Five Little Indians

by Michelle Good

  “Auntie!”

  She held me tighter. We cried and cried.

  “Where’s my mother?” I looked around anxiously.

  She caressed my bruised face, wiping my nose, patting my hair. “They won’t let her see you. She has been raising hell, trying to get you back. But they won’t agree. They told her she will go to jail if she keeps trying to get you out of that place.”

  “Where is she?” I couldn’t stop crying. “I need my mom.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart, she’s here in Orca Bay. She’s on your uncle Charlie’s boat, waiting for me.”

  “Can I go with you?” Again I reached for the bed railing.

  “No, Howie, you have to get better and then go back to the school. The nurses will call the police if we take you from here. But we have a plan. Can you get down to the dock at night?”

  “Yes. Kenny knows how to get out at night to steal food. He’ll help me.”

  “Okay, we will know when they take you back. I will be here to visit you every day. The same day that they take you back, come down to the dock once it is good and dark. Uncle Charlie, your mother and me have been boating around that bay. We know what the dock is like and we can get you, so long as you can get to the dock. We saw them bringing you down the dock and followed them here. The RCMP boat stopped us once last week, but your uncle Charlie convinced them we were just fishing and looking for salvage logs. They just wave and smile when they see us now.”

  For a week I recuperated, soaking in every minute of every visit with Auntie Mae. It was as though the time with her was more medicine than what the nurse brought me in a small paper cup. I sent messages through Mae to my mom, and my mom sent me tender messages, promising me we would see each other soon.

  On the eighth day, just after Auntie’s visit, they came for me and took me back to the school. He didn’t have to, but Brother carried me up to the dorm, not looking at me as he put me to bed. It wasn’t long before Kenny snuck in to see me. The sight of him made me cry. He, more than anyone, knew what I had suffered.

  “It’s okay, Howie. You’re going to be all right.”

  “I know, Kenny, you too. But I need your help.” I told him about Uncle Charlie’s boat and the plan.

  “Okay, I’ll be back at bedtime. I gotta get back downstairs before they catch me up here.”

  I lay there all day, looking out the high windows. Sister brought me a tray of food at suppertime.

  “Now don’t be thinking this will go on. Tomorrow you will get back into the daily routine with the boys.”

  “Yes, Sister.” The hospital food and the treats Auntie Mae brought me had spoiled me for the slop they called supper. After Sister left, I pushed the tray aside and lay down again, anxious for the bedtime bell to ring.

  Soon the boys started trickling into the dorm after brushing their teeth. Even some of the mean kids came by my bed and told me they hoped I was better. Kenny came over and whispered, “Pretend to sleep. I’ll get you when the coast is clear.”

  It seemed like forever, but finally everyone was asleep, and Kenny climbed out of bed and nudged my shoulder. We hurriedly dressed and I slipped into my boots. He walked me to the fire escape door, jimmied the lock as only he could and held it open for me, the red exit light casting an eerie tone, rendering our faces a pale orange. Outside, the moon hung heavy in the sky, round and full.

  “Now go. I’ll keep watch. If anyone comes, I’ll slow them down if I can. Go fast, but not too fast. Watch your feet. Don’t trip. Be quiet. Your boots will echo loud on the dock. Take them off when you get there.”

  I nodded and headed toward the stairs. I looked back at him, my friend.

  “Go!” he whispered.

  I stepped back, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Kenny.”

  “Just go before someone wakes up!”

  I tiptoed down the fire escape, holding the railing tight, praying no one would see me, exposed as I was against the wall on the outside staircase. I walked under the cedars, close against the tight underbrush that lined the grounds. Fast and careful like Kenny said, I stopped just before I got to the opening of the trail to the dock and looked around. My heart sounded like a drum in my ears. I held my breath and listened. Nothing. It was dark and quiet, the moon casting enough light to help me on my way.

