Return of the Trickster

by Eden Robinson

  (Phil’s dead.)

  There is not enough booze in the world, he thought, halfway through the bottle.

  “You’re going to have to stop playing footsie with Sophia,” his mom said. “She’s not your nana anymore, or your friend.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “No calling her, no texting her, no letters.”

  “Do you know how they killed him?” Hoping she’d lie. Hoping she’d tell him a comforting lie. Tell him it wasn’t his fault.

  She watched Richie take the pistol from Sarah and pull her up off the floor.

  “He’s dead,” Maggie said, avoiding Jared’s eyes. “Let’s leave it at that.”

  (The hiss of a hand hitting the deep fryer.)

  Tears in my beers running down my face, making my nose snotty. It’s a song, right? Something like that, Jared thought as he relaxed. The immediate ease. Instant gratification, the curse of the modern age. Whatever. Whatever.

  He was crying now and it didn’t mean anything. Just killed the mood and made everyone uncomfortable, stuck as they were in one heavily air-freshened motel room with two double beds and a TV. No one looked at him.

  Stop crying, he told himself.

  How long do Tricksters live? He didn’t know how he was going to live with the guilt to the end of the day, much less his life.

  “You can’t bring Phil back,” his mom said. “All you can do is protect the people you have left.”

  It hurt, it hurt, it hurt and there was no relief, and he wanted Phil back more than anything.

  Pop.

  The ghost of Philip Martin turned slowly around the room. He wore a crisp white shirt and black slacks, his hair in a tidy fade.

  “Okay,” Phil said. “Pretty sure this isn’t heaven.”

  His mom sighed. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jared.”

  “I’m sorry!” Jared said, falling to his knees. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

  Someone banged on the other side of the motel wall. “Keep it down, assholes!”

  His dad came towards him. Jared couldn’t look him in the eye, then felt his dad’s fingers lightly touching his shoulder.

  “It’s gonna be okay, kiddo,” Phil said.

  Jared lost it. He reached out and didn’t expect to feel his dad’s legs. When he did, he wrapped his arms around them and he howled.

  “Don’t leave me,” he said. Tried to say. Burbled into Phil’s pant leg.

  * * *

  —

  “Maggie,” Phil said.

  “Phil.”

  “So,” Phil said. “You really are a witch.”

  “Yup.”

  “Not sure what to make of all this.”

  Jared held his dad’s hand. It was cold. His own hands were numb, as if he’d slept on them all night. The numbness was creeping up his arms. He was curled up on the bed, his dad sitting at the edge the way he used to do when Jared was little. Richie and Sarah had exited the scene sometime during his crying jag. He drifted, afraid that his dad would be gone when he woke up.

  “You can’t stay,” his mom said to her ex-husband’s ghost.

  “I have no intention of lingering on the mortal coil,” Phil said.

  “Good.”

  “I can’t really leave, though. I can’t even get up. It’s…alarming.”

  “That’s Jared.”

  “So he’s not mine.”

  “Nope.”

  “Wee’git, huh?”

  “He pretended to be you to get in my pants.”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie. You didn’t deserve that.”

  His mom got up and he heard her open another beer.

  “I wish he was mine,” Phil said.

  “He dragged you from the beyond, Phil, and he’s using a lot of power he can’t afford to hold you here. He’s yours in all the ways that count.”

  * * *

  —

  “Hey, buddy, hey, kiddo,” Phil singsonged. “Time to get up, time to get up.”

  “Let’s cut the lazy glue,” Jared said, not opening his eyes. ’Cause it might just be a dream. Might be a memory, and not his dad brushing his hair off his forehead.

  Blood on the coverlet. Blood on the headboard. There was blood on his mom too. Little blobs of organs lying around the room, looking like deflated balloons. His mom carefully picked them up. His chest was cold and he couldn’t stop shaking.

  “Hey,” Phil said, smiling. “You remembered.”

  “He’s going to join you in a few minutes if we don’t get him to let go of you,” his mom said.

  “Hear that? I gotta skedoodle. Shirl’s always saying I put you above her. This ain’t helping.”

  “Sorry,” Jared said.

  “We’re going to meet again,” Phil said. “We’re going to go fishing on the lake. And you’re going to show me pictures of all my grandkids.”

  “I didn’t mean to get you killed.”

  “Well, Jared, there’s an upside. My back doesn’t hurt anymore. I forgot what it’s like to not grit your teeth to get off the damn couch. It was just my time, kiddo. My number was up.”

  “Love you.”

  “Put yourself back together now. That’s a good boy. That’s the way.”

  His mom touched his arm.

  Stay with me, Jared.

  Her power like a warm bonfire merrily blazing. Everything flowing back.

  “You are my sunshine,” his dad sang.

  All warm and cozy.

  Phil’s voice fading as light broke into the room, turning his dad into a shadow as it grew brighter and brighter, then vanished as if it had never been. Everything once again dingy and cheap and smelly. The sounds of traffic and some woman in the parking lot yelling into her phone, “Oh, right! Uh-huh. Yeah? Is that what you think?”

  “Did that just happen? Was Dad here?” Jared said. “Or did I dream it?”

