by Lori Lansens
Wallace’d be wishing it was his daughter and not his son drowned in the river and Addy knew that. Her Mama was gentler though. She loved babies and would set him right. Elizabeth Duncan from two streets over was sixteen years old when she had that fat James Cox’s baby and he ran away to Amherstburg and never was seen again. Elizabeth played with her baby all summer in the yard of her home and Addy’d seen Laisa give a kind smile to both as they walked on by.
Addy rocked on the porch until the middle of the afternoon. The rain stopped and the sky lifted to let winter in full. She shivered but didn’t hate the numbing cold. She was hungry though, and felt shame for that with her brother dead in the house. She had an idea to scrounge out back for a rotten apple she might get a decent bite from, but decided against it, thinking of the little white worms and how they might find a way to her baby.
It was with some effort that Addy stood, being heavy and grievous and hungry and sore from rocking all day long. It would not be possible to describe to Wallace and Laisa the truth of what happened. But in time they might forgive her if she could work hard and do for them, and help bury L’il Leam and make food for the mourners to come. Addy tried the door but it was locked. She tried again. She knocked and waited but there was no answer. She knocked again, louder. Still no one came.
Addy reasoned she must be dreaming. Her dreams were mostly frightening since what Zach Heron had done, and she nearly always woke feeling relieved. She realized she must still be sitting in that rocking chair, dead asleep, and not standing here with the door locked against her. Better, she must still be in her bed, and it not yet sunrise, and not this, not any of it, really happening. And even better, it must still be June, and the day before Strawberry Sunday, and won’t Chester Monk enjoy her berry pie?
She lumbered back to the rocking chair, sinking down and closing her eyes. Let me wake in bed, she begged. Let L’il Leam be alive. Let it be June and me not ruined and Chester Monk to love me forever. But she had not a moment to beg anything more as a sharp pain struck her in the forehead. She opened her eyes and saw the neighbour children gathered on the lawn. There was Isaac Williams and Junior and Martin, and Davis and Gertie, all rearing back to fire on her, armed with handfuls of chestnuts.
Addy knew then she was awake and not dreaming at all. She rose again and tried the door, but it was still locked. She knocked on it as the children grew brave and drew closer, and the hard nuts struck her shoulders and head. She tried to keep the panic from her voice. “Mama? Mama? Daddy?” She knocked and called, but they did not answer. She knocked again, and again, but no one came. Addy covered her stomach with her arms as the shower of nuts continued to rain on the porch. She stepped down and didn’t look at the children as she ran around to the back of the house.
The backyard was quiet and empty, but for a black squirrel not ashamed of Addy and willing to share his land. The children didn’t follow and she was grateful for that. Through the window she saw her father light a lamp, and in the glow of the lamp she saw her father turn from her mother’s embrace. Wallace drew the curtains and she knew he’d seen her there.
The rain returned. Addy could not find shelter under the leafless apple tree, so, drenched, shivering, and hugging her arms across her chest, she began to walk. Though it was not possible, it was true. And though it was unthinkable, it would be done. Addy was alone. Her brother dead. Her mother and father no longer themselves. Chester drowned in the river. And she, Addy Shadd, would leave Rusholme and find some other place and some other way to live.
Addy’d never left Rusholme before, not even to go to nearby Chatham. She’d think it all the rest of her life, like a commandment. Rush home, she’d think, Thou Shalt Rush Home.
La-Z-Boy
SHARLA CODY HARDLY GLANCED at Collette’s trailer as she passed. She knew her mother wouldn’t be happy to see her, and Emilio might even give her a swat for coming back before the scheduled Sunday visit. Sharla didn’t much want to see Collette either. There were just two things she wanted. She wanted to get the money envelope back from Fawn Trochaud, and she wanted to live with Addy Shadd in that prim little trailer and sleep every night on the soft pillow, under the blue plaid blanket.
Fawn’s Aunt Krystal opened her trailer door wearing a man’s big white tank shirt and sloppy blue jeans. Her titties were drooping so low Sharla couldn’t stop herself from staring. One nipple pointed to the ground and the other pointed to the sky. She thought at any moment one of those titties might swing out of the armhole opening and if it did Sharla wanted to see it.
