Run before you’re screwed”?
Terrible. Awful.
“Hello, Ari.”
I look up. Oh bloody . . . “Hello.”
That’s five syllables.
Detective Halpern leans against a shiny black car. “Got a minute?”
“No. I’ll be late for school.”
“I’ll give you a lift.”
“Not cool, sir.”
He smiles. “How you doing?”
“Fine.”
“School okay?”
I shrug. “A veritable equation of pluses and minuses.”
“Life, eh.” He drops his cigarette and crushes it out. “How’s your dad doing?”
“Likely still giving all the fish in the St. Lawrence indigestion.”
“Your stepdad. He still enjoying his new position?”
“You’d know better than me.” I step backwards toward school. “Hardly ever see him. Mikey and I are so busy—with sports and stuff.”
“How’re things at home?”
“Well, my mum’s sick, so you know, up and down.”
“Maybe I should drop ’round and see her.”
I’ve no clue what web is being spun, but I’m not getting tangled in it. “Um, her hair’s falling out. Visitors upset her.” I back away. “Really, I have to go.”
His voice catches up to me as I run. “Ari, be careful.”
I bolt across the field, running into a few lines while I do.
Melon collie girl.
Only dogs can be trusted.
Someone retrieve her.
Deplorable.
* * *
By grade twelve and thirteen, so few girls are left taking phys. ed. that even with a combined class we only add up to fourteen. Kendra Blunt doesn’t care that I manslaughtered BS; she’s just happy that she has someone who can pace her around the track. In return for letting her run me into the ground, she gives me a marvellous comb, an Afro comb. “Your mama never teach you how to tame that mess?”
“Kendra, my mama didn’t teach me shit.”
She laughs and checks out my sweatshirt. “You goin’ to UCLA?”
“No, my friend goes there.”
“I’m getting a full ride to McGill. And you watch, I’m makin’ it to the Pan Ams this summer.” She nabs her gear. “Later, ’gater.”
I sit on the hill, a milky sun drying my hair as this spectacular comb skates through, leaving a party of serpentines in its wake. An exquisite haiku is like a moth promising to land if I’m perfectly still.
“You should run cross-country.” Riley Hollingsworth, in sweaty football regalia, plunks himself right where a speck of creative genius was preparing to light. “I’m having a party Friday. Wanna come?”
“I work.”
“Come after.”
I stand. “Thanks, but I’m never finished before two a.m.”
He knocks on my boot, red cowboy boots that I found in Mary’s closet. “I dig these.” When he stands, we are the same height. “I dig you.”
This guy is king of grade thirteen and I’m certain there’s a plot cooking that will see me tied naked to the flagpole, or worse. “Ah, I’m late for class.” I make like an atom and split.
Could this day get any weirder?
Oh, Ari, you’re so funny.
I head to English and drop my crap of a haiku on Ellis’s desk. He asks, “Your family in Montreal okay?”
“The army’s put a lid on the pandemonium but they’re still keeping low.” Ellis is like me: Franco mother, Anglo dad. “How’s your tribe?”
“Trois-Rivières is away from the heart of the storm.” He picks up his book. “How about a little Hamlet to lighten things up.”
“Ah, ‘to take arms against a sea of troubles.’”
* * *
After school, the craphouse is echo quiet. O’Toole says, “Your mummy needs help upstairs, sugar tits.” He nabs Mikey by the collar. “Girl stuff, ass wipe.”
When you take in the bulk of the Dick, it’s hard to imagine that he could get the jump on anyone, but I’m yanked, muzzled, and cornered in the bathroom so fast the floor spins. His hand seals around my nose and mouth. “Do I need to take out my gun?” My head jitters no. I meet him eye to eye, standing dead still as his hand moves to my neck. “Why’d you meet with Halpern?”
“I, I didn’t.” His hand presses then releases, a little. “Just bumped into him on my way to school.”
