by Carrie Mac
And he was Junie’s. And she was his. Or would have been wholeheartedly so, if it hadn’t been for the lie that kept her holding back. It kept her on her toes, never able to relax. As if she’d done three shots of espresso before getting out of bed every day. Sometimes she woke up with her heart racing, panic souring her throat like vomit.
Despite her own belief that all that was good (she and Wade) would come to a horrible, all-revealing, screeching halt . . . it didn’t. Each day, she was amazed that her lie held. Every time he appeared outside of class, waiting for her, she was surprised. And he noticed. One day, she actually jumped at the sight of him. It was after Art class, and there he was when she and Lulu turned the corner out of the room.
“You always look like you’re shocked to see me.” He slung an arm across Junie’s shoulder. “Hey, Lulu.”
“Hi, Wade.” Lulu glanced at Junie, and then added, “Don’t mind Junie’s nerves. She’s always been highly excitable that way.”
Junie had not. She didn’t meet Lulu’s eyes, because she sensed that Lulu was making a friendly effort of shoring up something she didn’t entirely understand, but was keenly aware of.
“If every crow you see is black, wouldn’t you think the next one would be black too? I always come meet you after class.”
Junie laughed, her nerves jangling her voice into a cackle. “But isn’t the other part of that theory that you shouldn’t be surprised if one day you see a white crow?”
Lulu, with her infinite intuition, took her leave, flapping her wings and cawing down the hall, which only she could make look graceful and theatrical rather than goofy.
Both Wade and Junie had a spare next, and then lunch. They were going to meet Jeremy and Royce at the Buckled Star. They were in town for a doctor’s appointment for Royce. And Wade had been right. It was congestive heart failure. He’d figured it out based on the specialist’s clinic the appointment was at. Junie had looked it up. Not good.
With congestive heart failure, Wade explained, the heart became too weak to pump blood throughout the body. When the blood didn’t circulate properly, fluid would build up. For Royce, if fluid filled his lungs, it would feel like drowning on the inside.
So Junie was surprised that Royce looked a bit better that day. He was ashen still, and wheezing, but he was dressed in a sharply pressed dress shirt and slacks, with his hair combed back and a fresh shave. He beamed when Wade and Junie entered the café, and struggled to stand to greet them.
“Don’t get up, please,” Wade said. “Don’t get up.”
Junie loved that he always knew what to say, when Junie was typically left with her words making macramé in her head and never making it out of her mouth.
Royce stood up anyway. “I’ll stand if I wish. I won’t be bossed around by a choirboy. Lovely to see you two.” Then he sat again, relaxing back into his seat, one of the comfy armchairs by the window. Junie imagined that if he hadn’t already been sitting there, or had been suffering on one of the awful, hard, ladder-back chairs, Wade would have easily asked someone to give up the chair for Royce. It was things like that that endeared him to everyone.
“Did you get a chance to screen the footage?”
“I’m nervous to. I don’t want to ruin it.” Wade took the chair across from him and set down his movie camera, which he took everywhere. Junie sat in the chair beside his. “I started to thread it into my projector, but then I wasn’t sure if I should.”
“Of course you should,” Jeremy said. “You want to see the treasure you hunted down, don’t you?”
“Indeed,” Royce said. “Meant to be watched. No use sticking it in a box in the attic like we did.”
“I’ll do it, then,” Wade promised. “Tonight. For sure.”
“What can we get you?” Junie asked, having finally found her voice.
“Oh, no need to treat us.” Royce waved away the idea.
“Definitely,” Junie said. “After you fixed Victor, and gave us supper—”
“It’s the least we can do,” Wade finished.
Junie grinned. She loved it when he finished her sentences, or vice versa. As if they’d been together forever. And it felt like that, too. She was honestly the luckiest girl in the world.
Wade went to order, then brought back the drinks and a plate-sized chocolate chip cookie for each of them.
