On the Shores of Darkness, There is Light

by Cordelia Strube

  “Mum?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to use the washroom.”

  “Come right back. You could be called any minute.”

  Harriet waits outside the washroom, picturing bacteria spreading. Mrs. Elrind showed them a video about how disease is spread. Each time a cartoon character touched anything, they smeared purple germs. When the next cartoon character touched the same doorknob or elevator button, they smeared purple on a handrail or an ATM. Soon the whole cartoon world was covered in purple smears. The video said you can get sick from someone coughing ten feet away. Lots of people cough in Emerg. Purple clouds and germs engulf Harriet. She tries to breathe as little as possible and to touch nothing. After a man in a hospital gown limps out of the washroom, Harriet grabs the door lever with the bottom of her T-shirt to open it, then covers the toilet seat with toilet paper. Almost immediately someone knocks on the door. “I’ll be out in a sec,” Harriet says, noticing some of Irwin’s chocolate pudding vomit on her jeans. “Are you trying to kill him?” Gennedy shouted at her. “What’s the matter with you? Did you not hear your mother say no chocolate pudding? And then you add marshmallows? What kind of sadist are you?” Harriet wasn’t sure what sadist meant but assumed it had to do with being sad which she was.

  “I’m the saddest,” Irwin cried, “because you keep fighting.”

  “He’s right.” Lynne lifted him up and carried him to the bathroom, leaving Harriet and Gennedy staring at the vomit.

  “Clean it up,” Gennedy ordered.

  “You clean it up.”

  “You made him sick. You clean it up.”

  “You make me sick. You clean it up.”

  “Both of you clean it up,” Lynne screamed from the bathroom so loudly it sounded as though she’d ripped her vocal chords. Harriet thinks this may be why she isn’t speaking.

  She washes her hands carefully, dries them with paper towel then covers the lever with paper towel before pressing on it. Her mother is still sitting with her head tipped back and her eyes closed. Harriet dashes to the pay phones, digs in her pocket for quarters and calls Darcy. “It’s me. Is Buck there yet?”

  “Negative. Probably stuck in traffic.”

  “Okay, well, I’m running a bit late. Can we make it nine at the DQ?”

  “No promises. I need my Choco Cherry Love blizzard, yo. TTYL.” She hangs up.

  Lynne still hasn’t moved.

  “Mum?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “I know you are, bunny.”

  “Do you think we could do something fun after this? Just you and me?”

  “What kind of fun?”

  “I was thinking we could go to the Dairy Queen. We never go there anymore. Girls’ night out.”

  “You haven’t had dinner.”

  “I don’t need dinner. I had a huge lunch at Mindy’s. She’s totally into health food.”

  Her mother looks her in the face for the first time in hours. “Can you take that makeup off please?”

  Harriet forgot she had it on. She charges back to the washroom just as an old man in a wheelchair wheels out of it. Under the fluorescent lighting the makeup makes Harriet look old, almost as old as the scarlet-haired woman with the bleeding face. Harriet scrubs her skin with soap and paper towel. The mascara leaves dark rings under her eyes. It takes ten minutes to remove all the makeup. Many sick people knock impatiently on the door.

  Her mother slouches in her seat, staring at the floor. She never slouches because she says it makes her gut stick out. Harriet touches her hand. Lynne looks up. “There’s my baby girl.” She pulls Harriet to her and holds her close. Even though Harriet’s nose is squashed against her mother’s neck, making breathing difficult, she wants to stay like this forever.

  The doctor from Iran is hard to understand. He seems annoyed by Harriet’s toe, and talks very fast. When Lynne says, “Can you please repeat that, I don’t understand,” he talks even faster. Harriet thinks he might be threatening to cut off her leg. He keeps pointing at her leg while talking fast and shaking his head. Harriet expects her mother to lose patience with the doctor and demand to see one who speaks English. She did this on one of Irwin’s Emerg visits when she couldn’t understand a Chinese doctor. Lynne seems almost afraid of the doctor from Iran. “Very bad,” he says, and Harriet doesn’t know if he means the toe is very bad, or that Lynne is very bad for not noticing the toe, or if it’s very bad that he has to cut her leg off. He scribbles a prescription on a pad and thrusts it at Lynne, who takes it without a word then slumps against the examining table as the doctor speeds to the next patient.

