Right after the announcements, there was a lineup of rowdy kids outside Henley’s office, shouting, insisting that the vice-principal couldn’t get away with this. Strangely enough, a radio reporter from the CBC and a writer from the Herald showed up about the same time. Tara couldn’t bring herself to get involved in the scene. She could only marvel at how well Josh had orchestrated all of this: first the controversial paper, then getting suspended, then running for student council, now this. The issue was no longer helping out kids on the street. The issue wasn’t even really something that had to do with freedom of the press. The issue wasn’t even how a VP could try to manipulate a school election. The issue was Josh Donnelly.
And while all the ruckus was going on at school, Josh was probably sitting at home with his music cranked up to nine, listening to his ancient Nirvana collection.
In third period, Tara was happy to see that Jenn had shown up for English class. Only Jenn wasn’t looking all that happy to be there.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just don’t know if I can handle this,” Jenn said, looking nervous and uncomfortable. Tara was trying to lighten her up. “You’re not just talking about a boring lecture on poetry are you?” Tara noticed that other students were staring at Jenn, so she was getting ready to tell them to back off but the teacher was about to begin.
“I’m talking about them,” Jenn said, tilting her head towards the kids in the class who were looking at her.
“Don’t pay any attention to them.”
“It’s not like they even feel sorry for me. It’s like they think I’m some sort of freak.”
“You’re not a freak.”
“Great. Get Josh to run that for a headline on the next edition of his stupid paper.”
There was nothing more to be said. The teacher was clearing his throat and announcing a pop quiz. “I hope you all know what an oxymoron is.”
“Oh, great,” Jenn said under her breath.
Tara felt really bad for her friend. It was a stupid definition quiz: alliteration, synecdoche, oxymoron, hyperbole. Tara found herself writing the answers in large neat handwriting. She wrote so that her paper was clearly in Jenn’s view.
Jenn was leaning slightly over, trying to take advantage of the opportunity. She started to write but then stopped, let out a very vocal sigh, crumpled her paper up, and sat there with her hands up to her face. A couple of girls looked over at her and smirked. Jenn pretended she didn’t notice.
***
During the week, Tara hardly ever saw her parents. That wasn’t unusual. Her father worked long hours at the hospital. They were in the midst of government cutbacks, and he said it took everything in his power to come up with creative ways to keep the place in operation. Jenn knew that her father was a good guy, a man who liked to help people. He really cared. Sometimes, she thought he cared too much — about the hospital and the people in it. In her life he had become a ghost.
Hey, but she was Miss Independent. In the eyes of other kids, she had the freedom, she had it made.
Her mom had decided to take up photography. She gave up some of her volunteer work and tagging along with her husband on business dinners. She had always been home when Tara was in elementary school, but now that Tara was in high school, her mother said she was “spreading her wings a little.” So the walls of the house were covered with dozens of framed black-and-white photographs of super close-ups of spider webs and dew on tree branches. She had a particularly haunting photo of Hell’s Hotel taken late in the day when the building looked stark, eerie, dangerous.
Jenn’s stories of life at “the hotel” were quite bizarre. Of course, sometimes Jenn didn’t remember everything that happened. Those were the bad nights when she was hanging with the dopers or the crackheads. Looking at the photograph of Hell’s Hotel always made Tara think about how close to the edge some people lived.
There was only one photograph on the wall of her family — the three of them together. It was from last summer at Lawrencetown Beach. Her mom had set the timer on the camera. And there they were, all three of them, together for once, smiling, frozen forever amidst the sand and the sea and the sun. It was near the end of the day. Her father had a sunburn. Her mother had her sunglasses on and was trying to look very casual as the camera clicked. Tara was squeezed between them in the middle — safe and snug.
Her mother said that the “composition” was all wrong. But her father had insisted the photo go on the wall with the rest. He’d said it was “her best work.”
***
Another Saturday morning. Tara planned an early breakfast, and then went off to work at the nursing home. She was really looking forward to seeing her old friend Emma.
“You’re on your own this weekend,” her mother said, making a rare Saturday-morning appearance at breakfast. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“I guess not. What’s up?”
Her mother was rubbing her hands together. She was smiling, but there was an undercurrent of something. “Your father and I decided to get away for the weekend. We’re almost never together. I decided we need some time alone. We’re going to White Point Lodge.”
Tara realized she should have felt liberated: a weekend alone without parents, the house all to herself. It was something half of her friends would die for. But instead, she felt a little left out. The camera would click at the beach and the picture would be taken and she wouldn’t be in it. “That’s great,” she said. “I hope you two have a very romantic time.”
Her father breezed into the kitchen. “Sorry I didn’t make it down for breakfast,” he said, kissing her on the head. “You okay, Tara?”
“Sure.”
“Whatever you need, order out.” He left his Visa card on the table. Tara stood up and gave them both a hug and then left for work. She would be alone, and she’d have her father’s credit card and a weekend of freedom.
