CHAPTER 5

The night after the funeral, the immediate family huddled around Donna and Gord’s kitchen table. Gord said they had celebrated Al with everyone else, and now it was time to celebrate by themselves. They were the ones soldiering on, while everyone else could escape back to their lives. The eight of them played crib and canasta in memory of Grandpa Al. He loved a good game of cards, and they always played during holidays. Craig brought out a bottle of rye, and poured rye and Cokes for himself and Gord. Clay and Colton drank beers. Colton had turned eighteen a few months ago. Colton gave Chloe a sip of his beer. This was just for show. Everyone in the room knew she drank.

“You can have a beer,” Craig said to Chloe. “Or you can have some rye and Coke.”

“I’ll try some rye,” Chloe said.

“I’ll make it light for her,” Gord said. He poured a thimbleful of rye into a tall glass and filled the rest with Coke before handing it to Chloe. “Allyson, you want some?”

Allyson shook her head.

“Just try a sip in honour of Grandpa,” said Gord.

Allyson had tried the odd sip of beer before and found the taste reminded her of the smell of cow urine. There was nothing appealing about it. She didn’t understand why people drank. Maybe she’d eventually try Baby Duck or Boone’s or a vodka slime or some of the other drinks she heard people talk about in the hallways of school. Someday. When she was older. She had better things to do then get drunk and barf every weekend. She knew stories of the girls who drank too much, who said stupid things and made out with guys they didn’t even like on Monday. Maybe Chloe was turning into one of those girls. After all, she’d been drunk last week, and was hanging out with a crowd of partiers. Sooner or later, Allyson would probably hear a nasty story about her cousin in that rumour mill they called a school.

Gord poured glasses of Al’s favourite rye and Coke for everyone. The family sat around the table and raised their glasses. Allyson wished she could pour the booze out and just drink the Coke.

“Dad was a class act,” Gord said.

He looked around the table, glancing at Donna and his children before turning to face his brother, Linda and Chloe.

“He was so proud of all of you and everything he worked so hard to build. He loved you all. He may not have said those words very often, but he didn’t need to. He lived those words. He believed in trying to make the world a better place. He was all about family.”

At this point, Donna started to cry. Allyson looked away. Her mother was such a bawl baby. Grandpa Al had said all you had to do was wait for the weather to change and Donna would start snivelling. Donna reached for the box of Kleenex on the table. There were Kleenex boxes in every room of the house. Right after the accident, someone had gone down to the I.D.A. in town and bought a 12-pack of Kleenex.

Through her tears, Donna said, “Here’s to Al. One of the best.”

“Let’s make him proud,” said Craig. “Cheers.”

They raised their glasses high, clinked them together and downed their drinks. Donna sniffled and wiped her tears. Allyson felt like crying, but she held back. Al would have wanted the tears to stop. Whenever Allyson cried when she was younger, he clasped her to his big chest, stroked the back of her hair with his hands and told her she had to stop because Grandpa didn’t like it. He was softer with her and Chloe, but really enforced his “no crying” philosophy on Colton and Clay. Even Donna learned not to complain around him. He was always telling people to “Git’r done” or “Cowboy up.” When Craig refilled Allyson’s drink, she snuck off, took it into the ­bathroom and dumped it down the toilet. She went to bed early, but the rest of the family stayed up late, playing cards, drinking and laughing. Al would have approved.

*

As she lay in bed, Allyson wondered who would take over the farm, and what would happen between her and Chloe.
Clay would be first in line to take over the farm after Craig or Gord. In 2025 the farm would be a hundred years old. The Klassens had watched as some of the other farms in the area became century farmers, and had plaques erected near the gates of their front yards. The plate that read Klassen Family Farm, established 1925, had been erected near the gate at the end of the driveway, fastened to a large rock Al hauled there. When other farms turned a hundred years old, generations of the family posed for photographs in The Messenger. Awards were presented during lavish ceremonies put on by the county. The reeve and local MD councillors gave out plaques, and spoke about the history of the farm, the strength of the family and the drive and passion it took to work and keep the land.

