People Park (2 page)

II

HE MINIVAN was trapped in a snarl of traffic along Topside Drive, bumper to bumper back over Guardian Bridge all the way to the mainland, cars and trucks and utility vehicles for sport and vans and other minivans too, though none as spanking fancy as this one, with its sidepanels of woodgrain appliqué. The licence plate was vain,
HARRY
, and into Harry’s roofrack were strapped matching black wheelie suitcases in checked and carry-on sizes, and a hot pink duffel depicting witches and fairies upon a background of castles. Inside Harry were the Pooles: Pearl and Kellogg and their kids, Elsie-Anne, five, and Gip, ten years old and, with each new roar from People Park, more dismayed and defeated to be missing it all.

The Pooles’ trip had begun Wednesday morning, post-meds: two pills on a swallow of grape juice, a daily cocktail Gip required for function and focus. Without it, for example, amid teasing on a fieldtrip to a classmate’s farm he’d kicked out a schoolbus window and climbed onto the roof, knelt up there screaming and punching himself in the face until the taunts of the other kids had alerted his teacher. Afterward Gip wept. I hate them, he sobbed, chewing the brim of his cap, I’m not a little piglet, I’m a
boy
— I hate them.

Those were what Kellogg and Pearl called Episodes. Meds
curtailed Episodes. So did generally just keeping Gip happy. He
had problems, sure, but what kid was perfect, no kid was perfect — medicated he was as perfect a kid as anyone’s. And while his classmates delighted in the unfortunate coincidence of Gip’s physique and his name’s written inverse, Kellogg preferred to think of his son as
healthy
— what Kellogg’s own father, who had starved in the old country, liked to tweak the boy’s small breasts and call him.

At dawn Kellogg piloted Harry along the main street of their sleepy and still-sleeping town. Passing Dr. Castel’s office Gip hollered, We’re going to see my idol Raven, Dr. Castel —
finally
!
and Pearl took Kellogg’s hand atop the cassette holder. The Pooles hit the coastal highway and the sky swelled into a great blue expanse mottled with puffy darling clouds. To the west the land rippled dunly, all rolling farms and hillocks and cherry trees just blossoming, while the water glittered indigo to the horizon in the east. Pearl let her other hand loll out the window, the wind buffeted it dreamily. You couldn’t worry about a thing, doing a thing like that.

The Pooles arrived too late to check in at Lakeview Campground
so they stayed on the mainland at the airport motel, which Kellogg’s
guidebook commended for its satellite dish and prime rib, though the pool was closed. From there, said the CityGuide, it would be a just a quick zip over Guardian Bridge in the morning
— Back to Mummy’s hometown, enthused Kellogg, which Gip corrected, Do you mean to see
Raven
? and Kellogg said, You betcha, and Pearl smiled, though her smile seemed pinched and in her eyes flickered something wary.

After ten grey-pink slabs of prime rib between them the Pooles descended a boardwalk to the Scenic Vista, a platform wedged into the cliffside. Across the Narrows the city was a dome of light plunked down into the night. Guardian Bridge twinkled in parallel undulating lines to the chalky bluffs on the island’s northern shore.

There it is, said Kellogg, the big city. Where Mummy was a star. How does it feel, Pearly? Is it everything you remembered?

Well I didn’t often look at it from this side, Kellogg.

Right. He rubbed a small circle on her lower back, the hand hovered in space, found a home capping Gip’s skull, Gip squirmed away and adjusted his hat. But wow, coming back after so long! Guess Mummy was something else for the — what was it?

Lady Y’s.

Lady Y’s. And there’s the arena there! Beside that big round thing! What’s that then?

The Thunder Wheel. God, I remember one time I went on it, on a date — what was that silly boy’s name? A hairy little guy
. . .

Kellogg shrugged, looked away.

Anyway he barfed when we got to the top. Sprayed all the way down on everyone.

Ew, said Kellogg.

He barfed!
roared Gip. On a
ride
? Someone barfed
actual barf
?

He did indeed. Poor kid, he was scared of heights, what was his name
. . .

