Second Chances (5 page)

The rocks were wet and slick, so I placed my feet carefully. I climbed slowly upwards until I reached my favourite flat rock looking out over the lake. It was still cool and damp on the rock where the sun hadn't had time to bake away the night's chill. I didn't mind the cold on my legs and sat so that my back was against a boulder and my feet were dangling over the edge. I took a minute to watch a gull searching the sand for something to eat before I opened my book and started writing.

The words came easily. I wrote about my dream. I recorded the slights inflicted on me by my cousin and they lessened in importance. I confessed my own uncharitable thoughts. Time passed and the sun was warm on my head. I shuffled one arm out of my sweater sleeve. A noise clattered from below and I raised my eyes. I blinked several times. Was I dreaming again or was that really Tyler Livingstone crossing the sand in my direction, his black lunch pail swinging back and forth against his leg? If he was an apparition, he was a noisy one. As Tyler got closer, I made out the tune to “Magic Carpet Ride” as he hummed his way toward me. He was wearing heavy work boots, jeans, and a tan work shirt, and his brown hair swung loose around his face. Before starting to climb, he stuck his lunch pail on a piece of driftwood at the base of the rock hill.

“Hey, Darlene,” he said as he settled next to me on the wide, flat surface of my rock. He smelled of shampoo and Irish Spring soap. He played an air guitar for a few minutes and sang in a low octave, “Let the sound take you away ….”

I shut my diary and slid it under my knee. Hadn't he figured out I was avoiding him? “You rock a mean Steppenwolf, Livingstone. Heading to work, or are you on your way to the tour bus?” I asked.

He dropped his hands and grinned. “Yeah. I'm early and thought I might find you here. Actually, I saw you walking this way when I was coming back from my jog. I remember we used to hang out on this rock and it was your favourite place. Took a chance.”

“Since the time we were little and used to pretend we were explorers in a new world.” I immediately regretted getting nostalgic. It wasn't a great way to get him thinking of me as having aged past twelve.

Tyler laughed. “You were always the one dreaming up the games. I just played along. I always wished I had half your imagination.”

He was looking at me with his head tucked, stealing a glance to see if I'd gotten over whatever had made me mad the summer before. I hadn't spoken to him for most of July and the whole month of August, and wasn't sure he'd cared all that much since he'd spent the entire time with his new friends: Jane Ratherford and the in-crowd.

“How do you like working construction?” I asked.

“Sucks, to tell you the truth, but the money's okay.”

“I can't believe you're out jogging before work.”

“Hockey team tryouts come early. I want to make first line.”

We sat silent for a bit, looking at the lake. I thought about the number of times I would relive this moment after he was gone. Tyler shifted forward and leaned on his elbows on his knees. “Your cousin …”

“Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, Elizabeth. Are you close?”

“Not really. I guess we'll be closer by the time the summer is over.”

“You don't look alike.”

“Yeah, Elizabeth gives thanks every day.”

Tyler turned toward me. “I don't know. I always liked your red hair. Suits you.”

“Thanks … I think.”

Tyler gave me a little push on my arm. “You gotta learn how to take a compliment, Dar. No wisecracks.”

“Yeah, well, easy for you to say. Are you going to the beach party this weekend?”

Tyler stared at me like he wasn't going to let me off that easily. He stopped what he was about to say and looked out at the lake. “Probably. If I'm not too tired. I'm not used to working all day shovelling gravel. Uses a whole new set of muscles. Say, I saw the man that's living in the Davidson cottage for the summer. He was talking to your mom outside the store the other morning.”

“Really? His name's Johnny Lewis. Mom probably was helping him out with something.”

“They were still talking when I jogged by on my way back. I was surprised anyone else was up that early.”

I shrugged as if I wasn't concerned. “Mom's an early riser.”

Tyler started pushing himself into a standing position. “Well, my ride should be here in a few minutes, so I better get back to the road.” He hesitated and looked over at me. “Do you come here every morning?”

“Usually.”

“See you around sometime then.”

“Yeah, see you around.”

