“Nobody, Granny. We’re at a tattoo shop.”
Granny blinks. “My cousin had a tattoo on his back. Big one from the war. When he passed away, they put it in a picture frame. The rest of him got cremated.”
“They skinned his back?”
“It was his last request. Raised a few eyebrows. My aunt kept it hidden in a closet.”
“Where did it end up?” Trigger smiles.
“Garage sale, maybe? I have to tinkle.”
Again?
Tibet brings Granny and me to the upstairs bathroom and heads back down. Okay, so Granny was fibbing. This time it isn’t to “tinkle.” She concentrates like for a math exam. A really hard math exam. Finally—
Plop.
Pause. “So are you done?”
“No,” Granny shakes her head. “He has a friend.”
I snort. “What’s his name?”
“Junior.”
Plop.
We laugh. I help her wash up. When we step out, I hear arguing downstairs.
“I don’t have room,” Ryder says.
“So you thought you’d dump them on us?”
“You’ve helped before.”
“Since when are favours expectations?”
“I didn’t know it was such a big deal.”
“Quit with the bullshit, buster,” Tibet explodes. “You thought you’d waltz in with that poor kid and her grandma, and we’d be stuck while you’d play hero. Well, I’m too damn old to play den mother.”
“I can hear you,” I call down.
Awkward silence.
I turn to Granny. “Stay here a minute? I’ll be right back.” I sit her in a chair by a skull lamp and head down to the shop. Trigger and Tibet are hunched in the barbershop chairs. Ryder’s staring at the floor like a kid reamed out by teachers.
“Granny and I don’t want a place to stay,” I say. “All we want is my uncle. He and Granny had a fight. They stopped talking. He’s somewhere in the city, only I don’t know where. I just need to find him, to get them back together.”
“The city’s a big place,” Trigger says.
“Zoe?” Granny calls from upstairs. “Zoe, where are you?”
“Right here, Granny,” I call back. “I’ll be up in a sec.” I look back at the Ts. “I have the names of his friends but I don’t have a phone. If I can stay here a few hours, try to find them on the computer, make a few calls — that’s all I need. Promise.”
“Zoe?” Granny calls. “Zoe, where are you?”
“Right here. Don’t worry. I’m coming up.”
I give a last look at Tibet. She thinks hard, twisting her snake ring. “There’s an old computer in the twins’ room,” she says. “I can lend you my mobile. We’ll toss in lunch and a shower. But six o’clock, when we close …”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“Zoe?”
“I. Said. I’m. Coming. Granny!”
35
Ryder leaves. Granny and I have porridge and toast. After, Tibet logs me on to the computer in the twins’ room. Downstairs, Trigger revs his tatt gun.
“I better get to work,” Tibet says. “It can get crazy with just one of us on the floor.” She hands me her phone. “Good luck.”
Granny sits on the lower bunk. I pass her photos of Uncle Teddy. Bruce Izumi, Lincoln “Linc” Edwards and Susan Munroe: those were his housemates. I start by searching his best friend, Linc. Canada411 has two L. Edwards.
Granny taps my chair back. “What’s the magic word?”
“Rhubarb,” I say, as I phone the first.
“Pie!”
“Granny, I need to concentrate.”
A few more rings. “Hello?”
“Hi. I’m looking for a Linc Edwards.”
“Sorry. I’m Leslie.” Click.
Granny taps my chair back. “What’s the magic word?”
“RHUBARB! PIE! I’M CONCENTRATING!”
“Sorry, Pumpkin.” It’s like I’ve slapped her face.
“Oh, Granny.” I squeeze her hand. “I love playing Detective Bird, but can we do it ‘in a while, crocodile’?”
“Okay,” Granny curls up on the bed: “See you later, alligator.” Her eyes close and her mouth falls open.
I try the second Edwards.
“We’re not in. You know what to do. Beep.”
The voice is way too young, but I leave a message anyway. Then I check S. Monroes. There’s a Sam, Sandra, Sarah, Seth and a bunch of others, but for all I know she moved or got married and changed her name. This is impossible.
Shut up. It can’t be.