More like the
Chunder
Wheel, yucked Kellogg. Anyway I bet my guidebook’s got coupons. See it, Gibbles? To the left — other left! Maybe we’ll get to take a ride!

The Thunder Wheel was a huge black disc, unlit and unmoving, which rose from the grounds of Island Amusements over the northern fringe of People Park. To its east the orange hump of
IFC
Stadium glowed like a dinner roll under a heatlamp.

I have to pee, said Elsie-Anne.

Pee in your purse, said Gip, Dorkus. You retard.

I left it inside Harry, Stuppa, retard.

Hey now, said Kellogg, let’s not call each other names, huh? But hey, anything you guys want to ask your mum? She was famous when she lived here, a real celebrity. Annie, one sec, okay — but think! That arena’s where
thousands
of people came to see Mummy play. Imagine if she hadn’t done her knee in? You guys might never have even been born!

Dad? said Gip, looking worried.

Anyway it’s been a long time! How does it feel, Pearly? To be back?

Well we’re not back yet, are we. We’re over here.

Yeah but sure, you know what I mean. And you’ve got plans to see your old pals too, right? I wonder if any fans will recognize you? It must feel —

It doesn’t feel like anything, okay?

The air stiffened. Across the river, the city shimmered and hummed.

Pearl patted her daughter on the cheek. Else, you need the toilet?

Hand in hand mother and daughter headed back to the motel. Pearl’s knee must have been acting up: she favoured her left side as she walked, stiff-legged and lurching. But as always there was a publicity and performance to her limp, a showy sort of pain.
Down the highway a plane was taking off from the airport. Kellogg
watched it rise, roaring and blinking, into the night. Look at that, he said, to one in particular.

Dad? Gip was pulling his father’s hand hair. We should go to bed because we have to get there early. Tomorrow, I mean. Dad? Raven’s choppering in at nine a.m. in the morning and he’s
always
precisely on time, so we
have
to get there at eight o’clock
at the latest
just to make sure, Dad, Gip huffed. To make sure we get a good seat, so we can see everything. Dad?

Got it, said Kellogg. We’ll be up first thing. Don’t worry, pal.

Later, back in the motel room, while Gip, who wouldn’t share a bed with dead-to-the-world Dorkus, snored in his cot, and Pearl
ground her teeth with the sound of marbles pestled to dust, Kellogg
flipped through the satellite’s endless
TV
channels. In the high 400s he paused: a large man in a red fez was being robed by a sexy assistant. Kellogg thought for a moment to wake his son, but Gip had no interest in magicians other than Raven. The assistant disappeared offstage — and, to a burst of delight from the audience, the performer collapsed, pitched backward, and went still. The screen cut to black. Kellogg shivered. Somehow it was one-thirty.

AT THE FIRST SHUDDER
of light through the curtains Gip was up, shaking his parents awake and whipping the covers off his sister. Come on, come on, we have to get across to the island, Raven arrives today! As his family showered he danced around the room — Hurry Dorkus, hurry Dad, hurry Mummy,
hurry
!

Kellogg waited for Pearl to dress, then while she administered Gip’s meds coordinated his outfit with hers: pale bluejeans, grey crewneck, ballcap. Emerging from the bathroom he announced, Matchy matchy! and Pearl covered her face in her hands. Come on, Kellogg laughed, we’re on vacation, it’s fun.

At breakfast Kellogg was loudly good with his kids, everyone’s
plates heavy with sausages tonged in pairs from the buffet — except
Pearl’s, she had yoghurt and fruit. All the other diners would surely look over at their table and think, What a nice normal family on a nice normal family vacation, holy.

How healthy his marriage had become again, Kellogg thought, like an amputee striding about on fresh prosthetics. He and Pearl talked things out, they were communicative and open, infidelity was inconceivable, Dr. Castel would be proud. And here they were, taking a holiday. They’d see some magic and camp and visit all Pearl’s old haunts. On the south shore of the island was a beautiful beach, said the CityGuide, Elsie-Anne loved swimming so much, the little fish. And Kellogg would just be happy to make it happen, to make his family happy.

