Waking Anastasia (4 page)

“This is for you. It’s a few things my father, your great-grandfather, wanted you to have, plus a couple more from Tyrone and me. When Grandad found out how sick he was in his last year, he started gathering family relics for you. I’d forgotten all about it until I found it at the back of the linen closet. There’s an old book, his first camera, the pocket watch my mother gave him one birthday, and some photos, amongst other things.”

“But I was just a little kid when he died.”

“Even so, he believed—and I do, too—that you’re the only member of this clan of misfits that’s ever given a damn about our history. You did a school project that year about the family tree, and spent one entire Saturday asking him questions about the family that no one had ever thought to ask before. You were only six, but you impressed the hell out of him.”

“Auntie M, I don’t know what to say—thank you.” He started to remove the string to check out the box’s contents, but Mavis put her tiny hand on his to stop him.

“Wait until you get home, dear. You’ll have more time to relax and go through it. A few of the things may be quite valuable, so don’t leave the box lying around where it can grow legs.”

Jerry smiled and gave her a tender kiss on her pale, feather-soft cheek. “Thank you, Aunt Mavis. I’d better get back out there before Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber start playing football with your treasures.”

She winked at him. “Smart boy.”

THERE WAS WARMTH
to the darkness that had been absent for so long. It was a welcoming, gentle warmth, radiating from a source nearby. There was a distant familiarity to it, but also strangeness she couldn't identify. She thought it might be someone she knew, but a cold corner of the emptiness slithered in and crushed that hope.

HALF AN HOUR
later Jerry had the Jeep nearly full of Mavis’ boxes. He had the back open and was gently sliding in a large, blue plastic tub of bubble-wrapped dishes when he heard a car pull up behind him. He turned to see his mother’s dark blue Honda Accord across the end of the driveway. He smiled and raised a hand in greeting. A few seconds later, tiny Jane Powell locked her car, zipped up her long winter coat, and made her way to her only son. Jerry once described her to a new girlfriend as being all of ten feet of attitude in a five-foot-nothing, hundred-pound package. He’d spent twenty-four years trying to find her elusive approval and had the headaches to prove it.

“Hey, Mom. How was the drive up?” Jerry took a step toward her and gave her a hug.

She returned the embrace half-heartedly. “The city plow blocked the driveway with snow and that lazy kid I pay to shovel it couldn’t be there until two. I don’t know why I pay him.”

“Maybe because you can’t do it yourself.”

“What’s that got to do with anything, Jeremy? You know, if you still lived in Toronto I wouldn’t have to pay some scruffy, skateboarding hoodlum with a ring in his nose to do it.”

Jerry tried to let his mother’s cynicism and disdain slough off him like a shed snake skin. The routine was an old one for both of them, though only Jerry seemed to be tired of it.

“Yes, Mom. Whatever you say.” He returned to the back of the Jeep and tried snugging the bin into place, to make more room for the next one. When he turned around, his mother was standing right, tight there, in his space and his face, looking up at him.

“Jeremy Powell, what are you doing wearing that old jacket? People will think we’re poor.”

Jerry winced slightly and felt a headache coming on. “Or they could think that I’m doing lifting and toting and don’t want to rip a good coat. Mom, are you here to help carry?” He pulled down the rear door of the SUV but stopped short of latching it shut so he could get the next load in without fumbling with the release.

“Don’t be smart with me, mister. That’s what you boys are here for.”

Jerry sighed and started back to the house where his cousins were inside, getting another load. His mother followed.

“Did you ask your cousins how their sister’s health is?”

Jerry stopped and turned back to face her. “No, Mom.”

“Then how am I supposed to find out how she’s doing?”

“Maybe you could call and ask her.”

“It’s long distance. It costs money.”

“Everything costs money, Mom. You can’t go through life without spending some of it.”

“I don’t like your attitude, Jeremy. When you finish here we’ll talk about it.”

Jerry took a deep breath to fight the encroaching pain and straightened his back to relieve the pressure of slouching and carrying the heavy boxes. “Mom, by the time we finish loading here and then unloading at the storage depot, I won’t have time for one of your lectures. I’d like to be back in St. Marys before the storm moves in and clogs the roads.”

