by Rick Mofina
No one responded. Her mother’s eyes swept over the table.
Nikki grinned and said: “Just relax, Marlene.”
Janie’s mother’s eyebrows arched at Nikki’s insolent use of her first name.
Nikki sipped her Coke. “We’re not hurting anybody.”
“I don’t need any lip from you.” Janie’s mother’s face reddened. “Just the pies and drinks?”
Janie nodded.
“Finish and leave. I’ll take care of the bill,” Janie’s mother said.
“I’ve got money,” Nikki said.
Janie assessed Nikki. “I just bet you do.” Then, before she left, her gaze drilled into her daughter. “We’re not members. None of you are. There are rules. I don’t know what you did to get in but don’t you ever pull a stunt like this again. Do you understand?”
Janie’s mother left and a long moment passed with Janie staring at the eternal green lawn. Nikki and Marie worked on their pie.
“I don’t know what she’s all lathered up about.” Nikki chewed slowly. “We’re not hurting anyone.” Her focus then went to the vacated tables nearby that still had cash on them.
When they left, Nikki moved toward the tables with unwatched cash.
“Don’t,” Janie said.
Nikki ignored her, quickly plucking small bills and coins just as someone called out: “Watch it!”
Heads snapped.
Several tables away, Janie’s mom, carrying a tray loaded with food, had glanced at the girls, not seeing the man who’d left his table and had stepped into her path. The collision caused a ceramic explosion, launching a starburst of food that splattered on tables, the floor and the man.
“I’m so sorry, sir!” Janie’s mother quickly seized a napkin, brushing at the tomato, lettuce, fries and toast that had stuck to his designer golf shirt, unable to remove the mayo splotched on his chest and shoulder. “Sir, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” the man said. “Just an accident.”
Janie’s mom got down on her knees, brushing lettuce and chicken from his pants, bacon, tomato and mayo from his shoes. Her hands shook as she gathered the broken plates and food onto her tray while other men applauded and snickered.
“Looks like lunch is on you, Roy,” one man said.
The joke brought on roars of laughter.
The incident also brought on the host and a well-dressed unsmiling woman, no doubt a manager. Both of them hovered over Janie’s mom, still on her knees cleaning up, as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. She lifted her head, tears in her eyes as they locked onto her daughter and her friends, looking down on her.
* * *
Janie avoided going home until around eleven that night when she was dropped off from babysitting at the Landers.
Janie and her mother lived in a rented duplex that was not far from the railyards and the slaughterhouse. On hot days the stench was terrible, like the smell of defeat.
Her mother was waiting in the kitchen, bills fanned over the table next to a glass with ice and a bottle that she was deep into. Her hair was mussed, her face puffy, eyes bloodshot. Janie knew the look and steeled herself.
“Do you know who that man was today?” Her mother poured a drink. “The guy I dumped my tray on?”
Janie shook her head.
“Royston J. Tullock. He owns the Prairie Winds Farm Equipment Center, a big deal in his church, donates barrels of money, one of the richest people around. Oh, and he’s on the board of the Eternity Country Club.” Janie’s mom raised her glass in salute. “Know what happens when your daughter and her friends sneak into the club and you dump food on Royston J. Tullock?”
Janie shook her head.
“You get fired.”
Janie’s hands flew to her face.
“Here’s my day,” her mother said. “I overslept and was late for work, then you show up with that slut Nikki and that idiot Marie, then I dump food on Tullock and, ta-da, I’m out of a job.”
Janie’s voice squeaked as she managed: “I’m sorry.”
“It was a good paying job and this year they were going to keep the restaurant open in the winter, but now—” she snatched a fistful of bills “—how am I going to pay these? Credit cards, rent, phone, electricity, groceries? How? With your babysitting money?”
Her mother slammed the table.
“I’m sorry,” Janie said again.
“Sorry doesn’t put food on the table! I told you never to go there! But you never listen to me. Why?”
Janie was silent.
