“Good. I wouldn’t mind going over to see her if that’s allowed. I wonder why you still refer to that place as Mrs. Miflin’s house. She hasn’t lived in it for ages now.”
“Might be the fact that she camps out there every day all day sun-up to sundown. You should see her Sarah. Little tub, she is, squatting on the front porch, sweating in her old winter coat with a bag of money tucked under her arm and a few sandwiches in her pocket.” And Ruth laughs.
“Poor thing.”
“Poor thing, my ass. The woman is trouble and I wouldn’t put it past her to do something dangerous one of these days if she doesn’t soon get her own way. She’s a few bricks short of a load and that’s the truth. Joanie and her folks have no idea what she’s made of. They step around her and tolerate her foolishness as though she’s just a bit of local colour and nothing more to it than that. Quaint is probably the word they use when they see her there. They’ll have her in for a cup of tea one of these days and that will be the end of life as they know it.”
“What do you mean? Do you really think she’s that much of a problem?”
“Damn straight, she is. You have no idea how she can worm her way into every situation and work it to her advantage. She has a knack for finding your weak spots and whipping them into festering wounds. The only mistake she ever made was bringing Judy into the house. That girl has a built-in bullshit sensor.”
“Speaking of bullshit. When are you going to tell me about Peter’s father? I don’t think I can nag much more. It really is wearing on a person, you know.”
“There’s an understatement! I don’t even answer my phone half the time just in case it’s you. And the other day? When you came over? I was in. Saw you through the window and hid. Why in God’s name is it so important to you anyway?”
“So many reasons. If we can find him then the children would have another grandparent.”
“Come on, Sarah, you can do better than that.”
“I think Peter should know who his father is.”
“He knows Matthew’s his father. I don’t see any reason to believe he’s not content with that situation.”
“What if someone needs a kidney one of these days and the only match is Peter’s biological father? What about that for a reason? And what if there are some hereditary diseases or disorders that I should be on the look out for? Like diabetes or such?”
“Now you’re getting a little carried away, Sarah. Come on, girl, get your brain in gear. You’ve got to get out of the house more. This kind of obsession isn’t healthy. There are tons of people in the world who haven’t a clue where they came from and they get over it. Eventually. Actually I never thought of it before. Maybe they don’t.”
“Don’t you think that your future husband should know you have a son?”
“Perhaps. But then he’d want to know everything else I’ve ever done and once we open that can of worms we’ll never get any sleep. Besides, what does that have to do with telling you who Peter’s father is?”
“Oh hell. Nothing. I’m just curious. For some reason I’m stuck on it. I think about it all the time. I’ve taken to looking at the kids differently. And Peter. I keep watching for things about them that don’t remind me of anyone I know. And there are things. All sorts of mannerisms that I can’t pin down.”
“Good Lord, Sarah! It’s not like they come out of a cereal box with a nice neat list of ingredients. You’re really losing it, darling. Maybe you should get some help for this.”
“Now you’re mocking me. Be fair, Ruth. Why can’t you just tell me?”
“Don’t you have better things to do? Where are the kids? I only came over here to take Eleanor to Dorrie’s for a new Barbie dress. I promised I would last time I saw her and I don’t get another day off until next Saturday. Let’s just leave this be, Sarah. It can’t do anyone any good and it could very well fuck things up.”
“Eleanor is at a birthday party and Joseph went with Peter to get the groceries. They won’t be home for ages.”
“Oh for God’s sake! Get me something to drink and I’ll put you out of your misery but don’t ask me anything else ever again as long as you live, okay? And this doesn’t mean you can tell anyone else, Missy, don’t think that it does. I don’t want to be screwing up Peter’s life with unnecessary crap. He’s a happy man. Content. Let’s leave it that way.”
“All right!” says Sarah tearing back from the kitchen with a couple of beers. “Here. Do you want a glass?”
