Melt

by Heidi Wicks

  “GRRRRRRRR!” Jake does sound genuinely frightening when he plays monster. He pounds and stomps after them, all through the house, to the couch, to the bathroom, around the kitchen table, until they get to Maisie’s room and he pounces on them on her bed. They collapse, the three of them. Cait can feel Jake’s breath on her ear and the same spot on her neck where the tears trickled in the movie theatre, and after they had sex before leaving Gower Street. She feels a rush of relief that here he is, her security. He’s back, and she wants him with such a profound ache, for him to be back for good, with her, with Maisie, in their family bubble.

  “Again! Do it again!”

  “Okay.” He quickly stands. “Daddy’s got to go now.”

  “No! Quick! Mommy! The monster!”

  “One more round?” Cait adjusts her silk robe. Tightens the belt. Makes sure the hem covers her bottom. Watches Jake watch her.

  “I should get going.”

  “No! Again!”

  “Grrrr…” Jake’s eyes, evil, his growl low, teasing, “You…better…RUN! GRRRRRR!”

  She shrieks again, and she and Cait are running pitter-patter around the house, into Cait’s room, until they both jump on the bed. This time, she feels him, all of him, next to her. He jumps up quickly. “Okay, Daddy’s really gotta go now.”

  “Okay, we’ll see Daddy soon.” Cait walks him to the door. She’s disappointed he’s leaving, but somewhere within, on some level, it also feels right. Maisie is suddenly distracted by a colouring book on the table.

  “Did you get the letter I left you?”

  “Yeah. I got it. I read it.” Jake hands her an envelope. He kisses her on the forehead. “I’ll see you soon.” He pulls the door behind him and it clicks softly shut.

  slip ‘n slide to the past

  2016

  1997

  Jess holds Liam’s hand as Sam tromps ahead, feet slapping against the cement pool deck, towards the waterslide at the Aquarena.

  When she and Cait were kids, the waterslide was made of what was essentially a thick yellow garbage bag. Typical ‘80s safety standards. That first whoosh down, swooping their bodies from side to side, gushes of water against the slippery plastic. Jess never knew whether she might slip right out over the top of the slide. Splat. Right onto the cement. She imagined herself sometimes, flying over the top. Slapping onto the water. Plunging far into the deep end. Batting her legs, slogging her arms through the pool, struggling to get to the top, her head a bouncing, gasping buoy on the lapping surface.

  In high school, the week after the grad, the class rented the Aquarena for a midnight pool party. Jess and Matt rocketed down the water slide, her first, him second. When she sank into the deep end, the water hit her nostrils. A jab like an electric shock, stabbing her brain like BBQ prongs sinking into a slab of meat. Tears sprang to her eyes. Her nose filled with snot and she just needed to blow it all out and it was leaking and she was coughing and hacking and spitting on the pool deck.

  “Oh my God, are you okay, baby?” Matt rushed over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. Leaned in towards her. “Let me get you a towel and some tissues. I’ll be right back. Wait here.” He darted into the change room and returned with the required supplies. “Here,” he passed her a tissue, “just blow it all out. Get it out of ya.”

  She was so grateful for him, though embarrassed. “Thank you.” The pool water up her nostrils was a vaccination against sexiness.

  She flashed back to a similar instance when she was a child. Her mother had seen it happen and rushed downstairs from the Tim Horton’s to poolside, to see if she was okay.

  “I was going down the slide and this other kid was too close behind me and he kicked me in the back of the head and was on top of me and pushed me way down into the water and I seriously thought I was going to drown. I was so traumatized by the shock, I got up out of the pool and puked all over the deck. Mom rushed down and took me into the showers, hosed me off, dressed me, bought me a Ginger Ale from Tim Horton’s, stirred it with a spoon until it was flat,” she’d told Matt, as he wrapped the towel around her shoulders and led her tothe baby pool, which was warm like a hot tub. “I always wanted to impress Mom, and I was so embarrassed.”

  “Aw,” he kissed her head. Hugged her into him. “You’re such a sweetheart, Jess. So kind. You get that from your mom, obviously. But you were a little girl. Don’t moms love comforting their kids? You were probably doing her a favour.” He shot her that smile, his twinkling, mischievous-yet-kind eyes, a wet sandy-coloured curl stuck to his forehead. That smile, those eyes, that hair that turned her to goo.

