The Opposite Of Tidy (17 page)

Tabitha and Junie walked home together after school because Wade was staying behind to work on a project with his Physics study group. Junie told Tabitha about Wade meeting her father, and how Wade hadn’t realized who he really was.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if he had,” Tabitha
said gently. “That way, everything would be out in the open. Where it has to be. Eventually.”

“I can’t carry this on forever,” Junie said. “That’s what you mean?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How about just for now, though? Everything is perfect. Right now.”

“It only seems perfect, Junie.”

“Gee thanks, counsellor.”

“Speaking of,” Tabitha said, “it’s that day of the month again.”

Once a month Tabitha and her mother met with a family therapist. Not for any reason in particular. “Just to keep the gears oiled,” as Mrs. D. often said. Mrs. D. had given Junie the card of the therapist at least four times, urging her to give it to her parents. This was even before they’d broken up. But Junie couldn’t imagine being stuck in some therapist’s office with her parents, talking about their feelings. She’d rather have drunk rat poison and died a slow, agonizing death.

It was another gorgeous spring afternoon, but inside Junie’s house it might as well have been the middle of the night. Usually Junie drew open the drapes and lifted the blinds before she left for school in the morning, but that morning she’d been rushing to get to Tabitha’s in time for Wade to pick them up, so now the house was even more dank and depressing than usual.

From the living room, the theme song to
The Kendra Show
announced a commercial break.

“You’re home early,” her mother called over an ad for stain remover.

“Everyone’s busy.” Junie kicked aside a dusty salad of plastic fruit that had tumbled out of a basket perched on top of a pile of junk and made her way to the living room. Was it possible that the trails weaving through the crap had gotten narrower, or did it just seem that way with the house being so dark? She climbed atop a hill of clothes that hadn’t fit her since grade three and were “awaiting sorting” and reached past another shelf (“Somewhere to keep my clock collection”) to yank open the living room curtains, letting in the sunlight. They always left the sheers closed, though, just so no one could actually see in and get a good look at the teetering stacks of useless crap, piles of old science fiction books her father used to read but her mother refused to get rid of, broken laundry baskets full of puzzles with missing pieces, mismatched containers and craft supplies that had never been opened. Wade drove by the house every day. Usually twice a day, at least. With that thought chilling her to the core, Junie rearranged the sheers, making sure there was no gap whatsoever.

“So when am I going to meet this boy of yours?” Her mother sat forward in her chair, trying to look interested.

Junie was going to say, “Not until the house burns down and you take a shower,” but
Kendra
was back on, and her mother was only half paying attention to Junie.

“I don’t know,” Junie said, holding back the barbs.

On
The Kendra Show
that day, Kendra was touring the poorest parts of Harlem, bringing party dresses to little girls. Like they needed party dresses. They needed shoes
maybe, food definitely. A little help with the rent for sure. Junie sat at her mother’s feet on the tiny clear patch of filthy carpet there and watched.

Kendra, in her high-heeled shoes and tailored suit clinging to her generous curves, climbed the graffiti-filled stairwell in a rundown tenement because the elevator wasn’t working. She was out of breath by the third floor, where she was headed to give a Haitian immigrant family with seven girls seven glittery dresses with matching handbags and princess slippers covered in sequins.

The family’s tiny two-bedroom apartment was as neat as any sprawling home bragging in a home décor magazine, only without the décor.

Junie glanced up at her mom. “Our place could be that neat,” she mumbled. “They can manage it and they have nothing.”

Her mother didn’t respond. The chair rocked back a little, but that was it.

The girls squealed with delight but politely waited their turn to get their party dresses. They put them on, and Kendra’s hair and makeup people did the girls up for a photo shoot. The father stood quietly in the doorway, wearing worn-out slippers and a suit that was several sizes too big for him, and shiny with wear at the elbows and knees. Then Kendra mentioned that the mother had died, and that he was raising the girls by himself on his meagre wage as a worker in a factory that manufactured parts for dishwashers.

“They keep that place neat and tidy and they don’t even have a mom,” Junie said. She knew she’d gone too far
as soon as she’d said it. Her mother actually got out of her chair.

“Maybe you’d be better off if I died, too,” she said as she headed for the kitchen. “Then you could do whatever you wanted.”

On the television, the seven girls were swirling their shiny skirts, dancing with each other, great big smiles on their faces. Later, they’d get together with all the other girls who got new dresses and they’d have a tea party.

Junie had been wrong. Turned out, party dresses were exactly what those little girls needed.

TWELVE

On the weekend, Wade reminded Junie that she’d promised to hang out with her dad. Junie had conveniently forgotten that, and now there was plenty else that she’d rather have done. Including nothing at all.

“It’ll be fun,” he said. “I’ll come with you.”

He and Junie, along with Tabitha and Lulu and Ollie, were sitting around a big table at the Buckled Star on Saturday morning.

“I think your definition of fun and mine are totally different.” Junie looked to Tabitha for support, but she wasn’t giving it.

“You’ve been ignoring him,” Tabitha said. “He misses you.”

