A Long Thaw (6 page)

‘Two years, sort of. Depends if you count the breaks.’

Abby sits across from her. ‘How many breaks were there?’

‘Several. Only one big one. He got in some trouble selling pot.’

Abby’s eyes widen.

‘He doesn’t do that anymore,’ Juliet says, and it’s only after the words are out of her mouth that she realizes she’s lying. ‘When we first met, he refused to go anywhere in my car. Used to make me meet him places. It took me a while to figure out he was always holding and didn’t want to get me in trouble if we got pulled over for something.’

‘Romantic.’

‘I thought so.’ Juliet feels herself blushing. She hadn’t realized how true this was until she hears Abby’s sarcastic dismissal. ‘Don’t tell him I told you, though. He’d be pissed.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Abby says. ‘I can’t imagine it coming up in conversation.’

Juliet leans back. ‘We just tend to argue a lot. We’re both so temperamental.’

‘Really?’ Abby tilts her head and examines her cousin through narrowed eyes. ‘I can’t picture you like that.’

‘Maybe ’cause as kids you always fought my battles for me.’

Abby laughs. ‘Well, I am older than you.’

‘Yeah. Two months?’

‘Almost three. Very important when you’re nine.’

‘Very.’ Juliet realizes it’s been a long time since anyone fought a battle for her.

Once Juliet’s sisters were born, it was easy for the two older girls to disappear for an afternoon, riding their bikes to the apple orchard near Abby’s house. Technically, it was trespassing, but the girls never stole the fruit. Wandering around the orchard and whispering to each other seemed like a perfectly harmless way to spend a summer day. They leaned their bikes out of sight against the inner wall of rocks that divided the orchard from the road and kept an eye out for the migrant workers who could sometimes be seen hauling ladders and baskets of apples. They ran behind trees, disappearing like cartoon characters and covering each other’s giggling mouths.

Usually they went later in the day when the orchard was deserted. Workers had woken early and finished their labour. Patrons didn’t come until fall. Abby and Juliet strolled among the trees for hours. It was their refuge from the noise of babies and grown-ups alike.

On one visit, after a game of hide-and-seek, the girls became disoriented. It was easy to get lost in the orchard: every corner looked the same. The sun was beginning to set, which made it harder to find their way and more likely that they would get into trouble since they were supposed to be home before dark.

Juliet’s bottom lip trembled as Abby darted up and down several rows of trees without finding the way.

‘Sit down,’ Abby said. ‘I’ll just run up a little further and see.’

Juliet sat and waited in silence as the sky continued to darken. By the time Abby returned, she was nearly hysterical.

‘It’s okay, Juliet. We’re not far. Come on.’ Abby pulled her to her feet and along the path.

‘You know where we are?’ Juliet rubbed her face with the hem of her shirt.

‘Sure.’ Abby kept hold of Juliet’s hand and didn’t look back. Whenever Juliet began to sniffle, she’d say, ‘Just a little bit further.’

Eventually they found a piece of the stone wall and were able to follow it back to the place where they’d left their bikes.

‘See?’ Abby said, and she gave Juliet’s hand a squeeze before letting go to climb onto her bike. They got home after dark, but the grown-ups were so relieved to see them, they didn’t get into trouble.

Juliet never knew for sure if Abby had known where she was going, but she had followed her nonetheless. And, either way, Abby had got them home safe and sound.

Abby opens the kitchen door without knocking and sets the mail on the kitchen table. ‘Mom?’

Growing up, Abby’s house was clean but almost never tidy. There were stacks of magazines on the kitchen table that were shoved aside to make room for a cereal bowl. There were half-finished puzzles or nearly forgotten sewing projects in the living room. There were dog toys and chew bones scattered throughout the house – evidence of the three dogs (big, lazy, friendly pound dogs) that happily shared the place. There was a pile of laundry that spilled out of the hamper in her parents’ bedroom, providing a cushion for Abby to lie on while she watched TV.

