THE RAIN FOLLOWS ME ALL THE WAY BACK TO JUBILANT. Ma’s got clothes on the line soaking wet. She and Janis are putting things into boxes and marking the contents on the outside with a black Sharpie. At least three of them are designated CRAP.
“Why are we keeping crap?”
Ma glances at the boxes. “I got no clue what Poppy wants and don’t want.”
I reach into one and pull out a pair of ripped fuchsia nylons, a pamphlet explaining how to identify magic mushrooms in the woods, and a troll doll with no arms. There’s also a kitten calendar from five years ago, a pack of rum-sticky playing cards, one silver earring and two cans of dried-out playdough. I pick up the marker and make it FREE CRAP. When the rain dries up, Janis and I put the boxes out at the end of the driveway and they’re gone within ten minutes.
The only things we hold on to from those boxes are some Styrofoam heads left over from when Poppy was learning how to do hairdos on corpses. “For Uncle Bird,” Janis says, lining them up on the windowsill. “To chop up.” Every time I turn the corner and see the eyeless faces, I think of Troy and his gang. I’ve been obsessing about where they have Swimmer stashed. For some reason, the way Troy had his hand on his woman’s knee the night Jackie almost shot their heads off makes me think they’re treating him decent. Sometimes I picture Swimmer in a rec room laughing and chasing around a battery-operated frog. I don’t know why.
Yesterday I saw one of Janis’s posters yellowing on a telephone pole. Poppy’s been getting letters from other mothers of missing children, but we don’t mention it to her.
“What would she write back?” I ask Ma. “‘Dear So-and-So. Sorry about your tragedy, and thank you for your prayers, but I know where my kid’s at. See, I went out to score a few weeks ago and he was taken by this low-life Troy whose teenage cousin was knocked up by my brother and almost died from having a rusty coat hanger rammed up her hoo-ha. Now, you’d think that putting my other brother in a wheelchair and getting me hooked on crack would be payback enough, but you know how it is with guys like Troy.’”
“Jesus.” Ma sits down and rubs her temples. “When you put it like that.”
I pick up a U-Haul truck so Troy’s spies will see it parked and ready. Jackie and I decided that if it comes down to it, we’ll stay at a motel in Solace River until the new house is finished.
Janis immediately sets about making the U-Haul her new pad. She hauls her toys in there and dances on the steel floor wearing tap shoes she made herself by crazy-gluing beer caps to the bottoms of her fuzzy slippers. When she asks me if I want to come over to her place and gossip, I’m curious enough to take her up on it.
“What’s the news?” I ask, climbing in. “Lippy the bear still being a dog?”
“I chucked Lippy in one of them junk boxes. All the stuffing came out of his head after I ripped his ears off.”
“Why’d you rip his ears off?”
“Because he said he was working late when he was really out partying.”
“Is that the gossip?”
“No.”
“You said you had gossip.”
“No, I asked if you wanted to gossip.”
“And I said yes, so what’s the gossip?”
She thinks. “Want to know what Auntie Jewell told Uncle Jackie?”
“I already know. They’re having a baby girl.”
Janis puts her hands on her hips. “Everybody knows that.”
“Well, what then?”
“Auntie Jewell told Uncle Jackie if he didn’t get rid of the naked pictures of his ex-girlfriends, she was going to cut his wiener off and feed it to her neighbour’s iguanas. I seen them once. Axl and Slash.”
I laugh.
“Be quiet!” Janis scolds. “It’s a secret.”
“If it’s a secret, how do you know?”
“Because I was on the toilet and Auntie Jewell thought I was Uncle Jackie in there. She said it right by the door, and I yelled, ‘It’s me, Janis!’ And she said, ‘Oh, sorry, Janis. That’s a secret, okay, honey?’ And I said, ‘Can I finish having my pee now?’”
“You didn’t say anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Because you knew it was too good to keep a secret.”
“Yup.”
“Let’s go tell Ma.”
Janis pushes me out of the way. “I get to say it first!”
By late afternoon, the U-Haul is packed up with anything worth taking. Some of Jackie’s furniture is in there too. He brought it over and loaded it on, said the rest of his and Jewell’s stuff is sitting in his driveway. After he’s gone, I take a sneaky drive by to make sure. He’s not lying. He must have packed up as soon as I relayed the message from Lyle because he’s got a utility trailer loaded and hitched onto the Tercel. The tarps tied down over it are pooled with the rain that’s been turning on and off for days. I stare at the wet blue plastic flapping in the breeze, turn around and drive right back to the trailer.
Janis and I stare out the window for hours on end, as if Swimmer might magically descend on a rainbow cloud. We play Scrabble, eat Kraft Dinner off paper plates and grow more uneasy. Janis starts picking fights with Ma and me for no reason. She hides Ma’s Game Boy and won’t tell her where it is. I ask her what her problem is and she smashes a biscuit with her fist. Then she “accidentally” drops both Ma’s and my toothbrushes in the toilet.
“Do you need a time out, missy?” Ma asks her.
“Time out from WHAT?” she screams, kicking over the stand-up ashtray. “Who’s Missy?!”
“Be careful with that! It belonged to Grandma Jean!” Ma rights the heavy base and reattaches the brass doe and fawn that had been peacefully basking at a pond of butts.
“Janis,” I say. “Come here.”
“Why?” Her face is streaked in tears and orange cheese powder.
“Just come here. I’ll give you five bucks.”
She stomps over with her arms crossed. I try to lift her sunglasses, but she kicks me. I somehow manage to get her into my lap and start rubbing her back in big circles until she stops struggling.
“Swimmer’s on his way,” I tell her. “He has to walk slow because of his big pumpkin head. Maybe if we sing his favourite song, he’ll hurry up. What do you think it is? ‘I Believe in Santa Claus’?”
She won’t uncross her arms. “I DON’T believe in Santa Claus.”
I don’t blame her.
“How about drunken sailors? You believe in those, right?”
She thinks for a minute. “Yup.”
We sing Daddy’s song until she finally falls asleep. I put her in pyjamas and tuck her in bed. She snores like a smoker, all raspy.
“Thank you,” Ma says when I come back out. “I was about to call Troy and tell him he can have her too.”
“Don’t joke about that.”
She makes tea and we sit in the near dark with only the lamp on. It makes it easier to see outside whenever we hear a car coming.
Where the fuck is Lyle? My head is pounding. I get up and pace around the bare walls. I’m worried. Maybe Mrs. Dunphy from Raspberry was right. I’m too smart for anyone’s good. My plan was so solid, no one thought about a backup.
I stop in front of two white rectangular outlines left on the wall where the velvet paintings were hanging. “Why the hell does Janis think there are palm trees in Toronto?”
Ma glances over. “Poppy talks about moving there and taking the kids. She says she’ll make ten times more money in the big-city clubs. She made it sound like a fairyland so Janis would get excited. I worry myself sick over it. I got no way to stop her from going and I won’t know if the kids are okay, or if she’s dead or alive.”
“There is one way to stop her.”
“What’s that?”
“You become Janis and Swimmer’s legal guardian.”
