Chapter 11
CALLUM
I had to force myself to leave Zeke’s place and head back to Grandpa’s around lunchtime.
Sully and Hannah had taken off after a couple of hours, but Sully had promised to come back sometime and take Jos to a collectors’ shop to get storage boxes and good covers for the seven comics that were most valuable.
They hadn’t found any real treasure— not like the million bucks Zeke had found online for the very rarest comics.
But one in the second tub listed for almost two hundred dollars online, which was a lot for a twelve-year-old, and there might be more.
They hadn’t had time to research everything.
Jos said he was going to work his way through the collection. He’d perked up, and was actually talking to us with enthusiasm and full sentences. Zeke owed Olivia a whole lot of donuts.
I could still be over there, where Zeke was making lunch and Jos was chattering about drawing styles.
But no, here I was, sneaking in my front door, hoping Uncle Wayne was off somewhere else.
Grandpa’s truck was gone, so no doubt he was working a shift at the store.
I mostly wanted to go up to my room, get out of these sweaty and uncomfortable clothes, and figure out what to do next.
Except Grandpa was sitting in the kitchen and he called to me as I turned for the stairs.
Reluctantly, my shoes squeaking on the hardwood, I headed down the hall and went into the kitchen.
Grandpa smiled and gestured at the coffeemaker. “Want a cup?”
“Zeke made a bunch. I’m swimming in it.”
His face fell. “Sure. Looks like you didn’t come back at all last night?”
“No.” I pulled out the chair opposite him and dropped heavily into it. “Why’s Uncle Wayne living here, Grandpa? You know how he is. He stole from you the last time.”
“He got some counseling in prison. He swears he’s not gambling anymore.”
I couldn’t help a scoffing laugh.
“Yeah.” Grandpa rubbed his neck. “Look, I’m not na?ve.”
I didn’t scoff again at that, although it was a near thing. Except Grandpa wasn’t na?ve as much as an optimist.
He sighed. “I know gambling addiction isn’t easy to kick.
I doubt the prisons do all that well at treatment.
If Wayne doesn’t continue with therapy or twelve-step, whatever, and make a big effort, he’s likely to fall back into that trap.
But he’s still my son.” Grandpa leaned toward me, his faded blue eyes intense.
“I know he has faults. I know we can’t really trust him.
But he’s still my little boy, somewhere down inside.
He’s the kid who tagged along after your father and wanted to be like him, the son who tried to bake muffins for your grandma’s birthday when she was sick.
He’s broke, he has nowhere else to live.
I’m not going to kick him out onto the street. ”
“He’s not a boy.”
“No, and he’s made a lot of mistakes. But if I don’t give him a second chance, who will?”
Second chance? Try tenth chance. Fiftieth chance. “Surely there’s some other way. A halfway house, maybe, where they’d keep an eye on him.”
“Nothing he qualifies for, or that isn’t focused on drugs.”
“I could pay for an apartment for him,” I said, my throat tight. I wanted him out of my life, and even more, out of Grandpa’s. “It’d have to be cheap. I couldn’t even afford the rent on my last place by myself. But there must be something.”
“That’s generous of you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. If Wayne’s off on his own, in a squalid little apartment with no money and no company except his old friends, he won’t have any reason to resist. He’ll be back in the gambling trap fast.”
But he won’t drag you down with him. And he won’t be in my face. “At least promise you won’t give him money. I don’t want you to lose Nina’s or the house because of Uncle Wayne.”
“I won’t give him money, just his meals and a place to sleep. He’s out looking for work, and he promised to stop in at a twelve-step meeting. He found one online.”
I didn’t think people looked for work by driving around the city these days. Wasn’t it all online? But then, I’d been doing hockey and the store all my life. I’d never looked for a job. “Did he take your truck? Does he even have a licence?”
“Uh.” Grandpa looked startled. “You know, I didn’t even think of that. I bet it didn’t occur to him either.”
Sure, it didn’t.
“I took the day off, so I wasn’t using the truck. I’ll ask next time I see him. If he doesn’t have an active licence, he’ll need to get one ASAP. Not having it will cut down on his job options.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t point out that a criminal record with fraud in it would cut down even more. I hoped he could find a job and move out and stay away from my life.
I was about to go upstairs and change when I heard a vehicle in the drive. I stayed frozen in place, and I happened to be looking at Grandpa, so I saw something— fatigue or sadness— make his mouth turn down at the corners for a moment, before he put a smile firmly in place.
