treasures of the forest: worms, caterpillars, centipedes. Adam was very proud of his little snake. He held it dangling from his hand, while the other hand held some shredded greenery and tiny purple blossoms.

Charlotte struggled to keep her astonished laughter hidden while removing the treasures from Adam's hands. Ida grasped Diana's forearm and half pulled her across the lawn to the driveway.

“How am I supposed to even put you in the car?” Ida shouted even as she opened the car door and placed Diana in her little car seat. Diana immediately started honking the horn on her toy steering wheel.

Ida muttered all the way around to her side of the car until she slammed the door and drove away.

Charlotte had dipped Adam's hands in the baby pool and was drying them on her sundress. He looked at her almost coyly and smiled his magic smile. She laughed softly and held him against her, mud and all.

“My little explorer,” she said, pushing his mocha-brown hair away from his face. “You'll probably discover a whole new world one day. Just like Columbus!”

After Adam's bath, where he splashed bubbles all over the floor and his mama's soiled dress, Charlotte put him in his cozy pajamas and lay down with him in his little bed.

“Mama,” Adam said, snuggling his head into the crook of her shoulder.

“What?” Charlotte answered in a teasing voice.

“Mama.”

“What?”

Adam giggled at the little game they played.

“Hey, little man, what did you do in the woods today?”

Adam looked confused and became more interested in his mother's pearl necklace.

Charlotte gently pushed his hand away. “What did you do in the woods today?”

Once again, he reached for her pearls. Oh well, it was a long shot anyway. She would teach him what woods meant tomorrow.

She kissed him all over his smiley face and tucked him in. Charlotte walked not three steps toward the door when Adam spoke.

“Fose,” he said adamantly.

“What?” Charlotte turned toward him.

“Fose. I go to fose.”

“Okay, well, sleep well, little man.” But as she walked away, he caught her one more time.

“Nake. Feddy nake.”

Charlotte cocked her head. Feddy nake. It sounded so familiar.

“Oh,” she said finally. “Freddy Snake! You found Freddy Snake, like in your book!”

Adam grinned. “Fose.”

Charlotte shook her head and was about to call it a day when it dawned on her. “Freddy Snake and His Forest Friends!” This called for some more kisses and cuddles.

“I'll tell you what,” Ida said. “Tomorrow I'll go to the forest with you, and we'll find Freddy Snake again.”

Just then, Adam's daddy, Grant, put his head in the doorway. “I'm home,” he announced cheerfully. “How are my two loves?”

“Oh, wait till I tell you what he and Diana got up to today.” From her tiptoes she greeted her husband with a full body hug, which he returned quietly and intently, his face smiling into hers.

“Tell me.”

Charlotte took in his tousled sandy-brown hair and end-of-the-day stubble. She could still smell the familiar remnants of his morning aftershave. She felt a little heady and more than a little aroused. She grinned and nuzzled her nose against his. “I'll tell you later,” she said. “After my shower.”

From his bed, Adam giggled.

Grant stopped his intimacies and stared at Adam. “Do you think he knows what we're talking about?”

“Oh, please,” Charlotte laughed. “He's giggling because he knows you're about to come over and tickle him.”

“Ooh,” Grant chortled menacingly as he went to Adam's bed with his fingers outstretched, while Adam giggled and screeched.

                            *****

Mondays were poker day for the moms. These weren't your everyday moms. These were women educated at Barnard, Wellesley, and Bryn Mawr. One or two had dropped out to get married or to have a baby. One, to marry a traveling news correspondent before settling here in White Bridge. Three others had stuck with it all the way, through marriage, pregnancy, and childbirth. One of those pursued her education doggedly through a divorce and breast cancer. Ida and Charlotte were the bosom buddies from Barnard, who shared everything and spurred each other on till they graduated with honors and gave birth one day apart from each other.

