Shadow Girl

by Patricia Morrison

  It was okay to skip if the weather was warm. She could go to the park or just stay at home and watch TV. But in winter, the house never really got warm. Her dad turned down the furnace during the day, so that it was on just enough to keep the pipes from freezing. The cold made the house feel sad inside. Sometimes she’d go out and play in the snow, making a snow fort in the strip of backyard they had, but it was more fun to do that with friends.

  The worst part of missing school was feeling so alone, like she was the only person left in the entire world. It was harder than being afraid of the dark or getting picked on by school bullies. Besides, as it got closer to Christmas, they spent lots of time in school preparing for the Christmas concert, making decorations, and reading Christmas stories – so most days were fun.

  Her teacher, Mrs. Fournier, was reading A Christmas Carol to the class this week. And even though a lot of the kids didn’t understand the weird English, they’d heard enough versions of the story to know what was going on.

  Jules got ready and went downstairs. Her dad had made another mess in the kitchen, but at least he’d come home. She was glad of that. He was probably at work now.

  She decided to walk to school by herself. She usually did her best imagining at night in her fort, but some days, especially raw angry days, she used her fantasies to make life different in the daytime, too. She’d pretend she was trekking through the desert or was a secret agent being followed by spies.

  Jules saw Patsy just before reaching the school yard and caught up to her.

  “Do you want to go skating after school?” Patsy asked. “Teresa’s dad finished making the skating rink in their backyard.”

  Teresa’s skating rink. Of all the great things in the world, that is one of the greatest.

  Teresa’s backyard bordered the park near Jules’s place. She could even walk there with her skates on. “I sure do.” Then she thought more about it. She wanted to invite Patsy over, but she’d left the house in a mess. And she’d have nothing to give her if she was hungry.

  “I’ll get home around three-thirty,” Patsy said, “and can be at Teresa’s about twenty minutes later. Meet me there? We’ll have at least an hour to play.”

  “That’s great,” Jules said, relieved.

  After school, Jules raced home. She took the stairs two at a time to go change.

  Darn! No clean clothes!

  She grabbed a pair of dirty jeans and a sweater from the floor, put them on, made a margarine sandwich, ate it fast, found her skates, and squeezed into them. They were getting too small; her toes were going to hurt something awful, but she didn’t care.

  When she got outside, the air was biting and a light snow was starting to fall. From the back gate of her house, looking across the park, she could see Teresa’s yard.

  As long as it doesn’t snow too much, the rink’ll be fine.

  When she reached Teresa’s, the rink was better than fine. It was big and wide, and the ice was pretty smooth.

  Heaven!

  She skated across it to the other side, crunched through the snow to Teresa’s back door, and knocked.

  Teresa was just inside, sitting on one of the stairs that led up to the kitchen. She already had a tuque on, and a thick sweater covered the top of her snow pants. Her skates were at the foot of the stairs.

  “I’m almost ready, Jules. Gotta get my jacket and skates on. I’ll be out in a sec.”

  Jules crunched back to the rink, raised her hands to the sky, and stuck her tongue out to catch falling snowflakes.

  Hurray! My own private ice rink!

  Carefully, because there were always a few bumps and cracks, she circled the rink, then skated to the center and spun around. She didn’t know how to twirl like the ice skaters on TV, but she bet she could learn if someone taught her.

  She began to skate faster and faster and faster, round and round the rink. The frosty air whipped by and felt great against her face. She hunched down as she moved, imagining she was a speed skater.

  Teresa came out, and – from a distance – Jules could see Patsy coming down the street next to the park. Patsy was a strong skater, too. Teresa was no match for them, even though she had her own rink. But Teresa didn’t seem to care, and why should she? They played all kinds of games, and you didn’t have to be a fast skater to be good at them.

  Later, a couple of kids from the neighborhood came over, and they all started to play ice tag. Everyone shrieked and laughed as they tried to get away from the person who was “it.” They bumped into each other and fell down. Or, even better, they fell when they were going really fast and skidded on their backsides across the ice into a snowbank.

