Mazie Baby (2 page)

Her purse vibrated against the
centre console. She dug her cell phone out. The mid-day check-in with her
jailer was particularly late that day.

Where you at?

She flashed her thumbs across the
keyboard.
Grocery store.

You’re behind schedule.

She grit her teeth. What did it
matter if she scrubbed the toilet first, or went to the store first?
Thought
I’d pick Ariel up from school.

You spoil her too much.

Her thumbs hesitated over the keys.
What did he want her to say?

Right?

Of course. That’s always the
correct response.

Right.

She eyed the green glow of the
dashboard clock. Two forty-five. Just enough time to run to the drug store
before school was out. Ariel would be so surprised. She hated the school bus.
And some one-on-one time with her daughter before Mazie had to make dinner and vacuum
was just what she craved.

She pulled into the parking lot of
a Shoppers Drug Mart she hadn’t been to in at least a month. She retrieved the
box of tampons from a grocery bag, peeled the price tag from the bottom, and
stuffed the box into a reusable tote. She took a few breaths, climbed out of
the van, and ran one hand over her hair. In the store she made a beeline for
customer service.

The lone clerk glanced up at her
and motioned with two fingers for her to approach. “What can I do for you?”

“I bought these tampons last week
and realized I bought the wrong brand.” Mazie pulled the box from the tote and
placed it on the counter.

“Receipt?”

“Sorry, I’ve lost it.”

The clerk raised one eyebrow. “I
can’t give you a refund without a receipt. Just store credit.”

Mazie nodded. “That’s fine.”

The clerk scanned the barcode.
“Those are twelve ninety-five.” She ran a gift card through the magnetic stripe
reader and pressed a few buttons, then handed the card to Mazie. “There you
are, thirteen sixty with tax.”

Mazie took the gift card, tapped it
against the counter and leaned in a couple of inches. “Thank you,” she
whispered and tucked the card into the back pocket of her jeans. In the van she
pulled the grocery receipt from her purse and ran her finger down the list
until she found the tampons. Not bad, almost three dollars profit on the
return.

She reached below the driver’s seat
and tugged on the billfold duct-taped to the underside, added the gift card to
the growing cache of other cards and money.

It looked like a lot, all stacked
together like that. But was it enough?

~~~~~~~~

A line of SUVs battled for position
in front of the school. Mazie pulled into an open spot just seconds before the
final bell. Ariel skipped down the school steps holding Polly’s hand, Rachel
right behind them. Damn, she was volunteering again?

Mazie ducked down in her seat. Screw
it. Her personal stalker could drive Ariel home. Mazie checked the side-view
mirror and put on her left signal. She shook her head and clicked it off.

No. She wouldn’t let Rachel steal
her alone time with Ariel. Mazie pressed her fingertips to the horn, one long
beep followed by three quick ones — their secret code.

Ariel spun around. When their eyes
met, she waved and smiled. She said something to Polly and ran towards the van,
her backpack bouncing against her shoulders.

Rachel waved. Mazie ignored her.

“I was hoping you’d pick me up!” Ariel
tossed her backpack into the back next to the grocery bags and crawled into the
passenger seat. “Can we get ice cream?”

“Sorry, bug. There wasn’t enough
left over from groceries today. Maybe ask Daddy if he has any spare change and
we can go on the weekend?”

Ariel pouted. “No fair.”

“I know, honey.” She ran her hand over
Ariel’s raven hair. “Seatbelt, please. Watch you don’t get your hair caught in
the latch.”

Ariel pulled her long locks to the
other side.

“Maybe it’s time for a trim, eh?”

“Daddy said no. He likes it long.”

Of course he did.

“It’s not fair, it’s my hair.” She
crossed her arms.

“Maybe I can talk to him. See if
he’ll change his —”

“No, that’s okay,” Ariel blurted
out, the space between her eyebrows creased. “I don’t want him to be mad at
you.” She turned away and stared out the window.

Mazie’s eyes burned with unspent
tears and she turned to look out the driver’s window. “Speaking of Daddy, he’s
going to be late. Want to watch a movie before dinner?”

“Yes!
Madagascar
?”

“Again? We’ve seen that at least
five times.”

“Six. Can we?” A childlike gleam
glowed in Ariel’s eyes. She was caught in that twilight zone between child and
young adult. Little girl and grown woman. Boys were high on her list of the
most important things in the world. Begging to wear makeup had been a near
daily occurrence until her father laid down the law with a boom in his voice
and a wagging finger in Ariel’s face. No daughter of his was going to get all
slutted up before she even hit high school. She was months past needing a
training bra, too young to look so, so .… sexual, as Cullen called it. But she
just wasn’t ready to let ice cream and animated movies slip from her life. Or
pouting.

“All right, we’ll watch one more
time. But only if we can do the move it-move it dance.”

“Can we close the drapes first? The
neighbours already look at me funny when I’m in the yard.”

~~~~~~~~

Mazie sat in the living room, a cup
of tepid tea on the side table. She stared at the television, her thumb on the
remote, and flipped through channel after channel, her mind on autopilot.

She’d tucked Ariel into bed after
they’d worn each other out, dancing and singing and filling the house with
laughter. The second she flicked off the light and clicked her daughter’s
bedroom door closed, the light-heartedness evaporated and the burden of what
was to come smothered her.

With the sound of every engine that
roared by and every footstep that clopped on the sidewalk as someone passed out
front, her heart raced.

She waited in the incandescence of
the floor lamp, the three-setting bulb on its lowest wattage. The streetlamp on
the corner threw its orange glow into the room, the decorative window bars casting
a checkerboard shadow over the family portrait that hung on the opposite wall. The
cuckoo clock ticked and tocked, ticked and tocked. Its hollow marking of time
echoed in the empty kitchen.

