Return of the Trickster

by Eden Robinson

  “Stall them? How?”

  “Annoy the crap out of them.”

  “What if Mave’s collateral damage? I don’t…I can’t…It’s just…”

  “Jared, she’s already a target. That’s why you need to watch her.”

  “I dunno.”

  “Fine. Let her be dragged to a root cellar and eaten alive. Your call.”

  “Holy,” Jared said. “Way to lay on the guilt. I’m good at getting people killed, Mother. I don’t know if I’m any good at saving them.”

  “Then sit around with your thumb stuck up your ass. That’s always a winning plan.”

  “Ha,” Jared said. “Mom’s maaaaaad.”

  “See? You can annoy anyone. I have faith in you.”

  “Mommy-and-me time. Mommy. And me.”

  “Jared.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “I’m armed.”

  “Dancing with the Stars is on. Please change the channel, Mommy dearest.”

  “Eat your fucking soup before I shove it up your nose. I don’t care if it’s cold, you need it.”

  12

  GET ANGRY

  They had breakfast at Denny’s. Or, more accurately, everyone else had breakfast. Jared, experiencing his first hangover in a year, hugged his coffee. He ordered toast, more to get his mom off his back than out of any actual desire for toast.

  “I like my toast dry, just like my martinis,” Jared said. He held up his mug. “Can you just leave the pot?”

  The waitress said she thought he was hi-lar-ious in a tone that meant she didn’t.

  He could taste the coffee. The coffee was good. All hail the coffee bean, bringer of life. Sarah, unable to find a vegan option, had opted for hash browns and a fruit cup. Cheap dates, both of them.

  “Some Wild Men of the Woods are hugans,” Jared said. “They are the vegans of the Otherworld.”

  He’d been trying to make things less awkward at the breakfast table by dropping some knowledge, but instead, his mom’s expression went from annoyed to murderous and Richie looked as if he was mentally counting to ten.

  “Are you mocking me?” Sarah said.

  “No, no. Wild Men of the Woods are a part of the Otherworld—”

  “What Wild Men?” Sarah said.

  “Just fucking say sasquatches, you prissy shit,” his mom said.

  Which killed anyone’s desire to break the silence at their booth.

  Jared wanted, more than anything, to lie down on the banquette and have the waitress bring him coffee all day.

  Eventually, Sarah and Richie started quietly talking about pistols, and his mom used that moment of distraction to ask, “How did you piss off a pack of coy wolves, anyway? Who was the woman in your head?”

  I killed a lot of them, he thought, but the words wouldn’t come out. I took them to another universe and there was no air and they died fighting for breath. Georgina wanted…She wanted…But it was as though his brain had crashed and was rebooting. He blinked at his mother.

  “Maybe give him another day to process,” Sarah said.

  “Sure,” his mother said. “It’s not like we’re risking our lives or anything.”

  “I don’t want you to,” Jared said. “You should go back to Winnipeg. I’ll be fine.”

  “Wow,” his mom said.

  “He’s really still kind of out of it,” Sarah said.

  “He didn’t sleep a lot,” his mom said.

  “And he’s hungover again.”

  “I’m right here,” Jared said, pointing his finger and slowly reaching over to poke Richie’s shoulder. “You feel that, right?”

  “I’m going for a smoke,” Richie said.

  “I’d like a smoke,” Jared said.

  “Maggie,” Richie said.

  “Stay,” his mom said to him. “Stay with Sarah. Don’t fucking go anywhere, Jared.”

  She and Richie left the restaurant, not looking back.

  “We’re trying to help,” Sarah said to him. “Can you stop punishing us for it?”

  “I wasn’t mocking you. I was trying to explain things. Hugans don’t eat people. They’re like vegans. They’re people-vegans. Pegans, maybe, although that sounds gross.”

  “Are you still half-cut?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thought so. Maybe stop trying to crawl up your mom’s ass, okay? I’d like to live a little longer.”

  “Okay.”

