“Go on.”
“Wendy didn’t put that nail polish on herself, and I know the principal’s wife wouldn’t. He did.”
I could tell this scared her and that was why I was telling her the PG-13 version. She sat up and checked to see if the door was locked. “So what happened?”
“I knew, in that second, that he was molesting her. Think about it: they never took her anywhere. They got a big ol’ house. When I called social services, the worker came and took my statement. I didn’t tell the coach. I didn’t tell Jonathan, but a cop car and a social services vehicle in my driveway pretty much alerted the town it was me who had something to do with his little midnight run.”
I pointed to the living room window. They left the drapes closed. You could never see into this house, even on a sunny day. “Look at this house. It’s like a wolverine den. He can see everyone who’s coming down the road, but you can’t see in.”
I pointed to the fence. “That fucker put fence all round his property, high walls, barricading himself in. He doesn’t have any neighbours, so he could be as loud as he wanted. Whatever went on in that house was so horrible, my Dad told me the sergeant walked out and vomited when they did the raid.”
“God,” she said. She made a motion like the sign of the cross but stopped herself.
“The sad thing is his wife knew. You didn’t see her out in public much, did you?”
“No.” She took another sip and leaned over and kissed my cheek before resting her head on my shoulder. “You should be a cop.”
I pulled her closer and could smell her shampoo and perfume. That felt nice. “That fucker called the moving company the night I told and paid cash to Bully’s to pack and move his entire house in the middle of the night.”
“I can’t believe his wife stuck with him.”
“Stupid white bitch. They were gone before the cops knew what happened.”
“At least social services got Wendy before they left.”
“Yeah.”
The R-rated version was that it was Kevin Garner, Simmer’s Dogrib drug dealer, who pointed out the obvious clue: she was shaved bald.
“You better call social services,” he said.
“What? Why not you?”
He looked at her and turned away. “You and I both know she couldn’t do that to herself. I’m a dealer, Gerald. You call. They’ll believe you.”
And he walked.
“He stole our money,” Donna said quietly.
“Huh?”
“You know how he was going to take all of the students who fundraised to Disneyland?”
“Yeah.”
“We raised over eight thousand dollars.”
“Were you a part of that? How much did you raise?”
She looked up “Three hundred and twenty-four dollars. My Mom and I baked pies.”
“Really? What else?”
“Cookies and cakes.”
I smiled, thinking about this. “You bake?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
“You a good cook?”
“Maybe.”
I got hard again, thinking of her baking with her Mom, maybe listening to country and western and laughing with her ma as her pops read the paper, smiling in the living room. “What’s your best dish?”
“Um??? Pork chops, gravy, mashed potatoes—”
I flew upon her something fierce. Right then and there across from the house. In the truck. Across from the principal’s, I had her undressed with me on top in seconds.
“Don’t do your business,” she kept saying. “Don’t you do it.”
“I won’t, baby,” I said.
She gripped my shoulders and pulled me deep into her with her thighs. “I love you, Gerald,” she said suddenly.
“Me too,” I said, surprised.
“Oh,” she shivered as she swallowed me between her legs. “We fit so perfect.”
I didn’t do my business. Couldn’t. But she did. And how. She took all of me. To the hilt.
Afterwards, we shivered together.
“Wow,” she said. “What happened?”
I got embarrassed. “You turned me on, okay?”
“By talking about cooking?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry.”
She laughed and kissed my forehead. “Well, if that’s all it takes, we’ll be great.”
I kissed her back. This time I kissed her and no one else. I mean it.
We cruised around and she asked, “You lost a lot by telling, hey?”
I nodded. “Jonathan doesn’t talk to me anymore. They just can’t shake the fact they’re not going to Disneyland.”
“Think about what he might have done to the students who went,” she said.
I looked at her. That’s exactly what the social worker said when she came to the house to take my statement and do follow-up. “Thank you for saying that.”
She kissed me and touched the side of my face gently. “You are a hero. You saved that girl from more rape. The cops’ll get him.”
We pulled up to her place. “Hope so.”
“Call me, okay?” She looked around. “I’ve lost my sock.”
“I will. Sorry I did my business.”
“Where’s my sock?”
I looked around. “Maybe you dropped it when we were in the gas station.”
“Maybe. Just don’t knock me up, and thanks for your cherry.”
I laughed out of shock and when I looked up I had tears in my eyes. She kissed my neck and then, in the sign of the cross: forehead, chin, cheek, cheek. We ended by kissing and she walked away. I went home without cruising down Candy Lane. Can’t disrespect my woman, hey.
I wondered: Why didn’t we do this years ago?
I went to sleep part of the devirginized club without washing up. In fact, before I fell asleep, I reached down and used my fingers to smell her all over again.
And the smell was animal. I loved it. I sniffed my fingers and smiled before rolling over. Donna Donna Donna, you finally got me. I thought of Wendy, how I used to pass her in the halls without ever looking at her. The only special needs in high school and she had to be Dogrib. The Crees, Chipewyan, Gwich’in, Slavey and whites just loved that. She made me ashamed to be Tlicho, but I was glad I helped her. I hoped she was safe, wherever she was.
