“He is?”
I nodded. “Velcro—what a rip-off.”
He laughed, so I told him another.
“It’s hard to explain puns to kleptomaniacs—they always take things so literally.”
“Poppy?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Will you be my antidote to sadness?”
“I would,” I said. “But I don’t think I’m potent enough.”
He looked at me in a way that felt thoughtful and deep. “Let’s head back.”
After a bit he said, “So. You forgave Buck.”
“He has a softer side. He just doesn’t show it.”
“A few weeks ago you wanted to cross the road and punch him in the face.”
“Nah. I only cross the road when I’m being chased by Colonel Sanders.”
He smiled. “You’re wrong, Poppy. You are strong enough. You’re extra-strength.”
“Like Viagra,” I said.
“Sure,” he said, grinning. “Like Viagra.”
Lewis ran into a corner store. When he came out he said, “I bet Buck has never bought you a Popsicle.”
I broke it in half. “You really don’t like him, do you?”
He answered quickly. “Nope.”
I passed him his half of the Popsicle. When our fingers touched he looked away.
* * *
I went to work to find flames licking out of the oven and Mr. Chen squinting at the instructions on the fire extinguisher. I snatched it from him and squeezed the handle. Foam sprayed everywhere, dousing the flames.
I leaned against the counter and caught my breath. “Jesus Christ.”
Mr. Chen reached into the oven and pulled out a rubber chicken.
I reached into the broom closet and pulled out Miracle.
“Apologize to Mr. Chen,” I said.
She bowed her head as if she was praying and then she looked up. “Soz.”
I gave her a warning look. “Not funny. Say it properly.”
Mr. Chen snapped. “You could have burned the whole shop down, Merry-girl!”
The harshness of his voice sent Miracle’s bottom lip trembling. She bolted.
Mr. Chen looked me up and down. “Don’t just stand there like a lump,” he said. “Go after her!”
She was gone from my sight within minutes.
I ran around Elgin like a chicken with its head cut off. I couldn’t find her anywhere.
I sat on the curb with my head in my hands.
A moment later, a voice. “Do you need an ambulance?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t need an ambulance.”
She crouched in front of me.
“Are you dying? It sounds like you’re dying.”
“Just…give me a second, okay?”
She sat beside me. “Mr. Chen hates me.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“If I get taken away he won’t even miss me.”
“You won’t get taken away.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Buck said so.”
She moved from the curb and straddled my lap, her head against my chest. Her double buns tickled my nose. I put my hands on her back, felt the rise and fall of her breath. I thought about breathing—the in and the out that keeps us alive all day long—through the good and the bad. That was what we were meant to do, I supposed. Survive.
* * *
Cam was shaving his chest when I got home. I sat on the edge of the tub.
“Why are you using my shaving cream?”
“Because mine smells like a lumberjack.”
“What do lumberjacks smell like?”
“Pine needles, apple cider, and the great outdoors.”
I laughed. “Going out with the Drome-drearies tonight?”
“No. I’m going to work.”
“Tonight? Won’t the shop be closed?”
“Fabe’s having a cocktail party for VIP customers.”
Saying awesome would come across as insincere so I said, “That’s nice.”
He finished shaving his chest and moved to his face.
“Guess what, Pops?”
“What?”
“If I could rearrange the alphabet I’d put u and i together.”
My sweet Cam.
I smiled. “Speaking of letters…”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“You know the T in LGBT?”
“Yeah…”
“If you’re a boy who likes girls but you were born a girl, does that make you a lesbian even though in your head and your heart you’re one hundred percent boy?”
He looked back at his own reflection and continued shaving. “I think you just answered your own question. A transgender boy is one hundred percent boy and therefore is like anyone else—they’re either straight, into girls—or gay, into guys. Or they can fall anywhere in between…just like anyone else.”
“That’s what I thought. It gets confusing sometimes.”
“It’s only confusing when people focus on the gender a person is at birth, instead of the gender they identify with. Which really sucks for transgender people when they want to pee.”
I frowned. “People care where transgender people pee?”
“People lose their shit about it all the time. They think transgender females are wolves in sheep’s clothing and the only reason they want to use the women’s bathroom is so that they can attack ‘real’ women. Not because, you know, they might just need the toilet.”
I sighed. “Cam? What’s the point?”
“The point of what?”
“Everything.”
He went back to the mirror. “I guess the point is to try to be happy, and when someone stops you from doing it you fight like hell until you win.”
“What kind of life is that?” I asked.
“One that can change the world. Think about it, Pops. I can get married to another man now. Legally. That wasn’t always the case. But people fought for the right and I, for one, am thankful they didn’t throw their hands up and say, What’s the point?”
I stood up and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I am too.”