  “What just happened?” Harriet asks.

  “He wants you on antibiotics. We’ll go get it filled.”

  “After that can we go to the DQ?”

  “Oh, bunny, I’m so tired.”

  “It’ll give you energy. Yummy ice cream.” She hops off the table and hugs her mother again. All this hugging feels awkward but wonderful. She never hugs her mother when Irwin’s around. “Please? Just us? Girls’ night out?”

  “Okay, well, let me phone Gennedy and make sure Irwin’s all right.”

  Harriet wants to kick the wall but instead sits demurely on the chair. She hears the scarlet-haired woman shout, “Don’t talk shit. I hurt soooo bad. I’m dy-ing over here.”

  “How’s he doing?” Lynne asks. “Any temperature?” While listening to Gennedy she tugs at a piece of torn upholstery on the examining table. “Is he keeping liquids down? . . . Did you try giving him a piece of toast or something? . . . Okay . . . I don’t know. Harriet wants to go for ice cream.” Harriet can hear Gennedy squawking, probably about how she doesn’t deserve ice cream; you don’t reward a potty-mouthed child who poisons her little brother. “We’ll talk about it later,” Lynne says. “I just want to make sure you’ll be all right with him and that he’s stable. Call me if there’s any change.” Her mother’s tone is cooler than usual with Gennedy. This gives Harriet hope for Buck, except that Lynne hasn’t put a face on and has chocolate vomit on her tank top.

  “Mum, maybe we should go home and change.”

  “What for? The Dairy Queen? Let’s just go.”

  “Do you have any makeup in your purse?”

  “Since when are you so interested in makeup, bunny?”

  A stern nurse draws the curtain. “Are you done here?”

  “We’re done,” Harriet says, grabbing her mother’s hand.

  They stop at Shoppers Drug Mart to pick up the antibiotics. Harriet keeps holding her mother’s hand even though she knows it’s childish. While they wait for the prescription to be filled, Harriet steers Lynne to the makeup counter. Lynne catches sight of her reflection in a mirror and gasps. “I look a wreck.”

  “Put some makeup on,” Harriet suggests. “Try this colour.” She holds out a bright red lipstick called Siren.

  “It’s a bit bold for me, Hal.” Lynne starts examining the makeup samples and within minutes is putting a face on. In Harriet’s head, she hears Darcy saying, “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  Buck and Dee aren’t at the DQ. Peewee soccer teams swarm the counter and tables. Harriet grabs a couple of stools by the window. Lynne watches the boys Irwin’s age with a broken smile. Harriet knows she’s trying to picture Irwin healthy, pushing and shoving his fellow peewees, ordering a large Blizzard and gobbling it all down.

  Harriet hugs and kisses her again. “I’ll line up. You save our seats.”

  “Thanks, baby.” Lynne hands her a ten. “Nothing fancy for me. Just a cone. Chocolate dipped.” This equals messy, not sexy. Harriet doesn’t want her mother dribbling chocolate bits in front of Buck.

  “You don’t want a Blizzard? I thought you liked Mint Oreo.”

  “Do I? Okay, whatever. You choose.”

  Standing
among the peewees, Harriet tries to imagine what it would be like to have one for a little brother. She’d probably smack his head. At least Irwin’s quiet. One of the babies at the hospital cried constantly because he was missing a piece of his brain. “He’s got no cerebral cortex,” Lynne whispered. “He can’t think. That’s why he never stops crying. He can’t make sense of anything. We’re so lucky Irwin’s got a brain.” Harriet thought of the Straw Man who didn’t have a brain. He did all right.

  A spiky haired peewee glares at her. “You butted in.”

  “I did not.”

  “We were here first.”

  “You weren’t standing in line.”

  “We were too.”

  “Quit talking out your ass,” Harriet says.

