Trickster Drift

by Eden Robinson

  In the grand multiverse, there is a world where dolphins evolved into land-dwelling, upright, bipedal beings. Their cities are dimly lit. Because their buildings are designed to be acoustically pleasing rather than eye candy, their skyscrapers are fluted and curved, shot through with holes and tunnels to catch the wind, the sounds of traffic and the crowds, turning everything into song. Dolphins never truly sleep, so their cities never rest, an unending overture, a polyphony that shifts in and out of a hundred thousand melodies.

  12

  Something banged the garbage bag–covered window, like a bird had flown into it. It banged four or five more times and paused before another flurry of bangs, then went quiet. As Jared raised his head, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, something black and long creeping along the floor. He pulled his feet under the quilt. He felt like he was floating above the city and thought that he was dreaming but then remembered that Edgar had painted the bedroom floor.

  Morning light leaked through tiny holes in the garbage bag. The room was empty. His room, if he wanted it. This apartment was only a couple of short bus rides from BCIT. He could even walk if he had to, but over seven kilometres each way? He’d spend most of the day getting to and from class. Guilt lingered like a bad aftertaste. Was he being disloyal? His mom was the one who had given him Mave’s address, but the history between Mave and his mom made him feel like a shitty son.

  His phone started vibrating on the desk. He wasn’t up to chatting with Sarah. Not before coffee. Not if it would lead her on. God, didn’t breakups mean you stopped talking? But maybe she had news about Mrs. Jaks. He reached over and grabbed his phone.

  Sophia had messaged him. Are you still at the hostel, Jared?

  Yeah, if his mom was mad that he hadn’t mentioned reconnecting with Granny Nita, she wasn’t going to be any more pleased that he’d reconnected with Sophia. He’d have to at least mention it in passing if he didn’t want his mom to do more angry brain-bonding. Soon. Ideally, you broke bad news to his mom with a plate of crispy bacon, a fried steak and a baked potato smothered in butter and more bacon. A couple hits of a bong filled with something that gave her a huge body stone so she was less likely to use you as target practice. Or at least it would throw off her aim.

  Couchsurfing with Mom’s sister, Jared messaged Sophia.

  I wasn’t aware you had suicidal tendencies.

  Mom connected us.

  Has she had a stroke?

  She got sick of Sober Jared.

  Ah. If you really want to rebel tell her you’re vegan and ask her to sign your petition for stricter gun laws.

  I knew you were trouble.

  Please send me your address, Jared. I had my lawyers dig up an old copy of your restraining order. Just in case.

  She mostly knew divorce lawyers, but she’d arranged the first restraining order. Jared felt like he’d swallowed a rock and it was stuck in his throat. He couldn’t think of anything clever to say. He sat on the edge of the bed and the screen blurred as he fought crying. The relief. The sudden release of tension he hadn’t known he’d been carrying.

  Jared?

  Having a moment. Sorry.

  Don’t be.

  Thank you, Sophia.

  Address, please. The courier awaits.

  Jared sent the address and thanked her again. Sophia sent an emoji of a smiley face rolling its eyes. She’d hit her warm-and-fuzzy limit. He sent random emojis of an octopus and a monkey.

  Goodbye, she messaged.

  Bye.

  Jared listened for his aunt, but the apartment was still.

  “Mave?” he said as he poked his head out of the bedroom.

  No answer. Jared went into the kitchen and rummaged around for something to eat. He picked up a mango. You could seriously rub people the wrong way if you helped yourself to their food even if they’d invited you into their home, even if they had a full pantry and fridge. Or, in Mave’s case, even if you were auditioning for a hoarding show. He put the mango back. He rinsed out a cup and ran the tap. Vancouver water had a metallic tang.

  The TV was still on in the living room, but Bathrobe was gone. Was he a roommate? Was he an overly friendly neighbour? Mave didn’t seem to be talking to him, yet she hadn’t kicked him out, either. Jared dug through the couch for the remote and watched the news for a few minutes. But people could be weird about their TVs too. He shut it off. He went back to his room, dug around his backpack and pulled out the bag of crumbling, stale nachos. Breakfast of champions, he thought.

