by Vicki Grant
I nibbled on a pinkish cookie with yellow icing the texture of soap. Dolores was playing the tough girl in a movie I was watching.
“You’ll be sorry,” Murdoch said. He reached over and picked up ten or twelve Cheezies in his giant hand. It wasn’t very convincing. He was playing a role too. I thought again how weirdly perfect they were for each other.
Dolores’s phone rang. “Oy. Can I never get a moment’s peace?” She laid a hand on her cheek. “When you run your own business, you’re always on call.”
She rummaged through her plastic bag and pulled out her cell. “Lapins de Poussière Cleaning Service …” She listened for a moment, then her eyebrows dipped and her face went serious. She got up and walked off, as if she’d just been called away on important business.
I looked out over the lake. I was aware that at another time I probably would have thought it was pretty. A gust of wind blew past and I shivered.
“Cold?” Murdoch said.
I turned and saw he was taking a picture on his phone. I didn’t know if it was of me or of Dolores or maybe just the scenery. I turned away again. “Just the breeze.”
He moved his phone and clicked some more. Dolores was taking a long time on the call. The silence was getting awkward.
“You an artist?” I was just filling the air. Murdoch shrugged. “Try to be. How’d you know?” I realized I’d given myself away. “Um. Uh, well. Your door was open and I just happened to see a little …”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t mean to …” That made me sound even guiltier. “You’re good. Like, I mean, as much as I saw.”
“I just goof around …” He took a dainty bite from one of the cookies and I thought the conversation was over, but then he said, “That’s why I’m taking the pictures. To draw from. Like reference, you know.”
His voice trailed off and he looked away. Eventually, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take a few more shots. I glared at Dolores like would you hurry up?
She curled her lip at me but didn’t let her charming phone voice waver. “Can I call you back in a moment just to make sure I can pull a team together? … Thanks.” She hung up.
“Got a proposition for you,” she said, then made us wait while she wolfed down two more cookies. “Anyone interested in splitting three hundred bucks with me?”
I didn’t say anything. Murdoch said, “Um …”
“I knew that would grab your attention! But there’s a catch.” She laughed. “Always a catch, eh? It has to be done tonight. Apparently, this couple’s splitting up. They cleaned most of their stuff out but the new people are moving in at the crack of dawn tomorrow and the house has to be clean by then. The wife —the ex-wife, I guess — said she’ll pay us three big ones. So. You interested?”
Interested? No, I wasn’t interested. Interested required more energy than I had. But it was money and I needed to get out of town. I knew that now. It wasn’t a maybe any more.
“Okay,” I said.
“Murdoch?” Dolores said.
“I don’t want to horn in …”
“Mur-doch.”
He looked at Dolores. She was doing that Italian sitcom thing with her hands again. He turned to me. I shrugged, but I tried to do it in a nice way.
He rubbed his hand over his face and shrugged too. His eyes looked amused.
“Great!” Dolores slapped her thighs. “Okay, guys, eat up. Don’t want you swooning for lack of food. No way you slackers are going to stick me with all the work.”
Chapter 25
We stopped at Murdoch’s to get him some dry clothes, then raced over to meet the lady at her place by eight.
Sarah Tanner was sitting on the front step of a two-hundred-year-old townhouse on Creighton Street. She was young and attractive and dressed in party clothes. She was also crying her face off. She stood up when we got out of the car.
“Sorry.” She dabbed at her eyes with the tip of her finger. “Sorry.”
She held her breath until she managed to pull herself together. When she started to talk again, her voice had gone kind of fragile-perky. It reminded me of this substitute teacher we’d had in Grade 8 once.
“I forgot to mention a few things. Would you mind washing all the floors downstairs too and doing the bedroom windows on the …” She stopped as if she’d just seen something horrible on the other side of the street. Her bottom lip turned inside out and a few seconds later she was crying again.
“This is so embarrassing.” She sucked in a big ugly breath. “I was all ready to go out and celebrate —like, you know, whoo-hoo, he’s gone!—then I walked in there and.