  It seems to her Irwin’s brain spends too much time on stuff he can’t do anything about, like littering. “Why do people litter?” he asks. Or mass murder. Lynne tries to shield him from the news but when psychos kill a bunch of people, Irwin finds out because everybody’s talking about it—especially if little kids get murdered. “I don’t like this world,” he said the last time little kids were shot to death. “Too many people kill each other.” He was studying his world records book, sliding his hand over a picture of the great white shark, the ocean’s fiercest predator that sometimes kills people. “What if somebody tries to shoot us?” he asked. “We should get a gun so we can shoot them back.”

  The spiky-haired peewee points at Harriet. “I’m telling Coach you talked dirty.”

  “Shut da fuck up, mothafucka,” Harriet says, trying to decide if the Strawberry Cheese Quake has more red dye in it than the Choco Cherry Love Blizzard. She glances back and sees Lynne on her cell again, talking, no doubt, to Gennedy. Her gesticulating suggests she’s still mad at him—a good sign. Harriet breaks from the line and steps outside to use the payphone. Darcy takes forever to pick up. “Where are you?” Harriet asks.

  “Oh, the ’rents are at it. He’s, like, begging her to take him back. It’s like he’s her bitch.”

  “Excuse me while my mouth fills with barf.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Tell him he has to get to the DQ. My mum’s pissed at the derp. The timing couldn’t be better.”

  “Pops?” Darcy says loudly. “Harriet requests an ETA at the DQ.”

  Harriet hears Nina shouting, “Get the fuck out of my life, Buck!” which pleases her enormously. She pokes her head out of the booth to check on Lynne, who’s still on the phone but holding her other hand against her forehead. This could mean she’s still mad at Gennedy, or making up.

  “Timing is crucial,” Harriet says. “You’ve got to get over here.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Harriet gets back in line behind the peewees. When she finally buys the Blizzards, her mother is off the phone but talking to Barney in 507, who came back from Afghanistan nuts. At first he looked normal and all the seniors treated him like a war hero, even when he couldn’t get a job. But when he kept trying to strangle his wife in his sleep, nobody treated him like a hero anymore. She left him and he started boozing and working at the car wash. Lynne calls it a modern tragedy and lets him yak at her whenever they run into each other. Harriet doesn’t want Barney chatting up her mother. Buck could show up at any minute. If he sees her flirting with Barney, it’ll turn him right off.

  “Harriet,” Lynne says, “you remember Barney.”

  Barney doesn’t take his eyes off Lynne. If he were a dog, he’d be drooling. Harriet shoves the Mint Oreo Blizzard between them. “If you’re getting ice cream,” she tells him, “you better get in line.”

  “No worries, I just had a cone. I’m trying to lay off the beer.”

  “Good for you,” Lynne says.

  Barney turns his ball cap backwards. “There’s something about vanilla cones that keeps me off the hootch.”

  “Oh I love vanilla cones.” Lynne licks Blizzard off her spoon. “They’re so soothing. I actually prefer them to this fancy stuff.”

  “Easier on the budget,” Barney says.

  “And the waistline,” Lynne adds. They both laugh at their lame jokes. Harriet looks out the window for Buck’s cab.

  “We should form a vanilla-cones-only club,” Barney suggests.

  “Oh, that’s a great idea.” They both laugh again. Barney has pointy teeth. He sits on the stool beside her mother.

  “That’s my seat,” Harriet interjects.

  “Harriet,” Lynne scolds.

  “That’s my seat. My mother was saving it for me.”

  “Take it easy, Hal. I hope you don’t mind, Barney, but we were trying to have some girl time. Girls’ night out.”

  “Oh. Gotcha. When the boys are away the girls will play, wink wink. No worries. I’m outta here.” He lifts his ball cap. “Till we meet again.”

  “You take care of yourself,” Lynne says.

  Harriet sits on the stool. “Was he that stupid before he went to Afghanistan?”

  “Bunny, show some compassion.” There’s that word again. “He probably killed people over there, and saw people getting blown up. I mean, who knows what really goes on over there. Nobody talks about it.”

  “Because war’s stupid.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Yes it is. If people talked about what really went on over there they’d figure out war is stupid and stop having them.” Remembrance Day drives her nuts: everybody acting sorry about dead soldiers when there wouldn’t be dead soldiers if there were no wars.

