On the Shores of Darkness, There is Light Read online

  “She says it gives us perspective on Irwin’s condition.”

  Trent, wrench in hand, was leaning over his new bike, adjusting gears. “Well, I’m going to have to talk to her about that.” He always says he’s going to talk to Lynne about things. He never does.

  “She wants us all on donor lists.”

  “She what?”

  “She’s seen so many sick kids. She thinks everybody should be on donor lists.” Harriet likes the idea of her organs continuing on without her body to save a life. She asked Mr. Bhanmattie if being on a donor list would ruin her chances of becoming an albatross in her next incarnation, and he told her it would not affect her soul’s transmigration.

  All the movies have started. She is the only customer in the lobby. An usher with one side of his head shaved asks her who she’s waiting for.

  “My mom. She said she’d pick me up here.”

  “You mean, like, after the movie? Why aren’t you watching a movie?”

  “I’m not feeling well. I thought the movie might make me dizzy. The 3D and everything. I’m just going to wait out here for a bit.”

  “Which movie? Can I see your ticket?”

  Harriet feels around in her pockets. “That’s weird. I had it a minute ago.”

  “You can’t loiter here, miss.”

  “I’m not loitering.”

  “I have to follow procedure. If you’re loitering, I have to call security.”

  “Maybe I dropped it in the washroom. I’ll go look.”

  She practises her moonwalk in the washroom mirror, and attempts some Michael Jackson moves from “Speed Demon” that she saw Mr. Rivera’s family imitating on their Nintendo Wii console. She crouches down then jumps up and scampers across the tiled floor with an elbow crooked at shoulder height and the other arm stretched behind her. She tries Michael Jackson’s side step with the knee bounce, and jerks up her elbows in a chicken dance, pulling her knees together and swinging them back out again.

  The usher knocks on the washroom door. “If you don’t come out, miss, I’ll have to call security. I have to follow procedure.”

  Five

  She phones her father, knowing his cell is probably turned off. He works in IT and clients constantly call him, disrupting his concentration. He used to work for the same bank as her mother but he quit “that corporate vulture.” Now he has no health insurance and many different clients who take months to pay him. He constantly tells Lynne he’s waiting for a cheque.

  Uma answers the home phone because she never goes out but sits with her laptop on beds, couches, stairs and her yoga mat, working on her thesis. Sitting at desks hurts her back but all other surfaces seem to be fine for thesis writing.

  “Is my dad there?”

  “He’s biking.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “I have no idea. Is everything all right, Harriet? Has something happened to Irwin? Lynne told us he’s back in the hospital.”

  “It’s not Irwin. I’m at the Scarborough Town Centre. I was hoping my dad could pick me up.”

  “We already told Lynne we’re mid-cycle. It’s not a good time for a visit.”

  “I realize that. The thing is, I came here with Gran and I lost her and now I don’t have enough money to get back.”

  “What do you mean you ‘lost’ her?”

  “She was looking at perfumes and then she was gone.”

  “She left you alone at the Scarborough Town Centre?”

  “Not on purpose.”

  Uma doesn’t speak but Harriet knows she disapproves of Lynne and Gran. She has heard her refer to them as white trash. “Where did Dad go biking?”

  “Stouffville. He’ll be gone for hours. I really don’t need this right now. Did you call Gennedy?”

  “He’s not answering.” This is a lie. She would rather die than call him.

  “What about your mother?”

  “She’s busy with Irwin. Did my dad take the car?”

  “Why would he take the car if he’s on his bike? What are you angling for, Harriet?’

  “I was wondering if you could pick us up.”

  “You know he doesn’t like me driving the Rover.”

  The Range Rover was built in England and has a manual transmission. Trent doesn’t like Uma driving it because she burns the clutch. He has pampered and protected the Rover for years, although one of Irwin’s puke stains could not be removed from the leather upholstery.

  “You can drive it though, can’t you?” Harriet asks. “It’s getting late and I don’t have any money.” She pictures Uma clenching her jaw, considering Trent’s reaction when he finds out she left his daughter in a mall, and checking a website on her laptop for more information. Uma never makes decisions without first checking her laptop.

  “Where are you exactly in the centre?”

  Harriet knows she’s searching Google Maps. “I’ll wait outside the theatre.”

  “Wait inside the lobby.”

  “I can’t wait inside. The security guard thinks I’m loitering.”

  “Is he there? Let me talk to him.”

  Uma believes in conflict resolution. For this reason Harriet never reveals any of the unresolvable conflicts in her life. “I’m in the mall, at a pay phone. I’ll wait for you inside the doors to the food court.”

  “Not inside the doors, Harriet. It’s not safe. Sit in the food court near the door. I’ll find you.”

  “What about Gran?”

  “What about her?”

  “We have to find her.”

  “Let’s worry about you for now. Don’t go anywhere or talk to anybody. Wait for me. I don’t know how long I’ll be. It depends on traffic.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” There is no way Harriet is leaving the mall without Gran. She might have upped and died like Mr. Kotaridis. Harriet doesn’t mention this to Uma because she suspects she wouldn’t mind if Mads upped and died.

