“There’s nothing on the go this weekend. St.Yawn’s,” Jamie says. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. They dropped off Winston, but Jamie doesn’t want to go home yet. “Let’s get coffees and drive around.” The traffic light is a long red at Logy Bay Road and Newfoundland Drive. “Everything in the East End looks the same,” he says.
“Have you ever gotten lost driving?” Imogene asks.
“Around here? No. Winston and I drove out to St. Jones Within last year and we didn’t leave until after dark. We couldn’t find the road out to the Trans-Canada. Drove around for forty-five minutes. There were hardly any streetlights and we couldn’t see a sign saying where to go. Kept slowing down thinkin’ we’d found it and it would be someone’s driveway. We finally stopped somebody and asked. Buddy had to come out to the road and point to where it was. He’s probably still laughing at us.”
“Same thing happened to me in Flat Bay once. We couldn’t remember where the access road was and we’d been driving all over the place at night. My cousin Rita and I had to stop at some guy’s house to ask directions. He was just hanging out doing bottle tokes. Turns out, he knew a whole bunch of people from our high school. Rita was mortified to think people would find out we got lost in Flat Bay.” She doesn’t mention that Nick and Liam were there too.
A dark green mini-van charges out of a driveway. Jamie has to slam on the brakes. Imogene lurches forward, the seatbelt bites her collarbone. Hot coffee douses her lap. Jamie is red-faced and spouting curses.
“Fuck! You okay?”
“Yeah. You have any napkins or something?”
“Fucking prick.” He guns the car.
“What are you doing?”
“Goddamn piece of shit.” Jamie glares ahead, reaching back with his right hand for something under his seat. He pulls out a wooden baseball bat.
“Jamie, what the fuck?”
“Relax.” He doesn’t look at her. They approach the van. The van speeds up. “No you don’t, motherfucker.”
“What are you going to do?” she says. “This is retarded.”
The van turns with no warning and vanishes down Robin Hood Bay Road. Jamie starts slowing down.
“Fucking cunt.” Jamie returns the bat to the floor behind him with a plunk. She could swat him.
“Jamie. Jesus,” she says. “That was fucked. What were you going to do?” “Fuckers want to drive and almost kill people, they deserve to lose a window or a headlight.”
“If someone’s stupid enough to drive like that, they won’t hesitate to kick the shit out of you.”
“Like I should care about that. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had the shit kicked out of me.”
She opens the glove compartment and locates some napkins. Her hands tremble as she unfolds them.
“You want another coffee?” he says. She nods. She just wants the car to stop. Jamie pulls into an Irving station. “Did I scare you?” he asks. “I scared you. I’m sorry. It’s cause I’m right tough, see.”
“Why do you keep a bat in your car?”
“It’s good to have something just in case. I keep one under my bed too. Anyone breaks in—pok.” Jamie makes a swinging gesture. She pushes a smile into her cheeks.
“We can get a coffee in here or go to the Tim’s on Torbay Road,” he says.
“I’m okay,” she says. “I wasn’t really enjoying the last one. There’s nowhere open to get a good one now.”
“There’s nowhere to get a good nothing, ever.” He puts the car in drive. “I need to get out of here.” He pulls out onto the road gingerly, like testing the thickness of ice. “I told you I got into Ottawa, right?”
“No.” No you didn’t, for fucksakes.
“Yeah, I got in. But I postponed starting until next September. Don’t have the money now. But I’m thinking I’m going to move to Ottawa after Christmas anyway. My buddy Jeanette runs a restaurant up there. The minimum wage is higher in Ontario and she’ll give me good hours. Tips are good there, too.”
Who the fuck is Jeanette? How can he say all this to her so calmly? “How come you never told me this before?”
“I thought I did.”
“You told me you were applying, you never said you got in.”
“Well, you should know I’d get in. I’m the best, missus.” He grins and squeezes her knee. The heater in the car is overpowering. All this warmth makes her want to gag.
“So, you’ll be gone after Christmas?”
He nods without looking away from the road. “Tickets are cheap after the holidays.”
“Ottawa’s expensive. You’ll make more money here. And you don’t pay rent or have far to drive to work.”
“Up there, I won’t have to drive at all. And Dad wants to start charging me rent. And I already spend a fortune on gas and food and booze so that I’m home as little as possible. So fuck home. Home is where your stuff is. I want my own place where I can do my own thing and not be questioned like a degenerate over all my decisions.”
“I wish you’d told me.” She rubs the napkin across the coffee stain on her lap. It leaves white flakes, like peeling skin.
“I’m sorry. But c’mon. You knew I wasn’t going to be here forever.”
“Yeah, I just wish you’d told me when you found out.’ She starts wadding the napkin into the lip of the coffee cup. “I should go home.”
“Okay.” Jamie signals to turn up New Cove Road. Imogene says nothing. He pushes play on the Smashing Pumpkins CD.
The house is asleep when she gets in. She arranges the blankets on the couch without pulling out the bed. The sobs churn out in dry whispers. Why did she want him to tell her right away? So she’d move? Dig out the rest of Cec’s money from the box under her bed, slap it down for a plane ticket? Follow him to Ontario like a forgotten dog? Would she apply to the University of Ottawa herself and rack up $30,000 in loans? She is not a priority. She is a convenience. She gets under the blankets and covers herself completely except for a little breathing window out into the stillness of the living room.