Charlotte walked from her house, where she and Adam would meet Ida and Diana, to finish the walk to the end of their block where Marilee lived. They usually took turns hosting their games, but they mostly ended up at Marilee's house. She had an actual poker table, which made the game extra fun. Marilee had even worn a green visor and smoked a cigar for the game one day, which gave them all a good laugh.

As Charlotte walked, Adam walked and ran and jumped, and squatted to watch the little ant parade coming out of a lawn onto the sidewalk. Ida lived two blocks over and had already walked over to meet them with Diana on a leash. Charlotte cringed every time she saw Diana like that, but she wasn't one to mind other people's business.

“Now don't you kids get into trouble, like you did last time,” Ida warned.

Charlotte was pretty sure the two children had no idea what Ida was talking about, or even that she was talking to them. They were already giggling and speaking their secret language, which was comprised mostly of gibberish.

“What a nightmare that was,” Charlotte had to admit, remembering what had happened at their last game.

The poker game had grown silent at one point, and Betts had whispered, “Where are the children? It's awfully quiet in there.”

There were three other children who joined the moms on poker day. Two were one or two years older than Adam and Diana. One was younger. But the moms found them all working together on Marilee's linoleum kitchen floor when they went to check on them.

Marilee had been baking treats for the game that morning and hadn't had time to clean up afterward. The mischievous children were on their hands and knees, intently scrubbing Crisco shortening and flour onto every inch of the floor. It wouldn't hurt the linoleum, but the mess they had created was horrific. The game was cut short, and the mothers spent the rest of the afternoon apologizing profusely and mopping the thick, sticky goo from the floor. There were intimations that Adam had been the ringleader. Charlotte wondered how they could possibly know that, but she half suspected as much herself.

As Ida and Charlotte arrived at this week's game, the other mothers were gathering around Marilee's table, setting diaper bags and purses aside.

“Marilee, you've outdone yourself this time,” Betts said as she helped herself to a fruit skewer and a sampling from the charcuterie board.

“You say that every time,” Marilee said, smiling, “but thank you.” Marilee did love to entertain and delight her guests with her creative refreshments. “Who wants soda? Who wants beer?”

Charlotte set Adam up with his cars and building blocks, a distance from the poker table, but in the same room. Ida had brought Diana's ponies, but it seemed her ponies wanted to trot over to Adam's building blocks to join him there.

“Now, Adam,” Charlotte said, “if you want something else, come and ask me. But don't leave this room.”

“Okay, Mama. Vroom, vroom.” His cars were already starting.

“Hay, hay,” Diana said for her ponies, in a high-pitched voice. She had obviously misunderstood her mom's rendering of the word neigh.

Charlotte liked Marilee's stylish linoleum and hardwood floors but wished there were a softer place for the children to play.

Marilee had already dealt the cards, and the game was underway.

“Hey, wait for me,” Charlotte called out, then turned back to Adam. “Remember, Adam, don't move from here, unless you're coming to me.”

“Okay, Mama.”

The longtime friends usually bet nickels and dimes. Sometimes they got a little more adventurous and went as high as five- and ten-dollar bills. Sometimes they bet babysitting hours or strawberry pie that they would bring to the next game.

The only thing better than a good poker game was a good poker game full of gossip and rumors. They called this a dishy. As in, wow, last week's game was quite a dishy. Have I got some dish for you! Anything was fair game. Charlotte seldom took part in the dishing, and she felt a little uncomfortable hearing it. Ida was quite different.

“Did you hear about Cynthia Jane?”

“What about her? Hey! What was that!”

“Sorry, girl, you've got to know when to hold 'em.”

“What about Cynthia Jane? I went to school with her,” Betts said. “She was a nice person.”

“Maybe she was too nice,” Ida continued.

“Why?”

“She had an affair with Edmund Thompson…”

“Edmund Thompson! You're kidding!”

“No. So Edmund's wife found out, told Cynthia Jane's husband, he kicked her out and kept the baby.”

“No!”