“Freedom. No parents,” she said out loud as she slipped into her uniform in the staff room at the nursing home.
All the while she was cleaning rooms, Tara was envisioning her future. Independence had always been a big part of it. The right to do what she wanted. It was all getting a lot closer now.
When she arrived at Emma’s room, she knew Emma would want to hear it all: everything that she was thinking about.
“I missed you,” Emma said. She was sitting in her chair, reading a novel.
“How was your week?”
“Like every other week, I suppose, but I can’t complain. How is your friend doing? Jenn, I mean.”
“I think she forgives me. Poor Jenn is so used to people dumping on her.”
“Don’t give up on her. I bet she’s a fine person.”
Of course Tara knew that Emma thought everyone was a fine person. She liked everyone and thought the best of people. Tara couldn’t understand how she could be so positive about everything.
“I won’t give up on her. I just don’t know what she’s gonna do if I’m not around. She makes such dumb decisions. If I’m not there to help sort out each crisis, I just don’t know.”
“Well, why wouldn’t you be there?”
It was the opportunity Tara had been fishing for, a chance to say some things out loud. Nothing ever felt real to her until she said it out loud. She knew some things were changing in her life in a big way. “I’ve been doing some serious thinking,” she began. “I think it’s mostly because I know it’s over between Josh and me.”
“You had a fight?”
“No. It wasn’t like that.” She explained about The Rage and then added, “I just want to be more independent, that’s all. I’m going to tell Josh it’s over. Anyway, I haven’t heard from him all week.”
“He’ll be crushed.”
“Nothing can hurt his feelings. Don’t worry.”
“He is human. J
ust because he’s a boy doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings.”
“I’ll be gentle,” Tara said, but she found herself almost laughing. Then she got serious again. “That’s just the first step. I mean my parents already think of me as completely grown-up and independent. They left me alone for the weekend. They know I can take care of myself. I’m going to be out of high school in a year and a half. I don’t want to go to university right away. I’m tired of sitting in classrooms and being lectured to. I want to do something.”
Emma was smiling. “It seems the only time you have to dream your great dreams is when you are young like you or old like me.”
“Tell me your dreams, Emma.”
“My dreams are all about what I once had: a husband, a nice house, good kids. Never thought much about it until it began to disappear. Once you lose your health, all you have left is your dreams.”
“But there must have been more.”
“Oh, I sometimes wished I could have done other things. Maybe I could have become a doctor, or written a novel. You know.”
“Don’t you regret that you didn’t do those things?”
Emma leaned over. She could have been brushing a tear from her eye. “No,” she said. “No regrets. Now enough about me and the past. I want to hear about you and the future.”
Tara smiled at Emma. “Well, I want to spend at least a year travelling around Europe and Asia by myself. Just me. That way I have to become part of the culture, not just a tourist. Then I think I’d like to spend some time just living in one place — some place like Nepal or Sri Lanka maybe, just living there and doing what I can do to help the impoverished.”
“I think there are programs for young people — Canada World Youth, CUSO. I’ve known of friends who had kids ...”
“No,” Tara said, surprising herself with how confident she sounded. “I don’t want to be part of some organization. I want to do it on my own. I want to see what I can do on my own.”
“You’re much braver than I ever was.”
“And then I think I’ll go to university, probably in Europe or England, and study everything there is to know about the human mind. My father thinks that the frontier of psychiatry is in drug treatment. Anything wrong with the brain can be fixed with a drug. I think he’s wrong. I think there are better methods.”
“Those are excellent dreams. I hope they all come true.” Emma was standing up now. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I think I’d better lie down for a while. I’m so glad you came by. You’ve absolutely illuminated my day.”
Tara helped Emma lie down on her bed. She felt positively recharged by having told Emma her plans. In fact, it was the first time that she had actually put the whole brave tale into words. She knew that it was because of Emma, this amazing person who she could open up to, probably the only person on the planet she could talk to like this.
She could see that Emma was very tired. “Sweet dreams,” she said.
As Tara went out into the hall and back to her duties, she knew what the very first step in her plan had to be. She didn’t want to put it off. There’d be no arguing, no insults, not even any hard feelings. She just wanted to get Josh on the phone and tell him that it was over. She just wanted to be her own person for a while. She wanted her independence.
Losing Jenn
Tara arrived home to a large, empty house at six o’clock. There were two messages on the voice mail. The first was from Josh.
“Hey, I’m sorry I haven’t called you sooner. Man, it’s been a hectic week. I can’t believe I’m going to actually win this student-council thing. But look, that’s not what I’m calling about. I know I shouldn’t do this on a stupid voice mail but, like I say, my life is pretty complicated. I think I better just say this and get it over with. I feel kind of bad about doing it this way ...”
There was a pause. Then he was cut off. She figured the second message must be Josh, part two. She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to work out. She knew what was coming next. How could the jerk do this to her?
