38. ~ Char ~
CHAPTER 38
~ Char ~
I woke with a start after having a horrible temping dream. I was working at Your Fairy Godmother, and Igor, the green ogre from accounting with those freaky long arms and short legs, was at the desk beside me in reception. I still didn’t know what was behind the different-sized doors, and I’d spent most of the dream watching him licking an envelope at a leisurely pace. I’d been mesmerized by the way his tongue would slowly duck out of his mouth to touch the envelope flap before sliding back in like a content lizard’s. Then reappearing, re-wetted, to touch another spot.
I shivered at the image.
I’d read a book once that explained that everyone in a dream is actually just a representation of ourselves. Did that mean that Igor’s slowness at licking an envelope represented the way I felt about the park?
Too slow?
Or was it one of the agency’s weird messages again, like when Paxi had stumbled into my dreams to tell me I’d owe money someday? If so, what was the message? That my final notice would soon be in the mail so I’d better get cracking on my karmic project so Igor didn’t have to come after me?
I crawled out of bed, the house spooky-quiet, the Backstrohms already away on their road trip. I missed Felipe’s morning chittering, Samantha’s lattes, and the smell of Tamara making an omelette. Living alone sucked. It was like being a teenager again. Alone, alone, alone.
Maybe this was why I liked adventure so much, because being home alone was absolutely no fun.
* * *
“I forgot Sally’s away.”
A woman I’d never met was looking stressed on the front step shortly after I returned from work on Friday evening. Considering that today was the start of the Calgary Stampede—an event that went on for nine days and drew over a million people into the city’s downtown Stampede grounds—the look of stress wasn’t that unfamiliar to anyone who lived or worked near the area. Especially since the opening parade had been this morning, drawing over 300,000 people into the core’s maze of one-way streets for several hours.
While getting to work on time had been trying due to all of the buses and CTrains being packed with parade goers, at least I hadn’t had to do anything over at the Everstone park today. The neighbourhood sat at the edge of the event’s swath of busyness, and crossing the downtown from where I now lived would have been nothing short of crazy-making.
James, deciding not to return to his position at the museum, had been helping the Stampede’s security team with some advisement and set up, and then would be on hand for the parade as well. I hadn’t seen much of him over the past few days, and it made the empty house feel all the more lonely.
“Yeah. Sorry,” I said, unsure why I was apologizing to the woman. “Did you want me to pass on a message?”
“No, no. It’s just that sometimes she takes my mom for an hour or two,” the woman said, rubbing her brow. “And I forgot she’s away.”
“Right.” Not Stampede related stress. I wracked my brain for the older woman’s name who lived next door. I’d only wondered in passing what would happen to her with Sally gone for several weeks. “That’s Mrs. Laven?”
The woman nodded.
“Um.” What was the word for it? “Respite care? Sally plays card games with your mom?”
The woman nodded again, and I recognized the look. It was one of being here, but not really. In her head, she was working out alternate plans, ways to make her life work.
“Would she be comfortable hanging out with me?” I asked, realizing as I made the offer that I was completely unqualified. Was I that lonely? Already that tired of being alone with my thoughts?
“Oh, I couldn’t.” The neighbour looked at me with an intensity that nearly had me stepping back. “It’s Friday. You’re young.”
“I’m just doing stuff around the house tonight. She could hang out with me for an hour or two. We could play some games. Would she be comfortable with that? Honestly, it’s kind of weird being here alone.” I laughed like it was a joke and not painfully true.
“Are you sure? No, I can’t ask that of you,” the woman added just as quickly.
“I’m offering.”
The woman eyed me, from my bare feet and pink toenails, to my cut-off shorts, T-shirt, and ponytail. She opened her mouth, as though she was going to say something, but then after a beat said, “If you’re sure.”
“I am. “
“I’ll leave you my cell phone number in case she gets out of hand.”
I felt the first stirrings of panic. In what ways could someone experiencing memory loss, and possible cognitive issues that I didn’t understand, get out of hand?
“Is there anything I should know?”
“Unless she’s going to put herself in the way of physical harm, just go with the flow. Even if she’s lying or delusional. Don’t waste your breath arguing. She doesn’t get angry or violent, but she gets pretty stubborn.”
Five minutes later, my white-haired neighbour was sitting at the kitchen table and I was dealing cards.
“Do you know gin rummy?” Mrs. Laven asked me. She clearly wasn’t quite sure who I was, and maybe still thought I was Sophia, like she had the first time we’d met.
But she hadn’t made any hurtful comments about my appearance having changed, and she wasn’t giving me any trouble. She actually kind of reminded me of a kid who had a new babysitter. Slightly wary, but also willing to go along with things just to see.
“Can you show me how to play?” I asked.
“Where are the cookies?” Her eyes flicked around the kitchen with a practiced gaze. The usual spots Sally left them out—table, counter corner, cookie jar near the fridge.
“I’ll get some.” I got up and went into the stash Sally had left for me. She’d frozen dozens of them, and I grabbed some of the oatmeal raisin ones that I’d thawed earlier in the day.
I put the kettle on for tea and returned to the table with the cookies. Mrs. Laven clucked approvingly and tapped the cards sitting facedown, waiting for me.
“How do we play?” I asked.
“You’ll figure it out,” she assured me. About fifteen minutes later I realized I’d been sharked. I had no clue how to play gin rummy, and Mrs. Laven, instilling a false confidence in this newbie, was using it to her advantage.
In other words, I was already out five dollars, as she’d somehow convinced me that we should bet. She’d done a good job of bolstering my confidence before destroying me.
Her attention began to flag after about forty-five minutes—around the time I’d finally sorted out the shifting rules—and I suggested we take a break.
“Good idea.” She slid all the IOUs I’d written on scraps of paper toward herself. “If I go to the bank with more than this much money, they’ll surely think I’m up to no good.” She let out a joyful cackle.
“I’ll get some cash for you and trade those in,” I said, pointing to the scraps. I lived pretty much cashless, and even more so now that I was playing for money against the resident neighbourhood, memory-addled card shark.
“How long have you lived next-door?” I asked, sliding the deck of cards back into their box.
“Years and years. The Backstrohms moved in when James was just a boy. The first time I met him, he was running around in his underwear and an eye patch, claiming to be an alien pirate who lived in a submarine. It was made out of a cardboard box.”
“Really?” I leaned forward, eager to hear more.
“Sweet boy,” she said.
“I agree.”
She patted my hand. “Of course you do, dear.” Her eyes narrowed and she shook a finger at me, her brow furrowing as she worked to place me. “Make sure you treat him right, otherwise you’ll be answering to me. You hear?”
I nodded solemnly, secretly adoring this little old lady and the way she was willing to take me down if I mistreated her neighbour. Her loyalty warmed my heart.
“Has he always wanted a homey woman?” I asked. I still felt a bit wobbly about the necklace he’d given me, and how invested he seemed as a boyfriend. I’d never been in a relationship like this before—one so healthy. It made me nervous, like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
But I’d started to wonder lately that, even if he was under Estelle’s spell, if I could somehow make our love real so we could continue on after the magical effects that had brought us together wore off.
“Homey?” Mrs. Laven’s faded eyes narrowed in thought. “No, James has a spark in him, like his mother.” She nodded to herself as though in confirmation. Then she smiled into the distance as if she was remembering him as a small boy during his pirate phase. I’d trade a kidney for a photo of him in his alien pirate get-up. I bet he’d been heart-destroyingly adorable.
“He wants a home, yes. But don’t we all?” She leaned forward, placing her cool dry hand over mine, giving it a pat. “But more than anything, I think he wants to have fun, and to have someone to love.”