by Claire Tacon
It’s a wide-open target but Linda doesn’t take the shot. “Boys must be excited.” She thanks me again for running the errand.
The mall parking lot is almost empty when I pull in except for a collection of abandoned carts crashed along the perimeter. The meat store’s got the same sterile row of freezers that all the franchises have, same orange trim, same air conditioning set to Tundra. There’s a blonde girl with a long face leaning over the counter reading a gossip magazine and chewing gum. She looks up but doesn’t straighten to greet me. The magazine is open to a fashion spread where readers are invited to choose which celebrity wears the same look better. I don’t recognize any of the people.
“You Eileen?”
“Ellie, yes.”
Her name tag reads “Tracee.” She’s decorated it with a metallic heart. “So you know Bernie pretty well?”
“We went to high school together.”
She points to a picture in the magazine. “Think this one’s handsome?”
“Sure.”
“Wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.” She flips the page. “He’s a dog. Left his wife six months pregnant.”
I wait for any indication that she’s planning to provide further customer service. She’s absorbed in a good/bad plastic surgery photo-spread, unfazed by the silence.
“Did Linda leave you an order?” I ask, worried because she didn’t give me a list. “Or am I supposed to choose?”
Tracee rolls her eyes, colder than the air-conditioning. “Linda’s had this planned for months. She isn’t going to leave it to an ex-girlfriend.”
“Bernie and I weren’t together.”
“That’s the word going around.” She slouches back to the stockroom and comes out with a mountain of frozen items. Tracee’s been hoarding all the sale items. The money ends up covering 100 burgers, 3 dozen sausages, cocktail rolls, a few boxes of assorted appetizers and a few trays of squares. There’s no chance that they’ll all fit into the cooler.
“My mom wanted to buy something for Bernie too.”
She retrieves another five dessert boxes and offers me the employee discount. “You need a hand carrying this?”
“No, I’ll make a couple trips.”
“Yeah, I can’t leave the cash.”
I leave the bagged items and haul the cooler out to the car. When I come back in, Tracee’s on the phone. She puts the receiver to her chest. “Linda wants to know if you can stick around and pick up the cake. The bakery at Superstore won’t have it until quarter to ten.”
It’s seven twenty.
“Will the meat be okay in the car?” I don’t feel like driving back again.
“I’ll give you the work cooler.”
“Sure. Tell Linda I’ll pick the boys up at the same time.”
Tracee covers the phone again to ask if I’m going to stick around the mall.
“I might head into Wolfville and read at a café.”
Tracee relays the information. “Just make sure you talk to Len, 9:45 at the back of the store.” She shuffles around the corner and hauls out an oversized neon cooler. She sets it down in front of me and returns the phone to her ear.
I wait for further directions, but Tracee just stares back. “Nice to meet you.” It’s my cue to leave. When I drop the cooler by the car trunk, I look back and catch her leaning against the window to spy on me.
As I’m driving out, some asshole revs up behind, then pulls alongside to pass, laying on the horn. I roll the car window down to give the driver an earful.
It’s Bernie.
“Giving me a heart attack, McInnes.” My accent creeps in, thickening my vowels. “I thought you were working.”
He waves towards the Canadian Tire. “I needed a part.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to see me here.”
“Nah, I already know about the special deal.”
We’re holding up traffic. Bernie waves me into a U-turn and we park on the far side of the mall. We speak through our open windows, like bus drivers crossing enroute. “You heading back?”
“No, I’ve got to stick around for another errand.”
“My cake?”
“Is there anything about your party that you don’t know about?”
Bernie laughs. “What time are you going to the Superstore?”
“Quarter to ten.”
“Want to hang out at the shop?”
“I brought a book.”
“They don’t have the part anyway. Let’s go for a drive.” Bernie lays his hand on his chest, scouts’ honour. “I’ll have you back by 9:30.”
We head towards Wolfville and I guess we’re going to the dykes.
“Linda’s putting on a big party. You excited?”
“Just means another year older.”
“It’s the big 4-0.”
“You still look like when we were in high school, Ellie.”
“You’re full of shit.”
We take a turn up past Horton High and get onto Ridge Road. Maybe he’s heading to White Rock. “I took the boys out here for a swim a few weeks ago and it looked like the power plant had closed the place down.”
“It always was no trespassing,” Bernie says, glancing over at me and shaking his head. “They just got newer signs.”
“I guess I thought it was a regular swimming hole.”
“Pretty much everywhere we went as kids was off limits.” Bernie turns the other way along the road. We’re headed to Three Pools. Bernie winks. “It’s no trespassing here too.”
We park the pickup and climb around the gated entrance to the gravel lane.
“You come down here a lot?”
“Almost never.”
The heat of the day has passed and it’s settled into a comfortable warmth. It doesn’t take long to reach the water towers, now covered with graffiti at the base. We walk along, Bernie on the road and me on the water pipe. After a ways, the path curves off and it’s a steep descent to the water. I skid on the gravel and Bernie catches the back of my shirt, hoisting me up by the excess material.
We reach the first pool and rest on the outlying rocks. Bernie takes his shoes off and dips his feet, the water dark as tea from the sulphates.