Woke up smiling. Thank you, God, and thank you, Donna. Felt the weight of telling and being banished leave me as I washed myself clean.
Came out of the bathroom and Mom was standing there holding up a sock. “What’s this?” she asked. It was Donna’s sock. Bleached white but scuffed from the truck’s floormats. The one she left behind.
“I went swimming last night,” I said. “Gave a friend a ride home.”
“I bet,” she said and looked at me. “You make an honest woman out of whoever it is you’re seeing. Do this right and with respect.”
“I just gave her a ride home, Mom.”
I was out the door to work before she could ask when I’d be home for supper.
Worked all day wincing. Donna’s claw marks on my back stung the more I worked up a sweat. Janette drove by twice. The second time she cruised by, I walked out to the road and blocked her. She pulled up beside me and rolled down her window.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hello,” she said.
“I’m Gerald.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Hello, Gerald.”
“You’re Janette. How’s Doug?”’
“Fine. Why do you ask?”
“He’s mean,” I said. Her eyes changed. They narrowed and she stared straight ahead. “What do you want?”
“You.”
This got her. She looked back at me. “Can I ask how young you are?”
“Going into grade twelve this September,” I said.
She was checking out my chest and arms. “So young,” she said. “She yours?” she asked and pointed with her chin to Donna walking down the road towards us.
I glanced at Donna quick. I had maybe two minut
es to do this. “Nope. Can I ask you something?”
“Better hurry before your lady gets here.”
“She’s not my lady.” I took a big breath. “I got eight inches. How much does Doug got?”
She looked straight ahead again. Why couldn’t she be seventeen? I saw the wrinkles on her face, around her eyes, at the edges of her mouth. She looked weathered. The sag of her neck and the back of her hands gave her age away: “He’s got a lot more than that, since you’re asking.” She lit a smoke, squinted, motioned with her chin, “Look, your little honey’s waving at you.”
I turned. Donna was waving away. There was a wild panic in her eyes. Shit! “She’s a friend.” I had to hurry before Donna arrived. “Doug raped his babysitter, you know.”
“I’ve been told this by everyone I meet here.”
“We’re a Block Parent community.”
“They couldn’t prove anything.”
“No? Then how come his old lady left him? How come he never sees his daughter?”
“Can we change the subject?”
“Can I see you sometime?”
“No.”
“Please?’
She looked at me. “This is crazy.”
“I’m a great guy,” I said, realizing I was burning across my face.
“I can see that,” she said. “She’s getting closer.”
I looked. Donna was running towards us, her little fists and legs just pumping.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Call me at my house,” I said. “2999.”
She looked away, and I shut the door. She drove away. No double tap on the brakes this time. I couldn’t believe how old she looked up close and wondered if The Slug thought of her being seventeen again when he was plums deep...
Donna walked up to me, panting. Her cheeks were a scorched red, like how they always were in gym class after running laps. “Who was that? She has a boyfriend, you know.”
“I know,” I said. “She’s just saying hi.”
“Well stop it,” she said. “You’re taken.”
“Says who?”
“Me.”
I looked away. I blew it!
“Did you like last night?”
“Sure,” I shrugged and blushed. I couldn’t believe I’d just made a move on a forty-year-old. “It was fun.”
“I think it was more than fun. God, I’m sore and covered
in hickeys.”
How will I ever get out of this? Boss Hog came out of the office and motioned for me to peel more logs.
“I gotta go,” I said.
“Can I help?”
I looked at her and was genuinely touched. Here she was wearing a nice white BUM Equipment pullover and I was covered in spruce gum and she was ready to work with me. “No thanks.” I looked at her and knew in a second that she was ready to marry me, cook for me, clean the house, have a few kids.
“Can we go for fries and a Coke after work?” she asked.
I thought about this. I at least owed her that. “I can be there at five.”
When I met her, all five of her cousins were there as witnesses. I could totally tell she told them I’d be there. Donna took her
T-shirt off under her pullover. The entire restaurant could see the monkey bites I gave her, and the word was out: Gerald tagged Donna. Film at eleven. Shit. I was a hostage. Janette, save me! Dolly watched me throughout the entire half-hour episode. Suspicious eyes asked, “How long before you hurt her again?”
When I cruised home, there were police outside Janette’s house. Cherries were going and everything. Two social services cars were on the lawn. Man, this was serious. I would’ve pulled over but the road was too skinny. Half the town drove by to get a good filthy look and I had to keep moving or block traffic. I pulled into my driveway and considered walking back to Janette’s to find out what was going on. I was trying to think about what to do when Dad pulled up and wanted me to pluck ducks with him.
“Hear the news?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“See the cops outside that new teacher’s house?”
“Yeah.”
“The Slug strikes again.”
“What?”
“Apparently Doug was starting to abuse that French woman’s daughter.”
Mom hissed when she took her breath in.
“What?”
“Yeah. Apparently he tried something but her girl told on him.”
“Where is he?”
“Jail.”
“What about her?”
“She packed up and left with her girl.”
“What!”
“She’s gone, Son.”