Junie didn’t say much over the next hour. She listened to Wade ask questions about the movie industry in the ’60s and ’70s, and Royce answer with elaborate detail about this camera and that director and this location and that actor, while Jeremy grunted his reluctant replies, albeit with a not-so-reluctant smile.
After they’d said goodbye and were on their way back to school, Wade announced that he wanted to make a movie about Jeremy and Royce. “Can’t you see it? One of those quirky documentaries that all the film festivals love. Great characters, interesting story. Shot grainy and cheap, which ends up lending it a convincing air of authenticity.”
“Shot and directed by the world’s next great filmmaker,” Junie added.
“Hardly.” Wade laughed. “But I do like the sound of that.”
“They might not want to. They’re so private.”
“No they’re not. They love us!”
“You, Wade. They love you,” Junie said.
“I love them! They’re great. You can’t make that stuff up, you know? I feel like I stumbled onto a gold mine.”
“True.”
“So you’re in?” Wade held out his hand for a handshake. “Want to be my crew?”
“Absolutely.” Junie shook his hand. He took the other as they walked. “Although I’m not so sure how Jeremy’s going to like the idea. He might like you, but I don’t think he likes the world all that much.”
“I’m not worried,” Wade said. “I think Royce could get him to do pretty much anything he wanted. Besides, he can appreciate a young filmmaker finding his feet. And I can be sensitive. There’s an art to being a doc filmmaker. You don’t want to hit people over the head. And you don’t want to force a fake relationship between you and the camera and them. You want a real relationship, brought to the screen intact.”
Junie loved hearing him talk about something he so clearly loved and knew a lot about. She wanted him to go on and on, but then a car honked near them. And then again, closer. Junie didn’t think anything of it, until it honked for a third time. Much to her horror and surprise, her father had pulled to the side of the road up ahead and was getting out. That Woman was with him, but she was staying in the car. And then Junie saw Princess Over All III lift her head up in the back seat. The happy family. This was not good.
Junie hadn’t told Wade much about her dad, other than the snippet about the rodeo trip. She hadn’t told him about the divorce, or That Woman. She hadn’t even told him about the obligatory visits. And he hadn’t pushed. Thank God he wasn’t making a documentary about her, or else he’d have been grilling her the way he did Royce and Jeremy. Thankfully, he’d just assumed Mrs. D. was the one and only parent, and Junie had been going along with that. Until now.
“Junie!” Her dad opened his arms for a hug. Junie had no choice but to oblige. She hadn’t seen him since that day they’d fought. At first she’d been giving it some time, and then she’d been busy with Wade. And ultimately, she’d figured if her dad couldn’t be bothered to enforce her visits, what did she care? Screw him. That’s what she’d been thinking lately. But seeing him in real life changed all that. She’d missed him. She hadn’t known it until now, but she’d missed him.
“You never return my calls.”
“Sorry, Dad. I’ve been super-busy with school and everything. This is Wade.” Of course Junie had to introduce them. She had no choice. She could only hope that Wade wouldn’t recognize her father from the spectacle in the driveway. “Wade, this is my father, Ron.”
“Good to meet you, Mr. Rawley.” Wade held out his hand. Nothing in his expression suggested that Wade remembered him. Thank God.
“Call me Ron.” Ron pumped Wade’s hand, all the while grinning at Junie. “You didn’t tell me you had a special friend, Junie!”
Junie wanted to lift up the sidewalk and crawl underneath. Special friend ? No wonder her dad was such a loser.
Out of the corner of her eye, Junie saw That Woman getting out of the car. Junie put a hand to her forehead. Why was this happening? She wished they’d stayed another few minutes at the café. She wished her dad had kept driving. Now she just hoped that this little interaction wouldn’t blow her cover. She silently willed her father and That Woman not to mention anything about the house, or her mother. Or anything at all, really. She silently willed them both to vanish immediately, but that didn’t work.
