by A. L. Knorr
"You wouldn't reconsider your mom's offer to go to Ireland?" I still didn't fully understand her reticence. "I remember when you came back from the last visit. You seemed so much happier. I thought Ireland had been good for you."
She nodded, "Yeah, but that was a long time ago. I was just a kid who'd lost her dad. Things are different now. I'm not that kid anymore. I already told Liz that the reason I was staying was because you'd be here. Now that you're going, I don't have a reason to stay anymore." She shrugged, "So, I guess I'm going to the emerald isle after all."
"You'll love it," I encouraged her. "I would have chosen Ireland over Poland, but I'm not about to complain."
"Yeah, it's pretty. So green and lush," she said. "Its been a long time. The last time I was there was the summer before your dad passed away."
I nodded. "We were seven." I would never forget the year that followed her return, not only because I lost my father but also because it was the first year I really knew what it meant to have a best friend. Georjie and I were young but even then she'd been a comfort to me. She'd had such maturity for being just a kid, far more than I had.
"Speaking of dads," I said, "I don't suppose you've heard from yours?" I eyed Georjie as I picked the last few kernels from the bottom of the buttery bowl. I liked the hard crunchy ones that hadn't fully popped, even better if they were a bit burnt.
She shook her head, "No, last we'd heard he was still living in Edmonton with his new wife. I think the father ship has long since sailed for me." She dusted the salt off her hands. “Even the mother ship has sprung a few leaks. Thirsty?"
I nodded and she poured me some iced tea. I studied her face as she poured, the corners of her mouth turned down. Georjayna carries a quiet sadness about her father, and how could she not? Both of us were fatherless only mine didn't leave by choice. She blamed herself and probably always would. It was hard not to feel angry with the man I could barely remember. Liz and Brent had divorced when Georjayna was only six and that was one of the reasons she'd taken Georjayna to Ireland the following summer. Things had been such a mess at home.
Her father had hung around for a while trying to do the joint custody thing but soon he'd started missing their play dates, then he'd disappear for a month and not tell anyone where he was. Eventually, he vanished completely leaving only an email address and a cell number where Liz could reach him. He'd scrawled the words 'for emergency' beside the cell number, which made things pretty clear. As if Liz or Georjie would want to call him after finding a goodbye note like that, emergency or not.
"So, when do you think you'll leave for Ireland?" I asked.
"I don't know, I guess soon, since you're leaving... when?"
"In a week." I could hardly believe it still. I got a little jolt of adrenalin every time I thought about getting on the plane.
She nodded. "I'll ask Liz's secretary to see what flights are available around that time then." Georjayna referred to her mother as Liz most of the time, and any logistical stuff for Georjayna's life like flights and dental appointments went through Liz's office. I couldn't imagine calling my mom 'Mira' or having my mom's secretary look after my personal needs.
"I know you don't know yet, but keep me posted about your return date and I'll try to come back around the same time. Maybe we'll even have a few weeks of summer left to hang out."
I agreed. "I want you to have a good time though, Georjie. It's Ireland, not Winnipeg."
She laughed. "I know. And I like my Aunt Nelda, she's kind of a cool hippy chick, y'know. I have a cousin I haven't met yet either." Georjayna pulled the throw from the back of her chair and spread it over her legs.
"I thought your aunt was single and had no kids?" My memory of Georjayna's family in Ireland was blurry at best. A breeze raised goosebumps on my skin and I covered myself with a throw too.
"She is single," Georjayna explained. "And my cousin is actually older than me by a year or two, I think. My aunt adopted him after the last time I was there so he's not a blood relative and I haven't had the chance to meet him yet. Liz hasn't told me anything, like why Aunt Nelda adopted him and stuff. I'm sure I'll find out when I get there. His name is Jasher. Isn't that a cool name?" Her feet were peeking out from under the blanket and she sat up and pulled it down in an effort to cover them. I guess it wasn't always easy to be so leggy.
"Super cool. Is he cute?" Not that I cared much, but a nice smile and a set of broad shoulders would go a long way towards a good summer for Georjayna.