“Take Poppy’s kids away from her?” Ma jams her teabag in and out of the hot water. “She won’t let me do that.”
“Just on paper. She’s going to lose them if you don’t.”
We both stare at the two empty white spaces.
“Why ain’t that Lyle here by now?” Mama tosses her teabag on the table. “We did everything they told us to.”
“Maybe they’re waiting for us to leave.”
“How the hell are they going to bring Swimmer back to us if we’re not here, Tabby? Use your head.”
“I am using my head. Stop yelling at me.” I sit. “I don’t know why you keep making tea. You never drink it.”
“I have to do something.”
I suddenly notice how gaunt she is. Her cheekbones have sunk in and the jowls are weighing down all the loose skin. I think back, and I haven’t seen her eat anything in days. I get up and go to the cupboards, but all that’s left on the shelves is a half-empty box of Shreddies, a few teabags, a bag of loose tobacco and half a pack of cigarettes.
“Go ahead,” Ma says. “Jewell’s picking me up a carton tomorrow.”
“I’m looking for food. Maybe you forgot what that is.” I snatch the pack anyway.
Ma clasps her hands together and presses the thumbs between her eyes. “Tabby, I did try to find you. After we came to Jubilant, I got a phone hooked up and called all over. Barbara Best had moved and unlisted her phone number. She didn’t even write me to tell me you weren’t with her no more. I think she was afraid your father was going to come after her, and he would have, too. After I told him what I done, he put a shotgun to my head. I had to tell him Barbara’s last name was something different so he couldn’t find you.”
I light a cigarette for myself and set another on the table in front of her.
“That day she came to get you,” Ma says, “I tried to stop her. I screamed and hollered, chased that car all the way into town, but you were gone. So I kept telling myself it was the right thing.” She shakes her head. “Now I wish I could take it back.”
We’re quiet for a long time. I finish my smoke, crush it out and say, “Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll stay up and keep watch.”
“I ain’t moving till I know where Swimmer’s at.”
I switch off the police scanner and she flicks it right back on. I pace a bit more, check the phone to make sure it’s still working. Then I dial Jackie.
“Hello?”
“Have you heard anything?”
I lower my voice. “Promise me you haven’t contacted Troy.”
“I haven’t done shit fuck all. I’m just sitting here in my gitch banging my stupid head against the wall.” His words slur together. “But I swear to fuck, if Swimmer’s not back in his bed by midnight, I’m going to jail tomorrow for what I’m going to do to that psychopath.” His voice catches. “Tabby, if that happens, I need you to look out for Jewell. Move her to the new house and make sure she gets a good doctor.”
“Put her on the phone.”
“Shut up and lisssen. I’m sorry you got messed up in this. You were right. It’s all on me.”
I hear the phone bang onto the table and some muted noises. Jewell picks up the receiver and whispers, “Don’t worry, Tabby. I slipped something in his drink. He’s not going anywhere.”
“Thank you.” I sigh with relief. “I’ll call if something happens.”
I hang up and hear a thump down the hall. I freeze, listening. The noise turns into a scurry and Gord the Ferret pokes his head into the room. I exhale and sit back down at the table. Ma’s just staring at the unlit cigarette in front of her.
“I miss my granddaughters,” she tells me. “Bird’s girls. I don’t talk about them because it upsets your brothers, but I dream about them all the time. Same as I used to dream about you.”
“You dreamt about me?”
“All the time. Now I dream about your father. Last night he came floating into my room and I asked him to find Swimmer and bring him back here. You’d think that bastard could do one little thing for me, but no. Not even in a goddamn dream world. He just hovered over my bed like a bad fart.”
She gets up, marches over and pulls Daddy down off the shelf, slams his box on the table, flips open the lid and starts pouring his ashes down the sink.
“Ma, don’t!” I leap up. “You’ll clog the drain.”
I grab her arm, pry the box from her hands then watch in horror as she dips her pinky finger in the little grey pile and brings it to her tongue.
“Jesus, Ma! Would you sit down? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
I scoop as much of Daddy as I can back into his box. As I’m hiding him in the refrigerator, I hear a faint knocking sound on the side wall of the trailer.
“That’s probably your father now,” Ma says. “He wants to slap me for that one.”
“Shush for a second.”
“Pissed you off, did I, Wendell?” Ma hollers.
“Shh!”
I hear the knock again and decide it’s the ferret, but then it trots through the kitchen right in front of us. I run to the door and fling it open, switch on the outside light. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust enough to make out the silhouette of a familiar beer gut.
“Lyle?”
He steps to one side and a tiny shadow slowly detaches itself from his. I see the disproportionate head and lopsided stance.
“Swimmer?”
A plump little arm waves to me.
“I found him in the woods,” Lyle mutters.
Ma runs past me faster than I’ve ever seen her move. Her sweatsuit is just a blurry streak. In the same second, she has Swimmer wrapped in her arms, screaming at Lyle, “Get off this property, you shit stick!”
As soon as she has Swimmer safely inside, I run in and grab the two sweat socks full of cash from the ceiling hiding spot.
“Troy’s,” I say, tossing the white sock to Lyle from the doorway. “Yours.” I toss him the grey one. “Now fuck off.”
He misses both. I straddle the doorway to keep an eye on both him and Ma. Lyle dumps out the socks, rips off the elastic bands and counts both stacks. Then he gives me the finger and takes off running. In the darkness, I hear an engine start up, and a second later his Ford roars past.
Ma starts toward the phone with Swimmer still in her arms.
“No way!” I yell at her. “You call the police, this never ends.”
We take Swimmer into the living room and Ma strips him down. He has a skinned knee, but that’s it. She rocks him back and forth while he talks non-stop, trying to show us what he has in his hands. He’s got fistfuls of little Happy Meal toys, and a bunch more in a plastic bag tied to the belt loop of his pants.
“They must have fed him McDonald’s every meal.” Ma clicks her tongue.
We hear a crash. Janis has woken up and overheard. She comes charging down the hall yelling, “NO FAIR!”
Swimmer runs to meet her and they smack into each other at the corner, falling backward in opposite directions.
“Hi, Swimmer.” Janis hitches up her pyjama pants. “We’re moving to Saw-liss River.”
I call Jewell, tell her what happened, and she pulls up in the Tercel within a half-hour. I see her struggling to get Jackie out of the passenger seat, so I go out to help. We practically have to hold him up. He’s loose as a goose. I ask Jewell what she gave him and she says just some NyQuil. When I have to remind him to put one foot in front of the other going up the stairs, she confesses, “And a couple Xanax.”
In the living room, we all surround Swimmer like he’s a meteorite crashed down from another planet. He doesn’t seem to notice he’s been gone. We try to ask him what it looked like where he was, and he just keeps saying “Swimma McDono” and something about a dinosaur blanket. Janis is sorting all his new toys into piles. She keeps counting them to be sure exactly how many times he got to eat McNuggets.
“Ma called Lyle a shit stick,” I say.
Jackie slurs, “Jewell called me a dick hat once.”
