The Opposite Of Tidy

by Carrie Mac

  “Kendra wants you inside. Quel pronto.”

  Junie and Tabitha stood.

  “Just the daughter.” Charlie flashed a quick, condescending smile at Tabitha. “Sorry, hon.”

  “That’s me.” Junie rolled her eyes. “The Daughter. Like it should be capitalized.”

  “See you later?” Tabitha mimicked Charlie’s smile but she’d already disappeared back inside. “Hon?”

  “Don’t you dare go anywhere. I need you.” Junie grabbed Tabitha’s hand. “Come in with me. It’ll be fine. I have a little bit of leverage with Charlie Falconetti, if you can believe it.”

  There was extra lighting, and four camera crews were set up, one in each corner of the living room. Charlie snapped her fingers at Junie. “Over here.”

  Junie handed Tabitha her brownie and coffee and went where she was told, which was just to the left of her mother’s recliner. Her mother was sitting in it, hands clutching the armrests, looking around the room anxiously. Nigel stood at her other side. Kendra stood directly in front of her. When the cameras were rolling, Kendra squatted graciously, tucking her skirt as she did, angling her shiny golden heels just so. She rested a hand on Junie’s mother’s knee. No gloves, hand to knee. Kendra, keeping it real. Junie had to admire her. She knew how to make this about her mother, and at the same time, the event always starred Kendra.

  “Tell me about this chair, Marla,” Kendra purred in a soft voice. “Tell me what it means to you.”

  Junie’s mother ran a hand down the length of each oily arm of the chair. “This chair.” She glanced up at the camera, then down at her lap. “I live in this chair.”

  “Hmm.” Kendra patted her knee again. “Tell me about living in this chair. What is your life like, the view from this chair?”

  Junie raised an eyebrow, confident that none of the cameras were on her, given that they were all angling for a different take on the same moment about her mother, starring Kendra. Junie turned her head, looking for Tabitha, who stood in the front hall, arms crossed, watching. Tabitha gave her head a little shake. She wasn’t so sure the cameras weren’t watching.

  Junie very badly wanted to move this “event” along faster. She wanted to whistle for the Got Junk guys to come in and remove the chair, with her mother in it, if necessary. She’d rather deal with her mother screaming her head off, indignant, than this quiet, painful version of her mother, a woman trying to find words for a deep, devastating dysfunction.

  “My life in this chair . . .”—Junie’s mother patted the arms again, and then set her hands in her lap—“. . . has been very, very hard.”

  Junie wanted to snort. Hard? How hard was it to sit on your ass all day, ordering crap from the Shopping Channel? How hard was that? Junie would rather have done that on any given day than write a math exam.

  “Yes . . .” Kendra’s mouth made a comforting little moue. “I can tell, honey. I can tell.”

  “I sit here all day, wondering how it got like this.” Her mother was choosing her words carefully, Junie could tell. She was censoring herself for television, and Junie wondered why. After everything, what did she have left to hide? The whole world would soon know just how bad it was, so why start mincing words now?

  “Marvelling at what a mess I’ve made of it all. How I’ve failed my daughter.” She looked up, and Junie could hear the near-silent shift of a couple of cameras angling toward her. “How I’ve failed you so terribly.”

  “It’s okay, Mom.” It wasn’t okay. Of course it wasn’t. But what else was she supposed to say? From behind his boom, Wade gave her a small smile. Junie knew that he meant it kindly, but she wished he weren’t there to see her mother’s humiliation tumble out like so much dirty laundry.

  Her mother quietly tut-tutted. She stood and put a hand on Junie’s shoulder. Her touch was hot, and Junie wanted to shove her hand away. “But it’s not okay, Junie. Is it?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Junie, be honest, sweetheart. Tell your mama how hard it is for you to see her live her life from this smelly old chair.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Nigel stepped forward, lips already open, as if his words had come ahead of him and he was only trailing after. “Now is your time to tell your mom how you feel about the way she’s been living her life, and how it’s been affecting how you live yours.”

