Chloe Sparrow

by Lesley Crewe

“I would like to, as long as it’s you and Jason and the boys.”

  “You’re twenty-five and a cat lady already. I despair.”

  Austin keeps Becca and lets Emily go. A few of the girls are surprised by that. Becca is triumphant and gives me a big smirk.

  Brian and I wait for Emily’s meltdown in the limo. It happens in seconds, the tears, the look of agony and disappointment. I should have more compassion but I want to shake her.

  “What did I do wrong? I can’t understand what I did wrong. I didn’t even get to go on a one-on-one date.”

  Brian and I are beginning to hate this ritual.

  “You’ve only known Austin for two days. Don’t be heartbroken.”

  She looks at me with puppy-dog eyes. “I was always the last one picked in school.”

  A circumstance I know well. A flood of empathy fills me, so I clasp her hand. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “That bastard can eat shit and die.”

  I drop her hand like a hot potato and bolt, Brian and his camera right behind me. When she’s safely out of sight, we look at each other. Brian shakes his head. “Nothing surprises me anymore. Sometimes I wonder if there are any ladies left in the world.”

  “As a female, I resent your sexist comment, but as a producer I’m also beginning to have my doubts.”

  We begin to edit our footage, which is always tricky. You can slant a story any way you want, but we don’t have the right trajectory yet. More needs to happen with the personalities involved.

  Speaking of personalities, Trey seeks me out in the rose garden, where I drink my coffee in peace. He must be desperate, since he usually avoids me at all costs.

  “I need to speak with you.” He sits on the other end of a garden bench. “And this must remain in the strictest confidence.”

  “Okay.”

  “The lighting engineer and I are…together.”

  “I wasn’t aware. It’s none of my business, but if it makes you feel better, I’m glad you got it off your chest.”

  He glowers at me. “I’m not coming out to you, Miss Sparrow. I don’t need absolution. Jerry and I had a tiff and I’ve just seen yesterday’s rushes. He’s lighting me in such a way that I look like a cadaver on screen, and I’m not going to tolerate it.”

  “I’ll have a word with him.”

  “If you would, I’d be grateful.” He walks away.

  Maybe it’s not that bad. I seek out the film editor and go through the tape.

  It’s bad. I look for Jerry and eventually find him by the pool. When I stand in front of his chair and block the sun, he looks up. “Can I help you?”

  I sit in the chaise next to him. “I’ve had a conversation with Trey.”

  He makes a face. “I can just imagine. Did he mention the sock? Or the fried egg?”

  “I don’t care about socks or fried eggs, but I do care if my host looks like he’s dead, so whatever your disagreement with Trey, keep it between yourselves and don’t ever light him like that again. Are we clear?”

  “How old are you?”

  I jump up from the chaise. “Why?”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  I stand there.

  “That answers my question.” He gets off his chair and walks away.

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “We’re clear,” he shouts over his shoulder.

  My excuse to Austin is a wonky camera and he’ll have to tape his interview again. Trey gives me the briefest of nods when he sees the new rushes. I’m grateful I got that much.

  It’s a day off for everyone, and before I go over to Amanda’s for dinner, I take the bus to visit my family. I can’t wait to see the kittens, and I miss Aunt Ollie and Gramps, too. Their loud voices are the background of my life. It means safety, that they’re nearby if someone breaks in, like a burglar or a zombie.

  The minute I get there I give them a big hug. “Did you miss me?”

  “No, being a new mother is distracting.”

  “That’s a fine thing to tell the child. I missed you.”

  “Thanks, Gramps.”

  “Rub my foot.”

  He takes off his slipper and holds out his leg, but I hurry down the hall to Aunt Ollie’s room. There’s my sweet Norton, looking happy and content with her little brood tucked in against her tummy. She looks up and gives me a sweet purr-meow.

  “Oh, Norton, I’ve missed you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

  She tolerates my kisses up to a point, but when I disturb the kittens, her look says back off, so I lie on my stomach and watch them. Aunt Ollie sits on the end of the bed.

  “I’m missing my television programs because I spend all my time in here.”

  “I’m grateful, Aunt Ollie. I never could have done this stupid job if it wasn’t for you.”

  “You still don’t like it?”

  Rolling over, I lie on my back and think about the question. “I like being the boss, and for the most part I do it well, but the show itself is so…”

  “Stupid is what you said.”

  “How does a person fall in love when they’re surrounded by thirty people watching their every move day and night? It’s exhibitionism.”

  “But on the other hand, these young people want to fall in love, and they’re hopeful, so it’s not all bad.”

  “Why don’t they do it on their own time?”

  “Maybe they’re busy, like you.”

  “Someone asked me the other day if I’d ever been in love and I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Of course you were. Don’t you remember Shawn?”

  “Shawn?” I rack my brains. “No.”

  “He was your partner in kindergarten. You kissed him all the time. The teacher had to call your mother about it.”

  I put my arm over my eyes. “How humiliating.”

  “Your mother and I had a great laugh over it.”

  “She and Dad were in love, weren’t they?”

  Aunt Ollie shrugs. “They were always together, but they had their moments like everyone else.”

