He was suddenly gripped by a stitch of embarrassment. Shame for his kids who would be expected to know all kinds of words they’d never heard before. They would be mocked in that cavalier way children have when they are unwittingly cruel. He gulped his tea and made sure Lily had enough arrowroot cookies and juice. He lowered his voice and tried to decipher the slang in the language the contrary waitresses used. He would learn, and he would learn quickly.
The next morning Jack looked at the wrinkled map, a paper cup of acrid tea in his hand. The road ahead seemed to bend and curve around a misshapen lake. It would be a challenge.
“The snow seems at its worst yet,” Angela said, standing by the motel window. The car looked like it had a white plastic carrier on top, so thick with undisturbed snow that had fallen overnight. The sparse, leafless trees with spindly branches looked like cotton plants, round balls of snow on their edges.
Jack thought of the roads, the lake, and the snow. This leg of the trip worried him. When they got on the road they drove the slowest yet. It took them all day to go around the lake. The north shore of Lake Superior, with its solid brown roadside rock drifts and run-off, frozen in mid-air, looked like iced waterfalls. The towns scattered along Lake Superior seemed dangerous and wild, devoid of population, yet abundant with natural riches, wildlife, and as Jack had pointed out, lumber, pulp mills, and newly discovered minerals.
He thought about the amount of explosives it had taken to blast through these cocoa-bean-coloured rocks. How many backbreaking hours of blasting had it taken? How many hours of hauling and dumping — and where was the pit? Where was the leftover rock thrown? Jack pictured the men, snot-nosed, beards full of blackflies in the summer, frozen with spittle in the winter, clearing out when the rocks exploded, trucked back in when the rocks were reduced to chunks, strewn all over the intended road, clawed out of this rugged land.
They had been driving for hours, winding and curving round Lake Superior’s choppy coastline. They turned a corner and suddenly they came upon a lone moose, stark and still in the middle of the highway. Jack slammed on the brakes and the girls heaved forward, books and toys falling to the floor with a thump.
“Jesus,” Angela whispered.
“What a beast,” Jack whispered and eyed the tremendous antlers, snout shaped like a butternut squash, spindly legs, and massive rump. The moose eyed them lazily, reared its mammoth brow and trotted off back into the woods.
“Can we stop now?” Angela asked.
“Yes, of course,” Jack said firmly.
They were just outside of Thunder Bay. He took a left turn off Highway 17 and drove into town past Current River. It was a frothy mess of moving water tumbling rapaciously over itself. As they approached the waterfront they were awestruck by the slab of dark rock shaped like a supine man.
“Let’s get some sandwiches and have a picnic,” Angela said.
Jack drove until they found a supermarket. Angela ran in and grabbed a loaf of white bread, peanut butter, jam, milk, and bananas.
They parked near the waterfront and ate noisily, famished and tired.
“The clerk told me that it’s called The Sleeping Giant,” Angela said and gestured to the mound of rock.
They watched the sun set over the Sleeping Giant and the girls fell asleep in the back. The dappled sun grazed their cheeks, making them look like bobcat cubs, spotty shadows brown and sharp orange.
Angela wanted to nuzzle them, curl up beside them, and hibernate for the rest of the drive.
“Let’s get another motel,” Jack whispered.
Transport trucks with yellowed logs piled like rolled cigarettes plugged the highway from Thunder Bay to the Manitoba border. Pulp mill towns along the shoreline emitted grey, woolly streams of thick smoke that filled the air with the smell of boiled eggs. It took the full day to get to Manitoba. They seemed to glide across the province in one straight slick line.
“Where are we?” Angela asked over a plate of hot spaghetti.
“Outside of Brandon.”
Back on the road, the tight chug of a train, the doleful whistle, and the scrape of the wheels on the algid track. The train ran alongside the highway, across what in summer would be flax fields. The flatness of the city limit farmlands was a relief from the rugged Canadian Shield of northwestern Ontario.