* * *
I went downstairs to find Mom and Dad watching the news. For some reason, I longed to sit between them. I went to the coffee table and picked up a magazine. I looked at the space where Mom ended and Dad began. I’d have fitted there once. Dad caught my eye. He inched to the left, invited me with a nod.
Our legs were touching. I wondered if they felt the tingling. I looked at my dad’s hand, remembered how it used to feel wrapped around mine, big and rough and warm.
Cam was leaving for Bliss when prime minister Justin Trudeau appeared on the screen. Mom nodded toward the TV. “Watch.”
We are sorry…
For stripping you of your dignity;
For robbing you of your potential;
For treating you like you were dangerous, indecent, and flawed;
…
It is our collective shame that you were so mistreated.
And it is our collective shame that this apology took so long—many who suffered are no longer alive to hear these words. And for that, we are truly sorry.
Mom cried. So did Cam.
Dad reached for my hand. It was just as I remembered.
* * *
Later that night, Buck stood on the doorstep with his elbow out. “Would madam like an escort?”
“An escort?” I said. “Working as a prostitute now, are you?”
He linked my arm through his. “I prefer the term gigolo.”
Mom and Dad watched approvingly from the window. Buck gave them a wave. I laughed. “You’ve got them fooled.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m the master of deception.”
We walked down the train tracks. I told him about the royal train. He said he didn’t give a toss about the monarchy, that they were as useless as a chocolate teapot. I laughed and said, “You have a royal look about you. You could be Prince Harry’s yo
unger brother.” He asked if that was good. I said, “Yes. Harry is as fit as a butcher’s dog.”
“The royal butcher’s dog,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “Even better.”
The river under the bridge was louder than usual, but in a good way, and the air had a marshmallow smell. Lewis and Miracle sat by a fire with sticky-sweet smiles. Thumper lay curled up nearby.
“It’s his arthritis,” said Lewis.
Buck lit a joint and put it to Thumper’s lips. “You’ll be right as rain soon, mate.”
Thumper must have been in agony to inhale so deeply.
Lewis moved him closer to us. He told us stories and after a while he looked less pained. He said he lived in a caravan once, on a berry farm in the South of England. He said that the berry pickers were from Romania. He said that the locals looked down on them, because they were immigrants, but they were good people, as good as gold. He said they taught him some Romanian.
“A băga mâna în foc pentru cineva.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means that you’d put your hand in fire for somebody.”
“Why would someone want to do that?” asked Miracle.
“It means you’d vouch for them, that you believe in them,” he said.
He had a faraway look on his face and we lost ourselves in it, imagining ourselves on a berry farm in the South of England.
He said, “I’d have put my hand in the fire for any of those people.”
That was when Cam appeared.
“Who’s that?” asked Miracle.
“That’s my brother,” I said. But I barely recognized him. I wanted him to stomp across the concrete like a runway model on crack but he just stood there, hunched over with his hands in his pockets.
He looked up. There was blood on his lip.
I went to him. “What happened?”
His voice was a whisper.
“He didn’t ask if it was tender enough.”
* * *
I wasn’t sure what to do, where to go, who to call. I just stood there frozen.
Lewis brought Cam to the fire. Thumper put a cloth to his lip. “You’re safe here.” My eyes welled up.
Miracle climbed into Cam’s lap. I reached for her but Cam wrapped his arms around her. He put his nose in her hair and closed his eyes.
Buck crouched next to him. “What happened, mate?”
He said it calmly. “My boss assaulted me.”
I knew what that meant.
Lewis put his arm around me.
“We should call the police,” said Thumper.
“Don’t bother,” said Miracle. “Mama says they don’t care.”
She closed her eyes and popped her thumb in her mouth.
My heart broke into a million pieces.
* * *
We walked home, the two of us, in silence. I made small talk with Mom and Dad while Cam slipped upstairs. When I went to my room he was in my bed. We snuggled together, like we were safe and sound in our mother’s womb.
“Tell me what happened, Cam.”
He rolled away from me. I thought it was because he didn’t want to talk. But he did.
“He asked me to stay after the VIP party, to help tidy up. He came up behind me, started massaging my shoulders. I tried to shrug him off but he told me he just wanted to say thanks, for staying late.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, wondered where else Fabe’s hands had gone.
“I let him massage me, but I hated it. I didn’t know what else to do. He’s my boss.”
“Oh, Cam.”
“He kept telling me to relax. I couldn’t. I was tense. He was getting mad, I could hear it in his voice. I could feel his breath on my neck, then his lips. I swung around, told him to back off. That’s when he grabbed me, pulled me into the back room. He said I was ungrateful, that he’d given me a job when I had no experience.”
My blood began to boil.
“He was all over me, Pops. I couldn’t think straight. His hand, his mouth…they were everywhere. He was so…rough.”
