The Outermost

The Outermost

            “Connor, come on! You take forever. I swear you’re like a girl!” Rae Gladwell shouted up the stairs of her parents’ Beacon Hill town house. It was warm and her overstuffed duffle bag was already propping open the heavy glass door. She checked her watch again.

She had told her brother to be ready by ten, actually expecting him to be ready by ten thirty, still giving her time to get to Provincetown by 1:00 pm. She knew they probably should have left much earlier (if they wanted to beat traffic), but as an 18 year old herself, Rae needed her sleep just as much as any other. This, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been out to a party until 2 am the night before.

Addie Sarason had thrown a graduation party for their entire class, the party of the year. Almost everyone had shown up, well, anyone who was anyone had shown up, including Ace Quiller, whom Rae had been most eager to see. Addie had spent the last month trying to get the two of them together and her graduation party was supposed to be the night.

Rae had arrived late. Her parents had taken her out to Legal Seafood, her favorite restaurant, after graduation. Besides her high school graduation, they were also celebrating Rae’s and Connor’s first summer on their own. Their parents were leaving for Tuscany in the morning, while Rae and her younger brother were heading to Provincetown for the next two and a half months. They had spent their summers there as a family, but this was the first year that the two would be entrusted to live on their own.  It had seemed like a great idea at the time, that was before they had realized that their pooled resources could only buy them ten weeks at the local hostel instead of the regal Lands End Inn that they had grown accustomed to each summer. And of course, before she had hooked up with Ace Quiller.

Rae shook her head as if to clear it, giving her mahogany brown hair a fervent toss.  She parted her glossed lips and bellowed up the stairs once more.

“Connor!! I swear on Grandma Becket’s grave, I’ll kick your a*s if you don’t get down here right now!” She stomped her foot against the polished hardwood. She would do it, too. He knew she would hit him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Rae turned to check her reflection in the hall mirror. She puckered her lips and combed her long, shiny hair with her fingers. She smiled at herself and practiced a seductive face, remembering how she had drunkenly seduced Ace Quiller the night before. Well, seduced was a relative term. They had kissed and then Ace had tried to force himself on her. So, she had kicked him. Hard. Where it hurt. The whole school was talking about it on SpaceBook.com. She was the new queen of Boston High.  God knows it had taken long enough.

She mimed a kiss toward her reflection and turned just in time to avoid getting pummeled by a flying blue duffle bag. She caught it easily and let it drop loudly to the floor.

“Connor!”

A dirty blonde head poked out over the railing. “What? You wanted me to hurry up! And what’s the fastest route between two points?”

“What are you…”

“A straight line!” He laughed. He knew he had her there. He was always trying to show her up. Rae was smart, yes, that couldn’t be denied. But Connor was smarter.

He perched on top of the highly polished railing and stopped to look around dramatically, in mock terror. “Are mom and dad gone?” He widened his eyes.

Rae exhaled sharply. “Yes.” She took a wide step to the side.

Connor promptly let go and went sailing down the slick wooden railing. “Wooo!” He yelled as he flew easily through the air and onto his sneakered feet. He brushed himself off, still dramatizing, and nodded to his sister. “Okay, let’s go!” He grabbed his bag and pushed past her to the door. He held it open. “Come on, come on. I don’t have all day, ya know.”

Rae scrunched her nose and mouth together in quiet exasperation. Her brother would be the death of her one day, she was sure of it. She didn’t know if she would last for ten weeks…or if he would.

 

There was traffic on the MA-3, but Rae made good time. Connor drowsed through most of the two and half hour trip, but woke up right around Chatham, muting his mp3 player and removing his glasses to stare out at the familiar Nantucket Sound. Rae kept driving and fumbling with the radio, trying in vain to switch to something that wasn’t country. They stopped after the Conwell Street exit and Rae whipped out her cell phone to check on Justine Hamilton, a friend from cheerleading, who would be spending the summer with them.