In the morning they reached Saskatchewan, bypassed Regina, and drove straight through to the rural areas. Bales of hay, frosted with ice and snow, hedged the highway. Lone grain mills stood strong and defiant in the face of the acerbic wind and snow. Weathered barnyards looked drafty and cold.
“We’re almost in Alberta,” Jack said.
Angela felt a twinge of excitement. “We’re almost there, girls,” she yelled over her shoulder.
A few hours outside Calgary, Jack pulled into a roadside diner. It was close to suppertime and the family had been driving all day. Angela was restless. She’d been trying to read in the front seat and had kept her feet curled up underneath her, so her muscles were numb. The children were cramped and tired. Jack was exhausted from the week-long drive across the country.
“We’re in Brooks, Alberta,” Jack announced as he looked at the map.
Angela got out wearily. She stretched and yawned, warm breath visible in the cool Albertan air. “Are we staying the night?” She sat across from him in the booth, plates jumbled on the tabletop. Jack nodded and shook salt over his meal for the third time. Angela smiled and the children cheered, excited by the prospect of jumping on the motel beds. Angela knew they didn’t have much money left; most of the moving expenses had gone on the credit card since the company didn’t offer re-location assistance.
She smiled at Jack between mouthfuls in the hopes of demonstrating patience and faith, but he was unreachable, far-off. Worried about where they were going, she assumed, but focusing awkwardly on the girls, trying to make it fun for them.
He pantomimed and the girls howled with laughter. He crossed his eyes and juggled his potatoes. He stopped when he noticed two men in the next booth staring at him.
“Good day,” one said as he tipped his black leather cowboy and smirked at Jack.
Jack nodded slightly, reddened, and mumbled, “Yeah, my kids, driving all day.”
The two cowboys seated across from each other laughed.
“Where are you coming from?” the dark, tall one asked, his face as wide as the rear of a truck, his nose long and thick like a horse’s neck.
“He must be from out east, ‘down home’ you say, eh?” the smaller one said, smiling. His eyes were wide and slow, and they blinked lazily as he passed a toothpick from side to side in each cheek.
“Newfoundland,” Jack said slowly.
The bigger cowboy appraised Angela. She held her fork midway to her mouth and pushed black strands of stray hair away from her face with her left hand, tightened the collar of her pink winter coat, and smiled weakly at the burly men.
Jack cleared his throat. “Where are you from? Round here?”
“Well,” the large man said, his eyes on Angela, “we work on a ranch a few miles south of here.”
“Are you coming out here to work?” the smaller one asked.
“Yes, we’re going up to Foxville to work, to live, I mean.”
“Well, well we got us a real Saltwater Cowboy,” the bigger man said and winked at Angela. He faced Jack and his gaze travelled up and down his pinched face. “Real fishes out of water, eh?”
His small friend smirked.
“Up here working on the ranches, the oil rigs, the rock up north, hell, we’ve even got some of you pumping gas at the Shell, eh, Mike?” the bigger said and looked at the small one.
Mike nodded.
“Wrangling a piece of the pie up here in God’s country,” the big man said loudly and spread his massive arms.
The children stared at the big man in silence as their feet dangled underneath the table; their legs scraped the chair’s red vinyl, sounding like salt crunching under snow. Angela’s upper l
ip stiffened. I’ve got four babies to protect, I’m not going to let you push us around, she thought.
“Welcome to your new home,” the big man said as he lowered his arms and slapped his palms on the table. The ice cubes clanged against glasses. “The name’s Rob. Where are you guys staying tonight?”
“At the motel across the highway,” Jack answered.
“I got plenty of room on my ranch if you’d like —”
“That’s nice of you, I’d be —”
Angela kicked him underneath the table. “We’ve already paid for our room,” she announced brightly.
“She sounds like she’s straight from Ireland. She your good-luck charm?” Rob said and laughed. “Listen, my sister’s singing country and western tonight at the bar motel. Why don’t you join Mike and me for a beer, that is, if your lovely wife don’t mind?” the big cowboy asked and winked at Angela.
“Oh, for the love of Christ, do what you want. It’ll give me a chance to put the kids to sleep.”