“And get this—Edmund went back to his wife, and apparently, they're all happy ever after.”

All of the women were dumbstruck at this news, and the room went silent. Suddenly, there was a loud crash. They all jumped slightly in their chairs. A continuing crash, followed by a thump. Everyone sprang to their feet.

The scene, which was indeed in the same part of the room where Charlotte had left Adam, was a bare glass shelf attached to the wall. On the floor below it were several books in open or closed positions, scattered among purple and blue shards of a blown crystal vase and sad-looking pieces of Marilee's pale-colored porcelain figurines. The women, still dumbstruck after what they'd just been told about Cynthia Jane, stared at the rubble in shock.

Beside the empty shelf, grinning, was Adam, with his shockingly blue eyes and his dimple. Beside him stood his best friend, Diana, her red hair all in disarray. Inexplicably, all eyes turned to Charlotte. At once, these thoughts came to her mind: Why does Marilee insist on having wood floors? Why would she put her valuables on a shelf child-high? Why would she display her crystal and porcelain on the same shelf with books? It doesn't even look aesthetic. Why is everyone looking at me?

She felt her face flush, her head burned hot, and her mouth felt parched. She took Adam by the hand and left. She would never return.

Charlotte cried herself to sleep that night. Grant tried to console her. He held her, and he said every gratifying thing he could think of. He even tried to make her laugh. They both finally slept.

The next morning, Charlotte woke to Adam's giggles coming from the kitchen. She almost forgot how dismayed she had been. His little giggle was so musical, almost lyrical, sweet, and buoyant. Then she remembered. She wrapped her robe around her and went to the kitchen to find Grant squeezing orange juice and flipping pancakes. Every time he let one go, Adam giggled till it returned to the frying pan.

“You let me sleep,” Charlotte said. “Why didn't you go to work?”

Grant let the pancakes slip onto a plate, then turned Charlotte's chin to face him. “I'm taking the day off. We're leaving Adam with Ida and spending the day in Milwaukee. We'll shop, eat dinner, whatever you feel like doing.”

“Are you sure Ida is willing to take Adam?”

“Yes. I already asked her.”

“She said yes?” That was hard to believe. Especially after yesterday's incident.

“Yes, she said yes.” He kissed her lips. “Sit down, eat some pancakes. It's going to be a good day.”

                            *****

Grant stood Adam on Ida's porch, then rang the doorbell and ran. He watched from the car till Ida opened the door. When she did, there Adam stood. Ida sighed.

“Come in then. And none of your shenanigans today, little mister.”

Adam grinned at her.

“Oh, of course,” Ida said. She let him in and shut the door.

                            *****

It was good to be away from the house and even out of town. It felt like a vacation. White Bridge had much of the same entertainment possibility as Milwaukee, though on a smaller scale, but it didn't have the Art Museum on the Lake. As they set out on the road, Charlotte leaned her head back and sighed. It had actually been hard to leave her little man even after yesterday's frustration. Surprisingly, the hum of the car on the road gently lulled her to sleep.

Later, Charlotte was thoroughly rested and energized. Her husband knew her well. Nothing fed her soul like a stroll through an art museum. She spent long moments studying the mix of colors, the evident insight of the artists, and the mood the paintings evoked. She mostly preferred to be in her own head in the museum. But from time to time, she would point something out to her husband.

“This one,” she said. “‘The Wood Gatherer.' It's one of my favorites.”

“What do you like about it?”

“Well, the colors for one thing. It's all nature colors, then the little girl's dress stands out in turquoise. But look at the old man's face. It's red, like it's cold outside. You can almost feel the brisk autumn air, and his effort, carrying the bundle of wood on his shoulders.”

“What else?”

“I like paintings of people in their everyday lives. People whose lives I know nothing of. And I like when it includes children, not as a main focus, but as though children are always a part of life.”

