Sarah was having a bad day. She’d fallen asleep early for once, but then woke with a start just before two, the thumping so loud that her water glass nearly danced off her night table. She gave up at three, and though the blaring had stopped, her mind kept racing. She’d sat sullenly at the kitchen table in front of her opened textbook, the words swimming in and out of view.
Then just after breakfast, Clement had the runs again, and no sooner did she clean up one explosion than another erupted. She was sure he was not sick. His cheeks had colour and his spirits were good despite her continual fussing to get him in and out of pants. She’d told Dorothy as much.
“I’m sure there’s no need for quarantine,” Sarah had insisted. She didn’t want him locked in his room again, which he hated as much as the dark. “Clement’s body just does this. Every fourth day like clockwork, then he’s back to normal.”
Dorothy had looked like she wanted to smack her in the face. “You do your job, and I’ll do mine.” Clement was to stay in his room until he was symptom-free.
These battles with Dorothy were nothing new. Sarah’s real angst was with Carter, who was getting sulkier each day. This morning he’d locked himself in the bathroom and had refused to come out. She’d succumbed to bribery, promising him an after-breakfast ice cream in the car. He hated going to Mrs. Brandon’s, and she hated herself for taking him there. Mrs. Brandon’s home was as lifeless as a morgue, no place for a curious and bright boy with energy to burn. Sarah had checked everywhere for a better daycare arrangement: the community board at the Red Apple; the ads page in the Rigsbee Globe; the staff hotline for Shop & Share. There was little to choose from and nothing she could afford. Maybe money can’t buy happiness, but it sure as hell could have bought Carter a decent summer.
Her morning’s only bright spot had been witnessing Rachel hand Billy a new helmet. She’d caught the pair of them in the staff room after the breakfast rush, Billy tearing open the box, so full of enthusiasm, his smile as wide as the world.
“It better be the right colour,” Rachel had said, “’cause I can’t take it back.”
Billy seemed smitten. “It’s great. Thank you.”
Sarah had seen Billy fly down the road, jacket flapping, hair whipping pell-mell on his helmetless head. That Rachel had seen this too made Sarah’s heart swell. The woman had surprised her more than once with these out-of-the-blue kindnesses. Mostly, Rachel kept to herself, standing vigil over her mother’s crumbling body, but she’d formed a closeness with Billy that seemed to do them both good.
The day’s fourth laundry load had finally dried. Sarah slammed the dryer door shut and hip-carried Evie’s basket to her room. Billy, alone, stared out the window. He swiped his cheeks with the back of his hands before turning towards her, red-faced. It was obvious he’d been crying.
“Oh Billy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in like this. I’m here with Evie’s laundry, but I can come back.”
“That’s okay,” Billy said hoarsely. He slumped into Evie’s old chair.
Sarah didn’t want to pry, or fill the space with drivel, so she worked silently as she folded socks and panties and hung blouses. She could feel Billy’s eyes on her, though she didn’t turn to look. The boy had seemed happy these past weeks with Evie beside him and a brush in his hand. But what could she know about how he felt? Maybe Billy too was having an indecently bad summer.
“Well, that’s it then.” Sarah closed the last of the drawers.
“She didn’t even know who I was,” Billy said, without looking up. “She yelled, Who are you? and pulled her hand away when I tried to walk her to the dining room.”
Sarah sat across from him on the edge of Evie’s bed.
“Like she’d never see me before.” He practically spat out the words. “Like we hadn’t been standing side by side for the last two hours painting the damn train.”
“Oh Billy, I’m sorry.”
Billy propped his elbows on his knees and stared at his runners. “I thought she was getting better. But she’s not. Maybe all this is too much for her.”
“It’s unfair, isn’t it.”
“At least in Chetville she always knew who I was.”
Sarah stood. “Look, I’m on break now. Why don’t you have your lunch outside with me?” She grabbed Billy’s lunch bag from the counter and dangled it in front of him. “We can sit at the picnic table, swap cookies. It’s a beautiful day.”
