When we got home, I phoned my mom, but she wouldn’t answer. I left a message, but she didn’t call back. Not only was she being consistent and sticking to her guns, she was mad and she wasn’t going to forgive me for a long, long time. Which is why I was drifting around in a swan by myself in the middle of the afternoon, because who knew how long it would be before my mom forgave me for not canceling those appointments—and I was in no hurry to find out.
Lucky for me, Ryan James was the operator that day because I’d known him since he was born and my mom did his mom’s hair, which counted for more than most people imagined. I handed him a dozen tickets when I got there, and he said they weren’t that busy and I could stay on the swan as long as I wanted. But after two hours, he was starting to look at me funny every time I went by the dock. So I kept as far away as I could, hoping he’d concentrate on the other swans and forget all about the one floating in the shade at the far end of the lagoon.
In fact, I was so busy trying not to look at the dock, I might have missed Jocelyn altogether if she hadn’t hollered, “What is up with you? A person could die trying to find you in this heat.”
She was standing beside Ryan, all bright red hair and sweaty white makeup with black eyeliner slowly running down her cheeks. She held up both of her hands and hollered, “Well?”
So much for not being noticed.
I smiled at the people who had turned their swans around to see who the strange-looking girl was yelling at, and then I aimed my swan for the dock.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Jocelyn asked. “People are looking for you.”
“I’m riding a swan.” Ryan reached out with his hook and dragged me the rest of the way in. “And I really hope I’m not finished yet.”
He shrugged. “Get in,” he said to Jocelyn, then held the swan steady while she climbed into the seat beside me. “But you gotta get out soon.”
“We will,” I promised, and headed the swan over to the shade again.
“This is what you’ve been doing all afternoon?” Jocelyn raised a brow at me. “Why?”
“Because it’s fun.”
“Are you kidding? This totally sucks.” She smacked my hand away from the tiller. “Let me drive.”
I took a tissue out of my pocket and held it out to her. “Who’s looking for me?”
She waved it away. “No one’s looking for you. I only said it to make you feel bad. Did it work?”
“Not even a little.” I sat back and let her steer. “What happened at the house after I left?”
“All your clients went over to Lori’s and said they were never coming back.” I stared at her and she shook her head. “Jesus, Grace, I’m joking. Don’t take everything so seriously. Where’s the gas pedal on this thing?”
“There isn’t one.” I passed her the tissue again. “You really should take this because you’ve got eyeliner down to your chin.”
“That’s how I like it.” But she took the tissue anyway and dabbed at her cheeks, her chin, and the delicate area under her eyes. “So how do you make this thing go faster?”
“You don’t, which is why I like it.” I reached a hand over the side, trailing my fingers through the water. “They won’t do donuts either, so don’t even try.”
She sighed heavily, then aimed our swan for the tail of another that was carrying a couple of girls about her age.
“And it’s not bumper swans. If you hit someone, Ryan will throw us out.” I put a hand on the tiller and turned us just in time. “If no one went to Lori’s, what did happen?”
“They all dried their hair and went home. Said they’d come back next week.”
“Everybody?”
“Except that Judi person. She went over to Lori’s, but everyone else was willing to wait. People seem to like you, although I can’t figure out why.”
I felt myself relax a little more and this time it had nothing to do with the swan. “What about the mockingbirds? How are they?”
“They’re fine. The male is still busy chasing all the other birds out of the yard, and Mary Anne is making sure the cats don’t get lady mockingbird.” She frowned. “I still feel like an idiot saying that.”
“I don’t know why. It’s what she is. Did she eat anything?”
“She drank a little water. Some lady came by and said we should take her to the wildlife refuge in the city, but I told her the bird would probably die if we moved her around again and she should mind her own business. And I think the male agreed because he dive-bombed her on the way out.”
I smiled, picturing it. I still felt bad about leaving them, but knew that Mary Anne would take good care of the lady. “Did you hear from your dad?”
“He called twice. Said they went back to the house on Algonquin after canoeing and your mom was feeling a lot better.” She kept her eyes on the swan in front of us. “What happened today wasn’t your fault, you know that, don’t you?”
“Of course it was my fault. My mom told me to do something and I didn’t. I messed everything up.”
“You didn’t mess up. Nobody cared that there was water on the counter or hair on the floor. And what was that shit about the music being wrong? Who doesn’t like Motown?”
“Nobody, but it’s not what she plays. She likes to create a certain mood and I didn’t do that.”
“So what? You created a new mood, and people liked it.” She punched me in the arm. “You did good. Your mother overreacted because she’s crazy.”
“You sound like Liz.” I put my hand over hers, turning the swan before she could ram those girls. “You drive the swan like her too.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she asked, heading us straight into the sun this time.
I laughed and shielded my eyes with a hand. “It was fun because she’d get bored real fast and start making up games, like Pirate Swans and Spy Swans.”
“Pirates could be good,” Jocelyn said, weaving us around and through the other swans, the way Liz did when we played Slalom Swans.