“No. Why do I have the feeling I’ll regret this?” And she takes a long drink, finishing half the bottle before looking at Sarah again. “Bring me another one. Bring a few. If I know you at all, this will take some time.”
Bill was tall and good-looking and if it weren’t for the moustache and the fact that he screwed one of Ruth’s co-workers and was a little shell-shocked who knows, they might have made something of the affair. It happened in Central where there were still a few American servicemen stationed back then and little else to choose from. Ruth was not one to be overlooked and Bill made a beeline for her section of the bar the first time he laid eyes on her. Stared at her the whole night while she busied herself slinging booze and snacks, snapping at customers, cleaning up the mess when they spilled beer and throwing them out when they pissed her off. He ignored the strippers in their cheap sequins which irritated Ruth no end because those girls were her friends in some odd sense of the word and worked friggin’ hard for the lousy few dollars they made on the floor, but he was taller than most and a better tipper too and she thought to herself, I wouldn’t throw him out of bed for eating crackers.
During a break, while she was having a beer with Candy Apple, the stripper with the biggest tits in creation and the back-ache to go with them, Bill strolled up to the bar and asked what time her shift was over and would she like to go out for a coffee later on, in a Texas drawl to melt your heart. But this is Ruth’s heart we’re talking about here and she said, “Sure Candy Apple is done for the night. Why don’t you two take off now. Have a ball. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Apple girl.” And the Apple girl, who knew exactly what Ruth was up to because guys like this one never gave her the time of day, hooked her arm through Bill’s and led him to the door, past his fellow soldiers who clapped and whistled until his gorgeous face turned red and Candy Apple almost felt sorry for him.
Anyone less a gentleman would have dumped the pretty stripper in a flash but Bill actually took her out for coffee and talked to her for an hour and then another and asked questions as though he was interested in what she had to say. And she ended up telling him her greatest secret which was saving money so she could have her boobs lopped off to a normal size and be taken seriously enough to get into med school because it was hard enough getting the first degree being deformed and just once she’d like someone to look into her face.
Then she confessed that Ruth had done a very bitchy thing pretending that he had invited the Apple girl instead of her-self when she knew better. Bill laughed and they talked for another hour even though he knew the difference now and the Apple girl couldn’t help it, she had to plot with the fellow and figure out a way to get Ruth interested.
It wasn’t so difficult. After they left the bar Ruth had become even nastier than usual and felt the fool for having sent Bill away. Every man in the place just got uglier and uglier as she worked and he became an Adonis so when he showed up the next night she was only too happy to sail off with him into the dark.
For a few months all went as well as could be expected. They spent most of their time screwing their brains out and the rest of it thinking of screwing their brains out. She wouldn’t sleep in his bed and the odd time she stayed the night she slept on the couch. He had a nasty reaction to movement that gave her the creeps. Probably too much Vietnam. Probably never got over it. Any sound or stirring at all and he was awake. Swinging. The first night she got up to pee and disturbed him. Half asleep, he began to yell and punch at the air, landing a good one right on her chin.
Enough of that crap, thought Ruth, and moved out to the living room.
He was sweet and a charmer and he treated her like a goddess which is probably why, when Ava got into his pants, Ava who worked the early shift and plied him with liquor one afternoon while he was waiting for Ruth, she told him right where to get off. I don’t deserve this kind of treatment. Who do you think I am? I’m better than this, because she actually believed she belonged on that pedestal. He begged and made promises, he loved her after all, but Ruth wanted nothing to do with anyone who could hurt someone as special as he had convinced her she was.
When she found out she was pregnant a week or so later she didn’t bother to tell him about it. He was heading back to the States. He wanted her to come with him. He loved her so much and they could have a good life. She looked at his beautiful face and his long strong body and all she could see was Ava under it, or over it, and she had never been jealous before and mistook the feeling for hatred and told him to fuck off she never wanted to see him again.
