“Yeah.”
“When did you move there?”Dora asked, brow furrowed.
Mary shrugged.“I was living with a friend in Mississauga and taking the train in.Cheaper rent there, bigger tips in Toronto.It worked out.”
The photo was of a group of seven people, all middle-aged, with their arms around one another’s shoulders.The midway of the enormous annual fair formed the backdrop, a large Ferris wheel visible in the distance.The blue-and-red lights of the Polar Express ride they were waiting in line for glittered behind them.
It was strange for Rachel to see these images of her mother looking normal and happy.These friends were new, too.Kevin’s coworkers and their wives, Mary said.“And they’ve all got legit jobs.”
Rachel took in their straight teeth, polo shirts, and expensive sunglasses.Mary always had friends, though not in the way Rachel would have defined them.From the bits and pieces she’d learned over the years, they never stuck around long.Just like Mary.They were all fair-weather and usually connected to some temporary job Mary was working, or they were pals of the dealer who supplied her pot.They provided a couch, or cigarettes, or served as a bank when she needed a place to crash or a spot of cash to make it to payday.They weren’t the kind of friends that would drive you to chemo and let you barf in their car, or tend to your paranoid delusions and mop up your tears when your depression was so bad you couldn’t be bothered to feed yourself.Rachel didn’t know whether Mary was even capable of identifying that sort of friend—not that she could be one herself, either, so maybe it was a fair transaction.Some relationships were just surface-level, after all.The junk-food version of human connection.Colourful and exciting and fun in the moment, but quickly digested and offering no real nourishment.
“So where is Kevin while you’re here?”Dora had asked her after Mary returned the photos to her wallet.
“He takes a golf trip down to South Carolina with three of his friends every summer,” Mary said, “so I thought I’d come up here for a bit while he’s away.I had a fight with my roommate and my rent went up, so I got him to let me move in with him.He’s got a nice house just outside the city.He works down on Bay Street.Some finance thing,” she said, eyebrows raised conspiratorially.“I’ll move in when he gets back.”
Rachel and Dora exchanged a look of knowing surprise.Mary had learned the art of gold-digging, and was sharpening her pick.
Two weeks later, Mary still hadn’t shown any signs of looking for a job, and Dora was beginning to lose patience.
“Kevin’ll be back in a week anyway, Mama, and then I’ll head out.No point getting a job here when I’ll be leaving soon,” Mary said one morning over a breakfast of Dora’s signature omelettes: heavy on the ham and peppered with a secret herb blend of Dora’s own creation.
“That’s what you always say, and then you end up staying for weeks, or months.And you could at least cover the cost of some groceries and the damn phone bill,” Dora fired back.“You’ve spent at least two hours on it long distance to the States, and youwillpay for it, Mary.”
But Mary shrugged, not meeting her mother’s eyes.“I’ll send you a cheque once I’m back at Kevin’s.Relax, Mama.”
Dora pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek and glanced at Rachel, who shrugged with aThere’s no point arguing her about thislook.She was sometimes keenly aware of the topsy-turvy dynamic of the house, that she and her grandmother were essentially parenting Mary alongside one another, both rolling their eyes and sighing at the irresponsibility of their charge.The mothers of Rachel’s friends acted their age.They contributed to their retirement funds through hard-earned work.They gardened, cleaned, and worried for their daughters, pleaded that they not walk alone at night and call when they got somewhere.As a child, Rachel pined for a mother who would actually parent her.But now that she wasgrown, she just yearned for a mother who didn’t need to be parented by her own child.
“And how do you know Kevin will pay for your phone bill?”Dora pressed, pouring some coffee into her own and Rachel’s mugs with precision, though her eyes were still on Mary.
“Because he will.He loves me.Hetakes care of me.”
Dora slammed the coffee pot down on the table with a tremulous crash.Rachel stopped chewing, eyes darting between Dora at the head of the table and Mary across from her.Rachel set her fork down carefully, silently composing the tirade she longed to throw at her mother.But Dora got there first, let her have enough vitriol for both of them.
“And we do not take care of you?”Dora snarled.“Has Kevin yet witnessed one of your mental breakdowns?Fielded midnight crisis phone calls?Has he spoon-fed you applesauce when you couldn’t feed yourself?Does heactuallyknow anything at all about who you are?Does he know about—”
“Mother,stop it!” Mary shouted, with a fear-stricken glance at Rachel.It was somehow imploring, as though she wanted or expected Rachel to take her side.
“Don’t look atmefor help!”Rachel scoffed.
“How dare you, Mary?Howdareyou?!”Dora snapped, her rage surging like a geyser.“And besides—” Her mouth contorted suddenly into a sneer, the same one Mary made when she wanted to wound, and for a moment Rachel was both reminded that they were related, and baffled that Dora had produced a woman like her mother.“What would you know about propercare?”
“Oh don’t start, Mama!No!”Mary shot Rachel a look again, then pushed her chair back from the table with a trumpeting scrape, like an angry elephant.She made for the staircase near the front hall, then stopped and turned, a strange look on her face.The anger was gone.This was curious, calculating, which somehow frightened Rachel more than the anger.
“He’ll take care of me because I’m having his baby.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open.“You can’t be serious.”
Mary didn’t look at her, didn’t answer.
Dora let out a little hiss.“You’re forty-one years old.You can’t be pregnant,” she said, her voice low, like a threat.
“Iam, Mama,” Mary said.
Rachel was in a dizzying state of internal conflict.Her mother was a compulsive liar.But Kevin had turned out to be real.She was clearly on her meds.It was possible this wasn’t a lie.
“Besides, celebrities are having babies at my age.It’s not a big deal.”
“Having a child isalwaysa big deal, Mary,” Dora said, clearly fighting against the anger building again in her chest.She looked at Rachel, who was watching with dismay, like she always did when Dora and Mary descended into this gladiatorial pit together.
