“The difference?!?” Arthur says with a snort. “Where do you want me to begin? For starters, I don’t lip sync. I sing live and do all my own voices. All the glamorous stars you’d expect. Bette Davis. Mae West. Tallulah Bankhead.”
Trisha blinks blankly back at him.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them,” Arthur says.
Trisha shrugs.
“This younger generation will be the death of me.” He covers his face with his hands.
“How many impersonations do you do?” Trisha asks.
“Dozens.”
“Is that like having split personalities?”
“That’s close,” Bruno says.
“Oh, you be quiet,” Arthur says. “You can be as many people as you want to be in this world.” He glances over at me. “Let no one tell you otherwise.”
“I’m so confused,” Mike says.
“Join the club,” Shirley says, stepping down from the porch. “This one brings it wherever he goes. Confusion. Pandemonium. Mass destruction.”
“Better that than a yawn,” Arthur says. “I’ll take pandemonium any day. At least that way you know you’re alive. At least you’re feeling something, rather than watching everything sail past your fingertips.”
Grandpa Frank comes around the corner of the house. I see Mike stiffen. Grandpa Frank doesn’t really acknowledge him but gives Trisha a nod.
“Nice to see you,” he says, before looking at Arthur. “I take it you’ve met the newest addition to the family.”
“I’m still waiting for my bassinet,” Arthur says.
“Everyone, please come inside,” Grandma Kay says. “Dinner is just about ready. Shirley, can you give me a hand? And Toby, can you set out the condiments?”
I’m grateful for any excuse to get away.
Chapter 47
The food is passed around. Roasted potatoes, shiny with the fat of the roast, carrots that are limp and sweet, canned corn and creamy coleslaw. Grandma Kay passes around tear-away buns that are soft as clouds and follows that with a tub of margarine.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I forgot to get butter. We don’t use it much, anyway. You think we would, given the farm.”
Everyone says Grandma Kay’s roast is tender, especially Trisha.
“Honestly, this is the best roast beef I’ve ever had,” she says, helping herself to another slice. “Can you come over and teach my mom how to make it? Not that she’ll get it right or anything.”
“There’s nothing to it,” Grandma Kay says, but I can tell by the way she’s smiling that Trisha’s words have made her happy.
“I haven’t had a roast for years,” Shirley says, smearing a wedge of meat with some horseradish. “Of course, who would I make a roast for? No point making one for myself. I made that mistake once. I wanted a turkey. So I went out and bought the smallest one I could find, which was, of course, too big. And I cooked it and ate it, but I didn’t even make a dent in the thing, and there was so much left over, I almost cried. I froze whatever I could cram into the freezer and made stock. The whole episode just made me depressed.”
“You could’ve invited us over,” Grandma Kay says. “Or brought the turkey over here.”
“I suppose.” Shirley sighs. “But I never think that way. I don’t invite people over very often. I always assume they don’t want to come.”
“You just let us know,” Grandma Kay says. “We can come anytime. Frank loves turkey.”
Grandpa Frank looks up from his plate. “Just the drumsticks.”
“What’s the food like in Italy?” Trisha asks Arthur.
“Heaven,” he says. “Everything tastes better over there. I can’t explain it. You can eat all the pizza you want and never get tired of it.”
“I eat all the pizza I want now, and I don’t get tired of it,” Trisha says.
“But that pizza is shit,” Arthur says. “Pardon my language, but it’s true. You need to experience the real things in life. Not the carbon copies.”
Mike is wearing cologne. He’s sitting next to me and I can almost see the cologne winding its way toward me, a spice-scented river. The fact that he’s wearing cologne makes me think that he’s trying to turn me on. I’m not saying that it isn’t working, but I’m more impressed that he’s trying. He hasn’t said much during dinner, and every time my father says something, Mike just stares at the salt shaker in front of him. I guess this is a lot for him to take in. I should’ve warned him. I should’ve told him what to expect.
