At the Edge of the World

by Jones, Kari;

  “He refused to come to the clinic or to let me help him,” says Jack.

  Des looks like he’s had the shit beaten totally out of him. He looks up at me, and my gut clenches, because his eyes hardly see me at all.

  “Des,” I say as I lean over him. His breath stinks of alcohol, but I already knew it would.

  “Shit,” says Noah. His face has gone white, like he’s never seen someone who’s been beaten up before, which he probably hasn’t.

  “You get under his left arm,” I say to Jack. I push my shoulder under Des’s right arm while Jack gets under his left, and between the two of us we hoist him to standing. He drools onto my neck, but my arms are too busy holding him up to wipe it off.

  Between the three of us, we half-lead, half-carry Des home. We drag him up the stairs to his room and let him flop onto the bed. Jack rolls him over so he’s on his side, and I pull off his boots. When I stand up, my hands are shaking.

  “Do you want us to stay?” Noah asks, but I shake my head. I don’t even look at them as they leave.

  I sit on the edge of Des’s bed and listen to him snore. There’s a little bird outside the window. A small brown one, and it picks away at something in the dirt. I’ve tried gardening out there, but nothing ever grows, and the ground’s rock hard from years of neglect and from our hard work boots pounding on it. Nothing ever grows, and nothing ever changes. No matter how hard I try. Des snorts and rolls over. He’s asleep, but his eyes are open, and he looks weird. The bird keeps pecking, but he’s not getting anything. That hard earth won’t give way. I know it. Des snorts again, and I get up and leave the room. In my own bedroom I glance out the window. The bird’s still there, trying for a worm, as I pull off my boots and throw myself into my bed.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Maddie

  Ivan’s avoiding me. I haven’t seen him for more than a week, and I don’t know how to respond to that, so I decide the best thing is to go somewhere I know he will be—Jack’s house.

  It’s late when I arrive, and I’m pretty sure the boys are drunk or on their way to being drunk when I come in, but they all scooch over on the sofa so there’s a space next to Ivan, and he smiles up at me, so I slide in.

  “What are you watching?”

  “Something crappy,” says Laurie, but she reaches across Noah and puts her hands in the popcorn bowl, then snuggles back down between her brother and Jack.

  “It is crap,” Ivan whispers in my ear. “Let’s go.” He stands and puts his hand out, so I take it.

  “You just got here,” says Laurie, but Noah says, “Shut up, Laurie,” and they all laugh as we cross the room.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  Ivan is purposeful as he strides across the lawn. “The beach.”

  “It’s so late. What’re you thinking?”

  “Just come.”

  We walk in silence down the street and along the path. It’s still twilight, even though it’s past ten. The sky is like ink, and the summer air is soft and still warm from the day.

  “Let’s stop here,” says Ivan. He sits down with his back against a log and his legs straight out in front of him.

  “What did you want to come here for?” I settle next to him, but when he doesn’t answer, I turn to face him and see that he’s looking at the ground.

  Without looking up, he says, “I can’t come and live with you, Maddie. I can’t leave him alone, that’s all. I just can’t.”

  “But why? I mean, why don’t you just phone someone? There must be someone who can help. Not the police—I don’t mean that. A counselor, someone like that.”

  He laughs, but not because I’m being funny. “You’re talking to someone who’s spent his whole life trying to avoid counselors, youth programs, social services, all those people.”

  “Okay, so not a counselor. A friend? What about Peter and Bo? They would help, they really would. Please let me tell them, please.”

  He shakes his head.

  “What are you afraid of, Ivan?”

  “This was a mistake. Let’s go. I’ll walk you back to Jack’s.” He stands up and brushes the sand off his legs.

