Born Weird (22 page)

Neither Lucy nor Abba complained as Angie, Richard and Kent squeezed inside and sat on top of them. They stayed like this for several moments before Angie pulled the envelope from Lucy’s hand. Five minutes later Kent took it from her. He opened it. There was a single piece of paper inside, which Kent unfolded and read out loud.

“Dearest wife and children,” Kent said. “There’s always a discount box. The, in second. The word: attic. With of eternal, the wisdom coach, love house, Dad.”

“Damn it, Kent! Let me do it.”

“I did it right! That’s what it says.”

“Are you sure?”

“You think I can’t read?”

Richard took the letter from Kent’s hands. The paper trambled slightly as he read it. Then he crumpled it into a ball.

“No, wait, don’t!” Abba said.

“It’s gibberish. It’s nonsense. It makes as much sense as his
fucking
death did.”

“Kent’s right.”

“I think it’s one of his stupid codes. Give it here,” Abba said. Richard threw the balled-up letter. It hit Abba in the forehead. Using Lucy’s arm, she smoothed it flat.

“There,” Abba said. She passed the letter to Richard and pointed to every other word.

“Always … discount … the … second … word,” Richard read out loud.

“It is a code,” Lucy said.

“Just not a very good one,” Richard said.

“It’s almost insulting,” Abba said.

“Explain it right now or I swear, I
fucking
swear …”

“Relax, Kentucky. Just be calm. Read every second word but start with the second one,” Richard said and he passed the paper back to Kent.

“Always … discount … the … second … word … With … eternal … wisdom … Dad.”

“Now do it again starting with the first word.”

“There’s a box in the attic of the coach house.”

“I vote that we do not go find this box,” Lucy said. “That it would honour his memory more not to go find it.”

“How do you people come up with this
fucking
shit?”

“I didn’t see it either,” Angie said.

None of them moved. Then, all at once, they scrambled out of the car and ran inside the coach house. Standing in the spot where the Maserati would normally have been parked, they looked up at the small rectangular hatch in the ceiling.

“I didn’t even know the coach house had an attic,” Kent said.

“Are you still a virgin?” Lucy asked.

“Be nice to Kent.”

“Are you?”

“Are
you
?”

“Enough,” Abba said. Richard pulled a Zippo lighter from the front pocket of his jeans. He handed it to Angie.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because it’s your role in the family,” Richard said. The rest of them nodded. Angie put her hands on her hips. Then she took the Zippo and started up the ladder made of two-by-fours nailed to the wall. She pushed up the hatch. She poked her head into the attic. She flicked the Zippo.

“What do you see?’ Richard asked.

“Camping equipment …”

“What else?”

“Christmas decorations …”

“And?

“Wait,” Angie called. Her feet climbed up to the highest two-by-four. “This one’s marked First National Bank of Rainytown.”

“But Rainytown’s in the house,” Kent said. “And we never made a bank.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Bring that one down,” Richard said.

Angie grabbed it near the top and tugged it towards her,
but the box was much heavier than she’d expected it to be. It tipped over. Bundles of hundred-dollar bills spilled out of it. Money fell through the hatch and onto the floor of the coach house.

“Holy shit.”

“Holy
fucking
shit.”

“Jesus.”

“Unbelievable.”

“That’s about half of it,” Angie said. She pushed another armful of money through the hatchway.

They carried it inside the house and stacked it on the dining room table. They stared at the pile. None of them wanted to touch it. “It doesn’t even seem like money anymore,” Richard said. “Like when you say the same word so many times it loses its meaning.”

“Where do you think it came from?” Abba asked.

“He never seemed like a planner to me,” Lucy said.

“Maybe it came from those hoods?” Kent asked.

“Hoods?”

“You know, those shady-looking guys he only talked to in the coach house.”

“Shady?”

“It does seem like an awfully large amount,” Richard said, “to be acquired by legal means.”

“In cash.”

“In bundled hundreds.”

“What if all this was planned?” Kent asked. “Just another stupid puzzle?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Abba said. They struggled not to think about it. The struggle was exhausting.

The money had been found shortly before midnight. It was three when Richard split it into two piles. The first was enough to pay off the back taxes. The second pile he began to divide into five.

“Make it six,” Lucy said.

“Six?”

“One for Mom,” Lucy said. “We’ll need to take care of her too.”

Richard divided the pile into six. When he was finished, he yawned. Kent and Lucy were already half asleep. Angie said good night. At the top of the stairs she quickly turned and saw that brothers and sisters were following her up. She didn’t take a good look at them as they walked up the stairs behind her. For the next eight years she would regret not doing this.

The next morning both Abba and her stack were gone.

T
HERE WERE NO TREES
in the Barkhouse Memorial Cemetery and the tombstones were close together. As they searched for row 23-B, plot #26, the light went grey. Then it began to snow. They walked deeper into the cemetery, the snow crunching under their feet. It was the only sound they heard.

The tombstones ended at row 75-A. Row 1-B started where the graves were marked with plaques, which sat flush against the ground. They walked to 23-B. Counting twenty-six plaques in, they semicircled their father’s grave. Richard bent down and wiped away the snow.

“That’s … a lot of text,” he said.

