The Way Back Home

by Allan Stratton

  I twist my serviette.

  “You should go, too,” Teddi says gently. “She’ll be frightened when I take her. She’ll need someone she trusts to keep her calm. You’ll be there for her, won’t you?”

  I nod. I’m not going to cry. I’m not. “So now what?”

  She takes out her phone. “Now you’re going to talk to your mom and dad.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You’re a brave kid. You can do anything.” She dials. “Tim, I’m with Zoe … Yes, she and Mother are okay …” Dad blubbers something. “You’re welcome … Certainly.” She passes me the phone.

  I swallow. “Dad?”

  “Where on earth have you been?” he sobs.

  “A hotel.”

  “Your mother and I— we—”

  “Zoe?” It’s Mom on the other line.

  “Mom, please stop crying. I’m fine.”

  “We were so afraid, we thought—” Her voice is all over the place. “I can’t say what we thought.”

  “You’re sending me to that school, aren’t you?”

  “We’ll talk about that later. Right now, we just want you home.”

  I can’t think. I can’t breathe. “Whatever.” I choke.

  Teddi retrieves the phone. “Tim, Zoe’s a little worked up right now … Yes, I’ll tell her. It’s raining. Could be bad. Not a safe time for you to be driving back and forth. They can stay with us overnight …” She hangs up. “Your dad says to tell you they love you.”

  “They don’t even know me.”

  “They want to.”

  What do you know? I wipe my nose. “Fine. Let’s go get Granny.”

  37

  We step out under the awning. The rain’s really coming down.

  “Wilf?” Teddi says into her phone. “Zoe and I have had the talk. We’re on the way to 2TZ to pick up my mother. Expect us in forty minutes.” She hangs up.

  “Granny hasn’t met your husband, has she?”

  “No.” Teddi opens her umbrella. “It’s quite the day for introductions.”

  The rain pelts hard. I press beside Teddi for cover. Thunder rolls as we reach 2TZ. There’s a crowd at the front taking shelter. Trigger’s behind the counter, watching the till. He waves us to the back where Tibet’s inking a biker’s scalp. The biker’s pressed against the chair, like he’s bracing for a crash. His teeth are sunk in a rubber ball.

  “You must be Tibet,” Teddi says, like nothing phases her ever. “I’m Zoe’s aunt. Thanks for looking after her granny.”

  “No problem.”

  I look back at all the people. “Is she upstairs?”

  “I expect, if she’s not down here. We showed her your note.” Tibet leans in to the biker: “Just a little fill left. I’m cranking the iron into third, okay?”

  “FURFA FURF!” He passes out.

  “You want a coffee? Shot of rye?” Tibet asks Teddi.

  “Thanks, no. We should go once the storm settles.” Teddi looks over. “Zoe, could you please get your grandmother?”

  I head up the stairs. What’ll I say? “Granny, you’re going back to Greenview”?

  I cross the living room to the twins’ bedroom. Granny’s suitcase is open, the pictures of her and Teddi scattered on the bedspread — but she’s not here.

  “Granny?”

  Please let her be in the other bedroom.

  She’s not.

  Don’t panic.

  “Granny?” I open the bathroom door. She’s not here, either. “Granny?”

  I run down the stairs. “Granny’s not there.”

  “What do you mean?” Teddi goes.

  “I mean She’s Not There!”

  Tibet puts down her iron. “She must’ve slipped out when the crowd came.”

  Teddi freezes. “MOM!” she cries in terror.

  Breathe. “The rain just started. She can’t have gone far. We’d have passed her if she went the way we came. So she must have gone in the direction of the park.”

  Teddi and I barrel towards the crowd at the door.

  “I’m going to vomit!” I yell.

  They scatter. We run outside.

  Teddi’s umbrella blows inside out. She collapses it. “Come on.”

  We race to the park, shielding our faces with our arms. Lightning. Sheets of rain pound us in waves. The drains overflow. Rivers run over the curbs. Our shoes squish through lakes. I trip in a pothole. Teddi holds me.

  Rain streams into my eyes. I can hardly see. “GRANNY!”

  “MOM!”

