{"id":17034,"date":"2021-12-07T05:00:25","date_gmt":"2021-12-07T10:00:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/?p=17034"},"modified":"2022-08-03T13:09:45","modified_gmt":"2022-08-03T17:09:45","slug":"the-burbidges-in-grand-marais","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/fiction\/the-burbidges-in-grand-marais\/","title":{"rendered":"The Burbidges in Grand Marais"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Cut to Victoria Burbidge at her safe, butterscotch house with all its grandeur and soil on the edge of Grand Marais. She watched her father clean the pool, which was the deal after his last argument with her mother, and the red algae evaded his aluminum skimmer. It was sixty-five degrees, and he was in high spirits, gut hanging over the chlorine and feet clapping wet brick.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got your suit on?\u201d he asked her. \u201cYou gonna jump in?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not hot enough,\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo some jumping jacks,\u201d he said. \u201cTake a lap around the driveway. You\u2019ll warm up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her mother came out of the screen door, all dark hair, in a Minneapolis sweatshirt and puka shell necklace. She leaned against the side of the house with a blue melamine mug, looking off at the Sawtooth Mountains. Behind the pool and its brick deck were rows of aspens and firs; beyond them were the concrete paths and vast stone shores of Lake Superior, where the water came up like six thousand tongues. There was a lighthouse on stilts, white up to the deck, where Victoria had birthday parties as a child with pink cakes out in the cold, surrounded by all those shivering brats and their mothers.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou jumping in?\u201d she asked Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not warm enough,\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen what are you cleaning it for?\u201d she asked Mr. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou asked me to clean it,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought she was going to go in,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge. Then to Victoria, \u201cYou could go in with Jesse.\u201d<\/p>\n

A custom polyvinyl chloride pool inflatable of Jesse McCartney was on its back in a white wicker chaise.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom,\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll toss him in for you,\u201d said her father.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop!\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

She picked up Jesse, carried him past her mother, through the screen door and the black leather living room furniture, to her bedroom. At nineteen, Victoria had only ever had this boyfriend, with whom she did everything, went everywhere, and made all sorts of adult promises. Her parents were told to think of it as a transitional object<\/em> and a sign of a great imagination<\/em> in a highly functioning adult.<\/em> For Victoria, it was much simpler.<\/p>\n

Jesse McCartney posters, CDs and figurines were strewn over her padauk bookshelf. She\u2019d framed the CD inserts from Beautiful Soul<\/em> (2004), Right Where You Want Me<\/em> (2006), and Departure<\/em> (2008) and had written: To my dear Victoria, Love, Jesse<\/em> in permanent marker on each one. She\u2019d cut him out of magazines and taped him to the purple geometric wallpaper. Lined up by the baseboard were two pairs of plush slippers with the initials \u2018JM\u2019 on the toecaps. He was four feet long and wide enough to take up half of her full-size bed. Carefully, she swung a leg over him, but didn\u2019t rest its weight.<\/p>\n

She had taped concert tickets from past years to the basketweave stitches of a medallion tapestry. Scrapbooks made toppling piles by the closet door, where she had transposed cutouts of her face over those of Jesse\u2019s mother and sister. In some, her floating head was made to look like it was resting on his shoulder.<\/p>\n

The pool inflatable itself took the likeness of a 2006 red carpet look, where he wore a red and black striped sweater over a white collared shirt, with a red tie underneath, and dark wash jeans. The printed image on the float cut off at the tongues of his sneakers, and it said gettyimages<\/em> across his knee. Mrs. Burbidge had it made for Victoria\u2019s nineteenth birthday months earlier, in anticipation of the summer months.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mr. Burbidge made chive scrambled eggs, thick-cut ham, and sourdough toast for a mid-morning breakfast. He set it out on off-white ceramic plates, on crocheted placemats, then pinched Himalayan salt out of a miniature wooden bowl. His beard was a mess of smoking wires down his chest, and smelled like moss, as if Superior\u2019s petrichor had dampened into its follicles.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Burbidge put out paper towels for napkins and poured hot water from the kettle over a tortured, halved lemon. Romania had made a spectacular forest of her brow, which she waxed down the middle toward the bridge of her nose. She often said to Victoria, \u201cYou\u2019re lucky,\u201d and \u201cYou look like dad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVicki,\u201d said Mr. Burbidge, \u201cis Jesse eating, too?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot right now,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cVery well,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Victoria didn\u2019t know if Jesse was hungry or not; he must have been, but she just wasn\u2019t sure how he would eat. She considered jamming their daily meals into his nozzle, as if anally, but its placement on his lower hip made this rather peculiar to imagine. In the end, she was certain this was something neither of them would enjoy. She propped him up in the dining chair next to hers by scooching him all the way in, so that he was pinched there. Mrs. Burbidge ran a hand over Victoria\u2019s head, skewing the base of her ponytail, then blew on her lemon water, rippling the surface.<\/p>\n

