I eat and eat until my stomach is a balloon.
I insist on cleaning up. Given all the work Grandma Kay’s gone to—and everything I’ve put her through over the past couple of days—it’s the least I can do. I need to do something that helps.
Grandma Kay and Grandpa Frank go to the living room to watch the news. I scrape the plates, wash the china, put the leftovers in Tupperware containers and foil pie plates, shake out the tablecloth. I need order. I need to feel things are back to normal just for one second.
Just as I’m wiping down the kitchen counter, Grandma Kay calls out, “Here’s Shirley!”
I roll my eyes. I don’t know why Shirley can’t stay away. I don’t need company. I don’t need to make small talk. I don’t need to be around people who don’t really matter to me.
Then I hear Grandma Kay say, “Oh no!”
Followed by Grandpa Frank saying, “What in the hell?”
Followed by Grandma Kay saying, “Over my dead body.”
I hurry out to see what the matter is and then I see what they see. It’s not just Shirley getting out of the car. It’s him. Arthur. Wearing a cowboy hat. Bruno’s with them too, and steps out from the back seat. There’s a wrapped box in his hands. Who’s that for? Me?
“No, no, no,” Grandma Kay says. “Frank, get them out of here. We can’t have this nonsense again.”
I feel something rise up inside of me, a slow simmering of my blood. I can’t believe the nerve of him, showing up here again. After everything. What gives him the right?
We go to the front porch.
“Shirley, what the hell is going on with you?” Grandma Kay asks.
“I can explain,” Shirley says.
“I highly doubt that,” Grandpa Frank says.
“Well, howdy pardner,” Arthur says, doing this kind of theatrical bow. He’s wearing jeans and a pair of cowboy boots. There’s a red handkerchief tied around his neck. Why is he dressed like this?
“Mighty fine day out here, isn’t it?” he says. “Yep, mighty fine.”
Who is he now? I wonder. The Lone Ranger?
“In case there were any doubts,” Grandma Kay says, “you are not welcome here.”
My father takes off his hat and presses it against his chest. “I just want to talk to Toby,” he says in his normal voice. “Five minutes. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
“What do you want to talk to her about?” Grandma Kay asks.
“I just want to know she’s okay.”
Something snaps inside of me, an elastic band that’s been pulled and pulled and pulled and it finally breaks. I march down the front steps toward him.
“You don’t get to know if I’m okay!” I yell. “You had fifteen years to find out if I was okay and never once did you think to ask or reach out or even send me a card on my birthday! Do you know what that was like? Do you know what it’s like when your grade three class is making Father’s Day cards and you’re the only one who can’t? Because you don’t have a father? Do you know what it’s like to wait, year after year, for some sign that you cared about me? That you even thought about me?”
I’m crying now but I don’t care. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop. The train is coming down the tracks, hard and fast. Everyone looks like they’re on the other side of a rainy windshield. I hear Grandpa Frank call my name, but I also hear Grandma Kay say, “No, let her speak, Frank.”
“Do you know what it’s like to have your mother die on you and watch as your whole world falls apart? What did I do that was so wrong? What did I do to deserve parents who didn’t love me?”
I feel a pair of arms around me, but I don’t know who they belong to. I shake them off.
“So, no, Arthur! You don’t get to come back here and ask if I’m okay! You had plenty of time to ask that question! But it’s too late. Do you understand that? IT’S TOO LATE AND I NEVER, EVER WANT TO SEE OR HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN! I WANT TO FORGET I EVER HAD A FATHER IN THE FIRST PLACE! I’M BETTER OFF WITHOUT YOU!”
I turn and stumble back inside the house, ignoring the voices calling my name.
* * *
There’s a knock on my bedroom door a while later. I can tell that it’s Grandma Kay.
“Can I come in?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, sitting up and trying to wipe away whatever tears are still hanging onto my cheeks.
The door slowly opens, and she steps in. “Everything okay?”
