Chapter Twelve #2
“Elise, you are having your summer of freedom, and so am I.”
“Mom, I lost my job. Summer of freedom is a bit of an overstatement. I was going to sublet this place while I was away.”
“Well, let me have it instead.”
“I thought you had a research grant with Charles.”
“I was staying with Katie, but Sarah has been poisoning her against me. They said it wasn’t a good time. The crystals told her that, I’m sure.”
“Mom, do you understand the irony of showing up on Katie’s door and not leaving, after what you did to her as a kid?”
“Oh my god, you guys are never going to get over that. You’re such whiners. Didn’t I teach you not to be victims?” She was
slurring her words.
“Mom, you need to slow down. You’re not even a drinker really, and now you’re a day drinker? Have you eaten? I’m ordering
us a pizza.”
“I ate some of your yogurt.”
“That was definitely extremely old yogurt. I haven’t shopped in weeks.”
She shrugged. I ordered a pizza on my phone while peering into my fridge. The old yogurt hadn’t been touched; there was a
film of mold across the top when I popped it open. My mom played fast and loose with the truth but she usually wasn’t that
bad at it.
“I’m going to go take a shower.” I grabbed the bottle of wine and poured the rest down the sink. “You watch TV or relax or
something.”
She started mumbling to herself but sat down on the couch, flipping on the TV to a home improvement show.
When I got out of the shower, I packed up my big suitcase, filled a duffel bag with books and various things I’d need that summer.
I found her fast asleep on the couch. Whenever she’d visited my apartment before, I’d spent an entire day cleaning, even dusting inside the cupboards and wiping down baseboards behind the couch.
This display of my mother undone on my couch in my clothes made no sense.
I ate a piece of pizza on the back balcony
and called Marlon, furious.
“You want to tell me why my mother is in my house?”
“Oh shit, I thought you weren’t coming home until Friday.”
“I’ll take That’s Not the Point for 500, Alex.”
“I’m sorry. Katie thought it was a good solution. Sarah insisted she leave their place, and Katie knew your place was empty
and I had a key. It just seemed to make sense.”
“But why isn’t she at home? She won’t tell me.”
“Katie isn’t entirely sure. Charles isn’t answering his cell phone. Your mother is making excuses. Best they can tell is she
is no longer working on that grant at the ministry in Peterborough.”
“This is very unlike her. I have never seen her be anything but utterly in control and on top of her life.”
“Except for the whole impulsively leaving her children thing.”
“Touché.”
“Are you going back to the county as planned, or did you change your mind?”
“I definitely did not change my mind. I was just here to pick some things up and get my car. I was going to stay the night,
but maybe now I’ll just turn around and go back. When are you home?”
“We won’t wrap until late. And Kris has been making plans every evening to avoid your mom, tbh.”
“Has she been drinking every day?”
“Oh yes. And let me tell you, part of her homophobia is that she thinks gays drink every night.”
“Well . . .”
“Not with our best friends’ mothers!”
“I don’t know what to do. I did promise Sarah I’d help out with my mom more. I didn’t realize she’d been around so much.”
“Katie didn’t want you to know.”
“Because she thought I’d make things worse?”
“I think she’s just afraid of the conflict. I think even though your mom is batshit, Katie’s liked having her around. Sarah
put her foot down. Your mom is basically the only thing they ever fight about.”
I couldn’t imagine keeping my mom close enough to my world to have her matter in my relationship. Rookie mistake, Katie.
“What if I get a new gig and have to come back? What if PEC doesn’t work out?”
“Well, your apartment does have a couch. You could let her keep visiting.”
“That is literally the craziest thing you’ve ever said to me, and you used to tell me Rent was a beautiful play.”
“Elise, working all the time has gotten you out of a lot of family obligations. It might be your time to pull some of the
weight your sister carries.”
“I suppose I should let her stay here,” I admitted “It’s not like I’m paying rent in the county. It’s good timing. Even though
she literally owns two properties and this is some boomer bullshit, I shouldn’t make her homeless.”
“That is the kindest thing I’ve ever heard you say about your mother.”
I gripped the iron balcony edge, looking over at the cute patio furniture Kris and Marlon had set up, even fake green grass
and a real flower box. How do people get their lives together like this when they have demanding jobs?