“More than once,” Jewell says, patting his knee. She reaches out and strokes Swimmer’s hair. Swimmer closes his eyes and rests his head on her baby belly.
“Should we put this little guy to bed?” she whispers.
“No!” Ma shakes her head. “I need to look at him for a few more hours, make sure he’s really here.”
I call and leave a message for Detective Surette, tell him Swimmer wandered home safe and sound. Surette phones us back and sighs loudly into the phone. “I need you to fill out some paperwork and I’ll have to see the boy myself.”
In the morning, we take Swimmer to the hospital. He checks out fine, so we carry him up to Poppy’s room. Jackie arrived first and told her everything. As Ma and I walk in with the kids, she looks up and screams, “What’s wrong with his face?”
I tell her Janis kicked off the day by drawing a pair of eyeglasses on Swimmer with a permanent marker. Ma made me promise to leave out the part where I walked into the bedroom just as Janis was about to pour nail polish remover over his forehead to try to get them off.
Poppy pulls Swimmer onto the bed and squeezes him to her rib cage. She keeps him pinned there for five minutes, crying so hard it makes him wail too.
Jackie swats her with his hat, nods at me. “Tabby worked the whole deal out with Lyle.”
“We should do three cheers for Aunt Tabby!” Janis jumps up. “That’s what we do at church group. Like when Julie G. showed us that God’s love is all around us. I didn’t see nothing but the chalkboard, but I like doing the three cheers.”
“I think we’re taking you out of church group,” Jackie says. “It sounds weird.”
“Then you better learn to bake Smartie cake,” Ma tells him. “Because that’s the whole reason she goes.”
DETECTIVE SURETTE IS TORN BETWEEN DOING HIS JOB and making it easy for us to leave town. I know which way he leans. He makes us wait while he talks to Swimmer alone in his office. Swimmer stares at him seriously from behind his new spectacles, but Surette doesn’t get much more out of him than we did. Something about the lady and marshmallows, and a motorcycle man. Obviously no one’s buying that Swimmer toddled around in the woods for two weeks, but Surette knows the score. He knocks on the window to get my attention.
“That’s enough for now,” he sighs. “Detective McNeil’s on his way.” He gives Swimmer a Big Foot candy from his desk drawer, takes a handful for himself. Swimmer holds out his palm for an equal share and Surette reluctantly taps a few more out of the bag. He points to the door and Swimmer slides off the chair with his mouth full.
I’ve never met McNeil. Ma says he’s a tit, and she’s right. He’s way too blond for it to be natural, asks a bunch of standard questions and tells us we’re free to go. As Ma’s buckling Swimmer into her back seat, Surette comes out of the station and beckons me.
“Sometimes I wish I still smoked.” He pats his shirt pocket.
I hold out my pack to him and he looks at it for a few seconds before slowly sliding a cigarette out. He sticks it under his nose, inhaling deeply, then changes his mind and hands it back.
“Everything all right?” he asks.
“If you’re asking if we’re leaving, don’t worry. In a few hours, Jubilant can go back to being the quiet little fishing village it never was.”
I march back to the car and start the engine. Through the windshield, I see him still standing there with his hands in his pockets watching two pigeons peck at each other in the parking lot.
“Janis,” I say. “Moon that cop, would you?”
She unclips her seat belt and stands up on the back seat. I honk the horn and Surette looks up just in time to see her bare butt coast past his face.
WE DO A QUICK WALK-THROUGH OF THE TRAILER BEFORE we go.
“It looks naked,” Janis says to me, running her hands along the walls. “Like a hot dog that got no ketchup on it.”
“Do you want to say goodbye to your room?”
“Nope.” She kicks the front door shut on our way out, scrambles up into the passenger seat of the U-Haul and pumps her fist.
Ma is parked in front of us in her own car with Swimmer and Bird. We pull the vehicles out of the driveway, wait one behind the other on the shoulder of the road till Jackie and Jewell’s Tercel comes struggling around the corner hauling that rickety trailer. It looks like they’ve got a blue whale under the tarps. They putter up and Jackie motions for me to roll down my window.
“Where’s Poppy?” he asks.
“We’ll come back for her in a few days.”
“No fucking way. The hospital in Solace River said she can transfer any time.”
“Say frigging!” Janis yells at him.
Jackie leans across Jewell’s belly and says loudly, “There’s no frigging way we’re leaving your mother behind, so let’s go get her skinny ass.”
“Say butt!”
Ma and I follow Jackie to the hospital and park in front. Janis runs in to tell Poppy we’re springing her and Ma follows to collect Poppy’s things.
Poppy herself’s outside within ten minutes. She jumps into the U-Haul holding her hospital robe closed.
“Think you could have got a bigger truck?” she jokes. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile.
“SO LONG, SUCKERS!” Janis hollers at the rolled-up window.
“You trying to make me go deaf, Janis?!” Poppy snaps. “I got enough problems.”
“Sorry,” Janis says, blushing.
“What?” Poppy teases. “WHAT? I can’t hear nothing!”
Once we’re on the highway, Poppy tells me a reporter showed up at the hospital but the nurses wouldn’t let him in.
“The cops must have issued a press release about Swimmer being brought back,” I say. “Don’t mention it to Ma. She’s worried sick that if the press finds out all the details and how you’re in the hospital and everything, it might tip off social services.”
“I know.” Poppy gnaws her lip between her teeth. I can tell she’s been doing that a lot because the skin’s all rubbed raw. “She wants me to let her be Janis and Swimmer’s legal guardian.”
Janis taps her. “Grandma’s going to be my new mother?”
“No, baby,” Poppy says. “I’m your mother no matter what.”
Janis puts the hood up on her jacket and crosses her arms.
The Legend of Glooscap Motel is a long, green one-level building atop a gravel hill on the far side of the river. I stall at the Ernie Ells Bridge and wait for the other two vehicles. We convoy over the river, honking our horns like crazy.
“Solace River, here we come!” I exclaim.
Poppy sighs. “Like it or not.”
WE USED TO HAVE A COLLECTION OF LEGEND OF GLOOSCAP towels and sheets in our old house, so Daddy probably stopped in here once or twice for a drink. We decide we better not check in under the name Saint.
“How about Snuffleupagus?” Janis says, jumping down from the truck.
Jackie gets the keys and I help sort out the sleeping arrangements. Ma and Janis will share one double bed, Bird and Swimmer will take the other. Jackie and Jewell get their own room a few doors down.
After everyone’s settled, Jackie takes Poppy to the hospital and I get in Ma’s car and drive over to West’s. I pause in the driveway, trying to block out the memory of Abriel’s white Rabbit parked in this same spot. When I look up, West is completely naked in the doorway flexing his butt cheeks. I go in and he massages my shoulders while I rehash everything that happened back in Jubilant. I don’t plan on getting back in the sex saddle until we sort through what happened with his wife, but I’m so tired I fall asleep before it’s an issue.
When I finally wake up, it’s past 1p.m. I drive back over to the Glooscap to check on things. The motel hasn’t been renovated since the fifties. The rooms have green carpet and orange drapes, and the television sets still have rabbit ears. Janis thinks she’s at Club Med.
