The Feeder

by Gayle Siebert

  I’m making a roast chicken for dinner. I’ve got the oven on and I’ll start with peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, Jennifer’s favourite. I’m also making buns and a loaf of banana bread, which Derek loves. Might as well fill the oven, warm the house and soften up the husband at the same time. While the cookies bake, I mix and mash bananas and dry rub the chicken.

  Thoughts of my tablet, wondering if I’ll really be able to get it set up, trying to decide on the best place to hide the owner’s manual, distract me from my work and the cookies on the edge of the pan get a little burnt. I pull them out and the banana bread and chicken go in. The buns will have to wait since they haven risen enough yet.

  I know Jennifer won’t eat the cookies with the black on them, so I munch them down while they’re still warm. So delicious! I know it’s a lot of calories but I eat all the scorched ones anyway. The evidence is destroyed. No one can ridicule me for burning them, and there’s no one but myself to be disgusted by my gluttony.

  I’m not really interested in what I’m doing because I’d so much rather be setting up my tablet. I have the key to his study, of course, so it won’t take me long to get in and out, but it might take a while to find the internet password. I don’t dare to try for it today. Jennifer gets home shortly after three and I can’t risk her catching me at it. Maybe I’m paranoid and maybe I’m being overly cautious, but I don’t even trust my own daughter not to rat me out.

  Besides the statement from the cab company, Derek monitors the bank statements, but he hasn’t yet wanted to see the till tapes from the stores. I make sure to lose the till tapes, but that will have to end if he ever gets interested. I hope that never happens because I add cash back to each order. The first time, it was just twenty dollars. At dinner that day, I told him I’d been shopping and complained about how groceries have gone up. I shopped again a few days later, another forty dollars. He got a little pissy at me going out so often and suggested I should make a list and get everything I need in one trip. I said I like to have fresh produce, reminded him of his high standards. No marginal romaine for his Caesar salads! That was an argument he could get behind.

  I took a real risk the last time and added eighty dollars, holding my breath, worrying the ‘not sufficient funds’ message would come up. It didn’t. Eighty dollars was the amount I calculated I needed to top up the kitty enough to cover cab fare and a tablet. I took the chance because I didn’t want to wait four more twenty-dollar trips to the grocery store to get it done. It was enough, just. I gave the last of my money to the cabbie. Generous. And also, it’s safer for me not to have to explain why I have cash, in case Derek checks my purse.

  At this moment, the tablet is hidden away between the mattress and box spring on my side of the bed. I fantasize about surfing the net again. It’s the week-end now, though, so it’ll have to wait until Monday.

  I see the car come up the driveway. Derek’s home early, not unusual on a Friday, and it looks like he picked Jennifer up from school. I hope he won’t mind that dinner will be another hour, at least. Maybe he can spend some time on his latest birdhouse or mulling over the specs for his new boat, or get a beer and watch ESPN. He’s whistling as he comes in the door. That’s odd.

  Jennifer enters the kitchen first, screws up her face and says, “I smell smoke. Did you burn something?”

  “Um, I guess some of the cookies got a little dark. Just on the bottom.”

  “Well, it smells like you burned them,” she snorts and pokes through the pile of cookies on the plate before scooping up a handful.

  “Change out of your uniform before you…” I start.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she says, in a near perfect imitation of her father. But at least she heads for the front hall and up the stairs.

  “Hi, honey,” Derek greets me as he’s taking off his jacket, and comes to give me a kiss. That’s really odd. I wonder what happened. “How long until dinner’s ready?”

  “Um, I wasn’t expecting you so early. I’m sorry. It’ll be another hour at least. Maybe I can make it sooner…”

  “That’s okay,” he says. “I want to catch the highlights from last night’s game, anyway.” He goes upstairs and comes back down in his sweats, gets a beer and takes it into the family room. In seconds, I hear hockey highlight commentary from the TV.

  I wonder what’s happened to put him in such a cheerful mood. He was pissed when I told him the in-house position at Abbo Fitness was in Toronto and he’s been grouchy ever since. When I hear a commercial come on TV, I go to the doorway to the family room and ask, “did you have a good day?”

  “I did,” he replies without looking at me.

  “What…?”

  “I heard from Boatland in Sidney today. I’m getting that boat, Carly. The one that’s bigger than Nelly’s.”

  “Oh,” my guts clench. “But I thought you didn’t need it now that you aren’t trying to get that job.”

  “There’ll be other jobs. You know Nelly’s friends are probably all movers and shakers. If I’m going to rub elbows with them, they have to treat me as an equal. And I’ll be right in there, ready to snap up all their legal work.”

  “Oh.” I draw a deep breath. I’m sickened. “Um…when are you going to get it?”

  “I agreed to bring my trade-in down and finish up the paperwork soon. I’ll cruise down sometime before Christmas. It’ll be a nice boat ride and it’ll be a great sea trial for the new boat.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s all you can say? Just, oh? How about hey that’s awesome honey, good for you honey, you deserve it, honey.”

  “Good for you,” I mumble.

