It Isn't Cheating if He's Dead (14 page)

She bounced out of bed and jumped into the
shower. A pop song hummed from her lips. She hadn’t just met him, and maybe
this was crazy. But it was a good kind of crazy. The only kind of crazy she
ever wanted in her house again.

An hour-and-a-half later, boxes of
sandwiches and drinks and fruit rested on the floor of the van. She made her
way to the park and slid into the same familiar parking spot, searching the
periphery of the bushes. Her heart fell. No Joe in the shrub. She scanned the
park but he was not in sight. Frank and Angus were asleep under their tree like
most of the residents. She was a half-hour early.

She sipped sweet coffee from her travel
mug, her heart in her throat, eyes darting all directions in search of Joe. Had
she pushed too hard? Did he bolt to get away from her incessant nosiness? Or
maybe he was like Gerald — holding onto a deep, dark, family secret that drove
him to where he is now. Pushed him over the edge and kept him away from those
who loved him.

When more people started to stir and Angus
stretched and sat up, she exited the van and slid open the cargo door. She tossed
boxes of food into the wagon and rushed to the sidewalk. A middle-aged woman
with pink and purple bows clipped to her gray dreadlocks helped Jem pull the
wagon over the curb.

“Thanks, Flossie. Here, take an extra juice
box.”

Flossie’s eyes lit up. “You’re a dear.”

Following her usual path, she distributed
sandwiches starting at the near end of the park and working her way to the far
end. Where Joe should be. She made small talk with the residents, but didn’t
ask questions, didn’t probe like usual.

When she approached the elm, Angus nudged
Frank with his foot. “Wake up man. Ruby’s here.”

Frank rolled over and shaded his eyes from
the morning. “Hey, you’re back.” He sat up. “How was the funeral?”

“It was fine.” Liar. “Where’s Joe?”

“Isn’t he back?” Angus craned his neck and
searched the line of bushes. “Well shit, we figured he went for a walk.”

“A walk?”

“Yeah.” Frank scratched his beard. “Got up
yesterday afternoon and wandered off.”

“In the daytime? He usually only moves
under the cover of night.”

“I know, right? He even waved at us a
little.”

“A couple of new dudes came by and were
eyeing his spot.” Angus pointed to where Joe should be sitting. “But me and
Frankie, we told ‘em to beat it. To find a new squat. That one was reserved for
Chief.”

“That was nice of you. He’s kind of grown
on you, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah. Like a tacky vase or something.”

Frank laughed. “Truth is he kind of keeps
watch. Keeps the uglies away. You know, not by chasing anybody or anything. Or
even yelling. Just by being freaky looking. Gonna miss that crazy son of a
bitch.”

“Maybe he’ll be back.” Jem tapped her
thighs with both hands.

He had to come back. She’d gotten through
to him. Gotten into his head. Or maybe he’d gotten into hers.

three
helpings of meat

“Jem?”

Finn’s voice echoed through the house and
met her on the patio.

“I’m out back.”

She held the instruction book for her new
charcoal grill in one hand, a long match in the other. A cone of briquettes had
been soaked in lighter fluid and she counted to thirty in her head. She lit the
match, stood back, reached in and lit the coals at the bottom. The initial
stink of burning fuel caught in her nostrils and overpowered the perfume of the
neighbour's blooming lilac bush. She circled around to the other side of the
grill and lit another spot.

Finn filled the frame of the sliding French
door. “You left your front door open. Anybody could have come in.”

“Yeah, sorry. I can’t hear the bell out
here.”

“Wow, you got an old-fashioned one.”

“I did indeed. Haven’t lit one in so long I
forgot how.” She dropped the match into the grill and tossed the book onto the
frosted glass tabletop. “They make things taste better than propane. More
barbecuey.”

He skipped down the wooden stairs, his feet
bare, tie already gone. He stood in front of her and kissed her forehead. “Is
that a real word?”

“You bet it is.” She grabbed both his ass
cheeks and pulled him against her, then kissed him while the smell of burning charcoal
filled the yard.

The scrape of a door sliding in its frame
and the clomping of feet on her neighbour’s deck made her pull away. She looked
over the short fence to find old Mr. Rowbotham gawking at them.

She waved. “Hi Ed. Nice night for a
barbecue.”

Ed lifted his teacup in an awkward toast
and grimaced like he’d just shit himself.

She took Finn’s hand and led him back into
the house. Once across the threshold she burst out laughing. “Oh shit. That old
fart will be talking about that for weeks. I think our secret’s out.”

“I didn’t know it was a secret.”

She stared at him. “No. No, it’s not.”

By the time they finished making love on
the kitchen floor, more coals had to be piled into the grill, more lighter
fluid splashed in. Another match lit.

An hour later, Jem pushed away from the
table, half of her steak still on the bone. “Oh hell, that was amazing.”

“Not going to finish?”

“My stomach is telling me to take this dive
back into carnivorous eating one step at a time. At least I don’t feel
nauseated when I remember all the horrible tales of slaughterhouses that Gerald
used to tell me.”

“Well that’s not polite dinner
conversation.”

“No. It wasn’t. But it got the results he
wanted. Me to be more like him.”

Finn put his knife and fork across his
plate and drummed his fingers on the table. “That’s the first time I’ve heard resentment
in your voice.”

“I know more now. I see him clearer. I
still loved the man. But I’ve taken off the rose coloured glasses.” She huffed.
“Hell, I’ve thrown them on the ground and crushed them under my feet.”

“What did you first love about him?”

She stared at the crimson liquid in her
wine glass. “He was brilliant. Outspoken. Beautiful and driven and…,” she
looked at Finn, “…odd. I loved that he was so different. The whole dance-to-the-beat-of-his-own-drum
thing was endearing.”

