by Hiromi Goto
Gee approached the table. The old leather-bound book. Where Ms. Carlson had left the note. He didn’t recognize the cover. He’d never seen his grandmother reading from it. No title or author name was written upon the cracked leather cover; he could, though, make out an embossed symbol. It looked like the yin-yang sign, but instead of a black and a white piece curling into each other there were three sections: black, white and grey.
“You want me to read this?” Gee asked.
“Unless you would prefer to eat it,” the cat remarked.
Gee stood still, staring blankly at the cover of the ancient book. He shook his head. What was he doing, standing around arguing with a cat? His grandmother was in the hospital! For all he knew, he’d lost his wits and was talking to himself!
No, the cat was still there, its tail enormous with feline rage.
Gee ran to the tin of cash on the bookshelf. He grabbed all the larger bills and crammed them into his pocket along with his keys.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the cat hissed.
Gee ignored him. If he was hallucinating, he shouldn’t encourage it by acknowledging it. And if he wasn’t hallucinating, he had no reason to trust the cat.
“Come back here!” the cat yowled.
That didn’t just happen, Gee decided. He tore out of the apartment and ran down the sidewalk toward the busy intersection. He spotted a yellow cab and raised his hand. Gee was inside before it had even come to a full stop. “Grace Women’s Hospital,” he said. “Please hurry.”
The cab driver was silent, but he shot into traffic and wended between slower-moving cars.
Gee stared out the passenger window.
Now this is getting fun, his dark little voice snickered.
I did not just think that, Gee told himself. I would not think such a thing.
Who else could it be? the voice sniggered. Just say it: me, myself and I!
Gee began counting in prime numbers. 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17…. The higher the number, the longer it took to figure out if it was prime. The numerical grinding occupied his thoughts and he kept at it, his lips moving as he divided in his head, until the cab pulled up in front of the hospital. Gee quickly paid the cabbie and ran through the main doors to the reception desk.
“She’s not in a room yet. She’s still in Emergency and will be held there until her first set of tests later on in the afternoon.”
“I want to see her,” Gee said. “I’m her grandson.”
The receptionist’s eyes skimmed over Gee’s lanky hair, his wet clothing. “You’re a minor, aren’t you? You should wait until your mother gets here first.”
“I don’t have a mother,” Gee said in a low voice. “My grandmother raised me. I’m her only family.” He blinked. What if something happened to her … would he have to call her homophobic siblings? He had no idea what their phone numbers were. What would happen to the store? What would happen to him? Gee shook his head. “I really need to see her,” he said. “Because— She doesn’t understand English that well! I need to translate for her.”
The receptionist raised her eyebrows, but the phone began to ring and a lineup of people was beginning to form behind him. “Go through those doors.” She pointed with her pen. “Follow the blue line painted on the wall, all the way to Emergency.”
Gee began to run.
“Walk!” the receptionist called after him.
The hallways in the hospital were busy. As he approached the Emergency ward, wheeled beds and stretchers began to line both sides of the corridor. The sound of people in pain, discomfort, someone’s quiet weeping—was one of them his grandmother? Why weren’t they put into proper rooms? Gee quickly glanced at each face through the lanky strands of his hair.
A teenage girl, vomit dried upon her clothing, stared blankly at the ceiling, her eyes dull. A middle-aged man, arms crossed atop his skull, groaned with pain. A woman stood at the foot of his stretcher, one hand clasped around his ankle. “He needs to see someone right away!” she cried out. “Can’t someone give him something for the pain?”
A harried-looking nurse shushed her as she moved toward them, and another stretcher was wheeled into the hallway to take up space along the corridor. It was so noisy. Busy and noisy.
Gee strode down the hall, searching for Popo’s face.
A rough hand clamped around his skinny wrist.
Popo’s eyes, the colour of chestnuts. Her eyes were tired, exhausted, but very much alive.
Gee hadn’t known he’d been holding his breath until he began gasping.
