North Vancouver
The person moved closer on all fours. Seconds later Michael appeared at my side, his feet toed into undone hiking boots. He turned off the power on the fence and limped down the stairs. I followed. We slid through the gate and he locked it behind us before we edged closer.
As we approached the collapsed figure, it raised its head. I recognized the steel-framed glasses, even with one smashed lens. I looked again at the bruised and bloody face. Mrs. Patterson. Michael dropped on one knee beside her. I gawked at her torn and stained clothing.
“Mrs. Patterson? It’s okay now, you’re safe,” Michael said, his tone low and calming. She crumpled against him and he turned to me. “We’ll carry her in.”
“Your ankle?”
“What else can we do? Ask Jake to help? Don’t think so. He can’t see his mom like this. Fireman’s chair.”
I tried not to hyperventilate. “Okay.”
We crossed our arms and, without a word, Mrs. Patterson settled into the seat we made. She passed out almost immediately and I was reminded what the expression dead weight meant. She stank of blood and worse. I was thankful that years of hockey had strengthened my arms. Michael and I lugged her to the gate and set her down gently on the ground. I let her slump into me as Michael let us in. Then we hefted her up, carried her through and I crouched beside her as Michael made sure the gate was securely locked. She didn’t stir the whole time and I wondered if that was because she trusted us implicitly or because she was close to death. I waited to find out. She didn’t respond until we eased her into a chair in the guest room.
“Jacob,” she croaked and pasty breath made me turn my head away.
“He’s fine, Mrs. Patterson,” Michael said. “He’s staying here with us.”
“Must see him.” She placed her hands on the side of her chair like she wanted to stand.
“Let’s get you ready, please, Mrs. Patterson. We’re going to make up this bed for you but first we’re going to put down a sheet until you’re all cleaned up. Rowan, how about I stay with her? You get an old quilt.”
I raced down to the laundry where Tony kept old clothing and bedding in cardboard boxes, all lined up like soldiers. Detailed inventory lists hung on the outside of each box. Rubber sheets. Just the thing to keep blood off the mattress. Tony thought of everything.
When I got back, Michael had the first aid kit out and was laying bandages in a row on the night table. Linda moaned as we lifted her onto the bed. “That hurts so much,” she said almost inaudibly as I took her sandals off.
“Where?” Michael asked.
“Everywhere,” she whimpered. “Jacob?”
“He’s okay, Mrs. Patterson.” My turn to reassure her. “He’s here, downstairs sleeping.”
She looked at me through swollen, blackened eyes.
“Get him, please.” Her words drooped. I forced myself to not to turn away. She was crusted with dirt and I could barely tell the injuries from the filth. A brown circle of dried blood radiated out from her shoulder and over her chest. One arm was scratched. Not a small Misty-sized scratch but a big ugly wound. Her bare feet were black and swollen and her hair poked out from her head like highlighted thorns.
“Give me a minute and then get Jake,” Michael whispered. “But first, turn the fence back on.” He smoothed her hair off her face and looked at the bruises around her eyes. “Mrs. Patterson we’ll get Jake for you but he’s kind of sensitive. Before he gets here, I’d like to wash your face, tidy you up a bit, if that’s okay.”
She nodded and smiled weakly at him. “Okay. Please call me Linda.”
Call me Linda? Okay then I could call her Linda too. I guess we were all BF’s now.
“Michael, you have to rest.” I whispered. “You’re limping really badly.”
“Don’t worry about me. Just turn on the fence before some of our feral neighbours decide to help themselves to the last of the garden. Then get Tony’s hiking stick. I think she’s going to need it.”
When I returned with the improvised cane, Michael was bringing a bucket of water out of the bathroom. A package of disposable cloths and a biohazard bag lay next to the bandages on the night table.
“Isn’t that kind of overkill?” I indicated the autoclave bag.
“When do you think would be the right time to use one?” he asked as he pulled on disposable rubber gloves. He dipped a cloth into the water, wrung it out and started to gently sponge Linda’s face. She lay so still I thought she might have passed out.
Not knowing what to say, I studied the photo on the wall. It was one of Tony’s shots of Cheakamus Lake last fall. A tree with red and yellow leaves framed the lake and the snow-capped mountain in the background. It was all so tranquil and part of a different lifetime.