  It makes no sense that they want a baby. Babies consume every hour of every day. Uma would have to abandon her laptop, and Trent his new bike. Uma has explained to Harriet that eggs on ovaries after thirty-five start to rot. At thirty-nine, Uma’s eggs are seriously rotting. This didn’t seem to concern her until she went on a yoga retreat and met a blind Buddhist mother of six who convinced her that giving birth would open new channels and help her live in the eternal present. Harriet knows all this because Uma explains things in detail that she thinks Harriet needs to understand. “What you need to understand,” she has said on several occasions, “is I’m not trying to be your mother. More like your sister. Or just a friend.” Harriet would prefer she not try to be any of those.

  When Harriet asked Trent why he wanted another baby, he said, “Uma feels she needs a radical change in her life.”

  “Maybe she needs to be alone,” Harriet suggested, “away from you, I mean, to discover her true potential.” Mr. Chubak reads horoscopes and they’re always advising people to discover their true potential.

  “I need you to be nicer to her, Hal. She needs a friend right now. Her thesis is taking a lot out of her.”

  Uma’s thesis is very demanding. Harriet isn’t clear what it’s about but knows it has something to do with Women’s Studies because that’s what Uma hopes to teach after she finishes it.

  There are no empty tables near the door of the food court. Harriet stands by the trash bins.

  “Harriet Baggs, fancy meeting you here.” Mrs. Elrind pushes her patchy red face in Harriet’s line of vision. “Are you alone?”

  “I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Your mother?”

  The last time Mrs. Elrind saw Lynne was at a meeting arranged by Mrs. Elrind to discuss Harriet’s behavioural issues. Lynne avoids Harriet’s parent/teacher interviews unless a teacher requests a meeting. The teachers advise her that Harriet doe
sn’t work well in groups and that her behaviour needs improvement. Lynne responds, “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  Mrs. Elrind did more than complain about Harriet’s behaviour. She called her belligerent and suggested she had Oppositional Defiant Disorder because Harriet refused to follow instructions. Mrs. Elrind referred to an incident in which she had instructed the class to work with three geometrical shapes and Harriet insisted on working with six. “Your daughter is deliberately disobeying me.”

  “So what do you want me to do about it?” Lynne demanded. “You explain to me how to make my kid do your stupid-ass projects.”

  Mrs. Elrind, according to Lynne, became miffy, commenting that “clearly, the acorn did not fall far from the tree.” She recommended a psychological workup for Harriet.

  “Go fuck yourself,” Lynne said.

  Harriet had expected Lynne to be angry when she returned from the meeting, but her mother just told her what was said, delighting Harriet, who imagined Mrs. Elrind’s red face getting even patchier and her shrill voice becoming even shriller. “So there you go, Mizz Harriet,” her mother said. “It’s your life. Your choice. I can’t fix it for you.”

  And now, in the food court, Mrs. Elrind is faking concern for Harriet. “Why don’t you join us while you’re waiting? You shouldn’t be unaccompanied in a place like this.” She puts her doughy arm around Harriet’s shoulders and guides her to a table already occupied by a man whose face is so puffy, Harriet can barely see his eyes.

  “This is Mr. Elrind.” Mrs. Elrind pushes her into a seat. “Harriet is the student I told you about. The abstract artist.”

  “Is that right?” Mr. Elrind says. “I hear you’ve been giving my wife the runaround.”

  “Now, Earl,” Mrs. Elrind cautions.

  “I was the same at your age. Only learned what the rules were after I’d broken them.” Scaly skin covers Mr. Elrind’s hands, and his fingernails are yellow. Combined with the puffy slits for eyes, he resembles a reptile. Harriet decides to paint him later.

  Mrs. Elrind crosses her doughy arms the way she does before asking the class a challenging question. “Now why would your mother leave you alone in the food court?”

  Harriet knows she’s snooping around for a reason to contact Children’s Aid. Mrs. Elrind notified them about Tiffany Bussey’s mother slapping her and calling her a slut in training. Tiffany had a psychological workup, and Children’s Aid took her away from her mother to live with her aunt in Mississauga.

  “My mother didn’t leave me alone. She’s at the hospital. My brother’s sick again.”

  Mrs. Elrind must be aware of Irwin’s condition because all the teachers were asked to watch for seizures and, to the best of their ability, ensure that he doesn’t eat all his snacks at once like the other kindergartners. He needs to eat small amounts regularly or food becomes blocked by scar tissue in his bowel left behind by repeated surgeries. Lynne numbers his snack containers with felt marker, and draws little clocks on them—even though he can’t tell time—to indicate when he should eat them.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Harriet. Who’s here with you?”

  “My grandmother.”

  “And she left you alone in the food court?”

  “I’m waiting for my father’s girlfriend to pick us up.”

  “Your father’s girlfriend ?” Mrs. Elrind looks at Mr. Elrind picking his teeth with his yellow fingernail.

  “My parents are divorced. He’s allowed to have a girlfriend.”

  “You’re right there, pardner,” Mr. Elrind says.