“I got to have a bubble bath without Swimmer in it,” she brags through a mouthful of Cracker Jack. “They have little soaps and shampoos and if you want more, you just pick up the phone and ask. And guess what? They chuck your glass in the garbage every time you use it and bring you a brand new one.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Auntie Jewell took me and Swimmer to play the video game and when we got back, these were all sitting right there all wrapped up, and the ones with the chewed-up animal crackers were gone.”
She hands me one as proof. Glooscap’s slogan is written fancily on the paper band: We are the only motel in town!
I take a look around and spy Daddy and Grandma Jean sitting on top of the TV set. Ma said she wants to bury them both back behind the new house and buy little headstones. The boxes are almost identical, so I guess it’s a good thing about those Cheerios getting in with Grandma.
“They got Jell-O at the restaurant,” Janis says, jumping on the bed. “Buddy said it might be orange today. Want to go check?”
Ma’s in there with Swimmer and Bird. She seems to be in the best mood of her life, chatting like I’ve never seen to the staff in the restaurant, adding a gold-rimmed cigarette to the waitress’s tip. Swimmer’s apparently become a celebrity. There’s an article about him in the Solace River newspaper. I read it three times, but it doesn’t mention Poppy at all. It says the circumstances of his disappearance and return are still unknown to police.
“Jackie won’t let me see the new house till it’s done,” Ma says. “He went over there and offered to help out to try to speed things up.” She pats Bird’s shoulder. “Took this one with him and parked him with a hard hat on. I guess they got into a fight about how to level floors,” she laughs. “Just like the old days.”
“You been in town yet?” I ask.
“What for?” She sticks a spoon into the mashed potatoes on her plate and brings it to Swimmer’s mouth. She’s been feeding him like he’s a baby ever since he came back, just like she did with Bird after his accident.
“Aren’t you wondering what’s changed?”
“Nothing’s changed.”
“Some things have. There’s a gas station now.”
“Whoop dee frigging doo.” She drops the spoon on a plate.
I look down at Swimmer. The eyeglasses are finally fading, but there’s still a black ring around one eye. He reminds me of the dog from the Little Rascals.
“Look what I learned him,” Janis says. She puts her palms out and he slaps ten, coating her hands in his mashed potatoes.
“Hey, Swimmer,” I say. “Do you want to come with me and meet West?”
He nods. “Mee Wes.”
Ma stiffens.
“It’s fine, Ma,” I say. “We’ll be just down the road.”
I lift Swimmer out of his booster chair and take him back to the room to change his clothes. I change too and put on the dress Poppy gave me. When we come back out to get in the car, Janis is leaned back in the passenger seat with her arm dangling out the window.
“Grandma said I could come.”
“Grandma’s not the boss.”
She gets out, slams the door and goes stomping back into the motel. I wait a few minutes and she reappears with her purse, climbs in and hands me a five-dollar bill.
“Gas money.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re just using me for a ride to your boyfriend’s house.”
I start the car as she slathers Ghostberry lip gloss all over her mouth. Then she clicks the cap back on and pumps her fist.
The air finally smells like summer and it’s hot enough to have all the windows down. When we pull into his driveway, West comes out of the house bare-chested carrying a giant box over his head. Janis and Swimmer scramble out of the car to see what’s in it. They watch wide-eyed as he pulls out a plastic sprinkler set and sets it up for them on the lawn.
“Fank yoo.” Swimmer grins up at him.
“You’re welcome, buddy.”
Swimmer holds his arms open and when West bends down to give him a hug, Janis tears across the grass and flings her arms around West’s neck. I almost can’t believe my eyes. I’ve never seen her willingly touch anyone. She announces that she has to do a safety inspection, walks around tapping all the star-shaped nozzles and then tells West to let her rip.
He turns a tap on the side of the house before joining me on the front steps. We sip near-beers, watching the kids run back and forth through the spray. Janis keeps trying to make Swimmer pretend he’s drowning so she can save him, but he won’t hold still.
I turn the label on my bottle. “What’s with the fakes?”
“Abriel thought I should cut back.” West takes a sip of foam.
“Hell-bent on your self-improvement, that woman. Meanwhile, she had a rye and ginger in her hand the whole time she was here.” I pause. “I’ll bet that wasn’t the only thing she had in her hand.”
He frowns. “I guess I wanted to see if there was a chance.” He rolls his bottle back and forth between his palms. “Like, maybe if we still had the sex part.”
“Maybe if you still had the sex part what?”
“I woke up one morning and looked at her face and she don’t even look like the same person to me. She crawled all on top of me, and after she said she wanted me to take her dancing. And you know what I thought? Me and Tabby should go dancing. I told her that, too.” He takes another sip.
I start to ask him why the hell he made me picture that, but I’m distracted by some guy traipsing around in wrestling pants across the street. He drags a lawn chair all over his yard trying to find the perfect spot for a sunburn. Finally, he sets up smack dab in the middle, pours a drink from a forty of white rum and sets the bottle on the grass beside him. He sees us and gives a little air guitar riff.
West laughs. “My neighbour, Dennis. He’s been on a bender since his cat died. God love him. He used to have a mullet, but then he grew it all out long, said he wanted to party in the front too.” West catches my expression and starts massaging his neck. “Here, give me that piss.” He snatches the near-beer from my hand and takes it inside.
When I glance back across the street, the neighbour draws a heart in the air and blows it at me. I think about joining his party in the front so I can get a real drink.
I watch the kids playing then look up at the blue sky and over at West’s fresh-washed truck gleaming in the driveway. I can’t help but think this scene would be perfect if I weren’t so fucking pissed off.
West comes back out and hands me a Ten-Penny. He’s holding a bottle back at his thigh, hoping I won’t notice he got himself another fake. I open my mouth to protest, but Swimmer screams out and we both snap our heads to look. Janis is lying on her belly gnashing at his heels like a shark. So much for playing hero.
West sits down and puts his arm around me. “Christ,” he says, “you sure know how to wear a dress.”
He leans in for a kiss. I follow his laugh lines to those copper eyes and can’t help but kiss him back. Then he leaps up to start the barbecue.
After we eat cheeseburgers, the kids and I say goodbye and head over to the hospital to visit Poppy. There are wildflowers sprouting up all along the road and we pull over and make a bouquet of lupines and some bright violet ones I don’t know the name of. I tell Janis they’re called Grandma Jean’s Crown Jewels. This gets her going again.
“Why’d the wizard want to skin Grandma Jean alive?”
“He didn’t want to skin her alive, he wanted to steal her soul.”
“What’s a soul?”
“You tell me. You must have learned that in church group.”
“Oh yeah. I know what that is.”
“What is it, then?”
She scratches her elbow. “Jesus said not to talk about it too much.”
“Sure he did.”
THE ROOMS AT SOLACE GENERAL HAVE GOTTEN A FACE-lift since Ma was in there with that infection all those years ago. Poppy’s got a big clean window and two comfy upholstered chairs.
“Prize!” Swimmer says, running to the bed.
“SA-PRIZE,” Janis corrects him.