Michael stared at me, waiting for an answer. I shrugged. “For bloody bandages from someone we don’t know? I doubt Linda has AIDS or anything.”
“Blood is full of microorganisms. I’m not taking any chances. The whole world could be back to normal tomorrow. If it’s not and we have to help any other injured people, do we want to have a lot of bloody rags mixed in with our regular garbage? Get Jake up but don’t bring him in here until I’m ready.”
I shut the door behind me and thought about the word “normal.” I had seen the destroyed houses of the neighbourhood. How long had it taken for Tony to build this house? How long had it taken for the normal houses on Clonmel Place to be built? Months. Years. How many houses had I seen that that needed fixing or even rebuilding? The new normal could be this, being locked in this house and this yard, helping people as best we could. Not helping other people when it would put our own survival at risk. I hoped Tony had lots more biohazard bags in his war chest.
Jake slept on top of his covers, wearing only a pair of boxers. His limbs were flung in wild directions and he looked like a stick man with one extra stick. Get a boner shield, please. Flushed with embarrassment, I bumped his shoulder and turned my back.
“Mom?”
I shivered and thought about his mom’s injuries. I thought how I would feel if mine turned up in the same condition. Poor Jake. “Wake up,” I said.
“Row? Wh-what’s happening?”
My nick, the name that only family and friends used, sounded soft and right coming from him, as if he’d been calling me that for years. “Please get up, Jake.”
“What is it?”
“Get dressed, please.” I heard him yawn. His feet hit the floor. “Your mom, she’s back. But she’s been hurt.” I said and turned back to him.
“No!” He made a beeline toward the door, shirt in one hand, jeans in the other.
“Wait.” I caught his arm and felt the flex of his muscles as he resisted me. I hadn’t noticed how broad his shoulders were before.
“Stop. Get dressed okay? Then brace yourself.” I locked his eyes with mine. I wanted him to know he had a friend who would help him no matter what. “I don’t know what happened to her but she’s pretty beaten up. Michael is helping her. He says for us to wait outside. He’ll let you know when she’s ready to see you.”
Jake nodded, tight-lipped, and took his clothes into the bathroom. After a long, long time he came out, pale-faced. He rummaged through his backpack and brought out a glasses case. “Does she need these?” he asked.
“Glasses?”
“Spare ones. I got them when I got my guitar.”
“Hers are broken. How’d you know?”
“Didn’t but she’s bat blind. She keeps spare glasses stashed everywhere so I just grabbed one on my way out of the house.”
As we sat on the front porch and waited, both of us stretching our ears toward the dark hallway for Michael’s signal, music drifted over the morning quiet. The Gypsy Rover. Jake spun around and yelled, “Greg.”
As if by magic there he was, just outside the gate, his hands in his pockets. Yesterday’s five o’clock shadow had bloomed to a short beard. Without his orange baseball cap, I might not have recognized him. He carried a pack with a first aid kit logo on the top of it. Jake and I charged down to see him.
“Greg. My mom’s been hurt I don’t know how badly.”
“Badly,” I mouthed.
Greg rocked back on his heels for a minute as if he was thinking about what to do. Then his face relaxed and he said, “Can I help? Of course you’d have to let me through this gate first.”
He looked at me and my face burned. It felt as if he was x-raying my brain and could sense all my suspicious thoughts about him. Still, his training aced anything Michael and I got in the windowless rooms of St. John Ambulance.
I pursed my lips to show Greg I was still undecided. Then I turned and said, “Jake, could you please turn off the power.”
When he gave the all clear, I unlocked the gate. Greg slipped in and I waited until Jake signalled that the power was back on before I invited Greg into the house.
“What happened to her?” Greg asked. His tone was brusque, detached like a mathematician.
“I don’t know. She hasn’t talked hardly at all. Her glasses are smashed, she’s got big scratches, and there’s blood around her shoulder.”
“She’s in luck. I have a full bag of supplies here. Saline, sutures and sealing wax.”
I smiled at his attempt at humour. We sure needed some. Greg patted Jake’s shoulder and that small act of reassurance reached me too.
Inside, I tapped once on the guest room door. Michael and Linda whispered a bit before Michael called out, “Come in.”
