by David Gane
chapter 6
I stand awkwardly beside Gekas and Dad, racking my brain, trying to figure out what Gekas was really asking, but I can’t get anywhere with it.
Dad, working the barbecue, interrupts my wandering thoughts and hands me a huge tray of cooked meat. “Take this in to your sisters.”
I carry it inside and set it on the table.
Heather arrives with the last of the salads. “We’re all here?” she asks.
“Everyone but Charlie,” I answer.
“Can you text him, please? I’ll wrap the meat—it’s better if it sweats a little—but we should start eating soon.”
I rush upstairs and check my phone. There’s a text from my buddy, Mike, about tomorrow morning, and a couple from a few other classmates I’m doing a project with for law class. But nothing from Charlie.
I send him:
Meal’s ready
Where are u?
I’m about to leave but stop to add:
Come even if ur late
chapter 7
The party begins without Charlie.
The table looks great, filled with heaping platters of barbecue, huge bowls of salad, and delicious side dishes. Since it’s a buffet, people progress in waves, filling their plates before finding a seat anywhere they can. They’re everywhere, milling back and forth between the dining room and the patio.
I build myself a huge serving of veggies and meat, knowing I can eat it all and likely go back for more. I try to be conscious of what I put into my body, but since I’m working my ass off in training, I can’t stop eating. I take a seat beside Irene and Barb.
Dad’s at the doorway by the dining room, giving me a look: Where’s Charlie?
I shake my head and lift a shoulder.
If he’s coming, he’ll simply drop in whenever it’s convenient for him rather than respond to my text. I’ve learned to accept this. We all have.
Dad turns to the room. “Thank you, everyone, for coming to celebrate with us today.” He gestures to the food. “It looks like we’ve got some work ahead of us!”
Irene raises a glass, “To the happy couple!”
The guests cheer and toast.
I raise my soda can, slightly disappointed that it’s not something a bit stronger.
“And no one’s allowed to leave until it’s all gone,” Mom says. She’s smiling but I don’t think she’s kidding; I know how much she’d hate trying to find containers for all this food if it’s left over.
Ed pipes up, “No problem!”
Everyone laughs.
Dad gets everyone’s attention again. “I’d just like to say that twenty-five years of being together hasn’t always been easy. Sometimes it’s challenging and sometimes a little tougher than you want, and I could say it’s felt like a lot of work.” He looks over at Mom. She beams back at him. “But it hasn’t, Keya. You make everything easy and wonderful. And now, as I look around at this room full of our wonderful family and friends, and our amazing children, I see the beauty that love can bring.”
“I love you, Ben.” Mom takes his hand.
“I love you too, and I can’t wait to celebrate with you again after another twenty-five.” He pulls her close and gives her a big kiss.
Everyone whistles, whoops, and applauds, caught up in the moment.
“All right,” Dad announces, “let’s eat!”
chapter 8
We dig in, stuffing our faces with delicious food.
It doesn’t take long for the stories about Mom and Dad to start. There is a lot of razzing them, and a lot of anecdotes they try to interrupt or protest with much laughter. There’s also a lot I’ve never heard, hints about how wild my parents actually were in their youth. They’ve always seemed so ordinary to me—maybe they’ve already lived their exciting years.
Once everyone’s finished eating, the stories slow down and people rise to stretch their legs and refill their glasses. Neighbours chat with neighbours, friends and family reconnect, and eventually people start peppering me with questions:
“What kind of career are you thinking of getting into?”
“What’s your major?”
“Are you going to school?”
“What school are you going to?”
“Are you moving away like your sisters?
I try and answer all of them as best as I can, but I can barely keep up.
Uncle Sheldon asks, “Do any of your post-secondary choices have sports scholarships?”
“I’ve applied for a couple.”
“Of course, you’ve still got to make the teams,” Uncle Sheldon points out.
Thanks, Uncle Sheldon, but you’re not really helping—
Irene changes the subject. “But which way are you leaning? Medicine like your mom or public policy like your dad?”
“Or something else?” Barb asks. “Maybe a lawyer.”
“Never encourage anyone to be a lawyer,” Gekas’s date, Spencer, chimes in.
“So says the lawyer,” Gekas says.
My sister’s nearby, gathering plates, and I divert their attention. “Heather’s studying law in Calgary.”
The group turns and Heather’s ready for them. “Only undergrad in political science.”
“But you plan to go into law?” Uncle Sheldon asks.
“If all goes well.”
“Litigation? Criminal? Family?” Spencer wants to know.
“Isn’t that badgering the witness?” she asks.
“Ah, only if I were trying to antagonize—”
“For an emotional response—”
“Ack, I’ve stepped into my own cross-examination.”
I notice Gekas squeeze his hand. It’s kinda weird to see her as something other than a detective.
“What law do you practice?” Heather turns the tables.
“Corporate.”
She nods, considering. “I have a couple of acquisitive friends who may come knocking on your door.”
I’m curious to know what type of people she hangs out with.
