The Opposite Of Tidy

by Carrie Mac

  Junie flopped down onto the bed and crawled under the comforter, even though it was already warm in the tiny room. She set the phone beside the pillow and stared at it when her eyes adjusted to the dark. She should call her mother and see how she was doing. But she didn’t want to know how she was doing. Instead, she willed it to ring. She wanted Wade to call her back. That was what she wanted. Badly.

  It didn’t ring. For minutes, and then an hour, it didn’t ring.

  She checked that it still had a dial tone. It did.

  She told it to ring.

  It didn’t.

  She begged it to ring and be Wade. It didn’t. It wasn’t.

  After what seemed like several hours, she turned the phone on just to see the time illuminated in the screen. It was only just past three now; barely an hour had passed.

  She eventually did fall asleep, much to her surprise. When she woke up, she checked the time again. It was almost seven o’clock. She hadn’t meant to sleep that long. She reached over and turned on the lamp and sat up, groggy and thick. It took her a few moments to remember everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours. But then it came at her in a rush.

  Kendra, her mom, Wade, school.

  With a groan, she fell back onto the pillows. If she turned off the light and closed her eyes, could she just sleep through it all? She didn’t think so. She could hear That Woman and her father talking in low voices in the kitchen, which was just at the end of the hall. She crawled closer to the door but still couldn’t make out what they were saying. After a couple of minutes, their voices grew more animated. Heated. Junie reached up and turned the door handle as slowly and soundlessly as possible. She pulled the door open a crack and peered down the hall.

  She saw Evelyn’s shiny red high-heeled shoes first, and then her crisp white dress with big black polka dots. Her dad’s bare feet and then jeans. He’d changed out of his work clothes. Then Princess, curled in her bed by the fireplace just past the kitchen, even though there was no fire.

  “I think you’re being unreasonable,” Evelyn said. “This is my daughter we’re talking about. Not one of your clients.”

  “And what an opportunity for her!” Evelyn opened the fridge and pulled out a head of lettuce. “The Kendra Show is not just another trashy afternoon talk show. She deals with serious matters, and has a legion of highly qualified experts on staff. Hell, I’d love to be one of them.”

  Junie’s father murmured something she couldn’t decipher, but it wasn’t what Evelyn wanted to hear.

  “That’s not fair! Ron, you can’t think that!”

  “And why not?” Junie could hear her dad just fine now, as he’d raised his voice again. “This is a perfect opportunity for you to get your foot in there and try to make an impression on Kendra. Well, this is not a job fair, this is my family.”

  “Your family?” A long pause. “I thought Princess and I were your family now.”

  “Yes.” Another pause, short but packing the required emotional punch. “Of course you are.”

  “And of course you still have your first family.” Evelyn’s tone softened. “But Junie is part of our family now too.” She moved in and put her arms around Junie’s dad, who turned to let her kiss him. “I’m sorry, Ron.”

  “I am too, Evelyn. I didn’t mean to question your intentions. Of course you want what’s best for Junie.”

  “Of course I do. You’re her father. That will never change. I just need you to reshape things to include me. You want that, don’t you? You want me?”

  “Yes, yes, yes and yes. I want you, Evelyn. My life is so much better with you in it. So much better. I love you.”

  Evelyn murmured something. Junie knew she was saying it back. Again, nausea flooded her stomach. She wanted to stomp out there and inform That Woman that she would never be a part of her family. What her father thought was love was just infatuation. He’d get over it. Over her. Kendra would fix her mom and her dad would come home and Evelyn could keep her stupid clock and lemon water and creepy dog. She would never be family to Junie. Not ever.

  But Junie didn’t stomp out there and speak her mind. She stayed put, listening. Watching. Evelyn and her father didn’t say anything more for another long while. They puttered about in the small kitchen, bumping into each other, touching lots. Hands on bums, elbows knocking, hips bumping. And finally, when her dad was brushing up behind her, Evelyn turned and pulled him against her, her hands—dripping wet from washing the lettuce—on his butt. He leaned over her, his hands braced on the cupboards above her and kissed her long and hard. Evelyn tilted her pelvis to him and let loose a soft moan.

  Junie sucked in her breath and sat back, closing the door silently. She did not need to see that. Not in the least. She might actually puke. Up until how, nausea had only ever threatened. But seeing that? Junie swallowed hard, willing the bile back.

  What was worse was that she could hear them moving upstairs to the loft bedroom now. They were going to do it. Right now. It was obscene. Truly obscene. She heard Princess follow them up, padding softly on the hardwood stairs, and then Junie made her move. She got her backpack, slipped out of her room and out the front door, opening and then closing it as silently as possible as the bedsprings upstairs creaked grotesquely.

  She stood in the hallway for a moment, deciding what to do next. Call Tabitha and have Mrs. D. come get her? Make her own way home on the bus? Wander the streets aimlessly? Try Wade again?

  She took the elevator down to street level and pushed through the tall glass doors to the street. It was getting cool, but the sky was clear and cloudless. There was a payphone at the end of the street outside of a convenience store. She headed for it, dropped in some change and dialled Wade’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “You picked up!” Junie’s heart pounded. She’d expected to leave another pathetic message.