“Tell me every word that was said and do not”—his jaw grates—“do not fucking lie to me.”
“He asked how I was. And about school.”
“Was he waiting there for you?”
I’m certain he was doing exactly that. “No. He . . . was coming out of a house, glanced up, and saw me.”
“What house?”
“Ah . . . maybe third from the corner?”
“And?”
“We talked about school.”
“And?”
“That’s all.”
“Did he say anything about me?”
“No. Um, yes. He asked if you liked your new job.”
“And?”
“Said you loved it.”
“What else?”
“Just chitter, like Mikey playing hockey and stuff.”
“Did he want you down at the station?”
“No. Said he might stop by for a visit.” His hand tightens. Fingers squeeze. I lengthen my neck. “I told him Mum was sick and a visit would upset her.”
“That it?”
“Offered to drop me at school and I said no. That’s all.”
When he takes his hand away, strands of my hair are tangled on his cufflink. “You see him again, you tell me, you hear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Listen. This is work stuff. I’m deep undercover. Big stuff’s going down. Keep your mouth shut.”
“Maybe we, um, Mikey shouldn’t be here.”
“Long as you keep your mouth shut, everything’s copacetic. Capisce?”
I’d be impressed at his new big word if he hadn’t pronounced it “cop” instead of “cope.” “Yes, sir.” I’ve been expecting the Dick to turn mean. Compared to his fists, this is Christmas. Admittedly, Christmas has always been a complete shit, but survivable.
His pressure lowers and he talks like we’ve just shared a nice cup of tea. “So, how’s Mikey’s hockey coming?”
“His hockey? Ohhh, great, just great.” I glance in the mirror for a bald spot. My perfect spirals have exploded into a stress.
Mikey’s voice follows a soft knock. “Excuse me. May I use the bathroom?”
The Dick opens the door, walking past Mikey like he’s dust. Mikey scans me. “You okay?”
I see he’s come not to pee but rescue me. “Sure. Good.”
“Why’d O’Toole lie? Your mum’s downstairs.”
“She dressed?”
“In a red shiny thing with dragons on it.”
Fitting, she sure is a drag on us. Get it? Get—
Just shut up.
* * *
Aaron is waiting to give us a ride home after volleyball. “Geez, Aaron, Mikey said you had a cold, but you look terrible. Why aren’t you home in bed?”
“Said I’d give you a ride.”
“We were going to drop this off.” I hand him a care package: cough drops, tissues, and Sabina’s voodoo tea concoction that packs a Polish punch to every virus known to humankind. “Put honey in the tea or you’ll never get it down.”
“Thanks.” His voice is husky, eyes ringed. I want to spirit him to the nest and take care of him. I want his skin against my back like it is with Jake and—I don’t want him around at all.
“Where to?” he asks.
Pleasant Cove. “Todd’s work.”
P
ast the windshield, I watch trees shake off the last of their leaves as Mikey jabbers, “Two ladies came to watch Ari play. They were all ‘Wow’ and ‘Holy cow.’”
“Who were they?”
Mikey says, “Girl Scouts of Canada.”
When we reach the clinic, Mikey runs ahead hoping for some dog therapy before returning to crapdom. I climb out on a sigh. “Thanks. Appreciated.”
Aaron asks, “Did Mikey mean a scout for a university was there tonight?”
“Remember that woman who was at the closer last year? I told her I’d only go east for school and couldn’t be convinced otherwise.” The steel of his door provides an anchor for my hands. “She convinced someone from Dalhousie to come watch.”
“And?”
“Think they’re offering me a scholarship. And I don’t need grade thirteen.”
“Oh . . . that’s amazing. Isn’t it?”
“I love playing, it’s closer to home, and . . .”
“Jake will be there.”
“There’s that, but I was going to say that the way I feel at Jarvis I wouldn’t mind ditching thirteen, plus I’ve got to get out of crapdom. Mikey and me.”
“Any escape plans?”
