“You all did an awesome job of drawing your portraits,” she said to the group as they dispersed. “Those of you who didn’t have time to finish, bring your artwork back next week to show the others. Bye, kids! Have a nice weekend.”
She and Peg waved to the last of the children as they left. “They are so sweet,” Samantha said as they tidied up the room.
“Aren’t they, though?” Peg nodded. “Makes me more certain than ever about getting an education degree. How about you? Any aspirations, besides being an artist?”
“Not yet,” she said.
“Lots of time to decide,” Peg said as they walked out, the wall of late afternoon heat hitting them full force, a marked contrast to the coolness inside the youth center. The air hung stifling and close. “Oh my, I could do with a swim now.”
“You and me both,” Samantha agreed.
“Hey, want to come with me to the Bowring Park pool? We can drop by your place for your bathing suit. Please say yes!”
Samantha fished in her pocket to see how much change she had.
“That’s okay, I’ve got money. Come on.”
Samantha dove into the cool deliciousness of the park’s outdoor swimming pool, with Peg close behind. Her very first swim in a city pool, and it was lovely. Her body welcomed the sweet relief from the humidity, feeling refreshed and revitalized. As it was close to supper hour, the crowd had thinned considerably, giving her and Peg plenty of room to paddle about, whooping and hollering as they cannon-balled into the deep end and swam laps, practising their strokes. Oh, to have fun again, like a sixteen-year-old should, she thought. Like her slippery, wet body, the weight of her problems seemed lighter, buoyed by the blue-green water as she swam, her worries dissolving as she cavorted with her companion.
All too soon, a whistle announced their paid hour in the pool had ended, and it was time to get out and dry off. Reluctantly, Samantha emerged from the water, the sting of chlorine still in her nostrils and the brittle feel of it in her hair.
After they showered and dressed in the changing room, Samantha spied Crystal and a couple of her friends strolling through the park, absorbed in animated conversation. Catching her eye, Samantha offered a smile but Crystal scowled and turned her back to her in a flagrant snub. She made sure as well that Samantha saw the whispers she shared with her companions.
Spreading the word. Well now, that’s mature. Excuse me for trying to be friendly and civilized, you rich snob. It wasn’t me that spoiled your dumb party.
***
“You got here just in time to eat,” her mother said when she arrived home. Darlene’s macaroni and cheese couldn’t hold a candle to Nana’s, much like everything else her mother cooked, but Samantha was starving. Ketchup would fix it up nicely. A quick review of the fridge told her that one of them had stocked up on much-needed groceries.
“That smells yummy,” she said, grabbing a plateful and filling them in on her day. “I’m famished from that swim.”
Darlene smiled, her mood obviously improved from yesterday as well. “Veronica and Ben picked up groceries from Sobeys this afternoon. That was a terrific help. Thanks again, Ronnie.”
“And I am delighted to say I have the night off, so Ben is picking me up soon,” Veronica said, stabbing her fork into the cheesy pasta. “We’re taking a drive out around the outskirts.”
Darlene sipped her water. “Why don’t you hang out with your new girlfriends more? Lots of time for boys later, Ronnie.”
“Not this again, Momma! Save your bloody speeches. I have a nice boyfriend—get used to it.”
“Watch that tongue, missy.” Darlene grunted. “Well, I’ve got an extra shift tonight, so I better shower and get ready. Any plans, Sammie?”
“No, I’m feeling kind of lazy. Tired from work and the swim…and the heat! I guess I’ll take it easy and read or something.”
“Our nerdy little bookworm,” teased Veronica as she rose from the table.
Samantha rolled her eyes. “You should try it sometime, dick-wad. I mean, one without the pretty pictures. Someone might take pity on you and help you with the big words.”
Veronica gave her the finger behind Darlene’s back. “Oh, Sammie. Sooner or later you’ll wake up to the big old world waiting outside. You’ll see. You’ll meet a nice boring boy, the class geek, more than likely, fall in love, have nice, boring children, and a nice, boring life. I’m sure there’s someone out there for you, somewhere. As Nana used to say, ‘for every lock there is a key.’”
