Glass Beads

by Dawn Dumont

  Hold your head up straight for God’s sake. You’re a man, not a nervous teenage girl.

  “Nellie.” His voice was a chinook that had finally made its way to the prairies.

  She’d always daydreamed about that moment when he would come back to her. She played out her reaction in different ways. Some days she threw her keys and hit him in the face, the sharp edge of the keys scratching that perfect skin. Other times she ran to him and he picked up her and they did that movie-style romantic spin. Other days they had sex on the hood of her car (although that entire parking area was covered with surveillance cameras so realistically that was never going to happen).

  That day, however, she walked over to the car. They talked. They went for dinner. The next morning she lent him some money. That was months ago and she hadn’t heard from him since.

  Stop thinking about him. He doesn’t deserve space in my brain. He can live without me. That was the refrain tattooed on her heart whenever she thought of calling him afterwards. She would hold the phone and have his number up and before pressing send she would stare at the inside of her wrist. She had pretty delicate wrists. They were her best feature by a long shot. In the twenty years that she’d known him he had never mentioned them.

  Nellie had no idea what he loved about her, if he had ever loved her. Maybe he liked that she had always been there for him like the sun in the morning and the moon in the evening. And now that she wasn’t, his love was withdrawn.

  One part of her liked to put things under harsh lights to counter the romantic in her. She ruined things with her expectations. She needed to see them for what they were. This she had learned. After the hundreds of times Everett had taken her heart and snapped it like a hollow piece of firewood across his leg.

  Besides she was dating now. Twice in one month a man had spoken to her and then somehow it transformed into a coffee date, a dinner date, and these dates were still sort of going. She had options other than the long-haired nomad. And a modern day nomad is a just a drifter, she reminded herself.

  And she had a trip to Italy coming up. It was one of those on the bus, off the bus things. She had already bought a hat.

  Stuff was happening.

  Then she had the Paris dream again. Once again she was in the City of Lights with her mom but this time her belly was big. They had to run to catch some bus that would take them out of Paris, back home and Nellie couldn’t make herself run. “Go Mom,” she kept saying. Because if her mom left then she could come back with help. But, of course, her mom would not leave her no matter how much Nellie yelled at her to go. Nellie woke up hungry.

  She was eating a high protein diet that a trainer had recommended years before but she’d never followed. Then she read that being fit was eighty percent diet and twenty percent working out so she cancelled her gym membership and bought some protein powder.

  She had a shake. It wasn’t even close to satisfying. At her coffee place, she ordered a bagel to go with her coffee. She forgot to flirt with anyone.

  Her assistant kept her eyes on her computer when Nellie walked in. When Nellie said good morning, her assistant replied in a cold voice. But her fingers were moving rapidly which was all Nellie cared about anyway.

  There were three meetings that morning. Coffee. Danish (lemon). Coffee with cream. Date square (in the morning?). Coffee with cream and sugar (not fake sugar either). A shortbread cookie (it was dry).

  She went to lunch with co-workers and had a salad. On the way back to the office, she picked up a bag of chips, the family size. Then ate and worked her way through the afternoon. Happy as a pig in shit.

  Her mom called again about supper. Nellie picked the place. They served big portions.

  At supper, her mom asked about her dates. Nellie made the men sound much hotter than they were, although she stumbled over their names. How had she forgotten about them already?

  “I’ve been having weird dreams lately,” Nellie told her mom. “You’re in them.”

  “Mothers represent youth. Or nurturing.” Her mother was always reading books about the occult and astrology and other things that Nellie scoffed at.

  “Whatever it is, we’re not doing well. We’re in Paris.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

  “We’ll go next year.”

  “Next year your sister is getting married.”

  “She’ll find a way to screw it up.”

  Her mother sipped her coffee in silent agreement.

  “I’ll book the trip. Maybe Julie will be able to come. I’m a bit worried about her.”

  “Still nothing?”

  “Nope. They probably can’t. I don’t know why they don’t admit it to themselves and move on to other options. Adopt. Get a surrogate. God knows Taz can afford it.”

  “It takes time Nellie.”

  “Well, whatever. They’re wasting it. Do you want dessert?”

  Her mother didn’t but Nellie could talk her into anything.

  That night they were in Paris again. Her mother was trying to dig something out of the ground. A weed that she figured they could eat. It would be bitter, Nellie knew, but she was so hungry she didn’t care. Plus the baby was hungry. Nellie could feel the baby’s hunger pains. It’s too much. She told herself. Babies are too hard.

  She woke up and sunlight filled the room which meant she slept in. She reached for her phone and made an appointment to see her doctor. She thought about her condo. She might have to buy a townhouse. Maybe something with a yard. Kids needed that right? She felt weak and shaky like she’d drank too much the night before.

  Her doctor snuck her in that day because she was a good patient. She was a few years younger than Nellie and her eyes drifted to Nellie’s wedding hand as she asked questions. Her doctor wore a thick gold band with a sparkling diamond. Lucky bitch, Nellie thought for the hundred thousandth time.

