Which one is Simon? Zeus said.
The order is Emma, Simon, and Theo, Connie said and she realized her voice sounded impatient, so she softened it. You know, technically speaking, they’re your niece and nephews.
That’s right, Zeus said. I guess I’m an uncle.
You’ll have to come out and meet them some time, Connie said, and the offer hung in the air, making them all think about how they’d never been as a family.
How did you do it? Hannah ventured. How did you live with our parents by yourself for all those years? You’re so different from them.
Zeus stretched his legs as far as the cab would allow and adjusted his position. I was really into hockey at the time, he said. I just got totally obsessed with it and eventually got used to being in Toronto.
Hockey? Hannah said. I’m sorry, but you don’t really strike me as the typical hockey player type.
My coach didn’t think so either, Zeus said. He actually took me aside one day and said, have you ever thought about figure skating? Figure skating! I was twelve years old. I was trying to be cool, trying to fit in, not get picked on. But at the same time I could see what he meant. I was all wrists out on the ice. I skated with my hips. I was so slippery no one could check me. But I forgot about the puck, that aggressive thing you’ve got to have for the puck. I was too busy cutting figure eights around my opponents.
The image of Zeus as a twelve-year-old boy, doing curlicues on the ice, was so graceful and evocative in their minds, it mirrored the circuitry of thought and they all glided off towards something nostalgic.
Zeus, I’m really glad you’re here with us, Connie said at last.
What about me? Hannah said, and Connie didn’t answer her.
What was it about her sister, Connie thought, that she felt left out so much of the time? Hannah was starting to feel aggrieved, and Connie hated that.
They checked into a Days Inn in Mexico, Missouri, ate enchiladas with black beans and guacamole, and each had a cold, wet bottle of Corona at El Vaquero, in the one-storey strip mall across the highway. Zeus spoke to the waitress in Spanish. Her two front teeth were framed in gold and it reminded him of his childhood, the low-riders, a rhinestone cactus he’d once seen on the back of a leather jacket. Zeus offered to pay for the meal, but Connie insisted they all pay their fair share, so they split the cost three ways, as they’d decided to do again with the room.
After dinner, they headed back across the highway and Connie stayed in the lobby while she called her parents on her cell. Her father answered and told her that the kids were being really well behaved, considering they each had a stash of Halloween candy they were quickly making their way through. Has Harlan called? she asked. He didn’t even know where she was.
Yes, Tim said, and Connie felt the back of her neck tighten. He’s at his sister’s, Tim said, and she relaxed slightly with the predictability of that scenario. Did he ask about me?
Well, I was surprised, Tim said, that you hadn’t already talked. I just assumed you’d told him about the trip. It was a little awkward. But he’s coming around tomorrow to take the kids to a movie or something like that. But I made it clear they were welcome to stay here.
Connie wanted to ask him more, but Tim had already moved on to tell her that Rose was out with them now, feeding the seals in the marina. It was Tim’s habit to respect other people’s privacy, but it was a habit that suggested a reciprocal desire to be left alone. Couldn’t he muster a bit of sympathy for once? Give some intimacy? She wanted her father to know her, with its implication of acceptance and approval.
Tim asked after Hannah, and that’s where they transferred their unsettled feelings – onto the troublesome, unreligious, younger sibling. I wonder, he said, if she’s ever going to marry that man? Connie said she didn’t think so. She says she loves Norm too much to marry him, and they shared a chuckle. They both appreciated Hannah’s sense of humour, it took the edge off what at times felt sordid. It’s nice to see Zeus again, Connie said, and there was silence at the other end. Connie felt drained by the effort it took to be cheerful. I know, she said, it’s a little weird. She was looking through the glass entrance at the parking lot outside. There was no debris on the ground. It had a vacuumed look. She couldn’t see anything green or alive. The hotel lobby smelled of disinfectant and it made the world outside seem like a sterilized extension of the indoors.
Before they hung up, Tim offered to pray for her. May the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be with you and remain with you always.
