Cage of Bone

by Leanne Beattie

  The overwhelming stench of tires and petroleum products assaulted my nose as soon as we went inside. If I didn’t have a headache already, I’d sure as hell have one now. “What are we doing here?” I asked.

  “I’m buying paint for the baby’s room. You’re going to help me get the nursery ready today. And no, it’s not optional.”

  We loaded a cart with cans of pale yellow paint, aluminum paint trays, rollers and brushes. This was not going to be fun, I just knew it.

  “Don’t worry,” Dad said, sensing my displeasure. “Meg isn’t home. She’s spending the weekend at her mother’s, so it’ll be just the two of us all day. I promised her I’d finish the room and I’m not letting your little escapade get in the way.”

  “Wow, it’s great that you can keep your promise to her but you can just abandon Mom and me completely. Nice sense of loyalty you have.” I could feel the anger simmering under his skin. He was trying not to show it but I knew I had hit that sore spot again. Ten points for me!

  “Drop it, Ronnie,” he said, wheeling the cart up to the cashier. “We have a lot of work to do today and it’ll go much faster if we’ve not trying to hurt each other the whole time.”

  Dad lived in a red brick bungalow on a crescent that had been maturing for the past twenty years. The neighbourhood was made up of senior citizens who obviously had too much time on their hands. Every lawn was immaculate, every garden carefully groomed. Around here, little old men hosed down driveways on Sunday afternoons.

  My lawn had a tired, slightly shabby look about it. I knew Mom had given up and was waiting for the weeds to completely overtake the grass. By next spring we wouldn’t have any real lawn left and the crabgrass and the dandelions would be declared the official winners.

  Dad handed me a can of paint while he carried the rest of the supplies into the house. “Take off your shoes,” he said as soon as we got in the door. “Meg hates it when I track dirt all through the house.”

  I had never been here before. There was no need to, until now, when I didn’t have a choice. It felt strange to see some of our old furniture here mixed in with totally unrecognizable pieces.

  Rows of framed photographs were lined up with precision on top of an ancient piano that had once belonged to my grandmother. I was surprised to see pictures of Katherine and me there.

  “Is that Meg?” I asked, nodding towards a snapshot of my dad and an obviously younger woman. She’d never stand out in the crowd but she wasn’t an ogre either.

  “Yes. That was taken a few months ago, right after we found out about the baby. She said it was the happiest day of her life.”

  “And what about you? Was it your happiest day too?”

  “No, that was the day Katherine was born. And you, of course. Becoming a father was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Well now you can just keep popping out babies with Meg. The happiness never has to end.”

  Dad shook his head slowly. “I didn’t expect to become a father again. The pregnancy certainly wasn’t planned, if that’s what you’re thinking. This baby will never replace Katherine. Or you.”

  “It’s all rather convenient, don’t you think?” I snapped. “You get to start over, like Katherine never existed. You’ve got it made.” I couldn’t look him in the eye or I’d start crying or yelling. I stared at the carpet and choked back the lump in my throat.

  “I know you don’t believe me right now, Ronnie, but I just want to be happy. Can’t you just give me that? Don’t you want to be happy too?”

  “Yeah, of course I do, but I don’t ditch my whole family to do it. I’m not selfish, like you!” I turned and rushed to the door, grabbing my boots as I left, not even taking the time to put them on.

  “Ronnie, wait!” Dad called. “Come back. Let’s talk about this.”

  I whipped around and glared at him. “There is nothing left to talk about. Don’t you get it? I hate you for leaving us. I hate you! And nothing you say is going to change my mind!”

  I found Katherine sitting at a picnic table at St. Julian’s Park. The swings were all filled with little kids, their moms huddled together off to the side sipping coffee from paper cups and laughing. Everybody had it so easy. “Hey, Kat,” I called.

  She turned to the sound of my voice and smiled. “It’s about time you got here.” She frowned as I got closer. “What’s up with you? You looked really pissed off.”