  “She knows.” Junie swung her eyes to the floor. Embarrassment had cemented her feet where she stood; otherwise she would have gotten her ass out of there already.

  “Do you, Marla?” Kendra’s voice was firmer, inquisitive. “Do you really understand how all this affects your little girl?”

  Junie’s mother nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks, collecting at the point of her chin. “I know she’s ashamed of me.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Don’t, Junie.” She held up a hand. “I know how you look at me. I know you feel you can’t bring anyone home. I know you felt you had to hide your boyfriend from me.”

  That did it. “I feel I can’t bring anyone home? Feel like I have to hide?”

  “You could’ve brought him home. You could have. He’s a nice boy. He wouldn’t have judged you. He might have judged me, and that’s okay, but I don’t think he would’ve judged you.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Mom! Are you serious? Put yourself in my shoes for one godforsaken moment, would you? Do you honestly think I had any choice?”

  “We all have choices,” her mother snapped.

  “And look at yours,” Junie barked back. “Are you proud of them?”

  “No.”

  Kendra nodded sagely. “And that’s why we’re here today. Let’s go to break, and when we come back, we’ll see if Marla can make the choice to let go of the cage that has kept her trapped for so many years, this old easy chair.”

  At the magic words, the camera crews started rearranging themselves, and Charlie swooped in with a coffee and a bottle of water for Kendra.

  “Making some great TV today, Kendra. You’re smokin’ hot.”

  “You want a coffee, Marla?” Kendra asked, offering hers before she took a sip.

  “No.” Her mother shook her head. “Thanks.”

  “It’s kind of abrupt, taking breaks like this,” Charlie explained in a rush. “But it’s best if we work them into the natural pace of things, in case we want to place them in the final edit.”

  Junie rolled her eyes and laughed. “I would’ve thought you’d want to ‘stay with the moment,’” she said, tossing one of Kendra’s common phrases back at her.

  “We’ll get it back,” Kendra said with a smile. “I’m not worried. Excuse me, would you, lovely ladies? I’m going to go to the powder room.”

  When Kendra came back, the Got Junk boys were set up, waiting behind Junie’s mother with their arms crossed, feet shoulder-wide, like heavies waiting to drag out a psych patient, and not a chair. Nigel squatted beside her, whispering his manifest destiny babble into her ear.

  Junie stood beside Wade, waiting to be ushered back into the fray. He’d asked her how she was doing, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about it, so she’d got him talking about operating the boom instead. She wasn’t really listening, but it was nice to be close to him and hear his voice, even if it sounded like she was underwater. No matter that the cameras were there. No matter that Kendra was there. No matter that Junie’s mother wanted to be better, wanted the house back to normal. Removing the chair was not going to be pretty.

  Charlie snapped her fingers. “Over here, kid.”

  Junie made her way to her mother’s side.

  “And . . . roll!”

  And just like that, they were being filmed again.

  Kendra made her way through the teetering piles of junk, eyes on the camera as best she could without resulting in a fall.

  “Welcome back, friends. We’re here in Marla’s living room, where she’s spent the better part of the last decade, accumulating objects that would appear useless to you or me, but which are, to he
r, vital. This is the burden of those who suffer from the disease that is compulsive hoarding. Often—”

  “Oops, sorry.” Junie’s mother stumbled over a stack of shoeboxes.

  “Well, fudge,” Kendra said with a smile. “Let’s do that little bit over again.” Junie marvelled at how Kendra backed up and redid the spiel, as if she’d simply pressed rewind, and then play. This time, she didn’t stumble. Instead, she talked easily to her imaginary audience, about Junie’s mother and her pathological dysfunction.

  “Today is another hard day for Marla as we and the good folks at Got Junk clean up her house, and her life.

  Marla, how are you feeling about saying goodbye to this chair?”

  Junie wrapped her arms around herself, preparing for the worst. For another replay of the stuffed animal memorable moment earlier.

  “Doing okay, Kendra. Doing okay.”

  Junie doubted that. But then her mother pushed herself out of her chair and gave it a half-hearted kick. “I’m looking forward to getting rid of this ratty old prison.”

