brightly that at certain
moments it was nearly impossible to look at it. Yellow and flaming orange like the sun. That’s what it was. The sun. The kite
of the sun. Bobbing. Dancing. Rising higher than all the others, then suddenly dipping toward the beach as if it could fall,
then suddenly rushing skyward again and floating.
Jackie wondered who the owner of such a kite could be, and he moved his eyes to the beach and looked around. There were many
more people on the beach now than when he and Molly and Bobby had arrived. All of them watching the sun kite. All of them
looking up at the sky. But he didn’t, couldn’t find the kite flyer among them.
The sun kite was up very high now. It was at its highest point so far, and Jackie was leaning back against the basket, squinting
against the brightness of the day to try to locate the string, when the sun kite began to move toward the earth. Slowly at
first, then faster, as if the kite flyer had lost control. Too fast. Toward Jackie, he was sure. Moving in his direction.
And the sky behind it was spinning, too, and he knew that the sun kite, which looked so large so high up in the Sky, must
be overwhelming up close… and, my God, he was sweating and his heart was pounding, and the kite and the sky and all the other
kites were going to dose in and… Molly! Any minute he would be sick, panicky and vomiting, and Molly would see him and so
would her son and they would hate him.
There was nowhere to go. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Why hadn’t he said, “I’ll meet you there,” toMolly. He could have driven his school bus and met Molly and Bobby at the beach. Then he would have had an enclosed place
to hide. But now, nothing, nowhere. The men’s room. That little cinder-block building at the corner. No. God. He pictured
himself in there gagging and sick like some wino. The sun kite. It was coming. He had to look away. Somehow he took his eyes
from the sky and covered his face with his hands.
He was soaked with sweat. Eyes still dosed, he felt around on the blanket for the Dodger hat and put it on. Then, opening
his eyes but steadfastly staring only at the sand, he moved up the beach, through the crowd of people, toward the men’s room.
The odor in the men’s room made him reel, but it was better than being outside. No one else was there, so he pressed his forehead
against the cinder block. Just to cool himself. His breathing was beginning to slow down. Thank God. Becoming more regular.
I’m fine,
he told himself.
I’m inside now and I’m fine.
But he wasn’t fine. He was afraid. So afraid that he knew he couldn’t go back to the beach and let Molly and Bobby see him
this way.
After another few minutes in the men’s room, he was feeling well enough to walk slowly outside. He looked around so he could
decide what to do. Then, his. shoulders hunched protectively, his hat pulled as far down on his head as it would go and his
eyes fixed on the sidewalk, he began to walk as quickly as he could toward the bus stop.
That night, after his headache subsided, he sat in a hot bath. From the tub he could hear the phone ringing.
“Molly,” he said aloud, but he didn’t get out to answer it.
Early Monday he called in sick to work. After that he put the phone down, went back to sleep, and slept all morning. At twelve-thirty
in the afternoon the ringing of the phone woke him. It was lunchtime at the office. It would be Molly.
“H’lo?”
“Jackie? Thank God,” she said. “Are you okay? I’ve been so worried.”
“I’m okay,” he said.
I am fine.
What could he tell her? “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I had to leave the beach because I didn’t feel well.”
“Is there anything I can do? I mean, can I bring you anything?” she asked, and he heard in her voice that she was really concerned.
“Shall I come over?”
“No.”
There was silence. The truth is your best friend. His mother had told him that many times
moments it was nearly impossible to look at it. Yellow and flaming orange like the sun. That’s what it was. The sun. The kite
of the sun. Bobbing. Dancing. Rising higher than all the others, then suddenly dipping toward the beach as if it could fall,
then suddenly rushing skyward again and floating.
Jackie wondered who the owner of such a kite could be, and he moved his eyes to the beach and looked around. There were many
more people on the beach now than when he and Molly and Bobby had arrived. All of them watching the sun kite. All of them
looking up at the sky. But he didn’t, couldn’t find the kite flyer among them.
The sun kite was up very high now. It was at its highest point so far, and Jackie was leaning back against the basket, squinting
against the brightness of the day to try to locate the string, when the sun kite began to move toward the earth. Slowly at
first, then faster, as if the kite flyer had lost control. Too fast. Toward Jackie, he was sure. Moving in his direction.
And the sky behind it was spinning, too, and he knew that the sun kite, which looked so large so high up in the Sky, must
be overwhelming up close… and, my God, he was sweating and his heart was pounding, and the kite and the sky and all the other
kites were going to dose in and… Molly! Any minute he would be sick, panicky and vomiting, and Molly would see him and so
would her son and they would hate him.
There was nowhere to go. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Why hadn’t he said, “I’ll meet you there,” toMolly. He could have driven his school bus and met Molly and Bobby at the beach. Then he would have had an enclosed place
to hide. But now, nothing, nowhere. The men’s room. That little cinder-block building at the corner. No. God. He pictured
himself in there gagging and sick like some wino. The sun kite. It was coming. He had to look away. Somehow he took his eyes
from the sky and covered his face with his hands.
He was soaked with sweat. Eyes still dosed, he felt around on the blanket for the Dodger hat and put it on. Then, opening
his eyes but steadfastly staring only at the sand, he moved up the beach, through the crowd of people, toward the men’s room.
The odor in the men’s room made him reel, but it was better than being outside. No one else was there, so he pressed his forehead
against the cinder block. Just to cool himself. His breathing was beginning to slow down. Thank God. Becoming more regular.
I’m fine,
he told himself.
I’m inside now and I’m fine.
But he wasn’t fine. He was afraid. So afraid that he knew he couldn’t go back to the beach and let Molly and Bobby see him
this way.
After another few minutes in the men’s room, he was feeling well enough to walk slowly outside. He looked around so he could
decide what to do. Then, his. shoulders hunched protectively, his hat pulled as far down on his head as it would go and his
eyes fixed on the sidewalk, he began to walk as quickly as he could toward the bus stop.
That night, after his headache subsided, he sat in a hot bath. From the tub he could hear the phone ringing.
“Molly,” he said aloud, but he didn’t get out to answer it.
Early Monday he called in sick to work. After that he put the phone down, went back to sleep, and slept all morning. At twelve-thirty
in the afternoon the ringing of the phone woke him. It was lunchtime at the office. It would be Molly.
“H’lo?”
“Jackie? Thank God,” she said. “Are you okay? I’ve been so worried.”
“I’m okay,” he said.
I am fine.
What could he tell her? “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I had to leave the beach because I didn’t feel well.”
“Is there anything I can do? I mean, can I bring you anything?” she asked, and he heard in her voice that she was really concerned.
“Shall I come over?”
“No.”
There was silence. The truth is your best friend. His mother had told him that many times
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