I Have Demons

by Adam Christopher

  Kay ignored him and waved Elmer away dismissively. She turned to the boy.

  “I couldn’t get a hold of Fabio. Some floozy picked up the phone. He hadn’t come home in three days and she didn’t know where he was. And she didn’t have the brains to ask around. He’s on some business trip, he told her, but not a word more.” Kay poured herself a glass of ice water from the plastic pitcher.

  “What about his cellphone?” asked the boy, who began to feel like he was a detective in a mystery.

  “It’s turned off. And his voicemail is full…” Kay spat out the ice cube that she had been sucking back into the glass. She was feeling increasingly disoriented — just not herself at all.

  “Shit, eh? Here, why don’t you take this to the old lady over there, and in the meantime, I’ll see what I can find…”

  Kay was taken aback. Did the boy just order her to do something? She stared at him for a second with piercing eyes and a vexed expression, before grabbing the plate.

  ***

  Suzette was eating her Thanksgiving dinner in silence. Someone had turned off the background music. She didn’t really notice it until it was gone. But it had filled the empty spaces in the restaurant, making the pauses in human speech a little more comfortable. All that was left was Elmer absent-mindedly tapping the nail on his pinkie against the plastic pitcher. He wished that it was not devoid of beer, but he was too tired to order another.

  As Suzette swallowed, each bite of turkey and stuffing seeming to gather like a smooth, miniature golf ball at the back of her throat, before finally going down into her stomach. It was the same feeling she would get when they surreptitiously rolled one of her neighbours in the home on a stretcher through the back door.

  She was not quite ready to cry but too upset to speak or eat. Still, the food was lovely and she felt strangely at home here, even though this was her first time at the Lodge. She could see herself coming back again and again, getting to know the characters a little better each time, until they became like family — with all their idiosyncrasies and imperfections. Suzette reconsidered that for a moment. No. They would not be like family — more like the characters of a never-ending soap opera, the ragtag lot of Coronation Street, who grow on you with time, until they begin to occupy an important place in your daily life. You get to know them, you know all of their faults and their messy lives. You are free to observe them, compare your lot in life to theirs, and eventually, you pretend to be a part of their world.

  Kay had just handed the Charbonneaus their bill and, as usual, M. Charbonneau furtively slipped her five dollars while his wife hobbled to the washroom. That was always above and beyond the tip. His wife controlled the family credit card, but M. Charbonneau always had some extra cash in his pocket. They never really engaged Kay the way that Elmer and Moustache did. And M. Charbonneau felt more like a kindly grandfather giving his granddaughter a fiver to buy herself a chocolate bar and a medium slush at the convenience store. It made her smile. She was never that proverbial sweet girl with the ponytails and a docile disposition. Not then and not now. If anything, she had been a terror who transitioned into the cantankerous middle-aged grouch that she was now.

  M. Charbonneau asked for only one thing in exchange for a five: after each meal, he would take out a handful of small photos of his granddaughter from his wallet. Rosalie was the gem in their family. Kay never actually met the little girl, but through these photos, she followed her along every milestone in her young life — birthday parties, school plays, first communion, apple picking. This time, Rosalie’s grandfather had something extra special — a storybook that the ten-year-old girl illustrated and wrote for a school project.

  Kay’s French was passable at best, but she understood the laminated picture book perfectly. It was a story about a little girl, scared to death of water, who had gotten lost in a forest. She could leave the woods only if she swam across a raging river. The helpless girl lay curled up on a bed of autumn leaves, despairing that she might never escape the woods. As she lay there paralyzed, a caribou sat down next to her on the leaves. Not a word was exchanged between the two of them, yet the girl knew that the caribou was there to help her cross the river. They made their way to the water together, the little girl mounted the animal and the caribou began swimming with determination across the roaring river, transporting the girl to safety. Once on the other side, the girl and the caribou stood in silence, mesmerized by the flickering lights in the distance. The girl was almost home, but the caribou could never inhabit her world. He took one long look at the girl, committing her to his memory, and then without a word made his way back to the water.

