Rank (6 page)

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s all right.”

She was quiet for a while before she asked, “Do you think you’ll ever go back to riding?”

“Nope,” I said without hesitation.

“But you were so good at it.”

“Yeah, that was then.” A tense sigh released along with the words.

“Before your dad’s accident?” She paused, waiting for me to respond. I didn’t, so she asked, “Have you talked to anybody about it yet?”

I rubbed my palm over my face trying to erase the memory. “What’s there to talk about?”

“You can talk about how it made you feel to watch it happen; or you can talk about how you feel now that you have to take care of your mom and your brother; or you can talk about how it scared you so bad that you can’t ride anymore.”

The air in my lungs leaked out in a long and slow exhale. The same way I always breathed right before I got in the chute. “I’m not scared and I don’t want to talk about the rest of it.”

She fortunately surrendered the quest to fix Billy and changed the subject. “How’s Stella?”

“Good, I guess. I haven’t talked to Tawnie.”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised and paused before she changed the subject again by asking me a question about the ferry to Luxton. I plugged the recharger for my phone in and turned the truck engine on long enough to top the battery up.

We talked for the next two and a half hours about pretty much everything. When the sky started to lighten, she yawned.

“You ready to go to sleep now that it’s morning?”

She laughed. “Yes, but now I have to get out of bed and go feed the animals.”

“Yeah, I should go inside and get ready for my day job.”

“Sorry to keep you up all night.”

“It’s all right.” I watched the sun peek up over the horizon, surprised that I didn’t feel tired at all.

“Thanks, Billy.”

“Don’t mention it.” I hung up then went inside. There were six beer bottles on the kitchen table, and since my mom wasn’t a drinker, I knew it was Cole. I checked his room, but it looked as if his bed hadn’t been slept in. He wasn’t on the couch either. I knocked on the bathroom door. “Cole?” There was no answer, so I tried the doorknob. It was locked. “Cole. Open up,” I shouted through the door.

Mom opened her bedroom door and tied the belt to her housecoat. “What’s going on?”

“Didn’t the doctor say you should start using your chair in the house?”

She raised her eyebrow in her notorious scolding expression. “I can still get around in my own home, thank you. I’m not an invalid. What’s going on?”

“Did Cole stay here last night?”

“He was here when I went to bed.” Her irritation at me transitioned into concern.

I rattled the bathroom doorknob and knocked again. Mom disappeared into her room and returned with a hairpin. She wiggled it in the hole of the doorknob. Eventually the lock clicked and she pushed the door open. It only opened about four inches then stopped as if it hit something. She poked her head in.

“Oh, Jesus. He’s passed out on the floor.” She stepped back and let me push the door with my shoulder. I was able to open it wide enough for her to slip through. She crouched down and moved his legs so I could open the door all the way. “Oh, Billy, he doesn’t look right. You better call the ambulance.”

At the hospital, I wheeled my mom’s chair up to a table, then sat down across from a psychiatrist, two doctors, and a social worker. The social worker folded her hands on the table and smiled at us in a pleasant way that made me uncomfortable. The bald doctor helped himself to a cookie from the plate on the table. The other doctor watched Cole come into the room with a nurse and sit beside me. Cole looked like shit. His hair was messy, his face was pale, and the smell of beer was still noticeable on his breath. The psychiatrist was reviewing the file and tapping her pen on a pad of paper as she read. Eventually, she looked up and smiled at us. “So, Cole. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“You gave your mom and brother quite a scare.”

He looked down at the table and licked his lips.

“According to them, you were doing well until this incident occurred.”

“This wasn’t an incident. I just had a couple drinks.”

“Yes, but you know that the medication you’re on can not be taken with alcohol.”

“So, give me a different medication.” He sat back and crossed his arms in defiance. “All my friends and my brother drink, and I can’t. It’s affecting my quality of life.”

“I’ll quit,” I mumbled so only he could hear me.

“Why?” He turned towards me. “So we both can’t have any fun?” He looked back at the professionals across the table. “Just give me a different medication.”

