Relative Happiness (17 page)

Oh God. The news took a moment to sink in.

“Did you know this all along? Have you been in touch with her since the beginning?”

“No. She told me when I called about the baby. When she finally answered the phone.”

Lexie tried to get her head around it. “Then why hasn't she come home?”

“She's afraid of you.”

Lexie lit a fire when she got home. She put on some music and opened a big bottle of wine. She and Sophie sat together and sulked. She finished the bottle in no time.

She had to face the nasty realization that Adrian didn't come back because he was in love with Gabby. He just didn't come back because of her. All this time, she thought he was a snake for leaving with her sister, and then it turns out he did the same thing to her. Or maybe she left him. It wouldn't surprise her—she did it all the time.

What a sucker I was.
Maybe that was his shtick. That's how he got around. He charmed the birds out of the trees for poor pathetic fat girls and when he got a little bored with that, he charmed the pants off poor pathetic cute ones. That was it. That was really it. She had to stop brooding about a guy she hardly knew. She had to stop pretending that maybe he'd come back, telling everyone she didn't care if he came back, but all the while dreaming maybe he would. She had to get on with her life. She didn't cry. She'd cried enough to last a lifetime. She got mad.

In late September Susan asked her to go to the Highlands and see the fall colours. A group of friends were headed up for a week's stay at a campsite with cabins. There would be fiddles, Celtic music, food and lots of liquor.

Lexie wanted to go badly. She needed to get away from the heartache. But she felt guilty. How could she have a good time when she knew Beth was so sad? She told Susan she better not. Susan was disappointed, mostly for her, but she understood. Lexie mentioned the trip to her mother, who told her to go, but she still didn't feel right about it.

The next night, Beth knocked on her door.

“Hey kiddo! Come on in.”

It was the first time Beth had been over since the baby died. Lexie took her coat. She sat by the fire while Lexie made the tea. She handed Beth a mug, then took her own and sat in the armchair.

Lexie looked at her. The girl she grew up with was gone. She lived with a sadness that would never leave her. She knew a place Lexie had never been.

Beth got to the point.

“Mom called me. You've been invited to go away for a week.”

“That woman! I didn't want her to tell you.”

“I'm glad she did.”

“Beth, I can't go. I wouldn't have a good time. The girls might need me. You might need me.”

“Lexie, I'd never have made it without you. I love you. But I want you to know something.”

She nodded.

“When your child dies and you live to tell about it, nothing matters except the important things. The rest is bullshit. Life and death, that's all there is.”

Lexie kept quiet.

“I won't waste my time being nice. I've no energy for social graces. It sounds mean but I've had it with people who are sad all the time. Sad people surround me. They think that's what I want. I feel lousy everyone secretly hates to have me show up, because then they have to stop being happy.”

Lexie couldn't look at her.

“I know you feel badly for me. But I don't want you to stop living your life. It makes me feel guilty. This is my journey. This is what my life is. It's not yours. You'll never be as sad as I am, because you weren't his mother.”

She looked into the fire. “Someone asked me the other day, would I rather he'd never been born, than to suffer through his death like this. You know what I said?”

Lexie shook her head.

“Some people live their whole life and never have love. Willie was adored by all of us. He was loved every second of his life and if ten weeks had to be his lifetime, I'm so glad I was his mother. My girls are the joy of my life Lexie, but my boy was my greatest gift.”

Lexie put her hand up to cover her eyes.

“So will you go and have a wonderful time? Please. Please Lexie. Do it for me.”

Chapter Eight

Lexie and Susie threw enough stuff into Betsy that they could have lived in the woods for a year. They had everything. More importantly, they spent a fortune at the liquor commission.

Sue fingered a huge bottle of bubbly wine. “What do you think, Lex?”

“I don't think it's enough. Buy two.”

“Okey dokey. How about beer?” They put their wine in the cart and roared over to the beer section.

“How many cases?”

“Two.” They dumped those in as well. “What about coolers? We should get some of those. How many packs?

“Two.”

“What's my name, Lex?”

“Two.”

Lexie dropped Susie off at the grocery store while she went for gas. Susie jumped out of the front seat. “You don't have to tell me.” She bought two of everything.

They packed sleeping bags and warm woollies, and off they went. Susie bought a CD with their favourite songs from high school on it. They sang at the top of their lungs as they chugged up Smokey, a mountain almost as menacing as the one Adrian screamed down.

The view was out of this world. The blue ocean twinkled as far as the eye could see. The road was steep and so close to the edge of the cliff that, despite the guard rail, it felt as if there was only empty space beyond the edge. They drove as if on a tightrope. Lexie hugged the centreline around the hairpin turns. Cars driving in the opposite direction did the same. They could read the lips of drivers as they swore at them when they passed in a cloud of black smoke from the burning brake pads.

Susie had a great time. She'd yell out the window, “Same to you buddy!”

For some unknown reason they talked about spitting. Susie told her the different techniques her brothers used. They experimented with disastrous results. They agreed guys were stupid.

Finally they saw the sign that lead into their campsite. They pulled onto a dirt road and came to a clearing. There were ten cars there already.

“Oh my God. Did you know she'd be here?”

Susie groaned. “Of course not. Isn't that typical? She didn't tell us on purpose. What a weirdo.”

Donalda waved to them. They could have spit.

Lexie put Betsy in park. “Well, I won't let her ruin my good time.” They ran out to greet everyone. They knew most of the crowd, but there were enough new faces to make life interesting.

