9. Back Road #3
The sound of the metal resumed, more pitched now.
Jessie was back at the kitchen table doing homework with the concentrated focus of someone pretending very hard not to be hoping for the comic relief of a broken pipe.
Caleb leaned against the doorframe and watched Connor with the concentrated focus of someone pretending not to be watching Connor.
“It’s the slip joint,” Connor said, to no one in particular. “Whoever fixed it used the wrong size.”
“Wasn’t that you last time?” Jessie offered.
“Stripped the thread,” Connor said, ignoring her.
“That’s bad,” said Caleb, grinning at Jessie.
“Not great.” More tightening followed. “Pass me the tape. Blue roll.”
Caleb found the blue roll, their fingers touching in the handoff, Connor’s hand closing around both the tape and Caleb’s fingers for just a moment.
From the table, without looking up, Jessie said, “The game’s on at seven.”
“I know,” Connor said.
“Northeasterners,” she said. “Penalty kill’s been better.”
“I know,” Connor said, in the tone of a man whose sister had been sending him analytics since forever.
Jessie looked up and assessed Caleb briefly, then went back to her homework, apparently satisfied by what she saw.
Connor was washing his hands at the now-functional sink when Ann came in from the back of the house.
She was smaller than Caleb had expected, though he didn’t know what he’d expected.
Maybe someone who matched the space she occupied in Connor’s life.
She had Connor’s dark colouring and Jessie’s eyes.
She wore a good cardigan over an older blouse, and strode in with a warm presence that immediately set him at ease.
She saw Caleb and her face warmed at once. “Oh,” she said. “You must be Caleb.”
“Yes,” Caleb said. “Sorry to intrude… I was just…”
“You’ll stay for dinner,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She was already moving to the stove, opening a cupboard. “It’s nothing fancy but you won’t leave hungry.”
Connor dried his hands on a dish towel and met Caleb’s eyes. A look passed between them in the unspoken language they were already developing.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’d love to,” he replied.
Dinner was Hamburger Helper, the cheesy pasta kind, a simple salad, and garlic toast made from white bread, butter, and garlic salt.
The pieces were slightly uneven, slightly over-toasted on one side, and delicious.
Ann set it on the table with the matter-of-fact efficiency of a woman who had fed people in this kitchen for twenty years and was not going to apologize for it.
It was, Caleb thought, the best meal he’d eaten since leaving home. Pub food had its charm, but even the words “deep fried” could give him heartburn these days.
“Caleb,” Ann said, passing the toast, “Connor tells me you were homeschooled.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Caleb said.
“Oh, call me Ann,” she said, then, “Was it through a church program?”
“Yes.”
“And before that? Public school?”
“Until grade seven.”
She nodded again. “Do you feel like it prepared you? For life after?”
Connor stopped moving across the table, looking at his mother, who completely ignored him. Jessie continued to eat while her eyes darted between each of the adults at the table.
“In some ways more than others,” Caleb said. He considered what that meant. “I think it prepared me for a specific version of life. The one my parents had in mind.”
“Ah,” Ann said, her voice lower and more precise.
She added extra butter to another piece of toast, eyes on the task.
“I taught in small schools for twenty-two years. Did Connor tell you that? Some of my students’ parents knew exactly where they wanted a child to end up, and they wanted me to only teach them the road there.
Of course, I couldn’t do that. Don’t get me wrong.
I’m sure they meant well. It just… narrows the choices. ”
“It does,” Caleb said.
She regarded him then, directly. Whatever she found, she kept to herself. “More?” she said, and passed him the Hamburger Helper.
Jessie, without looking up: “Mrs. Bellamy at school did homeschool until grade nine.”
“I know,” Ann said.
“She said it was lonely.”
Ann’s hands remained on the serving spoon. “It often is,” she said.
“I had my sister, for a while anyway. And other kids from church sometimes,” Caleb said. “And my parents.” He paused. “But… I get it. It wasn’t lonely in the way people think.”
Ann held his eye again, warmth tinged with sadness. “No,” she said softly. “I imagine it was lonely in different ways.”
Connor reached for the toast, leaning toward Caleb in the process. Under the table, he gave Caleb’s knee a squeeze.
“So,” Jessie said to Caleb, “are you actually going to Thunder Bay?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Connor thinks you should.”
“Jess,” Connor said.
“What? You do.”
Caleb waited. Connor broke off a corner of toast and set it on his plate.
“I think you should find out,” he said.
Ann smiled. “The chance to go somewhere new must be exciting. I always wanted to travel. I never did. Life had other plans.” She smiled.
“History is my subject. You teach children about other places and other times and you think, someday I’ll go.
Someday.” She poked at her salad. “Where would you go, Caleb, if you could go anywhere?”
The question surprised him. He had never allowed it to surface. “I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t thought about it. I’m still getting used to the idea the choice is mine.”
Ann’s hand came to rest beside the plate of toast. “It is.”
She passed him the plate. Caleb took it, though he had not asked for it, and set it beside his plate before picking up another slice. Caleb had the distinct feeling Ann understood more than Connor realized.
The kitchen was warm. Outside the window, the winter dark had settled. Caleb took a bite of that garlic toast, slightly burnt on one side and exactly right.
Connor walked him to the end of the driveway. Their breath made clouds in the cold.
“Your mom is great,” Caleb said.
“Yeah,” Connor said.
They stood. Across the street, a porch light came on.
“Does she… know?” Caleb said.
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t ask,” Connor said. “She’s not… I think she understands.” He watched the street. “She’s just glad I have someone. A friend. She wouldn’t say that either.”
“I think Jessie noticed.”
“Jessie notices everything. She just doesn’t know what to do with it yet. She’s cool.”
Caleb nodded. The cold was serious and he knew he should start walking to stay warm, but he didn’t yet. “Thank you,” he said. “For tonight.”
Connor’s expression shifted. “I didn’t plan it.”
“I know,” Caleb said. “Thanks anyway.”
He turned and walked back toward town. The cold was clean around him. There was a warmth in his chest all the way home, a warmth that came from more than just a home-cooked meal.