by Cathi Bond
“Is it true?” I asked.
“Your father is a very sick man.”
My heart was going so fast. “You’ve got to help him.”
“I don’t think I can.”
She was still wearing her wedding band. This time something in her voice wasn’t quite so firm.
“He loves you.”
“This isn’t about love,” she said. “I know what you did. Anne called me and told me how you lied.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this. It’s too much.”
She’d held him up. Held him up when he wanted to die. I thought of the things I’d done. Called him weak. Made him cry. This was likely my fault too.
“If you stay I’ll be good.”
Miss McAllister stared at me –looking clear through.
“No you won’t.”
If she left he’d do it again. I knew this much was true. I had to do something to save my Dad. She couldn’t go or he’d be dead.
“I swear I’ll be good.”
“And if you aren’t?”
“I’ll go away. But don’t ever tell Dad you were going to leave. Please.”
That would break his heart.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
The door opened and Aunt Anne appeared. “Do you want to see your father?”
“Miss McAllister should go in. He wants to see her,” I said, returning to my seat.
“Maddy,” Miss McAllister said. I looked up.
“Yes?”
Aunt Anne was standing right beside her.
“I would never ask you to call me Mom, but I’d like it if you’d call me Isabel.”
I nodded. Isabel followed Aunt Anne inside. The stainless steel door closed behind them. This was the mental ward.
CHAPTER FOUR
My coat landed on the floor as a pot banged. Something fishy was burning. Isabel must have been trying to make her tuna casserole again. An upright piano stood beneath a colourful painting of Algonquin Park that had been in her family for years. Orange and yellow leaves blew from the branches of nearly barren trees. The rest of the landscape was stark. All of Mom’s new modern furniture was gone, replaced by McAllister family antiques. Without taking off my shoes, the number one rule in Isabel’s house, I walked down the hall. My room was in the basement.
Isabel called from the kitchen, “There’s a letter for you on top of the piano.”
I ran across the room. Maybe it was from Ginnie. I’d written her every single day since we’d moved and never gotten a word in reply.
The envelope was covered in red hearts.
“Madeline.”
Isabel stood in the doorway, staring at my feet, a glob of mushroom soup stuck to the front of her apron. I stomped over to the foyer and kicked off my shoes.
“Who’s that from?” Isabel asked.
“It’s private.”
“Hang up your coat.”
Stuffing the letter into my back pocket, I threw my coat on a hook in the closet and headed for the basement.
“How was school?”
“Horrible.”
Closing the door, I ran down the stairs, tearing open the letter. It was from Betsy. Ginnie had never written me back. Her mother must have been intercepting the mail. I stuck my hand under the mattress, rooting around for pills. Before we’d moved I’d taken any kind of painkillers or tranquillizers I could find. There were so many pills in the dispensary that nobody would notice a few bottles gone, but now there weren’t many left.
I swallowed a couple of Librium and started reading. Betsy said the teachers were a pain and school was a bore, but there was a dance coming up and she wondered if I could bring some acid. I’d sort of told her that I’d made a ton of friends and that I’d already dropped acid. They were both lies. I hadn’t found any acid and I hadn’t made any friends. The kids were spoiled rich snobs and some of them called me a bumpkin.
My eyes skipped over the words. If I could get to the dance then I could see Ginnie. If she saw me she’d remember how much she loved me. There was a knock at the door. Nobody was allowed in my room. It was one of the few laws on my side.
Frank banged at my door. “DINNER!” he yelled.
We all sat around the McAllister oak dining room table. Frank dropped a knife and the sound ricocheted off the walls. The room needed a rug. A slightly charred tuna casserole sat in front of Isabel. I took a spoonful of peas and was about to set the bowl down when Isabel told me to use the trivet.
“What’s that?”
“It’s that square pad. It keeps the bowl from marking the wood.”
“The Leafs are going to take the cup,” Tedder said, spearing a pea with his fork.
“No way, the Habs have got it,” Frank replied.
The boys were completely immersed in hockey and their new public school. They’d both made friends and, as Isabel said, “were blending in nicely.”
“How’s school going?” Dad asked.
I shrugged. I wanted to go down to my room.
“Your father asked you a question,” Isabel said, stabbing one of Tedder’s runaway peas before it rolled off the table.
I looked at Dad. He was just a smear of his former self. He took up space, ate meals and drank coffee. He rarely asked questions. I took a bite of casserole.
“It’s all right.”
“Have you made any friends?”
“Not really,” I replied, wondering what he thought of Leaside. I didn’t know if he liked it or not.
“Maybe if you joined the Glee Club,” Isabel said, passing the carrots.
Frank burst out laughing. “Can you see Maddy at the Glee Club?”
“What’s a Glee Club?” Tedder asked.
“It’s a perfectly lovely occasion for young people to get together and sing,” Isabel replied. “And Frank, if Maddy wants to go, you shouldn’t make fun.”
“Oh come on, Mom,” he said. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
And there it was. The first time anyone had called her Mom. Tedder stopped playing with his peas. The oak gleamed and the room stilled. Even the echo fled. Dad caught my eye and held it until I had to look the other way.