  “It’s Dad.” I sat down beside her. “We just had another huge fight. About the baby, of course”.

  “Of course,” she agreed. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “What can I do about it? The baby’s coming. I can’t change that.”

  Katherine unwrapped a piece of gum and started chewing. “You can’t change it but are you going to accept it?”

  “Fuck no! Why should I? That’s exactly what he wants. Then he doesn’t have to feel guilty about being happy.”

  “Is that how it is with you too? Would being happy make you feel guilty?”

  “I can’t just forget about you. I love you.”

  “I know you do, Ronnie. But being miserable doesn’t mean you love me more. Do yourself a favour and move on. I’m holding you back.”

  “Stop it,” I cried. “It’s hard enough with Dad’s disappearing act. You can’t leave me too.”

 

  Chapter Twelve

  “So, how was your weekend?” Danielle asked me Monday morning. She was waiting for me at my locker again. Apparently, getting an update from me was her favourite way to begin the week.

  I was exhausted from another night of restless sleep but I faked some excitement in my voice. “I am so moving to Toronto after graduation.”

  Danielle nodded and shifted her pile of books into her other arm. “You could get an English degree at York.”

  “I don’t know about that.” I grabbed the novel I needed and slammed my locker shut. “I don’t think my writing is as great as Mr. Tanner thinks.”

  “Hey, it looks like Mr. Rock Star is coming to see you,” Danielle said, nodding across the hall.

  Griffin was on his way towards us but a senior girl had stopped him. He laughed at something she said and patted her on the arm. She beamed at him and bounced away down the hall.

  “How’s my girl?” Griffin asked, leaning in for a kiss. I turned my head abruptly and he only got my cheek.

  “Okay, considering I got into major shit yesterday, as you could imagine. I had to spend the day with my dad painting the baby’s room as punishment.”

  “That’s not so bad, is it? It’ll be cool having a little baby brother or sister.”

  I shook my head and shivered. “I hardly think so. He better not think I’m going to babysit the whiny little brat.”

  “Wow, that’s harsh. I thought you’d like the baby, considering what’s happened.”

  “What, because of Katherine? You think the baby can just replace her? That’s ridiculous!” I pushed my way out of his arms and prepared to enter the classroom. “Obviously, you’re on his side, since you’re a guy.”

  English class passed by in a blur. I was so wound up about the fight with Griffin that Mr. Tanner could have been discussing the artistic merits of Sesame Street and I wouldn’t have noticed. Did Griffin actually think that this baby was a good thing? Far from it.

  The bell rang and I jumped from my seat but Mr. Tanner had other plans. “Veronica,” he called. “Could I talk to you a minute?”

  “I guess. But hurry, I don’t want to be late for Math.”

  He went to his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper from a stack that threatened to topple over at any second. How he managed to find anything in that mess was a miracle. That kind of disorder made my skin crawl.

  “Here are the details about the literary competition I mentioned before. I hope you’ve reconsidered. I really think your piece is excellent.”

  I glanced at the flyer. The contest was open to all high school students in our region. The winn
ing entries would be published in a glossy full-colour magazine and the authors would do a reading at a swanky wine and cheese ceremony at the school board office. The big winner would also receive a cheque for fifty dollars.

  “If I say yes, will you leave me alone?” Even if I won, which was highly unlikely, I was safe. The only people who would read the stupid publication would be some slightly senile grandparents.

  “I’ll always encourage your writing, Veronica, that’s my duty. But I promise not to pressure you. How’s that?”

  “Fine. Submit my stupid poem. It won’t win anyway.”

  I must have scared Griffin off because he didn’t come around for the rest of the day. He was supposed to be on my side but at this rate he’d soon be suggesting that I move in with my father to round out the happy family.

  The house was empty when I got home so I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich for supper and went to my room. I had homework to do but my conversation with Griffin kept popping back into my head, gathering momentum until I felt like I was going to scream. That damned baby. Why couldn’t my dad just control himself? It was embarrassing, a man his age becoming a father again. He probably felt like a real stud though, like he was still twenty-five or something.