And. And.”
She turned away and sobbed. Her head jerked back with each sniff. It was agony. My insides curled up. I wasn’t going to outgrow this after all.
Murdoch looked at his feet. Dolores reached into her plastic bag and pulled out her compact.
“Stop that,” she said. “Now look. You got a small mascara issue on the left side. No biggie. Fix it up, reapply your lipstick—then go paint the town red. Seriously. No use hanging around here blubbering. Go out. Go crazy.”
Sarah tucked her lips into her mouth like a little kid trying not to cry. She nodded and took the compact.
Dolores gave her a few quick taps on the arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll clean the place up. Trust me. It’ll be spotless. By the time we’re through here, you’ll be able to perform surgery on the kitchen table.” She turned her face sideways. “An amputation might be fun. Am I wrong— or does this guy have a body part or two you’d like to remove?”
That made Sarah laugh. “Yeah. No kidding.” She squeegeed the tears off her face and blotted at the mascara. “Better?”
Her lids were so puffy from crying that her eyes went kind of funny, but Dolores gave her a thumbs-up anyway.
“Yeah, right. Too late to do anything about it now.” Sarah handed back the compact. “Boy, you would not believe how often I’ve said that recently … Oh well. Whatever … I better get going.”
She gave her hair a fluff and adjusted her earrings. “Listen …” she said. “Would you do one other little thing for me?”
Dolores shrugged. “You’re the one paying.” “Don’t waste your life with a jerk. Okay? That’s all I ask.”
Dolores snorted. “Please. I’m way ahead of you on that one.”
“Smart kid.” Sarah gave her a big fat envelope. “I didn’t count but there’s at least three hundred bucks here. When they moved the sofa out, I found a bunch of Cuban pesos underneath. Since I’ve never been to Cuba, I threw those in for you too. I doubt Justin’s little conchita will miss them …”
“Geez. Quit it, would ya!” Dolores said. “You’re going to mess up your makeup again. Now beat it. Seriously.” She pushed Sarah toward her car.
Sarah laughed again and my shoulders relaxed. I was never sure how people would take Dolores.
The car backed out of the driveway. Dolores swung her arm overhead as if she was waving from the deck of an ocean liner. She waited until the car was out of sight before she counted the money.
*
I could still detect a hint of Sarah’s perfume when we walked into the house, but otherwise it felt deserted. Something about the milky colour of the walls and the high ceilings and the light coming in through the big old windows, though, made me think that this had been a happy place once upon a time. I couldn’t believe that a beautiful old house lived in by a beautiful young woman could ever have been anything but happy. Happy and beautiful had always kind of been the same thing in my mind.
“Think she left a radio?” Dolores said. “Might be fun to crank up some tunes.”
The kitchen and living room were one big open space. Dolores systematically poked through each of the cupboards and closets and leftover boxes. Murdoch awkwardly studied the window frames. I just stood there, trying not to think too much.
Dolores clapped the dust off her hands. “Doesn’t look like it. Oh well. Let’s get started, then.”<
br />
She gave us each a green garbage bag and a blue recycling bag, then divided up the chores. Sweeping, wiping, window washing, the usual shtick. I took the upstairs. I figured Dolores might like the alone time with Murdoch.
I walked through each of the rooms on the second floor. I liked the soft grey of the master bedroom. Sarah had good taste. Other than that, there wasn’t much I could read from the place.
I could hear Dolores downstairs belting out some old song I remembered from junior high. Her voice was low and kind of raspy. She was a pretty good singer despite obviously not knowing the lyrics. I picked up the broom and began to sweep. Hair, dust, grit, an elastic band, a thumbtack, little scraps of paper, insect carcasses: it’s surprising how much is left in an empty house. I remembered hearing the number of skin cells—millions? billions?— people shed every day. It dawned on me that every person who ever walked through this house probably left a little bit of themselves behind.