“Hey, girl! What’s crackin?” Rae asked, twirling her hair. Connor glanced quickly and disgustedly in her direction.

A chipper, high-pitched voice answered, “Rae, oh my god. What’s the 411? Where you guys at?”

“Just coming into P-town, now. Are you still stuck in traffic?”

“No, girl, I’m here! Got here about fifteen minutes ago. I met your friend, Matt, by the way. He’s kinda cute…in an off-beat way. He’s been talking to the lady at the restaurant this whole time, though. Weird. She’s not even pretty.”

“Cindy,” Rae and Connor answered in unison. Rae shot a knowing glance in Connor’s direction. He must have overheard. It wasn’t difficult, considering the fact that Justine had been named cheer captain based on the fact that she drowned out the rest of the girls on the squad.

“Yeah, she’s like…old. Anyway, turn down Commercial and pick me up.”

“Okay, I think I see you. Ooohh you look cute. Okay, bye.” Rae slammed her phone shut and pulled into a spot in front of Bayside Betsy’s, their home away from home.

The restaurant was owned by Robbie Stoker, one of their dad’s oldest friends from law school. Robbie had moved out to Cape Cod after twenty years practicing law, fed up with a life of corruption. So, he had taken over Bayside Betsy’s along with a number of other beach-side bars and restaurants and Rae and Connor had been working for him for the past three summers. But this year would be different, though. Rae would be bartending instead of hosting and Connor would be waiting tables instead of washing dishes. And they were on their own for the first time.

The two leaped out of the car, grateful for the opportunity to stretch. A tall, dark-haired girl flitted her bikini-clad body across the street and swept Rae into a tight hug.

“Ahhh,” she shrieked. “I’m so happy we’re here!” She shook Rae from side to side, staring out at the white-sand beach.

“I know, finally right?” Rae took a step back, “Wow have you just been walking around the street in that bathing suit?” She surveyed the tight, strategically-placed hot pink material and the way it hugged Justine’s dark skin. She looked like a rock star, or a playboy model.

“Yeah, well I thought it would be smart to make a good first impression, you know? Right off the bat…just show ‘em what they’re up against. Ha-ha!” She cackled.

Rae shook her head and smiled. That was why she had invited Justine for the summer. Her sense of adventure and carefree energy would make the next ten weeks even more fun.

“Come on, let’s go in and say hi.” Rae steered them toward the restaurant. Connor lagged behind, not exactly heartbroken that he’d been ignored. He was used to it. Rae’s friends usually acknowledged him as her “cute little brother” and said things like “oh my god, Connor, you’re gonna be so hot when you get older,” or “Oh, Connor, you’re so lucky to have Rae as a sister. You get to hang out with all of us hot chicks!” And they would laugh and pinch his cheek and then they would promptly ignore him.

He preferred it that way. Justine was no longer impressed with Connor’s jokes or his “Zack Morris hair” as she had called it. It was fine. He was looking forward to hanging out with Matt and his friends this summer, anyway.

The three trudged up the short ramp to enter the electric blue and white building. Connor noticed Matt’s painted red bike tethered to the telephone pole, despite the fact that the bike rack was empty. He smiled.

Inside, the smell of burgers and Betsy’s internationally acclaimed chowder wafted through them. A short, bull of a nineteen-year-old boy leaned far over the front counter, in hushed conversation with the receptionist. He ran a hand over his closely-cropped dark hair and turned to face them.

“Yo! Look who finally made it! Thought you kids had gotten lost!” He fixed them with his smiling green eyes and held his muscular arms wide. Rae gave him a devilish smile and leaped into his arms.

“Matt, you haven’t changed at all.” She shot him a knowing glance.

“What’d you expect, kid? Huh? Mmm, you’re looking ravishing. Ohh and whose your friend.” His voice dropped an octave as he mocked pushing her aside to eye Justine from head to stiletto. “Enchante,” he curled his lip and reached for her hand. Justine looked a bit taken aback, looking to Rae for understanding.

