by Jones, Kari;
“What about her?”
“She misses her grandfather.”
“I know,” he says, but his face turns a little gray when he says it, like it’s the first time he’s thought of that.
“Why are you being like this, Ivan?”
Ivan stops and runs his hands over his eyes. “Do you know what she said to me in the library yesterday? I came back to pick her up after the story time, and she held up a book about Paddington Bear and said he was left behind because no one wanted him, just like her and me.”
My heart skips a beat when he says that. Oh my god, imagine a little kid saying something like that. And the look on Ivan’s face. Devastated.
“Do you think it’s true?”
“Don’t you?”
What on earth can I say to that? How do I say, Yes, in fact, I think your dad and Willow’s grandfather have run away?
“Have you heard from Des?” I ask instead.
He shakes his head.
“So you think they’re together?”
“You think they might not be?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Me either.”
He runs his hands through his hair and starts walking again. I walk beside him, saying nothing. There’s nothing to say.
* * *
When we get to Noah’s house, Willow’s having so much fun that I’m able to convince Ivan she won’t feel abandoned just because she’s spending the night with the girls. For the first time in days, he seems happy.
We head to Jack’s house. “Ivan, haven’t seen you in ages,” says Jack as we walk into the kitchen. Ivan shrugs but doesn’t explain, so neither do I.
“Hungry?” says Jack. They’ve obviously just finished dinner. I’ve eaten, but Ivan hasn’t, so we both sit down at the table. Arne pours me a glass of wine, which makes me laugh, because he knows how old I am, and Jack spoons a bunch of food onto a plate for Ivan.
“What have you two been up to?” Arne asks.
Without a pause, Ivan says, “Pedro’s granddaughter has been staying with me for a bit. Pedro and Des had to go away on some business, so he asked if I’d keep her for a while. She’s cute but tiring. Maddie’s helping out too.”
The story slips so quickly out of his mouth, it makes me shudder. What kind of life makes him lie so easily? Ivan looks at me to corroborate his story, so I smile and nod, like I’m agreeing with everything he says. I don’t lie as easily as that, so I close my mouth and look at my glass. I don’t want anyone seeing the look on my face.
THIRTY-THREE
Ivan
Maddie’s mad at me, I know, because last night I drank as much as my body could hold and then some. I drank until all this fucking shit disappeared, and the only things that mattered were the shapes of the stars in the sky. I don’t remember anything else, not even how I got home. The only thing I do remember is waking up in the middle of the night with a shit-awful hangover and drinking glasses of water, then staggering back to bed.
Today after Kyra brought Willow back, she and I had a quiet day. Mostly we watched movies on Netflix. I told her I’m sick, so she read to me and pretty much left me alone. In the evening she fell asleep on the sofa, and now I’ve tucked her into Des’s bed for the night. She’s so little I can hardly even tell there’s a person in there. I should go to my own bed, but instead I lie next to Willow and watch her breathe. The thought that runs through my head all night as I drift in and out of sleep has nothing to do with having Willow here or arguing with Maddie. It’s about how peaceful it is when Des isn’t around.
* * *
In the morning I find Des sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal.
“There’s no more milk,” he says. I pull out a chair and sit across the table from him. I have no idea—none at all—what to say.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Des asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Welcome back is a good place.”
“When did you get back?”
“Ten minutes ago,” he says, though the plates and bowls say otherwise.
A million thoughts run through my head, everything from grabbing my bag and running to hoping it’s all over now, but the words that come out of my mouth are “Willow’s asleep in your bed,” because that about sums it up.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Leaving her here, I mean. It seemed the safest thing to do. We knew you’d take good care of her.”
“Fuck, Des!” I leap out of my chair and throw a plate across the room. It crashes against the kitchen wall. “Did you even check to make sure I was home that day?”
He frowns. “I’m sure we did.”
“Why’d you come home now? Where’s Pedro?”
The silence lasts so long I figure he’s not going to answer, but then he says, “I thought I’d better come back. Make things right.”
Like that’s going to make anything better.
“How are you planning to do that?” My hands are clenched so tight my knuckles ache.
He stares at the table as he says, “I don’t know. I screwed up, Ivan. Big-time. But I’ve learned my lesson this time. I know I haven’t been a good father to you, not for a long time. I know. And being away gave me time to think about that, and that’s why I came back. For you. To put things right or at least to try.”
Well, holy shit. I can’t even respond to that. Instead, I pick up the chair that toppled when I leaped out of it and place it upright. Then I take a deep breath to steady myself and leave the room.
* * *
When I come back inside an hour later, Willow and Des are chatting each other up in the kitchen. He’s tying her shoelaces, and as I walk in he says, “I’m taking Willow out for breakfast, then over to Peter and Bo’s. Thought you could use a break.”
“Your daddy says I can have pancakes!” Willow says.
“Does he?” I eye Des. Why is he doing this? I’m not sure if it’s okay to leave Willow with Des, but then, I’ve survived being with him, and as she jumps up and down in excitement, I simply say, “Okay.”
Des smiles at me as he follows Willow out the door. So maybe he is trying.