“Pirates were okay, but my favorite was Getaway Swans. We’d pretend we’d stolen something big, like diamonds from some lady at the yacht club, and we had to make our getaway in a swan. We’d pretend that all the other swans were cops, and we had to keep from being cornered by any of them. If we got surrounded and couldn’t get out without touching one of them, the game was over and we had to start again.”
“Could be fun,” Jocelyn said, turning us back to the shade.
“It was.” I smiled, remembering. “She used to promise that one day, we’d do it for real. Steal a swan and make a run for it. If anyone tried to stop us, we wouldn’t pay any attention. We’d just wave like the queen and keep right on going, straight out of the lagoon and into the lake. We wouldn’t stop until we reached St. Catharine’s or Niagara Falls or even Rochester.”
Jocelyn shook her head. “The battery wouldn’t last that long. You’d probably make it to Grimsby. Maybe even St. Catharine’s. But Rochester? I doubt it.”
I laughed. “Grimsby would have been fine. Anywhere would have been fine.”
“Did you ever do it? Did you ever break out?”
“No because it can’t be done.”
“My dad would say there’s no such word as can’t.” Jocelyn took us over to the black plastic strip that marked the end of the swan lagoon. “Looks like it’s just a matter of getting over this line.”
“Won’t work. The propeller would get stuck, and then the operator would have to come and pull you off and your ride would be over. But it doesn’t matter anyway because even if you could get over the line, you couldn’t get past that bridge.” I pointed to the footbridge by the café. “It’s built low so nothing fits underneath. No canoes, no motorboats. Definitely no swans.” I lowered my arm and closed my eyes. “The only place the swans can go is around this lagoon.”
“Then I was right. They totally suck.” Her phone beeped, and I knew that meant she had a text message and not a phone call. She let go of the tiller and flipped o
pen her phone. “Let’s go do the flume ride,” she said while she read her message. “That looked kind of fun.”
“Definitely Liz.” I took control of the swan and pulled Mark’s phone out of my pocket, checking to make sure it was still on for the four-hundredth time that day. I must have called Liz a dozen times since I got in the swan, but she wouldn’t have recognized the number, couldn’t have known it was me on the other end, so she never answered. Just kept letting it go to voice mail. I left a bunch of messages but who knew how long it would be before she checked them?
“Shit,” Jocelyn muttered. “They’re on the ferry already.”
“Who?”
“My friends. They said they were coming tonight to see the mockingbirds. But they’re coming now.” She dropped her head back and stared at the sky. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“I’ll bet your dad doesn’t like it when you swear.”
She sat up and typed real fast with her thumbs, sending a message back. “He’s never said anything.”
“He’s probably hoping you’ll grow out of it. Like he’s hoping you’ll grow out of your hair.”
She smoothed her bangs down over her forehead. “I like my hair. It makes a statement.”
“Like stop?”
“More like, I don’t care what anyone thinks.” She stuffed the phone back into her pocket. “I gotta go. I can’t be seen in this thing. How come that guy hasn’t called our number yet?”
“Because he’s waiting for me to wave and let him know we’re done.”
“Then wave because I have to get off.”
When I didn’t, she reached for the tiller, but I kept a firm grip on it and held my phone out to her. “Show me how to do that first.”
“Do what?”
“Send a text.”
She waved to Ryan on the dock. “You don’t know how to send a text?”
“I never had a phone.” I shook my head at Ryan and he put his microphone back on the hook. “You can wave all day if you like, but he won’t pay attention. He’ll keep waiting for me.”
“You really are the evil re … girl.” She turned back to me. “If I show you how to text, can we go in?” I nodded and she took the phone. “Hey, this is my dad’s.”
“He gave it to me last night.”
“Thank God. I felt like such a tool knowing he carried around a second phone just for me. The Jocelyn Hotline he called it, which is so lame it hurts. But as cell phone’s go, this one’s pretty good, plus it’s got a QWERTY keyboard.” She turned the phone on its side and opened it in a way I didn’t know you could. “See? It’s like a regular keyboard. All you have to do is hit Favorites, and then Text Message.” She showed me how to use Contacts, and where the symbols were and how to make capitals and numbers, and I knew I wouldn’t remember any of it.
When she finished I said, “Show me again.”
She gritted her teeth and growled at me. Then she checked the shore on both sides and held out the phone. “You take this and I’ll walk you through it. Pay attention this time. First you have to pull up Favorites. Push that button there. Not that one, the one under Favorites. Oh my God, Grace, can you even say favorites?”
She growled and rolled her eyes a lot, but she did go slower this time and she didn’t call me names, which was nice because I could tell how hard that was for her. We went over it again and again while we cruised the lagoon until bit by bit, I learned where the buttons were and how to type the message and even how to put capitals on the words. I didn’t think I’d ever learn how to put in symbols, but who cared? I was ready to send my first text ever to Liz!
With Jocelyn watching closely, I punched in her number, I hit Next, and I typed my message: Hi Liz this is me Grace I have this phone now Send a message back Your sister Grace
“She knows you’re her sister,” Jocelyn said. “The point of a text is to be brief, to keep it short and snappy. So take that line out.”
I took it out and pressed Send. “How long before she writes back?”
