Bishop's Road (37 page)

“Who's Jimmy?”

“No one you'd know. Never mind. If I was to read him a book, what kind should it be?”

“Doesn't matter. Read him the newspaper if you want.”

“Well that ought to cheer him right up. I'll ask Ruth. She knows about books. Are you sure I can come back whenever I want?”

“I'll let the desk know that you'll be in. Come down so they can have a look at you and they'll know you when you come around.”

“Well, okay. But first I have to go see Ginny Mustard over in the pregnant section. Can you check her room to make sure no one else is there? I really want to see her alone. She's the reason I came here in the first place. Will you do that for me?”

“Joanie, sweetheart, don't you think it's time to do a little clothes shopping?” Caroline has been wondering if her daughter will come up with the idea on her own but it's not looking likely. She's still wearing the same old rags that John dressed her in. Still washing her underpants every night before bed. “Let's go to Ayres. I walked by there yesterday and they have some lovely things in the windows. Your father can stay with the children and
we can have a girls' day out. You haven't been away from the house since John left, you know, except for that duck pond. I think it's time. What say you, darling?”

“Well for one thing, I have no money. Everything is in John's name. There's only ever enough in my account to pay for groceries. John deposits it on Friday so I can stock the pantry.”

“Christ! Well, in all the goings on around here we haven't thought of that at all. An important detail that's been overlooked. Perhaps we should be calling a divorce lawyer now. We can go shopping tomorrow. I don't suppose you have anyone in mind?”

“Divorce? Do you really think it has to come to that? Yesterday Michael asked when his daddy will be coming home. I told him soon. If we could see a counselor maybe we can work this out. Maybe John will be a little more the man I married.”

“He is the man you married. He has never been anyone other. You had blinders on. I don't know why. Maybe he's the greatest lover in the world. Maybe you're a masochist. The man is an ass, Joanie. Always was. Always will be. He'll need more than counseling to change that. A lobotomy perhaps. It's time to wake up, Joanie. Did you ask Michael why he wants to know when his daddy is coming home? Did it occur to you that he is terrified by the thought of John's return? I do know one thing, sweatheart. You are not the person you were when you married him. I'd stake my life on that one. You were a vibrant, special person. Quiet and soft - spoken but your body used to sing when you walked. Now you creep around like an apology. I know you don't want to hear this but I have to say it. And there was a time when you would have said the same to any woman in your position. Let go of whatever fantasy you carry in your precious head about this marriage working out. It will never happen. I've known it from day one.”

“Well with that kind of negativity going on there's no wonder it couldn't work. You're a powerful woman, Mom. Maybe
you're the reason we didn't make it. Did you ever think of that? Did you ever think that those horrid, nasty, negative vibes might have been too much?”

“You're clutching at straws, Joanie. You know damn well that's bullshit.”

Joanie cries hard. Wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her ugly shirt. She knows there's no truth in what she says. Love would have conquered any negativity from outside. But there was no love on John's part. There was nothing but John the taker and Joanie the prize. The pretty woman, educated, refined, well-heeled as it were, with old money to take the sting out of John's nouveau riche plans. Well. If he could see me now. Wiping my nose in the front of my crappy old shirt.

“Okay,” she says. “Let's go shopping. But it will be on your tab. I'm a little strapped right now.”

Finding poor Frankie may be the answer to at least one of Judy's problems. She has been hiding out in the strangest places ever since she came back and is tired of the rambling. Calling the cop shop from various phone booths and asking for Patrick. Hanging up when he answers and going to Ginny Mustard's house for a bite to eat. Taking cover again if he isn't in. It's been a long time since Judy has had to run and being somewhat settled for awhile got into her bones. It's that much harder now to worry about keeping out of sight since she got used to walking free in the world. It's not easy being broke again either but she lost her bank card and is too afraid of running into a cop to go get a new one. Other than the cash in her pocket she's pretty much penniless.

If she knew that Patrick isn't actively looking, that in fact he's so busy tracking the latest drug ring in town he doesn't give
her much thought, assuming the others are looking out for her, that he has better things to do at the moment, that her probation officer never even noticed she left town in the first place, Judy might relax. But she hasn't a clue and is feeling somewhat desperate.

