by Alice Quinn
“No! No! We’ll scare her!”
“But I thought you’d already spoken to her? You have a date, don’t you?”
“Not now.”
“OK, so we’ll follow her.”
And so we did. We were as discreet as a herd of elephants.
Léo stayed at the back. He didn’t want to be recognized.
Our lack of stealth ninja skills actually worked in our favor—even if she’d seen us, she couldn’t have possibly imagined we were following her. Who would think a broad with her swarm of kids could be up to no good? It also meant she probably hadn’t spotted me the day before, either. Or if she had, she hadn’t been paying much attention.
Sabrina seemed agitated. We were all careful, watching where we were going, trying our hardest not to lose sight of the girl, but Sabrina began trailing behind Léo, scanning behind us every couple of steps.
“What are you doing?” I asked, surprised by her weird behavior.
“Nothing, Mommy. Don’t worry! Everything’th OK!”
Emma peered at me and gibbered, “Sabrina doesn’t want him to attack us from behind!”
Like mother, like daughter. She was becoming a paranoid little freak too! What a pair we were. It was madness! What was she talking about?
“What are you saying, Emma?”
Sabrina marched up to the front to join me. “Nothing, Mommy. Don’t pay any attenthion to her.” Then she said to Emma, “You’re mixthing everything up in your head!”
“Where is she? Where did she go?” asked Léo, suddenly sounding panicky.
The girl had disappeared. We thought we’d lost track of her for good, when we realized she was actually behind us.
“What you wanting with me?” she asked with an odd accent I didn’t recognize.
I jumped half out of my skin and the kids all screeched.
Once my heart had stopped pounding, I giggled. The kids too—except Léo.
“You scared us half to death, sweetheart! You can’t go sneaking up on people from behind like that.”
She must have found it weird that we were laughing. She recognized Léo right away.
“You follow me why?”
“I wanted to a-ask you about o-our d-date! Tomorrow afternoon? I don’t have c-class.”
“No. Father no want this. Hit me if be late.”
My feet were damn near killing me by now, so I sat on a little brick ledge.
What are you doing? Are you in school? What grade are you in? What are you carrying in those packages? Does your father beat you? Where are you from, dressed like that? I so wanted to ask her all these questions, but I didn’t want to see her run for the hills. Léo deserved a chance with her. Young love deserved a chance.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
She stared at me for a long time without saying a word.
“This is Léo,” I added, pointing at the new man of the house.
“I know it,” she whispered.
“Here we have Sabrina, Lisa, and Emma. And I’m Rosie . . . Cricri, actually,” I said, giggling. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain the whole Cricri thing later.”
She managed a smile despite such an avalanche of names to remember.
“What about you? What’s your name?”
“Errr . . . ina,” she whispered.
“What?”
Sabrina translated, “The’th called Erina, Mommy.”
Erina nodded.
“Do you want to eat with us? I’ve got beans! We can ask your father if you want?”
There was no longer even a trace of a smile. Total freak-out. Erina’s eyes wildly darted back and forth. She was scanning every direction, trying to spot the trap.
“Leave alone. Go. Go. Me return house.”
She was choking up. Léo gave me the evil eye. I understood why.
“Don’t worry!”
I didn’t know how to deal with this. I’d sent her into a meltdown. I walked over to her to reassure her. She shuddered when I first touched her, but then relaxed and got closer for a hug. She started crying in my arms.
The children were all eyes—like they’d never seen anything quite so interesting in their lives. Lisa even blubbered a little.
“You’re allowed to have friends, aren’t you?”
She shook her head.
“What about the beach? You can go to the beach, though?”
Another shake of the dome.
“Do you have a swimsuit?”
More shaking. This father of hers didn’t let her do much. Was it that insano from yesterday? The guy who’d tried mouthing off at us?
Her tears were in full flow by this point. I got out an old handkerchief from my pocket so she could blow her nose.
“We’ll take you back to your place.”