  I couldn’t concentrate on my school stuff so I did some housework instead. Cleaning always cleared my head. I started in the living room, emptying Mom’s ashtrays and taking her rye glass out to the kitchen sink. Two inches of liquor still sat in the tumbler but instead of dumping it like I normally would, I chugged it back. It burned on the way down but the warmth felt good in my belly. So good that it felt like more.

  Mom kept her extra booze stash hidden in the laundry hamper in her bedroom. I pulled out an almost-full bottle of rye, poured three finger’s worth into the glass and took the bottle with me. She’d never notice it was missing.

  I sucked back the drink while I cleaned and then poured a double. I wobbled back to my room after my third refill. The walls seemed to weave towards me like they were made out of psychedelic elastic.

  I plopped down onto my bed and closed my eyes to make the room stop spinning. That didn’t work, so I focused on my breathing. In with the good, out with the shit. Stupid jerk Griffin. In with the good, out with the shit. Idiot father. In with the good, out with the shit. Katherine in the tub. Deep and slow until the blackness swallowed me. No thinking, no feeling.

  “You could at least make sure you turn off the lights when you go to bed,” Mom nagged the next morning. “I came home from work last night and every light in the place was on. Keep that up and you’ll be paying the hydro bill.”

  I was trying to choke down a bowl of cereal but my stomach was not happy. I wanted to puke but pushed the bile back down.

  “Sorry. I fell asleep doing my homework. I didn’t mean to waste the electricity.”

  “Okay but be more careful. I can barely afford the bill as it is now. I don’t need more expense on top of it all.” She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke up over my head, her idea of courtesy. “I’m working the late shift again tonight, so you’re on your own again. No friends over, okay?”

  “Yes, Mother,” I said dutifully.

  I gave up on my bowl of cereal, dumped the mushy flakes down the kitchen sink and rinsed them away. I dressed quickly and began working gel through my hair. A half-inch of brown roots were now obvious—I’d have to get a dye job soon if I wanted to keep up the white-blonde look. Debbie Harry could pull off the roots but they weren’t looking so hot on me.

  I grabbed the five-dollar bill Mom had left me on the kitchen table to use at the cafeteria and hoisted up my duffel bag. Who needed gym class when you were carrying twenty pounds of textbooks?

  I listened to my Walkman as I walked to school. I noticed the girl loitering at the corner but I was too absorbed in Adam and the Ants and the double drumming on Kings of the Wild Frontier to care. I could see her watching me but I ignored her and kept going.

  “Hey, bitch. I want to talk to you,” the girl said, reaching out to grab my cassette player and yanking off my headphones at the same time. She held the earpiece up to her ear and listened for a moment. “God, this music sucks,” she said, throwing the Walkman to the ground and stomping on it.

  “Hey,” I shouted. “What are you doing?”

  She pulled my duffel bag off my shoulder and started going through it, ripping pages out of my books and throwing them onto the sidewalk. The wind picked them up and whisked them away, tumbleweeds of homework circling down the street. I thought I recognized her as one of Shelly Russell’s little pals. It figured.

  “Think your boyfriend’s going to help you now?” the girl hissed. “It’s only a matter of time before he realizes you’re just as bad as your sister.”

  I took a running leap and tackled her to the grass. She let out a loud grunt as the wind was knocked out of her. I pinned her down with one arm and pulled back my right fist. There was a satisfying crunch when I connected with her jaw. “Mention my sister again and I’ll break your fucking neck.”

  It was the start of second period and I had just cracked open my vandalized Math textbook when I heard my name called over the loudspeaker, ordering me to immediately report to the principal’s office. Miss Jordan, who was about a million years old and wore orthopedic stockings with her blindingly-white Reeboks, glared at the interruption. I shrugged and gathered up my things. This couldn’t be good.

  The office was lined with turquoise plastic chairs, half of which were filled with delinquent students when I arrived. I reported in with the secretary and took a seat, slouching down low and closing my eyes. “Veronica Campbell?” the principal soon called, jarring me out of my nap time.

