“I said no.”
They stopped at the corner. The only noise was the distant hum of a lawnmower. Suburban Muzak.
“I just want to know about him.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Tell me.”
With a sigh, Paula said, “You know the story. He died in a car wreck. Before you were born.” She reached out and touched her daughter’s head. “You have my hair, but you have your dad’s eyes.” Dad was an unfamiliar word between them, and it felt false to say it.
“Was he nice?”
I love you Pauls you’re my girlfriend
The tears were years behind her, but thinking about him here in Haven Woods caused a tightening in her chest, sad and bleak. “Yes, he was. Maybe I should get married, huh?” She said it as much to distract herself as Rowan.
“Ew. I don’t know. Do you want to?”
Paula snorted. “A boyfriend might be good. And yeah, I think I would like to get married.” She thought about Marla’s comment about her husband working hard for them. That would be nice. Very nice.
“That woman who came over—did she really use to be your best friend?”
A car swung lazily around the corner and started moving towards them. It was going no more than ten miles an hour, but they stayed on the curb, waiting for it to pass. If it had been the city Paula would have thrown up her hand and made it stop.
They used to play ball hockey on this street—the boys would—right up until it snowed, a Sears goal net at either end. A car would come along and one of the boys would yell, Car! and everyone would move off the street, the goalies carrying the nets on their shoulders.
In the summer they played baseball. The girls would go and watch the boys.
let’s go change tops I wanna get some money from my mom
As the car drove slowly by, the female driver leaned slightly forward, grinning madly at them.
Paula stared. “Oh yes,” she said to her daughter, “Marla and I were inseparable.”
They crossed the road and walked towards the park. Paula thought she could hear the gurgling of the river. More than any other sound
(except maybe the whoosh and whistle of something sharp flying through the air)
the sound of the river evoked memories. They’d spent so much of their time there. In the park. All of them, hanging out, sitting at the picnic tables.
(They would sit inside the culvert when it was dry and talk for hours. David did most of the talking—he was one of those people who could find something to say about anything, and sometimes they would hold hands while he talked …
He’d grin
I love you Pauls
and later, when they’d already spent too much of their time together, he would reach out, put his hand on her neck and trace it down to her breasts
I love you Pauls
They found everything together.)
“Why did you even leave here, then?”
“Why did I leave Haven Woods?”
“Yeah,” Rowan said. “If it was so great and you had friends and everything, why did you go?”
Paula shrugged. “Everyone leaves home sometime.”
“Your friend didn’t. Grandma didn’t.”
“Honey, we’re here now. Let’s just enjoy this. Except for Grandma being sick and the part where you got kicked out of school, we could have a nice time.” She grinned at her daughter, wryly, she hoped.
Rowan groaned. “It should have been Nicki who got kicked out.”
“Let’s just talk about something else and be nice.” Paula pointed to the trees ahead of them. “You know, there’s a river down there. We used to come here all the time when I was a kid.”
Old Tex recognized the park and stopped. He raised his nose and sniffed the air. Rowan squatted and undid the clip on his collar, but Old Tex stayed put. She gave him a little push. “Go!”
The dog looked at her and panted, took a few steps onto the grass and sat down.
“Go play—”
“He’s old, Ro. Give him a minute.”
The park was empty over to where the river was bordered by tall elms and firs. Play equipment lay abandoned and lonely in the afternoon sun of a work/school day. There were the usual things: monkey bars, two sets of swings, a slide and a broad sandbox that looked untouched. Too big for the slide, Rowan slowly walked over to the big-kid swings. She backed into one and let the wooden plank seat hit her mid-thigh. She backed up until all that was touching the ground were her toes and all she had to do to fly was lift her feet, poetry in motion.
Paula watched. A wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm her. The naturalness of Rowan in this wholesome setting was such a contrast to the places she’d dragged the girl through, each new address a little worse than the last, even though she tried to convince herself that she was improving their lot.
They should have been here all along. With her family.
