Crazy Cat Kid (Crazy Cat Kids Book 1)

by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

  Mom was putting the finishing touches on her dish while Dad was in their bedroom dressing. I dug out the bag of clothes I had stuffed into the cupboard over the table and opened it. Inside was a yellow grass skirt and a yellow and orange t-shirt. I went into the bathroom and changed my top. I wrapped the skirt over my shorts and picked a yellow lei to wear. Just had my hair to do.

  Before we’d left home, I’d glued an artificial flower to a barrette. Now I pulled one side of my hair back and held it in place with the barrette. I studied myself in the mirror. This was as good as I was going to get.

  Dad had on a bright red Hawaiian shirt with large yellow flowers, orange, yellow, and pink sunsets, black palm trees, and the word Aloha written on it. It was the only souvenir he had bought when we went to Hawaii two years ago. He also wore a pair of black shorts and some sandals. Mom had gone with the grass skirt like me, only she wore a halter top and no lei to hide her assets. My mom actually had a good figure. Looking down at my barely developed boobs, I hoped I had something similar to Mom when I finally grew up.

  Mom had made small ham and pineapple shish kabobs. She’d gotten long, wooden skewers and broken them in thirds. She’d arranged two pieces of ham with a piece of fresh pineapple in between on each one. There were about sixty on the plate. Enough for everyone to try with lots left over.

  “These can either be heated over a fire or eaten as is,” Mom said, as she straightened one that threatened to fall off.

  “I’ll watch the cats if you want to take them out the camper door,” I said.

  “That sure would be easier,” Mom said. She picked up the heavy plate and carried it outside, Dad followed with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses. I closed the screen door and brought up the rear with nothing in my hands.

  The atmosphere was very festive. The table was laden with brightly colored food and someone had placed a replica of a piglet with an apple in its mouth in the center. It looked like everyone had dressed in some sort of costume for the evening. Most of the adults had a drink in their hands. Although it was still daylight the tiki lights were on and the tiki torches lit. Every once in a while they would give off a burst of smoke. Robin was going around offering a lei to anyone who didn’t have one. Even Hawaiian music played in the background.

  I went over to where Jesse, Bill and Maurie were standing. Jesse smiled at me. He looked good in his white shirt and shorts with the leis around his neck. Bill had on a gaudy yellow and black shirt and black shorts. Maurie was dressed much like my mother, only she wore a lei.

  Bill held a bottle of beer down at his side as if he was trying to hide it. I wondered why, since he was nineteen and therefore old enough to drink. Then I saw that Jesse also had one. He, I knew, wasn’t old enough to drink. But I wasn’t going to cause a scene by mentioning it. We were, after all, at a party on private land. Unless someone complained everything was good.

  “I’m going to try the punch,” I said. “Do you want some, Maurie?”

  “Sure, I’ll come with you.”

  We headed over to the refreshment table.

  “Do you know what’s in the punch?” Maurie asked.

  “No. Robin said she would make it up closer to when everyone would show up.”

  “Well, I see two of the little kids drinking it so I assume its non-alcoholic,” Maurie said.

  We each got a cup and I picked up the ladle. There were orange slices and pineapple pieces floating on top. I pushed them aside and filled Maurie’s cup then my cup. I tentatively tasted it.

  “It tastes like sparkling pineapple,” Maurie said.

  “It’s good.”

  I saw Mom and Dad talking with Carol and Alan. I realized that I didn’t know any of the other couples except Bonnie and Stuart. No one had come up to me and introduced themselves, nor did I go to them and say who I was. I didn’t even know what Maurie’s parents looked like.

  “Which ones are your parents?” I asked.

  “That’s them talking with Mel.”

  I saw what I took to be an older couple. He was almost bald and she had gray hair. As if reading my mind, Maurie said. “Mom tells me I was an afterthought but my siblings tell me I was an accident. They are all in their twenties.”

  I looked for Bonnie and Stuart and didn’t see them.

  “Are Bill’s parents coming?” I asked Maurie, as we walked back to the boys.

