At the Edge of the World

by Jones, Kari;

  “Buddy! How are you?” I say.

  “Good. Look how high I can pump.” She thrusts her legs back and forth until she’s swinging way over my head, so high the swing misses a beat and jumps. She squeals, then laughs but slows down a bit.

  “That’s high, isn’t it?” she says.

  “Very high. Higher even than me.”

  She does it again.

  “Where’s your grandpa?” I ask.

  Willow looks over her shoulder. “He went to talk to someone. He told me to stay here, but I’m hungry.”

  Yeah, typical. That’s Pedro for you.

  “You stay here and I’ll go find him for you,” I say.

  “Bring me a Whale Tail,” she shouts as I walk away.

  “What do you say?”

  “Puleeezzzz.”

  I laugh. “You got it, buddy.”

  I hum as I walk the rest of the way across the park and into the fringe of trees that circles it. The scents of freshly squeezed orange juice and something peanuty fill the air. This makes me hum louder. I love anything with peanuts in it.

  As I come through the trees, I see Pedro and head toward him, but before I reach him, I see that he’s talking to Des. Shit. Just when things were going well.

  I can’t hear what they’re saying, so I walk in behind the public bathrooms and stand at the corner of the building, where I can see them but am partly hidden by the wall. I lean in closer, but the wall stops their voices from reaching me, so I walk behind a clump of trees where I can hear better. Pedro says, “Yeah, tonight. Around nine. I’ll get you. He says it’s good stuff.”

  I don’t hear Des’s response, but I do see him nod sharply, swivel and walk away. For a second I think about picking up a rock and throwing it at Pedro’s forehead. What else can I do to get the guy out of our lives? It takes everything I’ve got to slow my breathing and count to ten. I’m about to walk away when I remember Willow, so I swallow hard and walk out from behind the trees.

  Pedro’s taken off across the field, moving way more quickly than I would have thought he could. I’m about to shout out to him, but instead I decide to follow him. He practically runs across the park to the street and heads out of town. As soon as he turns down the gravel road leading to my house, I know that’s the only place he can be going. He’s so determined to get there, he doesn’t seem to notice that I’m behind him.

  When we get to my house, he bangs on the door, and I almost shout at him, but then he opens the door and walks inside. I run up to the house and follow him in. He’s not in the living room or the kitchen, so I run up the stairs to Des’s room, but he’s not there either. When I glance out the window, I see him skulking away, carrying one of the backpacks Des used to bring his weed to shore.

  “Pedro,” I shout from the bedroom window, but he doesn’t look up or give any indication that he’s heard me, so I run back down the stairs and out the front door. He’s slowed a bit, so it only takes me a couple of seconds to catch up with him.

  “Pedro.” I want to lay into him so badly my hands have made themselves into fists, but instead I say, “What are you doing?”

  “Just out for a walk,” he says.

  “Isn’t that Des’s pack?”

  “He couldn’t get away from the festival. Asked me to pick it up for him,” Pedro says.

  “What’s in it?”

  Pedro shrugs. “Stuff he needs for today, I guess.” He adjusts the backpack on his shoulders.

  “I could take it for you. I’m heading back there.” My voice is a bit crackly, I’m having such a hard time not screaming at him.

  “It’s okay—I have to go get Willow,” he says. He picks up his pace.

  “Willow’s hungry. She wants a Whale Tail,” I say.

  “Okay.”

  “She’s waiting,”

  “Oh, don’t worry about Willow. She’s a trouper,” he says.

  “Jesus, Pedro.”

  He turns away, and with that gesture he becomes an old man. Wrinkly. His fingers are gnarled. His beard is white, unkempt. Why am I afraid of this old man?

  I follow Pedro from a distance to make sure he really does go back to Willow. He does, and when he reaches her, she leaps off the swing and launches herself into his arms. “I’m hungry, Grandpa.”

  “Let’s go buy you a Whale Tail,” Pedro says.

