Black Otter Bay

by Vincent Wyckoff

  “Of course you could, Mom. I mean, if Ben was dead, you’d know it, and you wouldn’t be going off to work every day, or going shopping or out to lunch if you’d just lost your son.” Abby held her mother’s gaze with her steady dark eyes. There was a note of challenge in her voice. “Really, Mom, if you thought it was even remotely possible that something terrible had happened to Ben, you wouldn’t be standing here right now like this.”

  Jackie touched Abby’s cheek. “You give me much more credit than I deserve.” Then she paused to collect her thoughts, looked out at the lake again, and said, “But I suppose you’re right. And if nothing terrible has happened, then I pray Ben will come home soon.”

  Abby smiled. “He’s all right, Mom, and he will be home soon, because he’s my little brother and I’m going to find him.”

  Almost timidly, Jackie took a last look into her daughter’s confident dark eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to hold the stare. It was like looking at herself more than twenty years earlier, the innocence and idealism of youth. When she turned to open the restaurant door, a weight of sadness and remorse bore down on her, so that she had to catch her breath for a moment to hold back the tears.

  • • • • •

  When her father left, he took most of Jackie’s prospects for a comfortable and successful life with him. Of course, she didn’t know that at the time; in fact, she had no solid memories of her father at all. There was the feeling that he was a dashing, handsome man, but that could have come from the small handful of photographs of him that her mother had kept. All in all, she had few specifics she could ascribe to her father. He came from a wealthy family boasting a family tree firmly rooted in Chicago’s Near North. She also knew that his family had been thoroughly and utterly opposed to his union with Jackie’s mother. In a deal quietly negotiated with their lawyers, he was given a beautiful brownstone residence in Oak Park in exchange for a signed contract promising to never actually marry this dark-eyed little diversion.

  Within a couple of years her father had come to his senses, just as his parents had foretold. He found the routines of family life tedious and boring, and constantly berated Jackie’s mother for her awkward attempts at mingling in his upper-class society. When he finally walked out, the only thing he left behind was a court-ordered eviction notice giving them six weeks to vacate the premises. Her mother moved them into a tiny apartment above a coffee shop across the tracks from a stop on the “L.”

  The history of all this had never been openly discussed between mother and daughter. At an early age, however, Jackie worked out the chronology. She believed her mother had been pregnant before they even moved into the brownstone. She liked to think that her father had initially wanted to do the right thing, but she had to admit that, with no word from him in years, that probably wasn’t the case. And knowing her mother, she believed the pregnancy could have simply been a trap. Either way, as a child Jackie convinced herself that her existence had ruined her parents’ chances for happiness, and that she’d probably inherited the worst traits of both of them.

  But she had to give her mother some credit. With limited resources and abilities, she’d provided what she could for her daughter. Their apartment, though small and embarrassingly tacky, was nonetheless still in Oak Park, which put Jackie into a decent public school system. Her mother worked long hours in the coffee shop downstairs, giving Jackie a supervised place to hang out and play. When she started school, her mother hired out as a house cleaner, using the “L” to get to the homes of clients. And that was about the time Jackie’s grasp of the reality of her mother’s situation became a little fuzzy, even though memories of strange men in the apartment were very clear. Most of the time they’d suddenly show up in the morning when she shuffled into the kitchen for breakfast. Still groggy and half-asleep, dressed in pajamas, she’d encounter a stranger sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee from downstairs while reading the paper.

  The first few times this happened she’d been thrilled with the notion that her long-lost father had finally come home. But then she’d quickly realize that the man sitting at their shabby kitchen table didn’t nearly match up to the fictional image she had of her handsome, world-traveling father. That’s not to say that all these strangers weren’t kind to her, even if her presence seemed to make them a little uncomfortable. One time, she came home from school to find a man smoking a cigarette and lounging on their sofa. This was the time a new pink and purple two-wheeled bicycle appeared, complete with sparkly streamers hanging from the handlebars.

