Belinda's Rings (19 page)

Wouldn't it be ridiculous, I thought, if there were little animals that collected human teeth and showed them off to their friends,
look how big?
It would never happen. I ran my tongue over my wisdom teeth at the back of my jaw. The dentist said I was lucky 'cause I only had three of them and they all grew in straight. That meant I didn't have to get them pulled and miss a week of school and walk around with chipmunk cheeks like other people my age. But I remember feeling disappointed, like I wasn't lucky at all. It was just another stupid thing that felt like missing out.

X

BELINDA HAD BEEN CALLING
twice a day since she left, hoping Jessica would pick up. She was the only one Belinda could only rely on to carry on a conversation and update her on the true state of things around the house. Wiley was too melodramatic, Grace too withdrawn. They both made her worry.

Grace is being such a brat, Jessica told her the day before. She skipped school on Thursday.

What? Belinda sighed, although she wasn't too concerned. There were worse things girls Grace's age could be doing to rebel.

Yeah, Jessica continued, she just left before fifth period and went to Squid's school. All his teachers were like, Who is
that
person? She looked like a total creep.

She told you this?

Yeah, I think she thought it was funny or something.

What was she doing at Sebastian's school? Belinda asked.

He had that assembly, remember? Jessica spoke as if it were a crime that Belinda forgot about the assembly. Anyway, she said, I think it was just an excuse to get out of Math, to be honest.

Well, I wouldn't worry too much about it, Belinda said. I'm sure the teachers will deal with it.

So you're not even gonna talk to her?

Not about missing school. I'll talk to her about how she's doing, though.

She's at Rose's house right now, Jessica said. And besides, you know she won't tell you that. She never says anything about her life.

All right then, Belinda said, how do
you
think she's doing? How are
you
doing?

Fine, I guess, Jessica said grudgingly. I've been doing practically everything around here. Wiley just holes himself up in the garage all day eating junk food. He was in there all morning. We had to take Squid along with us for dim sum.

Well, take a break tonight, Belinda said. Tell Grace she has to do her fair share of looking after Sebastian. And let me talk to Wiley.

I'm on my way out, Wiley said without a greeting. Got errands to run.

Why don't you take Sebastian with you, then? Belinda replied icily. You could spend some time with your son?

I already helped him clean the terrarium, he said. And Jess is taking him to the park anyway. She promised him. I've got important things to do. Alone. This house is driving me insane — you should see the mess.

I'm not coming home early.

Are you coming home at all?

Listen, she said, I don't want to get into this right now. I've got to get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow. Please help the girls.

A hard click and Belinda knew Wiley had hung up. She was relieved rather than angry. She'd initially thought that frequent phone calls would make her more anxious, but they seemed instead to lessen the weight of her guilt. Life was going on without her. If Grace missing school for one afternoon was the biggest disaster they'd encountered thus far, they were coping just fine. The world she'd stepped into upon arriving in England was focused on issues far more consequential than the trifles of domestic life. It occurred to Belinda that the trip had already widened her scope for wisdom; she was gaining a panoramic perspective on the world.

All journeys of great discovery had their low points, and one of hers had occurred just hours before. After spending the day with Pierre and hordes of tourists at Stonehenge, she'd met with Dr. Longfellow for a late dinner and declared that she would buy a plane ticket back to Canada that evening if he didn't want her there. Dr. Longfellow hadn't seemed surprised. He calmly explained to her how he assumed she wanted to start off with a few low-key activities, to get her bearings. He apologised for the misunderstanding and Belinda felt her whole body exhale in gratitude.

I think I was over-excited, Belinda admitted. Perhaps I pushed it a bit too far. It almost feels like culture shock, being here again.

Of course, Dr. Longfellow said, I feel it every time I start working in the field after a long break. It's important not to expect too much of yourself right off. He cut his chicken meticulously, gently mashing each small piece before spearing it with his fork. Watching him eat put her at ease; if this was the way he ate, he probably approached his work in a careful and calculating way as well. Belinda decided during their meal that he had definitely been out of sorts for their first meeting. It hadn't been personal, she reassured herself. And after they had finished eating, Dr. Longfellow told her to be packed up and ready to leave Salisbury early the next morning. A new fractal formation had appeared at Windmill Hill in East Sussex.

I've heard it's a gigantic formation, Dr. Longfellow said, his eyes gleaming. And it happens to lie on the same northerly magnetic bearing as Stonehenge.

Belinda felt a shiver run through her. Was it possible that the formation had appeared at the very moment she was at Stonehenge? And if it had, did it mean something? Dr. Longfellow had evidently been contemplating the same possibility.

Perhaps we should be calling you our lucky charm, he said with a smile.

11
Mothers and Fathers

I USED TO HAVE
a lot of bad dreams — ones about killers coming through my window in the dead of night to stab me to death. I could feel the knife slicing through my belly button, my intestines squirting. I would wake up in a cold sweat just like they do in movies, and the whole house would be dead silent. I'd always wake up just before the moment I was going to die, so the silence really did feel like death. For a while I'd lie there, listening to my drumming heartbeat and fanning my sweaty chest with my shirt. Eventually I'd calm myself down enough to go to Mum's room and tell her I'd had a nightmare, and she'd take me back to my room and read me a story to make me forget about it.

But one time, instead of reading to me from one of my books, Mum told me her own story. It was about a little girl who found an abandoned kitten in an old shed. She loved the kitten oh so dearly, and every night she'd give the kitten a saucer of milk to drink. Her parents were so poor that they could only afford to give the girl one glass of milk a day, but she preferred to give it to the kitten and go without. What she didn't know was that milk is actually bad for kittens when it's not from their mothers. So the kitten got really sick and died. The little girl wouldn't tell anybody about the kitten dying because she felt like it was her fault, she'd been a bad Mum. So she made a bed for the body using a tin tea box, and to make it more comfy and cozy she lined the box with goose feathers plucked from her pillow. She made it look like the kitten was curled up and sleeping.

