Free Swim to Me by Betsy Carter Page A

on,” she said. “Take him out. I’ll guard.”
    She walked to the doorway where she stood with her arms folded, her eyes searching. Inside, Delores was whispering to Otto: “I miss him,” she said. “I know it was a terrible thing he did, leaving us like that, but I miss him anyway.”
    Molly took her watch seriously, making sure no one would come upon Delores and Otto. From then on, any time Delores wanted to visit with Otto, Molly would stand guard. She told Delores that the moment she heard footsteps or voices, she’d whisper “lollapalooza” in time for Delores to put Otto back under her bed.
    â€œLollapalooza? Are you sure?” asked Delores.
    The two of them doubled over laughing as Molly shook her head yes and said it over and over again. “Lollapalooza, lollapalooza.”
    T HE NIGHT AFTER the tongue incident, Delores called home.
    â€œHay-llo.”
    Her mother sounded like Lily Tomlin doing her telephone operator routine.
    â€œMom?”
    â€œOh yes, hello, Delores.”
    Her mother’s voice seemed controlled, almost angry.
    â€œMom, it’s me, Delores. Are you all right?”
    â€œI’m perfectly all right. Why do you ask?”
    â€œMom, why are you talking like that?”
    â€œLike what? I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
    â€œYou sound a little, I don’t know, mad or something.”
    â€œWhy on earth would I have any reason to be mad? So how’s it going in mermaid-land?”
    â€œIt’s good. They like me. How’s Westie?”
    â€œHe’s with Helene at the moment.”
    â€œYes, but how is he?”
    â€œHe’s just fine, thank you.”
    â€œHow’s work?”
    â€œWork is going real well, I’d have to say.”
    â€œMom, have you heard anything from Daddy?”
    â€œNo. Why should I?”
    The conversation continued this way, her mother’s words floating over Delores’s head like dandelion seeds. She finally gave up. “Gotta go, Mom, I’ll try to call soon.”
    â€œSure, call whenever you want.”
    Delores hung up. She considered that her mother might have gone crazy or, even worse, that she hated her own daughter.
    â€œHow’re your parents doing?” asked Molly, when Delores came back to the dorm.
    â€œUm, they’re really far away this time,” she answered.

Six
    In fact, Gail Walker was blossoming in her new life. Sometimes at night when she was cleaning the offices of
Cool,
the fashion magazine, she would sit at one of the gray metal desks in the maze of cubicles and stare out at the city below. The office was on the thirty-fifth floor and from some of the windows she could see the length of the Hudson River from the Statue of Liberty all the way up to the George Washington Bridge. When the bridge was lit at night, it looked as if angels had gathered around it.
    Her favorite cubicle was the one with a desk that was covered with tiny ceramic figurines of dogs, as well as a plastic egg filled with Silly Putty, and a Pet Rock. All around were old photographs taken on sunny days in the country. In one of them, a young woman with tight blonde curls was squinting into the sun. Next to her was a young man with dark features. In the crook of his arm he was holding a baby who was no larger than a cantaloupe. An older woman was walking toward them. She was smiling and carrying something in her hands, a basket of muffins maybe.
    In another, more contemporary, photo, the young woman with blonde curls was standing barefoot on a beach. Behind her, the sky was streaked with the colors of sunset. There were pictures of a golden retriever and someone blowing out candles on a birthday cake. In another, the young woman with the curls was being smothered in theembrace of a middle-aged man wearing a safari jacket. There were pictures torn from magazines, shoes mainly, that were stuck on her bulletin board with