by Kit Pearson
She sat down beside Theo and gave her a hug. “It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed it. I’ve come to love Theo very much. But you said you’d send money and you haven’t once! I’ve had to use my savings, and they’re almost gone!”
Rae looked trapped. “You can really speak your mind when you want to, can’t you?” she muttered. She jerked her unlit cigarette in and out of her mouth. “You’re right, of course. I’ve been a shit about everything, haven’t I? Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll only smoke outside. I’ll pick up the kid after school and I’ll give you some money when my unemployment cheque comes. But I can’t tell you how long I’m staying—I just don’t know yet.”
Then Sharon asked the question Theo dreaded. “But what about your child? You have to decide what you’re going to do about her! I really think you should talk to someone, Mary Rae.”
Rae stood up and headed for the balcony. “Just give me some time, won’t you? I’m not going to see any damn counsellor. I’ve had enough people poking their noses into my business.”
“Don’t use that kind of language in front of Theo,” said Sharon quietly.
Rae laughed as she opened the door to the balcony. “Theo’s heard a lot worse than that, haven’t you, kid?”
THEO COULD HARDLY WAIT to escape to the Kaldors the next day. She paced impatiently while Sharon searched for her keys.
“Who are these people?” asked Rae.
“They’re a wonderful family that Theo’s met,” said Sharon. “She’s been visiting them almost every Saturday. The mother’s an artist and the father’s an English professor.”
“They sound pretty uppity,” said Rae.
“They’re not!” cried Theo. “They’re nice!” It was the first time she’d spoken directly to her mother since she’d come.
“Okay, okay. They’re your friends. But why do you go there every week?”
“Because I like them!” retorted Theo. She flounced after Sharon, slamming the door on Rae.
She’d hoped to forget about her mother at the Kaldors but it didn’t work. She couldn’t enjoy herself, knowing Rae would still be there when she went back.
When they were playing in the cemetery, Theo led the others to Cecily’s grave and lingered there longingly.
“But we saw this last week,” complained Anna. “Come on, Theo, let’s play hide-and-seek.”
Theo stayed behind. If only Cecily would appear again! “Cecily,” she whispered, but nothing happened and finally she ran after the others.
“Is something wrong, Theo?” asked Anna, when they had collapsed under the angel after the game. “You seem so sad.”
“My mother’s here,” said Theo.
“Oh!” Anna looked surprised. “Is that … okay?”
But Theo just shrugged, wishing she hadn’t said anything. She thought of Rae compared to Laura—Laura who had once been her mother, but only in a fantasy; that is, an idea for a fantasy that had faded away … Rolling over, she began to yank up grass and throw it away.
WHEN THEO CAME OUT of school at three she flushed with embarrassment. Rae was standing by the fence, dressed in shiny leggings and a skimpy T-shirt that didn’t reach her waist. A cigarette dangled from her fingers. None of the other kids’ mothers looked like a teenager. Theo tried to rush Rae away as fast as possible.
“The old place hasn’t changed much,” said Rae. “Boy, did they hate me there!”
Theo didn’t answer.
“I hear Sharon drags you to church every Sunday. You don’t have to go with her.”
“I like it,” said Theo. “It’s peaceful there.”
Rae shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I think Sharon’s been coddling you. There’s no need to pick you up from school every day as if you were five. It’s only a few blocks. You could walk home by yourself.”
Theo didn’t answer. She would rather go home on her own but she didn’t want Rae to know she agreed with her.
“It’s strange to be in this neighbourhood again. Do you want to see the house I grew up in?”
“Sharon already showed it to me,” said Theo, but Rae was walking in that direction.
“They’ve sure spiffed it up,” said Rae when they reached the blue cottage. “See that big tree by the window? That’s how I used to sneak out at night. Sharon saw me once and snitched. She was such a saint. Dad never yelled at her.” She stubbed out her cigarette and lit another one. “The good sister and the bad sister—that was us. Sharon would eat all her vegetables. I’d pretend to be sick and spit them into the toilet.”