“You ever miss this?” he asks.
“The valley?” I kick my foot and watch the splash. “Didn’t realize how much until this summer.”
“How come?”
“Didn’t spend enough time here I guess.”
We scramble up the rocks to the next pool. Bernie stands in the stream, where the water falls down over the edge and pretends to slip.
“Don’t even joke about that,” I say, grinning.
He repeats the performance, adding exaggerated “ooohs.”
Across from us, there’s the old rope swing and a makeshift firepit circled by upended tree stump stools. In the centre, there’s an old six-pack, the cardboard sunken and the bottles littered around it. We reach the final pool and climb to an overhanging boulder. The sun will be up for another hour at least but it’s darker in the forest.
Everywhere is covered in vegetation—mosses carpeting the rocks and trees, ferns growing out of last year’s dead leaves, tree saplings wedged between cracks in the boulders. On the forest slope there’s a cascade of dried pine needles.
I run my fingers over some lichen. “Did you know this is actually two plants? A fungus and an algae. They can produce acids strong enough to dissolve rock.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Bernie says. “Science and I never really understood each other.” He moves up closer to me. “Last time I came here a kid dove in and cracked his head open. Must have been five, six years ago, before I met Linda. Kid came out of the water with this bug-eyed expression and then the blood started pouring down his face. I wrapped a towel around his head and we drove him to the hospital.”
“Was he okay?”
“I think so. I mean he could speak. Dove in right over there. The nurse at emerg gave him a hard time—I think she was his mother’s second
cousin or something. Reminded me of all the stupid things we used to get up to.”
Bernie walks over the rock where Chuck and I first had sex. I head the other way, up the steeper boulders, conscious of blushing. Bernie follows, sitting farther down and leaning back so his head’s between my feet. I play with his hair and he strokes my legs. Bernie’s hands are calloused and I feel their roughness against my calves. I shaved a day or two ago and the stubble catches against his skin. I wonder if it makes a sound at some high frequency, inaudible to the human ear.
My skin gets raw after a few moments and I reach down to take his hand, not wanting to stop the contact, but knowing that I should. He rubs his thumbs against my palm.
“You want to go for a swim?”
“I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“That never stopped you before.”
Linda wouldn’t appreciate that, I think, especially since she’s spending the evening prepping his birthday party. Richard wouldn’t appreciate it either.
“Come on,” Bernie teases, noticing my reticence. “They going to kick you out of the university if they catch you?”
“I’m not really at the university anymore.”
“I thought you were a professor.”
“I got laid off.”
Bernie crosses over to a far rock and takes his shirt off, his back to me. He unbuckles his pants and drops them to the ground. I turn my back and take my shirt and shorts off too, leaving my bra and underwear on. My body almost disappears beneath the darkness of the water.
Bernie’s on the far side of the pool near the waterfall. “I don’t know how you live in the city. No way to cool off.” He hoists himself so he’s directly under the stream. He’s so sure of himself, of his balance on the rocks, so unselfconscious of his body.
I dip my hair under the water and swim to one of the rocks where I can hold on by spreading my arms out and kicking to stay up. My chest stays just below the waterline. “Do you ever wonder if things had turned out differently? I mean what if I’d gone to Dal or something instead of Toronto.”
Bernie mirrors my pose on the opposite side of the pool. “Different how?”
I raise myself out of the water a bit.
Bernie swims over, close enough that as he treads water, his legs brush mine. We pause, unsure of how to proceed. There’s a water strider crossing between us and I point it out, giving the Latin genus Gerris remigisi.
“I always liked how smart you were.” Bernie grasps the rock on either side of me, his thighs between mine. His eyes are the colour of the wet stone.
“Apparently, I’m a failure as an academic.”
Bernie slides my bra strap off, then raises me up. He takes my nipple in his mouth. “You’re not a failure,” he says, his teeth and tongue on my areola. His nails scratch my thigh as he tugs my underwear off.
We’re crossing a line, but right now the consequences are too abstract. Instead, I’m hungry for the act, the rush that comes from smashing things. I pull him into me without thinking it through. I grapple his head against my chest, moving him the way I want it. He’s the one who slows down halfway through, holding me still and kissing me like a lover, like something sincere. I don’t let it last long before rocking back and forth to a conclusion. I close my eyes and I am eighteen again, wishing it had been Bernie all along.
Shortly after, Bernie’s cell rings, the sound magnified in the quiet of the pool. He shimmies out of the water and manages to answer in time. He talks quickly on the phone, trying to end the call as soon as possible. I get out of the water too and head to the other side, wringing the excess water out of my underwear as best I can. Bernie waves his hands for me to stop, but I slip on my shirt and shorts, the cotton sticking to me uncomfortably. By the time he flips the phone shut, I’m already halfway down to the next pool.
“Linda?”
“Canadian Tire.”
“I’ve got to pick up your cake.”
“Ellie, I don’t want to go yet.”
