The Clay Girl

by Heather Tucker

  Mikey lifts his face. The Dick cracks his head to one side, then to the other in preparation for the final victory-taking. “Mikey, if you ask for permission to go with Hariet you can have a holiday at the ocean.”

  I pray that all my stories will be enough to un-weld his tongue. Mikey takes in my face and for me, not for himself, knowing how desperately I need out, says, “Sir . . . ma—may, may I have permission to go with Ari?”

  The Dick is the biggest friggin’ colossal prick in the universal universe. No wonder he has two women in rehab. “Say, Dad, may I please go with Hariet.”

  Mikey stands, skyscraper-tall. “Dad, may I please go with Hariet.”

  “Go on, get the hell outta my sight. But don’t expect a penny from me for this.”

  I climb the steps and knock on the sneaker sticking out of the tent. “Mikey?” I poke my head in. “Can I show you something?” I elbow up with my raggedy little matchbox that has journeyed with me for as long as I can remember. “My imagination has been the only thing I’ve felt was really mine. The only thing no one could touch or separate me from. Jasper’s gotten way too big for this little bed. Would you like it for yours until it grows bigger?”

  He nods.

  “What do you call your spirit friend?”

  “Ari, I think.”

  “Oh, we might get confused spending the summer together. How about Kira? The K from the middle of Mikey and Ari backwards. Mine looks like a seahorse. How about yours?”

  “A dragonfly.”

  My fifth sunrise on the shore and the numbness is out, leaving me feeling everything ocean big. All the pushed-down grief breaks against the rocks. Nia asks, “What are you seeing?”

  “Treasures, losses, lost treasure, found treasure.”

  “Which is the most stunning?”

  “That absence can’t distance me from my true family.” Mikey comes sailing over the ridge, down the rocky slope, running, head up, arms stretched to the ocean, to the day, to possibilities. “And maybe, giving a child fearless moments is the best giving there is.”

  “I’m just sorry Jake is off fiddling around the Maritimes.”

  “It’s a good turn, I think. His music makes me dance. I need this big silence with Len for a time.”

  My seventh sunrise I see Jake ahead on the beach. Nia releases my hold and I run smack into his arms. “Ari Zajac. There’s the sunrise I came looking for.”

  “Jake Tupper, I’ve missed you more than dolphins jump.”

  “Hear you’ve come to the shore with a new man.” He sets me down, smiling over my shoulder.

  “Mikey, come meet my friend.”

  “Pleased to meet you, mate. Think you might like to come out on the boat and meet some of my friends?”

  Mikey looks to me, hoping.

  “Better get a sweater. It can get shivery out there.”

  Jake holds my hand as we walk back to Skyfish. His cheeks are sea burned and the colour of driftwood floats in his eyes.

  “Are you home for a bit, Jake? Sadie told me you’re with a band.”

  “Saturday we’re playing not far from here. Will you come?”

  “Any chance I might get a dance?”

  With that he sweeps me in a jig, splashing us through the water. Where the music comes from is a mystery but the rocks sing. Now, I’m not a wisp but he lifts me into a twirl which lands us laughing on the sand.

  “You free tonight?”

  “I’ll be here waiting.”

  Mary and I watch them go, Jake and Mikey, hand in hand, setting off to sea. “He’s been so excited about your coming.”

  “Really?”

  “The girls fall around him like autumn leaves but he says he’s got his eye on only one apple.”

  “Why me?”

  “Maybe, you make his heart sing like he makes your feet dance.” She laughs. “He asked my permission to court you.”

  “And?”

  “I warned him to tread slow. You be careful, too, missy. You’ve miles to dance before you bed.”

  Something has changed between my head, heart, and hands since I last sat at the wheel. Spirits around me and dreams inside mingle, turn. I’m in church, bowed in prayer. Jake reaches my knee before I sense his presence. “Mary’s got supper up.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Going on seven.”

  Our eyes mix, hazel with grey. “I’ve missed here. Missed you more than there are words.”

