CHAPTER 23 -THE ISLAND

burgeoning on non-virgining at our island

We still had one more weekend left of summer, so we went to our island on Lake Chargoggagogmanchogagogchabunagungamog —Nipmuc Indian for “You fish on your side, I fish on mine, and the fish breed in the middle.” It was a coup for my dad to get this place. I believe we paid $18,000 for it in the late 60's. The cottage had four bedrooms and an outdoor bathroom. My dad wanted it to stay in the family forever.

Pavel brought his best friend, Ralph, and I brought Joanne Naylor. The dearth of my oldest brother was filled in with hormones and rebellion.

Ralph had multiple sclerosis and pulled on Marlboro Reds like a tough guy. He walked with great effort, throwing his shriveled leg in front of him with every step. I thought his walk was cool --like he had it right and all other guys had it wrong. Other guys weren't blustery like Ralph. They were embarrassed and shy. Ralph was audacious.

Joanne and I stood next to my mom in the kitchen, helping her make sandwiches for us kids for lunch. Her Oil of Olay face cream smell cut the musty sulfur of the lake smell. 

"Vanda has a few extra sandwiches on her already!" Ralph joked as he walked past us in his cut-off jeans and long-ish hair. The screen door slammed behind him, like emphasis. He stood on the deck and laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever said. 

"Haha, very funny, Degoulas Ameriloque." I spat back, hitting hard with the French insult for Americans. I was fatter but had not become self-conscious about it yet. Not until then. 

"The lettuce is already clean, Vanda, don't be fussy. You don't need to wash it." Mom hovered. Somehow, her little contributions were all landing like big bombs of criticism. 

I peeled back a fold of lettuce and somehow I knew. Providence greeted me with a gift. A feeling of righteousness blossomed in my chest as I showed my mother a perfect black speck of bug. I felt victorious. It's funny how I can't remember some monumental things. I do, however, remember the vindication of finding that bug.

After folding rectangular ham pieces onto squares of whole wheat bread with bug-free romaine, thank you, I put on my pink and white polka-dot bikini to join the kids at the dock. 

"Vanda, come stand here." Dad slurred a little --still on this side of authoritative. His drunkenness had yet to devolve into a mess. 

Holding onto the upright piano, I stood near my father. He touched my belly near the bikini line. His trained doctor's hands palpated the new ring of fat around my lower abdomen. Then he pressed deeper, into my womb. A new fury moved in me.

I looked up at the fishing net that covered the living room ceiling with nautical things ensnared in it - old pulleys, traps, shells, and pincher and crusher lobster claws. I stared at a claw. I felt guilty about the French bread, jam, and hot cocoa breakfasts I had wolfed down at camp and the candy bars with the unintelligible wrappers.

"Mike, she's just put on some weight." Mom sat next to Dad. He felt it was the right thing to do and he felt it was his right to do it --to examine my body to see if I had become pregnant.