  All for the television. Junie was sure once the cameras were turned off, her mother would be the first to go outside and try to pull the armchair out of the Got Junk skip.

  Junie’s mother whistled. Actually whistled. Put two fingers in her mouth and whistled like a baseball fan in the stands. “Take it away, boys!”

  “That’s my girl!” Kendra clapped her hands. Nigel clasped his together under his chin, his eyes glistening with well-practised, impeccably timed made-for-TV tears.

  “Good riddance!” Junie’s mother hollered as the Got Junk guys each took a corner and wrestled the heavy, awkward thing out of the room and outside, where they dumped it unceremoniously in the middle of the front lawn.

  Someone produced a can of lighter fluid seemingly out of nowhere, but no doubt it had been planned. All of a sudden Junie’s mother was holding it in her hand. The crowds on the other side of the hastily erected security fencing started rustling when they began to realize what might be going on. All they were sure of was that Kendra was standing on the lawn, her hands on her hips, grinning satisfactorily as Junie’s mom danced an awkward dance around the chair, spraying lighter fluid onto the upholstery, her ample bosom bouncing in a most untelevisable manner.

  “You’re sure about this, Marla?” Kendra asked, raising her voice above the cheers of the crowd.

  “I am!”

  Junie kept back, not wanting to be a part of the spectacle. Her mother was flushed from the excitement and the dancing, which was the most movement she’d undertaken in years. It was embarrassing watching her make a fool of herself.

  Tabitha held her arm, her grip tight. “Look, Junie!”

  Junie lifted her eyes; her mother was striking a match. The flame caught and wavered in the wind before dying. The crowd gave a collective Awww before erupting into a chant of Burn it, burn it, burn it!

  With another humiliating whoop, her mother struck another match, and then Junie was watching the chair catch fire, the flames skirting around the bottom and then settling into the seat and stretching into fiery orange plumes that heated the air, turning the crowd beyond into a watery mirage.

  “This is all very weird,” Junie said simply.

  “Very, very weird,” Tabitha echoed.

  Wade came out from the house and joined them, resting the boom against the wall. “How about we get out of here?” he suggested.

  “You guys go,” Tabitha said. “My mom wants me home.” She narrowed her eyes at Wade. “And Junie’s mom would want her home too, if she was in any state to realize it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Wade gave Tabitha a salute.

  Tabitha wagged a finger at Junie. “And no cribbage, understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Junie gave her own salute, before Wade pulled her back through the house and out the rear door, and along the alley to the end of the street, where his van was parked.

  He headed toward the valley, without asking Junie where she wanted to go. That was fine with Junie. The farther away from it all, the better. They didn’t say anything until they were well onto the highway, and then it was Wade who asked her if she wanted to get some food. She wasn’t hungry though, so they kept driving, pulling into Royce and Jeremy’s driveway well after dark.

  Wade had phoned to tell them they were coming, and so the porch light was on, and when Jeremy opened the door to them, the smell of curry wafting from the kitchen was enough to bring Junie’s appetite to life.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Jeremy and Royce were surprisingly old-fashioned when it came to having a teenage couple in the house. Junie had assumed that she and Wade would be given a bed to share, but no, when it came time to go to sleep, Jeremy led Junie up to a little attic room with a musty double bed tucked in the corner under the eaves, while Royce helped Wade get settled on the couch all the way downstairs in the living room. Their hosts had said their goodnights, and told both Wade and Junie that the dog would be sleeping on the landing and would be sure to let them know if there was any midnight wandering.

  Junie was the last one up, finally lured down to the kitchen by the smell of dark, rich coffee.

  “Good morning, princess,” Jeremy said as he poured her a cup. “Did you notice the pea I placed under the mattress?”

  “I must not be a princess, because no,” Junie said, “I didn’t notice it.”

  “But you still have your prince,” he said with a wink.

  “Morning,” Wade said as she took a seat beside him. “I actually tried to come up to see you, but Lucy stopped me.”