  She grins. “Okay.”

  So trusting. God, so trusting.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Maddie

  It’s late in the morning, and my hand is tired from painting henna tattoos, when Ivan leans over my chair and says, “Will you come for a drive with me?”

  “I wish I could,” I say.

  “You can.”

  “I promised Bo I’d help him get lunch ready. My aunt’s in town, remember, and we’re having a bunch of people over. Sorry, I’d rather spend the day with you, but I’m trying hard to get along with Peter, after that fight we had.”

  He frowns. “Ah. Peter.”

  “He can hardly even look at me, Ivan. I hate it. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells all the time.”

  “Yeah. I feel that way around Des most of the time.”

  I hardly know what to say to Ivan these days, but I still want to be with him as much as I can. If he’s with me, he’s not with Des, and that’s got to be a good thing.

  “Come with me. Come for lunch. Help me get ready. Come on, please.” I smile at him, and he reluctantly smiles back.

  “Okay.”

  He helps me pack up my stall, and we carry all my stuff home along the beach. Neither of us talks much. I know what I want to talk about, but I don’t know how to get him to speak about it. He seems distant, distracted.

  “Let’s go sit at the water, just for a minute,” Ivan says after we leave my market stuff in a pile on my bed. He reaches out his hand and takes mine. He seems pensive.

  I follow him to the water’s edge, where we stand, our feet on the damp sand.

  “What is it, Ivan?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You can tell me, you know,” I say.

  A dozen waves lap at our feet before he says, “Do you ever wonder, Maddie, what it all means?”

  “Life?”

  “Life.”

  Another dozen waves pass in front of us before I say, “Of course I do.”

  “Do you have any answers?”

  I shuffle the sand with my feet. “Sometimes the waves talk to me.”

  It sounds stupid, and it’s not something I’d admit to anyone but Ivan, but I have learned over the years that the ocean will answer many questions if you stand still long enough to listen.

  “What kinds of things do they say?” Ivan’s voice is teasing, but not in a bad way.

  “That love makes us do stupid things sometimes.”

  Ivan takes his hand out of mine and steps away from me. “You’re talking about me, aren’t you?”

  “I am.” I can’t tell if he’s mad. He bends down and gathers a fistful of damp sand, which he clumps together and throws into the sea. Again he does it, and again.

  “Shit, Maddie, I wish you’d never seen Des like that. I wish you were never there.”

  “I was though.”

  “Yeah.”

  Our silence beats around us.

  “And I haven’t said anything to anyone, like I promised.”

  “I know.”

  “And I’m here for you, if you need help.”

  “It’s not like it happens often.”

  “You knew exactly what to do. You’ve been there before, many times. I could see that.”

  “It’s okay though. We’re fine mostly, and when we aren’t, I can take care of it.”

  “It’s not fine, and you shouldn’t have to. Parents are supposed to take care of their kids, not the other way around.”

  There are tears in his eyes when he takes my hand. He doesn’t say anything, but he runs his finger up the inside of my forearm, and I hear the waves sigh.

  * * *

 
; Bo calls us back to the house, so we join him and Peter and Aunt Alex, and we all get to work making lunch. Noah and his family arrive first, then Jack and his family. Katia and Bea come together, and finally River and his sister and their mom arrive. We all sit around on the deck and eat so much salmon and asparagus that there are only bones left and we’re all practically moaning, we’re so full. One by one, people get up and take their plates into the kitchen.

  I love this time of year when the air off the ocean is warm, so I linger on the deck when I should be gathering dishes and helping Peter. Noah, River, Jack and Ivan start a stone-throwing contest. Laurie, Kyra and River’s sister, Rain, go behind the house to see if any of the strawberries are ripe, though I’ve told them they aren’t. The others are cleaning up, or else they’ve gone inside to look at Bo’s collection of coastal art, so I’m left alone on the deck for a few minutes. The boys aren’t far away; there’s just a few stands of tall grass between us, so I watch them play. They’re like kids, the way they jostle around on the beach, and Ivan’s totally in there, though two hours ago he was serious, preoccupied. It’s eerie, the way he makes himself look happy. How much of his life does he spend doing that?

