Bad Things Happen

  BAD THINGS HAPPEN

  Kris Bertin

  BIBLIOASIS

  WINDSOR, ON

  Copyright © Kris Bertin, 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll free to 1-800-893-5777.

  FIRST EDITION

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Bertin, Kris, author

  Bad things happen / Kris Bertin.

  Short stories.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-77196-054-0 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-77196-055-7 (ebook)

  I. Title.

  PS8603.E76393B33 2016 C813’.6 C2015-907384-7

  C2015-907385-5

  Edited by Alexander MacLeod

  Copy-edited by Emily Donaldson

  Typeset by Chris Andrechek

  Cover designed by Gordon Robertson

  Published with the generous assistance of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council. Biblioasis also acknowledges the support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  This book is dedicated to my dear friends Alexander MacLeod and Ryan Paterson. Thank you both.

  BAD THINGS HAPPEN

  When we broke into his house, it was in the middle of the afternoon, so it felt like we weren’t doing anything illegal. He had a stepladder leaned up against the side of his place, so it took nothing to get onto his little wooden balcony and through the sliding door.

  All at once we’d done it. We were in hunky Jason Parvis’s house. My heart was racing but we made an agreement beforehand that we would say nothing once we got in there, so I stayed quiet. The smell that hit us was overpowering. Like old gym socks and rotting milk. Garbage. Now that we were inside, we felt sick.

  I didn’t have a word for what it looked like. It wasn’t just messy or dirty. It was crazy. The floors were clean, swept and mopped, but every surface was covered in stacks of stuff. Food wrappers from a year ago, receipts and old tissues and bills everywhere, protein shakes gone solid—at least ten of those. A coffee and side table piled with paper and plastic plates, brown with stains and crawling with flies. Tan pointed at a mouldy old cake in a plastic bubble sitting in the middle of the couch and made a gagging motion with her finger. I nodded, but I wasn’t so much repulsed as worried. He was such a normal-seeming guy, and so handsome and charming. I didn’t know how a person could live like this, let alone imagine him doing it.

  A weight bench with dirty laundry heaped over it. An old movie, broken in half with the tape torn out of it and hanging off the side of the dining-room chair. I’d picked up one half of it and read the title before putting it down. Anal Hooker Hell. There was a plastic jack-o-lantern hanging over the stairs, and when I saw it, I stood still, and stared. I counted all the months forwards and backwards from May and didn’t know if it was from last Halloween or the next one coming. On the first three steps heading up there were three bowls. One was filled with broken glass, ash, and cigarette butts and the other two had more tissues, some apple cores, and plastic pens chewed into frayed blue sticks.

  I said nothing, just shot glance after glance at Tan, but she didn’t seem to notice. Too busy inspecting a pair of boxer shorts from the laundry weights, holding them up, looking closely for stains. Looking around, I had the feeling that everything had some deep meaning behind it, even if it didn’t. Tan had found a giant Darth Vader bong on the table and was carrying it around with her, his underwear in her other hand. We had agreed not to touch anything, but I suddenly didn’t want to stop her. If I could keep silent it would almost be like we’d never been here at all. I would just take what I’d learned and try to work with it as best I could.

  Later, when it was over, we stayed silent for another five minutes, just walking up the road.

  That was weird, I said.

  Yeah, she agreed, looking at the sky. Fucked up.

  And we might’ve gotten it out of our system if we’d bothered to talk about it, but instead Tan talked about her father. What he was like before he left. She’d never mentioned any of it before, and it seemed important not to interrupt her, but it felt like it had nothing to do with anything. Usually all she had to say was junk about her mother and how horrible she was. How she never wanted to end up like her, no matter what.

  Jason was at the cash and we sort of didn’t want to see him right away so we went in through the Carnation Food entrance instead of the Esso one. It was one of those half-and-half places with a gas station on one side and a restaurant on the other. We almost never went in the front because no matter what time of day it was you could smell grease and sausages and there were great big fat people and it all just grossed us out. Even if we wanted to get milkshakes or soup or whatever, we’d still go in through the side, then through the hallway between the store and the diner, where the bathrooms were.

  But today we couldn’t. It’s not like Jason could even guess what we’d been up to but the both of us knew we couldn’t talk to him yet. We were too wound up and I thought it made more sense to ease ourselves into it, so I led us in through the double doors, through the stinky egg smell and past the trucker hats and perms and sat where we never sat before.

  What are you doing? Tan asked.

  What?

  We should act normal, she said.

  I’m normal, I said. You’re the one who’s all skanked up.

  And it was true, she was. She’d put on her sister’s clothes and big earrings and a ton of makeup. Her boobs were all jacked-up in a push-up bra but it wasn’t sexy-looking. They just looked unnaturally swollen, like she was allergic to something. She’d been dressing like this a lot lately, but today it was like she’d gone above and beyond for our little B&E.