Evelyn St. Claire strutted over with her runway walk, her dog at her side like an accessory. She held out her hand, big clunky bracelets jumbling down to her thin wrist.
“Evelyn St. Claire,” she announced. “And you are?”
“Wade.” Wade glanced at Junie. “Junie’s boyfriend.”
Boyfriend! That was the first time he’d ever said that. All of a sudden, Junie didn’t hate That Woman so much. How could she hate anyone when she had a boyfriend? She couldn’t wait to tell Tabitha. As soon as she could extricate herself and Wade from this shaky situation.
Evelyn took her cellphone out of her purse and looked at the time. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“We’re skipping,” Junie said with a straight face. “I do it all the time. That’s how I keep getting straight As.” Apparently her newfound affection for That Woman had only lasted those few seconds.
Wade angled a look at her out of the corner of his eye. Junie sounded ugly, and she knew it. She took a breath and explained. “We had a spare before lunch. We went out for coffee.”
“Good! Good.” Her dad beamed at her and Wade. “Can we give you kids a ride back to school?”
“Sure,” Wade said. “Thank you. That’d be great.”
Junie couldn’t think of anything worse.
Wade and Junie sat in the back, with Princess between them like a chaperone.
“How’s your mother doing?” her father asked as they turned the corner.
No way was Junie going to have a conversation about her mother. Not with Wade in the car. And besides, what did her father care? Junie had to literally bite her tongue so she wouldn’t ask him that exactly.
“Fine.”
“I thought we’d come by on the weekend. Maybe mow the lawn.”
Was he actually having this conversation with her? And this was okay with That Woman? Apparently so, because That Woman smiled at Ron and slipped her hand onto his knee. “We could bring Junie’s mom one of those gift baskets I’m having made.” She turned in her seat and graced Junie with a wide, fake smile. “For my clients.”
“She’s not your client,” Junie said through gritted teeth. “Not any more.”
“She might like it anyway, don’t you think?” The smile got wider. “She likes that sort of thing.”
Junie wanted to gouge out Evelyn St. Claire’s eyes with her bare hands and feed them to her godforsaken dog. That Woman was baiting her. Taunting her. Of course her mother “liked” that sort of thing. She was a compulsive hoarder! You could bring her an old garden hose and a loaf of mouldy bread and she’d think it was Christmas! Evelyn was goading her. Punishing Junie for treating Evelyn the way she had that last time in the car. Junie sank into her seat, fuming. She would not take the bait. Not with Wade in the car.
Junie didn’t say another word until they said goodbye at the school, and even then, she only offered the goodbye to her father, promising him that she’d see him on the weekend sometime.
“Maybe we could do something together,” her dad said. “Bring Wade along, too. The four of us.”
Junie thought not. She waved as the car disappeared. That had been unbearable, to say the least. But at least it was over, and Wade hadn’t recognized her father, and neither her dad nor That Woman had given anything away. Or it didn’t seem like it, anyway.
Out of the car, Wade looked at her funny. “So. Your dad.”
Junie nodded, not sure where this was going to go. “My dad.”
“You seem kind of—”
“Awful to him. I know.” Junie shrugged. “I’m not all that fond of him right now.”
“Yeah. I got that. And I take it that you’re even less fond of his girlfriend.”
“Ugh.” Junie cringed. “Don’t call her that. Tabitha and I refer to her as That Woman.”
“And she is. . . ?”
“Satan in heels? Beelzebub in haute couture? The Wicked Witch of the West?” Junie’s shoulders slumped. She was tired of all of this. She should tell him everything. Right then. Just get it over with. But then it would be over. And she wasn’t ready for that. She’d give him a little. Just a little. “Evelyn St. Claire. She was sort of working for my mom, and ended up dragging my dad into an affair. My parents are getting a divorce, thanks to her. He lives with her in her snotty loft downtown. With her stupid snotty dog. Or, I guess she’s not stupid. She’s actually pretty smart. For a dog.”
