by Andre Fenton
“How do you do that?” I asked.
“Always could.” Clay replied. “Just in different ways. Remember that summer I turned the lake in the backyard into a sheet of ice?”
I nodded.
“I could do that because you wrote about a winter we shared.”
As he said that I could feel a chill in the darkness. I shivered and could see my breath in the air.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
The darkness transformed into snow all around us in the distance, and below me I felt ice. I quickly caught my balance and realized that we were outside of my grandparents’ house on the lake.
In the distance, I could see myself, looking a bit older than the last memory. I had skates on, and beside me sat a younger version of Clay.
“Lets go!” He pulled me up as he slid backwards holding on to my hand. I could hear us both laughing and it made me feel all warm inside. I loved that memory, even though I didn’t share it with anyone else.
Then darkness surrounded us again; the frozen lake transformed into my grandparents’ kitchen, and this time it was night.
“Are you sure your nan hid the candy in here?” I could see a younger Clay standing by the sink.
“I’m sure of it!” I heard myself reply as I lifted my head from under the kitchen sink. I was wearing a bright orange cape and a blue domino mask. “Hmm…. Up there! I can see them!”
A jar of mini chocolate bars was sitting on top of the fridge.
I looked around and noticed that the tablecloths and napkins everywhere in the kitchen were orange and black. Close to Halloween. I grinned because I remembered this. Clay had been hungry and I told him I knew where Nan kept the Halloween candy. We weren’t going to take all of it, but I remember right around then I….
“Oh no!” I heard my voice followed by a hard smash. A pile of dishes fell down and smashed into pieces—Clay had tried climbing the counter beside the fridge.
“What’s going on in there?” I heard Nan’s voice rush in. “Annaka, what are you doing?!”
I remembered I had been so scared she would see Clay. I watched my young self turn to look for Clay and saw my own jaw drop because he was nowhere in sight.
“Annaka,” Nan said, demanding my attention. “Did you drop those dishes?”
“No.”
Her eyes bored into mine. “Tell the truth, now.”
I was telling the truth, but I knew I had to lie for Clay’s sake. So I ended up telling Nan, “Yes, ma’am.” I was still not completely sure where he had gone.
“What were you doing?” Nan asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“I was…I was trying to get the candy on top of the fridge.” I could see my defeated face.
I remember being sent to my room for the rest of the night, and that’s when Clay reappeared. I learned two things that evening: that Clay could turn invisible, and that he still owed me one from all those years ago.
“You still owe me for that,” I teased, turning my head towards him and hoping for a playful reply.
“I don’t owe you anything,” he shot back.
Everything went dark again. This time it stayed dark. Longer than it did before. Clay was nowhere to be seen, or heard. “Clay? You still there, buddy? Are you going to leave me trapped in this place forever?”
He didn’t reply.
“Clay, where are you?”
Silence.
But then I heard weeping, followed by Clay’s small voice echoing in my eardrums: “How long are you going to be gone?”
He was replaying that one again. I knew what he was trying to do.
“Not forever, silly,” I heard my voice answer. “We’ll be back soon. I want you to stay here—it’s safer. The city can be a scary place.”
“But I don’t wanna stay. I wanna go with you. I don’t wanna be alone.”
The darkness formed into the front porch, and a younger version of Clay and I appeared on it.
“Do we really have to do—” I tried to say over the scene he was creating. But I was cut off by my own voice.
“I know, Clay. But we’ll be back before you know it. Mom said the apartment we’re moving into in Halifax could be small. I don’t know if you’d be comfortable.”
I could see his look of devastation again. It didn’t hurt any less seeing it a second time.
“You promise you’ll be back soon?” he asked with teary eyes.
“I do.” I saw my younger self raise a pinky finger.
Everything faded away into darkness again, only to reemerge with Clay sitting on the doorstep beneath the night sky. He was looking towards the road, waiting. For what I could only assume to be me. That sight faded away to a fall afternoon where leaves were scattered on the ground. Clay just sat there looking towards the road, waiting for the promise I’d never keep. Then I felt a rush of cold air again as the fall faded and snow formed all around me. There he was: still in the same spot. Waiting. It didn’t matter what season, he expected me to keep my promise.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” I said to him now. “I get it. I’m a bad friend.”
The seasons began changing faster, but he sat in the same spot, growing older and older and older and older.
“Clay, stop,” I tried to say, only to be cut off by my own voice: “We’ll be back before you know it.” It hurt even more hearing it again. Then that line repeated again, and again, and again. I tried to take a breath but that didn’t stop my heart from being overflowed with guilt until I finally screamed, “Stop!”
And everything did.
There was no sound or sight. Clay left me in the darkness and I felt just as alone as he must have.
Shortly, light broke through the darkness and the real world formed around me. I was sitting on the bed of my grandfather’s truck again. Clay had waited for me all that time—and I’d rarely ever thought about him. I curled into myself, not wanting to move.
We didn’t say anything for a bit. It was awkward but we were there, in it the middle of it. And I finally understood how it worked. Clay spent most of his time reliving those memories, or spending time in that dark place.
