Calmer Girls

by Jennifer Kelland Perry

  “I c’n manage by m’self,” Darlene slurred, pushing against the patient cabbie. To Samantha, he acted as if he was used to the likes of her. He grinned when she finally moved to help, taking her mother’s arm while he held the other, and in this manner they steered her up over the steps and into the house. Together, they guided her inside to a chair in the kitchen. Samantha rummaged through Darlene’s purse for money to give the cabbie, but he said the fare had been taken care of by someone at the pub. His eyes were full of sympathy as he waved goodbye and left.

  In the glaring light of the kitchen, Darlene was a sorry sight. Her mascara was smeared, her eyes were unfocused, and a red stain on her blouse gave testament to the wine she’d spilled on herself. She cupped her chin in her hand, her elbow resting on the table. “Where’s Ronnie? What time is it?” she asked. “Did-joo guys eat?”

  “When was the last time you ate, Momma?” Samantha asked. “My God, what are you doing to yourself?” She burned with fresh anger.

  Darlene attempted standing. “Not hungry…I need to lie down…”

  Samantha rushed to her side and helped her navigate the hallway into the living room, managing to settle her on the couch. Getting her upstairs with no one else to help was an impossibility, so the couch would have to do. Samantha covered her upper body and shoulders with a throw blanket. Before she even closed the drapes, turned off the light, and left the room, Darlene was snoring.

  She sat, limp, at the foot of the staircase. Never had she felt so alone. She’d lost her father to the oil patch and to the new woman he’d found. She’d lost her mother to the bottle. Her sister was with Ben, the boy who, under a different circumstance, might have been her first love. And no Nana. Not a single soul to comfort her, not a single soul to tell her everything wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

  As the rimed fingers of cold despair stiffened around her heart, Samantha suspected she wasn’t only alone. She envisioned her entire dubious future, like a rudderless boat, veering out of control.

  Chapter Eleven

  August 1993

  Wednesday dawned with the promise of reasonably light winds and sunny skies, so the local radio station announced the Royal St. John’s Regatta was a go. Samantha woke up early anyway, having restlessly tossed about for most of the night. When she finally managed to drift off, she had dark, disturbing nightmares about scary, mixed-up Nana. Pieces of them clung to her consciousness for hours.

  Sunday—the day after Darlene’s drunken homecoming—had been full of contrite and embarrassed apologies, and a promise guaranteed to Samantha of it never happening again.

  But she was not yet convinced. True, her mother stayed away from drinking these past several days, but she’d grown jittery and withdrawn, barely talking to her and Ronnie, hardly meeting their eyes with hers. She picked at her meals and drank copious mugs of coffee when she wasn’t at work. The dark circles under her eyes had deepened. Samantha had been further shocked yesterday evening when she’d come home from the youth center and caught her mother stretched out on the frayed wicker lounger on the back veranda, her hands trembling while she smoked a cigarette. It was a habit she and their father had abandoned together years ago.

  Sunday morning, Samantha had gone into her sister’s bedroom and roused her from sleep. She’d relayed the previous night’s scene to her, refusing to bear the burden alone even if Veronica did despise her at the moment. It had given her some comfort to see a trace of concern on Veronica’s sleepy face.

  “Sam, just think for a moment how it must be for her,” she’d said, climbing out of bed and reaching for her clothes. “Hearing about Daddy’s new girlfriend had to feel like a kick in the teeth to her. Anyone can see she’s having a rough time with it, so I’m certainly not going to add to her grief by also jumping on her about her drinking.” She yawned, looking at herself in the full-length mirror hung on the back of her door. Frowning, she pulled off her blouse and rummaged through her closet. “I won’t let on that I know what happened last night and we’ll see how it goes, kay?”

  In the next breath, Veronica had asked her if she had finished Ben’s portrait yet, and if she could have it to frame and pin over her bed. Samantha nearly had it done—in a day or so it would be ready, she’d told her.

