Page 59 - WTP Vol. VII #6

“How come?” he said. “How come he won’t come home?”
“What are we going to do?” Joel said.
“I don’t have an answer for that,” she said. “But we’re okay. We’re fine.”
She took his face in her hands. “We keep going,” she said. “That’s the best way. We ride it out until it gets better.”
She lay back onto the bed with Derek in her arms and shut her eyes, and then a warmth washed over Joel that made him feel safe from both his parents’ prob- lems and the storm outside, like none of it could touch him as long as the three of them stayed in that room together. Joel pulled the sleeping bag up over his head, listening to the wind and the rattle of win- dow screens.
And that’s exactly what they did in the weeks that fol- lowed: they rode it out. There was school and work and visits to their nana’s house in York. Everything kept moving as it did before. Joel went through each day like checking items off a list, hoping the next day might bring them closer to seeing his dad again.
~
“When Joel was eight years old
On an afternoon bright and cold as chrome, Joel’s mother picked him up from school with Derek in back. She drove to the Langley Mall and parked in the back lot, where there were only a few cars. Then she pulled his father’s leather jacket from the trunk. It was still draped in the clear plastic bag. The smell of new leather made him shiver. His dad wasn’t coming back, and even if he did his mother wasn’t ever going to let things be the same.
When he woke his mother wasn’t there. He and Derek went downstairs to find her taking down the Christ-
Inside she laid the jacket across the counter and asked for a refund. The lady took the receipt without looking at her.
his father went to work one morning and never came home.”
“Is there anything wrong with the garment?” she said. “No,” his mother said.
mas tree lights, tugging at strings of garland and placing ornaments into little boxes. Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that everything he loved was com- ing to a close. He even missed the storm, which had somehow suspended life. Outside his neighbors were cleaning up the mess it had left behind, chopping thick slabs of ice with garden shovels until it sepa- rated into sharp angles.
His mother rifled through her purse as if she needed something right away. “Credit the damn card,” she said. “How’s that for a reason?” And then her purse fell onto the floor and she put a hand over her mouth and cried right there in the store. Derek clung to her leg and the saleslady stared for a moment and then came around the desk and put a hand on her shoul- der. She spoke quietly into his mother’s ear. It was the first time Joel had ever seen his mother cry and it frightened him, because if she couldn’t keep it togeth- er what hope was there for him and Derek?
His mother seemed determined to believe what she had said the night before, that they really were fine. He and Derek sat on the couch in their pajamas watching her. When the tree was bare she looked at it over with hands on her hips. Then she turned and sat down between them.
~
“It has nothing to do with you,” she said, as if she’d already begun the conversation without them. “Do you understand that? Some people have demons and your father is one of them. But it’s not about us.” She ran a hand through Derek’s hair.
It was nearly two months to the day when his father showed up at the house. Joel was lying on the floor finishing a math worksheet, waiting for when they would have to pick up Derek from swim lessons. His father had shaved his beard and his face was chubby and red. He wore dress slacks and pointed cowboy boots and his hair was combed back as if he’d come52
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“Any problems with fit or color or anything. They like us to record a reason.”