The Clay Girl

by Heather Tucker

  “Then see it’s done before you leave. You’ll earn your keep around here one way or another. You hear?”

  “Yes, SIR.”

  Sayonara, Infected Roach, right, Ari?

  Precisely. I lock the door and follow the sound of Todd’s tirade. “Get lost you puking maggot.”

  Mikey backs into the hall and crumples in defeat against the wall.

  “You share a room with Todd and Ricky?” He sighs as I help myself to the spot on the floor beside him. “I have to share with Ronnie. This is the worst place I’ve come across yet. You hungry?” He shakes no. I check my watch. “Well, it’s only six thirty. You have any books?” His head folds to his knees. “Go get your PJs on and teeth brushed and I’ll show you my pictures.”

  He stays committed to his silence but obeys, then makes himself a little too comfortable on my cot. I open my photo album. “This is my dog Zodiac. Len is . . . was my stepdad. This is us at Expo. And these are my Aunties M&N. Wish I could live with them but the judge says a mother has her rights no matter how big a butt-head she is.” I look for his face. “Don’t tell her I said that, okay?” He settles on my pillow. He looks small and cold so I start to pull up the comforter. “Do you wet the bed?” He shakes no. “Because my Babcia made this feather wonder and I don’t care to get piss on it.” I tuck it around his chin and collect my album. “Bye, Mikey. It was nice meeting you.” His small hand clutches my sleeve. “I gotta go.” He tightens his hold.

  Jasper pinches. He’s scared, Ari. The Dick’s gone.

  “I’ll just be down on the couch.”

  Jacquie wakes me in the workroom. “Ari, go upstairs and sleep.”

  “I’ve got an essay to finish and a test tomorrow.”

  “Iggy fleshed out your notes and I’ve typed it up.”

  I stumble up the stairs. Iggy is propped on the couch to give his pressure spots a rest. We hold each other a lot these days. His arms always give my pressure spots a rest. “Thanks for the essay.”

  “’Tis okay. Go sleep, corka.”

  In what has to be less than a minute Chase rattles my shoulder. “Time to go, babe.”

  “No. Please.”

  “This is the first place they’d come looking.” He mops up my nose. “If you need to run, I’ll go with you.”

  “How can I leave Mikey alone in that anus? I’ve just got to unearth a spot for him in the boys’ room. That couch is like sleeping in a cesspit.”

  “Come on. We’ll give the kid every boy’s dream room.”

  Chase’s loads his car with groceries, clean laundry, and camping gear. Jacquie gives me my essay. “We’re going to get an A.”

  “Can you osmote biology into my head?”

  Chase hands over study cards. “I’ll have the key points infused in there by the time we reach Main Street.”

  We shuffle around clutter at the end of the upstairs hallway and pitch Chase’s pup tent, complete with air mattress, sleeping bag, flashlight, and stuffed bear. Mikey scurries in and from that time onward we hardly ever see him.

  Week two has me believing I might survive without running. Ronnie stays out prowling most nights. I leave for school before the Dick and Dickette get up in the morning and they’re gone in one way or another by the time I get home, except for Ricky who I think hangs around waiting for a lunch, or maybe for the quote on the bag. Today he’s on the February-cold front steps finishing his smoke. I hand him a bag and he stuffs it in his coat.

  “Who writes these words on the bags?”

  “Uncle Iggy.”

  He recites yesterday’s jewel. “Whatever you believe you can do, begin it. Action has magic and power in it.”

  “Come to the store Saturday and you can meet him and see my wall of Ig-gems.”

  “Do you think he could—”

  Mum opens the door, looking more nice than slutty in black pants and a sweater. “Hariet, come on in now. Mikey needs help with his homework.” Ricky turns the green of her tight V-neck when she kisses his cheek and then wipes the lipstick smudge with her licked thumb. “Have a good shift, sweetie.”

  I two-step over the hall debris. “Your hair looks nice up like that.”

  “Richard likes it down and wild.”