  Jules laughed until her stomach was sore. She didn’t want the skating to end. But it got too dark, and they started bumping into each other – not even on purpose.

  “Teresa! Teresa!” her mom called out. “Supper!”

  Teresa told Jules and Patsy they could skate on the rink as long as they liked.

  “I can’t feel my toes, Jules,” Patsy said when they were alone. “They’re frozen. They’re going to hurt like crazy when I get my skates off.”

  “Mine, too. But so what? We’re tough, aren’t we?”

  “Tougher than tough.”

  “And fast.”

  “Faster than a speeding bullet!”

  “Supermen!”

  They raced each other around the rink for another fifteen minutes, pretending to be ice skaters in a competition.

  “I don’t want to go home, but I’d better before my toes fall off,” Patsy finally said.

  “Can’t let that happen. I’ll walk you to the end of the street.”

  They made their way through the small park. The road Patsy took to Teresa’s was never plowed in winter. Snow got packed to the pavement by cars, and if the snow melted a bit and then the temperature dropped, the road became icy and easy to skate on.

  They arrived at Bloor Street, said good-bye, and Jules retraced her steps, turning back through the park and into her own backyard.

  A light shone from the kitchen window.

  He’s home!

  Jules opened the back door quickly. “Hi, Dad!” She took her skates off in a minute. There was a lot of noise coming from the kitchen, which meant her father was cooking.

  We’re going to eat a regular meal. A perfect end to a perfect day!

  “What’re you making?”

  “Spaghetti.” He filled a pot with water for the noodles and gave the sauce a stir.

  Jules got plates from the cupboard and set the table. “Do you think there’s a Christmas program or movie on tonight we could watch together?”

  “Dunno.”

  Jules’s dad used to have the Christmas spirit long before the holiday arrived. He loved Christmas programs, Christmas songs on the radio, decorations, and lights – that’s why Jules loved Christmas so much herself. But in the last couple of years, he’d changed. And Jules had to work really hard to get him in the mood.

  “Are you going out tonight?”

  “Nope. Maybe tomorrow. After I get home. After the shopping.”

  On Friday nights, her dad went to Loblaws at the Six Points Plaza.

  “Do you want me to meet you at Loblaws? I can help.”

  “No. You’ll just want me to buy all kinds of stuff.”

  “No, I won’t. Honest. But you should see all the Christmas decorations in the stores. And there’s all kinds of great toys and chocolate and candies in Zellers.”

  “Sounds as if someone’s hungry.”

  Jules laughed. “I can hardly wait to eat.”

  He put the dried noodles in the boiling water. “Shouldn’t be long now.” He turned around to look at the table. “Pretty bare, huh? It’d be good if we could put cheese on this spaghetti or eat it with garlic bread.”

  “There’s Cheez Whiz in the fridge, but it’s kinda dried-up and old.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’ll eat what we’ve got.”

  “Then maybe watch TV toge
ther?”

  “Sure.”

  Jules didn’t know how much boys ate, but she seemed to eat a lot for a girl – or so her dad said. But she just ate when she was hungry and until her stomach was full. Tonight she ate two plates of spaghetti. When they were finished, her dad went into the living room to watch the news while she did the dishes.

  When she joined him, Jules kept her fingers crossed that there’d be something good on. “Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol’s just starting. Want to watch it, Dad?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Her father loved Mr. Magoo, but his “bumblingness” drove Jules crazy.

  Doesn’t matter. Just watching a Christmas show with him’ll be fun.

  Even before the program was over, Jules felt herself getting sleepy. She’d eaten so much spaghetti that her belly was bulging. The warm house and food made her warm inside, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

  “I’m going to bed, Dad.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have a good sleep.”

  “You, too.”

  When she got to her room, she changed quickly.

