Born Weird

by Andrew Kaufman

  “Okay, baby. It’s time to get your shoes on.”

  “No.”

  “It’s not a choice. Put your shoes on.”

  “No!”

  “Paulette Annie Weird-Waterfield! You put your shoes on now!”

  “No!”

  “Now!” Angie yelled. She instantly regretted doing this.

  “B … ut … you said … we’d get … new shoes!”

  “We will. I promise. Tomorrow. Today we’re already late. We just need to get to daycare.”

  “I … want … to … stay … w … ith youuuuuuu.”

  “Come on, baby. Just get your shoes on. Please?”

  “No!” Paulette yelled. She threw the other shoe off her hand. It landed on the carpet. The lights embedded in the soles began to flash.

  “All right,” Angie said. “Then I will help you.”

  Standing up Angie plucked a shoe from the floor. She sat down and held Paulette in her lap and tried to wedge the small shoe on her daughter’s small foot. But Paulette pointed her toes, making it impossible to get her foot all the way inside.

  “New shoes! New shoes! New shoes!” Paulette yelled.

  “Fine!” Angie yelled. She threw the shoe. She did this in exactly the same way her daughter had. It landed on the carpet. The coloured lights started blinking again.

  For Angie, the challenges of motherhood were many. The worst of which wasn’t the whining, or the lack of sleep, or the constant colds, or the twenty pounds on her frame that wouldn’t go away. It was that her daughter daily demonstrated the worst characteristics of herself. This, Angie had been unable to forgive.

  Paulette wasn’t alone in being out of her mother’s good graces. Just this morning Angie had been unable to forgive Paul for leaving his cereal bowl on the table. She still hadn’t forgiven him for losing their daughter’s health card. Or for making so little money that they had to live in a basement apartment. Nor had she had forgiven her siblings for doing nothing but sleep—oh, call it a coma if you want, but that’s what they were doing. She couldn’t forgive them for making her live with a man she was no longer sure that she loved. Or forcing her to raise her daughter in a city she didn’t particularly like. Angie could not forgive them for taking her life and making it all about them.

  It had been almost three years since Angie had forgiven anyone for anything.

  “You … said … we ’d g … et … new … shoes!”

  “Don’t be a crybaby,” Angie said.

  “But … you p … romised,” Paulette said, snuffling. “You promised.”

  “I know. We will. Honest.”

  As Angie tried to control her breathing, the phone rang.

  “Thank God,” Angie muttered.

  She found the phone in the kitchen. It was not on the charger. She did not forgive Paul for this. The caller ID said that it was the Vancouver and District Hospital. “Hello?” Angie asked. She listened. She held the phone tighter. “Yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She rushed back into the front hallway. She found Paulette humming to herself. Her shoes were on her feet. But Angie couldn’t forgive her for not putting them on when she’d asked the first time.

  LUCY OPENED HER EYES. Thinking that the hospital ceiling was the hospital floor, she automatically reached out her hands, squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away. A full second passed before Lucy realized that she wasn’t moving. She reopened her eyes. Her arms remained outstretched and she saw the intravenous needle that was taped to the inside of her elbow.

  Sitting up caused her shoulder-length hair to fall over her face, but Lucy didn’t think much about this. She tucked it behind her ears. She picked at the clear plastic tape on the inside of her elbow. She tore it off her skin. She pulled the needle from her arm. Then she looked up. There were three other beds in the room. Abba was to her right. Richard and Kent were across from them. They all seemed to be sleeping, so her immediate concern became how thirsty she was.

  Sliding out of bed made every muscle in her body ache. Her legs were stiff. She took tiny steps across the room. The door that she hoped was the bathroom was locked. She knocked as hard as she could, which wasn’t very hard.

  “Hello?” Lucy asked. Her vocal chords produced almost no sound. No response. She shuffled out of the room. The hallway was empty. At the end of it she turned right. Then she saw an orderly.

  “I need to get a drink,” Lucy said.

  “Pardon?” the orderly asked. He took a step closer to her.

  “Water!”

  “There’s a kitchenette right around the corner, on the left.”

  Lucy moved as fast as she could. The orderly followed her. Without asking, she opened a cupboard, took out a coffee mug and turned on the tap. She did not let the water run so it could get cold. She filled the mug. She drank it, quickly. Water spilled down her chin. She refilled the mug: she drank it, too. She filled it again. It was only as she started to drink her fifth mug of water that she realized she’d had to ask for directions.

  Richard sat up in bed and looked at the needle in his arm. He ran his index finger over the tape that held it in place. His eyes followed the translucent tube that ran from the needle to a clear plastic bag hanging from a tall steel cart. He followed the tube back down. His shoulder-length hair fell over his face. He pushed it out of his eyes without giving it much thought. He looked at the inside of his elbow. He stared at the needle. He stared at it for some time. He could not decide whether it was safe to remove it or not.

  This caused him to emit a laugh larger than he ever had.

  The second Abba’s eyes opened she felt the absence of an incredible weight. She looked around the room and she was only slightly surprised to see Richard in the bed directly across from her. He said nothing, but he leaned towards her, expectantly waiting to hear what she was going to say.