  I follow him, but after a few steps I say, “I’m sorry. We’ll do whatever you want. I promised I wouldn’t tell, and I haven’t. Let’s sit again. Come on.” I reach out to take his hand and pull him down next to me. “I don’t want to go to Jack’s. I only went there to find you,” I say.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Though it was light when we got here, the stars are starting to show. Ivan shifts around until he’s comfortable, and I curl up next to him, and we lie together, staring up at the pinpricks of light appearing across the sky. The sand is still warm from the sun, but it’s cooling fast, so I wrap my feet around Ivan’s legs to warm them. He puts his arm around me, and I snuggle my head against his chest. Ivan raises his hand and squints past it, so I do the same, blocking out the sky so I can look at the stars individually.

  “What do you see?” I ask.

  “Betelgeuse,” he says.

  “Silly. What do you really see?”

  “Pluto.”

  “Come on.”

  He doesn’t answer. Instead, he lets his hand drop back to his side. “Would you really go to Emily Carr just for me, Maddie?”

  The question makes me laugh. My mind has been so far away from art school that I haven’t had a moment to think about it, despite what I told Peter and Bo. But now, lying on the beach here, I know I can’t go. How could I leave him now?

  “I probably won’t go,” I say.

  “You should.”

  “How do you know what I should do? You can’t even figure out what to do yourself.”

  “If I had a talent like yours, I’d know.”

  “What do you think you’d do then?”

  “I’d study my ass off until I was the best damn painter I could be, and then I’d paint the shit out of everything until I painted my way right out of here into a different life.”

  “So come to Vancouver with me. That’s a different life.”

  “I can’t.”

  Oh, Ivan. I hug him as tightly as my arms will let me. “We’ll find a way. We will.”

  If only it didn’t get cold at night, we could stay here together until tomorrow. But I’m already shivering despite being wrapped up in Ivan’s arms and legs.

  “We better go,” he says at last, and we stand up and wipe the sand off ourselves, but when he turns to head to his house, I take his hand and pull him toward mine. We don’t speak as we make our way around to the back of the house, and we’re quiet as can be as we climb through my bedroom window and creep across the room, being careful not to make the floorboards creak. Ivan hesitates when I pull back the covers of my bed, but I don’t want to let him out of my sight, so I keep hold of his hand as I climb in, and we fall asleep together. There’s no way I’m letting him go.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Ivan

  I wake up at dawn and climb back out of Maddie’s bedroom window. Last thing in the world I need right now is for Bo or Peter to find me there. Even though we slept fully clothed, I can just imagine what they’d make of my being there.

  Des comes into the kitchen and says, “Do we have milk?” He still has a black eye and looks terrible.

  I open the fridge and point out the jug of milk in the door.

  Des pours himself a glass, then says, “Lazy Days party tonight. You going?”

  I nod. “Are you?”

  “For sure. I thought I’d go down this afternoon and help Bo and Peter set up their tables.”

  “They’re expecting me too,” I say. No need for him to know I was with Maddie last night. Thank God he didn’t leave any cigarettes burning or any bathroom taps on. My heart skips a beat thinking about it.

  After we’ve both eaten and taken showers, Des and I head down the path to the beach and over to Maddie’s place. The three of them are sitting on their deck, drinking coffee. Maddie stands up when
we’re still partway down the beach and walks into the house. When we arrive, she comes back out with two cups in her hands.

  “One for you,” she says to Des. “And one for you,” she says to me.

  I take the cup from her. I want to say thank you or something for last night, but there’s too many people around, so I sit down without saying anything.

  “Ouch,” says Bo, pointing at Des’s eye.

  “Yeah, it hurts. Surfing accident,” Des says.

  The silence is uncomfortable. It seems impossible in this small town that anyone wouldn’t know that Des was beat up last week. Even though I don’t exactly know who did it, I can guess it had something to do with Pedro. But neither Bo nor Peter says anything. We all sit quietly for a few minutes and listen to the waves and the seagulls. Then Bo says, “What’s the plan, Peter?”

  Peter stands up and stretches. “I told Jason I’d come by and get their barbecue before ten, so I’d better get going.”

  “I’ve got the tabletops in the back of the van, Des, if you can help pull them out,” says Bo.