“Now, Ronnie, that’s enough of your sauce. Don’t go spoiling everyone’s good mood.” Darlene swatted her on the behind as she passed by. “Let’s see you do the dishes tonight for a change. Give Sam a well-deserved break from them, how about it?”
“Okay,” said Veronica, her voice sullen. Piling plates into the sink, she turned on the faucet full force.
Samantha had a powerful urge to hug her mother, relieved to see her acting more like herself. She skirted around the table and threw her arms around Darlene’s neck, pressing her warm cheek to hers. Her heart felt full with emotion. Maybe things will turn out okay after all.
“Love you too,” her mother said gently, clutching her close to her. “What would I do without my beautiful girls?” she whispered.
A sharp rap on the front door interrupted their moment. Veronica flew to open it, suds dripping from her hands as she swung it wide, allowing Ben to enter. He ducked his head a little when he saw Darlene enter the hall.
“Come on in, Ben,” their mother greeted. “Ronnie will be ready in a minute, just as soon as she finishes the dishes.”
“Have a seat,” Veronica said, leading him to the kitchen. “This won’t take long.”
The half-completed portrait on the sideboard caught his attention right away, the one Samantha had forgotten to put away earlier when she’d gotten off work and grabbed her bathing suit. His eyes studied it for a moment before a smile creased his face.
“It’s me, isn’t it? Wow.” He pulled his gaze away to look at Samantha. “You’re really good,” he said, before looking back to study the drawing again.
Samantha’s cheeks burned. “Thank you,” she replied. “Look under it and you’ll see the photo I’m drawing from. One of the shots of you in your back garden.”
Ben examined the photo. He smiled broadly at Samantha.
“I’m hoping I get to hang it over my bed,” Veronica told him. Drying her hands in a kitchen towel, she went over and put her arm around his waist. “Of course, I’d rather see you in the flesh anytime.”
Ben smiled and bent down to her, kissing her on the lips.
Samantha swallowed and turned away. Whenever she witnessed these tender displays between them, it felt like barbed wire was winding around her insides. She knew Ben only had those feelings for her sister, but, dammit, it was not fair. Life was not fair. Samantha found him first! She was the one who befriended him and got him to model for her. Why did Veronica always get what she wanted?
Later, after she bathed and put on a fresh pair of shorts and a blouse, Samantha got herself settled on the front steps with a tall, icy glass of lemonade, reading Wuthering Heights. She found an old chair cushion to sit on, making the concrete step more comfortable. The sun hadn’t set but the temperature had cooled mercifully. Relaxation and sleepiness overcame her. Because money was tight, her mother had accepted the extra shift and Veronica had left before that with Ben. Closing her book for a minute, she leaned her head against the wrought iron railing, listening to the summer evening sounds of the neighbourhood that only now were growing familiar to her.
A little girl’s voice chanted from a couple of doors down, counting to ten in a game of tag. It made her smile and remember the bright tang of her own childhood. The faint whir of a lawn mower droned in the distance, and a backyard dog’s incessant barking joined in from somewhere out of sight. Smiling in her direction, an elderly gent on a ten-speed bicycle pedaled by. She waved at him before she brought her focus back to the
pages in her lap. When a Metrobus roared into view and careened up the street, the diesel fumes made her slightly sick to her stomach, as many strong smells often did. She tried not to inhale through her nose until the bus disappeared.
The purring rumble of a car approached. Samantha looked up to see the silver convertible speeding up the street with Ben at the wheel. The top was down and he was alone. Where is my sister? she wondered to herself, staring.
With a sharp squeal of the tires, Ben stopped the T-bird next to the curb in front of her and turned off the ignition. He didn’t look in her direction, but stared straight ahead, his hands in his lap. Samantha pushed her glasses up from the end of her nose, chucked her book aside and went to talk to him.