"No idea but I'll sneak a pic and send it to you and you can decide," she promised. She brightened as a thought occurred and added, "Maybe you'll meet a cute Polish boy to hang out with."
"Maybe.” I conceded.
She looked at me with a sidelong glance. "Why so doubtful?”
She was digging a bit now. It had been a while since we'd talked about guys in a serious way. I usually tried to avoid it as I was never sure what to say. Whenever the four of us were together and the topic of guys came up, Saxony and Georjayna always had plenty of opinions. But Akiko and I never had much to add. The difference between Akiko and I was that she had sentiments she could make clear in a few short words, but I didn't have opinions at all.
"I'm just..." I began, and Georjayna waited patiently. "Not that attracted to guys," I finished.
"Are you attracted to girls?" she asked plainly, without so much as a raised eyebrow. It was a logical next question, and Georjayna was great at making me feel safe. She's the least judgmental person I know. That question would have sounded laced with potential judgement coming from Saxony.
"Big fat no there too," I said. "I mean, I am fully capable of recognizing an attractive person when presented with one, it's not like I don't appreciate them. I've just never had those butterflies that you and Saxony always talk about."
"But you've been on dates before," Georjayna recalled. "With Peter in Grade 9, wasn't it?"
"There was also the basketball player, Scott."
"Right, he was nice. But Peter was way too short, even for you."
I laughed. "Only you would say that." Peter had been at least two inches taller than me.
She snorted. "True."
"They weren't really crushes. I was sort of humouring them to be honest. They asked, so I went. That's what girls our age are supposed to do, right? Go on dates? Make out?"
"Yeah, but ideally with someone you actually want to go out with. You and Scott kissed, right? I remember needling you for details afterwards. I thought you'd liked it, didn't you tell me that you liked it? So, how was it, really?"
I made a show of patting my hand over my mouth and yawning.
Georjayna winced, "That bad?"
"Poor guy. It wasn't his fault. It is possible to be born without a sex drive?" I said. At the end of the night, I'd recalled just wanting to get away from him. I was happier in my pyjamas with a good book.
"Maybe, I don't know. I doubt it though because if that's the case then wouldn't there be some other symptoms, too? Wouldn't it mean your hormones are out of whack? Something would have shown up in puberty wouldn't it? I mean, your puberty was so..." she searched for the right word, "...peaceful," she finally settled on. "You didn't get acne or cramps or anything. I could have killed you. There I was vomiting into the toilet at least once a month from the pain and my mother going on about birth control pills. My face was a mess in Grade 9, remember?"
I blinked. I couldn't remember Georjie as having anything other than a perfect California girl complexion, even in winter.
She rolled her eyes at the vacant expression on my face. "Dude, I almost went on that nasty drug for acne, what's it called? The one that can give you brittle bones when you get older?"
"No idea." Why did I not remember these details, was I more like my mom than I thought I was?
"Well anyway, with the silly boys in this town its no wonder you haven't fallen in love or felt that spark yet. If you met the right person, I'm sure you'd feel differently," Georjayna said confidently
. "It'll happen. You'll see."
I wasn't so sure but I didn't protest. I didn't know what to say about it anyway so there was no point in arguing.
"Make sure you get an international texting plan before you leave," she said, randomly.
I laughed. "Sure thing, Georjie."
As I listened to her wonder out loud about things she might do in Ireland, I was comforted to hear that she was warming to the idea. We chatted away until Saxony and Akiko arrived.
The sky was finally growing dim and the stars began to come out. We built a fire in the backyard, roasted marshmallows and talked about our plans. I caught Saxony and Akiko up about Poland.
"That's amazing, Targa," Akiko smiled at me. Sometimes, when she looked at me it almost felt as though I couldn't look away. We held each other's gaze and I could see how authentic her joy was for me even if she wasn't outwardly expressive.
Saxony bounced in her chair, her marshmallow jouncing over the flame. "Except for Akiko, we'll all be in Europe. We have to promise to stay in touch, ok? I know we'll be busy but lets try to touch base when we can."