  The waitress came by and refilled his coffee. Sarah gulped her water. She reached over and held his hand.

  “I kinda know what you’re going through. Gran died. Then Mom threw me in the gulag and then I ran away and met this witch who said he’d help me, but then he ate my fireflies instead and everything that made me special died with them. Then Děda starved himself to death ’cause he couldn’t live without Gran. Everything hit so fast I felt numb. Everything was surreal. No one’s ever tried to kill me, though. No one’s ever stalked or tortured me. No one killed my dad to get to me. I’m amazed you’re still standing.”

  “I missed you,” Jared said.

  “Good,” Sarah said.

  Some of your fireflies brought me to their home, he wanted to add. But it was all tied up with Georgina, and Georgina made his thoughts slide around.

  His mom and Richie came back from their smoke break holding hands, bumping hips with each other like teenagers. Their food came and Jared picked apart his toast. It was just him and coffee. Coffee and him.

  * * *

  —

  They stopped at a nearby mall and hit the first cellphone store they found. His mom bought him and Sarah new phones with the money she’d stolen from the dead coy wolves, not the fanciest models, but certainly not the cheapest. Unlimited plans, massive data. Added waterproof, drop-proof cases and a sparkly stand for Sarah’s.

  “Don’t say I never got you nothing,” his mom said.

  Sarah squealed, then kissed his mom all over her face until his mom shoved her off.

  “Thank you, Maggie,” Sarah said.

  “Don’t call us unless it’s an emergency.”

  “Got it,” Jared said. “No calling unless something’s eating our faces.”

  “That is a radical interpretation of the text, Jared,” Sarah said.

  “Fuck, you’re a buzzkill,” his mom said.

  “We’re not hunting bunnies, dumb-ass,” Richie said.

  “Okay, okay,” Jared said.

  But then his mom grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulled him close and rested her forehead against his. “Kill and die for you, bucko.”

  And Jared started sobbing in the middle of the cellphone store.

  “I don’t want you to die,” Jared said. “I don’t want to live if I’m going to get you killed.”

  Alarmed customers scurried away and the clerk who sold them the phones ducked into the backroom.

  His mom’s sigh of frustration blew across his face. She gripped his neck tighter.

  “Everyone that ever tried to kill me is dead,” she said quietly. “I need you to grow some balls, Jared. Big, angry balls.”

  Then, just as suddenly as he’d started crying, he was laughing at that mental picture, his balls bouncing around like Angry Birds. His mom let him go. Richie had moved away from them, pretending to examine a wall of cellphone accessories. Sarah handed him a crumpled Kleenex from her pocket. He blew his nose.

  “We’re tough,” his mom said, “we’re dangerous, and we’re going to walk out of here like we own the world.”

  “I love you, Mom,” Jared said, fighting tears again.

  “Lord fuck a duck,” his mom said. “I am this close to strangling you.”

  * * *

  —

  Richie had hit his limit of family drama and sulked in the truck, moodily smoking out the open
window while they buzzed Mave’s apartment. His mother stewed on the elevator ride to the second floor, tapping her finger on the pistol case she used for her spare Glock. Sarah nervously fingered the hem of her skirt. Jared took a deep breath, and then another.

  “Keep it together,” his mom hissed at him.

  Mave stood by the kitchen table wearing a royal-blue dress suit and, under it, a white shirt with a crisp, chin-grazing collar. Hank in his dark-grey security guard uniform and Kota in his usual tight jeans and T-shirt stood in the living room on either side of Justice in her plunging red sundress and black heels. Jared couldn’t meet any of their eyes.

  “Maggie,” Mave said.

  They hugged.

  “I stole three hundred dollars from you, Mave,” Jared said. “I’m sorry. I drank it all up. Sorry. Sorry.”

  In the awkward, awkward silence, he watched his mom’s hands turn into fists, her knuckles going white. His mom yanked out her wallet and Mave said she couldn’t accept Maggie’s money and Maggie insisted and when Mave wouldn’t take the twenties, his mom put the cash on the dining room table.