  By the time she was Abby’s age, Jackie despised her mother for the way she used people, yet admired her wily ability to keep going and make ends meet. She grudgingly admitted that her mother was a survivor, and from her she learned firsthand about employing God-given talents to stay afloat. Some people were blessed with the brains to excel in life, while others worked hard and studied. But if your personal strength happened to be a shapely body or pretty face, well, you had to use whatever tools were at hand.

  When Jackie started working in the coffee shop, she found that a friendly smile could often double her tip, especially among the male customers. In high school, and later in college, she learned how to raise her grade point average by perfecting an open yet vulnerable feminine charm. She didn’t see any ethical dilemma here. After all, it wasn’t her fault. If her father hadn’t left, she would have been working with a whole different set of tools.

  • • • • •

  “Tell me again how you and Dad met,” Abby said when they were seated in Sir Reginald’s.

  Jackie sipped from a glass of Chardonnay while following Abby’s gaze around the restaurant. Low wood-plank walls, almost like stalls in an old barn, sectioned off the dining area. Unfinished paneling lit by cast-iron wall sconces gave it a medieval feel. A cobblestone fireplace near the kitchen held huge four-foot-long pine logs. The walls were decorated with suits of armor, old family crests, and colorful paintings of castles and English gardens. It was easy to picture themselves in fifteenth-century Europe, especially with the mounted head of a wild boar staring at them from across the room.

  “I’ve told you that old story about meeting your father, haven’t I?”

  “You told me the little kid version, Mom. Tell me again.”

  Jackie smiled. Their tomato basil soup arrived, and then grilled cheese sandwiches. “Speaking of little kids, these used to be your favorite,” she said, pointing at her sandwich.

  “I know, Mom, and they still are. But tell me about Dad.”

  Jackie finished off her wine and set the glass aside. Stirring a spoon through her soup, she let her thoughts drift back to a suitable starting point for her story. “You remember your Uncle Dan, don’t you? Your father’s brother? Well, I actually met him first.”

  Abby stopped, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “You went out with Uncle Dan? Where did you meet him?”

  “In Chicago. I was at the university, and met him at some club downtown. He was older than me, but he sure was handsome. And fun?” Jackie laughed. “Let me just say, your Uncle Dan liked to have a good time.”

  “I’ve heard stories. Dad told us how he used to run underwear up the flagpole at the post office.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not all he used to do, believe me. I don’t remember why he was in Chicago, but he always seemed to have money. It was fun to go out with him.” Jackie’s thoughts turned inward for a moment, or maybe it was just that the reminiscing came hard for her, but Abby noticed her mother’s expression tighten up a bit. “It wasn’t the best time in my life, you know. School wasn’t going well, I didn’t have any money, and I had no clear idea of what to do with my life.”

  “So, how does all this lead to Dad?”

  “Well, your Uncle Dan told me he was going home for a few days. I’d never heard of Black Otter Bay before. It sounded so exotic, like some Indian village up on the tundra.” Jackie used her knife to slice off a corner of her grilled cheese. Grinning now
, she said, “So I asked to go along. Knowing your uncle, I figured it would be an interesting adventure. Besides, I needed to get away for a while to consider my options.”

  “I bet it was weird coming up here. I mean, being from Chicago and all.”

  “Weird doesn’t begin to describe it. In my whole life, I’d never been out of the city. But it was beautiful, it was summertime, and everyone I met was so nice. I met your father, and something seemed to click.”

  “You mean, like, ‘love at first sight’?”

  Jackie demurred. “No, I wouldn’t say that, especially for your father. I think he hardly noticed me at all. But, like I said, I had no money, and no clue about the direction my life should take. Your father worked at the plant, earned a good wage, and seemed like an honest, sincere man. He wasn’t like the men I’d met before. He wasn’t like my father, who I couldn’t even remember, and he certainly wasn’t like any of the men my mother knew. He was even night and day from his own brother.”

  Abby pushed back from the table to pull off her sweatshirt. The fireplace was ablaze with pine logs popping and crackling. She looked at her mother, trying to envision her as a college student. She’d heard a lot of this before, but she was old enough now to picture the events in a totally different fashion. Reaching for the grilled cheese, she asked, “How did you get Dad to come around?”