  What did he mean when he asked if I ever wondered what it was all about? Everybody does, so why ask? He seemed so serious, so wounded, like something else had happened, though I don’t know what more can happen. Even now, as he throws stones across the beach, there’s something in the way he moves. Something extra. What I don’t understand is why he keeps it all a secret. While I was in Victoria, I made an inventory of all the times Ivan’s kept us away from his house or made excuses for Des’s absence. We all bought into it. Every time. But why? Did we just not want to admit we knew something was wrong?

  “The strawberries aren’t ripe yet, but it looks like there’s going to be a lot of them this year,” Kyra says as the girls return from the back of the house.

  “My mom says we can have some in our garden,” says Laurie.

  “I’ll give you some strawberry babies,” I tell her.

  She grins at me and runs off to tell her mom, and the other girls follow.

  A minute later they burst back out again with shoes and sweaters in hand.

  “We’re heading back to town. Fisher Boys are playing at four,” says Kyra.

  “You’re coming too, right?” Laurie asks.

  “In a bit,” I say.

  Jack’s dad comes out and calls, “Jack, we’re heading back. Ride with us?”

  “I’m coming with River and Noah in a bit,” he says.

  Noah’s mom asks Noah to help load up some lawn chairs she’s borrowing for a party next week, and Bea and Katia want to stop at Katia’s house to change into shorts. River’s dad suggests Peter and Alex walk with his family, and suddenly it’s just me and Bo and Ivan standing on the deck.

  “I think I need to lie down,” says Bo with a yawn.

  “Thanks for letting me stay for lunch, Bo,” says Ivan.

  “You are always welcome, Ivan. You don’t need an invitation.”

  Ivan’s face does a somersault as emotions crowd across it, but it lands back upright and he simply says, “Thanks.”

  * * *

  Ivan and I walk back to the main stage in time for the afternoon concerts. He heads toward River and Jack, but I see Bea and Katia have already joined a couple of my friends from school who’ve come back for the festival. “Ivan, I’m going to sit with the girls.”

  He pulls on my arm, but I say, “Ivan, I’m tired of those guys. I’ll see you later.”

  “I’ll come with you then,” he says.

  “No. Go sit with your friends. I want to sit with mine.”

  Sally’s seen me, and she’s making her way through the crowd, waving and squealing, so I let go of Ivan’s hand and say, “Go. I’ll find you in a bit,” and before Ivan has a chance to say anything, Sally engulfs me in a wild-hair-and-bangles hug.

  It’s good being with Sally and Astrid for a while. They’re a year older than me and left for Vancouver the day after they graduated from high school, so seeing them today is special.

  The music rocks, and the five of us dance until we’re sweaty and thirsty and exhausted. Sally’s a crazy girl—she moves like no one is watching and sways that wild hair and her big hips with abandon. I can’t help but join in. The dance area is crowded. More and more people join us, and soon we’re bumping into people as we dance. Astrid grabs my hand, and I take Sally’s, and we form a chain that threads its way to the outer edges of the dancing crowd.

  “I’m exhausted,” says Astrid.

  “I’m sweating like a pig,” says Sally, lifting her hair off the back of her neck.

  “Me too.” My hair’s in a braid, but still, it’s hot, and I’m dying of thirst.

  “I’ll get us some drinks,” says Sally.

  “No, I’ll go,” I say. I don’t tell them that I get this crazy fear in my chest whenever Ivan’s out of my sight, and I need to go make sure he’s okay.

