by C. T. Musca
“Can I help you with something?”
“I can’t find my keys. I had them when I left. I don’t know—I can’t remember where I put them,” he says.
“I can get Louis, the landlord. He’s got extra keys for all of the apartments. I won’t be a minute,” I reassure him and run downstairs.
Within a few minutes I am back with Louis.
“Mr. Clary, have you misplaced your key again?” Louis asks harmlessly enough.
“I don’t know why this keeps happening. It’s a terrible thing, getting old. I used to have the best memory, and now I can’t remember what I ate for dinner last night!” Although he jokes, his frustration is apparent.
Louis unlocks his door and leaves. Mr. Clary turns to me and asks me to come in for a coffee. As much as I’d rather go to my coffee shop, I don’t have the heart to say no. I go in and see that his apartment is exactly the same layout as mine. It’s small and has several pieces of furniture that do not seem to belong together. He’s got numerous pictures on the wall that I glance at while he fixes our coffees. Based on the pictures, it appears as though he has four children and a wife. I don’t ask him about them, not wanting to pry.
I sit on the couch and we talk about our apartment, the weather and our neighbours. He tells me that his wife recently died and his son moved him up to Ottawa, so he could be near him. As he speaks, I realize that he is not completely pleased with that decision.
“Do you like being in Ottawa?”
“I like the city but it’s not my home; Toronto is my home. How about you? The way you talk about the apartment and the city gives me the sense that you don’t consider Ottawa your home either.”
I am surprised by his interpretation. “I grew up in Lindsay, a small town about an hour and a half from Toronto. I enjoyed it there, but I have to say that I prefer being in the city.”
“Maybe I was wrong. It’s just that you seem to have a sadness in you,” he says. I am taken aback and not really sure how to respond.
“No, I’m fine. I like being here in Ottawa. It’s a great city. I should run, though; I don’t want to be late for work.” I thank him for the coffee and head off to work. I am not one to allow a stranger into my life—not even one as sweet and alone as Mr. Clary.
As usual, I am first to arrive at the office, followed by Deb, and then Dr. Roerke. Cindy is the last to come in, and I sense that the mood is tense between her and Dr. Roerke. I wonder if anything did happen the other night. I am also self-conscious about my little incident, and I don’t really want to talk about it.
“Morning, Tonya. How was the rest of your weekend?” Deb is always good at sparking conversation without ever making anyone feel uncomfortable.
“It was all right. Quiet, but restful. How about you?”
“Great. I was feeling a little rough on Saturday, so Bud took the kids to his parents’ place. He’s great that way. I slept a good part of the day, and then I went and got a massage. You missed some interesting things the other night.”
“Oh yeah?” I don’t really want to talk about the other night.
“Cindy ended up going home with Patrick!” Although she says this in a whisper so no one can hear, her excitement is apparent.
I’m shocked; I didn’t see that one coming. If I were to predict who she’d end up with that night, it would have been his father. I wonder if Dr. Roerke knows. I’m not usually involved in the office gossip, but this I find fascinating and beginning to resemble a captivating soap opera.
“Really? Does Tom—I mean Dr. Roerke—know?” The question is out before I can contain it.
“Yeah, he knows. Cindy called me yesterday and told me all the gory details. I guess she and Patrick started dancing and it got pretty sexual, if you know what I mean—it looked like they would do it right then and there! You were gone, and then Pat and Cindy left. Bud, Nicole, and I were there, and Tom asked us where everyone else was. Bud and I had enough sense not to speak up, but Nicole had no idea. She blurted out something like ‘she and Patrick left to fuck.’ I thought Tom would be angry, but he actually looked like he was about to cry.”
“Oh my, that’s going to make it awkward around here,” I say.
“I don’t think Tom ever thought something like that could happen, you know, with Patrick being so introverted. What happened with that guy—Kirk? Bud said you were pretty upset.”
“Oh, it was nothing really, an overreaction. I think I just had too much to drink.”