Georjayna and I agreed, but Akiko looked doubtful. "I'll try," she said, "I'm just not sure how good the signal will be where I'm going. From what I know the family is kind of remote and I'm not sure how fond they are of technology. I'll let you guys know when I arrive what the situation is like. Even if I have to find an internet café and email you."
"Who doesn't have wifi these days?" asked Georjayna, horrified. "Seriously, where is your grandfather sending you, to a mountain cave?"
Akiko gave her half-smile, the one where just one corner of her mouth turned up. "Who knows. His descriptive skills are scanty at best."
Akiko is an orphan who'd been raised by her grandfather. She says that she can't remember her folks at all. They'd died from a contagious illness that had spread through several villages, taking hundreds of lives. Her father had been an American expat. She says her Japanese grandfather on her mothers' side had brought her to Canada to raise her because his life had been so devastated by it.
"How come your grandfather isn't going with you?" I asked. "Doesn't he want to go back home for a visit, too?"
"He's too old for that kind of traveling now," she answered. She didn't say anything more and I watched her face as she stared into the fire. Her expression was so hard to read. Was it just my imagination or was she pleased that her grandfather wouldn't be going with her? Did she want to get away from him? How would she feel when he passed away? From the sounds of it, he didn't have too many years left and he was all she had here in Canada. Would she go back to Japan if she liked the family? They were all questions I knew she'd deflect.
I looked over at Georjayna and noticed that she was watching Akiko too. I caught Georjie's eye and we shared a look of understanding. We both felt that there was always more going on under the surface with Akiko than any of us knew. I stole a glance at Saxony but she was taking a sip of her iced tea and gazing into the fire. She was Akiko's closest friend, but sometimes it seemed like she was oblivious to her. Another strange thought struck me in that moment, too. Maybe Akiko liked Saxony precisely because she didn't dig too hard for information.
I'd only met Akiko's grandfather once. It was at an outdoor market in Saltford, and he and Akiko were buying vegetables. She'd been loaded down with bags of produce and he was shuffling along with a cane, bent over and wizened. He was a tiny man with fine bones and paper-thin skin but he also had a look of vitality and iron-strength. He had a scraggly white beard and a strange hat pulled down to his ears even though the weather had been warm. He'd been wearing a brown felt jacket held closed by small wooden toggles all the way up to the mandarin collar.
Akiko had introduced us awkwardly, like she'd rather be anywhere else. She didn't tell me his name, she'd just introduced him as, "My grandfather." I'd held out my hand to shake but he didn't take it. He'd looked me straight in the eyes and said nothing. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment because I had such a chill at what I saw. It was as though he'd lived more than one life and none of them had been good.
I remembered asking Saxony and Georjayna if they'd ever met him and they said they hadn't. I was especially surprised that Saxony hadn't met him. Saxony explained that she'd stopped asking Akiko if she could meet him because she'd made it clear that she didn't want to mix her home life with her friends. We were her real family, or so she said, but she is still a mystery in a lot of ways even to us. We've known her only two years so I guess that is to be expected.
We had fallen into a companionable silence, listening to the fire crackle and the crickets chirp. It was moments like these when I appreciated my friends the most. No one felt the need to fill the air with conversation.
Saxony finally broke the quiet, "Lets promise to have a sleep over when everyone gets back."
We agreed. I smiled at Saxony in the firelight. It's strange, but in some ways, Saxony is the glue that holds our group together. If we fall out of contact for too long, she's the first to reach out and pull us all back together. Georjayna and I will never lose touch, but it's harder for a foursome to get together regularly. More often than not, it's Saxony who makes it happen.
Of the four of us, Saxony is the only one who has a 'normal' family life. She has happily married parents whom she gets along great with and two brothers whom she adores. Being the middle child and the only girl means she enjoys a spoiled existence at home. Saxony the only extrovert of our group. She's the funniest, the most confident, the biggest flirt, the most opinionated, and she's very popular at school. Because of this she also polarizes people, seems like people either love her or hate her.