Thanks, Dad. Talk to you later.
When Connie walked through the door of their hotel room, Hannah was standing between the beds with one hand on her hip, saying to Zeus, He wants me to ride his death ship!
What death ship? Zeus said.
Pirate flag flying from the main mast? Hannah said. Skull and cross bones? A hook where a hand used to be? Coat hanger for a womb? Just stuff my mouth full of dry twigs, why don’t you. Just make a husk of me and call me a woman.
Zeus was shaking his head in disbelief. Why do you want to have a baby so badly? Don’t you think there are enough people on the planet already?
I’ve never been pregnant before, Hannah said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and flopping backwards. I don’t even know if I can.
He’s afraid, Connie said, taking her coat off. You have to help him find the courage.
How? Hannah said and then she stood up resolutely. She shouted, I refuse to be anybody’s nurse! Zeus and Connie stared at her blankly. I’m going to have a shower, she said and went into the bathroom and locked the door.
She just had some kind of an argument with her boyfriend over the phone, Zeus said.
Connie nodded sympathetically. That’s too bad, she said and flung the covers down on the bed she would share with her sister tonight, inspecting the sheets for bed bugs. The shower started to grumble through the wall. Zeus was sitting at a table by the window in front of what looked like a folded white silk flag. A pair of flattened black slippers lay on top. What have you got there? Connie asked.
This is Fenton’s old clown suit, Zeus said, patting it with his hands. I don’t know what to do with it. I’d like to do something symbolic. A funeral pyre maybe, he said, giving a short puff through his nose. But that’s not the easiest thing to bring about.
We could make that happen.
I’m not sure I’m ready. Zeus gathered up the suit and slippers and placed them back inside the duffle bag at his feet. He took a small bottle of lavender oil out of a black leather shaving kit and put it on the table. He undressed down to his underwear, the ones that were pale pink, he noted, from a laundromat mishap with a red sock.
Connie busied herself with her suitcase.
Zeus sat down at the table again and stared out the window, his fingers resting on the small brown bottle. After a while, he unscrewed the cap. Would you do me a favour and massage a bit of this into my scalp? It gets itchy as the new hair grows in.
Can’t you do it yourself? The idea made Connie feel squeamish.
It’s not as effective.
She thought about it for a moment, then took the bottle from Zeus and poured a gold coin of oil onto her palm. She rubbed her hands together, inhaling lavender, and placed them on his head. It felt warm and the skin moved with the suppleness of suede, as if his scalp was a soft, suede cap that fit loosely over his skull. She laughed self-consciously, I feel like I’m massaging a knee cap. I’ve never felt a shaved head before. Why do you shave your head, Zeus? You’re not going bald.
It’s for a boy called Sam, Zeus said. He was going through chemo and had lost all his hair. Suddenly, it felt sort of greedy to have so much of it. But then he died. And then Fenton died as well, and that’s when I finally did it, and I’m going to keep doing it for a while. It’s like burning a candle, or something. A kind of memorial.
Connie was tugging softly at the edges of Zeus’s ears. She squeezed his earlobes and Zeus suddenly bent for
ward and covered his face with his hands. Sorry, Connie said, did that hurt?
I’m travelling with the clothes of a dead clown!
Connie rested her hands on Zeus’s shoulders.
I miss him so much, he said. I loved him so much. He used to make me laugh all the time. I think I could have been happy living with him for the rest of my life. Do you think it’s possible to be really happy with someone and not know it?
Well, you can be really unhappy with someone and not know it, Connie said. So I don’t see why it can’t happen the other way around.
I don’t think I ever really let myself trust that things are going to work out. My real parents, they just let me go. So why wouldn’t everybody else do it too? Fenton always thought it would be good for me to find them. He thought it would resolve some things for me. It was the last thing he ever told me.