We all started trudging. It was like a funeral march. She stuck by Léo’s side. The sky was darkening. I thought it was getting late for my babas to be out and about. They were usually in bed all snug as bugs in rugs by this time. It wasn’t school vacation yet!
Erina whispered, “Me come tomorrow. Me say lie. Me do work quick in morning.”
I couldn’t tell her that she shouldn’t lie to her father. I’d have done the same thing if I were her.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at the fountain,” said Léo. “At two o’clock.”
16
We left her in the murky alleyway next to her house.
She gave us all a heartrending look and was still trembling as she climbed through the window to get inside. It felt as though we were watching a prisoner who’d been allowed to go out in the daylight for a couple of hours, but who now had to go back inside her cage.
Léo couldn’t seem to tear himself away. And neither could I. The twinnies, who are usually to be found in pretty excellent moods, started whimpering. I couldn’t hold them both in my arms like I used to. They were getting far too big for all those shenanigans. It meant I had to carry Lisa while saying to Emma, “It’s your turn in five minutes, OK?”
No, it wasn’t OK. She got herself into a tantrum and sat down on the ground. Sabrina put her arm around her. In the meantime, Léo took the opportunity to head over to the back of Erina’s house and try to get a glimpse of her. I had the same inclination and followed him.
Despite having Lisa in my arms, I stood on my tippy-toes to get a better look. But there was some chiffony fabric hanging up at the window and it wasn’t clear what was going on inside. We managed to find a couple of gaps and got a rough idea of the layout.
The handsome roughneck from the day before was sitting at a table. He’d taken his jacket off. He was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt and smoking a cig. Erina crossed the room to find refuge in what appeared to be a cubbyhole under the stairs. Surely not! She closed the door behind her, but just as it shut, a voice screamed out, “’Rina!”
From outside, the man was certainly easier to hear than he was to see.
He gabbled something in his own language that we didn’t understand. How could we have?
Erina came back out of her Harry Potter room and started to rummage around in a makeshift corner kitchen with some pots and pans. As she left something to heat up on a burner, she set the table for the hot ruffian.
I’d seen enough. I absolutely had to do something for this miserable young girl. But if this guy was her father, what on earth was I supposed to do? Maybe I could speak to Borelli, my cop friend, about it? But I couldn’t exactly go telling the po-po stuff, ratting her out, if I didn’t know what the consequences would be. I risked doing more damage than anything else.
Borelli was a police lieutenant or captain (what do I know about these things?) and one of the people who annoyed me more than anyone in the world. He was also my savior. Still, I had to be careful. I mean, a cop’s a cop—even if he had saved my ass a few times, there’s no reason he wouldn’t whup it too.
“Let’s go home,” I whispered to Léo. “We’ve got beans waiting for us. It’s already way past the bambinos’ bedtime,
and you’ve all got school tomorrow.”
Halfway back, I remembered it was Emma’s turn in my arms and swapped them over. Lisa plodded next to Sabrina and we all traipsed along in silence. We were wiped out.
The inside of our trailer was cool because it sits in the shade of a huge plane tree and a cherry tree—but even so, it’s nice to eat outside sometimes when the weather is that hot. So I got out the camping table.
My rice-and-bean dish wasn’t the extravaganza I’d been hoping for. It was a flop, to be honest. Maybe I was simply too spent or, more than likely, too sad to put in the effort it required.
We were all feeling pretty down. I found the candy bars I’d swiped from Rachel Amar’s waiting room, and this seemed to change the atmosphere. The kiddos were all over that chocolatey deliciousness—well, everyone except Léo, that is. His heart clearly wasn’t in it.
When we finished the meal, the little ones put all the plates and cutlery into a bucket. I hadn’t had time to figure out our water issue, so we’d have to go to the fountain the next day to wash it all up. The plumbing thing hadn’t even crossed my mind. I had no idea what was going on with that.