“Are you Italian?” Trisha asks Bruno.
“Yes,” Bruno says. “I was born in a small city outside of Rome.”
“What do you think of Canada?”
“It’s nice. Big. The streets are wide and smooth.”
“I never thought about how wide our streets are,” Grandma Kay says. “Or smooth.”
“Come to Rome,” Bruno says. “Then you see what I mean.”
“You must think Tilden sucks,” Trisha says. “There’s nothing to do.”
“There’s plenty to do,” Grandma Kay says. “You just have to go looking for it.”
“If I have to go looking for it,” Trisha says. “Then it’s not worth doing.”
As I listen to the conversation around the dinner table, I have a flashback to the day I tried to kill myself. I see the pills in my hand. I can hear the lake. I remember the way the morning light shone through the leaves.
Who was the girl at the cabin? She seems so far away, like an old photo that’s curling around the edges and the colours are all faded to black and white. But I also wonder how far away she really is.
* * *
Grandma Kay serves up my favourite dessert, even though the name of it always makes me feel awkward, especially those words coming out of her mouth.
“Who’s up for a piece of Better Than Sex Cake?” she asks.
“Looks like things are finally about to get interesting,” Arthur says, sitting up straighter in his chair.
Bruno swats him with a napkin. I see then, in that little moment, who they really are, what they mean to one another. They’re partners. Boyfriends. Lovers. Any word I try to come up with feels weird, but what else would I call them? I try to picture them kissing, but I can’t. I don’t want to either. There are some things I don’t need to know. But my mind can’t help going back to it, wondering how they have sex, what they do in bed with their penises, how things fit together. I could ask Trisha, but she’d probably roll her eyes and say, “Tob-eee . . . ,” as if I’m the dumbest person on the planet. Then she’d go on to explain it to me in a lot of detail, whether she actually knew what she was talking about or not. But I’m glad they’re together, Arthur and Bruno. I’m glad my father has someone to take care of him.
I wasn’t a husband or a boyfriend to my mom, even though I felt like that sometimes. But I took care of her, even if I wasn’t always sure how. Even if I only wanted her to take care of me.
“Bruno, do you want a piece of Better Than Sex Cake?” Grandma Kay says, laughing. She seems a lot more relaxed now. Maybe she’s relieved that dinner is over.
“He’d never turn down sex or cake,” Arthur says, and everyone, even Mike, starts to laugh. Everyone.
Even me.
Chapter 48
Trisha starts begging my father to perform after the dessert dishes are cleared.
“Please,” she says. “You have no idea. I’d kill to see anything out of the ordinary. A man dressed in women’s clothes would do a lot for me.”
“But I haven’t prepared anything,” Arthur says.
“All your things are in the car,” Bruno says.
“You’re telling me,” Shirley says. “I could barely get the hatch closed.”
“Good job you sat on it,” Arthur says. “You’re finally putting the big butt of yours to good use.”
“You be quiet. My butt is not big.”
“Maybe a couple of songs,” he says. “But that’s it. Now, where am I going to perform?”
>
“How about the barn?” I ask.
I’m surprised I’m interested in seeing him perform. I wasn’t before. The thought of him dressed up made me feel weird inside. But now I want to see him. Because he’s leaving to go back. And I’m not sure when I’ll see him again. Maybe it’s worth the risk.
And, in some ways, it feels like I’ll be seeing the whole him. The real him. I want to see what makes him so talented. What made my mom fall in love with him that day in the gymnasium.
I want to see my father through her eyes.
“You mean perform with all those cows around me?” he asks, crinkling his nose.
“They’re out to pasture now,” I tell him. “And the farm hands would’ve swept it before leaving, right Grandpa?”
Grandpa Frank nods. “As clean as it’ll ever get, anyway.”
“There’s a concrete walkway that runs down the middle,” I say. “Between the stalls. You can use that for the stage. We’ll sit at one end.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “The smell alone is going to make me gag. I mean, I’ve performed in some stink holes in my day, but this takes things to a new level.”