“You look good,” I say to Poppy.
She does, too. She’s gained at least five pounds in the past week and looks like she got some sleep last night. When she takes the flowers out of Janis’s outstretched hands and sticks them in her water jug, her hands don’t even shake. I help Janis and Swimmer scramble up on either side of her and they start pawing the tarot cards spread out on her lap.
“What’s your future?” Janis asks.
“I have to stay in here for a long time,” Poppy tells her. “Longer than I want to. But I seen a counsellor yesterday, and they have a program to help people like me. The sessions are right here in the hospital twice a week. Isn’t that great?”
“Dat’s gweat!” Swimmer says.
“How’d you learn to read cards?” I ask.
“On the soap I watch, this rich woman always goes to a tarot reader to find out if her husband’s cheating on her. I thought it would be a handy skill to have. I mean, shitloads of women want to know if some asshole’s lying to her face, right? So I asked around and this girl I used to dance with says her grandmother’s been reading cards forever, learned it from her own grandmother. I call up the old witch and she says to come on by with a box of wine and a couple cartons of Player’s. She taught me everything she knew.”
“Let’s do Aunt Tabby’s fortune,” Janis insists.
Poppy gathers up the cards and hands them to me. “Shuffle.”
I stare at the deck sitting in my palm and questions start to churn. Will Ma ever be happy? Is Jackie capable of being with one woman? Will Poppy stay clean? Is Bird going to see his daughters again? Will Janis learn to play the bagpipes? I swallow. Do West and I stand a snowball’s chance in hell? I hand the cards back. “I’m afraid to ask.”
Janis rifles through the deck and pulls out a card with a picture of a man and a woman facing each other under a giant sun. She points to the woman. “This is you, Aunt Tabby.” She taps the man’s head. “And that’s West.”
“How do you know it’s West?”
She rolls her eyes. “Because that’s the same face he makes when he looks at you. It’s like you’re his favourite TV show.”
JACKIE IS THREATENING TO BUST SOME HEADS. HE WENT to the bank to deposit the money in my account and says the assistant manager made up a bunch of new rules when he told him his name.
“Fucking Freddy thinks he’s king shit walking around in green leather shoes,” he says to me. “I asked him where he found those, the douchebag bin at Twat ‘n’ Co?”
I take the money and go down myself. He’s right. The teller suddenly has a list of questions. She calls Fucking Freddy over, and I have to explain that I’ve been saving my babysitting and dog-walking money since I was knee-high to a gas pump. He makes me nervous and I end up depositing only half the cash. I glance down at his feet, but now he’s got penny loafers on.
“That your retirement fund?” I ask, pointing to the coins in the slots.
He crosses his arms and tells me Jackie’s lucky they didn’t press charges. He points to a life-sized cardboard cut-out of a smiling old lady and says Jackie knocked it over as he was leaving the bank.
“Is there a law against assaulting a piece of cardboard?”
“There certainly is. It’s called destruction of property.”
I walk over to it. The sign attached says We Treat Our Customers Like Family.
“Aw, come on. Nana’s fine.” I pat her shoulder and her head droops. “A little shaken up is all.”
He narrows his eyes at me and I almost give Nana another smack. The other clerks start whispering to each other as I walk out. Now I feel like busting some heads. I march down the sidewalk and stop at Beula’s Beauty Parlour.
“Beula!” I yell, punching the door open.
“She don’t own this place no more,” a voice says.
A woman in a paisley dress emerges from the back. I recognize her face. I saw her through the window that first day I visted Solace River. She sets down her diet soda and motions to one of the swivel chairs. They’re the same minty green colour they always were, slightly more faded and dye-stained. I sit and dig my fingernail stubs into the vinyl armrests.
“You been in here before?” she asks.
“Twice. The first time, my mother was laughed out the door for having the nerve to ask for a job.” I feel my face grow hot. “The second time, I was about eleven years old and won a contest for guessing how many pop caps were strung around the school Christmas tree. The prize was getting my hair done at Beula Dean’s. I saved it up until there was a Valentine’s Day party at school, came in with all these pictures I’d drawn of the hairstyle of my dreams. Beula told me my win had expired.” My ears are burning. “She wasn’t even busy. She was leaning on the counter doing a scratch ticket.”
The woman walks over to a cooler and pours me a Dixie cup of water. Her earrings jingle like tiny gold bells as she hands it to me. “Beula got alopecia now.”
“What’s that?”
“It makes your hair fall out. Baldy won’t even leave the house because that expensive wig she ordered from New York City turned blue when she washed it.” She winks. “How’s that for poetic justice?”
“I’d rather she died in a fiery car crash or drowned in the bathtub.”
“I might be for hire if business stays slow.”
I look around. The framed posters on the walls of fashion models with blue eyeshadow and pink pearl necklaces are even more outdated than they were when I was a kid. The place is spotless, though.
“When did you take over?”
“October. I tried to buy it years ago when I heard she was looking to sell, put in a nice offer. It got back to me that she didn’t want to sell to a black woman. Then, wouldn’t you know, as soon as that first lock of hair fell into her tomato soup, guess who’s calling me up.” She sits down in the chair next to me and laces her fingers between her knees. “This time my offer wasn’t so nice.”
I raise my paper cup to her, stick my other hand out. “I’m Tabby Saint.”
“Olivia Sparks.” She shakes my hand and scoops up her soda. “You live around here?”
“I used to.”
She squints, waits for me to say more. Then she gestures to a machine at the back that looks like a torture chamber.
“You want your nipples pierced? I bought that piece of junk and it just sits there. You look like you could use … something.”
“How about a drink?” I drain the Dixie cup and crush it. “A real drink.”
She glances at the clock, drumming her fingernails on the soda can.
“Come on,” I say. “They’re free down at the tavern.”
“How so?”
“I’m with West.”
“For real?” She slaps the countertop. “It’s about time somebody hit that.”
THE NEW HOUSE HAS BEEN VANDALIZED. SOMEONE spray-painted Dirty Money Bastards along one wall. Jewell calls West’s house to tell me.
“They spelled it t-u-r-d-s, the morons. Jackie’s managed to scrub most of it off, but now he’s on the warpath.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He went stomping out of here in his fighting shirt.”
“Is that an expression?”
“No, it’s a slippery old football jersey with no buttons to grab on to.”
“What’s he going to do, pick a fist fight our first week back here, let everyone know the Saints still haven’t developed opposable thumbs?”
“He’s all talk most of the time.”
“Let’s hope this is one of those times.”
I hang up the phone, haul my boots on and stomp down to the tavern. It’s packed inside and I can smell the beer sweating out of everyone’s pores. I forgot it was Saturday night. West is busy, but I get his attention over the bar. He nods over at Jackie brooding in a corner.
I go over and tap Jackie’s shoulder. “Saturday night all right for fighting?” I yell over the music.
He gestures at three hard-looking men standing in front of the dartboard. “I came down to meet the welcome wagon.”
“Picking out the new Troy, are you?”
“No. I came to put a stop to this right here. And don’t say that name to me. You say that name enough times, I’m on the highway back to Jubilant.”