“But this one has been working so well,” Mom said.

“Not really. I still feel like shit half the time. Billy has to drag me out of bed most days because I can’t sleep at night. My stomach is always upset, and I get headaches that I never used to.”

“Have you had any suicidal ideation? Intrusive thoughts? Unusual worries or obsessions?”

“Yeah.”

They all looked up, intrigued more than concerned. “Which ones?”

“All of them,” he said to mess with them.

“Can you be a little more specific, please?” the psychiatrist asked.

“Well.” He stretched his legs out under the table and crossed his ankles as if he was getting comfortable, but his arms were still crossed. “I worry that I left the stove on even if I haven’t used it, or sometimes I think I left the bath running even though I had a shower.” He sat forward abruptly and rested his elbows on the table. “Is wanting to stab someone in the eyeball an intrusive thought? I get that sometimes. Oh, and I have to dress in exactly the same order every time or I think that something bad is going to happen to my mom.”

“Did you dress in a particular order before your dad was killed?”

He smiled, amused by how gullible they were. “No. I put my left sock on first instead of the right. Damn. Do you think that’s why he died? I never thought about that until you mentioned it. Way to go. Now I’m going to obsess about that until I get around to acting on the suicidal ideation.”

I shook my head, tired of his antics, and Mom wrung her hands together.

The psychiatrist smiled at Cole in an unimpressed way once she figured out he was bullshitting. “If you aren’t going to take this seriously, we won’t be able to help you effectively. Do you want our help or not?”

“Not.”

She wrote something on her pad of paper.

“Stop dicking around,” I mumbled.

“Oh,” he continued, enjoying it too much to stop. “I do have one real obsessive thought.”

They all looked at him again. So gullible.

“I have sexual fantasies about my psychiatrist.” He winked at her. “The images are very graphic. She’s not wearing anything except little diamond nipple rings and black stilettos. She dances around for me and puts little blue pills on my tongue before straddling my lap. The images pop in and out, and in and out, of my mind. I actually don’t mind though.”

Fed up, Mom rolled her wheelchair back from the table and headed towards the exit. The nurse who had escorted Cole in opened the door.

Cole watched it close behind her. Then he glared at the psychiatrist and his joking tone changed. “Listen, I’ll take medication to balance out my moods, but don’t try to label me with more issues that I don’t have. I’m not OCD, I’m not suicidal, and I’m not homicidal. I want to be able to drink, I don’t want to get man boobs, I don’t want my ability to perform sexually to be affected, and I don’t want to have to take more pills to deal with side effects. If you don’t have a medication that can do all that, I won’t be taking anything.”

“We need to ask you these questions to make sure we are using the best medication for your symptoms. If you don’t have a particular symptom, simply say that you do not have that symptom. You don’t need to play games with us.”

“Okay, let me summarize for you. I get depressed and do nothing for a while. Then I get manic and do a bunch of crazy shit for a while. When I take your medication, I don’t get depressed or manic, but I can’t sleep or eat or drink alcohol. I’m really not convinced that your way is better.”

The psychiatrist took a deep breath as if she needed to compose herself so she wouldn’t lose it on him. “If you attended your weekly sessions, we would be able to monitor your symptoms better and adjust your dosages.”

“Yeah, well, I’m busy.”

I glanced over at him. “Cut it out,” I said under my breath.

He sat back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest again. “I suppose you’re going to give me something for belligerence.”

She put the pen down and smiled, but seemed exhausted. “I wish it were that simple. There is an easy way to avoid these types of meetings if you dislike them so much.”

“How’s that?”

“Follow your treatment protocol and stop abusing your body.”

He tilted his head and grinned at her, prepared to push her to her breaking point. “I like the abuse. What does that say about me?”

“It says that you’re a twenty-two year old male who hasn’t matured enough yet to know what’s really important.” Her tone made it clear she was losing her patience.

“So, because you spent something like twelve years in university, you think you know what’s really important to me?”

