by Diana Wieler
“And hurry up. I’m supposed to talk to Dad.” He grimaced at me, but finally I took the phone again.
“Hi, Dad.”
“How are you?” It had only been a day, but the deep rumble of his voice was like a hand on my shoulder.
“We’re good. Tell Mom to stop worrying.”
“You’re sure you have enough money, in case of emergency?” he said.
I told him we were fine. Everything was fine.
“Your landlord called,” he said.
My stomach dropped, a dizzying pitch as my life boomeranged back at me. I’d forgotten about Mr. Delbeggio. In the wake of everything else – my job and the truck and Daniel – that mess had been swept aside. Suddenly I was standing in it again, up to my ass in it, naked. And my father knew. My heart began to run.
“You know, I think…I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” I said quickly. “I left him the key and maybe he thinks…maybe he doesn’t know I’m on holidays. I’ll call him. I can clear this up. I’ll call him first thing tomorrow.”
“Jens,” Dad said, “is there something you want to talk to me about?”
For a moment I couldn’t speak. My body was stretched, fingers curled over the top of the phone cubicle as if I was hanging there, suspended.
But I couldn’t let go, not yet. I had to do this thing for Daniel and I could make it work – I was making it! – if I had more time. I just needed more time.
“No, it’s okay. Really.” I could barely breathe. “Everything’s okay. I’ll call him tomorrow. And I’ll talk to you and Mom…soon. Don’t worry.” I hung up.
“What’d he want? Did you tell him we were going to Easton?” Daniel said through a mouthful, behind me.
The sound of his eager, earnest crunching was suddenly unbearable.
“Get in the truck. We’re leaving now,” I said without turning around.
“It’s okay for Mom to know, but I don’t want Dad…”
“Just get in the goddamn truck!”
Daniel shut up. I heard him pitch the milk container into the garbage, a solid thunk against the metal as he passed it.
I got the box of cereal out of the back and put it on the seat beside me while I drove. Inside an hour I had emptied it, one handful at a time.
A lot of people speed on the prairie. It’s not just that you can – the endless asphalt spread out like a runway, flat and straight and open. The problem is everything else – fields so huge you can see the curve of the earth, the sky over you like an enormous blue bowl. You lose track of how big you are, how fast you’re going.
My old gym teacher, Mr. Flett, had come from Ontario, where highways are lined with trees and industrial parks, and you never lose sight of the bumper ahead of yours. He said it bothered him to drive in Manitoba.
“You feel like this little…speck,” he laughed. “You feel like you’re falling.”
For me, that Sunday, I couldn’t fall fast enough. Every now and then Daniel would glance at the speedometer.
“Jesus, Jens! You’re going to get a ticket.”
“When you get your license, you can have an opinion.”
I think he was nervous. Now that we were actually on our way to Easton, he wasn’t in such a hurry to get there. I’d asked him if he wanted to phone Chantel ahead.
“No! I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. I want it to be like we’re just passing through.”
“We are just passing through,” I warned him. “If there’s nowhere to do a gig, we won’t stay long.”
But I let him play the radio to feel better; I even let him choose the station. There was nothing near blues so he picked heavy metal. The deep, rhythmic blare of electric guitar blocked out any chance of conversation, and I think we were both grateful. Daniel stared out the window, fingers drumming perfect time on his thigh.
I was doing mental math. I’d decided that since I’d beaten my goal last night by seventy-five percent, I could do it again. Only I had to beat what I’d hit yesterday – thirty-five plus seventy-five percent made sixty-one tapes the magic number. I felt a rush of adrenaline and fear. It was outrageous – impossible. But today was Sunday and tomorrow was Monday, and now I had two phone calls I didn’t know how I was going to make. The lure of sixty-one tapes kept my eyes on the road and my foot on the gas.