“I guess,” I say. “I just don’t know why he keeps coming here when I don’t want to see him. Doesn’t he have a family of his own that he can visit while he’s here?”
Grandma Kay sits down on the bed. “They don’t think too much of him. He doesn’t speak to them and hasn’t since he left. I think that was one of the main reasons he ran away in the first place. His mother was religious and didn’t approve of his lifestyle.”
I want to ask if she means him being gay or him being a drag queen, but I guess they’re more or less the same thing.
“That’s too bad,” I say.
“You’d think he’d be better with you,” Grandma Kay says, “on account of what happened to him. But people repeat the things they learn, for better or worse.”
“Is he still out there?”
She shakes her head. “No, they left. But he wrote this out and asked me to give it to you. I was going to read it before you because I was nervous about what he might say. Then I thought, what’s he going to say? It can’t get any worse. Besides, you know more about him now. What he’s like. And you’re older, Toby. Only a few years from being an adult. I sometimes forget that. Or maybe it’s just easier on my heart to forget it.”
She passes me a folded-up piece of paper. “You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t blame you if you tore it up. But that’s your decision. And given everything, I don’t think there’s a right or wrong decision. It’s whatever you decide is best for you.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the letter from her.
“I’ll leave you alone.” Grandma Kay gets up from my bed. “Anything you need or want?”
“No,” I say.
“And you’re ready for school tomorrow?”
School. How am I going to go back there, even if there are just a couple of weeks left? What if I see Trisha? Or Claire or Angela?
“I guess,” I say.
“It’ll be good for you to get back to your regular routines,” Grandma Kay says. “Besides, summer starts soon enough.”
She leaves, and I lie back on the bed. I hold the letter up and can see Arthur’s handwriting on the other side. I’m really like my mom now, I think. We both got letters from the man who let us down. I consider not reading it, but curiosity gets the better of me. I unfold the paper.
Dear Toby,
You’re angry at me and I understand. I haven’t been a very good father figure. Or a very good person, for that matter. I’m sorry for what happened and what you did. I only hope I wasn’t the reason for it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I was. I have made a real mess of things, haven’t I? I’m going back to Europe in a couple of days and I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance to talk to you. That’s all I want to do. This will likely be the only time I’ll be back in Tilden, or Canada, for that matter, so it could be the last time we see one another. I’m hoping you’ll agree. Even if it’s just fifteen minutes. And I promise I won’t be drunk or dressed up or anything. I’ll look like the one thing you’ve deserved for all these years—a normal dad.
Please call me at Shirley’s if you’re open to it.
Yours,
Arthur
I sigh and fold the letter back up. I think about what Grandma Kay said about his family, about how they’ve disowned him.
I think: What if this really is the last time I see him in person?
I think: Maybe fifteen minutes wouldn’t be so bad.
I think: But he doesn’t deserve any of my time.
I think: I won’t do it. I won’t talk to him.
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I think: Maybe I’ll regret it if I don’t.
I think: Maybe I’ll regret it if I do.
I think: I already know the answer.
So I pick up the phone and dial Shirley’s number.
Chapter 37
Shirley picks up on the first ring, as though the phone is sitting in her lap and she’s been waiting.
“It’s Toby,” I say.
“Hi, sweetie,” she says, like we haven’t seen each other in twenty years. “I’m so glad you called. How are you feeling?”
“A little better,” I say. “I’ve calmed down.”
“I’m sorry we showed up like that. It wasn’t fair to you. Arthur convinced me otherwise. I should’ve known. Sometimes, it’s easier to give in than to listen to him natter on and on and on. He’s driving me crazy.”
“He’s still staying with you?”
“God, yes. I’m pulling my hair out. You can’t believe how much time that man spends in the bathroom. It’s obscene.”
“What does he do in there?”
“Who knows? He says he’s tending to a garden. I have no idea what that even means. Bruno has the patience of a saint.”
“He’s there too?”