  His mom side-eyed him. “God, you’re exhausting.”

  “Ha ha,” Jared said. “You’re stuck with me.”

  * * *

  —

  They ran out of beer and his organs didn’t want any vodka; his torso bulged and rippled with their complaints. He lay back down, shaking, violent shakes bordering on seizures. He couldn’t stop them, so he tried to concentrate on breathing.

  His mom touched his arm and as soon as he felt her power, he ripped his arm away.

  “I’m not watching you die,” she said.

  “N-n-not sp-sp-supposed-d-d to b—”

  Mind to mind, Sylvester.

  Borrowing power is bad, Jared thought.

  You are on the thin edge of life and death, bucko.

  Borrowing power changes you.

  Duh. You’re full Trickster now. No going back.

  It makes you mutate.

  Who told you this little gem?

  Chuck.

  Some random Chuck. There’s a reliable-sounding source of information.

  He’s a Wild Man of the Woods.

  You’re taking advice from a sasquatch? You know they eat people, right?

  Chuck’s a hugan.

  A what?

  Vegan, but with people.

  For fuck’s sake, Jared. There’s a difference between giving your power willingly and having power ripped from you. Did Chuck the fucking sasquatch tell you that?

  They don’t like being called sasquatches.

  You would drive a saint to murder.

  * * *

  —

  Sarah and Richie stopped by to pick up their things. They were going to spend the night in a room two doors down. Sarah was alarmed by how corpse-like Jared looked. Jared saw himself, pale and still, limp as fresh roadkill. She wanted to lie down beside him and hold him close.

  “No, Twitch,” his mom said. “Your magic is ni
tro and his is a downed power line right now. He needs to stabilize or terrible things will come down on us all. Just go watch your Netflix and ignore Richie’s snoring.”

  “Brought you a bacon burger,” Richie said.

  “Oh, I love you to the moon and back,” his mom said, grabbing the takeout bag from him.

  “I know you love your meat,” Richie said, grinning.

  “Ew,” Jared said.

  In the corner of the room, the ghostly bear that followed Richie came through the wall. It moaned. His mom ignored it. Richie still didn’t seem to be able to see it. The bear limped after Richie as he exited.

  “Are you hungry?” his mom said.

  “No. We should get Sarah home,” he said.

  “That’s Twitch’s choice, not yours.” His mom pursed her lips. “You and Twitch aren’t Romeo and Juliet. You can get together when you’re less raw.”

  Jared considered it. “I think we crossed a line. I don’t think we’d be good for each other.”

  His mom snorted, swigging from the vodka bottle. “It’s cute what you think is unforgivable.”

  “She almost died because we were messing around with magic. Then I dumped her. I’m amazed she’s still talking to me.”

  “Did she ever do spells on you? Did she ever trick you into doing something you didn’t want to do?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever take magic from her without asking?”

  “Ew, no.”

  “There’s lines and then there’s lines,” his mom said. “You get that, but Wee’git doesn’t. He gets mad when I say he raped me, but it’s true. I was sixteen. He was five hundred and thirty. He didn’t kick me around and tie me up. He was just a lying weasel about it, but that doesn’t make it any less rape.”

  All the air left the room. But the world still spun on its tilted axis. Time continued to tick. He let the truth hang between them until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Why did you even have me?” he said.

  “You have the worst taste in music,” she said. “The first time I felt you move, you were probably the size of a shrimp, and you were pulsing away to ‘Barbie Girl.’ ”

  Jared laughed. “You’re shitting me.”

  “I was living with Mave. She’d claimed you, said she was going to raise you, and she was just showering me with appreciation. It was the first time anyone had taken care of me since Dad died. I was pretty fucking sick of working in the cannery. Didn’t want to go back home and have Mom tell me this wouldn’t have happened if I’d kept my whore of Babylon legs shut. I didn’t care about you then. You were an ugly reminder.”

  Screw my organs, Jared thought, and took the vodka bottle from her.

  “Then it became very clear that you had magic.”

  “Like how?”

  “You liked salmon. All the salmon in the house would end up in front of me. You wanted sweets. Everyone around us—family, strangers, random dogs, everyone—would bring us sweets. And you know Mave. You were a force of magical nature and she was blind as a fucking bat to it. I couldn’t see her raising you and it ending in sunshine and lollipops. So I called Mom.”

  Maggie took the bottle from him. She swigged then offered it back. He shook his head.

  “Mom thought you were Wee’git. I didn’t get that at all. You were this happy little shrimp with a sweet tooth. But we agreed that Mave couldn’t raise you. So I told Phil I was pregnant and let him think you were his. Mom had a massive freak-out ’cause, you know, Phil’s mom is Sophia. Shit hit the fan. Words were spoken. Lawyers. Tears. Mave told all the authorities what an awful mother I was going to make. So, naturally, I threatened to drown her in the bathtub the next time I saw her. Me and Phil played house. God, he was father material. I did not expect to be anyone’s little woman, but he made us a family. And then nothing. You didn’t show any power. I could’ve left you with Mave and she would’ve been okay. I kept telling myself I was going to dump you because Sophia could handle you, no problem. Or even your Granny Nita. But, you know, here we are.”