Easton was a surprise. Not just a cluster of buildings along the highway, it was a real town set off to the south, bigger even than Rosetown. The noon sun had burned off the white cover of clouds and the day seemed bright and hopeful. I drove up and down the streets, taking stock: three schools, four churches, a few strip malls, banks, a brand new recreational center. There was even a little block of apartments, three stories high, and what seemed to be a medical center or small hospital. When we passed the Golden Arches, I knew we’d hit a metropolis.
“This place has possibilities,” I told Daniel excitedly. “If not for today, then tomorrow. But I want to get on it. Do you think Chantel could give us some ideas? After all, this is her town. Where does she live?”
It was too much, too fast. Daniel looked panicked. “Wait, maybe…maybe I should phone first…”
I pulled up to a convenience store, with phones along the outside wall, and handed him a quarter.
“Remember packaging,” I said. “Put a flag on your aerial.”
He turned away quickly. I realized Chantel was not someone to joke about and I resolved to shut up. Daniel took things hard, harder than me. And this was probably the first girl who mattered.
I watched him walk away, trying to remember what that was like. Before you knew that it was just war games. Before you knew it was all of her friends against all of yours, and that it was your Rosetown Raiders jersey that was the prize, and it didn’t matter that you were in it. Yet all around you the world was shouting, “Hey, what do you care? You’re getting laid!”
I had never written songs for anybody. I bit my lip and looked out my side window, so Daniel wouldn’t think I was staring at him.
It seemed to take a long time. Finally he walked back to the driver’s side. I unrolled the window.
“She wasn’t home so I tried her at work,” Daniel said. “She has a break in about twenty minutes.” He grinned, a little shell-shocked, as if he didn’t believe it. “She…she said yeah. Come over. Right now.”
“And you! You were worried.” I reached through the window and pushed his head, mussing his hair. His smile never dipped. “So get in. I’ll take you over.”
“Jens, I’m just going to walk.” He glanced behind him. “I’m pretty sure I know where it is. I just want to do this alone.” He was already backing away. “I’ll meet you here in an hour, I promise.”
He swung around abruptly before I could answer, and set off in a determined stride. I was fiercely disappointed. I couldn’t even see her? My brother’s first girlfriend, three hundred kilometers of buildup, and I couldn’t even see what she looked like?
As Daniel rounded the corner at the end of the block, out of sight, my heart started to run lightly. I got out and locked the door.
Jens, this isn’t nice, I told myself. But curiosity was pulling me on in sharp, quick tugs. This was another part of my brother I didn’t know. What kind of girl would he go for? What kind of girl would go for him? I had to see this Chantel with the smoky voice.
I followed him easily from two blocks back. He never looked behind him, he was so intent on where he was going. When he turned from the business part of town into residential, treelined streets, it made me wonder. Was she babysitting or working in somebody’s home? Another turn took us clear, past a school, heading toward the building with the big green cross.
It was nerve-wracking inside the hospital, close quarters and sudden turns. I was caught between the fear of being seen and losing him completely. Luckily the hallways were busy, patients and staff in a moving stream of white and pastels. His blue jean jacket was easy to follow.
I was wondering what kind of job a teenaged girl cou
ld get in a hospital but Daniel stopped in front of the small cafeteria. At the end of the hall, I ducked back. I just want to see her, I promised. And then I’ll go.
When I allowed myself to peek around the corner he was still there, hands in his pockets, a dark denim figure against the pale green wall. He looked older than when he was standing next to me.
And then she saw him, too. She broke out of the swift-moving ranks into a little jog and caught him around the shoulders in an excited squeeze. She was as tall as he was, or taller. Her hair was tied back in a French braid, dark blond painted with streaks of yellow white. But I was looking at her clothes, the pink top and pants that pushed out in curvy breasts and hips. It was a uniform.
Even at this distance I could see the light in Daniel’s face. She said something that made him laugh, and he walked into the cafeteria with her, still beaming. I leaned against the wall.
Chantel wasn’t a girl, she was a woman. She was older than me, I was sure of it. Daniel was sixteen – a kid. He’d probably argue with me but I’d been sixteen and I knew. Women, beautiful women, didn’t get involved with kids. He was lining up for a broken heart.
