Read My Mixed-Up Berry Blue Summer for Free Online

of a faded copy of a long form. Age:
39.
Reason for admittance:
donor
insemination.
And then, the information about the sperm donor Number 58362. Birthplace:
New York, New York.
Education:
Columbia University.
Age:
26.
No known diseases.
    I looked out the window as the rain gathered on the glass. Somewhere, a man was taking subways in New York, going to work. I imagined him wearing glasses, his dark head bent over newspapers. His ears must be small like mine, because Mom’s were different. Maybe he was married. Maybe I had brothers or sisters out there.
    Mom had wanted a family. And so my mother had chosen him, and me. And now she had chosen Eva. Or had she changed her mind?
    I turned on my flashlight, placing a green lens over it. I looked through the binoculars to Luke’s house. No light yet. I shifted my view to the marina shop. Mom was already there. Downstairs, I heard shuffling and clinking cups. I waited until a door opened and closed. A car started up. Eva was going to work.
    I sighed. I probably needed to help Mom at the shop today. But maybe Luke was around. I put on my bathing suit, grabbed a banana, and headed down to the lake.
    ***
    PADDLING IN THE rain is different. I checked the sky: light gray, soft rain. Good, that meant lightning was unlikely. I lifted my face and let the rain mat my hair to my forehead. Bathing suits are perfect for rainy days. My paddle sliced the water, swirling eddies behind the canoe. The rhythm of each stroke was a familiar song.
    I tied up my boat to Luke’s dock and walked toward the sculpture on shore. Until you got used to it, the large eye tangled in wavy metal rods was unnerving. But I liked Joe’s art. It looked like the eye of the sun watching the horizon line, peeking through skinny trees.
    â€œHello!” I called.
    â€œOver here!”
    The studio, of course. Joe was standing in the open door of the garage he had built on the island. It was funny to see a garage on an island with no cars or roads, but of course the inside was not for a car: it was full of large and small bits of metal and machinery. When Joe was in the middle of something, sparks would be flying and you had to stand back. But sometimes you’d find him at the butcher-block kitchen counter, drawing sketches of what he was imagining next. Those moments were the ones I liked, when Luke and I would sit around, listening to him philosophize.
    Today he was leaning an eight-foot sculpture toward him while Luke walked around it with bubble wrap.
    â€œSold something?”
    â€œJust taking a few pieces to the gallery.” Joe pointed to the base of the sculpture. “Luke, make sure you get some around the feet.”
    The metal spikes ended in waves and right angles at the top. It looked like lake weed that had been run over by a motorboat. “What’s this one called?”
    â€œPathfinder.”
    Luke grinned. “I wanted to name it
Twisted Sister.
”
    â€œThat makes you Crazy Brother.” I dodged Luke’s poke. “Can you swim today?”
    â€œLuke has to help unload in Burlington.” Joe turned to me. “Do you want to come?”
    â€œI’m going to help Mom during lunch.” I didn’t say it with much enthusiasm.
    Joe studied my face and then the rain-splattered lake. “Well, if you two want to do a little swimming before we go, there’s time.”
    Luke was off. “I’ll get my suit on!”
    Joe threw a tarp over the wrapped sculpture. “Can you carry this with me down to the motorboat?”
    â€œSure.” It was heavy, but I could do it. Joe walked carefully backwards, holding the base while I carried the top. His eyes took in the worry lines around my eyes.
    â€œWhat’s up, June?”
    I shrugged.
    â€œIt’s hard when someone new moves in,” he observed. “I remember when Camille first lived out here, we had to learn a whole new way of being together.”
    â€œBut she left,”