The Clay Girl

by Heather Tucker

  “You meeting again?”

  “In March.”

  “You caught up in school?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  O’Toole knocks like he’s discovered manners. “Evening, Ari. Ready to go, Irwin?”

  The Dick nabs his bowling bag and the remaining hunk of pork chop off his plate. “Make your mother some soup, then get at your homework.”

  The Dick is taking a stab at sobering the old girl up for appearances sake. She definitely has a little more colour around the edges and a few brain cells reanimating like winter flies in a spring-warmed window.

  Mikey’s tent is our barracks where two battle-weary soldiers regroup at the end of the day. I zip through the math quizzes that Ralph, my tutor, gave me. “Why so quiet, Mikey?”

  “The Dick asked if I wanted to go fishing.”

  “Yeah, the cordiality around here is creeping me out. What did you say?”

  “Aunt Sabina said I needed to be like a war spy and make him think I like him, but I don’t want to go.”

  “Far as I know, he’s not big on the great outdoors. Tell him you think fishing is kind of boring and you don’t really like it that much. That’ll play down the Huey-the-hero mess. How about . . . you say that you always wanted to learn an action sport like bowling. Throw in that you heard O’Toole say Dick was the best. Chase and I will go to the lanes and you can bump into us there and we’ll muddle through the horror together.”

  “You’re so smart.”

  “Wish Uncle Iggy was here to help me with this math.”

  “Ralph not any good?”

  “He’s a whiz. But Uncle Iggy would never make me go to the Spring Fling with him as payment.”

  “Jake won’t mind. Can I read your letter from him?”

  “There’s too much mushy stuff in it.” Really, I don’t want Mikey to read the lines of longing and the despairing hope that I’ll soon be home for good. “But he misses us.”

  “What are you going to paint for the art show?”

  “Chase says I have to do something with bees.”

  “Why?”

  “Apparently the mayor likes them.”

  Jennah and Mina organized an extravaganza. One hundred works of art from student artists all over the city have been selected and displayed at city hall all month. Tonight there is an auction with proceeds going to Digger House. Mayor William Dennison has the honour of selecting the first painting as his prize. Mine is not the best, nor is it authentically me. It’s more of an Audubon-style print placed where the mayor sees it every day on his way out.

  The night is glittery. The Dick is in his dress uniform. Jennah managed to stuff life into Mum and fill the cracks with enough shit to hold her upright but not make her jittery. She’s still beautiful in a robin’s egg-blue dress and swept-up hair.

  Mayor Dennison studies every piece, narrowing his choices down to ten. When he finally chooses mine as his prize, I’m not even present in the room, not my soul anyway. A replica of me smiles, poses for pictures while shaking his hand but it’s all an illusion created just to make this demon, puffed-up at my side, stop suffocating me and Mikey. It’s working and I’m despairing that my supporters who gave me leave to run won’t now understand why I can’t stay.

  FIFTY-TWO

  Trees, birds, people are waking in the thin April sun. Mr. West arrives with a shopping bag of clothes, laundered and neatly folded. “Mikey said you’re collecting stuff.”

  “I am. For Jory’s flock.” He sits and I catch a whiff of fresh lime. “Thanks for spending time with Mikey. I’ve never seen him so happy.”

  “I think his happiness has more to do with the climate change at home.”

  “The Dick is like a big, goofy kid. The mayor sent me a thank-you note. The Dick had it framed and took it to work. Whenever he passes the Chief at work, he near pisses himself that the big kahuna gives him a nod.”

  “As long as he’s treating you better.”

  “He hasn’t so much as pulled a hair from my brush.”

  “I can’t tell you what a relief that is, for all of us. And how’s your mum?”

  “She’ll do anything for the Dick. He says, ‘Clean yourself up,’ and she sparkles.”

  He turns and gives me a teacher look. “Then why are you sad?”

  “Oh, that’s low, pulling a Jasper on me.”

  “But I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, spectacularly low. It’s the plight of kids in Yorkville, I suppose.”