Grant was proud of his wife, who was an art major and more than his equal in intelligence, poise, and self-confidence. He especially enjoyed her sense of humor.

After the museum, they walked along the shore of the lake. The weather was comfortably warm; seagulls floated on the sea breeze and called to each other across the sky. The day had been just what Charlotte needed. An early dinner on the outdoor terrace at the China Cupboard Restaurant rounded the day out nicely.

On the drive home, their talk turned to their little rapscallion.

“He's so sweet,” Charlotte emphasized. “His little smile just makes you want to pick him up and squeeze him. But he's such an imp. It's exhausting.”

“He's fine,” Grant reassured her. “And if he really is the ringleader, just think what that means. He'll be a leader among men.”

Charlotte laughed. “And Diana.”

“You'll see. He actually has to be pretty smart to come up with the pranks he pulls.”

“Yeah, Feddie nake and his fose fens.” Charlotte shook her head in amazement. “I'll never forget that one.”

“If he could talk better, he'd probably reveal the secrets of the universe.”

Grant was on a roll. He loved making Charlotte laugh. He glanced at her lovingly. Their eyes met. When they looked back at the road, all they saw was the shiny red hood of an Overland Speedway sedan. Before they could even gasp, they heard the crunch and loud crack like thunder. They felt themselves slipping unceasingly away.

With time, Adam didn’t remember losing his parents and he didn’t remember the day he went to live with his grandfather, Balthazar James Castleton. But he remembered his white-haired Bampa.

Four o’clock every afternoon, the front door opened and Bampa’s leather Oxfords clicked all the way up the stairs to the parlor, where he changed into his slippers, removed his coat, and settled into his comfortable chair. By then, little Adam stood before him grinning and Bampa pulled him onto his lap.

“There you are, little man.” He took his stylish fedora from his own head and placed it on Adam’s.

Hat on head, Adam snuggled into his sweet-smelling grandfather and played with his shiny gold pocket watch.

“These are the hands,” Adam said. He turned the watch over. “And these are the gears. They turn the hands.”

“That’s right, Adam.”

Adam watched the hands go around and marveled at the moving gears, mainspring, and lever. He put the watch to his ear. “Tick tick tick,” he said. This was Adam’s first and best memory.

When Adam first came to live with his grandfather, he followed him around. Saturday mornings would find them both in the garden, tending the flowers. Bampa squatted and picked off dead leaves with Adam by his side, holding his hand. The air was coolish, with an occasional beam of warmth breaking through the trees. “

“You see, Adam,” Bampa said, pointing out the green, vibrant leaves and the full, colorful blossoms. “These are alive.” Then he held the sad, brown, leaves and drooping petals in his fingers. “These are dead. You break off the dead, so new ones can grow.” Gently Bampa pulled off the crisp, crumbling leaves, and broke off the tired, spent blooms, then dropped them to the ground, where they would decompose and feed the soil. This is what Bampa gently explained.

When he drove into town to peruse the stores for his favorite socks or ties, Adam sat beside him in the car, his little hand on Bampa’s leg. He had taken to wearing one of Bampa’s many hats, especially for outings like this.

“What shall we do today?” Bampa asked, even though he already had his own agenda for the outing.

“Ice cream?” Adam looked up at him hopefully, not quite smiling, but close. His blue eyes shone. Bampa lifted the hat from his head to have a look at his dark brown hair, which was beginning to look a bit moppish.

“Looks like we need to make a stop at the barber. And after that…”

“Ice cream!” Ah, there was that famous smile. The one that brought out the dimple. And why wouldn’t he think there might be ice cream involved? These outings invariably turned out to be trips to the ice cream store. Adam would return to his nanny, Frankie, with chocolate ice cream around his mouth and on the tip of his nose. Bampa seemed to enjoy bringing him back like that.

At Al’s Barber Shop the door dinged as Bampa and Adam walked in. The heady aroma of citrus and lavender overriding a deep leathery musk, lived in the air at Al’s. Al himself wore a big white shirt over another shirt. He looked like a doctor.