“Is it okay to call you that?” Frank asked, knife and fork clenched in either fist.
“I’m very happy that you did,” Isabel said. “And there’s nothing ridiculous about Glee. I made some of my best friends there.”
“Can I be excused?” I asked.
“You’ve barely touched your dinner,” Isabel replied.
I pushed my chair back. “I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself.”
The boys picked up their conversation about hockey. “Do you think you’d ever buy us season’s tickets, Dad?” Frank asked.
Dad chewed, not paying any attention.
“Ted?” Isabel said.
Dad lurched up in his seat. “I think we should wait on that a bit.”
“Come on,” Tedder cried.
“How much do they cost?” Isabel asked.
I got up and walked over to the basement door. When I looked back I couldn’t help but think how peaceful and normal the scene seemed without me. Even Dad was more relaxed. Mom wasn’t the only ghost. Welcome to family life in Leaside.
The school bell rang and everyone tore out of the classroom. Keeping my head low, I headed for the girls’ washroom. The school was old and the halls felt like a tomb, long and narrow with dark wooden wainscoting and ancient grey lockers. Overhead fluorescent lights, trapped in wire cages, gave off a steady angry buzz, and there were lots of red fire bells and big institutional clocks. I’d only been there a couple of weeks and the kids in the hall still stared at me. It was like being back in Sterling when Mom had to make my friends for me because I didn’t know where to start.
I pushed through the washroom door, locked the cubicle and had just sat on the toilet when a group of girls walked in, passing by the slit in the door. They were all dressed in pastel skirts: pale yellow, b
aby blue and pink with matching knee socks, white blouses and black penny loafers. There was a flash of red in the centre. I recognized the girl from geography class. She was popular like Betsy, only more like a movie star, and the whole school seemed to be under her spell. When she laughed, everyone laughed. When the boys walked by, they stumbled. The girl wore a short, pleated red skirt, and a tight white blouse with a button-down collar. Two red barrettes pulled the black hair out of her eyes and her teeth were whiter than clouds. I stared through the crack, being careful not to be seen or heard. The pretty girl made me nervous. She applied a layer of lipstick and smacked her lips.
“I’m telling you, she’s lez be friends and go homo.”
I stopped breathing and leaned forward.
“No way!” squealed the girl in pink.
“Yes way,” replied the girl in red.
Astonished laughter as the girls brushed their hair, giggled and talked about how sick lezzes made them. Someone said that if a lez ever pounced on her she’d call the police. I hugged my stomach, praying that they weren’t talking about me. I already suspected I might be a lez, but had no idea how anyone else could tell since I didn’t even know for sure myself.
The talk in the washroom had unnerved me. I was walking quickly down the hall with my head low, opening a new pack of smokes and didn’t see her until I ran into her. The pretty girl in red was standing in the middle of the hall.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I’m Mary,” she said. “Do you have a cigarette?”
I gave her one and she smiled at me.
The smokers’ wall was near the exit doors, but Mary wanted to go somewhere private, so I followed her across the football field to the back fence. Fresh white lines had just been painted on the field and the grass was perfectly cut. Everything in Leaside was like that, the lawns manicured and maintained by vigilant husbands, out every night raking the leaves. Every house was identical, row upon row of two-storey brick houses with brass knockers on the front door. Isabel said that Leaside was “the ideal place for professional people to live.” I hated it.
A group of football players stopped their scrimmage to watch Mary cross the field, pulling every eye in her direction. She stopped walking and placed her hand on my elbow, moving closer, like we were best friends sharing a secret.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“A village.”
“Like in a fairy tale?”
I didn’t want to talk about Sterling and pulled away.
“I know they call you a bumpkin,” Mary said, giving my elbow a squeeze. “And I’m going to make them stop.”
Mary could do anything at school –she had ultimate power. When we reached the back fence, she leaned against it, placing the cigarette between her lips.
“Can you light the match? I’m afraid of fire.”
The yellow flame licked. Mary took a long draw and a smoky O floated out of her mouth.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“With my tongue and my lips.”
She had the most beautiful mouth. I wondered what her lips felt like. “Show me.”
No matter how many times I tried, only jagged puffs came out. Mary laughed, reminding me of Ginnie, although Mary was a lot more grown up.
“You’re funny.”
That’s what Ginnie used to say.
“Hey Mare!” a boy called. He was a tall, good-looking guy with dark hair and a varsity football jacket. He waved. Mary didn’t.
“I’ve got to go,” Mary said, dropping the cigarette. The ember glowed in the dirt. “That’s Tim. He’s my boyfriend. And you,” she pulled her fingers through the ends of her black hair. “You’re cute. We should double date sometime.”
I thought of Kenneth and the drive-in. “Or we could just go to a movie, you and me.”
A smile. “You are funny.”
And then she left and all the excitement was gone.
Frank’s door was shut. I knocked.
“Can I come in?
“I’m studying.” Frank was bent over a book at his desk. His bed was made and the room was neat. “What do you want?”
