Maxine (25 page)

Well, Gail said, smiling, There was that time.

Yes? said the social worker. Maxine jabbed her elbow into Gail's side.

Kidding, said Gail.

Someone from Dave's family would probably be coming, but because of the investigation, Maxine had let the police into Kyle's house. On top of Dave's desk they found a will updated in the week before he and Barb left for Alberta. It indicated that in the event of their deaths, Kyle would be placed with Maxine if she accepted, and in that case the estate would go to her for his care. The police contacted the lawyer, who said that he had seen nothing unusual about the preparation of such a will. The couple had been in his office together, he said. They explained that they had never left their son before. The mother in particular would not leave town without having some provision made. She'd seemed concerned about terrorism, skyjackings. They made it clear that they trusted Maxine completely. It was, of course, the lawyer had added, customary to ask the proposed guardian if he or she were willing to assume responsibility. He'd assumed such a discussion had already taken place. Does that sound like something they might have done, the social worker had asked. Identified you as guardian without asking permission?

Totally, said Gail.

Hismother, says Maxine. Well. Hismother's a bit of a nutbar— she stops, horrified, covers her mouth with her hand. I forgot, she whispers. I forgot she was dead.

The next choice after Maxine was one of Dave's brothers. Uncle Carl? Kyle said later. Man, that sucks.

The hardest part was going back to the house. After she'd brought him back from school, after they'd sat at Maxine's for a time and then gone for a walk and then to a coffee shop, Kyle said he wanted to go home. He wanted to go to his room, to his parents' room.

Are you sure you want to do that now?

Yes. His face small and white under a Yankees cap pulled down low. She couldn't see his eyes.

The horror lay in all the ordinary reminders that they weren't coming back. Dave's Roughriders jacket, a library book about perennials on the coffee table. Maxine and Kyle held hands and walked upstairs together. It was impossible to take in. With every cup or book or hair ribbon Maxine recognized, with each thing she last saw in Barb's hand, a person Maxine had seen a few days ago died all over again. Kyle wanted Maxine to come down to his room but seemed unsure what to do when they arrived. He picked up an action figure and put it down again. The air smelled slightly damp. Maxine made a mental note to look for a dehumidifier. He sat on the bed for a few minutes and then went upstairs. He lay on his parents' bed for a long time and then he came out and stood beside where Maxine sat on the couch. She got up and he led the way to the door.

We encourage potential guardians, the social worker said, to carefully think about how this will affect their future and whether they are prepared to make a long-term commitment. A lifelong commitment.

Max, who's that postcard from?

A friend I met in Paris. His name is Serge.

So he might be coming to visit?

Mail is supposed to be private.

It's not in an envelope. Is he nice?

Yes.

Gail orders a brace of Stella. They are at a booth in the late afternoon in a murky bar. Ted is at home on his couch eating popcorn and watching
The Return of the King
with Kyle.

Look, says Gail. I know this is a huge decision for you. I want you to think some things over before you tell me what you plan to do, OK?

Whatever. Maxine is looking at the surface of the table and twiddling her coaster.

OK, you have no money. You wouldn't be able to keep doing this writing thing, not full-time. You'd have to go back to work.

Also, you don't know how to do this. You've had a bit of practice but that's different from being responsible all the time. And you'd be a single parent. Barb knew way more about being a parent than you do, and she had Dave to earn money and help do stuff. And we don't have a clear picture of their finances yet. The money might run out.

Duh.

OK well good. I'm glad you've thought about those things. But also, he might not always be the kid you know now. This is a disaster for him. However much he likes you. He might hold you responsible. He might be angry. He might hate you. People aren't rational. And even if none of that happens, even then, he's going to be a teenager soon. Are you ready for a male teenager? Gail looks as if she might say some more but stops and examines Maxine, who is running her fingernail over a small bump of food encrusted on the dark wood. Scrape, pick, scrape and it's off, and with a lethargic flick she sweeps it to the floor.

Max, Gail says. You'll have to be able to cope.

Maxine raises her head and stares across the table: You don't think I'm capable.

There's no happy ending here.

Some endings are less happy than others.

