Trickster Drift

by Eden Robinson

  The minutes passed and he could see that she was typing a response and suspected it would be lengthy and filled with swears.

  Maybe I shud’ve let Mave have u, she wrote.

  A good time to practise detachment, Jared thought. Separate the emotions from the conversation. Treat it like information, because that’s all this was. Information.

  SCREW U, he wrote.

  Not like that MORON. I didn’t exctly give u a silver spoon life.

  How did she push his buttons so fast? Why did he let her? How come he couldn’t be cool about shit like this? Fighting back fury and sadness like a toddler standing in the candy aisle of Walmart, wailing at the unfairness of it all. You don’t seem to like me anymore.

  Ur a lot easier 2 like when u arent here all pious n slogan happy.

  Thanks.

  I thot we’d run a grow-op 2gether sum day. Then u went n got fuckin sober.

  You kill spider plants, Jared reminded her.

  Wutever. A pot shack on da rez. You’d make the cookies n I’d handle the AK-15.

  You still can. You have Richie.

  After a pause, his mom texted Didn’t mean 2 drive u away. U judge me n annoy me but I thot I raised u different but I still drove u away the way Mom did me.

  You didn’t drive me away, Jared texted back. I’m going to college.

  U think that makes u better’n me?

  I think that means you raised a kid that’s going to college. That’s probably the most normal thing we’ve ever done.

  Thatz why it feels so wrong.

  Miss u 2 Mom. He hesitated, but decided this was not the time to tell her about seeing Sophia. Or the freaky shit with Georgina. He’d tell her. Of course he’d tell her. Just, you know, not at this moment, when they were barely on speaking terms. Jared then admitted: My marks weren’t good enough. I have to re-take some prerequisites before they’ll consider me for medical sonography programme.

  U’ll figure it out, his mom texted him. You r sneaky that way. Always no how 2 game the system.

  Thanks, Hallmark.

  I mean it. U have 2 be a smart cookie 2 get through the shit we’ve survived. U got it in u. Figure out what they wanna hear n you r golden.

  A notification popped up. She wanted to be friends on Facebook.

  U can text, he typed, but I’m not re-friending you after your spaz attack.

  But SON how will I no if itz raining on you?

  Sarcastic cow, he typed.

  Stuckup lil shit, she typed back.

  Ttyl, he typed. “Talk to you later”: their code for everything’s okay.

  Ttfn. “Ta ta for now”: their mocking way of pretending they were normal.

  8

  For some reason, Jared was on a seiner. He leaned against the railing, watching seals slip below the surface while seagulls screeched overhead. The day was cloudless, the sky a seamless blue. The wind whipped his hoodie and made him squint. Large, dark figures glided under the water. Tall, black dorsal fins broke the surface as the killer whales closed in on the seals, which scattered towards a small, rocky island.

  I’m dreaming, Jared thought. I’ve had this dream before.

  “Why, hello,” Aunt Georgina said.

  She smiled up at him, cheek-dusting glasses and a scaled, reptilian creature with very sharp teeth snarling under her skin. Her flowered dress fluttered around her legs. She sat at a cloth-covered table, drinking from a china tea set with gilt and roses. She turned her head to watch the orcas.

  “Why are you in my dream?” Jared said.

  “You brought me here,” Georgina said. “I was picking apples in my dream. I’m not a big fan of boats. Seasickness, you know.”

  “You don’t have to stay,” Jared said carefully.

  “You’re upset.”

  “Please go,” Jared said.

  They watched the shadows under the water pace the seiner and then peel away, causing broad wakes when they dived.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was married to a coy wolf,” Georgina said. “I didn’t think you could see supernatural beings. You’ve mostly been blind to them unless they’re eating you.”

  “A coy what?” Jared said. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Her expression lightened, but the thing under her skin studied him, interested. She stood, came over and covered his hand where it rested on the railing with hers. She was warm and solid.

