Hell's Hotel (3 page)

Making Up

Despite Josh's attitude, Tara did feel a little disappointed in herself. She didn't like backing down from an issue. She opened her locker and looked at herself in the mirror. Slowly, it became clear to her. This wasn't her problem. Josh had created this for himself, for his own glory. There was a bigger issue here: Jenn's troubled life was now public information. Tara was sure this was going to be very bad news. There were girls in school who would taunt her and certain guys who might try to take advantage of her low self-esteem. Jenn was going to need Tara as a friend more than ever, and the two of them hadn't even spoken since Monday.

Tara gave herself an insulting look in the mirror. On the surface, she looked like she had it all together. Her makeup was perfect, her hair styled just right. But inside she felt like a mess. Why had she not kept in touch with Jenn?

She sat through several classes, barely aware of what was going on. When she was called on in English to explain the meaning of a poem, she surprised herself, the teacher, and her fellow students by saying she didn't know what it meant. All through the day, she asked everyone she knew if they'd seen Jenn. Jenn had been around school this week, but she wasn't around today, the day the paper had come out.

Tracy, an occasional friend of Jenn's, told Tara, “She said something about a new guy in her life. But that could be all over by now. Ancient history. You know what Jenn's like when it comes to boyfriends.”

Tara knew that Jenn had the worst of instincts when it came to picking guys. She'd chosen some real losers before — guys with drug problems, guys who treated her like dirt.

“Hey,” Tracy added, “I guess you know who the real Becky is?”

“Yeah. I'm afraid I do.”

“Pretty easy to figure that one out,” Tracy said, smiled, and then walked off.

Tracy was a talker. If she knew, then everyone knew, even the ones who would have had a hard time figuring it out for themselves. No wonder Jenn wasn't in school.

After school, Tara went downtown to Grafton Street, not far from the public library. Skateboarders were hacking around the old church. South End kids were trying to look like street kids, and street kids were trying to look like they were waiting around for something important to happen. A whole lot of energy was stirring around this corner of town without much of a focus.

Sure, Jenn had been around. She was always around. But where? Tara needed to talk to her now.

“I think she's staying with Rob,” Craig said.

“Who's Rob?” Tara asked.

“Rob's from Toronto, I think. I don't know much about him. He's new. He's got a place. He let some people crash there before. Girls, that is.”

So Tara was beginning to get some sort of picture. “Thanks, Craig.”

She turned just then to catch a glimpse of someone walking into the Black Market boutique. Jenn.

Tara ran down the street, coming within inches of crashing into a skateboarder trying to do a screeching slide along the curb. Inside the Black Market she saw Jenn looking aimlessly at some of the clothing that she couldn't afford and would never buy anyway.

“Hey,” Tara said softly.

Jenn turned. When she saw who it was, she began to head for the door.

“Wait.” Tara followed her out into the street. “We need to talk.”

“Not much to say. Looks like I've been double-crossed by both you and your boyfriend.” She was walking away at a fast clip.

Tara felt strangely abandoned. “He's not my boyfriend!” she shouted to Jenn.

That did it. Jenn stopped dead in her tracks. No matter what insult Jenn had suffered, she couldn't just walk away without hearing the news, without getting the story. She turned around, slowly walked back to her old friend.

“You two broke up?”

“Not exactly.”

“He's a menace, you know,” Jenn said. Obviously “Becky's Blues” had already done some damage.

“I think I know that. Guys can be such a pain.” Tara wanted to know about this Rob. She didn't want to push it, though. Jenn said nothing, looking down at her running shoes.

“Come on,” Tara said. “We'll go to the Trident. I'll buy you anything you like that's on the menu.”

“Cool,” Jenn said.

The café was packed with the high school crowd. They found an empty table by the window and ordered cheesecake and fair-trade coffee. Tara didn't say anything until Jenn had greedily polished off her plate and was looking a little less frayed.

“I'm sorry about the other day at the nursing home, I really am. That was stupid of me.”

“Seems like everyone wants to tell my story. I don't get it. Maybe I can sell the film rights for millions.”

“Jenn, we've been friends for a long time. You have to forgive me.”