“Why?”
Rae looked surprised. “Why? I guess because they expected me to be bad. Ma would laugh and call me her wild one, and Dad would just get angry. He had no time for me—he liked Sharon the best. They would spend hours looking at books about other countries and shut me out completely. It wasn’t fair! Are you listening to me, Theo?”
As usual Rae was like a child wanting attention. “Sharon says there’s no point in wishing the past was different,” Theo told her. “It’s all water under the bridge.”
She sighed and took her mother’s hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”
RAE TOLD SHARON that Theo could go to Skye’s house by herself and even play in Beacon Hill Park with her.
“But that’s not safe!” said Sharon. “What if they meet a stranger?”
Rae laughed. “Theo can look after herself. If she can survive downtown Vancouver, she sure isn’t going to have a problem in Victoria.”
“But what about that little boy who disappeared?”
“That was a tragedy. But look, Sharon, nothing’s safe. You never let the kid out of your sight! Theo knows how to deal with strangers and she and Skye can watch out for each other. Don’t you remember all the days we used to spend in the park?”
“Yes, but those were different times,” said Sharon.
“Not that different. And I think Theo should be allowed to walk back and forth to school with Skye. She wants to, don’t you, kid? She’s embarrassed to be picked up like a baby.”
“Do you want that, Theo?” asked Sharon. In spite of her disappointed expression Theo had to nod.
“But—” Then Sharon looked resigned. “All right. She’s your child, after all. As long as you’re here after school.”
“I’M SO GLAD you’re my friend again,” said Skye. Theo enjoyed her more now that there was some space around them. They walked back and forth to school every day with a gang of other kids on their street—Darcy and his little sister Madison, Simran, Alan, and the Kwon twins.
After school they had a snack at Skye’s or Theo’s, then went out again to the park. Rae had persuaded Sharon to buy Theo a secondhand bike, promising to pay her back. They rode their bikes along the cement walkways, stopping to feed the ducks or gaze at the petting zoo. They had strict instructions about never leaving the paths, but Theo felt much freer. That was because of Rae, she had to admit.
Skye didn’t go on and on about her father as much. She was cheerful and relaxed. She’s happy because I’m her friend, Theo realized. It felt powerful to make someone happier.
Skye accepted that Theo still abandoned her every Saturday to go to the Kaldors. Now she waited eagerly each Sunday afternoon to hear what Theo had done with them.
Laura kept sugggesting that Theo invite her mother for dinner, but every time she did, Theo made up an excuse. As long as she kept everything in separate boxes—Sharon and Rae, school and Skye, and the Kaldors on Saturdays—she could cope.
Spring was at its ripest. The Kaldors’ garden was thick with rhododendrons and the first fat peonies were opening. Dan told Theo that much of the garden had been planted by Cecily Stone. “Wait until you see her roses,” he said. “We have some of the oldest species in the city.”
Theo always encouraged him to talk about Cecily. “What does ‘out of print’ mean?” she asked.
“It means that no more copies of Cecily Stone’s books will ever be published. The only ones left are those that already exist. That�
��s why I collect them. Once I found both titles in a garage sale.”
Theo thought sadly of Cecily’s only two books being rejected in a garage sale or sitting unread on the shelf of the public library.
She hung around Cecily’s grave as much as she could. Often she called her name, but the ghost didn’t appear. Theo almost cried when she thought of never seeing Cecily again. Had she gone away for good, as she’d hinted at?
The warm days drifted by. Rae and Sharon circled each other with increasing tension in the crowded apartment. Theo knew that something was about to explode between them, that this fragile limbo couldn’t last. Often Sharon went out on mysterious errands. She didn’t say where she was going, but Theo was sure she was just trying to avoid Rae.
It wasn’t as easy for Theo. She had to spend endless evenings sitting in front of the TV with her mother. Sometimes she’d look up in a panic, afraid she was back in Vancouver.
