Poles Apart (26 page)

“No, everything is very much not okay, except that you are right here,” Shawna said, bringing me back. “I need to ask you a big favour. A very big favour. And it’s only because of your clear feminist bona fides that you could not have faked, and have already demonstrated on more than one occasion, that I’m even standing
here. But I’m so out of options. Can you help me? You are my last, faint hope.”

“Of course. I’m your man, so to speak. I’ll do whatever I can to help, unless it’s ‘open pole night’ downstairs and you’re looking for volunteers.”

“Nothing quite so demanding,” she assured me. “This is the brilliant and talented Chloe Hawkins, my daughter.”

We both looked at Chloe.

“Say hello to Everett, honey.”

Chloe looked directly at me.

“Hello Everett honey,” she chirped and smiled at the same time. She also held out her hand to me. I very nearly melted.

We shook.

“Hi there, Chloe,” I said. “I see you’re a Wonder Woman fan.”

“Yes. She’s a suggorate for powerful women everywhere.”

“Sorry?” I said.

“Surrogate, honey,” Shawna said. “Surrogate.”

“That’s what I said. Suggorate.”

Shawna smiled at Chloe and gave her a little squeeze before turning back to me.

“So here’s today’s crisis, Everett. My mother has just started spewing with the flu, and if Chloe catches it, the next several days will be even crazier than they already promise to be. So I can’t have my mom look after her tonight. I’m hoping she’ll be in better shape tomorrow. Then, my usual emergency backup plan fell through.”

“So you want me to watch Chloe?”

“Would you? I really don’t want her downstairs awash in that sea of testosterone.”

“Terostero, terosteronie, tesostaroni,” Chloe mimicked.

“Tes-tos-te-rone, honey.”

“Tes-tos-te-rone,” Chloe repeated, and nodded.

“Right. Good,” Shawna said, turning back to me. “It’s almost her bedtime. I brought her blanket and she could just stretch out on your couch until I’m finished. She won’t be any trouble. And I’ll slip up between sets to check on her.”

“Um, sure. I’m kind of new to the whole taking care of young children thing, but I’m up for it, if you’re sure. Do you want to have Lewis up here, too?”

She smiled and squeezed my hand.

“He’s tied up trying to fix one of the draught beer taps. He loves Chloe, so he might pop up to see her, but I have faith in you, Everett. I trust you.” She smiled. “Lewis has vetted and approved you and he’s a solid judge of character.”

“I’m honoured,” I replied. “And he can also tell you exactly how tall you are and how much you weigh, just by looking at you.”

Five minutes later, the couch was set up with Chloe’s blanket and her stuffed rabbit, oddly named Saffo. Shawna had taken her daughter into my, thankfully, reasonably clean bathroom to brush her teeth and get her into her flannel pajyamas, which featured, yes, Wonder Woman. Shawna also set up a baby monitor on the coffee table. Chloe was sitting on her blanket flipping through a
Dr. Seuss classic,
The Sneetches
, when Shawna noticed the time on the oven clock.

“Okay, honey, I have to go to work now. I’ll be just downstairs. You’re going to go to sleep here, and then when you wake up, we’ll be at home, and you’ll be in your own bed.”

“Is Lewis coming up to say night-night?” Chloe asked.

“He’s going to try, but he’s stuck downstairs trying to fix something.”

“I’m good at fixing things,” Chloe said, still looking at her book.

“Yes, you are, honey,” Shawna said. “I’ll try to get Lewis to come up, okay?”

“That would be good. Lewis is much bigger than Evet, isn’t he.”

“Yes, I guess he is, honey. And it’s Ever-ett,” Shawna said. “Will you be good for Everett? He’s really nice, too.”

“Can he read stories?”

“Can I read stories?” I jumped in. “I don’t just read stories, I write stories!”

“Can you make one up with me in it?”

“I already have,” I said holding my hands up as if it were a foregone conclusion. “I’m going to tell you the story when your mom is at work. Okay?”

“That’s good. That’s nice,” Chloe replied. “I’ll be waiting right here on this couch when you’re ready.”

