21

Two weeks had gone by since Stacey had moved back home, and she was actively participating in the Environmental Club again. With her dad being sick and hospitalized, she found it easier to be with them because she had less to explain. As her best friend and confidant, Amber knew some of what had gone on, but empathetic glances from any of her other friends were based on her father’s health. She liked having a close-knit family of friends because each of them knew they could say things they might not say to others, take tenuous positions on issues or things or people, and no one in the group would offer anything more severe than a ridicule-flavoured teasing. Everyone looked up to Morgan as leader of their group, especially Amber, who had told Stacey that, once upon a time, young women organized their future by building a hope chest. Stacey had never heard of such a thing, but Amber said the custom came from a previous era and deserved a second chance. In the basement, she discovered a large cedar chest with fancy carvings on the outside, which used to belong to her grandmother, and Amber made it her hope chest, with her own private lock to keep it that way. Stacey saw the chest one day, but it contained only a fancy tablecloth and two candleholders sitting in the bottom.

You’re planning your marriage. Is this what it means? Please tell me you’re not planning to marry Morgan. You’re only in grade ten.

Morgan knows I have a hope chest. He doesn’t think it’s stupid. And he’s in grade twelve already. Besides, a hope chest is just for hope. It doesn’t mean you have to marry anyone in particular.

Stacey could imagine what her Aunt Sadie would have to say about such an idea, but Stacey admired whatever Amber favoured, she did so unequivocally. Stacey had learned to qualify her acceptance of most things and some people. Every time they did something with the Environmental Club or went somewhere as a group, Hugh was always there, and he often sidled up to Stacey as if they had been together for years. One night he asked her if she wanted a shoulder massage, and she told him she didn’t, then sitting there on the floor against the couch watching a movie, her shoulders felt tight and uncomfortable, and she wished she had accepted, but she didn’t want to ask him for a massage. She wanted to keep Hugh at a distance.

There wasn’t much distance between Amber and Morgan, and everyone understood that. They were subtly affectionate when with the group, but sometimes they disappeared and everyone knew they were together. One night when Stacey stayed over at Amber’s house, the nature and rhythm of their relationship became clear.

During the era of the hope chest, Amber explained, couples saved everything they could experience until the night of their wedding. My mom was like that if you believe what she says, and I do. These days people breed like rabbits. If you’re a boy rabbit, people think you’re a stud, but if you’re a girl, you’re called a slut. Morgan and I decided several months back we didn’t like either of these extremes. Morgan is methodical that way.

So what did you decide?

We do it during the first week of every month. His parents are usually away or my parents are busy, and if not there’s always his uncle’s cabin up at the lake. One special day each month to look forward to.

So you do it once a month, and that’s it?

I said one day a month. It doesn’t always mean just once.

What would happen if you got pregnant?

We won’t. Morgan is very scientific about it. We use a condom to begin with and only do it on the days I’m not ovulating. It’s hilarious at our house at the beginning of every month. My mom and dad get paid, and I have something to look forward to. Everyone is in a good mood.

Have you ever considered a diaphragm?

I thought about it. I think my mom uses one now. But Morgan was the one who suggested a condom, so it’s one less thing I have to worry about.

Stacey thought of mentioning the diaphragm she’d received from her Aunt Sadie, and she would tell Amber about it one day, but not until she got around to using it.

The weeks that followed Sage’s stroke felt like purgatory at the Howard household, a time complicated due to the uncertainty of its tenure. Stacey had been nervous at first, not believing her mother’s description of Sage’s condition, thinking the hospital might release him at any time to live at home again. Stacey refused to visit her dad, and even though he lay in a hospital bed blocks away, Della agreed to have Hart come over and install a lock on Stacey’s bedroom door. Della visited daily at first, then every second day and eventually twice a week. The doctors expressed concern that many of the effects of the stroke showed no sign of improvement. With the help of a physiotherapist, he walked up the hall and back every second day, leaning on a walker the whole time, but left on his own, his instability yielded to gravity. Hart and Molly stopped in to visit Sage, and Hart went back a week later. He couldn’t do much but stand by the bed and tell Sage what little news there was in the neighbourhood and assume he could take in what they were saying.

Della never visited more than twenty minutes at a time. Once when she arrived and found him asleep, she pulled up a chair and watched him breathing, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. When they met, Sage had felt like a man who would provide a good time for everyone around him, a rascal waiting for an audience. She had been charmed by him, no doubt about it, but they had known each other the second time around for only three days before they married in Las Vegas. The man she thought she had married still existed and always had, but so did the man he had become.

For the first few weeks, she fretted over what would happen when he made his way home. What was best for everyone had a thousand story lines, and Della reminded Stacey daily she would be protected however it all played out, but the doctors failed to recognize any progress, and Della revised the scenarios that might see him at home again. The company employed Sage now, not the union, and documentation had arrived by mail suggesting that Sage had been placed on long-term disability that provided a monthly stipend less than his full wage but enough that they could get by on it.