Her head hurt. She was tired of
waiting for him to come home. To tell her what to do, what to think, who she
was or wasn’t allowed to speak to.

Her chin dipped to her chest, her
eyelids thick with sleep. The roar of Cullen’s truck jolted her awake. She
jumped from her chair and scurried into the kitchen, stripped cellophane from the
plate of cold meatloaf, mashed potatoes and steamed carrots, all smothered in
dark brown gravy. Six beeps of the ‘quick cook’ button and his dinner was on
its way to hot while she threw out the plastic, polished off the droplets of
condensation it had left on the counter, and fetched a fork and knife from the
cutlery drawer.

He walked in the door and sat at
the table as the microwave announced that his food was ready. She slid the hot plate
in front of him and stood still, just to his left.

He barely breathed between the forkfuls
of food he shovelled into his mouth. Hops and barley emanated from his pores.

“You pick her up from school?” He
spoke through a mouthful of potatoes.

“Yes.”

He paused, his fork mid-air, turned
and raised one eyebrow at her. “I told you not to spoil her.”

“I was already so close. Why make
her take the bus?” She stared at her feet.

“Because she’ll expect it, that’s
why.” He shook his head. “Stupid.”

His work boots sat in the back
landing, one on its side near the closed door, the other right smack in the
middle of the tile. She armed herself with paper towels and a spray bottle of
all-purpose cleaner, aligned the heels of his boots against the wall and placed
them on the rubber shoe mat. She wiped the dust and polished the tile.

When she was finished and the
soiled towels were safely in the garbage, she took his plate. He had tossed a
napkin over what little remained of the meal, his silent cue that he was
finished and she should hurry up and clean up after him.

She turned her back, scraped and
rinsed the plate, placed it in the dishwasher, and set the machine to wash.

She took a deep breath and turned
to face him.

He held out his hand.

She pulled the grocery list and
receipt from her pocket and handed it to him, along with the change.

He ran his finger down the receipt,
compared it to the list she’d written out. He counted the change, nodded and
pocketed it, then ripped up the papers and handed them to her.

She slipped the garbage into the
bin under the sink.

He looked her up and down, “C’mere.”
His voice was raspy from too much beer and nicotine. He reached out and grasped
her wrist and yanked her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing
her in an embrace, her arms pinned to her sides. The smell of the cigar bar
oozed from his hair and clothes, a sickly sweet stench like gym socks dipped in
fake vanilla and lit on fire. Her head spun and her stomach lurched. One of his
hands slid between her legs, the other up her shirt and under her bra.

She shivered and swallowed the bile
that rose in her throat. The calluses on his hands scraped against her soft
skin. There’d be fresh scratches under her breasts or across her backside after
he finished with her.

She squirmed. “I … I have my
period.”

He stiffened. “Shit. Again?” He
pushed her off his lap.

She reached for the counter, caught
it with one hand, the other hand on the linoleum, and steadied herself. Better
than landing on her ass on the floor. She used the countertop as leverage,
stood and turned to him.

He was already halfway up the
stairs.

~~~~~~~~

Earls restaurant buzzed with the
anonymous conversations of dozens of strangers. Mazie sat in the booth, Ariel
at her side. Cullen sat across from them, the birthday crown Ariel had made him
out of gold construction paper askew atop his head.

“Can I get you another beer?” The
skinny blonde server with the micro-mini-skirt sidled up to him and put one
hand on his shoulder.

He grinned up at her. “Sure. The
birthday boy deserves another brew.” He gunned the third of a pint still left in
the Albino Rhino glass and handed it to her.

“And you, ma’am? More water? If
you’re the DD, I can get you some pop or iced tea, on the house.”

Mazie shook her head. “No, thanks.”

The server cleared the empty plates
and smiled at Cullen. He watched her walk away, his gaze firmly planted below
her waist.

“You want your present now, Daddy?”

“I didn’t see a box or bows. What
present?” He smiled at his daughter, his eyes alight with the game. Same game,
every year. He bought tickets online, paid for them himself, printed them out
and handed them to Mazie to give to him for his birthday. As long as he got
what he wanted, he didn’t mind not being surprised. And he always played along
with Ariel, who was none the wiser.

Mazie slid the envelope to Ariel
under the table. She pulled it out and handed it to him. “Happy birthday.”

He ripped the envelope open and
grinned at two tickets to the Calgary Stampeders’ game in June. He nodded at
Mazie and Ariel. “Thank you, my ladies.”

“Can I come?”

Cullen’s brow creased. “To a
football game? I always take Jerry.”

Ariel sank in her seat and looked
at her lap. “Okay.”

Mazie slid her hand across the
leather of the bench seat and patted Ariel’s arm.

“Happy Birthday, to you,” a crowd
of wait staff gathered beside their table and sang the birthday song. Skinny Girl
placed a large piece of warm chocolate banana cake ablaze with a sparkler in
front of Cullen and handed him a fork.

His toothy smile lit up his face,
his laughter lit up Ariel’s. Mazie grinned. It had been a fun night, light and
easy. For the most part.

When they finished singing,
applause popped around the room, other patrons joining the fun. “Thank you,
thank you,” Cullen called out to the nearest tables and waved.

He leaned across the table and took
Mazie’s hand.

She flinched.

“Did you hear the pipes on the tall
dude with the long hair?” he whispered. He looked around the room, pointed at a
young man taking orders three tables over. “That guy.” He turned back to her,
squeezed her hand. “He sounds a lot like I used to, don’t you think?”