Watcher (20 page)

“Don't be such a
boy
,” she told him.

You might have noticed that I didn't mention Tack being at the party. That's because he was having his own graduation thing the same night. He came over that weekend, though, and we went canoeing and stayed at my grandparent's cabin on the Kawartha Lakes.

Lavender wasn't there, either. We're still friends, but we didn't keep going out. I talk to her once in a while and part of me hopes we'll eventually get back together, but I'm not counting on it. There was a lot I really liked about her but it turned out her drug use wasn't as harmless as she'd believed. It got between us fast, and when we realized that, she decided to quit.

I don't think Lavender ever saw getting high as a problem until she tried to give it up — for us — and found out it was a lot harder than she'd expected it to be. I could have handled that okay, but she started trying to hide it from me.

After living with lies my whole life, that was more than I could deal with. We agreed to stay friends, and like I said, we talk now and then, but that's it for now.

And, of course, my mother didn't come, though Amelia invited her. To tell the truth, that was fine with me.

Dad keeps telling me that it's important for me to forgive Mom. He says we should pity her more than anything because she had to be really sick to do what she did to us. Maybe he's right and the day might come that I will, but right now I can't find it in me.

I
have
tried to talk to her on the phone a few times but it's just pointless. She still denies what she did and I don't think that will ever change. I get the same spew of lies and persuasions, like it's not too late to convince me of stuff she could never
entirely
make me believe over twelve years.

Dad says maybe she can't face what she took from me and Lynn, but I know it's not that. She still thinks she has a chance to “win” and she doesn't care how much anyone else loses in the process.

Lynn went back to live with Mom after she and Conor broke up for good. I could hardly believe it, after she'd been so furious, but she said she couldn't stand seeing Mom so broken up and alone.

That lasted a week and a half, and they haven't talked since. Lynn lived here for a while, too, but said she just couldn't live with Amelia. It wasn't that they actually fought or anything, but Lynn said she felt like she was being judged. I have no idea what she meant by that, and with Lynn I may never know.

Anyway, she got a job and moved into an apartment in Scarborough with a couple of other girls. She's doing okay, in general, and even talks about going back to school sometime. I hope she does. I think that, being older, she got a lot more dumped on her than I did, and that's probably made it harder for her to adjust.

In a way, Lynn is a sort of restless type. Still, she shows up here whenever there's any kind of family thing going on and I think she's starting to feel like she belongs.

I am, too, but it's not as easy as I thought it would be. Things got on track fairly fast with Dad — that part was okay. Amelia and Nicole and the house and all the changes, that doesn't seem one hundred percent part of my life. Not yet.

We went to the zoo last summer — Dad, Amelia, Lynn, Nicole, and I. I thought I might catch more buried memories there — like being on my father's shoulders while we raced giraffes.

That happens sometimes, bits and pieces of the past still sneak through and they're like old photos, a bit hazy but with faces and places you can still recognize. I look at them until they start to blur, trying to grab every possible detail.

But at the zoo that day, even though I tried to open myself up to let in any memories that might be lurking, there was nothing.

We talked later on, Dad and I, and I told him I was a bit disappointed that I didn't recover any more memories that day.

And he said, “Maybe not, Son. But on the other hand, you
made
some.”

acknowledgements

S
pecial thanks to Amber Murray, the real inventor of “Roastin' the Ghetto Bootie,” the dance performed by Lavender Dean in this story.

And, as always, I am grateful for so many wonderful individuals in my life and world:

My husband, partner and best friend, Brent.

My parents, Bob and Pauline Russell. My son Anthony, his wife Maria, and daughters Emilee, Ericka, and Veronicka. My daughter Pamela and her husband David Jardine. My brothers and their families: Danny and Gail; Andrew, Shelley, Bryce, and Drew. My “other” family: Ron and Phoebe Sherrard, Ron Sherrard and Dr. Kiran Pure, Bruce and Roxanne Mullin, and Karen Sherrard.

My sixth grade teacher, the late Alf Lower, whose influence lives on.

Friends: Janet Aube, Jimmy Allain, Karen Arseneault, Darlene Cowton, Angi Garofolo, Karen Gauvin, Eric Fallon, Rosemary Fowlie, Gail and Paul Jardine, John Hambrook, Sandra Henderson, Thelma and Lorne Livingston, Mary Matchett, Johnnye Montgomery, Colleen Power, Marsha Skrypuch, Linda Stevens, Pam Sturgeon, Bonnie Thompson, and Beatrice Tucker.

The terrific team at the Dundurn Group.

Readers! Hearing from you is the best part of writing, and I love getting your letters and emails. In recent months, the following young people have taken the time to get in touch: Miranda Augustine, Michael Bain, Troy Bartja, Travis Bender, Brianne Bentley, Cam Bierling, Jared Braun, Sarah Crummey, Adrienne Rose Deeley, Hayden Desjardins, Rebekah Doiron, Keily Forster, Robbie Hamilton, Katie Howarth, Olivia Jones, Derica Lafrance, Julia Latuskie, Sisi Liu, Katherine Luymes, Desiree Marleau, Justin Mattinson, Stephanie Middleton, Alisa Murray, Keirstin Anne Murray, Shahama Najeeb, Michelle Nuttley, Alexandria Osolky, Jacqulyn Osolky, Archana Premkumar, Alexis Piercey, Courtney Pitre, Taylor Pringle, Alexandria Reid, Amanda Smith, Kolby Smith, Elise Steveson, Olivia Thompson, Lucy Wang, David Wiercigroch, Teresa Yin, Lisa Yoon, and Molly Meiling Zhai.

You are the voice of tomorrow. Speak wisely and well.

Speak truth.

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