Son of a Trickster

Nana Sophia kissed him. “And I love you and I would never hurt you. But if you weren’t Philip’s and your momma tried to pass you off as his, I’d have slit her throat and left her in a ditch to die like a dog.”

Baby thumped her tail when his mom came over to squeeze Jared’s shoulder. His mom’s eyes darted around the room, but she avoided meeting his. Normally, she’d be telling him sixteen was way too old to be acting like a big fucking wuss, but they could hear the vet and the receptionist talking in the front room, so she stayed quiet. She patted her jeans as she walked out. Probably forgot her lighter in the truck.

The world is hard, his mom liked to say. You have to be harder.

Baby licked his cheek.

“Gonna miss you,” Jared whispered in her ear.

Baby lifted a leg and farted. Jared laughed, and then it turned into crying that faded into more sniffling.

He looked down. Blood and chunks had turned the front of his jeans red. And of course his homework was blowing down the street and he didn’t want to arrive late, get stared at for his dog-splattered jeans and not have his homework done. His mom wrapped him in her arms while the cop asked Richie to describe his other pit bull. She squeezed him until his ribs creaked.

“Richie could be the answer to a lot of our problems,” she whispered in his ear. “If you keep your cool and don’t take this personally.”

He choked on his answer, trying to pull out of her grip.

“I’d kill and die for you, Jelly Bean,” she said. “Don’t ever forget that.”

A raven landed on the sidewalk in front of him, black and ominous. It cocked its head, studying him. Jared liked crows because they were small and goofy, but ravens with their deep croaks and their large size unnerved him.

“FYI,” the raven said, “advertisers lie to get you to buy their product. If you coat yourself in Axe body spray, girls aren’t going to pull your clothes off. They’re going to hold their noses and back away.”

Holy crap, Jared thought. I am still way more stoned than I thought.

The raven hopped closer. “So do everyone a favour and stop bathing in it. Okay?”

“‘Kay,” Jared said.

Jared bumped off a couple of trees as he sped down, laughing his ass off as Kelsey tumbled past him. He was declared the loser, and had to spin a plastic cocoon around Blake, who kangaroo-hopped over to Kelsey and jumped up to kick him.

Afterwards, Jared took the bus back to their neighbourhood and helped Mrs. Jaks shovel the snow out of her driveway while Mr. Jaks searched the house for snow tires for the car they’d sold. They had venison pie for supper. She asked him if he could watch Mr. Jaks on Wednesday while she went to a doctor’s appointment. She promised to make his favourite, spaghetti with moose meatballs.

She was going to be so pissed if—when—she found out he was helping out his dad. Jared didn’t want to live with his dad. He wasn’t picking sides. God, no. He just didn’t want his dad to be homeless. He didn’t want to worry about her reaction, but it wiggled around the back of his mind like a melody that you hummed without thinking.

The money is for YOU, she wrote. I mean it.
Destiny’s having her baby soon.
My pretty, pretty enabler. Repeat after me: I’m not responsible for the crappy decisions of the grown-ups in my life.
Jared rolled his eyes. Love you, Nana.
Love you more, Cutie.

U home 2nite? his mom texted.

Yup.

Luv ur guts.

She was probably drunk and lonely but he read it and reread it, swallowing. Back atcha.

Sarcastic lil shit ur lucky I luv u nuff not to murder u in ur sleep.

Ya, ya.

Get ur rotten ass home b4 I hunt u down.

I have pizza.

Best son ever.

Science had a pop quiz. French had homework due he hadn’t done. At lunch, he ate a stale croissant with no-name margarine that he’d scored from the food bank. Spring had sprung. The grass needed cutting, the fridge was making noises and he had no idea how he was going to make the bills. He thought that was probably part of the punishment. If he was going to pay his dad’s bills, then he was going to pay his mom’s. She had a Biblical sense of justice. Eye for an eye, bill for a bill.

He took her hand and put it on his ribs. “My mom dated this douche named David. He didn’t like my grades, so he broke a couple of my ribs. Slowly. He got a boner when I started screaming.”

Sarah flinched. “That’s messed up.”

After a bit she kissed him, then took her hand back and reached up for the j. She inhaled deep before she curled into his side.

“I feel numb,” she said, “all the time, like I took sleeping pills and can’t wake up. I just want to feel something.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jared said. “And I don’t want to be hurt.”

“Are you still helping him?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you pawn the TV?”

“You took off, but we still had bills.”

She took another deep, slow breath. “I was pissed. You have no idea what it took not to strangle you.”

“Yeah,” Jared said. “That’s love.”

She side-eyed him. “That’s the only thing that kept you from being mulch.”

All he seemed to be doing these days was crying. Why stop now, he thought, as he bent over and put his head on the table. He didn’t care if Nana—if Sophia killed him. She’d been his lifeline when things got dark. She’d been the one person who could make the crap seem less crappy. And she hated him now. And he hated himself and his life, and he heard himself choking on his own snot and he was disgusted but he couldn’t stop.

“I want to shake your hand,” Mr. Wilkinson said. And he held out his hand, and he was attracting attention, so Jared reluctantly shook. “It took a lot of guts to come here. I wish I’d been as together as you are when I was your age. I’m proud of you, Jared.”

Jared started crying. Leaking tears. And then bawling and shaking. And feeling like a phony and a loser. Mr. Wilkinson wrapped his arms around him and let him cry.

“Judge-y and self-righteous, just like my mom.”

“I’m not judging you. I love you.”

“You want me to quit drinking now, right? Stop partying. Be a good fucking girl and keep your legs fucking shut and obey everybody. Right?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you. This is my sobriety.”

“Can you stop quoting your cult?”

“You don’t have to change,” Jared said. “You don’t—”

She whacked him upside the head.

“Later,” Jared said.