The front door opened, and then Uncle Wayne appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Hey, do I smell coffee? Thanks, Dad, you’re a lifesaver.” He strolled over to the coffeemaker and poured himself a mug.
“Any luck?” Grandpa asked. “How was the twelve-step meeting?”
“Doesn’t seem like anyone’s hiring, at least not today.
I’ll look again on a weekday.” Uncle Wayne sucked down half his coffee.
“The meeting sucked. Lots of sad losers in there, whining about how they lost their bank account or they lost their wife. What do they know about losing stuff, with their suits and their cars and their lives? I bet not one of them hid under a bunk to keep a cellmate high on meth from beating the shit out of them.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t connect with them,” Grandpa said. “I’m sure there are other meetings around.”
“I can do it on my own. Don’t need to sit in a circle bitching and oversharing, you know?”
Grandpa straightened his shoulders. “If you want to live here, you have to go to meetings. Or a private therapist, if you prefer. I’ll pay for that, if you agree to try.”
“Sure, sure. Maybe a private therapist would be better. Less bullshit. I’ll ask around and see if I can find someone.”
“I bet Gamblers Anonymous would have recommendations,” I suggested. I could imagine “ask around” becoming doing nothing for months. Or hiring one of his “friends” and pocketing the money.
Uncle Wayne gave me a hard look, then forced a laugh. “Sure. Good idea.”
I suddenly couldn’t imagine sleeping under the same roof with Uncle Wayne at all, certainly not night after night. My chest clamped down tight and I broke out in a sweat. “Good thing you’ll be here with Grandpa to help with the cooking and the chores, since I’ll be gone for close to two weeks.”
Grandpa stared at me. “I thought your next road trip wasn’t for six days.”
“It’s not, but Zeke goes on late nights this week.” Not till Tuesday but no one needed to know that. “He’ll be out of the house overnight and he doesn’t want to leave Jos alone, so I’ll sleep over there. Peace of mind for him.”
“You’ll sleep where?” Uncle Wayne asked.
“The Evanses,” Grandpa said. “Next door, you remember? Tom and Krystal both passed, and Zeke is caring for his little brother Jos.”
“And Cal’s babysitting? Come on, pro hockey player. Surely you don’t need ten bucks that bad.”
“Callum, not Cal,” I said. My mom had called me “Cal” and no one else had that right.
Uncle Wayne had figured out it bugged me, though I don’t think he knew why, and did it on purpose.
I used to not comment because it made him worse, but I wasn’t ten years old anymore.
“Plus, I’m not getting paid, I’m doing him a favour and he lets me use his big screen TV, and eat his food.
” With bland innocence, I added, “It’s never bad to be friends with the cop next door. ”
“He’s a cop?” Uncle Wayne threw a quick glance in the direction of Zeke’s house. “Fuck, my life doesn’t need more— cops.” I wasn’t sure what term he’d almost used, but probably not a pleasant one.
Grandpa caught that too, because he said, “Zeke Evans is a good man. And Jos has been over here now and then, doing some basic outdoor chores for me. We’re lucky to have neighbours like them.”
“Only because you’re not an ex-con. I’m screwed without even trying. Once you have a record, the cops jump on you for every little thing, itching to get you back behind bars. I don’t need one of them spying on me, just waiting for a reason to bust me again.”
“Like driving without a licence?” I asked.
Uncle Wayne glared at me, then coughed and turned apologetically to Grandpa. “Yeah, about that. I’m sorry. It totally slipped my mind. I’ve never not had a licence, you know? I just got in and drove and never thought about it.”
“I understand,” Grandpa told him. “You’ll need to get yours renewed as soon as possible, though.”
“I’ll do that. Might need to borrow a few bucks for the fee.”
“I can cover it. For something important.”
I didn’t comment, just clenched my fists in my lap. Because of course, that was reasonable, sensible, but I’d bet it wasn’t the first “borrow” and wouldn’t be the last.
“I’ll jump right on it,” Uncle Wayne said. “Cost of Uber and Lyft is way too high.”
“You could catch a bus.” I pointed east. “Five blocks that way. I rode it for years.”
“Yeah, good thought.” His smile was not convincing.
Grandpa suggested, “And you can work in the store to pay me back. Maybe closing shift in the evenings. I worry about Lily or Koda being there on their own after dark.”
“I can do that. I bet your employees would like a strong man around to keep an eye on things.” Uncle Wayne drained his cup and smiled to himself.
“Grandpa’s planning to hire this trans woman,” I said, so as not to out Koda while making my point. “You’ll be fine working with her, right?”
Grandpa threw me a look but didn’t say anything.