I watched him scramble down the rocks and bend to pick up his lunch pail before he started jogging down the beach. The shape of him and the way he moved were as familiar to me as breathing. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He only wanted me as a friend. He'd made that clear when he started up with Jane. It was even clearer now that he was checking out my beautiful cousin Elizabeth. I didn't know if I could bear Tyler being with Elizabeth, even if I never stood a chance of being his girlfriend. Compared to Tyler dating Jane Ratherford, him going out with Elizabeth would be like going from a paper cut to a leg amputation.

Mom met me at the front steps to the store. She looked harried, like she was late for something. “At last, there you are. Madelaine Brassard called and wants you to look after her baby around eleven. I'm going to town for a bit but will make sure I'm back in time to take over, if you watch the store for me while I'm gone.”

“Are you sure you'll be back in time?”

“Yes. I won't be more than two hours.”

I tried to meet her eyes but she had her head down and was digging around in her purse. “Okay,” I said.

“Good. Maybe Elizabeth will help if you ask her.” Mom gave me a quick smile before passing me on the steps.

Elizabeth would help me when we'd solved world hunger. I kept the thought from finding my mouth. No point making Mom crazy. I watched her back out of the driveway and then went inside. My first babysitting job and all I wanted to do was go over to visit Candy and find out more about her exciting past. Being stuck in the store was a frustration piled on top of a lot of others.

I walked toward the kitchen to get something to eat. Elizabeth was sitting at the table lifting a spoonful of Cheerios to her mouth while reading the paper. She was wearing a square of cherry red scarf knotted loosely at the nape of her neck and a choker of blue and silver beads, the same colours in her tie-dyed tank top. She looked up at me. “Well, if it isn't the missing in action Darlene Findley. I hear you got a babysitting job today.”

“Do you want to go, to make some money?” I asked.

“Well, I would, but I meant to tell you yesterday that your friend came by.”

“Which friend?”

“The Chinese girl … Michelle.”

“I thought Michelle wasn't coming to the lake until later today.”

“No, she had yesterday off and wanted you to go with her to Kingston this morning to pick up her boyfriend Danny. He lent her his car. Anyhow, she invited me and I said I'd love to go along for the ride and some shopping.” Elizabeth bit her bottom lip. She looked uncertain. “If you'd rather go with Michelle, I can stay behind and babysit.”

I looked at Elizabeth's bowed head. I weighed what would happen if I went and she didn't. “No, you go,” I said. “Besides, I have to look after the store this morning while Mom goes into town.”

Elizabeth's smile was a light turned on. “Thanks, Cuz. I'll take the next babysitting job, I promise.”

“No problem.” I took a bowl out of the cupboard and a spoon from the drawer and sat across from Elizabeth. I reached for the box of Cheerios. “Anything exciting in the news?” I asked.

“The Vietnam War is still going on. Big yawn. Looks like they're another step closer to giving eighteen-year-old Americans the vote. Carole King's record
Tapestry
got a good review.”

“Did you follow that big anti-war demonstration in Washington in April?”

Elizabeth shook her head.

“The Americans should just get out of Vietnam. Especially after the My Lai massacre. I can't understand how those American soldiers could live with themselves after slaughtering an entire village.” I was starting to sound like Gideon.

“Call back all those good-looking soldiers,” said Elizabeth. “Maybe they should only send over soldiers older than thirty. I wonder if they've thought the draft through. You know, if the politicians who decided to go to war actually had to go there to fight, they might decide differently.”

Her last sentence made some kind of weird sense. Maybe she wasn't so clueless. “What do you think of Richard Nixon?”

“He looks like a gnome, not somebody who should be president of the United States. He has a funny nose. I miss John F. Kennedy.”

“Yeah, although I don't remember much about Kennedy except when he was assassinated. It was sort of the first time I started thinking about politics. I was in grade three when he was shot and I remember going home and crying because my mom was so sad. I hadn't even known there was a president before that or that the United States wasn't part of our country.”

“I find politics boring, but Kennedy was much cuter than Nixon. The president should be good to look at. That should be part of the screening process. Look at Canada. We have Pierre Trudeau running the country and he's got women falling all over him.”

So much for Elizabeth's insight. Her hormones were more active than her brain.

“Have you heard Carole King's record?” I asked.