  “Is there no one you’re missing back home?”

  “This is home.” He smiles like I just gave him a puppy so I give the whole litter. “And you’re the only boy I’ll ever be missing.” My mucky finger hooks his jean loop, reeling him closer. His hand lights on the knee poking out of my hoisted skirt, sending music up my thigh. I reach, taking a kiss—it sets me wanting an ocean plunge on a scorching day.

  A thousand dragon eyes wink from the circle in the sand. Jake invites me inside his coat, pulling it tight around us. “How many times do you figure we’ve explored this shore together?”

  “More than all the sad moments we’ve known and a far cry fewer than I need. Wish you weren’t leaving with the band.”

  “There’s money to be made and I’m going to make it while the making’s good.”

  “Then what?”

  “Build a house. Buy a boat. Take out summer travellers to see our ocean. Mary says I’m a teacher in my bones. Could you imagine someone like me a teacher?”

  “You’re a teacher, a healer, a rescuer, an explorer, a builder, a musician . . . and those aren’t even what you do best.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You’re a safe harbour for wrecks, more, you see the treasure in them.”

  “I’ll show you, Ari. I could be someone worth having.”

  “You don’t have to show me anything, Jake.” Moving chest to chest, face to face, atop him feels more like finding a jigsaw piece than a stress. “I already know I could never be at home with anyone like I am with you.”

  Dreams light half his face; disbelief shadows the other. “Mary’s helping me through my high school and I have eight hundred dollars saved.”

  “Ari Zajac can be had for a song.”

  He flips me to the sand. “You really snuck out of the ocean for me, didn’t you?”

  “I’ve been found out.”

  “Aye, it’s these waves and the seahorse tails.” Holding fathoms of my hair he travels the ends across my cheek and buries his face close to my ear. “That grows from the deep. I’ve never met anyone so unafraid to let people look straight inside their heart. I saw it, Ari. I saw my match in there.”

  I want to ask if it’s Jasper he saw but I’ll hold off ’til I’m sure what he said isn’t mariner’s code for liking my boobs.

  We kiss and kiss and kiss and I don’t fear the twine of his leg over mine until he takes it away.

  Nia surrenders the painting to me after she shape-shifts a piece of driftwood. The wood has given up a face, a Huey Butters sea-weathered face, a little of Len peers out, too. “See what’s coming out here. The happy pieces are nice but you give the grief-shadows room on this one.”

  I smile past her to Aunt Mary glowing with sweat as she examines the latest firing. A sigh skitters out of my mouth, “Wish I could paint that.”

  Mary towels her face. “Geez, it’s bloody hot.”

  Nia flips the Back in Ten Minutes sign. “Race you.” We scramble to the ocean, peeling clothes as we fly, plunge into the frigid water, bolting out in less than a quarter minute. Our iced T&A break that will set us giddy for the rest of the afternoon.

  I’m barefoot and clay-mucked when a dentist and his wife come into Skyfish. “Afternoon. Enjoying your trip around the trail?”

  The woman says, “Breathtaking.”

  The man says, “Our kids
are out there with the dogs. Are they friendly?”

  “As long as your kids don’t bite them they won’t bite your kids.”

  “They’ve been in the car for days.”

  “Would they like to make something?”

  At Aquarius people buy my work like hungry piglets but at Skyfish the story is sold along with the creation. As an hour nears two, the Dr. and Mrs. have tea and scones and a lesson on making pottery. Madeline and Abigail construct their own Ari Fairy chimes. They leave with a carefully wrapped box of mugs and coffee pot by Mary, a driftwood crane by Nia, and a fat terracotta pot with a sea turtle bursting from the side by Ari and I know when they arrive home they will tell the story of the women of Skyfish. Not to mention we have two hundred and twenty dollars in our till. I watch them out of the drive. “All I ever want to do is this.”

  Mary says, “You may feel different after university.”

  “I’m coming here the day I turn sixteen and I’m never leaving. Jake and I—”

  “You’re getting your schooling. You both are or I’ll skin you alive.”