  “I’ve got the lanterns ready to put out, but I need help unraveling the flags,” says Maddie.

  I follow Maddie to the sheds at the back of the house. The wood for the new shed is still sitting there, waiting for us to get to it. Maddie pulls open the door of one of the other sheds and we go inside.

  “Thanks for last night. It was nice—I mean, the beach and then sleeping in your bed with you. It was warm.” That’s the clumsiest-sounding thank-you a guy ever made, and she tilts her head for a second as if she’s trying to understand what I’m saying.

  Then she says, “Yeah, it was nice. You snore though.”

  * * *

  It takes the whole morning to string the flags and set out the lanterns. People keep dropping by with extra plates or chairs or coolers, and by lunchtime there’s already a bunch of us sitting around on the deck, drinking beer and eating food that was probably meant for the party.

  Jack and Noah come by around two with salmon for the barbecue, their sisters trailing behind with badminton nets that they put up in the sand.

  “Let’s play,” says Laurie, and she throws the birdie at me and Maddie, so Maddie and I play against Laurie and Kyra.

  “You girls are pretty good at that,” Maddie says.

  Kyra laughs an evil laugh. “Oh yeah! We’re the best.”

  “Either that or you two are drunk,” says Laurie.

  Maddie laughs. “There could be some of that too. Speaking of which, I need a drink. Anyone else thirsty?”

  “I’d like something,” says Kyra.

  “I made a huge jug of lemonade,” says Maddie.

  We gather the birdie and the rackets and walk back up the beach to the house in time to see Des and Bo installing a keg.

  “How’d you get that thing down here?” I ask.

  “Don’t ask,” says Des.

  “Who cares?” says Jack, who’s already got a mason jar under the spigot.

  By five the whole town is here, plus a whole lot of people from the islands nearby. The house is full of flowers and food and people. The table on the deck is overflowing with bowls and platters of food. The smell of barbecued salmon makes my mouth water.

  “Grab us a place to sit, and I’ll get plates,” I say to Maddie.

  I head to the food table. It’s crowded, so I lean on the railing overlooking the water until a space opens and I can fill our plates. I search for her among the crowds of people sitting on logs and lawn chairs along the beach. The tide is low, and people are strewn in clumps way down the beach. She’s with Peter, Des, Jack, Noah, Bea and Katia. I sit down, and Peter stands and says, “Des, let’s leave these young folks alone,” and the two of them laugh and walk away.

  “No offense, but don’t you guys find it weird that Des and Peter are friends? I mean, Peter’s so…” Noah’s voice trails off as Maddie stares at him.

  “So what?” she says.

  “Gentle,” says Bea before Noah can answer. “And that’s not a word I would use to describe Des. No offense, Ivan.”

  “Exactly,” says Noah.

  “Peter was good friends with Ivan’s mom,” says Maddie.

  I know what’s coming—some question about my mom that I don’t want to answer. So I say, “There was one time, when I was about eleven or so, when a bunch of us hiked up Mount Arrowsmith for the weekend. Bo was there, I remember, and Jack and Arne and some other guys, and for some reason Des and Peter got left behind to put up the tents and build a fire and get some water boiling. I went off hiking with the other guys, and I remember that they were laughing about what shape Peter would be in when we all got back. But when we returned, they had all the tents up, coffee was already made, and Peter was sitting on a rock, whittling sticks for roasting hot dogs. Des and him have been friends ever since.”

  “I remember that,” says Jack.

  “I’ve been to Mount Arrowsmith too,” says Katia. “It’s magical. From one side you can look down and see across Georgia Strait to the lights of Vancouver, and if you look the other way you see the Pacific and the west coast.”

  “People misjudge Peter a lot,” says Maddie.

  “It was fun, that trip,” says Jack. “Remember how Des taught you how to throw a line into a tree to make a food cache, Ivan?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “He also taught us how to make a fishing line out of a stick and some grasses,” Jack says.

