Payback (9 page)

It turns out that the bedroom — Rico's and Benny's — has got lots of troll figures, too. They're sitting on bookshelves and the chest of drawers and on the bedside tables.

Also on the chest of drawers there's a framed picture of Benny with Mango. Benny is kneeling, Mango clasped to his chest.

As we leave, Joanna says, “Come whenever you can, okay? We love to see you, don't we, Rico? We don't get out to meet people very much.”

Rico smiles and nods happily.

We stayed too long. Already it's beginning to get dark. Annie is dawdling. I grab the sleeve of her jacket to hurry her along.

There's a man walking over on the other side of the road, approaching us. I'm sure it's the scary guy again, the one with the black beard.

It's himself, all right. As he draws closer he stares across at us — or at Annie, more like, and then he turns quickly away into an alley so all I can see is his back retreating.

“Did you see that feller, Annie?”

“Yes, why?”

“No reason, except I don't like the look of him. Come on.” I pull on her arm, hurrying her along even faster than before. “Let's move it, okay?”

Man with the black beard.

Blackbeard!

The air seems suddenly twenty degrees colder.

With Christmas only a month away the mall is busy at the weekend. I sweat like a marathon runner inside that stupid sausage suit. I'm terrible jaded when I get home, and I collapse into bed.

Sammy and Rebar are not at school. It's sure a relief not to have their ugly faces reminding me of Benny. Gossip says they've been suspended.

But I skip school on Wednesday and go to our own place and climb the stairs to Ma and Da's bedroom.

Bedroom closets in Maple Leaf Land are big — big enough for a game of football. I can stretch right out in them. Brilliant. I've got the doors open a tiny bit for air. Lights out.

I lie on the carpeted floor, Ma's sweaters, coats, shoes and dresses beside and above me. I breathe the faint familiar fragrances, not only of Ma but also of
Dublin — the River Liffey and the sands at Bray and the Guinness Brewery and Cleary's department store and cathedral incense and a whole stew of memories.

I begin to drift off to sleep.

“Wake up, Charley. You're mitching again.”

“Aww! Ma! School is torture. And I'm terrible tired. And it's called skipping, not mitching.”

I can't see her in the dark.

“School is what you make it, Charley, the same as life. And you shouldn't be in my closet.” In the darkness her voice seems to come from the ceiling.

“I like it here, Ma. Besides, it's not your closet any more. I use it more than you so now it's mine.”

“You'd be better riding your bike outside under the lovely trees, Charley.”

“Leave me alone, Ma, I'm terrible jaded, okay? I only want to sleep.”

“That job in the mall is taking too much out of you, Charley. Perhaps you should consider quitting the hotdog business. School is more imp—”

“I will, Ma, I will. I promise. Now if you could just let me sleep, okay?”

••••

“Rico! Stay away from the gate,” Joanna yells out the open window.

Rico and Annie are playing out back with Mango, throwing a rubber ball for him to fetch.

Joanna works at her sewing machine and keeps an eye on Rico. The back yard is enclosed with a high cedar hedge at the end and solid fences to the sides. The west fence, unlike the fence in the front yard, has a strong gate with a good high latch.

Rico sometimes tries to open the gate, usually when the ball or whatever he's using for Mango to fetch lands on the other side accidentally, but the latch always defeats him.

Joanna is angry. “I've told you to stay away!” she screams. “You're not to go near that gate, do you hear?”

My heart gives a jump. I can't believe Joanna screamed at Rico like that.

Rico cries.

It was Annie's idea to bring over a couple of board games — Snakes and Ladders and Monopoly — so we can teach Rico how to play. Rico likes Snakes and Ladders but Monopoly's a bit complicated for him.
He likes jigsaw puzzles, too. We rooted through our old stuff at home and found a few to take over.

Joanna likes it when we play with Rico, especially when she's busy with her sewing.

When it comes time to leave, Joanna, Rico and Mango come with us to the door.

“G'bye Mango,” Annie says, kneeling to pet the dog.