  “Mizz Harriet, can we talk about the bra?”

  “What about it?”

  “I want you to be comfortable with your body, but I just think you might be trying to act older because of peer pressure.”

  “I’m not going to wear the bra. I only bought it because they had a buy-two-get-one-free sale and Darcy didn’t have enough cash.”

  “I’m hearing an awful lot about this Darcy.”

  “She’s my friend.”

  “I appreciate that, sweetheart, but one thing I’ve learned in life is, if you fall in with the wrong crowd, it’s really hard to get back on your feet.”

  “What crowd are you in?” She knows her mother has no friends. She had some before Irwin was born. She and Trent invited them over for dinner. When they split up and sold the house, Lynne went broke and stopped having friends. She tried making friends in a mom and baby yoga group, but Irwin had a seizure and drooled all over the yoga mats.

  “Gennedy is my crowd.”

  “One person isn’t a crowd.”

  “Can’t you see what he’s done for us, bunny? Who would have looked after you when I had the breakdown?”

  “We didn’t need looking after.”

  “He swears he has never hit you. Is that true?”

  “He’d hit me if he could.”

  “Oh for god’s sake, Harriet, don’t you see how you make everything more difficult? You have to be right all the time. That’s just like your father.”

  Buck’s cab pulls into the parking lot, and Harriet is so excited she can’t speak.

  “Your father is the most judgmental and righteous person I have ever met. It’s those parents of his. Nothing he did was ever good enough.”

  Nothing Harriet does is ever good enough.

  “Hal, you have two sets of parents who love you and would do anything for you. You just refuse to see it.”

  Harriet points to the parking lot. “Look, there’s Darcy and her dad. His ex has full custody so he only gets to see Dee if Nina says it’s okay.” It concerns Harriet that Buck and Dee are wearing jogging shorts. They both look sweaty. Sweat is only sexy in movies. Buck’s T-shirt says IF WE ARE WHAT WE EAT, I’M FAST, CHEAP & EASY. Darcy’s shorts are giving her a wedgie. Harriet waves, beckoning them over.

  Darcy acts surprised. “Oh, wow, hey! Long time no
see. Is this your mom?”

  “It is.”

  “Dad, this is Harriet’s mom.”

  “Do we have names?” Buck asks.

  “I’m Lynne.” She offers her hand. He takes it in his sweaty one, covering both their hands with his left as they shake.

  “I’m Buck. Good to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “All good I hope.”

  “Totes,” Darcy says.

  “She means totally,” Buck says. “Totally all good.”

  Dee pulls on Harriet’s arm. “Come on, H, I need a fix. Dad?” She holds out her hand for cash. “What’ll it be, Bucko? A Banana Cream Pie Blizzard?”

  “Totes.” Buck hands her a twenty. Harriet knows she’ll keep the change.

  They linger at the counter, even after they have the Blizzards, to watch the Buck and Lynne developments. “This is way better than online dating,” Dee says.

  “How would you know?”

  “Buck’s tried it. He has to sit through all the let-me-tell-you-about-myself crap. He totally hates the moment when he’s supposed to make a move on her, or ask for her number. The bitches get all testy if he doesn’t at least ask, so he puts their numbers in his cell, even if he’d rather throw himself on a sword than call them. Half the time he forgets to delete them and phones them by mistake. There was one chick he really wanted, like a totally together woman with her own couture business. She spent all night telling Buck what clothes would look good on him. He got all excited picturing her sewing him swag jackets. He always buys off the rack and the arms are too short. Anyway, she was hot and an entrepreneur. But when he asked for her number she said no. He thought maybe she’d misunderstood his English—she was Japanese—so he asked her again and she said no, then flagged a cab.”

  “She probably figured out he thinks with his dick.”

  “I know, right.” Dee, spoon in mouth, pokes her head around a pillar to get a better look at the potential lovebirds. “There’s definitely something cooking. They’re both leaning forward. If Buck’s sitting back, I know he’s not interested. Okay, let’s make the drop then say we want to sit outside.”