  Jared woke again, confused, not sure if it was night or day in the dimly lit room. He checked his phone for the time. Damn it. He’d meant to rest for a few minutes, but closing his eyes had turned into an all-day nap. His stomach complained, loud and urgent. He needed something more substantial for supper. He went to get his hoodie and tried out his apartment key. It worked. He wandered around the block, found a convenience store that sold watery coffee and instant cup of noodles in a brand with very little English on the label and bought two for a dollar, Spicy Shrimp, simulated flavours. He chugged his coffee on the way home. The small plastic key fob opened the entrance door. He took the stairs two at a time and dug through the kitchen for a kettle. He made both the cups then brought them back to his room. He sat at the desk, finishing his first cup by tipping it into his mouth. Just the right amount of MSG. The second one he ate more slowly, considering Sarah’s message.

  No BS, his mom would say. Straight to the point. Grab some balls.

  I don’t think we should get back 2gether, he texted Sarah.

  Duh, she texted back.

  Then wutz wit the txts?

  Bored. Patronizing anti-intellectual body positive re-education camp sux. Plus I thot u were being stalked. Got concerned. My bad.

  How long r u @ Camp Cutter?

  Sweet deflect. 2 bad u dont play hockey.

  Hey. Me friend. FR-End.

  Ya u n this super chipper army of pastel-wearing pharma pushers. I swear by the gender-neutral deity therz uppers in the water.

  Immunity must b ur superpower.

  Ur hi-larious. Where r u?

  Mom has a sis. Couchsurfing 4 a few days.

  She kool?

  Dunno. She wanted 2 adopt me when I wuz a baby. Her n Mom had a big fite. I didnt even no she existed til last year. Mom gave me her # but still h8tz her.

  Shitty. Anywhere else u can go?

  No. Classes start Tues. Loan haznt cum in yet. Blew my wad on tuition n hostel. Cant afford 2 start anything wit her but damn.

  2 sides 2 evry story. Confront her. Clear the air. I have friends u can stay wit if it goes tits up.

  Ya?

  4 realz. Gotta go for supper. We must all eat together like good lil robots. TTFN.

  TTYL

  He took his ancient laptop out of his backpack and plugged it in.

  Confront Mave. Not yet. Maybe never. He didn’t know any of Sarah’s friends, but the likelihood that they were normal was pretty low.

  The laptop screen finally whirred to life. He’d taken off as many programmes and files as he could to speed it up, but it still clunked and hissed. Labour Day was this Monday. Classes on Tuesday. If he’d had any money at all, he’d have gone up to BCIT and bought his textbooks. He’d been relying on Death fronting him a week’s pay to cover the books, but that was shot to hell. He had the weekend to figure things out. Maybe they had the textbooks in the library. Maybe he could sweet-talk someone in class into letting him photocopy the first couple of chapters and assignments.

  One day at a time, he reminded himself. Lately, it had felt like one crisis at a time. He hadn’t thought to ask Sophia when the courier was coming. Tomorrow was Friday, so they probably wouldn’t be delivering until Tuesday.

  He was busy looking up possible rentals when he heard the front door open, and voices coming down the hallway. His first instinct was to close his bedroom door and pretend to be asleep, but he reminded himself that he was a guest. Poking his head out to say hi was the lea
st he could do.

  The hem of Mave’s skirt was smeared with black grease and her knees were scraped. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her mascara had migrated, giving her a raccoon-like mask. She straightened and wiped her eyes when she noticed Jared. A lean, dark woman with shoulder-length black hair kissed Mave’s cheek then wiped the lipstick off with her thumb. She had a prominent Adam’s apple. A buff Native guy who looked as chiselled as a Greek statue stood behind them. Buff dude wore a security guard’s uniform. He glowered, typing into his phone.

  “What happened?” Jared said.

  “M-m-my car died when I w-w-as…we were going…Aunt Agnetha and I, t-t-t—” Mave said.

  “Shh. We’re home, Maamaan,” the woman said. “Everyone’s safe.”

  “Is this Jared?” the guy said, looking up and scowling at him.

  “Oh,” Mave said, swallowing hard. “Yes, this is Maggie’s boy.”

