by Lori Weber
“I told you. I don’t want to go near the ocean for a while, after what happened Thursday.”
I know that’ll shut them up, even though it’s not the real reason I don’t want to go. That has more to do with how they’ll expect me to be as excited as they are, as they pass the binoculars around and ooh and ah over everything that moves.
Besides, I’m hoping I might be able to see Jim today, in between his family’s visits. Even the mother hens on the farm escaped the coop from time to time, to take a break from their chicks.
•
BY NOON, JIM’S family is still not back. Maybe they’re planning to stay right by Jim’s side all day. I guess nothing is stopping them. If Jim’s mom wanted to, she could sleep all night on the cozy chair in the corner of Jim’s room. The nurses might even throw a blanket over her.
I could be waiting forever to see Jim again, sitting right here in this same spot, going nuts. I have to get out. If I don’t, I’ll go crazy.
Without planning to, I find myself walking toward Signal Hill. I’m so full of energy, I feel like I could practically run right to Cabot Tower. At Deadman’s Pond, I sit on a huge rock. I can’t help thinking that Jim might not have been kidding about the hangings and how the water behind me might be full of skeletons. It’s like every place in this town has a story. I never did get a chance to ask Jim how Nunnery Hill got its name. I’m sure that would be a good one, too. I can’t decide whether I really want to go all the way up Signal Hill right now. If I did, I could hike down the trail again and sit on the plateau looking out at the water, watching the ships come in. But it wouldn’t be the same without Jim.
I skip it and turn back to Water Street instead. At George, a girl with a guitar is singing in Jim’s old spot. She’s got a pretty good crowd listening to her sing a song about women watching the water for their men at sea. The chorus is something about “roaring waves” and “watery graves,” words that take me right back to Jim.
I decide to walk back along the harbour. The quay is full of people, which isn’t surprising. The weather is nicer than it’s been in days, hot and sunny, the sky a solid sheet of blue way past the narrows. The seabirds are circling and screeching like crazy, landing on the high masts and railings of ships, as if they’re planning a takeover. Across the harbour, out at the tip of the land, I see the red and white lighthouse of Fort Amherst. Jim had plans to take me there, but that might not happen now. I’ll just to have to remember it this way, sticking up from the rock like a giant candy cane.
I see them heading my way, but there’s not much I can do to avoid smacking right into them, other than jump in the water. I can feel the exact second they see me. It’s like they start to buzz, veering in my direction.
“Well, if it isn’t Cheryl of the spiked hair.” It’s the leader of the Village Mall goon squad, dressed just as tight and sparkly as ever. She drifts toward me, and the rest follow, as though they’re attached by a towline.
“Where’s your hero?” she says next, laughing. The others laugh, too, forming a semicircle around me.
“Yeah, we seen his picture in the newspaper,” one of the guys says. “Didn’t know he could swim.”
And I didn’t know you could read!
“Bet he was cute all wet, eh?” the other girl says. She blows a huge bubble that I’d like to see burst and stick in her bleached blond hair.
“Hey, if you’re missing it while he’s laid up, we got lots of friends,” the other guy says, grinning.
“Yeah, but who could replace Jim? He’s just so … sexy,” lead girl says. This has them all guffawing like crazy.
I remember what Jim said at the mall about how it was best not to play the game and provoke them, that that was what they wanted. That day, when these jerks were teasing Jim, I could feel him draw on some rock-solid place inside himself that helped him stay proud. They didn’t crack him at all, even though they were trying just as hard as they are right now.
“Nice to see you all again,” I say calmly. “Have a good day.” Then I sidestep them and continue walking.
I can feel them turn toward me, eager to continue taunting. When I’m a good distance down the quay, I turn back. I can’t believe they’re following me, or at least they’re walking in my direction. Maybe I’m being paranoid, and they’ve just turned back because they’re going home. Still, I pick up my speed, making it seem like I came out to do some kind of power walk, for exercise.
When I get to the end of the quay I cross Water Street and look back. I can still see them, but they’ve stopped. They’re in a little huddle, probably deciding what to do next.