But he finally agrees and goes to the car to get his bags. Bruno helps him.
“Shirley, can you give me a hand with my makeup?” Arthur asks.
“Why should I help you?” she asks. “You’re always being mean to me.”
“Yes, but I do it out of love, dear Shirley,” he says. “I need an entourage. People around me in the dressing room. I love the flurry of it all. It energizes me. Say you’ll help me, dear Shirley.” He looks down. “Besides, it would be nice to get ready with you there. I need all the support I can get.”
“You’re so needy,” Shirley says with half a smile. “But if you insist.”
“Wonderful,” he says. “And who would know how to cover up stubble better than you?”
“You’re such a bitch.”
“That’s Ms. Bitch to you.”
Grandma Kay tells them to stop using bad language.
“Say,” my father says to her. “I could use an accompanist. How about it? For old times’ sake?”
“Are you crazy? I can’t play anymore,” she says. “And there’s no way on God’s green earth that we’re lugging that piano into the barn.”
“I bet you’re kicking yourself for not learning how to play the accordion instead,” my father says. “Much more practical. And portable. Oh well. Suit yourself.”
Grandma Kay tells Mike, Trisha and me to go to the barn and make sure everything is tidied up.
“I don’t trust those farm hands,” she says. “No offence, Mike. Just make sure there are no cow pies on that walkway. I can only imagine the holy terror we’ll hear if he steps in something in his high heels.”
So we walk there together, the three of us. It’s the first time we’ve been alone, together, if that makes sense. With everyone knowing everything. Even though I’m not really sure there’s much to know. I’m still not sure how I feel about Mike. Or what I want from him. If I want anything at all. I keep thinking about my conversation with Grandma Kay. About living the life I want to live. But how can I know the life I want to live when I didn’t even want to live it a short time ago?
“If the two of you start making out, I’m going to vomit,” Trisha says. “I’m warning you now.”
“Stop being a frickin’ moron,” Mike says.
“This is still really weird for me,” she says. “Knowing about the two of you. What was going on. Under my nose. I still can’t believe it.”
“No one meant to lie to you,” I say. “We just didn’t know what to say. Or how you’d feel about it. Sometimes, saying nothing is easier, even if it’s a little bit like lying.”
“A little bit?” Trisha says. “That’s the understatement of the year. Anyway, I’ll need some time to process this. You. My brother. It’s still very disturbing to me, as you can imagine.”
“You want disturbing?” Mike asks. “I’m about to watch a gay guy prance around in a dress in a barn. That’s disturbing.”
“Stop being so closed-minded,” Trisha says. “No one’s forcing you to do anything.”
“And he’s your dad,” Mike says to me, shaking his head. “That’s so fucked. Like, aren’t you embarrassed?”
“I don’t know what I feel,” I say. “But embarrassed isn’t the right word.”
“Humiliated?” Mike asks. “Ashamed? Completely freaked out?”
“No,” I say. “None of those.”
“Well, you definitely have a weird way of looking at things,” Mike says. “Because if that was my dad . . .”
“Our dad is boring!” Trisha yells. “He comes home from work and barely says two words to us. He eats his dinner and then lies on the couch until he falls asleep and mom has to wake him up so he goes to bed. It’s the same night after night.”
“So what? He’s tired. It’s called working, Trisha. Nothing that you’d know about.”
“I know a lot more than you, asswipe. The other day, Dad drove me to the mall, and the entire ride there, neither of us said anything. At all. Imagine being with your dad and you can’t think of a single thing to say. And he couldn’t either. We just drove in silence. And I kept thinking, ‘Couldn’t he just ask me about school? Or what I thought about something? Would it be the end of the world for him to pretend he was interested in my life?’ And I’m telling you right now, if I end up marrying someone like Dad, I’ll kill myself.”
She stops. “Oh my God, Toby. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “Really. I know what you meant.”