Spencer laughs. “The money is indeed good. And there never seems to be a lack of clients.”
Heather holds up her hands. “No, thanks. I’m not merciless enough.”
The crowd chuckles at the burn but it doesn’t seem to faze Spencer. He grins in reply. “Good, we need crusaders fighting against us cold-hearted scoundrels.”
Heather steps away and I’m again alone with the group.
“I read that your school had a successful season on the court,” Ed praises.
Thank you, Uncle Ed. My own relatives don’t even care that much.
“Yeah, we’ve had a really good run. Can’t complain.”
“You’re being modest. Look at your stats: 26.1 points per game, 4.8 on steals, 8.3 on assists—”
Although most of this crowd has no clue what any of it means, they seem impressed.
“Yeah, but I had a lot of help from my buddy, Mike—”
“You two run the court pretty well together,” Gekas puts in.
I’m surprised she’s even been to one of my games.
Uncle Ed continues, “Tony, you’ve got serious potential. You can do great things. But you’re holding back. You need to quit selling yourself short and letting the other guys look good.”
Although I hear what he’s saying, that attitude is bad for the team. I yield, hoping he’ll move on. “Okay, Uncle Ed.”
Uncle Sheldon and Aunt Sally grimace at my use of the title, but the way he’s rattled off my stats, Ed’s earned it.
“Being such a good athlete must make it hard to keep the ladies away,” Cynthia calls out.
Damn, why’d she have to go and ruin it? I don’t blame her, though—I’m pretty sure she has no clue what the past few years have been like. My old girlfriend,
Sheri, still holds a place in my heart, and it’s only recently that time has begun to ease the pain of her loss.
Aunt Ayana strolls over. “Ah, leave him be. The boy doesn’t need to be rushed into a relationship. He needs to stretch his legs, travel the world, encounter other cultures, have a few adventures.”
Mom’s right there with the follow-up. “Are you trying to fill my son with wild ideas, sister?”
“Of course I am. He’s young! He needs the chance to discover who he is.”
Mom’s face says it all. She doesn’t hate the idea of me travel-
ling or finding myself, but she may think I’ve already had enough adventures.
Uncle Sheldon insists that “A good, solid, education can lead to a promising career,” and the debate over my future kicks into high gear.
It’s times like this I wish Charlie were around to create a diversion—like maybe starting a fight or burning down a shed.
chapter 9
It only takes a few minutes of questions for my head to spin and my brain to feel full. I grab some dishes and carry them into the kitchen, where I find Jodi and Heather chilling over glasses of wine.
“They finally broke you too, huh?” Heather asks.
Jodi takes a swig from her glass. “I was asked, ‘When will we hear the pitter-patter of little feet?’ so many times.”
The phone rings. “I’ll get it,” Jodi says.
“And you, little brother,” Heather turns on me, “you threw me under the bus.”
“Desperate times, sis.” I crack open a soda since my sisters will never let me get away with a beer.
“No worries. I’ll get you back. And my revenge will be slow and sweet.”
I know she’ll make good on that promise, but I’m actually kind of relieved that I’m not the only one feeling this way.
“Tony?” Jodi says pensively, handing me the phone. “It’s Charlie.”
chapter 10
I grab the cordless and run downstairs where it’s quieter. Ollie sees me and growls.
“It’s okay, buddy.”
When he realizes it’s me, he wags his tail. I feel sorry for this good dog who is now damaged and not himself. I’ll find him some leftover scraps from the barbecue later.
I put the phone to my ear. “Charlie? What happened to you?”
“How’s supper?” He ignores my question.
“Um, good.”
“How was the barbecue sauce? I gave Ben the recipe.”
“It was fine. Did you get my text?”
Again, he ignores the question. “Yeah, it’s a pretty sweet sauce on ribs and steak.”
“Charlie, what’s up?”
“I’m in a bit of a predicament.”
This ought to be good. “Okay. So what’s up?”
“I need help moving some things.”
“Moving things?”
“Yeah, you know, boxes.”
“You need help moving boxes? Right now?”
“That’d be great if you could.”
“What’s in them?” Please don’t tell me it’s drugs or a body.
“Stuff.”
“That’s pretty cryptic, Major Tom.”
There is a long pause.
“You know what, just forget—”
Before he hangs up, I bark, “I’ll be right there. Wait. Where am I going?”
“Meet me at the convenience store on the corner of Twentieth.”
“Wait, you’re by my house? Why didn’t you come over?”
“Dude, can you please stop with the questions and just come get me!”
Sometimes it’s better to just let things go. “Okay. Fine. Be there in five.”
“Cool. Thanks, man.” He hangs up.
Rarely a dull moment with this guy.
chapter 11
I walk back upstairs into the buzz of chatter and laughter.
Heather and Jodi are waiting for me in the kitchen.
“What’s up?” Jodi asks.
“He needs a ride.”
“Where?”
I sigh and both of my sisters are alert.
“What’s going on?”
