Chapter 2 Fishbowl

Foster (Seventeen years old)

"Yo, kid. Bring this tray of drinks out to the pool. Will ya?"

"Me?" I glance over my shoulder at my boss for tonight's catering event. "I'm not a waiter. I'm just washing dishes." At least that's what my buddy told me when he asked me to fill in for him tonight.

"But I need you to deliver this tray, so for right now you are a waiter. Get your skinny butt out there and don't break anything else." Darn. I was hoping he didn't see me break the glasses earlier.

"Sure. Um."

As I dry my hands on a dishtowel and struggle to get my apron over my head, he waits with his mouth in a frown and his foot tapping.

"Hustle up. They've been waitin' ten minutes already." He speaks with a disapproving, old-school Brooklyn accent.

The glasses wobble as he hands me the weight of the tray. Fifteen full glasses of champagne slide around on the metal platter. I could handle it now but after a minute this tray will be double heavy.

"Got it, kid? "

"Yeah, yeah. Got it." For this one moment, I have it. Ten seconds from now, no telling what I'll have. "Where to?"

"The pool." He sounds like a frustrated parent having to repeat instructions. He points to the crowd mingling in an atrium across the yard. Tall glass window panes crossed with white wood surround an indoor pool. The dressed up young people stand in circles inside, their faces animated and laughing. They look like fish in a hexagonal bowl, swimming around in circles, trying to impress the fish next to them. "How do I get in?"

"Round the side. You'll find it."

He leaves me alone standing at the entrance to the service tent where I had been quietly washing dishes five seconds ago. Now I'm faced with the biggest challenge of my life. Carry a heavy tray of drinks into a crowd of extremely wealthy, most-likely drunk, socialites without breaking anything.

My arms shake under the weight of the tray. I hold my breath and trudge up the hill on the uneven grass. I exhale as I finally reach the side of the fishbowl. It looks sealed all the way around. I don't see a door. Peeking inside, I come face to face with a girl. Her eyes widen and her brow comes up when she spots me outside. I must look like a creeper out here. She squints through the glass and sees me. She looks down at my tray and a light goes off in her eyes. She wants the champagne, but she looks way too young to be drinking it .

"Where's the door?" I say to the window. There's no way she can hear me through the glass and over the party noise but what else can I do? She smiles and I look down at the tray. I've lost quite a bit of champagne on the walk over, but there's still enough to serve left in the glasses.

I look up and she's giggling. Is she laughing at me?

Of course she is. I'm a geeky stranger wearing gym shoes with his black work pants while carrying a wobbly tray of drinks as I stand lost and confused in her garden.

And of course she has to be really pretty to add to the humiliation. The lights make her dark brown curls glow. She's wearing a flowy white sundress with embroidered holes near her chest.

I look up and she's staring at me too. I'm the fish on the outside of the bowl; she's the one on the inside. Some guy standing next to her turns and glances out the window. He squints at me and gives me a dirty look. He's got really bushy eyebrows.

All this staring through the fishbowl is nice, but the muscles in my forearms are burning. I need to offload this platter and shake out my hands.

"Where's the door?" I yell louder than last time, like that would make the glass less soundproof.

Even though eyebrow guy is still staring me down, she takes pity on me and points to her left as she nods her head .

I follow her over like a fish following a finger trailed on the glass. She opens a door I would have never found on my own. A loud din of voices and music escape from behind her as she pokes her head outside while leaning on the door handle. "Are you lost?" She's still smiling and still really pretty. Eyebrow guy is back where I was before. He didn't follow her to the door, but he has one bushy eyebrow on me.

"Yes, uh. Thank you."

She holds the door open and arches back to make room for me to pass. Carefully, ignoring the burn in my arms, I clink and rattle up the steps. It's warm and stuffy in here and the noise is deafening. Several people instantly grab glasses from my tray. The remaining glasses wobble, but I focus on stabilizing them and pulling the tray closer to my stomach.

Don't look in the pool, Foster.

Don't look in the pool.

I looked in the pool.

Dammit. It looks deep.

A narrow walkway crowded with drunk people.

One false step away from plunging to my death.

I'm just going to close my eyes until all these drinks are gone. Then I can turn and get my ass away from this pool, this party, this girl. All of it.

The tray lightens, and when I open my eyes, it's empty !

Success! I delivered the drinks and didn't break anything. My hands rejoice at the lost weight on them. Time to make a run for it.

I turn to head back the way I came and the girl is standing directly in my path. She's the only person in the room looking at me. Everyone else is so wrapped up in their stupid conversations and champagne, they have no idea I'm standing here fighting off a panic attack.

I don't dare smile at her, but we definitely make eye contact. Her over-sized princess eyes stare at me like I'm a freak on display. Or maybe she sees me struggling and she's truly concerned. The corners of her mouth turn up and her eyes brighten with her smile. For a brief second, the lump of terror in my throat is gone. We connect and I feel like I have an ally in this room full of strangers.