And that might have been that but she couldn’t afford an abortion back in the day when a person had to come up with plane fare to New York as well as money for the dirty deed so she decided to go ahead and have the kid. And somewhere around month five she started talking to it and somewhere around month seven she fell in love with it and when her time was up she knew it was the most important thing in her life and gave him away. Ran as far as she could go from the place and the baby and the memory of his father. And now Sarah you pain in the ass I have to relive the whole works thank you very much.
“Oh Ruth. I am sorry. But I am so happy that you told me. And now we have to find him.”
“Find him? Find him? Are you out of your mind? I should have known. What the hell was I thinking? That is the last thing on earth I want to do.”
“Well, no. The last thing on earth you want to do is tell me your deep dark secret and you’ve gone and done that so what’s stopping you from finding Bill? Hmmm? Come on Ruth. You know you want to. I saw the look on your face when you were talking about him. I can tell you still have feelings. Strong ones, I might add. It is so obvious I can’t believe you haven’t gone looking for him by now.”
“Well, actually, I did think about him awhile back. Even started a letter but I never finished it and probably wouldn’t have mailed it if I had since I don’t even know where he is. Shut up Sarah! I have a good man in Patrick. We’re going to be married. Why the hell am I even talking to you? Tell Eleanor I came by. No don’t. Oh shit! What the hell was I thinking?”
Ruth storms away, forgetting her umbrella and she’s drenched to the bone in two minutes which doesn’t help at all. When Patrick comes to take her out to dinner she’s still soggy and tells him to go by himself - she’s in no mood for company.
Down the hall from the maternity ward where Ginny Mustard rests is a little room with nothing more than a bed and a chair that no one ever sits in. On the bed is a broken boy, asleep for almost a year now. Most of the people who knew him have forgotten he ever existed. And perhaps he never did. His mother carries on. Goes to work and looks after her home and what remains of her family. When her son was found, battered beyond recognition behind the school on Bishop’s Road, when she was told he might never really live again, her husband decided to get out and took off for Australia. She hasn’t heard from him since. And then her oldest daughter went to university in Toronto leaving just her and the two little ones. It wasn’t easy getting a babysitter and often one of them needed help with homework or a drive to soccer practice same time as visiting hours, so after a few months she got on with her life and moved to a small apartment with just enough room for three, and pretended she never had a son at all. She finds it easier this way than sitting in that chair and watching his face for a sign that he is still in there somewhere.
She gave his clothes and games away, his hockey stick, his school yearbook, and threw out all but one picture which she keeps in an envelope under a stack of old magazines in a trunk. And though times have changed when it comes to this sort of pain, she hasn’t, and the boy’s little sisters are forbidden to mention his name and only talk of him in whispers when their mother is asleep. And they dress his old teddy bear, rescued from the garbage, in doll clothes, and tuck it away at the back of their closet.
The boy’s body has healed nicely. It is young and healthy, after all. When there are no other demands on the physiotherapy department someone manages to move his legs a little. His arms. So that the muscles don’t atrophy. On the off chance that he might choose to move them of his own accord some day. And there is always fluid of sorts going in to and coming out of his body. Someone bathes him a couple of times a week. But that’s about it. For all intents and purposes the boy might never have lived.
If Judy hadn’t decided to go see Ginny Mustard at the same time Patrick had chosen to visit, that boy might still be alone in the little room. When Judy hears the familiar voice she takes off and in no time is at the boy’s door. When she runs out of hall and the only escape seems to be back past Ginny Mustard’s room, she steps inside. Stares at the curled thin body on the narrow bed.
“Frank? Frankie? Is that you? Holy shit, Frankie! I was looking for you ages ago. I was feeling pretty bad about what happened. I went to ask your mother where you were but she moved or something. Does Jimmy know you’re here? I bet he doesn’t or he’d have you killed for sure by now. He said that if you ever came out of it he’d be up shit creek. I was half tempted to tell on him but I figured you went away and everything was fine. Besides, I don’t know who’d believe me anyway, being as I’m not what you’d call the most trustworthy person in town. Are you okay Frankie? You got awful thin, boy. What’s all this shit they got you hooked up to. Are you okay? Wake up, Frankie, for fuck sake.”