  “I hope not. He’ll just spoil the night like last time.”

  If she didn’t like his actions now, what was she going to do when he was her father-in-law?

  “Maybe, since he thinks this was a stupid idea, they aren’t coming.”

  “We should be so lucky,” Maurie said.

  We reached the boys just as Mel banged a gong. “Attention everyone.” He waited until the chatter stopped. “Welcome to our first annual dragon boat team luau.”

  There were cheers at the idea of another one next year.

  “Robin and I would like to thank everyone who made the wonderful food for tonight and a special thanks to Lilly, Maurie, Bill, and Jesse for their help with the decorating.”

  The adults clapped while we four looked at each other in embarrassment.

  “Like before, everyone help themselves and enjoy.”

  The chatter resumed as we all waited for someone to make the first move. Finally, a couple went and got plates and started down the table helping themselves to the festive food. Others slowly lined up behind them. While we were waiting in line, the truck camper door opened and Bonnie stepped out onto the end gate. She had on a sleeveless blouse and a grass skirt over shorts. She hadn’t conformed to Stuart’s way of thinking and not dressed for the occasion. He obviously didn’t have as much control over his family as he thought.

  Bonnie carried a plate of something in her hand and started down the steps. Stuart lurched out behind her. He pitched forward and grabbed onto her shoulder. That threw her off balance and jarred her arm. The plate tilted, sending what looked like pigs-in-a-blanket into the dirt. Bonnie stumbled down the rest of the steps, Stuart tumbling behind her. She managed to stay upright but he sprawled onto the ground.

  Beside me Jesse stiffened and I heard Bill swear. They both hurried over to their mother.

  “Are you okay?” Bill asked.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  The three watched Stuart struggle to pick himself up. It looked as if Bonnie had been through this many times before and was tired of it. She turned and bent to retrieve the food, which she dumped, dirt and all, back on the plate. Bill and Jesse reached down to help their father stand and dusted him off. He staggered backwards. Robin went up to Bonnie and put a lei around her neck.

  “Just throw that in the garbage and come eat,” she said.

  Bonnie smiled sadly. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “No problem. There’s plenty to eat.”

  “You’re too drunk to stand,” Bill said to his dad. “Why don’t you go back in the camper?”

  Stuart shook off his hand. “Don’t tell me whatsh to do,” he slurred. “I can go anshwhere I want.”

  Bill lifted both hands in the air and stood back. “Okay, you’re on your own.”

  Bill and Jesse came back to stand with us. With the show over, the line started moving again. We picked up plates and scanned the table. I couldn’t believe the display. There was coleslaw, half watermelons filled with fruit, trays of ham and pineapple on skewers, three, large glazed hams with pineapple slices stuck on them, coated shrimp on skewers, bowls of tropical fruit salads with added marshmallows and coconut flakes. Someone had sliced dinner rolls partially open and stuffed them with glazed pork and seared pineapple.

  “Boy, if someone didn’t like pineapple they would starve tonight,” Jesse whispered.

  “What are you going to try?” I asked.

  “Well, I don’t know what was used for the glazes and coatings but I’ve decided to be adventurous and try a little of everything.”

  “Me, too.”

  Our plates were ful
l by the time we reached the end of the table. Bill and Maurie had gone to sit by themselves at her parent’s trailer. Jesse and I found two chairs together and sat. We sampled each item, finishing it if we liked it or setting it to the side if we didn’t. It actually was fun trying to figure out the various flavours since neither of us knew anything about spices and seasonings. We had to compare them to other foods we knew like Chinese, and pizza, and Subway.

  My mom had taken Bonnie to sit with them. Stuart reeled his way down the table, either missing his plate with the food or tipping it when he bent over so the food fell off. He was muttering to himself and everyone was staying out of his way. When enough food had stayed on his plate he turned looking for a chair. There was a silence as those beside an empty chair hoped he wouldn’t pick it.

  Mel sauntered over to Stuart. “Come over here,” he said, taking Stuart by the arm and directing him away from the rest of us to a chair under a tree.