  “I’m not human-centric like my brother. My first husband was a deer. Such a sweet man. So gentle. Wee’git got hungry and whacked him over the head with a rock and ate him. After a hundred years, I forgave him because he’s my kin, my clan. I was married to a beaver by then. Hard worker. Very cranky. I came home one night and Wee’git was barbecuing my husband’s tail over the fire. I decided then that I would only marry someone strong enough and smart enough not to get eaten by my brother.”

  “I’m not like Wee’git either,” Jared said.

  She sighed. “My poor, confused Jared. You’re upset and lonely. You reached out and here I am.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Did you know orcas depend on seal pups the way bears depend on salmon?”

  “What?”

  “Killer whales gather at the birthing shores. They have a small window of opportunity, when the pups are too naive to know the danger orcas represent, to eat as many pups as they can. Once the pups gain experience, the feast is over.”

  Jared studied her serene face. She’d be an excellent poker player. “Your point?”

  She chuckled, taking her hand back. “Do you think you’re a seal pup in this story?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m not an orca.”

  “Humans don’t share dreams like this,” she said.

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “I’m not threatening you, Jared. I’m telling you something you aren’t ready to hear. When you’re prepared to know the things that I know, just call me. I’ll come.”

  She vanished. Jared stood at the railing. His palms were clammy where they gripped the railing, despite the wind. Even in the sunlight, Jared felt his skin crawl. Granny Nita said supernatural creatures didn’t think the way normal people thought. Maybe that was it.

  The dream went on, and on, and on. Jared wandered around the seiner. He was alone and far from shore. The orcas and the seals disappeared. The horizon stretched away and the seiner surged forward, faster and faster, as the waves became swells the size of hills, walls of winter-green cold topped with foam. Jared took the wheel, but every way he tried to turn the boat, he saw nothing and no one.

  9

  The last potential apartment of the day had sixteen people standing in line on the walkway leading up to the door, filling out the rental application as they waited to be interviewed. Most of the rooms Jared had seen were in basements where he’d have to share a bathroom with three or four other students. Access to cooking facilities, it turned out, usually meant a microwave, a cocktail fridge and a hot plate in the room. The girl who took his application was about his age, wearing an off-the-shoulder shirt, leggings and stilettos, her hair a side-fall in a rainbow of carefully curled colours. She frowned at Jared, studying him as if she’d seen poop on her shoe.

  “Don’t call us,” she said. “We’ll call you.”

  “Don’t I get to see the room?”

  “Next,” she said.

  The party dudes were having a hangover day. Jared brought them coffee from downstairs and they promised to name their first-borns after him and to give him half of whatever lotteries they won. In his head, Jared could hear Sophia saying something like, Hey, Mr. Enabler 2014, come get your crown. But if David showed again on this last night at the hostel, Jared wanted these guys on his side.

  “Did you find a place?” one of them said.

  “Not yet,” Jared said.

  “Good luck, man.”

  The dudes slept and snored. Jared lay in his bunk. Maybe he should just withdraw from school. Get his tuition back and get a job. His mom was
the only person who thought he had enough smarts to make this work, but she was his mom. But once he got sober, even with his job at the Dairy Queen, he had torn through grade eleven and twelve in one year. He’d taken a cue from his classmate Ebony, who took correspondence courses on top of the regular ones. They were free if you were trying to get your high school diploma. He could only take two at a time, but he’d finished online Art and Geology 11 and then 12. Business Ed and Sociology 11 and then 12. Mr. Wilkinson had kept warning him about burying himself in work. Focus on your recovery. Don’t just replace booze and pot with another addiction.

  No, he wasn’t going to quit before he started. But his student loan wasn’t going to stretch to cover rent and bills. He guessed he could try Mave’s place. Given his recent track record with relatives, he’d probably last a night, maybe two, before he discovered she ate living monkey brains with a grapefruit spoon. His mom insisted she was okay with him staying with Mave, but it was wrong on so many levels. What kind of person tried to take another person’s kid? How did you get past that?