Linda was covered with a sheet up to her neck and Michael knelt beside her. She had her right arm on top of the sheet and flinched as Michael irrigated one of the deep scratches. When Michael saw Greg, he did a double take. Before I could say a thing, Jake pushed past Michael and dropped to his knees in front of his mother.
“Jacob,” she said.
He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. He didn’t see the pain that registered on her face. “Mom, you okay?”
“Seeing you in one piece just made me feel one hundred percent better. I’m going to be okay now.” Her weak laugh ended in a cough.
Michael looked at the medic bag in Greg’s hand and relaxed. “The pro is here.”
He stood back and waved Greg to Linda’s side.
“I’m Greg Phillips,” he said with a bright smile. “I’m a paramedic. May I help you? Mrs…?”
“Patterson. Linda Patterson. Jacob’s mother. Yes, please. I think I could use some help,” Linda said. Her voice sounded fainter than a second ago. “Jacob and I live in the house behind this one, on the next street over. Or at least we used to.”
“You mean the house where Jake turned off the gas?” Greg dug in his first aid bag and brought out a penlight.
“Jacob did what?” Linda didn’t attempt to hide her disbelief. She swallowed hard and peered at Greg. “You remind me of someone. Do I know you?”
“Doubt it. I’m from Alberta.” He held her wrist and checked his watch. “I think we need to get these rags off you so we can clean your wounds properly. Rowan, do you have anything that might fit Linda?”
“Uh huh,” I said but didn’t move.
“Do you know what day it is, Linda?” He examined one of her eyes and then the other.
“Not sure exactly. Thursday? Which part of Alberta?” Her voice paled on the word Alberta.
“It’s Friday. Linda, I think you may have a serious concussion, which means you really need to rest. I promise to tell you my life story when you’re a bit stronger. Rowan, clothes?”
I stopped staring and clapped my mouth shut. I always thought Mrs. Patterson—Linda—was an iron lady. Mr. Patterson travelled a lot so she managed everything house. She didn’t do the work herself but when the service came to mow their lawn or shovel their driveway, she marched up and down, spouting orders like a five-star general. Most of the people in the neighbourhood liked her because she knew who to phone at the District offices if you had a complaint about the garbage truck coming too early or someone’s cat getting into your garden.
I was the exception. I didn’t like her and I made sure she didn’t like me the first time I met her. When they moved in three years ago, I hoped that the new boy in the ‘hood might become my friend for the summer months when I was doomed to live at Tony’s. A few days after the moving truck left, Michael and I were playing shinny hockey in the cul-de-sac. Only two other kids had joined us and they were both hopeless players. I decided Jake might be the answer so I knocked on the Pattersons’ door and asked if he’d like to join us.
Linda looked me up and down as if she had never seen a girl in goalie pads before. She sniffed like she smelled something bad before she said, “No, Jacob does not play hockey. He’s not even permitted to watch blood sports.”
“It’s not a blood sport,” I argued.
“Well it’s far too violent for a young girl like you. Do your parents know what you’re up to?”
Her death-ray eyes tried to level me but instead they ignited a flare of anger. Before I could stop myself, I retaliated with war words. “They not only know but my dad comes to every one of my games. He’s not a lame helicopter parent, hovering over me every minute of my life.”
That was a lie. After my silent months Tony watched me like a science experiment. For the longest time, when I stayed at his house, I had to be in his yard, with him, or with Michael. He encouraged me to do the sports he loved but that was the most freedom I knew at his place, and he went to every game and every practice. He drove me to and from my friends’ houses so I wouldn’t have to take the bus.
Mom accepted the fact that I had finally recovered from the assault but Tony never did. Linda’s comments cut close to the bone and I did what any good hockey forward would have done—I played offense.
As I thumped down the steps in my rollerblades, I smiled to myself. I had never spoken to an adult like that before and it felt amazing. Not for a single second did I consider that once I’d blown her off that way, I could never make peace. The toothpaste was out of the tube. I didn’t care. Not then anyway. Now that I knew Jake better, it might be nice if his mom and I could be friendlier but that wasn’t going to happen soon.
I studied her and considered for the first time how petite she was, probably six inches shorter than me and at least two, maybe three, sizes smaller. “Tony’s got a lot of old clothes in the basement. Maybe there’s something in there from when I was younger. Greg, would you like anything?”