  The homeless press under the trees. We go from group to group, screaming for Granny. She isn’t here. Where is she?

  Suddenly, a squeal of brakes. Cars honk. Out of the chaos, I hear Granny’s voice: “ZOE! WHERE ARE YOU?”

  More lightning. A tiny old woman turns in circles in the middle of the street. It’s Granny.

  “GRANNY! I’M COMING!”

  “ZOE!” She turns to my voice.

  I grab hold of her. Teddi leaps in front of us, waving her arms to ward off traffic. We make it to the bus shelter by the corner. A man’s passed out at one side of the bench. We huddle on the other, Granny in the middle.

  The rain clatters off the roof, but we’re safe. Lamplights and headlights gleam through the wall of water running down the glass.

  Granny clutches me, her hair wild, matted, her eyes wide. “Don’t ever wander off like that again. You had me worried sick.”

  “I won’t, Granny. I won’t.”

  Teddi wraps her navy jacket round Granny’s shoulders.

  “Thank you.” Granny turns to see who helped her. A streetcar stops for a red. Its headlights flood Teddi’s face. Granny stares hard. Her hand moves to her mouth. “Zoe,” she whispers, “do I know this person? I think I know this person. I’m sorry,” she says to Teddi, confused and afraid, “do I know you?”

  Teddi hesitates.

  “I don’t see like I used to. Or remember like I did. But somehow … There’s something … Do I know you? … I think I know you. Who are you?”

  “Teddi,” she says quietly.

  Granny reaches out. She traces Teddi’s face with her fingertips. “I had a Teddi once. I loved my child so much.”

  Teddi puts her hands on Granny’s. “I had a mom I loved.”

  “Teddi.” Granny’s eyes fill. “Are you my Teddi?”

  Teddi’s face shatters. “I am.” She presses Granny close.

  Granny weeps. “I did you wrong.”

  “Shh. Shh.” Teddi strokes her hair. “I wronged you, too.”

  “Forgive me?”

  “With all my heart. Forgive me?”

  “Yes, yes,” Granny says. “Teddi. I want to go home. Come home with me. I want us to go home.”

  “We will,” Teddi says.

  She nods at me. We fold into each other. The rest is silence.

  38

  There’s a lull in the storm. By five thirty, we’re back at 2TZ. Trigger and Tibet are getting ready to close, but seeing how cold and wet Granny is, they let us bring her upstairs for a warm bath. I support Granny’s back as we lower her into the tub. She flexes her toes. “Oh my, that feels good.”

  I get to work with a washcloth and a bar of soap. “How’s this?” I ask as I scrub her shoulders.

  “A little to the left, Pumpkin.”

  After, we dry her. I bring a change of clothes from the suitcase and help her get dressed, while Teddi phones Mom and Dad. “I can’t explain it over the phone, but I’ll be driving them back. I’d like to stay with Mom at the Bird House for a couple of days before she gets resettled. We need to get reacquainted. That’s not a problem, is it?” It is so not a question. “Good. See you then.”

  We come downstairs with our stuff. Trigger and Tibet have closed the shop. They’re sitting with Ryder on the customer couches. I introduce Teddi to Ryder; she goes to get her car, and Granny and I take the green vinyl loveseat.

  She nods like she’s following everything, but I know she’s pretty vagued out.

/>   “What happens now?” Tibet asks.

  “Teddi’s taking us to her place. She’s driving us home tomorrow.”

  “You won’t be needing me then,” Ryder says. “I dropped by in case you had to find a shelter.”

  “Thanks, but …” My voice trails off. I pick at the stuffing poking out from the duct tape on the armrest.

  “Cheer up,” Trigger says. “All’s well that ends well.”

  “Only it hasn’t. Mom and Dad want me back, but …”

  “No buts,” Ryder says. “You have a mom and dad to go to.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No. You don’t understand.”

  I don’t argue with those eyes.

  Granny leans into my ear. “Are we at a party?”

  “Sort of. A goodbye party.”

  “Who’s leaving?”

  “Us. We’re going home.”

  “Oh, good.”

  It’s awkward when you’re stuck talking to people and have nothing to say. They’ve been so nice, but we all have these smiles like when we’re waiting for someone to take our picture.

