Traplines

by Eden Robinson

  To the apartment, he meant. Tom didn’t know how to answer that one.

  “You want to talk about it?” Mike said.

  Tom shook his head. “No.”

  Mike looked suddenly relieved. “Good.”

  They went to a party but it was a bust. The host was drunk enough to think he was a good guitar player. He knew about three chords and mixed them up. Everyone had escaped to the kitchen except for three or four people passed out on the living room floor.

  “Oooooh,” the man sang. “There’s …” He struck an unidentifiable chord. “A Baa …” Chord. “Baaad …”

  Mike, fingers in his ears, got up and left the room.

  Tom spaced out on the couch for a while before Mike came back and got him up.

  They goofed around outside for a while after that. Someone had left a Nerf hockey set on the sidewalk, probably little kids because the shoulderpads were tiny. The helmets didn’t fit the two of them, but they tied them on anyway and played. They clutched their sides and feigned violent death when the Nerfball hit them.

  Back at Mike’s place, Tom fell asleep on the rock-hard futon while Mike played video games, quietly swearing at the TV screen.

  Thursday morning started with Evan stomping downstairs, dragging Mike off the floor by his ear and screaming at him for leaving the house when he was grounded. They ate breakfast in sullen silence. Patricia drove them to school, her eyes straight ahead. The only sounds were the car and the syrupy cheerfulness of Patricia’s favorite soft-rock station.

  “Tom,” Patricia said when she stopped the car. “I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from our house for a while. Mike’s not going to have any visitors for a few weeks.”

  Tom got out of the car without answering. Patricia grabbed Mike’s sleeve. “Don’t plan on going anywhere for a long time, because you are so grounded—”

  Mike jerked away, then slammed the door on the rest of what she was saying. She glared for a moment but took off.

  Mike rolled his eyes.

  “Later,” Tom said to Mike.

  He made it to all his classes except band. The idea of seeing Paulina made him cringe.

  When he got home Tom couldn’t find his medicine. He opened the bathroom cabinet and the bottle was gone. He tried to remember if he’d moved it. He searched his room, thinking maybe he’d just put it down somewhere and forgotten. He ransacked the kitchen, opened the fridge, opened every cabinet.

  Jeremy wouldn’t do that, he thought. Jeremy fucking pushes them down my throat. He wouldn’t hide them.

  After going through the living room and bedroom one more time, he knew. Goddamn him.

  He could go one, maybe two days without it. Then all that would happen was a few seizures. Nothing drastic. He could go get the prescription refilled. Say he dumped them down the sink by accident.

  Tom stopped pacing. He went back to his bedroom, pulled out Jeremy’s suitcase, and opened it. The coke was still there. He weighed it in his hand and smiled.

  Two can play that game.

  Jeremy was waiting for him in the living room when he got home from school the next day. They looked at each other for a long time, neither saying anything.

  “Hello, stranger,” Jeremy finally said.

  “Jeremy,” Tom said.

  “Come on in. Have a seat.”

  “You have something that belongs to me,” Tom said.

  Jeremy held up the bottle. “I was looking for you the other night. Remember our deal. You’re supposed to tell me when you’re staying out.”

  “Yeah?” Tom said.

  “Yeah,” Jeremy said. “I was worried. Thought maybe Richard got to you.”

  “So you hid my medicine.”

  He tilted his head. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. I think you have something of mine too.”

  Tom tensed. “I do.”

  Jeremy nodded, still grinning. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “I want my medicine back.”

  Jeremy flipped the bottle to him. Tom caught it. He expected Jeremy to dive across the coffee table or something. “And I want you to stop treating me like I’m six years old.”

  “You are treated the way you act,” Jeremy said smugly.

  “Then you should be locked up in a loony bin.”

  “Where’s my coke?”

  Tom hesitated. “I taped it to the bottom of your car.”

  Jeremy whooped. Tom hadn’t expected him to be amused. He had been dreading this moment but Jeremy only laughed.