  “You’re doing what you can. It’s enough that you’re helping Mikey.”

  “I just got a letter from Jake. A foster kid that he’s really close to has leukemia. He’s cancelled all his gigs so the kid’s not alone through it. That’s real. What I’ve done for Mikey is set him up in a house of mirrors. It’s an illusion that I know is going to come crashing down.”

  “Well, at least for today the mirrors are in place, and I feel like ice cream.”

  I test his arm. “You feel nice and warm to me.”

  Kind teachers and makeup assignments have gotten me out of the academic crapper and heading toward the honour roll. Miss Burn, first period, Mr. Ellis last, and smashing volleyballs before facing the craphouse makes for spectacular days. Evenings are manageable: retrieve Mikey from the Y, help him with homework, make supper, and keep the house a step ahead of health department condemnation.

  Mum wobbles along, a buffet of happy, sloppy, jittery . . . but she’s less often wound tight or passed out these days.

  The Dick stays the course and hasn’t so much as farted in our direction.

  Trouble with toxic gas is it has to go somewhere, eh, Ari?

  “Yeah, Jasper. It’s building.”

  Ronnie is a champion bloodhound sniffing out clues in return for treats. Yesterday, I learned that the Dick is under investigation at work for some missing dope and his gambling situation has him owing some bad guy big money. I sleuthed around for the weed, but he would never hide dope anywhere Ronnie might find it. Today, she traded a nickelbag for intel about him tipping off some Buffalo gangster with eyes on Toronto that the cops were on to him.

  The cop buddies arrive to play Texas Hold’em. The Tool is still on a leash but as the beer flows, he gets the game mixed up with Toronto Hold’er. I make sandwiches, grab my pack, and head for the door. On poker night, handing the Dick five bucks for his game always buys me a ticket out of Las Crapas.

  The Dick clouds the hall, waiting for the dough. “You be back to get the kid off to school.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Stupid Irritating Reptile, right, Ari?

  You got it.

  I see the light in the nest from the top of the alley and run. Chase has popcorn popping and hot chocolate warming and is reading my latest letter from Jake. “Jake is such a good guy.”

  “He’s a rare animal.”

  “He sure has it bad for you.”

  “Don’t get me mooning. I can hardly keep my heart and hormones in my skin for how much I want to get back to him.”

  “Too bad about this kid, Danny. Leukemia is a tough break.”

  “He’s stopped all the trouble now that he knows he’s going to die. Jake takes him to the shore every morning, carries him into the waves so he can feel the froth on his toes.”

  “You ever think about ending it?”

  “After all Jasper’s done for me I could never bail on him.” I nestle close, fearing the answer to asking, “You?”

  “Used to contemplate dying all the time until I witnessed a life spectacularly lived in chaos.” He kisses my hair. “You stink. Go shower.”

  “Yeah, that place leaks in.”

  “The Dick still behaving?”

  “As much as he has the capability to be decent.” I strip off my clothes. “We’ve got him believing that he’s really
hot stuff. From what Ronnie tells me it’s making him really ballsy.”

  “How does Ronnie get this dirt?”

  “The Toole and Dick talk around her like she’s an empty chair. So what’s the plan for when it all blows up?”

  “The best Sabina and I have come up with is to fake your deaths, but we’re working on a less drastic next move.”

  No one in crapdom remembers my birthday. Odd, because it’s my sixteenth and by law I can walk out and never look back. I have to report to the post office front desk because they have things that didn’t fit in my mailbox: a photo album from Jacquie, a camera from Mary and Nia. Two feathers, one inky black, the other moon-white, the box tied up with a black velvet band.

  Forty-five days until I can hold you. You’ll have to wait ’til then for your real birthday gift. Your last letter asked, “what if I discovered you were really an otter?” Then, Ari, I’d trade the seagrass for a bed of sleek fur, take hold of your silver whiskers, and swim with unharnessed joy. I love you so much. Jake.

  Chase lugs an ancient shelf up to the nest to hold our growing collection of books then takes me to Mina and Ellis’ for a birthday feast.

