The Taming (16 page)

“You met the folks, kid?” said Joey. “Hey, that’s a real promising sign. Where do they live?”

“On Hawkins Avenue, off Richard Street.”

Joey let out a long, slow whistle. “What number?”

“I don’t know. It’s big and it’s like a bunch of boxes that—”

“The mid-century modern, number 72?” He whistled again. “Those types move around a lot, maybe you can introduce me.”

That would’ve been an unbearably Joey-like comment to make, except that I knew in my gut that he was trying to deflect Mom.

“I told them about you already,” I said, all proud of myself. “I said that was you on all the benches!”

Joey smiled his big bus shelter smile. “Thanks, kid.”

“And his dad just got back from Tokyo, and his mom is so sweet and beautiful—”

“And I ask again!” It was too much for Mom. She, of course, took a compliment about anybody as an insult to her. I saw it instantly, right then. Looking from Joey to her, I saw what she saw. It wasn’t just in her head. My mom’s radar was brilliant and unerring. She was losing Joey. Joey didn’t even know it yet.

But Mom did.

“So, I ask, what does a boy like that want with a little
tramp
like you? Ooops, or did I just stumble onto the answer?”

“I
said
he’s not like that, Mom! Evan pays for everything and opens the door and tells me about fajitas and artichokes …” My cheek was still throbbing from her slap. “And he’s my Petruchio, and he’s so smart!” I was sucking back furious tears. “And he would never … because he is such a gentleman! Not that someone like you would ever know about gentlemen!” I paused as I realized what I’d just said. “No offence, Mr. Campana.”

“None taken, kid.” He shrugged. “And call me Joey!”

“Look you snivelling little—”

“Cheryl, for godsake!”

Joey took my mom by the arm and led her into the bedroom, said something to her and shut the door. Then he trotted back to where I was still standing, in the middle of the living room, one hand holding my keys and the other holding my cheek.

“Look, kid …” He was whispering and looking at the floor with a fair degree of intensity. “Your mom’s had a bit too much to drink. She’ll be right as rain by the time we get back, I promise. She loves ya to pieces.” He looked up and winked. “Go to bed and forget about all of this. Didn’t happen. Okay?”

I nodded. My humiliated heart bristled with gratitude. Joey had saved me from her. For the hundredth time I vowed that I was done with my mom. I would never care again. My mother was old, this was over, and she was angry because she knew it.

“Okay,” I said.

Joey gave me a thumbs-up sign, then he turned around and went back to her.

It was exactly 12:30 a.m. I had to get up in three hours.

I went to my room. Evan had said he loved me. He’d said that I always made him laugh, and that was one of the reasons he
loved
me. Okay, even if he didn’t mean it in
that
way, he
did
love me. Maybe he didn’t know it yet, but I did.

I looked at the phone. My cheek still throbbed. She packed a hell of a hit for such a little thing. I shut the door and pressed the message button and listened while I changed.

You have one message:

Hey Katie, Katie, it’s Lisa. Hey girl, I’m sorry, I’ve been in kind of a snit, not coming to rehearsals to help you out and just be around for you … yeah. And well, sorry, I’ve been a bit of a dick about Evan too, I guess. Never mind why, doesn’t matter. I uh, well, I miss you and I know you’re real busy with the play and well, Evan, etc., but I’m here and I’ll always be right here. Okay? Yeah, so how about a frappuccino on Sunday? Whether you’ve got any time or not, we’re friends for life, got it? Not the normal kind, in the normal way, but friends for life. I mean it. Love ya, later
.

Love ya? Love
me
? Wow. People were lining up in droves to love me. I turned off the light: 12:33 a.m. Why didn’t I feel any of it?

Chapter Twenty-Five

I
looked back at my car, parked on the road in front of the building, wondering if it would be safe there. Maybe, maybe not, but really, what did I care? Any damage done would just be an expense my father would have to absorb. Maybe I could damage it myself. Hitting him in the wallet was the place that hurt. And I wanted to hurt him.

I shifted the flowers and presents into one hand as I opened the door to the lobby, and then caught a wave of, ugh … what was that smell? Had somebody died in here or … ? No … not died … relieved themselves.

The carpet was ratty, the paint chipped and the board listing the tenants was scratched and worn. Some of the names were blank, others unreadable, others were unrecognizable. I knew she was in apartment 911, but I had to buzz up to have her let me in and I couldn’t see what number to buzz.

“Are you going up?”

I looked over. It was an old woman—a
really
old woman—and she was coming out of the building, still holding the door.

“Yes … thanks,” I said as I headed for the door.

“Just hold on a second.” She held the door but stood blocking the opening. “Who are you here to visit?” she asked.

“My girlfriend.”

“And you don’t know her code?”

“I’ve always gone in with her,” I lied. “I’ve never had to buzz up to go to her apartment … she’s in 911.”

She nodded her head and I gave her a big smile.

“We’re really not supposed to hold the door for people we don’t know,” she said.

“I appreciate you letting me in.”

She chuckled. “And I don’t normally let just anybody in, but you don’t look like no thief.”

“I’m not,” I assured her.

She went out as I went in. One of the elevators was waiting, the door open. I climbed in and pushed floor nine. The door slid shut, sealing me inside with a smell that wasn’t much better than the lobby’s, and it lurched upward. I looked around at the graffiti, scratched into the walls and written with black marker. Other than the quantity there was nothing impressive or creative. At the ninth floor the door opened—an inch below the level of the floor. I stepped up and out. Left or right. I went to the right—fifty-fifty chance.