With his family. How different their lives would have been. And across her mind it all flew, like the girl on the swing: If she’d stayed and explained and been able to give all this to her daughter. If her mother had let her stay. She’d been so confused and griefstricken, and then when she found out she was pregnant, her mother thought it best if she stayed away. Paula figured she’d been ashamed of her, though her mother didn’t say so, and Paula had felt so ashamed she never pushed.
Somewhere farther away, a dog barked happily.
Rowan kept her eyes closed as long as she could, opening them only when she started to feel sick. When the vertigo passed, she closed them again—fiercely, her teeth gritted—stuck her legs straight out in front of her on the upswing and threw them underneath her on the way back. Back and forth, like that. She knew her mom was watching her. She deliberately didn’t look over at her. She had just decided: except for Tex, she did not like Haven Woods.
On the backswing, leaning way forward, she heard a dog barking, high-pitched and antic.
–
Gusto sprinted out of the trees as soon as he caught the scent of another dog. He ran full bore, small beagle body arcing midair about every twelve steps, the only thing that prevented him from tumbling head over tail across the grass towards Old Tex.
“Gusto!” Sanderson Keyes yelled after him as he beelined for the other dog.
Startled, Paula turned to see the beagle leap through the air at Tex.
“It’s okay,” the man chasing after him yelled. “It’s okay, he’s friendly—just a bit starved for company. Gusto!” Gusto was jumping all around and underneath the substantially larger Tex, who for his part was tolerating the younger dog’s interest.
Rowan flew off the swing and ran towards the animals, delighted. “Hey, another dog!” She’d seen lots of cats, but until now the only dog had been Tex. She and Paula crouched down and petted the new one. Diplomatically, Gusto divided his time among them all, but he showed a definite preference for Tex.
Sanderson caught up, then bent over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. “Whew, can’t do that like I used to,” he said. “Sorry about this. He’s been pretty cooped up and he thinks this is a dog park.”
“I love him!” Rowan buried her face in Gusto’s smooth scruff.
Paula laughed and scratched the top of the beagle’s head once more, then stood up.
“Paula Wittmore?”
She met the man’s eyes, then laughed in recognition. “Sandy Keyes. Oh my god! How are you?”
He took her hand and gave it a half-shake. “You’re still here?” he said. “I just moved back.”
“Well, welcome home. And no, I don’t live here anymore. My daughter and I are home visiting my mom. Sandy, this my daughter, Rowan.”
Rowan looked up from the dogs and nodded shyly. She had one hand on Old Tex’s head and the other wrapped around Gusto’s neck. Dog heaven. “Hi,” she said. “I like your dog.”
“Nice to meet you, Rowan. It looks as if he likes you too. He’s Gusto, for obvious reasons.”
“You’re the second person f
rom the old days I’ve run into today,” Paula said. “I saw Marla Riley earlier. She looks great.” She pointed to the bow attached to his shirt. “You come gift-wrapped?”
He looked down. “My mom. She brought me a housewarming present.” He pulled the bow off and then didn’t know what to do with it. “It’s good to see you. I don’t see anybody from the old days, though if Marla still lives here, I’m bound to run into her sometime.”
“It’s good to see you too, Sandy.”
“Sandy? Ha! No one’s called me that for awhile. I’m Sanderson now. Running my own construction company and all that.” He grinned to show he wasn’t full of himself. “What about you? What are you doing these days?”
She thought about lying, then laughed and confessed. “Nothing right now. I’m … in transition.”
Rowan rolled her eyes discreetly, then got up and ruffled the fur around Old Tex’s neck. “C’mon, boy, let’s go.” She turned to Gusto. “You wanna run? Wanna run?” She galloped backwards. The dogs followed her, Old Tex more out of loyalty than a desire to actually run.
“That your same dog? I remember that dog. He used to come down to the ball field. We used to try to get him to play base.” Sanderson laughed. “Riley used to toss him the ball. Long time ago.” He looked quickly at Paula. “Sorry. Bad thing to mention. You were an item, you two.”