She paused as if she was contemplating walking out, but then asked, “What’s really important to you, Cole?”

“Riding bulls and getting laid. If I can’t do those two things I’d rather be dead. And yes, that is a suicide threat.”

She lifted her eyebrows and did the unimpressed smile again. She rested her chin on her palm and tapped her finger on her lip as she stared at him, out of ideas.

“Cole, you almost died,” the bald doctor said. “If you keep doing things like that, your liver is going to give out. You can’t ride bulls if your liver gets damaged.”

Cole actually seemed to hear that, but then he stood. “May I leave now? I’ve got a rodeo I need to get to.”

They all glanced at each other to confer. The social worker finally answered, “Well, Cole, it’s your life, but when you don’t take care of yourself or take your mental health seriously, you burden your family.”

“I don’t hear them complaining.”

The psychiatrist’s eyes pleaded with me to speak up and tell him how much of a burden it was to deal with his shit all the time. I didn’t say anything, so she said, “Your mother is struggling with multiple sclerosis, her husband was recently killed, and she had to sell the family ranch to pay off the debt. Even if she doesn’t complain, I’m certain that having her eldest son purposefully do things that could seriously harm or even kill him, is something that causes her distress.”

Cole left.

The other professionals all shifted their focus to me.

I put my hat back on.

The doctor said, “He needs to understand that mental illness is not something he can ignore. If he doesn’t take his treatment seriously it will impact his ability to work, socialize, and eventually compromise his physical health.”

I nodded. I’d heard it all before. It wasn’t me who needed convincing.

“Your mother’s MS is possibly exasperated by this stress.”

“Yes, Sir. I know.”

“Has he talked about your father’s death with you?” the psychiatrist asked.

“No, Ma’am.”

“Has he visited the gravesite yet, or done something else to say goodbye?”

“No, Ma’am. Not that I’m aware of.”

“Closure is important and the fact that he refused to attend the funeral will make it difficult for him to process through his grief.”

“Cole does things in his own way.”

“I’m sure you can encourage him in the right direction.”

I chuckled since that was highly unlikely. “Do you know why bulls buck?”

“Because you tie some sort of rope around its testicles.”

“No. The flank strap sits on the abdomen. They buck because they want to. If they don’t want to, they don’t. You can’t make them do shit if they don’t want to.”

She nodded, wrote something on her prescription pad, and ripped the page off. “Cole’s not a bull. He can start taking this. It doesn’t have the contraindications with alcohol, but I still don’t recommend that he use any sort of substance. He has to wean off the other one slowly. He can’t just abruptly stop taking it. Please monitor him and make sure he follows the directions.” She slid the paper across the table.

“Can he ride this weekend?” I folded the prescription and put it in my pocket.

She shrugged. “If he feels like it.”

“Is he free to go?”

“Yes.”

I tipped my hat then left.

Cole was standing in the hall with his back against the wall waiting for me. His cockiness was gone.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“I’m crazy, remember?”

“No you’re not. You’re just an idiot.” I punched his shoulder. “Get dressed. We have to go find Mom. You probably made her cry.”

He frowned because he hated the idea of women crying as much as I did. “Do you feel like I’m a burden?” he asked, serious.

“I feel like you’re a pain in the ass, but since you’re my brother I guess I’ll have to live with it.”

Relieved, he wrapped his arm around my neck and gave me a strangle hug. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s go somewhere where it pays to be crazy.”

“Yeah, baby.”

We landed at the airport in Victoria on Thursday evening and took a cab to the hotel. The hotel was close to the Luxton fairgrounds and was full of rodeo participants. We checked in and then walked past the pool. Lee-Anne and Rochelle were lounging on deck chairs in their bikinis, so Cole and I stopped to take a look. I felt a pinch on my waist.

“Hey, Billy. I thought you weren’t coming,” Shae-Lynn said as she bounced by us. Her sparkly pink bikini showed off her athletic body.

“I…” I pointed my thumb at Cole. “He, uh, I changed my mind.”