  “Ha. I guess so.” She wanted to impress Matt, too. She doubted that event had done much to help her cause. “Mom told me sometimes you have to watch out for yourself,” Jess told him. “She said, ‘It’s alright, these things happen. You knew how to look out for yourself’—she was always trying to give me confidence, I was so unsure of myself, so antsy.”

  “Well, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be confident, baby. You got an ass that won’t quit.” He spanked her butt and hung the towel on a hook before they stepped into the baby pool.

  She adored Matt, for supporting her, for always being on her side. She even ogled over his cool-guy essence. High-school girls are immune to that sixth sense which tells older women that cool-guy essences can be dangerous. Matt’s low-key, easy-breezy air, his nice-guy nonchalance, in Jess’s eyes, he was like the Angel Gabriel. Everyone liked Matt. She couldn’t believe he was hers. She didn’t know what she’d do if they ever broke up.

  Lisa Smith, who was in grade eleven, stepped in to the baby pool on the other side of Matt. Jess sensed their shoulders touching, just for a second, and Matt turned his head towards Lisa and Lisa mouthed, “Hi” and Jess’s stomach lurched and her heart was assaulted. It’s okay, it’s fine, he’s just a nice guy, it’s me he loves, she told herself through her bruised heart.

  In 2016, the waterslide is a hard blue swirly tube.

  Liam is pissed off because he’d forgotten to plug his nose when he shot off the slide and plunged into the pool. He’s tromping down the pool deck, towards the change room.

  “Liam! Slow! Down!” she calls after him, but he slips on his heel and crack. Right down on the cement, right on his tailbone.

  “Liam, honey, are you okay?” She scurries forward and crouches next to him, her arm around his shoulders. She kisses his teary face.

  “It huuuuuurrrrrtssss.” His mouth is upturned and he’s red and blotchy, heaving sobs.

  “Here come on, let’s get you to the change room.” She tries to lift him up and he squeals. His poor little tailbone. “Okay, okay, put your arm around my neck.” She is crouched, Liam-level, walking in a squat position. It’s a good thing she works out. Her thighs are strong. She glances around for Sam, but he’s already in the change room.

  “Owowowowowowww.” Liam pouts and sobs.

  “What’s his problem?” Sam scowls.

  “Shut up, Sam!” Liam cries.

  “Both of you—stop it.” Jess turns to Sam. “Liam slipped and hurt his tailbone.”

  “He’s always hurting himself.” Sam slams his locker shut and stomps out of the change room.

  “It’s okay, bud, we’re gonna get you all fixed up.” She ignores Sam and turns to Liam, brushing the tears from his face. She wishes Dan was here. Dan, forever-chipper Dan. He’d turn it all into a game. Liam would probably be laughing by now if Dan was here. Liam can’t even sit on the bench and she doesn’t know how she’s going to get him home. Strap him to the roof rack? She pats him off. Manages to pull on his pants and shirt. Moves him under the hair dryer. “Mom! Stop it! You’re hurting me!” She hopes Sam hasn’t wandered off, like he does sometimes.

  “Okay, bud, you’re dry enough now. Let’s find your brother and get you home to the couch.”

  “Can…” sniff snort, “can…” cough cough, wipe nose in sleeve, “can I watch The Incredibles when we get home?”

  “Yes, my babe
, you can watch The Incredibles. I’ll give you a treat too, for being so brave.” They are outside the change rooms now, and Jess scans the area by the front desk, the Tim Horton’s counter, the seating area that peers through Plexiglas at the baby pool. Not a Sam to be seen.

  “Owwowowowow, Mommy,” Liam is pouting and she needs to stay calm, she knows that, but where is Sam? Inhale, exhale. She scans the area again and her heartbeat quickens and she can hear it in her eardrums.

  “Sweetie, can you be even braver for me? Can you use your laser vision to spot your brother?”

  After the midnight swim, there was a party on Prince of Wales Street. By this time, it was 2 a.m.

  “I might head there,” Matt affixed a ball cap on top of his tousled chlorine-injected locks. “That cool with you, babe?”

  Jess wondered if Lisa Smith would be there. Probably. She was pretty. Petite, doe-eyed, perfect skin. “Yeah, that’s cool. I think I’ll go, too.” She watched Matt’s reaction very closely. Was that a squirm?