“You won’t listen to me but you listen to that slut Nikki!”
“Don’t call her that. You of all people shouldn’t call her that.”
Her mother’s chair scraped and fell as she rose from the table and slapped Janie’s face.
“Don’t you ever talk like that to me!” Nostrils flaring, eyes brimming, her mother glared at her. “I can’t stand looking at you. Get out of my sight!”
Her face stinging, Janie ran to her bedroom, slammed her door, locked it, then climbed out of her window.
Fighting tears, she ran through the night to the apartment building where Nikki lived with her mother and Telforde. It was at times like this that Janie wished she and her friends had cellular phones, but they were so expensive and only a few rich kids at school had them. So she threw pebbles way up at Nikki’s bedroom window until she appeared.
In whispered tones Janie related what had happened. Nikki joined her and they walked several blocks to the tumbledown house where Marie lived and did what they always did when one of them was hurting. They summoned Marie to her window and she slipped out the back door with the key to her family’s dilapidated RV, resting on cinder blocks at the side of the house.
The girls climbed in, got into sleeping bags and through the night as crickets chirped, they talked about how much they hated Eternity.
“One day we’ll show them all,” Nikki said from behind the red glow of her cigarette.
“How will we do that?” Marie asked.
“We’ll do something big. Something they’ll never forget.”
* * *
On the first Tuesday after she was fired, Janie’s mother was circling job ads in the Eternity Bulletin, when she was called to the country club.
Thinking it was to collect her termination letter and final pay she was surprised to find Roy Tullock in the office with her former manager, Lila Skripchuck.
At Tullock’s request, Marlene recounted what had happened the previous Saturday, carefully withholding any mention of being hungover. “I was not feeling well, I was distracted.” Tullock then asked Marlene about her personal situation, and she told him she was raising a teenage daughter alone after her husband had abandoned them. Tullock nodded, possibly reflecting on his own teenage daughter, Torrie, whom, according to local gossip Marlene had heard, was in an institution in Winnipeg.
Marlene finished and Tullock rubbed his chin.
“When I learned of your dismissal and your situation as a single mom, I was concerned,” he said. “Having a better understanding of the circumstances, young girls being a handful, we believe we rushed to judgment and that you should be reinstated. Right, Lila?”
“That’s right, Mr. Tullock.” Lila forced a smile.
“It was an accident. I should’ve been looking, too,” Tullock said. “I believe in forgiveness and second chances.”
Marlene’s gaze flicked from Lila to Tullock, realization dawning.
“Thank you, thank you both.” Marlene shook their hands.
“Yes,” Lila said. “Just be more careful. We’ll see you at the usual time tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Tullock said, “Marlene, you’d mentioned that your daughter was fourteen and babysits for Marv Lander, one of my senior managers at the center?”
“Yes, she sits for
Mr. Lander.”
“Has she taken first aid and CPR courses?”
“She has.”
“Good. I ask because it turns out our sitter and her family are moving to Calgary, where her dad’s been transferred. Do you think your daughter would be interested in watching our son and daughter?”
“Absolutely.”
And that was how Janie came to babysit for the Tullocks in their house at the edge of town, the one with the front lawn almost as big as a football field and the four-car garage. Janie was overwhelmed when she stepped into it with its grand piano, chandeliers, plush carpet and expensive-looking furniture. She got along with Neal, a polite six-year-old, and Linda, who was five and very cute. They had an endless supply of toys but seemed lonely.
Their mother, Connie Tullock, was unlike any woman Janie had met. She spoke in a fake accent, like she was from England, even though everyone said she’d grown up in Moose Jaw. She was involved in a local theater group that put on plays. Janie thought Connie Tullock was weird and also nitpicky.
“You must be extremely careful around the pool,” she told Janie that first time they met.
Then she had Janie prove she could swim by having her put on one of her teenage daughter’s swimsuits and complete a full length of their in-ground pool.