“Yep. I’m going to rat out the Dick and O’Toole.”
“For what?”
“I know where they have ‘acquired’ property stashed.”
“He should’ve been arrested two years ago for assaulting you and Mike.”
“I was afraid then. Didn’t know what cops to trust. Halpern’s a good cop. I’m sure of it. He already knows something stinks.”
“When?”
“Needs a bit of planning. I bumped into Halpern this morning and the Dick knew about it. So, am I being tailed or is Halpern?”
“Why on earth would either be the case?”
“The Dick’s mixed up with some thugs and the new chief is on a dethugging rampage.”
“Just make the call, then get on the eastbound train.”
“To take Mikey east, I have to get legal papers.”
“Go west if you have to. Stay with my parents. They’ve offered time and again.”
“I have a place to lay low until I get a handle on the fallout.”
“How can I help?”
“If you feel up to it, meet me at Sabina’s on Friday and we can fine-tune when and how?” I test his forehead for fever, then my finger drifts along a wave of his hair. “I’m sorry to bale on us. Sorrier than I can say.”
“Jasper’s never wrong, remember? We’ll find equilibrium.” His hand connects with mine still in his hair, holding it like it’s fine china, then he lets go.
* * *
The air has the October bite that Len and I loved and I’m buoyed knowing I’m still connected in spite of the eternity of distance that separates us. I’ll never lose all the years Aaron and I’ve shared.
The craphouse is going to explode. We have to go.
“Earth to Ari. Are you stoned or something?” Todd waves a hand near my face.
“Just thinking.”
“Good game tonight?”
“Really good. You in Rockton this weekend?”
“Yep, ’til Monday.”
Saturday night, Jasper. We’ll send the troops storming.
There are cars in the driveway and on both sides of the street. As we come into the house, Snake walks down the hall and says, “Look at them rosy cheeks. What you been up to, cupcake?”
“Played some volleyball while Mikey honed his skills.”
“Right.” He leans on the banister, blocking the stairs. “So, cupcake, know why they call me Snake?”
Mikey says, “Because of the tattoo on your arm?”
“Good guess, but last name’s Flake. Cop just can’t get no respect with a name like that. Right? Am I right?”
“You’re right.”
Cop? Had him pegged as a robber. Hey, he’s a cobber.
“Mikey, it’s late, go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”
“Night, Snake.”
“Back atcha, Einstein. So, Ari, tell me again about this morning. Just need to make sure Irwin didn’t miss any pertinent details.” There’s a little Jimmy Cagney “you dirty rat” in his voice. “What was he driving?”
“A black sedan?”
“Anyone else in it?”
“Don’t think so. I didn’t really look inside.”
“Why’d he want to talk to you?”
“He’d talk to any of Natasha’s friends if he saw them. Last year was shitty for all of us.”
“You really don’t think he was looking for intel?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Listen. This operation is delicate and top secret, very hush-hush from the chief, so we never had this conversation, capisce?”
“What conversation?”
He winks, moves aside, and I start up the stairs. “Hey, you let me know if O’Toole gives you any grief.”
“His grief I can handle, but I’d appreciate it if you’d tell him to keep his hands in his pockets and his pecker in his pants.”
“Got yourself a deal.”
The reek of piss hits me as soon as I top the stairs. Mum is curled on the bed, cocooned in grayed sheets. Skinny hands under her chin resemble a spindly insect. “Oh, Hariet. Is it snowing?” Tonight, she knows your name but not that she’s pissed herself?
We are so done here.
I breathe through my mouth, unknot the sheets, and find her in Mikey’s striped T-shirt and nothing else. “Oh, for frig sake, Mum.”
“I’m icing.”
She’s hot to touch, clammy, and wobbly as gelatin as I wrestle off Mikey’s top. Her skin doesn’t fit her anymore and her belly looks pregnant, her ankles chubby. Through her glacial shivers, I force on leopard-skin stretch pants, a Christmas sweater, the Dick’s work socks, his old uniform shirt, and a red toque.
