The Clay Girl

by Heather Tucker

  “Bullshit. There’s no such thing.”

  “Maybe not here, but, oh my, the things they can do in Washington. It’s only a matter of paying a lab for the results. My committee work is important to Wilf and he will spare no expense to protect his investments.” She pours coffee into the lid of the thermos and slides it to him. “But let’s avoid all that messiness, shall we? I know Ari can be a handful, but surely we can find a more . . . civilized way to resolve these little conflicts.”

  “This got nothing to do with me.”

  “I’m sure, but let’s just see if you and I can’t put our heads together to keep Ari and Mikey away from lakes so that the pictures in the Toronto Star are of our family at a barbeque with the mayor, not in a courthouse for your murder trial.”

  He feigns outrage but nothing camouflages that he knows that he near killed his own son last night. “I don’t give a rat’s fuck about her anymore. The little bitch can get the hell out of my house, I don’t care what Theresa wants; but I’m not losing Mikey.”

  A promise of freedom is the last thing I expect to hear and Jasper sings the alphabet backwards to keep me from being swept away by a tsunami of tears.

  “If you’re confident you can keep Mikey away from lakes on your own, then we’ll be on our way.” Jennah stands as she pushes away from the table. “I’m sure once Mrs. Vandervolt gets the doctor’s report she’ll have a few questions for the authorities. The Chief, perhaps.”

  “Fell in the lake, remember.”

  Jennah places her hands on the table. “Once Ari is free we will all tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

  He turns paper-white, except for his nose. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I don’t like messes. Wilf doesn’t like messes. I’d like to help you clean this up.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “I’d love to.” She chins to me. “Come on, Ari.”

  “Wait. Sit down.” Jennah just stares him down until he says, “Please.”

  The contrition in his voice tells me we have the upper hand. Jasper strokes my frazzled heart like it’s a frightened puppy. We’ll be okay, Ari. Things will get better.

  Jennah lays out the conditions, which basically boil down to, hands off Mikey and me, keeping O’Toole on a leash, and enrolling Mikey at the YMCA so he can have peace from crapdom and I can stop babysitting and spend time getting out of my mess at school. She’s sandwiching it all with delusions of Dick grandeur, his stepping up as a father. When he grumps, “What’s that after-school thing gonna set me back?”

  Jennah says, “A lot less than it will cost you if you don’t.”

  My gut is flipping like a Russian gymnast. “Sir, is there a washroom I can use?”

  “End of the hall.”

  When I open the office door, cops pretend they’re looking at reports. I scramble toward the toilet praying it’s not occupied. Bile hurls from my belly into a scaled toilet, adding backsplash to the filth around the bowl. It makes me retch more. When there’s nothing more in me to deposit I get up and scrub my hands. As I sip water from a Dixie cup I study my face in the grimy mirror. The swelling gives the flowers dimension. A dragonfly’s wing appears folded in flight on my puffy cheek. Behind me, reflected in the mirror, is a magazine photo of a glossy-lipped woman with perky tits, perched on a sleek car. I turn to exit and Jasper says, She has nice headlights.

  Shut it, Jasper. I’m in no mood.

  I recognize a couple of the cops from poker nights. Norman says, “Hey, Hariet. What’s with the getup?”

  “I’m in a play at school. We had a dress rehearsal.”

  “Huh, what play?”

  “Um . . . A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  “So what’s with the doll in there?”

  “Peace negotiations.” There is one paczki left in the box and I snag it to sweeten the pot. “I better get back.”

  It’s over before I reach the room. Jennah is all smiles as she opens the door and ramps up the volume for the closer. “That’s wonderful, Richard. I’ll let the mayor know you support the plan.”

  I step in and place the pastry beside his coffee. He looks up. “Where’s Mikey?”

  “At Jennah’s.”

  “I never woulda hurt him.”

  “The doctor put him on antibiotics because of the water in his lungs. Worse than that, you scared him so much he’s got that far-off quiet in him again.”

  “He needed to be taught a lesson. This all would have blown over if you’d have kept out of what doesn’t concern you.”

  “Have the lessons your father taught you ever blown over?”

  “They taught me to be a man.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather be a hero?”

  I hesitate at the door, trying to catch sight of his inner animal. It’s one of those wretched, flea-plagued creatures that children at the zoo point to and say, “Ew, Mummy, what’s that?” I leave him scrubbing at the bristles on his head.

  On the way back, Jennah is open, like the window she’s always been in my sister-house. “He’s given you an out, Ari. He said you could leave right now. No one would think badly of you if you walked away from that hell. Not even that freakish imaginary friend of yours.”

  “What? Go east and give up the chance to hobnob with Toronto’s elite?” My eyes close as my body sinks into the car’s leather seat, wanting Jake’s arms and the ocean’s hush-hush more than anything in this vast universe.

  Riverboat steam and sweat made a complete muck of the cover-up. Chase removes the last of the paint with cold cream. “Shake a leg. You’re late.”

  “Can you please go and tell him I’m sick?”

  “Aaron lives for third Sundays. Don’t be selfish.”

  “He lives for trekking jungles and jumping off mountains.”

