Over Our Heads

by Andrea Thompson

  “So I just wanted to warn you about Sam. Just so you know.” Rachel stopped for a moment, noticing the sparkle suddenly darkening in the little girl’s eyes.

  “What about Sam just so I know?” Emma asked.

  “Well, you have to watch out for him because sometimes he just goes crazy and yells and calls people mean names and, um, smashes things. And throws things at people. Mostly people who try to hang out with him.” There, that should be sufficient, Rachel thought.

  “Are you sure?” Emma asked, looking out over the garden. “I mean, he was nice to me, and I can usually tell if someone’s mean right away.”

  “No, trust me,” Rachel said, following Emma’s stare.

  “Okay, if you say so,” Emma replied.

  Easy-peasy, Rachel thought. Emma wandered over toward the end of the garden where Rachel and her grandmother planted the flowerbed after Dad died. The sign they made together: Rachel’s Secret Garden, KEEP OUT! was still there, though the ink had faded and warped under the Saran Wrap. Emma walked right toward it, and looked down at the forget-me-nots. Rachel put her hand to her waist. The smooth fabric under her shirt soothed her fingers. Emma stopped in front of the flowerbed.

  “Who died here?” she asked, bending down to get a closer look.

  It was like when someone came up behind you, someone mean, some bully who always tripped you when you were getting off the bus, and all of a sudden they came up behind you and cupped their hands onto the side of your head and all the wind bashed your skull in for a moment. That was how it felt to hear those words from Emma’s mouth. How did she know? Rachel pulled the tie tighter around her waist. Who died here? How dare she? You want to know? Rachel wanted to yell. You want to know who died here you little friggin’ Turtle Girl? We all did, that’s who. All of us. And just when we started to come back to life, you show up.

  “Get away from my garden.” Rachel didn’t mean to say it out loud. It just slipped out. It wasn’t part of the plan at all. She had snapped like a reflex, jumping like a rubber mallet on a shin.

  Emma looked more startled than hurt. She was so doe eyed. Like a dodo, a birdbrain.

  “Oh, sorry!” Emma said, jumping back. “I wasn’t going to touch it or anything. I can tell it’s a special place, it’s just I was wondering, cause I… Sorry.”

  Because she what? Rachel waited, but Emma didn’t continue. She stared at Rachel’s garden, with her eyebrows furrowed. It gave Rachel the creeps. Emma knew someone had died. How did she know? Maybe she was putting on an act, pretending to be innocent to get Rachel to put her guard down. She wouldn’t though. She wasn’t born yesterday.

  “Yeah, okay. Sorry to yell like that,” she said. “I just – I saw a wasp. It was coming right at you.”

  More jumping back from Emma. She was like a wind-up toy.

  “So, yeah,” Rachel started up again, leading Emma away from the garden, and towards the other side of the back yard. “What do you think of Wanda?” Rachel asked.

  “Well, she’s nice. She drinks a lot sometimes and forgets stuff, but her hair is pretty. I think she’s just really sad. Does she cry a lot?” Emma asked.

  It was something that hadn’t dawned on Rachel until that moment. Her mother did cry a lot. Rachel thought it was just that her mother cried more than Grandma and Rachel and Dad and Sam. But now that she was thinking about it, her mother cried more than anyone Rachel had ever known. Sometimes, she cried every morning. Rachel supposed she’d never noticed because she’d thought it was normal. It wasn’t though. Rachel wished it would have been someone else, anyone else in that moment that helped her see that there had been something wrong with her mother for as long as she could remember. Emma knew too much for someone so apparently clueless. Rachel promised herself she’d keep her wits about her as long as Emma was around.

  “Well, Wanda wouldn’t tell you right off. She wouldn’t want you to know in case it made you upset.” Rachel was flying by the seat of her pants now.

  Emma was all ears. “What? What does Wanda not want me to know about?” she asked.

  Rachel paused for dramatic effect. “She doesn’t want you to know that she’s only got you here on a trial basis.”

  Emma’s eyebrows pinched together. “What do you mean ‘a trial basis’?”

  Rachel knew she was onto something now. “Well, she just wanted to bring you back here to test you out. To see if you could get along with everyone. Me especially. She said that if we aren’t happy with you she’s going to send you back.”

