“What are you doing?” Mave said. “And why are you doing it so loudly?”
“Sorry,” Jared said, pausing the hand mixer. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Mave swiped her finger along the rim of the bowl. “You made this? From my cupboards?”
“It’s just frosting with some crushed freeze-dried strawberries.”
“I could eat this all day.”
“Do you have cake decorating stuff?”
“Yes, in the drawer beside my chastity belt.”
“You can just say no,” Jared said. “That is an option.”
“Smear the icing on the damn things and add sprinkles,” Mave said. “Done. Easy.”
Jared fashioned a piping bag out of parchment paper and carefully cut a half moon, slightly thicker on the bottom. Mave pulled a stool up to the other side of the counter. He did a practice rose onto a pretty saucer and handed it to her.
She tilted the saucer as she examined his artistry. “That’s a lot of work for something we’re going to eat in two minutes.”
“I find it relaxing.”
“Mom phoned,” Mave said.
“Granny Nita?”
“Yup. She wants to visit you after she drops in to see Aunt Agnetha.” Mave took another swipe.
“Cool,” Jared said, trying not to think about the fact that he was the thing Granny Nita had always feared he was, her worst fears made Jared-shaped.
Mave had her own fears. “She hasn’t spoken to me in ten years, much less darkened my door. I don’t think I’m up to this.”
“She can be harsh,” Jared said.
Mave slumped. “She’s exhausting. I can never say the right thing. When did she put you on her ‘good person’ list?”
“We’ve been writing each other. I think she needed to tell someone about her adjudication. She didn’t want them to get away with torturing her, but telling strangers the details of residential school messed her up and she didn’t think it was worth it in the end.”
His aunt cleaned the icing off the plate, her expression unreadable. “I’m glad you were there for her.”
* * *
—
After he iced the cupcakes, Kota picked him up and they went to Jared’s regular morning AA meeting. He spotted Mallory. He’d recognize her rose-painted leather jacket anywhere. He’d never seen her at a meeting before. Not that he went to all of them. Not that he knew everyone. Kota nudged him and pointed his chin at her. Afterwards, she came up to them on the sidewalk as Kota was sucking back a cigarette.
“Hey, Jared,” Mallory said. “Do you want to grab a coffee?”
“I’m really shaky today,” Jared said. “I need to get home.”
“Maybe talking would help.”
“I’m not up to company.”
“I hear you. If you change your mind, give me a call. Do you still have my number?”
“No,” Jared said.
She playfully tried to grab his hand and he stepped back.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m a mess right now.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “I’ll see you around.”
“Later.”
Kota watched her leave. “I knew you weren’t over Sarah.”
“Shut up.”
“I won’t tell Sarah about you flirting with the random chick.”
“Oh, my God, please shut up.”
Kota grinned and lit his next cigarette on the old one and stomped the butt out harder than he needed to.
“You use humour like me,” Jared said. “And yours is kind of sharp this morning. What’s up?”
Kota blew upwards. “You noticing shit all the time is creepy.”
“You don’t have to share.”
“Just family shit. You’ve got a lot on your plate. I’m not dumping it on you. Again.”
“I’m not Phil’s biological son, but he was the only dad I knew.” And I got him killed, he wanted to add, but that just meant explaining more things Kota wouldn’t believe. “Now you.”
Kota studied his hands. “Mom’s coming to town. She’s driving your gran in. She hasn’t called or texted me. And she won’t. She’s never forgiven me for being gay.”
“Sorry.”
Kota finished his smoke. “Real soap opera we got going, huh?”
Jared laughed. “As the Bannock Burns.”
“All we need is some hair pulling and some evil twins.”
“Give it time.”
* * *
—
Jared wanted to do some real baking, the kind Mrs. Jaks would have approved of, so they stopped at the nearby twenty-four-hour SuperValu on the way back, but it still didn’t carry almond flour. The clerk had given him a cool once-over the last time he’d asked, saying he’d have to go to one of the hippie stores down the street for that shit. Jared had been hoping to make macaroons, but he’d have to settle for meringues.
When they got back to the apartment, Kota surveyed the cupcakes on the kitchen table.
“I put strawberries in the frosting.”
He patted his torso. “I’m trying to rip the ol’ abs.”
“They’re cherry chip.”
“You are pure evil.” Kota picked one up, took a bite and put it back on the table. Then he snatched it back, peeled off the liner and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, mumbling, “Evil.”
Kota watched TV while Jared looked up meringue recipes on his new phone. He discovered there was a vegan one, involving the juice from canned chickpeas. Mave had three cases in the pantry, so he didn’t think she’d miss a few cans while he experimented. It seemed weird, but the juice frothed up well and he guessed, if you added enough sugar to anything, it would seem dessert-y. As the meringue was drying out in the oven, he made hummus with the chickpeas. Kota came back into the kitchen and Jared peeled and chopped up some carrots for him to dip.
“What’s up with you?” Kota said.
“I want to do something, but nothing’s really going to help. So, you know, cooking. Burns off some anxiety. And it’s useful.”