Shawna leaned down to give her a hug and kissed her on the cheek.

“See you later, Chloe. You be good, now. I still want to be friends with Everett, tomorrow.”

Chloe looked completely happy sitting on her blanket, Saffo in her lap, turning the pages of her book. I walked Shawna to the kitchen door.

“I’m on in seven minutes and I’m not nearly ready,” she said as she reached for the door. “Luckily, I’m doing Princess Leia tonight, from the Jabba the Hutt scene. So it doesn’t take long to get ready.”

“Right,” I said, as the image involuntarily sprung to mind.

Just before stepping out the door onto the landing, she stopped, turned to me, and grabbed both my hands. Though we were both standing, facing one another, she leaned down, brought her face quite close to mine, and made what I would describe as rather intense eye contact.

“Everett, I really, really appreciate this. I’m sorry to drop this on you but my other options dried up. I’ll put my end of the baby monitor in the dressing room. If things get hairy, just talk into the monitor. Someone will be listening and we’ll come running.”

“Sounds like a plan. No worries. I’ve got this,” I said with much more confidence than an only child with absolutely no toddler experience could possibly possess.

Then she leaned a little lower and kissed my cheek, as if it were the most natural and expected gesture.

“See you in a bit,” she said as she dashed down the fire escape.

I wobbled for a moment in my kitchen, processing. She’d kissed me. On the cheek, but it was definitely a kiss. I looked over at Chloe and saw that she was staring at me.

“My mom likes kissing.”

“I can see that.”

“She kisses me all the time. A real lot.”

“Well, I can understand that. She loves you a real lot.”

“Okay, so I’m ready for my story,” Chloe said as she patted the spot next to her on the couch.

“Um, right! Your story. Coming right up.”

I joined her on the couch. I didn’t want to sit too close to her in case she was nervous. I turned sideways from my end of the couch so I could face her.

“Okay, Chloe, before I tell you the story, I want to make sure the Chloe in my story is really you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“So tell me a little bit about you.”

“I’m Chloe. Chloe Hawkins. I live in an apartment with Mommy and Saffo.”

She held up the stuffed rabbit for me to see before continuing.

“I like pancakes most of all. And this book.” She held up the dog-eared copy of
The Sneetches
.

“What else? Do you sing? Can you dance? What do you like to play?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I just want to make sure that you are the Chloe in my story. I think you are, but I want to be sure.”

My story-spinning wheels were, well, spinning.

“Of course I can sing. I sing all the time. My mom sings with me, but I don’t think she’s a very good singer. But she can dance.”

“Really? Does she dance at home?”

“Yes. She does shows for me. Just for me.”

“I bet she’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, pretty good. I can dance, too.”

“Okay, what’s it like at nursery school?”

“It’s good. Kevin and Susannah are my friends.”

“And do you like rabbits?”

“Of course I like rabbits,” she said, holding up Saffo for me to see, again. “I love rabbits.”

“Then you must be the Chloe in my story, because she has a giant pet rabbit in the story. And the rabbit can fly.”

And I was off, skating my way through a rather convoluted but, I hope, entertaining, story. Part way in I had a brainwave and conflated my swashbuckling tale of Chloe flying around the forest on her giant pet rabbit with the feminist classic,
The Paper Bag Princess
. I droned on for a good fifteen minutes. Chloe was transfixed, spellbound, on the edge of her seat. I looked at her after a particularly exciting segment about the heroine’s narrow escape from an evil squadron of flying aardvarks, and she had fallen into a deep coma. Edge of her seat? Not so much. Edge of her sleep? Closer. Well, I liked the story and kept talking until
the climactic scene where Princess Chloe tells the Prince to take a long walk on a short pier.

I gathered the blanket around her and just looked at her for a while. I’m not sure I’d ever seen anything quite so innocent, beautiful, and serene as Chloe Hawkins, fast asleep.

Eventually, I tore myself away from the couch and spent some more time on the professional sports blog post. Below me, the nut and bolt in the floor were doing their thing. It was odd to think that Shawna was likely responsible for the big steel nut’s warmth and vibrations massaging the soles of my feet.