“You just feel sorry for me, that's all. Everybody feels sorry for me, but nobody really wants to help.”

“You can stay at my house. For as long as you like,” Tara said. “My parents will say it's okay if I insist.”

Jenn shook her head. “I can't do that to you. Besides, I got a place to stay.”

“Rob?”

“How'd you know?”

Tara shrugged, afraid to say the wrong thing.

“Right. Word on the street.”

“Tell me about Rob.”

“What's to tell? He's twenty and he came down from Ontario. Not bad looking. He saw me hanging around, asked me to come visit. So I dropped by. He was nice. He got a little pushy, but I told him to back off and he did.”

“And that's it.”

“Pretty much. He said I could stay there if I wanted. No strings attached.”

“No strings,” Tara found herself repeating. Her mind was full of all the worst kind of images. She knew what kind of guys Jenn was attracted to and what kind of guys were attracted to her.

“Isn't he a little old?”

“What's age got to do with it?”

Tara decided not to push it on that one. She didn't want to sound like she was prying. She just wanted to be a friend, but there were so many questions in her head.

“You want something else? How about dessert?”

“All we had was dessert.”

“So. How about another one?”

“Sure. Why not? If you're paying.”

“So, you weren't in school today.” There. She said it, sounding all too much like somebody's mother, but she knew Jenn wouldn't walk out on her now. Another piece of cherry cheesecake was on the way.

“I don't know if I can face all those kids again,” Jenn said. “They know everything about me, about my messed-up family.”

“Then why did you let Josh do his stupid story?”

“Because he promised no one would know. And he said you thought it was a good idea.”

“Josh would say anything to get his way. If I were smart, I'd just walk away from him and never talk to him again.”

“You two have a fight?” Jenn was suddenly animated. Now she wanted the gossip on her friend.

“Not exactly. I just think I've had it with his ego. I think it's over between us.”

“You're going to break up with him?”

“I'm thinking about it. I'm just waiting for the right time to do it.”

“I can see how it would be hard to dump a guy like Josh. He's got everything: looks, brains, money. But he's a jerk.”

“Guys are a whole lot of trouble,” Tara said and when she looked up at Jenn, she saw Jenn was smiling. She suddenly felt like they were still two little kids, sharing their innermost secrets. They'd been friends for a long time, through a lot of problems, through plenty of boyfriends.

“A lot of trouble,” Jenn echoed.

“What about Rob?”

“Rob's okay.” Then there was a pregnant pause.

“But?”

“But once in a while, he does have a bit of an attitude.”

“What kind of attitude?”

Jenn didn't answer. “Thanks for the treat,” she said. “It's exactly what I needed.”

No Parents

So Josh got suspended, and Tara watched as he got the glory he craved. It was election time at school, and a normally dull and pointless student-council election had turned into something else. Posters started appearing around the halls that said, “Josh Donnelly for President,” and “Bring Back Freedom of the Press.”

Josh wasn't even allowed on the school grounds because of his suspension, but Tara knew that he had masterminded this move. It was just like him. But why hadn't he called her? That seemed awfully strange.

Henley came on the P.A. Tuesday morning and said that school policy stated that a student on suspension or one with a serious discipline record at the school wasn't eligible to run for a “prestigious position like student-council president.” Tara knew that he had made that one up on the spur of the moment. No one ever really expected the hard cases to have the gall to run for the office. But Josh was another story.

Right after the announcements, there was a lineup of rowdy kids outside Henley's office, shouting, insisting that the vice-principal couldn't get away with this. Strangely enough, a radio reporter from the CBC and a writer from the
Herald
showed up about the same time. Tara couldn't bring herself to get involved in the scene. She could only marvel at how well Josh had orchestrated all of this: first the controversial paper, then getting suspended, then running for student council, now this. The issue was no longer helping out kids on the street. The issue wasn't even really something that had to do with freedom of the press. The issue wasn't even how a VP could try to manipulate a school election. The issue was Josh Donnelly.

And while all the ruckus was going on at school, Josh was probably sitting at home with his music cranked up to nine, listening to his ancient Nirvana collection.

In third period, Tara was happy to see that Jenn had shown up for English class. Only Jenn wasn't looking all that happy to be there.