As we headed inside, everyone cleared something from the camping table—a cup, a napkin, whatever. The rule is you don’t leave the table empty handed. The smallest kiddies loved helping with housework and stuff. Sabrina participated too, but she was a lot less enthusiastic. Léo went toward the small room he’d be using as a bedroom.
A loud whistle stopped him in his tracks just before his door. It was me. I’m one of those loud whistlers. I do it with my fingers and everything. People are usually surprised. Léo spun around and glared at me like I was as crazed as could be.
“You didn’t forget anything by any chance, did you?” I said.
I pointed outside at the table. There were still some pieces of cookware and crap left to tidy away or put in the bucket.
He dragged his feet as he slouched back outside to help finish up. Once the table was clear, I asked him to wipe it down with a damp dishcloth. There was still plenty of water left in the plastic bottles I’d filled earlier.
“We never have to do all this shit at the center,” he moaned. “There are people paid to do all this. And dishwashers. Machines!”
“Oh well, welcome to the real-life club, budster!”
He sighed, but he helped Sabrina wash everything down while I brushed the twinnies’ teeth and put them both in their pj’s.
And then whoooosh, everyone was off to bed! I started telling the girlios a bedtime story, and, because there was a package-carrying princess in it, even Léo was listening. After a short while, I heard snoring.
I went back outside to pick up a few of the toys lying around, along with some empty cans of soda and takeout wrappers that Léo’s buds had left behind.
Before bed, I washed myself down with some cold water from my bottle stash, then slipped between the sheets, feeling much cooler.
It was such a hot and sticky night that even my Pastis didn’t want to sit on me. He slept on the table opposite the open window, a light breeze ruffling his fur slightly.
I went over everything I’d seen and heard that day. What an awful lot to process. What use was all that psychology twaddle I was learning if I couldn’t do anything for Erina? How could I possibly help her?
My life had gotten a whole lot more complicated in just a couple of days:
1) I’d been put in charge of a teenage boy.
2) I was cleaning Véro’s boss’s place. This was great in that it would bring in some money, but not so great when it came to straightening my life out, managing the school runs and all that kerfuffle. Luckily, Véro’s boss was out of town, so I’d be able to pick and choose my hours as long as I actually got the job done. And I absolutely had to find the time to do it properly. Véro trusted me not to mess this up.
3) A random girl who I thought to be in danger had made a sudden appearance in my life. This was never a good thing. It meant I had to do something about it. I felt concerned. Responsible, even.
4) I’d been thrown in at the deep end at Rachel Amar’s. It wasn’t only cleaning I was expected to do. Some cracked broad had gotten the idea that I was some kind of therapist.
And I couldn’t even bear to think about Gaston’s poem I was supposed to be learning by heart. There was only so far I could be pushed before having a loopy episode of my own. A burnout, as they call it. I’d have to make up some sort of excuse for Gaston.
Despite all this weird nonsense going on around me, I reflected, I still had my health. Then I dropped off and didn’t wake for even a second until the sun came back up again.
Wednesday: Fluctuating Current
17
The emotions of yesterday’s events had worn us all out, but I woke up bright and early.
The last images of my dream were still very much with me, almost burning my retinas, which was weird, because I’d spent the night in vast, snowy wastelands. I’d been walking for what seemed like half a lifetime. Wow, Canada is one hell of a freezing country, even when your heart is all warm and fuzzy.
From the other side of a frozen river, a man had beckoned me. All of a sudden, he launched into the air and flew across to meet me, landing at my feet. It was Linus Robinson.
“Are you cold?” he asked, his velvety voice warming the cockles of my heart as he took me in his arms. My skin grew hotter as he held me. The snow started melting beneath my feet and before I knew it, I was knee deep in a pool of icy turquoise water. And then pfffff, I was all on my lonesome. No more Linus.
His departure felt brutal. It was as if I’d known perfect beauty just before it was ripped away from me and I was thrown into the void.