I imagined my skin cells all dropping at once and my whole body just disappearing like sand down a crack in the floorboards.
Where had that come from? I was getting weirder and weirder all the time.
Carly wasn’t weird. Emotional, yes, but not weird. I knew Nick wouldn’t want anyone weird. I was just being realistic.
I scooped up the skin cells and assorted debris and dumped it all in the garbage bag.
I moved into the front room. It was tiny and a slightly darker grey than the bedroom. There were faint outlines on the wall where pictures or maybe diplomas had hung. I swept the floor, then opened the closet to do in there too. A bunch of photographs were scattered in the corner. I leaned my broom against the wall and knelt down to take a look.
They were all of a youngish athletic guy with short salt-and-pepper hair and a big, white grin. He often had a beer or a burger in his hand. The other arm was usually torn off. Once upon a time, I figured, Sarah must have been in the picture too.
I moved the photos around on the floor like I was lining up cards for a game of Concentration and studied them. What would I have thought of Justin if I hadn’t known he’d made Sarah miserable?
He was handsome. He was fit. He laughed a lot. He had a good job.
He was a lawyer. I didn’t know why I thought that. Or maybe a doctor.
Nick wants to be a doctor.
I got this feeling as if an insect was crawling across my neck. I flicked my head. I picked up a photo of Justin in a dark suit, his tie undone, his mouth open wide, laughing.
Definitely a professional of some sort.
I considered this for a second, then thought, No. That’s not what he is.
I gathered up the pictures.
He’s trash.
I threw them in the green garbage bag. I was so angry I just stood there panting and twitching and clenching my fists. Every so often, I even stomped my foot. Then after a while, I just sort of laughed.
I knew it wasn’t fair disposing of Justin like that—I didn’t know the guy, I didn’t know his side of the story — but I realized it was the first thing I’d enjoyed doing in ages.
Chapter 26
Dolores was still singing when I went downstairs an hour or so later. She was sitting on Murdoch’s shoulders, wiping down an old ceiling fixture with a wet cloth. He had his hands clamped over her knees and was doing his best to blow the dust away before it went up his nose or into his eyes.
“Oh, hey. You done?” Dolores said. She spurred Murdoch with her heel. He trotted over to me and I knew I was right to think something was going on between these guys.
“Yeah. I think. Everything except washing the floors. You don’t know where the mop is, do you?”
“I thought you had it … Damn. I’ve been through all the closets. I bet Sarah didn’t leave a mop …” She tapped Murdoch on the head. He rolled his eyes as if he knew he shouldn’t take that type of abuse but reached up and lifted her down anyway.
World’s Biggest Hillbilly meets the Funky Toddler. Another weird thought.
He saw me looking and yanked his shirt back down where it showed bare skin at the side. He’d evidently forgotten he’d spent the afternoon with us swimming in his underwear. It made me laugh. He looked at me strange.
“What are we going to do?” Dolores said. “I promised her the place would be spotless. My exact word. Spotless.” She checked the time on her cell. “The stores are closed.” She pinched her lips shut with two fingers and closed one eye.
“Maybe we could use something else,” I said. “A cloth or something.”
Dolores wagged her head back and forth. “I guess. Though I don’t exactly relish cleaning this entire house on my hands and knees.”
“How about this, then?”
Dolores and I both turned and looked at Murdoch. He didn’t seem like the type of guy to make suggestions.
“Lie on your stomach,” he said. Dolores looked at him funny but she did it.
He dunked the cloth into a bucket of soapy water, then plopped it on the floor beside her. “Put your hands on top of this … Good … Stretch your arms out in front of you … Yeah. Like that.” He used his foot to nudge the rag out a little farther from her face.
She was laughing by this point. “What are you up to?”
“You’ll see …” He grabbed her by the ankles and lifted her legs. “Now hold on,” he said, and started running around the room, pushing Dolores in front of him like a human Swiffer. She screeched with laughter.