He looked defeated lying there, as if each breath he worked on could be his last. She tried to imagine what thoughts he had. The doctor had suggested he might not remember anything about the incident itself, but since then, the nurses encouraged Della to talk to him, saying he could understand and it gave him something to think about. Some days Della had plenty to say to him if only she could have got him in a private place, but the circumstance never presented itself, and she wouldn’t have felt right if he couldn’t defend himself. Most of the words he uttered were reverberations that left her guessing.

As the weeks passed, the routines Della and Stacey adopted became more intentioned. Stacey was more like herself again and doing well in school, and the parents of the kids Della looked after had stopped asking after Sage’s recovery. There had never been a family Christmas without all three of them present, and were it not for the focus on Christmas Day and Christmas dinner and expectations for gifts, their ship might have sailed on with little interruption, but Della, for the first time in months, felt her husband’s absence. He always had ideas about what to buy at Christmas and how to celebrate the season. He was the one who guided them off into the woods to pick out a Christmas tree, the one who held Stacey, when she was younger, up high so she could put the blue angel on top. It was the season when all the barbs that had snagged evidence of Sage Howard living in the house became most evident.

To avoid the inexorable depression she could see coming with Christmas Day, Della rented a small hotel room in Banff for her and Stacey for three days. The day before Christmas, Stacey, for the first time, accompanied her mother on a visit to the hospital. They had wrapped a small ghetto blaster and headphones so Sage could listen to the world if he wanted to. Stacey didn’t stay long, but she showed the attending nurse how the functions all worked. Della had coerced Stacey into coming by suggesting that the visit would be a short one. Stacey made sure that was the case by leaving to wait for her mother in the car.

With the roads ploughed and no snow in the forecast, they agreed three days away from Fernie would be their Christmas present, except for one book each. Stacey got Firestarter by Stephen King, and Della got the book she’d been dropping hints about for weeks, The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. Despite a reduced price because most families wanted to be home for Christmas Day and Boxing Day, Della had to work hard at rationalizing the cost of the excursion. The two of them needed something filled with hope.

The first day they walked around town, swam in the pool and then alternated between reading and snoozing in their room. Della gave their holiday one full day of whatever happens happens, but once day two turned the page, she insisted they have a heart-to-heart talk about all that had happened. Stacey wasn’t one to embrace conflict, and Della supposed she wasn’t either, and yet Della understood the time had come to clear the air.

The doctor said there’s a chance your dad might come home after the new year.

How’s that supposed to happen? He can’t even look after himself.

Well, I guess all the details will be worked out. They mentioned a nurse coming by twice a week to give him a bath and a massage and to monitor him. That’s all I’ve heard so far.

Let’s go swimming, Stacey said. It’s freezing out there, and swimming inside feels luxurious.

We can go swimming. But first we need to talk about what happened. I wish we didn’t have to talk about this, but we do.

You know what happened. I don’t see why we have to talk about what we already know. He came into my bedroom and climbed into my bed and started rubbing my back and kissing me. It’s disgusting. I hate him. No one should have to go through that kind of crap. I hate his guts. Amber said I can live with her family. If he comes back, that’s what I’m going to do.

Stacey went to one of the two chairs in the room and positioned it to face the window. She sat down with her back to her mother.

It was disgusting what he did, Stacey. There’s no forgiveness for any of it. But there’s something you need to know. Something I should have told you right after it happened.

What? That I have a dad who believes in incest?

Your dad was out all night. He thought Aunt Sadie was in your bed. She said she was staying an extra night, remember? He was half drunk. Not that that’s any excuse.

What makes you think he’d be after Aunt Sadie?

He went into your room the night before. He came home late that night, and I heard him come in, and he stayed in there for an hour. Then he left again. I heard everything.

Stacey stood up and faced her mother. Her mother had started crying, but that only made her look more pathetic. Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you throw him out right then?

I know that’s what I should have done. I know that now, and I hate him for doing it... but... I didn’t want...

You didn’t want what?

I want us to stay together as a family. That’s what I want. At least until you’re finished school. The way he acts scares me the most because he wants it to end, and he wants me to think that way too.

How could you think like that? He’s a disgusting man, and it’s just a matter of time before he tries to rape me. He tries to catch me when I’m naked, like the time he came into the bathroom when I was having a bath and he refused to leave. He just stood there taking everything in. He’s always barging into my room when he thinks I’m changing. Does he do it when you’re in the house? Not a chance. And he leaves chocolate hearts tucked into my underwear drawer. He wants me to say something, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. Haven’t you noticed? I’m never alone in the house with him anymore. If you go out, I go out too, even if I have nowhere to go.

Why didn’t you tell me all this?