“Can I just say that ganging up on me isn’t going to make me want to do what you guys want me to do?” Junie
tried to keep her tone light, but the truth was, she was more than slightly irked.

Lulu reached out and patted Junie’s arm. “You can do whatever you want, Junie.”

“Thanks, Lulu,” Junie said pointedly.

“Actually,” Ollie lifted a finger to object, “not true. You’re still a minor. You can do whatever your parents want you to. But you can’t do whatever you want. Not so.”

“Your mom doesn’t seem the type to force,” Wade said. “Maybe debate you in a lawyerly fashion. I could see that.”

“Lawyerly?” Ollie said. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” Junie said quickly. “I’ll call my dad.”

Junie wanted to get off the topic of her parents. She didn’t like where this was going. Ollie and Lulu hadn’t met her mom, just her dad, in the school parking lot. But they knew she didn’t work. They thought she was a stay-at-home mom. Like Ollie’s. One who kept a tidy house and made something interesting for dinner every night and packed her child a nutritious sandwich on whole wheat bread for lunch every day. Plus, they knew which house was hers, even if Junie had never invited them in. They also knew that Tabitha’s mom was a lawyer.

Wade handed her his cellphone. “Go ahead.”

Junie dialled her dad’s cell. Unfortunately, he picked up on the second ring.

“I’m so glad you called,” he said, after she fumbled through a hello. “What’s the plan? I’ve left the day open for you. And the lawn.”

“Is Evelyn working?”

“No. We’re just finishing a late brunch here at home and then we’re all yours.”

Junie brought the phone away from her ear and scowled at it before bringing it back. “Oh.”

“So, what do you want to do, kiddo?” Her dad’s tone was bright. Oblivious. How could he not know that she didn’t want to be anywhere near Evelyn St. Claire? That she’d rather shove That Woman into moving traffic and watch a semi truck roll over her head than spend the afternoon with her.

“Wade thought I should call you.” Junie got up from the table and went to the back of the café where the others couldn’t hear her. She wasn’t sure if she was going to spontaneously turn bitchy, and if so, she didn’t need Wade to overhear.

“And he’s absolutely right.”

Had her father taken happy pills since he’d left them? He never used to be so chipper. He was always sort of mopey, following behind her mother, trying to corral her mess. And failing. Clearly. Junie resented him for that. He could have tried harder.

“What do you say? Matinee? Go-karts?”

Junie tried to picture Evelyn St. Claire driving a go-kart. She couldn’t. Maybe that meant she wouldn’t come along. It was worth a shot.

“Go-karts sound good,” Junie said. “Can Wade come too?”

“Sure. The more the merrier.”

Junie pulled the phone away again and looked at it. Who was this version of her father? Maybe he was on
drugs. Antidepressants. That would have explained a lot. He couldn’t be this happy naturally. Not having to endure That Woman day in and day out. Or maybe—Junie cringed at the thought—she did make him happy. And that was worse. Far worse. Because that would mean he was never coming home.

“Okay. I guess.”

“I’ll come by first and mow the lawn. Pick you guys up at the house?”

“No! No. We’ll come to your—” She was going to say
your house.
“We’ll meet you at Evelyn’s place. I did the lawn yesterday.” She hadn’t, of course.

That Woman answered the intercom, and Junie didn’t even say hello. Just, “Is my dad there?”

In reply, Evelyn buzzed them in without a word.

“I guess that means, ‘Good morning, Come on in!’ For both of you.” Wade held open the door. “Now be nice.”

“Do I have to?” Junie glanced up. That Woman lived on the eighth floor. Junie saw her jump from the window and hurtle to her death, landing with a splat on the pavement at her feet. Maybe that was a little over the top, in terms of wishful thinking. But part of her hoped. She’d keep that macabre little daydream to herself. Wade would think she was awful for even having the notion.

“Yes, you have to.” Wade gave her a gentle push through the doorway.

In the elevator, he pushed her again. This time, toward
the polished steel wall, where he pressed himself against her ever so slightly, the wall cool on Junie’s back. “They do this in all the movies. Sometimes the elevator gets stuck,” he murmured. “That could happen.”

“Best idea ever,” Junie managed to say between kisses. His fingertips felt electric on her skin.

Alas, the floors dinged by quickly, and soon they were at the eighth.

“Let’s just keep riding the elevator. All day.” Junie held onto Wade’s jacket when he tried to lead her out of the elevator. The doors closed, and he kissed her again. Junie reached out to press the button to take them back down to the lobby, but the doors opened suddenly, and a woman got on pulling a suitcase behind her.

Junie and Wade broke apart, both of them blushing. “Sorry, excuse us.” Wade blocked the door from shutting. “This is our floor.”

The woman pursed her lips and glared at them as they got off. The elevator doors closed and Wade gave them a little bow and the tip of an imaginary hat. “And a good day to you too, madam. Many happy returns.”

“I told you. The whole building is snotty. Come on,” Junie said. “It’s this way. The sooner we do this the sooner we get it over with.”