  He must’ve caught the sarcasm in my tone because now he turns to me, cheerful smile gone, and says, “I know you don’t want me to have this boat, Carly. You and your whining about a car that you don’t need when you can take a cab whenever you need to. Which is too damn often. Duffy says his wife orders groceries on line and then she just parks outside the store and they bring them out. I want you to start doing that.”

  “But I don’t have a computer, so I can’t go online.”

  “Right. So you tell me what you want, I’ll place the order and pick it up. That will eliminate all the cab bills and stop the impulsive buying you’ve been doing. The grocery bills lately have been through the roof! That last one was a doozie and I don’t see much in the fridge to show for it.”

  “It was, er, you know, staples like rice and flour.”

  “Do you think we have to stock up for the next Covid-19 shelter-in-place order, dummy? If so, you can quit because that’s over and done. This will save time and money. We’ll start immediately. I’ll call the cab company and cancel the account.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing!” He starts to get up as if he’s going to come toward me.

  I shrink back, bumping against the wall, and say, “no, no! It’s a good idea. And I’m so proud of you! I really am! I’m glad for you, too! You’re finally getting the recognition you deserve!”

  He stops and sits back down, mollified. The hockey report resumes and he’s no longer interested in me. I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  I’m glad? He’s finally getting the recognition he deserves? I’m surprised I didn’t choke on those lies. I feel those burnt cookies churning in my stomach. For a moment I study the back of his head. His perfect hair. His perfect profile. His beautiful, delicate hands. The hands of an artist. It’s funny, but just last summer I had myself convinced I was lucky this beautiful man was my husband. Today Lita’s words come back to me. Derek is a chump. She’s right. I didn’t see it before, but I do now. I experience an unfamiliar feeling. Loathing.

  He glances my way and frowns when he realizes I’m still standing here and that I’ve been studying him. I can almost hear him saying what are you looking at? Haven’t you got something to do? Before he has a chance to say anything, I turn and escape back to the kitchen.

  He’s a chump, all right, and I’ve be
en a chump for believing him.

  I can’t wait to get on the internet.

  Twenty-one

  Lita

  BY A HAPPY accident, I found the most excellent store to shop for a gift for Nullah. There was a road closure due to a watermain break and the detour went right past The Harbour Chandler. It doesn’t look like much from outside, but the name was intriguing enough that I found a parking spot half a block away and walked back to check it out. Inside, there’s everything you could ever need for your boat. And it turns out the guy who helped me knows Nullah and his boat. I guess he’s been in there quite a lot. He gave me a deal on the price and I came home with a wireless handset for his radio. I’m pretty stoked about it.

  I’ve finished wrapping it, congratulating myself when I compare it to Nullah’s professionally-wrapped gift and conclude it measures up well. I’ve just put it up on the mantel when the man in question drives into the yard. I scurry into the kitchen, get a glass of wine, and I’m on the loveseat in the family room sipping it and peeling off my nylon knee-highs when he comes in.

  “Hello,” I call out, “I’m in here!”

  “Hello, babe,” he calls back.

  I hear him fussing around in the mudroom, probably taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket. Then I hear the fridge door open and close and the snap of a beer cap. He comes into the family room and bends down to give me a quick kiss before taking his customary place in the recliner in the corner.

  “How was your day?” he asks.

  “Fine. Good, actually,” I respond. “Yours?”

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay? Problems?”

  “Not really problems. A machine in the thirty minute workout circuit packed it in. The usual complaints about the usual offenders not disinfecting machines after using them. One Karen wanted to speak to me about it. And I had to notify a couple of customers the delivery of their machines would be a week or so later than I originally said. They knew they wouldn’t get them until after Christmas anyway, so they were okay with it.”

  “So…?”

  “A couple of things about Derek,” he says. He takes a long swallow of beer before continuing. “Did I tell you Finn hired a PI to vet him before we met him?”

  “Um, I guess I knew you were vetting him. Didn’t know what it involved, though.”

  “Well, call us paranoid. We do a pretty in-depth background check.”

  “So? I thought you called it off.”

  “We did. But the PI sent the info he already had on file before we called him off.”

  “Oh.” A sense of foreboding floods through me. “What…?”

  “Did you know he lived in Phoenix before he came here?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you remember the name Wayne Wilton?”

  “Hmm. Sounds familiar, I guess because it’s Derek’s last name.”

  “Well, it was a minor news story about twenty years ago, boating accident. His wife drowned.”

  “Oh. And he’s related to Derek?”

  “He is Derek. He just started using his middle name when he came to Canada.”

  “He’s sure about this?”

  “He’s sure.”

  “So? We knew his first wife drowned. We just thought, oh poor guy, losing his wife like that.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think you have to feel too sorry for him,” Nullah says. “They thought it was suspicious.”

  “You mean maybe it wasn’t an accident?”

  “Right. The cops called it a Scott Peterson copy cat murder. They could never find enough to charge him but the file still isn’t closed, and they still call him a person of interest.”

  “Oh my god!” I exclaim. Is Derek really capable of deliberately drowning someone? It doesn’t seem possible. But then, I wouldn’t have thought anyone capable of drowning puppies or kittens, and thousands of people can do that.