When she was younger, around eight or nine, Allyson had been dragged to several of these ceremonies, even though she begged to stay home and told her parents Clay was old enough to look after her and Colton. But her grandparents and father insisted, and she endured several of these events. Sometimes she and Chloe wandered away to slip into cloak rooms, where they examined everyone’s coats, going through the pockets when no one was watching. You could find some weird things in peoples’ coats. There were always gloves, coins and packs of gum. When Allyson was ten and Chloe was twelve, they’d found a condom in the pockets of a plaid dress coat. Chloe was the one whose fingers landed on the plastic-wrapped circle of latex. She pulled her hand back as if she was burned. Then she came over to Allyson, who was looking through another coat pocket. She whispered to Allyson that she should stick her hand in the pocket of the plaid dress coat. Allyson felt the thin packet of the condom and pulled it out to look at it. When Chloe saw her pull it out, she stage whispered at Allyson to stick it back inside.

“What if someone sees us?” she said.

The two of them started laughing. Mabel Jacobson walked by, and they jumped away from the coats and ran back to their seats. Allyson missed having secret adventures with her cousin. Chloe stopped looking through the coats when she turned fourteen. Allyson never understood why, but one day, she asked Chloe if they were going to sneak into the cloak room and Chloe gave her a look of disdain, took a long, hard pull on the straw stuck in her Sprite, and turned away from her.

During the ceremonies themselves, Allyson slumped on her chair, bored out of her skull as people talked about the joys and hardships of farming. The family of the hour gathered at the front of the hall, grinning grandparents holding themselves up with canes, proud middle-aged fathers wearing plaid shirts, boots and shiny belt buckets, young women cradling chubby, drooling babies. They all lined up for photos. Maybe it was the closest any of them would ever be to a red carpet. The only redeeming thing about these ceremonies was that Allyson got to have Coke.

“That’ll be us in twenty-five years,” Al always said, when they attended these affairs. He said it every year, in a tone that was both hopeful and proud. The number of years until their farm turned one hundred changed, but Al’s tone of voice and his hope, conviction and dogged determination never wavered.

Allyson never thought she or Chloe would take over the farm. They were girls and far down the line. They could get married and come back to the farm with their husbands. Maybe Chloe would want to live out on the land. When she was younger, she loved doing everything on the farm, riding quads, helping out in the barn. Craig was always after her for taking the dogs and cats into the house, calling her a city kid just like her Aunty Donna, who believed cats and dogs should be allowed indoors. Chloe used to be the perfect farm girl. All the adults used to joke that one day she’d be crowned Rodeo Queen.

Colton was more interested in machinery than cattle and even though none of the adults said anything, no one thought he was reliable enough to take anything on. Besides, Clay was the oldest. He was the one who helped out and understood the most about the operation, even though he was in the city right now. He’d been gone from the farm for years, encouraged by Donna and Gord. They wanted him to get an education, experience the city, know what it was like to live somewhere else. Clay boarded a plane, bussed tables in England and worked cattle farms in Australia. He sent colourful postcards from every place he visited. Now he was in his third year of animal science at the University of Alberta. Sometimes he talked about going to Saskatoon to go to vet school, but his marks might not be good enough. Clay was smart, but there was so much competition.

There had been no talks about who would take over the farm if Al died. There hadn’t been any family meetings about it. Al had gone to some sort of farm workshop years ago. The advisor at the workshops recommended farm families have business meetings and sit down and discuss things like a real business. Donna opted out, saying she didn’t understand what was happening on the farm, so why should she attend? Chloe decided she was too young to be involved in farm decisions and left to go brush the dogs. Al tried to guide the rest of them through the agenda he had written out in his scrawl. He called the meeting to order, rapping on the kitchen table with his big knuckles, which made Colton and Allyson laugh.

“Are we pretending to be big city lawyers or something?” Craig asked. “Why so official?”