  “You dumped me a lot,” Jared said.

  “Yeah. I really thought you’d run to Sophia. Thought I’d make it easy. I’m no prize, Jared. You’re not winning the lottery having me here. You’d have been better off with Sophia or Mave.”

  “I have been told by many people,” Jared said, “that I am an annoying fuck. Maybe you’re the only person in the world who could survive all the shit I’ve put you through.”

  She laughed. “You are a handful.”

  “You’ve got a bit of a temper.”

  “We’re having a moment here. Don’t make me throw you out the window.”

  “I love you, Hallmark.”

  “I love my Shithead.”

  They lay side by side on the bed. His mom put the vodka bottle on the nightstand.

  “I know you loved Phil, and I know that’s why you kept his last name, but you’re going to have to change it to Moody. Quietly. No big fuss. Sophia Martin’s in a murdering mood. We need to tiptoe away or we’re going to get squished.”

  “Okay,” Jared said.

  “Good,” his mom said.

  * * *

  —

  Crying jag number two: Crawling around the floor, his mom trying to get him to stop banging his head on it. Can’t get the memories to leave. Can’t get the screams out of his head. Can’t stop imagining what the coy wolves did to Phil. Knowing what they did to David. What his mom did.

  * * *

  —

  Normal puking in the toilet. Just bile and booze. He was finally able to sit back, resting against the tub while his mom smoked on the open walkway in front of their room. He could hear her talking to the guy from the room next door, buttering him up because she didn’t want him complaining to the front desk. They laughed, and then Richie came stomping down the walkway and he could feel his mom’s annoyance like a prickle.

  More puking. Then a quick finger rinse to get the taste out of his mouth. Jared studied his swollen-eyed face.

  The hiss of David’s hand hitting the deep fryer. The world is hard. That doesn’t mean it was any less rape. Lying weasel.

  He clipped the corner of the sink as he went down, clunk, and he lay on the cold tiles looking up. There was gum stuck to the bottom of the porcelain.

  I’m in a bathroom, he thought.

  He could feel Sarah, passed out and dreaming. He didn’t want to go into her dreams. There were lines and then there were lines.

  A flicker of another mind, the dry wind of the world Georgina was stuck in, and then the mind was gone.

  * * *

  —

  Richie and Maggie brought him back to the bed. Something darted through the wall and hovered over his feet. When he could focus, he saw Huey, the floating head, who crossed his eyes, and Jared laughed. He wasn’t as solid as he’d been the last time Jared saw him, meaning he’d expended too much, but he was still Huey, helpful, helpful Huey. He rolled around, looking back, a sign that he wanted Jared to follow him.

  “Huey! Huey, I love you!”

  Huey rolled around the room, excited.

  “Jared,” his mom said. “Send your friend home.”

  “Mom’s maaaaaaaad,” Jared said.

  “I’m gonna head back to the other room,” Richie said.

  “Jared.”

  “Mother.”

  Huey flew through the ceiling and disappeared. He was never away from the apartment building for too long. His little cousin Eliza had said he was bound there, but she didn’t know how. Jared could feel him getting farther away and it set off jag number three, which started with Jared laughing like he was stoned and then crying and crying and crying.

  * * *

  —

  His mom ordered Chinese for supper and brought him a Styrofoam bowl of won ton soup. She
ate her beef and broccoli at the desk while scrolling through her phone.

  “I don’t think I need to eat anymore,” Jared said. “I don’t think Tricksters eat.”

  “I paid good money for that.”

  “I can’t taste anything. It’s just texture.”

  “Wee’git eats.”

  “Maybe it’s just a habit.”

  “You’re sobering up, that’s all. Sip the broth, at least.”

  He put the bowl on the nightstand beside the empty bottle of vodka.

  She put down the phone. “Why didn’t you tell me David was escalating?”

  Jared shrugged. “You were finally happy. I didn’t wanna drag you away from that to clean up another one of my messes. I figured David would be an asshole for a while and then get bored.”

  “Are you okay that I killed him?”

  Jared searched inside himself for any part of him that had an opinion. “I think the root cellar burned off all my hate for him. I don’t know if he would have stopped stalking me if you let him live, but it turned out he was, like, one of us and he couldn’t deal with it. He was sad.”

  “Huh,” she said. “I could kill him all day and still hate his motherfucking guts.”

  That struck Jared as hysterical, and his mom watched him as if she was expecting him to fall back into a crying jag, but he was able to stop laughing this time. Then he picked up the bowl and poked his soup with his plastic spoon, tried a sip. Oily, lukewarm water.

  They watched TV after supper. Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy! and then the news. His mom went and stood at the window, peeking through the curtains. Her hand rested on her Glock. She paced the room, and then came and sat beside him.

  “We need to figure out how many people are after you, Jared. Okay? Tomorrow, me and Richie need to go poke around and see what’s what. I want you and Sarah to stay with Mave. You just need to be eyes and ears. I’m not expecting you to kill anyone. If you get a whiff of coy wolf, you holler and stall whoever it is until we get there. Got it?”