The waitress arrives and sets out the two glasses of beer, and Gail thanks her and waits until she has returned to the bar and flipped a white cloth over her shoulder and reached for a clean wine glass from a plastic tray of them on the bar counter. Gail watches her choose the glass in the corner of the full tray and press the cloth into the bowl of it and twist the cloth one way and then the other. She pulls the cloth out and turns toward the window and holds the glass up and Gail says with uncharacteristic impartiality, Well it's your call. What do you think you're going to do?

Maxine scowls: He's staying with me.

Thanks be to God. Gail hauls in a long breath and pushes it slowly back out and drinks half her beer.

What?

Well jeez we can't just mail him off somewhere, to Uncle Creepy, can we? You'll manage.

You were telling me not to.

Oh don't be huffy. I just had to make sure you knew what you were letting yourself in for.

I
do
know.

Well, good, then. Fine. Ted and I can be, you know, backup. Subs. Whatever you call it.

I have to name someone, actually. For the paperwork. The way Barb did. In case I keel over. You don't call it
subs
.

Yeah, go ahead, put us down. Just don't think I'm going to start making things with Jello. I draw the line at Jello. I draw it before Jello... You know, I do actually have some really good birthday party magazines. Pirate cake. Or castle, there's an amazing castle... I think the moat is Jello. Max. I hope this is going to be OK. It's the right thing to do. I really believe that.

Maxine shoves her bangs out of her eyes and picks up her glass: I frigging well hope so.

Jerome comes to at night on the deck of a houseboat on the Seine. He's lying alongside a row of potted geraniums. When he stands up he feels woozy. His head hurts and he's shivering. The pouch from around his neck is gone but there are a few euros left in his pockets. No one seems to be on the boat. The gangplank is narrow and he's afraid of falling into the dark water, so he crawls along it to the stone quay. He walks along the river's edge to a flight of steps leading up to street level, which he climbs slowly. He asks someone the time. Nine o'clock. He can see a metro station in the distance. He stumbles toward it.

Bluebird had been behaving strangely. His colour didn't look right. He wasn't eating.

Maxine, Kyle said, Bluebird's not moving very much, is he OK?

Maxine had been hoping he wouldn't notice, had wondered if he'd be able to tell a sick fish from a brand new one she might ask Gail to pick up so she could do a switcheroo. But Maxine really, really didn't want there to be anything wrong. Kyle was peering into the bowl.

It looks like he has little white spots.

I know, Ky, he's not number one. I looked it up. It could be a fungus. I put some stuff in his water. We'll see how he does. She glared at the bowl. Do not, she thought. Don't you
dare
croak now.

Kyle checked the fish repeatedly over the next several days. Boy watching fish, woman watching boy watching fish.

Maxine, he says quietly onemorning.He's kneeling by the small table, his straight dark hair in a bowl cut, the slight roundness of his cheek. Maxine doesn't want to look. She glares at the light switch and takes in a preparatory breath. He's bluer again, Kyle announces. And he just ate his pellet.

Thank you, thinks Maxine. Thank you thank you thank you.

Kyle has set two places at the kitchen table and Maxine puts a casserole dish on the hot pad in the small middle space.

What is it?

Dunno. Gail knew we'd have to be doing those meetings and stuff today. Better look out. She said she has plans to cultivate your palate.

What does that mean?

Make you eat a bunch of weird stuff.

Oh.

James, I don't know if I could own a Labradoodle, says Maxine. I'd have to say that ridiculous name every time people asked what it was.

He's the perfect dog for you. Hypoallergenic and loving. And look at that.

Kyle, to whom the leash has been entrusted for this test walk, has stopped at the intersection up ahead and squatted down. He appears to be having an earnest conversation. He leans in to say something and the dog licks his face.

See? says James. They're friends. It'll be fine.

The timing is all wrong but they've missed the anniversary because Maxine was away, and now something must be done. Uncharacteristically, it is Maxine who tells Gail they have to visit with Cindy's parents, Maxine who calls to invite Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy for lunch. Gail even lets her choose the menu.