Judy steps closer to look into his face and sees that nobody’s home in there. She pulls the little chair close and sits. Stares. A nurse comes in to change one of the bags that feed the boy and asks if she’s Frank’s friend.
“No. I don’t think so. No. But I knew him once. Is he okay?”
“Not by a long shot. He was in a coma when I started working here and he’ll probably be in the same state when I retire. Do you know you’re the first person I’ve ever seen in this room besides staff? It’s unbelievable how people can just dump each other like that. I often say to the other nurses that if anyone gave a damn about him he might have a chance. Do you think you’ll come back? You can, you know. In fact, it doesn’t even have to be at regular visiting hours. If you want to just come and talk to him. Or read. Hell, sing him a song. Anything would be better than what’s he’s got going on now.”
“But he wouldn’t be able to hear me, would he?”
“You know, you never can tell with situations like this one. I’ve heard tell of folks coming out of comas and saying they heard every word that people around them said. That’s why you’re supposed to be a bit upbeat and positive when you talk to them. Though in Frank’s case I don’t know that it matters. He’s been out of it so long I’m surprised they haven’t pulled the plug on him by now.”
“Shit, lady. You better hope he can’t hear you the way you’re talking. Poor fucker. Just wait until I get my hands on that bastard, Jimmy.”
“Who’s Jimmy?”
“No one you’d know. Never mind. If I was to read him a book, what kind should it be?”
“Doesn’t matter. Read him the newspaper if you want.”
“Well that ought to cheer him right up. I’ll ask Ruth. She knows about books. Are you sure I can come back whenever I want?”
“I’ll let the desk know that you’ll be in. Come down so they can have a look at you and they’ll know you when you come around.”
“Well, okay. But first I have to go see Ginny Mustard over in the pregnant section. Can you check her room to make sure no one else is there? I really want to see her alone. She’s the reason I came here in the first place. Will you do that for me?”
“Joanie, s
weetheart, don’t you think it’s time to do a little clothes shopping?” Caroline has been wondering if her daughter will come up with the idea on her own but it’s not looking likely. She’s still wearing the same old rags that John dressed her in. Still washing her underpants every night before bed. “Let’s go to Ayres. I walked by there yesterday and they have some lovely things in the windows. Your father can stay with the children and we can have a girls’ day out. You haven’t been away from the house since John left, you know, except for that duck pond. I think it’s time. What say you, darling?”
“Well for one thing, I have no money. Everything is in John’s name. There’s only ever enough in my account to pay for groceries. John deposits it on Friday so I can stock the pantry.”
“Christ! Well, in all the goings on around here we haven’t thought of that at all. An important detail that’s been overlooked. Perhaps we should be calling a divorce lawyer now. We can go shopping tomorrow. I don’t suppose you have anyone in mind?”
“Divorce? Do you really think it has to come to that? Yesterday Michael asked when his daddy will be coming home. I told him soon. If we could see a counselor maybe we can work this out. Maybe John will be a little more the man I married.”
“He is the man you married. He has never been anyone other. You had blinders on. I don’t know why. Maybe he’s the greatest lover in the world. Maybe you’re a masochist. The man is an ass, Joanie. Always was. Always will be. He’ll need more than counseling to change that. A lobotomy perhaps. It’s time to wake up, Joanie. Did you ask Michael why he wants to know when his daddy is coming home? Did it occur to you that he is terrified by the thought of John’s return? I do know one thing, sweatheart. You are not the person you were when you married him. I’d stake my life on that one. You were a vibrant, special person. Quiet and soft - spoken but your body used to sing when you walked. Now you creep around like an apology. I know you don’t want to hear this but I have to say it. And there was a time when you would have said the same to any woman in your position. Let go of whatever fantasy you carry in your precious head about this marriage working out. It will never happen. I’ve known it from day one.”
Bishop's Road Page 22