\u201cAny plans today?\u201d asked Mr. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe and Jesse are gonna go to the water,\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo the lake?\u201d asked Mrs. Burbidge. \u201cDad cleaned the pool.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo what I\u2019m told,\u201d said Mr. Burbidge. He sat, and the ends of his beard touched the eggs on the way down.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s disgusting,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe planned on going down to the water,\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour beard went in the eggs.\u201d Then, to Victoria, \u201cDad cleaned the pool.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow could I have known that?\u201d asked Mr. Burbidge. He combed through his beard with his fingers, feeling for evidence.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust from being a person,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I take the cooler?\u201d asked Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust from being a spatially aware person,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you going to be able to carry both Jesse and the cooler?\u201d asked Mr. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust being aware of your own body,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d said Victoria. \u201cI\u2019ve done it before.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you going to take in the cooler?\u201d he asked. \u201cThis guy doesn\u2019t appear to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t pick on her,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cProbably just whatever\u2019s in the fridge,\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cDrinks?\u201d asked Mr. Burbidge. \u201cYou drinking?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cLay off of her,\u201d said her mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d asked Mr. Burbidge. \u201cI\u2019m not doing anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen has she ever even had a drink?\u201d asked Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

Mr. Burbidge looked at Victoria over the ham on his tines. They did drink, all sorts of things\u2014ales, gin and tonics, martinis, hard cider\u2014when her mother went to her pharmacology classes or to the lake with her flock of hens.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge. \u201cYou\u2019ll have a nice time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBe careful out there,\u201d said Mr. Burbidge. \u201cYou know what they say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCut it out,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what they say,\u201d he said. \u201cSuperior doesn\u2019t give up her dead!\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Victoria turned Jesse over on his front while she put on her bathing suit, followed by jeans and a tie-dye sweatshirt. Outside, it had not warmed up, and the sun went in and out of clouds. She passed the neighbors\u2019 modular cabin, which had a view of the lake, and its sloping porch caught the wind perfectly. She often saw the couple out there, picking salami off of charcuterie boards and sucking down grails of Muse Joose, escaping to their marriage from the clips of Minneapolis.<\/p>\n

When she came up on the shore, Victoria saw Serenity, a girl who\u2019d been unkind to her in grade school. She did not hate Serenity, but was glad it rained on her birthday, and reveled when she fell down on a sixth-grade fieldtrip to the lighthouse. Their teacher had knelt beside her on the volcanic stone and lamely said, \u201cOur anger is just our sadness in disguise.\u201d Now, Serenity was with a boy. They were on their sides on a mudcloth blanket, facing each other, and she was pushing her face into his chest. He had a boyish hand on the ass of her cream cotton shorts. While keeping their chests flush together, Serenity turned her head to look at Victoria, then turned back and kissed the tan boy on the mouth.<\/p>\n

Victoria opened the cooler and took out a carton of blueberries and a hard cider. She sat with Jesse between her legs, facing him toward the lake. Despite being in season, the blueberries were cockled and soft, and she crushed them between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She spit their flesh and pips onto the rocks.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi!\u201d the boy called out. Serenity smacked his arm and laughed.<\/p>\n

On every adjustment, she stirred the volcanic stones. Jesse was cold to the touch, so Victoria took off her sweatshirt and pulled it over him. It was tight, and he didn\u2019t have arms for the sleeves, but his head poked out the top, cutting off the top of his smile. Victoria burrowed into his back and breathed into his ear, kissing it every so often. A Rottweiler went by, pulling at its purple leash. Its owner, a middle-aged woman, carried a pink plastic bag, which hung from her grip, weighed down by excrement. The sky, still smeared with clouds, moved right to left. At the end of its long, narrow walkway, which angled like a trapezoid into the lake, the lighthouse stood hard and cold. Behind her, the quiet bustle outside the trading post trilled, where she\u2019d worked in the stock room a few months after high school, then had been fired by the floor manager, Serenity\u2019s mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello!\u201d the boy called out again.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou suck!\u201d Victoria yelled.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d the boy said, laughing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI said,\u201d said Victoria, \u201cyou suck!\u201d<\/p>\n