“Send me set gossip.”
“Alright, peace, girlie. I’ve got to go tell my minions to repaint the Santa mural so it’s less subtly pornographic.”
“Never a dull moment.”
I gathered all my things and stared at my sleeping mother. I felt the same way I did whenever I babysat and toddlers finally
fell asleep; they look so peaceful. It’s hard to hate someone when they’re curled up in a fuzzy blanket. I wrote her a note.
Stay as long as you like. Garbage goes out Tuesday nights. Call me if you want to be honest about why you’re here. Otherwise,
see you at the wedding!
Fine, that was a little passive-aggressive, but I learned from the best. Then I drove to the Toronto General Hospital emergency
room to accost my sister. When I got out of the car, I was pissed, ready to confront her. But standing in the ambulance bay,
she just looked so exhausted. As annoyed as I could be with Kate’s constant giving, I could never stay mad at her. From some
angles, even harried and in her blue scrubs, hair pulled up into a once-tidy bun, I could still see the kid eating Cap’n Crunch
in her princess costume. She greeted me the same way she always did when she knew I was pissed. Arms raised, smirk that said,
C’mon, you can’t be mad at little old me.
“OK, OK, just hear me out,” she said. “She’d been coming around unpredictably for a few weeks, saying she wanted to have dinners,
spend more time with me. It was nice, mostly. Then she showed up late Sunday night, after we got back from the bachelorette.
Something happened with Charles, she’s being cagey about what, but there’s some reason why she can’t go back home right now.
And I don’t think she’s working on that big grant anymore. She stayed in the guest room and I thought that would be OK, but
I’ve hardly been home and she was driving Sarah crazy. They had a big fight and then I told Marlon to give her your keys.
It felt like the only solution.”
“I found her drunk at two in the afternoon. Our uptight mother, drunk!”
“We need to be there for her.”
“Why? She was never there for us.”
“Are you ever going to stop keeping score? What would it feel like if you actually gave people second chances?”
“Wise men call that a sucker’s maxim?” I was quoting Gilmore Girls, the show we watched together in college that I knew she still rewatched every night to go to sleep. But instead of laughing,
the light drained from Katie’s face. She turned to look in the windows, an absolutely packed emergency room. I remembered
my promise to Sarah and took a deep breath in, trying to calm myself. We didn’t need to have this fight.
“OK, I’ll stop being such a hothead. She can stay at my place.”
The surprise and relief on Katie’s face made me feel so bad. I had been leaving her alone to deal with it. It truly was the
least I could do.
“I’m sorry, sissy. It’s totally fine,” I added. “Don’t worry about it.”
I hugged her tightly. She cried a little into my shoulder and said, “My scrubs are so filthy you’re really risking your life
hugging me right now.” She laughed, pulling away.
“Hey, my filth is your filth,” I said, inwardly cringing. In the car I doused myself in hand sanitizer and put on Modest Mouse.
I’d been in the city for two hours and was so ready to leave. While sitting in traffic on the DVP, I called my dad. He was always good for a little can you believe it? with regards to Mom. But this time the king of stoicism didn’t join in.
“Arlene worked harder than anybody to get where she is in her career. It would be devastating if she was fired. That’s not
like her.”
“You sound surprisingly sympathetic.”
“Well, you know, I can be angry about choices she made that impacted me and especially you kids, but I still love her. She’s
not the easiest person, but you know, neither am I.”
I was glad he couldn’t see my mouth hanging open.
“Dad, have you been going to therapy?”
I’d been on him for years. This was a man who found talking about feelings profoundly difficult, more difficult than designing
whatever it is mechanical engineers design. It was always him and I on the same team of judgment and exasperation.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you know how I feel about talking to complete strangers with their dubious philosophies. But I have
been going to meetings still on occasion, and I’ve made a new friend.”
“That’s wonderful! What’s her name?”
I was in shock at this admission. And I could tell how difficult it was for him to tell me this. Whenever he said anything
that wasn’t in the small-talk or teaching-you-something category, he’d either scramble to get off the phone or start telling
me how to fix something with my car. And this was the first time I’d ever heard him say he was going to meetings without a
little cough before the word meetings, as though warning me not to ask any more questions. His former alcoholism was very well hidden from us as kids. Drinking
made him quieter and more withdrawn, less present.
