Evan unfurled some paper and tacked it to a board. “We have a little time to wait while the ingredients boil, so I’m going to give a lesson in Japanese brush-painting.”
Evan dipped his brush in black ink and made a careful stroke on the paper. The phone rang on the set and the caller came over the speaker box. “So what happened? Was the truck insured? Were the guys killed, too?”
Evan continued painting as he answered. “Apparently the truck was insured but not for being blown up by dynamite. The devil is in the details, hmm? Oh, and the guys weren’t hurt.”
“Those men should have been killed instead of that poor, innocent dog,” the caller insisted.
“Maybe. But that’s never the way it goes, is it?” Evan murmured. “Hey, can you guys hold your calls for a sec? This painting takes concentration.”
I leaned on my elbows and watched Evan form a flower. He was surprisingly good at it. When he drew his brush away from the paper, the phone rang again.
“You done?” the caller asked. “Is it okay to ask a question now?”
“Yep.” Evan wiped off his brush.
“Aren’t there some things you just can’t plan for? Some things you never thought could happen in a million years?”
“I suppose you have a point there.”
“Things like your sister Lucy winning the Squirrel Board?”
“Just like that.”
“See you at the BLT tonight?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, my dad says cow intestines are better for packing the sausage meat in than pig intestines. Are those cow intestines you’re boiling there?”
“No, they’re pig intestines.”
“Okay, then. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Later that morning, the five of us went to see Dad. The doctor warned us that we could only stay a few minutes. We approached the bed quietly. Dad looked pale and small and helpless. His eyes were closed. I think it was only at that moment that reality hit us. Dad had really come close to dying. I had never seen him look so weak. My throat tightened and I saw that Evan’s eyes were shining with tears behind his glasses. Lucy stroked his hand, careful of the IV drip. His eyes fluttered open and he managed a half smile.
“I’ll do anything to get my kids to come home, huh?” he croaked. Anxious laughter and more silence followed. We took turns holding his hand and kissing his forehead. Evan whispered to him, “December tenth, 3:42 p.m., Black. Guess who won? Lucy.” Then the nurse came in to usher us out.
Dad smiled.
The Bear Lake Tavern was jammed that night. We had to park along Ruddiman Drive because the lot was overflowing. Slipping and sliding across the bridge, we made our way toward the bright lights and laughter.
“I’m the Queen! I’m the Queen!” Lucy skipped and sang next to us.
“Couldn’t they have saved a special parking place for the Queen, then?” Sammie groused. Elizabeth had stayed home to nurse her feet, and Anna stayed with her to keep her company. A car went by, honking loudly. We saw a bumper-hitcher at the back. Bumper-hitching is a singularly dangerous and singularly fun activity. The road conditions have to be just right: icy. Then an intrepid soul crouches at the back of a car and hangs on to the bumper for dear life while he is dragged, squatting, on the soles of his boots down the road. This particular bumper-hitcher let go of the car at the curve and flew into a snow bank, howling with laughter. “It’s Squirrel Board night! Wahoo!”
As we entered, Evan shouted, “The Queen is here!” Cheers went up from the masses—it was the King or Queen’s responsibility to buy the first round of drinks. Tommy signaled for Lucy to ascend the throne. As usual, that meant sitting on top of the bar. Lucy waved like she was the Queen of England: elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist. Tommy held up his hands for everyone to settle down. He was the sports announcer at all of our high school football and basketball games and had developed a sports personality somewhere between Red Barber and Harry Caray.
“Laadies and geentlemen, your attention please. Tonight marks several milestones. For the first time in history, a Squirrel Board contestant has hit the First Snow at the exact date and time.” Tommy was interrupted by more shouts as the throng hoisted their beer mugs. He paused until they quieted down. “And the astounding sum of $2,810 is the largest Squirrel Board pot of all time!” There were more whoops before Tommy continued, “And lastly but certainly not leastly, for the first time since 1968 we have a Queen!” This brought cheers from the women and some boos from the men. “I think this proves that females truly are the stronger, smarter sex!” He laughed. “My wife told me I had to say that.”