Scowling eyebrow guy moves in front of her, blocking her from my view and forcing my eyes up his. He has thick dark hair combed back. His eyebrow marks the end of a very long, flat forehead. He's wearing a jacket and shirt with tight jeans. He looks like he's going to an interview for prep school, not a pool party in the Hamptons.

He spreads his legs and crosses his arms over his chest. There's no way for me to pass. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Oh shit. Oh shit. No. Please don't notice me. "Excuse me. I need to go. "

"You checking out my sistuh?" He speaks with an old-school Brooklyn accent.

This is bad. Very bad.

"I'm sorry. I was looking for the door. I'm sorry. Uh... goodbye."

I tuck my head to squeeze by him but he sidesteps and blocks me.

"You crossed a line and you know it." He pokes my shoulder. "You serve the drinks. That's it."

My breath sticks in my lungs. There is no air. The pool is right there. The deep, scary pool and this big guy. I'm stuck in hell. "Please just… I'm sorry. Let me pass."

"You're sorry? Ya know, I'm sorry too." He presses his forearm up against my chest and pushes me back. I bump into something hard, and when I turn, there's another guy there looking down on me.

"Who is this?" the other guy asks.

"Some stupid waiter getting his nards off on your girl."

His girl? This guy behind me is tall and broad shouldered like a polo player. He has that fresh clean look only a stuck-up snob can pull off.

I look up into his angry face and shake my head. "I didn't. I swear. "

But it's too late. These guys are looking for a fight, and there's no sign they're going to back down. They have me blocked in.

"Donnie, knock it off," the girl says through gritted teeth. She's embarrassed. So am I. I also get the feeling from her frustrated tone her brother Donnie does this all the time. "Oh my God! This is so embarrassing." She laughs. She laughs like it's funny. I thought she was nice, but she's not. She's just like the rest of them.

Donnie grins and nods at the other guy, who I guess is her boyfriend, and pushes me back toward him. "Sorry," he says, sarcastically.

I hold my hands up with palms flat. "Hey, guys. Please. It's cool. Let's just…"

"Sorry," the boyfriend says again as he tosses me back into Donnie. "She's fifteen, asshole." People have cleared out around us and both guys are smiling with the joy of taunting me, loving the panic they must see on my face.

I want to fight. I want to be angry, but I can't. They're bigger than me and much more powerful. If I took a swing at one of them, they'd for sure pile on and stick my head under the water.

I'm going to hyperventilate. I'm going to pass out and they're going to kill me while I'm unconscious. Something knocks my feet out from beneath me, and I'm falling. I'm flying and water gushes around me. My glasses come off. Stupidly, I open my mouth to scream and water chokes me.

I'm sinking. There is no light, no sound, nothing. Just the depth of the water engulfing me. I always knew I'd die by drowning and it's happening. I'm only seventeen and I'm going to die.

My feet hit something solid. Reflexively, I push up and my head pops up above the water. I suck in a huge breath through a stinging cough. I'm alive. I didn't die.

That's when I hear the laughter. They're all laughing at me. I'm the waiter in the fishbowl.

They keep laughing at me as my arms flail around looking for my glasses. Luckily, I catch them in my hand near the steps. There's something else in my hand too, but I don't have time to look. I climb out and stumble toward the door. Luckily, Donnie and her boyfriend don't follow me. On my way out, I catch a glimpse of the girl. She's at the other side of the pool with her hands over her face. I can't see her mouth, but I know she's laughing at me too. She's looking to the side like she knows she shouldn't be laughing but she can't help it. I rush out the door and slip down the slope to the catering tent. My clothes are stuck flat clinging to my body, and I'm dripping onto the grass.

"What the hell happened to you?" The head of catering stops working and stares at me .

"I fell in the pool. I'm sorry. It was an accident. It was narrow, the walkway… I slipped." I learned a long time ago not to tattle when someone bullies me because it will only come back to make me look like the bad guy.

"Get out of here." He points to the gate that leads to the front of the house.

"Aren't you going to pay me?" My voice squeaks. I really need this money to pay for a hotel room for the night.

"Pay you for ruining this gig for me? Do you know how hard I worked to land this deal? And you're running around breaking glasses and falling into pools? Worthless. Nuthin' but worthless." He's got that harsh New York accent too that makes you feel like the goodfellas are scolding you.

Damn. This night keeps getting worse.

Over by the pool house, a group has gathered on the steep hill to stare at me. The girl is in the middle. Her brother and her boyfriend stand on either side of her with their arms around her.

She's not laughing anymore. Her face is sad and she looks like she's been crying. Beside them, an older man peers down their sloping lawn at me.

The man, presumably her father, has bushy eyebrows too, and they are drawn in anger as he stares at me. They're a family and a tight one. No one penetrates their network, and she is the center of it all .

I've ruined their big party. I've humiliated them.

I turn and run. I run as fast as I can with my wet clothes slowing me down.

I pump my legs till I'm out the gate and down the long driveway past all the fancy cars to the curb. My heart is pounding so fast. What should I do? Where should I go? I walk away down the hill to get out of the view of the party and sit down on the curb. My hair is hanging in my face and I must look like a wet rat.