Kyle has been settled away upstairs somewhere with a computer and a tray of snacks. They prepare the meal and set the table with flowers. They dig through their past for stories to pass on, stories that might make the parents smile.

Remember, Gail said, that big sign in front of the motel, the one that said Welcome, Beautiful Brides? and how Cindy wanted to change it? Do you think they'd be OK with that one?

I think they'd see the humour in that, said Maxine.

Mr. Kennedy has a rum and Coke and Mrs. Kennedy a spritzer at Gail's thick, battered kitchen table.

Really nice of you girls to think of us like this, said Mrs. Kennedy.

Don't be so foolish, said Gail. Do you know how many times you fed us supper? What was the name of that thing you used to make with the pineapple and all the cream, oh my gosh, it was amazing.

Maxine has not heard Gail say gosh often and she loves her friend for this small word and what it conveys. She could reach out right now and give her a hug just for that gosh. Gail's torn, it says, between familiarity and being on her best behaviour. They're trying their hardest, offering what little they can.

Maxine had read at the funeral a passage of Mrs. Kennedy's choosing. She'd read well, slowly and clearly, in a strong voice, with pauses in the right places so it made sense.
Here is a plant that seems well-watered enough, spreads abroad its early shoots, but only till the sun rises; wrapped about stones are the roots of it, and stones all its dwelling-place; yonder sun must needs drain its life, and the garden will keep no memory of its passage. So brief its pride; they are waiting even now underground, the shoots that will fill its place.

Mrs. Kennedy has removed her glasses and placed them carefully on the table. I don't know why I chose that one, she says. It seemed like the right thing at the time.

It was a good pride, though, says Maxine. Even if it was a brief one.

Five minutes later Mr. Kennedy is shaking his head and smiling.
Buzz off, Bimbo Brides
?! She did not.

She did so, I can tell you, I remember—she was standing one foot on my shoulder and one foot on Gail's and she's heavier than she looked.

And what were you all doing up at three o'clock in the morning?

Well. Gail looks at Maxine. We might have been at a party. Might we, Max?

We might.

And what about the time the three of us went as the Easter Bunny for Hallowe'en, do you remember that?

Do I remember? says Mrs. Kennedy, who has put her glasses back on. I sewed on all your ears.

The Kennedys leave with hugs and promises not to wait another year before getting in touch, and when the door has closed Gail pours the remaining few inches of wine into their glasses and they flop on the couch and just sit.

I'm sorry she's gone, says Maxine eventually. But I'm glad you're still around.

It's like math, Gail says. We're the Remainder.

Do we have to do anything besides Remain?

Yes! We have to not waste it.

I guess, Maxine says. I guess the part that used to scare me so much is that anything can lead to it. To death. It's just a quick turn, a second away from what's ordinary. And people do die, and it's really awful…But not everybody dies. I guess I'm figuring that out. Learning to appreciate who I have left. Whom.

You've got me and Ted. And Karen and Theresa. You've got Kyle. Your parents. You'll do OK.

Love Thy Remainder. Yeah, I hope so. Maxine is not given to unironic declarations of affection, but she slips her arm through Gail's and gives it a squeeze, and Gail squeezes back.

Footsteps, and Kyle's head appears at the door: Is there any more Coke?

Jerome sits at the foot of the statue of Danton for forty-five minutes, studying everyone who comes by. When he is sure forty-five minutes have passed he considers leaving but feels too tired and defeated. He doesn't have enough money for a hotel. Frédérique is dead. He challenged and lost—he's left the memory sticks to the wrong people, who will probably use them to blow up half the Western world. He watches young people streaming by, on their way to cafés and nightclubs, middle-aged couples dressed for a night out. They seem to exist in a different galaxy. There's really nothing else he can do. Jerome closes his eyes and leans back against the base of the statue. Some hours pass. At one point he hears a young voice ask the time, and another reply that it's after midnight. He can hear people walking by on the sidewalk, sometimes smell their perfume. The swish of a skirt, now, and someone sits beside him. He doesn't bother to open his eyes. “Mr. Kerville,” says a soft, smiling voice near his ear. “I think I shall want a dog after all. Can you assist me?”