I feel completely exposed all of a sudden. What could I do if they have decided to follow me? It’s not like I know people whose houses I could duck into, or call to come get me. There’s no one but Jim, and he won’t be doing any more rescuing for a while.
I can’t believe the way they mock Jim and try to tear him down, just for fun. It makes me want to scream. I bet he’s never done a thing to them. It’s just because he’s different, because he’s serious about school and has real goals—goals that don’t involve wandering around trying to act tough.
I should have done more to defend him back there. He’d have done more for me, I’m sure of it. I should have told them what he did out at Cape Spear, how the girl would have died if Jim hadn’t jumped in. But the article said all that, if they actually bothered to read it. It wouldn’t have made a difference. If I do get to see him at the hospital, I won’t tell him about what just happened. It would only upset him, which isn’t what he needs right now.
All the way back up the steep streets, I can’t help noticing the brightness of the houses, with their colourful fronts. I picture our house in Montreal—plain brown brick, like so many others in the neighbourhood. I wonder how it would look if we painted it red or purple, with bright yellow trim, to make it stand out, when we get back. Or, should I say, “if.” All day I’ve been feeling the possibility, heavy as a chunk of granite, in my belly.
By the time I turn onto Gower, Nanny’s car is back in its spot. I’m dying for news about Jim. Maybe my mom’s right, and I should just go over. I wouldn’t even have to knock. I bet Nanny would ask Joannie to make me a cup of tea and pat the pillow beside her on the sofa. Then I could easily ask about Jim’s concussion and his lungs. I’d even like to know about the bruise on his face, whether it’s still purple-black, or has it faded to dark grey? Did he mention me at all, or am I as distant as the girl he rescued, floating out to sea?
It occurs to me that with Jim’s family back home, I could easily head to the hospital, to see Jim on my own. I’m seriously thinking about it when Jim’s sisters turn onto Gower, from the opposite corner. Two large grocery bags hang from Joannie’s small hands, pulling down her shoulders. The bags are so heavy they’re practically scraping the pavement. If we keep walking at this pace, we’ll run straight into each other.
I can hear Joannie whining about the bags. “They’re too heavy, you take one.”
“Forget it. Remember what you promised on the plane? I’m holding you to it.”
“You’re so mean. I hate you!” Joannie spits.
We’re just a few feet apart, outside our houses. Now’s my chance. I take a deep breath and look straight into the older girl’s eyes. I’m about to speak when Joannie pipes in.
“Hey, are you Jim’s girlfriend?”
“Joannie!” her sister says, sending her a fierce look.
“I’m Cheryl, his next-door neighbour. And no, I’m not his girlfriend.”
“He asked if we met you yet,” Joannie continues, stopping and putting down the bags. “I knew it was you because he said you had short black hair and blue eyes, and that you usually dress in black, but that it suited you. So it must be you. Right?” Joannie’s voice soars higher and higher as she speaks, barely stopping for breath. She’s got Jim’s dark hair and eyes, with the same yellow sparkle, and the same long thin face and body.
“Ignore my sister. Sh
e’s crazy. I’m Candy,” the older girl says. “And she’s Joannie.” She points with her chin, as though her little sister isn’t worth a finger.
“So, how is Jim? Is he getting better?” I try to sound casual, as if I haven’t been dying to ask someone these questions for the past two days.
“The doctor says Jim could’ve died out there,” Joannie says.
“No, he didn’t. He said the girl is lucky to be alive, thanks to Jim,” Candy says, rolling her lighter grey eyes. “Don’t you ever listen?”
“But what about Jim? His concussion and lungs?” I ask, looking at Joannie to encourage her.
“He’s fine. He’s just a bit groggy, and his ribs are all smashed up, but that’s all,” Candy says casually, as if she’s used to people having bashed ribs and mushy brains. Or, like she’s working hard at giving this impression.
“When’s he coming home?”
“Tomorrow, probably,” Joannie says. “But he’ll have to stay in bed for a while,’cause of his ribs. Did you know we took a plane to get here? I’d never been on a plane before. Neither had she.” Joannie beams up at Candy, as if she knows Candy won’t like her divulging that.