* * *
There’s a whole pile of things I’m supposed to be making for people, but when I walk around the house to the back, where the wood and tools are ready and waiting for me, I don’t know where to start. I’m so shit tired and worn out that I can’t even think about it. The only thing I can do is go back inside, sink into the sofa and close my eyes.
Later I get up and walk over to Arne’s house, where I ask for the key to his boat. It doesn’t take long to get over to Pedro’s dock, cinch the rope and head to his place. The grass is tall and brown now, and the laundry’s blown off the line and all across the yard. I can tell from a glance that no one has been here.
I don’t care about the house; I want to take a look at the sheds again, so I cross the yard and pull open the door to the closest one. I don’t know what I thought I would see, but there’s nothing. Totally nothing. The next one is empty too, and the next. They’re just empty, all of them. Same as before. Everything in the house looks just like it did when Maddie and Willow and I were here before.
What did I think I’d find?
Answers?
I take the ride back to town slowly. It’s a sunny day, the kind my mom used to like to go for boat rides on. We’d gang up on Des and beg him to take us out, and then Mom would pack a picnic, and the three of us would head over to an island and hang out for the day. There were always seagulls. And crab shells on the shore, and bits of sea glass that I’d gather and give to her. These are the stupid things I remember, like it was some golden time, but it must not always have been like that, because otherwise she wouldn’t have left.
I don’t know why I’m thinking about my mom now, except that maybe for the first time ever I kind of understand her. Maybe she left because she felt like I’m feeling now. Like there’s no way out of this. Like any choi
ce I make is going to be the wrong one. Like why did this problem have to become mine?
And who the fuck does Des think he is, abandoning me and then coming back like this? I’ve been taking care of Des for years, since long before I was really able to. I’ve come home every night of my life to check and make sure he hasn’t fallen down the stairs or choked on his own vomit or burned the house down. And yet every day he’s gone into town and made people believe everything was okay. Sure, they know he drinks. Everyone knows that, and everyone’s a little bit upset about it. A little bit. Not enough to check it out. Not enough to stop it. I’ve never understood how so many people can see but not understand.
And now Des is back from whatever he was doing with Pedro, looking sorry. But shit, I’ve seen that look so many times, I know better than to trust it. If only my mind could tell my heart that.
And as for my mom, she could have taken me with her.
THIRTY-FOUR
Maddie
I know before Ivan makes it to the top of the stairs onto the deck that something is wrong. It’s in his face, in the way he moves. The slow drag of his step.
“I went to the island to look for Pedro,” he says.
Willow runs up to him and tugs on his shirt, and when he looks down at her and shakes his head, it’s like something falls out of her. I would have expected crying and screaming. Instead, she goes limp, and Ivan has to catch her as she falls.
“He’ll come back soon, sweetie, I just know it,” he says as he scoops her up, but I wonder, as I listen to his words, if he believes what he’s saying. The two of them, they’re so hopeful it tears my heart in pieces to see it. Ivan sits down on one of the deck chairs with Willow on his lap.
“I’m thinking ice cream,” he says, but Willow doesn’t respond. It’s like she’s gone inside herself, and that’s way, way more scary than if she cried.
“How about the playground?” I say, but she doesn’t even look at me.
“Do you want to look through the telescope?” Ivan asks.
“Or we could make a cake.”
Willow doesn’t respond to any of our suggestions, and in the end we sit together in silence and listen to the waves slash at the shore.
* * *
Bo and Peter come back later to find Ivan and Willow asleep in their chair and me sketching them. Bo traces his finger along the pencil line of Ivan’s arm curling around Willow and smiles.
Peter passes me a bag of groceries and says, “What happened to them?” as I follow him into the kitchen.
“Willow thought Pedro was coming home today, but he’s not here yet. She was upset.”
“He’s been gone quite a long time,” Peter says.
“Yeah, it’s been a while.” It’s hard to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“It’s not fair to expect Ivan to keep looking after her for so long. When is Pedro coming back?” Peter asks.
“Oh, soon, I expect,” I say. I hate the lying. I hate how easily I do it. I open my mouth to tell him everything, then close it again.
“I hope so,” says Peter. He folds the grocery bag and heads back out for the next one.
When he returns, Peter hands me an envelope from Emily Carr University.
With all the stuff going on with Willow and Ivan, I haven’t been thinking straight, and I don’t know what to say when I take the package. Will I still go to Emily Carr if I can’t convince Ivan to come to Vancouver with me? Should I go and make Peter and Bo happy or stay with Ivan? Would it make any difference to him? And what about travelling around and seeing the Louvre and all those other museums?
“I’ll look at it later,” I tell Peter. I can’t think about university right now.
* * *
We make a convoy across the beach. We’ve had some lunch, but we’re all still worn out from Willow’s disappointment, so we walk in silence, and by the time we reach Ivan’s house, Willow has fallen asleep again on Ivan’s back. We head into the house and tuck Willow into Ivan’s bed. She’s so little. Both Ivan and I stare at her sleeping, and I know we’re both wishing we could protect her from all of this.