  Teddi arrives. It’s drizzling. We get Granny and our bags into the car. Trigger, Tibet and Ryder give me a hug. Tibet slips a card in my hand in case I’m ever back in town.

  “Want Teddi to drop you somewhere?” I ask Ryder.

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Nah, I’ll just hang here, thanks, wait for whatever.”

  “Okay then. See ya.”

  “See ya.”

  But we won’t, not ever, and we know it. As Teddi drives me away, I look back. Ryder’s slouched against a street light, checking cars. He disappears in the mist.

  * * *

  Teddi drives us to the kind of Toronto you see in magazines. Her condo is off Mount Pleasant Road, which is an actual name, not just from a comic book. It overlooks a park — okay, a cemetery — but if you were dead, it’s the kind of place you’d want to live in.

  Teddi’s husband, Wilf, has a roast chicken ready. He’s way shorter than Teddi, with thinning hair and age spots. He shows us to the dining room overlooking the park. Like the art on the walls, the throw rugs and the lamps on the glass side tables, the dining-room table’s pretty wow: hardwood, stained ebony, with a centrepiece of flowers.

  Wilf and I sit on one side, Teddi and Granny on the other. The two of them only have eyes for each other: Granny’s shy, Teddi’s tender. Once or twice a cloud passes Granny’s face. “I’m Teddi,” Teddi murmurs gently. “Yes,” Granny smiles. “Teddi.”

  Wilf keeps me company. He’s a retired principal, so naturally he asks me all about school, my favourite subjects, plus what I like to do in my spare time and what I want to be when I grow up. “If I had it to do over again, I’d have stayed a teacher,” he says. “I loved the classroom; all those young people full of ideas.” He taught science then. I bet he made it fun.

  Granny’s appetite picks up when we hit dessert: brownies and ice cream. Not long after, she starts to nod off. Teddi and I take her into the master bedroom and bundle her into a pair of Wilf’s flannel pyjamas and woollen socks, while Wilf cleans up. I’ll be sleeping in here with her tonight.Teddi and Wilf are taking the pullout in the second bedroom.

  When Granny’s asleep, we turn on a night light and tiptoe out to join Wilf, who’s reading in the living room. He’s made a pot of hot chocolate and set out a plate of cookies. Teddi sits with me on the sofa opposite.

  “It’s hard to see her like this,” Teddi says. “Mom was always so strong.”

  “She still is.” I stare down at my mug.

  I wait for Teddi to argue or say something else to make me feel stupid. Only she doesn’t.

  “What are you thinking?” she asks gently.

  “Nothing.” I dig my toes into the carpet. Teddi and Wilf don’t say a word. Talk. Say something. They don’t. Okay. Fine. “I’m scared to go home.”

  “Don’t be. Your parents love you. It’ll work out.”

  “Easy for you to say. As soon I get home, they’re shipping me off to this tough-love boarding school. Granny’s mind’s getting worse. She’ll forget me. What happens then?”

  Teddi puts her arm round me. “Worry’s a terrible thing.”

  “I know. But how do I stop it? There’s Granny. My cousin Madi. I mean she almost killed me and nobody cares.”

  “What?”

  All of a sudden, I’m spinning down a drain, going on about Suckhole and the bridge and getting spit on and almost dropped down onto the rocks and barbed wire, and how they can get me anywhere, any time, and how next time they’ll get me for good.

  Wilf hands me a Kleenex. “Have you told your parents?”

  I nod. “They don’t believe me. They never believe me. Not about anything …” And all of a sudden I’m going on about the Dreamhouse box and the drugs and the condoms and—

  “I’ll talk to them,” Teddi says.

  “It won’t make a difference.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “We won’t see. I know.” My voice goes all wobbly. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk anymore, I just can’t.” I run into the bedroom and shut the door. Why am I so confused? Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t life be simple?

  I get into bed and press myself beside Granny.

  Don’t forget me, Granny. Please. Don’t ever forget me.

  39

  Next morning, Wilf makes us pancakes. He’s amazing.