  In the parking lot outside the clinic, Nellie sat in her car. She always hated people who sat in their cars. It made them look suspicious. Or they looked like their lives were so utterly out of control that their car was the only place they could hide. She sat in her car for a long time figuring out where to go.

  That night she did not dream.

  Sundance

  August 2007

  SHE WAS SITTING ON the front steps of his house when Everett got home from the Sundance. He’d pierced. He felt his shirt sticking to the blood because the wound hadn’t closed up yet.

  She wasn’t reading or on the phone or smoking. She was sitting there staring up at him.

  “How long you been here?”

  “Couple hours.”

  “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “Nellie mentioned you were on your way back from the States.”

  He opened the door. The house smelled like heaven.

  “I made tea,” she said. “And spaghetti and meatballs.”

  He collapsed on a chair and ate.

  She asked him about the ceremony. When he asked her about Taz, she brushed her hair behind her ears. “It’s not working.” In response to his skeptical look, she added. “I’m looking for my own place.”

  And then, she turned the conversation back to him.

  “You excited to be a dad?”

  “Yeah. But I don’t know how to do it. I asked the Elders about what I need to know.”

  She frowned. “Are you helping Nellie?”

  He shrugged. “She says she doesn’t need me.”

  Her frown deepened.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “You know that I always do what you guys want in the end.” He scratched around the wound where it itched.

  She reached across the table and put her hand on top of his arm. Gently her long fingers drummed on his skin. “You’ll be a good dad,” she said.

  It was dark outside when he cleared the table. He brushed against her shoulder when he leaned over to grab her plate. She didn’t move away.

  In the old days, he would have offered her a beer. Now he had tea and wa
ter and juice and coffee. He missed the old days.

  She made it easy for him. Around ten she yawned, threw up her arms and said, “You ready to hit the hay?”

  He followed her into the bedroom tentatively like a kid half expecting a spanking. She walked to the bed and pulled off her shirt, her bra, her jeans. Then she climbed into bed.

  She felt better than he remembered. Lean still, but softer. He always worried that life would make her too thin. He remembered seeing her mom in the city once and she looked like a hungry child.

  “Do you ever think about your mom?”

  “Yes,” her voice was calm.

  “What do you think about?”

  “The good times.”

  He held her to his chest and she slept like that.

  He woke up feeling cold. The blankets were down by his waist. He looked to his side almost expecting to see Nellie there but there was no one. Julie. He remembered and got up to see if her bag was gone. She was on the couch asleep, the light was on beside her, a book near her head. She didn’t go straight to sleep then.

  He went to the kitchen. In a lower cupboard was where he kept them. It was a black case, like those bags that doctors carry. It always made him feel like a strange professional. He opened it and the silver glinted at him. He grabbed randomly knowing that any of them would work.

  Then he knelt beside her and began to cut. Her face was hidden and then it was clear. He picked up the hair and put it in a plastic bag. Then he picked her up and carried her back to bed.

  When he woke up again, it was to the sound her voice, annoyed, coming from the bathroom.

  “Did you have to cut it all off?”

  He got out of bed and looked at her reflection. Her hair stuck out in unruly tufts and had a faint “escaped from a mental institution” aura. “Sorry.”

  She pushed him. “Fuck, Everett.”

  “It looks nice.” He reached out to touch the back of her neck where it curled up.

  She slapped his hand away. “That’s not the point.”

  “You’re not looking for a place, are you?” There was a growl in his voice.

  Caught in a lie, Nellie would get huffy, even start attacking like a hypocrite. Instead, Julie looked away, a half-smile turning up one side of her mouth. Everett found this more annoying, to be honest. He hit the side of the doorframe with the back of his hand.

  Julie flinched but did not turn around. She picked up a pair of scissors. “Why do you have so many pairs?” She met his eyes in the mirror.

  “I sharpen scissors for hairdressers.”

  “Always the fox in the henhouse, hey?”

  “I fell into it.”

  She cut quickly, confidently as if she could see what it should look like. The hair fell in clumps in the sink.

  “Never cut my hair,” she said. “But I guess every woman should go short at least once in her life.”

  He watched her start on the sides, evening it out. Then along the top, making it look more like a brush cut.

  “I think I’m ready for the army,” she grinned.

  He went to the kitchen to make breakfast.

  They laid in bed that night and stared at the ceiling.

  “I could get you a job in one of the salons.”

  “That would be nice. Me and my freak hair.”

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She said nothing.

  He woke up around dawn and watched her while she slept.

  “That’s creepy,” she said without opening her eyes.

  “I wasn’t looking at you vain one.”

  She opened her eyes and brushed her hand against her head. “Why so short Everett?”

  He rested his hand on her head and stroked its velvety softness. “You’re like a deer.”

  “I’ll never understand you.” This was something Nellie would say so he knew she was lying.

  After breakfast, she threw her stuff into a bag.

  His new scar hurt worse than ever and he liked how that felt. How it made him weak and kept him still.

  “I want you to stay.” He said, in case she hadn’t figured that out in the last twenty-five years.

  She nodded and traced his nose with her finger, then kissed him.

  He didn’t watch her leave.

