Finding Isadora (34 page)

“
It’s always hard. But it was harder on Gabriel than on me.”

“
Oh? He stayed?”

“
Yes, he stayed with the dog. Until it was over.”

“
He can be good in circumstances like that,” he admitted grudgingly. “I had this gerbil when I was six. Called Ninja, if you can believe it. Anyhow, he died. Old age, natural causes, whatever. I came home from grade one, went to feed him, and found him dead in his cage. I was crying, inconsolable, and Mom didn’t know what to do. She kept saying we’d buy another one, but that wasn’t the point. Ninja wasn’t just a gerbil, he was … a unique personality.”

After almost a year together, he was for the first time telling me about the only pet he
’d ever had. What a truly strange day this was.

“
I know,” I said softly. “Each animal is unique and special. You can’t replace one with another.”

“
I guess Mom would have known that, if she’d really thought about it. But she was panicky, she had a hysterical kid and a dead animal she didn’t want to touch. Anyhow, she called Gabe. And for once he actually came when we needed him. Guess he didn’t have any important clients that day.”

Ignoring the last bitter comment, I prompted,
“What did he do?”

Richard closed his eyes briefly, as if to summon the memory.
“Took Ninja out of his cage. He didn’t put on gloves like Mom wanted him too, he picked him up and held him. Almost as if he was still alive. Then he held out his hands for me to take him. Mom was saying no, I shouldn’t touch a dead animal, but Gabe stopped her. He told me I should hold Ninja and say goodbye, since I hadn’t had a chance to do it when he was alive.”

I remembered the way Gabriel had stroked
Valente’s head as I put her to sleep. “And did you?”

His eyes were soft with remembered grief.
“I held Ninja, and Gabe talked to me about death. He said every creature dies, it’s part of how nature works. That it’s sad, but not horrible. Not something to be scared of. Gabe and I went out into the back yard—we were renting a bungalow in Richmond—and he dug a grave and we buried Ninja. He suggested I find a special stone to mark the spot.

“
After we were done, I asked Gabe if Ninja was gone forever, or if he was in heaven. He and Mom hadn’t taught me about religion, but I’d heard things from other kids.”

“
What did he say?”

“
He said no-one knows what happens to animals and people after they die. But the one thing that’s for sure is they live on in the memories of those who remain behind. He told me that as long as I thought of Ninja, some part of him would always be alive.” He gave a crooked smile. “I hadn’t thought of that gerbil in years. But tonight, he’s … kind of alive again.”

I smiled back.
“And now I’ve met him, too.”

“
You’d have liked him, Iz. He was a feisty little guy.”

Our eyes met across the table, and I felt a pervasive ache of regret. Not because I thought I
’d made the wrong decision, but for all that I was giving up. If Richard and I had had kids, I’d have made sure they got a gerbil. Again I had to blink away tears. “Damn.”

“
You can say that again.” But his tone was resigned rather than angry now. He made a determined assault on the lamb biryani he’d taken from the buffet, and I sipped cold chai tea.

After a moment I said,
“Richard? You have some good memories about how Gabriel was as a father. Not just bad ones.”

He frowned slightly, more in concentration than disagreement.
“I suppose.”

“
Sounds to me like he cared about you.”

For once, Richard didn
’t reject the notion out of hand. “Maybe. In his way.”

“
Inadequate is far better than unloving.”

“
I guess.” He put down his fork and shoved his plate away. “So, is that the point of tonight?” His voice had taken on an edge. “The lesson I’m supposed to learn? That even if I don’t get the kind of love I want, I should be thankful for a little bit of caring?”

He had posed another unanswerable question. I let it drop between us without responding.

A busboy cleared our plates and brought fresh tea and coffee. When he’d gone, I said, “You had some other news? About Eric?”

Richard
’s face brightened. “Right. I think things are going to work out.”

“
That’s great. So Caroline Winston approved of you? I can’t even remember if I told you she phoned. She sounded nice.”

“
I may have misjudged her. When I saw Eric hanging out in the evening, alone or with that gang, I thought she was neglectful. While it’s true she leaves him alone, it’s only because she needs to work two jobs.”

“
Oh? That sounds tough. Where’s Eric’s father?”

“
He was never in the picture. She had Eric when she was a teenager, and she dropped out of high school. Her parents were so mad at her for ruining her life, they ruined it further by refusing to help. Caroline’s always been the sole support of herself and Eric, and she’s in a vicious circle. She’s so busy earning enough money to meet their needs, she doesn’t have time to go back to school and get the training that would let her get a higher-paying job.”

“
Aren’t there programs for women like her?”

“
You’d think so. I haven’t talked to her about it. Don’t know her well enough. Pride could be standing in her way. She’s definitely proud. She wants Eric to have at least some of the things—clothes, toys, games—the other boys have.”

I could relate to that. My parents had never been big on material possessions. Now I agreed with them, but as a kid I
’d hated wearing second-hand clothes and not having all the latest toys. “What are her two jobs?”

“
Day-time she’s a secretary at a church. It doesn’t pay much but she’s on their extended health plan and they’re flexible about her hours. She can stay home with Eric if he’s sick, and take time off if he needs to go to the doctor or dentist.”

“
And her night job?”

“
Waitressing at a local restaurant. She gets okay tips and she’s close to home if Eric needs her.”

“
Close to home, but not home with him.” I frowned. “Didn’t you say he’s only twelve? What did she do when he was younger?”