“Yo, Matt! What am I fried calamari?” Connor shouted from the door. He put on his best Tony Soprano voice.

“Ahh, my main man!” Matt perked up, dropping Justine’s hand for the time being. “Oh the fried calamari! Is it summer again, already? Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were gagging over that stuff?” He laughed heartily, grabbing Connor’s outstretched hand and pulling him in for a tight hug. “Dude, you’ve grown like a foot. What are you like fifteen now? Oh, s**t. You’re birthday’s like this week isn’t it? Damn, dude. The ladies are a-waitin’!” He tousled Connor’s dirty blonde hair.

“So, uh…you guys remember Cindy.” Matt stepped back to reveal the lady at the desk. They did remember her.  They had only worked with her for the past three years. She was the source of quite a bit of drama at Betsy’s actually. Last year, Matt had spent the entire summer shamelessly courting the thirty-four-year-old divorcee. By August, she had given in, even going so far as to sneaking Matt into the Squealing Pig and buying him Sam Adams all night and accompanying him to the end-of-summer block party where they promptly made out in the alley for hours.

She wasn’t unattractive. She might have been almost beautiful once. But now she was too tan, too blonde, and too…fake. Rae noted two new additions to the Cindy canvas…two very large additions, not at all covered by the too-tight Betsy’s tank top she was squeezed into.

“Of course. Cindy, how’ve you been?” Rae addressed her. They had never quite gotten along. Rae wasn’t sure why, but the two had always remained civil nonetheless.

Cindy nodded, scrunching the left side of her face. Rae assumed that meant hello.

“Err, this is my friend Justine Hamilton. I think you might have met. She’ll be waiting tables with Connor this year.”

Cindy eyed Justine and settled back into her chair with a “humpf.”

“Okay, then. We’re gonna go check in. Matt are you sticking around? Right, never mind.” Matt had gone back to holding Cindy’s hand above the counter and whispering god-knew-what into her ear. Rae turned on a heel and ushered everyone out.

                 They arrived at the hostel in no time at all. Rae turned down Winslow street and scrunched her nose in mild distaste at the road sign.

She remembered the conversation she had had with her parents a month before. They had tried to discourage the two from going to Provincetown for the summer, going so far as to “put their foot down,” but Rae had thrown an absolute fit. She wasn’t proud of it. But she had gotten her way, nonetheless. Her last childish act had been successful in that they were here and now had an opportunity to showcase their maturity. Even if it did mean staying at the hostel, due to their father’s challenge that “mature adults pay for their own vacations.” This was yet another one of his “value of  the dollar” lessons. Sure, Rae had stated. Of course they would pay.

Of course they would pay. She was this close to eating her words as she turned into the parking lot and stopped in front of the main “office.” Office? The sign seemed almost sarcastic. The words “hippie shithole” came to mind. She laughed but didn’t share this with the others. Connor was already hopping out of the truck and trudging up the rickety steps.

Fifteen minutes later, they were marching across the overgrown grass to cabin 3. Justine exited the car and ran to meet them as they passed. She hadn’t wanted to go into the office. It was just as well. Old Mr. Cochran would have found her to be a bit…inappropriately dressed.

“So, cabin 3, huh? So what are the chances it’s all a big rouse and it’s like…the penthouse inside?” Justine’s sarcasm seemed to brighten her.

“Or maybe,” Connor brightened overdramatically, “It’s like in Harry Potter when they go into this tiny little tent that turns out to be this gigantic multi-room apartment inside. Like with a kitchen and a living room and a bedroom, and all!”

“Right. That’s really gonna happen.” Rae shot down his idea, but shot him a loaded glance. She had the seen the movie too. It was one of her favorites.

“Harry Potter? Connor, you’re so cute. You still watch that mystical, magical crap.” She smirked and looked to Rae.

Rae smiled and kept walking. Typical.