Billy followed her unenthusiastically. She was grateful for the shade of the aspen tree towering over them as she brushed the twigs off the picnic table and sat across from Billy. She didn’t know what to say. Losing someone in pieces was difficult, especially for a fourteen-year-old boy who’d been ripped from his home. At least he still had his appetite. She watched him wolf down his first sandwich in three rapid bites.
“Lucidity comes and goes for people with dementia. Some days, actually some moments, are harder for them to grab hold of than others. But that doesn’t mean your grandma doesn’t know who you are. You’re her Billy. You’re special to her and you always will be.”
Billy scowled with his mouth full. “What’s the point. I thought the murals would help.”
“And they have! All this painting has been so good for her. For all of us. She comes alive with a brush in her hand. She’s got you by her side, and even if she sometimes gets mixed up, you don’t. You remember she loves you, and she’s worth fighting for, just like she’s always fought for you.”
Billy frowned. “You sound like my old school nurse.”
Sarah pointed her finger and narrowed her eyes. “Do you mean old or former? Because I’ll have you know I ain’t old, Buster. I’m still in the bloom of youth. Still blooming, damn it.”
Billy shook his head, laughing. “No. I just meant she sounded like a cheerleader, sorta like you.”
“I can break out into a cheer right now if you like.”
“Please don’t.”
They traded small talk and cookies after that, one of Billy’s Oreos for two of her chocolate chips.
As they sauntered back to the unit, he seemed less grim. Sarah dropped Billy at Evie’s door, willing her to smile at her grandson and call out his name, which she mercifully did.
She got on the computer in the staff room and looked up Nick’s contact information. It was against the rules, she was only in housekeeping, but she would call Nick anyway and replay her conversation. If it were her son, she would want to be told of the hurt, even if there was no way to fix it.
Nick couldn’t believe how much the kid ate. The cupboards were bare, again, even the Costco-sized cereal box, so he shoved Billy into the truck to take him to a restaurant. Things between them had been off since Candace had shown up, Billy keeping his distance and his words to a minimum, heading into his room after supper, coming out only to forage for snacks and milk swigs every half hour.
Nick hadn’t imagined that easiness between them when they poked at the fire. Now they were scraping through a new layer of grudges and disappointments.
“Thought we could try Full Moon Pizza,” Nick suggested in the truck.
“Whatever,” Billy said.
Nick cranked the music and stayed silent the rest of the way. Sarah had called the day before last. She’d told him Billy had been upset when Evelyn hadn’t recognized him, crying even. He had no clue how to help, imagining himself trying. Hey Billy, I hear your grandma didn’t know who you were today. That sucks.
Country music blared in the crowded restaurant. Friday night families filled the large booths, waitresses jogging past carrying trays the size of tabletops. A line of people milled around the front door. Nick felt a wave of heat rise in him. He’d be damned if he’d stand in line beside his mute son with all the other dumb schmucks chatting amiably to theirs. They could head to the Chinese place beside the tracks, the one caught with mice in the walls. There’d be no line up there. He was about to turn them around when Billy waved and bounce-stepped away. It was Sarah waving back from the far side of the restaurant, Sarah and her little boy, her mop of red hair the only bright spot in the whole damn place. He followed Billy, a slight bounce in his step too.
“Well of course you’ll join us,” Sarah insisted after introducing Carter. “We haven’t even ordered yet, and we could use the company.”
Billy plunked himself into a seat, so Nick sat too.
“Do you like worms?” Carter asked Billy.
“Not for breakfast,” Billy said. “But after that, they’re okay. Do you like snakes?”
Carter scrunched his eyes, thinking. “I haven’t met one. But probably I like them. Unless it’s poison. Then you call the police.”
Sarah shrugged for Billy’s sake. “Well, now that we have that out of the way, Carter and I thought we’d share a pizza.”
“Sounds good,” Nick said. “Billy, want to share a pizza too?”
“Sure.” Billy sounded more agreeable than he’d been for days.
