by C. T. Musca
“Who is she? Do you know her?” I am full of questions, but I only ask two.
“Yes I do know her. I set them up. Linda works at my office as a sales rep. I knew she was single, so I arranged a meeting over lunch a few weeks ago and they’ve been out a few times since. He seems to be really pleased about it. Now don’t you go and say anything; he would probably be embarrassed if he knew that I told you.”
“I won’t, promise. That is so good.” Really, if this works out, maybe he won’t always have to be at our family dinners and vacations all the time. I know that is not a very agreeable thought, and I would never voice it to my father, but it is true.
As I settle into bed I think about how depressing the day began when I found out that Jeremy wasn’t coming home next weekend. Now I feel excited for my date with Shane and happy for Jack. It doesn’t take much to turn the day around.
Winter 2010
“It’s been too long, Ton. We need to do this more often, or you need to get on Facebook.” Amanda and I have finally found a date that works for both of us to go out for dinner. We speak somewhat regularly, but have difficulty finding the time to get together. She is married with two kids, so her life is a lot busier than mine. We tried meeting last month, but her son had the stomach flu. Then we tried again a few weeks ago, but her husband had hockey so she had to stay with the kids. Finally, tonight we have decided to meet at The Keg in her neck of the woods. She hasn’t changed much since I first met her. She is still extremely attractive and very much in shape. Her blonde hair is now dyed with highlights, making her look younger than a lot of people our age.
“I know, you’re right,” I say, although I have no intention of joining Facebook. If I wanted to be in touch with acquaintances, let alone friends, I would be. “How’s school?” Amanda teaches English at a high school in the west end.
“It’s great—except for the fact that no one can spell anymore! Seriously, I wonder what the hell I am doing teaching them how to use apostrophes when my own husband doesn’t know how to use them. I think the fact that he texts everything has made things worse. I suppose that society is changing; maybe we won’t be using apostrophes in a few years! How are things at the office?”
“Oh, they’re fine. It’s a good place to work and the people are really nice. We had our Christmas party a few weeks ago. It was pretty wild—Cindy slept with Patrick!”
“No way!” She knows all about the people I work with and finds the office politics fascinating.
“Yeah, it was very awkward in the office the following Monday. I can’t believe she did that; she must have been pretty drunk to let it happen. I keep thinking that there’s no way Dr. Roerke will hire her full-time when she finishes school,” I say.
“That’s absolutely crazy. God, I would have loved to have been in the office to see the after-effects of that train wreck! There was an affair at our school between the shop teacher and another teacher that had everyone talking, but that was a few years ago. It came out when they got caught together in his office by one of the secretaries. They ended their marriages and shacked up together. Crazy, eh?”
“Yeah, it is. It kinda makes me think of Dale and how he did that to my sister. Sandy is still really upset over the whole ordeal.” Thinking of Dale reminds me that I should give Sandy a call soon.
“Have you talked to Kaitlyn at all?” I ask, knowing that she probably has as she is much better at keeping in touch than I am.
“She’s having a tough time. After the miscarriage she went for some counselling. The fact that they can’t get pregnant again has been really difficult for her. I think she somewhat blames herself for being unable to keep the baby in the first place, and now that she can’t get pregnant, it makes it that much harder for her to accept. I don’t really know how to comfort her either, having never experienced anything like that. I even find it a little awkward talking about my kids when she is going through all of that. She and Todd looked into in vitro, but the cost is over twenty thousand dollars and Todd just got laid off.”
“I should call her. I haven’t seen her since my mom’s funeral,” I say.