She opened the hard cider and drank half of it quickly. She felt herself choking and held her breath as not to cough and cause further embarrassment. Serenity was laughing now, full throttle, like a witch. The boy was asking her what he should say next, and she said, \u201cOh, oh, oh,\u201d touched his arm and said it in his ear.<\/p>\n

\u201cBurbidge!\u201d he yelled. \u201cYou suck!\u201d<\/p>\n

Serenity lost her mind. Victoria\u2019s face was hot, stinging with vessels, and she wished Jesse would beat the shit out of both of them, put them face down in the lake and float them toward the lighthouse. The Rottweiler barked at a car outside the trading post.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou suck,\u201d Victoria said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019d you say?\u201d the boy called.<\/p>\n

\u201cWasn\u2019t talking to you!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, tell me!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou suck!\u201d she yelled.<\/p>\n

The boy stood up and extended both hands to help Serenity to her feet. Still laughing, they rolled up the mudcloth blanket, threw an empty Pepsi can toward the water and started back toward their car.<\/p>\n

\u201cBurbidge!\u201d the boy called out at a low, distorted octave. \u201cGrow some balls!\u201d<\/p>\n

Victoria drank the rest of the hard cider and placed the empty bottle in the cooler. Jesse was quiet in her sweatshirt, rattled from the interaction.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d said Victoria. \u201cDidn\u2019t mean to freak you out or anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stared out at the water, its reaching peninsulas and sowed pigments and algae.<\/p>\n

Victoria squeezed tighter, then put him on his back on the stone beach and swung a leg over him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she said again. \u201cI love you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jesse kissed her under yacking seagulls. She worked her tongue over his plastic smile, which was mostly teeth. She pulled on the collar of the sweatshirt to lick down his chin to his neck, where she desperately sucked, then came back up and said, \u201cThank God. I thought you hated me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hours went by and the blueberries got warm, bulging from their blossom ends. Victoria squeezed one between her fingers and wiped the juice on Jesse\u2019s mouth as if to feed him, staining his teeth. More dogs passed with owners carrying their bags of dung. Jesse played it cool when seagulls swarmed the berries, and when two kayakers came in close, breathing heavily like there\u2019d been some sort of emergency. The dusk was filmy and sweet, sweating over the top of the lake, and swallowed the cupola of the lighthouse.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s where I had parties,\u201d said Victoria. \u201cThey were awful.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They started back toward the house. They went by where Mrs. Batten used to live with her family, and after her divorce, learned to candy walnuts, and had even had another son who looked nothing like the other one. She moved to an apartment in Michigan where she lived without many windows, and all her beauty came peeling off of her like grief had won. They went by the Hortensens\u2019, whose Great Dane had killed their Bengal kitten in some unimaginative way. And then by the aging widow, who was always holding up her little, squashed terrier and saying, too proudly, \u201cShe\u2019s from a puppy mill!\u201d They went by the part of the road where her mother hit a red fox with her car, and where, weeks later, Victoria swore she saw a fox kit, swirling around in despair.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know about it here,\u201d she said to Jesse. \u201cMaybe we should move. Do you ever see<\/p>\n

yourself going back to Los Angeles?\u201d<\/p>\n

She took her shoes off before her parents\u2019 driveway and balanced them on top of the cooler. Jesse was still wearing her sweatshirt and she was cold. Her father was by the pool, evaluating his work from that morning. He drank a porter and his beard dripped with it.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome hang!\u201d he called out.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne sec,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

She brought Jesse to her bedroom, put him on the bed and straddled him while she took the sweatshirt off him. She went for his neck, then leaned in to kiss him like before, but something seemed off and she said, \u201cDon\u2019t be lame.\u201d She leaned in again, this time going for his ear, which had a white scuff, and she pushed her tongue against it. Still, she got no reaction.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

She turned sharply to face the medallion tapestry so he wouldn\u2019t see her eyes. She stood, peeled off her jeans with embarrassing trouble, and went for the door. She said over her shoulder, \u201cI made this room a shrine.\u201d She left him on the bed and went out to the pool in her swimsuit. She walked past Mr. Burbidge with his beer and went to the edge of the water, sat down, and put her calves in.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything all right?\u201d asked Mr. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d she said. \u201cJesse\u2019s being weird.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMakes sense,\u201d said her father.<\/p>\n