Joanna smiles and scratches Mango behind his ears.

“Have you had Mango from a puppy?” Annie asks, looking up.

“Yes. Well, a big puppy. Benny found him. Rescued him, really.”

“Rescued him?”

“Benny was on his bike, riding through the boatyard, you know? Near Waterfront Park? He saw a couple of boys at the end of the pier throw something into the water. This was when Benny was at his last school. The boys were laughing. Benny stopped and watched. Then he saw it was an animal, fighting to stay afloat in the waves. Benny waded into the water and pulled it out. It was a dog. Its legs, front
and back, were tied. Would have drowned for sure. The two boys — high school age, Benny reckoned — started to run toward him, shouting and yelling, but he pushed the dog into his backpack, jumped on his bike and got away.”

Annie is listening to this, eyes round like the bottoms of pop bottles, like she can't believe what she's hearing.

“His legs were tied!” She looks like she's about to explode.

Joanna nods. “With rope. Legs tied together front and back.”

“But that's murder!”

“Kids can do awful things sometimes.”

I'm thinking,
Tell me about it.

“That was very brave of Benny,” says Annie. She turns to Mango and kisses the animal near to death.

“So of course you had to keep Mango after that, huh?” I say.

“I needed a good guard dog anyway,” says Joanna. “Benny named him Mango because of his color. He's a yellow Labrador, the vet told me.”

“Isn't he kind of small for a Lab?” I say, thinking
that medium-sized, sharp-toothed Mango looks more like a terrier-spaniel cross, with maybe a pinch of piranha thrown in.

Joanna shrugs. “He barks and growls if anyone comes near the house, so I guess he's a good enough guard dog. Benny loved that dog.” Her eyes grow damp.

“Thanks, guys,” she says as we're leaving. “You're a great help. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

On the way home Annie says, “Benny was a hero saving Mango like that.”

I don't say anything.

I start doing small chores for Joanna, like helping keep the living room tidy by putting things like cushions and books back in their places if Rico or Annie leave them lying about, rinsing glasses and cups in the kitchen, stuff like that.

I make myself useful, in other words.

I say, “I'll take out the garbage, okay?”

“Thanks, Charley. I'll hold the door open for you,” says Joanna.

Joanna unfastens the bolts and chains. There are four of them, two up and two down, plus the catch in the middle. Then she waits at the door and watches me dump the garbage in the different bins.

“No need to wait,” I shout back at her. “I'll take care of the bolts when I come back.”

“No problem, Charley. I don't mind.”

It takes me a minute to do the job. Joanna waits. Then when I go back inside she shoots the bolts home. Maybe she thinks I'll forget to lock the door behind me.

On Saturday I ride my bike over to Joanna's and she asks me to pick up a few things at the Safeway, which I do, pretending as I go that I'm Lance Armstrong in my yellow jersey, tearing down the far side of the Alpe d'Huez. Whooosh!

Later, while I'm taking Joanna's garbage out to the bin I take a good look at the state of the front yard. It's terrible scruffy. Nothing's been done outside for years it looks like.

It's too late in the year to do much more than a clean-up. In the spring I could try and help Joanna put in a flower or vegetable garden, or grass if that's what she wants. And maybe I could try and figure out how to fix the sagging front gate.

“I could clean up the weeds and stuff in the front yard, if you like,” I say to her.

“Thanks, Charley. That's very kind of you. Every time I look at it I'm ashamed what the neighbors must think. There's a machete for chopping the long
grass in the shed out back, and there's other tools, too, a shovel and a rake, and work gloves if you need them. You won't cut yourself, will you?”

I pull a face and she laughs.

I don't care about getting my hands dirty, so I don't bother with the gloves.

“You won't mind if I lock you out? I like to keep the door locked. Just hammer on the door if you need anything.”

I start chopping the thistles and weeds and grass with the machete. I'm thinking about Joanna and her locks and bolts.

Some women are pretty nervous, I guess, especially if they're single with a small kid. Or they might've had a bad experience with someone breaking in.