  Teddi reintroduces herself. For Granny, the reconciliation is new. She stares at Teddi all breakfast, her eyes glistening in wonder. A few times she asks, “Teddi?” and Teddi says, “Yes, Mom. I’m so glad you’re here,” then, “Me too,” from Granny.

  When the dishes are cleared, Teddi disappears into the spare room. She rummages around and comes back with a small cardboard box, the kind that’s been at the back of a closet.

  “I have something for you, Mom,” Teddi says. She gives Granny the box.

  “Why, thank you.” Granny puzzles as she lifts the lid. Inside is a knitted scarf, yellow and orange with bursts of purple. “Oh my.”

  “I have one the very same.”

  “I remember this scarf. I loved this scarf. I thought I’d lost it forever.”

  “Lost and found,” Teddi says and kisses her forehead.

  After breakfast, I help Granny get dressed. She insists on wearing her scarf. Teddi puts hers on, too, to help Granny remember who she is. Then Teddi brings us down the elevator to her car in the garage.

  What happens when we get home?

  I open the door to the passenger seat for Granny. My hands are as sticky as Dad’s. I get into the back.

  “Are we going to the Bird House?” Granny asks.

  “Would you like that?” Teddi asks back.

  “Of course. It’s where I live. It’s where I’m going to die, too.”

  “Well, you’re not going to die any time soon.”

  “I should certainly hope not.”

  Nice dodge.

  Granny naps once we hit the highway; Teddi and I listen to her playlist; we pass tons of cars.

  My brain itches. “So, Teddi …”

  “Yes?”

  So that was stupid. Now I have to say something. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure.” She turns down the music.

  Three, two, one: “When did you know you were a woman?”

  Teddi smiles at me through the rear-view mirror. “I’d say always, but I can’t remember back that far.”

  “But how did you know?”

  “I just did. Same as you.”

  “But I had the parts.”

  Teddi nods. “It was very upsetting.”

  I think about that for a bit. “Who did you tell first?”

  “Mom. Your granny.”

  “Really?”

  “I was very little. She was tucking me into bed. I said, ‘Mommy, why don’t I look like a girl?’”

  “What did she say?”

  “‘Because you’re a
boy.’ I said: ‘I don’t feel like a boy.’ ‘What do you think boys feel like?’ she asked. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Not like me.’”

  “Did Granny tell Grampa?”

  “I’m pretty sure not. He’d have said something. Actually, Mom probably forgot about it. You know kids: ‘I want to be a pirate. I want to be a spaceman.’ Or in my case a mermaid or a princess.”

  “Did you ever play princess in front of Grampa?”

  “Just once. I was three or four. I got into Mom’s pearls and camisole and ran into the living room screaming, ‘I’m Princess Linda.’”

  “Did he hit you?”

  “No. He chased me upstairs though. I hid under the bed. He poked me out with a broom. Next day it was off to the barber for a buzz cut. That made me angry for the longest time. Not now so much, unless I let it.”

  I hesitate. “When I read your letters, I thought maybe you were gay.”

  “So did Mom and Pop.” Teddi glances at me in the rear-view mirror. “Coming out as trans is hard even now; it was worse back then. I was lucky to have a few good friends.” She smiles. “Any more questions?”

  “Well, if you’re asking … How did you meet Wilf?”

  “Hah! Skydiving.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I was there on a dare. He was there for his birthday.”

  We go on like this for the rest of the trip. Me talking to forget what’s coming; her being her. In what seems like no time we’re off the 401. When we pass through Woodstock, Teddi calls Mom and Dad on speakerphone: “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  My chest tightens. “Teddi, can I ask you one last thing?”

  “Sure.”

  “My only aunt is Aunt Jess. It would be nice to have an aunt I like. So is it okay if I call you Aunt Teddi?”

  “Of course. You’re my niece, after all.”

  “Thanks … Aunt Teddi.”

  We pass the bridge cut-off, Dylan’s farm, the park, and pull into the driveway. As we get out of the car, Mom and Dad run towards us. They hug me in a heartbeat.

  “Zoe!” Mom exclaims. “Thank God you’re safe.”

  Dad to Granny, “Mom, you okay?”