Elizabeth's eyes brightened. “I love it. ‘You've Got a Friend' is my favourite song on the album.”

“Mine too.”

At least we had something in common.

I turned as Michelle walked from the store into the kitchen. She was wearing patched bell bottoms and a navy and white striped T-shirt. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

“Hi, guys,” she said. “Are you both coming to Kingston for the day?”

“Just me,” said Elizabeth, jumping up and grabbing her jute purse from where it hung across the back of her chair. “See you later, Dar.”

“I'm sorry you can't come,” Michelle said to me. “It would have been fun.”

“I'm sorry too.”
You have no idea how sorry.

“Maybe next time.”

After they'd gone, I looked out the window for a bit and then stood up to dump the rest of my cereal into the garbage before I went upstairs to brush my teeth.

T
he
Brassards' blue cottage with yellow shutters was on the opposite side of the lake, past Gideon's place. I biked over just before lunch and found Madelaine waiting on the front steps with her friend, Susie Carmichael. They were heading to town to eat and didn't want to waste any time getting there. The baby, Cheryl, had already been put down for her nap and there was nothing for me to do but read magazines and watch
Take Thirty
followed by the afternoon movie on the black-and-white television in the beach-musty living room that smelled of Pledge and cigarette smoke. The movie was one of those Roman warrior ones with the men running around in tunics and the women all gorgeous and getting rescued. It wasn't a tough way to earn five dollars, but it was a boring one.

I walked around the inside of the cottage several times and only just stopped myself from waking up Cheryl, who turned out to be the sleeper of all sleepers. I even checked a few times to make certain she was breathing, leaning over the crib and putting my ear close to her nose. She finally woke up about twenty minutes before her mom came through the door. I was just warming up a bottle of milk in a pan of water on the stove. It was a relief to take the money and leave. I didn't want to become a mother anytime soon. The baby smell of dirty diapers, talcum powder, and milk made the air close and stifling and had given me a headache.

It was still early, so I stopped at Gideon's on my way past his house. I pedalled up his driveway, leaned my bike against the wall and wandered into the back yard. Gideon was sitting in front of the open window working on his typewriter. His grey hair was a swirl of fluff across the top of his head with thicker tufts around his ears. From where I stood in the grass, his face looked pasty and his cheeks droopy. Gideon must have sensed me there because he lifted his head and smiled in my direction, and suddenly he looked younger. He pulled the pipe out of his mouth and motioned for me to enter. Ruby met me at the door and nuzzled against my leg. I reached down and scratched behind her ears.

“Come right in, Darlene. Ruby girl, give our guest some walking room! Would you like something to drink, Little Fin?”

“I'll just get a glass of water, if that's okay.”

“Help yourself. I'm just putting the finishing touches on my column.”

I let the water run for a while until it was cold and then filled two glasses. I set one next to Gideon's typewriter and looked over his shoulder at the paper as his big nicotine-stained fingers hunted and pecked the keys, staccato time. “What's it about this week?”

Gideon grunted. “Why big business wants the Vietnam War to continue. How the United States and the western hemisphere have been suckered into fighting in a country we have no damn right to be in.” He turned away from me and coughed. “Bloody cold. I'll be glad when I shake it.”

“I hate war.”

“You and every other person with an ounce of brains. Have you been managing to get some writing in?”

“Uh-huh.” I sat in Gideon's easy chair and he swivelled around to face me. His eyes searched my face.

“You look a little down. Anything you want to talk about?”

“I'm okay. Just the normal teenage stuff, you know: Why is my hair red? When will I get a date? When does the exciting part start?”

“It's a rocky road, no way around that. Patience, Little Fin. Patience. All things unfold as they should. Is your father coming for the weekend?”

“Dad should be here around suppertime. Mom's cooking a big meal.”

Gideon nodded and smiled. “I saw your mom in town this morning having coffee in Downy's. She's one helluva woman, your mama.”

I think I hid my surprise. It wasn't about her being special, but the coffee part. Dad said having coffee in a restaurant was a waste of money and Mom went along with him.

“She wanted a break from the store,” I said.

“I can see that,” Gideon nodded. “It must be nice for that young man to have a friend like your mom, being new to the lake and all. He looks like someone who keeps to himself. Being around your mother makes people shine.”