“What does she do?”
“The dog, or That Woman?” Junie didn’t want to tell him that Evelyn was a life coach. Then he’d wonder why her mom had needed one of those. “The dog lies around looking royal. That Woman does project management or something. I don’t know exactly. And I don’t care at all.”
Lulu and Ollie and Tabitha came around the side of the school just then, saving Junie from herself.
“We all have our fair share of family drama. My mom was married before she met my dad and was still married when they moved in together. Big scandal. I can relate.” Wade pulled her to him and kissed her. Junie leaned against him, her cheek resting on his chest. It was warm. She could hear his heartbeat. Forget that he couldn’t really relate because he didn’t know the half of it. Forget the rest of the day. The rest of her life. She could stay right there forever. Truly. “We all have a bit of mystery. And besides, I like that in a girl.”
Junie could only hope that that was true, and wonder if her particular mysteriousness would be all that attractive to him when the big lie finally unravelled. She doubted it. But for now, here she was. In the arms of her boyfriend. And that was just about as good as it got.
Tabitha and Junie walked home together after school because Wade was staying behind to work on a project with his Physics study group. Junie told Tabitha about Wade meeting her father, and how Wade hadn’t realized who he really was.
“Maybe it would’ve been better if he had,” Tabitha said gently. “That way, everything would be out in the open. Where it has to be. Eventually.”
“I can’t carry this on forever,” Junie said. “That’s what you mean?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How about just for now, though? Everything is perfect. Right now.”
“It only seems perfect, Junie.”
“Gee thanks, counsellor.”
“Speaking of,” Tabitha said, “it’s that day of the month again.”
Once a month Tabitha and her mother met with a family therapist. Not for any reason in particular. “Just to keep the gears oiled,” as Mrs. D. often said. Mrs. D. had given Junie the card of the therapist at least four times, urging her to give it to her parents. This was even before they’d broken up. But Junie couldn’t imagine being stuck in some therapist’s office with her parents, talking about their feelings. She’d rather have drunk rat poison and died a slow, agonizing death.
It was another gorgeous spring afternoon, but inside Junie’s house it might as well have been the middle of the night. Usually Junie drew open the drapes and lifted the blinds before she left for school in the morning, but that morning she’d been rushing to get to Tabitha’s in time for Wade to pick them up, so now the house was even more dank and depressing than usual.
From the living room, the theme song to The Kendra Show announced a commercial break.
“You’
re home early,” her mother called over an ad for stain remover.
“Everyone’s busy.” Junie kicked aside a dusty salad of plastic fruit that had tumbled out of a basket perched on top of a pile of junk and made her way to the living room. Was it possible that the trails weaving through the crap had gotten narrower, or did it just seem that way with the house being so dark? She climbed atop a hill of clothes that hadn’t fit her since grade three and were “awaiting sorting” and reached past another shelf (“Somewhere to keep my clock collection”) to yank open the living room curtains, letting in the sunlight. They always left the sheers closed, though, just so no one could actually see in and get a good look at the teetering stacks of useless crap, piles of old science fiction books her father used to read but her mother refused to get rid of, broken laundry baskets full of puzzles with missing pieces, mismatched containers and craft supplies that had never been opened. Wade drove by the house every day. Usually twice a day, at least. With that thought chilling her to the core, Junie rearranged the sheers, making sure there was no gap whatsoever.
“So when am I going to meet this boy of yours?” Her mother sat forward in her chair, trying to look interested.
Junie was going to say, “Not until the house burns down and you take a shower,” but Kendra was back on, and her mother was only half paying attention to Junie.
“I don’t know,” Junie said, holding back the barbs.
On The Kendra Show that day, Kendra was touring the poorest parts of Harlem, bringing party dresses to little girls. Like they needed party dresses. They needed shoes maybe, food definitely. A little help with the rent for sure. Junie sat at her mother’s feet on the tiny clear patch of filthy carpet there and watched.