Then she gave her a list of what foods Neal and Linda could have, what TV shows they could watch, when to take their vitamins, what time they had to go to bed, a list of emergency numbers, including Connie’s and Roy’s cellular phones.
Alone with the kids, Janie walked through the Tullock home. She played Chopsticks for them on the piano. Then she studied the framed family pictures. Torrie Tullock was sixteen and pretty. Janie wondered why she was so much older than Neal and Linda, and why she lived in Winnipeg.
“Mom and dad say Torrie’s sick,” Neal said. “We see her at Christmas.”
Neal and Linda liked Janie, so did Mr. Tullock, and she became their regular sitter that spring. Things went pretty much all right except for when it came time to pay Janie. She soon learned that despite their wealth the Tullocks were tightwads. Mr. Tullock never seemed to have enough cash on him, leaving it to his wife to either pay Janie, or top off what he thought he’d already paid her.
It got confusing and soon became common for Janie to be shortchanged. In the early days, whenever she tried to raise the issue, the Tullocks would wave off her concern, saying they’d pay her what they owed next time and include extra. It never happened.
Mr. Tullock always drove Janie home but once when he was busy, Mrs. Tullock drove her home in her silver Mercedes, which smelled new with a hint of her perfume. The road was a little bumpy near the railroad yards when she pulled up to Janie’s house. The stench of the slaughterhouse invaded the car as Mrs. Tullock stared at the duplex.
“This is where you live?”
In that moment, with her accent, her tone, her Mercedes, she had reduced Janie to someone to be looked down upon, someone beneath Connie Tullock’s station in life.
Someone of less value.
And in that instant, Janie saw her mother in the restaurant on her knees brushing food from Mr. Tullock’s shoes and her stomach twisted with an internal scream. She welcomed the horrible stink from the slaughterhouse into the car like an allied force and even though the air-conditioning was on, dropped the window.
Yes, Janie thought, smell it. Breathe it in. This is where I live.
“Oh my, that is pungent, isn’t it?” Mrs. Tullock said, reaching into her wallet. “Now, Roy’s already given you some cash. I believe we owe you another five.”
“Another ten for tonight,” Janie said.
“No, I believe it’s five.”
“It’s ten.”
“Well, look, dear, all I have is this five, twenties and fifties.”
“I could take a twenty and get change from my mom or from the store and bring it to you next time.”
“Don’t be silly. Roy and I will make the adjustment next time, like we always do.”
“But you don’t—”
“Take this five with our thanks as always.” Then subtly placing a finger under her nose, Mrs. Tullock hit the button to raise the window as Janie got out.
That was how it had gone since she began sitting for the Tullocks. Janie tried presenting the problem to them but it was futile—they always dismissed it as honest mistakes. Complicating it all was the fact that sitting for them was tied to her mother’s job at the golf course. So Janie never pushed it, but she began keeping a log of how much she was owed. By this point in the summer it had grown to about a hundred dollars, along with her anger as she, Nikki and Marie walked through town that hot summer day aching for someplace to go and something to do.
The cemetery was out. The golf course was definitely out. The Eternity rodeo was long over. They didn’t care to watch boys playing street hockey and they’d gone everywhere there was to go a million times.
“All right,” Nikki said, “I think it’s time.”
“Time for what?” Marie asked.
“Time we take serious control of our lives.”
“What do you mean?” Janie asked.
“I’ve been reading stuff, stuff that’s a little scary, but we’ll do it. Tonight.”
“Do what? What’re you talking about?” Janie asked.
“I can’t explain it.” Nikki took a cigarette from her bag and lit it, dragged on it. “But it’s really big.” She blew a stream of smoke. “We need to get something first. You gotta trust me. Let’s go.”
Janie and Marie exchanged excited glances, picking up their pace as they followed her, as they always did.
Nikki was the leader.