  “You sure, babe? You don’t usually stay out late. Only reason I’m going is because Chad wants to go. I was planning on spending the bare minimum of time there, and then getting home. I’ve gotta hit the library tomorrow. Midterms.”

  Maybe she was just being insecure. Maybe she needed a little more confidence in what she and Matt had together. He told her he loved her all the time. When he looked at her, he looked deep into her eyes. When he kissed her, it was with love.

  “I’m not sure. I think I’ll find Cait and see what she’s up to.”

  Matt smirked. “Well. You know Cait’s gonna go.”

  “Well…not necessarily. I mean, it seems unlikely that she won’t go, I agree. But just because Cait’s going, it doesn’t mean I will.” Jess stands on her tip-toes and kisses Matt. Long and deep. He pulls her in close, and she can feel him breathe deeply. He seems satisfied. “Ok,” she gazed into his eyes, and he gazed into hers, “I’ll talk to you later. Either later tonight or tomorrow?”

  “Sounds good, babe.” He winks at her and holds onto her chin before dropping his hand and walking in the opposite direction.

  “Mommy I caaaaannnnn’t.”

  “Come on now, Liam, what do you think the Incredibles would do in this situation? Do you think they’d cry?” All the while she’s squinting. Scanning the area. Where is Sam? More kids are clomping through the sliding doors. Stamping their slushy boots on the sopping, saturated mat. He’s not in the parking lot, is he?

  “No.” Liam sniffs.

  “Ok we’re going to go out in the parking lot now, and have a look out there.” She holds Liam’s coat and waits for him to put his arms in.

  “Owwwww!”

  “Don’t turn your back, hon, okay? Just stay straight, just like you are there.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” He walks with straight legs, like he’s straddling a horse.

  “Okay, bud, let’s go. This way. Come on.” She crouches down and lays his arm around her neck, and walks next to him, like a chimpanzee. This has got to be like doing two-hundred squats, she thinks. Outside, the fog is thick and white and cold. “It’s enough to clip ya,” her mother would’ve said.

  “Sam!” she calls out. Her vision blurs. Her heart pounds, and she feels like she did just before she threw up on the pool deck all those years ago.

  Cait had somehow convinced Jess to play along with the ruse that they weren’t going to the party, except they actually were going to the party to spy on Chad.

  “I mean, I don’t really give a rat’s ass if he’s hooking up with other people, but I still wanna know, you know?” Cait sucked on a cigarette and Jess watched her with disgust.

  “Why are you smoking that? It’s disgusting.”

  “Because it’s cool.”

  “Pfft. Please. You stink.”

  “You stink! Do you think Clinique Happy is better than smoke?”

  “Yes! Absolutely it is!”

  “Well,” Cait sucked in, channelling badass Brenda on Beverly Hills, 90210, “I know you think Matt is a saint, but I think otherwise.” She exhaled, her hand on her hip, her leg jutted out. “I think we should keep an eye on him, too.” She stomped her cigarette out and winked at Jess, and Jess resented her for insulting Matt and for not trusting her judgement.

  “Oh, and by the way, Cait?”

  Cait paused, crossed her arms, glared at Jess, and waited.

  “It’s obvious that you absolutely do care if Chad is hooking up with other people. It’s, like, so transparent, so I think you should consider axing this tough-girl persona you’re trying to pull off.” She suddenly didn’t give a fuck about her own Dream Whip persona.

  “Sam!” Liam calls out. “Whew ahr yew?” He is fairly articulate for a six-year-old, but there are a few words he still baby-fies, and Jess doesn’t correct him because he is her last baby.

  “Sam!” The panic is rising and she’s on the verge of heart palpitations now. It’s as if the sides of her neck have gills just underneath the skin. When she breathes in and out they flutter and flap.

  Cait and Jess sat in Cait’s green Honda Civic in the parking lot across the street from the house party. The car was parked behind a garbage dumpster.

  “We can’t see dick-all from here.” Jess sat with her arms crossed in the passenger seat.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that, Jessica.”

  “This is stupid. We should go home.”

  “Or go into the party.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I trust Matt, I don’t need to spy on him, and I’m tired, and I don’t want to go to bed smelling like cigarettes and having my pillow and hair smell like smoke.” She glared at Cait.

