MA IS MAKING A BIG SHOW OUT OF THE BLINDFOLD.
“For Christ’s sake, Jackie, I’m going to break my neck.” She flails her arms as he steers her across the parking lot toward her car, pushes down on her head like a cop to guide her into the back seat. She’s still talking as he slams the door and drowns her out.
Janis and I jump in and wave to Jewell behind us in the Tercel with Bird and Swimmer. Jackie didn’t want Jewell to see the house till it was completely finished, but I gave in and snuck her out there last week. We walked through all the rooms gaping at our reflections in the shiny wood floors and appliances.
“Your mother’s going to shit her pants,” Jewell announced.
“She better, or Jackie’s going to be heartbroken.”
Now I glance at Jewell’s belly in the rear-view mirror. It’s gotten so big she can practically steer with it. “Got any baby names picked out yet?” I ask Jackie as he climbs in the driver’s seat and pulls out of the Glooscap.
“Don’t get me started,” he says. “She’s got this book full of dumb-ass names. Cellophane, Poseidon, stupid shit like that. Duplex, Dynamo.”
“Cellophane?”
“How about Flipsy?” Janis suggests.
“Just don’t name her something that rhymes with something else,” Ma harps.
She thinks she has to talk louder because she’s wearing a blindfold. I glance in the back seat and see her gripping the door handle like we’re about to crash.
“Then why in the hell did you name me Tabby?” I ask her.
“I named you and your sister Tabatha and Lollipop because I knew you’d get called Tabby and Poppy. I like double letters. I really wanted to name you Hannah, because it’s spelled the same backwards and forwards, but your father yelled, “Hannah banana! Hannah banana!’ until I couldn’t stand it no more.”
“And scabby, crabby, shabby Tabby never crossed his skull?”
“You’re lucky you were born at all,” Ma says. “I made him pull out.”
“Nice, Ma.” Jackie checks the rear-view mirror to make sure Jewell’s not directly behind us before he spits tobacco out the window. “We’re glad you’re here, Tabby.” He reaches over and messes up my hair.
I adjust Daddy and Grandma Jean on my lap. Janis and Swimmer drew all over the boxes. Amongst a lot of scribbling, I decipher what looks like a cat puking on a dog and a man with a green moustache.
Once we’re on Victory Road, Jackie can hardly sit still in the driver’s seat. He punches my arm excitedly as the house rises out of the trees then parks at the bottom of the driveway so Ma will get the full effect. We both take a good look. The siding is almost the same colour as the paint of our old house, though we chose it for the name more than anything: Halo Yellow.
The Tercel pulls up and I help Bird into his chair as Jackie arranges everyone in a line facing the house.
“Can we please enjoy this moment fart free?” Jewell requests of whoever laid one.
“All right, Ma.” Jackie rips off the blindfold. “Feast your eyes.”
Her gaze travels from the porch up to the peak of the roof then down again. She takes in each of the gleaming windows staring back at her and puts one hand on each of Jackie’s and my shoulders for support.
“Oh my,” she finally gasps.
“Come on!” Janis yells, grabbing her arm and hauling her up the driveway. Jewell waddles behind them as fast as she can, not wanting to miss a moment of Ma soiling herself. Jackie takes Bird’s chair handles and pushes him slowly up to the house, pausing to show him the wheelchair ramp he built himself. Bird nods his head side to side, running his hands along the wooden rails on the way up.
I hang back with Swimmer and watch them all vanish through the front door. The sun has set fire to the tops of the evergreens behind the house, making them shimmer as if there’s gold tinsel strung in their branches. It’s Christmas in July.
I pick up Swimmer in my arms. “What do you think?”
He nods his approval, contentedly sucking on his fingers.
The only sound for miles is the occasional round of laughter seeping from the house until Ma’s voice comes bellowing out of one of the second-floor windows: “MY OWN BATHROOM? YOU’RE SHITTING ME!” I can’t help but be reminded of the words Barbara Best lodged in my head all those years ago.
“Music is everywhere,” I whisper.
Swimmer’s fingers fall out of his mouth as he tilts his head back and smiles at me. I smile too. Then I set him down on the ground, take his wet little hand in mine and walk him home.