  Just when Tom thought it was going to be okay, Jeremy lunged and Tom scrambled back, thinking that his cousin was going to punch him. But Jeremy plugged his nose with one hand and covered his mouth with the other, leaning into him so that Tom fell back onto the couch. As suddenly as he’d attacked, Jeremy let go, laughing as if it was all in good fun.

  “Don’t ever do anything like that again.” Jeremy slapped him lightly.

  He stood, brushed himself off. “Now,” he said cheerfully, “better get your homework done before we see your lady doc.”

  Jeremy drove him to the hospital, sat outside in the waiting room, chatted with Dr. Ahava, then drove Tom home.

  “You can go out,” he told Tom, just before he took off. “But you’d better be back for dinner or you’re dead meat.”

  Tom stood on the corner watching Jeremy’s car squeal down the street. Just my luck. The only person who really gives a shit if I live or die is a whacked-out drug addict who likes playing God.

  Third Contact

  “Tommy!” his mom said, when he came in. She threw her arms around him, then brought him into the living room. He sucked in a breath, forced it out.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous!” she said. “I couldn’t believe it when the delivery men came! I thought they were at the wrong door. Oh, Tom, isn’t it just marvelous?”

  His heart beat too fast as he stared at the large-screen TV and the surround-sound system on the brand-new entertainment center. He couldn’t even guess how much it had all cost. He wanted to trust Jeremy. He wanted to believe in him. But somehow, some way, Jeremy was going to make them pay for it.

  “Mom,” he said.

  She turned to him, and he knew what he had to do. Her smile faded. She was happy and he was going to make her unhappy.

  He pulled the suitcase out from under Jeremy’s bed. He opened the lid and picked up the black garbage bag filled with coke. Her eyes went dead and blank.

  She said she hadn’t really believed their luck either.

  Once she made up her mind she moved fast. She collected Jeremy’s things and set them in the hallway. She even packed up the entertainment center.

  “You’ve got to give the clothes back,” she said.

  “Can I keep some?”

  “No,” she said, her face cold.

  He shifted uncomfortably.

  “It’s blood money, honey,” she said. “Only bad can come from it.”

  “But he took my clothes. I’ll give them back when I—”

  She stopped packing. “He what?”

  “He’s got my clothes. You think I’m wearing this by choice?” Tom gestured at his suit jacket. He smiled. “This practically screams ‘Mug me.’ ”

  When she didn’t laugh, he said, “I’ll give them back.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said flatly.

  He didn’t know what to say. Her lip began to quiver the way it did before she cried.

  “I want you to go over to Mike’s,” she said.

  Tom was shocked. She hated Mike. “Why?”

  “This is between me and him. I don’t want you here.”

  “But—”

  “Tommy,” she said, putting her hands to her temples. “Don’t argue with me. Please.” Not looking at him, she asked, “Was it really Richard?”

  “What?” he said.

  “Or was it Jeremy?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If you’re protecting him, you don’t have to. I know he
has a temper. I know he’s family, but if he’s hitting you, you can tell me.”

  He considered lying. No. He didn’t need to. “He’s not.”

  She sighed, long and slow. “He told me it was an inheritance,” she said. “Can you believe it? I did.”

  The mood at Mike’s was grim. Mike had locked himself in his bedroom and wouldn’t come out. He was playing his stereo loud. Nirvana rang through the house. His aunt and uncle looked disgusted. Tom stayed for a while, then said good-bye, glad to be out of there.

  He waited a few hours in the park before he went home. When he opened the door, the first thing he noticed was that all Jeremy’s things were missing from the hallway. He put his bike into the closet. The foldaway bed was back in its corner. He walked down the hallway. His bedroom looked empty, bigger without Jeremy’s things taking up space.

  His mom was standing by the window. She came up to him and put an arm around his waist.

  “Well,” she said. “That’s that.”

  “I’m surprised you let him stay in the first place.”

  “He’s family, Tommy.”

  “Aunt Rhoda told me why he got kicked out of military school.” He hated lying to her, but it was the only way he was ever going to find out what had happened.

  She took her arm away. “He didn’t mean to go that far. It was self-defense.”

  Tom forced himself to keep his expression neutral. “Not the way Aunt Rhoda tells it.”