He sat next to her and put his big, red legs in. Gulls and grackles made turns overhead and chose trees by the pool, cocking their heads at Victoria\u2019s strawberry print bathing suit. The smell of Mrs. Burbidge dyeing her hair came through the open bathroom window and hung like pothos in the yard.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not sure about that guy,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not?\u201d asked Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cNah,\u201d said Mr. Burbidge. \u201cBig city boy comes to small town. Same old. Can\u2019t adjust.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSame old story,\u201d he said. \u201cBig popstar. Can\u2019t handle the pressure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want a beer?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou jumping in?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDad,\u201d she said. \u201cIt is not<\/em> warm.\u201d<\/p>\n

When he stood, foils of water came out with his calves, splashing the brick and Victoria\u2019s hip. He pulled a pale ale from the cooler next to the white wicker chaise. The cooler\u2019s handle wasn\u2019t secured well to one side, so he had to carry it by the bottom. He cracked it open for her and as he handed it to her said, \u201cFor you, princess.\u201d Mrs. Burbidge came out the screen door with her hair in a towel.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs she drinking?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought you had to leave that stuff in for a while,\u201d said Mr. Burbidge, pointing to his own head.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t like the color,\u201d she said. \u201cIt looked too red.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought it\u2019d be the same,\u201d she said. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s too bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t just switch brands,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Victoria held the beer between her knees, so its bottom was submerged, tucking it out of view. Mrs. Burbidge, who, years earlier, had broken all the toes on her left foot, still complained that they ached through Tylenol, even in comfortable shoes.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re hurting,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWorse today?\u201d asked Mr. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think it\u2019s the worst it\u2019s ever been,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy poor ol\u2019 lady,\u201d said Mr. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Jesse?\u201d she asked Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t ask<\/em> me that,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he liking the North Shore?\u201d asked Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes<\/em>,\u201d said Victoria. She picked her beer up and drank.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Burbidge looked at Mr. Burbidge. She raised her eyebrows, and he shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should talk about Jesse,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that really necessary tonight?\u201d asked Mr. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t like how he\u2019s been treating you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d asked Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe doesn\u2019t talk,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t pay attention to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t really know him, I guess,\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe wanted to talk to you about it when he wasn\u2019t around.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut he\u2019s always around,\u201d said Mr. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you want to be with somebody who looks at you while you\u2019re talking?\u201d asked Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hate when people look at me,\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cVicki,\u201d she said, \u201cdon\u2019t you want to be adored?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLoved,\u201d said Mr. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you want someone to love you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Victoria looked away. By the edge of the house, starflower squirmed in breeze. The wet brick smelled like a cave, and didn\u2019t dry, but got cold. Right about now, she thought, the neighbors would be stepping out on their porch with folded prosciutto.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d said Victoria, \u201cwhat kind of example are you setting for me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are we\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind of example are you setting for me anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are we doing that\u2019s wrong?\u201d asked Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou hate my boyfriend!\u201d said Victoria.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d said Mr. Burbidge, \u201cwe just hope that you\u2019ll think about\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou hate Jesse!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus, Vicki,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou suck!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot necessary,\u201d said Mrs. Burbidge.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou suck even more!\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Victoria went back to her room, where Jesse had not moved. The room with all its purple and romance closed around them, and she traced his bottom lip with the nail of her pointer finger. The quilt warmed under her, and she pulled her bathing suit down, and did not turn him over.<\/p>\n

She scooched up so that one of her breasts stuck to his plastic face. Victoria had big breasts, but nobody liked to think about that. It wasn\u2019t the same as anybody else having big breasts. In fact, they were ugly. They were not nice. They were roseate with pores large enough to breathe through, and in the summers, spider-bitten from sleeping in her cousin\u2019s finished basement, all those times she bled into the toilet as if to laugh in girlhood\u2019s face. She ran a drunk, sticking hand down Jesse\u2019s polyvinyl chloride and started singing one of his own songs to him. Pink Christmas lights flashed on top of the doorframe.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause you live and breathe,<\/em>\u201d she sang. \u201cBecause you make me believe in myself when nobody else can help<\/em>.\u201d She got closer to his ear, making her breast get closer to her face. \u201cBecause you live, girl, my world has twice as many stars<\/em>\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVictoria?\u201d Mrs. Burbidge called through the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d she called.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you call me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d<\/p>\n

For Victoria, it wasn\u2019t all drama. It was denial and distraction, suppressed pain, then order and routine. It was \u201cI want you to die but I\u2019m not gonna kill you\u201d and \u201cI want you to bleed but I\u2019m not prepared to stab you.\u201d She got on her back next to Jesse, resting her hand on gettyimages<\/em>, and went over every impossible reason for being in Grand Marais, alive, blooming in her pubescent castle. From an earring tree across the room, a paper Christmas ornament dangled with their faces printed on either side.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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