There was no name or date. There was no mention of his children or his loving wife. It simply read:

Richard bowed his head and folded his hands in front of him. Angie and Lucy began to cry. Kent held them both.

“Goddamn it!” Angie shouted.

“What?” Richard asked.

“He did it again!” Angie said.

“He did what again?” Kent asked.

“Oh my God!” Abba said.

“He kinda did it again,” Lucy said.

“Why would he do this?” Richard asked.

“Come on! Someone please
fucking
tell me what’s happening …”

“Read every second word, Kent,” Angie said. Her face had gone white. She crouched down and put her head between her knees.

“Truly … finally … once … now … joy …”

“No, no,” Angie said. She remained crouched. Her voice was muffled. “It only works the one way.”

“It’s like his letter,” Abba said, quietly. “The money-trail letter.”

“That’s why I started with the second word.”

“Start with the first word. Start with the ‘I.’ ”

“Fuck!”

“There ya go.”

“What is a shell cove?”

“It’s Shell Cove.”

“How could he do this?”

“Why would he do this?”

“Fuck!”

“Will somebody please tell me what Shell Cove is?”

“It’s at the top,” Angie said. She stood. The colour had not returned to her face. “It’s right up at the top of Cape Breton. Near Meat Cove. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow. We’ll head out first thing tomorrow.”

A
NGIE COULD NOT LOOK AT THE
tropical beach scene mural, which covered the entire wall, for one more second. She turned on her side and stared at the digital numbers of the clock radio beside her bed. They read 1:23 when she heard a knock. Angie sat up. She accidentally looked at the beach scene. She heard the knock again. It came from the door connecting the two rooms they’d rented at the Sydney Motor Court Motel.

“Are you awake?” Lucy asked. She was sleeping, or rather failing to sleep, in the bed beside Angie’s. Abba failed to sleep beside her.

“No, I’m sleep staring,” Angie said.

“Then get the door!” Abba said. “Please?”

Angie climbed out of bed. She unlocked the door. Kent and Richard came into their room. They were both fully dressed.

“Our motel room is making us crazy,” Kent said. He sat on the end of her bed. “Nice fake sunset.”

“It’s not the room. It’s the waiting,” Richard said. He
stared at the mural. “Although that
is
atrocious.”

“We haven’t slept either,” Angie said.

“Do you think we should just go?” asked Lucy.

“Why not?” Kent asked.

“I agree,” said Abba.

“Okay then,” Richard said, “let’s.”

Having no suitcases, as they’d left the Halifax airport before their luggage had been found, they had nothing to pack. They walked to their rented car. It was snowing, heavily. Richard started the engine. Angie worked the heater. Kent found the snow brush. He cleared off the hood and the headlights and the front and back windshields. Then he got into the back seat beside Abba and Lucy. There was snow on his boots and his shoulders and stuck in his hair.

“It’s really coming down out there,” he said.

“We’ll be fine,” Richard said and he reversed through the parking lot.

“But, really, it’s pretty bad.”

“We’ll drive through it,” Richard said, and for different reasons, they all agreed.

Six hours into a three-hour trip, all they could see was snow. The road wasn’t visible. Neither was the shoulder. There was only white, which broke into an infinite number of snowflakes moments before hitting the windshield.

“It’s like they’re suicidal,” Richard said.

“Who?” Angie asked.

“The snowflakes,” Richard said. “They keep hitting the windshield. How could there be so many of them?”

Richard loosened his grip on the steering wheel. He tightened it again. He leaned back in the driver’s seat and then he leaned forwards. They’d already turned onto the Cabot Trail, which should have taken them into Shell Cove. But then the weather had gotten even worse. Now their top speed was 20 km/h. It often went down to 10. They kept driving because it seemed slightly safer than pulling over. No one spoke. The windshield wipers were loud. Then Richard cleared his throat. This was a gesture Angie had never heard him make before.

“Angie,” Richard said, “I just want to say that I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” she said.

“No, really, I’m serious. I want you to hear this. I’m sorry.”

“I said okay.”

“I’m very serious …”

“Keep your eyes on the road.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“If I promise to listen will you keep your eyes on the road?”

“Yes.”

“What are you sorry about, Richard?”

“All of it. Everything. Angie …”

“Eyes. On. The. Road.”

“Angie, none of us knew about the curses, not for sure, but we kinda did. You know?”

“I know.”

“So we all knew about you and the forgiving thing. That you’d forgive us for anything we did to you.”

“I know that you’re sorry.”

“All those horrible things I made you do because I knew you’d forgive me. All of it. Not just the chores. But making you lie for me and cover things up. All the other shit I don’t even want to say. I took advantage of you and I’m so sorry about all of it,” Richard said. He kept his eyes on the road but he took his right hand off the wheel. He reached across the space between them. He squeezed Angie’s arm.

“It’s okay.”

“Is it?” Richard asked. The snowflakes continued hitting the windshield. Richard kept his hand on her shoulder. Angie heard seat belts unfasten and then the rest of them crowded behind her seat. They each touched her shoulder and gently squeezed. “Do you forgive me?”

“And me?”

“Me too?”

“All of us?”

“Ah, you guys. You don’t know how much I want to. I really, really want to,” Angie said.

“But you won’t?”