“Before I crown our Queen,” Tommy continued, “I ask for your thoughts and prayers for Harold Thompson. He can’t be here tonight because he’s knocking back a couple of cold IVs at the hospital. Rose is with him and says he’s doing better. So, please, a round of applause for our Queen’s father!” The Blit exploded in clapping hands and stomping feet.
“Now, the moment you have been waiting for. Twelve! Ten! Black! Three! Forty-two! Your Queen, Luuuuucy Thompson!!!” Then Tommy solemnly took the black construction-paper crown that had been decorated with Elmer’s glue and silver glitter and placed it on Lucy’s head. It was a little too big and she had to hold it with one hand so it didn’t fall over her face. Then she stood up on the bar and waved her other arm wildly. That signaled the round of free drinks to be served and the crowd went nuts. Lucy disappeared into a wave of well-wishers and celebrity hangers-on. I clapped madly for her.
It was then that I realized I was mashed up against Teeni. I tried to get away from her so I could see the formal signing of the Squirrel Board logbook by Lucy, but it was too packed. Teeni half turned and saw me. “I ga’ here early to ge’ a good place,” she slurred. Quite a bit early, I thought, enough time to get loaded already. “Say, wha’ you got against John?” She staggered against me. At least the crowd was holding her up.
“Who’s John?” I got jostled and sloshed my beer down my shirt.
“Whippet, ya know? Johnny. He says you won’ leave him be.”
“I just keep walking in on him at, say, inopportune times.” I saw Teeni’s brain working out the word “inopportune.” Anything over two syllables right now was going to be a challenge.
“He won’ see me an’more,” she said about two inches from my face. I moved sideways to get away from her. She grabbed my shirt and pulled me back. “You tell an’one else about us?” she asked with her hundred-proof breath.
“No,” I lied.
That’s when she threw her vodka tonic in my face and lunged at me. We both went down in a heap, taking a few people with us. She was on top of me, and she clearly had a weight advantage.
“Girl fight!” some guy cried with delight. We weren’t fighting. Teeni seemed to have passed out cold on top of me. Evan fought his way through the circle around us and hauled me out from under her. Tommy and two other men picked Teeni up like a sack of potatoes and took her off to the kitchen to pour coffee into her.
Evan grabbed a bar towel and handed it to me. It reeked of grease and stale beer as I wiped the liquor from my face. Evan looked more amused than sympathetic at my embarrassment, so I elbowed my way through the crowd until I could see Lucy. She was laughing in a carefree way I hadn’t seen in years. She was also leading a game of Quarters. You play it by bouncing a quarter into a shot glass full of beer. If it goes in, you pick someone to drink the shot. If it doesn’t, then you drink it. Not a whole lot of skill is required, which is why it’s a drinking game.
I finally found my coat on the floor, where it was being trampled. Leaving the lights and the laughter behind me, I walked home in the quiet hush of the falling snow and the squeak it uttered under my boots. I was shivering when I finally walked up the steps at home. I shed my coat and boots and found Elizabeth reading in the family room.
“How’d the crowning go?”
“Lucy was glowing. I don’t think she’s had that much fun in a while. Did Mom call?”
“Yeah, they think he’ll be able to come home in about a week. And, more good news, Ron will be here tomorrow.” Elizabeth was beaming.
“Did you guys make up?”
“I called him after we girls had our, uh, discussion. Turns out he’s been missing me terribly. He’s saved up enough money for me to have the baby in Los Angeles.” Elizabeth looked so happy that I didn’t burst her bubble with a rude comment. “We’ll all be here together for Christmas and then we’ll go home.”
For Elizabeth’s sake I tried to look happy. I knew Sammie was staying on in North Muskegon because it was so close to Christmas anyway. Lucy and I were going to head back to Michigan State in the morning if the snow stopped. I told Elizabeth that I was sorry we’d have to leave before Ron’s arrival. Then I beat it upstairs to snag a bed before anyone else got there first.
