By now, Mom and Dad know Granny’s car is missing. Mom’s called Aunt Jess. Suckhole’s called the Suckhole-ettes. What’ll I do?
Granny frowns at the screen. “I don’t get it.”
“There’s nothing to get. It’s music videos.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t get it.”
“Fine. Pick something else.” I give her the remote.
Granny stares at it like it’s a Rubik’s cube. “Are you upset, Pumpkin?”
“No. I’m trying to think is all.”
“Good. You go ahead and think.”
I try to concentrate, but Granny keeps smiling at me. I shut my eyes to block her out: If I were a real detective, how would I find Uncle Teddy’s address?
I open my eyes. Granny’s still smiling: “How’s the thinking going?”
“Just fine, Granny.”
I close my eyes again. Only what can I think? How can I think?
* * *
Granny has the rest of her sandwich for dinner. I pace back and forth along the bed, chewing Oreos.
“What are you doing?” Granny asks.
“Exercising.”
“You should try push-ups.” Granny counts my steps in each direction.
Before you know it, it’s night. I get out my toothbrush and the extra I brought for Granny. “Time to brush our teeth and go to bed, Granny,”
“I’ve already brushed mine.”
“No, you haven’t.”
She juts her jaw. “How would you know?”
“Because I have it right here.”
“So what? I used my finger.”
“Great,” I smile. “Now you can use your toothbrush. I need you to show me how to brush mine properly.”
“Your parents haven’t taught you?”
“Not the way you do it.”
Granny sighs and follows me into the bathroom. I give her her toothbrush and she cleans her teeth.
I tap my teeth where she missed: “How do I do here?”
She shows me, brushing like she’s scrubbing floors. I use the same trick to get her to do behind her molars. After, we go back to the bedroom. I pull back the bedcovers: there are hairs in the sheets. At this point, who cares?
Granny gets into bed with her shoes on.
“Can I help you off with those?”
Granny shakes her head. “Someone will steal them.”
“Who?”
“You’d be surprised.”
Fine. I tuck her in, turn out the lights, and sit by the window, looking out over the alley. Down below, a guy is rooting through the Dumpster. Will that be Granny and me? A wave of sick goes up my throat. The guy looks up. I pull back into the dark. Who will watch me?
I crawl into bed. Close my eyes. On the back of my eyelids I see Suckhole, Mom and Dad, the last few days. “Think Bird Turd can fly?”
Granny tosses and turns. In the middle of the night, she kicks me.
“Ow!”
She wakes up startled. “Who’s there?”
“Me. Zoe.”
“You should go home,” Granny says. “Your mom and dad will be cross at me for keeping you up so late.”
“They’re away for the weekend.”
“They left you alone?”
“I’m not alone. I’m with you. We’re having a sleepover.”
“Oh, good,” Granny says. “I like it when we have sleepovers.”
“Me too. So let’s sleep.”
“All right.” A minute later. “Zoe,” she says, a little concerned.
“What?”
“This doesn’t feel like my bed.”
“That’s ’cause it isn’t.”
“Oh. So whose is it?”
Pause. “Granny, I’m going to turn on the light. Promise you won’t freak out.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Just promise. Okay?”
“Okay, promise.”
I turn on the lamp.
Granny sits bolt upright. “Where are we?”
“In a hotel room in Toronto.”
“Toronto?” She pulls the bedcover to her chest. “How did we get here?”
“You promised not to freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out. I’m— I don’t know what.”
“Mom and Dad put you in Greenview,” I say calmly. “You said Uncle Teddy would save you, so we ran away to find him.”
Granny looks at me like I’m crazy. “Teddy cut me off. Dear God, why are the things I want to forget the things I remember?”
I hold Granny tight. “Whatever happened back then, he loves you.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I stroke her hair, whisper the lullabies she used to sing me, and lay us back onto our pillows. The world disappears.
