Miriam Toews - Summer of My Amazing Luck

The first letter from the busker had worked. It had cheered Lish up. If Lish’s life had been a Brazilian soap opera, I’m sure the audience would have voted in favor of Lish receiving another letter from the busker. Well anyway, I had to be sure at that point. The second letter was scheduled to arrive. Sure enough, bam bam bam. There was Lish at my door with the twins and one of Angela’s daughters. All the girls were wearing bathing suits and Lish had her black hair pulled back into a pony tail. She and Alba had blue face paint all over their faces. Another one of Alba’s make-up experiments. Lish had a very strange expression on her face, under the blue, like she’d just been pinched in the bum by a stranger. She told the girls to find Dill and build a fort with him or something. Normally Lish remembered that Dill couldn’t even walk, let alone construct forts, but like I said, she was looking weird.

“He’s hanging in the hallway,” I said, referring to Dill.

“Can we take him down?”

“Sure, just hang the Jolly Jumper over the doorknob so you don’t bash into it every time.”

“Okay Lucy; this is it.” Lish was making coffee and bubbling over with talk. “He’s written again. It’s gotta mean something. I’m going to find him. He can’t come here right now ’cause of some drug charge, he can’t cross the border and he’s broke ’cause the festival in Detroit got rained out. He’s on his way to Denver, Colorado. Oh Lucy, I’m gonna go there. I don’t care. I’ve got nothing to lose. I have to do something —if it doesn’t work out at least we’ll have gotten the hell out of Halfa-Laugh for a while anyway.”

“What do you mean we? Are you taking the girls? You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“That their dad’s written, or that were going to find him?”

“Either. Oh, god.”

“No, no, no, nope. Not yet. But I think I will. They have a right to know.”

“Yeah, but you’ve said what difference does it make, they don’t even know him, and if you don’t find him, it’ll just be a major letdown for them”

“Either way it’s a letdown. They’re old enough to know they had a father. They think he’s abandoned them, even though I told them he didn’t even know they existed. It might not break their hearts, but still … If there’s a chance of finding him, great, if not, no loss. Back to square one.”

“Oh god, Lish, why don’t—”

“What, I thought you’d be excited! This is great news! He’s not that far away. Let me read you the letter.”

The twins came into the room wanting a drink, and Lish poured them some apple juice and shooed them off into the other room. She was so excited she put the juice into the cupboard instead of into the fridge. Lish opened the letter and then lowered her voice a bit and tried not to smile.

“Hey Baby,”she read, “The more I think about you the more I regret ever leaving you. I’ll be in the middle of my show and a picture of you will come into my head and I’ll forget my next bit. I’ve been doing the same shtick for years and I’ll forget. I know we didn’t have much time together but what we had was amazing. I love the way you laugh and the way your black hair fell all over the pillow when we made love. I love the little blue veins behind your knees and

your long fingers. I want to see you more than anything else in this world. But I can’t cross the border because six months ago I was charged with obsession (of you) ha ha no possession (of drugs) and now I can’t get into Canada. The festival in Detroit was rained out so I didn’t make any money. I’m going to hitchhike to Denver. I hear they’ve got a great street scene. And it’s nice there in the fall. Course it’s not the fall but soon it will be. If you care about me or even remember me you could send a letter to Denver, Poste Restante, I might get it. I might not. Anyway I’ve got to keep moving. I’ll try to sneak across the border somewhere, somehow and get into Canada to see you. Otherwise I’ll keep writing. All my love to you Lish, (it says here on your drivers license that your real name is Alicia. That’s the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard. I sleep with your wallet.) Love, Gotcha.”

Lish opened her mouth and laughed. “Okay, he’s a lousy writer, but hey, he’s got other qualities.” All I could do was sit there and stare at my cup. I thought how odd it was to be sitting drinking coffee while my child played in the other room with the children of my friend, another mother, and I didn’t know a damn thing about love. It didn’t make sense. I noticed a chip on the cup. My mother would have thrown the cup into the garbage right there and then. Lish was right, it was a terrible letter. But still, Lish was buzzing. It had done the job. She was laughing. She was happy. She was a fool, but at least she was happy. Suddenly Lish began singing: “Wise men say only fools rush in but I can’t help falling in love with you.” She had rolled the letter into a microphone and she was singing into it. Her face was painted blue. What a kook. Très bizarre , as Teresa would have said before she quit French Immersions.

We were all going. Lish, Alba, Hope, Maya, Letitia, Dill and me. Lish had made arrangements with Rodger to use his old van and we were all going to Denver to find the busker.

A few weeks before we left Dill had croup. For babies, it is a bad thing to have. All you can do is sit in the bathroom with the door closed and all the taps running hot water so there is steam everywhere. The steam loosens up the chest and allows the baby to breathe normally. At least that’s what’s supposed to happen. I read this in my Benjamin Spock book which I kept under my bed so people like Terrapin wouldn’t see it. They didn’t believe in doctors, especially male ones. Anyway, so that’s what we did, Dill and I. I turned on the sink tap and the bathtub tap full blast and then I sat on the floor, leaning against the tub, with poor Dill on my lap. It was one of the worst nights of my life with Dill. I was afraid he would die. I phoned the hospital and told them how Dill was coughing. They told me to continue doing the steam thing. They said there was no reason to bring him in to the hospital because there was a three-to four-hour waiting period and by then the attack would be over. Attack. They told me my son was being attacked and I would have to wait four hours for them to help him! They told me to relax. As if. Why didn’t I just invite a few friends over for movies and popcorn while I was at it?

Dill and I sat in the steam. He coughed and coughed. I took off his undershirt and he sat in my lap in his diaper. I tried to nurse him. He coughed and cried. I cried and hoped that the hot water would not run out. I sang songs. I listened closely to his cough. Was it getting a bit better? Little beads of sweat were popping out on Dill’s head. I noticed how tiny Dill’s chest was. I noticed how I hadn’t been cleaning the bathroom floor very well. I didn’t want to call Lish. Or Teresa. Or Mercy. Or Terrapin. Or Sing Dylan. Or any of them. I wanted to handle this. Then I wanted my mom. Then I looked at Dill and thought, oh my god, I’m his mom. And then I wanted my mom even more. Finally Dill fell asleep in my lap. The attack was over.

I was so tired I fell asleep right there on the bathroom floor. I had a dream that I was in Venice, Italy. All by myself. I was standing by some water and I had a camera around my neck. Suddenly two huge polar bears came out of the water and one took a big bite out of the other one and then they disappeared. Then two huge whales did the same thing. And then two other animals I couldn’t exactly identify. All this time I didn’t take any pictures, even though I had a camera around my neck. I decided to leave Venice but as I turned to go my mom appeared beside me and said, “Don’t worry, we’re really not picture people.” She took the camera from around my neck, and it blew away and disappeared. Then she and I sat down. And that was the end of the dream.