Night Town

by Cathi Bond

  Mom nodded, pursing her lips.

  “Put your lips together like you’re going to kiss a baby. That’s good. Now you apply just a bit. Roll your lips together to spread it evenly.”

  Mom pulled out a Kleenex.

  “This is to dab off any that’s left over. You don’t want to look cheap.”

  Wow. I looked at least five years older. Mom pressed the tube into my palm.

  “I want you to have this.”

  My very first tube of lipstick! I threw my arms around Mom’s neck, about to kiss her cheek, when something inside made me kiss her on the lips instead.

  “Maddy!” she said, pushing me away as if I’d done something really bad. When I started to cry, her face softened. “That’s something you do with a boy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I snuffled, noticing something on Mom’s neck –a bump just beneath her ear that I’d never seen before. I reached out and touched it. The bump was hard.

  “What’s that?”

  Mom turned back to the mirror to freshen her own lipstick. “Mumps, I think.”

  “That’s a childhood disease.”

  “It’s adult mumps. I’m going to have Daddy take a look at it.”

  A black thought crossed my mind –mumps was contagious. What if I was to take sick before the dance? That would destroy everything. I had a date. I had lipstick. This was awful.

  I didn’t get sick. Not unless you count a case of butterflies that nearly caused me to barf three times while I was getting dressed. It was the last Friday night in June. School was over for the year, and I was up in my room standing in front of a full length mirror wearing a beautiful new dress that Mom made for me. Carefully I applied the lipstick, pinched my cheeks and stood back. I never looked so grown up. Grabbing my brown purse by its long golden chain, I slung it over my shoulder, galloping down the stairs.

  “No later than nine thirty!” Mom called out as I ran past the dining room.

  Mom, Dad, Frank and Tedder were still finishing their dessert. Mom got up and followed me to the door.

  “Let’s have a look at you.”

  She pulled me around.

  “Soon you’re going to be all grown up.” Her eyes were getting wet. I hoped she wasn’t going to cry.

  “I’ve got to go Mom. I’m going to be late.”

  “You don’t have a belt.”

  I looked down. Sure enough there were empty belt loops hanging from the sides of the dress. I panicked, about to run back up the stairs.

  “Do you think this might work?”

  Mom had a belt in her hand –a handmade fabric belt that must have taken hours to sew by hand.

  “Do you like it?” she asked almost shyly.

  “I love it.”

  I slipped it through the loops as Mom did up the buckle.

  “Thanks,” I kissed her on the cheek.

  “Have fun, sweetheart,” she called as I ran down the stone steps.

  Halfway down the sidewalk I looked back and saw Mom silhouetted in the doorway, waving goodbye. She fastened the top button on her sweater and turned back towards the house. It wasn’t all that cold. For about five seconds I felt guilty about lying about Kenneth, but then I started thinking about the dance.

  The gymnasium was packed. A bunch of girls danced together while some of the boys sat on the edge of the auditorium stage. Brad and Betsy were in the middle of the dance floor under a big silver ball. Kenneth was leaning against the brick wall by the punch bowl wearing a checkered shirt, blue trousers, a blue tie, black shoes and white socks. He’d slicked his hair back and I could smell Old Spice. “Crimson and Clover” started to play. Kenneth took my hand and led me onto the dance floor.

  His chin pointed into my shoulder as he drew me close and I could hear his rapid breathing. We were both shaking, but we started to dance. First one foot and then the next until Kenneth stomped on my toes.

  He began to apologize, but I didn’t care. Kenneth wasn’t heavy enough to hurt. I likely outweighed him by twenty pounds. I pulled Kenneth close, trying to sniff him. I’d hugged my family before, but this was different. I stopped looking at Betsy and Brad. I stopped worrying about whether people were looking at us and laughing. I just wanted to feel Kenneth. That’s all I wanted.

  The four of us broke the ‘gymnasium only’ rule and went out by the picnic tables. If we were only gone for a bit the teachers wouldn’t miss us. The moment we were outside, Betsy and Brad took off. I wanted to follow, but one look from Betsy and I knew enough to get lost. She took the gum out of her mouth and pressed it against the brick wall as they disappeared.