  “Well now…” Kay seemed lost for words. “That’s sweet. Really sweet. You’ve got yourself a winner here, love.” M. Charbonneau smiled in satisfaction. Kay kept holding that book for another moment. She abruptly opened it back up a second time, flipped through the pages and ran her fingers over the smooth texture of the paper. For a moment, the warm waxy scent of coloured crayons blocked out the smell of reheated food. But Kay knew that she had to face the boy in the kitchen.

  As Kay walked in, the boy stood there facing her and raised his cellphone screen, shining brightly in the dingy kitchen, close to her face.

  “And what exactly do you want me to do with that? I left my glasses at home and I sure as hell can’t read that print.” She slammed her empty tray on the counter. “Just tell me what it says.” Kay stared at a scuffed-up cupboard door, with no desire to look at the boy and his phone. She felt a “told you so” was in the works and the last person she’d tolerate that from was some socially awkward pimply kid.

  The boy usually hated reading aloud, but this time he was filled with a mix of nervous anticipation and pride. He had gotten to the bottom of the mystery and it was not he who had fallen for some stupid scam, but rather his overly self-confident, always right, wannabe bully of a co-worker. He cleared his throat. His voice broke when he read the first words, but as he kept on reading the story, he felt like a veteran news anchor — the old woman his parents had been watching on CTV every night for as long as he could remember.

  “Authorities seize bank accounts and assets of Cape Town confidence trickster Fabio Smuts. Smuts, charged with three counts of wire fraud, identity theft and uttering threats, vanished from Cape Town on Wednesday after withdrawing nearly five million rand from his bank account over the past few days. Smuts is believed to have swindled mostly elderly women from Australia, the United Kingdom and Canada out of millions of rand, with promises of getting rich on Cape Town’s water crisis. Smuts claimed to have perfected a groundbreaking new process for turning seawater into drinking water. It was this plan and Smuts’ reported charisma and romantic allure that successfully deceived the women. Many are now frantically urging South African authorities to help them recover their lost savings…”

  The boy paused. Kay was still facing the cabinets, motionless.

  “The story goes on…”

  “Enough.” Kay crossed her arms.

  The boy stared at the back of her head. As he noticed her thinning hair, he reflected, I thought that only happened to men.

  “This really sucks...” The boy wasn’t sure what would be the right thing to say in a situation like this. And knowing Kay, he was worried she would turn around suddenly and attack if he said the wrong thing. “So … like how much are you out?”

  “Enough. You saw the story with your own eyes, didn’t you?” She continued facing away from the boy. “Sunshine here swindled foolish, sexed-up old women out of all their savings. There you have it. I’m going for a smoke.” Kay fumbled in her pocket for a moment and then stormed out of the kitchen and restaurant.

  ***

  Suzette finished only half the food on the plate. Portions seem to double in size every decade or so, she thought. But she could not allow for the leftovers to go to waste. She wasn’t exactly excited about eating the microwaved remains from a Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow — a dinner that did not go according
to plan — but turning up at the home with a big rectangular Styrofoam container said something. It said that she was still vital enough to go out on her own, to decide her own meals, to come and go as she pleased. It would send a message to the nurses and orderlies, as well as to other residents. Well, the residents who were still lucid. Kay had left suddenly, so she couldn’t wave her down. And that shy young man in the kitchen didn’t look up long enough from his phone to notice Suzette stretching her neck, trying to attract his attention.

  “Almost everything’s good about the Lodge, except they don’t let you leave,” mumbled Elmer. Moustache took no notice. His head was on his placemat; he was bored out of his mind, but too lazy or tired to really want to get up and leave.

  Suzette smiled at Elmer. “Well, I really enjoyed myself so much tonight. Everything was just lovely. But the night staff at the home are going to start worrying about me…”

  Elmer blew his nose in a napkin and turned to Suzette.