  “Well, it certainly didn’t happen overnight. In fact, I wasn’t even sure about it myself. I mean, I’d never had a real family life. I wasn’t sure how the whole thing was supposed to work. All I knew was that when I thought about that little town so far away, so far away from my life and all my stupid problems, I got a warm spot in my heart.”

  “So what you’re saying is, you didn’t actually love Dad.”

  Jackie gave her daughter a wry smile. “To be honest, I’m not sure. But I was definitely in love with the notion of settling down in a safe place, starting a family, and working toward a normal, secure life for once.” She paused to emit a brief chuckle. “One time I drove up with some friends to visit your father. You should have seen Black Otter Bay the night a carload of co-eds from Chicago showed up. We sure were popular, even though the only place open was the Municipal. Sometime later, after I’d been seeing your father for a while and we’d decided to get married, it was those same girlfriends who convinced me I was doing the right thing.”

  Incredulous, Abby asked, “You mean you married Dad because of advice from your friends?”

  Jackie took her time replying. “You know, Abby, it’s hard to have this conversation when your bias is so set against me. It’s like you’re not even hearing me, or that what I say isn’t important.”

  “Okay then, Mom, tell me. I’m listening. Why did you marry Dad, and then leave us?”

  Jackie sighed, her thoughts jumbled up in old memories and emotions. She reached for her sandwich, but ended up grabbing her napkin to dab at her mouth and wipe her fingers. “I suppose it’s terrible to admit, and it won’t help your opinion of me, but all my friends were jealous. I had this tall, handsome boyfriend and a secure future. I’d never had that before, Abby, and no one had ever been envious of me. It was a good feeling. I was actually proud of the way my friends gossiped about my good fortune.” She shrugged. “So, even though it was for all the wrong reasons, settling down with your father just seemed like the right thing to do.”

  Abby frowned at her mother while taking the last bite of her sandwich. Brushing crumbs from her fingers, she said, “You know, I just don’t think it’s fair. You should have known that it wouldn’t work before you got the rest of us involved.”

  Jackie raised an eyebrow. “That’s a mean thing to say, Abby. Did your father tell you that?”

  “Of course not. But it’s obvious.”

  “I tried to make it work. Honest. I wanted to raise my family in a safe community, with no gangs or violence. I wanted to have enough money to give my children a good start in life. I’d never had any of that, so it was very important to me. Your father had a good job with a steady income, and he had some notions about raising a family, too. I wanted to teach you about the finer things in life, the arts and theater.” Jackie paused to look down at her plate, reached for the wine goblet, but set it down again when she realized it was empty. When she again looked at her daughter, all the sadness of her failed marriage shown in her face. “But there are no arts or theaters in Black Otter Bay. There isn’t even a library.”

  Abby had no intention of letting her mother off the hook. Her feelings of betrayal had been festering for over a year now. She said, “All that theater and arts stuff is what you wanted. All we wanted was a mom.”

  Jackie shook her head as if unable to believe what she was hearing. “But you’ve got me, Abby. Don’t you see that? I’m right here. I just can’t live in that town any longer.”

  “Why? Why can’t you, Mom? Your family is there. It’s not right.”

  Tears rolled silently down Jackie’s cheeks. She tried to speak but couldn’t find her voice. Then she blurted, “I was suffocating.”

  “But Ben needs you. We all need you.”

  Jackie shook her head again, and then held her napkin against the tears sliding down her face. She said, “It was like living in a fishbowl. Everyone knows your business. Whenever I’d leave the house, people wondered, ‘where is she going?’ They’d even watch to see if I turned onto the highway toward Duluth.” She paused for a few moments, sniffling, slowly regaining some measure of control. Then a flame seemed to ignite in her eyes, and she drew herself up straight to look at her daughter. She held a hand up as if to stop the conversation, and said, “I can’t believe this. I simply can’t believe I’m trying to justify my life to you. You want to talk about unfair . . .”