  “I didn’t recognize the number.”

  “Don’t hang up!” Junie pleaded. “Please, Wade.” “Where are you calling from?”

  “Downtown. I just left my dad’s, I mean, Evelyn’s place. I’m out front at that store on the corner.”

  “Not exactly the best place to be hanging out. It’s kind of rough down there.”

  “I’m okay.” Her heart warmed a little. He was worried about her. That meant he didn’t entirely hate her. “Where are you? Royce and Jeremy’s?”

  “Look, Junie . . .” He sighed. “I don’t really want to talk right now—”

  “You’re pissed at me, I get it. I totally get it. But can I explain?”

  A long pause. Junie took it as permission.

  “It’s worse than you can imagine. Way worse.” Junie held the phone tight, as if clutching it would make him stay on the phone with her longer. “I was embarrassed. I am embarrassed. So embarrassed. I didn’t want you to know they were my parents after you saw them in the driveway that day. I didn’t want you to know that was my house because then what if you wanted to see inside someday and I’d either have to show you or make up some excuse to keep you out. It’s bad, Wade. So bad that I had to lie about it. I’m sorry. Maybe it was stupid—”

  “Maybe?”

  “Okay, totally stupid. I’m so sorry that I lied to you.

  But you have no idea what it’s like, Wade.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “No. You can’t. However bad you think it is, it’s worse. Worthy of lying. I promise.” Junie took a deep breath, about to offer him something she’d never thought she would. “Let me show you all of it? Let me show you where I’m coming from. Maybe it can help you understand. Maybe you won’t be so angry with me.”

  Wade sighed. “I’m not angry, Junie. I feel stupid, like I should’ve figured it out. And I’m hurt that you’d lie to me about your home. Where you come from. Who you are. I thought I knew you, but I don’t.”

  “You know me,” Junie whispered. “I’m more than where I come from. I have to be.” Wade was silent on the other end. “I’m so sorry, Wad
e.”

  “I know you are. And I’m sorry that I made fun of your parents. That was totally uncool. Really. And hey,” she could hear his voice brighten a little, “the whole world is going to see your house pretty soon, right? So that should make it easier to show me.”

  “But I don’t want the whole world to see it.”

  “You can practise with me.” They let a moment linger, a wordless moment that seemed all that much easier now. “Can I come get you, Juniper Rawley?”

  “Yes, please, Wade Jaffre.” Junie felt a lightness come over so suddenly that it made her feel faint. “Right now? I thought you were out in the valley today. Working on the movie.”

  “I finished up there about an hour ago. Royce was getting tired. I’m on the highway. About twenty minutes away.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you. Go down to that café and wait. It’s not safe on the street down there.”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  “It is. I’ll see you at the café.”

  Junie made her way to the café and ordered a latte and sat in a chair by the window, watching the sun fade into dusk, looking for Wade’s van. This part of Vancouver had its share of bums and hookers, or “transient citizens” and “sex-trade workers” as Evelyn called them, and was more than a little rough around the edges. Junie watched the mix of street people and the professionals who’d taken over their neighbourhood. The twenty minutes went fast, and before she could even finish her drink, she saw Wade park across the street and hop out.

  Junie set down the mug. Her hands were shaking. Don’t blow it. Don’t blow it. She repeated those three words like a mantra. Don’t blow it.

  Wade came in, the bell above the door chiming happily, even though Junie was far from happy. She was a milkshake of nerves, quickly melting.

  “Hey.” He had his hands jammed in his pockets and stood well away from her, as if she smelled bad.

  “Hey.” Junie flung an arm at the chalkboard menu on the far wall. She felt gangly and graceless. Awkward. “You want something?” Loud.

  “Nah. Thanks.” He shook his head. “Let’s just go, okay?”

  Cut swiftly and it will hurt less, right? “Sure. Okay.”

  With that, he turned and went out, not holding the door open for her, for the first time since they’d met. With her heart sinking, Junie climbed into the van and pretended that her seatbelt required her complete attention. Neither of them spoke.

  The silence felt so heavy between them that Junie was afraid she was going to suffocate if it continued. She decided on a safe topic.

  “How is Royce? You were going to tell me.”

  “He had a pretty rough day. No energy. You know how he loves to talk. He could barely get three words out in a row.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah.” Wade signalled and turned. “He was lying on the couch, and I walked by and I swear he wasn’t breathing. I was freaking out. Just about to go get Jeremy, and then all of a sudden he sucks in this great big breath. Scared the crap out of me. I really thought he’d died right there. And you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I was going to film him like that.”

  “On the couch?”

  “Dead.” Junie wasn’t sure what to say to that. Wade shook his head. “I had the camera to my eye and everything, I was going to go in there and film his dead body. What the hell, you know?”

  “It’s how you see the world.”

  “But I don’t know if that’s okay. It made me think.

  Really made me think. That’s all.”

  There was her house.

  Three Got Junk trucks still lined the driveway. The dressing room trailer and production trailer with The Kendra Show signage on the side still sat at the foot of the lawn. The catering truck was gone, and there was only one media van, parked across the street. No cop cars this time. It was pretty quiet. And for that, Junie was eternally grateful.