  I only remember a mum as a skin stretched over a man’s expectations and by an odd turn she seems most comfortable in this empty-headed bimbo suit. Sometimes I hear real happiness in her laugh when the Dick smacks her butt or squeezes her tit before stepping out for a big date at the Zanzibar.

  She makes tea for me, her hand playing a little with my hair as she watches over my shoulder. “You listen to Hariet, Mikey. She’s as smart as they come.”

  I hate her saying these things. Utterly despising each other works best for us. “Mum, you’re getting ashes on the paper.”

  Todd’s internal clock signals time for a snack and The Red Skelton Hour. He plows through the kitchen, loading up before landing on the sofa. “Todd, is it so friggin’ hard to put the lid back on the peanut butter?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “I bought it, and you can’t have any more if you don’t put it away.”

  “You gonna to stop me?” He gives me the finger and the parrot caterwauls fuck-aw, fuck-aw.

  Navigating the Dick’s shift change is perilous. I sleep with one eye open because Ronnie’s a girl-bully, the kind who would cut your hair or draw satanic symbols in permanent ink on your forehead while you sleep. On the nights when the Dick fouls crapdom I can count on her rummaging my pack after the nightly, Oh, oh, oh yeah, Theresa, Jesus F Christ, you filthy little bitch, oh baby, fuck, yeah baby . . . coming from the master Dick room. She pockets the two-buck devil-appeasement offering left for her before hoisting her heft out the window. I watch her escape route in case I ever need to make a fast exit.

  Spooky how quickly life in crapdom becomes routine. Even the Dick-sanctioned padlock on the pantry. When I asked if I could lock it, Dick licked his lips over the pleasure of screwing Todd out of gobbling all our grub. His sheer glee made the whole plan sour, so now I leave a bag of Fritos by Todd’s TV spot as a sorry-for-being-vengeful.

  Hardest to get a handle on is what the Dick wants with me. He’s just finished a screaming match with Mikey’s mom before she took him for the weekend. Now he obliterates the kitchen window as he hunches red-faced over the sink. Ronnie wiggles in wearing a neon green minidress so short I can see her butt swags. “Daddy, I need a ten.”

  “Then go out and fucking earn it you lazy bitch.” He pulls out his wallet, throwing a five at her and I wonder what she has his balls clamped in. His attention turns to me. “Has the kid talked to you?”

  “No.”

  “You’re supposed to be helping him with his homework.”

  “I do. He works out stuff easy on paper. Um . . . I have to get to work.”

  “Starting Monday you be home by six.” His finger is bulbous like his nose. “And you get that kid talking.”

  “But I work ’til six.”

  “Home by six or I’ll fix it so you have no work to go to at all.”

  “But . . .” In just one step his cheesy nose touches mine and his breath smells of salami and egg. He pinches my arm in a way that makes me want to blubber out loud. “Yes, sir.” I slide into my coat and out the door.

  Ricky laughs as I smack, book first, into him. “Good reading?”

  “King Lear’s not my favourite but I’ve got a test.”

  He peers past my shoulder. “How’s the home front?”

  “The usual, one’s passed out the other is pissed out.”

  “You want to get something to eat?”

  “If you come to the library first. Apparently, the polar ice caps warrant a five-page blather.”

  He trudges along to the library then buys me pizza.

  “Can I ask you something?”

 
“Shoot.”

  “What does Ronnie have on your dad?”

  “Nobody knows. Not even Ronnie.” The coke rumbles in the bottom of the glass. “They were having it out years back; Ronnie said she’d seen what he did and was going to tell.”

  “What did she see?”

  “Nothing. He just has a guilty conscience. Likely it was him who threw my mom down the stairs.”

  “Where is your mom now?”

  “Holy Cross.”

  “I’m guessing you don’t mean she’s a nun.”

  “Fertilizer. The fucker moved Todd’s mom in before the ground settled. Then there was Lucille, what a piece of work she was.” He has a sweet, sad smile. “Mikey’s mom was okay. When she was clean.”