  Abby had been saving up for this fight for a long time, and she was glad for having finally said what was on her mind. She’d stood up for Ben and herself, and her mother’s tears seemed to prove that her points were valid. But it had never been her intention to make her mother cry, so instead of pushing her advantage, she sat back and returned Jackie’s glare from across the table. The one thing she knew for certain, however, was that her father’s heart had been broken when Ben left, and if she moved to Duluth now, it would probably kill him. She said, “You want me to spend the summer in Duluth. Do you think that would be fair to Dad?”

  “It’s just the summer, Abby. I want to share some of my life, some of my interests, with you.” Jackie leaned forward with newfound enthusiasm. “Do you know that just this morning I sold an oil painting for one thousand dollars?” She rapped her knuckles on the table. “Just like that, Abby, one thousand dollars.” Her rapid chatter signaled the recovery of her composure. “In all honesty, sweetheart, your father is a sincere and good man. I knew that from the beginning. But he deserves someone who appreciates living in a small town. That’s what’s right for him. I just can’t do it.”

  Abby nodded. “That’s pretty much what Dad said, that you shouldn’t have to live somewhere that makes you sad.”

  “Well, not sad, really. It’s just that I’m used to more. I love the city, the energy, and all the opportunities and things to do.” She sat back, took a deep breath, and brushed a length of hair back from her face. Looking at Abby again, a bashful smile rose on her face, and she asked, “Want to hear a poem I wrote a few years ago?”

  Abby doubted it, but in the spirit of rebuilding their relationship, she dipped her head in a half-hearted nod.

  Jackie sat up straighter and cleared her throat. “Okay, good. Here goes.

  “When did I realize you didn’t like poetry,

  And that art wasn’t important to you?

  Why couldn’t you see the grace in a skyscraper,

  Or know that city lights don’t always block out the stars?

  Why were you always the leader,

  And when did I stop following?”

  Abby flashed a tentative smile. “That’s pretty good, Mom.”

  “I wrote it in the car on
our way home from one of those horrible camping trips.”

  Abby laughed. “Did you ever share it with Dad?”

  Now it was Jackie’s turn to wear a shy smile. “No. I think writing it was therapy enough. I guess I’ve always been more of a silent rebel.”

  For a few quiet minutes they mulled their separate thoughts. Abby finished her grilled cheese and pushed the plate away. Looking at her mother, she said, “I like that, Mom. The ‘silent rebel.’”

  Jackie broke into a broad grin. “Well, there you have it, then. We finally hit on the one thing my daughter appreciates about me.”

  Abby laughed. “It’s a start, Mom. Now, if we could just get you to take up fishing.”

  THIRTEEN

  Marcy Soderstrom

  Despite its location on the main drag in downtown Duluth, just blocks from the trendy, upscale Canal Park, the two-story Native American–owned casino seemed straight out of a 1940s B movie. Flashing neon lights, even in the light of day, harkened a garish come-on, like a cheap whore under the corner lamppost. Transients and panhandlers squatted against the outside walls in full knowledge that anyone going in probably carried spare change. Security personnel at the narrow front entrance maintained an obvious, rigorous appearance, even on this weekday early in the evening.

  For the first several minutes after her arrival, Marcy Soderstrom was pleasantly surprised by the admiring glances and double takes she received. But then she realized she was probably the youngest female in the building, surrounded by a cadre of senior citizens and ne’er-do-wells. Among the three or four dozen sedentary video slot machine players, her spirited presence seemed to invoke the question, “What are you doing here?” So as she strolled through the aisles, she held her head high and added a slight swagger to her step, as if to reply, “I’m here because I choose to be.”

  Everyone smoked, to the extent that the rank smell of cigarettes permeated everything—not only the carpets and furniture, but in short order Marcy’s clothes and hair as well. She was struck by how the unhealthy pallor of the patrons seemed to reflect the flashing lights from the machines in front of them. The incessant clanging of bells in the background sent a ringing vibration through her ears, causing her to come to the quick conclusion that this place and these people weren’t exactly her style.