“What’s up? Where’s Veronica?”
He avoided her gaze, looking down. “As you can plainly see, not with me,” he said, his voice clipped.
“Why? Where is she now?”
Ben rubbed his hands on the thighs of his torn jeans. “She took off with Mandy and the other one to a party in the east end. I didn’t want to go. She got mad and said I’d probably cramp her style anyway.” Finally, he looked into her face. “We had a fight.”
Samantha saw the pain etched in his eyes and heard it in his voice. “Ronnie loves the whole social scene and meeting new people. You already knew that.” I, on the other hand, not so much, she felt like blurting. But she held her tongue.
“Want to go somewhere, Sam—uh, I mean, Samantha? Let me buy you a drink?”
Samantha’s heart leaped in her throat, making the little “okay” that croaked from her mouth sound weak and doubtful. “Let me lock the door first and find my sweater.” She raced inside, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind.
A moment later, she deposited herself into the front passenger seat of the Thunderbird while Ben held the door for her. Such a gentleman. She prayed he couldn’t tell she had the trembles, or that her stomach was doing Olympian-worthy somersaults. When he got back behind the wheel, she stole a peek to see his face had lost most of its pinched look. She relaxed a little as he put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.
Samantha liked the fact that conversation wasn’t always needed for two people to enjoy each other’s company. As they drove onto New Gower and cruised through the downtown streets and avenues, Samantha rested back in her seat, humming along with the Nirvana song that wailed from the stereo. She was impressed how stunning the vintage car looked from the front seat too, with its polished chrome dashboard features, instrument panel, and its wide expanse of windshield. The feel of the car under her made her imagine riding on a cloud. Her hair blew wildly about, but tonight she didn’t care at all. Ben had asked her out (she tried to forget she was his second choice) and was acting himself again, singing along with Cobain and dancing his fingers along the steering wheel.
Samantha studied the scores of people strolling the sidewalks as dusk closed in and lights winked on. Some were dressed in their weekend finery, others in daytime casual, all varieties of folk caught up in laughter and lively banter as they entered the various restaurants and pubs. Some were young like themselves, sharing secrets, and cigarettes, as they hurried along. Others were the permanent fixtures you might see here on any day or night, where the downtown was their home. They sat on the sidewalk, playing guitars or leaned against the store facades, busking for change. For the second time, Samantha saw the older lady with the shock of white-blonde hair and the long boots, pulling her bag behind her, chatting to herself as she went. Even she added to the carnival atmosphere.
Ben pulled in adjacent to George Street and parked the T-bird behind a white chip wagon. “Hang on a second. I’ve got a craving for a plate of chips,” he said, flashing a grin at her as he got out of the car.
Samantha enjoyed watching the throngs of locals and tourists milling about the famous street while she waited. Irish Newfoundland music drifted out of the bars even this early in the evening, amping up the festive ambience.
Ben reappeared with a large cardboard plate brimming with hot french fries and gravy, two plastic forks, and two cans of Coke. “Share with me?” he offered, passing her a fork and a small serviette. Tearing open packets of vinegar and salt, he doused the fries with both.
Samantha’s mouth watered when she smelled the delicious food, and dug in. “Thanks,” she said around a mouthful, surreptitiously studying Ben as he ate. Could she call this a date? Wouldn’t it qualify? She pushed away a tiny qualm of disloyalty. What would Veronica say if she knew? How earnest was their argument?
A foursome of passing patrons eyed the Thunderbird with appreciative smiles, and one of them whistled as they strolled by.
“They’re looking at our ride like you’re a rock star. You do realize how lucky you are to drive it?” she asked, breaking the tab on her soft drink and taking a long swallow.
Ben shrugged. “I have a fair idea. My old man graduated to this one after he sold his souped-up Mustang Mach I. She was an awesome beauty too. I loved her more than this one, to be honest. 1969, with a 428 Super Cobra Jet engine. It was sad to see her go.”
“You know a lot about cars, by the sound of ya.”
