Monkey Beach (43 page)

Two weeks before Karaoke came back, I had a dream about Ma-ma-oo. I saw her sitting at her kitchen table. She had a dark purple bruise covering her left cheek and smaller bruises on her arms. Ba-ba-oo was singing in the shower. A thud came from the bathroom and then there was silence. But instead of moving or asking if everything was all right, she sat and
gripped her mug of tea tightly between her hands. I heard the sound of water hitting the tub and the shower curtain. “Nothing’s wrong,” she whispered, even when the water seeped under the door. “Nothing’s wrong.”

I snapped awake. I reached for my smokes and went downstairs to the back porch. The crows were flapping around the railings, squawking when I shooed them away. I leaned against the railing and stared out at the channel. I was on my third cigarette when Jimmy’s favourite crow, Spotty, landed beside me. I looked at her, then back at the ocean. I saw something small floating in the water, stuck in the long, half-submerged grass near the shore.

The water glistened like green silk as the morning light slanted over the mountains behind the reserve. It came then, a light touch on my shoulder. No one was near me. Out on the water, a dark head bobbed. The seal rolled twice, creating ripples that distorted the reflection of the mountains. Then it dived and the water smoothed. I was walking down to the beach. Something in the water was drifting out with the tide and I didn’t want the seal to get it. I thought it might be a cat, but the closer I got, I knew it wasn’t. For a moment, it looked like a baby in a christening outfit. But when I was a few feet from it, it was just a bucket.

“Lisa! Lisa, what the hell are you doing?”

I was standing waist deep in the ocean. I could feel the cold, was aware that I was cold, but it didn’t bother me. The bucket sank slowly in front of me. I should catch it before it’s lost, I thought. I couldn’t remember wading in. My clothes were heavy with water.

“Lisa!” Jimmy said, running down the path. “What are you doing?”

He was alarmed by something I was doing. I could see this but couldn’t understand it. I reached for the bucket, felt it bump against my legs. My arm went numb as I plunged it under the surface. I had trouble grasping the handle. Something caught my ankle then and yanked me under.

I remember looking at Jimmy from under the water. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up. When we were back at the house, he put a blanket over my shoulder. Mom made coffee. Dad asked if I wanted to go to the hospital.

“What were you doing?” Jimmy kept saying.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t know.”

Jimmy didn’t want me to be alone. If he couldn’t get Mom and Dad to watch me, he baby-sat me, dragging me to some bad summer movies, giving me help with my finals or driving me everywhere, talking to fill the long silences. One night we ended up on Alcan beach, looking across the channel at the lights of Kitamaat Village twinkling against the blackness of the mountains. We sat on the hood of Dad’s old car, leaning back against the windshield, smoking.

“You know what was weird?” he said.

“About what?”

“When you went into the water, Spotty woke me up. She was flapping against the window like she was trying to get in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Finals approached and I started to cram. Jimmy seemed to think I was okay, so he began to leave me alone. I didn’t know Karaoke was back until I saw her with Jimmy; they were holding hands as they walked. I almost stopped the car and offered them a ride, but they were absorbed in talking and I didn’t want to butt in. It looked like they had picked up right where they left off.

Someday, I thought, I want someone to look at me like that, like there’s no one else in the world.

Erica told me Karaoke had stayed in Vancouver at her aunt’s place, where she—depending on the rumour you listened to—had another boyfriend, or was selling drugs, or herself, or in court getting charged with murder, or getting an abortion, or joined a Hell’s Angels gang, or—my personal favourite—had become a nude model.

Jimmy dragged me out of bed at five in the morning. While I was still half-asleep, he pushed a box into my hands.

“What’s this?” I’d muttered.

“It’s for Karaoke,” he said.

“Oh my God,” I sat up. I opened it. Inside was a slim, gold band with a diamond so small that I had to squint to make sure it was really there.

“Promise ring,” Jimmy said.

“What kind of promise? That the next one will be bigger?”

“You’re a big help,” he said.

“Just kidding,” I said. “So you’re going to ask her to get hitched?”

“She makes me feel like … like,” he stopped, frustrated.

“Like a king?”

“No. Yes. When I’m with her, I’m a better person. I’m not a fuckup with her. No, that’s not right. I’m strong. I’m fast. I can leap tall buildings in a single bound.”

“So you’re asking her today?”

“No. It has to be right. I’ve got it all planned. I’m going to take her to this field. There’s all this fireweed there where we had our first real—” He paused. “Date. Do you think she’ll like it? Is it really too small?”