“Well, he looked a little distraught after you left. He asked me for your number.”
“I hope you didn’t give it to him?” It’s more a question than a statement.
“I did. You guys looked like you were having so much fun I figured whatever went wrong, you could talk about it. He seemed really into you, Ton,” she explains.
“Oh, I wish you hadn’t.”
“What happened? Did he say something to offend you?”
I’m surprised she doesn’t remember my outburst, but then again she did have quite a bit to drink.
“He’s just not my type, that’s all.” I hope she’ll just drop it.
No such luck. “Come on, Tonya. Admit it—you had fun with him. He was cute too!”
“Yes, but he is definitely not someone I would ever be serious about. Can we just leave it at that?”
We do leave it at that because then Cindy comes to my desk to get the charts. She smiles at me, and it’s immediately clear she has no recollection of seeing me the other night. I am relieved that I won’t have to defend my actions with her or Dr. Roerke. I look at her and wonder whether she is embarrassed that she slept with Patrick, who is five years younger than she is and is the boss’s son. She has always seemed so confident that I can’t imagine her feeling humiliated about anything.
The day remains one of uncomfortable courtesy—Cindy with Dr. Roerke, Deb with Dr. Roerke, and me with Deb. This is why you shouldn’t mix work and play. Luckily Patrick is not working until the end of the week, because this uneasiness could be much worse.
At home, I am content to just veg in front of the TV. I half thought I would go out for a jog since I missed it this morning, but as soon as I enter my apartment, I realize that was just wishful thinking. There is a message flashing on my machine. I press play, thinking that it is probably Sandy trying to make plans for the holidays. Instead it is Cort.
Hi Tonya. It’s Cort, from the other night. I hope you don’t mind I got your number from your friend Debra. I am not really sure what happened there on the dance floor, but I was hoping we could meet up to talk about it. I am sorry if I offended you in any way. My number is 613-555-1343. Please gimme a call.
I erase the message and go to bed.
Fall 1989
After we got back from Trout Lake, it seemed like the summer was over, even though we had a week and a half left before we had to go back to school. Jeremy left the following weekend and, like always, the house felt empty. Sandy started seventh grade in a new school, and she liked her new teachers. Mom thought that maybe Sandy was starting to mature a little and wouldn’t be getting into trouble. She got her first bra, had her first period, and started shaving all within a matter of weeks. Mom was a little sad, saying “my baby’s growing up”, but I sensed a bit of relief too.
As soon as I got home from the cottage, I called Amanda to hear what had been going on while I was away. Evidently, not much. Dan blew her off, which I sort of knew would happen. She had been pretty upset. She wrote me pages and pages, but didn’t send them because she knew I’d be home before they’d arrive. She eventually gave them to me—all twenty pages—and there was a lot of anger and resentment. I felt bad that I couldn’t be there for her.
I was too nervous to call Shane so I decided to wait until school started to talk to him.
School started as it always did. The weather seemed to change overnight and our wardrobes moved from shorts and tank tops to pants and sweaters. We got our schedules on the first day and I was in most of Kaitlyn
’s classes. Amanda’s first semester was totally different from ours, but she was okay with it.
The hallways seem much more crowded than last year, but I am not sure why; we were told there aren’t as many students enrolled this year. It’s entertaining to see the new couples that emerge after a dance, which took place on our second week back in September. Boys walk their new girlfriends to class. They hold hands and then stop and kiss outside the classroom until a teacher tells them to move on. I want to be this way with Shane, but right now it seems almost impossible. I have only had one real boyfriend before, and that was in eighth grade. I am not sure if it can be considered real because we never actually kissed. He asked me to be his girlfriend, I said yes, and then we pretty much ignored each other to avoid awkward encounters. We never broke it off, so technically, I guess we’re still going out.