Kaitlyn and I were so close in high school, but we sort of drifted apart after that. When she married Todd soon after high school, Amanda and I were in the wedding and took part in all of the festivities. It didn’t take long to see that Todd didn’t treat her the way we thought she should be treated. It was nothing abusive or anything like that; it just seemed like a lack of respect. Instead of saying, “Kait, can you grab me a sweater,” it was “Kait, grab me a sweater,” in a tone that was almost angry. If they were in the same room, he would direct her to go do this or that—things which he could have easily done himself. I remember the first time he ordered her around, Amanda and I exchanged glances. How she could just let him command her was beyond us. We often talked about it and figured that because she didn’t have much of a father figure growing up, she needed—or thought she needed—someone like Todd. The ironic part was that she ended up getting a job at the Domestic Abuse Network in Lindsay. I suppose she never saw his ways as insolent, as compared to all of the other men she encountered.
After I had moved away, I would come home occasionally to see my family. I’d give Kait a call, but she always had some excuse why she couldn’t come out—she was under the weather, she and Todd already had plans, she had to work. I got the feeling that Todd didn’t really want her going out if it weren’t with him. I am not sure if it was jealousy or his need to be in control, and because we never really discussed it, I never knew. Our relationship simply waned after that.
“I forgot to tell you, Ton; I ended up raising over two thousand dollars for cancer research. After my dad got diagnosed with lung cancer and your mom with breast cancer, it just seemed like I needed to do something. I trained for a while to be able to run the marathon. Actually getting sponsors was easy; the training and getting into shape was the tough part.”
“How is your dad anyway? And the rest of your family?” I ask.
“He’s good now, but they are monitoring him monthly. Trish is really good. She just opened up her own clinic, so she doesn’t have to work with the other doctors anymore. She’s happy about that. Her son, Caden, is two and a half and he’s been a bit of a handful lately, but I think it’s all par for the course. I remember when William went through it—it was awful! I remember one time breaking down because I was so frustrated with the tantrums that Wil actually stopped mid-tantrum because of my reaction. From that point on, there was a lot of acting on my part.”
We spend the next few hours catching up—she talks about her kids and married life and I listen for most of it. She no longer asks me who I am dating or if I am interested in anyone, as she learned long ago that I don’t really appreciate it when people inquire. I never came right out and told her. She could just tell from my stories how angry that question made me.
Amanda and Kaitlyn were my best friends in high school, and now I barely see them. Life has a way of changing things. I remember thinking in high school that we’d be close forever; that we’d get our families together to go on vacations; that our husbands too would become close. It’s funny how your high school mind thinks. Everything seems so simple, so black and white. Now, things have become grey.
When I get home, there is a message on my phone from Sandy.
Hey sis, it’s me. I was just calling to invite you to come down for Christmas. I have Anna for Christmas Eve and Day, so I thought it’d be fun to have Aunty Tonya stay with us too. Call me back when you get in.
I am touched by the invitation but don’t think I will feel like driving down there, especially if there is bad weather. I know she’ll be disappointed but at least she won’t be alone for the holidays. I decide to wait before calling her back. I know she’s going to give me a hard time and I’ll have to come up with a better excuse than the driving.
I am awakened in the middle of the night by the fire alarm. It takes me a minute to realize that it’s actually
the building’s alarm and not my own clock. The alarm made its way into my dream, which is why it takes me a few seconds to come to. I quickly put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, grab my coat, and exit my building. This is the first time this has ever happened, so I think it must be the real thing and not just a false alarm. I go over and stand with Rosanna and Mr. Clary. They are standing with a woman who looks very familiar. As soon as she looks at me, I recognize her. It’s Susan, who I went to high school with. We actually hung out occasionally.
“Tonya?” She asks it as a question but has obviously recognized me as well.
“Hi Susan. What on earth are you doing here?” My astonishment is evident.
“I moved in about a month ago. I just got a contract with the government, working in Foreign Affairs. I will be here for about a year. My mom actually found me this apartment. How long have you been in Ottawa? Where are you working?”
“I moved here shortly after high school and I have been here ever since. I work as a receptionist at an office.” As I say it, I feel somewhat embarrassed that I haven’t done more with my life.