  “He’s a mess,” Maggie said. “He’s drinking again. Are you sure you can handle him?”

  “Of course,” Mave said. “Family is family. It’s okay, Jared. We’re going to get through this.”

  “I don’t know,” Jared said. “It’s all going wrong.”

  “I brought my spare Glock and ammo,” his mom said.

  “I’m not a big gun fan,” Mave said.

  “You’re in danger,” Jared said. “I’m putting you in danger.”

  “Jared,” his mom said. Then, to her sister: “He’s right, though. David’s still on the loose and he’s got nothing to lose.”

  Lie, Jared thought. His mom had stuck her knife through David’s heart.

  (Hiss of hand hitting the deep fryer.)

  Screaming and screaming and screaming. You killed my sister. Everyone you love. Your dad died screaming like a fat fucking pig.

  Then Jared was running again, down the sidewalk. Past the park. He ran across the grass. Ran to the gravel parking lot expecting to see David’s truck with the half-empty bottle of vodka he’d been careful not to tip over when the coy wolves in human form had come to take him away.

  The truck was not there. The truck was gone. Someone grabbed his arm and jerked him so hard he came to a sudden, whirling stop. Hank had him and wouldn’t let go.

  “You were right about me, Hank,” Jared said. “I’ve done awful things.”

  “I wasn’t right,” Hank said, tightening his grip until it hurt.

  (hiss of hand, hiss of hand, hiss of hand)

  “I don’t deserve to live,” Jared said.

  Hank pulled him into an unexpected hug. Jared fought not to cry, but he failed, he was always failing, always falling apart, and he was embarrassing. He was a weeping mess. He wasn’t worth his dad’s life and he couldn’t make himself stop crying and Hank wouldn’t let him go.

  Justice jogged up, her red sundress fluttering. She bent over, panting. A few minutes later Kota pulled up behind her, holding his side. He dropped to the ground, wheezing.

  “Holy crap, he’s fast,” Kota said.

  “I’ve told you a million times, you can’t just lift weights, Kota,” Justice said. “You need cardio and you need to lay off the smokes.”

  “Yes, and we should all prance around in useless heels.”

  “Don’t judge my footwear,” Justice said.

  “I’m just saying if this was a life-or-death situation, you’d be dead.”

  “These are my ass-kicking Louboutins,” Justice said. “Would you like a demonstration?”

  “Any time,” Kota said. “Anywhere.”

  “Enough,” Hank said to them. He patted Jared’s back. “Let’s get you back to Mave.”

  “I don’t know,” Jared said.

  “Don’t make me drag you,” Hank said.

  * * *

  —

  “He’s not eating,” his mom said.

  “Got it, Maggie,” Mave said.

  “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

  “It’s okay,” Mave said. “Go do what you need to do.”

  “Is Mom getting in tonight?”

  “No, her ride got roped into making Thanksgiving dinner. They’re coming in next week. She’s going to stay at the Aboriginal Patients’ Lodge.”

  “God,” his mom said. “She has the worst timing. Is she okay?”

  “It’s just her time to see her cardiologist.”

  “We’re all going to die,” Jared said, mumbling into a throw pillow, face down on the couch. The room spun. Little pill, dusty white pill dissolving in his mouth.

  “I’ll give him another Ativan,” Mave said.

  “Don’t give him too much. I don’t know how it goes with booze.”

  “Hmm. Well, I guess Hank won’t mind running him down again if he gets loose.”

  “My shift starts soon,” Hank said.

  “I’ll watch him,” Justice said.

  “Sarah, honey,” Mave said. “You look done in. Why don’t you have a nap in Jared’s room?”

  “Sorry,” Sarah said. “I find his room really creepy. I’d rather stay here, please.”

  “You could go lie down in my room.”

  “Are you sure?” Sarah said.

  “Go,” Mave said.

  “I appreciate this,” Maggie said.