  “Well, I don’t trust Matt.”

  Defensiveness clawed at her chest. “Screw you, Cait. You’re just jealous because you wish Chad was your boyfriend.” What if it wasn’t defensiveness, but truth? She had the same feeling for a moment in the baby pool, with Lisa Smith.

  “Ha! That’s a-fucking-larious.” Why would she be interested in Chad as anything more than a friend with benefits? She didn’t want to be tied down. She wanted to be free, to have fun to do whatever she wanted. Though she had seen Chad and Courtney Bugden talking in the hallway last week, and it had bugged her, she had to admit. What if Jess was right?

  “Well why else are we here then? If you don’t care?”

  “Just…something to do. To be bad.”

  “Lame.”

  They sat there for a few minutes, squinting at the house across the street.

  “Alright, fuck it,” Jess unclipped her seatbelt. “Let’s go.” She opened the door and quickly stepped out of the car. Marched across the parking lot, towards the house, as Cait scurried along behind her.

  “Are you sure? I thought you trusted Matt?”

  “I do,” she barked back.

  Inside, the house was packed to the gills. Throbbing with bass and bodies. The living room, the kitchen, the hallway, the deck—all mobbed with high-school kids. Jess and Cait wove through the crowd. Jess had fallen behind Cait, who held Jess’s hand and led her through the crowd. Their fingers interlaced, they knitted amongst pressed-together shoulders, linked elbows, lips whispering into ears, touching hips, hands grazing, the room throbbing with the flirt of high-school touch and the hyper-consciousness of possibility.

  The air was thick with smoke, and there was a dry-ice machine in the dark living room, which was lit with only a red lightbulb. It was hard to see much. Squinting in the darkness, Jess spied a plaid jacket on the body of a guy about Matt’s height. It was him. He was talking to a blonde girl. Petite. Doe-eyed.

  The red plaid coat cuts through the fog. The tousled, sandy hair looks the same, but the hairline receding, subtle strands of grey painting the dirty blonde. But it’s him. The same stature, the height, the leanness, the ruggedness—even the plaid jacket.

  Matt. Fucking. Bohmer. And he’s holding Sam’s hand.

  “Jess? Is that you? Holy shit—I me
an—” he glances down at Sam, “sugar. Is that actually you?” He grins and his teeth are still too perfect and too straight and too damn white-but-not-fake-bleached-white-just-natural-white white.

  “Sam!” She rushes to Sam. Crouches to his level.

  “Mommmm!” Liam is holding his butt. “Can we go nowwww???”

  “No way,” Matt’s eyebrows raised dramatically, he releases Sam’s hand. “This one’s yours?”

  “Yes,” Jess clasps Sam to her chest and sniffs his wet, chlorine-scented hair. Dan would’ve made sure all the chlorine was shampooed out if he’d been here. “This one’s mine.” She releases Sam and looks into his eyes, grateful. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You scared me.” She hugs him in again for a moment, before standing to face Matt, whose eyes haven’t changed. Bright. Kind. The colour of blueberries.

  “I found this guy out in the parking lot, calling out for his mom.”

  “Well, thanks so much for helping him.” How is it that Matt Fucking Bohmer still smells exactly like he did in high school? Like fresh, crisp air, rain, campfire and shampoo. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “Well don’t act so glad to see me.” That twinkle, that teasing in his eyes.

  “I mean, I thought you were in Ontario.” Her heart pounds in her throat like it’s sucker punching her, over and over and over again.

  “Yeah…my wife and I just moved back, actually.” Matt was her Facebook friend years ago, and she’d seen photos of he and the wife and their daughter. Happy happy. In exotic locations all over the world. She’d unfollowed him. She hates the feeling of defeat and inadequacy she gets from Facebook at certain times.

  “Mommmmm! My bummm! It hurrrrtsss!” Poor Liam.

  “Okay, bud, yes—let’s go.” She puts her arm around Sam’s shoulder. “Matt, nice seeing you.”

  “Yeah, you too—hey, are you on Facebook? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Yup, I’m on there.” She shouldn’t have told him that. Yet she did, and now she’s smiling at him and her insides swirl like psychedelic lava-lamp liquid. Damnit. “You’re not, are you?” She hadn’t noticed his profile in a while, and the last time she’d snooped, there was no profile photo, just the silhouette of a male.