We talk a little more about nothing important, as we don’t really have much to say to one another. We were friendly in high school, but in no way best friends. She fills the uncomfortable silence by giving me updates on all our old classmates—information that she has apparently learned through their Facebook profiles. She acts as though she has privileged information and it’s fortunate for me that she’s sharing it. After a while she gets to someone that I actually knew quite well.
“Do you remember Shane Tracey—you dated him, I think—well, he and his wife just had their fourth child! It’s unbelievable to think of how much we’ve grown up, eh?” It really is, I think to myself.
Do you still see anyone from high school?” she asks.
“Amanda lives here now, but other than that, not really. You?”
“Oh sure, we keep in touch through e-mail, but my closest friends were the ones I met in university.”
It’s about at this time that Louis signals to us that we can enter the building. I am relieved that I don’t have to go down memory lane anymore.
“We should get together for a coffee and catch up at a reasonable hour,” Susan says.
“Sure, that’d be great,” I lie and go inside. If I haven’t run into her by now—other than in the middle of the night—I think my chances are pretty good that I can avoid her for another twenty years.
While lying in bed after the fire alarm, trying to get myself back to sleep, my mind keeps involuntarily wandering to the past. It makes sense; I had dinner with Amanda and then randomly ran into Susan. I can’t help but think of how different my life was back then. I remember dating Shane—even if only for a few months—and thinking that he would be the type of boy I’d want to marry. We seem to be living completely opposite lives now.
I tell myself that I need to fall asleep or I will be exhausted the whole day tomorrow, but the harder I try, the more awake I seem to be. I decide to get up and read for a little while before trying again. I pick up the book I am reading—Eat, Pray, Love, which Deb lent me. She kept going on and on about this book that I asked her for it when she finished. Frankly, I don’t find anything really inspiring about it. I am reading it now with the hope that it will help me fall asleep. Although I am looking at the words, I am not really reading. I realize that as I am about to turn the page I have no idea what the author has been talking about.
I decide to put the book away and go back to bed, hoping that I can stop my mind from remembering.
Fall 1989
My first thought as I wake up is what to wear to the movie tonight. The weather has been both warm and cool lately, so I have no idea how to dress. I also realize that I have a ton of homework this weekend, and a history project due on Monday. Nothing is going to dampen this good mood, though. I decide to work on my homework first and get it out of the way. My sister is in the family room cutting up magazines for a collage that she is doing for social studies. There is a perfect mess all around her. Mom is getting angry with her because she has yet to clean up the little teeny tiny pieces of magazine that are now wedged in the carpet. Saturday is cleaning day at the Daverin place and Sandy is making more work for everyone. My job is to clean the sinks and toilets, which I have to say I don’t mind. I like the look of a pristine bathroom once I am finished with it.
Just as I settle down to work in my room, Mom yells to me that Kaitlyn’s on the phone. I move my binders off of my lap and reach over to get the phone.
“Hey, Kait.”
“Tonya. Do you think you can come over?” She sounds upset.
“What’s wrong, Kait?”
“It’s Amanda. Her mom had a stroke in the night and was taken to Memorial.”
“Oh my God. Is she…okay? What happened?”
“She woke up with an awful headache. Mr. Steele called the ambulance after she lost her balance. They don’t really know all of the effects of the stroke, but Amanda is very upset. I want to go to the hospital to be with her today. Are you free? My brother said he’d drive us.”
It seems that I won’t be getting any of that work done today. Within twenty minutes Alex and Kaitlyn are outside my house.
God, I hate hospitals. I remember the smell from when my grandfather was sick and admitted to the hospital for what was to be the remainder of his life. We were very close and I always loved being around him. He was hilarious and seemed so young at heart. It was a great shock when, at sixty-five, he was diagnosed with lung cancer and told he only had a few months to live. The disease attacked him so quickly. There were no visible signs before he was diagnosed and then, all of a sudden, all you could see was the cancer making him cough and lose weight, changing even his personality. He aged twenty years in two months. We visited him often, as my mom was his only child. And every time I went, it surprised me how old he looked. I tried to remain the same, but I am sure the look on my face said it all. He died last summer and I’ll never forget the stench of the hospital or the smell of the carnations at his funeral. I hate both to this day. But I know Amanda needs me, and there is nothing I would want to do more than be with her.