“This is business,” Al said. “In today’s farming world we need to hold family meetings like business people. We can’t just holler at each other when we’re out in the yard. We need to have agendas, plan and assess where we are going. I might die someday and you’ll need to know where I’m at and how to understand my bookkeeping. Need to make sure everything is clear as mud.”

“We’ve got lots of time,” Gord said. “You’re not going anywhere any time soon. Donna’s watching the game. I hate to think of her cheering those Riders on by herself, jinxing our precious Esks.”

Craig pushed his chair back from the table and followed Gord as he left the room.

Allyson remembered this all, remembered her grandfather’s face, and cried herself to sleep. She had too many questions in her head, and none of them could be answered.

*

After the night of cards, everyone in the family stayed away from each other for a few days, trying to get back to their regular work lives. They were sick of each other, and of each other’s grief. Clay went back to the city and Chloe hung out with Jamie all the time. Colton was gone a lot too, probably hanging out with Lily Stevens. Lily had a wild reputation. She’d disappeared for a few months when she was in Grade 10. It was rumoured her disappearance had to do with her parents’ divorce, but some speculated she’d been sent away to have a baby. Lily worked at Joe’s or at the Husky truck stop in town. Some people said Lily turned tricks for money. Everyone in town knew there were prostitutes from the city who came to service rig workers. Sometimes big cars with dark tinted windows drove through town. People said they were full of hookers for the rig workers. But there were also a couple of town girls, like Lily Stevens, who were rumoured to give blow jobs or more for extra cash.

The first day back at school after the funeral was the worst. Allyson woke up in the morning, and stared at the ceiling. How would she deal with all the questions, all the curious stares? Would it be like the day of the funeral, when she’d had to smile and nod and listen to everyone reminisce about her grandpa?

When she was in the kitchen, eating soggy Cheerios while reading “A Wrinkle in Time” Chloe walked into the house and up the stairs.

“Morning,” Donna said, as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Without looking at Allyson, Chloe went over to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup.

“Do you want a ride?” Chloe asked. “I can wait for a bit if you want to go with me.”

She stared deep into the cup, rather than at her cousin.

“Yeah,” Allyson said. She’d been hoping her dad would give her a ride to school, the way he had before the accident. “Just let me get dressed.”

She hadn’t really spent any time alone with her cousin since her cousin had crawled into her bed. Maybe this was a chance to start talking again. Maybe they could walk into the school together, instead of alone.

When Allyson finished getting ready, Chloe was already sitting in the driver’s seat of her Celica. “This is going to suck,” Chloe said as Allyson opened the door. “So hard.”

During the ride, Allyson stayed quiet. She searched her mind for topics to talk about with her cousin, but she was too nervous to say anything. They hadn’t talked for so long, and she was ­feeling anxious about going to school. It was easier just to say nothing, and stare out the window. When the school came into view, Chloe parked the car and turned to Allyson before she got out.

“Everyone is going to be talking about us,” she said, leaning toward her cousin. “They’re going to whisper and ask questions and stare. They did the same thing when Jamie’s grandpa died. She told me the best thing we can do is just ignore it. People are going to tell you how sorry they are. They’ll be really nice to us for a few days. People you’ve never talked to will smile at you. Don’t try and take advantage of their sympathy. Something else will happen and they’ll forget all about us.”

Chloe stood up and got out of the car. Allyson followed. She expected her cousin to walk ahead of her, to pretend that she didn’t know her, but Chloe walked beside her. For a second, Allyson had a flash of how things used to be, when they were friends. Chloe pushed the heavy doors of the school open, and waited for Allyson to pass through.

“I’ll see you later,” she said, as she turned to go to her locker, which was in the opposite direction from Allyson’s. “Stay strong. It’ll be okay.” She gave her cousin an affectionate little punch in the shoulder and walked away. Allyson smiled in spite of herself. Maybe things with her cousin would be back to normal. She walked along the hallway to her own locker. By the time she got to the end of the hall, she could see someone standing in front of it. Was someone blocking her locker? Was she going to have to ask them to move? As she got closer, she saw it was Jeff.