Mmmm. Linus Robinson and those big strong arms of his. The sensation had been nothing short of amazing. Exquisite. So perfectly reassuring. Terrifying but exciting. Just as I had touched upon this ecstasy, I was abandoned in the cold, left in a bottomless, loveless abyss.
The soundtrack to my Canadian adventure, obviously sent by my mother, was about snow and winter, hazy seasons or something. I didn’t know who sang it. It sounded like Simon & Garfunkel. They were huge favorites of my mommy’s. Were they Canadian? Probably not—I’d have to do some Googling. They were singing about winter and a patch of snow on the ground, but there’d been more than a patch in my dream!
I went bright red. Thinking about the song made me feel deliciously sexy. Thoughts of Canada and of the cold ice and Linus Robinson . . . Oh, no! No! Not that! Was I at that point already? Could this actually be love I was feeling? No. Not again. I had to get with the frigging program here! I didn’t even know the guy! Never met him! All I’d seen was some lousy interview on tape!
But that’s where I’d been caught! I thought back to the video. It was as if I’d been trapped in his magic web or some shit.
No! No! There was no way I was starting up all that claptrap again.
It was hard work, though. Giving up an addiction. Loads of folks are obsessed with chocolate, addicted to alcohol, even sports. Worse than sports, some people are addicted to work! Work! I couldn’t believe it when I first heard it either, but it’s true—workaholics actually exist. Maybe they exist in some parallel universe, though, because in my group of friends, well, we’re more addicted to naps and siestas. Maybe it depends on the type of job you’ve got.
As far as I’m concerned, none of those addictions are really my style. What I suffer from is an addiction to love. I’ve known about this for a long time. Or at least since I started reading all that psychology crud. I always have to be in love. If I’m not in love, I feel like there’s a huge gap in my life. Every time it happens, I swear it’s for the last time. The disadvantages far outweigh the pluses. We all know this. When does a love story ever have a happy chirpy ending in real life? We all know about the divorce rates. But then, who cares about the facts and figures and all the evidence? I like falling in love. It’s my guilty pleasure.
And this time, all it h
ad taken was a videotape! Crazy crapola! Could it really be going down like this? I was such a little loser! But I recognized all the signs.
First, it felt like I was having a heart attack. I could hear my heart beating in my chest. And that’s all I could hear. The rest of the world went silent. In fact, it seemed like it had come to an end, or had slowed down and everything turned to black and white. Only the man I happened to be in love with at the time stayed in color. Technicolor!
Rosie girl! You know nothing about this guy! And he’s a shrink! a little voice inside me said.
But another voice was quick to respond. I have two voices. It’s very annoying: So, what’s the big deal? It’s a good thing he’s a shrink! That’ll do nicely! Plus, he’s Canadian! How exotic!
The stricter voice hadn’t let up yet. He has an accent, sure. So what?
I (we) continued this inward debate. A Canadian accent. That really is something.
Is it? What’s the diff?
One side really wanted to win this one. Nothing. I love Canadians, that’s all. They’re nice people. If you ever bump into one, the Canadian will say sorry. I saw that in a TV series once. I guess they’re all class acts.
The harsher inner voice sighed and then shut up. So I’d won.
I got out of bed, feeling a little chilly. Brrrr! I stretched and dragged myself into the living area, singing all about the patch of snow on the ground and the hazy shade of winter. It was a great little tune, but a weird song choice given that it was already a sauna outside.
OK! No good moping around dreaming about Canadians all day! There were little people whose butts needed moving. And now there were five of us to share just the one bathroom—with bottled water! Grim! Plus a breakfast for kings had to be prepared. Well, last night’s bread with a bit of strawberry jelly.
I did everything on autopilot. Like a robot. But a cool one with good fashion sense and heels. I wasn’t doing much in the way of talking. I was still in fantasy mode. The bambinos were all singing as they got out of bed. They’re very jovial in the morning. It was the Pirate Anorak song again. In a loop.