Krystal held the door open but didn’t say come inside. Her armpits stunk like burned green pepper and her lighter wouldn’t work on the cigarette between her lips. She said, “Fuck,” through her closed mouth, then whipped the lighter on the ground. She sneered at Sharla like the lighter was her fault. “Why aren’t you at the old lady’s place?”
Sharla didn’t even try a smile. “Is Fawn here?”
Krystal shouted, “Fawn!”
Fawn came to the door with her hand deep inside a box of Puffa Puffa Rice. She grinned and Sharla could tell she was looking forward to this. “I want my bag, Fawn.”
Fawn shrugged. “Don’t got it.”
“Liar. Who gots it?”
Fawn checked to make sure her Aunt Krystal couldn’t hear. She sneered, “The garbage got it, Cooty Girl.”
“That’s my bag.”
“So.”
“So get it.”
“It’s just a bunch of smelly shorts.”
“It’s not just shorts.”
Fawn pulled her hand out of the cereal box and waggled her wrist. “What do you want, Sharla? This?”
Fawn shook her Indian-corn bracelet in Sharla’s face. Sharla didn’t care about the corn any more.
“Where’s my envelope, Fawn?”
“What envelope?”
“My envelope for Addy Shadd.”
Fawn sniffed. “You stink, Sharla. Keep them Cody coots outside. I don’t got no envelope.”
Krystal appeared at the door once again, her cigarette lit now. “What’s she want?”
“I want my envelope for Addy Shadd.”
“You got her envelope, Fawn?”
Fawn shook her head. Krystal shrugged in Sharla’s direction and was about to close the door when something caught her eye. She looked across the road at Collette’s trailer and noticed the big grey van was not parked out front, which was no surprise in itself, except the curtains were gone from all the trailer windows, too.
Krystal made a face like something was wrong. She didn’t stop to put on shoes but spread her arms like wings and said, “Ouch, ouch, ouch,” stepping over sharp stones as she crossed the road to Collette’s trailer.
Sharla and Fawn followed and watched as Krystal heaved herself up the stairs to the door. She flicked her cigarette toward the back shed and banged hard. “Collette? Col…?”
When no one answered, Krystal tried the door but it was locked. She leaned over the stair rail to see into the tiny kitchen window. The kitchen cupboards were open and bare. The green velveteen La-Z-Boy was gone, along with the good coffee table. Krystal remembered hearing banging noises the night before and wished she’d looked out the window instead of pouring herself a fourth rye and Coke. Krystal shook her head. “Hosebag. That fucking hosebag!” She turned on Sharla, asking, “Where’d she go?”
Sharla thought for a minute. “Is it Sunday?”
“Don’t act stupid, Sharla. Where’d she go? She owes me a hundred bucks! She’s got my leather jacket and half my fucking records!”
“Emilio gots rugby on Sunday,” Sharla said. She wasn’t a good climber, but she wanted to see inside the trailer too. She shoved Fawn out of her way, climbed onto the railing, and leaned over. She looked through the little window and saw that everything was gone. She turned to Krystal, her left eye twitching. “Where’s my Mum?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. She never said nothing to me. Not a fucking word.”
; Fawn skipped down the bottom step. Krystal leaned over to look in the window again. It was then that Addy Shadd rounded the corner, appearing tiny and breathless on the ragged stone road. Sharla saw her, but was afraid to move.
Addy’s relief was short. Even from a distance, she could see that something was wrong. She called, “Sharla? Sharla, what’s wrong, Honey?” No one answered as Addy approached the derelict trailer and stood at the bottom of the steps. She held the railing, wishing she had a hanky to wipe the perspiration from her face. She looked at Krystal with her no-bra titties and angry face and, when she caught her breath, said politely, “I’m Adelaide Shadd.”
Krystal hardly glanced at Addy. “You know where she went?”