“Are you coming for a swim?” she asked with a grin that I couldn’t quite interpret.

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“That’s too bad, unless you want to dive in wearing jeans and a pearl snap.” She walked backwards for a few steps.

I was trying to figure out when she had gotten all grown up and it took me a second to focus back on the conversation, “Hey, uh, what’s, how’s your mom doing? You know, with her concussion.”

“She’s feeling better. Both my parents came with us.”

“Do you girls want to join us for dinner?” Cole asked.

“We already ate, but maybe we’ll see you later.” She smiled, then waved.

I watched her ass as she walked away, which felt a bit weird since it was Shae-Lynn.

“Good Lord, will you look at that,” Cole said. “Someone’s all grown up.” He shoved my shoulder. “I said look at it, not stare at it. What’s wrong with you?” He pointed to where I was clutching at my chest.

I shook my head, not sure. “Do heart problems run in the family? I think I’ve got a murmur or something.”

“Yeah. All the men on Mom’s side keeled over from heart attacks.”

“Great.” I winced from the discomfort before I followed him to the room.

He flopped down on the bed and read through the welcome package. “Let’s go to the midway,” he said.

“You know I hate carnival rides.”

“Who cares about the rides? They’ll have mini donuts and girls.”

“Underage girls. You need to be careful unless you’re planning on getting arrested. Again.”

“Hey, I’ve only been arrested for fighting, not perving.”

“It’s a slippery slope.” I laughed as I sat on the chair and turned the TV on.

“Yeah, you would know, Mr. Grand Theft Auto.”

“Hey, I borrowed that chick’s truck for you. You’re welcome.”

He smiled appreciatively, then disappeared into the bathroom. He took forever to shower and get ready. We didn’t arrive at the fair until ten and I was starving. After walking around for a while, I bought a slice of pizza from a stand. Cole left me there as he went to search for the mini donuts. While I was standing eating my pizza, I spotted a girl with long strawberry coloured hair at the shooting gallery. Her back was to me and she stood with a wide, slightly angled, stance as she shot a rifle at moving targets. She was wearing short cut-off jean shorts and a tank top. I walked up and watched from over her shoulder. She knocked every one down.

“Nice shooting.”

She jumped a little and spun around to face me. “Hey.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Thanks.”

Before I had a chance to say anything else, Lee-Anne bounced around from behind me, stole my hat, and put it on Shae-Lynn’s head. “Hey, Billy Ray. Where’s your brother at?”

“The mini donut stand.”

She smiled as if she was scheming something. “Mmm. That sounds good, doesn’t it, Rochelle?”

“What?” Rochelle asked as she joined us. She was texting on her phone and not really paying attention.

“Mini donuts with Cole. We’ll see you two later.” Lee-Anne tugged Rochelle’s elbow and they disappeared into the crowd.

Shae-Lynn put my hat back on my head. She glanced at me, then looked over at the people lined up for the Ferris wheel.

“Where’d you learn how to shoot like that?”

“My dad taught me. I think he secretly wished I was born a boy.” The game attendant handed her a stuffed rabbit for winning.

“Remind me not to piss you off.”

She smiled and hooked her thumbs through her belt loops. “Is Stella here?”

“No. Tawnie said she was racing somewhere else this weekend.”

She nodded, but acted awkward as if she didn’t know how to respond. Eventually, she changed the subject, “I was thinking about getting a drink. Do you want to get something?”

“Sure.”

We made our way through the row of carnival games and out onto the grass where the bigger rides were. She pulled my elbow and stepped sideways to line-up in front of a freshly squeezed lemonade stand.

“I thought you meant a real drink.” I chuckled and gave a ten-dollar bill to the girl who passed Shae-Lynn the cups of lemonade.

“I’ve got my own money.” She handed me my drink and dug into her front pocket to pull out a five-dollar bill. She flapped it around trying to make me take it.

“It’s fine. I got it.”

She smiled and folded the money back in her pocket. “Thank you. I’ll buy your ticket for the rollercoaster or something.”

