The Garden

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

June 1986 — Ponoka County, AlbertaEvery sound in her world seemed to have faded: every peep, every rustle, every chirping bird — all exiled to some far off, unreachable reality, each replaced by the sounds of her own heavy breathing, her escalated blood pressure swooshing through her head, the thudding of her footfalls against the dry earth, and tall weeds brushing against her as she raced through the field toward safety. She glanced back over her shoulder as she ran to see if he was following her like he would sometimes, taunting her, but she couldn’t see him. As she continued running, a thick weed stock struck her face roughly, stinging her skin and sending a cloud of seed fluff every which way in the warm afternoon air.

Seeing her house in the distance — the image of it bouncing up and down as she ran — she checked behind her once more before slowing her run to a trot, then to a winded walk. He hadn’t terrorized her on her way home for several months, but there was no way she was going to take any chances, not after what he had done today. The humiliation she felt right now was more than enough for a lifetime, let alone one day.

The screen door slammed behind her as she headed by her mother and up the stairs to her room. She dropped her weight down on the edge of her bed and allowed the tears to come, each gushing freely from her eyes and rolling down her flushed cheeks.

Francine clicked off the vacuum cleaner, her eyes following her obviously upset daughter as she stormed up the stairs. She pushed a straggling strand of her fire red hair back to curl it around her ear and made her way up the stairs to her daughter’s bedroom.

Standing outside the door, she could hear her daughter trying to stifle her sobs. She knocked on the door lightly and then opened it, peeking inside. “Ani, sweetie, can I come in?” she asked, stepping inside anyway. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Ani sniffed.

“Well, something must have happened to make you cry like this.”

“Cameron Keller,” Ani hissed, trying to control another wave of tears. “I hate him. I really, really hate him!”

“Cameron Keller? The boy that teases you all the time? That boy on the bike with the long sandy hair?”

“Yes... I hate him,” Ani answered, nodding her head and sniffing. She wiped her face and winced from the sting of a salty tear as it worked its way into the inflamed welt the weed had left on her cheek.

Francine crouched down, examining the wound on her daughter’s face. “Ani,” she started, sounding suspicious. “Did that boy do this to you? Did he hurt you?”

“No. It happened in the field. A weed hit me.”

“OK, well, let’s go to the bathroom and clean it up, OK?”

She took Ani by the hand and urged her to the washroom where she sat her down on the edge of the bathtub and gathered a few first-aid items. Ani held the bottle of alcohol while her mother dabbed at the small swollen gash with a cotton ball. Ani jerked away. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Francine assured, applying some ointment and then a small bandage. “It’s just a little puffed up. So, what did this Cameron do to make you hate him so much this time?”

“He’s just so horrible. He’s mean and nasty and horrible.”

“Why? What did he do?”

“At lunch,” Ani began, her eyes still sparkling with the threat of tears, “he sat down with me and my friends at our table and says ‘Ani’s wearin’ a bra today’,” she explained, her impersonation of him using a much thicker and quicker Albertan prairie drawl than he really had. “Then he says, ‘It’s about time, Ani-boob. But me ’n Jamie don’t think ya should wear it in gym class... might stunt yer growth’,” she mimicked.

Francine felt a slight giggle bubble up inside her, but held it down. As cute and harmless as the joke was from the little pubescent boy, her heart still ached for her daughter’s embarrassment.

“Then after school,” Ani continued, after sniffing, “he took my bag and said he wouldn’t give it back unless I lifted up my shirt and showed him my special training bra. I said no and told him to leave me alone and then he said that if I didn’t do it, he would do it for me. I didn’t believe him, so I grabbed for my bag. He pulled it away so I couldn’t reach it and threw it over to Jamie, and then he pulled my top up. Everybody saw it, Mom. All the boys were laughing and calling me Ani-boob and stuff. Jamie threw my bag back at me, so I grabbed it and ran away.”

“Oh, Ani, it’s OK. So what, some boys saw your bra? It’s just like a bathing suit top. It wasn’t very nice of them, but they’ll all forget about it soon enough.”

“No, it’s not like a bathing suit top. It’s my underwear!”

“Well, doesn’t that Cameron boy always tease you?”

“Yeah, but not like today. Why does he hate me so much?” Her large dark eyes welled up with another surge of tears and it broke her mother’s heart.

“It sounds to me like he likes you,” Francine observed.

“He wouldn’t do things like that if he liked me.”

“Oh yes he would.”

“He would?”

Francine nodded. “Absolutely.”

“But why?”

“Because that’s what twelve-year-old boys do. I think he just wants your attention Ani. He wants to be near you. Teasing you is a convenient way to be near you,” she explained, stroking her daughter’s hair. “You see, he’d rather embarrass you to be near you and get your attention, than not get your attention at all.”

“That’s stupid,” Ani spat.

“Yes it is, but that’s the way boys work. Don’t worry though; they change as they get older. They start doing nice things to get your attention... well, most of them do.”

“Do you think Cam will ever be nice to me?”

“Yes I do. I bet you’ll see a big change in him next year.”

“I hope so.”

“So, other than Cameron, how was your last day of school?”

“OK I guess,” Ani mumbled, staring into her lap.

Francine tilted her head down to see her daughter’s face. “Ani, do you like Cameron Keller? Is that why you’re so upset?”

“No!”