  A week later, he came home to a car in his drive way. A green Volvo. He went inside the house.

  Nellie was spreading out some Chinese take-out. It was way too much food for two people. “Is the army coming?”

  She laughed nervously. “I didn’t know what you like so I got one of everything.”

  They ate and Nellie told him her work stories. She seemed to be having fun at work, working on stuff she thought was important. The office had been getting calls about “residential schools.” While she explained what they were, and how kids were abused there, his thoughts went to all those moments in ceremony when old guys talked about the stuff done to them in those schools and some of those guys weren’t old, they were young like him. He didn’t say this though, he let her talk. She could barely keep still as she told him how she was convincing people to tell their stories to lawyers and stick it to the government and the churches. “Someone should start a law firm and handle these claims,” she said.

  “Why not you?”

  “I work with Taz.” She glanced at the cellphone on the table. “Besides I’d have to bring in other lawyers and y’know I don’t work well with other people.”

  “You work with Taz, you can work with anyone.”

  “We’re doing good things too.” She started putting covers on the food.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked her. He always heard people ask pregnant women that.

  “Bigger, obviously,” she said and cupped her breasts. They were a lot bigger.

  “Do you feel him . . . her . . . ?”

  She shook her head. “Too early for that.”

  They fell back into silence. Everett ate fried rice and wondered whoever thought of putting fried eggs in rice first.

  Finally she told him what she came to say. “Julie gave me a call a few weeks ago. I want you to know that. Because it was her idea, so don’t get all mad at me.”

  He nodded.

  “She suggested, but like in that determined Julie way, y’know . . . I know you like your privacy but she was insistent and I mean really we do it all the time at the office. We have a woman who researches family trees and well, it’s kind of funny that you never asked me yourself.”

  “Asked you what?”

  “To find your mom.”

  He exhaled and wished for a smoke and a beer. “Fuck, Nellie.”

  “She’s alive!” She exclaimed quickly.

  “Where?”

  “Montana.”

  He must have driven through it at least a dozen times the past few years.

  “Way down there?”

  “She married a rancher.”

  “She’s doing okay then?”

  “I barely talked to her but she seems all right.”

  “You talked to her!”

  “I wanted to make sure it was the right woman . . . ” She put her fingers in her mouth. Everett knew she did that to appear nervous. Little shit.

  “You guys . . . ” he got up and went to the sink, went to the cupboard, went to the bathroom then the bedroom, looking for something but not knowing what. Nellie used to compare him to an old dog when he did that at their house. Same old stupid Everett. He sat on his bed and his heart felt like it did when he used to wake up after a hard drunk, like a bird trapped in a metal drum.

  Nellie stepped into the doorway. “She wants to talk to you.”

  He tapped his foot on the ground. Nellie’s eyes went to it, she always studied him like a mouse.

  “Are you excited?”

  “I guess you have her number.”

  “Yeah. Do you want to call her?”

  “Not right now.”

  “Why not right now?”

  “I don’t
know.”

  “Just call her.” She paused, “Sorry, pushy Nellie.”

  She went back to the kitchen.

  Everett remembered the day he bought Nellie’s wedding ring. He was in a pawnshop looking around when he saw it, and right down to the moment before he paid for the ring, he had his eyes on an electric guitar hanging on the wall. Then he heard his mom’s voice in his head, “How you treat others is what you think of yourself.” Nellie had never seen that ring.

  He stood up from the bed. He caught his reflection in the window. He looked so old. He went back into the kitchen.

  “Can I get the number?”

  Nellie nodded, her mouth full of fried rice. She ripped part of the brown Chinese food bag and wrote out the number and laid it on the table. The numbers sat there looking at him next to: “Fast Delivery, No MSG.”

  They finished eating. Nellie’s phone vibrated through the meal so much that Everett figured she was probably dating someone now. Then he remembered, she’s pregnant, idiot.

  It was dark when she left. Before she headed outside, she pressed that little button and her car purred to life. She paused to wave at him, that little excited wave that never fit her.

  He stood in the kitchen window and watched her go around to her side of the car. Before getting in, she stood by the door and brushed her hair back with her hand. It was so thick and curly that her hand got caught for a second, then she pulled it free.

  She was putting the key into the ignition when he opened the door.

  The Ferris Wheel

  September 2007

  “FAIR’S ON.” TAZ WAS staring at the TV, the remote in his hand. He’d been home less than twenty seconds.

  “I saw the parade on TV this morning.”

  “We should go. Eat some bad food, go on some rides?”

  “I’ve been craving fries.”

  “Let me shower first then we’ll go.”

  Julie put on a sundress. When she bought it, she thought it would be the perfect thing to wear to a fair. But when she saw herself standing in the mirror, it looked wrong. She always felt like a man in a dress, her shoulders looked too wide and her narrow hips got lost in full skirts. Dresses were something you had to have practice with, she decided. She pulled out a pair of shorts, then couldn’t decide on a shirt to wear with it. Finally she put on a pair of jeans and a plain T-shirt. She used to wear only concert t-shirts but she was too old for that now. Simple was what grown-ups did.