They got to cabin 3 and were not surprised to find it just as they would have pictured from the outside. It was a lot cleaner than they had imagined, but there were a few issues nonetheless.

“Bunkbeds?” scoffed Justine. “I have to sleep in…Rae! What the f…” She started. She put a hand on Connor’s head, “Sorry.  Well, I’ve got bottom.”

“Bottom? Why? No one ever wants bottom.” Connor said.

Justine dropped her duffel bag onto the thin green comforter. She rolled her eyes, “In case I have a gentleman callerrrr.” She smiled devilishly.

“Ugh. Okay Rae you’re with her.” He mocked disgust and retreated to the other bunk. He threw his bag on the bottom and hopped to the top in a single bound. His fake snoring filled the room.

Connor eventually really did fall asleep and the girls used the time to unpack and to shower and get ready for the evening. The facilities weren’t bad, though the hot water ran out after about ten minutes and there was a series of squeaks and thumps coming from some of the pipes that ran along the wall and into the ceiling.

Connor woke to find both girls dressed to kill and on the front porch sipping wine from crystal glasses. He hopped quietly to the floor and noted the new mini fridge in the front corner of the room. He peeked inside and found a 1998 Cheval Blanc, a six-pack of Cape Cod IPA, and three apples. He shook his head and grabbed a bottle of the local pale ale.

He started toward the door, but took a moment to glance around the room. White walls, white bunk bed frames, green blankets. It was all pretty standard. He sipped his beer, tasting the full bodied, hoppy liquid. Even at fifteen, Connor could appreciate a good beer. He often drank with his dad back home. It was an “important right of passage” his dad had said. “A man couldn’t go into the world without being able to appreciate certain things.” Apparently, fine wines and alcohol were among those things. Such teachings weren’t lost on Rae either, he noted. He didn’t know how she had gotten her hands on the $250 bottle of wine or the beer, but he didn’t feel like asking.

Connor’s eyes followed the angles of the room, but stopped at the full-length mirror in the back corner. It was out of place. He couldn’t explain what exactly was off about it, but it gave him a strange vibe. He crossed the room and stopped in front of it. He touched the cracked silver frame with one index finger, running it along the top. His finger came away caked with dust. He sipped his beer and stared at his reflection. His khaki shorts and green tee-shirt looked wider than usual, but his neck and head looked oddly elongated. He finished his beer in one large gulp and shuddered. The mirror gave a sort of fun-house effect.

Connor stared at himself and attempted to smooth his unruly blonde hair. It was then that he saw something move within the mirror. A single black shape seemed to waver back and forth deep within. Back and forth, back and forth. Was it his imagination, or did he hear a slight tapping noise going along with it?

No, he wasn’t imagining things. The tapping was getting louder, angrier. The movement of the thin black shape was gaining speed now, getting bigger, smaller, bigger, smaller. A loud crack erupted behind him and Connor jumped, dropping his beer bottle loudly onto the wooden floor.

His breathing intensified and he couldn’t hear anything above the beating of his heart. Backed into the corner now, he stole a glance at the mirror. There was nothing there.

“Connor?” Rae stood holding the porch door open. “What are you doing? Is that empty?” She pointed to the bottle on the floor.  He nodded. “I think the tree outside just fell down or something. I’m going to get Mrs. Cochran. Are you okay? What the hell?”

Connor’s eyes shot to the window in the bathroom. Of course. The window was right across from the mirror. It had been the tree moving back and forth. It was the tree that cracked. He bent to pick up the empty bottle and tossed it lightly into the can across the room.

“You’d better be careful with those, pretty boy.” Justine remarked. Connor rolled his eyes and strode over to grab another one.

“You be careful with those.” He pointed at her chest with the neck of his beer bottle.

She laughed. “Hmm, touché.” 

Author's Note

This, again, was born out of a dream that I had this summer. Of course, I've added to it, including my usual spin. The crazy parts are still to follow, my friends. Believe me.