Belinda's Rings (25 page)

But after a few minutes I started to see a faint grey line, and pretty quick I knew that the line was the edge of the faucet. And then there was a counter top. The lip of a sink. Two toothbrushes. If I was a kid maybe I would've seen things different. The slick back of an arrowtooth eel, the window of a submarine.

In the abyssal zone of the ocean, black is black. No light, period, so your eyes would never be able to adjust. In fact, your eyes would implode into your skull long before you even got to those depths. Your head would come out the size of a crabapple and your bones would be crushed like crackers. You might think that sounds kinda gross, but oceanographers think it's pretty funny. When they're dropping an ROV or a package to take samples, they get their kicks by attaching a Styrofoam cup or ball to the plumb to see how much it will have shrunk by the time it gets back to the surface. A full-size cup turns into a shriveled thimble at four kilometres. Sometimes they do it with heads too. Styrofoam heads like the ones you see in the Ladies department at The Bay, only without the ugly hats and feathers sticking out the sides. The deeper they drop, the smaller they shrink. I bet if you saw one of those heads coming out of the ocean you wouldn't be able to help but imagine how small your own would be if it was you attached to the plumb. Maybe it's a good way for the oceanographers to make themselves feel better about not being able to explore the deep ocean first-hand.

I used to tell people I was going to be a deep-sea diver some day, but I've always known it would never happen. It was a good thing to tell people 'cause it gave me a reason to talk about the ocean all the time, plus I could brag about how deep-sea divers earn tons of money to make up for how dangerous their work is. Even Da thought it was cool when I told him that hyperbaric welders have the highest salaries of any job. But seriously, I could never actually be a deep-sea welder, and not just 'cause I'm a total klutz and I'd probably torch my arm off. Truth is, I'm a bad swimmer. I seize right up as soon as my body hits the cold water. I've never even attempted swimming in the ocean, but there was this one time we went to Sylvan Lake in the summer, back when Squid was five. It was the first time he'd ever been to a beach and we thought he'd never get tired of throwing sand up in the air and letting it fall into his hair like rain. Everyone else wanted to sunbathe so I helped him build a sandcastle and took him up to the water's edge and we let the water swirl around our ankles. Mum told him he was too little to go swimming. That was just asking for it, as far as I was concerned. He kept looking out at the older kids who were swimming way out by the buoys, floating heads splashing around with water noodles and footballs and yelling and laughing and cackling like pirates.

So then I got the idea to take Squid walking along the docks to see the boats. It seemed like a good way to keep him busy so he wouldn't go running out into the lake the second I turned my head. He liked the algae growing on the wooden pillars. Bright green and shaggy like fur. We found an empty dock and lay on our bellies looking over the edge, letting the sun bake the backs of our legs. Squid said the pillars going down into the water looked like monster legs.

Lookit Squid, I told him, and pointed at the surface of the water. It's a giant squid!

Where? he said. His face got all serious and he peered into the water, right through his reflection.

There, I said, right there!

His eyes scanned the ripples. He had his hands bunched up under his chin and his lip was practically quivering.

It's right there, I said, right next to the queen goblin mermaid! I made a gobliny face, stuck my tongue out and rolled my eyes back. When I looked over at Squid he'd figured it out and he was flapping his hands by his ears.

It's a squid, he yelled.

It's the biggest squid I've ever seen, I said, watching our reflections. But mostly I was looking at me. Something about me looked different, and it wasn't the goblin faces I was making.

It might have been the way the sunlight was beaming behind our heads, but my face looked gigantic compared to Squid's. I looked huge and dark and awkward, as if I was staring into one of those fun-house mirrors that makes all your features look stretched and widened. Next to little Squid and his tiny wiggling fingers, his blond hair lit up gold in the sun and his pink lips spread into a smile, I felt like a big ugly buffalo.

