Tree Fever. Karen Hood-Caddy

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ a complete rascal.” Madge chuckled. “Obviously very used to getting his own way.” She gasped for breath. “I managed to kick him out before he got into my –” she cleared her throat, playing for time – “bed. But it wasn’t easy.”

      I flinched but kept my mouth shut.

      “I must admit,” Madge went on, “it’s awfully nice having a man around again.”

      “It’s nice having certain men around,” I wanted to correct. Instead I said, “I don’t know which is better, living alone and dealing with the loneliness or being with someone and having to deal with all their hangups.”

      Madge elbowed me. “You forget the delights.”

      “You forget the hassles!”

      “It’s been six months since Ed moved out. And we weren’t doing diddly squat at the end there. That’s long enough for me to do without sex.”

      “Six months? Try six years!”

      Madge hooted. “I can’t.”

      I thought about Ed’s narrow eyes and the way they used to wander over my breasts when he didn’t think I would notice.

      “The one good thing about menopause,” Madge said, “is that, for once in my life, I don’t have to worry about birth control.”

      “Just all those deadly little diseases,” I added, unable to stop myself.

      Madge groaned. “Here I am, finally free to have free sex and its not free anymore.”

      “If it ever was …” Oh, Jessie, don’t be such a prude.

      We walked faster, neither risking more conversation.

      Fifteen minutes later, we reached the outskirts of town. Tea shops and country inns were coming to life again as winter took off its coat of snow and the tourist season approached. The town was large enough to have a movie theatre, a small shopping mall, a swimming pool and bakery, all of which functioned year round. But by May 24th, the annual metamorphosis would be in full swing. Dozens of stores, in business only from May to Labour Day, would open their doors and hang “Welcome Back” signs in their windows to greet the influx of summer people who would soon triple the area’s population.

      In the summer the town took on an almost European flavour with art exhibitions in the park, antique boat shows and a parade of tee-shirts emblazoned with LONDON, NEW YORK, MUSKOKA. Artists, painters, potters, glass blowers, quilt makers and silversmiths stocked the craft stores with their wares. For those brief, few months, the movie theatre showed films I actually wanted to see.

      I liked the fact that the town had seasons. Like an undergarment, the winter population gave the town its supportive foundation, but it was the summer crowd that dressed it up with flamboyant fashions and startling colours, giving it life and sophistication. The summer people were, after all, on holiday and committed to having a good time. And the town, despite the occasional grumble about the annual invasion, was just as committed to providing it.

      The cottagers were offered every opportunity to spend their money. And spend they did. They bought liquor by the case, loading the clinking boxes into mahogany launches that waited at docks built for their convenience. They bought corkscrews with fish heads, raccoon oven mitts and pine-scented toilet paper. They consumed thousands of cones of frozen yogurt, as they acquired hundreds of neon-coloured sail boards and dozens of jet skis. After their buying expeditions, they refreshed themselves in one of the waterside cafes which offered cold beer and jazz.

      Muskoka became the playground of Ontario, and cottage property prices, as if wanting to be part of the fun, shot up like fireworks over the bay on the first of July.

      “Hows it going with the kids? Ted still doing all right?” Madge asked. “You’ve got to admire him, eh? Ever hear from Luke’s mother?”

      I shook my head. “Not since the day she propped the note on the washing machine saying she was leaving. Luke was what, five months then?”

      “Strange – women are so different now. No matter how bad things were with Ed, when the kids were young, I never could have walked out.”

      I had liked Luke’s mom and wished she could have stayed. “That poor woman, she didn’t have a clue who she was or what she wanted. It’s hard to give to others when your own barrel is empty.” I knew all about that one. So I understood. Besides, I was grateful to have a grandson.

      “How old’s Luke now? Eight?”

      I nodded. “I’m taking him to a powwow in a few weeks. Want to come?”

      “A powwow? Isn’t that something out of the movies? Like when the natives meet and decide whether or not to go to war?”

      “Maybe on television. This one’s on the reserve down in Orillia. I don’t know much about it, only that they dress up and do ceremonial dances. I’ve got Luke for the day and thought he might like it.”

      “You know me, I’m always good for something different. Count me in – unless Boydie-boy wants me.”

      Anger lurched into my throat at my second place position, but I said nothing.

      “Speaking of different,” Madge said. “What’s it like having Robyn back? She doing ok?”

      I swallowed my resentment and carried on. “Hard to tell. If I ask her anything, I get that invaded look. If I don’t ask, I don’t know.” I made myself breathe out the tension in my neck. “Meanwhile she’s leaving her laundry everywhere. I feel like I’m living with a teenager again, not a twenty-two year old woman.”

      “Kids! My son still brings me his sweaters to wash. I never taught him how to do it because I thought his wife would do it when he got married. I tell that to Jeremy, John’s current lover, and we all get a good chuckle out of it.”

      “It’s crazy. I couldn’t wait to have her back and now I can hardly stand it.” A soggy wetness gathered in my chest. “She just seems so angry all the time.” And here you are, a psychotherapist and you can’t understand your own daughter. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sold the house.”

      “Hey, hold your horses. Things change. She can’t expect to be away all those years and have you run that huge old house alone. You did write and tell her you were moving. It’s not your fault that she was all over the place and didn’t get her mail.”

      “I guess she had to go where the work was,” I heard myself say, even though I knew this was a poor explanation.

      “What exactly did she do over there for all those years:

      “It sounds awful, but I don’t really know. She didn’t write much and when she did, they were just postcards. I know she was a mother’s helper a few times. And she worked doing children’s programs at resorts.”

      “Whatever. But it’s not as if you didn’t have a place for her to stay when she finally decided to come back.”

      “That’s the reason I bought the house I did. With the basement room, the kids can visit and I can carry on with clients.” My breath was coming in short, anxious bursts. “God, I sound defensive.”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