“Long time ago,” she said.
Sanderson said, “So, is Rowan your only one?”
She nodded. “And no, to get it over with, I’m not married. You?”
“Was. Just divorced.”
“I’m sorry. Kids?”
“No. But don’t be sorry—it’s all good. Hey, I just had a crazy idea. Why don’t you and Rowan come for dinner? My mother dropped off some steaks and stocked my fridge with enough food for an army.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “She worries about me.”
“I don’t know, Sandy,” she said. “My mom’s not well. She’s actually in the hospital here. It’s why we came home.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Paula. Can I ask what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, actually. I’ve had some trouble getting in touch with the doctor. She’s not saying either. Izzy Riley was the one who called and told me. I’m sure I’ll know soon enough.”
“Do you want to make it another night?”
Paula stared at the ground a moment, considering. “No, we’d like to come.” She met his eye and smiled. “Rowan’s been a little bored. I think she’ll love the idea of hanging with two dogs.”
“Great, we can catch up. You remember Winnie Casper’s old house?”
“The one that looks like the Brady Bunch live there?”
“Yes! I bought it and I’m going to restore it. It’s great example of early seventies architecture and I’m in love with it. I’ll give you a tour of its finer points when you come. About seven o’clock?”
“Sure, we’ll be there.”
“Bring Old Tex too, okay?”
“Sure.”
As Sanderson walked away he whistled for his dog, and Gusto ran to him, chased by Rowan and Tex. Sanderson leaned towards her daughter, saying something she couldn’t catch, but from the way Rowan jumped up and down, clapping her hands, she guessed she wouldn’t have to talk her into dinner at his place. Their conversation ended with Sandy-Sanderson putting the gift bow on top of Rowan’s head.
He turned and gave her a wave, then he and the dog jogged away in the direction of Proctor Street.
SEVEN
WHEN THEY GOT BACK from the park, Paula told Rowan to entertain herself while she made a couple of calls. Rowan fiddled with the TV, but all that was on was that Joanna Shaw show; her mom had said she was a friend of Mrs. Riley-Moore’s. She watched without much interest as Joanna Shaw got the audience to yell at a man who didn’t pay his child support. Then an ad came on reminding viewers to tune in next week, when the show went national. Rowan clicked it off.
She could hear her mom on the phone in the kitchen. Tex was collapsed on the floor beside her and she reached over and gave him a scratch on his belly. That was when she remembered about the new collar.
Tex followed her to Grandma’s bedroom. Her mom’s clothes were still in her bag, but she’d put her makeup stuff on the giant bureau against the wall. Rowan got down on all fours and lifted the bedskirt. Under the bed, right in the middle, was a small box. She reached for it and it slid easily towards her on the wood floor. Even though her grandmother had told her to take it, it still felt like sneaking, and she kept one ear on the sound of her mother talking at the other end of the house.
The box had an inlaid decoration on the top. She took the key from her blazer pocket, slipped it into the lock and turned, then lifted the lid. A strong smell hit her and she wrinkled her nose. An old-people smell, like the stuff they put in their drawers and medicine cabinets. Medicine-y.
Tex sniffed the air, then sat on his bum beside her. He whined sadly.
“Do you miss Grandma, Tex? Do you?”
Inside the box were pieces of broken jewellery, a copper penny, a nickel. A teeny-tiny pincushion in the shape of a little pig caught her eye; it had room for only four pins. There were also three small Ziploc bags. One held a sponge, another some powder. The third was empty. Underneath them she found what she assumed was the collar. She lifted it out and held it at eye level. It smelled too.
Her grandmother had wound the whole length of it with red ribbon and had added decorative dots along the ribbon. There were tiny marks that looked like exotic tattoos, circles and stars. Four puffy bits of cotton, evenly spaced, completed the decoration. It was weird, but Rowan liked it.
The dog looked at it and at her.