  His mom held grudges like her life depended on it. His childhood had been messed up, but hers must have been catastrophic. How did you grow up with someone who’d been experimented on? How did you walk away from that as a normal person?

  He hadn’t even known Mavis existed until last year, when Richie had let it slip that Jared had an aunt. Then Sophia had pointed him to Mavis’s author website, warning him that she was one of his mom’s biggest triggers. He had no idea why his mom’d decided to stop grinding that particular axe. Maybe if he met Mavis, missing pieces of the Mom puzzle would fall into place. Maybe Mavis had answers.

  He checked the time on his phone. It was way too late to call her. He’d leave a text, see if she even remembered he was in town.

  Hello, Ms. Moody. This is Jared, Maggie’s son. Is the offer still open to stay a few nights at your place? Hope to hear from you soon. Thanks.

  On my way, Mavis Moody texted him back. Throwing on some clothes.

  Night owl, a part of his brain thought. Another part of him wanted to erase the message. He really couldn’t deal with any more drama.

  But it was Mavis or a homeless shelter. Any port in a storm, he thought.

  Is tomorrow okay? he texted back. I check out at 11 am. I can catch a bus if you give me your address.

  Don’t be silly. I’m driving a red bug. You can’t miss it. 1114 Burnaby?

  Yes.

  I’ll see you tomorrow @ 11. Night, Jared.

  Night.

  And that was that.

  10

  The red-headed front desk clerk had her hair braided into a crown. “Hey, Jared. Checking out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you enjoy your stay? You know, other than the creep?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  It wasn’t until he was outside and checking the total that he noticed she’d written her number and a note on his checkout receipt: Nice meeting you, Jared. Call if you need help finding a place, Brianna

  He leaned against a wall and scrolled through his messages. As the minutes ticked by, he started to think Mave had forgotten him. He took his ball cap out of his backpack to shade his face from the sun. He looked up available shelters, trying to figure out which one was the closest.

  Traffic! Mave texted him at 11:35. Sorry! I’m almost there!

  Jared went back into the lobby to escape the blistering midday heat. Brianna, the redhead, smiled when she saw him walking back in, lifting her giant-ass Starbucks mug in a salute.

  Maybe she was just one of those super-nice people who wanted to help. Jared gave her a little wave, hoping she didn’t think he’d come back to hit on her.

  She waved back.

  He hadn’t flirted in so long, he had to run through a mental list of responses. Go talk to her seemed appropriate. See if she was interested, if they vibed. Not that he could take her out anywhere. But saying hi couldn’t hurt. Hey, Brianna, what’s shaking? Hi, yeah, I’d love some help. No. God. He’d forgotten how to be chill.

  At that moment, a short-haired woman with a bunch of metallic helium balloons walked into the lobby. His aunt—he recognized her from her author photos. She was tanned. She wore a bright-blue dress and shiny brown heels. Her neck dripped with turquoise beads.

  “Jared!” she shouted when she spotted him. “Jared!”

  “Hi,” he said.

  She clutched him. The balloons formed a wobbly cloud over their heads as she burst into tears, saying his name over and over. Brianna, helpful Brianna, smirked. Mavis grabbed the sides of his head and stared at him, her forehead bumping his baseball cap.

  “I knew you the second I saw you,” she said. “I’d have known you anywhere. Did you know it was me?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Jared said.

  She looked up and then loosened the knot of ribbons. “Give me your wrist.”

  “Yeah, um, I—”

  “One balloon for each birthday I missed,” she said, and started crying again. Not wanting to make a bigger scene, he let her slip the ribbons around his hand, feeling a furious blush start. People passing through the lobby paused to stare. Brianna lifted her cell and snapped a picture. Jared grabbed his backpack and slung it over his free arm. Mavis clutched his balloon hand. The ribbons formed a screen of sorts as she led him away. The balloons banged around the door frame as they exited the hostel.

  “Is that all you brought?” she said, indicating his backpack.

  “Yup.”