  “You want to swing or something?” Kenneth asked.

  I nodded, following him across the grounds, looking back at the school, nervous that one of the teachers would see us through the windows.

  “You’re a good dancer,” he said.

  “You too,” I lied.

  We sat there swinging back and forth under the bright full moon. Shadows like witches’ fingers beckoned from the trees as the bushes shifted. What were Betsy and Brad doing in there? Kenneth grabbed my swing, stopping it instantly. Then he leaned over and kissed me so hard I could feel his teeth behind the lips.

  “Do you like it?”

  I nodded yes but the teeth hurt. Then he kissed me again. His lips were tense and he tasted like salt, not sweet like Mom. I kissed him back.

  “Do you want to get suspended?” Betsy laughed, scaring me so badly that I knocked into Kenneth’s teeth and cut my lip.

  “Very funny,” I mumbled, tasting the blood in my mouth.

  I was worried that Kenneth tasted it too, but if he did, he didn’t seem to mind. Being a jock, he’d probably tasted a lot of blood.

  Betsy took Brad’s arm. “We better get back. The teachers will notice we’re gone.”

  When I got home, nobody was in the living room. That never happened before. Mom always waited by the window whenever I went out at night. The flickering TV offered the only light. A newscaster talked about the war in Vietnam while boys not much older than Brad and Kenneth jumped out of flying helicopters, landing in a jungle. I walked across the living room, into the kitchen and down the narrow corridor towards the light of the dispensary. Hushed voices drifted down the hall. Dad was holding a bottle of pills telling Mom that she should take one to calm down, but Mom didn’t want it. She shook her head, saying that she didn’t want to be all doped up through this thing.

  “Through what?” I asked, walking in.

  They both jumped as if they’d been caught doing something bad.

  “Your mother needs to have some tests,” Dad replied.

  “What kind of tests?”

  “It’s nothing worth fussing about,” Mom said.

  “The doctors want to check out that lump on Mom’s neck.”

  “I thought it was mumps.”

  “We’re not sure…” Dad replied, about to say something else, when Mom cut him off.

  “I told you Theodore, it’s nothing.”

  Mom never called him Theodore unless she was mad. Then she noticed the cut.

  “What happened to your lip?”

  “One of the kids hit me in the face with the washroom door. It was an accident.”

  “Teddy, take a look at it.”

  I weaved out of the way. “It’s fine. What are you doing in here?”

  Mom slipped her arm around Dad’s waist. “We’ve got a surprise.”

  “Mom and I are going to see the Grand Canyon,” Dad said.

  “What?” I asked, stunned. Flying was unbelievably expensive. Mom once told me that cost was the reason Dad never took her to France on their honeymoon. He didn’t like to waste money. But now he was going to fly her to the Grand Canyon. It didn’t make any sense.

  “While we’re gone the three of you will be staying at Aunt Anne’s in Toronto.” Mom leaned into Dad’s shoulder, looking up into his eyes. “Isn’t it romantic?”

  It was all so unfair. I had a boyfriend. I had plans with my friends. We
were going to go to a big fish fry at Lake Erie and Betsy’s brother Dave was going to drive. I didn’t want to go to stupid Toronto. There was a quiet rap at the door as Frank slipped into my bedroom, just as upset as I was. We both started to cry.

  “I’m going to miss the League Championship,” he sobbed, crawling into my bed. “The team might lose without me. Is there anything you can do? You’re bigger than me and Tedder. They might listen to you.”

  I shook my head. I’d tried everything.

  “Why do we have to go now?” he asked.

  We cried ourselves to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Heat waves floated over the black tarmac as two men pushed a ladder on wheels across the runway. Our family was standing outside with the other passengers waiting for the plane. Still upset about missing the championship, Frank had refused to wear his good shirt and tie and was wearing his Sterling Squirts jersey and baseball cap in protest. Tedder clutched Kanga. In all the packing excitement Roo had been left on the dresser at home, and Tedder had cried all the way to the Toronto airport. I was worried it might trigger a barf because Tedder got carsick.