  “You’re as close to that as he gets in Toronto.” He forces on my coat, pulls up my hood, and twines his ultra-long scarf around my neck. “Go. Be brave.”

  Mr. West is sitting on the bench. I approach from behind, sit on his left, and stare at the water. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I’m just glad you made it.”

  “You might think different when you’re trying to digest your Sunday dinner on a belly full of fury.”

  “Why would it be?”

  I turn my face to meet his. He inhales sharp and exhales a long, “Ohhh.” I can’t read his eyes but they never look away. “Jesus, Ari.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Obviously you’re not.”

  “It’s set the forces for good in motion so please don’t feel bad.”

  “It’s too cold out here. Let’s walk.”

  Once or twice I’ve told him about Len and me finding refuge at The Goof diner. He navigates me there without asking anything and I just plain feel lighter with him knowing I need a dose of my papa.

  The waitress hugs me when we step in. “Ari, we’ve missed you around here. What have you been up to? Boxing kangaroos?”

  “A rabid dingo.”

  “Your old booth is empty.”

  “Thanks, Hazel.”

  Aaron naturally sits where Len used to park himself. “Are you hungry?”

  For the first time in a long time I am. “Um . . . I’d kinda like a grilled cheese. And hot chocolate—and a brownie.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Music.”

  The drama is told in measured bites. Aaron offers a sprinkle of sympathy, but mostly he just frees me up.

  “How can I help?”

  “You mean that or is it just the thing people say?”

  “Of course I mean it.”

  “Ellis is setting me up with a math and science whiz. If you could pick Mikey up from the Y on Tuesdays, I might have a chance of crawling out of this hole.”

  “What time?”


  “Five? He wouldn’t have to be home until seven. The kid really needs a Len in his life.”

  “He’s lucky he has you.”

  “I wish he could come east with me.”

  “Maybe the Resistance will bring about freedom for both of you.”

  I clink his mug with mine. “To freedom.” Our hands come to rest so close, the hairs on his finger touch my skin. His eyes stay on my face and now I see the longing for wall-less space and his thirst for something wild and unharnessed. “Yours and mine.”

  FIFTY-ONE

  I’m discovering that a person can be smack in the middle of a cesspool and not smell it. The Village has changed, but the stink in my world has been overpowering, masking the decay in Yorkville.

  While Bernie and Chase reconfigure the tables, I wipe spots off the glasses and review the notes Chase made me. The original hippies have moved on, except for a few who can’t remember where they came from. Runaways, greasers, and bikers have filled their places. Weekend hippies still migrate in for the music and drugs but day-to-day life is abysmal at best. “Chase, am I supposed to have a clue how to fix any of this?”

  “You know more than you think you do. Don’t worry, we’ve got ringers coming with the facts and figures.” He turns to the sound of boots on the steps. “And here’s one now.”

  “Jory?” We scramble into a hug. She smells like musty socks and peppermint. Having the roof of my sister-house squeezing me with all of her ninety-pound force settles my jitters.

  As a crew of ambassadors board the Riverboat, attire makes the sides clear: rebels versus suits; except for Chase in jeans and a crisp blue shirt and me in black pants and Babcia’s embroidered peasant blouse. Bernie makes introductions around the circle. Greg and Suzanne from Trailer, George from the Merchant Association, Clay who is a law student, Anne from Women’s College Hospital, Bill from Queen Street, Michael and Sheila from Digger House, June who is a journalist, John from the drop-in centre, Margaret from Toronto city council, Jory from The Way, Chase who is a member of the Mayor’s youth council, Ari who is a student and Riverboat employee, and James P. Mackey, chief of police.

  Chase takes control of the meeting. “Our goal for this meeting is to start meaningful dialogue and to come up with solutions to deal with the current crisis in Yorkville. This is not a forum to bring up past conflicts; we’re here to look at how we can meet the needs and interests of the here and now. Everyone will have ten minutes to voice their perspective. Then together we’ll look at priorities and identify first steps.”

  Really, the goal for this meeting is to position me beside Chief Mackey when reporters from the Star, Globe and Mail, and the Telegram come at 3:15 for a brief photo op. By reflex, I get up and help Crystal fill water glasses as Suzanne and Greg describe the work going on at Trailer, a mobile social service haven for junk-sick youth. A bleak picture is painted around the table: hepatitis and venereal disease rates, drug psychoses, the struggle to feed and shelter homeless youth at Digger House. . . . Jory describes a normal day of loading up a van with hot soup and bags of stale bread, old coats and blankets, and returning every day with kids tripping out on acid mixed with bad shit or in the heaves of withdrawal. I’d always seen the dog in her. On the outside she looks like a whippet, but inside she is a valiant St. Bernard with its rescue barrel, herding the lost to shelter. She’s not yet twenty, but many call her Mom.

  June talks about the broken homes and fractured lives bringing the new wave of wannabe hippies to the Village. She is a lion, and I wonder what it would be like to have a mom like her.

  The councilwoman calls the Village a festering sore and Chief Mackey rhymes off crime stats: drugs arrests, assaults, prostitution . . . “It’s a dangerous place and the police must take a tough stance.” He looks directly at me or more at the chartreuse and mauve evidence on my face.