  Mr. Quesnel was tall and thin with wispy white hair swept over his almost naked scalp. We all called him Q-Tip because he looked like a cotton swab. “Take a seat, Veronica,” he ordered. “Do you know why you’re here today?”

  I shook my head. This couldn’t have to do with the fight on the way to school. I was the victim there and I had the textbooks to prove it.

  “Deborah Ramsay says you assaulted her this morning while she was walking to school.”

  “I don’t know a Deborah Ramsay but somebody smashed my Walkman and ripped my books to shreds.” I held up my battered Math text as evidence.

  “And this warranted a violent attack?”

  “I only hit her once. And she started it. I was defending myself.”

  “She also says you threatened her with further violence. Is this correct?”

  I sat up straighter in my chair and stared him in the eye. “She was insulting my sister. There’s a whole bunch of girls gossiping about Katherine and she’s part of that group. I’m sick of their lies so I let her have it. Maybe they’ll leave me alone now and stop all the bullshit.”

  “That sort of language is not allowed in the school, Veronica. Please watch your tongue.” I shut up and kept staring at him. He shuffled through some papers in a file, read for a moment and then cleared his throat.

  “I realize you’ve had an unfortunate loss recently and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t give you the right to take your anger out on other people.”

  “She started it, remember? Hello? My stuff is ruined.”

  “That may be so but your response was not appropriate.” He jotted a note on a piece of paper and slid it across his desk to me. “Considering the circumstances, I won’t suspend you but you must report to your guidance counselor today at 3:15 pm. Mr. Wilkins will be expecting you. Don’t be late.”

  The cafeteria was already jammed by the time I got to lunch. I grabbed a tray and took my place in line. Would it be mock nuggets on the menu or good old soy burgers? I decided to play it safe with a large order of fries and gravy and a small chocolate milk, paid for the food, and took off to find a table, preferably an empty one.

  I could feel eyes on me as I walked down the aisle, voices dropping to whispers as I passed. I’m sure the news of little Miss Deborah’s injury had sprea
d through the school and by now I was famous again.

  There was one almost empty table in the back of the room so I headed that way. The only kids sitting there were a couple of science geeks who would scatter if I even looked their way. I munched on my fries and stared at the wall, willing myself to stop thinking about my impending meeting with the guidance counselor. Like I needed any advice.

  “Um, excuse me,” a girl said. “Can I sit down?” I glared at her and kept eating. “I heard about what happened this morning.”

  “Yeah, you and the rest of the school. Leave me alone.”

  “Okay. But I just wanted to let you know that I’m on your side. Deborah Ramsay is a total bitch. Oops, sorry about the swearing.”

  This was different, somebody actually agreed with me. “Who are you?” I asked, looking at her more closely.

  The girl shifted her books into her other arm and reached out to shake my hand. “Tracy Dodd. I’m in your Math class but I don’t think you’ve ever noticed me.” She had long, dark hair covering most of her face, bangs hanging in her eyes. No wonder I had never noticed her, she was trying to be invisible.

  “Sit down if you want,” I offered. “I’m going soon.”

  “Oh don’t go, please,” she practically begged. “I really want to talk to you.”

  “Why? I’m not looking to add to my extensive group of friends.”

  Tracy dropped her eyes and looked like she was going to cry. “I need your help,” she whispered.

  “What do you mean?”

  She looked around nervously, as if she was afraid of someone overhearing us. “Those girls, the ones who hang around with Deborah, you know, Shelley and that group? They hassle me all the time because I’m on the Honour Roll. But I can’t do anything about them. You fought back though. I want to do that.”

  “There’s no trick to it, Tracy. Just kick the shit out of them.”

  “I wish I had your guts. I could never do anything like that.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes, a little more confident now.

  “Just imagine them hurting your puppy or your kitten. That should be enough to whip you up into a blinding rage.” She probably didn’t catch the sarcasm in my voice.