The colour and pattern of the rug in the hallway didn’t match the lobby’s, but the worn and ratty feeling was consistent. So was the peeling paint. I passed by apartments, each with its own sick sounds and smells spilling out.

When I got to 911 I listened at the door before knocking. I couldn’t hear anything, but she had to be back from work … unless she’d gone out right after? Unless she was with somebody else? It was hard not knowing where she was, but soon that wasn’t going to be a problem, because I’d always know where she was.

I knocked and I heard somebody moving around inside. Then a shadow appeared at the little peephole in the door, instantly followed by the sound of a chain being pulled across. The door swung open.

“Evan, what are you doing here?” Katie said. Her tone was hesitant, worried, concerned. Was there somebody in there with her?

“I wanted to surprise you,” I said. I wondered just how surprised we were both going to be.

“You did surprise me, but you should have called!”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise. Are you going to invite me in?”

“Of course. It’s just that the place is a mess.
I’m
a mess.”

“I didn’t come to see the place, and you look wonderful. As wonderful as these.” I handed her the flowers.

“For me?”

I laughed. “I almost had to give them to an old woman in the lobby as the price of admission, but they’re for you. They’re your favourite flowers.”

“My favourite?” she exclaimed as she started to undo the wrapping. “I don’t really have a favourite.” She pulled the flowers out of the paper. “They’re beautiful … wow.”

“They’re orchids. Your new favourite flowers are expensive and exotic. Rare and beautiful. Like you.”

I saw her just melt in front of my eyes. I loved it when she did that. I’ve known so many girls who would have faked appreciation for the flowers but waited for something more—something more expensive. She was blown away by the flowers—and really, if they’d only been daisies that I’d picked from the front lawn she would have felt the same.

“So, are you going to let me all the way in or do I have to stand in the hall?”

“I’m sorry … sorry … of course … the flowers … !”

She took my hand and led me down the dim hallway—was there a light bulb out or something? She brought me into the living room. There were a couple of couches, a La-Z-Boy chair and a coffee table with dozens of cup rings marring the top. I could see where that IKEA comment had come from, because IKEA would have been a big step up. In the corner was a flat-screen TV—about the only thing worth anything in the whole place.

“Just have a seat while I put these in water and get freshened up a little,” she said.

“The flowers can wait, and maybe I like the smell of baked goods. Come and sit down.”

“But—”

“That
wasn’t
a request.” I took her by the hand and pulled her down to sit beside me on the couch. It creaked under our weight.

“First off, is your mother home?”

She shook her head.

“Is she going to be home soon?”

“She’s gone for the weekend.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping to meet her.” I paused. “But … since we’re alone.” I pulled the bottle of Dwersteg from the bag. “I liberated it from my father’s liquor cabinet. It’s a liqueur … very tasty … it’s a very exclusive coffee liqueur, like Bailey’s or Kahlua but much,
much
better.” And much more potent. “It’s the perfect thing to celebrate your present.”

“They
are
beautiful flowers,” she said.

“They are, but they aren’t the present. This is.” I pulled the little box from the inner pocket of my jacket.

Katie gasped. “You really don’t have to get me anything … anything more.”

“I don’t
have
to get you anything. I
wanted
to get you something. I’m afraid if you’re my girl you’re going to have to get used to getting presents.”

She reached for the box and I pulled it back. “But first, go and get us a couple of glasses and fill them with ice. And hurry, before I change my mind.”

She jumped to her feet and practically ran into the kitchen. I could hear the cupboard open, then the fridge, and then the unmistakable sound of clinking ice. Katie reappeared holding two glasses and placed them on the coffee table.

I undid the top of the bottle. “It’s imported from Germany,” I said as I started to pour it over the ice. “Organic, made from Arabica coffee beans.”

“Coffee. I like coffee,” Katie said. “I
love
frappuccinos.”

“I know that.” I handed her the glass. “To you,” I said.

“To us.”

We clinked our glasses together and she took a little sip. “This is good!”

“Did you expect me to give you something that tasted bad?”

“No, it’s just that I didn’t expect it to taste
this
good. I don’t drink very much, and I didn’t know that liquor could taste like this. This is delicious.”

“Have some more,” I said. I didn’t wait for a response. I tipped the bottle and filled her glass to the top. “Now, for the present.”

She took it from me. “It’s so pretty,” she said, admiring the wrapping.

“It’s what’s inside that matters.”

Carefully she tried to undo the bow and remove the paper without ripping it.

“Just open it!” I yelled.

She ripped open the paper and—

“It’s a phone!” she exclaimed.

“Not just a phone—it’s the same as
my
phone. The best money can buy!”

She cradled it in her hands like it was a baby. “It’s beautiful … it’s wonderful … but …”

“And I prepaid a plan for the first six months, so don’t worry about how you can afford it,” I said.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“How about thank you?” I suggested.

“Thank you … thank you so much.”

She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a big hug. I could feel her body pressed against me through the thin top she was wearing.

“I worry about you coming home alone late at night without me there to protect you. This way, I know you’re going to be safe.” It would also mean that I’d always know where she was and who she was with. Every minute, day or night.

“It’s just that you give me so much, and I’ve never given you anything,” she said.

“You give me more than you know,” I said. But not nearly as much as she was going to give me, I thought. “Now go and get changed so I can start to show you how to use the apps,” I said.

“I thought you liked the smell of baked goods,” Katie said.

“The smell is beautiful, but I need you wearing something beautiful. I want a new picture of you to be the background on my phone. Every time I take out my phone I want to see you. Now, be a good little girl and go and get changed into something pretty.”