At least the bruises her daughters would have been able to see. But obviously, there was something more going on here.What the old crew I worked with sometimes just shorthanded as “Psychology” when we had to physically remove someone from their property, when they started hysterically crying and insisting they’d rather burn to death than leave their home.
But Bell wasn’t a fire. She was a woman, crying so hard, I didn’t know what to do.
This was beyond me. That was when I realized…
I needed backup.
10/
decades of silence and then…
ZION
I was grading Jacobi Baerlow’s rather poorly written essay on the themes inGreat Expectationsat the kitchen counter when my phone buzzed with an email alert.
Ravik turned from the living room sofa and muted the nature documentary on the migration of Canada geese he was watching with a look that silently asked,Everything okay?
My last remaining maul mate stayed ever at the ready to assist.
I once again wondered if I shouldn’t at least attempt to convince him to leave Bear Mountain with me when the school year ended in the fall, at which time, I planned to quit, whether Mayor Rys had found a replacement for my schoolhouse teacher position or not.
However, Ravik hadn’t stepped foot outside of Bear Mountain for anything more than a Barrington’s run in decades. He was born here, grew up here, and there was little to no chance I could persuade him not to die here.
Which meant… my red pen stilled over Jacobi’s essay as I realized,I’ll soon be losing my best friend.
But I set those future thoughts aside and reached for the phone lying on the counter as I assured Ravik, “No need to worry. Most likely yet another Grade 10 student requesting more time for the essay due tomorrow.”
Back when I was completing my final year at Abernathy in England, I often cursed myself for pushing assignments until the last minute in order to make room for theatre club.
Not once did it occur to me to ask for extra time.
“The entitlement of this younger generation no longer astounds me, but I’m given new reason to be disappointed by their low effort every day,” I griped to Ravik as I opened my phone, preparing to explain, yet again, that they could look up the definition ofcrammingand consider the merits of working hard to meet a deadline rather than requesting an extension (which I’d explicitly stated on day one of the school year in April would only be granted on the occasion of death in the family or sickness with a note of confirmation from Dr. Ashak).
However, the email did not come from one of my English Literature students.
I jolted, then carefully muted my side of the maul-bite bond with Ravik when I saw the nameClaudine Ellisat the top of my inbox.
Ravik and Niska knew about Claudine. I’d told them everything when I returned to our totem cave after two weeks away. But this guilt was mine alone to carry.
Regret squeezed my chest at the sight of her name. For so many reasons. Not only had I cheated on my late wife with my ex-girlfriend in a fit of pique and resentment, but I’d also left our bed of infidelity before the sun rose—so consumed with shame, I hadn’t taken the time to explain to Claudine why I couldn’t face her in the morning.
But now here she was. In my inbox.
I clicked on the message.
Hello, Zion:
I’m in Scotland now. I am getting married next week, and according to my soon-to-be husband, there are some things I should talk with you about so I can enter into our union without baggage from the past. Call me at your earliest convenience, and after checking the time difference. Are you still in British Columbia? Hope this email still works. Number below.
-Claudine
A strange warmth filled my chest as I read her message. She sounded exactly as I remembered her—no-nonsense, clearly stated reasons for everything she did. Not one ounce of sentiment or art.
Back when I was barely scraping by in a low-tier Canadian med school—after disappointing my father greatly by not having the marks to gain entry into his British alma mater—I’d thought her the perfect solution to my problems with staying on the path my father had set forth for me.
She was a pretty Jamaican nursing student with the personality of a tank and a five-year plan.
“I will be editing it to include you as soon as I have my jewelry,” she informed me on our third date, after letting me know she expected a wedding ring by the time I graduated from med school.