  “We said she would, didn’t we?” Jeremy gave the dog a pat on the head. “We don’t know how you two got permission to stay here overnight, but we can do our part to make sure that it is a perfectly innocent experience. You have plenty of time before you need to submerse yourself in the murk of such things.”

  Junie had spun the same lie as the night before, telling her father over the phone that she was staying at the hotel, and leaving a message for her mother at the hotel that she’d be staying the night again at her father’s. Junie held Wade’s hand under the table as they ate big bowls of hot oatmeal with maple syrup and cream poured overtop.

  “Not many kids like oatmeal,” Royce commented from across the table, where he was drinking muddylooking green tea, a piece of dry toast abandoned on his plate.

  “We’re just thankful that you let us stay over,” Wade said.

  “Can I move in?” Junie added. “I’d be happy if I never went home again.”

  Jeremy leaned against the counter behind Royce, frowning. “Better not have brought that woman’s people out here.”

  Wade shook his head. “No one followed us.”

  “Better be sure about that.”

  Royce winked, his pale face coming to life with a grin. “You never know, you just might be worthy of a little paparazzi, what with all the hype.”

  “Why do you say that like it’s a good thing?” Jeremy growled.

  “Oh, come on, Jer. A little excitement does a body good.” Royce took a sip of his tea. “I remember when Marlon Brando took us all out to the Brolly pub. Remember that? And the paparazzi showed up out of nowhere—”

  “Vultures to the carcass,” Jeremy muttered.

  Wade glanced at Junie.

  “Didn’t mean you,” Jeremy added, when Royce shot him a look.

  “Didn’t think you did.” Royce waved him away. “I’m not dead yet. Go get me the photo album with the paisley cover. That’s got the pictures of Brando.”

  “Wait.” Wade got up. “Let me go out to the van and grab my camera. I’d like to shoot this, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.” Royce grinned. “What’s a frail man have to do with his long last days but star in the story of his life? That is what this will be, isn’t it? The story of my life? You won’t go selling the footage to Kendra?”

  “Never,” Wade said. “I’m way more interested in seeing your pictures of Marlon Brando. Never
mind Kendra.”

  The mention of the queen of daytime talk TV set Junie’s heart thumping. She would have to go back home, to another day consumed by The Kendra Show.

  “Can’t you guys adopt me?” Junie asked as Wade left. “Can’t I just live here in the purple house and pretend that I don’t have any other family? At least for a little while?”

  “Absolutely not,” Jeremy barked, startling Junie with his tone.

  “He means that you’re meant to live your own life,” Royce offered. “All of it. Not just the easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy bits.”

  “I mean, you don’t abandon your family when it gets hard.” Jeremy looked away from Royce as he said this. But then he looked back, and smiled sadly at his partner. “I mean, you feel all the hard feelings. And you do the best that you can. And you do not, under any circumstances, run away.”

  Wade came back with his camera, and the moment passed. But it wasn’t lost on Junie. She knew Jeremy was a man of few words, so to hear him talk so frankly about something so difficult felt exceptionally precious, as if she’d found a beautiful, sparkling geode inside of a hard, grey stone.

  While Wade set up his camera, and Jeremy went to get the photo album, Junie sat with her worries piled in her lap like a tangled ball of yarn. She could get through this. If Jeremy and Royce could cope, then she would too, and with something that wouldn’t kill her. Not really. And when she finally got through it, she would be stronger. At least she hoped so.

  They headed back to Vancouver shortly after breakfast, and by the time they pulled onto Junie’s street, it was already filled with media trucks and curious onlookers hoping for a glimpse of Kendra herself. It was the last day that the crew would be at the house, and Junie was eager to see what progress they’d made since she’d left.

  Wade reluctantly went off to school, and Junie went in through the back, in search of her mother. She found her, surrounded by cameras, in a heap on the living room floor where her easy chair used to be. Nigel was standing by, his pressed pants not yet creased by the day, his face set in an even expression, revealing nothing. How he could deal with this kind of thing day in and day out and not be disgusted was beyond Junie. She was disgusted, and this was her own mother. She stood in the doorway, and was pushed aside in a flurry as Charlie ushered Kendra into the room.