  Emma’s eyes lit up. “Back to Foster’s – I mean to the house on Columbia Street?”

  Rachel had to make a quick course adjustment. “No, not that place. No, Wanda would have to send you to a different place. Somewhere in Alaska.” Rachel felt a tinge of pride for being so quick on her feet. Even though Alaska was on the coast, it was still pretty far from both Vancouver and Toronto. And it wasn’t even in Canada, a bonus.

  Emma’s face froze. Her eyes looked far away and hollow. She stood there for a moment, looking at nothing; then, her voice was a low rumble. “But I don’t want to go to Alaska. I’d rather go back to the house on Columbia Street.”

  Rachel should have gone with something simpler, like telling Emma that Wanda was an axe murderer or something. But she wanted a two-for-one, to put a wedge between Emma and her mother, and keep this little Turtle Girl under her thumb. “You can’t go back there. It’s full now. Some other little girl took your place. All the foster homes in Canada are full.”

  Emma looked like someone had hit her. She grabbed hold of her turtle pendant and sat down on the ground. “There’s a new girl there now? I thought – I thought that Just Jack and Mamma Shirley broke up. They said they were breaking up and that’s why we all had to go. But it was me? They just sent me away? Is Jamie Francis still there? What about Lester?”

  Rachel couldn’t help it. She felt bad for the Turtle Girl. She was in too deep now though. She’d have to see it through. “No, none of your old friends are there anymore. They’re all gone too. So the point is that if Wanda doesn’t think we get along, she’s going to send you to Alaska.” Emma was crying now. Rachel couldn’t see her eyes, but she could hear from the girl’s sniffing sounds. Rachel didn’t want to, it was stupid to be so soft in a moment when she almost had everything under control, but watching Emma made her tear up as well.

  “Listen Emma,” Rachel said, bending down. “I won’t let that happen to you. I won’t let them take you to Alaska. You just have to trust me, and do what I tell you? Like for one thing, make sure you stay away from Wanda. Don’t follow her around and talk to her all the time. She doesn’t like that.” Rachel helped Emma up. “Now, you don’t have to cry. It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”

  Emma tried to smile. “Thanks, Rachel. Don’t worry. I won’t be trouble. If I can’t go back…” Emma stopped for a moment, and Rachel was wondering what she was thinking.

  “I was just thinking,” Emma said, as if on cue, “that if I can’t go back, I’ve got to make it work out here. I don’t want to have to leave again, especially to go live in Alaska. So, don’t worry, there won’t be any trouble from me.”

  “Thanks Emma. I’ll look out for you. Now wipe up your face, okay?” Rachel said. Her eyes were dry, but a lump had crept into her throat. She wanted to go inside now, inside and away from Turtle Girl and her contagious tears. Emma wiped her eyes on her sleeve and headed toward the house. Rachel led, without looking back.

  22.

  WITH RACHEL BUSY with Nina Buziak in the kitchen, and the workmen outside, Emma decided it was time to go up to the attic to take a look around. She knew what she was looking for, and didn’t want to hear one of Rachel’s tirades if she found it.

  The book had been calling to her. Just like it had that time when she first found it in the basement. How had she forgotten it all these years? It had been Wanda’s, and then it had been
hers – her first introduction into the world of astrology. Before that she had known she was a Pisces, and that she was sensitive and poetic and mystic and scattered. But the book had taken her deeper, into a world of planets and aspects, and all the geometrical patterns created between them. A world where mythology met astronomy. That had always been at the heart of Rachel’s objection to anything astrological: it messed around in astronomy’s sandbox, and that was in Rachel’s backyard. That was her sacred soil, her secret burial ground. Emma thought about that first day when Rachel and Emma had met, and Rachel had taken her out into the garden and Emma had seen it – the little patch of dirt that had held all of Rachel’s sadness. Emma hadn’t thought, hadn’t given enough time for the meaning of the words that appeared in her mind to register before they had come out of her mouth.

  “Who died here?” Emma could tell from the way that Rachel wheeled around and glared at her that there would be no magic, no silent talking, no secret world between them. Rachel was scared of that stuff, she’d made that much clear. She was scared of death too. Emma would know better next time.