  “Roo can guard the house,” Mom said, bending down to kiss him. “And when Kanga gets home she can tell him about our adventures. That way you can live them twice. Once for real and then again in your memory.”

  Mom had bought a brand new white Samsonite luggage set for the trip. It came with a round hat case and a very smart carry on makeup case. She looked like a movie star in a sleeveless black shift, matching leather slingbacks, black sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat with a white ribbon. A couple of army boys walking by saluted her and nearly stumbled. Mom’s arm shot up.

  “Anne!”

  Aunt Anne ran through the gate and gave Mom such a big hug that it knocked off her new hat. The black hat rolled down the tarmac with Dad chasing after it. I’d never seen Aunt Anne hug anyone. Wasn’t she worried about swapping germs?

  “We didn’t know if you’d make it,” Mom said.

  “I always do,” Aunt Anne replied. “So are you kids all ready for a couple of weeks in the big city?’

  “I guess so,” Frank replied.

  “I forgot Roo,” Tedder complained.

  A new Air Canada plane taxied towards us, brilliant sunlight striking its white wings. The door opened and two beautiful stewardesses stepped out, welcoming Mom and Dad aboard. They climbed the rolling ladder and vanished into the white plane. The propellers began to sweep, faster and faster as the plane turned, racing down the runway and up into the sky. Aunt Anne and I stood there with my brothers waving good bye until the plane became a dot and then disappeared.

  “Wow,” Frank said, as plumes of water rocketed up from the bottom of Niagara Falls. Aunt Anne had brought us there to forget our misery, but there was no way I was going to forget how the adults had destroyed my summer.

  “I don’t feel good,” Tedder moaned, clutching Kanga like a life preserver.

  The four of us leaned over a little guard rail, watching fast water churn, fall and then crash. It was hard not to be impressed.

  “Did you know that the Falls started flowing at the end of the last ice age?” I asked.

  “When was that?” Aunt Anne asked.

  Tedder moaned.

  “Over 12,000 years ago.”

  Tedder suddenly barfed up macaroni and cheese, soaking unsuspecting Kanga.

  “Oh, gross!” I shouted.

  “Get away from me,” Frank yelped when Tedder tried to hug him.

  While Aunt Anne tried to wash Kanga with water from a fountain, the three of us wandered along the side of the river. Tedder had refused to leave Kanga in the car. He was worried somebody might steal her. I doubted it. Kanga stank of partially digested cheese and Frank and I ran away anytime they got close.

  A cold high wind blew my hair back, whipping sand against my bare legs. An abandoned magazine blew across the gravel parking pad and tumbled over the edge, where it flew like a paper airplane for about forty feet before disappearing from view.

  Aunt Anne returned with her Brownie Hawkeye camera swinging around her neck. She handed a wet Kanga back to Tedder.

  “She smells good,” Tedder said, hugging Kanga tight and taking a deep sniff of her neck.

  “I want to get a photo of the three of you by the sign,” Aunt Anne said, backing up to get a good perspective.

  “Not with that stinking Kanga,” Frank said.

  I agreed.

  “She’s got to go in the trunk when we drive back,” I said. “Or I’ll barf too.”

  Reluctantly Tedder placed Kanga on the ground and joined us by the guard railing, leaning over the side. The rail didn’t feel very secure. Too much weight and the rail could snap and we’d all be gone, swept into the river and broken into a hundred pieces by the rocks at the bottom of the Falls. Frank tickled Tedder, who giggled.

  “That’s good,” Aunt Anne said, snapping the photo. She stopped a couple out for a stroll.

  “Could you take one of me with the children?”

  Aunt Anne was coming towards us when a huge wind swirled down from the sky, turning our clothing into a twister of fabric. Aunt Anne’s bandana blew right off her head.

  “Goodness, that was strong,” Aunt Anne said, chasing the bandana.

  Kanga.

  Tedder turned. Kanga was sitting on her tail like a good kangaroo should when the wind struck, catching her by the pouch, bouncing her up and down across the gravel and then, with a final bounce, Kanga jumped into the river and disappeared over the edge of the Falls. Tedder screamed and I grabbed him just in time to stop him from following her.