“
Just worked one job. The church let her pick him up after school and bring him back to work with her.”

“
That’s good of them. But why does she need the two jobs now?”

“
She wants Eric to have the educational opportunities she didn’t. To go on to college, university, technical training, whatever he’s interested in when the time comes. That’s what she’s saving for.”

“
But in the process, he’s drifting in with the wrong kids. Perhaps losing direction, motivation. And partly because she’s not home enough to give him guidance.”

He nodded.
“Yeah, it’s a Catch 22. And she has been worried about him, but she didn’t realize how bad the situation was until I told her about the boys I’d seen him with.”

“
So she overcame her pride and agreed to let you try to help?”

“
She hasn’t decided yet. Caroline’s cautious, which is good. Last night was one of her nights off from the restaurant, and she and Eric and I went to a pizza place for supper.”

I
’d turned him down for dinner and he’d spent the evening with Eric and his mom. And I’d gone for a walk with Gabriel and made a life-altering decision. It had been quite an evening.

Pulling my attention back to his story, I asked,
“How did it go with Eric?”

“
He was quiet. Checking me out. I think at first he figured I might be hustling his mom—using him to get to her—and he was a little obnoxious. Caroline and I tried out a few topics of conversation before I hit on hockey. Turns out Eric’s a fan, too.”

“
What boy isn’t? All those grown men racing around and whacking each other with sticks.” I thought the game—I refused to call it a sport—was ridiculous.

He rolled his eyes.
“They’re supposed to be whacking the puck, not each other. Anyhow, there’s a Canucks playoff game tomorrow night. Caroline’s switching shifts with another waitress and the three of us are going to go.”

“
Lucky woman,” I said dryly.

“
I know you find it hard to believe, but some women actually like the sport. She’s one. She took Eric to a game for his last birthday, but that’s the only time they’ve ever seen one live.”

Did Caroline really like hockey, or was she just being nice to her son? And, on the heels of that question, I wondered if I should have tried harder to share Richard
’s interests. Would it have killed me to go to an occasional hockey game? If I’d tried to share more of his passions, might the two of us have felt more passionate toward each other? I swallowed hard. “I’m sure it’ll be a real treat for both of them. But…”

“
What?”

“
I thought the idea was for you to … I’m not sure of the right word—befriend? mentor?—Eric, not his mother.”

“
That’ll come. She wants to get to know me better first. Before she trusts me alone with him.”

“
She does sound responsible.”

“
We talked about me spending some time alone with Eric this weekend. We haven’t told him yet. She wants to see how things go tomorrow.”

Tomorrow night, Richard would be eating French fries and cheering at a hockey game alongside Eric and his mom. Whereas I
had absolutely no plans. You’d almost think he was the one who had done the breaking up.

Feeling sorry for yourself again, Isadora?
I chastised myself. Besides, I did have plans. I needed to talk to my parents and Janice. To share my news, hear their reactions, and hopefully collect sympathy hugs. Right now I could really use a hug.

I realized Richard was staring at me again, his face pale and strained.
“I’ve had all I can take for tonight, Iz. When I talk about Eric and Caroline—or even Gabe—I get distracted, but then I look at you and… All I can think is, you’re the same woman, but you’re not. You’re not going to marry me. We’re not going to have children together.”

His words, his sorrowful tone, went straight to my heart and, with absolutely no warning, the tears I
’d been fighting off all evening spilled over. “Sorry,” I choked out, hunting desperately for a tissue.

“
Shit.”

I tried to stem the flood while Richard, working in high-speed panic mode, got the bill and slapped down some money.
“Let’s go,” he urged.

Still sniffling, I got to my feet and let him steer me out of the restaurant.

On the street, he turned to me. “I’ll walk you home.”

Just like Gabriel, I thought, except Richard sounded distinctly unhappy at the prospect. And the last thing I wanted from him right now was grudging courtesy. I blew my nose.
“No, I’m okay.”

“
You’re not. You’re a walking invitation to a mugger.”

I blotted my damp face and said firmly,
“I’m fine. Besides, I have to stop at the drug store on the way.” It was a lie, but I figured it would discourage him from escorting me. “You go on, I’ll be fine.”

“
If you’re sure.” I could tell his sense of responsibility was warring with his strong urge to get away from me.

“
Positive,” I said as brightly as I could manage.

But when he said,
“Night, then,” and turned and walked away—without one mention of ever seeing me again—the tears started again. Not in a flood this time, but rather a slow, steady trickle, like a drizzly Vancouver day.

Trudging toward my apartment, I chose quiet streets where I wouldn
’t pass many people. And when I got home, I didn’t walk Pogo, merely let him out for a few minutes on the front lawn.

Back upstairs, I closed the apartment door behind us.
“It’s done, Pogo. I’m single again.”

The words felt anything but liberating. If I
’d made the right decision, why did I feel so miserable?

The next morning—Thursday—I stood on the sand, heavy-hearted and exhausted from another near-sleepless night, and watched Pogo chase gulls. He never had a hope of catching one, but each time I let him loose on the beach he went rushing off in mad pursuit, not letting his failures discourage him.

There was a lesson for me in his optimism, and my heart lifted a little.

When we were back home and I was dressing for the day, I picked favorite items that always made me feel good.
A soft, floaty skirt in a vibrant orange-red, Grace’s gift for my last birthday, went perfectly with colorful parrot earring Jimmy Lee had given me “just because.” My folks were terrific gift-givers; they never spent much money, but each item was carefully chosen.