This was to be the first summer that I'd spend without my friends. Saying goodbye was both sad and exciting. I felt like this was my chance to get to know myself without the influence of my circle. Maybe I had been defining myself by our little group for too long and I needed a break. As we enjoyed the fire and our last moments together dwindled away, I found myself wondering if they each felt the same way.
Six
I was only three when I saw my mother as a mermaid for the first time. On a hot summer night she'd taken me down the beach under cover of darkness. I watched in wonder as my mother's pale legs glittered in the moonlight and then bonded together to form an iridescent tail. For a little child who never knew any different, her fins and gills became just another wonderful feature my mother had. They were no different than her vibrant blue eyes or her inky black hair. Our night swims were my favourite thing. During the day she'd swim with me like any other two-legged being, but if we were out at night and alone, she'd change.
She'd amaze me with her incredible acrobatic ability in the water. At least, as well as could be seen in the dark. But in the dark or not, it was hard to top swimming with a mermaid as your companion. My mother used to disappear under the water, leaving me scanning the surface for ripples and guessing where she would pop up next. She'd explode out of the water and spin rapidly in the air, calling "what am I?" Then she'd disappear again with hardly a splash. Then she'd pop up next to me and I'd gasp, startled.
'Spinner dolphin," I'd say.
"Very good!" she'd say, kissing my cheek.
"Do a whale, mommy!" I'd request, patting her cheeks with my chubby little hands.
She'd disappear again and I'd watch the water breathlessly. She'd swim showing only her hip and move very slowly to mimic the shape of a whale's back gliding just above the surface of the water and then submerging again.
"Eel!" I'd yell. She'd skim the surface revealing enough to appear long and sinuous. She'd swim in a serpentine fashion, creating the 'S' shape with far more accuracy with her flexible body than any human would be able to do.
I would stroke her scaly tail, admiring the emerald colours in the moonlight. It was firm and smooth if I brushed it one way, but rough if I brushed it the other way. She could even lift her scales away from her body and create a wave across her tail that caught the moonlight. Her ski
n was pale and smooth as porcelain and took on a pearly sheen when she was in her mermaid form. She could spiral her long black hair in the water and come up to show me that it had wrapped itself around her like a ribbon round a maypole. She was utterly enchanting; no wonder I grew up feeling that she was person I wanted to spend the most time with.
"It has to be our little secret," she'd impressed upon me more than once, and I'd always nod solemnly.
"Daddy?" I had asked.
"Even daddy can't know," she'd say, and her voice would take on a hypnotic musical quality.
"Why?" I'd asked. Surely daddy loved her as much as I did and deserved to see her in her full glory.
"The world doesn't believe in mermaids, sweetheart," she explained. "It would be dangerous for me if people knew, and it might be dangerous for you and your father too. The fewer people that know a secret, the safer that secret is. Do you see?" she'd asked, the violins in her voice soothing my concerns.
I would nod and look up at her with adoring eyes.
She used to ask me to concentrate, to see if I felt any different in the salt water, to will myself to transform the way that she did. But as much as I wanted to, there was nothing I could do. I would lay submerged in the saltwater, closing my eyes and picturing my legs fusing and scales sweeping across my skin. But my body simply refused to change.
And so, I grew as a normal child. Well, as normal as one can be who cries almost every night for several years because she's not a mermaid. My father was completely baffled by this phase in my life. Poor guy.
Sometime around my seventh birthday, I sensed a change in my mother. She grew distant from dad and I. I didn't know at the time that she was wrestling with a powerful biological need to go back to the ocean. Now that I understand it, I'm amazed that she didn't disappear. It must have taken some kind of crazy strong will not to leave. I would observe her lost in thought for long stretches of time. She spent more and more time out of the house without having told us where she'd gone. She and my father started to argue about it. Of course, he could never understand what the real problem was and had no way of helping her. I knew that it had to do with our secret, but also had no idea how to help.