“Well, well, well,” Al said to Bampa. “Who’s that you’ve got there with you?”

Adam knew what Bampa was going to say, because he’d heard it many times before.

“Why, this is my little grandson, Adam.”

Adam stood a little taller for the introduction. He knew what grand meant, though he wasn’t sure what son meant, other than the one in the sky. Bampa repeatedly introduced Adam as his Grand Son. Adam was proud to be called a Grand Son. It made him feel very important.

“Well,” Al said, “let’s get that fine hat off and see what you’ve got there.”

Al put the booster seat into the big leather barber chair and lifted Adam into it. He put a sheet across him, tying it behind his neck. He snip snip snipped, while he talked about the weather, the game, (which sounded fun to Adam), and the mayor, who had apparently done something naughty. Adam watched as chunks of his hair fell, some in patterns on the white sheet, some on the floor.

Afterward, it was time for dessert. Adam sat happily on the car seat, licking the sides of his chocolate ice cream and biting off the curl on top, while Bampa drove home, singing along with Frank Sinatra on the radio. On the empty stretches of road Bampa jerked the steering wheel a few times so that giggling Adam was sure to arrive home with ice cream all over his face.

After Frankie got Adam cleaned up and into bed, Bampa snuggled beside him. Then he told Adam his stories, his very own adventures among dragons and gremlins and fairies. Adam listened intently, imagining that he too might someday go to unknown worlds and fight dragons with his triple-powered-monster-zapper. While Bampa recounted his tales, he drew pictures of the mystical creatures he had encountered. One night Adam asked for a notebook and pencil of his own. Together they told stories and drew pictures. The bedroom wall became covered with their sketches. In Adam’s eyes, his were just as detailed and fascinating as his Bampa’s, and his stories just as fantastical.

Since Frankie was a proficient swimmer, Bampa asked her to give Adam swimming lessons. He would sit in the shade close to the pool and mostly watch his little Grand Son over the top of his newspaper.

“Ok, Adam,” Frankie said, “kiss the water.” Adam hung on to the side of the pool.

“Why?”

“Why? I’m teaching you to swim.”

“So, kiss the water?” Adam hesitated, then gently kissed the water. “Can I swim now?”

“You kiss the water,” Frankie said, exasperated, “so I can teach you how to put your head in. Then you can learn to swim.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, Adam put his face deep into the water, then came up with full cheeks. He let go of the side of the pool and slapped both sides of his face. Water spurted out of his mouth, into Frankie’s surprised face. He giggled as he began to sink down into the pool. Frankie quickly pulled him back up. He was still giggling. Over on the patio, Bampa was in stitches.

“Can I swim now?”

Even though Adam didn’t remember his parents, his heart did. That created an emptiness that stayed with him, in one teeny corner of his heart. He went about his business of playing and discovering and growing, in a stylish, oversized fedora, as a boy just a little bit wounded. Another thing that lived secretly, in his soul.

Adam’s play dates with his best friend, Diana, continued in the big house. Her mother, Ida, brought her over regularly, after confirming with Frankie.

They played in the great hall, building cities with Adam’s blocks on the wide, curving staircase. Diana helped him stack his blocks and run his cars around imaginary roads. Up and down the stairs their city grew and reached. When Bampa saw their metropolis, he brought home more blocks, with the explicit instruction: “You have to have them all picked up before I get home. Otherwise, I’m likely to trip on your urban development and break my old neck!”

So, at 3:45 p.m., Frankie issued the call, “Time to clean up! Your Bampa is coming!”

“Ah…earthquake!” Adam hollered, and began swiping whole steps with his arm, sending the toys everywhere.

“Tornado!” Diana joined in and started throwing blocks upward like a tornado might do. The yelling and ongoing crashing of blocks and little metal cars caused a cacophony that greeted Bampa as he opened the door. It was the only time Adam heard his Bampa swear.