  “How come your dad gets Mikey?”

  “Laura has problems, the worst of which is my old man. He pretty much takes what he wants.” He swirls the melted ice in his glass.

  “I have to get to work so you better hurry up and ask.”

  “Ask what?”

  “Whatever it is you wanted to ask me the other day.”

  “Can’t a guy say thanks for the lunches without wanting something?”

  “Rarely.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  I’m on my knees at Aquarius reordering bottom shelves when Ricky cruises in.

  “Hey. Did you come to meet Uncle Iggy?”

  “Yeah . . . no . . . okay, I did want to ask you something.” He pulls out a fat envelope. “Can you help me fill this out? It has a bunch of questions. And I have to study for this aptitude test.”

  I peruse the papers. “You’re joining the army?”

  “I want it so bad I can’t shit straight. I could get papers to be a mechanic.”

  “We’ll make it so poetic they’ll beg you to join.”

  “You can’t tell. Dad would kill me.”

  “Wouldn’t he be proud?”

  “He got booted out. Nothing would screw him more than me getting in. One day, when I’m a sergeant or captain, I’ll march into the station in uniform and give him a royal salute. Until then, I’ll protect you.”

  “Well, all I can say is having the Canadian Armed Forces on my side can only help. Iggy will help you study ’til you’ve got the book down by heart.”

  Chase drops Ricky off at the house with me and kisses me light and sweet. “See you tomorrow, babe. Take care of her, Ricky.”

  Mikey catapults out of the house in stockinged feet, plastering himself to me. “What’s wrong?”

  Ricky says, “Think maybe he was scared you weren’t coming back.”

  “No such luck, Mikey, you’re stuck with me. You have a good weekend with your mom?” He shrugs into my belly. “Let’s get inside before your feet freeze.”

  I step over the pantry door lying on the front lawn. In the two days I’ve been gone things have faded to yuck. There isn’t a clear inch on the counter to set anything down and the air is smokier than Pompeii. Dick rumbles from the never-used dining room, “Girl, get in here and show some manners.”

  Mum and Ronnie are cheerleaders for a big poker game. I stand in the door while the Dick directs his cigar to the lineup, “Murdock, Norman, O’Toole, Jonesie, this is Theresa’s youngest.” O’Toole, the cop who snatched me from school and frisked me for concealed weapons, winks. The cigar directs me to the kitchen. “Get up some snacks.”

  I have two options in this prison: make a break or put in my time and hope for time off for good behaviour. I slap bologna and mustard on stale white bread. “Ricky, go hide our lunches.”

  Mum wiggles in to tray-up some beer. “Isn’t this fun?”

  “Yeah, a real blast.” I plop the stack on her tray and make for the stairs. “I gotta study.”

  O’Toole finishes zipping-up on his way down from the bathroom. “Hey, sweet thing. You like movies?”

  “No.”

  He backs me toward the rail. “Well, what do you like?”

  “People who wash their hands after using the bathroom.”

  He moves to incarcerate my hair when Todd pushes through like a tsunami, opening the way for me to escape. He winks as he goes by. “Gotta piss.”

  Never again will I withhold food from Todd.

  Just when I think I have the situation figured out, the wind shifts. I don’t mind coming home a little earlier because Ricky hangs around before going to his night job and things are a little flirty between us. Just eye-wanders and leaning close when watching TV.

  The Dickhead storms in more miserable than usual, snatching my Fahrenheit 451 out of Ricky’s hand. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Reading.”

  “Fucking liar, get yourself to work.” He turns his sights on me. “And you are finished at that store.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I fucking said so.”

  “The judge said I could.”

  He comes at me with the back of his hand.

  Ricky steps in, taking it right across his cheek.

  “Don’t you be interfering with me, boy.”

  Ricky explodes, backing the Dick up with his chest, raging in his face. “You the big man messing with a little girl. You gonna push her around like you did Mom? Leave her the hell alone or I’m telling everything.”