  “Earl, stay out of this.” Mrs. Elrind offers Harriet her New York Fries. Harriet loves New York Fries but doesn’t want anything touched by Mrs. Elrind.

  “Astonishing how many of my pupils’ parents are divorced,” Mrs. Elrind says to no one in particular. Mr. Elrind takes several of her fries even though he still has a slice of pizza on his plate. Mrs. Elrind nibbles a fry. “Well, I think it’s high time we called your mother. What’s her cell number?”

  “I don’t know. She just changed it.”

  Mrs. Elrind looks at her the way she did when Harriet lost the school field trip forms her mother was supposed to sign. She didn’t really lose them. Pinning Lynne down to sign forms when Irwin’s in the hospital is nearly impossible. For the trip to the ROM, Harriet forged her signature and stole the ten bucks from Gennedy’s track pants while he was in the shower.

  “How old are you, sailor?” Mr. Elrind asks.

  “Eleven, captain.”

  “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “I’m going to work in a bank.”

  “A financier, eh? Move over, Mr. Trump.”

  “If you hope to work in a bank,” Mrs. Elrind says, “you would do well to memorize your multiplication tables.” Her thumb is working speedily on her cell. Harriet fears she’s looking up the Children’s Aid Society.

  “My father’s girlfriend should be here any minute.”

  “Well, why don’t we call your father? Do you know his number? Or did he change his number too?”

  “He’s biking to Stouffville.”

  “He’s what?”

  “He bikes a lot, long distances.”

  “Holy mac,” Mr. Elrind says. “Stouffville? That’s got to be fifty kilometres from here.”

  Mrs. Elrind clasps her hands under her bosom. “Harriet, let me make sure I understand you correctly. Your mother is in hospital with your ailing brother, and your father is bicycling to Stouffville.”

  “That’s correct.” Harriet glances at the glass doors for signs of Uma.

  Mrs. Elrind holds up her hands as though she’s under arrest. “Is it just me or is this an utterly appalling situation?”

  And then Uma bustles through the doors. Harriet hurtles towards her and throws her arms around her. “Take it easy, Hal,” Uma says. Normally Harriet resents her using her nickname but now she feels only surges of affection for Uma, who is always home. “Who were you talking to?”

  Mrs. Elrind steams towards them. “Do you have any idea how long this child has been unaccompanied?”

  Uma, a head taller than Mrs. Elrind, looks down at her. “Is that any concern of yours?”

  “As her teacher, it most definitely is. She needs a stable home environment, obviously. I have half a mind to report this incident to the authorities.”

  In the parking lot, Uma grips Harriet’s hand so hard it hurts.

  “We have to find Gran.”

  “Your grandmother is perfectly capable of looking after herself. She’s probably in a doughnut joint flirting with the gents.”

  “What if she isn’t? What if she had another heart attack?”

  “Then she’ll be rushed to the hospital and your mother will be notified. This is a public place. People notice when old ladies have cardiac arrests.” She opens the passenger door. “Please get in, Harriet. This isn’t good for my hormone levels.”

  Harriet climbs in but doesn’t fasten her seat belt. “Couldn’t I just ask at the information desk?”

  “Do you even know where the information desk is in this consumer ghetto?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re lying.” Uma starts the Range Rover. “Let me explain something to you. Trent and I are at a critical stage in this cycle.”

  “Is that why he’s biking to Stouffville?”

  “If you’re going to be adversarial, I’m not talking to you. I don’t need this.” She starts to back out of the parking spot but stalls the Rover. “Fucking stick.” Stick, Harriet knows, means the manual transmission.

  “Please, Uma? I could just run in and ask. It’ll take two seconds.” Her father always says “it’ll take two seconds,” which means at least twenty minutes.

  Uma burns the clutch some more. “Absolutely not. Listen to me. What you need to understand
is I have two follicles maturing. If I am stressed, it raises the cortisol levels in my blood, which could jeopardize ovulation. If those follicles don’t release the eggs in the next twenty-four hours, they will have to give me an injection of another hormone to prevent the eggs from becoming post-mature. All of this costs money none of us want to waste. So please, spare me a sob story about your grandmother who abandoned you in this retail urban disaster.”

  “She didn’t abandon me.”

  “Then what do you call it, Harriet? You’re a child. She is supposed to be responsible for you.”

  “She forgot.”

  “Oh. That makes it okay then.” A car honks as Uma stalls the Rover again. “Fucking stick.” She restarts the engine and cruises towards an exit only to find it blocked by several cars and a school bus.

  “There’s Gran!” Harriet shrieks, pulling at the car door.

  “Don’t get out while the car’s moving.”

  “It’s Gran, by the bus.”

  Forced to stop due to the lineup of cars, Uma stalls the Rover. Harriet charges over to Gran. “Gran! What happened?”

  “Oh there you are. Me and Jedi have been looking all over for you. Poor old Jedi backed into a school bus.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “No, but the cops aren’t too happy about it. They’re talking about taking his licence away. He says the bus blocked him. But some no-goodnik witnesses say the bus was moving when he hit it.”