Nick felt the kink in his neck let go. It was easy to be with Sarah and his boy, the four of them at the table, Carter yipping a mile a minute. He didn’t have to worry about his side of the conversation. Carter was a cute kid, full of questions and reflections on his world. He never stopped talking, not even as the waitress took their order. When she tried to slip away, Carter had to know if she too liked worms, and whether she had a bicycle or a car. Before the pizza arrived, he had bounced through a myriad of topics including a preview of the solar system and the importance of road safety rules.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Carter announced loudly.
“I’ll take him,” Billy said.
“Wash your hands, okay,” Sarah said.
“I will,” Billy replied solemnly.
As the pair clomped off holding hands, Sarah leaned towards him and whispered, “My Carter is smitten with your Billy. Me too, by the way.”
Nick was momentarily confused. Who was smitten with whom? Surely, he couldn’t be that transparent, his eyes glued to the shape of her face and the way her cheeks creased when she laughed. But no, it was Carter she was talking about, Carter being smitten with Billy, Sarah being smitten with Billy.
Nick took a swig of Coke. “They’re good kids,” was all he came up with after a too-long pause.
Sarah seemed unruffled. “He’s done such an amazing job with the murals. Have you seen the train? Harvey is beside himself. And Evie, oh my gosh, she’s right there with him.”
He knew he shouldn’t ask, but he had to know. “How can you stand it? Working there. With those people?”
“Those people?” She stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. “Those people could be you or me one day.” She folded her napkin and placed it on her lap, so Nick did too, afraid to look her in the eye.
“Ruth thinks her stuffed cat is real. She’s concerned about every little thing—is the cat warm enough, fed enough, held enough. She leaves little dishes of water on her floor. Made a bed for it in her sweater drawer. She pours out more love in a day for a stuffed cat than some folks give in a lifetime. Whose world is better? Or more real? Sometimes I get a glimpse of what their lives used to be. A leaked hope or want in their eyes, the way they tilt their head and laugh at their own private joke. It gives me goosebumps. I love Ruth. And Evie. And all of them. So yeah, I can stand it.”
Nick held his self-loathing tongue and stared out the window. She was too good for him. When he finally looked back, breathing heavily, Sarah was starting to blush. It was remarkable to watch, a sunset of colour spreading from the tips of her ears to the bottom of her neck.
He’d embarrassed her, first with his question and then with his silence. If there was shit to step in, he’d smear it over everything.
He scrambled to put together some right words, but she jumped in first. “Sorry,” she said, as if the problem were hers. “I get carried away.”
“No, it’s me who should be sorry. I have the emotional intelligence of a rock.”
Sarah smiled. “A rock wouldn’t make that assessment. It would just lay there and say, ‘I am a rock.’”
“What I mean . . . I mean it’s a . . . it’s nice to meet someone so passionate about her work.”
Sarah snorted. “Housekeeping? Not so passionate. But I’m studying for nursing and will get there one day. Maybe. Hopefully. Some day. If I can manage to get enough studying done.”
“You will,” he told her. “And my offer still stands.”
“Pardon me?”
“The contract on your neighbours. The yahoos upstairs that make all the racket.”
She pressed praying hands in front of her mouth. “You remembered.”
“Of course, I remembered.” It was true. He had remembered all the words she’d said to him—in Evie’s room, the hallway, in front of the washing machines.
The frazzled waitress arrived with the pizzas, and as he and Sarah pushed glasses and menus aside, his fingers accidentally brushed against hers. He wanted to cover her hand with his and hold it like a ball of light. It was a yearning so different from his usual cravings that he felt both sheepish and bewildered.
“The troops are arriving.” He pointed to the boys marching towards them, thankful for the distraction.
Sarah turned and watched until they noisily plopped into their seats. “Eat up, boys, before it gets cold.”
“Where’s your mom?” Carter asked Billy once he’d crammed his mouth with pizza.
“Don’t have one. Where’s your dad?”
“Don’t have one neither. Or a grandma. Don’t have one of those. How many you got?”