  I ran down the path to the dock, and there it was at the end of the dock, no lights, no engine running, a boat. Mother! I ran. The hard plastic soles of my boots hit the dock with a noise sure to be ringing through the trees and into Brother’s bedroom. I stopped so fast I almost lost my balance. My eyes never left that dark, brooding boat bobbing silent at the end of the dock. I crouched and removed my boots. Then I ran as fast as my feet would carry me, coming alongside the boat, looking for someone, a ladder, a stool, a way on board. A hand grabbed me and dragged me over the side. The engine roared to life. Taking the controls from my auntie Mae, my uncle Charlie handed me off to my mother below deck. We fell down the last two stairs, tumbling into each other’s arms.

  “Napaysis, napaysis, my little man!” My mother wept, holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe.

  We sped across the bay to a waiting car and a tight plan. My mother and I hugged Auntie Mae and hustled toward the unspectacular ’61 Valiant that would run us to freedom. Mae pressed something into my palm and looked at me and my mother, her eyes filling up.

  “You be a good boy now. Help your mom. We’ll come see you as soon as we can.” She kissed me and hugged me one last time.

  “Charlie, how can I ever thank you?” My mother wiped her tears on her sleeve, throwing her arms around my uncle. “You’re a good man.”

  “Sagastis, he is your boy. Only you have a right to him. Now go. They probably won’t notice he’s gone till morning, but you have a long trip and you want to be across the border before they sound the alarm. Call us collect when you get across the line.”

  “I will, Charlie. Come see us as soon as you can.”

  My mother opened the passenger door for me. Running to her side, she threw her purse on the floor in front of the passenger seat. She waved once more to Mae and Charlie, slammed her door shut and drove.

  I opened my hand. It was a tiny red car. I slid across the bench seat, clutching that little car, and laid my head in my mother’s lap. She drove, one hand on the wheel, one on my shoulder.

  Throughout his story, Clara leaned over the table, straining to listen, Howie’s voice quiet for fear other patrons would hear. She sighed deeply and rested back against the cushioned booth. “That fucking place.”

  “Do you think we will ever be free of it?”

  “Remind me to tell you about Mariah.”

  “Tell me now.” Howie leaned back, exhausted.

  “Naw, maybe not.” She motioned to the scowling waiters who’d interrupted them more than once, asking if there would be anything else. Since it was the best Chinese food place in town, a lineup was growing outside the door, a dozen or so people waiting for a table.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” Howie paid the bill and they walked out into the cold evening air. They were strangely silent on the short walk to Clara’s place.

  When they arrived, Clara smiled at him. “You want to come up for tea or something?”

  Howie nodded and they walked up the two flights of stairs to her studio suite. He watched her as she put the kettle on, looking away when she looked to him sitting there at her kitchen table. She placed two cups of tea on the table and sat across from him.

  “Remember I told you about my time in the States and how I got hurt?”

  Howie nodded. “Yeah. Crazy times.”

  “Well, after I ran the border, they took me to the Old Woman.” Clara sat back and crossed her arms. “Let me tell you about Mariah.”

  Howie smiled at her. “I got all night.”

  14

  Kenny

  Kenny awoke in a sweat, the ancient radiator rattling, gurgling and blazing heat. It might have been February in Saskatchewan or som
ething, the way the heat was cranked. The sickly sweet smell of last night’s whisky oozed from his pores. His pillow stank so bad that he had to get up, no matter how much his head swam and throbbed. Kenny staggered to the window, holding his head like it might explode at any minute, surprised to make it there in one piece. He threw the window open and it was an immediate, if incomplete, remedy. If nothing else, the late winter Vancouver air, dank and stinking of skid row pavement, was cool. He looked at the moving lump in his bed and realized it was someone, a female someone.

  “Kenny?”

  “Ah, yeah?”

  “Come back to bed,” the lump said, emerging from the covers. He had no idea who she was. She was pretty enough, slender shoulders barely under the sheet wrapped tightly around her. But nothing about her rang a bell.

  “Uhh, sorry, but I have to go meet someone about some work.”

  Coy now, she smiled. “Well, can I take a shower first? Will you join me?”