  Yikes! It’s like the North Pole up here.

  She got into bed as fast as she could.

  I won’t be imagining anything tonight. I’m falling asleep standing up!

  CHAPTER

  4

  The alarm clock rang. Another gray day outside.

  Brrr. This room is freezing.

  Jules got up and dressed quickly.

  Friday the thirteenth. Yikes. But it’s payday and Dad’s going shopping. There’ll be food in the fridge! And maybe he’ll buy me a Christmas present.

  It wasn’t often Jules woke up feeling so good.

  She washed her face and combed her straggly brown hair. Jules often wished it could be dark red or black – something dramatic. She went downstairs to the kitchen. Her dad was already gone.

  No milk. No bread, even. How am I going to make breakfast? Or lunch?

  She heated up the leftover spaghetti on the stove. If she ate a big enough breakfast, it wouldn’t be so hard to miss lunch. She filled her stomach as much as she could bear, cleaned up the kitchen, and got ready for school.

  She was going to walk with Patsy today. They’d plan the weekend. Maybe they’d go skating at Teresa’s again or, even better, go to the plaza and play “Pretend” – pretend to buy this or that, pretend to be this or that person.

  Patsy was slow getting ready, and they had to run most of the way to school, which was hard to do because the sidewalks were slippery. It was fun, though – the funnest part of the day.

  At lunch, despite the big spaghetti breakfast, Jules was hungry all over again, but she had to pretend she wasn’t. She went outside and watched some of the kids go home, the ones who lived nearby.

  Will their mom or dad be there? Will there be food in the fridge or cupboards? Will they make the same kind of meal I do?

  It was hard to keep warm, just standing and waiting, and it seemed a long time before the rest of the kids came outside. Some were holding cookies or an apple or orange. Jules watched them eat and imagined the taste of the food in her own mouth. She couldn’t help it.

  Tonight Dad goes shopping, and maybe he’ll buy a treat. That thought made her happy.

  After school, Jules got to Zellers in record time. She bypassed the candy section – her stomach was too growly – and went straight for the dolls. Hers was still on display, which meant she could play with it.

  She’d told her dad the name of the doll she wanted way back in October, and over and over again since then. She’d told him the price, too.

  I hope he remembers. I don’t want anything else for Christmas.

  “You’re getting too old to play with dolls, aren’t you?” he’d said last week.

  “No, I’m not, Dad. Lots of my friends still do.”

  He looked like he didn’t believe her, but she didn’t know how to convince him. She’d thought about asking for something else, a book maybe. She loved to read.

  But once you’re finished a book, that’s it. With a doll, you can play and play and play. It becomes a friend. Something to love.

  Mrs. Adamson came over to where Jules was standing. “Hi, Jules. How’re you doing?”

  “Okay.” Jules smiled shyly.

  “You love that doll, don’t you?”

  Jules nodded.

  “I wish I’d had one like it when I was small.”

  “Really?” Jules looked at the expression on Mrs. Adamson’s face to see if she was being phony.

  “The few I did get I managed to keep, though. I still love them.”

  Jules wanted to say that she’d kept her dolls from many years ago, too – but she had only a couple left, and they were in pretty bad shape. When she was little, she liked to experiment with their hair and try to figure out how the leg and arm joints worked by pulling them off. Or she’d make the dolls go on wild outdoor adventures they often didn’t survive. But she wasn’t like that now.

  I’m going to take care of this one if I get it. And I’ll take it with me if we move again. I’ve lost too much.

  Mrs. Adamson talked to her a lot that day, in between customers. It was hard to know what to say back, but that didn’t seem to bother Mrs. Adamson. She talked about any darn thing, and she answered Jules as if she was really listening.

  “It’s great working in the toy department because I can get lots of bargains. I love toys almost as much as my kids do.”

  When Mrs. Adamson went over to rearrange a display some customers had messed up, Jules watched her and wondered why some adults treated kids as if they didn’t remember being one, and others treated kids as if they never forgot.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Jules got home around five o’clock, tidied up, and played her recorder.