I’m sure your parents loved you, Connie said. But love isn’t a guarantee of anything. Parenting is a skill. It should be taught in schools. And not everyone has the knack for it. No matter how much they love their kids. I remember my mother telling me, when I was about thirteen, we were in the garage, standing over the deep freeze. She said she’d been terrified of having girls. She’d wanted sons. When she was young, she prayed to God not to give her girls because she knew she wouldn’t be able to teach them how to love themselves.
Rose told you that? Zeus swivelled to look at Connie, to see the vulnerable child in her.
It shocked Connie for a moment to realize that, of course, Zeus knew her mother.
God, what is it with parents? Zeus said.
Connie was holding her oily hands up like a surgeon. It’s not easy being a parent, you know? You may have the best intentions in the world, but you’re still going to mess up somehow. We all need forgiveness.
Connie dropped down onto the edge of the bed and sat there for a moment. Zeus came over and sat beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him and let herself go and just sobbed. He had the faint smell of a barn-warm animal and hay. Then it occurred to her that she was being consoled by her brother, a young bald man in pink underpants. She started to laugh, and Zeus joined in. It grew into a hysterical, purging kind of laughter. She used a corner of the bedspread to wipe the tears off her cheeks.
Zeus was sitting so close to her their bodies were touching. The door to the bathroom opened and Hannah came out in a tiny threadbare towel. They looked to Hannah thick as thieves, like the best of friends, guilty of some secret mischief. She felt a little jealous. Nice to see you’re getting acquainted, she said and they both raised their flushed, depleted faces to look at her helplessly, recovering from a moment of hilarity too ephemeral to explain.
Hannah woke in the morning to find Connie sitting up in bed, writing in her journal. Hannah was the writer in the family but had never been able to keep a journal like her sister could. I just had a dream about Caiden Brock, she said.
Connie put her pen down and looked curious, amused. Did you and Caiden ever sleep together? It was as if Connie had been waiting a long time to ask her this. It felt scornful, hostile somehow.
No, Hannah said, don’t be ridiculous. She got dressed and went to inquire about the free breakfast. The fact was, she was excited and nervous to see him. How on earth had he ended up in Wichita, Kansas? She hadn’t thought about him in years, not until her sister brought him up.
She used to fantasize about him all the time. He was so spoiled and cocky and handsome, full of arrogant bravado. And the secret of their little affair had been so thrilling. It was a warm, flat stone she hugged to her belly underneath her shirt at a time when she’d felt so lonely. Sometimes she took refuge at his parents’ place. Effusive, generous Mrs. Brock, with all her children grown and gone, loved having her around the house. Hannah slept on the pullout sofa in the basement. Occasionally, by coincidence, Caiden would be at home too, even though by then he was living on campus. This was Hannah’s strongest wish – that he should be there. She didn’t realize at first that, when he was, it was because he’d come to see her. It was his mother who would alert him – for she had fantasies about the two of them, as well, that one day maybe they would marry. Hannah would lie in the basement and throb with expectation. After his parents had gone to bed, Caiden would sneak downstairs. One night, he asked her to go for a midnight swim in the backyard pool.
Hannah felt his warm breath against her ear, and a delirious feeling like a hive of bees started buzzing between her legs. It was one of those warm summer nights when the air is thick and the distance blurred in a sultry haze and there isn’t a breath of wind and everything is as motionless as a dream. Hannah dove into the turquoise pool, the underwater lights warm to the touch and yellow against her skin. She was sure pilots flying overhead could see their shiny rectangle from the air, their insect bodies in the water. There was the brightness and being exposed and almost naked and wet. The water spinning its silver threads of mercury across the surface. Hannah hung under the diving board and watched Caiden swim towards her through the oily blue water, his chest whiter than his arms, his brown hair puffing out like a jellyfish as his body caught up before the next breaststroke propelled him forward again. He crossed the pool in one breath, surfacing indecently close to her, and hung off the diving board too. Wrap your legs around my waist, he said and Hannah did. Then he slipped a finger inside her bathing suit.