A knock at the kitchen door startled me. You could tell by the way I kind of shrieked and bounced off my chair, nearly knocking over the table. A quick glance at the couch told me that Chloe was still down deep. I opened the door and Lewis Small filled my entire field of view.

“Sorry, Ever-man. Did I scare you?”

“Not at all. Why?”

“Oh. Well, it sounded like you screamed and kicked over some furniture.”

“Oh, that. Right. Well, I can usually hear when someone is climbing the metal fire escape. But you just seemed to materialize outside my door. It might have caught me a little off-guard,” I said.

“Ever-man, remember I’m a security guy. I move like a puma – all stealthy-like. I have to,” he said, his broad smile compromising the menace I normally associate with stealthy pumas.

“Good to know.”

“Now where’s the wonder-Chloe?”

I nodded toward the living room. Lewis stealthily crept over on his haunches and settled on the floor next to the couch where she lay curled up.

“Have you ever seen anything like her?” Lewis whispered without taking his eyes off Chloe.

“No, I don’t think I have.”

“Just lying there, asleep, she has the power to make me forget who I am, where I am, and what I do,” Lewis said almost in a whisper. “She is damn-near perfect, isn’t she?”

“She surely is. She comes from good stock.”

“You got that right. Shawna is good people, all the way. She’s got some big brain, too.”

We chatted for a while as we both watched Chloe sleep, her shoulders rising slightly with each breath.

“Well, Ever-man, I just told Brawn I was going to the can, so I’d better get my ass back onto the floor.”

“I dug out a few more make-up mags if you want to take them for the women downstairs. I don’t need them anymore,” I said, lifting the magazines from the shelf under the coffee table.

“Serious?” Lewis said. “That’s awesome, man. Thanks so much. I appreciate it, um, on behalf of the dancers, I mean.”

He took the stack I offered and quickly rifled through it.

“These look great. Thanks again, Ever-man. You’re good people, too, you know that?”

“Thanks, Lewis. I’m happy that someone of, um, your stature, likes me. I’d be worried, perhaps even terrified, if you didn’t.”

He clapped me on the shoulder and was out the door and down the stairs in a flash, and in silence. He really could move like a puma. I briefly contemplated fetching some ice for the shoulder Lewis had just clapped, but decided I’d survive. I took another long look at the sleeping Chloe and returned to the kitchen table to write.

I must have fallen asleep. I realized that when something woke me up. I could see on my laptop screen that my forehead had typed several lines of gibberish as I nodded off. I’d rubbernecked all the way down to the keyboard. Then I heard the noise again. It was a man and woman arguing in the alley below. I looked out the window and saw a shiny Lexus with the driver’s door open. The man, about my age, maybe a bit taller, and wearing a grey suit, was standing a few yards away with his right arm outstretched. In his hand, he held the hand of Shawna Hawkins, who clearly did not want her hand held. She was trying to pull it out of his grip, without success.

I opened my door and stepped out on the veranda but hesitated. What was I going to do?

“Get your tight little ass in the car,” he snapped at her. “You knew how this was going to end when you gave me that look in there. Don’t back out now.”

“If you value your ability to procreate, you’ll let the fuck go of my hand, right now!” she said in a low and slow voice.

“Hey!” I shouted. Apparently, I wasn’t hesitating anymore. I tore down the stairs and within about three seconds was standing between them, though their hands were still linked.

“It’s okay, Everett, I can handle this jerk.”

“I got this, Shawna,” I said in my Power Ranger voice, before turning to the jerk. “Let go of her hand, right now. Get in your car, and leave.”

“Shut the fuck up and mind your own fuckin’ business. This is between me and her. So blow.”

“Seriously, Everett, I can clean this up, on my own. But thanks,” Shawna said.

“Listen to the Amazon, little man. This doesn’t fuckin’ concern you.”

I kind of lost it then, as happens often in those rare fight-or-flight moments, at least according to psychologists. I turned toward the jerk, holding my hands up in a rather unusual claw-like configuration I made up on the spot. I imagine it looked like a cross between the talons of a large bird of prey and chronic arthritis.