Blood Sports

BOOKS BY EDEN ROBINSON

Traplines
(1996)
Monkey Beach
(2000)
Blood Sports
(2006)

Hi Mel,

If you’re not eighteen yet, I want you to put this letter down right now. Okay? There’s a whole bunch of shit you don’t need to deal with until you’re ready. Your mom (I call her Paulie, even though she hates it. Try it, and you’ll get her Popeye squint) and I talked it over. We agreed not to put the heavy on you because we’re trying not to fuck your head up too bad.

You probably won’t be Melody when you read this. I’m wondering what Paulie will change your name to. Paulie was stuck on Anastasia, after the princess, but I thought no one would be able to spell it and you’d get tagged with Stacy or Staz or anything but your real name. My top choice was Sarah, but Paulie thought that was going to bite you in the ass in school when you met up with the hundred other Sarahs in your class. We went through a whole bunch of baby-name books, and couldn’t agree on a single name. Paulie’s picks were too fancy and she thought mine were dull. Her words in the operating room: “If you fucking stick my girl with
Jennifer
while I’m under, I will rip your nuts off.”

Paulie wanted an all-natural birth at home. Her friends here are into hippie shit like giving birth in wading pools and eating the placenta. Besides, she hates hospitals, doesn’t think they’re clean enough and hated the thought of you in a germ-factory. I’m not a big fan of hospitals myself, so we were all set to have you enter the world at home (no pool or placenta though). But things got hairy, and Ella, the midwife, called an ambulance. Paulie kept saying she’d spent enough of her life wasted and didn’t want any shit, but she ended up having every drug in the book. I’m sure when she’s mad she tells you what a pain you were to deliver.

Paulie exploded when they put the tent around her belly because she wanted to watch you coming, even if they were going to cut you out. Is your mom all ladylike now? Ha. I bet she is. You wouldn’t believe the things that came out of her mouth, but they put the tent up anyway and she asked me to videotape everything so she could watch it later. I saw the first incision and said, “Can’t do it, Paulie.”

The midwife wouldn’t videotape, but she said she’d describe everything to Paulie. Ella is this tiny fireball, a Filipina in her mid-forties, and she had to hop to peek over. I went and found her a stool and then waited in the hallway because there was no way I could listen to that. I walked down to the vending machine and got a coffee. So I missed your grand entrance. But we have a tape of everything up to that point, even the ambulance ride. I’m sure Paulie’s made you watch it by now. I stapled Ella’s business card to the back of this page, so you can look her up if you want.

I could hear you crying. You were loud as an opera singer. I could hear you all the way down the hall. Sad fact: Your dad is a big old weenie. I got a head rush and had to sit down. When I finally got my rear in gear, the nurse and midwife were checking you out, cleaning you up and swaddling you in the corner. The
surgeon was finishing up your mom. She was pretty wiped. We’d been awake for three days by then.

When Paulie asked Ella if she should nurse, Ella laid you on her and you latched just like that. No problemo. All the shit going down and you took it in stride. Your mom’s smile, all proud of you.

“Come around here, you’ve got to see this,” Paulie said. “It’s like she’s mainlining.”

The nurse beside her stiffened. We’d had to disclose about Paulie being in Narcotics Anonymous. I think we freaked some of the staff. The whole week we were in the hospital, they acted like we were going to break out the rigs and turn our room into a shooting gallery.

I never got the deal with newborns. You were bald but hairy, red and wrinkled like any other newborn, and I’m sorry, Mel, but man, that is not a good look on you. You were sucking at Paulina’s boob like there was no tomorrow, your eyes screwed tight in ecstasy.

Before she left, Ella made sure we had a six-pack of supplement. She showed me how to pour it into this plastic cup about the size of those ketchup cups they have at McDonald’s. You were sleeping, and Ella said I was going to have to feed you and change your diapers because Paulie was against the wall.

When you have kids, you’ll know what that first night is like. You were intense, babe. Jonesing for the boob-juice, as Paulie would say. I tried to tilt the cup slowly into your mouth but it got all over your face and down your neck. A nurse came running when you started freaking out. Once you were screaming, I dumped the formula down your throat and you choked it back.
Oh boy, were you mad. You had this “Fuck you, you cunt” look that your mom gets when she’s in a pissy mood. I guess I was pretty punchy, because I started laughing. You were just too cute. You and your fuck-you look. Only a couple hours in the world, and you were already giving it attitude.

Paulie phoned her family to ask them to come check you out, but they were like, yeah, whatever. When Paulie was eight months pregnant, we realized we didn’t have enough money for all the shit we needed. She dressed up all careful, and I dressed up all careful and we tried to go to them, and they were like, give it up. Let some nice couple adopt your kid. Junkies shouldn’t raise kids. A whole bunch of shit like that, but with swearing and screaming. Paulie thought that once they saw we were serious, once they saw how cute you were, they’d come around.

Your mom’s parents hated my guts from the get-go, so I can’t say I was surprised or disappointed. If you go and talk to them, they’re going to bad-mouth your mom. I know it. I’ve listened to enough of their crap. Let me tell you something: there’s no one more sanctimonious than a dry drunk. It wasn’t like they were saints, you know? But Paulie was their first addict, and they thought she was lower than them because they were just alcoholics.

The first time Paulie relapsed, her dad was like: “I knew you wouldn’t last, you slutty piece of shit.”

That’s when your mom and I got together, after she got out of rehab. She wanted to make amends, admit to another human being.

How much has Paulie told you? I wish I knew. It’s hard to write it down because it’s all grown-up shit. You’ve been gone a few days now. Your mom and I decided that this was the best way to
deal with things. Maybe it isn’t, you know? We can’t think of anything else to do, Mel.