  After gorging on Cornish pasties and blowing out candles, the boys go to buy batteries for my camera while Mina and I eat chocolate cake right off the platter.

  “What did you wish for?”

  “Peace on earth.”

  No, we wished the Dick would just fucking die.

  Same thing, Jasper.

  I lick the icing clinging to my fork. “Did you have sex before you got married?”

  “Well, given the fact that I’m Miss Burn, it’s safe to assume so.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Seven times out of ten I love it.”

  “The other three?”

  “I love Ellis, so what’s two minutes going to put me out?”

  “I asked Jennah if she liked it. She said, ‘It’s just currency, sis.’ Jory lays herself down anytime, anyplace to spread the love of Jesus, and the only thing Jillianne can tolerate touching her are the covers on her single bed. I hoped for a more positive spin from Jacquie. She says every time is like being held under water. She counts through it knowing on the other side of it are a sweet holding and a lightness in Franc that gets her breathing again.”

  Mina’s sigh wobbles her head. “Well, a seahorse can breathe under water. You’ll be happy whatever place it takes you.”

  “Um . . . I need . . . do you have any idea how I can get the pill?”

  “Say what?”

  “Doctors won’t prescribe it unless you’re married. Jake and I are going to end up mattress dancing and I don’t want to wreck our lives.”

  “I know a clinic. I’ll take you. But don’t be in a rush.”

  “How old were you?”

  She stuffs a big bite in her mouth. “Sixteen.”

  I take a bigger bite. “Was it a bad thing or a good thing?”

  “It became a lovely thing. It was Ellis. He was two years ahead of me in school. We lost each other for a few years around university, but when we found each other again we both knew we each just wanted the other.”

  “I’ve loved Jake since I was eight. Does that sound silly?”

  “How could you not? The man can cajole a whale to wave hello. But, you might have to fight Ellis for him. He has a big crush.”

  FIFTY-THREE

  Mikey is well-prepared to score points as the cops take on the firefighters in a Victoria Day baseball challenge. “Good call, ump.”

  The Dick adjusts his mask and hauls up his pants. Jasper looks anywhere but at Dick’s ass and he bends, poised to call the next pitch. Look, Ari. There’s Aaron. I scan the crowd near the water and see Mr. West toss a Frisbee. The group he’s with scramble for it and a pretty blonde Barbie jumps up and down and hugs him. Come on. Let’s go play with him.

  He wouldn’t want us around, Jasper. The thought aches through my chest and down into my gut.

  Mikey jumps off the bleachers and peals across the beach. “Aaron!”

  Jasper catapults me after him before the Dick catches wind of another hero situation.

  Aaron receives Mikey’s hug without hesitation. He smiles at my approach. “Hey, Ari. What brings you here?”

  “Recognizance.”

  He pockets his hands. “Uh, Ari, this is Carrie.”

  The pretty girl seizes his arm. “So how do you know Aaron?”

  “Through school.”

  “Oh, are you a teacher, too?”

  “No . . . I . . .” I look to Aaron and the mischief in his eyes makes me stretch. “I’m a potter.” I flash the T-shirt under my blazer. “And a designer.”

  “Oh—beautiful, really.”

  “Come on, West.” A guy calls from behind. “You’re holding up the game.”

  “You better hustle.” I nab Mikey’s arm. “Let’s go, Mikey.”

  “Can’t I stay and play Frisbee?”

  “No, you’re on a mission.” I drag him along as I head back to the bleachers.

  “Hey, Ari. See you Sunday?”

  I give a high thumbs-up without turning around. “Mikey, keep your eyes peeled for the Chief. Chase says he’ll show for the last innings.”

  “Baseball is boring.”

  “Well, we’re playing chess.”

  I see Mum, her eyes closed, gummy as a serenaded cobra. “Go hurl some more shit at the Dick’s calls while I take the queen out of play.” She shakes off the spell when I rustle her shoulder. “Come on, Mum. Richard thinks you should take a nap.” The sedan is in a cherry spot up on the grass along with half a dozen other cop vehicles. I load Mum into the back seat and cover her bare arms with a towel.

