Beautiful Days by Joyce Carol Oates

Author:Joyce Carol Oates
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Next morning dinghies took passengers from the Boca Brava to a succession of islands in the Gulf of Chiriquí. To Becca’s relief, the obese family hadn’t been assigned to their dinghy.

In the ship’s dining room that morning the wife had resolved not to seek out the freak-family. She feared the husband’s awareness of her obsession with them—it would be one more wifely flaw in his eyes. Yet, to her dismay, without knowing how it had happened, she found herself staring at the obese girl in the buffet line, slowly shuffling along heaping eggs, sausages, waffles, French toast, syrupy prunes and large croissants onto her plate. There was a terrible, obscene hunger in the girl’s face, as if she had not eaten in days. And what was she wearing?—not a beltless shift (like her mother, also in the buffet line) but ridiculous bib-overalls, that emphasized her immense belly, thighs, hips.

As Becca stared in fascinated horror she saw the girl’s tongue protrude as she poured maple syrup onto her plate . . . Fortunately Becca was sitting in such a position that she couldn’t see the girl and her family at their table in another part of the dining room.

She’d noticed that others in the dining room watched the obese family too. The father in striped sports shirt, Bermuda trousers, Birkenstocks and socks attracted attention not for his clothes but for his complaints to the head waiter about something that had displeased him, and his curt, cutting remarks to his family. Particularly young people, teenagers, followed the obese girl with appalled eyes . . . She had to be aware of people staring at her, Becca thought. Poor thing!

Later, to Becca’s dismay, the obese girl rudely cut in front of her to grab a life vest from one of the bins, as passengers queued up in preparation for a trip to the islands.

The life vests were bright orange. The obese girl in bib-overalls was an extraordinary spectacle tying her life vest carefully in place over her large sloping breasts; quickly Becca looked away, chilled as the girl’s tongue emerged wetly from her mouth.

The girl had to be mentally retarded. Mentally “disabled.” There had to be some sort of neurological deficit to account for such a bizarre habit.

Becca secured a life vest for herself, and one for Max. She saw how the girl’s father and brother were also pushing to the bins, with a pretense of not noticing how they shouldered others aside; only the mother stood apart, with her affable, silly half-smile. (Becca took care not to look too pointedly at the mother for fear the woman would greet her happily and try to strike up a conversation like one trying to start a fire with two dull damp sticks.)

Then, Becca’s anxiety that the freak-family would turn up in their dinghy, that turned out to be unwarranted.

It was a windy humid day in the Gulf of Chiriquí. The open boat rocked, pitched and bucked in choppy waves of the hue of Coca-Cola. The Indian guide assured them there was no danger—“No sharks, sí? Just hold tight.

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