  It consoled her that at least she and Veronica were on speaking terms again.

  At 8:30 in the morning on Regatta Day, Samantha walked to Quidi Vidi Lake with Mandy and Kalen, arriving at lakeside with barely enough time to find Gina and to await Charlie’s first race. Veronica begged off, wanting to sleep in, saying she planned to take in the festivities later that afternoon, so Samantha did a double-take when she saw Ben hanging out with other friends. He looked especially handsome and appealing this morning in a white V-neck shirt and jeans, his aviators propped on top of his head. His hair in the sunshine made her think of warm, melted chocolate.

  “Samantha,” he greeted her with a smile, his eyes wide. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

  “Moral support for Gina and Charlie,” she said.

  They moved with the other spectators, converging at the water’s edge to get a better view of the race. Each of the five narrow, fifty-foot boats lining up into position held six oarsmen and a coxswain to steer and egg them on. Proudly, Gina pointed out Charlie’s Intermediate crew to everyone in their group, her enthusiasm contagious. The young men, sporting bright red tank tops and anxious faces, burst into action at the shot of the starting pistol, all rowing in perfect unison.

  Samantha found herself caught up in the exhilaration of seeing her first Regatta race. She looked on as the boats rounded the buoys on the southern end of the lake, then headed north to the finish line at the starting stake. The coxswains shouted and the crowd cheered. Moments later, Charlie’s crew rowed into fourth place. On the shoreline, fans for the winners whooped and laughed, giving each other high-fives.

  “Better luck next time,” Kalen said, wrapping a consoling arm around Gina’s shoulders.

  Good old Kalen, Samantha thought. Always there to cheer us up.

  Samantha stole a glance in Ben’s direction, noticing how subdued he looked, standing at the fringe of their group. That was usually her department. Why did he look sad? Surely he hadn’t been invested in the outcome of the boat race. Her stomach growled. She’d only had time to grab an oat muffin this morning. Walking over to him, she swallowed her nervousness and donned a bright smile.

  “Hey, Ben. Any particular concession stand you recommend for a snack?”

  A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, the light returning to his brown eyes. “What are you in the mood for? Come on, I could do with a bite myself. Let’s see what we can find.”

  After telling her friends where she was going, Samantha joined him. She struggled to ignore their curious looks as she and Ben plunged into the colourful throngs that were growing exponentially around them with every passing minute. People of all shapes and sizes jostled against them as they navigated the grounds, a plethora of odours assailing her nostrils. Without warning, the pungent combination of popcorn, aftershave, perspiration, and cigarette smoke sent her empty stomach lurching with nausea. The toe of her sneaker hooked into the wheel of a baby stroller she hadn’t seen and she lost her balance, but Ben caught her before she fell headlong into the crush of people. She thanked him, thinking how the reassurance of his smile inflated her with happiness and the strength of his arms thrilled her as they held her again, for that brief moment.

  “You okay?” Ben asked, his face full of concern as she tried to regain her composure. “You look kind of pale.”

  “A-Okay. Should’ve eaten a better breakfast, I guess.”

  Ben guided her through the milling crowd, cutting a pathway for them toward the bright array of concession stands and games of chance. After lining up for the food and searching for a spot to eat, they sat enjoying their fully loaded hot dogs and orange Crush on the bandstand steps, watching the people go by. The mingled smells of french fries, nac
hos, and cotton candy drifted around them. Samantha smiled, reaching with her napkin to wipe a dab of mustard from Ben’s chin. The gesture made him chuckle.

  When they finished, Ben put their trash in a nearby receptacle and pulled her to her feet. “Would you like to take a walk around the lake with me?”

  Samantha jumped at the suggestion of having more alone time with him. She could always try her luck playing the games of chance later. After all, Ben was the only prize she really wanted.

  While they walked, she relaxed into her own skin, and a sense of calm settled over her. Drinking in the immaculate blue of the summer sky and the sun’s rich gleam on the lake’s surface, she nurtured a deepening connection with her surroundings and with her companion.