And Chantel wasn’t steering him away. I saw it again, the press of her tall, curvy body against him. That was not a friendly hug. That was not about lyrics. My face flamed. What was this lady’s head game?
I had made a promise in the parking lot, to keep my mouth shut, to stay back. But the rules had changed – this woman had changed them. Whatever she was up to, I was going to find out. Daniel was my little brother.
I strode into the cafeteria.
THIRTEEN
Daniel and Chantel were by the wall, at a table for four. They didn’t notice me until I was standing right beside them.
Chantel looked up. Her eyes were too green – probably tinted contacts. She had a row of hoops and studs decorating the curve of one ear, and a gold ring through the ridge of the opposite eyebrow. Like her hair, they were bleached. Because I was standing I couldn’t help but see down past the collar of her shirt to the edge of white lace that strained over a breast, barely hiding a pink and red tattoo.
“Hi, how are you today?” I said, offering my hand to her. She took it, but looked quizzically across the table at Daniel.
“I can see that you’ve chosen one of our most popular models,” I said, gesturing at my brother but not looking at him. “Many women… ladies…like the sports coupe because it’s so responsive, easy to handle. Zero to sixty in under twelve seconds. Do you plan to take it on the highway?”
Chantel laughed, a single breath.
“This is a joke, right?” she said to Daniel.
“Oh, yeah. A big fucking joke.”
Murder was in his voice, but I knew my brother. He wouldn’t blow up in public.
“I’m Jens…” I said.
“I know. The used car guy.”
“New,” I corrected. “The new car and truck guy.” It sounded shabby even coming from me. I dropped into the chair beside Daniel.
“Don’t sit down, Jens. What are you doing here? What do you want?!”
“Just relax, okay?” I told him. “I thought you might forget to ask Chantel about where we could get a gig tonight.”
“He didn’t get much of a chance,” Chantel said. She was watching me, one corner of her mouth crimped, not quite a smile. “But since you asked, I’ll tell you, it’s a tight little town. Smiley’s used to book singles, doubles, even the occasional three-piece, but now it’s a sports bar. They’re allowed to shoot you if you get in front of the TV. The Highland Hotel has a lounge and they even had a stage, a platform big enough for a drum kit – but that’s where they put in the VLTs.”
She did have a smoky voice. Not masculine, not really deep, but the sound seemed to come from her chest, like someone on the very last day of a cold. It made you listen.
“There’s a dessert place that lets singers and musicians get up on Thursday nights, but it’s kind of a free-for-all jam session,” Chantel continued.
“We can’t wait until Thursday night,” I said.
“And then there’s the Heartland Arena.”
I perked up. “The rec center? That’d be great! How do we get in there?”
Now Chantel did smile. “Well, musicians don’t actually get inside…”
“Forget it. We’re not busking.”
“I’d love it,” Daniel blurted.
He was twisted in his seat, leaning against the wall, eyes like nails as he stared at me.
“That’s not what you want,” I said.
“Yeah, it is,” he answered defiantly. “I want to open my case and just play for whoever walks by. Maybe there’ll be a bunch of us. We’ll compete for loose change.”
My collar chafed my neck.
“I think there’s a curling bonspiel or something on tonight. Lots of people,” Chantel said, green eyes twinkling. “Can I come, too?”
Daniel leaned suddenly across the table. “Yeah! Would you? Do you want to sing? I can play whatever you want.”
I winced. Jesus, Daniel. Stick your heart back in your shirt.
Chantel smiled and put her hand on top of his two that were earnestly clenched on the tabletop. “I don’t know. It’s your gig.”
“We…we’ve got to do Starlight,” Daniel said, flustered, but he didn’t move his hands away. “What’d you think of that little riff I put into the chorus?”
“It’s so edgy. I loved it.”
“I have to hear you sing that,” Daniel insisted.
“It’s got balls, doesn’t it? But I renamed it to “I See Stars.’” Chantel’s voice dropped and she started to sing softly. ”I see stars when you give it to me, stars when you kiss me, stars make me come … out at night…’
I straightened up in my chair, face prickling. Edgy wasn’t the word for it.