  Emma went upstairs, and into the closet of Wanda’s bedroom. On the ceiling of the closet, there was a little square cut-out hole that went up into the attic. She would need a ladder. She couldn’t get the one from the basement, Rachel would hear, but she could pull a chair over and stand on it. That should give her enough height to get the cover moved to the side, but then she’d have to hoist herself up there somehow. Maybe if she stood on a milk crate? Had she seen any milk crates in the house?

  “I could give you a boost,” Lester said, standing behind her.

  “Oh Jesus!” Emma put her hand on her chest.

  “If you want to get up there,” he said. “I could give you a boost. You never know what you’ll find in these old houses. I mean, there could be heirlooms, a Picasso, you never know. There’s this show where people go around and clean houses out. You wouldn’t believe the stuff they find.”

  Yes. Yes, actually, a boost from Lester would be a big help, would give her just enough extra height to get up there. But then he might want to come up too. No, she wanted to go up alone.

  “Well sure, but –” she started, before Lester cut in.

  “Can you believe that? Nina fucking Buziak. She looked good, eh?” Lester was on the other side of the bedroom, dragging the big old green chair over from the corner.

  “No take that one.” Emma pointed to the straight-backed wooden one behind the door.

  “Oh. Okay. Yeah, so holy shit, eh? Who would have thought that we’d all meet up here in Toronto after, what has it been? Thirty years?” Lester looked up at the ceiling for a moment, nodding his head slightly as he calculated. “Actually, it’s been at least thirty-five years. Yep, over thirty-five fucking years, all right.” Nina Buziak. As soon as she had shown up at Grandma’s house Emma had known that Wanda would be found. It wasn’t like with the animals, where images and impressions would float into her mind. It wasn’t like words appearing either. No, this kind of knowing came from somewhere deeper. Thoughts and feelings combined into some intangible extra-sensory soup. Like when someone called and you knew who it was before you answered, Emma just knew that Wanda would be found. Who would have thought it would be her childhood tormentor who would finally lead them all back to their mother. Emma thought of Grandma and smiled.

  “You want it here, or further to the back? I think it should be further to the back.” Lester tried the chair at various angles, settling with its back wedged to the side of the closet.

  “We should all go out for drinks. You, me, and Nina Buziak. Fuck. Can you believe it? Who would have thought we’d see her again? Boy, she freaked when she saw you, eh? No way could she forget what a bitch she used to be back in the day. Did you see her face? She would have had no way of knowing what she was walking into when she came to work today, that’s for sure.”

  It was funny now to think of how Rachel had looked in that moment, when it had become clear that they all somehow knew each other. She had looked shocked, like someone had smacked her across the face with a fish. Rachel had been the odd one out, and something was going on that she not only couldn’t control, but also didn’t understand.

  “Unanticipated variables,” Rachel always said, “are the death of any attempt at predicting an outcome.”

  Emma shouldn’t have giggled. She knew it wasn’t nice, the way she got a kick out of it whenever Rachel got the rug pulled out from under her. It wasn’t nice, but it was natural. Everyone had a shadow side; Jung had settled it. And it did do Rachel some good to have her perfectly ordered world shaken up a bit, just enough overturn of the soil that new life could grow.

  “Imagine what it must have been like to be her,” Lester said, stepping out of the closet. “There you are, off to do your job, just another day, when suddenly your past is standing in front of you. She probably thought she was in The Twilight Zone.” He laughed, then made a sweeping gesture with his hands, inviting Emma to enter the closet and step up onto the chair.

  Lester always loved it when life became unpredictable and squirrely. Lester bored easily, which was one reason for the Rachel, Lester, Emma triangle.

  Emma stepped up onto the chair, her socks sliding a bit on the smooth wooden surface. Lester steadied her. She reached up. She was still a good two feet short.

  “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you stand on my shoulders?” Lester said, wedging himself in beside her. “I’ll crouch down and you can climb on.” Lester shimmied himself into a squat position next to chair, and Emma stepped onto his shoulders. He slowly stood up, and Emma pushed the square wooden cover to one side. Dust and bits of insulation flew out of the dark hole with a whoosh of air. Lester stood with his legs straight, and Emma hoisted herself up and onto the old, wooden boards of the attic floor.