Sometimes, usually on warm days, Abby’s mother would be struck by the need to clean. She’d throw open the windows and locate her favourite mixed tape. Singing along to the Mamas and the Papas, Anne Murray or Willie Nelson, she’d wipe the dust from the knick-knacks, finish the puzzle so she could put it away, move the sewing to a closet after determining that the pattern was out of season, sort the magazines (throwing some away, putting some in a cabinet), and pile all the dog toys in a corner of the house where they would eventually be found by their owners and re-scattered.

When she considered herself finished, Abby’s mother sat on the couch with her feet on the newly dust-free coffee table playing her Melodica along to the music. Abby had never seen an instrument like it. It was a pale green horn with white and black keys and the playing of it was an indication that it was a sunny New Hampshire day, that her mother was content and, by extension, so was Abby.

Rachel pops her head out of the doorway to her art studio. ‘Abby!’

Abby peruses the contents of the refrigerator and settles on a can of Dr Pepper hidden at the back.

‘Where’s your laundry?’

Abby sticks her tongue out. ‘Very funny. That’s not the only reason I come home.’

‘Oh? You just miss us?’ Rachel hugs her daughter.

‘Yes.’ Abby snaps open the can. ‘And the laundry’s in the car.’ Jasmine had had to drive into the city that morning. Abby borrowing her car saved money on parking. It also saved her a train ride, lugging her laundry bag with her.

Rachel laughs. Her long hair is looped into a messy ponytail and she has a smudge of green paint across the bridge of her nose. She’s working on a series of landscapes that she finds slightly pedestrian. They sell better than her abstracts, though, so she’s promised not to complain.

‘Where’s Daddy?’

‘I think he fell asleep reading the paper. Want me to go wake him up?’

‘Not yet. I kind of wanted to talk to you first.’

Rachel sits down at the kitchen table. ‘Is this about Ryan?’

‘No.’ Abby takes the seat across from her mother. ‘It’s about Juliet.’

‘How’s that going?’

‘Good, good. We’re getting along great. She’s easy to live with.’

Rachel smiles. ‘I’m glad. So, what’s up?’

Abby sips her soda. She doesn’t know where to begin. ‘How much do you know about what happened with Uncle Allen and the divorce?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Like, do you know stuff you haven’t told me?’

‘No. I don’t think so.’ Rachel folds her hands on the table in front of her.

Abby sighs. ‘That’s what I was afraid of.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, in talking to Juliet, I’ve learned some things.’

‘Like?’

‘Like . . .’ Abby hesitates and sees her father standing in the doorway.

‘Abby-dabby-do,’ Henry says, shuffling into the kitchen in his Sunday slippers. His voice is scratchy and his hair is sticking out from his head.

‘Daddy.’ Abby stands and receives her father’s embrace.

‘What brings you to our neck of the woods?’ Henry yawns.

‘Abby was about to tell me something,’ Rachel offers. ‘About Juliet, yes? Or Allen?’

Abby leans into her father who hasn’t completely let her go. ‘Mm-hmm. Both of them I guess.’

‘Well?’ Rachel motions for Abby to sit down.

Henry kisses the side of Abby’s head and shuffles to the sink where he begins to fill the kettle.

Abby sits. ‘Well, according to Juliet, Allen hasn’t exactly been honest about what kind of father he’s been.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning . . .’ Abby swallows ‘. . . meaning he was, like, a deadbeat dad.’

‘What?’ Rachel shakes her head.

‘He hasn’t been involved in their lives at all. He hasn’t even seen the girls since the divorce.’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘Didn’t we pay for Allen’s lawyer back then?’ Henry asks, over his shoulder, placing the kettle on the stove.

Rachel nods. ‘Abby, you must have misunderstood.’

‘There wasn’t anything to misunderstand, Mom. Juliet hasn’t seen or spoken to Allen since she was thirteen.’

Rachel blinks. ‘No, that’s— I can’t— I can’t believe that. I can’t.’

Abby shrugs.

‘Those girls are everything to Allen. He’s always flying to California to see them.’

Henry sits beside Rachel, putting an arm across her shoulders as if to keep her from getting a chill.

‘Juliet went to college right outside of Boston. She’s been here for years.’

Rachel stares at Abby with disbelief. ‘He’s been lying to us?’ She looks at her husband as if to verify that she has come to the right conclusion. ‘All these years?’