“You don’t have to be useful,” Kota said. “You just have to get through this.”
* * *
—
Mave had another bag of carrots that were going soft, so Jared grated them for carrot cake. He used vinegar and baking soda to substitute for the eggs so Sarah could eat it. All the pineapple and carrots were going to make it moist anyway, but he didn’t want it too dense. Maybe add some shredded coconut. Go for the whole tropical vibe. None of the frosting mixes in the cupboard seemed a decent substitute for cream cheese, so he decided he’d dust icing sugar over it. Maybe add some candied peel.
Mave also had a bag of organic lemons that needed to be used soon. Maybe a lemon meringue pie. Or lemon bars. In the living room, Kota pretended to skip rope, sweat dripping down his face and chest.
Justice and Sarah hello’d as they came in, carrying a heavy-looking folding screen. Justice wore overalls rolled up to her calves, blue stilettos and a fuzzy blue cape that matched her headband. Sarah was in jeans and rain jacket, her hair braided tight against her head.
“Hey, Kota,” Justice said. “Could you help Maamaan? She’s down in the parking garage.”
He saluted her and jogged out.
“Jared, my dude, this is a ridiculous amount of baking.” Justice kissed his cheek.
“The meringue is vegan.”
“Did you hear that, Sarah? The meringue is vegan.”
“The carrot cake is, too. It should be out in about fifteen minutes.”
“Are we having a party?” Sarah said.
“Need to keep busy,” Jared said.
“Hello, meringue,” Justice said. “Come sit in my tummy.”
“We’re turning the alcove into a bedroom for me,” Sarah said.
“Coo
l,” Jared said. “Hummus?”
When Mave came in with Kota, toting an identical screen, she sighed. “Are we starting a bakery?”
They stacked the second screen beside the first. The intricately carved wood had sparkling inlays. One of the sparkling bits blinked at him, and Jared tilted his head. It blinked again.
The timer dinged, and Jared lifted the cake out of the oven and put it on a cooling rack. The middle had a dent where it hadn’t risen evenly, but it was all cooked. He turned the oven off. The day had caught up with him, so he’d do the pie later.
He went to sit beside Sarah on the couch. They were retelling their adventures of retrieving the room dividers from Justice’s storage locker and trying to fit them into Mave’s VW bug. Next they were going to Ikea for a bed, and that would be an even bigger challenge. The spot in the divider blinked at him, like a distant lighthouse.
“Jared?” Sarah said.
They all paused to stare at him.
“Sorry,” he said. “I drifted off. Got up early.”
The silence went on and Jared yawned, pretending he didn’t notice the little light. Then Kota said they could use the truck for the Ikea run, but if they dented anything, Elijah would kill him.
“When do we meet this new man of yours?” Mave said.
“Never,” Kota said. “We’re not in a relationship. It’s just fun.”
“He loaned you his truck, my dude. You drive it every day. It looks new.”
“Next subject.”
“How did you meet?” Mave said. “Who’re his parents? Is he Native?”
“Bye,” Kota said. “Enjoy Ikea.”
Sarah nudged Jared, who was still staring at the blinking screen.
“I need to put icing sugar on the carrot cake,” he said.
“Hey, space cadet,” Kota said. “See you in a few days.” He leaned over Jared and gave him a hug. Mave came and sat beside him.
“Jared?”
“Mave.”
“Maybe you should get some sleep.”
“I’m okay. I like sitting here.”
He could hear Sarah and Justice laughing, the clatter of dishes, and then they were sitting around him with coffees. Mave had her arm twined in his and he couldn’t remember her doing that. Slanted sunlight hit the apartment building across the street and the windows lit fiery red, then orange, dimming to a soft pink. Sarah and Justice put on their coats.
“Justice, my purse is on the nightstand! Get something pretty!”
Then he and Mave were alone and Jared was tired but afraid to sleep. Someone needed to holler if things went sideways and there was no one else to holler. Bark, bark. Mave took his hand.
“TV?”
“Sure.”
He realized he had a throw blanket around his legs that he couldn’t remember anyone putting there. Probably Mave.
“Are you okay?” Mave said.
“Tired. Just tired.”
“You don’t have to do anything, Jared. Can you let us take care of you?”
“I’m afraid of what’s coming,” Jared said.
She hugged him. “Anyone who tries to hurt you will have to get through me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“I’m a big girl. I’ve kicked my share of asses.”
He smiled because she wanted him to smile. He couldn’t explain, without sounding insane, how he felt time moving now, a dark current beneath a placid surface. His dread was a low hum, a distant sound of thunder, the crack before an avalanche.
“Maybe I should just give up and go lie down,” he said.
She nodded, and said, “I might get some writing done while they’re out.”
She gave him a hug, and they both retreated to their bedrooms.
He sat on his bed, and the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose as he felt someone’s attention. Once, he’d been fishing with Phil in a river and he’d had this same feeling of dread. He stood frozen until the wind shifted and they both smelled something rank. His dad dropped his reel, grabbed him by the waist and booted it for the truck. As they ripped down the logging road, a grizzly came out of the woods, head swaying. Later, they told it as a funny story, but at the time Jared remembered how insanely big it had been, as high as a fence, as wide as a car.