  An hour later, the usual worries began. “What’s keeping him?” she said out loud.

  It isn’t snowing. That can’t be it.

  He has to work overtime. That happens sometimes.

  There’s an extra-long lineup at the bank. Fridays are busy.

  Crowds in the supermarket. For sure.

  Not many taxis. Not at this time of night.

  All those things.

  But when her dad was late, it was almost always because he went for a few beers with his work buddies and forgot the time, especially on payday.

  By seven-thirty, Jules had just about given up when she heard her dad fumbling with the outer screen door.

  “Jules, Jules, I need your help,” he called out. Taxi drivers often helped him carry the groceries in, but not today. He took a taxi home on Fridays because he had so much to carry, but also because he smashed up their old wreck of a car a year ago, along with somebody else’s. That was scary. He almost went to jail.

  Jules didn’t care if they had a car, although her dad was an auto mechanic, and he thought it was crazy that they couldn’t afford to buy one. He worked at Thompson Motors and could make any kind of rotten car go.

  “Hi, Dad. I’ll take the bags.”

  “Hi, honey!” he said in a loud voice.

  His whole body smells of beer.

  “I was getting worried about you.”

  “What the hell for? I made pretty good time, pretty good time.”

  “Sure. It’s not so late.” Jules carried the groceries to the kitchen table and went through the bags eagerly to see what was in them.

  On days when her dad drank a lot, he bought things he wouldn’t normally get, like fancy cuts of meat or canned asparagus, forgetting to buy milk or bread. But it looked as though he’d covered the basics and bought only a few weird extras.

  “How often do we have steak, Jules? We’re going to have steak tonight. Steak and potatoes and mushrooms.”

  “Did you buy potatoes, Dad? We’re all out.”

  “Sure, I think I did.” He started searching through the bags. “Whoops,” he said, laughing like a little boy. “Guess I forgot. But it’s okay. I got some f
antastic bread. We’ll have that and steak and mushrooms, and I even bought dessert.” He pulled out a package of brownies and a box of powdered strawberry doughnuts.

  Jules’s eyes lit up. “Great. I can hardly wait.”

  “You’re a poet and don’t know it.”

  They both laughed.

  She put the groceries away while he cooked. Before long, dinner was ready. Jules didn’t like steak as much as her father, but she’d eat anything.

  He kept drinking.

  “I’m finished, Dad. Can I have dessert?”

  “Sure, hon.”

  Powdered strawberry doughnuts. Ooey-gooey good!

  She gobbled one down.

  Her dad was in a good mood, but she knew from experience that beer was more responsible for it than the fact that it was payday and Friday night. It didn’t matter, though.

  After she’d done the dishes, they turned on the TV. Jules hoped her dad would just get tired and fall asleep.

  She looked outside the living room window. It had started to snow. She asked if she could have some of the canned orange drink he’d bought.

  “Okay, but that’s got to last. I don’t want it all gone tonight.”

  “No, no. I won’t drink it all.” But she could have. It tasted so good, and she never seemed to get enough.

  She gulped the orange drink quickly and went back to the living room. Her father was having another beer. She’d counted the empty bottles when she was in the kitchen, like she always did.

  “Just a lot of crap!” he said, switching channels.

  Jules could stay up late any night of the week when her dad wasn’t around, but if he was, he let her stay up as long as she wanted on Friday and Saturday nights. If she’d been playing hard outside during the day, she usually got sleepy by eight o’clock.

  She wasn’t tired tonight, though. And she was still hungry. “Dad, can I have a brownie?”

  “Goddamn it! Are you going to eat everything?”

  “No! I won’t, I won’t. It’s just that I’m still kinda hungry.”

  “Hungry? After all I made for you? After all you ate? Goddamn it. Goddamn you!” He stormed into the kitchen.