  “Hmph,” she said. “That old bat never liked Jeremy. Don’t listen to a word she says. They would never have acquitted him if he’d been guilty. He was such a sweet boy. Always so helpful. A little gentleman.” She brought his hands to her cheek and started to cry. Tom saw that she was getting really upset. She didn’t look like she could take much more.

  Her symptoms started as the week wore on. By Friday, he knew she’d been dry as long as she could. She fidgeted. She scrubbed a part of the kitchen floor, stopped, and then started to reorganize the kitchen. She sat down, her foot tapping rapidly. She wanted to leave but needed an excuse. He couldn’t do anything right when she got to this stage. He disappeared into the bedroom and sat on his bed, his homework spread around him.

  She stopped in at his bedroom and leaned on the door frame. “He gave his keys back. You don’t have to worry.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “I’ll see you in a while.”

  “Night,” he said.

  She lingered for a moment. “Take care.”

  He listened for the sound of the front door closing. Perversely, he found he missed Jeremy now that he was gone. I did the right thing, he told himself.

  But he doubted it now, when it was dark and the apartment was empty.

  She didn’t come back that night. He considered going downtown but he hated cruising the skid bars, and even if he found her it would just embarrass them both. The best thing to do was leave her alone. He had a sudden flash that she probably felt smothered by him, the way he had with Jeremy. Her life, he thought. Don’t bug her.

  He moved into the living room and watched TV. As he was drifting off to sleep, he realized that the band was in Bellingham this weekend. After all that, Jeremy hadn’t loaned him the money to go on the trip. He yawned. He wondered if Jeremy had paid the phone bill. Didn’t seem likely. The weatherman said it was going to rain tonight and tomorrow until the afternoon. He hoped she had an umbrella. He kept his eyes open until they burned and the TV blurred. Canned laughter from an old sitcom filled the living room.

  The lounger squeaked. Tom woke slowly, sensing someone else in the living room, thinking, She’s back.

  He turned his head, slitting his eyes open.

  “Hiya kid,” Jeremy said.

  Tom, instantly awake, fumbled to sit up.

  “Take it easy,” Jeremy said. “Just dropping your stuff off.”

  Tom saw the five garbage bags around the sofa. He slumped back. His cousin had brought him his clothes. He hadn’t thought he would. He felt a reflex guilt, then a flutter of panic. Jeremy was here. He wasn’t supposed to be. “Jeez.”

  “Scared you, huh?” Jeremy started channel surfing. “Your security system sucks. You need a dead bolt.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought we needed to talk.”

  “About what?”

  Jeremy’s face lightened in amusement. “Oh, I don’t know. The plight of the Amazon rain forest. The possibility of starting a colony on Mars. Maybe some golf tips. Should I use wood or aluminum clubs to get out of a sand trap?”

  The TV burst into a jingle for a brand of toothpaste. Jeremy hunted for the remote. He turned the set off and the living room went black. The silence stretched.

  “Guess I came down heavy on you, huh?”

  Tom’s eyes adjusted to the dark. Jeremy had leaned his head so far back on the lounger that he was facing the ceiling.

  “You could say that,” Tom said.

  “You should have said something,” Jeremy said. “Instead of lying to your mother.”

  “I didn’t,” Tom said.

  “You think I’m a pusher?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Jeremy laughed. “Kid …” he started. His hand moved to his shirt pocket. His lighter flared to life. He lit a cigarette. “Fuck. What a life.”

  “Where’re you getting all your money then? Tell me that. You don’t even have a job.”

  “I got clients calling me all day, twenty-four hours a day. You’ve seen them, haven’t you? I’ve got cops following me, and I spend my money like it’s going out of style. Yeah, I’m a drug dealer. A really smart one too.” After another long silence Jeremy said, “For fuck’s sake, kid, I’m being sarcastic.”

  Tom felt the beginnings of a headache. “I know.”

  Jeremy turned the TV back on. In the flickering light he looked tired. Tom lay back on the couch. He put his arm over his eyes. The possibility that Jeremy was okay crossed his mind. He put it down to being tired.