  Buff dude said to Jared, “Who’s this David that’s stalking you?”

  “Hank,” the woman hissed. “Not now.”

  “We need to know what we’re getting into,” Hank said.

  “Go check on Agnetha, Hank,” the woman said.

  “I could have picked Gran up,” Hank said.

  Mave cleared her throat. “Aunt Aggie said you’ve taken enough days off, Hank. The groceries, though. We couldn’t get the trunk open. They’re still in the trunk.”

  “You should have called me earlier,” Hank said.

  “I was closer,” the woman said. “Your gran is safe. We towed Maamaan’s bug to my school. I’ll have my students look at it in the morning, but it looks like a leaky oil pan. Easily fixed.”

  “If the engine didn’t seize,” Hank said.

  The woman shot Hank a cold look as Mave hiccupped in a failing attempt not to cry again. The woman jerked her head and mouthed, “Go.” Hank’s shoulders hitched up.

  “Your bug will be fine,” the woman said to Mave.

  Jared shoved his hands in his pocket and tried to be invisible.

  “It just stopped,” Mave said, swallowing hard, “in the middle of a turn. We. We were rear-ended. Twice.”

  “Thank goodness neither of you were hurt. And we pushed it to safety like the goddesses we are,” the woman said. “Traffic be damned.”

  “How long since you had a snack?” Hank said.

  “I—I don’t remember,” Mave said. “We had lunch before…we, the car…”

  “Check your sugar levels, Aunt Mave. Now, before you faint.” Hank stomped into the kitchen.

  The woman smiled at Jared and held out her hand. “I’m Justice Moody,” she said. “What a pleasure to meet you. Maamaan says all manner of lovely things about you.” She had a firm grip and warm hands.

  Jared tried to smile.

  “Would you like to join us for tea?” Justice said.

  Mave came over and hugged him. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

  “You okay?” Jared said.

  She said, very quietly, “Thank you for not saying, ‘I told you so.’ ”

  Hank put the kettle on. Justice followed him into the kitchen. Jared could hear them murmuring. Mave kept holding him. The hug went on and on. Jared patted her back. Justice came back. She peeled Mave off Jared.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up, Maamaan.” They disappeared into the bedroom.

  Hank opened and closed cupboards, then yelled, “Where’s the sugar?”

  “Figure it out!” Justice shouted from the bedroom.

  “What a mess,” Hank muttered, picking the flat of mangoes off the counter. He looked around, and then put it back where he’d found it, sighing. The kettle whistled. Hank poured the hot water into a teapot. He raised his head and looked at Jared. “I hope you like your tea black.”

  “Need any help?”

  “There’s not enough room in here for two people. Go sit.”

  Jared went and cleared a spot on the couch. Hank brought four mugs and a box of cookies into the living room on a silver tray, put it down on a stack of books and handed Jared a mug. Hank sat in the recliner, perched on the edge, hands wrapped around his own cup.

  “Does David have any military training?” Hank said. “Any weaponry?”

  “Yeah, hi. My name is Jared. I’m fine. How’re you?”

  “Quit goofing around.”

  Jared sipped the tea. Hank waited as if he expected Jared to start talking.

  “I’m on it,” Jared said. “It’s not your problem.”

  “If it affects Aunt Mave, it’s my problem.”

  “I won’t be here long enough for it to be your problem, okay? Chill.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means relax.”

  “I thought you were staying here.”

  “That’s not the plan, okay?”

  “So? You’re just going to wander around Vancouver with a stalker on your ass?”

  “I guess bugs can’t four-by-four,” Mave said, emerging from the bedroom in a Canucks jersey over some shorts, her face scrubbed clean.

  Justice followed her and they sat on the couch with Jared, Mave in the middle.

  “He says he’s leaving,” Hank said.

  “Dude,” Jared said.

  “Jared,” Mave said, patting his knee. “Keep my keys. Come back any time. My door is open. I’ll save the room for you.”

  “He’s going to get himself killed,” Hank said.

  “I think we can all agree that I was a horrible sister,” Mave said.

  Justice and Hank exchanged a look but said nothing. Jared was very aware of how close he was sitting to Hank, of Mave beside him, looking tired.