  “Go ahead, I gotta make a call.” Kenny pulled on his jeans as she smiled over her shoulder at him on the way to the bathroom. Leaning over the sink in what passed for a kitchen in this dive, Kenny splashed cold water on his face and under his arms. The cold water shook some of the whisky from his aching head and he wondered how the hell to get rid of her. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and threw it back down. It smelled. He rummaged through the black garbage bag of clothes slumped in the corner and found a western shirt near the top, clean and barely wrinkled. Kenny threw it on, the only sound in the room other than the complaining radiator the snap snap snap as he did up the shirt.

  Steamy and stark naked, the woman emerged from the shower. He still had no idea who she was, as she bore down on him like a vulture on roadkill. He squirmed away and headed for the door.

  “Ah, sorry, I—”

  “It’s Louise,” she said, all chilly now.

  “Louise, I gotta go. Can’t miss a chance for work these days.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Fuck you, Kenny.”

  Grabbing his jacket, Kenny turned to her. “Sorry, Louise. Really, I am. Just lock the door behind you.” There was nothing worth stealing, but in this dump an unlocked door could mean a place to flop.

  The three flights of stairs seemed endless. A dungeon, the walls and stairs painted black, with only the cheap metal handrail for relief. The white sky was almost blinding as he stepped out onto the street. Kenny headed to the Two Jays Café for hangover soup and coffee. The bell above the door jangled behind him as he took his place at the end of a long row of orange vinyl counter stools. Penny, the Sunday morning girl, slapped down the cardboard menu and filled the coffee cup in front of him, only spilling a little into the saucer.

  “You want the usual?”

  “Yeah, but give me a few minutes. Let this coffee work for a bit.”

  “Rough night?”

  “You got today’s paper?”

  “Sure.” She slid a few sections of the Vancouver Sun toward him along with a copy of the Province, thick from many reads.

  Kenny downed the first cup like medicine. The second one went a little slower. His hands were less shaky now with the paper. After coffee, he scanned the pages, not really reading, more just looking at it, like a picture. He turned to page four and the headline was like a kick in the balls: FORMER STUDENTS SUE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT, CLAIM ABUSE. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and a rush of adrenalin pounded through his already-aching head.

  Kenny stood and dropped some change on the counter. He tore the article from the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. “You mind?”

  “Naw, go ahead. No soup?”

  “Nah, not today.”

  Kenny walked fast to the corner and sat down hard on the bus stop bench, fighting to breathe as images of Brother flashed through his mind. He pulled the article from his pocket but couldn’t get past the headline. Raindrops threatened to melt the paper, so he folded it carefully and put it in his shirt pocket. All he could think of was Lucy. Just like those days at school. She made it okay somehow.

  He stood and walked, oblivious to the coming deluge. A few blocks on, he took momentary refuge in a phone booth. The coins fell, clinking through its works, and he dialed Lucy’s number.

  “You home?”

  She laughed at the other end. “Well, I’m answering, aren’t I? What’s going on, stranger?”

  “Is Kendra there? Is it okay if I come over?”

  “Yeah, she’s here. But come anyway. She needs to just chill out.”

  “I can’t blame her.”

  “No, but she can’t blame you either. It is what it is.”

  “I’ll be about an hour. I’m on foot.”

  “It’s pouring out there. Take the bus, for God’s sake.”

  The rain stopped eventually, but he was wet through. He thought about how rough he must look as he stepped up to Lucy’s porch and knocked on the door. His heart sank as he saw Kendra through the distorted glass of the back-porch window. She opened the door, standing firm in the middle of the doorway, arms crossed against her chest.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  That girl never lets up, he thought. “Is your mom home?”

  Kenny heard Lucy call out from inside the house, “Is that Kenny?” Lucy came around the corner into view. “Let him in.”

  Kenny stepped in, slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the one free peg by the door.

  “Why don’t you just fuck off and leave her alone?” Kendra whispered.

  “Kendra! Don’t be so rude to your father.”

  “He’s not my father. He’s some bum who knocked you up and took off.”

  Kenny turned to leave, but Lucy touched his shoulder. “Ignore her, Kenny. You’re soaked through. Come on in.”