The cabins were scattered under a canopy of fir trees. Everyone claimed the ones closest to the mess hall. Lexie and Sue were the last to arrive, so they ended up with the cabin nearest the beach, which suited Lexie fine. She was soon sorry it was so far away.

Lexie had a huge load of camping supplies in her arms. Items dropped left and right with every step. “Help me.”

“I can't. I have the beer cooler and, quite frankly, it's more important.”

Somehow they hobbled back and forth to Betsy and slowly piled their stuff in the cabin. They looked at each other.

“I don't think this is how it's suppose to look.”

A pyramid of gigantic proportions stood in the middle of the cabin floor.

“Shall we sort it?” Susie wondered.

“Nah.”

They took off at a run. Then had to come back. They forgot the beer.

The guys had a big barbecue going in no time. Everyone put their contributions on the grill.

Donalda made a huge production about the fact that she was a vegetarian. “I don't eat meat. It's barbaric. I'll have my tofu burger medium rare.”

Susie's brother Tom gave her a look. He and his wife, Patty, were there. Then he looked at something else.

“What the hell is that?”

Susie looked where he pointed. “What?”

“Is this supposed to be a
steak
?” He picked up one of their small fast-fry minute steaks. He held it up for all to see and wiggled it back and forth from the end of his barbecue fork. “I can see through this! Christ. I sneeze snot bigger than this.”

They gave him a collective, “Yuck!”

Lexie lost her appetite altogether. “God, Susan, how did you ever grow up with brothers?”

“Now you know why I lived at your house.”

Tom reached into his cooler. He sounded like Crocodile Dundee. “That's not a steak. This is a steak.” He lifted what looked like the right side of a steer and threw it on the grill. Flame leapt into the air. Serious sizzling was heard everywhere.

Lexie left. She couldn't watch it anymore. For the first time in her life, she agreed with Donalda. She needed beer.

Three hours later, she swayed on a bench, as happy as a clam. Susan told someone she hoped Lexie got bombed—it was just what she needed after such a terrible time.

“Yes, Susikins, it's just what I need after such a terrible time.” Lexie opened another beer.

Luckily someone started feeding her water after awhile, since she didn't know the difference. She talked and laughed and held her hand up for more.

“The bonfire's going!” Everyone teetered off to the beach.

Lexie blissed out at the fire. She sat in the sand with her back pressed against a huge log, wrapped up in a warm blanket. She watched as the orange flames shot sparks up towards the stars. Waves lapped a short distance away and soothed her. This was the life.

Then it happened. Voices came from down the beach, headed towards them. There were great whoops of welcome. Tom greeted his friends from Chéticamp. “Look who's here.”

Several figures came out of the dark. Lexie saw only one. A tall man shook hands and slapped the backs of those around him. He wore a big sweater that came up to his chin and a jean jacket over it. She could see his silhouette by firelight. He had a mass of black windswept hair that probably never saw a comb, and dark stubble on his face.

He turned around. She looked at the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

She watched him the rest of the evening, never saying a word. After he nodded a greeting to them, he went back and chatted with his friends. He stood at the edge of the fire, with a can of beer in his hand.

Susan and Donalda came up from behind the log and sat down beside her.

“Who's that?”

They knew who she meant.

“Oh my God, can you believe how fabulous he is?” Susan gushed. “He's a monster hunk of male meat!”

Donalda squeaked, “He's an Adonis!”

“Shut up the two of you. He'll hear you.”

Donalda drooled. “Who cares.”

Susie kept right on as if Lexie hadn't spoken. She was as drunk as a skunk. “He's from away but he's here to help some buddies with their boats. Guess what he does?” she burbled.

“Is he a wrestler?

She slurred, “No you big stupid. He's a fisherman who works on those huge trawlers in Alaska. He's one of those guys that roars around and keeps big things from falling off the deck as the ship is being tossed by a raging, howling icy blizzard!”

“Jesus. How on earth would you know what goes on in a raging Alaskan blizzard?”

“I don't. That's why they call it imagination. And I can imagine all kinds of wonderful things I could do for this big guy.”

Lexie nudged her in the ribs. “Susie. Keep your tongue in your head.”

“Do I have to?”

Susan finally staggered off to go barf or something. Donalda wasn't far behind. The others started to drift away as well. Some of the logs were nearly empty now. Her big guy and his friends finally sat down. The rowdiness wore off, and someone brought out a guitar and the singing started—Scottish laments, handed down from the old country. It was the best time to listen to them, at the winding down of the evening.

The trouble was they brought back sorrow. Lexie watched the fire. She thought of her family, and how they suffered. Life could be cruel. It was hard to accept. Tears fell from her eyes.

She looked up. Her big guy watched her.

She didn't remember how she got back to the cabin that night. She vaguely felt an elbow or two helping her along. She thought someone pointed her in the direction of her bed, but when she woke the next morning, she was on a sleeping bag in the middle of a mountain of camping supplies.

She lay there for while. Should she try to get up, or at least move her head? She summoned the courage because she needed to pee. She wasn't as bad as she thought she'd be. It seemed her stupor from the night before was caused more by emotional exhaustion than by beer.

In Susan's case, it was definitely the beer. Lexie heard a groan somewhere in the cabin.

“Susan?”

“Susan's not here,” said a quivery little voice, “she's died and gone to hell.”