“No thanks. I don’t like rides.”

She laughed to tease me. “How can a bull rider not like midway rides?”

“I just don’t. They make me want to throw up.”

She tugged my hand and led me to a ride that was a bunch of chain swings suspended from a circular carousel thing. “You can do this one,” she encouraged. “Look, there are children getting on it.”

I frowned and studied the stability of the apparatus as she paid the attendant. The swings were only about three feet off the ground, so I sat down in the one next to hers and tested the chains for sturdiness.

She sipped her lemonade, then arranged her stuffed bunny so it was propped up next to her. “You ready?”

“What’s it do?”

“Just spins around. Clip the lap belt.”

A buzzer rang and music piped in as the entire carousel spun. After a couple rotations, the force from the speed pulled our swings outward until we were flying sideways. “Uh, how fast does this thing go?” I placed the lemonade between my thighs so I could hang on properly with two hands.

She laughed and raised her arms in the air, completely carefree. “Not much faster than this.”

That’s when the centre support of the carousel began rising. My fingers gripped the chain as I peeked over the edge at the receding ground. “Shit.” My eyes clenched shut and every muscle in my body seized up.

Shae-Lynn laughed.

I opened one eye to check, and all I saw was sky whizzing by. “How high does it go? I’m feeling queasy.”

Shae-Lynn’s arm reached out towards me. She leaned her upper body over the edge of the swing in order to bridge the gap between us.

“Careful. Don’t. You’re going to fall out.”

“It’s fine,” she said with genuine calmness. “Grab my hand.” Her hair swirled around in the wind the same way it did when she was riding Harley. The lights on the ride reflected in her eyes and made the gloss of her lips sparkle. She smiled and encouraged me to reach over.

I pried the fingers of my left hand off the chain and reached my arm out. It took two attempts before our hands connected. She pulled our swings close together and laughed as she used all her strength to keep us together. My eyes met hers and I kept staring.

“What?” She tilted her head to study my expression, wondering why I was acting weird.

Although I knew it was because I couldn’t believe I had never noticed how beautiful she was before. I shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

She lifted her eyebrows in a mischievous way as if she might have known what I was thinking, then she released her grip on my swing. She waved as my swing catapulted outwards and strained the chains to the point of creaking.

I clenched my eyes shut for the rest of the nauseating ride. Once the swings were lowered close enough to the ground for me to feel comfortable again, I said, “You’re going to regret that, Shae-Lynn.”

She giggled, collected her drink and bunny, and took off running. Once I got myself unfastened from the lap belt, I chased her and lunged to grab her by the waist with my left arm while attempting not to dump my drink with my right. She squealed and buckled over trying to loosen my grip.

“I told you I don’t like rides because they make me sick. I think your punishment should be me chucking you in that dunk tank over there.”

“No, no, no. I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.” She laughed and squirmed until she was facing me. “I’m sorry.” Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout that probably let her get away with murder when she used it on her dad. “I really am sorry. Do you forgive me?”

When I realized how close we were and what kind of message that might have been sending to the people watching us, I released her.

She winked, proud that she got away with the prank. “You’re such a wuss.” She took a sip of lemonade and was smiling until she saw something over my shoulder that made her expression change.

Blake slapped me on the back, stood next to Shae-Lynn, and squeezed his arm across her shoulder. “Hey, Shae. How you been?”

Instead of answering him, she glared at me and warned, “Don’t.”

When Blake noticed how intensely she was looking at me, he turned his head. “Am I interrupting something?”

Neither one of us answered.

He looked her up and down. “Do you want go on some rides, Shae?”

“No, thank you.”

“I could win you a teddy bear or something.”

She held up the bunny that she’d won for herself. “I’ve already got one, thanks.”

He focused back on me and I could tell by the smirk on his face that he was going to try to provoke me. “I heard your brother got a weekend pass from the loony bin to come here.”

I didn’t respond because I had promised Shae-Lynn I wouldn’t do anything to him.