Why didn't I fight back? I know why; I can't win in a fight.

Man, this sucks and I didn't even get paid.

I wipe off my glasses and put them on. There's a bracelet in my hand too. Little puppy charms on a chain. I don't even remember picking it up. Great. Now, they're going to blame me for stealing. Is it hers? Shoot. Do I have something of hers? An excuse to see her again? I tuck the bracelet in my pocket and head down the hill with water drops blocking my vision.

Ten minutes later, I'm trekking down the street and getting cold. It's a mild summer night but there's wind and with these wet clothes I'm turning into a shivering, wrinkled worm.

An ancient Buick pulls up and stops. An old man rolls his window down. "Everything all right here?"

"I'm not going to cause any trouble. "

"I didn't say you were."

I keep walking and the car inches along next to me. "Why're you all wet?"

"Got pushed into the pool." Also nearly died and got totally humiliated in front of rich people.

"Were you up at the party at the Bianchi's?"

"I don't even know the name of the family. All I know is I got thrown in the pool."

"Where're you headed now?"

"To the bus stop."

"No buses running this time of night."

"I'll catch one in the morning."

He's quiet for a second but keeps following me with his car. "You got a place to stay?"

"Ain't none of your business."

"I'm just concerned. You look like you've had a rough night and could use some kindness right about now."

Kindness? What the heck is he talking about? "I'm gonna be just fine."

"Why don't you let me give you a ride?"

I stop and look at his gray hair and frizzly moustache. He looks like the grandpa who reads bedtime stories to his grandson.

"No thank you. I'll walk."

"It's a long way to a bus stop. Even longer soaking wet. Go ahead and get in. What's your name?"

I shouldn't trust the guy but something about him seems honest. "Foster."

"Hi, Foster. I'm Henry. When someone offers you a helping hand, you take it."

"I don't take favors 'cuz I don't wanna owe nobody nothin'."

"You don't have to pay me back. You pay it forward we'll be even."

"I got nothing to pay anyone back with."

"You will someday. Now get in."

He seems harmless. A little kooky, but he doesn't look like he wants to chop me up and eat me. A ride to the bus stop would be a godsend right about now. "Okay." I open the passenger side door and get in the car with Henry.

He drives past the bus station and gets on Highway 27 toward Queens.

"You just passed the bus stop."

"Then we'll get to know each other a little. "

I roll my eyes in the darkness of the car so he can't see. I don't want to listen to a lonely old man telling his stories.

"So what were you doing up at the Bianchi party?"

"I was working with the caterer. My friend told me I'd be washing dishes. I ended up carrying drinks in. There was a girl."

"Ah. There always is a girl." He smiles and his head leans back as he looks up at the roof of his car.

"It wasn't like that."

"Was she pretty?" He gives me a sideways glance.

"Beautiful." Not worth lying about. That girl was stunning. The guy said she was only fifteen, but she was gorgeous.

"There is always a girl."

"Anyway, her brother and her boyfriend didn't like the way I was looking at her. Thing is, she was looking at me too. She smiled. Either way, they gave me a hard time and tossed me in the pool. Thus the wet puppy in your passenger seat right now."

He shakes his head. "Those rich sons a bitches can be so cruel. You shoulda clocked 'em."

This makes me chuckle. I didn't expect cussing and violence from Henry based on the way he looks.

"I can't fight. Too skinny. "

"You don't have to be big to win a fight. Gotta be smart." He taps his temple. "I'd have liked to see you show that Bianchi kid what for."

"Nah."

"I had to beat up a few guys before I got my wife to give me a second look."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She was real pretty too. The guys in town all thought they owned a piece of her because they grew up with her. They didn't want me honin' in on their turf, but she didn't love any of them, and I had to prove her point with my fists."

"That sounds cool."

"It wasn't all that cool. I had black eyes for a few weeks, but I got the girl in the end."

"Was this in the Hamptons?"

"No. Out west. Small little beach town. She worked at the store in town. We ended up sneaking away into the woods and hiding out in a fishing cabin up there. By the end of that summer, I knew she was the love of my life. We told the whole town we were getting hitched. Caused quite the uproar, but we didn't care. We were so in love."

"And you married her?"

"Yep. Married fifty-two years before she died a year ago." His voice grows quiet and his lips tighten .

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I know I'll be with her again soon. She's waiting for me up in heaven with a big tray of her sweet rolls warming in the oven for me."

We talk for the entire ride to Queens and he pulls into the parking lot of an apartment building.

"Thank you for the ride."

"Why don't you come up for a bit? I'll show you some fighting moves."

I chuckle because he looks way too old to be fighting.

"I'm a triple black belt. Taught karate and jiu-jitsu for years. I can get you started. Come on up. I'm not gonna hurt you."

I can't fight, but I'm pretty sure this guy couldn't do much damage. "All right, Henry. Thank you."

We get out of the car and walk up to his apartment.

Maybe this night wasn't a total failure. I met Henry and made a new friend.