  “Sorry about your son being a no-show and all. You raise them for eighteen years, support them for another ten and then they dump you like a dirty dish rag, eh?” Elmer shook his head before throwing a sugar packet at Moustache. The man casually gave him the finger but kept his head on the table.

  Suzette wanted to explain that Mathieu was actually a wonderful son and how she was looking forward to brunch with him tomorrow morning. But then the young man from the kitchen showed up suddenly from behind.

  “Can I wrap that up for you, ma’am?” He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands when he was talking with someone, so he started biting his nails.

  “Oh, you read my mind, dear! Please…” She passed him her plate. “And, I don’t mean to pry, but is everything fine with sweet Kay? She left so suddenly…”

  The boy rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, she’s a little upset. But she’ll come through.”

  Suzette’s curiosity was at its peak and she was getting her second wind too — she’d arrived at the border of the land of sleep, but her body suddenly decided to make a sharp U-turn.

  “She was just as excited as I would be if I believed that I had won the lottery! I hope it all ends well for her...” Suzette smiled at the young man who just shook his head and grimaced awkwardly.

  And then like a bomb going off, the door to the restaurant flung open and there stood Kay, a dominating presence that could make the building shake. She looked at the boy with fierce, determined eyes.

  “How ’bout you give me some good news tonight! Do we have any stuffing left?”

  The boy looked at her nervously. “I think there’s like half a pan left in the kitchen … on top of the stove…”

  Kay marched into the kitchen with the determination of a sergeant. She re-emerged in less time than it took to take a deep breath, holding a large metal pan of stuffing in her hands. She dropped it onto the counter from two feet up, making an ominous thud. Mme. Charbonneau put her hand over her mouth before grabbing her husband’s arm. Elmer’s jaw dropped and stayed there, while Moustache raised his left eyebrow. Suzette, startled at first, stretched her neck to get a better view. The restaurant went quiet: the Charbonneaus were standing with their coats on, ready to leave, while Suzette, Elmer and Moustache seemed almost huddled together on the other side. The boy just stood next to Suzette, with his mouth slightly open and a plate of half-eaten turkey dinner in his hands.

  “All right, folks — listen up!” Kay stood behind the counter. Her voice had become gritty and rough. She sounded like she had spent the last hour yelling. “It turns out that I’m in the giving mood these days. Hell, it turns out that I’d happily give my right arm to help my fellow man. You can suck my veins dry, take my last penny and I’d just hop, skip and jump on over to the poorhouse. That’s me, you know! Caring Kay!” She was roaring and her face turned the colour of her hair; the artery in her neck throbbed and beads of sweat collected at the corners of her forehead, just waiting to escape from captivity in one grand drip and run all the way down to her chin.

  Suzette found that she was both concerned and transfixed. She was concerned that this poor, hard-working woman was going to do something she would later deeply regret. But she was also enthralled. It was like she was right in the middle of a television show. She wasn’t shielded by a screen and she wasn’t just a nameless consumer, light years away. She was in the thick of it. And she might even become an active participant in whatever would unfold.

  “Well then, who wants seconds? Or thirds?” All eyes were on Kay and not a person moved or made a sound. “Come one, come all! This is your chance! It’s on the house tonight and if the managers of this joint give me hell afterwards, they can just deduct it from my paycheque. So no sweat, folks! Come on up!” Kay sounded as though she were a magician at a county fair inviting little children to come up for free lollipops at the end of a performance.

  Kay stood there examining the room with a fierce intensity and smile that exposed all her teeth. Her head, hair and body were visibly worn by the passage of time, but her teeth were lily white — like a necklace made of ivory cubes.

  Moustache adjusted himself a little in his chair, cleared his throat and spoke in an uncertain voice as he glanced at Elmer and Suzette. “I guess I’d take some…” He seemed apologetic to the people around him, as if he had broken a blood oath between them not to accept anything and, by doing so, would bring disaster on the whole nation.

  “Well that’s just grand. Grand!” Kay roared. She wiped her face with her hands, revealing a smile that had morphed into a snarl.

