“Okay, so I brought price tags. There’s a roll for each of us. And markers,” Rachel said, pointing at the metal card table set up next to the bottom of the stairs. There was packing tape on rollers with tear-off serrated plastic edges. Scissors. Newspaper. Cardboard boxes leaned up against the side of the wall. Rachel picked up a black marker and a roll of stickers and passed them to Emma.
The sight of Rachel’s brisk efficient movements sent a sound like the ocean whooshing through Emma’s ears. She put her hand flat on the cool cement wall.
“I don’t know why she never got this basement finished,” Rachel said. “My dad –” Then she stopped talking. Stopped moving and stood still for a moment. Blinked. “My dad was working on getting it finished when he died. He put the studs in to divide it up into rooms. Did the drywall and panelling in the laundry room and our play – in that big room over there. It was just the furnace room and this entrance area he didn’t get to. That, and the floors.”
Then it went dark for a minute. Emma had been expecting it. She saw Rachel put her hand out to the wall and reach toward the light switch. It was unconscious. Rachel didn’t know she had done it. She had watched Emma place her own hand on the wall, and then when her dad talk started to bring up the weight of those old feelings, she reached out to steady herself. At that point, flicking the light switch was simply reflex.
Darkness.
Only for a moment though, then Rachel caught herself, flicked the lights back on, and went back to giving instructions as if nothing had happened at all.
“So take a look and see if there’s something you want to keep. If not, then just put whatever price you think you can get. Don’t worry if it seems high. They can always talk us down once everything’s out on the lawn.”
Was she faking? Pretending that nothing happened, or did Rachel somehow also flicker off for a moment along with the lights? Was it some sort of momentary short-circuiting in her brain? Emma looked at her, but Rachel’s face gave nothing away.
Rachel blinked again, then, headed off into the big room, their playroom when she and Sam were kids. She walked with purpose, like she was on her way to a board meeting.
When Emma went into the laundry room, it was as if Grandma were just upstairs. The powdered detergent sat ready on the shelf next to the washing machine. Some of it had spilled over the side, leaving tiny white beads scattered across the floor. Stain remover, bleach, everything ready. It was ridiculous, but for a moment Emma felt bad for the detergent, waiting for the hands that had first brought it home to come lift it up and scoop it into the washer, as if it were a pet who had been abandoned.
“She’s gone,” Emma whispered into the room, and began assembling the box she had brought in with her.
When she was done, and the box stood there ready to be filled, she felt someone in the doorway. Rachel.
“I think we can get a start on this tomorrow. We’ve got the clothes done, and files sorted. That’s enough for today. I’m going to head home now.” Rachel was looking at the ironing board, staring at it with a look that said she wasn’t seeing it at all. She was seeing something else.
“You’ll be all right tonight? Here alone?” Then a beat later, the question became a statement. “You’ll be all right.”
Emma nodded. She didn’t know this Rachel. The one who stared at ironing boards.
“I’ll be fine.”
Rachel turned to leave. Emma listened to the sound of her footsteps walking up to the main level. She heard the sound of something thudding down on the floor, then of feet walking into the dining room, then into the kitchen. They stopped directly above. Then Emma heard the sound of water running into the sink, water gurgling down the pipes, water sloshing behind the washing machine and into the floor.
Emma sat in the middle of the laundry room, next to the empty box, cross-legged on the round rag rug. She could go upstairs and say goodbye. Could ask Rachel what was wrong. See if she wanted to talk. Wasn’t this what she had been waiting for? Some sign of loss, a wrinkle in the smooth exterior? Yes. So, be there for her, then, she thought and stood up.
But then she heard the front door opening with a squeak. The screen door banged shut behind it. She was too late.
Emma listened as Rachel’s car pulled out of the driveway – Rachel who stared at ironing boards. That was it for Rachel’s list, at least for the night. Emma was set free.