“Drop it. You’re even.”
He stands up. “We’ll never be even.”
He walks up to the bar and I see West hesitate a half second before grabbing five Oland’s from the fridge, plunking them on the bar and snapping the caps off in a line. He shoots me a wary look as Jackie heads over to the dartboard.
I scout the exits and squeeze my eyes closed, but all I can hear is Aerosmith playing on the speakers. When I open one eye, I see Jackie’s beers have found their way into the men’s mitts. I can’t hear their conversation, but I can tell no one’s gearing up for a fight. I know what that looks like. It starts with chest puffing, followed by warnings and insults. Then the warnings turn to threats, then crazy eyes, then whoever’s about to throw the first punch takes off his jacket. I always wondered why there’s such a lead-up. If I really wanted to whoop someone, I’d just come at them like a flying squirrel, but I’ve seen guys seven feet tall with spikes on their collars follow this same stupid ritual, giving the other guy every opportunity to take back what he said about the frigging Leafs.
Jackie beckons me over. “This is my sister, Tabby.” He hands me the extra beer.
The men smell like leather and fried fish. One of them is wearing a wool sweater in this heat. He looks me over as he takes a gulp of beer.
“I seen you yesterday,” he says. “In the bank.”
“I went to settle some accounts,” I tell him. “Our father just passed away after he was in a taxicab accident and we got a big chunk of insurance money. We’re using it to put up a new house on our old land.”
“What the fuck?” Jackie mouths.
“Anyway,” I continue, “the money’s all gone now and we’ve got a niece and nephew who eat like wrestlers. Plus Jackie’s got one on the way, so we’re looking for work. You know if anyone’s hiring?”
The tall one with the shiny bald head pulls out his wallet. “I got a one-year-old.” He slides out a photo of a chubby toddler with blond pigtails. “Ain’t she something?”
“You hitting on my girlfriend?” West thumps him on the back. I didn’t even notice him approach.
“This your woman?” Shiny Head turns to me and rolls his eyes. “Fuck. West don’t do nothing these days except talk about you. I used to come in here to talk about me. Now it’s the girlfriend this and the girlfriend that.”
I raise my eyebrow at West. “What’s the this-and-that part?”
“Never mind,” West says. “Who needs a drink?”
“Give me a Dory 72 and Coke,” Shiny Head says.
West gives him a look. “You ain’t no Dory lush.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your clothes are clean and you still got all your teeth.”
“Ah, but the night is young.”
I notice Wool Sweater getting agitated. When West walks away, he says to Jackie, “That new house you put up is pissing off a lot of people.”
“Why’s that, now?” Jackie asks.
“I think you know why.”
“If it’s about my father, I know he wasn’t nothing but a dumb drunk who stole whatever wasn’t nailed down, but that bitch is dead. Ding dong the merry-o. Let’s all move on.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” I cut in. “We came back to Solace River to have a nice place for the kids to grow up.”
Wool Sweater glances around the room. “Let me put it this way. There’s people looking to get back their losses.”
“You’re starting to piss me off.” Jackie raises his voice. “I’ve had to deal with every shit pile Daddy ever left and I didn’t even know the man past growing up. Yes, I know he cheated people. I am one of those people. Tell your ‘party’ if that ain’t good enough, they can dig him up and kick the fuck out of his bones. I’m done with this shit.”
“Just watch your back is all I’m saying.”
I grab Jackie’s arm, and once we’re out the door and halfway up the road, I realize he’s not resisting. I let go, sit down on the curb and let out a small, tight scream.
Jackie glances back down the road, spitting tobacco over his shoulder. “Those guys don’t scare me.”
“No?” I push my hair back hard from my face. “What about the guys behind those guys?”
“They probably don’t exist. Forget it. Poppy read them creepy cards of hers. She said it’s going to be smooth sailing from here.”
“Well, then.” I stand back up. “If Junkie Jane’s creepy cards said so, what am I so worried for?”
“Come on, now. It ain’t fair to call her a junkie when she’s trying to get clean.”
“Why are you always defending her?”
“What?”
“I’m your sister too.”
“I know that.”
“You don’t even think I’m a Saint.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said so yourself.”
“When?”
A porch light snaps on and a little old man comes out of his house with his hands on his hips, street lights glaring off his glasses. Without waiting for him to ask us if we know what the hell time it is, Jackie and I split off. He heads straight up toward the motel and I cross the street toward West’s. What I really want to do is run back and karate-chop the fucker in the neck.
I feel like I’m ten again. Bird and I never fought as kids, but Jackie and I were like Sylvester and Tweety Bird. I remember one time I overheard Jackie telling Bird that I took off with Daddy’s good hammer. He’d lost it in the woods while he was building a love shack for his little girlfriends and was hoping I’d get the beating for it. People sometimes say they see red, but I saw actual flames. I picked up a brick over my head and came running at him with it. Bird saw what was happening and pushed Jackie out of the way, held me down and made me use my words. He told Jackie to go find the hammer, and the little jerk must have found it, too, because a few days later my school books went missing and reappeared nailed way up in the trees where only Jackie was crazy enough to climb. I had detention three times for forgetting my books until Bird chucked rocks up to make them fall down. I stayed up all night thinking about what I could do to get revenge. I got out of bed early and spread margarine inside Jackie’s ball cap and shoes. That didn’t seem like enough, so I drew a big dick on the back of his windbreaker with whiteout. Later that day at school, he walked up behind me in the hallway with a pair of scissors and cut off half my ponytail.
When I get back to West’s, I ransack the hall closet looking for that framed photograph of him and his bitch wife. I eventually find it stashed in a box under his bed, take it out back and smash it on the fence post. I let the broken glass slide off and stash the metal frame in his neighbour’s garbage. Then I rip the photo to shreds and flush it down the toilet. One of the pieces has Abriel’s eyeball on it and I watch it go around and around, giving me the stink eye one last time before she’s sucked down to the sewer.
I sit in the living room, chewing on the skin around my fingernails and trying to relax. Before West gets home, I slip back outside and pick up all the tiny glass shards I can find in the moonlight so he doesn’t cut his foot while he’s watering the lawn.
NOW THAT IT’S TWENTY-THREE DEGREES OUTSIDE, THE real estate lady is wearing a black turtleneck dress and riding boots. She has a gaudy, gold-painted clip in her hair that slips down toward her ear as she counts our money. She counts it at least eight times and then she can’t get Ma and me out of there fast enough.
“I hope she buys some new clothes with her cut,” I say in the car. “Something that shows us she’s a woman but still a professional. I’d put her in a white sleeveless blouse with an olive green skirt.” I keep chatting away, making up different paper-doll outfits for our salesgirl so Ma won’t notice I’m driving in the opposite direction of the motel. When I pull in to the legal aid office building, she bolts upright and grabs the dash.
“What are you doing? Turn around!”
“This is where you have to go to apply for legal guardianship of Janis and Swimmer.”
“I can’t go in there. They know everything your father’s ever done. As soon as we walk out, they’ll be saying the Saints are all the same, that we can’t take care of our own kids.”