“What's wrong?”

“I just don't know if I can handle this,” Jenn said, looking nervous and uncomfortable. Tara was trying to lighten her up. “You're not just talking about a boring lecture on poetry are you?” Tara noticed that other students were staring at Jenn, so she was getting ready to tell them to back off but the teacher was about to begin.

“I'm talking about them,” Jenn said, tilting her head towards the kids in the class who were looking at her.

“Don't pay any attention to them.”

“It's not like they even feel sorry for me. It's like they think I'm some sort of freak.”

“You're not a freak.”

“Great. Get Josh to run that for a headline on the next edition of his stupid paper.”

There was nothing more to be said. The teacher was clearing his throat and announcing a pop quiz. “I hope you all know what an oxymoron is.”

“Oh, great,” Jenn said under her breath.

Tara felt really bad for her friend. It was a stupid definition quiz: alliteration, synecdoche, oxymoron, hyperbole. Tara found herself writing the answers in large neat handwriting. She wrote so that her paper was clearly in Jenn's view.

Jenn was leaning slightly over, trying to take advantage of the opportunity. She started to write but then stopped, let out a very vocal sigh, crumpled her paper up, and sat there with her hands up to her face. A couple of girls looked over at her and smirked. Jenn pretended she didn't notice.

***

During the week, Tara hardly ever saw her parents. That wasn't unusual. Her father worked long hours at the hospital. They were in the midst of government cutbacks, and he said it took everything in his power to come up with creative ways to keep the place in operation. Jenn knew that her father was a good guy, a man who liked to help people. He really cared. Sometimes, she thought he cared too much — about the hospital and the people in it. In her life he had become a ghost.

Hey, but she was Miss Independent. In the eyes of other kids, she had the freedom, she had it made.

Her mom had decided to take up photography. She gave up some of her volunteer work and tagging along with her husband on business dinners. She had always been home when Tara was in elementary school, but now that Tara was in high school, her mother said she was “spreading her wings a little.” So the walls of the house were covered with dozens of framed black-and-white photographs of super close-ups of spider webs and dew on tree branches. She had a particularly haunting photo of Hell's Hotel taken late in the day when the building looked stark, eerie, dangerous.

Jenn's stories of life at “the hotel” were quite bizarre. Of course, sometimes Jenn didn't remember everything that happened. Those were the bad nights when she was hanging with the dopers or the crackheads. Looking at the photograph of Hell's Hotel always made Tara think about how close to the edge some people lived.

There was only one photograph on the wall of her family — the three of them together. It was from last summer at Lawrencetown Beach. Her mom had set the timer on the camera. And there they were, all three of them, together for once, smiling, frozen forever amidst the sand and the sea and the sun. It was near the end of the day. Her father had a sunburn. Her mother had her sunglasses on and was trying to look very casual as the camera clicked. Tara was squeezed between them in the middle — safe and snug.

Her mother said that the “composition” was all wrong. But her father had insisted the photo go on the wall with the rest. He'd said it was “her best work.”

***

Another Saturday morning. Tara planned an early breakfast, and then went off to work at the nursing home. She was really looking forward to seeing her old friend Emma.

“You're on your own this weekend,” her mother said, making a rare Saturday-morning appearance at breakfast. “You don't mind, do you?”

“I guess not. What's up?”

Her mother was rubbing her hands together. She was smiling, but there was an undercurrent of something. “Your father and I decided to get away for the weekend. We're almost never together. I decided we need some time alone. We're going to White Point Lodge.”

Tara realized she should have felt liberated: a weekend alone without parents, the house all to herself. It was something half of her friends would die for. But instead, she felt a little left out. The camera would click at the beach and the picture would be taken and she wouldn't be in it. “That's great,” she said. “I hope you two have a very romantic time.”

Her father breezed into the kitchen. “Sorry I didn't make it down for breakfast,” he said, kissing her on the head. “You okay, Tara?”

“Sure.”

“Whatever you need, order out.” He left his Visa card on the table. Tara stood up and gave them both a hug and then left for work. She would be alone, and she'd have her father's credit card and a weekend of freedom.