“She’s not asking for our life story, Joannie. Going on a plane is no big deal, you know. Everyone does it.”
“You never did,” Joannie says.
“So, that’s no big deal either.” Candy avoids my eyes. I wonder if Jim told her that I’ve travelled a lot and that’s why she’s trying hard to act nonplussed in front of me, as if she thinks I’ll gloat about it or something.
“Jim told me when he gets better he’s gonna come home and take me to this place he knows—we’ll have to go by boat—where you can find pirate’s gold. It’s really called pyrite, or something like that, but I don’t care’cause Jim said it can be really shiny and you can put it inside a piece of wire and hang it on a chain and no one’ll know the difference.”
“Joannie, for Christ’s sake. No one cares about that stuff except you,” Candy says. “I’m sure Cheryl doesn’t.”
“No, it sounds great. I’ve never seen pirate’s gold,” I say, shooting Candy a look. Am I ever glad I never had an older sister to demolish all my ideas. Candy’s name suits her even less than mine suits me. At least I hope it does.
“Are you going back to see him this afternoon?”
“No. The doctor said they were going to get him up walking with the physiotherapist this afternoon, to get him mobile again before he comes home,” Candy says. “And then they’re redoing all his x-rays, just to be sure.”
“Oh.” No point in trying to go see him then. “Well, I’ll see you a round, I guess.”
Candy looks at her sister and points to the bags. Joannie sighs hard before picking them up.
•
MY PARENTS RETURN from their bird and whale tour on fire with excitement. The boat took them out to huge rock formations that were plastered with thousands of puffins.
“The rocks were magenta. And the puffins’ beaks glinted off them like burnt orange. I wish you had come,” my mom says to me.
“And the whales,” my dad says. “They were swimming beside, under, and practically over the boat. It was fantastic.”
“And what colour were they? Cobalt?” I ask.
“Pretty close,” says my mom, ignoring my sarcasm.
“Part of the rock looked just like a skull, with huge holes where the eyes and mouth would be. The captain cut the engine and let us drift under it. Then he ordered everyone to cover their heads’cause of the rainfall of bird droppings. It was so eerie, Cherie.”
“So you got pelted by bird poop?”
“Pretty much,” my dad says, smiling. Is there nothing that doesn’t thrill these people?
“At the end of the trip, the captain took out this huge cod. We thought it was real, but it was just rubber,” my mom says.
“You’ll never guess what he wanted people to do with it,” my dad says.
“Let me guess. Kiss it?”
My parents look at each other, then deflate. They thought they were really going to get me with that one. “How did you know?” they both ask.
“Everyone here knows that one, Dad.”
Then they go off to clean the puffin crap out of their hair.
•
LATER IN THE EVENING, a taxi pulls up outside Nanny’s. I watch from my bedroom window, my heart stopping. Maybe Candy was wrong, and Jim is coming home earlier than expected. Maybe he walked so well and the x-rays were so positive, his bones milky white and fused together, that they decided to release him right away. And it would be just like him to do it alone, to prove that he could.
But it’s not Jim. It’s an older guy who’s as tall as Jim but a lot wider. He swings a duffel bag out of the back seat and onto his shoulder like it weighs only a pound. A few seconds later, Joannie is running up to him.
“Davy, Davy, Davy!” she cries. “You’re here!”
She jumps up, and Davy catches her with his other arm, twirling her around, the duffel bag spinning out beside him.
“My lord, look at you. How ya doin’, Candy?”
“I’m not Candy, I’m Joannie.”
“You’re never Joannie!”
“I am too,” Joannie cries, delighted.
Suddenly, Nanny’s door opens. Davy stops spinning and places Joannie gently on the ground. He lets the duffel bag slide down his big arm and land with a thud, then he opens his arms, and Jim’s mother runs into them. He closes his big arms around her, and the two of them stand there, rocking gently, her head barely reaching his tanned neck. Nanny is almost hopping up and down behind them.