You’re like a swollen butterfly, he said, and Hannah didn’t really know what the protocol was, so she just hung there from the diving board, passive as the air, feeling the ecstatic currents coursing through her body.
Around midday, they passed a chaingang of inmates, in grey overalls and orange vests, picking garbage off the roadside with silver claws at the end of steel rods. It was Connie’s first time driving the truck. Just past Kansas City, a billboard with white and yellow sunrays bursting out from behind the word JESUS printed in bright green capital letters, with For President graffitied underneath it.
Someone must have told them I was coming, Zeus said, dead-pan.
Do your parents know you’re coming? Hannah asked. Have you even spoken to them yet?
Zeus was shaking his head.
So you don’t have any concrete plans about how this is all going to pan out?
I’m thinking I’ll arrive by bus, he said. That’s about as concrete as it gets. Zeus lifted his legs and hugged his knees, then stretched his feet out on top of the dashboard with the toes of his shoes bent back against the windshield.
You must be nervous, Connie said and took her eyes off the road for a moment to look at him sideways.
Nervous isn’t even close to what I’m feeling, Zeus said, dropping his feet to the floor and sitting up again. I mean, what am I supposed to say to them? What if they don’t like how it makes them feel, to see me face to face?
I guess there’s no way of knowing, Connie said.
Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m nervous about coming face to face with the Global Kingdom of Salvation Center, Hannah said. I don’t want to get smothered by people with good intentions.
But misled hearts? Connie said. It’s not one of those crazy right-wing places, Zeus. At least, I don’t think it is.
Look, I’m not against Christians, Hannah said. I’ve got too many in my life that I love, right? And sometimes they do good works. A lot of poor people get fed by Christians every year.
And orphans adopted, Zeus said.
Thank you, Zeus. Another excellent example of Christian charity, Hannah said. It’s just that I don’t like spiritual pushiness. Or too much earnestness, or reverence. Too much reverence always makes me feel like causing trouble.
You don’t have to get involved, you know? Nobody’s forcing you, Connie said. I didn’t even think you were planning on going inside.
How about showing a little respect for my religious feelings here?
I didn’t think you had religious feelings.
Why does everything have to be so spelled out for you befor
e you’ll even acknowledge it?
Because it’s hard to know what you’re dealing with when things are so, what’s the word for it – nebulous?
Hannah laughed. As if God, himself, isn’t nebulous.
Can you just be genuine for, like, one moment?
I thought I was being genuine.
Connie rolled her eyes. So what about you, Zeus? We’re not that far away now. What are you going to do when we get there?
I’m going to have the pancake special, he said and pointed at a sign advertising breakfast specials at a restaurant just off the highway at the next exit.
The sisters both glanced at him with something like appreciation. It was turning out to be so good having him there, sitting in the middle, with his own disarming perspective.
Okay, Zeus, Connie said, go have your stack o’pancakes, and she signalled for the exit. It was Friday, mid-morning, the parking lot wide open. Connie drove diagonally across the white lines and stopped outside the restaurant. A sloped red roof. In the window, a poster for their Halloween specials.
When they got out of the truck, the sun was warm and the air so gentle for the first of November that they lingered outside. Hannah leaned against the truck and Connie sat down on the curb outside the restaurant. Zeus joined her and together they raised their faces to the sun and closed their eyes until a car pulled up and parked nearby. A woman got out and opened the back door for a little girl who was bawling. The woman said, Come on, Britney, I’ve had enough now. Do you want your flapjacks or not?
The girl nodded, still crying in the back seat. The woman left her there and walked into the restaurant. The girl threw herself down on the seat and disappeared from view. Her crying petered out now that her audience had left. She got out of the car and kicked the door shut. She was wearing a pink tracksuit and white runners and her hair was pulled into a ponytail, the size of a banana, on one side of her head. To Connie, she looked about the same age as Emma. She started heading towards the restaurant with all the lamentation of a funeral march, stooped forward and dragging her feet, arms heavy at her side. She walked past them and Connie said, tenderly, What’s the matter, sweetheart?
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