“One,” Billy looked at Nick. “No, two, I guess.”
“You’re lucky,” Carter said.
“You can borrow mine sometime if you need one.”
Carter turned quickly to Sarah. “Can I, Mom?” She smiled and dug into her pizza like a man. Billy too. He was an eating machine. Nick wondered if he’d have to order more.
“Are you going to the Family Council meeting next week?” Sarah asked between bites.
“Family Council?”
“The Council meets once a quarter. Next Monday’s meeting is at seven. We’re in a bit of a pickle. Some residents’ items have gone missing, and families are upset—understandably. Staff are invited so we can hash things out.”
“It’s a mystery,” Carter chimed in. “I’m a detective. I get to go to the meeting. And then no bed story ’cause it’s past my bedtime.”
“I’m going too,” Billy added. “Guess I won’t get a bed story either.”
“The Council was explained in the orientation package,” Sarah said, one side of her mouth slightly curled. “And you should have gotten an email.”
Nick had not heard of the Council. Not opened his email for days. But he didn’t want to confess this—even Carter was in on the meeting—so he said, “Oh right, yeah, I was thinking of going. Monday at seven.”
Billy narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Nick needed to change the subject, so he looked at Carter and asked, “Do you drive a car or a bicycle?”
“I’m five,” Carter replied disgustedly.
Nick tried not to laugh. “So that would be bicycle?”
“Uh-huh.”
Sarah dipped the tip of her napkin in her water glass and wiped the pizza sauce off Carter’s chin. “Billy has a new helmet,” she said.
“Where is it?” Carter wanted to know.
“In the truck.” Chunks of pizza crust spewed out of Billy’s mouth with his barely decipherable words.
Nick had picked up a helmet for Billy. The most expensive in the store. He placed the box on Billy’s pillow, planning to let him make the discovery himself. But when Billy pedalled up to the garage, shiny helmet on head, Nick shoved it into the back of his closet. Nick just nodded when Billy grudgingly doled out the story. Rachel was nice. Liked to give away things. Brought in baking. Wasn’t she the best?
“Mom won’t let me wear my helmet in the restaurant,” Carter was saying. “Your dad won’t neither?”
“Nope, he’s mean like that.” Billy winked, no residue of grudge.
Carter shook his head, as if to say parents are a sorry lot. Nick felt his chest expand. He was part of a lot, sorry or not, mean like Sarah.
“So, should we talk about our days?” Sarah asked their ragtag group.
“Do we have to, Mom,” Carter grumbled. “I’m busy.”
“Well, you can listen then, while you keep eating. So, Nick, Billy, this is how we do it.” She leaned in and looked from one to the other conspiratorially. “Every night at supper we share our favourite part of our day.”
Carter pouted.
“So why don’t I start. Today at work, Rachel brought really fancy cupcakes with lemon filling and chocolate icing. And I got to have two. They were delicious.”
“Easy,” Billy scoffed. “I had three cupcakes in the morning and three more in the afternoon. Rachel said I could have another one, but by then I felt kinda pukey. My day was . . .” he closed one eye, calculating, “three times more favourite than yours.”
Sarah shook her head. “Cheating. The cupcakes were mine. Technically, that requires you to come up with a different favourite.”
Billy leaned back and thought. “Okay, so I guess maybe when we got the tracks done for the train mural. I was worried we’d get the perspective wrong as they got more distant. But I think they work. I’m glad that part’s done. Relieved, actually.”
Sarah clapped. “Bravo. And they absolutely work. I think the train mural is going to be my favourite. I could break out into a cheer right now.”
“Please don’t,” Billy said, holding up his hands. He and Sarah burst out laughing, like they shared a secret joke.
Carter didn’t find it funny, whatever it was. “What’s a murmal?”
Billy wiped his eyes. “A murmal is a mural. It’s a great big painting, bigger than you, as big as a whole wall.”
“Billy’s an artist,” Sarah said to Carter. “He’s an excellent painter.”