Tears pricked my eyes. I struggled to find the words. When I finally did they were all wrong.
“All those boxing lessons,” I said. “Why didn’t you fight?”
Cam spun round. Raw anger flashed in his eyes. “Are you serious right now?”
“It’s just that you’re trained to fight…”
“Would it have been my fault if I hadn’t?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He glared at me before turning to face the ceiling.
I reached out, touched his arm. “Are you mad at me?”
He laughed. “It’s not always about you, Pops.”
I reached for his pinkie. He pulled it away.
I was hurt and he was angry but I needed to know.
“Cam?” I asked. “How far did it go?”
He rolled over and faced the wall. “Far enough.”
* * *
The next morning I went to Lewis’s house. His grandmother answered the door.
“Is Lewis here?”
She looked me up and down. “She’s busy,” she said. “She can’t come out right now.”
For a second I thought I had the wrong house.
“Too bad,” I said. “I was hoping he could come for a walk.”
A moment later, Lewis brushed past her.
“Come on, Poppy. Let’s go.”
We headed toward Regent Park.
“She’s horrible,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “She is.”
He didn’t ask about Cam and I was glad. There was so much I wanted to say, but the thoughts in my head were like a tangle of wires and when I tried to separate them electric shocks would shoot across my brain.
We sat side by side on the swings in silence.
After a while, Lewis swung sideways and bumped my shoulder with his.
And just like that, my thoughts began to unravel.
“Lewis?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever wished that spoken words were like words on paper? That once they came out of your mouth you could reach out, give them a brush with some Wite-Out, and make them disappear forever?”
“Uh-oh,” he said. “What did you say?”
I stared at the gravel under my feet.
“I asked Cam why he didn’t fight back.”
Lewis cringed. “Yikes.”
“I feel terrible. Why would I say something like that?”
“It makes the world seem less scary if the victim’s partly to blame.”
I looked at him sharply. “I don’t blame Cam for what happened.”
“Then why did you ask him that question?”
I felt my face turn red—with anger, embarrassment, shame.
“I—”
My wires were getting tangled again and tears stung my eyes.
“Why don’t you give me a break, Lewis? I feel guilty enough as it is.”
“I’m just making a point,” he said. “There’s a whole psychology around victim blaming. People want to believe the world is good, that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. When bad things happen to good people, it feels as though no one is safe, so they rationalize it to feel less vulnerable.”
“You’re making me sound really selfish. My brother was assaulted and my heart is broken! And trust me, I know that bad things happen to good people. I watched a cat get put in a microwave and I am sure that cat was a pretty good person!”
I was shaking from head to toe.
He stood up. “Take a breath, Poppy.”
“Take a breath? Why don’t I just hold it if I’m such a rotten person? Why don’t I hold it until I pass out? That way you would disappear because you are a horrible little know-it-all!”
The way his face fell, it crushed my heart a little. I was about to say sorry but he spoke first.
“I didn’t mean to sound like a know-it-all. Everything I said, I’d re
ad it in a doctor’s waiting room, in Psychology Today. It was really interesting so I remembered it. I thought that telling you about it might help—because then you’d know that your reaction is not unusual—but now you feel even worse and I feel like an arrogant jerk.”
He crouched in front of me, put his hands on my knees. “I’m sorry for upsetting you.”
I took his hands. “It’s okay,” I said.
He ran his thumb across my knuckles. “I don’t get it,” I said. “If he was looking for sex, why didn’t he go for someone his own age?”
“It wasn’t about sex,” said Lewis. “It was about power.”
I pictured it in my head, Fabian overpowering Cam, hurting him, trying to have his way with him. It sounded like he almost did.
Lewis took my hands, pulled me to standing.
“Come here, Poppy.”
He wrapped his arms around me. I laid my head on his chest. “You’re a good friend, Lewis.”
I felt his shoulders slump slightly. “You are too.”
I straightened up and wiped my eyes.
“Poppy,” Lewis said, “do you think you can spare a few minutes?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why?”
“The cemetery is not far. It would be nice to have company.”
I pointed at a nearby corner shop. “We could bring flowers.”
Lewis let me pick. I chose daisies. He said they were perfect.
As we walked through the graveyard I felt thankful to have two living parents and wondered how Lewis would cope with being alone.
He stopped at his mother’s headstone. He said, “Don’t worry, Mom. Dad will be here soon.” When he bent to lay the flowers his shirtsleeve moved up, revealing not one armband tattoo but two.
It was all too much.
Everything was too much.
I stepped forward and put a hand behind his back. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m okay.”
On the way back, he said, “Poppy? Why did you come to me today and not Buck?”
The wires in my mind were tangle-free but I struggled to find an answer.
“You were closer.”
The rest of the way home I wondered if what I’d just said was true.
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