  Abba remained silent. She hoped that she wasn’t about to disappoint her eldest sibling. This hope, almost immediately, vanished. Abba had never experienced this before. She realized that the incredibly heavy thing she no longer felt was the collected mass of a thousand hopes she’d never been able to let go of.

  “Hope is worry’s twin,” Abba said, her voice thin and weak, “and both are useless.”

  Kent opened his eyes. He saw Abba and Richard dancing and singing in the middle of the room. He heard a door unlocking and then he saw a nurse rush out of the bathroom. It was at this moment that Lucy skipped into the hospital room, closely followed by an orderly. The orderly stood by the door as if on guard. The nurse ran into the hallway to find the doctor. Lucy joined the circle of Abba and Richard. Kent stayed in his bed. He looked down at his hands. They were in fists. He stared at them for some time. Then he relaxed his grip, spread his palms flat against the bedsheet and looked up at the orderly’s massive face.

  “Thank you for coming,” Kent said.

  “Okay?”

  “I’m sure that taking care of us has been a chore. On behalf of all of us, let me thank you for your efforts.”

  “You’re welcome?”

  “I feel unbelievably good. Stiff, for sure. But overall, well, how can I put this?” Kent stopped. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and began to pick off the clear plastic tape.

  “Don’t do that …”

  “It’s okay. Thank you for your concern. I have to tell you that I find myself, how do I put this? Perhaps for the first time in my life I find myself with nothing to prove,” Kent said. He removed the tape and pulled the needle out of his arm. Getting out of bed he took tiny steps towards his dancing siblings. Lucy and Richard let go of each other’s hand and Kent joined the circle.

  “I think the Shark really did it!”

  “I’m free!”

  “We’re all free!”

  “We’re fucking free!”

  “We’re fucking free,” they began to sing, their voices rusty and off-key. “We’re all fucking free!”

  ANGIE STEPPED INTO THEIR hospital room and her siblings did not stop doing their
awful dance or singing their awful song, and she was unable to forgive them. Their green gowns had come undone at the back, so at least one bare ass was always pointing directly at her as they danced. She remained by the door and she didn’t join them. Some time passed.

  “Angie!” Richard called, finally.

  “Hey! I can’t believe that phone number is still on your arm!”

  “That’s where you are!”

  “Yup,” Angie said. She sat on Kent’s bed. “I’m right here.”

  They let go of each other’s hands. They started taking tiny steps across the floor. Angie stayed on the bed. The doctor arrived before they reached her. Lab-coated and serious he examined each of them. He shone a penlight in their eyes and put his stethoscope to their chests. He spoke of permanent damage to their muscles and brains. They laughed at each of these things.

  “But we’re fine!” Lucy said.

  “We’re better than fine! We’re great!” Richard said.

  “We’re the best we’ve ever been,” Kent said. “Ever!”

  “Watch this,” Abba said and she began to twirl. The others started twirling as well.

  “I admit,” the doctor said, “you all seem fine.” He put his penlight back in his pocket. He made notes on his clipboard. His right foot was in the hallway when Richard stopped twirling.

  “You didn’t tell us how long we were out,” Richard called.

  The doctor’s right toe tapped three times and then he turned around. “Over two and a half years,” he said. He flipped through papers on the clipboard. “You were in a coma for … two years, eight months and twenty-seven days, to be exact.”

  Richard, Abba, Lucy and Kent looked at the doctor. They looked at each other. They started laughing, all four of them, all at once, laughing, together.

  Sixty minutes later all five of the Weird siblings stood at their grandmother’s grave.

  “That’s an awful lot of text,” Richard said.

  “I can barely read it,” Abba said.

  “She didn’t even put her name on it,” Lucy said.

  “Or the date!” Kent said.

  “What do you think it means?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Abba said. “It’s absurd. Like life is.”

  “Don’t be stupid! It means that you have to be brave enough to accept that some things in life aren’t random. That they have meaning!” Angie said. Her siblings registered the presence of the Tone. They looked at Angie and then they looked at each other.

  “You seem to know a lot about what the Shark was thinking,” Lucy said.

  “Yes you do,” Richard said.

  “Where is your baby?” Kent asked.

  “Finally! And it only took you two hours to ask!”

  “But where is it?” Abba asked.

  “She. Paulette. She’s at daycare. Paul’s picking her up.”

  “I knew you two would work it out!”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not working very well.”

  “Angie,” Richard said. “I have to say, you sound bitter.”

  “And angry.”

  “A little sad.”

  “You sound like the Shark.”

  “Explain to us how it worked.”

  “How what worked?” Angie asked. She took a step backwards.

  “The lightning went through us and then …?”

  “It went into me.”

  “Into, or through?”

  “Into,” Angie admitted, “it ended with me.”

  “Is that right,” Richard said. Angie took another step back. Her siblings stepped towards her. They exchanged looks. They pounced. Before she knew it, Angie was flat on her back. Abba held down her feet. Richard held down her right arm and Kent her left. Lucy knelt beside her, her face inches from Angie’s.