“Yes, but I don’t mind him. He’s shown me how to make good tomato sauce. Did you know you’re not supposed to put oil in the water when you boil pasta? All these years, I’ve been doing it wrong. Anyway, I’m assuming it’s not me you called to speak with. You got Arthur’s letter?”
“Yes. Is he there?”
“He’s in the bathtub. He takes a bath every night. My water bill is going to be through the roof. Hold on, I’ll bring the phone to him.”
“Don’t,” I say, but she must not hear me. The idea of talking to him while he’s naked in a bathtub is too disturbing. I consider hanging up. Then I hear her knocking on the bathroom door.
“Hey, Blanche DuBois,” she says.
Who’s that? I wonder.
“There’s someone on the phone for you.”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I hear him say.
“Hold on, sweetie,” Shirley says to me. “His Royal Highness is emerging from the sea.”
I wait for a few minutes, still thinking about hanging up. This is so stupid. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want anything to do with him. But I stay on the phone for whatever reason.
“Is this Toby?” he asks when he picks up. He sounds breathless.
“Yes.”
“I’m so glad you called. I was afraid you wouldn’t. Not after that scene on the porch earlier. You certainly have a set of pipes, darling. No doubt you get that from me. Never mind, though. No harm done, and it was well deserved. I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced like that. But I had no other choice, you see.”
“You did have another choice,” I say. “To not come.”
“My dear, I’m afraid that wasn’t a choice at all. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“You’ve been through quite the ordeal.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“This is hard to do over the phone. Especially when I’m standing here naked and dripping water on Shirley’s synthetic rug.”
“I didn’t need to know that.”
“Can we arrange to get together?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re sure of that, Toby? I promise I won’t drink. And I’ll wear pants.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Just a few minutes to talk. I can tell you some things about your mom. Things you might not know. We were friends back in the day, you know. I knew her when she was your age. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Look, darling. You’re obviously open to talking to me or else you wouldn’t have called in the first place. How about we go for dinner tomorrow? Is that restaurant still downtown? What was it called? They served these speciality hot dogs.”
My mouth falls open. That was the place my mom took me. The day she told me about my father. “You mean Tops?”
“That’s the one. Heather loved that place. I don’t know why. But she had simple tastes, I guess.”
And then I realize, for the first time, how much he did know my mom.
“Tops closed,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t crack. “A long time ago. But there are other places we could go.”
“Fantastic. I’ll ask Shirley if I can borrow her Chevette. Not that I trust that piece of shit to go anywhere. The car, I mean. Not Shirley. Well, maybe Shirley too. I’ll pick you up right after school, Toby. Okay?”
“All right,” I say.
“I’ll even pay,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”
I hang up the phone and look at my reflection in the mirror.
“I’m going to be alone with my father tomorrow,” I tell the girl in the mirror.
Neither of us knows what to think.
* * *
The next morning, I wake up early. I want to spend some time picking out my clothes, even though I’ve never really cared before. But it’s my first day back at school. I know that eyes will be on me. Trisha’s eyes. People will be judging me, and even though I’m used to that, it never stops bothering me. It never goes away.
Plus, Arthur is picking me up after school. I’m afraid that someone I know will see us together. Questions will be asked. Eyebrows raised. How am I ever going to explain this to anyone?
But I also wake up early because I want to see Mike.
I haven’t seen him since I came back. I mean, I’ve seen his car parked in its usual spot next to Grandpa Frank’s truck. But I haven’t seen him. Not since that night at the cabin. And I’m hungry to see him again. I know that’s a weird way to describe it, but it’s how I feel. It’s like there’s something inside me that will only feel full once I see him again. I just don’t want him to see me. I can’t even imagine it. I know it’ll have to happen. Eventually. It’s not like we can keep avoiding each other (although we did a pretty good job of it before). At some point, our paths will cross.
So I’m up early to see him come to work. I move my desk chair next to the window and open my curtains just enough so that I can see out without anyone seeing me. The morning light is just starting to fill the sky. It’s going to be a nice day. I think about my plans. The train. Or another way. And it’s still there, the desire to end it all, but maybe I’ll wait a little longer. There’s this morning with Mike. And then there’s tonight with Arthur. I’ll do it later, I decide. After things settle down a bit. Once everyone forgets and we go back to normal.