Nobody ever found out about the kitten dying. The little girl kept the box under her bed until the kitten's belly started to cave in and its fur looked stiff and matted, and her Mum kept asking what on earth is that smell in here? Her Mum had forgotten that she had the kitten. No one else had remembered this friend she had loved so much. It had been too small a thing to notice.

I know, it's not the kind of story that you'd think would make a kid feel better after a nightmare. But for some reason, it made me feel good and safe. It made me feel like dying was just something that happened to everyone and everything. You can't control it, so why bother worrying?

Of course I begged and begged Mum for a kitten for weeks after, told her I would make sure it didn't tear up the carpet or pee in the house plants, I'd watch it every minute and clean its litter box every day. Absolutely not, was all she said. When I told her she needed to give me one good reason she said, I hate cats.

I gave Da the same spiel and he gave in without a fight when I told him Mum had said No, flat-out. Da named the cat Sally. She was all black with one white paw, and Jess and I helped him pick her out from the SPCA. It was just after we moved into the townhouse with Mum, and at that time Da was making sure he saw us every single weekend. It got really boring 'cause there was never anything to do at Da's house, and it wasn't like our home anymore so it felt weird just doing nothing. The place was freezing all the time, and Da hadn't bothered to buy any more furniture or decorations to replace the stuff that Mum had taken. Too expensive, he'd said. Does she know how much they charge for curtains these days?

You could still see the indents in the carpet where the armchairs had stood, and there was a perfect rectangle on the dining room wall that was a shade darker than the rest because Mum's Thomas Kinkade print had hung there for so long. I never wanted to take off my socks when I was there even though I used to go around barefoot all the time when I lived there. I feel bad about it now 'cause it was obvious that Da noticed. He'd stock his kitchen with things that Mum would never buy like liquorice allsorts and mangoes and canned spaghetti. But he never seemed to get that neither of us really liked any of those things anyway. Whenever we asked when he was going to drive us home, he'd duck into the kitchen and come out with a treat,
Look what I've got!
We pretended to be excited, rubbing our tummies and licking our lips. It didn't feel like there was any other option.

When we went to visit Da the weekend after we brought Sally home, it looked like he hadn't cleaned her litter box even once. She had started to poop on the concrete floor in the basement instead. Da said he guessed we were going to have to come over more often to look after our cat. He only kept her for a couple more weeks after that. He told us he had to give her away to a woman he knew at work because he couldn't even watch TV anymore — the cat had started to climb up on his lap and dig its claws into his thighs every time he sat on the couch. We saw it happen the first time and it was hilarious to watch, Da's feet up on the coffee table and Sally jumping up and walking across his legs like a bridge, Da's whole body frozen stiff 'cause he was too afraid to touch her or even shoo her away. Sally's claws digdigdigging into his jeans and Da yelling at us, Get it — aw!
Shit
— get the cat OFF!

After he gave Sally away, Mum called him up and told him he couldn't just get rid of our pets without asking us. Jess had come home crying and saying she never wanted to see Da again. Da told Mum he thought we wouldn't notice Sally was gone since we were barely ever there, and anyway, she was costing him too much money on top of his child support payments. Mum called him a selfish miser.

To smooth over the Sally fiasco, Da got into renting James Bond videos and enticing us over with movie nights. We watched the whole series from Sean Connery to Timothy Dalton, Da's favourite. We always got to watch them on the TV in Da's bedroom. For some reason it was more fun to lie in bed with Da while we watched movies and ate popcorn than to do it on the couch in the living room. He'd spread his arms out so we could use them as pillows, me on one side and Jess on the other, and by the time the movie was halfway through we'd both be asleep. But after we got through
Licence to Kill
and there weren't any more Bond movies, it wasn't fun anymore. Da tried to get us to lie in his bed with him on the nights we were sleeping over, but we told him we couldn't fall asleep, it was more comfy to sleep in our own rooms.

When we got back to Mum's, Jess would tell her everything that Da had said and done like she'd been working undercover.

And then, she'd said, he wanted us to sleep in his bed with him a
gain
. Does he think we're like, five?

He needs a girlfriend, Mum said, as if having a girlfriend would solve all Da's problems. As if having a boyfriend or a girlfriend ever made anybody feel less lonely.

He still does that thing you hate, Jess went on. The thing with his belt. Da had this ritual every day after work when he was changing out of his dress pants. He'd stand in front of the closet dangling his belt by the tail end, and he'd try to jerk the buckle so that it would jump up, loop around, and tie the belt into a knot. Sometimes he'd stand there forever, just jerking the belt over and over,
jing-jing, jing-jing,
watching the buckle flail in the air and then drop back down. It drove Mum totally batty to watch him concentrating so hard on looping a strip of leather into a knot while she waited to hear about his day at work. She asked him if he expected a goddamn fireworks display on the day he finally did it.

What's really funny is, I think Da and Wiley are pretty similar in a lot of ways. Seems like neither of them ever wanted Mum to be a wife. When Mum and Da were married, Mum would pay the bills at the bank, wash the laundry, schedule events on the fridge calendar, and make sure all of us were fed three times a day plus afternoon snack, tucked in at night and kissed sweet dreams. Of course, that's the only way that Mum would have it. It was different for a short time when Wiley first moved in, but before you could say
abracadabra
Mum was paying Wiley's bills, washing his laundry, scheduling his piano lessons, and feeding him his three meals, all four food groups. Switcheroo, just like that.