Fem

Part 26

The ice melted enough for me to go back to the train bridge. Being alone in that little room beneath the tracks gave me a funny feeling in my stomach. It was dark and after a while I couldn't tell which was up. It felt like I was floating. The sound of the river below me was a rushing that wasn't in my ears but in my body.

*

Katherine said we needed to help out more around the house. It was after school. My mom and dad were at the university still.

She put on Borderline by Madonna. That song makes me feel like I'm full of light, like it can shine right out of me. We played it over and over.

We washed the windows and dusted and swept and vacuumed. We emptied the dishwasher and set the table for dinner. The house was sparking and smelled like lemons.

When they got home, my dad went straight downstairs. He was having one of his splitting headaches. My mom noticed how clean it was and went overboard with the praise. She hugged me but it was all wrong. It didn't count unless it was both of them noticing.

At dinner my mom tried so hard to be normal, asking all about my day and Katherine's day. But it was all wrong. If you have to work that hard to be normal it becomes the opposite of normal. Everything we said was heavy with knowing that my dad was downstairs, maybe holding his head in his hands.

After I went to bed, I heard them talking. It was just murmurs. Sometimes my dad would say something sharp and my mom would shush him. She said in a loud whisper, Your son is asleep across the hall.

I wasn't asleep. I was listening. Like always, I was trying to make sense of secrets inside of whispers I could only half hear.

*

I was helping the old lady on the corner lift some boxes.

She left a stack of old National Geographics on the coffee table. She told me to read the old man some articles while she went for her walk.

I tried reading some but I could tell he wasn't listening. The magazines were so old anyway, they were about places that don't exist anymore. There was one about Siam and another about Formosa.

He liked it better when I showed him pictures. He was like a child, or a dog. If it was sad his eyes got misty. If it was happy his eyes got bright. If it was lonely his eyes got far far away.

He grunted when I showed him a picture of a deserted island. It was one drooping palm tree, white sand, and turquoise water. The water was the same colour as his eyes.

The old man grabbed the magazine and held it right up to his face, like an inch away. He said, Blue! Blue! Bloooooo!

He kept on saying it. Eventually I said, Yes, the water is blue.

He lowered the magazine and shushed me, like a librarian. He wanted me to be quiet so he could wrap himself up in the blueness.

*

My dad was driving me to guitar. He wasn't talking but not because he had music in his head. He was just a blank, just a Saturday morning routine blank. The radio was on CBC. It was always on CBC. I asked if I could change the station. He didn't answer so I changed it.

A song came on, it was the little ditty about Jack and Diane, two American kids growin' up in the heartland.

Something about it made my dad listen, I could see his eyes light up. It's because the song tells a story. He started tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. He was loving it and so was I. He looked sad in his eyes but sad eyes were better than blank eyes. He looked old and young at the same time. He was my dad. I loved him but I barely knew him.