by Carrie Mac
The Way Back
Carrie Mac
O R C A B O O K P U B L I S H E R S
Copyright © 2014 Carrie Mac
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Mac, Carrie, 1975– , author
The way back / Carrie Mac.
(Orca soundings)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4598-0716-7 (bound).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0715-0 (pbk.).--
ISBN 978-1-4598-0717-4 (pdf).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0718-1 (epub)
I. Title. II. Series: Orca soundings
PS8625.A23W39 2014 jC813’.6 C2014-903383-4
C2014-903384-2
First published in the United States, 2014
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014940459
Summary: Colby is a thief and a drug user. Now she is pregnant.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover image by iStock
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
PO BOX 5626, Stn. B
Victoria, BC Canada
V8R 6S4 ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
PO BOX 468
Custer, WA USA
98240-0468
www.orcabook.com
17 16 15 14 • 4 3 2 1
Contents
snatch
not telling
the fox
extreme barf warning
Meadow Farm
home again
break-in
sparklies
hey, baby
Gigi in the night
playing house
the fox and the moon
steps
bracelet
Everything
grandpa
snatch
Colby couldn’t even begin to count how many things she’d stolen, or what it was all worth if you added it all up. She and her best friend, Gigi, had met in fifth grade. About a week later, Gigi brought her along on one of her department-store errands. Her grandma needed a new bra, so they stole that, plus pockets full of hair clips and nail polish. Gigi had been snatching things ever since she was four years old, alongside her brother Milo, who was two years older.
Their grandmother had taught them how. It was the family business. Gram sold the stolen goods in her pawnshop.
Gram had never been caught. Not even once. She told them that her own mother used to push her around in a stroller and stick things under her as they wandered along Robson Street way back when Gram was a baby.
Stealing came naturally to Colby. She was good at it.
A stinky old man sat down next to her on the bus. His suit was shiny at the elbows and knees, with a stain down the front that was probably dried vomit. He smelled like he’d pissed himself.
For some reason, the smell made her gag. She usually had an iron stomach for nasty whiffs, which this bus route always had plenty of. She put a hand to her mouth, willing herself not to barf. Maybe it was because she was high? Something weird in the eight ball? She wondered if Milo had got it from his usual dealer. She held out her hand and saw that it was shaking. Not good.
The old man pulled a book from a greasy, beat-up duffel bag. Colby squinted at the title. 9/11: Conspiracy & Cover-Up.
Milo would be all over that. He’d probably ask if he could borrow the book.
The smell though—it was nasty. She tasted bile as she stood up. She inched through the crowd to get closer to a window that she could open for some fresh air.
Feeling woozy, she leaned on a pole. That’s when she caught sight of the old man’s wallet sticking out of his jacket pocket.
But one of Gram’s rules was that you had to be in the right frame of mind.
As in, not high.
“No boozy head,” Gram often said. She was fond of wagging an arthritic finger in the girls’ faces when she was bossing them around. She never corrected Milo. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. Except for being gay. And she was working on that. She was going to pray away the gay, she claimed. It was only a matter of time. “No dope neither. Ya?”
“We know, Gram.” Gigi rolled her eyes every time. And if Milo was around, she sent him a sharp glare. Gram had no idea that he did drugs too.
Milo and Gigi’s mom was in jail at the moment for exactly that. It made sense that Gram was worried about drugs. Especially because Gigi and Colby didn’t do a very good job of hiding their own drug use.
So, no stealing when high.
But the old man’s wallet looked so easy to snatch.
She’d been downtown with Milo, and he’d scored an eight ball. They’d smoked it in the parking lot behind his apartment building, and then he had to go meet a “date.”
Colby teetered on her feet.
It would’ve been better if she’d kept her seat, but oh well.
The whole bus teemed with nasty smells. Colby held onto the back of a seat. She wondered if she might faint. Either because she was high or because of the stench. Maybe both.
Either way, Colby went ahead and kind of stumbled forward, so she had a reason to put her hands on the bench beside the old man to steady herself. The perfect cover for snatching his wallet.
Seamless.
In one motion, she tucked it down the back of her pants and steadied herself upright. She couldn’t help but grin.
“Excuse me. So sorry.”
He placed a finger on the page, marking his spot, and smiled up at her. His left eye was milky white, his other a bright blue.
“Not to worry.”
Way too easy.
Colby closed her eyes for a moment. Her high was slipping. But that was okay, because she had a wallet. And while she doubted that there’d be much money in it, she was pretty sure there’d be something. Even if it was just enough to buy a joint from Rookie on the corner.
She opened her eyes. One stop away. She leaned over the old man once more and pulled the cord.
When the bus wheezed to a stop at the curb, she pushed forward with everyone else and stepped off. She took a deep breath. It didn’t provide the fresh air she’d hoped for. All she could smell was the bus exhaust and a waft of urine from the stairwell leading down to the First United Church basement.