Popo patted the back of his hand.
When he regained his control, Gee scanned Popo’s face for some telltale sign of illness. She just looked old, tired, and very small inside the raised metal side-bars of the wheeled hospital bed.
“Ms. Carlson is to be blamed,” she said decidedly, though her voice was quieter than when she spoke at home.
“What?” Gee asked.
Popo closed her eyes, but managed to smile. “Just a little dizziness. But the meddling librarian had to call the ambulance! Che! They can send her the bill. Popo will not pay for something she did not….” She dozed off before she could finish her sentence.
Gee stared impassively at her face. How could she be well, just yesterday, and then such an ill and old woman the next day?
You see, his inner darkness murmured. You can rely upon no one. Not even your precious Popo. All is uncertainty. Everything you hold dear. Everything passes away. You’re a fool if you think otherwise!
Gee pulled his wrist out of his grandmother’s lax hold. He turned to the nearest nurse. “Excuse me,” he said.
The nurse, checking the pulse of a small child, ignored him.
Gee stepped closer and stared down upon her. “Excuse me,” he whispered.
Something in his tone hit her hard. She jerked her face upward, blinking nervously.
Gee smiled without warmth. “Has anyone seen to my grandmother? What’s wrong with her? And why isn’t she in a proper room?”
The nurse glanced at the clipboard at the foot of Popo’s bed. “The doctor has her scheduled for a series of tests. Her blood pressure was extremely low. Low enough that he wants to keep her overnight for observation. She’s not in a room because there isn’t a room to put her in.” She pointedly looked up and down the crowded hallway. “If you have a problem with that, let the government know!” She moved to the next patient.
His grandmother’s eyes were open again. “Popo might have overdone it last night,” she rasped. “Popo forgets that she’s seventy-five years old.”
Seventy-five…, Gee thought wonderingly. They did not celebrate birthdays. He’d thought it was because Popo didn’t know when his birthday was, but no one’s birthday was celebrated. And Popo was seventy-five.
“I shouldn’t have run off,” he said. “I should have stayed to help you. Did you fix the window by yourself?”
“Not Grandson’s fault.” Popo flapped her hand. “Popo has been feeling a little dizzy for many months.”
“What!”
“Che.” Popo’s eyes began closing again. “Thought it might be just an ear problem … balance….” She fell asleep once more.
Gee glanced up and down the corridor. A few people had dragged some chairs in from the waiting room so that they could sit beside their loved one. Gee leaned against the wall near Popo’s head. He waited for word, more information, a move to a proper room, or for her tests, a doctor, but only nurses came and went, sometimes checking his grandmother’s blood pressure and heart rate. Popo slipped in and out of sleep, like an invalid, and as the hours passed a small dark knot of emotion began to swell inside Gee’s chest.
His face impassive, his feelings grew and seethed inside him.
It was all his fault. He shouldn’t have left her last night with the broken window. He was such a fool. How could he not have seen that she was a frail old woman? He was so useless. So stupid. He—
No…. It wasn’t his fault. It was Wins
ton Chang’s fault. If Winston hadn’t harassed them, if he hadn’t come back to smash the window, then his popo wouldn’t have tipped into this bad medical emergency. She would have just rested, and got better, as she always did. It was Winston’s fault, and Winston had to pay for what he’d done.
A touch upon Gee’s upper arm. He whipped his face to catch the nurse’s eyes. He stared, intently, and she recoiled, taking several steps backward.
“What is it?” Gee asked, letting his hair slide over his face once again.
It was the same nurse who had told him to complain to the government. “You’ve been here half the day. You should go home and rest, get something to eat. Even if she gets her tests today there won’t be any results until tomorrow. You should rest and come back in the evening.”
Gee thought it through. He glanced at his popo. She was sleeping, a small frown pinched between her white eyebrows.
“When she wakes up will you let her know I’ll be back later?” Gee asked.
“Go on,” Popo rasped, without opening her eyes. “Grandson only stayed so he could skip school!”