  Nia sands a mermaid’s cheek. “Don’t fret. There are wonderful colleges close by.”

  Mikey flaps his arms around me before heading out fishing. “I’ll catch you a big one for supper.”

  “Mind Huey, and keep your life jacket on in the boat.”

  I claim the wheel while Mary goes to the post office and Nia naps in the hammock. Too soon, the bell chatters. Mary pokes her head in. “Brought you something from town.” She opens the door and an ear-dragging hound waddles in.

  “Is that—Bunny? Shit—Holy Shit.” I unstraddle the seat, jumping into hugs with Mina and Ellis. “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t ever write, ‘Wish you were here’ and not mean it with us.”

  “How long you staying?”

  “Just for tea.”

  “No way. Jasper has a whole ocean for you.”

  On our fourth day together, Jake puts us on course to a pod of whales. Mina jumps every time he finds a fish out of water. “What kind is that one?”

  “A humpback. Watch the footprints she leaves.” Mina follows Jake’s finger pointing to the round slicks. “She’s coming up, there.” It breaks the water right where he points then the dorsal fin disappears. “Get your camera up, wait, wait, and . . . click now.” Mina captures a graceful lift of the humpback’s tail. “That’s the terminal dive. She’ll be down a bit now.” He scans the ocean and follows a dolphin chase.

  Mary teaches Mina to turn pots while Mr. Ellis and I walk the shore.

  “I’m glad you’re out of Yorkville for the summer. There’s a big hepatitis outbreak. The whole area is under quarantine.”

  “Yeah, Auntie Mary got wind of it. Took me for a blood test.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “I’m good. Summers here save me a lot of trouble. I missed the sit-ins last year. The hit-ins, too.”

  Ellis inhales the salt air. “It is a refuge here.”

  “Did you and Jake have fun fishing?”

  “Don’t quite know how to describe it.”

  “Let me try. It was like a sojourn with an ascended master and a five-year-old walking into a butterfly migration.”

  “About sums it up. He’s a rare soul.”

  “It’s the seahorse in him.”

  “Are you writing here, Ari?”

  “How can someone live in a poem and not write? I can write bits to Len now. Not poetical things, just missings.” I toss remembering-stones for Len, Grandma, Iggy, and a tiny pebble for Jet into the ocean. “I’ve been keeping a diary since the Anne thing. Mina told me I should, even if I just burn them.” He takes my hand like Len did and I feel the grief in it. “Mina told you everything, didn’t she?”

  His shrug is more an attempt to work out the ache.

  “I sure burden-up people.” We stop to watch shorebirds squawking over a silvery fish. “Len and I stood right here to take in this very show last summer. It was all the Appleton stress that wrecked his heart.”

  “I’m pretty sure I speak for Len when I say this.” His hands land soft on my shoulders. “Given the choice between bliss and a life with you in it I’d grab the latter faster than that gull snatched the herring and I’d never let go.”

  “That Rochester is one brave spirit. He’s a turtle, isn’t he.”

  He smiles a wink. “A Western Painted Turtle.”

  “Should’ve guessed that he’s colourful given Mina’s attraction to you.” He laughs out loud when I say, “I missed it because when I catch a glimpse, Rochester is always wearing a fedora and a London Fog raincoat.”

  “He loves having you around. It gets me writing.”

  We journey along the water’s edge. “What are you working on?”

  “A series of travel essays for teachers. I just wrote one about the Torrey Canyon.”

  “The tanker that ran aground last year?”

  “Mina’s roots are in Cornwall so we went to help with the cleanup. The birds were so exhausted they just let me wash the crud off them. Thousands died, but the ones released stay with me, I still can see the way they dove back into the water. When Mina told me what you’ve lived through, words that had wanted out for so long just poured onto the page.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re like those birds, plunging into life despite someone loading you with crap. Spectacular is what I’d call you.”

  My feet feel caught in an off-the-ground float as we veer toward Skyfish. “Come on. I’ll show you how to coax a character out of driftwood.”