  We should sit where we usually sit. Tan shook her head.

  We usually sit over there so we can see Jason.

  But it’s weird to sit here. Even the waitresses think it’s weird, look. Tan pointed over to the girls at the dairy bar, and they were looking at us, but probably only because she was pointing at them.

  Don’t point, I said. They already don’t like us.

  So? I don’t like them either.

  She flipped them the bird and they did the same right back.

  I looked down. Carnation Food was the only place to work in Onecdaconis and in another year we’d be here with them, looking retarded in those hospital-green uniforms, smoking cigarettes and screwing up orders, calling people hon. Or at least I would be. Dad said I needed a job if he was going to get me a car like he did my brother, and I needed a car to do anything other than stand around at a gas station. To get the hell out of here.

  What should I get? Tan was looking over the menu.

  Just get whatever.

  I just don’t want to chunk out. I can feel it in my face the second after I eat something fatty. Tan squeezed her cheek. Especially if we’re gonna go see you-know-who.

  God Tanya, I rolled my eyes, don’t call him that. Talk about suspicious. Listen to you.

  Let’s just stop talking about it, she said.

  I agreed, and even went one further and stopped talking altogether.

  Neither of us said anything, but it hung in the air between us. It was hanging there
when Diane came over with a pot of coffee to take our orders, there when she had to come back a second and third time, and still there when she had to tell us if we weren’t going to stop fucking around we had to leave. Over here’s like, a place of business.

  On the other side, Jason was leaning against the counter in his Esso polo shirt and track pants, chewing his nicotine gum. He looked so clean and healthy that for a minute it felt like we’d broken into the wrong house. My heart jumped a bit when I saw him, but it wasn’t like I thought it would be. His smile cooled everything off, like even if he did know, he didn’t care. It wasn’t hard to act like things were normal.

  When I said hi, it felt like always, but with Tan I could see something was different. She walked as if she were in heels on a runway even though she was in sneakers on linoleum.

  Hey girls.

  Jason, Tan said, like she barely noticed him. She wandered back to the magazines. He half-smiled at her, and looked to me for an explanation:

  She got a date?

  What? I laughed. Who would she be dating?

  What’s with the outfit, then?

  I dunno. She didn’t say.

  Then her voice piped up from behind a GQ.

  Are you talking about how I look, Jason?

  You look great, Tan, he said flatly.

  Then she moved her jaw around behind her lips, like when she’s deciding whether to be mean or not. Instead, she asked him:

  How old do you think I look?

  I think you look like you’re exactly sixteen, Tan.

  I laughed, but when I looked over, Tan was red. She’d shut her magazine and was making a face at us.

  I’m sorry, he said. I’m kidding.

  She took a breath but that red was still creeping up her cheeks.

  I bet I know how old you look today, Jason.

  His wallet had been on his dresser in his filthy room. The two of us silently pulled it out of its leather slot, counted up the years on our fingers, just like I’d done with the pumpkin.

  I immediately felt mortified to be next to him. I shot Tan a look, but she didn’t notice.

  You look thirty-four. Especially thirty-four today.

  Yeah, he laughed, folding his big arms. What, did someone tell you how old I am?

  You told us you were twenty-two, she spat. I wonder why you would do that?

  Tan, I said sternly.

  I never did that, he said.

  Yes you did!

  She shouted it, and shouted loud enough that everyone stopped moving or talking.

  Then someone came in. We had to wait for him to pay for his gas and Tostitos and pick out an air freshener from the wall behind Jason before we could continue. He picked the orange one, Autumn Fresh. When he was gone Jason leaned over the counter and got serious. He said her name, but she ignored him.

  Hey! He said, I’m talking to you, Tan.

  She was spinning the rack of sunglasses, talking but not looking at him, another magazine under her arm.

  I’m just saying. Why would a grown man need to lie about his age to a couple of girls? What would he get out of pretending to be closer to their age? Seems simple to me.

  Jason came around from the counter to answer that one. I got smaller once he got near. We only ever talked to him from behind a row of gum and chocolate bars. He was huge, bigger than I thought he’d be.

  If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, I might have to ask you to leave, Tan. Because people are already talking about me and the two little girls I let run wild back here, okay? So if you’re gonna say that shit, you can leave right now.

  Tan put on a pair of mirrored aviators before she faced him, and smacked her gum.

  I’m not saying anything, she shrugged. I dunno.

  She even put on a coy little smile before she turned around and tried another pair on.

  Forget it, she said.

  No, you’d better forget about it, Jason said. Then he deflated with a sigh and shook his head. I could see he was actually hurt now. Or maybe scared. He looked at the both of us and opened his arms.

  I let you guys hang out here all day sometimes, I even let you have cigarettes and smoke them near the tanks. He shook his head again. You’re my friends, but if you act like this, you won’t be welcome here. Do you understand? This is really serious.