  “Get out of my sight. Fucking ingrate.” An ashtray launches from his hand dinging the plaster before landing on the heap of boots.

  I fly outside, following Ricky in my bare feet. “Ricky, wait.”

  He turns, walking backwards. “Get back in the house.”

  “But he’s gonna murder me.”

  He lets me catch up and flicks off a butt caught in my hair. “He’ll leave you alone for now.”

  I touch the dribble of blood on his lip. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “What are you going to tell?”

  “About pockets I know he picks. I gotta go.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  My frozen feet tell me I need to be better prepared to run. Mikey shivers on the steps. I pat down his cowlicked hair. “Everything’s okay.”

  Mum hovers, hip-handed pissed. “Don’t you mess this up for me, Hariet.”

  Shut up you stupid, stupid bitch. “What the hell am I messing up?”

  “Richard’s just doing what I asked. You being around Jacquie is making me a nervous wreck. I want you away from that store.”

  “Too bad. I have legal permission.”

  I stomp up the stairs to find that Ronnie has barricaded me out of the friggin’ room. The Dick clods up to the landing, lifting me off the floor by my braid. “I don’t give a rat’s tit what some pansy-ass judge says. I can make things happen, all your pretty life up in smoke.” His teeth manipulate his lit cigar into my ear, bubbling the skin, melting wax. “You hear me?”

  Scorching pain forces half-digested supper out of my gut.

  He releases my braid and my knees buckle into the vomit. “Clean up that shit.”

  Maybe the scabby mess in my ear keeps me from hearing the warnings. I go to work all week with my nose held high, all I can-to. Three a.m., Sunday, Chase and I drag ourselves home from the Riverboat to find that Armageddon has hit the store—windows smashed, Aquarius cleaned out, everything stolen down to the last love bead and the Pennyworth side of the store trashed. Jacquie’s inside clutching Arielle.

  “Where’s Franc?”

  “He went to the hospital with Iggy.”

  The earth jellos under my feet. “Why?”

  “It’s so hard getting his chair up the stairs. He’s been sleeping down in your room. The police think he heard a noise and called out. They beat him up, bashed his head bad.”

  “This is all my fault.”

  “It’s Mum’s and no one else�
��s. There’s not a day she doesn’t phone saying I’m going to get mine and she’s getting hers.”

  “Where’s Zodiac?”

  “Upstairs. Chase, will you take Ari and the dog to your place? We’re going to Sabina’s.”

  “Who’s taking you?”

  “The police.”

  “Let them take Babcia. You can’t let the police know where you are or the Dick will know, too.”

  “Where are we supposed to go?”

  “They won’t think of Miss Standish. She said anytime I need to I can just let myself in.”

  Franc is hunched over the stretcher. His face gives away that things are really bad. I don’t ask. I don’t want to know that someone else is leaving me. Not my living word who feeds me more than what Babcia stuffs in a bag. I just lay my head on his chest whispering all that he means to me until only silence remains.

  Nurses unhook, turn off, cover up.

  Franc strokes my head. “Come, Ari. He runs. At last he runs.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Miss Standish has a backyard with a high fence. Winter damp seeps from the wooden bench through my coat. Jacquie arrives with a blanket and sits. We gather in a long silence. “What you said today was beautiful. He really could dance, couldn’t he?”

  I nod into her soft shoulder.

  “Iggy couldn’t make it to the toilet anymore. He was so ashamed having Franc or me clean him up. And the pressure sores were eating him away. A hero of two wars would want to die in battle. He died fighting with the only thing he had left, his voice.”

  “How will I survive without it?”

  “It won’t ever be gone. Will you write out his quotes for Arielle to have?”

  “I’d like to.” I mop my nose on my sleeve. “He wants to go home, so his ashes can be closer to Katarina.”

  “We know. Franc is going with Babcia. It’ll be nice for him to see his parents.”

  “You and Arielle have to go, too.”

  “I’m not leaving you here with them.”