“Who knows? It’s up to her now.” She pulled out her phone again and wrote a message of her own. Whr R U? I repeated that in my head a few times and finally figured it out. She meant Where are you? If that was short and snappy, it would be a while before I mastered it.
My phone made a funny jingling noise. “Is that a text or a call?”
“It’s a text. Press this to read it.”
She didn’t have to show me that one twice. I pressed the button and up popped a message from Liz: Holy shit, UR texting!!! Whr RU? Short and snappy struck again. Rats.
“Hit Reply,” Jocelyn said. “Then answer her.”
I am in a swan with Jocelyn.
“Too long,” she said. “Just say ‘In swan with Jocelyn.’”
Within seconds, Liz came back. Send a pic!
I held out the phone to Jocelyn and she did the usual eye roll. “You don’t know how to take pictures either?”
I shook my head, she sighed, and we went around the lagoon a few more times before I could say “Got it” with confidence. Then I held the phone in front of us and she leaned in until our heads were touching and I pressed OK. “Now what?”
“Now you send it.”
It didn’t take me as long to get the sending part, so the picture went off to Liz and then I typed a message. Jocelyn is Marks daughter.
In under a minute a picture and a message came back. Hi Mark’s daughter. This is me.
Liz was sticking her tongue out. Jocelyn laughed and we took a picture of us sticking our tongues out and the two girls in the swan giggled as they went past.
The picture went to Liz and a text came back saying, Very attractive. How is Mark?
Mark is fine Whr R U
Cemetery. She included a picture of herself among the headstones.
Jocelyn drew her head back. “Your sister goes to cemeteries?”
“Just this one.”
Jocelyn tipped the phone so she could see the screen better. “Why?”
“Because I can’t.” I sent back a message. Did U put flowers
Jocelyn sat back. “I hate cemeteries. People always think it must bother me that my mom wanted to be buried in Quebec with her parents instead of here where we could visit more often, but it doesn’t. In fact, I’m kind of glad because cemeteries are sad places. Why would you even want to go to that one anyway?”
I felt my face warm and kept my eyes on the screen. “Because that’s where my son is buried.”
Flwrs alwys, came back followed by, Want a pic?
Jocelyn stared at me. “You had a son?”
I nodded.
“What was his name?”
“William,” I whispered, because that’s what I always do. Because my mom doesn’t like me to talk about him. Because that’s dredging up the past and I’ll only get sad all over again.
The phone jingled. Liz asked one more time. Want a pic?
“She wants to send you a picture of the grave?” Jocelyn pointed at the screen. “Now that’s creepy.”
“It’s not creepy. She knows I’ve never seen it.”
A mother with two little boys stared at Jocelyn as they went past. Jocelyn smiled and gave them the finger. “You haven’t seen your own son’s grave? What the hell is wrong with you people?”
I pushed her hand down and mouthed Sorry to the mom. “Nothing’s wrong. I just wasn’t allowed.”
“Not allowed? You’re an adult. He was your kid. Who could possibly stop you?”
“You’d be surprised.”
I realized my palms were sweaty. Did I want to see a picture? Did I want to dredge up the past? I automatically turned and checked the dock. Half-expecting to see my mom shaking her head, telling me no, making my mind up for me. Only she wasn’t there. I had to decide for myself.
I wiped my hands on my shorts, swallowed the first trace of a lump in my throat, and typed, I think so before I could change my mind.
The picture was in front of me so fast it felt like magic. A small bron
ze plaque on a board with a bunch of other small bronze plaques. There wasn’t much information. No room to say that he’d had a beautiful smile and a real belly laugh that made everyone who heard it laugh too. But his name was written out in full. William James Donaldson. Named for his great-great grandfather.
Liz sent another picture. The flowers she brought for him. White daisies. “The happiest flowers in the world,” she always said, and even in winter she took white daisies and scattered the petals on our boy.
“That’s not a grave,” Jocelyn said, tipping her head to the side. “What is that?”
“A plaque. He was cremated, like all the other Donaldsons.”
Only his ashes weren’t buried in the garden with Great-Grandma Lucy and Granny Rose. William’s ashes had been left there in St. James Cemetery. Tossed in the Scattering Garden because it was better for me that way. No daily reminders of what I’d lost.
I’d never seen the garden, so Liz’s third picture was a surprise. The thing looked more like a concrete bathtub than a garden to me. But the roses inside it were pretty, and the petals from Liz’s happy flowers looked like snow on the ground around them.
That lump in my throat got bigger and the end of my nose started to sting and if I didn’t put the phone down I was going to cry. And you don’t cry in a swan. That’s a rule. You can cry on the Ferris wheel or on the sky ride but not in a swan. That would ruin everything.
I typed as fast as I could. Got to go Call U later
Say hi to Mark 4 me.
I closed the phone and slipped it into my pocket and wished I had a water bottle with me. “We should go in now,” I said to Jocelyn, pointing the swan at the dock.
“Thank God.” She leaned back with her hands behind her head. “You can send that picture to your e-mail you know. Save it on your computer and print it if you want.”
“I can’t do that. My mom would say it’s morbid and make me take it down.”
Island Girl Page 19