Gee smiled.
Popo reached up and patted him lightly on the cheek. “Grandson is a good boy. Stay at the house. Until you talk to Older Sister.”
Gee shook his head. Melanie phoned on the third Sunday of every month. “Were you expecting a call?” he asked. But Popo had dozed off again.
“See,” the nurse said. “Go on, now. It’s nice to see a young man caring about his grandmother,” she added before returning to the nurse’s station.
It was almost two o’clock. Time enough to do what he needed to do.
“I’ll be back later, Popo,” Gee said.
“If something happens,” Popo whispered. Her eyes were a little cloudy. Uncertain.
Gee swallowed hard. “Nothing will happen, Popo. You just rest for now.”
“If something happens…. The cat….” She couldn’t keep her eyes from closing, and breathed evenly, shallowly.
The cat! What about the cat? Gee’s heart pounded slowly, loudly, inside his ears. What was going on? If Popo was talking about the same cat, then maybe he hadn’t imagined a talking cat. The cat might have really spoken. And if it did, what did his grandmother know about it? What did it mean about everything he thought was safe and real?
Gee shook his head. Too big, too many unknowns. What he knew for certain was that Winston Chang was going to pay for sending Popo to the hospital. He would deal with the cat later.
Chapter Five
He found her in the far corner of the almost-empty school parking lot with the other smokers. One leg bent at the knee, the treads of her heavy boot wedged into the chain-link fence, she held a cigarette in one hand, her purse dangling from the crook of her elbow. She was picking at the tips of her hair with the other hand, tugging off small clumps of red paint and dropping them on the ground.
“Cracker,” he called.
The jeering, chattering voices quieted. A girl started giggling—Silence. Her friend had jabbed an elbow into her gut.
“Gee!” Cracker cried out happily. She dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out beneath her boot. “Told ya!” she shouted over her shoulder as she jogged toward him. When she reached him she was slightly breathless. Reeking of smoke.
“Where does Winston Chang live?” Gee asked.
“What? Who?” Cracker frowned.
“Winston Chang. The guy who drives the Hummer.”
“Why? What happened? Did he come back today?”
Gee wondered how much he should tell her. He didn’t want her thinking he wanted her company. “He vandalized our store last night.”
“What!” Cracker asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell me at the diner?”
Gee shrugged. “There was no point. And my grandmother didn’t want more trouble. But now she’s in the hospital.” His voice had dropped to a low hiss. “And he’s going to pay for that.”
“He didn’t hurt her, did he?” Cracker gasped.
“No,” Gee said curtly. “But she spent the night fixing the window and she collapsed.”
“Oh!” Cracker fumed. “What shall we do? Should we beat him up?”
“No.” Gee shook his head. “My grandmother would really be upset if she found out. We are not going to do anything. I am going to trash his Hummer.”
“Awwww, nice!” Cracker actually hopped with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to trash a Hummer!”
“You’re not coming. Just tell me where he lives.”
Cracker scowled. “You’re not the boss of me! I’m not going to tell you unless I get to trash the Hummer too!”
Gee stared down at the dramatic black and white makeup on her face. He would have laughed at the childishness of her words if he didn’t need the information so badly. Her black lipstick, her rumpled clothing from being out all night. Weren’t her parents worried about her? Popo would never allow this kind of behaviour.
You can do anything you want now….
Gee shuddered.
Grandson is a good boy, Popo always said. And he was. He’d never gotten into trouble. Because if he did, he knew that it would disappoint her so very much. But if Popo wasn’t there to remind him…. He wasn’t slipping into trouble. Today was only an act of justice. He was righting a wrong, that was all. They were the victims. The victim had a right to fight back!
But Cracker—she was completely conspicuous and emotionally erratic. But … that might work in his favour; it was more difficult to catch two people at once. And if she had spoken the truth about being on probation…. “Okay, you’re in,” he said.