29
I’m falling. Barbed wire, rocks rush towards my head—
I open my eyes. It’s morning. Granny’s grinning at me from two inches away. “Rise and shine, lazybones. I thought you were dead.” This is a joke. I think. “I’m already dressed. Take me wherever it is we’re going.”
Breakfast would be a start. I get us to Sonny’s Family Diner, opposite Uncle Teddy’s old apartment. There’s cracked leatherette seats and a bowl of jelly beans by the cashier. We slide into a booth at the front. Granny copies what I do with my serviette and menu.
“What would you like, Granny?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
I order us breakfast specials and stare at Uncle Teddy’s old building. Where did you move? How do I find you?
Hi My Name Is Trevor drops off our plates. Could he have cleaned his fingernails maybe? I picture the kitchen. I wish I hadn’t.
Granny pokes at her eggs while I look back across the street. A couple of people leave Uncle Teddy’s. Hey, what if they lived there before he left? What if they knew him?
“Sit still, Granny.” I run outside but they’re gone.
Who cares. There’s other people to try. Not everyone moves. Maybe somebody knows where he went!
I run back to our table. “Granny, we have to go. I’ve got work to do.”
Once in our room, I set Granny in front of the aquarium channel, put the Uncle Teddy pictures in my backpack, and hang a note on the doorknob: GRANNY, STAY HERE! I’LL BE BACK SOON! XOX ZOE!
“I’m just stepping out for a bit, okay?”
“Take your time,” Granny says. An angelfish crosses the screen.
I race to Uncle Teddy’s. The return address on his envelope says apartment 1206, but the buzzers don’t have numbers. A guy comes up behind me, smelling of cigarettes and chewing gum. I step back. A friend buzzes him in. I catch the door with my foot, wait till he catches the elevator, and sneak inside.
I smooth my hair in the smoked-mirror wall and wipe the bacon grease off my chin. By the time the elevator arrives, I’m what Mom would call “presentable.” I get off on the twelfth floor. 1206 is immediately on my right. For a second, I get this weird vibe like I’ve time travelled and he’s inside doing dishes.
Uh, no. A baby’s screaming its head off. I knock at the next one. “Hold on.” A guy with a man-bun props open the door. “Who are you?”
“Teddy Bird’s niece. He used to live in 1206.” I show him a picture. “Did you know him?”
“Hunh? No. How did you get in here?”
“Someone held the door for me.”
“You’re a tailgater?”
“What? No. I’m just trying to find my uncle.”
“Or trying to find an empty apartment to break into.”
“No. Look, it’s important I find him.”
“It’s important you get your ass outside. You want to find someone, use the buzzer.” He slams the door.
Bite me, Man-bun. Who made you God?
There are only yappy dogs at the next two apartments, but at the third, I hear people talking a foreign language. I knock. Everything goes quiet. A woman peeks through the crack at the chain lock. “Husband no home.”
“That’s okay.�
� I show her my uncle’s picture. “Do you know Teddy Bird?”
“Husband no home. No home.”
I nod and talk slowly: “I Know. I’m Looking For Teddy Bird.”
“You go now. Shoo.” She locks the door and I’m alone again in the hall.
Drip marks trail from the next apartment to the garbage chute down the hall. I knock. Shuffling. The door opens. The windows have heavy shades across them. The air is thick as plum jelly; it smells of cat litter.
The man in the shadows has a cane. A faded dressing gown hangs open over underwear, pale, hairless legs and fuzzy slippers. Cats circle his feet. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Uh, I don’t think so. I’m looking for my uncle. He used to live on this floor.”
“I’ve lived here for thirty-six years.”
“His name is Teddy Bird.” I hold up the picture. “Did you know him?”
“Maybe.” He hardly looks at it. “Come in.” His eyes are big.
“That’s okay.” I shift back and forth. “I wonder, could you please check if his name’s in your address book?”
“Of course. Come in while I look for it.”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“You won’t bother me. I have cats. Want to pet my cats?”