He drained the last of his drink. “Bet you didn’t know the first actual Mustang to come off the assembly line was owned by a Newfoundlander.” He passed along the remaining french fries for Samantha to finish.
“Ya foolish thing. Are you for real?”
“Yep. And now it’s in the Henry Ford museum, still sporting Newfoundland and Labrador license plates.”
“That’s wicked!”
“Hey, would you like to play a game of pool?”
“I’m not very good. I’ll play, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You know a place that lets minors in?”
Ben chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I do.” One of his eyebrows arched as he regarded her playfully.
Samantha loved it when he looked at her that way. Such a beautiful face, and how long were those lashes! Suppressing the desire to reach out and touch his cheek right where the scar was, she felt something inside her do another double back-flip. She looked away, nursing her Coke.
The Thunderbird’s engine roared to life as Ben put it in drive, his sneakered foot decidedly heavy on the accelerator. In minutes they were driving back up New Gower Street, the gentle summer air cooling and caressing Samantha’s warm face. But wait. They were turning onto Gower. Why were they back on Ben’s street?
“My rec room has a billiards table,” Ben said, as he parked the car in his driveway. He pressed the button that slowly made the roof close over the convertible, then turned to her. “Come on. Don’t look so worried. I’m not in the mood for crowds tonight. I just want to chill out with you. Ready for a game?”
Samantha laughed. She laughed whenever she felt nervous and unsure of herself. But her protective mask was slipping, ever so subtly. Ben exerted the power over her to do that. She nodded and followed him around the house to a side entrance. This door allowed them to bypass the rest of the upstairs and took them directly to a small narrow staircase leading down to the rec room. Ben flicked on the light switch as they entered.
Samantha surveyed the wide room. The ceiling was low, but the room had plenty of space for the pool table, a small stereo system, a corner bar, and a couple of worn leather couches. Ben’s little cat, Lily, curled up on the end of one couch on top of an orange throw blanket. She stretched her thin white legs out in front of her and yawned, looking at Samantha with sleepy eyes the colour of warm topaz.
Ben turned on the fixture over the pool table, which had three green shades on a brass bar, bathing the entire table top in bright light. The felt, well-worn in places and the pockets scratched, gave testament to the game’s years of heavy use. On the wall next to the pool table hung an oversized mirror, emblazoned with the Molson Canadian beer logo, and next to it, a rack holding four battered cue sticks. She reached for one of them while Ben opened another door at the far end of the rec room. Lily jumped down from
her couch and slipped between his legs before disappearing upstairs.
“It’s me, old man! A friend and I are playing pool,” he called up the stairs. Samantha heard a muffled voice return some sort of acknowledgement before Ben closed the door again.
“Come sit down for a minute first,” he said, gesturing to a couch as he went to the bar and opened a mini-fridge. “Have a beer with me?” he asked, holding up two bottles.
Samantha didn’t actually want any, but yearning to appear mature in his eyes, she didn’t feel like saying no to him either. She nodded. Ben sat next to her and opened the beers, handing her one. She watched him take a long swallow before she drank a mouthful herself. The coldness of it was pleasurable, even if the bitterness wasn’t. She felt it spread, shooting icy hot sparks through her belly before she took another sip.
Before long, her nervousness eased and her shyness receded. She had so many questions for Ben she was dying to ask, but she didn’t know if he would think her too prying, so she remained silent.
After Ben turned on the stereo, he grabbed more beer and racked up the balls on the table. He broke, but didn’t sink any. Samantha couldn’t stop admiring his butt in his jeans. She took off her sweater. Is it getting hotter here, or is it just me?
“Your turn,” he said, smiling, offering her a pool cue.
An hour had passed by the time they played three games, Ben easily winning all three of them. Samantha giggled at herself for playing so poorly, and apologized. She had managed to sink a half dozen balls, but she was sure they were flukes. She didn’t care, she’d enjoyed watching him play.
Calmer Girls Page 8