So she packs herself a little bag of necessities, jeans, shirts, make-up, jewelry box and borrows a few books - for a friend -from Joe Snake. Nosy old Ruth had to ask who are they for, how can I suggest reading material if I don't know who wants it, and Joe Snake just said help yourself so she chose
No Exit
by someone named Sartre because it seems appropriate on so many levels. And
East of Eden
because she remembers that
The Red Pony
was the only thing she liked about grade eight and the same fellow wrote this one.
Can of the Soul
which sounds like a good thing to read to someone half dead.
A. Book of Bees
because she's missing Eve.

She comes calling early and tells the nurse at reception that she will stay as long as poor Frankie is in his coma and the nurse, who has heard that one before and knows it's lies, all lies, is up to her ears in paperwork and says, “Sure. Whatever,” and doesn't even look up at the girl with the hunted look on her face.

If Nurse Edna had known there is a Frankie way down the other end of the hall you can bet she'd have been there by now. But as it is she is so taken up with the nervous new moms who aren't quite sure what they've gotten themselves into and those others, not as many thanks be to God, out of their minds with grief, whose little ones didn't make it or who might have been better off if they hadn't with their bodies all wrong and their small brains not wired properly, that she rarely makes it off her own ward. Edna is nothing, though, if not observant so it's only a matter of days before she begins to wonder about that tall girl she sees walking by the nursery every few hours, day and night, coming back again with a meal or a can of pop and heading down
the long hall. And when she decides to follow her and sees the poor boy and meets the girl come to sit with him until he wakes, she digs out a roll-away cot so Judy doesn't have to sleep on the floor and they both work their arms off getting the windows unstuck so there'll be some fresh air to breathe.

There's no way Judy would be allowed to do what she's doing if anyone who cared found out. Edna doesn't mind that. If Judy wants to hang around with a boy no one else seems to give a damn about, fine, and there's no reason she shouldn't be comfortable while she's at it. This room is as close as a nightmare. Nothing wrong with cracking a window and cheering things up a bit. Edna got her daffodils from the Cancer Society fundraiser yesterday and she'll bring them in as soon as she gets a chance, along with a little table to set them on. She gives Judy a quick hug before she leaves with a promise to be back soon.

“Seems to me,” says Annie Paul, “you'd have a little more of a rush on to see your daughter than this. What is your problem, anyway? I've told you she's in trouble. That she's pregnant. And here you are friggin' around in this hole of a place. Believe you me it'll still be here in a month. No panic to check it out today. I'm starting to think you're afraid to find her. Either that or you really don't give a sweet damn. What's going on?”

Dr. Kamau has taken yet another jaunt off the beaten track. To yet another half dead end fishing village. Bunch of ne'er-do-wells hanging around a dart board sucking back beer. One general store and a chicken take-out. A hundred or so residents of dubious mentality languishing in, as one beloved son of the nation declared,
a gene pool the size of a teacup.

“What the hell are we doing here? If you aren't interested I'll get going myself. We're that close to the city I can almost hear
the poor thing. Lend me fifty dollars and I'll find a taxi or a bus or whatever they use around here to get from A to B. Though I'm not sure any of this crowd has ventured that far in a while.”

But the doctor can't hear her and so she trots back to his car and flinging caution and his wallet to the wind - after helping herself to enough cash to fill up at the next gas station - she's gone in a spray of dust and crushed stone. One of the locals says,

“Buddy, your missus there just took off with your car. You two have a fight or what?” and Dr. Kamau turns slowly to see the rear end of his black Mercedes for the last time.

The first few days with the fine anthropologist was a good time. After that Annie Paul became dreadfully bogged down in his all-consuming lectures. Because if he isn't listening he has to teach which would be just fine if she was half interested in what he had to say but when he began repeating himself she drifted. And once Annie Paul drifts there's no returning. If he didn't look so good she wouldn't have lasted this long.

“Oh well. He'll be fine where he is. I'll check on the way home and if he's still there I'll give him back his car. I must be wanting to get laid awful bad to put up with that foolishness. Onward through the fog.”

Since the journey began Annie Paul has been visited in her head on more than one occasion by an odd old woman in a red sweater who wants- her to get a move on. Something to do with the doctor's daughter and there's a hospital involved so that's where she's heading as fast as she dares what with no driver's license and a stolen car.