  “He did,” I say.

  “How come I wasn’t there?” says Maddie.

  “Guys only.”

  “Typical.”

  The conversation turns to camping and near misses with bears and whales, but I tune it out and think about that trip and how much fun me and Des used to have.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Maddie

  Looking at Ivan’s face as he tells Noah about the things he and Des used to do makes me want to cry. How dare he be that nostalgic? I stand up and head to the house just to get away from that look. There are people everywhere, so I toss my paper plate on the compost pile and walk through to my bedroom and close the door. The sounds of a guitar and a violin float in from outside; the air is soft tonight. I lie on my bed and take a deep breath. I always love the Lazy Days party, but tonight I’m distracted. To be honest, I spend most of my waking hours thinking about Ivan and what to do about him—I mean, how to help him.

  I’ve learned something about Ivan tonight, listening to him talk about his dad and the things they used to do together. Des’s total flakiness, his inability to take care of himself, all the crap he gives Ivan—the reason Ivan puts up with it all is that he remembers what Des was like before. He remembers another life. I remember that time in our lives too, when Ivan was a kid and he used to run around after Des like a little shadow, always smaller, but always there. Des would come over to talk to Peter, and Ivan would be with him. I remember seeing Des and Ivan in town together, Ivan sitting in the passenger seat of Des’s van while Des talked to his clients.

  I guess what changed is that Ivan’s mom left. Ivan was little then, and you’d think he was the one who suffered more, but maybe it explains a lot about Des. If you think about it that way, he’s a man who is suffering. But the stuff he does still isn’t okay. There’s no excuse for making your kid your keeper, even when he’s not a kid anymore. But maybe that’s not the way Ivan sees it. I guess he thinks that the old Des, the one who used to have his kid with him all the time, is still in there.

  I’d like to spend the rest of the evening lying here alone with my thoughts, but I’m supposed to be helping with the piñata. When I hear the kids running around outside my window, I get up and go out.

  “Anyone for a piñata?” I ask.

  About twenty kids of all ages jump up and down in answer, so I lead them to the side of the house where we hung the piñata earlier.

  “Littlest first,” I say, and the kids jostle around and then push a tiny kid, who must be only three or four, to the front.<
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  “Have you ever hit a piñata before?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, so I give him the baseball bat and place his hands on the handle. He can hardly hold it up.

  “Watch out,” I call to the other kids, motioning for them to stand back. I crouch down and wrap my arms around the little boy and help him hold on to the bat. “Ready?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says, and together we swing at the piñata. It sways but doesn’t break, and it’s the next kid’s turn.

  The piñata lasts long enough for each kid to have one turn, then breaks in a snowfall of candy and confetti when one of the bigger kids takes a second turn. The older kids jump in to grab handfuls, and I shout, “There’s enough for everyone, so leave some for the little kids!” before it disappears. The kids all scramble in together, laughing and jostling each other for candy, and I wonder what I know about their lives, really. What are they hiding? Are they all as happy as they look? Are there other people around keeping secrets like Ivan’s?

  I pick up a handful of candies and walk around to the front of the house to find Ivan and Jack and see if they are ready to send out the rafts.

  The guys are already at the water, with the rafts piled high with wood. It’s close to dark, so I say, “Are we ready?”

  “I’ll get everyone down,” says Jack, and he walks up the beach to call the people to the water’s edge.

  “Do you have a wish?” I ask Ivan. We do this every year: light wooden rafts and send them out to sea. The idea is they burn out the old year and all the bad energy and sad things that have happened, and leave room for a new, better future. Peter brought this tradition, or something like it, with him from Sweden, and we’ve adapted it to suit ourselves.

  When everyone has gathered, we hand them slips of paper and pencils, and we each write a wish on our paper and tuck it between the logs on the pyres Jack and Ivan have built on top of the rafts. The tradition is that no one looks at each other’s wishes, but I’m dying to know what Ivan has written, so I hand him my paper and say, “Swap?”