Chapter Thirty-four
December 1986
Lucy paid me back the thousand dollars from the Squirrel money. She also asked me not to say anything to Chuck about her winnings. He had found a new job at Mr. Lube. When he told me that, I asked why there was never a Mrs. Taco or a Mrs. Lube. Or why menial jobs always had a company name that started with “Mr.”
I swear, it didn’t even occur to me that this might hurt his feelings. After all, I had just been fired from a job where dialing a phone had apparently been too tough for me. He glared at me and stomped away. He now hadn’t spoken to me for several days and it was wearing on Lucy as well as on me. Because I felt guilty, I wound up making Chuck dinner and going out to buy him Kodiak chewing tobacco when I noticed he was running low. He still didn’t utter a word in my direction.
During Wheel of Fortune, the doorbell rang. When I answered it, our downstairs neighbor was at the door, fuming. Apparently Chuck had parked in his parking space again. After I offered to move his car, Chuck wordlessly flipped me the keys. I went outside without my coat. The snow had piled up on the windshield and the driver’s-side door had iced shut. I crawled in the passenger side to find the scraper. Meanwhile the guy from downstairs was idling in his own car waiting to pull into his space. I hurriedly scraped the windshield with the plastic straight edge, then flipped it around to wipe off the loose snow with the plastic bristles. I was scraping at the ice on the door handle when Chuck yelled out the window above the parking lot.
“Hey, you’re going to scrape the paint!”
“No, I’m not. This is the way you do it,” I yelled back. I said under my breath, “You moron from California, what would you know?”
The door of the duplex flew open and Chuck raced across the parking lot, nearly losing his balance on the ice. His full weight hit me and pushed me up against the car. “You stupid bitch!” He wrenched the window scraper from my hand and hit me on the side of the head with it. Then he hit me again. The jagged plastic edge winged my cheek. It didn’t really hurt, but I had never been hit before in my life. And I was scared that he wasn’t going to stop.
“Lucy! Help!” I screamed in real terror. Chuck kept me pinned against the car with one arm and raised his other arm to backhand me across the mouth. I shut my eyes but the strike never came.
I heard Lucy scream, “Not my sister, you bastard! Don’t hit my sister!” I opened my eyes and saw that she had jumped on Chuck’s back, holding his arm as best she could. I got out of hitting range as Chuck flipped Lucy off him onto the snow and gravel. He brought his boot back to kick her, but again he was stopped—this time by our downstairs neighbor, who had jumped out of his idling car when he saw what was happening. The neighbor, an art history classmate of mine, pulled Chuck away.
Chuck tried to get around him but the guy stepped in front of him and said, “Let’s not get the cops involved, man. Let’s keep it cool here.”
Chuck flipped Lucy the finger. Then, picking up the car keys from where I had dropped them, he jumped in the car. He screeched out of the lot, fishtailing on the ice the whole way. Lucy pulled me to her and said, “Did he hurt you, Jeannie?” She pushed me away to inspect me. She licked her finger and dabbed at the blood on my cheek, then rested her forehead on mine. As she helped me up the stairs, she called to our neighbor, “We can’t thank you enough.”
“Are you two all right? Do you need anything?” he asked.
“Just keep an eye out tonight, would you?” Lucy asked meaningfully.
“You got it,” he said and disappeared into his own part of the house.
We locked every door and window, then put chairs under the doorknobs for good measure. Our neighbor brought up a pool cue that we lodged in the sliding door track. As we ran around the house securing it, Lucy sobbed. The night passed with Lucy and me flinching at every sound the old house made. At about four o’clock in the morning, I whispered to her back, “Did Chuck cause your miscarriage, Lucy?”
She didn’t answer for so long that I thought she was asleep. Then she simply whispered, “Go to sleep, Jeannie.”
The next day was my last big test in Art History. It counted for fifty percent of our grade. I normally just crammed the night before a test. Which in this case had been impossible. I arrived an hour late and motioned to the teacher, who was running the slide projector. “I’m sorry I’m missing this test.” I was shifting from foot to foot because I had to pee, which is my normal tendency when I’m lying. “My dad just had a heart attack and I’m very upset and I need to drive home right away. He’s in very bad condition.”