The elevator opens behind me. Out comes a bald guy tough as a tractor; his arms are hairier than Mom’s wig. “You the tailgater?” He takes my photo with his phone. “You the one who broke into 504, 912?”
“No, I— Who are you anyway?”
“The superintendent. Who are you?”
“This is my granddaughter,” the man in the shadows says.
The superintendent shoots him a hard look. “You have a lot of granddaughters, Mr. McCutcheon.”
“Don’t worry about him,” the man in the shadows purrs. “Come in.”
“I’d love to, Grampa, but I’m late for school.”
“Come by later then. Grampa has a present for you.” He winks. My heart somersaults.
The superintendent presses the elevator button. I ride down with him.
“It’s not like you think,” I go. “I’m the one who buzzed you yesterday about my uncle, Teddy Bird. He lived here. I have to find him.”
“That’s not my problem. You are.” The elevator opens. He marches me to the front door. “If I see you in this building again, I’ll call the cops.”
I walk back and forth in front of the building. He can’t stop me from talking to people, can he? I run after a woman who leaves with a dog, up to a man coming home with a gym bag. They’ve never heard of Uncle Teddy.
What have I done?
I wonder what Mom and Dad are thinking? I wonder, I wonder, I wonder—
What have I done?
I stop the mailman. He doesn’t recognize the name. Couldn’t tell me if he did.
What have I done?
I stop a man coming back with a case of beer and a woman with a cart of laundry. They never knew Uncle Teddy, either. Neither does anyone else.
I slump on the stoop. Uncle Teddy, what happens if I don’t find you? I fall through my insides.
WHAT HAVE I DONE!
30
I spend hours more chasing people. Back home, Dad’ll be scratching his arches. Mom’ll be poking at her wig. I used to laugh. Not now.
A police car stops across the street. Did someone report me? The cop gets out. I turn my head and walk down the street. Is he crossing? I’m scared to look. I run. I picture him after me — closer, closer.
My lungs rip up my throat. I circle the block to the E-Zee Rest. Look back for the cop. He’s not there. Was he ever? I catch my breath, hands on knees. Even Dad doesn’t sweat this much.
“Free Smiles,” says the man on the pavement. His eyes are milky; his face is dough. “You remind me of Kimberley. My daughter.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the kind of snapshot you’d have in your wallet. “She’s going to be a ballet dancer.” Kimberley’s maybe five, in a tutu, waving a wand.
“She’s very sweet.” I sound surprised; I don’t mean to.
“Thank you.” He stares at the picture.
I hesitate. “Do you see her?”
“No,” he says, “but I will.”
How long have you been out here? Why? Instead: “I have to go see Granny.”
“Give her a smile for me.”
“I will — and here’s one for you.”
I step into the hotel. No one’s at reception. Granny’s on one of the leatherette couches in the lobby: head back, mouth open, snoring. Her suitcase is beside her, her purse slung over her shoulder. My note’s under her hand.
“Granny, wake up.”
Her head jerks. “Hunh?”
“Why are you in the lobby? You can’t wander like that.”
“I didn’t wander. You wandered. I’ve been sleeping.”
“You were supposed to stay in the room. See that note in your hand?”
Granny glances down. “It says, ‘Stay here.’ That’s where I am. Here.”
“Never mind.” I take her suitcase to the elevator. She follows. We ride up to the room, me going crazy: What if Granny’d disappeared?
I stick the swipe key in our lock; the light goes red. I try again. Same thing. Great. “We need a new key.” Down we go to the front desk. The receptionist’s still on a break. I ding the bell for service.
“My great-grandfather had wooden teeth,” Granny says out of nowhere.
I’m about to ding again when the receptionist comes out of the room behind the desk. “May I help you?”
“Yes, please. Our key doesn’t work.”
“Your grandmother checked out an hour ago,” the receptionist says.
“Granny?”