My heart started beating funny and I wouldn't look Gideon in the face. I had a feeling I knew who he was talking about and it wasn't good. Not good at all. I sipped my water and spilled some down the front of my shirt. The shock of cold made me gasp.

Gideon had turned back around. “Do you want to read what I've got written so far?” His pulled the page out of the typewriter. “You can tell me if I've broken down into more of a rant than usual.”

“Sure.”

I took the pages from him. I wasn't an expert, but I liked nothing better than working with Gideon on a piece of writing. It would take my mind off my mother and her coffee date. It would keep Gideon from reading what was written on my face.

By the time I got home, Dad was sitting in the kitchen with the newspaper spread out in front of him on the table. Mom was making supper while keeping an eye out for any customers.

“There you are,” said Mom. “How was babysitting?”

“Good.” I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. I couldn't look at her. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hello, Darlene.” Dad lifted his head and nodded at me then looked back down at what he was reading. His work shirt was draped across the back of his chair and he was dressed in his undershirt. He kept speaking with his head down. “Your mother could use some help.”

Are your hands broken?
The thought popped into my head. I looked away so he wouldn't read in my eyes what I was thinking. “What would you like me to do, Mom?” I asked to keep myself from saying something I'd regret.

“If you watch the store until I get these vegetables going, that would be perfect.”

I looked at Mom then, I mean really looked, trying to see her as Gideon did … and Johnny Lewis too. She was five foot five with shoulder length brown hair, today tied back in a ponytail. Slim with curves that I hoped to inherit some day; a wide mouth and warm eyes the colour of nutmeg. There were lines around her eyes and mouth that deepened when she smiled or frowned. I'd always found it easy to read my mother's moods, but she'd become preoccupied lately, and her distance made me lonely. I wanted it to go back to the way it had been between us. I didn't know how to get there. She saw me watching her and questioned me with her eyes.

“Did you … I mean, how did it go in town?” I asked. Dad raised his head. For a split second, Mom's eyes flashed alarm, but when she spoke, her voice was even.

“Good. I just ran into the store and out.” She turned to my father and raised her hands waist high, palms spread as she explained. “I wanted to surprise you with the roast.”

Dad grunted. “I could have picked it up on my way. There wasn't any need for you to go into town, price of gas what it is.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“You've no sense sometimes, woman,” he grumbled, but that seemed to satisfy him. He lowered his head to read. Mom's eyes dismissed me before she turned her back and started stirring something in a pot on the stove.

What have I done?
I felt like she'd slapped me but this was way worse. I crept away without saying anything more. I closed the door between the shop and our kitchen. It took me a while to cross the shop and sit on the stool behind the counter. I was having trouble getting my feet to move forward, and my stomach had something fluttering around inside trying to get out.
What have I done? She wouldn't even look at me.
I told myself it didn't matter, but I knew it did. Mom and I had always stood together, a unit of two keeping each other safe from my father and his fears and anger. I knew exactly what I had done.
I'd betrayed her.

The front door opened. Four kids coming in to buy popsicles — two banana, a cherry, and a grape. I forgot to hand one boy his change and he banged on the counter until I dropped coins into his hand. They left and I paced around the floor for a while before grabbing a magazine and returning to my stool. I started flipping through it, the same
Mad
magazine I'd picked up the week before, when I'd first seen Tyler Livingstone. The words were blurry and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. The bell jingled, and I glanced up.

Candy Parsens was walking towards me, a big smile on her face, hair tied back with wispy bits hanging loose around her face. Her tight red T-shirt had a dark stain across the right side of her stomach, and her wrinkled white peasant skirt trailed in a crooked line above her bare feet, blackened with a coat of mud. The pupils of her eyes were dilated. Her fluttering hands mesmerized me, darting back and forth in front of her like a couple of baby birds. I straightened up.

“Where's Sean?” I asked, worried.

Candy waved a pale hand toward the front window. “Kid's home. Just came for some ciggies.” She squinted at me. “Darlene? That
is
you.” She frowned. “You didn't come by and I waited all afternoon.”

“I was going to go see you but it was raining. Is Sean home with Johnny?”