She went upstairs. The house was silent, except for the hum of traffic in the distance. Emma was standing by the front door, looking out at the empty driveway, when she began to feel a pull toward the park. She put on her coat, and went out the front door, down Garden Avenue and across the street, away from the houses of Parkside Drive, and into the darkness of trees on the other side. The light was starting to fade; the park looked deserted. She knew it was a bad idea to be alone there at night. Being alone in the woods in the country was fine, camping off some old logging road in BC, just Emma and the bears, no problem. But in the city, the parks were full of the potential menace of erratic humans. She’d need protection, so asked the Grandmothers to come with her, wherever it was she was being led, she would need them.
Emma walked through the entranceway to the parking lot, that someone, sometime, long ago, had decided to call Spring Road. Emma had intended to walk deep into the park, and then turn right, toward the zoo. It was the most likely source of the consciousness that had directed her instinct to head out here, into the night. But instead of being led in that direction, when she reached the bottom of the road, the wind picked up and blew all the trees to the left. Emma headed down the pathway that ran along the back end of the park, next to Lower Duck Pond. Bottom Pond, that’s what they used to call it, Emma can’t remember why now. Rachel and her used to skate on it in the winters when they were young. Everybody did. Now there were signs: Beware! Everything was more dangerous in the city. Lester always disagreed with her about this.
“Listen Emma, I love camping, but I mean there’s a reason people gather in urban areas. Human beings live in cities and animals live in nature, that’s the deal. They have their turf and we have ours. It’s best if we respect that. It’s safer that way.”
But Emma thought Lester had it wrong. Cities were more dangerous, exactly because they were full of people. Humans were more violent and unpredictable than animals, and stupid, hence the crime rate, and the need for signs.
Emma walked past the back end of the pond, and followed the wind back toward the bike trails. Years of teenagers burning off hormonally-charged adrenaline on dirt bikes had worn the hilly area behind the pond down to a series of smoothed out runs. But that night, the bike trail was inaccessible as a low wire-mesh fence now surrounded the whole area. There was an official looking sign nailed to one of the posts. Emma fished around in her pocket and pulled out a lighter. She flicked it, bent over, and by the light of the flame read the words: No Access. Closed for woodland restoration. Emma let the lighter go out and stood back up. She waited. Now what? There must have been a reason she was called here, some purpose behind the impulse that took hold of her and led her to this spot – some fox wanting to talk, or even a coyote. People had reported seeing all sorts of animals in the park over the years. One time there was a beaver loose on Parkside Drive. The news report said that cars swerved to avoid him. The beaver was captured and returned to the pond in perfect health, but one of the drivers ran into a light pole and was sent to the hospital.
Emma hoped it was a deer that had called her, inviting her to share its medicine. She could use a little more intuition, gentleness, and agility moving through obstacles right about now.
Emma gave up trying to figure out what had called her into the park. She was suddenly very tired. Her bones felt old and pulled her down to sitting cross-legged in the dirt on the path.
Who died here? The words Emma had unthinkingly said to Rachel that first day out in the back garden began to echo through Emm
a’s mind. She frowned, annoyed by the distraction. Rachel always took Emma’s train of thought off track. The trick with Rachel was to not let her know what Emma was really thinking. Who died here? Emma didn’t know better back then. With three words, she had gotten on Rachel’s bad side, and was never able to repair the damage done. That’s why Emma hadn’t told her anything about working with animal medicine. Not only was she charging people to tell them what their pets were thinking, but she also offered sessions to help people become more open to communication from animal spirits, and the healing messages they carried with them.
Every animal had something to share, some restorative power, and when you came across one, in real life or even in your dreams, it was that animal – the vibration of what it represented, its essence – attempting to mingle with your consciousness. The universe and everything in it was communicating to us constantly, telling us how to reach a state of equilibrium. A human lifetime was simply an exercise at perfecting balance. That was pretty much the gist of what she told people, the same blurb from her website. Her consultation style was pretty common sense, meat and potatoes totem animal stuff. Almost every culture had some sort of symbolic associations with animals, so it was really just a matter of zeroing in on the client’s social and individual mythological context, doing some research, and delivering an interpretation. It wasn’t anything magical, or even something Emma invented. It was all over the Internet. But the communication – the ability to listen and know what someone wants, thinks and feels – that was Emma’s gift.