  I make my way to the beer garden slowly, to let the air cool me down and in hopes of seeing Ivan on my way. When I do find him, he’s standing a bit apart from the crowd, and it seems that he’s watching something. I follow his gaze, and I see Des talking with that old guy, Pedro. Des gesticulates like he’s upset, and the other guy leans into him and points his finger right under his nose. Des storms off, and I look back at Ivan. He catches my eye, and we make our way to each other.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I got tired of listening to Noah bicker with Laurie and Jack take the piss out of River, and we were sitting too close to the speakers, so my ears are hurting.”

  I laugh. “Come sit with me and my friends.”

  “Nah.” He shoves his hands into his pockets in a way that makes him look miserable.

  “What’s up, Ivan? You’ve seemed off all day.”

  He glances back toward where Des was talking to Pedro but doesn’t answer me.

  “Ivan?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it, Maddie.” His whole body retreats from me as he says this. He’s shutting me out, so I try a different tactic.

  “Do you want to get out of here?”

  “And go where?”

  “Earlier you asked me to go for a drive. We could go now.”

  “But you’re having fun.”

  “I feel like a drive.”

  “Stay with your friends, Maddie. You should have some time with them. I’ll come back in a bit.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to check up on Des, you know.”

  “Be careful, Ivan.”

  “I know how to be careful, Maddie,” he says, and I blush, because I realize it’s true.

  Before Ivan leaves, he takes my hand and says, “I’ll see you later. Don’t worry.”

  I’ll try not to.

  I’ll try.

  My friends have been joined by a bunch of other kids from school, so I spend the next several hours talking and laughing and dancing with friends. It feels good to laugh with them, but all evening long, part of me is waiting until later, until I’m back with Ivan.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Ivan

  Des is gone. Packed his bags and left. He was here last night when I came in from the festival and checked on him. Drunk but snoring. But this morning there’s a small pile of bills on the table, scrunched like they were pulled out of his pocket, held down by an empty mug. I open the fridge door for milk and see that he’s taken the cooler and most of the groceries I bought yesterday. His coat is gone, and his boots, along with the jerry can he throws in the back of the van for long trips.

  Upstairs, his bedroom looks the same as usual until I open the cupboard door and see that a bunch of his clothes are gone. His toothbrush isn’t in the bathroom. Or his razor.

  Well, shit.

  I sit on his bed and look around. He’s taken enough stuff for some time, more than an overnight, more than a couple of days.
I kick at a pair of slippers half hidden under the bed and head back to the kitchen. Reaching for the money, I see a note among the bills and pick it up.

  This should keep you for a few days. Love, Des.

  He doesn’t even say where he’s gone or when he’ll be back. I go upstairs and climb into bed.

  I wake up later when my phone rings.

  “What?” I say.

  “It’s me,” says Des’s voice.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’ll be back in a few days. Did you get the money?”

  “Yes. Where are you? What are you doing?”

  “I’m on the road. I’ll be back by Friday probably.”

  “But where are you? Are you on a job? What are you delivering?”

  There’s no answer, so I say, “You are on a job, right?”

  “Yeah, on a job.” I hear another voice, though I can’t make out the words.

  “Is that Pedro?” I ask.

  He hangs up without answering.

  Well, hell.

  I throw my phone on the floor and pull the covers back over my head.

  When it pings with a text later, I ignore it, and when there’s banging on the front door, I ignore that too. Finally the sun goes down, and it’s okay to be in bed, so I give in and stay there.

  In the morning the sun shines through the window and wakes me up. I roll over and pull the pillow over my head, but the gnawing at my stomach is loud and painful, and if I don’t pee, I’m going to explode.

  Downstairs, the house is a complete mess. No wonder I stayed in bed all day yesterday. The sight of it makes me slump into the sofa. Shit. What am I supposed to do now? I run my hands though my hair and across my beard. It feels like days since I last washed. My teeth are fuzzy. My eyes hurt.

  I rouse myself for a shower. Hot water feels good on my skin, washes away yesterday. Toothpaste. The best invention ever. I feel like new when I’m done, though my stomach still growls loudly. I even have energy to find a clean pair of jeans and a fresh shirt.