His gray eyebrows shot upward. “I thought that’s why you were gone two weeks ago.”
“Um, well, yeah.” I was grasping at straws. “He had a relapse last night so I’ve really got to drive home.”
“Miss Thompson, let me tell you something: you’re just not dedicated. Some days you are my most stellar student. You have ideas that are quite astute. Other days you don’t even bother to show up or you aren’t prepared. Now even if you ace the final, at this point you are only looking at a C or even a D. I don’t appreciate my students’ not taking their studies seriously. Perhaps you should strongly consider transferring to another major. Now, I have students who are waiting for their next slide.” He turned on his heel, brushing me with his tweed coat. I stood in the hall feeling like the biggest loser of all time.
I wasn’t in the mood to be in our tragic house so I walked to the student union. I lay down on a vinyl couch in the women’s lounge and stared at the perforated tile ceiling. I heard a chair scrape.
“Hi,” Lucy said.
“Hi.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. But I think I just got kicked out of my major,” I said.
“It happens.” Lucy shrugged. Then she showed me a notice from Campus Legal Aid that said, “Cheap, Fast, and Confidential. 517-555-3379.” I gave Lucy money for the pay phone and watched her cross the room to make the call. Then I went with her to the Administration Building and up to their fourth-floor office. She spoke briefly to a woman at a desk and returned with several forms to fill out. We found two seats among the metal chairs lining the hallway. To a man, everyone waiting there was a woman. After two hours, Lucy was finally called in to an inner office. I waited outside. When Lucy reappeared, she said, “I filled out all of the paperwork to get the divorce procedure started. I just need his signature too.”
“Lucy, don’t do this because of last night. He didn’t really hurt me.”
She whirled on me. “I’m not doing this because of you! I’m doing this because of me. Sadly, I could only get motivated to do it when I saw that he might hurt someone I love.” Then she stomped down the hall.
Later that day, we discussed the logistics of getting Chuck to sign the papers and getting him out of the house. It was a Friday, and since Lucy was working all weekend, she decided she was going to wait until Monday to talk to Chuck. It would also be Christmas Eve and Lucy and I were leaving anyhow to go home to Muskegon. That way we wouldn’t have to be around him for very long after he heard about the pending divorce.
Chapter Thirty-five
&n
bsp; December 1986
Lucy drove Chuck to work at Mr. Lube, having pleaded that she needed their car because I needed the one Mom and Dad had provided. Chuck was going to get a ride home from a coworker later that day. Then Lucy and I drove to U-Haul. We rented a trailer and hitched it to the back of Lucy and Chuck’s Ford EXP. Then we spent the rest of the day loading the trailer. We dragged the bed frame and mattress down the stairs. I packed the stereo while Lucy wrestled with the bureau and the desk. Lucy handled the locksmith, who changed the locks while I sorted through clothes, albums, and stuff from the bathroom, piling it into boxes I had gotten from the grocery store. Finally we were done. We sat on the front stoop to wait. It was four o’clock and night was already descending. Lucy and I took turns going into the house to get warm. She was inside when I saw the headlights turn in to the parking lot at about five thirty. The car stopped and Chuck emerged. He gave a brief wave to the driver, who drove off.
I knocked frantically on the front door and Lucy emerged quickly, locking the door behind her. The porch light overhead was on and I was holding a heavy Sears flashlight that Dad had given me. I flashed it in Chuck’s eyes as he walked up. I also planned to use the flashlight as a weapon if need be.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He had a hand up to shield his eyes. Lucy strode up to him with a clipboard. “Chuck, there’s something I didn’t tell you. I won the Squirrel Board.”
“The fucking what?”
“Never mind. The thing is, I have a check here for you. It’s for $610. You just have to sign right here to get it.” Lucy thrust the clipboard at the dazed Chuck and handed him a pen. I kept the light in his eyes as well as I could.
“Can you turn off that fucking light?” he yelled at me. “You’re blinding me.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said, holding the flashlight steady. “I just want you to be able to see where to sign.”
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