  I held my breath.

  Tan shot around and threw her magazine at him. And she screamed loud. Called him a stupid, lying faggot. Asshole-piece-of-shit. Words I’d never heard her use before, but that came out like she knew exactly how they were supposed to be used.

  Tan! I shouted, but she was out the door, past the ICE freezer, past the parking lot and down the road. She stopped just once, and turned to see if I was coming after her. But the most I could give her was my voice, which had already bounced off the glass door and disappeared. I watched her walk down the hill towards the baseball diamond. In another minute, one of the managers from the restaurant popped her head in and Jason told her everything was fine. She was one of the moms that worked there, so she had to look at me before she was satisfied.

  She’s gone, I told the woman.

  Finally, when her cheek lifted from the wall and she disappeared, he turned to me.

  I don’t mind if you guys hang out here, but come on. This is not fucking funny.

  I’m not trying to mess anything up, Jason.

  He took a deep breath and I stayed where I was.

  We went out to the Baxter crates behind the store, where all the trash and cardboard got thrown. He was chewing his gum next to me, in the spot where Tan usually sat, while I smoked the cigarette she had given me. It was the first time he’d ever sat next to me, or come out here besides to tell us to make sure our butts were stamped out. I told him I had a question for him.

  What? More allegations?

  No. I looked at my shoes and cleared my throat. Nothing like that.

  He looked at me.

  Why are you here, Jason? I asked it quietly, like if I said it too loud he might know why I was asking.

  What do you mean?

  I mean Onecdaconis. You can go anywhere, why would you stay here?

  He looked away:

  It isn’t so bad.

  I just thought you were younger. I thought you were stuck here like us.

  No. I don’t know. I’ve lived other places and it’s all pretty much the same.

  Like where?

  Like Vancouver or Montreal or whatever. He looked up at the trees hugging the property line, then motioned to my smoke.

  Gimme that.

  He took it from me and I watched him take a drag.

  Seriously? Montreal’s the same as here? I don’t believe that.

  It’s people. He exhaled. People live everywhere you go, and everywhere you go, people are the same. There’s just more or less of them.

  He took a long drag, then another. By his third he offered it to me, but it was already almost gone. He coughed and cleared his throat.

  I just prefer less, he said.

  I sat with him, trying to make like what he was saying mattered to me, but all I wanted to know was how he ended up like this. What had gone wrong with his life, or if this was what life was always like.

  How do you—

  How do I what? He squeezed his eyes shut like it was sunny out, but it wasn’t. For the first time, he really did look thirty-four.

  Christ’s sakes, Dee. What do you guys want from me? he asked. I didn’t have an answer, but it wasn’t like he was sticking around anyway. He put my cigarette out and went inside.

  When we broke into his house, Tan was immediately drawn upstairs, into his bedroom, but I’d been more interested in the other rooms off the hallway. Downstairs was sort of tidied, or maybe arranged or something, but up here, everything was toppled ove
r and cluttered. Two of the doors were blocked by boxes and old chairs and junk, but the third opened just the slightest bit. I made out a wardrobe with a mirror, small and red. Everything else was in boxes, everything except for a single umbrella with a bear on it hanging from the knob of the wardrobe. It was then that I realized there were no photos anywhere in the house. None of him or his mother or father or the family that might have been here at one time or another.

  When I went back to Tan, I found her lying on the bed—his bed—smoking his cigarettes, sort of rolling back and forth. Her makeup was done—she must’ve done it in his little bathroom, the one filled with more clothes and junk and garbage, in the same mirror he shaved in. She twisted herself into a provocative pose, her blonde hair fanned out on the dirty pillows, smoking the cigarette like some kind of femme fatale. I watched her pout her red lips and produce perfect rings. These also felt like they meant something, even if they didn’t.

  Her mouth moved after that, and her eyes stared right at me, but nothing passed from her to me. The words stayed in her mouth instead. I motioned around us and mouthed back—about this place, about him, and about her, too—what the fuck?

  And then, after a moment, after she shook her head like she didn’t know, I mouthed something else. I did it with my head turned away because it was something just for me. Something my father would always say:

  Who knows what’s really going on at home.

  It was later on that same week that I had to go looking for Tan. She didn’t wake me up with the squirt bottle by my bed, didn’t meet me on the trail by the river, and wasn’t writing any dirty words in chalk along the highway. She wasn’t at Carnation Food, or hanging around with Jason out front. Wasn’t at the school, at the playground, at her Nan’s. She wasn’t anywhere, and when I called her mother, she was screaming so loudly into the phone I couldn’t understand what she was saying.

  After a few days, after her face and name had been put on flyers and broadcast on the radio, we’d learned she’d been seen getting into a truck with a pair of young men. Not at our truckstop, but at one over in Plaster Rock. I heard my parents talking about it downstairs, talking about what they would tell me.