I try Izumi. Yes! Bruce Izumi: 248 Hiawatha Road. I dial. A woman picks up: “Hello?”
“Hi. This is Zoe Bird. Could I please speak to Bruce?”
Heartbeat. “I’m afraid Bruce passed away last year.”
“What? Pardon? Gosh. I’m sorry. I’m …” I see a young Bruce Izumi smiling into Uncle Teddy’s camera. He’s dead?
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“I don’t know. I— Your husband shared a house in university with Linc Edwards, Susan Munroe and Teddy Bird.”
“I don’t recall Teddy, but I met the others.”
“My uncle moved. Do you have Susan and Linc’s phone numbers?”
“Sorry, no,” the woman says. “I think Linc’s a lawyer downtown somewhere.”
“Thanks for the tip. About your husband — I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you. Good luck finding your uncle.” She hangs up.
I click Toronto Businesses. Go to Lawyers. Scroll down and — there’s his name. His last name anyway. I dial the firm.
“Dunphy, Edwards and Holmes,” the receptionist says. I picture her like in the movies with high cheekbones and perfect skin.
I try and sound like an adult. “Could I please speak to Mr. Edwards?”
“I’m afraid he’s busy,” she says. “May I take a message?”
“Uh, no, it’s personal. It’s about a close friend. Teddy Bird. He’s died.”
“I’m so sorry. Your name?”
“Zoe Bird.”
“One moment please.” Muzak.
A man comes on the line; he has a light Jamaican accent. “Linc Edwards. Has something happened to Teddy?”
“No. I told your receptionist he was dead, but that was so I could talk to you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m Zoe Bird, Teddy’s niece, only I don’t think he knows I exist. I’m in town with my grandmother, his mom. Do you have his number?”
Pause. “What does Mrs. Bird want?”
“Nothing. Look, this isn’t a scam, okay? I’ve read Uncle Teddy’s letters and I know you were his friend and you shared a house with Bruce Izumi and Susan Munroe, and had a dog called Mr. Binks and do card tricks and, well — Granny needs Uncle Teddy’s help.”
“If you’ve read the letters, you’ll know they stopped talking.”
“Yes. Only Granny’s sorry. Really sorry. And nobody’s perfect, right?” I choke up.
“Zoe … Did I get the name right? Zoe?”
“Yes.”
His voice goes kind, which makes it worse: “Zoe, you’re young, so I know this is hard to hear, but sometimes things are best left alone.”
“Not this time …” Get the words out. Granny needs me to get the words out. “I’m all Granny’s got. And I’m not enough. I want to be, but I’m not. She needs help. If I don’t find Uncle Teddy, she’ll be locked up in a home. I love her … Please.”
Silence. Then: “What’s your number?”
I read it off the phone. “Only it’s not my number. It’s the number of Tibet somebody, she runs 2TZ Tattoos near his old apartment on Jarvis. Anyway, Granny and I will only be here till six tonight. Then we’ll be on the street or in shelters or I don’t know where.” My voice catches.
“I’ll pass on your information,” Mr. Edwards says. “That’s all I can do.”
“All right. Thank you.”
The line goes dead.
Okay, he’s calling Uncle Teddy now … Uncle Teddy’s calling back …
I stare at the phone. Nothing.
Fine, so he had to think about it. He’s calling now.
Still nothing.
NOW! … Come on … Uncle Teddy, what kind of person are you? You know your mom and me are on the streets. And you can’t even pick up the phone? You don’t even have the guts to tell us to drop dead? What kind of creep are you?
No, he’s not a creep. Mr. Edwards hasn’t reached him, that’s all. He’s on the phone with somebody else. I just need to wait; to not think about it.
How? I know. It’s been days since Granny’s shoes were off. I’ll air out her feet.
I gently remove her shoes and pull back her socks. Specks of dead skin line the black cotton like snowflakes. My heart flutters. I go to the bathroom, bring back a bottle of skin cream and rub in the lotion. Granny’s breath is a light whistle. I put on fresh socks and cover her feet with a blanket.
Uncle Teddy still hasn’t called.
There has to be a reason. Pastor Nolan says there’s a reason for everything.