Emma knew Rachel would have a field day with the whole spirit animal medicine idea, so she never mentioned it. Being around Rachel required a lot of editing. There were so many things that could trigger her sister into some reactionary response. Emma had learned to protect herself over the years by revealing details of her life selectively. She never told Rachel about the eagle who talked to Emma when she was a baby at the beach. She never mentioned Big Jim, New West, or Foster’s house. That whole part of Emma’s life she had kept to herself, and thankfully Rachel had never asked.
The park had grown silent. All the birds were getting ready for bed for the night.
Emma held on to the fence, closed her eyes, and remembered back to that day on Columbia Street, walking home from school with Jenny and her grandfather. She had asked Big Jim how he had learned to listen.
“The trick is knowing how to be empty enough to get filled up with something other than yourself,” he had told her. “Then you tune-in, like adjusting a radio dial.”
Standing there in the park, under the darkening sky, Emma waited. Nothing. She opened her eyes, focused her ears, and commanded all her senses to high alert. No resistance, no resistance…
And then she heard it, snake Emma jumped up and stood erect. She heard the word as if it were being said to her, whispered inside her head. The whispering wasn’t from an animal, Emma could tell that much. It wasn’t an actual snake, proclaiming itself and its turf in the dark, offering its snake medicine up, it was a human voice that said the words. Or voices, rather, as there were more than one. Voices humming like a chorus. Then, at that moment, a picture began to form in Emma’s mind, an image of a mound of dirt in the shape of a newly-dug grave.
She shuddered. Either there was some creepy assemblage of telepathic people lurking around in the woods somewhere, or some non-physical entities were trying to tell her something. Maybe it was the Howards, John and Jemima, the benefactors of the park who gave it to the city for the free use, benefit and enjoyment of the citizens of the City of Toronto forever. The Howards were clearly generous and kindly people who would likely think nothing of taking a few moments out of their eternal peace, hovering over Colborne Lodge in order to scare the pants off a middle-aged, brown woman wandering around the park in the middle of the night. Emma admired their cleverness and economy in the use of the word snake and a picture of a grave. Of course she would know they were talking to her, warning her away. Reminding Emma that she was no longer in the familiar forest of her childhood, she was in a city park, surrounded by the unknown.
It was dark now, no moon. Okay, John and Jemima, I get the message, Emma thought. She turned away from the fence, and walked back down the path, tracing her steps back home.
19.
THAT SUNDAY MORNING on Columbia Street was peaceful as Emma got up out of bed. Nina was still sleeping, so Emma was quiet leaving their room. A dream from the night before followed her as she went down the stairs. There had been a snake, who had winked at Emma from underneath Just Jack’s car. She had been about to blow him a kiss in return, but when she put her hand to lips, her teeth began to loosen, then fell out like hail to the ground. The dream followed Emma through the house, tugging at her nightgown as she went out into the backyard to look for Barney. Things for Barney hadn’t been going so well lately. His whole face was grey now and his eyes had started to go a bluish white. He never chased the ball anymore when Mr. Purvis threw it. He moved slowly around the yard, spending most of his time sleeping under the porch.
It was the first morning without frost, and the sun was shining strong. Emma had put her rubber boots on before going out, but was still chilly in her nightgown. She looked next door, and was relieved to see Barney in the yard, lying on the warmed patio stones. He lifted his tail, and brought it down hard repetitively, thumping out an angry pulse. Emma closed her eyes, and saw the inside of a veterinarian’s office. Oh no. No wonder he was so grumpy. Emma called his name, but Barney refused to turn around. Maybe he didn’t hear me, Emma thought. Barney didn’t hear so good most of the time these days. The thumping grew harder and his leg twitched. Not in a dreaming chasing squirrels sort of way, but more like he hated the world and would kick you if you were close enough.