Des is out back. He chokes the saw and pulls the safety glasses off his face when we come around the corner.
“Hey,” says Ivan. The air is thick between them, and no wonder. I reach for Ivan’s hand and squeeze it.
“You’re behind on these,” Des says.
Ivan’s face turns red, and he tightens his fist around my fingers, but he takes a deep breath and says, “I was busy.”
Des ignores that comment and says, “I thought I’d spend the day working here, catch you up a bit. Did Jack text you? He says he’s heading over to Riley Point later. You two should go.”
Emotions rush across Ivan’s face so fast I can’t follow them, but when they stop he says, “Willow will wake up in half an hour or so.”
“Okay, I’ll work until then,” says Des.
Ivan isn’t convinced, but a break is what he needs, so I say, “Let’s get our stuff.”
He glances at me as if to say, Do you think so?
So I smile, and he relents.
* * *
The surf is great. At Riley Point the waves break in straight lines and the sets come in evenly, and there’s always a bit of a rip tide on the east side of the point that we use to paddle out to the green. There are five of us today: Jack, Noah, Bea, myself and Ivan, and we all sit on our boards and watch the sun sparkle on the water as we wait for the next set. Jack and Noah and Bea catch waves when they come, but Ivan and I just sit there like we’re both too tired to surf. And I guess we are.
“Ivan,” I say.
“Hmm…”
“Remember that day you put stones along my arms and legs?”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing. Just remembering.”
Ivan sits up and paddles his board up next to mine. He leans over and gives me a big smooch on my cheek. It makes me laugh.
* * *
When the sun is low, Ivan and I surf in to shore and join the others on the beach. Jack and Bea are already changed, and Jack says, “I have to get back,” so Ivan and Noah and I get out of our wet suits and into our clothes, and we all head back into town.
“I’ll get off here,” I say when Jack pulls up at Ivan’s house. We store the boards behind the house and hang the wet suits across the banisters of the back stairs to dry.
“Looks like he got a lot done,” I say to Ivan. A half-built cabinet sits under the tree.
“We were gone most of the day,” Ivan says.
“Well, it’s good, isn’t it? That he did this?”
“Yeah.” Ivan runs his hands along the wood.
It looks beautiful to me.
“He’s so good at it,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t he have his own job, though?”
“He did.”
Ivan doesn’t elaborate, so I say, “But?”
“His record at keeping jobs isn’t good.”
I didn’t know that. I’ve always thought Des takes seasonal work so he’ll have time to do carpentry, but maybe that’s not so. Now’s not the time to ask, though. We’ve been back in Bear Harbour for five minutes, and already reality is pushing back on Ivan, and his body has lost its easy surfing feel.
“I’ll go check on Willow,” he says. Ah, so that’s it.
We walk back around the house to the front door and go inside.
“Des! Willow!” Ivan calls out, but there’s no answer.
“Maybe they’re upstairs, or they’ve gone out,” I say, but Ivan’s already tearing through the house, ripping open doors. When he rushes past me and charges up the stairs, I follow him, and there’s Willow, the tiniest puddle of a person, huddled in the doorway to Ivan’s bedroom, sobbing and gulping.
“Willow!” Ivan scoops her up and hugs her to his chest, and I throw my arms around them so we’re all crushed together. Willow wails so loudly the sound blocks out everything else in the world, and her little heart
beats fast, like a bird’s.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Ivan says.
“Honey, how long have you been alone?” I ask, but she wails again and again, letting out all that anger and fear in one sound. Her pants are wet, and there’s snot across her face. She’s been alone for a while, and she won’t forget this, just as I can see from how hard Ivan’s shaking that he’s been here before, and he has not forgotten.
It takes my breath away, and my own sobs come out jagged and rough.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” he says again.
I’ll help.
THIRTY-FIVE
Ivan
Seeing Willow huddled in the doorway of my room makes me snap. I hold her so tightly I can’t breathe, and she’s heavy like lead in my arms.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” I say.
Maddie gets this look in her eyes like she’ll beat me to it, and Willow sobs even louder. I start shaking, first in my arms, then my legs, then my whole body, and Maddie shifts so she’s carrying Willow’s weight and says, “Go, Ivan,” and I shove Willow into Maddie’s arms and head down the stairs and out of the house and down to the beach, where I can breathe. The tide is low, and I run hard and fast into the driftwood and onto the path at the end of the beach, past Maddie’s house, over roots and twigs, until the path peters out and I’m running through salal and sword ferns. Their resistance is a relief, so I push and pull at them as I go deeper into the forest, and I feel like I can run away forever, through the forest and all the way to Victoria. I want to run until I don’t know anything anymore and am nowhere and no one knows me. I want to run until I disappear.
I run on. My shoes and jeans are soaked. I’m crashing now over stumps and downed logs and around trees surrounded by sharp ferns, and I don’t have any breath at all anymore, so I’m lurching instead of running, but at last I run out of the forest and stumble onto the highway. The woods continue on the other side, but when I come out of the trees, something inside me stops, and I have to sit and cry.