“It’s just that I’m jealous. Of you.”
“Jealous of me? Why?”
“Your life is so interesting. Your father is a famous female impersonator. That’s so cool.”
“It’s not cool,” Mike says. “It’s fucked up.”
“I’d give my right arm for someone interesting like that in my life. Just to have someone open a door like that for me. To show me there’s something else. Something more.”
“There is something more for you,” I say, putting my hand on her back. “If not today, then soon.
“Do you really think that?”
“Yes,” I say, and I want to believe it. I want her to be smart and not marry someone like her dad. I want her to leave Tilden, even if it’s only for a little while, and do something she wants to do. Something that will make her happy, even if it makes sense to no one else.
I want her to have her more too.
Chapter 49
We set up some of the old milking stools for chairs at one end of the barn, next to the calves. Trisha can’t stop fussing over them.
“It’s awful they’re taken away from their mothers,” she says, patting one on the head.
“They survive,” I say, before thinking, We all do.
“I don’t have to watch this, do I?” Mike asks.
“It’s not going to kill you,” I say. “It’s just a few songs. You’re acting like he’s going to murder children or something.”
“I’d handle that better than this.”
“You would not,” Trisha says. “Stop being so stupid and immature. The world’s not made up of people like you, you know. Thankfully.”
Grandpa Frank and Grandma Kay are the next to arrive. They both look uncomfortable, especially Grandpa Frank, who busies himself by checking on the stalls and the equipment.
“Settle out,” Grandma Kay says. “What do you possibly need to check on?”
“Force of habit, I guess,” Grandpa Frank says. “Besides, you’d be surprised what you miss, even though you see something every day.”
“You miss a lot of things,” Grandma Kay says with a roll of her eyes. I think she loves Grandpa Frank, but I wonder how much. And I wonder what kind of life she expected to have, when she was younger. When she was my age.
“Here they come,” she says, pointing out the window. We watch as the three of them
make their way from the house. Shirley and Bruno are on either side of Arthur. He’s wearing what looks like a black sequined top and a black skirt with black pantyhose and red high heels. He’s wearing a blond wig. Even from here, I can see his red lips and fluttering eyelashes.
“Well, would you look at that?” Grandma Kay says.
“Do I have to?” Mike mutters. Trisha jabs him with her elbow.
“Who’s he supposed to be?” Trisha asks.
“I have no idea,” Grandma Kay says. “Some kind of celebrity? I’m horrible with those kinds of things. I can’t keep up with Hollywood. Of course, nothing can compare to the glamour of dairy farming.”
We watch in silence as the three of them make their way to us. I can hear Arthur talking to them and Bruno saying something back in a low and steady voice, like you’d use on a child if he was having a temper tantrum in the grocery store. At one point, my father almost slips on the gravel, but Shirley and Bruno grab him before he falls.
“These shoes were not made for the country!” he says loudly, and Trisha starts to laugh.
“This is the best thing that’s happened in forever,” she says. “Oh my God, right here, on your dairy farm.”
“Farming life means you see all kinds of strange things,” Grandpa Frank says. “I thought I’d seen everything. But then today came along.”
They stop just outside the entrance. Shirley comes in first. “He told me I couldn’t touch his face. I said, ‘Why did you ask for my help, then?’ He just wants to be fussed over. He’s the most high-maintenance man I’ve ever met. And believe me, I’ve met my share in my day.”
She takes an empty stool next to me and surprises me by grabbing my hand. “Are you nervous?” she whispers.
“A little,” I say.
“Don’t be,” she says. “He’s actually very good. I saw him perform once, in the early days. And I’ve read reviews of his shows. If there was ever a man born to play a woman . . .”
Bruno comes in next. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “Thank you for coming here tonight. We have a very special guest, someone loved all around the world. Tonight, he perform just for you. You will see the kind of magic that he bring to the stage. Please help me to welcome the one and only, man of a thousand women, Mr. Arthur Turner!”
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