She felt her face growing hot. She had apologized and talked with him a few times since she’d opened his notebook and seen all the drawings of naked people and the drawings he’d done of her.

“Are you waiting for me or just hanging out?” she asked. She swung her head a little so her hair fell in her face. That way she could hide her cheeks if they started to turn red.

“I brought you a present,” Jeff said. “I’ve been waiting here every day before first period. I figured you had to come back eventually.”

He held his hand out to her and pressed a graphic novel collection in her hand.

“What is this?” she asked, studying the cover.

“It’s the first few issues of Sandman,” said Jeff. “Neil Gaiman. It’s good stuff. I got it for you when we went into the city last week. Thought you could use something to read. Something to take your mind off everything that is happening around you. I knew you hadn’t read it yet.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him. “That was really nice of you.”

He scratched his head and look away. “Um, it’s not really light reading. It’s a bit heavy. But I know you’ll like it.”

He moved toward her, and opened the page. “See, just look at this art. It’s amazing stuff. And well, there’s no one who can tell a story like Gaiman.”

He pointed to a goth girl with black hair. “That character’s called Death,” he said. “I hope that’s okay.”

She shrugged. “Can’t really avoid it.”

“Anyway,” he said. “I remember what it was like when my grandma died. I would just wake up in the morning, and there would be a couple minutes when I would forget she was dead. And then I would remember, would know that I wasn’t going to see her that day, and that I’d have to see my mom dragging her ass through the day, trying not to cry. It was rough. I know what you’re going through right now.”

The bell rang.

“Can I walk you to your class?” Jeff said. “You’ve got Mrs. Henshaw, right?”

Allyson nodded. “Just let me get my binder out of my ­locker.”

Jeff moved aside. “I think you’ll really like this,” he said. “It’s such a great collection.”

She closed her locker. He moved a few steps away, and waited for her.

“Does it feel like everyone is staring at you?” he asked. “I felt like that after my grandma died. But they’re not really. They’re all too worried about themselves.”

When they got to her classroom, she stopped before going in the door, not sure what to say. She was just grateful she hadn’t had to walk through the halls alone.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Jeff said. “I hope you like the book.”

“Thank you,” she said, and turned into her classroom. She walked to her desk and put her head down, no wanting to look at anyone until the class started and she could look up and stare at the teacher.

It turned out Chloe was right. On that first day, everyone wanted to come and say something to Allyson about the Klassen family loss. Every student, teacher and their dog had a memory of Al they wanted to share. Thank god for Amber. She came and met Allyson after her first class, and stayed with her between every class that first day.

“I would have met you at your locker, but Booger was late driving me this morning,” Amber said, when they saw each other in the hall after English class. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother getting rides with him. I would be better off walking.”

As the day progressed, Allyson stopped listening when people talked to her about Al and Abby. When a person told her a story about her grandpa, she stared at the space between their eyebrows, nodded and smiled like she was listening. After they’d had a chance to express their condolences and share their memory, Amber changed the subject.

But two days later, people were excited about grad and the end of the year. Talking about someone’s dead grandpa and injured grandmother was less exciting than grad dresses, bush parties and summer vacation. Allyson couldn’t have been more relieved by everyone’s short attention span.

*

A couple weekends after Al’s funeral, Craig tried to hold another family meeting. Chloe, Colton, Allyson and Clay were all in Donna’s kitchen when it started. The visits, phone calls and food from the neighbours had mostly stopped, although cards still arrived in the mail. Donna opened the cards, commenting every time she recognized one from Memorable Moments, the card shop she worked at on Main Street.

“Maybe you kids should go watch TV or something,” Gord said. There was something about the way he spoke that told Allyson the adults were about to discuss something important. Colton and Chloe moved out of the room, taking their drinks to the TV room. Clay didn’t move away from the counter. Donna stood beside him, her arm brushing against his. Gord gave Allyson the look and she left the room. If she snuck into Clay’s room, she would be able to hear everything through the vents. Doing her best not to make the stairs creak, she hurried up the stairs, grateful she didn’t have any jangling coins or keys in her pockets. No one was going to notice her.