  “I wansh to sit wish my family,” Stuart said, trying to resist.

  Mel held firm and got Stuart into the chair. He remained for a few minutes to make sure Stuart didn’t try to get back to the table.

  “This is so humiliating,” Jesse said. “I don’t know why Dad has to always do this.”

  “Does he drink a lot at home?”

  Jesse nodded. “He drinks every night after work and then usually gets drunk on the weekends. But he’s never made a fool of himself like this.”

  “Your mother seems to handle it well.”

  “We all go to Al-Anon family meetings.”

  “Are you learning how to help your dad?”

  Jesse shook his head. “No, we are helping ourselves.”

  I looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it seems that the females in a relationship usually blame themselves for their mates drinking so Mom has learned not to take on the blame herself. The three of us are realizing that alcoholism is a disease and that we didn’t cause it in Dad. We have to forgive ourselves for not being able to control his drinking. We have to focus on ourselves not him. He’s making his choices and we have to make ours. We have to accept that our lives have been affected by his disease and recognize that we will get mad because we have to take care of him when he is drunk.”

  “That must be hard.”

  “It is because it’s so easy to start pitying myself and blaming him for it. But really, it’s my choice to feel sorry for myself or my choice not to.”

  “You seem to have it under control.”

  Jesse shrugged. “Some days are better than others. I’m supposed to accept my father’s shortcomings but when he is too drunk to drive me to a baseball game or acts like he did tonight, I have a hard time telling myself it is a disease and he is not responsible.”

  “Do you drink?” I asked, thinking about the bottle in his hand earlier.

  “No, Dad has put me off booze. I was holding the bottle tonight for Bill. He’s the one I’m worried about.”

  “Why?”

  “He steals Dad’s beer and drinks it. Sometimes he gets pretty loaded.”

  “Al-Anon family isn’t helping him?”

  “It doesn’t seem to be. Maurie sometimes comes with us to lend support to him and to help her understand. I’m afraid in our family it might be a hereditary disease.”

  “Alcoholism is hereditary?”

  Jesse nodded. “Someone with a parent or sibling who is an alcoholic is three to four times more likely to become an alcoholic themselves.”

  “Those are bad odds. Is it because of a gene or a learned behavior?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s scary. I don’t want to be like Dad and I don’t think Bill does either, but he seems to be working towards it.”

  We were interrupted by Robin yelling. “Limbo time.” She was waving a long pole.

  I hadn’t realized that everyone had finished eating. We still had a lot on our plates.

  “You want to limbo?” I asked Jesse.

  “No.”

  “Me neither. I’ll feed my cats and then let’s go finish our supper at the lake.”

  “Good idea.”

  I hurried into the motorhome. Purple and Daisy were under one swivel chair, Red under the other, and Saltry on the bench seat. I got the tin of cat food from the fridge and placed some on each plate. The girls all came over and ate. As usual Saltry let me give her the needle. I petted each of them then left the camper. I felt a bit guilty that I was leaving them alone so much.

  There was a long line up for the limbo pole when Jesse and I walked away from the lights and the party. It was just dusk but it still took a while for our eyes to adjust. We walked to the beach and sat on the log. We didn’t really eat much more. We threw left over fruit and ham into the water for the fish.

  “Where do you live?” I asked Jesse, surprised that I’d taken so long to ask that.

  “In Cedar. Actually within a couple of kilometers of you.”

  “You do? Where?”

  “Near the grocery store mall.”

  “Do we pass your house on our way into Nanaimo?” I was trying to picture to main street where the grocery store was. What did the houses near it look like?

  “Not quite. We are one block off the main drag.”

  “Oh.”

  “Maurie lives on a farm about three kilometers on the other side of you.”

  “She does?” I hadn’t thought I would be lucky enough to have any of them living close to me. This was better than I expected.

  “Yup. Her family raises dairy cows for milk and vegetables for selling at farmers’ markets around the area.”

  “Mom wants to start a garden and put in more fruit trees and bushes. Sonya might be the person for Mom to talk to about how to start.”