“Things are different, Ma. Daddy’s gone, the house is gone. You’ll see. People are going to melt when they meet Janis out pushing her uncle Bird around, asking the store clerks if they have any bubble wrap he can pop.”
Ma takes a small bottle of lotion out of her purse and coats her finger with it. She slides her wedding ring up and down until it comes off and gently sets it in the glove compartment.
When we walk into the office, a woman in a shiny tube top is screaming at the person behind the desk. A man comes out from the back and tells her the police are on their way. “We’re getting a restraining order this time,” he says. “You and your family can’t come in here making threats.” After she throws an artificial bonsai tree at him, he looks over and gives us an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the disruption. We’ll be right with you.”
“See?” I whisper to Ma. “The Saints who?”
LATER THAT NIGHT, WE MEET UP IN THE MOTEL RESTAURANT to dicuss what to do with the rest of the money. Jewell offers to transfer her bank account from Jubilant to Solace River and deposit what’s left in her name. In total, there’s about three grand. Along with Bird’s disability cheques, it should keep everybody going until Jackie finds work.
Jackie and I don’t say much to each other, but I stopped being mad at him after I remembered what happened after he cut off my ponytail. He kept it and used to wave it in front of my face, and I constantly searched his and Bird’s room for it. I never found it, but in one of his drawers I discovered a cash box and a homemade fundraising letter for a fake Little League team. Jackie had been going door to door asking for donations and had already collected forty-eight dollars. To make it look legit, he had his pledgers sign their names and write down the amount of their donation. I saw that Mrs. Glen had pledged fifteen dollars. When I showed Ma, she had a conniption.
I look at him smugly across the table, remembering Ma dragging him by the ear up to all the neighbours’ houses. She made him give back every cent. Apparently, he’d been saving up for a gun that shoots out a grappling hook.
“So, it’s all worked out,” Jewell says. “Once a month, Jackie’s skanky exes are going to come here to pick up their child support and bring the kids so he can spend some time with them. I’ll conveniently be anywhere else.”
Ma asks Jackie if he’s okay for child support payments for now and he tells us he already found work. There’s a new call centre going up just outside of town and he got on with the construction company that won the contract.
“I heard once it’s up they’re going to need shitloads of people in there answering phones,” he tells me. “You should check it out.”
A few days later, I see a notice tacked up at the grocery store: CALL CENTRE JOBS! INFO SESSION 9 A.M. SATURDAY AT THE LIBRARY.
On Friday night, I’m so nervous I get the runs. When I walk into the library the next morning, I see about thirty people sitting around waiting. I recognize a few faces from the old days at the Doyle Street Country Club. They’re holding cookies on napkins, drinking coffee out of Styrofoam cups. I seat myself on a squeaky chair and everyone turns to stare.
“Hi, my name’s Tabby and I’m an alcoholic.”
Most laugh at my joke, but a few shoot back, “Hello, Tabby,” in unison. The awkward silence seeps back in.
Finally, a woman in a bright blue pantsuit introduces herself and gets the ball rolling. She explains a bit about the job, which is fielding calls from customers experiencing glitches with their computers. It doesn’t sound so hard. All the solutions to the problems are in a manual that employees keep at their stations.
At the end of the session, I hand in an application. The woman thanks me for my interest, tells me I’ll be contacted if I’m selected for an interview. I compliment her pantsuit and she writes something at the top of my paper, which I’m hoping is, I like her.
Before I head back to West’s, I walk into the Frenchy’s thrift store and try on some pantsuits. They’re all too dowdy, but I find a dress with a matching jacket that’s pretty sharp. I try it on and stare at my reflection. I feel like I’m wearing a Halloween costume.
“Now that’s a power suit,” the saleslady says. “You can go all the way to the top in that outfit.”
I wouldn’t have far to go. In the info session, they told us their incentive program is that employees with the highest customer satisfaction rating each month get to put their names in a draw for a gift certificate to Swiss Chalet.
West comes home from work as I’m ironing the outfit for the third time, and I tell him everything I learned about the job.
“You know anything about computers?” He looks skeptical.
“The woman said I don’t need to. I just need to know about people.”
He watches me flatten the collar of the jacket and run the iron over it.
“Folks get pretty pissed off when shit stops working. Are you sure you can keep your cool?”
“Try me.” I unplug the iron. “Pretend you’re a client.”
He looks at me blank-faced.
“Clients are what we call the callers. Probably so they’ll think we’re in an LA high-rise instead of downwind of the Solace River landfill.”
“All right.” He puts his fist up to his ear. “Ring.”
“Clien-Tel. You’re speaking with Tabby.”
“It’s about damn time,” West barks into his fist. “I’ve been on hold for twenty Jesus minutes!”
“Are those the same as regular minutes?”
“You getting smart?”
“If I was, I’d leave this dead-end job and go work for Microsoft. Can I assist you with a computer issue today, sir?”
“The fucking thing is fucked.”
“Can you describe for me exactly what it’s doing?”
“The screen’s jammed and I’m about to bash it through the wall.”
“Well, don’t do that, hon, or you’re going to have two problems—three when your wife comes home. Now, I can help you un-jam that fucker, but first I’m going to need the serial number, so do me a favour. Put the beer down and go look at the sticker on the back of the grey rectangle majigy.”
“I don’t drink beer. It’s Scotch.”
“Really? Now I’m impressed. Here I took you for a simple beer man. What’s your name?”
“Larry.”
“You’re kidding me? I got a brother named Larry.”
“No you don’t,” West says.
“I do for the rest of this call. See, now Larry isn’t going to fight with me. We’re practically blood.”
West grins. “Yeah, all right. I can see you being real good at this. Just don’t cuss in the interview and you’ll be vacationing in a Swiss chalet in no time.”
“No, it’s a gift certificate to the Swiss Chalet restaurant.”
“What? Solace River don’t even got one of them.”
“I know. We’d have to drive all the way to New Minas.”
“That ain’t even worth the gas money.”
“Then we’ll sell it.”
“Hold on, now. I heard their chicken’s pretty tasty.”
“Well, don’t count your chickens yet. I have to get the interview first.”
Jewell types me up a resumé and pays the motel clerk to fax it to the Clien-Tel head office. She doctors all my previous experience to make it look legit and adds a waitressing job at a restaurant that doesn’t exist. She gives her motel room phone number as the reference number for my fake former manager, Wendy. Every time the phone rings, she chirps, “Sunnyside Café, Wendy speaking,” just in case it’s someone from Clien-Tel. Whenever Jackie calls to check in from the construction site, he asks Wendy what colour panties she’s wearing.
The woman finally does phone and Jewell tells her I was the best waitress they ever had, that I never broke a glass or stole nothing, and that I could shoot the breeze with everyone from welfare drunks to lawyers. It must have done the trick, because later that night I get an automated phone call asking me to press one if my name is Tabatha Saint. I do and a robot voice gives me an interview time slot.