What if there isn’t?
I get a wave of homesickness. Mom’s gals will be hanging round the dinette set, waiting for news. I hear Mom’s — “I’m not worried” — while she wonders how long till they find our bodies. Later, she’ll sit alone, wiping her hands, while Dad cuts the grass to keep his mind off things.
A lump bubbles up my throat. I should call them. I can’t. I have to. No. Air — I need air. I write, Granny, Stay upstairs. :) Zoe on two sheets of paper. I tuck one inside Granny’s left shoe and take the other downstairs.
Trigger’s working on a guy who’s covered in tatts of passport stamps. Tibet’s got a woman squeezing a tennis ball.
“Granny’s sleeping. I’m going outside for some private time. If she comes down, can you show her this note?”
“Uh-huh.” Their tatt guns sound like dentist drills.
I put it on Tibet’s tray and step outside. The door screams like I feel. The sky’s clouding over. I sit on the pavement under the window bars and bang my head against the bricks. I can’t go home. Not now. But if Uncle Teddy doesn’t call, I’ll have to send Granny back. Ryder’s right: she’ll get sick or hurt out here.
I bang my head again. Granny, I’m going to take you to a hospital. I’ll give them Mom and Dad’s number. They’ll bring you home … No, I can’t go with you. I have to stay here … No, you can’t stay with me. I’m sorry. I have to say goodbye.
I bang my head again. Uncle Teddy, call. Please call.
Like magic, the phone rings. There’s no caller ID. “Yeah.”
“I’m looking for Zoe Bird.” It’s some woman.
“That’s me.”
“I understand that you and your grandmother are at 2TZ tattoo shop and you’re trying to reach your uncle.”
“Yes. Uncle Teddy.”
“Can you be at the Tim Hortons at 150 Jarvis Street in an hour?”
Heart flip. “You bet.”
I alert Trigger and Tibet. “Good luck,” they shout as I run out the door to the coffee shop. It’s, like, only five minutes away. I get a table for two by a window and stress away the time staring at every middle-aged man coming through the door, crossing the street, walking up the sidewalk, even. Is it him? Him? Him? Will he be bald? Have a beard? What if he has a family and kids? What if he hasn’t got room for us?
The clouds are darker. Specks of rain spit against my window. A woman comes in wearing a navy dress suit with matching cream shoulder bag and shoes. A bit overdressed for a place like this. She collapses her umbrella, looks around, and marches to my table. “Zoe Bird?”
“Says who? I haven’t done anything.”
“No?”
All of a sudden it hits me: The curls. The upturned nose. The cheekbones.
“Uncle Teddy?”
36
“Teddi, yes, with an ‘i.’ Uncle, not so much.” She sits. “I’m not what you were expecting?”
“No. Yes. I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting.”
“That’s okay. There was no need to tell you.”
Ohmigod ohmigod. Act normal. “I tried to find you online.”
“I changed my last name to Burgess.”
“Burgess?”
“My husband’s name.” She taps the table. “You look like you need a doughnut.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I am.” She gets up. “Sit tight.”
So my uncle — my aunt? — is trans? And married?
I watch her at the cash register: crisp, no-nonsense. Her hair and makeup aren’t like the gals at Mom’s salon: the curls are short and she’s light on the liner. Not much jewelry, either; just a plain silver necklace and a wedding ring. Her hands are big. Nice nails.
Teddi comes back with two honey glazes, a coffee for her, a Coke for me and serviettes.
“Thank you.”
She nods. The smile drops. “So. What are you doing with my mother in Toronto? At a tattoo shop?”
“Please don’t yell at me.”
“I’m not yelling. I’m asking.”
I wrap my feet round the chair legs. “Okay. Well. I don’t know how to say it, I mean I do but it would take forever, so forget about me. Granny. My parents put Granny in a nursing home, and she doesn’t want to be there, like really doesn’t want to be there — she says she’ll die. And she says you’d never have done that, you’d take care of her, so I got her out and we’ve been trying to find you ever since.”
“I see.” Teddi cuts her doughnut in half and has a bite. “First, your granny’s not going to die from being in a care home. Second, she doesn’t need my help. She needs help, period. She can’t manage anymore.”