I’d like to keep all the pieces of my life with me for as long as I can.
Grandpa Frank’s words come back to me. But what if that’s all life is, I want to ask him. Pieces. And what if those pieces aren’t enough? Or what if they never fit back together and all you’re left with is a life made up of weirdly shaped holes?
I hear something and wait, my breath trapped in my lungs. Then I see Mike’s car approaching our driveway. I move my face over slightly, so more of it is hidden behind the curtain.
The car pulls into the driveway. There’s no music blasting from the speakers like usual. It’s dead quiet, except for the sound of the tires on the gravel and then Mike’s keys jangling as he pulls them from the ignition. He steps out of the car and I move behind the curtain a little further. Does he look any different? More tired, maybe. But he always looks tired in the morning. His hair is uncombed. He’s wearing a Nirvana T-shirt and a pair of jeans that look like they haven’t been washed in years.
I think about his penis, the green condom. And it feels weird to think that I saw him like that, exposed. I’ve seen parts of him that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.
He looks around nervously, then ducks back into the car. He brings something out. It looks like a rolled-up tube. Then, after a quick glance around, he starts walking up the path to the front door. Why is he coming to the house? Has he seen me? He’s only a few feet away. I hear the rusty creak of the screen door as it opens and then sl
aps shut. What’s he doing?
Then I see him walk away, the rolled-up tube now gone. He pulls a package of cigarettes from his back pocket, lights one and then walks toward the barn, a cloud of smoke trailing him.
Grandma Kay is up by this time, getting breakfast ready.
“You’re up early,” she says when I come out of my room. “Ready for your first day back?”
“I guess so,” I say. I don’t want her to know what I’m doing, so while her back is turned, I quickly go over to the front door and open it. The tube rolls out to my feet. It’s tied with red ribbon and there’s a tag on it. I pick it up. The tag reads: To Toby.
I take the tube and go back to my room and shut the door. I undo the ribbon, which takes forever because it’s tied so tight, and unroll the tube. It’s a picture. Or, rather, a drawing. One of Mike’s superheroes. A woman in a cape and a pair of thigh-high boots. Her fist is punching the air and she’s flying through the sky, over the treetops and office towers.
Then I notice her face.
It’s me.
Mike has drawn me as a superhero.
My body explodes in pinpricks. How could anyone see me this way? Doesn’t he understand what I did to him? How I used him? How could he possibly not hate me?
Something drops onto the paper. A tear. I can’t look at this anymore. But I do. I keep staring and staring until my tears start to blur the girl and the buildings and I roll it back up, tie the ribbon around it and put it safely in my drawer.
Chapter 38
No one says anything to me on the school bus. Not like anyone ever does. It’s just a typical ride in, with me trying to ignore the sounds of everyone else and pretending to read the book I’m supposed to finish for English.
The morning passes pretty uneventfully. I don’t catch anyone looking at me and I think I might make it through the day okay. Then lunch hour comes.
I know I won’t be eating in the cafeteria on account of Trisha and her friends. But I forgot to pack a drink, so I get into line. While I’m waiting, I look over and see Trisha, Angela and Claire in line for the hot table. I immediately put my head down. If I leave, I’ll have to pass by them. If I stay, there’s a good chance they’ll see me anyway. I can’t figure out what to do. After a few seconds, I casually look up. Trisha is staring directly at me. It’s hard to read the expression on her face. It’s like she can’t decide if she feels angry or sorry for me. Just as it looks like the corners of Trisha’s mouth are about to turn upwards, as if to smile, Claire looks over and her mouth falls open to make this perfect lip-sticked “O” and she nudges Angela, who, of course, turns to look as well. Then Angela says something to Claire who says something to Trisha and Trisha shrugs and turns her back to me.
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