She hung up and walked around her room. She looked at the plaques she’d been awarded for academic achievement, her old skating trophies, all the little treasures she’d accumulated. And the photographs. When she came to the photo of Josh tucked into the corner of her mirror, she shredded it and threw the pieces around the room. Then she went back to the phone to hear the other message.
“Look,” the big jerk said, “it’s me again. I almost didn’t call back, but I figure you deserve to hear this. I only want to be honest and fair. Isn’t that the way it’s always been with us?”
Tara had an impulse to throw the phone onto the floor and stomp on it. She resisted.
“I just think we’ve outgrown each other,” Josh said. “I think we should see other people. I want us to stay good friends though.”
And that was it. Tara lay down on her bed and looked up at the ceiling. Right then she hated Josh. How could he do this? She couldn’t believe her bad timing. She had missed out on dumping him first. She knew that her reaction wasn’t logical. It should have been comical. They both wanted the same thing.
But she got dumped first. Josh had said the words. This was hard to take. It really hurt. She wanted so badly to talk to someone. Why wasn’t her mother home, or even her father? They were off doing their own thing.
On a long shot, she phoned Jenn’s parents’ house.
“Sorry, she’s not here, Tara. I don’t know where she is. You know what she’s like.”
Tara did know what Jenn was like. Screwed up, running from one problem to the next, changing like the wind. Free. Independent. Probably on the street, or with her new loser boyfriend, Rob. Why couldn’t she ever listen to Tara’s advice? And why couldn’t Jenn ever be someplace that Tara could find her when she wanted to talk?
Realizing that she didn’t want to spend the evening alone, she phoned up Carla and then Lauren, but they were both out. “What’s the use?” she said out loud.
Tara walked downstairs to the kitchen, picked up the credit card left by her father, and phoned Tony’s Pizzeria.
“What’s your most expensive one?” she asked. “Good. I’ll have two of them. Delivered.”
Tara admitted to herself that she wasn’t that hungry. It wasn’t the pizza that was important here. She just wanted to try racking up a big bill on her father’s credit card. She wanted to piss him off. Maybe he’d actually scream at her for this one. Maybe he’d stop being such a nice guy.
Tara survived an evening alone with too much pizza and too many hours watching MuchMusic. It all seemed to blend together into one hip hop/ metal/rock/pop wave of music and commercials, except for one really weird video that caught her attention. It was a video called “Beautiful Sadness,” by a long-haired poet type. In the video he was searching for a woman who was trying to evade him. Then the roles were reversed and he was running from her. In the end, he was submerged in this gross pool of green algae and black ooze and, after he had disappeared, she rose up out of it and walked away. Really weird. No poetry in English class had been quite like this. The feeling of the song haunted her. How could anyone see any beauty in the sort of sadness that she was feeling? Is this what it feels like to be truly alone and abandoned? she wondered. The video only made her feel more sorry for herself. She fell asleep on the sofa.
***
Sunday morning: work at the nursing home. At least she’d have Emma to talk to. The only problem was that Emma had gone away for the day to visit her son. It was a long, boring and lonely day on the job. Mrs. Klein stopped by, but Tara had a hard time being polite. She didn’t like Mrs. Klein much, especially after she’d hassled Jenn. Tara almost said what she was thinking, but had the sense to keep her mouth shut.
As soon as work was over, Tara caught the bus downtown and made the circ
uit: library, Black Market, Tim Horton’s, Starbucks, Second Cup, Trident Café, even the hangouts on Spring Garden Road. Everyone had seen Jenn around, but not lately. It was a warm evening and a good night just to walk. She went down to the harbour and watched the ferry coming in from Dartmouth. As she watched it pull in to the dock, she focused on a slouching figure standing on the top deck. It was Jenn. Tara thought this was strange. She didn’t know Jenn spent any time in Dartmouth, across the harbour. Then she noticed a big guy standing beside her: someone older with baggy clothes and sunglasses — a white guy with that gangsta-wannabe look. Rob?
Tara walked over to the doors to the ferry terminal. She watched as the two of them emerged. The guy went one way and Jenn went the other. Tara waited a moment then called out, “Jenn!”
Jenn turned. “Tara. God, it’s good to see you.” She turned away quickly, looking for her former companion, checking to see that he was out of sight.
“That’s him?” Tara asked.
“That’s Rob. What do you think?”
Tara didn’t know what to say. Maybe Rob was a great guy. Maybe he just looked like a hip hop poser. She shrugged.
“I know, I know. Not a whole lot to look at, but he’s okay. I’ve moved in with him.”
Oh no. Here we go again, Tara was thinking.
“In Dartmouth,” Jenn added. “He’s got a little apartment above a bar on Portland Street.”
Tara could just picture what kind of a dump that must be, but she kept her thoughts to herself. “I’m glad you’re here. I really need someone to talk to.”
“You need to talk to me?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. Let’s go sit by the water.”
They sat down by the harbour edge, watching the crabs, the fish, and the seaweed in the clear water beneath. Tara told her about Josh.
Hell's Hotel Page 4