I feel less nervous this time, until I put on the dress and the little matching jacket. I’m a wreck walking in and after the interview’s over I go straight to the tavern for a drink. The door is held open with a boulder. West hears my heels on the floor and his head darts out from the back. His smile sinks when he sees the look on my face.
“Beer?”
“No, thanks.”
“How about a hug?”
“How about a fucking margarita?”
“I knew it!” He leaps over the bar and lifts me up into the air. When he sets me down again, he says, “Margarita? Where do you think you are, woman? I don’t even got straws.”
THE JOB DOESN’T START FOR ANOTHER MONTH, BUT I find ways to keep busy. Jewell’s making a quilt for the baby and I offer to help. She’s using pieces of Janis’s and Swimmer’s old baby clothes. I pull out Ma’s yellow dress and Daddy’s shirt, and we cut out patches from them too. Quilting gives us tons of time to talk, and I discover I can ask Jewell anything.
“How come Ma was so close with Bird’s kids, but she never sees Jackie’s?”
“Well,” Jewell sighs, “when Jackie and I started going together, his exes banded together and threatened to cut off access to the kids. He calls the exes the three Cs because of their names, but I’m not so polite. Anyway, they were just trying to get his attention, but it spooked your mother so bad she stopped trying to see the boys. Losing Josie and Michelle was really hard on her.”
I finally have to ask Jewell what she sees in Jackie.
“It’s not what I see,” she says. “It’s his smell. I can’t get enough of it. He walks into a room and I scratch the eight every time.”
That’s pool slang. It took me a while to catch on. Jackie told me Jewell used to run the table at the Lighthouse for ten bucks a game, said she even has a fancy cue engraved with her initials. I asked him if he ever played her and he said, “Fuck, no. She’d hand me my nut sack.”
One day I was telling her how West finally ripped out the soggy walls of the shower and installed an enclosure, and she said, “If I was you, I’d stick my rock with that man.”
“I envy you, Jewell,” I confess. “You coupon, you win at bingo, you somehow managed to turn my womanizing fuck-up of a brother into a decent person. You make heart-shaped sandwiches, for Christ’s sake. I don’t even get why West wants me around.”
She knots her thread, bites off the loose end and spits it out. “Tabby, look how much you’ve done for this family. West has two eyes in his head. He can see you don’t just skip out on people when things turn to shit. Not like that skank ex-wife of his. What’s her name—Magical?”
“Abriel.”
“Umbilical?” She scowls. “Whatever. Who cares.”
I finish the patch I’m on and start packing up to leave when she asks me not to. “I feel like maybe the baby’s coming.” She presses in on her belly with her fingers. “Can you stay with me a bit longer? Something feels off.”
“They all went to the lake for a swim.”
“What do you mean, ‘something feels off’? Off what? What’s off?”
Jewell watches the clock while I pace in front of the window. Half an hour goes by and she says, “I think I’m okay. You should probably get home for dinner. West’s going to wonder where you’re at.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“Then I’ll come with you. I’m dying to get a look at this man.” She grabs her purse and I help her up into the truck.
On the drive, I keep an eye on her belly, but she suddenly seems fine, staring at the sunset and humming along with the radio. When we get to West’s, I see Ma’s and Jackie’s cars sitting in his driveway.
“What are they doing here?”
Jewell shrugs. I go around and help her out of the passenger side and she doesn’t say a word.
“SURPRISE!” Janis yells before my foot’s even in the door. Behind her I see Ma, Jackie and Swimmer seated at West’s kitchen table. I recognize the extra chairs from the tavern. Bird’s parked in his wheelchair at the far end and West is standing at the counter holding a cake lit with candles. Jewell snaps off the lights and they all start singing “Happy Birthday.” Except for Bird. He’s singing the theme song from Hockey Night in Canada.
I make a wish and blow out every candle. West winks at me then goes to the stove and starts yanking lobsters out of a giant pot while Jewell lays down newspaper so we can just toss the shells on the floor as we eat.
“Remember when Daddy stole all them lobsters out of someone’s traps up in Yarmouth?” Jackie asks, butter grease on his chin. “He found a buoy close to shore, dove down and pulled a few up with his bare hands. Then he kept on going under, swimming them to the bank two and three at a time and chucking them into his back seat. He come home with his hands all sliced up, had about twenty of those friggers crawling inside the car. We ate lobster for a month. You remember?”
“I wasn’t there,” I remind him.
“Oh.” Jackie looks down at his plate. “Right.”
Ma clears her throat. “Your father made a saltwater tank in the living room. Poppy gave all the lobsters names and put bath toys in with them.”
“Wait a minute,” Janis interrupts. “Lobsters don’t come from water.”
“Sure they do.” Jackie nudges her. “Where did you think they came from?”
She turns pale. “The woods.”
“You ever seen a lobster in the woods?”
“They go down in tunnels under the trees.”
Jackie breaks off a crustacean leg, slurps the meat out of it next to her ear. Janis says she’s going to be sick, pushes her chair out and takes off down the hall. She wanders back as West starts cutting the cake.
“Want to know where ice cream comes from?” Jackie asks her. He starts describing cow udders and she covers her ears.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Bird trying to feed cake to Swimmer. He keeps missing his mouth, mashing it into Swimmer’s chin, until Swimmer gets fed up, grabs a hunk and dumps it on Bird’s head. Janis runs over and scolds them to save a piece for Poppy. I look around and there are lobster carcasses and cake smears all over the kitchen.
“Sorry,” I mouth to West.
“For what?” he mouths back.
After dinner, we have a few drinks and I get to hear about more of Daddy’s stunts that I missed. My favourite is the one where he stole a cop car and dropped it back off at the station in the middle of the night filled with empty beer cans.
After everyone leaves, West won’t let me help clear the dishes. After he’s washed up and put them all away, he joins me at the table. I lean forward and brush the hair out of his eyes.
“How did you pull this party off?”
“You can thank your brother.”
“My brother? Which one?”
“Bird.” West tries not to smile. “He put the whole thing together.”
“I’d sooner believe Bird stood up and danced the Macarena than I’d believe this was Jackie’s idea.”
“Jackie called me up to say he was picking up a bunch of lobsters. Then he called three more times, told me Jewell was baking a cake and asking me what kind of ice cream I think you’d like and all that.”
“Wow,” I say. “I’m shocked he even remembers what month I was born in.”
“I have something for you.” West jumps up and goes down the hall. I hear a crash and he comes back carrying a big, odd-shaped box. It’s so large he had to use three different kinds of wrapping paper on it.
“What—”
“Shut up and open it.”
I find an edge and tear into the paper, tossing green and yellow pieces over both shoulders. The cardboard box beneath is taped shut, but West is already standing over me with his pocket knife. He slices the seals then stands back as if something’s about to come flying out at us. I open it and reveal a vinyl case. I undo the clasps, lift the lid and feel my heart rise up and stick in my throat. The sheen of the thing is almost blinding. I reach down and gingerly lift it into my lap, running my fingers along the curves of the wood and the gleaming silver keys.
“You bought me a red guitar.”
I finger the tag hanging off the neck. West blushes as I flip it around and read the two words he’s written in big, loopy letters:
Love, David.