The wet has soaked through my clothes and my hair is dripping. Bernie’s covered in damp patches as well. He runs his hands through his hair, shaking it out like a dog. We head back up to the water pipes, not saying anything and keeping to the opposite edge. When we reach the truck, he opens his door first, then leans over to pull up the lock on mine. It’s only nine. Bernie slides over and reaches his hands up under my shorts, playing with the band of my underwear.
This time it’s fast and rough as Bernie presses down on me, careful that we can’t be seen. He manages to reach around to pet me as we screw, bringing me to climax quickly. It makes me wonder who taught him how to do that. When he’s done, he grins, pleased with himself and we clean up as best we can with some Kleenex in the glove compartment. He doesn’t ask me what I’m going to tell Richard and I don’t ask him where this is going. Instead he flicks on the radio and we listen to Top 40 country tunes all the way to New Minas. We get to the mall parking lot and Bernie parks close to the Canadian Tire. “Just in case Tracee’s watching,” he says. “You coming tomorrow?”
“Should I?”
He squeezes my hand because we can’t kiss and then I slide out of the truck. As I walk across the parking lot, I’m aware of how bedraggled I look, how the damp from swimming has seeped into my clothes. There’s one of Stephen’s hoodies in the car and I pull that on, ashamed to be wearing anything of my son’s. As I wait out the remaining quarter-hour, I think about how this doesn’t feel much different than losing my virginity to Chuck. So, you’ve just cheated on your husband, I repeat to myself, but I still can’t feel anything.
The rule of thumb in soil science is that it takes nature five hundred years to form an inch of soil but only decades for humans to lose several. We’re that efficient.
I make my way over to the Superstore back entrance. A paunchy, middle-aged man opens the door, wearing a white lab coat with the name “Len” embroidered on it. “You here for the cake?”
He looks at me and then back towards where I’ve come. “Not raining is it?”
“No.” I don’t offer further explanation.
“Just to the right.” He leads me through the stockroom, past flats of cereal boxes and a cold room for the produce. “Tell Linda it’s on the house. We had a birthday cake called in and we wrote the wrong name on it, so we made them a new one and patched up this one for Bernie.”
There’s a skinny high-school kid sweeping up behind the ovens and he stares at me as Len opens the fridge. I’m conscious of the damp circles still visible on my clothes. Len hauls out the rejected cake—a massive rectangular slab with chocolate icing, decorated for a kid with bright balloons and bicycles. “Better than rosettes,” Len says. There’s a giant chocolate chip cookie with Bernie’s name on it covering up the original recipient’s. “Linda need anything else?”
I shrug.
He leans his hip on the fridge. “Haven’t seen you around before. You one of Linda’s girls?”
“I’m an old friend of Bernie’s. Just back in town visiting my Mom.”
“You want me to call Linda to see?”
“Sure.”
He slides over to the employee phone. “Linda? Yeah, it’s Len. She’s here. Nah, it’s free. She’ll explain. I’ve got some cupcakes with vanilla frosting. You want me to throw them in special too? Some people don’t like chocolate.” He hangs up and asks me, “You got any change from the M&M?”
“I’ve got a twenty.”
“Just take them. I’ll give you a hand.”
Len calls over to the young kid and makes him carry the cake with half of the cupcakes stacked on top. Len carries the other tray so I don’t have to carry anything. He lays the cake across the car’s middle seat and straps it in with an elaborate cradle of seatbelts. “I’ve seen enough cakes ruined from sudden stops,” he warns. “You going straight to Linda’s?”
“Yeah.”
“Go easy on the brake.”
He doesn’t make any motion to leave, even though the kid�
��s already back at the door, waiting for Len to unlock it. “So you going to be at the party I guess.”
“Yeah.”
“Not going to pop out of the cake?” Len laughs, wheezy.
“My youngest might fit in there.”
“How many you got?”
“Two boys.”
“Married?”
I nod.
“That’s nice. I got twin girls, but I’m going through the divorce.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Sure thing.”
I sink down into the seat and wave goodbye. Len steps away from the car but stays to watch as I pull out.
When I get to Linda’s, the kitchen is covered in balloons and banners and the kids are in the living room finishing up a movie. Linda, Gail and Linda’s mother are in the backyard, smoking on the edge of the deck. “Everything go okay?”
“Where should I unload?”
Linda gets up to help. When we reach the car she says, “Christ, how much did you get?”
“Your friends give a lot of discounts. Some of the squares are from my mom.”
We carry the load over to the mudroom, where the chest freezer’s set up on a plywood base. I can’t look her in the eye. “I’ll thaw them out in the morning,” she says and we pack the food inside.
Linda’s at the corner closest to the door and when we finish she pauses and pulls it closed. She stands there, hand still on the knob, steeling herself to say something. Bernie must have called. I’m terrified she’ll make a scene in front of the boys.
“What did you do for the wait?”
“I brought my book,” I say, feeling it out as I go. “Then I ran into Bernie. We drove around while he waited for a part.”
“Thank Christ.” She exhales. She uses her nail to flick a tear out of the corner of her eye and smiles at me. “My friend at the M&M saw you guys drive off together and I thought you were going to lie to me.” She looks a bit searching, apologizing for being suspicious.
“I know it’s silly,” she says, “because Bernie’s always said you were like his kid sister.”