Chapter Ten #2
I’m trying to piece together the dynamic here.
Plenty of cues have suggested that Sid is in charge, as he was at the border, but I sense a further pecking order.
Most of the group is inside, getting the meal ready, but these three, gathered together, share something else besides a desire to shaft someone else with the cooking duties.
The younger ones seem to fall in a range—Carlos is at the bottom, another has the beginnings of a beard—but the gap between them and these three is more pronounced.
The five inside are boys. Sid, Silas, and James are men.
There’s some history here that I don’t know enough about to intuit the details.
Sid even said it himself; Tom was their immigration officer.
Not just his. Theirs. Did they all come here together?
Eventually, Carlos comes out with the soup and someone else passes out wooden bowls.
There’s a clamour of hands and ladles, punctuated by gruff calls from Sid to not horse around and spill anything.
Guilt pinches at my stomach as I realize this is what I walked out on yesterday when I refused dinner.
This group of boys and their… fathers? Brothers?
When one of the younger boys starts needling Silas with his spoon and he has to swat the kid away, I realize who they remind me of: me and April.
A few years later. A few more people. But the dynamic is startlingly similar.
I bury my nose in my bowl. The potato chowder has been blended with sage, oregano, and a smoky animal fat to give the soup body.
I’ve already wolfed down half my bowl when I notice April hasn’t touched her food.
I’m about to tell her to hurry up and eat while there’s still leftovers when I notice that she’s diligently taking something out of her paper bag.
A jar of insulin. A needle. She lines up a shot on her leg and stabs herself without a single complaint. I look away, blinking furiously.
“Is the soup too hot?” Carlos asks, his voice anxious.
“No, just smoke in my eyes.” I shift to another angle on the bench, trying to make my explanation convincing. “The soup is great.”
Unfortunately, my new position has put me in Sid’s direct line of sight. I see him making the calculation, eyes roving between April, packing her used needle into a separate bag, and me, too weak to watch her do it.
“So I was saying to the guys,” Sid says, in that flat, direct way of his. “While you’re here, the upstairs washhouse should be just for you two.”
“What?” I like the idea of privacy but hate the thought of owing him more than I already do. “You don’t need to do that.”
“No, I think it’s a good idea,” says Sid. “This place is supposed to house eight families, anyway. We’re under capacity. It will be good practice, in case anyone else moves in.”
At that, James snorts. Silas smacks him across the back of the head, but it doesn’t stop the other boys from breaking out in snickers. Just what I need. More attention being drawn to our obvious gender discrepancy.
“Sid, that’s very… gallant, but not necessary. We’ll be fine.”
“Speak for yourself. I want a washhouse.” April finds the craziest times to regain her confidence, I swear.
“April, we’re two people. There’s eight of them.”
“Kayla doesn’t like accepting help, but I would be more than happy to—”
“April!”
“Why don’t we talk about it later tonight?” Sid’s eyes lock with mine. “We’ve got a few things to go over.”
“Will I be there when you’re talking about it?” asks April. “Because I have opinions.”
“No, you will not. You’re going to bed once you’ve finished that chowder.”
She pushes her lower lip out. “Then I’ll eat very slowly.”
April makes good on her promise, but even so, the time slips by too fast. I spend the evening trying to learn the names of the last few boys but get hung up when one of them is also named Tom.
The conversation devolves into talking about what a dick Tom at City Hall is.
No one asks for the details of my encounter with him today, but Young Tom makes a show of saying that the reason Tom has the last name Sullivan is because he sullies the good name of Toms everywhere.
Then a wasp starts circling April’s food and Carlos announces he’s going to “ninja slap” all the bugs pestering us out of the air.
I’m too busy watching him flail around to ask who the last couple of boys are, especially since James is subtly sticking his feet in places that might make Carlos trip the entire time.
Overall, the dinner time conversation is loud, obnoxous, juvenile. And harmless. These boys are wonderfully harmless.
Too soon, April finishes her meal. Despite her protesations, she’s rubbing her eyes, so I guide her away from the bonfire to the unit Silas leant us.
“This isn’t fair. I’m missing out on stuff. Being sick sucks.” She collapses onto the bed.
“But… you’re not sick anymore, right?”
“Well, depends on how you look at it. Maybe I’m always sick now.” She sighs. “They seem nice. Sure are a lot of them, though.”
“Do you mind?” I don’t know what I could do about the situation at this point, but I ask anyway.
She shrugs. “It’s all right. I’ll feel great about it if we have our own washhouse.”
“April.”
“Is it so bad to want space?” she asks. “I think… I think I liked the idea of living with a bunch of guys better than… well, this.”
I snort. “Oh, yeah?”
“I’ll get used to it. It doesn’t feel bad, but…” A shiver steals down her back. “It’s still different.”
“Very different.” I sit next to her on the bed and squeeze her hand.
She leans her cheek into my shoulder and for a while, we let ourselves sit in companionable silence.
The hum of crickets starts up outside and I can almost make myself believe we’re somewhere in the woods, far away from all of this.
“I want to be good at this.” April’s face is set in a determined frown and I know she means far more than living with men; there’s managing her illness and who knows what else ahead of her.
“I’m going to be good at this. Doctor Tremblay said I need to catch up on school.
I’m going to be good at that, too. All of it. ”
“You don’t have to be brave with me,” I say, but she doesn’t respond.
Instead, she releases my hand and stretches out on the bed.
I open her pack and pass her the cedar strips she’s been weaving into a bracelet, so she has something to fiddle with tonight.
I blow her a kiss as I head out, which makes her roll her eyes in that predictable teenaged way.
She’s back. I really have my sister back. And a month from now, we’re going to run out of the only thing keeping her alive.
Finally, once I’ve shut the bedroom door firmly behind myself, I release the tears I’ve been choking back all day.