Rae left the room often to puff and pace on the balcony. She must be trying to decide what to do. Then what would happen to Theo?
21
Rae broke the silence first. “I want to talk to you, Sharon,” she said one evening in her sweetest voice.
“Okay,” said Sharon warily. “But if it’s about Theo, I don’t think she should listen.”
“Whatever you say,” said Rae. “Why don’t you go for a ride on your bike, kid?”
“Not on her own! Theo, honey, would you mind going down the hall and having a visit with Tara while your mother and I talk? I just saw her come in.”
Theo slid out of the apartment but after she closed the door she opened it a crack and crouched by it. She wasn’t going to miss hearing them decide her future. She heard her mother and her aunt pull up chairs at the kitchen table.
“I’ve been thinking about you, Shar,” began Rae. “You’ve really been great these past months. You’ve done so much for Theo and she obviously likes you. Thanks for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” said Sharon suspiciously.
“You like Theo, don’t you?”
“I adore her! You know that.”
“She likes Victoria, too, much more than she liked Vancouver. She has friends here and she’s doing much better in school. The trouble is, I don’t like Victoria. It’s as boring as it was when I lived here. I miss the big city a lot and I’ve decided to go back.”
“But—”
“Let me finish, please.” Rae’s voice was strained. “I don’t think it would be fair to take Theo with me. You’re a much better mother to her than I am. I know I was bad about sending you money before, but if I promise to send you some regularly this time—if we put it in writing—would you keep looking after her? At least until she finishes elementary school?” Her voice became cajoling again. “Don’t you think it would be a shame to yank her out of a place she likes?”
Theo heard Sharon breathe heavily—as heavily as she herself was breathing.
Please say yes, she begged.
Then she jumped as Sharon banged her hand on the table. “That does it! Do you think you can just dump your child on people until it’s convenient for you to have her again? You listen to me, Mary Rae. I’ve been thinking, too—and making plans, since you seem incapable of that. I’ve been to a counsellor and I’ve been talking to Father Wilson at the church. Much as I love Theo, I can’t take care of her any longer. She’s not my child—she’s yours. She needs you. She needs you to be a real mother to her. So here’s my plan. Father Wilson knows a woman in the parish who wants someone to live in her basement suite. She’d charge a low rent in exchange for taking care of the house and her dogs when she’s away. Apparently she travels a lot. I’ve been to see the place—it’s very bright and has a separate entrance into the garden. And it’s just a few blocks away! I’m sure you could find some sort of job in the tourist stores downtown. Theo and I could still see a lot of each other and she could keep going to the same school.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Rae. “You’ve organized my whole life nicely, haven’t you? Sorry, Sharon, but I’m going back to Vancouver. If you don’t want Theo, I’ll have to take her with me.”
“I won’t let you,” said Sharon steadily. “You’re not a good enough mother to be entirely on your own. You said yourself she needs the stability of staying here. I can’t take care of her but I want her in my life. I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“In other words, you want to check up on me.”
“Yes!” Then Sharon’s voice became softer. “You need help, Mary Rae—what’s wrong with that? I’d be happy to help you. But I have to lead my own life as well. I want to travel, to do things in the evenings and weekends, not to be tied down with a child.”
“What if I don’t want to be tied down either?”
Sharon slapped the table again. She started yelling. “Mary Rae Caffrey, when are you going to get it into your empty head that you have no choice? She’s your child! You chose to have her and you have to take care of her! When are you going to grow up?” She began sobbing wildly.
Theo couldn’t stay to hear any more. She ran down the hall and unlocked her bike from the stairwell at the end of it. Bumping it down the stairs she pushed it outside and pedalled furiously to the only person in the world she wanted to be with.
WHEN SHE REACHED the cemetery, her heart was pounding so painfully she had to walk her bike with one hand and clutch her chest with the other. Finally she came to the far end. She crashed down her bike and ran over to the gravestone shaped like a book.