Greg pulled a blood pressure cuff out of his bag and wound it around Linda’s upper arm. “Water, but not now. And that’s a fine looking garden you’ve got. When we’re done here, I’d be grateful for a salad and some fruit. In the meantime I think you young people should leave Michael and me alone with Linda.” He said her name easily, with care and concern. He didn’t use that tone with me when I was practically raped, almost killed, by the gang the day before. That’s the problem with being able to take care of yourself. No one ever thinks you need help. I slouched toward the door.
“Okay, you young people heard the professional here.” Michael couldn’t sound more arrogant if he tried and I wished that Greg hadn’t included him in the professional care circle. On the bed Linda breathed, slow and shallow. Jake’s face drained of colour so before he could panic, I dragged him out of there.
When Greg and Michael emerged from the guest room, I was showered, with my brushed hair draped over my shoulders, soft and shiny. I wore my best cargo shorts and a pale green baby-doll tee. It felt like I’d washed away some of the disaster and worry that had been clinging to me for two days.
“Did the clothes fit?” I asked. I couldn’t believe that Tony had kept every single thing both Michael and I had put in the bag for the charity shop, back when we were changing sizes and styles every year. Some of those clothes dated back to the age of dinosaurs. That left a choice between everything pink and purple—my favourite colours through grades seven and eight—or Michael’s castoffs from elementary school. I wondered how she liked super hero T-shirts. I had taken her a stack from both our collections.
“Yeah but I bet she’s never dressed like that before. You used to wear really bright shorts.” Michael swung the autoclave bag around.
“What’re you going to do with that?” I pointed to the bag.
“Burn it,” he smiled. Burning things was one of his favourite pastimes.
“Best thing for it,” Greg added. “We don’t want a lot of biowaste lying around. Michael says you’ve got an incinerator?”
Michael put his hand on the back door, “Greg would you like to catch a rest here? That way if Linda needs help, you’ll be here for her?”
“Yeah.” I said, trying to break Michael’s stranglehold on favour giving. “You could even have a shower.”
“A shower?” Greg grinned.
“A short shower,” Michael said. “Three minutes max. There’re timers in all the bathrooms.”
“My mother didn’t raise a fool—I couldn’t say no to an offer like that.” Greg winked at me and I smiled with satisfaction. “I’m not due back at the ambulance depot until evening. Yeah, I’d like to crash here for a bit if that’s okay with you.”
Michael collected a book of matches and tin of lighter fluid from under the sink and disappeared outside. At the table Jake picked at his toast and honey. Greg sat down and smiled, “Your mom’s resting now but she’s going to be fine. She’s still pretty concussed and needs to be in a quiet, dark room for a while, probably a couple of days. The best thing you can do is show her that you’re healthy and well so that she can stop worrying about you. That’ll help her recover faster than anything.”
Jake nodded and sat a little straighter.
Greg picked up a pear from the bowl in the centre of the table. “Your mother should buy a lottery ticket when all this is over. She couldn’t have arrived here at a better time. I had just dropped a patient down the street a ways when I saw you kids come up on the porch.” He bit into the pear, a tiny careful bite and his nose twitched as he chewed slowly. “I had everything Linda needed physically in my pack. You had everything she needed emotionally in the shape of one young man. She’s going to be fine. I’ll watch over her for a while just to be sure.”
I left the two of them talking and sat on the back stairs where I could see Michael in the yard below. The smell of lighter fluid reached me one minute and the warmth of the fire the next. The flames in the metal drum licked high into the air. The last of the blood-soaked rags were fed into the fire and the smoke streaked over the trees behind the house before it faded into the sky.
Where was Mom? She was smart, much smarter than Tony. She’d be okay. She had to be. I shoved that razor-toothed torment into the worry box and slammed down the lid. As I did that, more dark clouds flew out. I missed Tony big time. I missed his certainty about what was black and what was white. I missed the way he knew just want to do in emergencies. I wondered how long he would have to stay in the hospital. I wished Oliver would show up, safe and sound, so there would be one less worry in my world. My eyes tracked the smoke. I thought about how Greg had turned up like a miracle when we needed one. Maybe there were more miracles in store.