I pushed myself up and gave him a peck on the cheek. “She’ll love it.”

At breakfast, he asked Mom how much a wedding cost. Not a cheap one either, he insisted. A real one—the church, invitations, renting the rec centre and a live band, everything. After she choked on her toast, she said a minimum of five thousand dollars.

“Oh,” he said. Then he rallied. “I don’t care. That’s what I want.”

Dad piped in that he could probably get Jimmy into Alcan if they applied right away, and they started to work out how long it would take for him to save enough for a wedding.

“The bigger the wedding,” Mom muttered as we did the breakfast dishes, “the faster the divorce.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said. “He’s got it bad. Just think about the grandkids you’ll be getting. Lots of bouncing little babies.”

“Well, it’s your turn now,” she said. “When am I going to see you settle down?”

“Mom,” I said.

“I know, I know. You’re young now. But you’re not getting any younger, you know.”

I watched Jimmy and Dad at the table, working through the figures and I thought, Thank God at least one of us is getting a happy ending.

The greengage tree is a shadow against the morning light. I shade my eyes with my hand as I walk down the steps of our front porch. A large flock of crows is perched in the branches, silent and shifting anxiously, but when I get close, it lifts like a dark cloud, blocking out the sunlight. The crows wait on the roof of our house.

I can’t move.

“Lisa,” they say.

“Come closer,” the first voice says.

“Just listen to us. Come over to the trees.”

They’ve been calling to me, but I don’t know for how long. I know I should get in my boat and ignore them. I know I should leave. If I stay any longer, I’ll be at Namu tomorrow morning and Mom and Dad will worry. But if the things in the trees can help me, maybe Jimmy can keep his happy ending. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just this once. I reach into my bag and dig around until I find my knife. When I pull it out, the voices hiss into silence. A crow begins to caw.

It’s a gutting knife, an old one that Uncle Geordie gave me to help carve up fish. He sharpened it himself. It has a wooden handle worn smooth with use, and a small spoon at the end, to scrape out the innards. The blade has been sharpened so many times, it’s as thin as a razor.

I walk from my boat up the beach and into the trees. The rain is soft against my face. The grass at the edge of the shore shivers against my legs. Creaking in the light wind, the trees rise above me. The moment I step under the canopy, the world darkens.

I tilt my head upwards. “I don’t have any meat. But I have blood.”

I wait, but nothing answers.

On the morning of my math final, Jimmy was sitting on the porch when I woke up. He was wearing the same clothes he’d had on the day before. I poked my head out the door. “You want a coffee?”

He shook his head.

Uh-oh, I thought. That was an I’ve-just-been-dumped look if I ever saw one. “What’s up?”

“I’m going fishing,” he said.

“Fishing?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve got a job.”

“You don’t look too happy about it,” I said, flopping down in the chair beside him. “What are you going in?”

“What?”

“Seiner? Gillnetter? Troller?”

He shrugged.

I laughed. “Jimmy, you can’t even start an outboard motor. What are you going to do?”

“Deckhand,” he said.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I said. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Leaving tomorrow,” he said.

“God, Jimmy.” I was shaking my head. “It’s a tough job. Do you know what you’re getting into?”

He finally looked at me, mouth tightening, eyes completely black. “Yes.”

Mom was thrilled. She told me that her stint on her uncle’s boat had made her grow up, and that she was pleased to think Jimmy was following in her footsteps, earning money. She didn’t say this, but implied it—getting away from Karaoke. Dad didn’t like the idea, but he went along with it reluctantly.

The day before Jimmy left, Karaoke came to our house. I was surprised to see her. Normally, she avoided our house unless Jimmy dragged her there. She didn’t look like she’d been getting much sleep, and I felt sorry for her when she asked if Jimmy was home.

I said, trying to be cheerful, “He’s across with Dad buying supplies. Didn’t he tell you? He got the job,” I said.

Her eyebrows went up. “A job.”

“I know. It’s hard to believe he’s going fishing. He’s so spoiled, I think he’ll last a week. Thanks for putting in a good word with Josh, anyway.”

Her eyes focused on something behind me, and I thought Mom might be coming up the stairs to check
on who was visiting, but Karaoke was just staring through me.

“Why don’t you come in?” I said. “Coffee’s hot and fresh. I made it strong. Nothing like a strong cup of coffee. I have to show Jimmy how to make it—I don’t think Josh’s a tea drinker, is he?”

Karaoke still looked stunned. “So he’s going on
Queen of the North?”