  “So, Mom, how many times did you rearrange the cupboards this week? How many times did you count the tiles in the bathroom? How many times did you lock and unlock the door this morning before you went out for groceries?” Kendra crossed her arms across her chest again, the anger plain in her face. “And it’s always worse after he leaves. And he leaves every time, Mom. And still, whenever he calls, you jump. And every time he leaves, you go back to rearranging your cupboards in the middle of the night.”

  “Kendra, for chrissake, stop.” Lucy stepped between them.

  “No, Mom, you stop. What has he ever done for you but build you up, then run off? It’s not right.”

  Kenny sensed the sweat forming on his forehead and felt like he was going to puke. He looked at Kendra. “She’s not wrong.” He reached for his jacket.

  Lucy turned toward him. “Stay. It’s not like that, Kenny, and you know it.”

  Kenny put his jacket back on the peg. Truth be told, he didn’t feel strong enough to walk back downtown.

  “Kendra, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Lucy plucked a raincoat and umbrella from the pegs by the door and handed them to Kendra. “Now, get on with your day. I’ve got supper planned, so be home by six.”

  “Mom, I don’t know why you go for this.”

  “That’s right, Kendra, you don’t. Now go.”

  “You’re looking good, Kendra.” Kendra looked at Kenny as though he had slapped her.

  “Come on, you’re shivering.” Lucy walked Kenny down the hall to the bathroom. “Take a hot bath and I’ll make some lunch. You’re a bit ripe.” She handed him a towel and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about Kendra. She thinks I need protecting.”

  Kenny lowered the lid on the toilet and sat for a minute. He heard Lucy walking around in the kitchen, the fridge door opening and closing, and somehow it all felt better. He stripped and left his clothes in a puddle by the sink and leaned to fill the old claw-footed tub. It reminded him of the tub at the Mission School, but he didn’t mind so much. It was deeper and longer than modern bathtubs and allowed for a real soak, a deep heat to soothe the aches and pains that were harder to ignore lately. Kenny eased in and closed his eyes.

  He heard Lucy slip through the door. He listene
d, eyes still closed, as she stooped and gathered up his clothes. Kenny opened his eyes when he heard the click of the door behind her and saw the fresh set of clothes she’d left sitting on the toilet seat, the ones she’d washed from the last time he was here. Kenny sank farther into the tub, dozing a little.

  A half-hour later, he felt like a new man. Lucy was cooking when he headed to the kitchen. Kenny stood behind her and put his arm around her shoulders and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. She turned, looked at him and smiled.

  “It’s been a while this time, eh Kenny?”

  “I haven’t been in the city much. Logging on the island, trying to get by.”

  “They told me I could retire this year. Hard to believe I’ve been at this for almost twenty-five years. But what would I do? Sit here all day? I think I’ll keep working. Maybe part-time. Just till Kendra graduates.”

  “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

  “She’s only twenty-three. She still thinks she knows everything.”

  Kenny kissed her on the top of the head again, breathing in her soft, clean smell, noticing the bright white that streaked her hair like thin ribbons. “Yeah.” He smiled back. “I remember when I knew everything too. But seriously, it would be nice if she would let me get to know her a little.”

  “Give her time. You know, you’re never here for long. She just gets used to you and you’re gone. She makes it about me, but I don’t think that’s all that’s going on. Girl needs a dad, you know.” Lucy flipped the grilled cheese onto a plate and handed it to him. “Come on, let’s eat.”

  When they were about halfway done, Kenny pulled the article out of his pocket and put it in front of her.

  “So, this is why you’re here today.”

  “I was down at the Two Jays and I just couldn’t stop shaking when I read this. Felt like I was right back there.”

  Lucy pushed the paper away. “Why would they do that? It won’t change anything. What’s done is done.”

  “Justice?”

  “I don’t know. It just stirs up a lot of hurtful memories.”

  “Is Clara still working at the Friendship Centre? I bet they know what’s happening. Why don’t we go talk to her? See what’s what.”