  The hoots and hollers from the field have me running back for the post-game’s pissing and back patting. With the Dick as ump there was never any question which way the game would go. Mikey and I pick a plum spot behind the pushy suck-up cops. The Chief shakes the Dick’s hand. “Good work, Irwin.” The timing is perfect as he catches sight of me. “Ari, hello. What’s your call on this game?”

  I weasel through with Mikey. “Great police work is all I can say.”

  “And who’s this fine young man?”

  The Dick roughs Mikey’s hair. “My boy. Mikey.”

  “You want to be a policeman, Mikey?”

  “Uh . . . yes, sir. A detective.”

  “Runs in the family I see. Will you be at the meeting on Thursday, Ari?”

  The Dick’s hand lands on my shoulder. “You bet she will. Civic duty and all.”

  Checkmate. Game—Ari and Mikey.

  The distance from Monday to Sunday is a heart jumble. Chase doesn’t untangle the mess so much as he loosens it. “So, you love Jake. You love Aaron. And clearly, you love me. Know what that makes you?”

  “Scummy?”

  “Lucky. You’re sixteen. Your emotions are supposed to be fucked up. Go flirt and stop worrying. Aaron will never colour outside the lines. Besides, Jake’s in a band. You don’t think he sniffs other bitches?”

  “He’s a one-woman dog.”

  “Zodiac’s heart is all yours but I’ve seen pictures of him taking loving from anyone putting out.” He pushes me out of the nest. “Just be.”

  Aaron is sitting on our bench perusing this month’s National Geographic.

  “Reading your bible, I see.”

  He stands like gentlemen do when a lady approaches. “It’s nice you get that about me.”

  “It’s not my religion, but I think it’s cool.” I sit sideways, knees tucked, facing west.

  His side rests along the bench back so he’s facing east. He slides the magazine into his backpack and pulls out a gift, cheeks heating when he gives it to me. “This birthday warranted extra celebration.”

  It’s a wooden box containing thr
ee sable paintbrushes. “I wrote a story in fifth grade,” I say, “about going to Siberia to put tail warmers on martens who’d sacrificed their tail tips for Ari’s magic brushes. These are spectacular. You’ll be with me whenever I paint.”

  I smile reading his card.

  Ari, I’d wish you a birthday as spectacular as you are but I don’t think such a thing is possible. Aaron.

  My face lifts to his, smelling the coffee on his breath.

  “I’d never heard anyone use the word spectacular more than you. I used to wait just to hear what would come out next.”

  “Jasper has always been overzealous.”

  “What is he pushing you to do, now that you’re legally free to go?”

  “He’s a fly-by-the-tip-of-his-tail seahorse. Finishing my school year makes sense given that the armistice is holding.”

  “Then?”

  “Hope runs big the Dick will be dead or incarcerated before I have to figure that out.”

  “Is he still behaving?”

  “It’s spooky. Since Monday’s big game he’s blathering to everyone that the Chief is going to make him a detective.” I test the brush on my arm. “Um . . . sorry about crashing your big game.”

  “I’m not.”

  “So, Carrie seems nice.”

  “You really think that?”

  “Yeah, I do. But, your inner animals are oceans apart.”

  “Astute observation. I took her to dinner once. Next date we went to a movie with two other couples, and then last Monday she forbade me to go to Kenya.”

  “Forbade?”

  “Forbade.”

  “So . . . no more Carrie.”

  He shrugs and his face says, gone.

  “Speaking of Kenya, did you get all your shots?”

  “All done.”

  “Mikey said to remind you that you need to get some quinine and a bug net. He signed every book on Kenya out of the library.”

  “Tuesday I think I might pitch the tent in Belle’s backyard and take him on safari.”

  The chatter between us weaves and floats and I rest in it, revive, refresh—but I sink back into the bottom scum as I make my way back to crapdom, realizing that Aaron and I are the closest Mikey has to a mum and dad here in Toronto.