  At the far north of the lake’s walking trail where the flickering dance of light and shade dappled the water, they paused to enjoy a flock of mallard ducks swimming in fluid, graceful arcs. Samantha leaned over the rail of the bridge they rested on, pointing, commenting on the vibrant, bottle-green heads of the males. Together, they watched a small group of younger ducks gliding on the rippling water, their little bodies leaving gentle wakes as they paddled on. The pleasant weight of the hot sun pressed on her shoulders.

  “You must have seen lots of Regattas,” she said.

  The ducks waddled in on the land, looking about, in apparent hope of a breadcrumb offering that may get tossed their way. They didn’t wait long before a bespectacled, grey-haired woman appeared on the shore, carrying a paper bag. She inched closer, scattering small handfuls of grain feed to them.

  “Nah, not that many. My folks preferred getting away from the crowds, usually going somewhere quiet when they got a day off. My mother’s idea, mostly.” Ben’s gaze followed the water fowl as they pecked the soft muddy ground with their bills, their quacks filling the air. “Mom used to say, ‘Oh no, it’s Regret-ta time again, our chance to escape to the country.’”

  Samantha laughed. “Too many people in one spot.” She knew the feeling. She looked along the opposing shores where the gaudy masses moved about. Probably fifty or sixty times the population of Calmer right there, she guessed.

  “Never one for noise and crowds in her free time. She’d rather have a swim or a picnic out of town somewhere. I couldn’t blame her. Mom worked in a busy bank then and she adored getting out in nature whenever she had the chance.” Ben turned toward her as he leaned against the bridge rail, openly studying her. “Something like you. Quiet, thoughtful. And different.”

  Funny, Samantha smiled inwardly. She already thought of him that way, but as more of an enigma. “Does she still work at the bank?”

  Ben looked down at the water and shook his head. “That was when I was a kid. She quit years ago, after a holdup at her branch.”

  “Holy! No one was hurt, were they?”

  “Not physically. But Mom was the teller he used to collect the cash, all the while barking orders with a shotgun trained on her head. She ended up with a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress, took a leave of absence, and never went back.”

  “That’s horrible! Did they catch the crook?” She sympathized with his mother, but at the same time she was happy he was opening up to her about his past.

  “Yeah, later that very evening.” He surprised Samantha then, by taking her hand and squeezing it tightly.

  Why am I feeling such an intense connection to you, Ben?

  As if answering her thoughts, Ben pulled her toward him until their bodies almost touched. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, afraid to speak and ruin the moment. Taking his time, he took off her glasses, gently tilted her face with his fingers, and looked down into her eyes. Scarcely allowing herself to breathe, she knew in the next second his lips would be on hers. The depth of her anticipation was acute and unprecedented. And when their lips met at last, it seemed as if time came to an abrupt and utter standstill.

  The pleasure of his mouth on hers was so unexpected, felt so incredible, it took her by surprise. She barely moved as the softness of his lips explored hers with a carefully restrained passion. His arms encircled her, pulling her body closer to his. Where was she? Was she still standing in the sun by the lake or was she in another dimension? Was it only this moment they were sharing or was it more? A weightless rapture lifted her, as if they were floating above it all; as if they were alone in a fresh, new world of their own making. Everything she knew seemed to fall away to make room for the knowledge and hunger of this kiss.

  And it was nothing like her first kiss on the hockey bus, not even remotely like it—at all. For the rest of her life, Samantha knew she would think of this one as her first.

  When Ben’s lips finally tore away from hers, he was smiling. Her happiness was mirrored in his eyes.

  “You’re a doll, you know that?” he murmured, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Sweet sixteen and never been kissed?”

  “No, not really,” she whispered. “Definitely not like that.”

