Gravity Read Online Free PDF Page B

tucking one leg behind the other.
    Lindsay is tall, yet not lanky like me. She has muscular legs. Saturday morning soccer, I bet.
    Down on the dock Lindsay shows me how to hold the rod. I want to cast from the canoe. Lindsay laughs. “Practice on land first, or we’ll tip.” She scratches a mosquito bite on her leg. “How come you don’t know how to cast?”
    “I told you, I’ve never been to a cottage before.” I practice releasing and reeling in the line.
    “Well, what do you know?”
    I cast my line, the hook forming a huge arc before sinking out in the bay. “That was beautiful, wasn’t it?” I say over my shoulder.
    Lindsay nods. “It was.” She sits on the dock, her feet dangling in the water.
    “I know all about the sea, except I haven’t been yet.” I reel in the line, place the rod over my shoulder and flick it over my head, releasing the catch. The hook whizzes out into the water. “I went to Niagara Falls last summer, to Marine Land. I held a starfish in my hand.”
    Lindsay stares at me. I hold my gaze steady. “The starfish was wet and brittle, and I could see hundreds of its tiny feelers moving, feel them clinging to my skin.” The whole time I’m rambling, I can’t take my eyes off Lindsay’s hip, the jut of her bone above the waist of her shorts. “The sea star clung to my skin,” I repeat.
    “You are so weird.”
    I feel myself blush from my chin to just below my eyes.
    “I also know all about Houdini from my sister. Did you know he could even escape the Russian police? He jumped off the Detroit Bridge in a water can and escaped. He could hold his breath forever.”
    Lindsay stands up. “You’re getting weirder.” She flashes me a smile. “Is your whole family like this?”
    “Don’t even ask.”
    WHEN I GET back to the cottage Bubbie is drinking a gin and tonic on the porch.
    “Lindsay asked me to her house for dinner.”
    Bubbie eyes my outfit. “So? You didn’t want to go?”
    “I didn’t know what they’d serve.”
    Bubbie laughs and squeezes my arm. “You could just tell them you’re kosher or vegetarian.”
    “I told them you were expecting me.” I grab a chip from the plastic bowl.
    Bubbie nods, and I help her bring out food to the picnic table: smoked meat sandwiches and potato salad made with vinegar dressing, the way I like it.
    After dinner we sit on the dock, slapping at mosquitoes. Bubbie slides into an Adirondack chair and lights a cigarette.
    “I thought you quit.”
    “I occasionally like to shove one more nail in my coffin.”
    “What happened to the Popsicle sticks?”
    “I cheat every once in awhile.” Bubbie looks at my legs. “Did Lindsay give you the shorts?”
    I nod.
    She flicks cigarette ash into the water. “And what would your parents think?”
    I cross my legs, tucking my feet underneath me. “You won’t tell them, will you?”
    “Of course not, not if you don’t want me to. I think they look nice on you. Can you imagine your father’s face if he saw?” Bubbie laughs.
    “Should I...should I not wear them?”
    “Oh, Ellie, wear whatever the hell you want. Your parents feel all funny about legs, and now even I’m acting crazy.”
    Sighing, I lean back in the chair and let my arms dangle over the armrests. “There’s no men here to see me, no people really, so I don’t think it really matters. I won’t wear them when we go into Northbrook or anything.”
    “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
    “No, I don’t care.”
    “You know, I haven’t seen your mother’s legs since nineteen seventy.”
    I glance at Bubbie. “Seventeen years ago?”
    “Yep,” she says. We both start giggling.
    “I don’t even know what they look like,” I say.
    “Oh, they’re very nice. Your mother was athletic once. She has good calf muscles from skiing.”
    “I can’t imagine Ima on skis.”
    “She just flew along. Didn’t like moguls. She liked the feeling of flying. I guess she flies in a different way now.” Bubbie