  “My, you travel light. Are you hungry?”

  “No. No, thanks, I mean. I’m good, Ms. Moody. Tired.”

  “It’s Mave, just Mave. I’m so sorry I’m late. I told the woman at the dollar store that I was in a rush, but the helium tank made her—Never mind, not important. Do you want to get some lunch or go straight home?”

  “Um. Home.”

  “I can drive you up to BCIT if you’d like to look around before your classes start.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Don’t you want to get orientated?”

  “I’m just tired right now.”

  She laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m so excited. Beginnings are all about possibilities, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  She popped the trunk of a cherry-red Volkswagen Beetle with black polka dots and two black, glittery wings on the roof. The headlights had black pupils painted on them and were surrounded with long black lashes.

  “Okay,” Jared said.

  “I wanted an orca or a Darth Vader helmet,” Mave said. “But my artist was all hormonal and precious from her pre-op crap.”

  “Huh,” Jared said, half-listening, trying to figure out how he was going to get his backpack in when the trunk was crammed with banker boxes, stacks of books, stuffed grocery bags, dry cleaning and what looked like a hamster cage filled with Barbie heads. “Maybe we should put this in the back seat?”

  “You may be right,” she said. “I’ll ask her to re-pimp my ride after she gets her boobs done. Then we’ll get something fierce.”

  They spent another five minutes stuffing the balloons in the back seat. In the end, he tied them to his backpack. Mave smiled at him. Jared tried to smile back, and then felt stupid, and then felt bad about feeling stupid. He wished she’d stop staring at him. He sat and pulled the door closed, relieved to be looking at something other than his aunt, who slid into the driver’s seat. She opened the windows.

  “I have a fantastic phone plan,” Mave said. She turned to him, putting a hand on his arm. “I bundled it with my cell service and Internet.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” Jared said.

  “So if you want to phone anyone, any time, you can.” She rummaged in her purse.

  “I’m good.”

  Her cellphone was in a bright-red case. She waggled it. “I bet your mom wants to know you’re safe.”

  “That’s, um…yeah. Thanks.”

  “Are you
going to phone her? ’Cause if she’s waiting to hear from you and she doesn’t, she might freak.”

  “She won’t freak.”

  “I’d freak.”

  Jared tried to think of a diplomatic answer.

  “I’m amazed she called me,” Mave said.

  Jared shrugged.

  “That’s proof she loves you more than anything.”

  “I guess,” Jared said.

  His aunt zoomed out of their parking space without doing a shoulder check. Jared pulled his seat belt down quickly. They turned left on a yellow light that flipped red when they were halfway through the intersection. Jared lost what his aunt was saying, watching the oncoming black truck in slow motion. It honked. Mave airily waved and sped up, honking in turn at the car ahead of her.

  Buildings rolled in small hills in the distance until they hit the mountains circling the city. Light reflected off the buildings and, despite the open windows, Jared could feel the sweat drip down his armpits and his back, could feel the grunge of his sweaty jeans. The balloons bobbled in the back seat like excited kids.

  “So. Your mom tells me you want to get into diagnostic medical sonography,” Mave said. “That you’re upgrading to get into this…technical programme. Is that your passion?”

  “What?” He loosened his death grip on the seat belt and the door.

  “Is it your dream?” Mave said.

  He turned to look at her.

  She frowned at him. “You’re going to be spending your days looking at people’s innards. Sick, grumpy people. It had better be something you love.”

  “It’ll pay the bills.”

  “I’m just saying that before you commit a whole bunch of time and energy to something that isn’t going to make you happy, maybe you should have a little rethink, Jelly Bean.”

  He thought that nickname had died with his parents’ marriage.

  “What does your mom think?” Mave said.

  “She’s, um, you know, Mom.”

  “There’s no judgment here. Just concern. And love.”

  Jared could see why his mom found her sister irritating. The shelter would be noisy, and there was the possibility of bedbugs, but at least no one would be questioning his life choices.