“We could have gone swimming in the rain. Wet's wet.” Candy laughed, loud and high-pitched. It ended suddenly when she drew in her breath and pointed with a trembling finger to the red du Maurier package of cigarettes behind the counter. Her face got serious. She reminded me of a kid trying to be good. “Come by tomorrow if you can, say after lunch sometime.” She slapped two Crispy Crunches on the counter and spun around to take a large bag of barbecue chips from the shelf. She staggered and grabbed onto the top of the display, crunching bags of chips with her weight. Then she spun back around and waved her hand in the air. “Damn blackflies,” she said. “I can't get away from them.”

“I don't see any,” I said.

“Well, are you coming for that swim? We can go right now!”

“I have to watch the store. I'll try tomorrow,” I said, more to get her to stop talking about it than because I thought I'd go. I looked toward the back of the store. All I would need was for one of my parents to walk in and hear me agreeing to go swimming with her. I put her stuff into a paper bag and slid it across the counter. She threw in two packs of gum that she'd taken from the display. I rang everything into the register. “Two dollars and ten cents.”

“Call it a babysitting job, you know, when you come. I'll pay you to watch Seany while I swim. It'll be good to have you. It gets lonely there all day by myself.”

“I'll try to come after lunch.”

Candy reached in slow motion into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a lighter. Her face puckered. “Damn! I forgot my money. Can I pay you tomorrow?”

“Mom doesn't let … “

“That's okay. I'm good for it.”

Candy grabbed the bag and had tucked it against her hip as if she was carrying a baby. Her eyes drifted past mine and focused on the dust particles dancing in the late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window. She moved toward the door and I didn't know how to stop her.

“You can pay me tomorrow when I come babysit,” I called.

Now I'll have to go see you.

“You're an angel. A beautiful little red-haired angel.” Candy waved at me and stepped through the door.

She let the screen door snap shut, and I moved in front of the window to watch her trip down the path toward the road. She looked ghostly in her white skirt and floating steps, almost dancing into the trees, her hair flowing behind her like golden ribbons. I watched until she had disappeared from view before going back to my seat on the stool behind the counter. I stared back toward the window and tried to make my eyes focus on a story in the magazine, but all I kept thinking about was Candy leaving Sean alone in the house.

A few minutes later, a car door slammed. I lifted my head. Elizabeth bounded into the store. She was carrying a shopping bag, and she was smiling. “That was a great day,” she said. “Too bad you decided not to come.”

I pretended it had been my choice to stay. “What did you buy?”

“A few tops and the best pair of black clogs. It wasn't Toronto, but it was good to get into a mall again. It was like … like there is life after Cedar Lake.” She took a few steps and turned around. “Michelle and Danny will meet us at the beach around nine. Is that okay?”

“I guess I can fit it in.”

I watched Elizabeth saunter through the store and enter the kitchen, letting the door swing closed behind her. Her voice mingled with my parents'. My father's low rumble seemed to go on a long time. Elizabeth said something I couldn't make out and my father laughed.

A burning feeling started in my stomach and worked its way up. I crumpled up the magazine and flung it against the wall with all my might. It made a satisfying thunk when it hit. I lowered my arm and laid it across the counter, then rested my cheek in the crook of my elbow. I stayed that way until the bell jingled and a customer came in to buy milk.

“I'll catch up with you at the beach,” I said to Elizabeth. “Dad wants me to stock shelves before I go. We have tins of cat food that need urgent stacking. Code red. Cats won't sleep soundly tonight unless the Findley shelves are full of Puss n' Boots.”

We were in the bedroom getting ready for the beach party.

“You should stand up for yourself and tell him where he can put the cat food,” said Elizabeth, leaning into the mirror to put another layer of mascara on her lashes. “What are you, his bloody slave?” Her eyes found mine in the glass.

I stretched my arms to the ceiling and pulled a clean T-shirt over my head. It was dark green and scoop-necked and fit me better than most tops I owned. It made my eyes look greener than usual and my chest bigger, or I liked to think so.

“My father is obsessed with making me a productive member of society. If I tell him where he can stuff the cat food, I'd better be running for the door because if he ever caught me, I'd be eating a few cans.”