  “Yeah. Sweet guy. We’re well rid of him. Except we’re not really rid of him. Which brings me to the second thing,” Nullah continues. “You won’t believe it, but he seems to think I’m his new best friend. He invited me to a Christmas meet and greet his firm is having on Friday. He wants me to bring some friends.”

  “Really? That’s, er…”

  “Odd? Out of the blue? Gotta give him credit, he’s got balls. Of course he doesn’t know I know about him making that drug-dealing allegation. And I’ll tell you what. He’s pissing off the wrong people.”

  “What do you mean? You?”

  “Well, I’m pissed, as you know, but I’ve got nothing to hide.” He swigs his beer and looks off into the distance with a frown for a second, then says, “I can’t say the same for some of my friends.”

  “Does he think you’ll bring all your drug-dealing friends so he can pass along their names?”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “What? You actually have drug-dealing friends?”

  “Lita, I told you some of my friends aren’t squeaky clean.”

  “I thought you meant shady business dealings or…oh, I don’t know what I thought.”

  “Anyway. Maybe he thinks my friends are captains of industry and his partners will be impressed. Plus, it would give him a chance to brag, in hopes he can snag their legal business. Either way, a win for him, I guess.”

  “Well, a lot of your friends are business owners.”

  “Yeah, well. You know, there are a couple whose businesses he might rather not be connected to.”

  “You’re not thinking of going, are you?”

  “I said I have a conflict. But then on the drive home, I thought, what if I took Alf. Got Alf to bring some of his buddies, and that they should wear their cuts.”

  “Speaking of businesses Derek might not want to be connected to.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, I imagine bikers have need of lawyers as much as anyone.”

  “Maybe more so, but does Derek’s firm do criminal law?”

  “Dunno,” I admit. “Google it.”

  “Naw, I don’t really care.” He takes a long swallow of beer. “Wouldn’t I love to see Derek bragging himself up to those guys.”

  “Maybe he’d be smart enough to just keep his piehole the fuck shut for a change.”

  “I would like to see that, too, but I doubt he could do it. I’d love to embarrass the fucker in front of his partners.”

  “Would they go? Alf I mean?”

  “Maybe. Like I said, I got nothing to hide but looking at me turned up some, er, links I have with them. Cops have been leaning on them more than usual. They don’t think it’s a coincidence. Like I said, Derek’s pissing off the wrong people so they might like to scare him a little. Shake him up. Plus, the boys wouldn’t mind the free booze. Imagine what Derek’s bosses, not to mention the other guests, would think if a dozen choppers roared up, parked in front of the building and the guys in their colors came in to mingle with guys in designer suits and Italian loafers.”

  “Do it! And take lots of video.”

  “Naww. I don’t think so. I would if I thought the price of his guests’ booze would come out of his own pocket, though.” He picks up the remote, turns on the TV and starts flipping through the guide before settling on Global National. “What’re you doing, sitting here in the dark staring at the blank TV screen, anyway?”

  “I, er, just got here.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. I was just enjoying a few minutes of the house being quiet before all hell breaks loose as it always does the minute you get home.”

  He runs the volume up to ear splitting and raises his voice to be heard above it. “TV being on is all hell breaking loose in your opinion?”

  Then he laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said, turns the volume back down, and says, “you should’ve seen your face.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I see you finally got me a gift.” He indicates the mantel with a lift of his chin.

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s just a c
hunk of coal.”

  “It’s the thought that counts.”

  When the next commercial comes on, he mutes the TV, turns to me and says, “you know, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of inviting Alf and his buddies. They don’t like wife beaters any more than they like someone bringing heat down on them. Maybe Alf could find an opportunity to take the shithead aside and just quietly let him know some of the things he’s been doing and saying might be hazardous to his health. Suggest that he should think twice before he flaps his gums about things that are none of his business, and while he’s at it, quit calling me.”

  “I’m pretty sure you can get that last bit across to him yourself,” I say. Then I realize the only way he could have Nullah’s number is if Nullah gave it to him. “Surely to god you didn’t give him your number!”

  “Of course not. He calls the gym. He drove the staff crazy leaving messages before I called him back.”

  I shake my head and click my tongue. “I’m sorry that hooking up with me has visited this pestilence upon you.”

  “So far it’s been worth it.” He manages to make a leer look cute. “I hope this is the only pestilence in your history though, or you’re going to have to up your game.”

  I ball up my knee highs and throw them at him. It’s a perfect lob; he catches the incoming missile in his peripheral vision and brings up his arm to ward it off, but not in time. The socks bounce off his nose.

  “Hey!” he yells.

  “I’m going to have to up my game?” I ask. “How’s that for game? A perfect Nullah bull’s eye.”

  With astonishing speed he puts his beer down, leaps to his feet and is on me. He picks me up, throws me across his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, trots up the few steps to the bedroom level and into the master suite. He dumps me on the bed and climbs on top of me. “And there we have a perfect Lita Try. Five points for Nullah!” He unzips my pants and starts working them, along with my panties, down as he says, “and now a conversion for the extra two points.”