Amazing Grace

by Lesley Crewe

“I’ll wait for Jonathan, thank you.”

  Linn picks up a remote and points it at the window. Ivory shades begin to rise up as if by magic. I get up from my chair and walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, but step back—I’m sure I’ll fall to my death if I get any closer. New York City is at my feet. It is a spectacular view if you like concrete buildings, but since they don’t turn me on, Beulah and I go back to the table.

  Linn is pouring me a second cup of coffee when Jonathan shows up. He looks miserable as always, but he’s dressed impeccably. There’s something attractive about a man in a suit. A vision of Fletcher wearing one crosses my mind. No dice.

  Linn pours him a cup of coffee as he sits at the table and brandishes a linen napkin.

  “Thank you, Linn. Good morning, Mother. I trust you slept well?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Linn serves us pancakes, which she didn’t have to make but I appreciate. Jonathan always loved them. My son eats a plateful while looking at his Blackberry and glancing at the newspapers. How does he take in all that information at the same time? If he’s purposefully trying to ignore me, he’s doing a good job. It’s like I’m not here.

  My coffee cup clatters back on the saucer, a little harder than I intended. “How can I help with Melissa?”

  He puts the paper down. “I don’t know. Talk sense into her? Talk to her mother when she gets back. Tell her that life isn’t all about her. What do grandmothers generally say? The ones who don’t talk like sailors, I mean.”

  “It’s a bad habit. I’ll stop.”

  He looks at me with a sceptical face.

  “All I can do is try! Jesus.”

  He leans back in his chair. “A whole half-second. A new world record.”

  “Holy God. No wonder Deanne left you. Do you always walk around with a poker up your ass?”

  Jonathan bangs his mug on the table. “Believe it or not, I’m a great guy when I’m not with you.”

  “Then why the heck do you want me to come live in New York?”

  “Who said that?”

  “Melissa. Is it true?”

  He looks like a little boy. “The fact that you’ve never even entertained the idea says everything.”

  This is not going well. “Just take a deep breath, Jon. I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I did come to support you. If you’ll let me.”

  He closes his eyes for a moment and then opens them. “I don’t know what to do.”

  We both turn when we hear Melissa approach. She’s dressed to leave and has her school bag over her shoulder. She’s already texting with her mitts on, the ones with no fingertips. “Later.”

  “Just a minute!” I say. “Come and have some breakfast. You can’t go out with an empty stomach.”

  “I’ll get a Starbucks on the way to school.”

  Linn comes in with more pancakes. “Melissa, your favourite.”

  Melissa sighs and rolls her eyes. “What part of ‘I don’t like pancakes’ do you not understand? They’re Dad’s favourite, not mine, and if you paid more attention you’d know that. And by the way, you weren’t supposed to put my new sweater in the wash. What is it with adults? You’re all hopeless.”

  She walks out the door.

  And her father and Linn remain where they are.

  I hand Beulah over to Jonathan and then I’m out the door, running down the corridor. Missy has her earphones on and doesn’t hear me. I grab her from behind, scaring the life out of her.

  “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” She tries to escape. Fortunately she has about six layers on for me to grab. I haul her, squirming and yelling, back down the hall. We go back into the apartment and I push her into the dining room, where Linn is still holding the platter of pancakes and Jonathan is still holding Beulah.

  “You apologize to Linn for your rude and dismissive comments. Who do you think you are? Show her the respect she deserves.”

  “You can’t treat me like this!”

  “Why is it okay to bully Linn, but not you?”

  “I didn’t touch her.”

  “Your words touched her! Do you know how awful words can be? They’re the most powerful force of all. Now say you’re sorry to Linn.”

  Melissa huffs and puffs and looks at her dad to intervene, but he keeps his mouth shut. “All right! I’m going to miss school thanks to you.” She turns in the general area of Linn but doesn’t look her in the face. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry for what?” I prompt.

  Melissa clearly wants to hit me. “I’m sorry I was rude. It won’t happen again. Can I go now?”

  “Have fun at school.”

  She marches over to the front door and slams it shut as hard as she can. I scoop Beulah out of Jon’s hands and sit back at the table.

  “Was that helpful?”

  Linn can’t keep the grin off her face, and she disappears into the kitchen.

  “You shouldn’t have put your hands on her. Technically, that’s assault.”

  Okay. Now I know what I’m dealing with.

  While Jonathan is at work and Melissa is at school and Linn is cleaning an already spotless apartment, Beulah and I go snooping.

  In Melissa’s room.

  I have no qualms about her privacy. She doesn’t pay the rent here. It’s a huge job, because the kid has so much stuff, she just piles it out of the way. One girl does not need forty pairs of jeans. I grab a garbage bag and toss in half of them. I’ll ask Linn to take them to Goodwill. I’m her favourite person at the moment.

  It doesn’t take me long to find the dope or the pills or the alcohol. She’s not very inventive when it comes to hiding places. The top of a closet and a Kotex box are where you look first. At least I have evidence to back me up.