Her mother smiled at her. “I don’t believe you.”

Ani couldn’t hold in her own smile any longer and she blushed a cute pinched pink. “Maybe a little.”

Francine sat on the edge of the tub with Ani, her own comforting smile surfacing. She pushed Ani’s long, waved, auburn hair out of her face. “It’s OK to like him,” she affirmed, still playing in her daughter’s hair and noticing that something was missing. “Ani, where’s your barrette?”

Ani reached up to feel her hair and realized that her barrette was indeed missing. “Oh no, it must’ve fallen out when Cam... when I... I’m sorry Mom, I don’t know where it is,” she panicked.

“That’s OK, sweetie, it’s just a barrette. Why don’t you come downstairs — I made some strawberry Kool-Aid.”

* * * *

Cam rode his bike up the front walk and dropped it down onto the lawn. Immediately as he entered the small dilapidated house, his father Jared Keller began shouting at him: “Where the f**k have you been all day?”

“School,” Cam replied. “Just like every day.”

“Don’t you get smart with me, boy,” Jared barked. He glared at his son judgmentally for a harsh instant while he took a sip of beer. “School. Like it does ya any good.”

Cam turned away from his father and headed to his room. Jared stood up from his sloth-like posture on the sofa and followed his son down the hall. Cam turned around to face him again. “What?” he asked.

“Didn’t I tell you not to throw your God damn bike on the front lawn?”

“I’m goin’ right back out, Pa.”

“I don’t care what the f**k you’re doin’!” Jared barked, smashing Cam across the face and sending him backwards into the wall. Cam lifted his head up to look at his father and prepare himself for the next blow as Jared took a step toward him... “School. Why do I even send ya to school? You’re too stupid to ever amount to anything anyway,” he slurred, poking his son in the chest with his beer bottle. “C’mon little man, answer me. Why do I send ya to school?”

“I dunno, Pa,” Cam muttered, hoping he might defuse the impending bomb by giving a diluted answer.

“You don’t know? You don’t know? See? I told ya you were stupid,” Jared said, a sickening grin spreading across his unshaven and weathered face. “Don’t ya got nothin’ to say, boy?”

“No Pa,” Cam said, pushing his hair back over his head.

“No Pa,” his father mimicked cruelly. “No Pa. No Pa. You’re some sorry kid, ya know that?” he further remarked, yanking up one side of his pants. Cam stood silent thinking it was a rhetorical question and hoping Jared would simply turn around and leave him alone in his room, but no such luck. “ANSWER ME!” he screamed, bashing Cam in the face again, but this time with enough force to drop him.

“Yeah Pa, I know that,” Cam muttered, tasting blood in his mouth.

“My own kid and he don’t got a back bone,” Jared seethed coldly. He stared down at Cam for a long time, occasionally swilling from his beer. “You’re a pathetic shame,” he finally said as he turned and left Cam’s room.

Cam remained on his knees for a few seconds, pawing at his jaw, his shoulder length hair hanging in his face. When he was sure his father was gone, he stood up, steadied himself, and then snuck out of the house quickly before Jared could decide he was pissed off about something else.

After spending the next four hours wandering around town and playing a few games of pinball at the old pharmacy, he made his way over to Lou’s Diner. He had made a deal a year earlier with owner and cook Louis Walker, that Cam would get a meal in return for doing the dinner rush dishes and mopping up. He had learned in the past that staying home was just asking for trouble from Jared. He was forced to come up with alternative means to survive, since Jared was not someone he could count on for anything other than a real nice shiner. His father was usually passed out on the couch by the time he finished at the diner and went home, which allowed him to avoid more beatings.

Cam locked his bike up in the ally next to Lou’s and stepped inside, the smell of food welcoming him. As always he worked hard for his dinner, which came at around 9 p.m. Louis always gave him a generous plate knowing that it would probably be the only meal he would have until the same time the following day. “Hey there, how ya doin’ Cameron?” Louis asked, sliding into the booth across from him.

“Alright,” Cam answered, glancing up from his plate.

“Ya did another fine job back there tonight, kid,” Louis stated while eyeing him, but Cam didn’t say anything in response; he just gave a nod of appreciation. Louis folded his hands in front of him on the table and took in a deep breath. “He hit you again, didn’t he?”

“No.”

“I know you pretty well by now boy. I can tell that he did.”

“Whatever,” Cam mumbled through a full mouth.

“It’s not right, Cam,” Louis declared, sitting back and lighting a cigarette. “Him doin’ what he does to ya all the time and you comin’ here to eat every night.”

“You got any better ideas?”

“Turn him in. What he does to you is against the law, and it just straight isn’t right. I tell ya, I got a good mind to go over there and kick the living...”

“Yeah, well, don’t!” Cam interrupted. “I know what’s right and what isn’t, Lou, you’ve told me a million times. But if I turn him in, I’ll end up in some stupid foster home that’s a lot worse. No thanks. Things are just fine the way they are.”

“Cam, I don’t wanna have to turn him in myself.”

Cam sat back in the booth and put his fork down. “Look, I won’t come around anymore if it’s a hassle for you, but it isn’t like I’m begging or anything. I work for my supper, don’t I? And I do a good job, don’t I? I’m not turning my pa in, and if you do, I’ll just run away.”

“OK, OK. I’m sorry. I just hate to see this going on, that’s all. You’re a good kid.”