  “I do understand your concerns,” I say, “I do. My stepfather is a police officer so I know a little about the challenges the police face. I’ve also been coming to the Village since I was eleven and have never felt threatened.” I point to my face. “In fact, getting smacked in the face by a volleyball at school has caused me more harm. The problems here are big but not bigger than the caring people around this table. A fisherman once told me that before you can catch something you have to know what you’re going for.” Jasper gets a little overzealous and strays from the script. “Penguins, zebras, pandas, skunks, and orcas may all be black and white but they are different animals.”

  George from the Merchant Association says, “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

  “Well, for starters the original hippies have migrated. Except maybe Beatle Bill and Murray. With them went a lot of goals and ideals. The weekenders come for the music scene and to score. They leave cash behind that fuels the good and the bad. The resident hippies are young, wrecked wanderers. They’re using but they’re not the suppliers. The greasers are obnoxious little thugs. They steal and deal and they’re lousy tippers, but they’ve got family that would bat their ears and put them to work in a factory if they knew what they were up to. Then there are the bikers. They’ve got power and are supplying all the hard stuff. They’re good tippers but I’m thankful folky-jazz isn’t their scene because they rarely come here.” I get up and help Crystal with coffee and sandwiches. “What I’m saying is you can’t treat all these people as if they were the same. Some animals should just be left alone, others need to be sheltered and fed, some might have to be caged, others tamed and domesticated.”

  “Humph.” Chief Mackey’s head wobbles a little. “Astute observations, miss.” I bite back a smile and he half-winks.

  Chase says, “Focusing energy and resources is the only way to tackle the concerns raised at this table. Let’s take a break before we look at next steps.”

  Chase choreographs the rest of the show with the precision of a brain surgeon.

  As Jory packs up every crust of leftover food I give her the wad of tip money I have squirreled away in Bernie’s safe. “Do you know how proud I am that you’re my sister? Wherever Jet’s little spirit landed he knows what an amazing mother you are.”

  “All praise is His.”

  “When I see God working as hard as you do I’ll give Him a dose of praise but for now I’m giving it to you. Please receive it.”

  “Righteous.” She gathers her load. “Rock on, sis.”

  I take a tray of cups into the kitchen and find June with her journalist’s sleeves rolled up. “Please, don’t trouble yourself with those.”

  “Nonsense. What better way to get to know you and find my story. Who is Jet?”

  “Jory’s baby. He died.”

  “The loss of a child is so sad.”

  “Do you have kids?”

  “Two boys. Two girls. So how is it you came to be in the Village at the ripe old age of eleven?”

  “I have a sister named June.” I pick up the dish towel. “She was right into the scene back in its heyday. I often came looking for her.”

  “And did you find her?”

  “Sometimes.Then one day she was just gone. After that I’d come looking for Jillianne or Jory.”

  “Jillianne?”

  “Sister five. She got mixed up with a bunch of greasers. She’s doing okay now but it was a really hard go.”

  “And the other two? Did they come to the Village?”

  “The disorder here would have sent Jennah and Jacquie squirreling over the edge.”

  “What kept you from going over?”

  “Up until last year there was someone I wanted to go home to.”

  “And now? Is it Chase?”

  “Chase and I are each other’s immune systems.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Sorry, I’m trying to get caught up in biology. We keep each other strong.” I stack the clean mugs. “There’s just someone who needs me at home.”
<
br />   “Your mother?”

  “Lord, no, she needs me as much as a left-behind snakeskin would benefit from mouth-to-mouth.” I wipe off the condiment jars and put them in their spots. “Please, please don’t write that.”

  “Your father?”

  “Miss Callwood, it excites my inner animal more than I can say to talk to a journalist who really cares about the mess here, but there’s a story that I have to create first, and right now you have to look at me and see good not trouble.”

  She wipes down the counter. “Volleyball can be a very dangerous sport.”

  “If you help me, when this is done I’ll do better than tell you my story, I’ll show you where salvation meets earth for lost kids.”

  She shakes my hand so firmly that Jasper launches like a banana out of its peel. “Deal.”

  “Tell your kids that Ari says they’re lucky to have a lioness for a mother.”

  The photo in Saturday’s papers makes facing Jarvis’ druggies on Monday brutal. At lunch I march right over to my supplier.

  “Beat it. I mean it, Ari.”

  “Come on, Matt. You know I’m no narc. What better way to keep the heat off us than to turn it on the Village, eh? Besides the meeting was more about how to feed kids in the Village. My sister runs a church program. I was just helping her out. I swear I’d never betray you. Say we’re cool.”

  He stubs out his cigarette on the fence post. “Yeah, sure, we’re good. Just make yourself scarce, okay. You’re bad for business.”

  The peace at home is worth the fallout at school. The picture in every newspaper was one taken during the break, the Chief casually talking to a group of us. My mouth is open and the Chief is looking at me. The Dick asks, “What were you saying?”

  In truth I was asking him if he wanted mayo or mustard on his sandwich. “Um, during the meeting I mentioned my stepfather was a cop.”

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “To let him know I understood about the stuff cops have to do. He asked me who you were and I was just telling him.”