I handed him the envelope and a sheet of paper with Ginnie’s address. “Can you write this address on the front?”
“Why?”
“Ginnie’s mother is intercepting my letters.”
“You should make some new friends.”
“Don’t you miss Pete?”
Frank and Pete had played together since they were little.
“Yeah, but I don’t sit down in the basement and write him every day of the week.”
“How do you know that?”
“Mom told me. Ginnie’s mother called.”
Isabel had no right talking about me behind my back.
“Everyone thinks it’s strange how you act about Ginnie. They say that you’re fixated.”
I closed the door shut behind me and walked down the stairs. I wasn’t fixated. I missed Ginnie and that was normal. Pretending that you didn’t care about people or miss them, now that was weird.
Dad was stretched out on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table, scanning the business section. He used to read the comics. I sat down beside him and put my head on his shoulder. He still smelled the same, like medicine and aftershave.
“How’s the new practice?”
He grunted that it was fine.
“Betsy asked me to a dance back home. It’s my birthday weekend and that would be the best present ever.”
Dad dropped the paper and said we’d have to ask Isabel.
“Please, Dad. She doesn’t understand. I miss my friends. I miss everything.” I looked up at him. “Don’t you?”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and rested his head on top of mine. “I do.”
We sat there for a while, nice and quiet, just me and my Dad, and things almost felt normal until Isabel came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “What are you two up to?”
Dad pulled his arm away like we were doing something bad. “Maddy wants to go to a dance in Sterling.”
I wanted to yank his arm back around me. No Dad. You were going to let me go. We had an understanding.
“It’s time Maddy focuses on the present and not the past.”
“Please…just this once,” I begged.
“No,” she replied firmly.
“Dad?”
He disappeared behind the newspaper wall. “You have to listen to your mother. She makes the decisions around here.”
The judge had spoken. I went down to my room and slammed the door so hard the hinges shook.
The classroom was quiet. Everyone was hunched over their desks, frantically answering exam questions. I stared out the window, watching two black squirrels chase each other around a thick tree trunk. The paper in front of me was blank. I hadn’t studied, I was going to fail and I didn’t care. The only class I liked was biology and only because I couldn’t make myself hate it. Mary’s white teeth nibbled the pink rubber on the end of her pencil. She must have felt me staring because she looked up. When I couldn’t stop the blush, Mary smiled and returned to her exam. A thought bubble appeared. Did Mary like me?
“Did you get the one about the Cabot Trail?” Tim asked.
The leaves bunched up around our feet as the three of us walked across the lawn in front of the high school.
“Who cares about a stupid trail?” I replied, booting through a large pile that the school janitor had just finished raking up. Tim slung his arm around Mary’s shoulder. She wore it like a sweater that belonged to her. The janitor scowled as coloured leaves fluttered down around him.
We reached Tim’s car, a white Triumph Spitfire that his father had bought him for his birthday, a two-seater convertible with a jump seat in the back. Mary leaned against the hood and applied a fresh layer of lipstick. Two boys in a coupe drove by and wolf whistled. Tim gave them the finger, making Mary smile. Tim’s pal Ian walked over. Ian was a big blond football p
layer who was always giving me goofy grins.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I fake smiled back.
Mary slipped the lipstick back into her purse and turned towards me. “Want to go out this weekend?”
Mary’s mother didn’t like Mary being alone with Tim, so she always dragged me along to play chaperone. At first I’d do anything to be close to Mary, but sitting in the jump seat watching the two of them neck was getting really hard, and I don’t think Tim liked it very much either.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“What if we went downtown?”
Isabel was sitting in the living room wing chair reading a book, little silver half-moon glasses resting on the end of her nose, while Dad stretched out on the sofa having a nap. His mouth was open ever so slightly, just enough to make a little whistle. The boys and I were on the floor watching The Partridge Family. David Cassidy was singing, “I think I love you, but what am I so afraid of? I’m afraid that I’m not sure of a love there is no cure for.” The doorbell rang and Isabel answered. Mary stood there in a tight white dress and matching shoes. Dad snored. Mary extended her hand to Isabel.
“You must be Maddy’s mother. I’m Mary Sharp and I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Before I knew it Mary was sitting on the edge of a petit point chair, ankles crossed just the way parents liked, telling Isabel how well I was fitting in at school.
“Even the teachers like her.”
Frank burst out laughing. He knew I never did homework.
“What’s so funny, dear?”
“Nothing, Mom.”
Most of the teachers didn’t know what to do with me. The math teacher said he’d never had a worse student. I’d already forged Dad’s signature on a failed history assignment the teacher sent home, but didn’t know what would happen at Christmas when midterms came back. Mary smiled at Isabel.
“Would it be alright if Maddy came out tonight? Just the two of us going to a movie.”
We’d be alone…I caught Mary’s eye and the look she returned made my heart skip. Isabel tapped Dad on the shoulder. He rubbed his eyes.
“What is it?”
“Do you mind if Maddy goes out with her friend?”
Dad blinked, looking over at Mary. Slowly he swung his big feet down and sat up.