‘Yeah, Mom.’

‘No. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to see them. Maybe Deirdre—’

‘That’s what I thought, too, at first. But Juliet isn’t a minor any more. If Allen had wanted to find her, he’s had years to do it.’

Rachel rubs her temples. ‘And your grandmother?’

‘Doesn’t have any idea.’

‘This will kill her.’ Rachel closes her eyes at the thought.

The kettle begins to whistle.

Abby wakes breathless from a dream she can’t quite remember. It slips from her immediately and she feels vaguely grateful. She sits up in her bed and listens to the sound of the city at night. It’s two a.m. and she’s thirsty.

She throws back the covers and touches her toes to the cold wood floor. She hesitates, then stands. Each step towards the kitchen brings her more fully awake.

She pulls the water out of the refrigerator and sets it on the counter.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’

Abby gasps and brings her hand to her chest. Jesse’s sitting at the table in the dark. ‘You scared me to death,’ she says, stating the obvious. She takes a breath. ‘I didn’t know Juliet had anyone over.’

‘We got in pretty late.’ He’s smoking a joint. It takes a moment before Abby catches the scent.

‘I’d really rather you didn’t smoke pot in here,’ she says.

He takes a long drag and squints at her. He stands up and stubs it out on the windowsill as he exhales. ‘So you’ve never touched it, huh?’ Jesse tucks the rest of the joint in his front shirt pocket.

‘I didn’t say that.’ Abby crosses her arms.

‘It’s less dangerous to your health than nicotine and not nearly as addictive as alcohol.’ Jesse leans against the kitchen counter.

Abby nods. ‘Yeah. I’ve been to college. I know all the arguments for legalization.’

‘It should be legal.’

‘Well, until it is, I don’t want it in my home.’ Abby shrugs as Jesse stares at her. She turns and gets a glass out of the high cabinet.

‘That’s what you sleep in?’ He gestures in her direction.

‘Yeah.’ Abby looks down. Her T-shirt stops just above her knees.

‘I’ve wondered,’ he says, raising his eyebrow.

‘What?’

He smiles at her. Abby presses herself against the kitchen counter as he brushes by her and slips back into Juliet’s bedroom.

Ryan doesn’t come for his boxes until the end of October. Abby finds herself offering him something to drink, as if he’s any other guest who’s dropped by.

‘No thanks. I’m good,’ he says. ‘I have to get back anyway.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’m borrowing Greg’s car.’

‘How is Greg?’

‘He’s good. The same. He leaves wet towels on the bathroom floor. You’d hate it.’

Abby smiles. ‘But it’s working out for you?’

‘Oh, yeah. It’s fine. How’s it been living with your cousin? Julie?’

‘Juliet. It’s nice. We get along. She’s good company.’

‘Good, good.’

‘Her boyfriend is a bit . . . weird.’

‘Weird?’

‘I don’t know. He just makes me a little uncomfortable.’

‘Why? Has he done something?’

‘No. It’s just a feeling. It’s nothing.’

‘Is he here a lot?’

‘Not a lot. He stays over some nights.’

‘Should I be worried?’

Abby laughs. ‘No. Ignore me. I just don’t like him.’

Ryan nods, but still looks sceptical.

‘I just think Juliet could do a lot better. I mean, she could have anyone. She’s so pretty.’

‘She’s
pretty
?’ Ryan smiles.

‘Not just pretty. She’s a great girl and she comes in this pretty package besides.’

‘Hey, maybe you should set me up.’

Abby scowls. ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.’

‘I was kidding.’

‘Anyway.’ Abby sighs. ‘I used to think pretty girls had it so easy, but I don’t know any more.’

‘Abby, what are you talking about? You’re a pretty girl.’

Abby rolls her eyes. ‘We’re not dating now. You don’t have to say that.’

Ryan rolls his eyes right back. ‘I know I don’t have to.’

‘Look, I don’t have self-esteem issues. I’m just saying there is a difference between girls who are pretty in a normal way and girls like Juliet. You’d know if you met her. Trust me.’

Ryan shakes his head. ‘Whatever you say.’

‘If only you’d said that more often when we were together.’ Abby smiles.