A few seconds later, Davy lets go of his mother, scoops up Nanny and twirls her around, too. She’s just a wisp, her little feet flying through the air like birds.
“Go on with your foolishness. Put her down, Davy,” Jim’s mom says, laughing. “You’re cracked, you are.” When Davy does settle Nanny on the sidewalk, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so happy.
“Hey, Candy,” Davy says, lightly brushing her chin with his fist. “All grown up, I see.” This was exactly the right thing to say, because Candy smiles and her scowl disappears.
“Come on in, everyone. Don’t be standing out on the stoop all day, the neighbours’ll think I’ve got no manners,” Nanny says.
Then I hear Joannie, in her high-pitched voice, say, “Speaking of neighbours, Nanny, can we go get Cheryl? We met her before. Can’t she come over, too? Please.”
I automatically pull back. I wonder if she saw me watching, like some kind of Peeping Tom.
“Of course, Joannie, my love. I haven’t seen that girl in days. You go on over and get her.”
I zoom to the front door, so that Joannie won’t have to have a long conversation with my parents, and find her beaming on the sidewalk.
“Nanny said you could come over, if you want to.”
“Sure, I’d love to,” I say. I call out goodbye to my parents, who are trying to hook up the computer to the new modem. To my surprise, Jim’s family was waiting for us before heading in.
“For heaven’s sake, we finally meet you,” Jim’s mom says. “Nanny and Jim go on about you non-stop, but we were starting to think you were just a ghost, isn’t that right, girls?”
Joannie laughs, and Candy rolls her eyes.
Then I’m swept up between Jim’s mother and Davy, with Joannie right behind, like she wants to close any gap that I might escape from.
•
“DAVY, MY LOVE, why didn’t you tell us you were coming? I’d have picked you up at the airport myself, instead of you throwing away good money on a taxi,” Jim’s mom says, once we’re all seated and Davy has come back downstairs. The living room seems incredibly small all of a sudden, the flowers on the papered walls pressing down on us. I’m on a hard chair, across from the sofa that now holds Nanny, Davy, and Joannie. Nanny’s little body almost sinks into her spot, dwarfed by Davy.
“I wanted to surprise you, Ma,” Davy lau
ghs.
“Surprise us you did. My God, you’re some like your father at his age, my son,” says Nanny. “Except, of course, you’re better looking. Your father always looked stunned, like he’d just fallen overboard or something.”
Davy looks around quickly, stopping at his mom’s face, when Nanny mentions his father. His mom jumps up and offers to make tea, like she wants a diversion. I wonder if she feels funny talking about her husband with me here. I’m pretty much a stranger, even though Nanny and Jim know me. “Candy, you come and help,” she orders. Candy sighs and follows her mother down the hall.
“Jim’s gonna get a medal from the Queen,” Joannie blurts out. “The nurses all said it, right, Mom?”
“They were just speculating, sweetie, but it might be,” her mom calls down the hall. Joannie looks at me and shrugs, as though she wants to show me that no one in her family really knows anything. I smile back.
“No kidding. Our Jim, a hero?” Davy shakes his head. “He was always destined to be different. Funny thing is, he was the one to stay off the water back home, remember, Ma?” Davy is saying loudly. “He never once panned with us in winter.”
“Good thing, too,” his mom calls out. “A few have died that way. You’re just lucky you never did yourself, jumping on the ice floes in that weather.” Even though I can’t see her, I imagine her shaking her head fiercely.
“And who’s this then?” asks Davy, finally looking at me, making me squirm and blush all at once. “Jim’s girlfriend, you said?”
“Candy got mad at me when I said that. Cheryl’s Jim’s friend, Davy, not his girlfriend. At least that’s what she says, but I don’t believe her,” Joannie says. I can feel my cheeks burn even more.
“Cheryl was with Jim when it happened,” Nanny says.
“And he jumped down those rocks, all on his own, without anyone pushing him?” Davy asks me. He sounds incredulous, as though the image of Jim that’s fixed in his mind is of a shy ten-year-old, too scared to go near the water, his nose in a book. That’s not the Jim I saw on Thursday, scaling those rocks like a pro.