I grab the tops of the withered stalks and grass in one hand and then I bend and chop as close to the ground as I can, throwing the weeds behind me as I go.

The thistles prove to be a bit of a problem because even though they're dead and withered they're still spiky and sharp. I decide to use just one glove, on my left hand.

It's hard work. And slow. I thought it'd be a lot easier somehow.

After almost an hour only half of the yard is cleared. And there's red, angry blisters on my right hand, between my thumb and forefinger.

I try reversing things so that I grab the stalks with my right hand and chop with my left, but it's awkward and slow.

I miss and hit myself on the shin with the machete. “Ouch!” I drop the machete. That hurt. I pull up the leg of my jeans: broken skin but not really any bleeding.

I should stop and finish the job some other day but I push on.

The second half takes longer than an hour. By the time I'm finished it's not only my shin that's aching, it's also my right shoulder and wrist from swinging the machete. My hands, too, are destroyed with blisters. I've got barely enough energy to stuff all the cuttings into plastic bags and twist-tie the tops.

I stack the bags along the fence to be taken away by the city workers. There are eleven black garbage bags, packed tight with weeds.

Phew! I can't believe it was such a hard job.

If you're wondering what the front yard looks like
when I'm through with it, well, I've got to admit it still looks pretty scruffy, like it's had a bad haircut.

Joanna is chuffed, though.

“It's much tidier, Charley, and looks cared for. You did a great job. Thanks. Now come in and have a bite to eat before you go.”

“No, thanks. I got to go. It's Saturday. I'm on duty in an hour. Probably drop in again tomorrow.”

I don't let her see my hands.

••••

Twenty-five shopping days to Christmas. The mall is so crowded I can hardly move. Which is good because I don't have to dance so much. Even if I could. And I can't because I'm so aching and sore from the yard work.

I thought of calling in sick but I don't because Harvey would have a hard time finding someone to fill in at such short notice.

So I climb into my hotdog suit, trying not to think of my aches and blisters.

Right away I'm in trouble. A little brat of a kid, seven or eight years old, starts pestering me, following
me about and yelling things like, “I can see you in there. You don't fool me,” and, “You know what kinda junk they put inside hotdogs? You ever hear of Mad Cow Disease, huh?” On and on. I can't get rid of him.

I must use one or two bad words because his mother complains to Harvey and you know what? Now I'm out of a job.

“That's it! I've had it with you, Irish. Don't bother asking for a reference.”

And that's the end of my short career in show business.

Ma will be pleased.

On Sunday Annie gets her nose stuck in Joanna's sewing corner, watching Joanna sewing, examining the colored spools of thread, running her fingers through the materials. Joanna shows her how to use the sewing machine and does other things, too, like fixing Annie's hair and talking with her about girl stuff like shoes and clothes.

In just a week and a half it's like me and Annie have become part of the family. Even growly Mango doesn't growl any more when we knock on the door, and Pineapple doesn't even open her eyes when we pick up her kittens.

It's hard sometimes for me to get Annie to leave and go home.

••••

It's the first day of December. Joanna's place after school. While Annie sews a white zig-zag pattern around a piece of red material, I take out the garbage, clean up the kitchen and change the litter in Pineapple's box.

Then, because it's starting to get dark, I say, “Time to go, Annie.”

“Just let me finish this.” She's working at the sewing machine.

“If we don't go now it'll be dark, so move it.”

“One minute, that's all it'll take me. One minute, so hold your horses, Charley!”

Hold your horses. That's what Ma used to say.

The dog always comes to the door with Joanna and Rico to see us off.

Annie kisses Mango and Mango licks her face.

“You're not supposed to kiss dogs, you know,” I say as we head home. “You could catch something horrible and deadly.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I dunno, rabies or...”

“Rabies is only if a rabid dog bites you.”

“Well, how do you know Mango hasn't got rabies?”

“Because I know, that's why. Gee, you're so stupid sometimes, Charley, really!”

She's only eight but she sounds like she's eighteen most of the time. I don't know how she knows all the stuff she knows.