“Freedom. No parents,” she said out loud as she slipped into her uniform in the staff room at the nursing home.

All the while she was cleaning rooms, Tara was envisioning her future. Independence had always been a big part of it. The right to do what she wanted. It was all getting a lot closer now.

When she arrived at Emma's room, she knew Emma would want to hear it all: everything that she was thinking about.

“I missed you,” Emma said. She was sitting in her chair, reading a novel.

“How was your week?”

“Like every other week, I suppose, but I can't complain. How is your friend doing? Jenn, I mean.”

“I think she forgives me. Poor Jenn is so used to people dumping on her.”

“Don't give up on her. I bet she's a fine person.”

Of course Tara knew that Emma thought everyone was a fine person. She liked everyone and thought the best of people. Tara couldn't understand how she could be so positive about everything.

“I won't give up on her. I just don't know what she's gonna do if I'm not around. She makes such dumb decisions. If I'm not there to help sort out each crisis, I just don't know.”

“Well, why wouldn't you be there?”

It was the opportunity Tara had been fishing for, a chance to say some things out loud. Nothing ever felt real to her until she said it out loud. She knew some things were changing in her life in a big way. “I've been doing some serious thinking,” she began. “I think it's mostly because I know it's over between Josh and me.”

“You had a fight?”

“No. It wasn't like that.” She explained about
The Rage
and then added, “I just want to be more independent, that's all. I'm going to tell Josh it's over. Anyway, I haven't heard from him all week.”

“He'll be crushed.”

“Nothing can hurt his feelings. Don't worry.”

“He is human. Just because he's a boy doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings.”

“I'll be gentle,” Tara said, but she found herself almost laughing. Then she got serious again. “That's just the first step. I mean my parents already think of me as completely grown-up and independent. They left me alone for the weekend. They know I can take care of myself. I'm going to be out of high school in a year and a half. I don't want to go to university right away. I'm tired of sitting in classrooms and being lectured to. I want to do something.”

Emma was smiling. “It seems the only time you have to dream your great dreams is when you are young like you or old like me.”

“Tell me your dreams, Emma.”

“My dreams are all about what I once had: a husband, a nice house, good kids. Never thought much about it until it began to disappear. Once you lose your health, all you have left is your dreams.”

“But there must have been more.”

“Oh, I sometimes wished I could have done other things. Maybe I could have become a doctor, or written a novel. You know.”

“Don't you regret that you didn't do those things?”

Emma leaned over. She could have been brushing a tear from her eye. “No,” she said. “No regrets. Now enough about me and the past. I want to hear about you and the future.”

Tara smiled at Emma. “Well, I want to spend at least a year travelling around Europe and Asia by myself. Just me. That way I have to become part of the culture, not just a tourist. Then I think I'd like to spend some time just living in one place — some place like Nepal or Sri Lanka maybe, just living there and doing what I can do to help the impoverished.”

“I think there are programs for young people — Canada World Youth, CUSO. I've known of friends who had kids ...”

“No,” Tara said, surprising herself with how confident she sounded. “I don't want to be part of some organization. I want to do it on my own. I want to see what I can do on my own.”

“You're much braver than I ever was.”

“And then I think I'll go to university, probably in Europe or England, and study everything there is to know about the human mind. My father thinks that the frontier of psychiatry is in drug treatment. Anything wrong with the brain can be fixed with a drug. I think he's wrong. I think there are better methods.”

“Those are excellent dreams. I hope they all come true.” Emma was standing up now. “You'll have to excuse me, but I think I'd better lie down for a while. I'm so glad you came by. You've absolutely illuminated my day.”

Tara helped Emma lie down on her bed. She felt positively recharged by having told Emma her plans. In fact, it was the first time that she had actually put the whole brave tale into words. She knew that it was because of Emma, this amazing person who she could open up to, probably the only person on the planet she could talk to like this.

She could see that Emma was very tired. “Sweet dreams,” she said.

As Tara went out into the hall and back to her duties, she knew what the very first step in her plan had to be. She didn't want to put it off. There'd be no arguing, no insults, not even any hard feelings. She just wanted to get Josh on the phone and tell him that it was over. She just wanted to be her own person for a while. She wanted her independence.