  “Smart, talented, sensitive…”

  Samantha wished he would stop talking and kiss her again. Instead, he sighed, passed back her glasses, and reached gently for her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, Samantha saw the lady feeding the ducks smile in their direction. They continued their walk on the trail that would bring them back around the lake.

  Oh, Ben. You made the choice to be my sister’s boyfriend, didn’t you? So why did you kiss me like that…and why are you holding my hand? Don’t you know you’re confusing the hell out of me? This is way beyond being nice to your girlfriend’s kid sister!

  A part of her remained too afraid to ask him any of this. She welcomed the warm and companionable silence between them as they walked, not wanting to give voice to the questions that might spoil what they shared. So she let herself enjoy the last of their time alone together before rejoining the crowd.

  Happily for her, Veronica still hadn’t shown up. Samantha didn’t want to speculate what her reaction would be to see them together again—spitting dragon fire, no doubt. And really, who could blame her? For certain, both of them would be in Ronnie’s bad books again, particularly if she found out what just happened. To be safe, and as much as she didn’t want to, she unclasped her hand from Ben’s.

  “Don’t worry about Veronica. She’s waiting until I pick her up later,” he said.

  Sam guessed he could read the relief on her face. “But I don’t see any of our friends, do you?” she asked, scanning the mob. “Think they left?”

  “Forget about them. Come on, let’s try to win something.” Ben grabbed her by the hand again as they pressed into the crowd. “Ah, the humanity!”

  She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face if she tried.

  On the couch that evening with the oversized drawing pad in her lap, Samantha applied the finishing touches to Ben’s portrait, hoping to be done with it by the time Veronica returned from her date. Tenderly, she penciled in the small scar near his mouth, smudging it lightly with her finger. Holding it up for examination, she considered it her best drawing yet. She wished she could show it to him.

  She did her best to push away the desolation that threatened to consume her, at the same time trying to tune out her mother, a huge distraction as she worked. Off work today due to the paid holiday, Darlene couldn’t seem to settle down. She paced, drank coffee, and flipped through assorted magazines on the coffee table. She switched on the television, surfed through the stations, and then clicked it off again.

  Samantha knew how easy it was for her to soak up her mother’s emotions. Like a damn sponge, I am. She couldn’t stop Darlene’s restless agitation from seeping into her pores.

  Finally, Darlene put down her mug and slipped into her hoodie. “I’m going out for a little while. I won’t be long.”

  “Is that a wise idea? Alone at night?”

  “Don’t worry.” Then she was gone.

  Dying for a drink, I bet. How long would it take to get that alcoholic monkey off her back? How long before her hand
s stopped that awful trembling and her appetite returned? Was she heading for a relapse? Or just another cigarette?

  Samantha reached to the other end of the couch, picking up the small, stuffed unicorn Ben had won for her that day on a ring toss. Hugging the pink and white plushness to her chest, she buried her nose into its long, synthetic mane. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to breathe in any scent reminiscent of their “date” together.

  When she tried with all her might, she could imagine smelling cotton candy, chili dogs, sunshine, and the intimate smell of him. Because when she thought of Ben and the way he’d looked at her, everything wrong with her life didn’t hurt as much. Her problems were more bearable. And everything she intrinsically loved about life, she now loved even more. When they’d been together today, the sun had dazzled brighter and the sky had been a deeper, more electric blue than she’d ever experienced.

  Ben had kissed her. He’d held her. He had been attentive to her every want. Their hours together at the Regatta had flown by and had been the most fun she remembered enjoying in ages—or ever.

  As much as I don’t want to betray Veronica or suffer Ben’s rejection, I’ve gone and fallen in love.

  She flung the unicorn across the room.

  It was unavoidable. One of the Cross sisters was in for a broken heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’m going for a run,” Veronica announced, tying up her sneakers. “Don’t hold supper for me. When I get back and have a shower, I’m meeting Ben. We’re grabbing something to eat later.”

  “Suit yourself,” Darlene said. “That leaves more leftovers for us.”