Mr. Purvis opened the door, “Okay, okay. But you know we’ll be early if we leave now,” he said over his shoulder, shaking the leash in Barney’s direction. Barney lifted his head, looked towards the door, and lumbered off into the house.
By the time Mr. Purvis and Barney pulled out of the driveway, Emma had forgotten all about the snake and her teeth falling out. She went inside, got changed and had Cheerios with Lester, and then the two of them went out the front to ride around in the sunshine. Emma on the red scooter, Lester on the banana seat bike – back and forth, back and forth, up and down Columbia Street.
Just when her legs started to turn to jelly and her belly started to rumble for lunch, Emma began to feel Barney talking to her, began to hear his little old man voice inside her head. She couldn’t see him at first, but then, a moment later, she saw the Purvis car come around the corner. She dropped her scooter and stared. It must be important if Barney was sending her words. Most of the time, he just sent pictures.
Betrayal, Barney said. I knew we weren’t going to the beach. Does he think I’m stupid? No, I was being cooperative. I thought that might make it better this time. But no, it was just the same as always – the smell of unhappy strangers, and being stabbed in the rump. A handful of chew treats aren’t enough to make up for that! I’m not going to get any sleep tonight, I know. Not with this completely unnecessary incessantly throbbing pain in my behind.
As the car approached the house, Emma tried to tell Barney to calm down – that it would be okay. But, it was like Barney couldn’t hear Emma at all, even though she was right inside his head, in his body, soaking up every feeling he had, every word and thought that went through his head. The car pulled into the driveway, and Barney and Mr. Purvis got out. Emma was standing on the sidewalk, where Lester had started playing hopscotch. Lester was about to toss his beanbag, when they saw Barney hobble out of the car and follow Mr. Purvis into the house.
Emma picked up Lester’s beanbag, and rushed through the rest of the game. She let Lester win, then went through the house and into the backyard to look for Barney.
Barney was there under the porch, but he wasn’t himself. He looked over at Emma standing by the
fence, but didn’t move from where he was. Instead, he sent her pictures of what happened at the vet’s office, and another one of him waking up under the coffee table in a puddle of his own pee.
Emma told Barney that he was a good dog, and it wasn’t his fault, but he wasn’t listening at all.
That’s it for me. No more sneaky trips to that place. I’ve had a good life. When one gets to this point – the accidents on the rug are bad enough. No, it’s time.
Then Emma remembered the snake and the teeth, and started to cry. She didn’t know why thinking about the dream would make her cry, but she couldn’t stop.
Barney stopped talking after that, and stayed under the porch with his back to the fence. Emma sat on the grass, trying to coax him out.
There was the sound of a car in the driveway. A door. Mamma Shirley’s favourite 45 played on the stereo, “Midnight at the Oasis.” Emma listened as Mamma Shirley sang along. When the song was over, it was quiet again. Emma didn’t move from her spot by the fence.
“Come on, Barney, you’re a good boy,” Emma said as the late afternoon darkened. From Barney, nothing but silence.
Lester called to Emma outside the front of the house, Mamma Shirley joined in from inside, and then Nina’s face was at the kitchen window, peering out into the backyard.
“Here she is,” Nina said. “She’s sitting in the dirt talking to herself.”
Mamma Shirley’s face was at the window too. Hard eyes. She frowned. Whatever she said, Emma didn’t hear.
Barney, don’t be a big jerk. Emma said using her inside words. You can’t just give up. Only a stupid head would just give up.
The patio door squeaked open. Mamma Shirley. Dinner.
Emma sat at the table with Lester and Nina and Jamie Francis. Mamma Shirley slammed down Emma’s plate. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear us, Emma. Dinner is at the same time, every single day. I don’t have time to chase you down. And no more sitting in the dirt.”
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