“He has some boxes he needs moved.”
“Please don’t tell me there’s drugs or a body in them,” Heather says.
Clearly we’re related.
“Nope. Just stuff.” I really hope he doesn’t make me a liar. “Do you think I can borrow Dad’s car?”
They both put up their hands, neither wanting to make the call.
I head into the living room. The party’s in full swing and I’m happy for my parents; this is how their anniversary should be spent. I hate bringing Charlie’s crap into the middle of it. I scan the room for Dad. Shit—he’s telling a story to Gekas and Spencer.
“So the whole tent’s asleep when I let out this loud squawk! Keya thinks I’m having a heart attack—” he sees me approach and drags me into his tale “—and Tony’s about six at the time and jumps up screaming, thinking I’m a pterodactyl!”
Everyone laughs and I force a smile, leaning in to catch Dad’s ear only. “Uh, could I borrow the car for twenty minutes?”
Even though no one hears, Dad’s look of concern quiets the group. “What for?”
“Charlie needs a ride.”
Somewhere over my shoulder, I’m sure Mom’s worrying what I’m up to, but Gekas is doing a good job filling in. “Is he in trouble?”
“It’s okay, Detective. Nothing like that.”
But she and I both know that, with Charlie, it usually is like that.
“Twenty minutes?” Dad asks.
I nod.
“And no more?”
I nod again.
“Okay. But you two get back here immediately.”
“Will do, Pops. Thanks.”
chapter 12
It’s Sunday evening and the drive is quick. There’s barely any snow left on the ground and the shopping traffic is done. In five minutes, I’m at the convenience store.
Charlie’s leaning against the wall, hands in pockets, scruffy blond hair hanging down, waiting patiently. He’s wearing a light jacket, well-worn jeans and his scuffed All Stars. His well-used backpack that holds most of his earthly possessions is hoisted on his shoulders. Except for the fact that his shaggy hair looks wilder than normal, it’s pretty much the same look he’s got all year long, more or less.
I pull up and he jumps in.
“Hey, you missed supper.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“I’m pretty sure Dad has a plate waiting for you.”
“Ah, Ben. Always thinking. Your dad’s a good guy.” He doesn’t do his ritual rummage through the car—searching through musical choices, opening the console, poking at things—like he usually does. Tonight he sits quietly. “Head east, please.”
He’s using manners? What the hell’s going on with him tonight?
“What’s up, Charlie? Where are we going?”
“To my mom’s.”
chapter 13
The words hits me. This is it. Tonight, I finally get to see where Charlie Wolfe lives.
He’s been to our place a lot. In fact, he knows a lot about my life, my house, my summer cabin, my family. He knows what’s on my fridge, and he definitely knows what’s in it as well. He sits at my supper table, shoots hoops with me in the driveway, visits with Dad, hangs out with Mom. But I’ve never been to his house. Ever. In the almost two years I’ve known him, he’s never invited me and I’ve never asked. We’ve fallen into a delicate friendship, and I’ve chosen never to push it, in case he pulls away. It seemed to be the best—and perhaps the only—way to grow this friendship.
He points right. “Turn here.”
When I turn onto Arcola Avenue, the direction we’re travell
ing clicks in my head. This is the road I would’ve taken to Sheri’s.
It’s been nearly two years since I’ve driven out this way. After she went missing, I came out here twice. The first time was to search the locker at her school for clues about her disappearance. That was when I met Charlie for the first time. The second was when I returned to ask Charlie for help finding her. I never went back after that, partly because she was gone and I had no reason to, but mostly because it hurt too much. But, as I should’ve expected, it’s because of Charlie that I’m returning.
We drive over the expressway and the walled-in neighbourhoods stretch out before us.
“At the four-way, take a right.”
Sheri’s school appears and I expect a pang of misery but nothing comes. I wonder if something deep inside me has started to let go.
“Take another right.”
I hit the turn signal, happy to turn off the road. We go down a street I’ve never been on. The wall that acts as a noise barrier to the expressway appears ahead. The road seems to end in a cul-de-sac.
“After the apartments, angle it right.”
The road bends past the buildings, and I drive down what appears to be a back alley. But I’m wrong. It’s a straight-up trailer park—exactly like he once told me. And if he was honest about this, I wonder what else he was telling the truth about.
There are no streetlights and we creep through the dark. My headlights reveal mobile homes in great condition, with beautiful gardens and goofy gnomes. But the further we go, the more we see pretty damn unfortunate ones, with dead lawns, broken toys, ripped bags of garbage, and empty liquor bottles strewn across their yards.
“Here.”
Charlie points to an abandoned-looking trailer and I pull to a stop. It’s more desolate than I could have imagined.
“Um, Charlie, is this your home?” I try to keep my tone light.
“Nah, man. Home is where you hang your hat.”
Here we go with the Charlie-isms.
“Do you live here?” I try again.
“I did.”
The place is dark, not a light to be seen. “Where’s your mom?”