  “How much trouble can he be?” Mave said, and then they both laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

  “Danger,” Jared said.

  “Jared,” his mom said, her tone warning him that she’d had enough.

  “Go to sleep, Jelly Bean,” Mave said.

  13

  THE SHADOW OF DEATH

  He couldn’t find his way out of the compound. Jared stood very still and listened. The silence and the dark unnerved him. He should’ve brought a flashlight. He was going to have to feel his way around. His skin crept, the hairs standing up on his arms and neck. Something rustled in the darkness, something that didn’t trigger the security lights. The rain started again, a soft hiss in the puddles, heavy plops on the tarps.

  He waited.

  Nothing emerged. Nothing ran at him. He felt watched, but the rustling stopped.

  An outdoor security light clicked on as a fox sniffed the ground, tracing his route, watching him. It had dark-red fur and a white chest, the tips of its tail and legs shading black. Where its stomach and guts should be, the skin sagged, empty. The fox sat out of reach, its bushy tail twitching. They stared at each other.

  “Are you a regular fox or one of us?” Jared said.

  The fox tilted its head. I’m buried here.

  A light clicked on, filling a trailer window with a golden glow. Jared crouched behind a tarp. Another light clicked on in another trailer.

  A small black bear ambled down the corridor of trailers and tarps. He and the bear watched each other. Then the bear shrugged its fur onto its shoulder so Jared could see the Native man beneath, hair tightly braided to his scalp, lean face and skinny body. He wore the fur like a cape.

  We’re all buried here.

  Three ravens landed on the railing of a set of stairs. A seal dragged itself from a crawl space. A coyote loped up to stand beside the bear. A ram, a goat and a rabbit walked together, blocking off one of the passageways. A couple of soft, silky mink, with lustrous fur and dark eyes, twins, rolled and butted against each other as they ran to Jared. A spider as large as a tarantula dropped from one of the tarps on a silken thread. Raccoons peeked out from under a porch.

  Wee’git was suddenly beside him, and the intrusion of someone else in his dream made Jared aware that he was dreaming.

  We’re still alive, the fox said.

  “What did my
sister do to you?” Wee’git said. “What is she using Tricksters for?”

  Each of the Tricksters was suddenly Jared. He turned and turned and saw his own face, his body. They all started vomiting up their organs, the stench of blood thick, the ground slick with their entrails, blobs of flesh, shiny and naked, their abdomens hollow, the skin slack. All the lights in all the trailers clicked on.

  Don’t bring her back, the Tricksters told Jared. Let us die.

  14

  WEE’GIT

  You own your thoughts, your skittering thoughts, your insecure stories. You own them down to the chemical sparks. You are weak, you’re weak, you’re made of meat. Your flesh can feed, and it does, poor as you are, lowly as you are, silent and silenced.

  If my family dies, I die, the Otter Woman said, but you didn’t listen, did you?

  The day you met her, you lay on your back on the wet sand, mourning your home, the crumbling longhouses grey and moss-covered behind you in the overgrowth, the eerie silence of abandonment broken by the scurry of vermin. Isn’t immortality fun? Watch everyone you love eaten by maggots. Not the homecoming you were expecting. Arguments, yes. Accusations. But not even ghosts remained. Just this empty beach of shells, sand and seaweed. The moon a giant eye unblinking in a heaven full of stars.

  Her bare feet, her dress of woven cedar, her long, wet hair in waves as liquid black as the ones surging onshore, her dark eyes fixed on you. You turn your head to watch her walk towards you. Can’t say it was love at first sight. You wondered how she’d come here. You saw no other canoe than yours. When you were Jared’s age, you were lured into a longhouse from the sky by a beautiful woman such as her, a mink in human form.

  “Trickster,” the Otter Woman said.

  “Wee’git, if you please,” you said.

  Her power and the moonlight gave her a glow. You made mistakes. Mistakes were made.

  “Is this your beach, Wee’git the Trickster?” she said.