Addy shook her head and shrugged, not understanding. Sharla bounced down the steps and stood behind Addy, taking her hand and holding it tight. Sharla whispered, “She took the La-Z-Boy.”
Addy still didn’t understand, thinking Sharla must be talking about that foreigner boyfriend of her mother’s.
Addy watched Krystal tug at the door a moment. “Sure they’ll be back.”
Krystal closed one eye. “They took the fucking furniture.”
“Took the furniture where?”
“Up North, I bet. Emilio got a cousin in Kingston.”
Addy could not believe it. “They just up and left? What about the child?”
“Don’t look at me, Lady.”
“But…”
“Collette told me she give you money for the whole summer.”
Addy didn’t care to explain about not getting the money. She didn’t know what to do but climb the stairs and try the door herself, thinking that if they could get inside the trailer, the mystery might be solved. She tugged and pulled at the handle, then thought to look under the mat. She kicked the mat over, surprised to find the key there, but she couldn’t bend fast enough to scoop it up.
When Krystal opened the door they were slapped by a hot wave of putrid, oddly sweet stink. Addy’d smelled that smell many times in her life and knew what it meant. She glanced down the steps at Sharla and smiled tenderly. “Honey, you go play with your little friend there and we be back in a minute.”
Fawn thought the old woman must be crazy to imagine she and Sharla were friends. She squinched her nose. “Puke. What’s that smell?”
Krystal had no idea what the odour was except bad. She turned to the old woman. “Jesus effin’ Christ, eh?”
Addy and Krystal stepped inside the trailer, breathing out their mouths. The old sofa was still in place in front of the window but so ravaged it’d fall apart if you tried to move it. A green garbage bag was full to bursting in the corner of the living room. Krystal gestured at it. “Pigs.”
Addy glanced down the long hallway. “That man a violent man?”
Krystal shrugged as she went to check the green garbage bag, only to find it filled mostly with newspapers and broken dishes. “Smell ain’t coming from the trash.”
Addy started down the hall slowly. Krystal followed. Addy pushed open the first door. The bathroom. The room was empty, a damp towel on the floor, the garbage full, the tub filthy. They moved further down the hall. Sharla’s room was next. A pitiful room, Addy thought, with a few broken toys and a sunken, pee-stained mattress on the floor.
Addy swallowed as they pushed on down the hall. She could hear the buzzing flies. She turned to Krystal. “There’s something dead in that room, Young Lady. Maybe we outta call the police.”
Krystal’s eyes danced. “Let’s see. Let’s just see.” She put her hand over her mouth and nose. Addy did the same and they moved forward. The door was open a crack. Addy steadied herself and pushed it with her foot.
They saw Trixie’s body immediately. There was a long shit hanging out between her stiff splayed legs, blood congealing on the carpet near her head. Krystal made a gagging sound and ran for the door. Addy looked at the cat’s body, feeling sick and sorry.
When Addy went back outside, Krystal was making her way across the stones, still shoeless, with a cigarette in her mouth and the package of Kools in her hand. Addy motioned at the package. “You mind?”
Krystal passed a smoke to the old woman and lit it with shaking hands. Addy could tell Krystal was disappointed it was a big dead cat in that back bedroom and not her old friend Collette. That would be a story to tell, and human nature to want to tell it.
Sharla was waiting on the bottom step. Fawn was nowhere in sight. Sharla watched Addy take a few puffs of her cigarette. “My Mum in there?”
Addy shook her head. “Nothing atall in there, Honey. Nothing atall.”
Krystal inhaled and took a look around. “Where’s—?” Before she could finish, Fawn came around the side of the trailer looking pleased.
“I climbed on top the shed. I seen in the back window.”
Addy tried to stop the girl. “Shh. Don’t matter what you seen, Child.”
“Dead Trixie.”
Sharla smalled her eyes at Fawn. “You never saw dead Trixie.”
“I did too!”
“Trixie’s been gone since Easter.”
“Well now she’s back, ’cept she’s dead like this.” Fawn let her eyes roll back and stiffened her limbs to show. “With a big poo stuck out her butt.”