  “There were circumstances, but they don’t excuse anything.” Mave flopped back. “When you want to hear what I have to say, I’ll tell you anything. In your time, Jared. Not anyone else’s.”

  In the lengthy silence that followed, Jared could hear the traffic outside, the happy patrons at a nearby bar, people laughing in the street.

  “Glad you’re okay,” Hank said.

  “Thank you, Henry-kins,” Mave said. “You’re always there for me. I appreciate it.”

  “Night, Aunt Mave.”

  “Good night.”

  When the door closed and Hank was gone, Justice said to Jared, “Don’t mind Hank. He’s a pit bull, but he’s your pit bull. That’s how he shows he cares.”

  “I feel like you’re always cleaning up after me, Justice,” Mave said.

  “Nonsense,” Justice said. “You are the sun in my sky.”

  “Oh, I love you so much, my darling girl.”

  “Love you more,” Justice said.

  “I’m going to rest up for tomorrow,” Jared said.

  Mave caught his hand as he stood. “Leave any time you want, Jared, but please don’t leave without saying goodbye. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Jared said, and she let him go.

  13

  “Wakey, wakey,” Mave said. “Eggs and bacon. Come on, brunch is ready.”

  Mave wore a pink, nubby suit with a matching hat that made her look like she was going to be riding in a convertible in Dallas later. Jared moaned and pulled the quilt over his head.

  “Mmm, egg whites and low-salt turkey bacon,” Mave said, nudging him, and then poking him when he didn’t move. “Did I mention coffee? There’s coffee.”

  “Tired.”

  “Come on. We’re burning daylight.” She tugged the quilt off him and threw it over the desk. She stopped face to face with one of the painted heads. “Blech. I don’t know how you can sleep in here.”

  “It’s a lot easier when I’m alone.”

  “Aren’t you creeped out?”

  “Ignore them.”

  “You really aren’t a morning person, are you?”

  “Is it morning?”

  “Barely. Eleven-thirty in the a.m. Come on. Up, up, up!”

  Jared curled around the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut and willing Mave to leave. Her heels clicked across the fl
oor and went quiet once she hit the rug. He considered the space between his bed and the desk, and decided the quilt was not worth the effort of moving. He drifted, breath slowing.

  Mave’s heels clicked back into the room and the bed sagged as she sat on the edge. Her pearl necklace thwacked him as she leaned over and yanked out an eyebrow hair.

  “Ow! What the hell? God.”

  Mave drew the tweezers back, frowning. “Hold still, Mr. Unibrow.”

  “Have you ever heard of personal space? Get off me.” He covered his forehead with his hands.

  “You big baby. Wait, I have some wax in the bathroom.”

  “No! I’m up—can you please leave my face alone?”

  “Are you getting up or saying what I want to hear to get me off your back?”

  Jared swung his legs over the edge and sat, tasting his mouth. “I’m really tired.”

  She put the back of her hand on his forehead. “Are you ill? You’ve been sleeping since you got here.”

  How to explain the last week of insanity? He really couldn’t. “No. Just tired.”

  Mave stood, held her hand out. Jared ignored it but got up. He’d meant to take off his clothes but fell asleep before he could. He picked up the quilt, and then rummaged through his backpack. He checked the room.

  Mave put her hands on her hips. “Your breakfast is getting cold. A growing boy needs sustenance.”

  “Do you see my phone? I can’t remember where I put it.”

  She bent over and reached under the desk. “Is this it? My. I haven’t seen a BlackBerry in ages. I have an iPhone 4 if you want it.”

  Jared paused. “How much?”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. It’s just sitting in my drawer. When I renewed my plan, it came with an iPhone 5. I hate to throw out a perfectly good phone. So wasteful.”

  Jared frowned. It wasn’t something you would offer a stranger. A relative stranger. He worried about the invisible strings, the quid pro quo, but an iPhone, even an old one…“You can sell it on Kijiji for a few hundred bucks,” he said, “or Craigslist.”

  She made a face. “With the 6 coming out soon, I don’t think I’d get much for the 4.”

  “I dunno,” Jared said. “Are you sure?”