  “Yes, she would be.” Jesse nodded.

  We sat for a while enjoying the hushed quiet of the lake. For some reason it had a totally different quiet than other places I’ve been. I liked it and now wished we lived by a lake. So totally different from a couple of days ago when I was bored and wanted to go home.

  * * *

  Jesse and I heard noises behind us and turned to see the rest of the partiers trooping in their Hawaiian outfits towards us. Some had drinks in their hand, some had chairs in their hand, and some had both. Mel and my dad were each carrying a large cardboard box in their arms. Alan had a plastic pail in one hand and Ray, Maurie’s dad, was carrying a large piece of plywood.

  “Oh, there you are,” Mom said, coming up beside us. “We’re going to have fireworks.”

  “Nice.”

  Ray dropped the plywood on the sand and Mel and Dad set their boxes on it. Alan dipped the pail in the lake then set it to the side. He remained beside it.

  We all watched while Mel reached into one of the boxes and brought out a number of brightly colored packages attached to stakes. He turned his back on us, knelt and set them in a row in the sand. He stood and rotated to face us.

  “I have never done this before so I went on the Internet and read up on how to present a fireworks display. According to instructions I am supposed to have a flat, open area away from dry grass and buy some cheap plywood.” With a flourish of his hand he pointed to the beach and the plywood. “I present my open area and the cheapest plywood I could find.”

  We all clapped.

  “Also, I am supposed to be safe, sane, and sober in order to set them off. Well, Robin can attest to the safe and sober but I’m not sure what she would say about sane.”

  We laughed at that.

  “I don’t think he’s had a sane moment in all the years I’ve known him,” Robin quipped to more laughter.

  “In regard to safety, the rest of the fireworks will be kept away from the ones I am lighting so that a spark doesn’t fly into the box. That pail of water is on hand to dip in those that don’t fire. I couldn’t find any rules on what to do if I lived at a lake, so a pail it is. I would appreciate a round of applause for Alan, who finally tired of my whining and begg
ing and agreed to be my faithful assistant in charge of the pail.”

  Again we clapped and some of the men whistled.

  “I’m only supposed to fire off a few at a time to draw out the pleasurable experience for my audience,” Mel continued. “Actually, I’m even supposed to have mini shows with a variety of fireworks, such as two smoke balls, the two different fountains, a few bottle rockets and end with a rocket or two. The packages have names on them but since I don’t even know what each of those will look like in the sky, I just selected them randomly, so there will be no pattern or theme to my display.”

  Mel took a measuring tape and container from his shorts pocket. He pulled out the tape and let it click back a few times. “Everyone is supposed to be fifteen meters back from my show. My other, somewhat willing volunteer, Tom, will do the measuring.”

  Mel held onto the metal tip of the tape while Dad pulled the container towards us. “One meter,” he said, to Mel with his first step. “Two meters. Three meters.”

  He continued calling out until he reached fourteen meters. He slowed then stopped in front of Carol. “Could you step back three centimeters?” he asked solemnly. He must have had good eyesight to read the numbers in the growing darkness.

  There were a few twitters, no one being sure if he was serious or joking.

  “Are you sure it’s three?” Carol asked, just as solemnly.

  Dad scrutinized the number on the tape. “Sorry, it’s two and three quarters centimeters. My mistake. We don’t want you to miss the display because you are too far away.”

  This time everyone knew he was joking and laughed. I hadn’t realized my father had a sense of humor.

  “Everyone’s good,” Dad said, to Mel. “Continue.”

  “Thank you. Now, a suggestion on one site was that if I had the money I was to buy fifty bottle-rockets and set off ten per night for the five nights before today’s event. As you know by now, I didn’t do that.”

  There were some hoots from the crowd.

  “Another instruction was to make sure it was dark before letting off my fireworks.” He looked at the sky. “I think my inane chatter has accomplished that. So, let’s get started.”

  Mel put on safety glasses and accepted a long, BBQ lighter from Alan.