“Cecily!” she sobbed. “Cecily, where are you? I need you!”
“I’m coming,” said the calm voice. “Can you see me? What’s the matter, Theo?”
Cecily was walking towards her, deep sympathy in her eyes.
“You’re still here!” choked Theo. “I’m so glad I can see you!” She tried to swallow her tears.
“I’m delighted to see you again, too.” Cecily smiled. “Although I have seen you lots of times lately. I watched you all playing hide-and-seek here last week. But tell me why you’re crying so hard! No one should cry like this.”
Theo squatted on the grass. “They don’t w-want me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rae and Sharon. I heard them talking. Rae wants to go back to Vancouver without me and—” she shuddered “—and even Sharon doesn’t want me! Rae asked her to keep me and she said no.”
Cecily’s voice sounded tearful too. “You poor, dear child.”
“Couldn’t you have that idea for a story again?” begged Theo. “Couldn’t you put me back with the Kaldors? Please …”
Cecily shook her head. “It wouldn’t work, Theo. It was just a fantasy that somehow became real—for you, at least. But it didn’t last and it would be impossible for it to happen again. You can’t live in a fantasy—you have to live the life you have.”
“But what will happen to me?”
“I don’t know. I feel for you deeply—it’s appalling that they’re juggling you around like this. But they’ll decide something—they won’t abandon you. I know it’s difficult, but when you’re young you have to cope the best you can with what adults do with your life. But remember, they can only control your outer life. Your inner life—your core—is still your own. And when you grow up, you can control all your life.” She paused. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“I’ll probably live with Rae,” said Theo tightly. “She’ll probably take me back to Vancouver with her.”
“I’m sorry,” said Cecily. “Your mother has a lot of growing up to do—I could see that on the ferry.”
“I hate her!” Theo started to cry again, but more softly.
“You’re allowed to feel that. But you’ll just have to put up with her, unless you want to go to a foster home.”
“No,” shuddered Theo. “But I’ll have to leave Victoria! And the Kaldors and Sharon and Skye …”
“Theo, I wish I could stop that happening, but I can’t!”
Theo felt betrayed. “It’s not fair! Why do some people have proper families and some don’t?”
“It isn’t fair at all,” said Cecily. “But lots of things in life aren’t fair.” She sat down on the edge of her plot. “Now listen to me, Theo. I can give you some hope. I think you have it in you to survive all this. I think you’re special. You could be what I was—a writer.”
“A writer?” said Theo, astonished out of her anger.
“Yes! I’ve been thinking about this ever since our last conversation. You observe things, you make things up, you read, you’re very intelligent and sensitive. And even though you have a difficult life, that’s material!”
“Material? You mean cloth?”
Cecily threw back her head and laughed so hard that tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh, Theo, forgive me—I keep forgetting how young you are. Material is what a writer calls the—the stuff, the ingredients for a good story. Your life may have been awful and it may become awful again. But it makes a much better story than the Kaldors’ easy life. Do you understand?”
Theo’s head was spinning. “No, I don’t.”
“You will one day. But for now just keep observing the richness you have—Vancouver and Victoria, your mother and your aunt, the Kaldors … Watch it, use it. The bad times and the good times, too. If you watch carefully, there are always what I call shining moments, even in hard times—moments of sheer joy, when you’re just glad to be alive.”
“Every moment was like that when I lived with the Kaldors,” said Theo sadly.
“I’m glad I was somehow able to give you that time. It will strengthen you, remembering it.” Cecily looked intently at Theo. “There’s so much I want to tell you before—” She sighed and continued. “Here’s what I think, Theo. Writers are both awake and dreaming. They have to pay attention—to be mindful to all the small things in life, the details, whether ordinary or wonderful or terrible. Then they dream of what they can turn those details into. And if your life gets really difficult, Theo, there are two things you can do. You can force yourself to see people at a distance, like someone in a story. Then they’ll lose their power over you. Or you can make up something better and escape to it.”