  Wade pulled up behind the Got Junk truck nearest the street and cut the engine.

  “Wade?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s not all that different. Not really. It’s a way of showing the world what is real.”

  “The talk shows have an agenda.”

  “Filmmakers have an agenda too.” Junie didn’t actually want to have a philosophical debate about it in the least, because it was not philosophical at all. It was real and it was happening, and it was a fact. She sighed. “Look, please, please, please just promise me that you won’t judge me based on my mom. Or the house.”

  “I’ll try.” Junie could hear what he wanted to say: I’m judging you on the fact that you lied to me. It was as loud as if he’d hollered it.

  Junie took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with.” Because she did think it was over. Why would he want to forgive her for her lies, and after seeing the way she lived, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. Might as well get the hardest part behind her. The anticipation of a difficult event was always worse than the actuality of it. That was something Evelyn St. Claire had said when she was working with Junie’s mom. She was right. Absolutely right.

  She led him to the front door. The house was dark. The door was locked.

  “Where’s your mom?”

  “I don’t know.” Junie dug for her key and opened the door. “Mom?”

  There was no answer. Junie turned on the light and left Wade by the door while she went to look for her mom. She wasn’t in the living room. She wasn’t in the kitchen. Junie checked the master bedroom, filled to each wall with heaps and heaps of clothes. A musty smell pushed out of the room and caught her throat. She hated to think what they would find in there once they shovelled out all that mouldy fabric.

  Her mom wasn’t there. Junie went for the phone. Maybe her mom had called her dad, looking for her. Maybe they were out looking for her. She hadn’t left a note for her dad. She’d just left.

  She called his cell. “Dad? Do you know where Mom is?”

  “More importantly, where are you?”

  “Home. And Mom’s not here.”

  “It’s rude and disrespectful to just leave like that.” Junie wasn’t about to remind him that screwing his girlfriend while his daughter was downstairs and could hear everything was also rude and disrespectful. Her silence must have said it for her, because he was quick to apologize.

  “Look, I’m sorry. But it wasn’t okay to just leave like that. You could’ve at least left a note.”

  Junie didn’t want to discuss it. Not at all. Not ever. “Do you know where Mom is?”

  “I do. Just hang on.” She heard him rustling some papers. “She’s at the Sheraton. Downtown. Room 408.”

  “A hotel?”

  “Last time I checked the Sheraton was a hotel, yes. A nice one. She left a message saying you can take a taxi there and the show will pay for it. Or you can come back here.”

  “That’s okay with you? If I spend the night at the hotel?”

  After a moment, he answered, “I guess so.”

  Thank you, Evelyn St. Claire. Whatever she’d said (or done, Junie cringed to think) had shifted her dad’s thinking, even if just a bit.

  “We still have a lot to talk about, Junie. The discussion is not over. Not by a long shot.”

  “I know.”

  “But if you want to be part of this so called ‘intervention’ then that’s up to you, I guess. You’re old enough to make that kind of decision.” He cleared his throat, then again. “I just want you to think hard before you decide to go ahead and be a part of it.”

  “I will.”

  “You’re a smart girl, Junie. I trust your decision.” Thank you, Evelyn St. Claire, miracle worker.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Night, kid.”

  “Night.”

  When she hung up, Wade was standing behind her, his eyes wide. “I think I’m starting to understand.” He held out his hand. “Come on. Show me your room.”

  TWENTY
>
  First, Junie showed him the basement. Not because she wanted to, particularly, but because she was nervous to take him to her room and be alone with him. She might have been a smart girl, and her father might have trusted her decision-making process, but Junie wasn’t sure that she trusted herself. They passed the phone on the way to the stairs, and Junie wondered if she could sneak a few minutes alone in the bathroom to call Tabitha. Maybe later. She left the phone where it was and opened the door to the basement.

  The smell hit them in the face like an angry apparition. “Whoa.” Wade scrunched his nose. “What happened down there?”

  Junie told him, trying to laugh it off. But Wade wasn’t laughing.

  “You think it’s okay to go down there without hazmat suits?” Junie laughed again, nervous. He wasn’t joking. though. “Seriously, Junie. I don’t want you to get sick. Or me.”

  “Well, I was down there for the better part of a day, shovelling out crap and trashing shit-soaked junk. I’m not sick.” She knew she sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it. This was the most embarrassing part of it all. Her basement, the sewer. That was why she wanted to get this part over with. Start with the worst, and it could only get easier after that, right?

  She turned on the light and went down the stairs ahead of him. It was not the basement of a few days ago. This was clearly where most of the cleanup work had been done so far.

  “It looks amazing!” Junie surveyed the big open room. Before, it had been packed up to the ceiling with garbage and junk and broken furniture that her mother had collected from alleys with every intention of repairing and selling it to make a little money. All the broken chairs and tables had been taken away, along with what must have been masses and masses of garbage that had been festering down there for years. She could even see the floor in a few places. The junk left was only about chest-high now. It was the worst of it, sure, as it had been rotting under the rest forever, but this was progress. Real, genuine progress. Junie’s eyes brimmed with tears. “It looks so great.”