You know how when you're little, your parents sometimes get sidetracked while they're listening to your annoying chatter so they sort of shut off part of their brains and start saying things without even thinking? You could ask something like Did a dingo eat your baby? and your mom or dad would answer Yes dear or Mmhm and you'd know that they weren't paying attention. Well, a similar thing happened to me that day with Squid. I can't even remember what he said to me or if he said anything at all, but all of a sudden the image of me as a big ugly buffalo burst into a frothy splash, and there was Squid, his arms thrashing in the water.

Of course I jumped in after him even though I knew I wasn't a good swimmer. And when the lake went over my head I became a sack of stones and the water wrapped around me like a boa constrictor, tighter and tighter. The few seconds I was underwater felt like ages. I remember opening my eyes and the brown water stinging, bubbles whizzing around like frantic flies. I could have sworn I was sinking. I thought I was inches away from the muddy bottom of the lake until one of my arms broke the surface of the water and then I was paddling. The first thing I saw when my head came up was Squid, kneeling on the edge of the dock and watching me. He looked like an obedient dog kneeling there with his wet hair dripping over his eyes. At the time I thought I was hallucinating, but when I finally climbed back on the dock I realized I'd jumped in for nothing. He'd saved himself.

Neither of us said a word about what happened when we got back to the beach. I hadn't even said anything to Squid about keeping it a secret. After I got out of the water I lay flat on the dock for a long time, breathing in and out loud as a rhino and saying nothing. Squid sat down beside me and waited. I didn't ask him why he jumped in because I knew he didn't know. The way he was sitting all curled up and looking at his knees made me feel like there wasn't any point in yelling at him or telling him he was bad. Instead I just lay on my back letting water trickle off my skin, and after I rubbed the water out of my eyes I pressed my fingers hard over my eyelids and let myself stare at the magenta sunspot floating in the black like a winking satellite.

I like to tell myself that I knew what it was to be a mother then. It's a cheesy thought but it also makes me feel less anxious about little things in life like the way my hair looks or getting a good mark in Science. To a mother, there's nothing more nerve-wracking than realizing that your kid is an entirely separate person. You don't even know it, but for the longest time you think of that kid as a part of you, like an extra arm or leg. But really, there's a space between you and him that you'll never be able to reach through. A no-man'sland. And that means that no matter what you do, your kid's life is out of your control.

It was like I was back in that lake when Jess told me Wiley and Squid were gone. I ran up to Squid's room to check if he was there because I didn't know what else to do. I looked under the pillows and threw off the covers and rifled through his shelf piled with stuffed animals. Jess was standing in the doorway, watching me and whimpering softly. I wanted to slap her.

What should we do? she said. She had a big cowlick in her hair and she was smoothing it down with one hand. What about school? He's supposed to be at school.

Yeah, I said. So are we. I don't think that's our biggest concern right now.

Jess left and I could hear her in Mum and Wiley's room, opening drawers and clacking hangers.

Some clothes are gone, she called out, but we both knew that didn't mean anything 'cause there was no way to tell whether the empty hangers were for Wiley's clothes or Mum's. I joined Jess in their room and sat on the edge of the unmade bed. Jess was staring into the closet and chewing her nails like crazy.

Maybe they went for a walk, she said.

With the trunk? I said. For a split second I started thinking about the green trunk and how it was the perfect size for Squid's little body but then I made myself erase that thought. And anyway, I said, the car is gone.

Maybe they went to Wiley's friend's house. What was his name? Bill something?

All I got was Bill, I said. He seemed like a creep.

Jess was already rummaging through Wiley's dresser drawer. We both got our hands in the drawer and there were a ton of prescription bottles and a box of condoms that we just pretended to ignore. My stomach started to feel queasy.

Here, Jess said, pulling out a small black address book. She flipped the pages but every one was blank. She looked at me like she'd just been tricked.

We have to call Mummy, she said.

How do we call Mum? I said. She told us yesterday that she's moving hotels. We don't even know what city she's in right now.

We'll try calling the old hotel, Jess said. Maybe they know where she went.