After breakfast, packed up and ready to go, in the parking lot Kellogg took Pearl’s hands and said, Hey, we okay? Just kidding
around, I can put on a different shirt if you want. Pearl said, Kellogg,
hey, no, I know. Just feeling a little stressed, a little weird is all. Coming back is weird. With Harry’s door ajar and dinging, Kellogg corralled his wife into his arms. I love you, he whispered into her neck. I know, said Pearl. I know.

Come on, screamed Gip from inside the minivan, it’s past seven o’clock!

Elsie-Anne had wandered off down the boardwalk. Kellogg found her leaning over the railing at the Scenic Vista. A drainpipe jutted from the cliffs twenty feet down, she claimed an eel lived in its depths, she’d named him Familiar. Gently Kellogg pried her away, and as he folded her into Harry’s backseat she whimpered, But I loved Familiar and he loved
me
.

Kellogg followed the
ISLAND
signs down to the water, where they hit a jumble of cars queued at the Guardian Bridge onramp. Pearl’s allergies were acting up, she blew her nose, discarded the tissue on the dashboard, punched an antihistamine tablet from a blisterpack, swallowed it dry.

Just a little traffic, folks, no big deal, said Kellogg, grinning into the backseat.

Dorkus is talking to her purse, said Gip. It’s weird.

Gip, why not try a trick from your book? suggested Pearl. Else, hey, wouldn’t you like to see your brother do some magic?

While Pearl readied their documents Gip leafed through Raven’s
Illustrations: A Grammar
. Tapping a page, he announced, Situation Thirteen, in which Dorkus picks a card, any card. Cunningly he fanned a deck on the backseat. Kellogg smiled at Pearl: how sweetly their kids played together, what lucky parents they were, and he reached over and squeezed his wife’s arm as though testing a fruit. She regarded him with confusion — a look that suggested she didn’t, for a moment, know who he was.

Hi, it’s me, Kellogg — is that who I am, according to those things?

You’re fine. It’s the kids: Gib Bode, and his lovely sister L.C
.
N. Goode.

But you have proof you’re from here, which gets us in — right?

Let’s hope, said Pearl.

After a rambling, theatrical process that required Gip to consult Raven’s
Grammar
four times, Elsie-Anne refused to admit, with a shake of her braids, that she’d chosen the nine of clubs. What? Gip said, brandishing it at her. This is your card, Dorkus. No it isn’t, Stuppa, said Elsie-Anne, mine was jack. Impossible! her brother screamed, and swept the rest of the deck onto the floormats.

Gip, barked Pearl — but Gip only gazed out the window, while the minivan crawled onto the lip of the bridge.

Why are we going so slow, he said. We’ve barely moved at all.

Just a little backup, said Kellogg. Got lots of people heading over probably just as excited as you, pal. We’ll get there, don’t you fret.

Gip leaned into the frontseat. But gosh, it’s nearly seven-forty a.m. in the morning, Raven’s arriving at nine o’clock sharp, and what if we don’t make it for eight, which is when I said we needed to get there, if you remember. Don’t you even listen to me?

Oh hush up, said Pearl. We’ve got plenty of time.

We’ll get there, said Kellogg. Everyone’s going the same place, traffic’s got to go somewhere. Just likely making sure everyone’s got their tickets and permits in order, and Mummy’s from here so we’ll just whip on through. Okay?

No response.

One spot ahead of Harry was a maroon pickup truck with a bashed-in taillight. Its driver, a wild-looking man in a dirty blond ponytail and prospector’s beard, leaned out the window to spit. The spit, even from this distance, was goopy and brown.

Disgusting, said Pearl, and sneezed.

Ten minutes passed, traffic barely budged, the pickup driver spat four more times. Gip ignored his dad’s suggestion to try the
trick again. Instead he began humming, a sound somewhere between
the whine of a cicada and the bleating of a distant car alarm. Kellogg and Pearl exchanged a look. The driver of the pickup hawked out the window again, pulled forward eight inches. Harry followed, stopped, and Gip kept humming.