He reached over and took a sip of Shae-Lynn’s lemonade. She curled her lip and handed the whole cup to him.

“Don’t you want any more?”

“No. I’m done.”

I handed mine to her and she smiled before taking a sip. Lee-Anne walked around from behind me and leaned her elbow on Shae-Lynn’s shoulder. She popped a mini donut in her mouth and talked around it. “Hey, Blake.” She grinned at me as if she was waiting for me to clock him.

Cole and Rochelle joined us. Without saying anything, Cole handed me his bag of mini donuts. He said “Hi” to Blake, then punched him across the cheekbone. The force made Blake fall backwards onto the grass and the lemonade soaked his shirt.

Shae-Lynn screamed. Lee-Anne clapped. Rochelle looked confused.

Blake held his face and tried to sit up. “What the hell, Cole?”

“That was for taking advantage of Shae and then making her walk home by herself from the hotel.” He held his hand out so I would give his donuts back.

Shae-Lynn’s mouth dropped open as she glared at me. “Billy.”

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“Really?” She propped her hand on her hip, pissed. “Who told Cole what happened?”

“I —”

Her anger melted into embarrassment and her voice cracked. “You promised me.” She spun around and bumped into her dad’s chest. The lemonade slipped out of her hand, fell to the grass, and splashed everywhere. She ducked around her dad and chucked the bunny on the ground before running away.

Mr. Roberts frowned as he assessed what was going on. “You took advantage of my daughter?” he asked Blake.

Blake scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust off his jeans. “No, Sir.”

“Why do these boys think you did?”

“I don’t know. I took her out on a date when we were in Coleman, but nothing happened. I swear.”

Lee-Anne and I both winced when he said Coleman.

“I see.” Mr. Roberts shot Lee-Anne a look that could have made a wolf high-tail it out of there. “Get,” he said, and she and Rochelle took off. “You,” he pointed at Blake, “I better not see you around either one of them again. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.” Blake walked away and left Cole and me standing with Mr. Roberts.

“Shae-Lynn’s a good girl,” I said.

“Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong. Blake’s an idiot, but she handled it. I hope she’s not going to get in trouble or anything.”

“They were in Coleman when I was told they were in Calgary. I don’t appreciate being lied to.” He turned and walked away.

I considered telling him that their mom knew they were in Coleman and technically lied to him too, but I figured throwing her under the bus would only make everything worse. “Shit,” I mumbled.

Cole offered me a mini donut, but I pushed his hand away.

“Hey,” Tyson said as he walked up with a hotdog in one hand and beer in the other. “I just saw Blake. He called you both pricks. What did I miss?”

Cole shook his head to indicate it was no big deal. “Nothing. I just had to teach him a lesson on being a gentleman.”

“Why? What did he do?”

“He messed with the wrong girl.”

“Who? Tawnie?” He looked at me and took a bite of his hotdog.

“Shae,” Cole said.

He nodded as if he’d already heard what happened in Coleman and wasn’t surprised. He took another bite and spoke with his mouth full. “Some guys are getting together for a poker game. Do you want in?”

“Yeah.” Cole shoved me in the arm. “You in?”

I wasn’t sure what else I could do to convince Mr. Roberts to give Shae-Lynn a break without causing more problems, so I nodded. I picked up the stuffed bunny from the grass and followed them through the midway back towards the participants’ lot. The poker game was being held in Mutt the bullfighter’s camper. He was parked four down from the Roberts’ motorhome and as we got closer, I noticed that the engine was running. “I’ll meet you guys there in a minute,” I said before I jogged over and found Shae-Lynn loading Harley into the trailer. “Hey, I’m sorry I told Cole. I didn’t know he would do that.”

“Yes, you did,” she snapped.

“Okay, maybe, but I didn’t know he would do it in front of your dad.”

“Yeah, well, he did and now my dad’s making me withdraw from the competition and go home.” She closed the trailer door and slid the lock.

“You’re almost nineteen years old. You can stay if you want to.”

“And ride what horse? He owns Harley and his trailer.”