“Look, I hate to rain on your parade, but we’ve got an agenda. We’re out here to sell tapes, get some exposure.” I didn’t know what Daniel had told her about Mogen Kruse. I hoped nothing. “We don’t have time for street shows.”
Daniel still had one hand on the table, his long, knobby fingers interlocked with Chantel’s. He didn’t take his eyes off her.
“You’re the salesman, Jens,” he said. “If we have to sell tapes, you figure out how. That’s your job. But we’re doing this tonight.”
Chantel was watching me boldly. “Nice to finally meet you, Jens,” she said. “I never met a new car and truck guy before.”
I stood. “Yeah, you, too. Daniel, I’ll catch up with you at the truck.”
I walked away, feeling her laughter against my back, although I never heard it.
The day outside was still bright and sunny, but it didn’t help. I wasn’t sure who I was madder at – them or me. Busking! I knew Daniel was doing it to bug me, but I couldn’t imagine why Chantel would want to join him, except for the same reason. I wondered what he’d told her about me.
I’d really screwed this up. I’d gone in to figure her out and come away with nothing, except that Daniel melted like butter around her. Maybe that was it. She liked the power over him. Or maybe it was the music thing. She wanted him to keep pumping out songs for her lyrics.
I see stars when you give it to me, stars when you kiss me…
The memory surged through my body, a warm rush that I couldn’t stop. 1 kept walking but I slowed. She’s out of your league, Daniel, I thought.
But I didn’t know what to do about it.
Back at the truck I realized I was hungry. With the cereal gone I knew that all the non-cook items left were chips and crackers. I didn’t want crackers. Daniel was out there having a good time, spending the Fender money. Well, so could I.
The dessert place served sandwiches, too. I ordered a clubhouse at the counter and stood there waiting for it. It seemed to me the restaurant was full of couples, chairs pulled in close together. I didn’t want to sit by myself.
The cashier came back. “I forgot to ask. Is that to stay or to
go?”
“To go, I guess.”
She marked it on the bill. “Too bad,” she murmured as she turned away.
I looked after her, the swing of her hips, the saucy bounce of her dark, shoulder-length hair Another Marcy. Waitresses seemed to like me, and I found it easy to kid around with them, maybe because I knew I could pay the bill and go. It wasn’t like meeting someone.
I ate in the truck, trying to figure out how I was going to move sixty-one tapes. Easton was a big town – five thousand plus. A curling bonspiel would draw hundreds of people, but I didn’t know if they were Daniel’s kind of audience. And what if there were other musicians? They only asked for loose change. I wanted an eight-dollar commitment. We weren’t going to beat those guys on price.
After an hour, I gave up thinking about it. What was taking Daniel? Chantel couldn’t still be on her break. I drove around Easton, past the music store and McDonald’s, anywhere he might be. I thought about going back to the hospital to ask for Chantel, then realized I didn’t know her last name or even what department she worked in. I parked at the convenience store again.
He’s probably just pissed off at you, I told myself. He’s sixteen years old and Easton isn’t New York. Yet I could feel my stomach knotting. Don’t lose him, Mom had said.
I hung on for another forty-five minutes. Then I drove up and down every street, more carefully this time, checking all the shadows and alleys. When I slowly circled the school playgrounds, mothers sat up on their benches, alert. But I was worried, too.
Where the hell could he be? Why would he do this? Even if you’re mad at someone you don’t…scare them.
I parked at the hospital. It was a long shot but I was desperate. I didn’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t there.
I was hurrying up to the front door when I saw the familiar shape of denim and dark hair in the distance, across the big asphalt drive and a park. He was leaving Easton’s one apartment building. I almost sagged with relief.
“Daniel!” I called.
He kept walking. I broke into a run after him.
“Daniel!”
I was close enough but still he wouldn’t turn around. Barreling over the field, running like I hadn’t in a long time, I wanted to scream it in his ear.