“Oh.” Carter nodded appreciatively. “I can do mur-als. I’ve got paints and four brushes. I’m an excellent painter too. Can I paint my wall, Mom?”
“We’ll see,” Sarah said, smiling wide. “Your turn, Carter. What did you do today that you liked the best?”
“Nothing.” Carter looked down at his half-eaten slice.
“You can’t say nothing, honey, remember. Think about your day. What was the best thing?”
Carter’s lip trembled. “There was no best thing.”
“Did you play outside?” Sarah tried.
He shook his head.
“Not even with the hose?”
More vigorous shaking.
Nick watched as her mother brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin white line. It was clear they’d had this same conversation before. The same worry, same regrets.
“New rule,” Nick blurted. “Just for tonight.” He hadn’t a clue where he was going. Hadn’t a clue where Carter spent his days. But he was a boy once too. He could tell when a child needed a rescue.
Billy rolled his hand. So come on already.
Nick looked directly at the small boy. “Okay, Carter. This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to use your imagination. If you could be anywhere in the world for a best day, the best day of all, where would you go and what would you do?”
Carter perked up. “Like pretend?”
“Yeah, pretend. Where would you be and what would you do?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and blurted, “The zoo. With Lucy.”
Lucy the elephant, Sarah mouthed.
“So what would you do with Lucy?” Nick asked.
Carter leaned both elbows on the table, one landing on his piece of pizza. “I’d climb on top of her. She’d have to bend down first, on her knees, and we’d walk right out of there. She never runs ’cause she’s wrinkly, but we’d stay on the sidewalk.” Carter’s words tumbled out, like he’d been waiting since diapers to share the right answer.
“When the people wave, I don’t wave back ’cause I need to hold on. They get out of the way ’cause they don’t want to get pooped on. Lucy’s poops are big as basketballs and smoke comes off them. When we get to the lake, she walks in the water ’cause she’s not afraid and me neither ’cause I have my Sunfish Badge and we swim around and see some Nemo fish but not sharks. Sharks live in the ocean.”
Carter tried to stand on his chair, but Sarah made him sit back down.
“And we eat bananas that Lucy gets off the trees with her trunk, and I peel them for her ’cause I got fingers. And she sprays sand down her back with her trunk and gets it on my shirt, but I don’t mind. Elephants are supposed to do that ’cause they don’t have sunscreen. Nobody told them. They just know. We have to go back to the zoo when it gets dark. Our apartment says no elephants. Least I think it says no elephants. It says no elephants, right Mom? And Lucy is sad, but I tell her I’ll come back tomorrow and she’s happy again.”
Carter blinked at the group, as if contemplating the complexity of his ending. Then he added, “Course I’d have to have my helmet.”
The table erupted. Billy reached across and gave Carter a high-five, shouting, “Best day ever, bud.” Carter got on his knees to high-five them all, twice each. They clinked glasses, Carter’s chocolate milk dangerously close to spilling.
They were still heehawing when the waitress came to clean up their mess. “Well, you sure are one big happy family.” She looked more frazzled than her last time, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Billy grabbed Carter’s leftover pizza slice and stuffed it in his mouth before she could whisk away the plate. Nick grabbed the bill too, despite Sarah’s protests.
“This was fun,” Nick said. “We should do this again.” And he meant it. He could gladly come back every night and sit across from her.
Carter shrieked. “Can we, can we, Mom?”
Sarah smiled, looking at Billy, who chewed through the words, “Cool, yeah, very cool.”
“Settled. We’ve got consensus.” She stood with the others, then plunked herself down again. “Wait!” she yelled. Everyone slid back into chairs. Composing herself, she said, “We can’t go yet. Nick, you haven’t had your turn. My cupcakes. Billy’s train. Carter’s elephant. What was your favourite part?”
Nick didn’t have to second guess himself. “Right now. This is it.”
He ignored Billy’s groans and Carter’s babbles and focused on Sarah. She was painting herself from the inside out, her cheeks reddening, the green of her eyes catching the evening light.