  Then I spy her laptop. Melissa is so sure that her father wouldn’t dare look at it, she’s still logged on. What I see when the screen comes up is Melissa biting her lip in an attempt to look sexy, holding her t-shirt up around her neck and exposing her breasts. I scroll through her pictures, hoping this is a one-off, but she has several inappropriate images, and worse, she’s posted them online.

  A deep anger comes to the surface, along with the need to get rid of it. I get dressed in my down jacket because the six televisions in this apartment are blaring that it’s cold outside. Beulah is now happily tucked into my jacket, her little head poking out enjoying the sights. She’s the only thing that keeps me from weeping.

  I walk for a long time. How I wish I was on my hill with the dogs. I want to run away from this place. It’s too noisy, too busy, too vast. There’s no air to breath, no silence to enjoy, no stopping on the sidewalk to look up at a patch of blue sky. Big cities frighten me. I’m alone here. Even when Fletch isn’t home, I’m never alone in that trailer.

  By the time I get back I have a plan, but then Melissa texts her father to tell him she’s going to a sleepover at her best friend’s house.

  I’m wolfing down Linn’s amazing pad Thai for dinner. “And you believe her?”

  Jon hasn’t even changed out of his suit. He looks done in. “I’d like to believe her. I’m almost too exhausted to care.”

  “Jonathan, did it ever occur to you that you could quit your job and do something else?”

  He gives me a smirk. “Tell Grandfather that I’m going to paint pictures in Paris, or sail around the world? How do you think that would go over?”

  “Who cares what he thinks?”

  “I do, Mother. He’s got me completely involved in every aspect of the business.” He takes his fork and pokes at his forehead. “I’ve got it all up here. He doesn’t trust anyone else, which is paranoia, but that’s what I’m dealing with. If I go, he’ll cut me out of his will. He told me so. And the company I’ve been slaving away for will belong to someone else.”

  I refill my empty winegla
ss. “And would that be so bad?”

  Now he drops his utensils on the plate, and takes that starched linen napkin and wipes his mouth. “Bad? I have a daughter I’m trying to raise here. How am I going to do that with no job? You know darn well Grandfather will make sure no one hires me in this city.”

  “So move.”

  He leans back in his chair. “I’ve worked all my life for this company, and I think Dad would be proud of me. This was his legacy. I’m not going to throw that away just because Grandfather can be difficult. It’s a terrible thing to say, but he’s not going to last forever. I’d like to pass it on to my daughter.”

  I finish this glass of wine and set it on the table. “Speaking of daughters, you need to see something. Come with me.”

  He reluctantly gets up from his chair and follows me down the hall. I open Melissa’s bedroom door.

  “You can’t go in her room. That’s private.”

  “Parents your age believe a lot of bullshit.”

  It’s all on her bed. The bright assortment of pills, the bags of weed, the bong, the bottles of vodka, all on display in front of him.

  “Dear God.” He moves slowly forward and puts out his hand to touch it, but covers his mouth instead.

  “This is a shock, I know. She’s lying to you. That’s what they do.”

  “But…”

  “And there’s this.”

  I open her computer to show him the first picture. “You’re trying to be her friend, but you’re her father. She needs guidance.”

  His face is white. “How could she do this to me?”

  “Why is she doing it at all?”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I do.”

  Melissa eventually shows up around nine the next night. She sees her father and I sitting in the living room and gives us a brief nod and keeps going.

  “Melissa.”

  “What?”

  “Could I speak to you for a moment?”

  She drags her feet on the shiny hardwood floor. “I’m exhausted and I have to write a paper for Monday.” She keeps looking down at her phone.

  “This won’t take long. Sit down.”

  “Dad! I told you. I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “Sit.”

  She groans and flops on the couch. “What am I apologizing for this time?”

  “For this.”

  Jonathan reaches for the paper bag that is by his chair. He takes each item out of the bag one at a time and puts them all in the middle of the area rug. I watch her eyes get big. He brings out her computer and opens it. Melissa’s blood drains from her face and she slowly turns to look at me. “What have you done?”

  “She’s done what I should have done months ago. Now I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen.” He falters a little and glances at me.

  “You’ve got this,” I tell him.

  “I called your principal today—”

  “On a Saturday?”

  “—at her home number, and told her you’re taking some time off.”

  “She won’t let you.”

  “She did.”

  Melissa’s mouth opens and she stares at her dad. “Do not send me to rehab! I’m not into drugs full-time. I’m not an alcoholic. I’m not doing anything different than my friends. It’s no big deal. Everybody does it.”

  “I’m sending you away.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I have to do something. I cannot let this continue.”

  Melissa looks furious. “So your solution is to take me away from my father and my mother? You must be reading some great parenting manuals. As soon as your kid makes a mistake, kick them out of the house.”

  “Stop with the ‘woe is me’ routine,” I say. “When you start behaving like a responsible young woman, you’ll be dealt with accordingly.”

  She turns around and curls her lip at me. “It’s all your fault! Everything was fine until you walked in here. Just go away!”

  “I am going away. But guess what? You’re coming with me.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  When I call Fletcher to tell him I’m bringing home a pissed-off devil child, he doesn’t seem too bothered. But then, nothing bothers Fletch. Of course, he’s never lived with a teenager. A teenager who’s just been told she can’t have her laptop or phone. She’s allowed one suitcase of clothes and Beulah. That’s it. (As if I’d leave Beulah behind.)