  Tedder cried for two days and nothing could shake him out of his funk, not even the genuine Indian headdress Aunt Anne bought him at the souvenir shop.

  “Shouldn’t we look for her?” Tedder asked as we got back into the car.

  “I don’t know where we’d start,” Aunt Anne replied.

  Frank and I felt terrible for Tedder and put our arms around him. He’d had Kanga and Roo his entire life. They were like members of the family.

  “If you’ve got to go, that was a pretty exciting way,” I said, trying to make Tedder feel better, but he just started wailing again.

  Not even Aunt Anne’s firm talk about bucking up did any good. Tedder just cried louder.

  Two weeks later the boys and I were playing football in a big field behind a fancy new complex in Toronto called The Colonnade. It had a big round staircase that swept out onto Bloor Street. The Colonnade was an architectural experiment, full of shops and apartments, and it even had an ice cream stand. Aunt Anne lived there, and she was upstairs getting dressed for her shift at the hospital. A car horn blasted. I turned and saw Mom leaning out the window, her auburn hair held back by a pretty pink kerchief.

  “Were you kids good?” she called, as the car rolled up to a stop. I ran over and gave her a kiss.

  “Hi, Dad,” I waved. “I’ve been good. Frank’s been bad.”

  “I have not!” he yelped, trying to give me a kick.

  “We’ve all been good. Even Tedder,” I said.

  “But there was an accident,” Frank said in a low voice as Tedder ran up wearing the headdress. Mom got out of the car and picked Tedder up, giving him a kiss.

  “Where’s Kanga?”

  “She jumped over Niagara Falls and died,” Tedder howled, clinging to Mom’s neck.

  “Oh no! I can make you another one, honey.”

  “I don’t want another one. I want my Kanga.”

  Mom gave Tedder another kiss. A couple of cars were idling behind, wanting to get by.

  “Why don’t you come with me,” Mom said. “Daddy’s got to park the car.”

  Tedder stuck his face into Mom’s hair as they climbed into the car. Tedder sat on her lap. I wanted to sit on her lap and sniff her beautiful hair, but I was too old. As the Oldsmobile took off, Mom put a hand on the roof to steady herself. The tail of her pink kerchief flew like a flag against the clear blue
sky.

  Two days after we got home, Mom hired an interior decorator. I went into Frank’s bedroom to get his opinion. He was lying on his bed reading a book called Hockey is a Battle.

  “Don’t you think it’s strange the way Mom’s renovating the living room?” I asked.

  “She likes decorating.”

  “But why hire the lady?”

  Mom always made these decisions herself. She took months to pore over colour samples, flip through magazines and make everyone crazy with swatches of fabric and photos of furniture, but now she hired a professional. Why the rush? And then there was Dad and money. He was always crying poorhouse. It worried me. Frank put down his book.

  “What’s going on with you and Kenneth?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The kids at school are talking.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “That you’re going steady.”

  “Who said it?”

  “Some of the guys.”

  “Don’t you dare tell Mom.”

  “What are you going to do?” he taunted.

  When I raised my hand and made a fist Frank knew I meant it.

  That autumn the whole neighbourhood glowed like the inside of a big, red oven. Nature looked how my body felt: sometimes as red hot as the changing leaves, but then icy and cold like the wind. Kenneth kept asking me to go into the bushes. So far I’d said no, but I couldn’t say no forever. The workmen’s truck was parked in the drive. They were finishing the broadloom installation.

  The side door banged open and Mom appeared in a blue housedress, carrying a spade. I followed her around the back towards her garden. Everything else was fire and light, red and yellow, as the leaves of Mom’s maple trees fluttered down. Like Granny Gillespie, she’d planted a line of trees along the side of the property when she got married, but they weren’t nearly as tall as Granny’s giant spruces. Mom sat down in the garden. There was dirt under her nails. I’d never seen dirt on my mother’s hands before. I asked her where her gloves were.

  “They’re too bulky. Help me.”

  “What about my good clothes? Shouldn’t I change first?”

  Mom patted the earth. “Don’t bother. The light will be gone soon.”

  I knelt down beside her.