“I expected you to be staying in town tonight, and I’d have your sister over for dinner. We’d even have that boyfriend of hers over, too.”

“You mean Jean-Marc?”

“He doesn’t speak English, he’s Roman Catholic, and he has a tattoo, for God’s sake.”

“He speaks six languages, including fluent English with only a faint accent, Mom. And so what if he’s Roman Catholic? I’m considering Christian Science as my own faith of choice.”

“Don’t even joke about that!”

“It’s my life to do as I choose, and if I decide to worship, say, Hostess Twinkies and chesty redheads named Bambi, it’s my choice. I guess you don’t want to see my rearing cobra tattoo, then.” He made like he was going to undo his pants.

“Why are you always so difficult? You have a smart ass answer for everything!”

“And you have . . . never mind. I’ve got work to do.” He went back up the steps, kicking the road dirt off his boots when he reached the mat at the front door. He went back into the house, passing his cousins who each had a small box under one arm and one of Mavis’ crust-free cucumber sandwiches in the other hand.

Jane followed Jerry inside. “Hello, boys. How’s the move coming along?”

“Having a real ball, Aunt Jane.”

“Nice to hear, Geoffrey.” Jerry wondered whether she was oblivious to his cousin’s sarcasm or just chose not to acknowledge it because it wasn’t from her own son. Jerry fished a small plastic bottle of painkillers from his coat pocket, popped two of them, and then headed for the kitchen to get a mouthful of water to wash them down. Mavis stepped out of the sewing room to meet her niece, and patted Jerry’s arm in understanding as she passed him.

“Jane? What brings you back here? Did you forget something, dear?”

“No, Aunt Mavis, I just wanted to make sure this was being done properly.”

Jerry came back into the hallway from the dining room, ending up behind his mother, but she was surveying the house, really seeing neither Mavis nor Jerry. She sighed, either at the emptiness or the fact that there were still boxes to be moved. Mavis winked at Jerry, unseen by Jane.

“Well, dear, it took two training videos and a written test in both official languages, but after the boys figured out how to use two hands to carry a box, things moved along just fine.”

Jane turned back to Mavis and released another world-shattering sigh. “I’m glad to see you’re in good spirits. Now I know where Jeremy gets his attitude.”

“Yes, dear. Whatever you say, dear.” Mavis shuffled back to the novel on her rocker, and Jerry started back outside with another box, chuckling as he went. His mirth was short-lived.

“Jeremy, if you carry two boxes at a time, you’ll get finished faster and then you can come shovel the driveway.”

Jerry didn’t slow, but just tossed his exhausted reply over his shoulder. “I thought you invited me for
dinner
, Mom.”

“Of course, but while you’re there, I have a list . . .”

As he walked toward the Jeep, he heard Aunt Mavis interrupt his mother. “You always have a list for him when he visits, dear. Do you ever have him over without getting him to do jobs around your house?” Jerry smiled again. He definitely got his sense of humour from Aunt Mavis and his father’s side of the family.

@TheTaoOfJerr: “Without deviation from the norm, progress is not possible.”

~Frank Zappa

THREE HOURS LATER
the sun had just set and Jerry was finally on the road back home to St. Marys, having used the excuse of the two-hour winter drive to turn down his mother’s insistent dinner invitation, and the no-doubt long list of tasks that always awaited his attention at her townhouse. She’d not been happy, but Jerry was worn out and beyond worrying about either his mother’s driveway or her mood. If nothing else had come of the day, he’d made his decision about the West Coast. He opened a cold can of Pepsi and took a long, thirsty sip.

“Ahhh . . . pure ambrosia.” With one hand on the steering wheel he slipped a white ear bud into his right ear and pulled his iPhone out of his pocket. Grabbing quick peeks at the road between button pushes, Jerry dialled Manny in Victoria. Manny answered on the third ring.

“JERRY! Talk to me, mate!”