“Pamela,” he said, “and she used to be married to an engineer so she knows we’re a stodgy bunch.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet her, Dad.”
“Oh, it’s much too soon for that kind of thing. But she did express interest in meeting you both at some point. She has two
kids, twenty and twenty-four.”
“Wow, that’s great,” I said, though I felt a twinge of discomfort. Jealousy? What would I be jealous of? I’d long wished that
my solitary father had someone to share his days with.
“Is traffic clearing up? You know how I feel about your talking on the phone while driving. The 401 requires your vigilant
attention.”
“OK, I should let you go then,” I said, slowly merging onto the highway. “But I’m happy for you.”
He made a tsking sound. If he were in front of me, he’d be waving his hands around like he couldn’t bear the topic of conversation for even one more second. It was sweet, and also one of the reasons why I found relationships a bit difficult.
When I turned off the 401 at Trenton, the stress of the day started melting off of me. I breathed deeper. I stopped to get
gas in Carrying Place and checked my texts. An unknown number that read: You have a new water heater and a stove! I hope last night wasn’t too weird for you.
I agonized about how to respond and settled on: Yay! Hot water and cooked food. Thanks so much for taking care of everything. I’m almost back in the county now.
Was I supposed to thank him if it’s his job? Did it sound odd? I pressed send anyway.
I hope I wasn’t too weird last night, I added.
I hope I wasn’t the weird one! Your sudden presence is so wild, it is hard to know how to act, who to be, around someone who
once knew me so well.
Yeah, I know what you mean.
From here on out I will try to be Less Weird. Your Not Weird Friend and Neighbour.
My heart sank at the word friend, but of course. That word made much more sense than any other word.
Don’t forget you’re also my Not Weird Property Manager.
And I’m also your totally normal horse-riding mentor. Tomorrow, 3pm?
Deal. But I will be weird. Horses scare me, as does the potential to be flung into the air by any large animal.
Don’t worry. I’ll be there to make sure nothing bad happens.
I stopped responding because my only real response to that was swoon. I’m an independent person, to a fault, almost. But I do love it when men express a little protectiveness, a little chivalry.
It’s sexy.
I got back on the road for the final stretch of the winding two-lane highways I’d been getting used to. The sun was getting
lower in the sky, pinkening the beautiful homes and rolling farmland, with their fields of crops or clusters of alpacas or
flocks of sheep. I pulled over to Laundry’s farm stand just on the outskirts of Picton right as they were prepping to close.
I scooped up two baskets of strawberries, some asparagus, and a fresh bouquet of wildflowers. I would hand some berries to
Dave as a form of friendship brokering.
I went through the roundabout for the first time without making any fearful screaming noises, selecting the Cherry Valley
exit with ease. When I pulled into the lot, his truck wasn’t there. I placed the berries in a bag by his door. I unpacked
my things, put a little Gilmore Girls on in the background while I cleaned, and organized my little cabin nest. I loved the way the quilt I’d brought from home
looked on the bed. When it got really dark, “no moon” dark, I became very aware that Dave’s truck still wasn’t there. The
calming silence started to sound like a horror movie soundtrack. Cicadas matched the beating of my heart. Okanagan wasn’t
around. Was it weird to worry about a cat that was a vagabond visiting from a neighbouring farm? I searched around both the
cabins and in the tall grass around the trimmed lawn. I looked up the trees. No meows. I went back inside and sliced some
strawberries on top of the vanilla ice cream that had refrozen into something still edible. I had settled into my blankets
when, thankfully, Okanagan finally pushed his giant-cheeked head through the screen door and curled up on top of my pillow,
one paw resting in my hair as if he knew I needed protection.
“I hope those aren’t your murder paws,” I said, brushing his little head with my thumb.
In the morning I tried to shower, make my coffee, sit at my kitchen table desk, before peeking out to see if his truck was back.
It wasn’t. But I heard the rumble of the engine around 7:30.
When I glanced out, I saw him head straight out back to the horses for chores, Baby following his lead.
He didn’t notice the bag of strawberries the squirrels had scattered all over porch.