I just shrugged and let her run downstairs to the phone. It was a dumb idea but at least it was something. I tried to remember if I'd heard what Wiley and Bill were whispering about the other night in the garage. I'd been feeling so sorry for myself that I hadn't bothered to pay attention. All I could remember was Squid saying that he didn't have to go to school the next day, and when I thought about that it started to sound like something Squid would say to get invited along. But that had happened on Saturday night, and Wiley had been home for the whole day on Sunday. He and Squid watched infomercials all morning while I did my homework at the kitchen table. Wiley even helped Squid and Jess clean out Princess Leticia's terrarium. I saw him at the kitchen sink, scrubbing the algae off the plastic water dish, and I remember thinking he seemed eerily happy. He was using the dishcloth we're supposed to use for the countertops and grinning away to himself like it was the most fun he'd ever had.

I felt pin-prickles race up my neck.

Jess appeared in the doorway, huffing from running back up the stairs. They don't know where Mum went, she said.

Surprise surprise, I said.

But she'll call, right? I mean, she's got to call at some point.

She'll call and give us her new hotel number.

So what, we just wait around twiddling our thumbs?

I don't know, Jess whispered. Her eyes filled up with tears. I don't know what else to do, she said.

Usually I'm not much of a sap, but as soon as I saw Jess crying I felt tears running down my cheeks too, a feeling like horseradish burning in my nose. I suddenly started thinking about how crazy and twisted this whole thing was; it would never happen to anyone else I knew. If Nikki woke up one day and her dad and her brother weren't there, she wouldn't bat an eye about it. She wouldn't have any reason to worry about her dad and brother being off somewhere alone together. She would probably think to herself, Huh, that's kinda weird, and just assume everything would make sense later. But then I realized that something like that would never even happen at Nikki's house in the first place, because her mom would be making breakfast in the kitchen when Nikki woke up, and she'd explain everything before Nikki had a chance to notice. Thinking about that made me feel like my life was really messed up. My brother was alone with my stepdad and I'd never felt more scared in my entire life. And next thing I knew I had my arms around Jess and I could feel her tears soaking into the shoulder of my shirt.

I hate Mummy, Jess said into my shoulder. Her voice vibrated through my skin. On any other day, I wouldn't have thought much of what she said. Everyone says they hate their parents at least once in their lives. The difference was that Jess wasn't talking about hating Mum because she was too strict or nagged us all the time. I think what she really hated was the fact that we needed Mum, and she didn't need us.

We spent the rest of the day watching TV and the clock. We watched three episodes of
Friends
in a row and didn't laugh once. Jess kept picking up the phone to make sure we had a dial tone and putting it back down. We'd decided that there was no sense panicking when they'd only been gone for a few hours. I told Jess I was sure that they'd show up for dinner and that seemed to make her feel a little better even though there was no reason for us to believe that at all.

When it got dark enough that we had to turn the lamps on, Jess switched off the TV and said, I'm going to leave here when I graduate.

What? I said. How?

I'll get a job, she said. And Sebastian will come live with me. She was staring at me like a robot, her eyes blank and no expression. You can come too if you want, she said, and she started fingering a stain on the couch.

You can't move out, Jess, I said. You have to go to university.

The thought of Jess living somewhere on her own was so ridiculous I couldn't even imagine it. She'd be calling Mum every five minutes.

Then I'll move in with Daddy, I don't care, Jess said. I'll tell him he has to let me bring Sebastian. I'll pay rent or something.

You're not making any sense, I said.

This
doesn't make any sense, she said. What kind of a mother leaves her kids with a crazy person?

At that moment, the phone rang. Jess stared at me for a second as though she didn't believe what she was hearing. I jumped up and ran to the kitchen, chanting in my head Let it be Squid, let it be Squid, let it be Squid.

Hello? I said.

Hi honey, Mum said. You okay? You sound out of breath.

Oh — hi, I said. I'm just. I was running to pick up.

Well I'm sorry I'm calling so late, she said. We went straight to the field. I only just arrived at the hotel.