  Coming or going and everything in between always gives rise to down-home parties. Jake navigates me toward his band. Duncan and Robbie, the boys of Saltwind take me in with a whistle. “So, the girl is real. We thought Jake dreamed you up.”

  Kathleen, Saltwind’s angelic voice sizes me up. “Don’t go getting your heart broke.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Jake and me are having some good fun.” She winks a smile at him. “Eh, b’y?”

  Jake’s hands at my waist tell me she’s churning up our calm ocean. I whistle. “Well, lord, Kat, you’re prettier than Marianne Faithful. I might want to have a go at you myself.” Duncan laughs and smacks his bodhrán like a period on a punchline. He corrals them and leads them to the stage. Jake leans into my ear, “I’ll be playing only for you.”

  Jake is freer than I’ve ever seen him, letting his voice out now along with his fiddle. There is a haunt to it that burns and chills in the same breath. “And then she made her way homeward, with one star awake, as the swan in the evening moved over the lake . . .”

  I inhale when the music picks up. It makes no difference what man, woman, or child asks me to dance, I clog, step, and heel-toe to every jig and reel. Usually, Jake’s eyes close when he plays, but tonight they keep finding mine, lips turning in a quarter-smile, sweatbeads sparkling all over him. One spins on a salt-wet length of hair. Look, Ari, it’s Jewel.

  Like he’s just caught sight of Jasper, he leaps off the stage, touching down inches away, chasing me in a dance around the floor, fiddling all the while.

  We’ve barely voices left but still sing chorus after chorus, “Way hey and away we go, donkey riding, donkey riding,” all the way home.

  I wander over to deliver groceries and to soak up the sugar in the missus’ hug. Sadie’s taken a job down the coast and the house is so chocked with boys, Mikey included, I know she’ll be hungry for a woman to blather with.

  The Missus has had more life whacks than anybody deserves and she’ll tell you about them with her story weaving as fine as her knitting, but never with a thread of “Oh look what a bloody mess.”

  I pick up a wailing foster and sway him in a hush-hush. “Thanks for letting Mikey bunk here. He’s thriving on all this walrus love.”

  “Reminds
me of young Jake.”

  “What would these misdelivered ones become without you?”

  “You know it’s Mary and Nia that cares for these young’uns as much as me and Huey do. They wanted so desperate to take in wee Jake but peoples that didn’t knows a thing about them said they weren’t suitable. Imagine such foolishness. For years, they traipsed over to the Tupper shanty, sometimes twice a day after his mum up and left, to takes him food, warm woolies, and hugs. They paid Teacher’s oldest boy, Marlin, a quarter a day to picks Jake up for school and sees him safe home.” She serves up more pound cake and history. “Broke m’heart when they lost you. Every day after, I went over to pulls them up. I told them that my wee ones was gone and would never comes back but that you were theirs and would find your way to your true mothers. And weren’t I right?”

  “I want to take care of kids like you do.”

  “O’course. What else has your journey been for?”

  FORTY-FIVE

  Ocean wind on my skin makes me buoyant and on an ancient quilt I float. I know touch, dark, and light. I know the muscle of someone who’s been submersed by evil and drawn to the surface by good. Jake explores me quietly, kissing my breast, his head curving like the deer at our trough, his tongue taking a gentle drink.

  Unafraid, my skirt folds back, right leg settling like a satin ribbon falling from a gift. I want, want, want the drift of his hand up my thigh, fingers breaking the lace seal of my panties, blue and silk, against my white hip. He hums because the sea is his home. I hum because water between my legs as the potter’s wheel turns is my heart. I think I would let him come inside but he doesn’t ask, he just plays out the song in me all the way through to a quiet smile.

  His belly, hard and concave, gives room to fit my hand under his jeans. “Ari, you don’t have to.” And there is the difference for this girl. When I have to, to settle a boy down, an ugly messy thing fills my hand. With Jake, because I love him and I want to, I discover a whole different set of lovely parts.