Colby squeezed her eyes shut. Her stomach churned. She was going to throw up right there, in the middle of a crowd of little bent-over grannies heading home through Chinatown with their shopping carts full of groceries.
Someone tapped her shoulder.
Colby opened her eyes. A tall young woman stood in front of her.
“I saw that.”
It took a moment for Colby to really see her. Blond hair, slender face, big sunglasses.
“What are you talking about?” Colby heard a slur in her voice.
The woman cocked her head and sighed. “I saw you take that old man’s wallet.”
“Not me.”
“Yeah, you.” The woman reached forward. Colby thought she was going to frisk her for the wallet, but it was just to steady Colby as she teetered. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Colby shook her head.
“Do you need an ambulance?”
“No!” Colby pushed her away. She took a couple of steps backward. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Well, I am
.” Colby swallowed back more bile. She had to get away from this woman, especially if she was going to call the cops. Colby dug in her purse and pulled out her phone. She tried to text Gigi, but her thumbs felt like giant, unwieldy sausages. She called her instead.
The gaggle of grannies was gone now, so Colby sank onto the bench.
“Come get me?” she said into the phone when Gigi answered. “I’m in front of First United.”
Colby put the phone away. The woman was still standing in front of her, hands on her hips.
“The wallet?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Colby rested her head against the wall of the bus shelter.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Nope.” Colby glanced down the street. There was Gigi, strutting toward her as fast as she could in her high heels and the world’s tightest jeans.
“Thank God.” Colby leaned forward and put her head between her knees. She was okay for another moment. But when she lifted her head to say hi to Gigi, she tasted another swell of bile, and she threw up.
All over the young woman’s white sneakers.
“Jesus!” The woman jumped back.
“I didn’t steal anything,” Colby warbled.
“What the hell, Colby?” Gigi took her arm. “What is wrong with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you take?”
“A wallet!” the young woman practically shouted. “From an old man on the bus. I saw her.”
“Look, you didn’t see anything. Got it?” Gigi glared at the stranger with her famously fierce glower. “Not if you want to keep your day moving along nicely. You didn’t see anything.”
The woman squared her shoulders and seemed to grow taller.
“I know what I saw, and if you don’t take it into the church and leave it with them, I will call the cops.”
“Are you for real?” Gigi shook her head.
“Acutely real.” The woman met Gigi’s glare with her own.
Gigi flicked Colby’s shoulder to get her attention. Colby moaned. Gigi waggled her fingers. “Give it.”
“What?” Colby felt another wave of nausea grip her stomach.
“Give me the goddamned wallet, Colby.”
Colby glanced at Gigi. Gigi rolled her eyes. Colby glanced back at the woman, who had her cell phone at the ready.
“Now,” Gigi barked.
When Colby still didn’t produce it, Gigi went fishing. She found it right away and threw it at the woman’s barf-spattered feet. Then she hauled Colby onto her feet and steered her down the street.
“Thanks!” the young woman called after them. “You did the right thing.”
“Whatever, bitch!” Gigi hollered back.
Gigi marched Colby back to Gram’s pawnshop.
Once inside, Colby breathed a sigh of relief, but with it came all the smells of the dusty old pawnshop. Sweaty leather jackets, tinny metal, greasy used tools. Colby lurched back outside and threw up again.
not telling
It wasn’t until Gram set a plate of spaghetti in front of Colby that anyone clued in. Colby took one sniff of it and nearly barfed right onto the plate.
“You’re pregnant.” Gram slid the spaghetti out of sight and narrowed her eyes at Colby. “I’m right. You’re pregnant. I knew this was going to happen. I thought it would be Gigi. But you? I didn’t think it’d be you.” Gram made a disapproving sound, a sort of sharp intake of breath. “I told you both.” She wagged a finger at Gigi and Colby. “This is what happens when you have sex before marriage.”
“I’m not pregnant.” But even as she said the word, Colby knew Gram was right.
“You totally are.” Gigi gawked at her. “You said you were late. And your period never came, did it?”
“Maybe,” Colby said.
“Who?” Gigi stared at her. “You don’t even have a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend isn’t a requirement.” Colby sat back, the smell of the spaghetti hanging heavy over the table. She put a finger under her nose, blocking her nostrils. “It’s a perk.”
“Or a curse.” Gram had been divorced three times.
“Who did you sleep with?” Gigi folded her arms across her chest and stared at Colby. “And why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t tell you everything.”
“Yes, you do.”
Colby shrugged. “Not really.”
“Who, then?”
“Just some guy.”
Gram put a hand on her shoulder. “Was it rape?”
“No, no, no,” Colby protested. “Nothing like that, Gram. Not at all.”
“Well, then?” Gigi raised her voice. “Who the hell was it?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You hooked back up with Otto. That’s it.”