  “How did you know you were in love with Howie?”

  “I got warm and fuzzy in my Mary-Ellen.”

  Naturally I tell Amanda what Aunt Ollie said the minute we’re alone in her untidy kitchen. She nearly drops the pan of lasagne she’s taking out of the oven. “Aunt Ollie? The one with the hairnet and compression stockings?”

  “She wasn’t always old—not that fifty-one is old old, she just looks old.”

  “For some reason I don’t picture old people with sex organs.”

  “Okay, drop it. Elderly genitals aren’t appetizing.”

  “You brought it up.”

  Amanda yells out the back door for Jason to bring the boys in for dinner. They have two high chairs they lock their kids into. Their boys are only nine and a half months apart, which always ticks Amanda off when you mention it. She seems to feel like she failed some mommy course and was caught screwing when she should have been comatose like all the other new mothers.

  It’s a relief to see only three placemats put out—she didn’t invite anyone else.

  Being with Amanda and her family is so much fun. Jason is a sweetheart and he’s definitely a nerd. Ask him anything and he knows the answer. He works for some computer games company. J.J. and Callum are fair-skinned like their mom, with big blue eyes and perpetually runny noses. J. J. spends most of his time trying to hit his brother with his plastic utensils. Their dog, Ernie, stations himself between the high chairs and noshes away on the bits of food that are catapulted to the floor. But what I love the most is the way Amanda and Jason look at the boys and laugh about their antics. They are a unit, complete in this bubble of sweet contentment. I say as much to Amanda.

  “Stay until bedtime, Chloe. I
t’s amazing how the love fades into resentment when they refuse to stay in their cribs.”

  Halfway through the meal the doorbell rings. Amanda and Jason glance at each other before she jumps up and goes to the door. I’m immediately suspicious.

  Jason takes a swig of his wine. “I wonder who that can be.”

  “I’m going to kill that woman.”

  Amanda comes back into the dining room. “Look who’s here. Chloe, this is my youngest brother, Steve. Steve, this is my friend and colleague, Chloe Sparrow.”

  Steve smiles and shakes my hand. He’s rather nice looking and that makes me instantly nervous. He’s also tanned. It must run in the family.

  “It’s okay, Chloe. Amanda has a habit of embarrassing people with her hookups, but I like free food, so why not.”

  Everyone laughs. I join in.

  Steve talks non-stop. So do Amanda and Jason. Even the boys babble endlessly. Without even asking, I find out that Steve manages an art gallery downtown, has never married, and likes the Toronto Maple Leafs. His favourite dessert is apple pie, and his mother tries to set him up with her friends’ offspring because she wants more grandchildren.

  That’s nice. A mother who’s interested in you.

  “What do you do in your spare time, Chloe?” Steve asks me.

  “I read.”

  He looks like he expects me to say something else. “And what do you read?”

  “Everything.”

  Amanda glances at me like I’ve done something wrong. I do read everything—should I list the subjects for him? Steve continues to unburden his soul and now I’m worried that I’m pathetic. I lose track of what they’re talking about. When Amanda gets up to serve coffee and dessert, I excuse myself and head to the bathroom. When I return, I overhear Steve and Amanda talking in the kitchen.

  “She doesn’t open her mouth.”

  “She’s shy.”

  “I know shy. She looks bored out of her mind.”

  “Give her a chance.”

  “She’s not my type, Amanda. Thanks, but no thanks.”

  I’m crushed. Who does he think he is? I’m not eating dessert with someone who doesn’t like me. Maybe I’m acting like a big baby, but out the front door I go.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I’m late for the bus again. This is becoming a habit. All night I tossed and turned, brooding about that idiot Steve, hence the bags under my eyes. On top of that I forget breakfast. As soon as I’m on board I stay in the front seat, away from everyone else. This hockey segment had better go smoothly. I’m not in the mood for failure.

  While we’re stuck in morning traffic, Amanda comes up from the back and sits beside me. “Good morning.”

  “Hi.”

  “Why did you bolt?”

  “He said he didn’t like me, so I left.”

  “You didn’t try very hard, did you?”

  Count to ten.

  “I didn’t try very hard because why should I? He was your guest. You invited him, I didn’t. You put me on the spot and I don’t appreciate being seen as your charity case. I felt awkward and embarrassed. I’m perfectly happy on my own.”

  “I agree with everything you said except the last sentence.”

  “You don’t think I’m happy?”

  “No, I don’t. I think you’ve been unhappy for a long, long time. It’s the condition you’re used to. You need to spread your wings and do something foolish. All these girls are your age. Think about that. They’re having a blast down there and you’re up here going over your schedule.”

  “That’s because I’m managing a difficult job and the only thing they have to do is slobber over a guy. Go away, Amanda.”

  “I’m not trying to be mean. You feel like my little sister, and I worry about you.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course I do.

  “Well, that’s nice, I guess. Thank you for dinner.”

  She kisses my forehead. “Have fun today.”

  When we arrive at the rink, the van with the hockey gear is nowhere to be seen. You can’t skate without skates. My phone is glued to my ear while I try to find the van driver, and when he finally shows up I’m all over him before he’s even out of the vehicle.