God, I wished things hadn’t turned out the way they did.
Clay finally spoke. “I know you’re back, and I know it wasn’t always your choice that you couldn’t come visit. But I can’t be your best friend right now. I can’t pretend that I’m suddenly okay with you…because I’m not.”
Without another word, he handed me the journal. I looked at it then closed my eyes.
“Clay, I’m sorr—” I opened my eyes, but he was already gone.
I put the journal back in the glove compartment and made my way to my bedroom. I tossed and turned and couldn’t stop thinking about all the people I had let down. Clay, Grampy, Nan. I should have put in more effort to see them all, to stay in touch. There was only one relationship I could fix, and he’d just disappeared before my eyes. I had a lot to own up to.
Chapter 7
“Earth to Anna.” Tia waved her hand in front of my face one afternoon in the school cafeteria.
It was about two weeks since I’d spoken to Clay. Mom got me enrolled into school pretty quickly so I would finish grade eleven on time. I hated it. I was the most popular student in school the first week. Everyone sent their condolences my way. I guess everyone loved my grandfather—or Mr. Brooks, as he was referred to here. There was a large photo of him placed in the lobby, and every morning I had to walk by it. It was heartbreaking. A place where he spent so much time, and I swear it still had his scent. Around Tia and I were Lucy, Laura, and Taylor. We were the crew, before I left Yarmouth. Now they were more Tia’s crew, and I kind of felt like her plus-one more than anything else.
“Anna!” Tia cut into my thoughts again.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I finally said.
&n
bsp; “Dude. You haven’t even touched your food. Are you okay?”
I looked down to cold soup, a sandwich, and mucky potato salad. I hadn’t had much of an appetite for the last little while.
“I’m not too hungry today.”
Tia looked at me. “You’ve been saying that the last two days. At least try to eat something.”
Lucy and Taylor looked over while Laura was studying for the bio quiz.
“To be fair, cafeteria food doesn’t make me the hungriest, either,” Lucy said with a laugh while eating some homemade biscuits she brought.
“Yeah, well not everyone’s mother owns a bakery,” Taylor replied.
“Maybe I’ll eat something later.” I got up from my seat and stretched.
“Where you going?” Tia asked with a concerned look on her face.
“I just need to go for a walk.” I let out a breath.
“All right. Well…text me if you need me.” Tia seemed worried.
I made my way out of the cafeteria and walked down the main hall of the school. I walked past Grampy’s old classroom, room 409.
The door was full of sticky notes:
Love you Mr. Brooks. RIP.
Rest in Peace Mr. Brooks ☹
Safe travels to the best teacher I ever had
I couldn’t bring myself to step inside. I think I would have burst into tears. I was happy to know he had brought so much joy to so many students—that helped, I guess.
I continued down the hall to where his photo was. He had a big smile on his face, dressed up in a suit. His school board photo. Around it students and staff had placed flowers and notes, just like outside his classroom.
“Hello, Miss Brooks,” I heard a soft voice say behind me.
I turned to see a tall black woman. It was Ms. Anderson, the principal. She had introduced herself to me on my first day. She told me Grampy had been one of her favourite teachers, and she was one of the reasons I was squeezed into the school during the spring.
“How has Yarmouth High been treating you thus far?”
“Hey, Ms. Anderson,” I greeted. “It’s been a change of pace for sure. I went to Citadel High in Halifax, so most of the time I could barely break away from the crowds of students.” I laughed.
“Well, I’m glad you’re finding the transition comfortable.” She smiled.
I wouldn’t have used the word “comfortable,” but at least I hadn’t broken down in public yet.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“Are you off to class?” Ms. Anderson asked. “Lunch ends in about five minutes.”
Shit. Truth be told, I was planning to ditch school and go on a ride.
“Yeah,” I said. “I was just going to grab my textbook from my truck.”
“All right. Well move along, young lady,” she said, nodding.
Good save on my end. I walked out the front door and made my way to the parking lot.
I hopped inside the truck and put the keys in, but before I could put it in reverse something made me stop. I sighed and opened the glove compartment to look at the journal. I hadn’t tried speaking to Clay at all over the last two weeks, but I flipped through the pages. I hoped he would maybe come out and say something. I began looking through old entries and pictures I had drawn of him and me sitting in our tree house pretending it was a lighthouse. I laughed at the thought.
Before I could open my mouth to ask if he would come out, I heard a knock on my window and jumped.
“Holy crap!”
There stood some white boy wearing camo pants, a football jersey, and a goofy baseball cap.
I rolled the window down. “Can I help you?”
“Hey. Uh, hi. You’re Annaka, right?”
“The name’s Anna. What do you want?”
“Sorry. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Bobby Noah? We went to elementary together.”
“Ha,” I laughed, remembering that Tia had kicked him in the balls and said she hoped he got kidney stones. Bobby was the guy who had made fun of my name in primary, too, but he was the one with two first names. Idiot.
“Yeah, you were the kid who had two first names.”
“Yeah. Double the trouble.” He smiled.
What a dumb thing to say, I thought.