He turned his mind, deliberately, to ordinary things. He thought of socks, and how he needed some new ones. He thought of more things he liked to cook. All the simple, boring parts of anyone’s life. But then he heard a snap from the living room, a sound like mosquitoes hitting a bug zapper, and went to check.
A tiny spot in the intricate carving of the room divider wasn’t just blinking, it was pulsing with light. The familiar high hum was there, but faint—this firefly was solo and they usually travelled in swarms.
“Firefly,” Jared said. “You’re back. And hiding in a room divider. For some reason.”
“Just to be clear, fireflies are beetles with luminescent organs,” the single firefly said. “As we’ve told you many, many times, we are ultradimensional beings.”
“I thought you guys were done with this place.”
“This universe is lawless and cruel, true, but you have Sarah.”
“Sarah’s been working on her magic with Mom,” Jared said. “She’ll be happy to see you. She has quest—”
The firefly popped out of the room divider and flew through the ceiling.
Jared said, “Hey! Where’re you going?”
“Polymorphic-Being-in-Human-Form Jared,” it said, popping back through the ceiling. “We’ve intervened too much in a universe that isn’t ours because of you and the trouble you bring.”
“Sarah won’t like that attitude.”
It snapped in irritation, sizzling arcs of white-blue light instead of its normal warm yellow. Jared didn’t care. He was tired of people watching him, stalking him.
17
CTHULHU, DO DO DO DO DO DO
Now that he was sober again, Mave insisted it was time to deal with David. She sat Jared at the kitchen table and told him she’d reported him missing to the Vancouver Police Department. She’d organized her own search and, once it was in full swing, two people had contacted her, saying they were sure they’d seen David beating Jared in the alley. They’d had cellphone footage, but it was jerky and blurry, shot from too far away to make out details, interrupted by traffic. Still, Mave had recognized the location, which led her to check the security footage from her clothing co-op, The Sartorial Resistance; the shop camera had caught the beating but not the attempted murder. Mave reached across the table to hold his hand.
“You came home that day,” she said, taking his hand. “And didn’t say a word.”
Jared tried to pull his hand back, but she put her other hand over it as well and held on.
“Is that when you started drinking?” she said.
“Yes,” Jared said. Not a big lie.
She squeezed his hand. “No one is above the law, Jared. He won’t get away with hurting you this time.”
Hand in bubbling oil. Screaming and screaming and screaming. His mother’s buck knife sliding easily between David’s ribs. “I don’t think it matters anymore,” Jared said.
“Your life is worth fighting for.”
This wasn’t the bubbly Mave he was used to. His aunt had an intensity that made it hard to look away from her eyes.
“If David comes back, you need to tell me.”
Safe promise, as David would only come back as a ghost. “Okay.”
“Good,” she said, letting go of his hand. “We’re going down to the police station. Investigating officers are going to ask you some questions for a written statement that you’re going to sign. I’ll see if Sophia’s serious about her offer of a lawyer.”
“Don’t,” Jared said. “I mean, it’s not the time. With
what’s happened to my—to Phil.”
“Let me handle it,” she said, and punched Sophia’s number.
Oh, good gravy, Jared thought, and texted his mom. Mave wants me to make a statement to the VPD about David.
A few seconds later, his mom texted back: Good. Go do that. It’ll keep her busy and surrounded by cops.
She’s going to ask Sophia for a lawyer.
Fuck me sideways. If Sophia shows, don’t mention dead bodies.
What?
Just don’t. Don’t mention Phil. Don’t say his name. She’s not steering the boat by herself these days and dead bodies and the names of the dead are trigger words.
Jared sat at the kitchen table and felt the world spiralling through the galaxy, making endless fractal patterns. He tried to take Mave’s phone out of her hands. She’d gone ahead and called Sophia.
Mave waved him off. “Yes. Thank you, Sophia. Yes, I’ll handle it. Uh-huh. Just a minute. Let me get a pen.” Mave wrote on her pad of paper.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” he said.
“I can’t thank you enough. Again, if you need us at all, please let us know.” Mave cleared her throat. “Jared would like to say hi.”
Jared waited, tensing.
“Fair enough,” Mave said. “Thanks again.” She hung up, then held the cellphone to her chest and stared at the numbers she’d written down. “Give her time. She’s dealing with so many things right now. Okay?”
* * *
—
The lawyer Sophia sent didn’t look old enough to have finished high school and was so short she came up to his collarbone even in sky-high stilettos. She smiled at him, her straight white teeth framed by apple-red lipstick. Her black hair skimmed her shoulders, which were shrouded in a chunky grey blazer. After they talked, she arranged a meeting with the cops. He was expecting to have some time to think things through, but everyone seemed eager to get it done. Before he knew it, Mave laid out a pressed shirt and slacks for him to change into and then they were following the lawyer’s car in Mave’s Canuck bug.
Return of the Trickster Page 14