Sharla looked at Addy Shadd. “Trixie dead?”
Addy ground her back teeth and took another long puff on the Kool. Krystal wondered if the old woman would lie.
“Looks like your Trixie had a accident, Honey,” Addy said.
“Can’t fix her?”
“Can’t fix her.”
“Really she got a poo stuck out her butt?”
Addy understood Sharla was just curious. “Yes. Yes she does.”
“Can I go look?”
“No. No you can’t.”
“Fawn looked.”
“Your Mama say anything to you about going somewhere with that boyfriend of hers?”
Sharla shook her head.
Krystal flicked her butt and lit another, turning to Addy. “We should have looked for a note. Maybe there was a note.”
Addy just shrugged. Like so many things in her life, Sharla had just happened to Addy. All she could do now was live with the unexpected turn. She smiled at Sharla. “Well, Young Miss, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Let’s go on back home.”
Krystal wagged her finger. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What about that? You just gonna leave that there?”
“You want to bury that animal you go on ahead. Me, I gotta get this child home and fed some lunch.”
Sharla wanted to smile but thought she better not. She knew that to appear too happy meant the thing you were happy about might get taken away. She went to Addy Shadd’s side. Seeing it was painful for Addy to walk, she lifted the old woman’s spidery brown hand and placed it on her own small shoulder, saying, “Here. Lean on me.”
Fish
ADDY DIDN’T KNOW WHERE to go. The rain had stopped, but she was still soaked and shivering and her clothes grew stiff in the ill wind. She imagined the child inside her was shivering too, so she wrapped her arms across her stomach, whispering, “We gonna be fine. We gonna be fine,” even though she knew they weren’t. She looked into the black night and was grateful she was bone cold and so hungry she could think of nothing beyond food and shelter.
All but one of the houses in Rusholme were dark and silent. Addy had wandered in circles for a time, then found herself standing in front of the little house on Fowell Street. She could see Laisa sitting in a hardback chair near the window. Her mother’s lamplight flickered, and a dark oil cloud settled above her head. She was mending a good white-collar shirt of her husband’s, ashamed her son had not a good shirt of his own to be buried in. Addy remembered how Laisa’d scolded Leam for the grass stains on his Sunday shirt after the church supper in June when he’d been showing off for Beatrice Brown. Laisa had hated his love for the pretty young girl, believing it was drawn from the same well as his Mama love, and she’d go thirs
ty if he loved Birdie too much. She’d said, “Fine, you keep your coat on then, Leam, no matter how hot it gets this summer, ’cause them grass stains never coming out them elbows and that teach you about showing off.” But she couldn’t bury her son with grass stains on his elbows, and she was glad to have a chore and to do for him this one last time. Laisa’s hands had stopped shaking when she picked up her needle and thread, and there was comfort in the dance of her fingers and the tiny perfect stitches they made. Addy watched her through the window for some time before she willed her feet to move in the direction of the church.
In the mile between her home and the church, Addy felt the shroud of darkness settle on her shoulders. The rain was hard and lashed her face. The doors to the church would not be locked but Addy could not go inside. It wasn’t God she feared but the fat Pastor and the way his eyes had hated her. The old shed near the graveyard was unlocked and although Addy was afraid of the restless spirits, she opened the door, squatted on the ground, and was glad to be out of the wind. She leaned up against the shovels, telling her teeth to stop chattering and her baby to be still. Then Addy told herself, as she would tell herself all her life, that although she was the cause of what happened, she did not cause what happened.
It was then she thought of the lake and the cliff across the road and how simple to raise her arms like Jesus and spiral down. She imagined what it’d be like under the water, walking on the deep sandy bottom, seeing Chester and Leam swimming there like fish. She thought how they’d wave and say, “Glad you come, Addy. We can all be together now and it ain’t even so bad down here.” But she felt terror at the notion of gulping for air and finding water instead.
Near dawn Addy woke, remembering the horror of the previous day and that it was not a dream and time to go. The gravediggers would be along any time now, and her brother put to rest by sundown. She stood with some effort and opened the shed door to the dark November sky.