The cowboy let out a long slow whistle. “She’s got a sharp tongue, that woman,” big cowboy said and grinned. “We like them wild out here in the west.”
Angela stabbed at her plate and shovelled food into her mouth, forced it down her throat through clenched cheeks. Leave it to Jack to go out with the boys his first night in the province, she thought. I want him to stay with me. He’ll only get in trouble with this crew, and the children, they need him right now. I need him right now.
Jack walked the few feet from his motel room to the bar on rubbery legs. The nerve in his groin throbbed, the pain gnashed away at his hamstring all the way to his knee. His hair, wet from a quick shower, had frozen into thin, icy spears. Eager for a drink, he felt a quick stab of guilt for leaving the girls with Angela. But she’d insisted he go, blow off some steam she’d said, and assured him she’d be quite comfortable watching an episode of Coronation Street if she could find one. He knew she didn’t want him to go. Not really. She’d have preferred it if he’d cuddled up with her and the kids. But he knew she’d let him take a break. A break he really did need.
He pulled open the bar door. A pile of dirty slush raked along as he stepped inside. Mike and Rob nodded, Rob’s arm on the back of a chair, motioning for Jack to join them.
“Some cold,” Jack said.
“Devil of a winter,” Rob said.
Rob ordered beers and they each savoured their bottle of brew.
“Which team you go for?” Mike asked.
“Flames. Oilers a close second,” Jack said and winked.
“My kind of fan,” Rob said.
They raised their bottles and laughed. After a few rounds the volume on the hockey game was turned down. A lithe brunette backed up by guitar and drums sidled up to the microphone. She belted out a few twangy country standards. After her set, she strutted around the room. She accepted hugs from the crowd and allowed wheedling men to pour her drinks.
“Had to meet and greet,” she said and pulled up a chair next to Jack.
“No problem, sissie,” Rob said and plunked a beer in front of her chair.
She was chewing cinnamon gum and the smell was sweet and woodsy. Jack inhaled. Her hair was thick, brown, and curly. Her black leather pants looked as if they had been branded on with an iron. Her rump was tight and heart-shaped. Jack tried not to look into her drowsy brown eyes.
“Another?” Rob asked.
Jack nodded, gave him the thumbs-up, and raised his bottle to clink it with Renee’s.
She told the filthiest jokes Jack had ever heard anyone — man or woman — utter. Jack couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re filthy, love,” he said.
“Dirtier than dirt,” she said and winked.
Jack laughed again and his legs relaxed. The nerve in his leg stopped banging against muscle and bone.
Six hours later Jack stumbled back to the motel room. He stank of Irish whiskey and beer. He fumbled with the door and dropped the keys. Between his legs he saw a figure moving toward him. A few feet away in a hip-length fur coat stood Renee.
“Hiya,” she said and licked her full red lips.
Jack looked at his hands. “Dropped my keys,” he whispered and jingled them good-naturedly. “Found them!”
“Would you like to have another drink with me?”
He stared at her silently.
“My room is just around the corner, the other side of the motel.” She hitched her thumb to the left. “They give me a room whenever I’m out here performing. Free mini-bar.”
He stared at her silently.
“Sure is warm in this coat,” she said and opened the sable fur to reveal a tight-fitting, sequin-encrusted red satin top.
“Missus,” he said weakly.
“Renee.”
“Renee,” he repeated politely, “I’m married, my wife is inside, so are my children —”
“We can have a good time, though.”
He again just stared at her.
“Sure as hell hot in this big old coat,” she said and removed the red polyester kerchief around her neck. “You sure,” she drawled, “you won’t have a drink with me?”
“I can’t, good night,” he said and wriggled in through the small space in the door, trying not to let too much light or cold get in at his family, sound asleep, vulnerable in their beds. Angela encircled Lily protectively. Remnants of a bedsheet tent hung from the headboard. Maggie and Katie’s arms dangled over the sides, fingers curled delicately, wide-open like little petals on nocturnal flowers.