“You have to wear it. Grandma said,” she told him. She put it around his neck and carefully did up the buckle, loosely so it wouldn’t hurt him. Then she tilted her head and studied him. “Very handsome for an old bugger.”
She undid the old collar and dropped it into the box. Then she closed the lid and slid it back under the bed. Just as her mother came into the room.
“Is that what you’re wearing to Sanderson’s house?” She pointed at Rowan’s school blazer.
Rowan frowned. “Is that what you’re wearing?” She pointed at the rock T-shirt her mother wore. U2.
“I’m changing, Miss Behaviour.”
Rowan got up and patted her leg for the dog to follow her. “Don’t change too much or I won’t recognize you.”
Paula was frustrated. She’d called the hospital and asked Tula for the name of the doctor treating her mother. Tula had stalled, said she wasn’t at the desk that had the directory, that he was new to the hospital. She thought his name was Tuck or Tubb or Tucker.
something like that dear—I’ll find out and let you know tomorrow
There was no Tuck or Tubb or Tucker in the phone book. So she called every doctor in the area to find the one who was treating her mother. She had to argue with each receptionist even to get them to check
we don’t usually give out that information dear
but from what she could figure out, no one in Haven Woods was treating her mother.
So she’d called the hospital and gotten (half-wit) Tula again. Did the woman never go off shift? When Paula explained what she’d done, all Tula could say was, Well, many of our doctors come from other places. I told you I’d check and let you know tomorrow. Paula demanded that a doctor—any doctor—call her in the morning before she went by to see her mother.
She was still pissed off, and slightly worried, when she pulled off the U2 T-shirt and tossed it on the bed. She caught a look at herself in her mom’s dresser mirror. For a moment she panicked. What would she wear?
just a barbecue
She pulled her good blouse from her bag and shook it out. Then she rummaged through her mother’s closet and came up with a green jacket to go with the blouse. She put both on and was pleased that the jacket fit her. Then she grabbed her brush and gave her hair a few strokes. It was thick, a striking chest
nut, and she was glad that Rowan had inherited it, colour and texture both. Today, however, it was not cooperating. Paula sighed and pulled it smoothly back, fastening it with a large hairclip. She studied herself again. She looked kind of good.
The TV sounded from the living room again and Paula recognized the music from The Joanna Shaw Show—not exactly kid-friendly viewing. Shaw favoured the style of commando journalism in which everything is a moral emergency. The issues were usually black-and-white—child abuse bad, long-suffering woman good—and relied on screams of outrage from her audience and Twitter rants delivered in real time that scrolled across the bottom of the screen. It was … unwholesome.
On her mother’s dresser was a bottle of perfume. With a wry smile and a roll of her eyes she sprayed it into the air and walked through the mist. Just enough. She’d read that in a magazine.
Rowan was sitting in Paula’s dad’s recliner, which her mother had re-covered in a pattern that matched the sofa. She dangled a foot over the armrest and bounced it, remote in hand, as she stared blankly at the set.
Paula took the remote and shut off the TV. Her daughter, lost in either thought or the program, jerked in surprise. Checking her mother out, she gave her a thumbs-up. “You look like Julia Roberts.”
Paula blushed happily.
ha ha
“Get Tex’s leash, okay, honey?”
Rowan slid off the chair and held up the leash. She’d been sitting on it.
“Are you really going to wear your school blazer?”
The girl stuck a self-conscious hand into a pocket, looking defensive. “I like my blazer, okay?”
Paula took the leash and hooked it onto Old Tex’s collar. Was the collar new? She tugged it away from Tex’s neck to see better, and a sudden memory hit her, prompted by the scent of
this smells like mints
tuck it in your pocket, Paula, it’s pretty
There were little white cotton pouches stuffed with what felt like straw or herbs
peppermint?
and a red ribbon decorated within an inch of its life.
“What’s this?” she said.
“It’s Tex’s new collar. Grandma told me to put it on him.”
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