  “Where were you?”

  “Cool your jets. I’m here now.”

  People never apologize anymore, but there’s no time to argue. By the time everyone is outfitted, two hours have gone by and we don’t have a single frame of film. There are no skates to fit Brian, so he has to go out on the ice in his sneakers. I have visions of him cracking his head open. Our insurance premiums are sky high as it is.

  Eventually we get the so-called hockey game going. There are two teams of girls chasing Austin around the rink, but he skates like the wind. Most of the girls stay on their feet and a few of them are good, but our twins Holly and Molly spend the entire time on their asses, or crawling up the boards—and each other—trying to keep upright.

  “This is hard!”

  “Ditto!”

  Austin tries a few times to teach them how to stand straight, but it’s like they’re both made of rubber. Amanda claps her hands in glee; the more miserable the girls are, the funnier the show.

  Amanda pokes me. “Go skate.”

  It looks like everyone’s having a good time; even the cameramen are throwing snow at each other, so I put on a pair of skates and get out on the ice. My dad took me skating once. Of course, that was twenty years ago, when I was five. I stay by the edge of the boards so I can hold on if I need to. Before long I pick up a little speed, but I’m still looking at my feet.

  Amanda shouts from the bench, “This is how to have fun, Sparrow!”

  Then a puck comes out of nowhere and hits me in the face. I go down like I’ve been shot. There are coloured stars all around and then a big lump between my eyes, which I realize is my nose. Austin gets to me first.

  “Am I bleeding?”

  “Uh…yes. Stay down.”

  Fade to black.

  Amanda, who I’ll kill later, tells me Austin took charge and even yelled at the twins when they came over to see what was happening and almost sliced my fingers off with their skate blades.

  At the hospital they tell me my nose is broken.

  “Does it look bad?” I ask Amanda.

  “Well, it doesn’t look good.”

  “Let me see a mirror.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “Get the mirror.”

  She looks through her purse and produces a compact, blowing on it to get the powder off first.

  I’ve got two black eyes and a boxer’s nose, as well as chip in my front tooth. I glare at her with my swollen eyes. “This is why I don’t have fun.”

  When Amanda drives me home from the hospital and walks me through Aunt Ollie’s door, for the first time in my life I see my aunt and grandfather visibly shaken about something that pertains to me. Gramps insists I sit in his rocking chair.

  “Oh, your poor face,” Aunt Ollie cries into her apron. “You were always such a beautiful girl and now you’re deformed. Who’ll marry you like this?”

  Amanda looks gobsmacked. “What on earth are you saying? She’s not deformed, and of course she’ll get married. Just because she broke her nose and chipped her tooth…”

  “You chipped your tooth!”

  “You’re right, Ollie,” Gramps nods, “she’ll be an old maid like you.”

  Now Amanda’s spray tan turns a dark bronzy colour. “Chloe, would you like to come home with me? I’d be happy to put a mattress in the boy’s room.”

  The thought of sleeping on the floor with two stinky-diapered toddlers is not my idea of a solution.

  “Thanks anyway. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

&
nbsp; It’s beginning to dawn on Aunt Ollie that Amanda is upset with her, so now she gets her back up. “Chloe is perfectly fine here, missy. She can sleep in my bed.”

  Oh joy, oh bliss.

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Amanda.”

  The first night is a bit of a disaster. Despite my happiness at seeing Norton and the kittens, I can’t bend down because it makes my head throb, and I can’t see them when I’m standing up. Aunt Ollie opens a can of beef and vegetable soup and butters a whole row of crackers for me. I try to eat around the little chunks of beef swimming in the bowl. After only two crackers I know that my head will explode if I chew anything else.

  Aunt Ollie hovers as I crawl into her bed, then she passes me painkillers and a glass of water. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse when I come in later.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Ollie.”

  “I suggest you get rid of your snotty friend.”

  Painkillers that could put someone in a coma are no match for Aunt Ollie going to bed. She comes in to gather her toiletries but doesn’t turn on the light. Since she can’t see what she wants, she takes one bottle at a time over to the light of the street lamp coming through the window. “Oh, that’s it.”

  Out she goes, only to come back a second, third, and fourth time to collect her nightie, her hairbrush, and her eye drops. She’s not aware she’s muttering. “Where are my slippers? Did you take my slipper, Norton? Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s under the bureau. Silly me, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached. Funny, my mother used to say that.”

  When she eventually gets in the bed, it’s like being lifted on the crest of a wave. I hang on to the edge of the mattress so I won’t roll down and smack into her broad bum. She fusses and fumes, lies on her side and kneads her pillow until it’s just right, and then sticks another one between her knees. She grapples with the blanket, and then there’s silence.

  For two seconds.

  “Dear God, please make Chloe’s nose pretty again and don’t let her get hurt anymore. Also, she needs to gain a few pounds. Watch over the old crank. Don’t let him fall and break his hip because my life won’t be worth living if that happens. Please keep Norton and her children safe and let me win the lottery this week. Amen.”