“Manny, I have to give two weeks’ notice here and will need another week to ship my stuff and drive out, but I can be there by Christmas.”

“Bloody marvellous, Jerr! I knew you’d come ’round sooner or later. Glad it was sooner. Will your girlfriend be joining you?”

“She’s now the ex-girlfriend.”

“Damn. Sorry to hear it. But don’t you worry none, Jerr—lots of beauties here on the island and some of them are even under fifty.”

“To be honest, Manny, I’m looking forward to losing myself in the new job for a while. Some days I think my luck with women has been bad since birth.”

“You got it, Jerr. You want me to take care of the apartment for you?”

“That’d be great, Manny. I’m going to have enough stuff to worry about at this end that if I know there’s a warm, dry roof over my head waiting for me out there, it’ll take a lot of pressure off.”

“You name it, mate, we’ll have it done for you. Just put my phone number on anything you ship out and we’ll take care of it when it arrives. I can’t tell you how much we’re really looking forward to your joining us, Jerr.”

“Likewise. It’s just the kick-in-the-ass my life needs.”

“Perfect! Call me Monday in the A.M., and we’ll get the paperwork scanned and emailed to you for signing. In the meantime, have a great weekend, cuz I know I will.”

“I’ll do my best. Thanks, Manny.”

TIME ONCE AGAIN
drifted along aimlessly, but she’d long ago grown accustomed to it, so she relaxed. Wherever she was, it now had at least a veneer of safety to it, and that was just fine with her.

A WEEK LATER
, Jerry’s apartment looked like Mavis’ had the week before, with everything in boxes, and boxes everywhere. The key difference was that many of Jerry’s boxes were labelled “For Salvation Army”, and the music playing was Harry Chapin’s “Old College Avenue”, rather than Glenn Miller. He picked up an empty liquor store box to fill with books but stopped when he saw the still unopened shoebox on the floor behind it.

“That’s where you’ve been hiding. No time better than the present to open a present.” Jerry took the shoebox over to the box-covered couch and coffee table. He fit into a narrow spot left on the couch and placed the Hush Puppies box on top of a sealed-and-ready-to-go bin on the rustic barn-board coffee table. With a gentle pull of one end of the string it was undone and fell away. Carefully, reverently, Jerry opened the box, finding the $20 bill first.

“Good old Aunt M. I’m twenty-four and she still slips me money whenever she can.” Next was an envelope with his name on it, but he caught sight of a photo beneath it and put the envelope to one side. He wiped his hands on his jeans, then, as an afterthought looked down at them. They were filthy from moving and packing. “Damn. Not good.” He left the box on top of the bigger box, went into the bathroom, and washed and dried his hands thoroughly.

When he was sure his hands were as clean as he could get them, he returned to the task and carefully lifted up the old black-and-white photo of the stately, walled home. Beneath it was an old, almost ancient camera. Though intrigued by the camera, Jerry took a close look at the photo. “Very nice. The old family homestead, maybe?” He placed it to one side, carefully removed the camera and put it next to the photograph. Beneath the camera was a copy of William Blake’s
Songs of Innocence and Experience
. Its dark cloth cover was stained and torn, but the phone rang before he could take a closer look, to see how extensive the damage was. He put it back in the shoebox and went in search of his cell phone. He found it on the fourth ring, hidden beneath a dropped t-shirt.

“Talk to me.” Jerry returned to packing while talking on the phone. “Oh. Hi, Mom.”

“What? No, Mom, I told you not to expect me in Toronto this weekend—I have plans.” Distracted, he stuck the envelope, the photo, and the camera back in the shoebox, placed the shoebox into a larger box, and then padded in and around it with clean clothes from a pile on a worn chair.

“Well, if you must know, my drug dealer is due any minute now with the fifty keys of heroine I ordered. My pregnant, teenage, prostitute girlfriend and I are going to spend the afternoon cutting the stuff with laundry soap and putting it all in little baggies so we can give them away free to the Sunday School kids tomorrow morning. Rabbi Schmuck and Mahatma Sherpa are going to help.” He shoved a box out of his way and sat heavily on the couch.