“Come on!” Cracker excitedly grabbed Gee’s arm and began leading him toward the sidewalk.
GEE AND CRACKER were crouched behind a low concrete wall, waiting for a car to return and open the gate to the underground parking lot. The rain had pattered and dissipated into moody grey clouds, heavy and dark. The cold was beginning to stiffen Gee’s arms and legs. He shifted his grip on the two-by-four he’d picked up at a nearby demolition site. There was a big nail embedded at one end that would add to the degree of damage.
Cracker pulled out a pack from her purse and lit her second cigarette.
“You have a hole in your heart,” Gee stated. “And you smoke.”
“Yes, Big Brother. And I also shoplift, kick small dogs and drink booze.” Cracker glared.
Gee turned his gaze to the garage door. “No one is forcing you to stay,” he said tonelessly.
Cracker didn’t respond for several long seconds. She sighed, stubbed out the cigarette and stood up to stretch her knees.
A small sports car turned onto the sloping pavement toward the garage door.
Gee grabbed Cracker’s arm to yank her down.
“We’re in this together now,” Cracker rasped, her breath heavy with cigarette smoke and coffee. “Whatever happens….”
A little shiver skated down Gee’s spine.
The mechanical clanking of the garage door. The car whirred down the ramp and disappeared into the dimly lit parkade.
Gee and Cracker leapt over the little wall and followed it. Gee had to bend almost ninety degrees to make it under the lowering garage door. Cracker’s breathing was heavy with effort, her boot buckles jangling loudly.
They ducked between an SUV and a Mini and waited as the driver parked her sports car and entered the elevator.
As soon as the door closed Gee and Cracker began trotting down the rows of parked cars. They kept hunched over at the waist in case there were security cameras.
With the two-by-four held tightly in his hand, Gee’s heart pounded slow and heavy. His heart rate never seemed to quicken with exertion or excitement—it only grew louder.
Gee glanced at Cracker’s face. Her eyes gleamed with excitement. He had his suspicions that Popo might not think very highly of Cracker. But he was doing this for his grandmother’s sake. Because the bigoted pig had taken power away from her—had brought doubt and fear into their home.
Besides, it wasn’t as if they were going to beat him up. Property damage hardly counted as vengeance.
A hint of a twisted smile curled along the edges of his lips.
“There it is!” Cracker pointed. She began to hiccup and giggle with glee.
“Shhhhhh!” Gee hissed.
Cracker clamped her hand over her mouth, but her eyes were wide and animated with feeling.
Gee gazed at her brilliant face. What must it be like, he wondered, to be so free with one’s emotions? How vulnerable it made her. Such an open book.
And what would ever happen to him if he let himself go as she did?
Why don’t you try? the little dark voice inside him giggled. Just a little. It might feel really nice.
Gee took a deep breath. He had always known he never should….
Cracker was yanking at his jacket sleeve. “See! See!” she whispered.
Gee concentrated on breathing. He was no longer angry. He was resolute. It was not his place to become personally involved with this act—he was only the messenger. He was sending a message to the pig dog that acts of ignorance and destruction would come back to him tenfold.
Gee tightened his fingers around his cudgel and straightened his shoulders. He let his hair fall over his face and began striding toward the vehicle.
Cracker hiccupped and clutched the sleeve of Gee’s jacket with both hands.
He glanced down at her.
“I’m not hitting on you, I said!” Cracker whispered indignantly. “This is just nervousing!”
Gee did not respond. The Hummer seemed to almost glow, a moonlight halo that called to something deep inside him. His heart grew louder and louder inside his ears. He could feel the rush of artificially circulated air sliding down every strand of hair. A hyper-awareness of the crunch, crunch of some food debris beneath his sneakers. He slowly drew the two-by-four back, past his hip, then swung it side-arm, hard, smash! against the headlight.
The glass exploded. Glittering fragments flew, Cracker covering her eyes with her forearm, just as the car alarm began to honk and wail.