I stuff the rancid sheets, fouled blankets, and plastic tablecloth in a garbage bag, spread a hefty bag on the mattress, cover it with the last semi-clean sheet. With all the shit he steals, why the frig can’t he pinch a washer/dryer?
She totters to a sit. “You hungry?” I ask. She shakes no. “Water?” She nods yes. I give her a swig from the filthy cup and she pukes. Mercifully she hits the mounded laundry.
“I’m freezly, Jilly.”
I tip her into bed, cover her with a car blanket and a moth-riddled floral curtain, brave Devil Girl’s cave and snatch Babcia’s cum-stained featherbed. I want out right now. Please just let me go to Dal.
Oh, we might have a haiku.
All night I turn and toss on rumbly voices and muted movement under me. Before dawn, before the fishing boats head out, I call Jake. “Ari? What’s wrong?”
“Something’s right, I think, but I have to ask how you feel about it before moving on things. What if I was able to start at Dalhousie in September?”
“This September?”
“Yeah. Are you jumping or kicking?”
“Jumping. Joy jumping. How?”
“Long story. But you’re sure I wouldn’t be crashing something you’d rather have just for you?”
“No. I’d be over the moon.”
“Okay. I have to go see if Mum still has a pulse. I’ll tell you everything later.”
Mum opens her eyes when I touch her forehead. The whites are yellow and unfocused. “Come pee before you piss your only pants.”
She pisses less than a thimble and pukes up water. I decide my plan is less complicated if she’s out of the house. Her feet have deflated a little and my flats fit. I sacrifice a black tank and tan blazer, which lend a little class to the leopard pants, not much, but it’s better than the Frosty sweater and the Dick’s shirt. A black cloche with a knit flower covers her disgrace of hair. She’s a jittery mound of
jelly to get down the stairs. The Dick’s at the door. I ask, “Can you drive Mum and me to the hospital? She’s not doing so good.”
He tugs on his jacket. “No can do. Gotta be at HQ by eight. Call a cab.” He yells like Mum’s hearing is the problem. “You look real nice, Theresa.”
Snake says, “At your service, cupcake.” Mikey sits up front and I settle Mum in the back of his posh car. After dropping Mikey at school, Snake says, “Tell me the exact route you took yesterday.” I know he knows it, so I don’t lie. He drives down the empty street before taking us to emerg. I shake Mum awake. Snake Flake says, “Take care, cupcake.”
And there’s our haiku.
“Thank you. I really appreciate this.”
“No problemo.”
I wish Mum would have a nosebleed because I have to wait and wait and wait. I leave her snoozing and go call Jennah. All I say is, “I’m at East General. It’s bad.”
“I’m on my way in ten.”
Jennah arrives before I have to face the shame of what Mum has done to herself. Mercifully, her chart gives the doctor the gist. I say, “She hardly eats. Water comes back up. Says she’s cold but feels hot. Her belly and ankles balloon by night.”
He asks, “Confusion?”
“Really bad.”
“Trouble breathing?”
“Winded walking from bed to bathroom.”
“We’ll admit her. Run some tests.” He is kind. Not blindsided-by-Jennah nice. Just kind.
Mum is either unconscious or asleep when an orderly comes to take her to X-ray. The nurse says, “It’ll be a couple of hours before she’s in her room.”
“Thank you,” Jennah says. “The staff here are always just wonderful.” Jennah is only twelve years older than me. Yet she has five kids. Ten if you count the sisters she’s raised. She mothers me out to her car. “You haven’t eaten a thing today, have you? And you look the wreck of the helperus.”
“Hesperus.”
“I meant exactly what I said.”
“I should get to school.”
“Brunch and then I’ll drop you.” There’s a striped shopping bag with a big red star on the front seat. “Merry Christmas.”
“It’s not even November.”
Cracked Pots Page 18