The breath left my body and it was like I was watching TV for the next four hours but staring straight ahead. I went in my room and lay on the floor, looking up. I was suddenly so very tired and I dozed off. When I woke, Mom and Dad were gone with a note.
Gone shopping for grub.
Surprise supper at seven.
Love, Mom.
I looked at the clock on the stove. I had an hour. I grabbed my coat and cruised to Janette’s house. I parked down the street and walked back in the grass. No one was around. I went around back and kicked in the door and it was true. All that was left was the furniture.
Upstairs, downstairs, they left traceless. They were gone. Just as I came out of the house, I surprised two kids who went tearing towards the bush.
“Hey!” I yelled and sprinted after them.
They were wearing hoodies and giving ’er, but I kicked the legs out from under one of them and pushed the other one as he ran so he went face first into the willows. Both boys were down and one was crying. I saw blood on their hands. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”
The first boy looked at me and stared hard. “A rape happened here, right? We left the mark.” He pointed back to the house and there were red, bloody handprints all around the house.
“Jesus,” I said.
I looked at the other boy who I realized was a girl with sheared hair. She was holding her leg and leaving red marks on her pants. “Did you cut yourselves?” I asked.
The boy and girl shook their heads. The boy pointed behind me. Then I saw the open bucket of paint. I got goose pimples and remembered the handprints I’d seen around town. “You kids go home. You shouldn’t be around a place like this.”
“Were you raped too?” the girl asked.
“What?”
“Were you leaving your mark in the house?”
“No—”
“’Cause you’re supposed to leave it on the outside or else they won’t see.”
“Who – the cops?”
“Torchy and his brother.”
I helped them both up. “Wait. I don’t understand. I’m seeing handprints around town. Are they behind this?”
“We’re behind this,” the boy said. “All of us. Cops won’t do nothing. Parents don’t do nothing. Torchy and Sfen are going to do something about it.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Wait and see,” the boy said.
I shook my head and remembered Janette and her daughter. “I gotta go, but you kids go home, okay?”
They looked at each other and nodded. I felt spooky, like I’d interrupted something wicked and holy – I didn’t know. I left, hopped in the truck and got back to patrolling.
The cop shop was busy: two cruisers with their cherries off and CBC North were parked outside as I sped by. I was tempted to just hit the highway, but I wouldn’t even have known where to go, and she had a good four-hour head start on me, and what the hell would I even have said?
“Damn,” I said and punched the dash. “Goddamn this town!”
I cruised and cruised with a death grip on the wheel. I looked at the clock on the dash and headed for home.
When I walked in, Donna was at the house. She was helping Mom in the kitchen. Surprisingly, Dad was upstairs watching TV. Mom looked at Donna who was wiping the counter.
“You
never told me Donna was the one who was calling.”
I looked at Donna. She was blushing and reading my eyes carefully. “I stopped by,” she said, “to give you this.”
I looked. There was a small bowl covered in Saran Wrap.
“It’s yarrow,” she said, “for your arms.”
“Now that’s sweet,” Mom said.
I’m stunned. What the hell was going on here?
“You can put it on after supper,” Donna said. “It’s pretty strong.”
I had to look away.
“What do you say, Son?” Dad called from the loft.
“Thank you, Donna,” I repeated and dipped my head. This was almost great, but Janette was gone. She was gone.
“Well,” Mom said, “Supper’s ready. We made your favourite.” She looked at me. “Steak, mashed potatoes and nibblets with lots of onions.”
“That’s a lot of food,” I said, “for four.”
“Oh, we’ve invited Donna’s folks over. It’s been years since Barb and I had a good visit.”
Whoah, I thought. Wait—
“Is your Dad still a quiet dude?” Dad asked.
“Yes,” Donna smiled. “Still quiet.”
“He was always like that,” Mom said and put water on for tea. “Even when we were in school. I guess he only needs your Mom to talk to, hey?”
Donna was looking at me. Her eyes sparkled. “That’s what my cousins say.”
I looked at Donna and my folks. This could work, I thought. Sweetness like hers. Kind eyes. And that simple question: “Can I help?” really got me. I suddenly got this feeling like we could do anything together. She had wanted me for a while and now she had me. She was my first and she could take all of me.
I caught Mom staring at me. She swept the back of her hand with her palm and her eyes asked: is this what you want? I looked at Donna who smiled back and wiped her hands on the dishtowel. This could be my life.
“I remember our first supper,” Mom said, “we were just starting out.”
“You tricked me,” Dad called out from the loft, “and now look at us.”
“Yes, look at you,” Mom said, “a happy, grateful Dogrib man. Now get down here and set the table.”
Donna’s folks pulled into the driveway. I saw her Mom in the cab, putting on some lipstick, while her father took off his sunglasses. I could tell he wanted to be somewhere else. They were dressed up real snazzy. Her dad wore a buttoned up cowboy shirt and it looked freshly ironed. Donna’s mom had a suit top on and probably slacks cause she worked for the government. I looked at Donna. She blushed, looking at me, waiting for me to say something. Maybe we can do this, I thought.
The Exile Book of Native Canadian Fiction and Drama Page 19