  “I’ll just get on the chair then and…”

  “No. Please,” Emma said. “I just want to take a look around by myself. If that’s okay.”

  Silence, at first.

  Then he said, “Sure. Okay. Well, sure. Just let me know if you need anything.”

  Footsteps crossed the bedroom.

  “Sorry. Thank you,” Emma shouted through the hole.

  Lester closed the bedroom door behind him.

  She’d try to make it up to him later. Do something, or say something to let him know she appreciated him. One day he’ll get sick of this, she told herself. Then I’ll really be lonely. Then I’ll be free. Better alone already, than waiting for the day to come when he finally left her. Funny, Emma never felt that way about Rachel. With Rachel, it was like a given, no matter how much time passed or what happened between them, Rachel would always be around.

  Rachel, the Actuary. Emma had never even heard of the word until Rachel corrected her when she said her sister was an accountant. “Actually, I’m an actuary,” Rachel had said. Emma had laughed, liking the sound of the two words together. The actuary sorts through infinite possibilities in order to ascertain what will actually occur. Ha! No way Rachel could have predicted the appearance of Nina Buziak.

  Nina Fletcher now, so she had said. She had turned out well, looking all put together and lawyerly. Emma had always thought that Nina would have fallen through the cracks of “the system” as Lester called it. “We grew up in the system,” that was what he always said, and every time he said it, it made Emma think of The Wall, that Pink Floyd movie. She thought of them at Foster’s house like hamburger churning through a machine. That must have been how Lester felt, shuffled from one house to another. Maybe that was why he was the most damaged of all of them. Emma, Nina, even Rachel all had had their lives turned upside down as children, and they had all turned out all right by society’s standards. At least Nina and Rachel had. Emma, maybe not so much.

  Emma looked into the attic. Darkness.

  “Here, you’re going to need this.” Lester’s hand, holding
a flashlight, popped up out of the hole in the floor.

  “Oh. Thanks,” Emma said, guilt rumbling in her belly.

  His hand retreated. Footsteps through the bedroom, and the door closed again, softly this time.

  Flashlight in hand, Emma made her way to the boxes piled in the far corner of the attic. The circle of light cast before her was dim. The batteries were dying. She’d better get what she came for quick, before they burned out all together. The book was in there somewhere, she could feel it. There were at least half a dozen boxes in the attic. Searching them all would take too long. Emma remembered how the book had called her to it the first time. That time it had been in the basement, in the furnace room. There had been scratching, like a mouse was trapped inside.

  Emma stood still on the rough wood floor and listened. Nothing. Then the words from that first Star Wars movie echoed in her mind. Obi Wan Kenobi, speaking to Luke in the scene where they blow up the Death Star: Use the force, Luke. Let go. Rachel would laugh, but to hell with Rachel. Emma tried to open her senses. She calmed her mind. Still nothing. She’d have to do it the regular way. She leaned over the boxes. The one on the top was the biggest. Someone had done a terrible stacking job. Emma opened the flaps to the box, then laughed out loud. Sometimes things could be easy, she thought. Sometimes there was no need for clues or secret messages. All it took was taking a step forward, and moving into the unknown with nothing but faith.

  The books were right there, in the first box she opened. Emma took them out one by one, reading their covers with the flashlight, when The Secret Garden jumped out at her. That had been Rachel’s. The next book she picked up made her hand tingle. Mrs. Dalloway. Emma put that one aside as well. A couple of seconds later she found it, The Astrologer’s Handbook. She flipped open the cover. The words were more faded now, but they were still there: I hope this helps you, love Mom. Grandma’s handwriting. It was a message to Wanda. Emma wondered what Grandma had thought Wanda needed help with. Whatever it was, it seemed that the astrology book hadn’t done the trick. Emma tried to imagine what Wanda had been like as a teenager. How she and Grandma must have battled in those years. Maybe that had been when the rift started between them. Emma wouldn’t know. By the time she had come onto the scene at old number 66, the cracks in the relationship between Wanda and her grandmother had grown into a chasm.