Clay’s room was still tidy, even though his duffel bags and suitcase were on the floor. A pair of socks were draped over the clothes hamper. He’d even made the bed. She grabbed a pair of clean socks from the top of his suitcase and tossed them from hand to hand. When she heard the sounds of voices from the kitchen, she leaned down on the floor, and put her head beside the vent, butt up in the air.

“We weren’t prepared for this,” Uncle Craig said. “We’ve got to change what we’re doing. Dad was always going on about how we should update the succession plan, trying to get us to figure it all out. Too bad we didn’t listen to him.”

The room was silent for a moment, and Allyson listened hard, trying not to breathe. She worried her family would hear the sound of her breath, her heart beating fast inside her chest.

“There were always things to do,” Gord said. “Always some damn thing. I didn’t worry about it because Dad didn’t want to retire. I thought he had a lot of life left.”

“We’ll be okay,” Linda said. “We’ve saved up all the money to build the swimming pool.”

“Has anyone talked to Abby about this?” Gord asked. “Has she said anything?”

Allyson doubted Gramma had anything to contribute. She was working with occupational and physical therapists to regain the use of her hand. She would never walk again. Allyson had gone to visit her in the hospital with Donna one time, and with Clay another time. Gramma had been pretty with it, and she’d even asked about Clay’s roommate, Arjun. He’d come out to the farm once. Abby had asked him about his turban and he’d been really open and honest with her. She had a soft spot for him, and always asked about him.

“We were so dumb about never insisting that Dad show his books,” Craig said. “All those times. We might as well be shovelling shit now.”

“Can’t we just keep going and wait until Mom is better?” Gord asked.

Linda’s voice was clear, almost as if she was in the room with Allyson. It must be an effect based on where she was standing in the kitchen.

“We need to do this soon. We need to figure out what we’re going to do with Abby. Rita and I have discussed some possibilities. She thinks it would be good to move Abby into town. She could do okay at the lodge.”

“You discussed things with Rita?” Craig said. Allyson could hear the disdain.

“She’s been good to us,” Linda said. Her tone was firm, no-nonsense. “She’s been good to Abby.”

“Can’t we have Abby here?” Gord asked. “She might do better in her own place.”

Someone sighed. Allyson couldn’t tell who.

“There are all those stairs,” Craig said. “And who will look after her?”

“I could do it,” Donna said.

Allyson couldn’t hear anything for a minute. Maybe they were being quiet while they figured things out.

“It’s too much,” Linda said. “Do you really want to quit your job? Abby is going to need a lot of rehab and help. Plus, she’s confused. I don’t even know what to think about half of the things that come out of her mouth. A couple days ago, she told me she didn’t even want to come back to the farm without Al here.”

“She said that to me too,” Donna said.

Allyson heard the scrape of a chair as someone stood up from the table.

Then her mother’s voice again. “The kids all need to visit her more. She seems to brighten up when they’re there.”

“We need to split up the visits,” Linda said. “Make sure someone goes out there every day. It can’t just be me and Donna out there all the time.”

“I could take some time off,” Donna said. There was the sound of a cupboard closing, the shuffling of feet. The squeak of the fridge door and the clink of bottles.

“No, no,” Linda said. “Think of all the money you’d lose. You’re going to have another kid in university in a few years. Besides, who knows when the border will open?”

“I just keep on thinking about all those stories you read about the old people who die after their husband or wife passes.”

Allyson trembled. She hadn’t even thought of that. Could Gramma Abby die too? She was so frail and tired. Would she just close her eyes, start thinking about Grandpa and never wake up? She had better go see her tomorrow. Say all the things she had never said to her. Show her all the drawings she’d never shown her; the drawings of the farm yard trees, the poplar bluffs in the back quarter that Abby loved. She would go see her tomorrow. She had band practice, but she could skip it. Gramma was more important.