  “My dad’s dad died. He hated everyone except me. He had a lot of money. He left me everything. End of story,” Jeremy said.

  “How’d he get his money?”

  Jeremy looked disgusted. “Aluminum. He bought aluminum shares during World War II. My blood type is A negative. Anything else?”

  “Why’d he give it to you?”

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  Tom narrowed his eyes.

  “I was in his old regiment,” Jeremy said slowly, through gritted teeth. “And everyone thought I’d go far.”

  Tom said, “So?”

  Jeremy stood up and saluted. “There has always been a Rieger in the army, ever since the plains of Abraham. And by God, there will always be a Rieger in the army.”

  Jeremy sat down, looking moody and pissed. Tom wanted to ask more questions but thought he’d wait until Jeremy was less strung out.

  Tom heard the telltale snore and turned his head. Sure enough, his cousin was out. He thought of what his mother would say if she came through the door and saw Jeremy sleeping there.

  But she’s not here, is she? a part of his mind said.

  He was tired of thinking. There was a strange comfort in Jeremy’s snoring. He’d gotten used to it. It was easy to slide into sleep hearing that.

  Tom woke up first. Jeremy had made his way to the bedroom sometime during the night and was sprawled over the bed. Tom carefully picked up Jeremy’s jeans and jacket and went through them.

  Jeremy had some keys, his wallet, a comb, and a pocket-sized computer organizer. Tom glanced at Jeremy, still dead to the world. Tom opened the wallet. It had Jeremy’s driver’s license and a bank-machine receipt between two fifties. Jeremy had taken out $460.00 the night before. The balance in his account was $127,894.73.

  Tom put the slip back in the wallet, then the wallet back in the pants. So he’s not a millionaire. He was blowing his money and it was going to run out. That made Tom feel better. Still, $127,000. He couldn’t imagine having that muc
h money. If he had it he sure wouldn’t blow it.

  Jeremy shifted, and Tom waited. But his cousin stayed asleep.

  Maybe he hadn’t seen the figure right. Maybe it was $2,700. He knew he was just being nosy now. He knew that if he was caught he was going to be in trouble, but his fingers itched to take the wallet out and look at it again. He found himself doing it, watching Jeremy carefully.

  The wallet was thin. Jeremy had a membership at Movie Madness, a library card from Metro Toronto Public Library, and a photo of some kid that Tom slowly realized was him.

  He pulled it out. He didn’t remember it being taken. He was sitting in front of a birthday cake with eight candles. On the back, in his mother’s writing, “Hi Jeremy! We’re doing well. Vancouver is nice. All my love, Aunt Christa.”

  He put the picture back in place and slipped the wallet into one of the pockets. In his haste to get out of there, he forgot which one he’d taken it from.

  Tom went to the kitchen. When Jeremy came in and sat across from him a few minutes later, he knew that Jeremy had been faking sleep. He’d known that Tom was going through his wallet and had let him do it.

  “I’ve got letters too,” Jeremy said. “You want to see them?” With a malicious smile he said, “Or should I leave them in my wallet?”

  Tom’s face went red; he felt the flush spreading but couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t look at his cousin anymore. He stared at his hands.

  “You could just ask me,” Jeremy said. “Wait.”

  He left the kitchen and came back with a pen. He drew something on his fingers and Tom leaned toward him to see what it was. It was faces. Jeremy held up his left hand. He’d given the index finger an extra large blue mouth. No, a bruised mouth.

  “ ‘Jeremy,’ ” Jeremy said in a high squeaky voice, “ ‘what the fuck do you want?’ ” He held up his right hand. “Well, kid. I’m here to rob you of all your worldly possessions, kill you, and inherit your vast fortune. ‘But I don’t have a vast fortune, Jeremy!’ Whoops! Wrong kid.”

  Tom found himself laughing. “You are truly strange.”

  “ ‘Come on, Jeremy. Be serious. What are you doing here?’ I’m family, kid. Isn’t that enough?” The finger-Tom picked up the pen and bonked the finger-Jeremy over the head. “ ‘Get real! Like I’m going to believe that!’ ” Jeremy looked up. He moved his finger people in front of his face. “I want to help.”