“Hey, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about your grandfather. He was an awesome teacher. Honestly, he should have failed me in grade ten but he passed me with a fifty-two.”
Maybe he just didn’t want to teach you again.
“But anyways,” he continued. “I’m having a party at my grandparents’ spot out towards Cape Forchu. They’re going to be out of town, and I just wanted to give you an invitation since you’re back.” He handed me an envelope.
“Wow, an actual old-school paper invitation,” I pointed out. What was he, six? “Thanks. Anything else?”
“Uh…nope. That’s it.” He awkwardly moved from the truck and said, “I uh…hope to see you—”
I rolled the window up before he finished his sentence and dropped the invitation in my bag. I couldn’t wait to tell Tia that the same douchebag who tried to use her to get back at his ex was trying to get me to go to his party.
I put the truck in reverse and drove away from school just as the class bell rang. I rolled down the window again and could feel the spring air splash across my face. Mom was probably at home grading papers. She had been doing them electronically since we got to Yarmouth, so I knew to stay away from the house. Instead, I went downtown. I heard my phone vibrate and I checked it once I got to a got to a red light.
Tia: Yo, are you coming back? Bio started and Ms. Clarke is taking attendance.
I ignored the text and put my phone back in my bag. I wasn’t planning on going back. I was just everyone’s sympathy case there—just Mr. Brooks’s granddaughter.
I parked just off of Main Street and got out to sit on the back of the truck, looking down the hill towards the water. I thought about Clay. I wondered if he had cooled down. I knew he would have to come on his own terms. My heartache kept me awake at night, wishing I could have said or done things differently. I wanted to be accountable, but he had to give me a chance first.
I grabbed the journal and lay in the back of the truck again. I laughed at all the silly drawings. As I flipped through I could see the last memory and entry. It was Clay and me sitting outside of the house together on the front steps. I wanted to avoid that one. There were a lot of blank pages after that, but I flipped through them anyway. I knew Grampy used to write in it a bit—it had been his journal first after all—so I wasn’t surprised to see his handwriting. He wrote in cursive so I couldn’t quite make it out.
As I flipped back I noticed very clearly that there was a page titled, “Coming to Canada.”
When my mind put the pieces together, my heart dropped and I shut the journal immediately. Part of me wanted to respect the fact that Grampy never wanted to talk about any of those things, but another part of me was curious to know more about him. I slid off the bed of the truck and got behind the wheel. I put the journal back in the glove compartment and tried to take my mind off of it. I knew that before I sought out anything else, there was a bridge I had to rebuild.
As much as I loved my grandfather, his fashion sense wasn’t becoming on Clay. He needed something a little more modern. So I decided to drive out to the mall.
I remember there being an old carousel in the centre of the mall when I was a kid. But when I arrived I saw that it was gone, replaced with a wishing well. I could see coins layering the bottom. I took out a quarter that I really should have saved and whispered, “Please let him give me a chance,” and tossed it in. I had to start somewhere.
I made my way into a men’s clothing store called Wade’s Clothing. Not too fancy, or too casual. I looked around, wondering what Clay might like. Turtlenecks? I didn’t thi
nk so. Casual dress shirt? Sure. Hoodie? I doubted it. Brown jeans? I thought he could rock them. It probably would have helped if I knew Clay’s size; I was guessing at best.
I felt weird being one of the only people in the store. I looked around. The men working the floor just pretended I wasn’t there, but I didn’t want to talk to them anyway. I moved farther into the store and spied a grey mannequin around Clay’s size wearing a green hoodie.
Okay, what I did next was pretty embarrassing. I didn’t know Clay’s size and I wasn’t confident I could guess, so I took the green hoodie off the mannequin and wrapped a dress shirt around it, buttoning it up. I couldn’t do up the last three buttons, so I grabbed another shirt that was two sizes bigger—it fit perfectly. I stood back and admired the mannequin for a moment, excited to see what Clay would look like.
“Ma’am, what are you doing?” I heard a familiar voice, and I turned.
“Taylor!” I caught myself. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
She stared at me for a moment, her eyes wide. “Anna? I…work here.” She raised an eyebrow. “And it’s four o’clock. Where were you for the quiz?”
Ah, shit, I thought to myself. I backed up into the mannequin, knocking it over.
“What were you doing to the mannequin?” she asked, picking it up.
“I—I…I’m working on an art project. With my mom!”
“What kind of project?”
“Oh, y’know…she’s building her own mannequin. I mean, better than this one—not that this one isn’t great!—I just mean this one is probably mass manufactured, not made with any passion, y’know?” I gestured vaguely. “She made hers from scratch. We’re just trying to get clothes, to see if they fit correctly. For the display….” I put my head down, wishing I hadn’t said any of it.
“Well, can you not destroy store property in the process?” She dusted the mannequin off. Either Taylor was really concerned with the mannequin’s well-being, or she just really didn’t care about my “art project” because she added, “Tia was wondering where you went this afternoon. Did you get her text?”
“Oh. Yeah. I got it. I just felt sick. Had to leave, and—”