Part 2 (2/2)

I had bare feet and there was gla.s.s all over the place around him, so I moved back trying to find a place where it wasn't. ”Are you OK?” I asked him.

He got up off his arms and rested on his knees to see what he did to himself. His jeans saved his skin but the tank top didn't There was skinny pins of gla.s.s stuck in his skin up to the elbow and blood crawled out where they were s.h.i.+ning. The piece that did the worst of it fell on the ground and left a big gash on the underpart of his elbow. I got b.u.t.terflies watching the red streams come down his arm.

Dale had mouth-twitches while he concentrated on picking all the pieces out. I started to cry. He looked up at me with his eyes all watery and smiled.

”I'll get your mum,” I told him.

”No.” It came out of him like a bark again. He kind of looked like his mum for a second, the way her eyes scrunched when she left a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. ”She's not home.”

”Yes she is, you might have to go to the hospital.” I was sure I heard her up there earlier.

”She's not home, just forget it. I'm fine.” He held his arm to the sun trying to make sure he found all the gla.s.s.

”Well, I'll tell my mum then.” I didn't know what mine would even do, the way she was.

”Don't tell your mum nothing-she's a wh.o.r.e.” My mouth dropped and he said, ”She is, my mum told me; your mum's a hooker.”

”No! She is not.” I squinted back at him. ”No she's not.”

Dale stood up. ”Yeah she is, my mum told me, she knows your mum is and quit walkin' away from me, y' little baby; if you tell her I told you that, you're dead.”

I glanced at Dale's arm; I didn't care any more. ”I'm not, I just don't want to stay outside any more. What if someone comes and sees what you did? I don't wanna be there when you get it.”

”I mean it, you tell your mum and I'll kill you-and don't think I won't know.”

”I'm not, I'm just going in. Cuz anyway, she's sick today.” I backed up some more, watching the ground.

”You mean she's hungover.” He took a couple steps toward me with his wrist in the air and blood coming off his elbow like drool.

”No, she has the flu.” I went back toward the house.

Dale hollered after me, ”I mean it, kid: tell her and you're dead.” Gla.s.s skidded on the ground behind me.

It was hot when I came in, but I locked the door and closed the window. I pulled the blind by our bed. Mum was the same: on her back with her mouth open and her head tilted back in her pillow as if she was trying to get as much air as she could without working that hard. I sat down beside her, watching the door and crouched in near to her ear.

”Mum? Mummy.” She whimpered. ”Mummy, Dale said you're a hooker.” She mumbled. ”Mum?”

”I can't hear you.” Her tongue smacked the roof of her mouth trying to get wet again.

”Shh! Dale said you're a hooker.”

”I can't hear what you're saying, honey, get me some water.”

I hissed at her, ”I can't talk loud, I'm not supposed to tell you because he said he'd kill me-he said you're a hooker.” The phone rang. I pushed her arm. She asked for water again. I flicked hard, where I pushed her. And she went, ”What! Get the phone.”

It was Charlie. In Vancouver. Mostly we wrote letters, but I loved it the best when we got to be on the phone together. She said, ”I miss you, Grace-face,” and asked how I was. I felt all babyish like I was going to cry from her voice and I wanted to just be normal and tell her how much I loved her. All I said was I was OK. Charlie said I didn't sound so OK. I was OK, just that Mum was sick, I said. That way maybe she'd feel sorry for Mum just in case she was still mad at her. I looked down at the back of my ankle. The blood was pretty much dried. ”And I cut myself.”

”Oh no. Are you OK?”

”Yeah, it's OK.”

”What's wrong with Mum? Sick with a fever or sick lying-on-her-back-throwing-up?”

”Lying on her back.”

”Oh,” and she got quiet a second. ”I'm calling because I wanted to tell you that I saved up some money and I'm going to come back to Toronto for a little while. Day after tomorrow. Maybe we could go to the zoo or something, like you said in your letter. Or maybe we could go to the museum and look at the dinosaurs. And no, I'm not mad at Mum. Your letter sounded all worried.”

I looked at Mum heaped in the sheets. The two of them together. If I could just have them separate. ”Um, where will you stay when you come?” I felt guilty or more like mad, I guess, at my dad for making us move so we didn't have Charlie's room any more.

”Well, I don't know. Your place is pretty small now, eh? I think I might stay at a friend's place.”

”OK. But you're going to phone right as soon as you come, though, right?”

”Of course, baby. I miss you so much.” Her voice went funny and she took a breath for a second. ”Well ... um ... can Mum come to the phone?”

”Mmm, she's sleeping.”

”OK, well, you can tell her, I guess. So, uh, so then I'll see you. Wednesday, OK?”

”OK.” Mum looked practically dead. I whispered ”I love you” to Charlie.

”Oh.” Her voice went warbly. ”I love you too, baby. So much. OK? I have to go now.”

On Wednesday afternoon, Charlie showed up full of p.i.s.s and vinegar. She was excited since we talked on the phone because of her plan to come help Mum and help me clean up the house a bit. Mum was still in bed, but she was talking more now and eating. They seemed OK so far, no fighting: hugs and kisses, and kind of mushy. Except for when Mum said that Charlie's jeans were so tight they were crawling up her a.r.s.e. Charlie looked like she wanted to leave almost. She changed the subject to how messy the house was and said we'd have to scour it from head to toe. I nodded. Mum reminded Charlie that she was sick, so she couldn't help it being messy.

Charlie was all weird like a super-peppy maid or something, and she wasn't there an hour before she had the kitchen floor all swept and me filling buckets, hunting for a mop and cloths, going to the store for Dutch Cleanser and Mr. Muscle. When the floor was done she started on the dishes, then changed her mind and opened the fridge. ”Maybe we should take a break and have a sandwich or something.” She leaned in and her fingers went squeamy from everything they touched. ”Grace, there's nothing in the fridge but mouldy old c.r.a.p! G.o.d. What've-The milk is sour, it's two weeks out of date.” She handed me the bottle and I dumped the lumps down the sink. ”What have you been eating?”

”I don't know, hot dogs or fried egg sandwich sometimes, or there's cinnamon, I make cinnamon toast and I know how to make french toast now, you know, and-there was other milk, it's just that I finished it, and there was other stuff, there's Dad's oatmeal cookies, and maybe some Dr Pepper left from last night and apples. And bread, I think.”

She took the bread off the top of the refrigerator. ”Grace! It's mouldy, look at the crust, it's blue!”

”Well, some of it's still good. At the front slices and the back ones you can cut that stuff off-and there's wieners in the freezer. And relish and ketchup. And canned something-Mum was trying to get me to eat those Bing cherries in the can, but I don't like them. Anyway, sometimes we just order pizza.”

Shadow skidded into the kitchen, playing with a cork, slapped it into Charlie's foot and crashed into the brown paper bag she'd set up for garbage beside the fridge. Charlie grabbed the cork off the floor, looked at the tip, all pink from wine, and threw it in the bag. She hucked the bread in after it and wiped her hand hard off her forehead. I picked Shadow up off the floor and held him a second; the room was sticky-hot. ”It's OK, I can go to the store. I just forgot. Plus it's almost time to get cat food.”

Charlie swooped past me into the middle room. She stood over Mum with her hands on her hips and said in a nicey-nice voice, ”Are you ever going to get out of this bed and try looking after Grace or are you just going to lie there until she starves to death?”

Mum's eyes flicked open. ”What are you talking about?”

Charlie grabbed an empty bag off the floor and crumpled it up. ”Nothing.”

”No-what did you just say?” Mum's voice was coiling up like a mad snake.

<script>