“That’s what you need to remember. I’m not
sure the rest matters anymore.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth and
squinted. “You want me to remember why I loved him? Are you weird or
something?”

“Maybe. And yes, you should remember why.
Keep the good in your heart, in your memories. Let the rest go or it’ll eat at
you. That’s not good for either of us.”

“Wow. You are something else, Mr. Wight.”

He poured her another glass of wine.
“That’s Detective Wight to you.” He winked, then stood and picked up their
plates. “Let me clean up. Then tell me what you’ve learned. It might help the
ca—. Help nirvana.” He put the dishes on the counter then took her by the hand,
her wine in his other. He guided her to the living room, set her glass down on
the coffee table and pressed the power button on the remote. “Relax. I’ll be
quick.”

The television blinked to life. Finn
sauntered back into the kitchen and turned on the tap.

Who could she thank for bringing him into
her life? He was perfect. No, no one is perfect.  But he was perfect enough.
She dropped onto the sofa and lay back on a cushion.

The couch creaked. She blinked a few times.
Finn sat on the other end, her feet in his lap. The room was in darkness except
for an old movie flashing television light on the walls.

He squeezed her feet. “You fell asleep.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You must have needed it.” He
slid behind her and slipped his arm under her, shifting her body until she was
cupped into his frame. Within seconds his breath became long and slow and quiet
snores escaped his nose.

She smiled and kissed his hand that she was
holding under her chin. There, not perfect.  He snored. She drifted into sleep
with him.

“Jem, wake up.”

She slit her eyes. Still dark. The television
still flickered eerie light. They were still on the couch. “What time is it?”

“I’m not sure. I guess nirvana tomorrow
night?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Do you have to go?”

“No. But my arm is dead wood. Let’s go
upstairs.”

“Okay.” She swung her legs to the floor,
sat up and stretched. Finn shook his arm and sat up behind her. She leaned into
him and twisted around, her hand cupping his cheek. “Is that the only wood
that’s dead?”

He grinned. “Definitely. All other wood
fully functional.”

“Fantastic. I want my third helping of
meat.”

He pulled her hair back and chewed on her
neck. “How do you want it?” he whispered in her ear.

“Raw.”

not dead yet

Jem awoke to the five o’clock alarm. She
stretched her arm behind her and sought Finn’s warmth. All she found were cold sheets.
She bolted upright.

“Finn?”

Silence.

She tossed on her robe and ran down the
stairs. The aroma of fresh coffee wafted up to greet her. A piece of paper,
folded in half and standing like a tent next to the full carafe of dark roast, had
her name printed on it in large block letters. She unfolded it and leaned her
back against the counter.

Had to run. Didn’t want to wake you. Okay, I did want to, but
you need to sleep sometime. ‘Til tonight. XO Finn.

His wife was nuts to let him go.

She stood at the kitchen window and looked
out into the yard. Two black squirrels chased each other around the trunk of
the cherry tree, up onto the fence, and then flew through the air. They landed
on a branch before disappearing into the leaves. Their raucous squeaks told of
their delight. Or maybe they were killing each other. Adorable either way.

It was a BLT kind of day. With every
mouthful of steak she’d relished the night before, her thoughts wandered to
bacon. The minute it hit the fry pan, the smell overwhelmed her salivary glands.
Before the fat drained on the paper towel, she shoved a piece in her mouth.

Sorry pigs. You taste too good.

Jem held her breath and turned the van onto
the street that fronted the park. The crouching form of Joe was tucked into his
shrub. She exhaled and let out a nervous laugh. She unloaded the van and went
straight for him.

“Joe, you scared me. Where did you go?”

He was clean, the faint smell of soap
rising above the stink of his clothes. His hair shorn, his face shaven. His
eyes had a flash of spark. He sat in his usual spot but his cap and jacket lay
on the ground at his side. He pointed across the street to the huge homeless
shelter and nodded.

“Good for you. I hope you got a hot meal or
two and a good sleep.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You look wonderful.”

He smiled. An actual smile, with yellowed
teeth and all. He held out his hand.

“Oh, of course. Here, two of everything.”

He tucked one sandwich, one juice box, and
one apple under his coat. He unwrapped the other sandwich, took a big bite, and
gave her a thumbs up.

She laughed, her head light and giddy. He
was here, he was fine. He was better than she’d ever seen him. “I’ll be right
back as soon as I deliver to everyone else.”

“Hey Ruby.” Angus stood up and came to meet
her. “He’s back. I mean, we didn’t think we’d ever see the guy again. Gotta
say, kinda relieved, you know?”

“Yes, I do know. He seems to be coming
around more and more. Have you tried talking with him?”

“Nah. Frankie welcomed him back last night.
He never said nothing. Just stared at him. But he did nod. So that’s
something.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I think he only wants you to talk to him.
Maybe he’s got a crush on ya, Rubes.”

“I doubt that. But maybe he needed a
friend. I bet if you guys took some time, he might come around.”

“Maybe. Maybe. What’s on the menu today?”

“BLTs, Frank’s favourite. Where is he?”

“Taking a crap.”

“Too much information, Angus. Too much
information.”

She made her rounds through the park,
packed the wagon into the van, and went back to Joe. He was finishing a banana,
the parchment paper folded, empty juice box sitting atop it like a paperweight.

He tapped the ground in front of him with
one hand. An invitation. She sat cross-legged and smiled at him. With the
filth, the facial hair, and the cap gone, scars were visible on his face. A
three-inch line snaked from his right ear to the middle of his cheek. Another started
above the right eyebrow and disappeared into his hairline. She reached out to
touch it.

He leaned away as her finger neared.