He tiptoed over to the bed and stubbed his toe on the wheels of the cheap metal bed frame. He sucked back a howl and clamped one hand over his toe, the other over his lips. He pulled back the covers and slid in next to Angela.
“You stink,” Angela hissed in the dark, “like whiskey and cigarettes.” She threw her arm over her side and pushed him away. “You’ll be tired tomorrow during the last leg of the trip, and if you yell at my babies, so help me Jesus, I’ll —”
“My love, I’m —”
“Shh! You’ll wake the girls.”
“Sorry —”
“At least you didn’t go for a drink with that woman outside the door.”
Jack’s stomach bottomed out. “Oh, my love, I’m —”
“I found it amusing, listening to see how far she’d go. I knew she wouldn’t get very far.”
“My love, I’m —”
“Go to sleep.”
He curled into her and held her as she fell asleep. He lay awake for hours. Everyone in Brighton knew I was married, he thought. No one would have dared to do what she did. It was tempting, though. This temptation shamed him. He felt dirty. He felt like a cheat. Even though he hadn’t done anything, the thought that he could have — if he had wanted to — scared and confused him.
He missed home more than ever at that moment. He missed the stability and predictability of it all as he lay beside Angela, the wind and snow sloshing against the window, his head thick with drink.
The next morning Jack’s throat was cracked and dry and the veins in his head throbbed, his blood sluggish. The girls were watching Mr. Dressup draw animals on coloured craft paper. Angela sat at the little desk, wrapped in a white towel, and drummed her fingers on the thin slab of panel board that served as a desktop. She cleared her throat loudly. “Good morning, Mr. McCarthy, ready to join the land of the living?”
Jack moaned, rolled over, and covered his head with two thick white pillows. “Jesus, Angela, do they have to watch TV this early?”
“Yes,” she answered icily, “they’re children. If you get to go out at night and play, you can’t expect them not to. We’re going to have them in the car for the next twelve hours so they deserve a bit of fun beforehand. Let’s show Daddy how to have fun!” she said and they piled on Jack and smacked him with pillows.
Jack cupped his throbbing head in his hands and shot Angela a stern look. She saucily smiled back at him. “I’ll get you back,” he mouthed.
&n
bsp; “We’ll see,” she mouthed back.
He got up quickly and pinned her underneath him. The children fell from his back and torso like ripe apples from a sinewy branch, screaming and laughing.
“Maggie, go get Daddy some ice from the bucket, please,” Jack asked sweetly.
“No! Don’t do it,” Angela said pleadingly.
Maggie jumped off the bed, ran to the ice bucket on the table, and pulled out two small half-melted cubes. She scurried back over to the bed and presented them proudly to her father. He winked at her and dangled them above Angela’s face. She protested and wriggled but he lowered the cubes and she shrieked. He popped them in his mouth and kissed her neck and face. She screamed again and he growled at her.
Lily started to cry. They stopped and looked at each other in surprise. “Rirry,” Jack mumbled, his mouth full of ice, and slid off his wife. She got up and wrapped Lily in the white bed sheet as Jack gave her a big bear hug.
Jack slowly pulled out from the motel parking lot. Renee stood in a motel room doorway in her red negligee, kissing the small cowboy. “Isn’t that your friend Mike? Oh, and your friend, what was her name?” Angela said and waved goodbye to Mike and Renee.
“What the Jesus —” he asked as Angela mussed up her hair and crossed her eyes.
“Waving to her.”
“You’re crazy.”
Angela bucked her teeth and waved like an oaf.
Renee’s pixie nose wrinkled as she stared at Angela.
“Oh for the love of, stop it, Mike’s looking,” Jack said and waved meekly. He rolled slowly out of the icy parking lot and gunned the motor, to little avail, speed being impossible on an iced northern salt-and-gravel-peppered road. He looked back apologetically through the rear-view mirror as Mike and Renee stared quietly at the advancing car.
“They’ll think we’re some strange.”
“I don’t care,” Angela sneered stubbornly, tucked her feet up in the car seat, and reached over to turn up the radio and the heat.
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