Now it’s almost Thanksgiving and we are all used to our classes and teachers. I am really enjoying English and Phys. Ed, but hating Science. Our Science teacher is a nice enough person, but he doesn’t really teach anything. We have to use the book to learn the lessons and answer questions. One time, Greg wrote random details about his weekend in the middle of his lab report, and Mr. Sandall didn’t even notice! Regardless of this, I am still struggling to get good grades in this class, and I am barely passing the tests. Kaitlyn helps me out whenever we have homework; she is so good in school.
In English we are reading Lord of the Flies, which has to be the greatest school book I’ve ever read. Before we started it, our teacher had us discuss what would happen if we got snowed in at school with no adults here. He really got us thinking about cliques and power struggles. I was so enthralled that I couldn’t wait to start reading the book. Now we are almost done, and I’m anxious to see if the boys get rescued or not. Our next book is called The Chrysalids. Jeremy tells me it is very boring, so I am kind of dreading it.
Phys. Ed. is my other favourite class, although our teacher is very annoying. I think she should be a guy or something—she’s tough and loud and expects us all to be athletes. I do well in the class, but Kaitlyn doesn’t. Ms. Merrit seems to be tougher on Kaitlyn and those who aren’t as strong or as fast. My other class, History, is pretty interesting, although Mr. Prince always has coffee breath, which makes us avoid asking him any questions about the homework, even though we have several. I also don’t think he’s ever flossed his teeth. We often see remnants of his sandwiches stuck between his teeth after lunch.
I have seen Shane a few times in the hallways, but we’ve only said hi to each other. I’m not sure if he thinks I blew him off because I didn’t call him at the end of the summer, but I hope not. We have a dance tonight at the school, and I am anticipating that he’ll be there so we can talk and hang out. We are getting ready at Susan’s house before her mom drives us to the dance. I think Kaitlyn is going to bring some rye in an empty hairspray bottle, so we can mix it with Pepsi. I am glad for that because I’ll need something to give me the courage to approach Shane.
I am glad we’re going out tonight. I was a disappointed this morning when Jeremy called to say that he wouldn’t be coming home for Thanksgiving. Instead he has been invited to Sarah’s house in Toronto. He said he would definitely be coming home for Christmas. I can’t imagine him not being here for a holiday, and the thought totally depresses me.
Kaitlyn, Amanda, and I are getting ready in Susan’s room. We’ve brought several different outfits and we’re figuring out which ones to wear. I’ve decided to wear one of Amanda’s sweaters, and Kaitlyn is going to crimp my hair. We talk about various things: school, our families, and, of course, boys. I sense that Susan likes Greg but she doesn’t openly admit it. I think the fact that Greg has held a candle for Amanda for so long is partly the reason. They all know I like Shane and keep reassuring me that he likes me too.
“What about you, Kait? Who are you anxious to see tonight?” Susan asks.
“No one really. I am just excited to dance, and I hope the music is good,” she evades the question.
Kaitlyn would open up to Amanda or me, but she’s not very close to Susan. We continue to get ready, keeping the conversation superficial. Soon her mom knocks on the door and asks us if we’re ready to go.
When we arrive at the school, all of the teachers are at the entrance, which we assume is to smell if anyone has been drinking. We have sprayed so much perfume, and we’re each chewing at least two pieces of gum, so alcohol should not be detected. Even though we only had two glasses of rye and Pepsi each, we feel as if we’ve had more. I think that the idea of us drinking has made us feel buzzed, which is good if I want to approach Shane.
A bunch of the girls dance in a circle to all of the fast songs that we know by heart—“Straight Up,” “Like a Prayer,” “Rock On,” “The Look”—and when the music switches to a slow song, like “Eternal Flame” or “Right Here Waiting,” we all move to the wall and wait to be asked to dance. I dance with a few guys, mainly friends, like Greg or Neil. When “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” comes on, I am watching Shane to see where he’ll go, anticipating that it is to me. Darren then surprises me by asking me to dance. As much as I want to say no and wait for Shane, I can’t really. Shane asks Annick, a girl in his grade, to dance, and I suddenly feel the pang of jealously in my stomach. I don’t carry on much of a conversation with Darren, although he’s trying. I see Shane look over at me, so I smile and put up my hand that’s been resting on Darren’s shoulder. God, I wish I could be dancing with him instead.