She hated walking past Gramma and Grandpa’s empty house. She was so used it to seeing it with the lights on, being able to wave at Gramma or Grandpa if they were standing at one of the windows. One time, she’d looked up and seen them making out in the upstairs bedroom window. She looked away when Grandpa started to pull up Gramma’s shirt. That wasn’t something she wanted to see. The windows on the front of her grandparents’ house looked like a smiling face, the roof like a hat. When Gramma and Grandpa moved around the house, their lights would go on and off, brightening up the different parts of the face. But now, the face was downcast and sullen. She hated the way the empty house loomed, silent and abandoned, looking over the rest of the farm yard. The three houses were giant heads staring at each other with big round eyes and mouths. Her grandparents’ house was silent, the doors locked tight and the curtains drawn. Uncle Craig’s house and her dad’s were still alive, blinds going up and down and doors opening and closing. She avoided looking at Gramma and Grandpa’s house when she was out in the yard.

The adults started talking again. What were they going to do with Gramma?

“You went into the house?” Donna said.

“You went to the bank?” Gord said. “Without talking to me about it?”

“Hold on,” Uncle Craig said. He was talking in a rush, his voice louder and his words faster than his normal easy-going drawl. “Linda and I didn’t want to upset you. So we just did it. We found all the shoe boxes and receipts. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of Dad’s shoebox system. So I took it to the bank so they could tell me what’s what. They gave us some insight.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me about this?” Gord asked. “Why did you just go ahead and do it all yourself? This isn’t just your business.”

“You two were just so upset,” Linda said, her voice low and calm. Allyson wondered where she was standing. It was like she was speaking in a microphone, while the rest of the family sounded farther away, as if their voices were travelling through a decrepit television set. “We just got the stuff out of the house after my parents stayed there. I needed to clean up.”

Everyone was silent. Then Gord spoke. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of things,” he said. “I wish you’d mentioned this to me and hadn’t just gone ahead and done it. I’m older. I should have been the one to go to the bank.”

Linda’s voice was quiet. “I saw you out in the field that one day, out by yourself in the morning. Snowflake came up to you and you stroked her nose, and then you leaned down, and it looked like you were crying. We couldn’t ask you to do anything that day.”

“What about the border?” Craig asked. “I can’t make any money hauling. The markets aren’t moving. What are we going to do? We don’t know how much longer this is going to go on. We need to figure out how to make some money.”

She heard footsteps behind her and jumped.

“Are you listening to all of this?” Clay asked.

He stood in the doorway of his room. She moved away from the vent and Clay sat down on the bed.

“I feel like they’re completely lost down there,” he said. “No one knows what to do.”

“You were listening,” she said. “Why can you listen when I can’t?”

“Because I’m nine years older,” he said. “I need to know this stuff. You don’t need to know this right now.”

“But it seems important,” she said.

“It’s finances,” Clay said. “Adult stuff.”

Why didn’t anyone want to talk about money, she wondered. Shouldn’t people know how much money other people had? Wasn’t that important? She was saving up for a band trip next year. How could she save and budget for new art supplies and books if she didn’t know how much money was in her account? Why didn’t the adults see that?

She heard the low murmur of voices, and leaned down towards the vent again, even though she knew Clay didn’t want her to listen.

“Don’t,” he said, coming over to pull her back up to standing. “I had to get away from it. It’ll just make you feel bad.”

“Things aren’t great,” she heard Craig say. She heard the low sounds of her mother crying. “This whole border thing will just make everything worse. We’re really going to have to watch it.”

“I want to hear,” she said, yanking her arm out of Clay’s.

“This is not for you,” he said. “Come away from the vent. I’ll play you some of the new music Arjun loaned me. Have you ever heard of Moby?”

Clay moved in front of her and put his sock foot over the vent.

“Just come with me,” he said. “You don’t need to think about this.”

She looked at his face. He wasn’t going to move.