“No.” Colby had broken up with Otto three months ago, and she was only a month late for her period, now that she thought about it. She knew exactly who the dad was. “Not Otto.”
“Then who?”
But Colby wasn’t ready to tell.
She might not ever be. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think of any baby. And she didn’t want to think of any father.
Her own father had disappeared. She hadn’t heard from him since her birthday in November, when he’d left a message on her phone.
Happy birthday, Sparkle.
That was it.
He’d left a couple of months before that, after getting into a fight with his girlfriend, Sheila. He’d ended up shoving her, and she fell against a corner and cut her forehead. She called the cops, but Colby’s dad took off before they showed up. Sheila had been screaming at him for hours about how he needed to get a job, and how he was a bum and a failure and a useless junkie. He’d been sitting in his chair in the living room, staring at the crossword in the paper, letting it all slide, but then he snapped. He lunged for Sheila, growling like a monster.
Gigi and Colby had heard the whole thing. They were in Colby’s room, eavesdropping to figure out when would be a good time to slip out. They heard Sheila scream, then a thud. Then the front door slammed shut.
Then the sirens.
Colby hadn’t seen him since.
He’d taken off a couple of times before but had always come back two or three days later, after a binge. He’d plod around with a guilty expression for a week or so, while booze reeked from his pores, and then he’d stick around for a while.
But this time, he hadn’t come back.
And then Sheila had kicked Colby out, because why would she take care of “that asshole’s bitchy kid”?
Which is how Colby ended up living with Gigi and Gram. Which is why she was having supper with them, and not her dad and Sheila. She didn’t miss Sheila. Not at all. But she missed her dad. A lot.
If she’d ever really known her mom, she might’ve missed her too. She’d died when Colby was three. Her dad said it was a seizure, but Colby was pretty sure her mom had overdosed.
Forget mothers and fathers. They were useless.
Forget the baby.
She’d get rid of it.
No way was she going to be a mom.
No way.
Colby reached for a piece of bread, then changed her mind.
Even that repulsed her.
She rested her hands in her lap instead.
Despite everything, she wanted her dad. Right now.
She wanted to tell him about the baby. She wanted to tell him about everything that had happened between the moment he’d slammed that door and this moment now. She wanted him to tell her what to do.
Gigi was still pestering her about who the baby’s daddy was. Colby glanced up. Gigi’s cheeks were pink with frustration. Her black curly hair bounced around her face as she yelled. Her hands flapped. Gigi always flapped her hands when she was excited.
“If you don’t tell me who you slept with, I won’t talk to you ever again. Seriously.”
Colby shook her head.
“Then get the hell out of my house! We’re more than best friends, Colby. We’re sisters. How can you lie to me?”
“Not lying,” Colby muttered. “Just not telling.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not. One is omission, the other is a falsehood.”
“What?” Gigi stared at her, hands on her hips.
Gram slapped the table, just hard enough to get the girls’ attention.
“Enough!” She pointed at Gigi. “Sit. Eat. Be quiet.”
Gigi opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it and sat. She glowered at Colby. “You’ll tell me. I know you will.”
“And you.” Gram placed a hand on Colby’s shoulder. “You are not going anywhere. You live here. Pay no attention to Gigi. She’s mad, that’s all. You keep your secrets if you want. We all have them.”
“Thanks, Gram. Don’t tell anyone I’m pregnant, okay?” Colby caught Gigi’s angry gaze. “No one. Please?”
“Just Milo.”
“No one. I don’t even know for sure. And maybe I’ll have a miscarriage.” No way was she going to mention abortion in Gram’s company. Gram firmly believed that abortion was murder. “Please don’t tell.”
“We won’t tell anyone. Not yet,” Gram said. “If you change your mind, you tell us. Then we tell only if you want. For now, it’s a secret.”
“Who was it?” Gigi tried again.
“Secret,” Colby murmured.
“We don’t have secrets. Not between us, Colby. Come on.”
“So what if she wants it to be secret?” Gram shrugged. “That’s okay.”
Gigi narrowed her eyes at Colby. “It was Mick, wasn’t it? I bet you slept with him to get back at Otto.”
For a moment, Colby debated saying it was Mick just to shut her up. But just knowing wouldn’t be good enough for Gigi. She’d want details, and that’s when Gigi always caught Colby in a lie.
Colby shook her head. “Not Mick.”
Colby stood up. “I’m going to go lie down.”
“Not in my room,” Gigi said. “Traitor.”
“Yes in your room,” Gram said. “It’s Colby’s room too.”
But Colby ended up in the bathroom instead, kneeling in front of the toilet. She’d never been so grateful for a clean toilet in all her life. Between bouts of barfing and dry heaves, Colby thought about the boy who was the father. And how she’d go about telling him. If she told him at all.