“What in damnation is going on here?” He couldn’t even walk across the floor, let alone up the stairs.

The fact that Bampa’s curse word was directed at Adam, was not lost on him. He shrunk back a little, shocked that Bampa would ever be mad at him. But then he began to giggle. And grin. Diana also, giggled, and continued tossing blocks into the air.

“Out,” Bampa said sternly, over the ruckus. “Outside now!”

They continued their giggling as they ran out the door. As they zipped past Bampa, Adam heard him say, “How did you let this happen, Frankie?” He cringed a little because he knew it wasn’t Frankie’s fault. But still, he and Diana fell onto the lawn, laughing. As they lay there, the sun shone on Diana’s red hair. Adam saw glints in the depths, created by the light streaming through it. Diana’s red hair became something Adam depended on. It was the only thing in his life that stayed.

Banned from the house, they began to dig in the garden, like they used to do in the forest behind Adam’s parents’ house. They found cute polka-dotted ladybugs, potato bugs that curled up into balls, or Adam’s favorite, the gray garter snake with a yellow stripe down its back, which he inexplicably insisted on calling Feddy. Adam went after those relentlessly, even after Ida came to pick up Diana from their play date. Finally, with Feddy gripped in his hand, he went in the house covered in dirt and mud and offered his prize to Frankie.

“Ahhhh,” she screeched as she ran.”

Adam ran giggling after her, chasing her all around the house with the snake in his outstretched hand.

That night Bampa met the little guy at his bedside with a bowl of bright red, shiny strawberries that were so fresh you could smell them. Adam’s eyes grew wide open as he sat up in his bed.

“Bampa! You brought strawberries!”

“That’s not all,” he responded.

He held out a bowl of powdered sugar and showed Adam how to dip a strawberry in the confection and raise it to his mouth. The act of biting down on it made a puff sending powdered sugar across the bed, as well as release sweet strawberry juice which dripped all over Adam’s pajamas.

“Mmmm. This is the best! Thanks, Bampa!”

The two of them sat and shared strawberries and powdered sugar in the dim light. When Bampa got up to leave he was a little embarrassed at the mess that both of them had made. He held a finger to his lips.

“Shhh. Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered.

But the next morning all of the mess was gone, confirming Adam’s belief that his Bampa was magic.

When Adam was 6-years-old, he had just finished his bath and donned his Tom and Jerry pajamas when the doorbell rang. Frankie had been acting strangely all day and the house had been peculiarly quiet. He was called to the great hall where he found Frankie, two women, and a tall man in a gray suit. He had seen this man before. He often came to visit with his Bampa behind closed doors. One of the women was carrying a big bag.

Frankie sat on the staircase with Adam and pushed his wet hair back from his face. Her eyes were red and her face looked pinched.

“Adam,” she said, “your Bampa is gone.”

“Where did he go?”

“He went to heaven, honey.”

“When is he coming back?”

“He won’t be coming back,” Frankie sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

These were the words that stuck in his mind: He won’t be coming back.

What was he to make of that?

Frankie stood and took his hand. “These people,” she gestured toward the women and the man, “are going to take you to a new home.” His hand in hers, she started toward them, but Adam pulled back.

“I don’t want a new home,” he whimpered. “Can’t I stay here with you?”

“I won’t be here either,” Frankie answered, tugging on his hand.

“Wait,” Adam yelped. He ran up the stairs but soon returned wearing one of Bampa’s hats. The black one with the black ribbon.

The tall man took Adam’s hand, removed the hat from his head, and handed it to Frankie. “This won’t be going with.”

Outside, the man put Adam in the back seat of the women’s car, then left in his own. Adam sat with his legs and slippered feet sticking out and watched the window as they drove away from everything he knew.

Other than Adam, there were no more Castletons. There weren’t even any more Parkers, his mother’s family. Adam didn’t know that he was now alone in the world.