I told you about the time he watched me in the bathtub, and you said he was just a dad admiring how his daughter was growing up. You didn’t say anything to him. You should have told him to fuck off, but you didn’t say a word.

Della tried to hug Stacey, but she shrugged her off and headed for the closet. I’m going out for a walk. Out where it’s freezing cold. But don’t worry about me. I’m used to it. I do it all the time.

Della sat in the chair where Stacey previously sat and looked out at the view, knowing she was partly to blame for all that had happened. She saw no sign of her daughter; she must have gone out a back door of the hotel because she didn’t want anyone to see her, including her mother. The doctor that attended to Hart’s brother said sometimes death because of a stroke was a blessing. There was more than one reason for this to be true, and it was possible that Sage thought so too.

The holiday getaway that had begun with such promise felt more like a bruise waiting to heal once it ended. Stacey didn’t want to go swimming again even when her mother suggested they go together. They both finished reading their novels, and when Della turned on the TV, Stacey went to the lobby to read magazines. The two of them didn’t converse more than necessary, both of them busy assessing the circumstance they lived in, contemplating what came next.

On the ride back, Della took advantage of a captive audience and said it could be months before Sage returned home and possibly he never would. She asked Stacey to keep an open mind about what might happen next and said never again would there be compromise because she would never let it happen. To shut her mother up, Stacey said she would think about it, and because Stacey had softened her position, when they stopped for coffee in Skookumchuck, Della drove the car onto a side street and let Stacey drive around the block twice.

Once they were home and unpacked, Stacey said Amber had invited her to stay overnight and go skiing with her family early the next day. Della tried not to look hurt. When she looked at her daughter, what she saw was what everyone deserved at her age: a face full of hope.

You’ll be back on Tuesday then?

I’ll be back on Tuesday. It might be late, but I’ll be back. Stacey wanted to tell her mother not to worry, that the two of them needed to stick together now more than ever, but she didn’t. Instead, she walked up behind her mother where she sat at the kitchen table and wrapped her arms around her, hoping to convey the same message.

Della went to the hospital the next day more conflicted than ever. Sage looked much the same except that they had his bed propped up and he had a clipboard and paper and pen on his left side. The nurse explained that speech was still an issue but that using his left hand he could communicate his needs. Della looked at what he had scrawled there: water, bathroom, radio, light off, yes, no. She had a few things she wanted to get off her chest, but the other three beds in the room had filled and it wasn’t the time.

So, they’ve got you writing things down I see.

Sage took the pen and pointed to the word yes. Then at the bottom of the page, he worked his pen ponderously until she could make out the word Stacey.

She’s upset. What’s happened has pushed her over the edge. She’s skiing with Amber today, which is good. It will take her mind off things. She’ll never be the same, and there’s no room for forgiveness here. You need to know that.

Della wanted to choose more pointed words, but everything she said in the room would form a riddle for the other patients and the nurse to solve. She wanted to say: You fucked up big time. You’re a sleazebag, a lowlife, a man who deserves nothing but contempt. Your daughter doesn’t want you around, and I don’t want to be around you either. You’ve burnt the last of your bridges, and no one feels sorry for you. Della stared at him as the words she so wanted to say formulated in her mind. She could see Sage picking up on her thoughts, and that made the visit feel worthwhile. I’ll talk to the doctor before I go. Is there anything you need?

Sage took the pen and pointed to no, a satisfactory response. If he’d wanted something, she wasn’t in the mood to get it for him anyway. She should find the doctor and see if anything concrete had been decided, but she didn’t feel like doing that either.

They needed groceries. She usually went to the grocery store armed with a list of what they needed, but with Christmas and the days away, they needed almost everything. She would buy a whole chicken, she decided. They’d missed out on a turkey this year, and with just the two of them, it wasn’t something she wanted to contend with. And Stacey still had another week of holidays, so next Friday or Saturday she would tell Stacey to invite Amber to sleep overnight. Maybe the three of them could go bowling, though the more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that two teenage girls would want to visit a bowling alley with a mother. A movie maybe. She would let the girls choose, even if it meant driving to Cranbrook. Sage never wanted to go to a movie downtown. They could watch plenty of movies on TV he said and they didn’t cost a dime. Even better, the three of them could stay home for the night and dye their hair. Stacey had mentioned dyeing her hair red, and Della had told her it would be a mistake, but what the hell. Molly dyed her hair all the time even though she wouldn’t admit it. She would have to check with Amber’s mother, of course. Della’s hair didn’t look awful, though it was thick and tight and hard to manage. There were streaks of grey coming on strong so maybe she would dye her hair a silver grey, invite the inevitable and embrace growing older.

When she pulled into the grocery store, she noticed the sticker in the corner of the windshield, a reminder to get the oil changed. She would see to it next week. Sage had always fussed over things like that, but now it would be her job and she looked forward to it.