When we show up, Amanda, Trish, and Mr. Steele are waiting in the small washroom-size waiting room close to Mrs. Steele’s room. Amanda runs to hug us and starts crying. She looks as though it wasn’t that long ago that she had stopped crying.
“How is she?” I ask.
“They’re not completely sure yet. She’s lost some of her vision and her ability to walk, although the doctor said it’s common to lose these after a stroke, and that they often come back. He is just waiting to see some test results and he’ll tell us more. I can’t stop thinking she’s going to die.” And she’s is crying again. It is probably the most I have ever seen her cry.
I can see that tears have welled in Kaitlyn’s eyes too, leaving me to be the voice of reassurance. “I am sure things will be fine. If the doctor said that she’d probably regain her vision and ability to walk, things must be good. He wouldn’t give you false hope.”
“It’s just so scary. I can’t imagine life without my mom.”
“You don’t have to. She is here in the care of the doctors who are running tests and making sure she is healthy. You’re lucky that your dad called the ambulance when he did, and that you’re here now.” I think I make a pretty good argument, although I am sure I’d feel the same way.
We stay with Amanda for a few hours. Then her dad asks us if we can take her home to have a rest, since she was up all night. She asks us to stay with her because she says the thought of being alone makes her want to cry.
“I can’t, I am going out tonight,” I respond. As I say it, I realize how selfish I sound.
“I will,” Kaitlyn jumps in, making up for my insensitivity.
“Thanks, Kait, I appreciate it. Have fun tonight, Ton.” I can’t tell whether she’s upset with me or being genuine.
“I can cancel with Shane
if you need me,” I say, although I’m not sure I sound very convincing.
“No, go. Have fun. I’ll be with Kait. Call me when you get home; I am sure I’ll be up.”
I see Shane as my dad drops me off at the theatre. He looks so good in his tight jeans and black Roots sweater. I now wish I had dressed a little more casually. I decided on a skirt and blouse that probably isn’t the best for the cinema, which is smelly and has a permanently sticky, soda-soaked floor.
“I’ll be waiting outside at eleven for you. Have fun.” My dad is so great—better than my friends’ dads, that’s for sure. Amanda has to lie to hers in order to go on a date, and Kaitlyn’s is nonexistent. “What movie are you seeing again?” He realizes that he hasn’t gleaned that information. He probably thinks I have told him and he’s just forgotten, but I actually haven’t said which one because I don’t want to lie to him, especially when he is being so nice to me.
“Batman. It shouldn’t be later than eleven. Thanks, Dad.”
And off I go to meet Shane.
We are both a bit nervous. On a few occasions we begin talking at the same time, almost believing that if there is silence, it may get awkward; we try our hardest to keep the conversation flowing smoothly. We get our tickets—he pays for them—and then we have to sneak into our movie. I am completely paranoid, thinking that every employee knows we are planning on doing this. Shane is calm and tells me he does this often and never gets caught. Once we’ve given our tickets to the boy who rips them and informs us of our theatre number, we put them in the garbage, not planning on using them again. If anyone asks to see our tickets, we’ll just say we’ve lost them. Then we simply walk into theatre four as though we belong there. Even as we’re sitting there waiting for the movie to start, I am half expecting someone to come up and ask to see our tickets. Because the movie we were supposed to see starts right now, we have thirty minutes to wait before Sea of Love begins. It gives us a chance to talk, even though I turn my head anytime I notice someone enter or exit the theatre, suspicious that they are checking tickets. I don’t think I’ve ever been checked for tickets before, so I am not sure why it seems so imminent that they will be doing a routine check tonight.