  Moustache was about to get up from his chair when Kay put her right hand out, signalling for him to stop dead in his tracks. She spoke with a voice that sounded soothing on the surface but concealed a reservoir of hostility that could turn into aggression at a moment’s notice.

  “Sweet pea, we here at the Alpine Lodge believe in quality service and a first-class dining experience, where the sky’s the limit. So how about you just sit the fuck down and let me take care of you, okay?”

  Moustache slunk back into his booth. Elmer broke the silence.

  “I think maybe you’re a little beat, Kay … I mean, it’s been a long night and you’ve been on your feet for hours non-stop…” Elmer paused and looked at the boy standing frozen between his booth and Suzette’s. “So how about we call it a night and, uh, you’ll see a real generous side of me when I tip.” Elmer forced a laugh, but in the nervous silence of the restaurant, it echoed unpleasantly off the walls.

  Kay took a deep breath and let out a primal scream that seemed to last an eternity — the sort of scream that the raging person knew very well would solve nothing yet felt immensely satisfying.

  “You want some generosity on the side, hon? Well then, Kay is at your service!” And with that, Kay dug both hands into the stuffing and filled her mouth to the point where her face appeared ready to burst. She tilted her head back and with her body functioning like an industrial ventilator of monstrous proportions or a canon exploding, the stuffing went catapulting through the air towards the guests.

  Elmer, Moustache and the kid ducked. The Charbonneaus pushed their backs against the wall, hoping to disappear into the panels. But Suzette, tinier than anyone else in the restaurant, sat upright in her booth, eyes turned towards the ceiling, mesmerized by bright-green specks of celery, bits of red peppers, translucent chopped onions and chunks of soggy bread cubes that looked like snow jetting above her. It felt almost festive. She didn’t turn around to see where the stuffing landed and she couldn’t explain how it managed to fly so far.

  The boy noticed two things:

  1. The old lady in the booth looked like she had just personally experienced a sublime Christmas miracle.

  2. Three security cameras were pointing right at them. They were sure to capture Kay’s performance. When the owners saw this, Kay and he would both be out of a job.

  He mustered up some courage and glared at Kay, with eyes wide open, trying to communicate some kind of warning. He nudg
ed his head ever so slightly towards one of the security cameras, and Kay, who was scooping up another load of stuffing with her hands from the pan, noticed him. She slammed the stuffing back into the pan and placed her hands firmly on her hips.

  “Oh, now look at that. Sugar’s about to wet his pants…” Kay glared at the boy, but for a fleeting moment, her better judgment checked in — only to pack up and seek refuge just as quickly. Not too far below the surface, she knew that this was madness. But she also realized that it was too late to turn back. What’s done is done. There’s no point in stopping halfway to worry about turning back on that one-way road to hell. She couldn’t just retrace her steps and pretend none of this ever happened. As far as she was concerned, she might as well put her foot on the gas and tear right down that road like a terror. Besides, it was always entertaining to watch the reactions of prudish women — palms over their bosoms in righteous indignation at the horror of it all. Then again, she could tell that little old Suzette wasn’t that kind of woman at all. Seemingly fragile and very thin, yes, but she sure as hell had a mischievous fire burning in that scrawny little body.

  Kay erupted in an enraged laugh. The windows of the Alpine Lodge vibrated for a couple of seconds as her sound filled the space and bounced off the walls.

  “I know just what you guys need. You need a real show, something meaty … something to really sink your teeth into, something satisfying…” Kay found herself staring at Elmer, who sat with his mouth slightly ajar and with a seemingly vacant or at least helpless expression. He looked over to Moustache, mostly a silent type.

  “Ta-bar-nac…” He spoke slowly and softly, each juicy syllable of the word rolling off his tongue in disjointed little pieces. Then he put the toothpick back into his mouth and returned to staring at his placemat.

  “As you folks can probably tell, I’m no pussy willow. Hell, anyone who is wouldn’t make it through a week of waitressing. I’m going on twenty years. Twenty years…” Kay dug her right hand deep into the pan of stuffing next to her.