Three
Eternity, Manitoba
2000
Nikki led them out of town along the path in the fields that bordered the highway. Not far in the distance they saw their destination: The Big Sky Horizon Truck Stop, busy with rows of big rigs with their growling diesels and hissing brakes rolling in and out of the stop, heading across Canada or into the United States. Huge flags flapped from chrome-tipped poles that reached high above the main building where the girls entered. Nikki led them into the big store.
Janie watched Nikki go to the discount jewelry section and study a tray of rings as she and Marie went up and down aisles offering T-shirts, caps, sunglasses, along with country music CDs.
Other sections had stuffed animals and toy trucks; while others had jumper cables, gloves, caps, snow brushes and ice-scrapers, coolers and sunscreen, testament to the fact that the weather in this part of the country was blistering in the summer and bone-cracking cold in the winter.
“The weather here’s kind of biblical,” Janie had always said.
Nikki found them in the aisle with potato chips and beef jerky.
“Okay, I’m done. Let’s go.”
“What is it we’re doing?” Janie said. “Why’re you so mysterious?”
“You’ll see. You both need to sneak out tonight and meet me at eleven on the corner near my place. It’s important. Be there.”
That night at eleven, Janie and Marie found Nikki on the corner smoking. When they arrived she’d reached into her bag, withdrawing a small bottle. Under the streetlamp they saw a vodka label but the drink was orange.
“It’s called a screwdriver and I made it extra sweet. You both need to take a gulp,” Nikki said.
Janie and Marie each took a drink, shuddering as the sweet fiery liquid warmed their throats.
“Whoa,” Marie said.
They walked through the night to the creek and into the woods. Guided only by moonlight, Nikki stopped at a secluded spot. Breezes rustled the leaves; birds and insects cheeped and clicked in the night.
“It’s creepy here,” Marie said.
“You guys ever kill anything?” Nikki asked. “On purpose?”
“I’ve killed squirrels and birds in here.” Nikki chuckled. “Threw stones to wound them, then I finished them off, stabbing them with a stick.”
“That’s so gross!” Janie said. “Why’d you do it?”
“To see what it was like,” Nikki said.
“Did you feel bad after?” Marie asked.
“Nope. It feels good to have the power to decide who lives and who dies, you know. Drink some more.”
The bottle was passed around, followed by swishes and gasps.
“Okay, there are important steps to this and this will only work if we do them all together. First, we have to take off our clothes.”
“What? Why?” Marie protested.
“We have to be totally naked.”
“But there’s bugs and things,” Marie said.
“Do it. I’ll go first.”
In the darkness Nikki stripped down, proving she was serious. Then Janie, feeling the alcohol and a surge of electricity at the illicitness, did the same, and soon they coaxed Marie to join them. Then Nikki reached into her bag for a candle. She lit it and placed it on the ground, collaring it with some stones, the dim light dancing over them.
“Now that we’re naked we have nothing to hide. We must each bare our souls to each other. Tell us your deepest, darkest secret and none of us can ever share it. Ever. This will bind us. I’ll start.”
Nikki watched the candle’s flame dance in the eyes of her friends as she revealed how Telforde, her mother’s boyfriend, came into her room at night. He would touch her and do things to her, and make her do things to him.
“He said that if I ever told, he would kick me and my mom out of his place because he pays the bills. I so want to kill him.”
Tears rolled down Nikki’s face glistening in the candlelight. She brushed at them.
“Your turn, Marie.”
“Uhm, I don’t know if I can.”
“Come on, Marie,” Nikki said.
“Uhm,” she sniffed. “Okay. No one knows this but the day Pike died... I was feeding him the apple. I cut big pieces because he liked them and I kept cutting them bigger telling him he looked funny with all that apple in his mouth.” She stopped, her voice quivering when she resumed. “That’s when he started choking. I tried to pull the piece out, but it was way down...and then he choked...and it was my fault he died. I never told my parents, anyone, but I think my parents know and they hate me for killing him. They think that I’m just a fat, stupid waste of life, that I killed my little brother and shouldn’t even exist for what I did.”