  After three hours of screaming into her pillow, she eventually falls asleep on top of her bed. I don’t feel sorry for her. I tell Jonathan to get some sleep; he looks dreadful. I, on the other hand, make sure to sit by front door all night. It’s not like I have to worry about her going out the window. She shows up on the dot of three with a bulging knapsack.

  “I can’t believe you’re sitting here.”

  “I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be.”

  She stomps back to her room.

  In the morning, I knock on Jonathan’s bedroom door. He opens it, wearing pyjamas that Cary Grant would have on in a forties movie. They’re even pressed.

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  He nods. “A little.”

  “I think Melissa and I should leave today. She tried to escape last night, and I don’t want her to slip through our fingers.”

  “I can change your reservation, but it’ll cost more.”

  “It’s going to cost you a lot more than that. Hire a private plane. I’m not holding this girl down on a commercial flight while she screams she’s being kidnapped.”

  He looks uncertain. “Are we kidnapping her?”

  “Who cares? Do you want your daughter back?”

  Jonathan nods. “How are you going to fix her?”

  “You leave that to me.”

  “You’re not going to strap her down and starve her, are you? Or hang her by the toenails?”

  “Are you going to give me a hard time, Jon? Just make the arrangements, please.”

  Driving to the airport with the weeping Melissa is a real treat. She’s getting a lawyer. She’s calling the media and child services. She’s suing. She’ll escape and live with her mother. She’ll become a nun. She’ll kill herself. She’ll jump off a bridge. Her father will never get another Christmas gift from her and as for me, well, I can whistle Dixie. Finally, she says she hates us and is never speaking to us again.

  Perfect.

  When we get to the airstrip and Melissa spies the private plane, she realizes her plans for making my life hell in coach are thwarted. She looks defeated, but she has one more blow to deliver. She refuses to say goodbye to her father and hurries aboard before he can hug her.

  “Do you think this will work?” He looks desperate.

  “All I can do is try. If it doesn’t, you can bring her back and make appointments with the best therapists in New York, but I don’t think there’s a pill for spoiled rotten. Say goodbye to Beulah.”

  He grimaces at my furry friend. I pat his arm and kiss his cheek. “See ya, Jon. Please don’t call her. I’ll let you know how things are going. Take care of yourself.”

  “You too. Thanks Mom.”

  Poor little bugger. I walk up the stairs and duck my head to get in the cabin.

  I don’t know what Melissa does while we are in the air. I keep my eyes closed. As long as she’s quiet I don’t care.

  Since my son is paying for this flight, we’re flying into Sydney instead of Halifax. Fletcher meets us at the airport. My blood pressure returns to normal just looking at his face. He puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes it.

  “Hey Fletch, you remember Melissa.”

  “Hello, Melissa.”

  She ignores him. We ignore her and wait for the bags. Then we head out to the truck, with Melissa walking a good thirty feet behind us.

&nbs
p; “You know what you’re doing?” he asks.

  “Not really.”

  He grins at me. “I brought the dogs.”

  Melissa spends the hour ride to Baddeck in the back seat with two wiggly fiends trying to lick her ears. Since she’s not talking to us, she just pushes them aside. But Daffy and Donald are very enthusiastic. They only listen to Fletch and he’s keeping quiet. They pester her non-stop. I’ve got Beulah in my doggie carry-all. She’s not going to be introduced until we get home.

  As soon as Fletch pulls into the yard and turns off the truck, Melissa is out the door, the dogs jumping up and down on either side of her. She stands in the middle of the gravel driveway and shrieks.

  “These are the stupidest dogs ever! Tie them up!”

  Fletch and I depart the truck as well. He reaches into the back and takes the suitcases. “This is their home. I can tie you up if you like.”

  Another shriek and she stomps off behind the trailer and up the hill. The boys think this is great. It’s Sunday, no hunters about. Off the three of them go.

  “Is this a good idea?”

  “She’ll be back. She’s not dressed properly.”

  While I was gone we had a snowfall. Just a coating, but enough that I can see Melissa’s grassy footprints through the white film of newly fallen snow. The dogs zigzag back and forth.

  When I enter the trailer, a sense of peace comes over me. It won’t last long, and so I savour it. I introduce Fletcher to Beulah.

  “This dust bunny cost eight thousand dollars.”

  His big belly laugh fills the air. He laughs so long and hard he’s got tears in his eyes. “I didn’t pay that much for this trailer.”

  He holds out his massive hand and I place Beulah in the palm of it. He brings her up to his face. “Well, if you don’t beat all. Nice to meet you, Beulah.”

  The dog starts to wiggle and her two paws disappear into his beard as she tries to kiss him. I can see he’s delighted with her. They look ridiculous, of course. Beulah weighs five pounds and Fletch around three hundred, but I do believe they’re kindred spirits.

  We are eating our dinner of pan-fried haddock, boiled potatoes, beets, and green chow-chow when a frozen child and two exhausted dogs return. Beulah is asleep in her sweater in the centre of the table, curled up in a wicker bread basket.