“Don’t look at me,” Granny says.
“Granny made a mistake,” I tell the receptionist.
“Did I now?” Granny says, like I haven’t a clue.
“Yes, Granny, we’re staying at least another night.”
The receptionist hands me a new registration form. “That will be one hundred and twenty dollars plus tax.”
Granny opens her purse. I see the receipt from checkout. I count the money in her pantyhose.
“Where’s the refund you gave her?” I ask the receptionist.
“I wouldn’t know,” she says with an RBF.
“Like hell. You took it.”
“Lower your voice. Your grandmother initialled the receipt.”
“I don’t care what she initialled. She didn’t read it.”
“How do you know?” Granny snaps.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” the receptionist says. “If you want a room, it’s a hundred and twenty dollars plus tax, cash or credit.”
“You can’t just take our money. Give us the key or I’ll call the cops.”
“Be my guest. I’ll have you charged with disturbing the peace. Trespassing.”
“You wouldn’t.”
The receptionist turns to Granny. “How long have you lived in Montreal, Mrs. Bird?”
Granny wrinkles her nose. “I don’t live in Montreal. I live at 125 Maple Street, Shepton, Ontario.”
The receptionist nods at the guest phone. “Go ahead, Miss Oiseau. Call the police. I’m sure you have nothing to hide.”
31
We leave in a hurry. I need a smile but the man on the cardboard is asleep. Granny squeezes her knees.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have to tinkle.”
“Why didn’t you go inside?”
“I didn’t have to then. I sure do now.”
I hurry us to Sonny’s Diner. The women’s is locked. The men’s too. Granny shifts from foot to foot. Hi My Name Is Trevor is texting behind the cash register.
“I need the key to the bathroom.”
“Restrooms are for customers only.”
“We were customers this morning.”
“That was this morning.”
“Fine. Get us some fries at the booth by the window a
nd give me the key.” Plus, smell your pits. There’s a new invention called soap. You should try it sometime.
He hands me a key attached to a Ping-Pong paddle. I get Granny into the bathroom. She’s already dropping her pants. I turn to go.
“Stay!” she says. “I won’t know where I am.”
“Okay.” I lean against the sink and check the graffiti by the towel dispenser.
There’s an awful smell. “Zoe, I need your help.”
I turn. Granny looks between me and the Depends around her ankles. She didn’t make it in time. For anything.
“What do I do?” Granny whispers. “Mother will be so angry.”
I kneel beside her, outside my body. “She won’t mind.”
“But what will I tell her?”
“We all have accidents. Remember how you used to change me?”
“But what do I do now?” Granny pleads. “I should know this. I do know this. But what’s the order?”
I pat her knee. “Everything’s going to be fine. Nobody’s going to know.”
Stay calm. I can’t let Granny see I’m scared. “First, I’m going to take off your shoes. Then I’m going to slip your feet out of your pants and onto your shoes so they won’t get dirty. Okay?”
“Okay.”
And that’s what I do, one foot at a time. I separate the Depends from her sweatpants with paper towels and put them in the sanitary disposal. Some stuff got on the pants; I set the pants on the sink for later.
“Okay, Granny, now I’m going to give you paper towels to wipe off the worst of it. Then I’ll hand you ones with soap for you to scrub. All right?”
She looks at me so trusting. “All right.”
I do the same for the rinse and the drying. Every so often she looks up at me to make sure she’s doing it right. “Excellent,” I say like she said to me when I was little.
There’s a knock on the door. “How much longer?” from the woman outside.
“I don’t know. A year?”
I get a new Depends and a skirt from the suitcase. Granny wrinkles her nose when I put her feet through the leg holes of the Depends. “What’s this?”
“Your new underwear.”
“It looks like a diaper. I want my old underwear.”
“I got it for you special. See the cushiony seat? It’s to keep your bum from hurting when you sit.”
“Well, if you got it special,” Granny says.
The Way Back Home Page 10