  “We want our sister back,” Lucy yelled, loudly.

  “We need her! We need her back!”

  “You had your chance! You decided to go!”

  “Get out of her body you paranormal hag!”

  “Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!” Angie yelled. “I swear I am not the Shark!”

  “Prove it,” Lucy demanded. None of them loosened their grips.

  “Lucy, those condoms you flushed down the toilet always washed back up. Kent, I once helped you bury shitty underwear in the backyard. Richard …”

  “Okay, okay, we’ve heard enough,” Richard interrupted.

  “Wait. I want to hear what Richard did.”

  “Me too.”

  “What did Richard do?”

  “There’s something more, isn’t there?” Richard asked.

  “I’m afraid there is,” Angie admitted.

  “Tell us.”

  “It’s big.”

  “Tell us anyway.”

  “Okay,” Angie said. They let go and she stood up. She brushed grass off her coat. When every blade was gone, she brushed for a little while longer. Then she looked up at them. “When the lightning went into me, it said something.”

  “That happened to me too,” Richard whispered.

  “And me,” Lucy said.

  “Me too,” Kent said.

  “Yes,” Abba said, nodding her head. “It spoke to me.”

  “What did she tell you?” Richard asked.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Angie said.

  “Then just get it over with!” Kent yelled.

  “She knew where Dad went.”

  “You mean like where his body is?” Richard asked.

  “No.”

  “You mean …”

  “I do.”

  “He’s alive?”

  “He faked it?”

  “Yes,” Angie said. She looked at her feet and tapped her heels together.

  “Where is he?” Abba asked.

  “He bought a house in Sydney.”

  “Australia?”

  “Nova Scotia. On 98 Sampson Avenue.”

  “Did you go see him?”

  “How is he?”

  “What did he say?”

  “I haven’t gone yet.”

  “What?”

  “Why not?”

  “It seemed,” Angie said and she took a very deep breath before she continued, “like something we needed to do as a family.”

  “I see your point,” Richard said.

  “Okay,” Kent said.

  “I agree,” Lucy said.

  “Is he still there?” Abba asked.

  “Well, for obvious reasons the Shark’s memories end a little over two and a half years ago,” Angie said. “But as of that time, yes, I’m afraid that he was.”

  “Jesus,” Kent said. No one said anything more. They could hear traffic, moving quickly.

  “Can we get off her grave?” Angie asked.

  They stepped off her grave. They reread the epitaph. Then, in single file, Richard, Lucy, Abba, Angie and Kent walked through the cemetery. Not one of them noticed that they’d arranged themselves in order of birth.

  THAT NIGHT ALL FIVE OF THE WEIRD siblings slept under one roof, and Paul and Angie slept in the same bed and neither of these things had happened in two years, eight months and twenty-seven days.

  Angie and Paul slept on their sides, with most of the mattress between them. Angie couldn’t fall asleep. “They want me to go with them,” she said. Paul didn’t answer for a long time and then he did.

  “I know,” he said.

  “They’re leaving in the morning.”

  “I think you should go.”

  “Nice.”

  “What?”

  “Very supportive.”

  “It was supposed to be.”

  “You think I can just go?”

  “How can you not?”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “You think I’m just going to leave Paulette?”

  “Angie,” Paul said. He sat up. He didn’t turn on the light. “It’s not like you’re going forever …”

 
“No.”

  “Are you?”

  “It isn’t the plan.”

  “You know that Paulette and I will be fine.”

  “I do,” Angie said. She rolled onto her back.

  “So if that’s not it, what is it?” Paul asked. He reached out his hand, looking for hers. It landed on her breast. He decided to leave it there.

  “It’ll change me,” she told him.

  “What will?”

  “Either way.”

  “If you find him or if you don’t?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you believe that, either way, it will take you away from here? From me? I’m not saying Paulette, but from me?”

  “Aren’t you worried about that?”

  “Well,” Paul said. He took away his hand. “I guess I’m kinda thinking, what with the way things are between us, it’s worth the risk.”

  The next morning Angie woke up alone in the middle of the bed. She went into the bathroom. She washed her face. She scrubbed her forearm. The phone number remained perfectly legible. She tried to figure out what to do and she still hadn’t made up her mind when she walked to the kitchen and found it crammed with Weirds.

  Kent and Richard cooked pancakes. Paul poured coffee. Paulette sat at the kitchen table, between Lucy and Abba, who were teaching her how to shoot Cheerios from her spoon. Angie stood there and then she did something else she hadn’t done in two and a half years—she started to cry.

  “It’s … s … o … goo … d to … s … ee y … ou all.”

  “Angie!”

  “Morning!”

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Pancakes?”

  “They’re surprisingly good.”

  “I’ll make you tea.”

  “Whatch tis,” Paulette said. She shot a Cheerio at her mother. It hit her chest and then it fell and rolled under the table.

  “Pretty good!”

  “Aim a little higher next time.”

  “Aren’t you g … oing to … m … ake … fun of me … for … c … rying?”