I plunked myself down on the stairs and laughed too. They looked so ridiculous together—Murdoch all hunched over like Quasimodo on a cleaning spree, Dolores with her baggy majorette shorts sagging down over her little thighs, her green pigtails flapping, her glasses slipping down the end of her nose. I wished I had someone to tell about it.
Dolores screamed, “Stop! Stop!” then crumpled to the floor. “My back is killing me.” She rolled over and her shoulders bounced off the wood as she laughed. “That was one of the worst ideas anyone ever had. Seriously. Funny—but very, very bad.”
She let out a whistle of air. “Okay. Your turn now, Betsy.”
“My turn?” I could feel my neck sink into my shoulders.
“Yes.”
“No.” I meant it.
“No? What are you talking about? Everyone has to help out. Right, Murdoch?”
He seemed to shrink too. “Ah. Well. I don’t know …”
Dolores’s eyes bulged. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
He scratched his forehead. “I’m just sort of thinking maybe you were right. Somebody could get hurt.”
“Oh, yeah. Now you’re worried.” Dolores lifted herself up onto her elbows and stuck out her bottom jaw. “Talk about a bunch of party poopers! You’re no fun at all.”
She biffed the cloth at me and flopped back on the floor with a phht.
No fun.
Party pooper.
In all my life, nobody had ever called me a party pooper.
I used to be the party.
I was the one who always called people, got them organized, talked them into going out on Halloween or crashing the Comedy Festival or tobogganing down Gorsebrook Hill on garbage can lids at two in the morning.
That was all stupid stuff. I knew that now. None of it mattered or made a difference or meant you actually had a boyfriend who loved you. But that didn’t change this basic fact. I was not a party pooper. Dolores shouldn’t have said that.
I got up, grabbed the bucket and hurled the water across the living room floor. Dolores screamed and scrambled out of the way. Murdoch jumped. I dove onto the floor like it was a giant water slide, the word FUN written across my brain in bright yellow letters.
It didn’t work as well as I’d hoped and it sort of hurt but I still managed to get a bit of a slide going. I shot across the floor on my belly until I banged into the wall. I was laughing really hard—probably harder than this deserved. It wasn’t really that funny. It was just the surprise. I’d surprised myself. I rubbed the sore s
pot on my head and sat up.
Dolores was looking at me with her mouth wide open and her hands stretched over the sides of her head like that guy in the painting.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” My voice sounded like something I’d heard in a movie. “Come on in. The water’s fine!”
I was talking to Dolores but it was Murdoch who answered. He splashed another bucket of water on the floor, then slid in ass-first, like an overturned beetle.
Dolores leaned against the wall and let out a squawk. “Oh my god. I can’t believe you guys. It’s like I’m trapped in a Dr. Seuss book with Thing One and Thing Two.”
I was already up and filling my bucket again. “Oh, right. Like the Cat in the Hat is all shocked by our bad behaviour.” I hurled more water across the floor. “Now jump in before I throw you in. Seriously.”
Chapter 27
Murdoch and Dolores dropped me off at my house at three in the morning. I was sopping wet. My rib cage was sore, my elbows were bruised and I had a rash on my thighs from the Mop & Glo. It had been a great night.
I stood on the front lawn with my arms dangling and my head back and breathed in the cool clean air. It felt almost liquid against my sticky skin. I was suddenly aware of my face and my eyebrows and the baby-fine hair on my lower arms.
I was suddenly aware, period. It was like I was picking up signals from the outside world again. It felt good.
I looked up at the stars and noticed, with a shock, that my parents’ light was on. I was suddenly aware of clocks, curfews, and unbridled parental rage too. I winced: 3:00 a.m. Mom was going to be wild.
I opened the door and tiptoed up the stairs. The third one squeaked like a dog’s chew-toy.
“Betsy.”
My eyes slammed shut. Stay calm. I opened my eyes and whispered, “Oh, hi.”
Mom was waiting on the landing with her face stiff and her arms crossed. Her white nightshirt kind of glowed in the moonlight. I really didn’t need the eerie special effects right then.