“How would you know?”
“Your dad phoned last night, worried sick. He wondered if you’d contacted me. I understand my name’s come up in conversation.”
“Don’t believe anything he told you. If it weren’t for him, you’d be with Granny.”
“Your father has nothing to do with what happened between your granny and me.”
“That’s what you think. When you mailed Granny your new phone number, Dad stole the letter. That’s why she never wrote or called you.”
Teddi taps her lips with a napkin. “I never sent your granny anything.”
“Then how did Dad know where to reach you?”
“He’s known for years. I made contact with him when he was twenty. He asked if I wanted to visit. I said no, I didn’t want to open old wounds, but would he pass on the news when our parents died. He was good enough to call about your grandfather.”
I’m drowning. Pull me up. Somebody.
Teddi puts her hand on my arm. “Your dad’s a nice guy, Zoe. I can tell.”
There’s a hole where my stomach should be: “Do they know you found me?”
She nods. “I said we were going to meet, then I’d call and they could come to pick you up.”
“What? No!”
Thunder in the distance.
“Zoe,” Teddi says calmly. “I know you care about your granny, but I’m not your happy ending.”
“You can’t decide that till you talk to her.”
“We haven’t talked for thirty years. We’re strangers.”
“You’re not thirty years ago to Granny. You’re now.”
“Yes. Well.” Teddi glances at the rain trickling down the window.
“You loved each other.”
“Very much.”
I search her face. “How can a person love someone so much they can’t see them anymore?”
“You’ll understand when it happens. For your sake, I hope it doesn’t.”
“Please. I’m sorry, it’s just …” My eyes well, my ears burn. “Granny’s all I’ve got. I have to know now.”
Teddi’s eyes go motherly. She passes me a Kleenex from her purse. “All right then,” she sighs at last. “You’ve read my letters, so you know
your grandfather and I hated each other. Your granny loved us both. She visited me in Toronto, hoping he’d come round. At the time, they thought I was gay. But end of second year, I told her I was actually trans-female; I’d had the evaluation and started hormone therapy; after graduation, I’d be saving for the operations.”
“Granny freaked out?”
Teddi shakes her head. “She got a little teary, but said she loved me just the same. It wasn’t a total surprise. I’d said things when I was little. At puberty I was a mess. When Mother said she was fine, a weight lifted. I’d been living as a woman with my friends. To be open with her was, well, the greatest feeling in the world.”
“Why didn’t you send photos of the new you?”
“I did,” she says dryly. “I gather she didn’t keep them?”
I flush. “Granny has so many boxes. I’m sure they’re in one of them.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Good. But I don’t get it. If you loved each other, wrote each other, phoned each other — why did things go so bad so fast?”
“My grandfather died.”
“Hunh?”
Teddi’s face is stone. “Mother asked me to come to the funeral as a man. I said no, that’s not who I was. She said my grandfather’s funeral wasn’t about me. I said it wasn’t about her and Pop, either. I’d be there as myself. Mother said, in that case, perhaps it was best if I didn’t come at all: I hadn’t been at the Bird House in years; I’d said I never wanted to again; people had stopped asking when I’d be up; why rock the boat? ‘Do you want the boys in town to beat your brother? You get to come and go. We have to live here.’”
“It was kind of true, wasn’t it?”
“It was kind of not the point. If you’re part of a family. Which obviously I wasn’t. Mother said I was being unreasonable. I asked why she couldn’t understand what I’ve gone through; did she really think I was just playing dress-up? Things went downhill from there: angry letters, slammed receivers, tears. She said I was acting like a stranger. I said my friends didn’t think so: they were like family, not her. A few days later a package arrived. It was a scarf I’d made her.”
“You had a matching one.”
Teddi nods. “Maybe she was just lashing out. I don’t know. I don’t care. I wrote her a terrible letter, a letter to hurt her like she’d hurt me. We haven’t communicated since. At this point, she wouldn’t know me to see me.” Silence. “Zoe, your granny can’t make it on the street. You know that. She has to go back.”
The Way Back Home Page 12