The dance continues the way it always does, plenty of fast songs, with a few slow in between, some girls crying and going off to the bathroom, and teachers walking around the gym, making sure everyone is acting appropriately. It is nearing eleven, and we all know that it’s time for the last song of the night. We are confused when the last song to come on is a fast one, “My Prerogative,” by Bobbie Brown. My hopes are dashed. No dance with Shane.
“Hey, Tonya. How are ya?” I didn’t see Shane approach me from behind.
“Hi. I’m good, you?” I try not to sound too excited.
“I wanted to ask you to dance, but every time I came up, you were already dancing. Do you want to go and talk in the hallway?”
We head down a hallway that is a little more removed from the music so people can actually carry on a conversation. We make small talk for a few minutes, and then he asks me why I didn’t call him when I got back from my family vacation.
“I was going to, but I was a little nervous. I wasn’t sure that you still wanted to go out with me,” I explain.
“Are you serious? I definitely wanted to. I was waiting at the end of the summer for your phone call, but nothing. I have to say, I felt a bit mislead; I thought we had a lot in common and that the feeling was mutual.” I can see he had been thinking about how to say this for a long time.
“I’m sorry. I really wanted to…and still do want to go out with you.”
“How about tomorrow night? We could go see that new Al Pacino movie, Sea of Love,” he suggests.
“I’d love to. My brother saw it. He said it was great, but I think it’s R-rated.”
“That’s no big deal; we get tickets for another movie and sneak into it.”
The lights come on in the gym, and people are making last-minute plans to go out after we leave the school.
Amanda rushes up. “We’re heading over to Pete’s place. Are you guys coming?” Pete is a guy in eleventh grade who always has parties. We have often wondered where his parents go all the time because anytime we’ve been there, they are not. This one time, everybody got so drunk that the neighbours called the police, who sent everyone home. On the following Monday, Pete said his parents never found out about it and he invited everybody over again the next weekend. Mom has always been wary of me going to his house, as though she knows something more than I do.
“No, I can’t. My dad is coming to pick me and Susan up,” I say. I can see she’s disappointed.
“Well, Trish is coming later
to pick me and Kait up. You’re welcome to get a ride with us,” she offers.
“I am sure my dad is already waiting outside. It’s okay, ’Man. I think Susan has to be home anyway. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Normally I would stay with Amanda for the night, but when Susan called earlier today asking for a ride home after the dance, I had to oblige. I can’t say I am disappointed; I’m tired, and I have a bunch of school work to do tomorrow.
“Yeah, I have to get home too. See you guys later,” Shane replies. “Tonya, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says as he leaves. I can see the surprise on Amanda’s face so I explain our conversation.
She gives me a big hug. “I am so excited for you, Ton.”
“Me too, thanks. I saw you dancing with Greg a lot tonight. Is anything going on?”
“I dunno. I never really thought of him that way, but he really is a great guy. I guess we’ll see tonight—he’s going to Pete’s too. Did you see Dan with Mackenzie? What a creep!”
“You can do a lot better than Dan. Have fun with Greg tonight; he is hilarious.” It’s funny, I probably would have been jealous a few months ago, but now that I’m interested in Shane, I don’t think of Greg that way.
We say our good-byes and I find Susan to leave. I was right—Dad is waiting outside of the school for us. On the drive home, he asks us about the dance and with whom we each danced. I know he finds it a bit awkward talking to us about this, but he tries nonetheless. He’s the best; I admire him so much and appreciate his effort. I tell Dad about Shane and our date tomorrow, thereby getting permission to go. Susan is quiet in the backseat. I am not sure how we get on the topic of Uncle Jack, but Dad tells me that he is seeing someone. This is big news, as I don’t think he’s dated anyone since his marriage broke up.
