Return of the Trickster Eden Robinson (sight word readers TXT) 📖

held the moon together and it ripped apart, a hot mess that couldn’t escape, even though it was obliterated, most of the pieces falling in the clouds, with the rest forming a ring, a ghostly reminder of its existence.

I wish I’d never met your grandmother, Wee’git told Jared, mind to mind. I regret everything.

—

Later that morning, Mave knocked on the open door. “Want some company?”

“Sure,” Jared said.

She sat beside him on the bed. “How you doing, Jelly Bean?”

Normally he hated his childhood nickname. Today it made him fight back tears. “Kinda rough.”

“Yeah, I heard your mom come in. What were you arguing about?”

“She thinks I’m Wee’git.”

“Ah. Her and Mom get these ideas. Don’t take them to heart.”

Mave was solidly, dependably blind and deaf to anything supernatural. She thought her mom and her sister were superstitious, one of a number of reasons they’d been estranged for many years. Jared didn’t think trying to explain it all to her would make anything better. “Could I borrow your cellphone?”

She handed it to him and he gave Phil a call to tell him he’d made it to Vancouver and was okay. Phil said he’d pray for him and that he was off to a job interview.

“Come back any time,” Phil said.

“Thanks, Dad.”

He handed the phone back to Mave.

“Coffee?” she said.

“Yes, please.”

In the living room, Justice was asleep on the couch, her feet sticking over the arm. Mave unrolled a throw blanket and tucked it around Justice’s legs.

Mave boiled water in a teakettle and poured it into her French press. While they waited, Mave hunted through the packed fridge and offered him a plate of cold sausages. He shook his head. She warmed some up in the microwave. They poured themselves mugs and Mave grabbed the saucer of sausages. They tiptoed past Justice on the couch and Mave opened the balcony door, shutting it carefully behind them. She sat on the red, cast iron patio chair nearest to the door and picked up the darkest sausage, finishing it in two bites then washing it down with giant glugs of coffee. Jared stepped over her legs and sat on the matching chair. A metal coffee can filled with sand and many, many cigarette butts sat on the chair between them. His mom. The smell of stale ash was a bit much, so he put it on the floor and gently pushed it with his foot to the far corner of the balcony, beneath the cast iron table that was covered in dying flower arrangements.

The streets were livening up, the pedestrians still under bright umbrellas though the rain had lightened to a drizzle. Traffic shushed through the wet streets, water running down Graveley in grey rivulets.

Mave reached over and put her hand on top of his. He flipped his own over and held on, balancing his coffee on his knee with his other hand.

“I think David has my apartment keys,” he said.

“We’ll change the locks,” Mave said. “Easily solved.”

“Sorry for the drama.”

“It’s not drama. It’s a grown man deciding a child is responsible for his shitty life choices. It’s him deciding that torture and murder are his right as a rich, straight, white man.”

“Mom said the cops have my wallet. Can I ask for it back?”

“Jared,” Mave said. “He tried to kill you. There are witnesses. There’s video.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jared said. “He’ll make it my fault somehow. That’s what he did the last time.”

“I won’t let that happen. Sophia won’t let that happen. His whiteness won’t exempt him from justice.”

Mave was probably going to insist on being a character witness if the cops ever caught David and if he ever went to trial for attempted murder. Jared could just see the jury’s reaction to statements like that. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back and let go. He was starting to think he should have stayed with his dad.

They watched a black limo double-park in front of the apartment entrance. Sophia emerged followed by a man in a black suit carrying a pink box, who skittered after Sophia with an umbrella. Mave sighed, but quickly smiled when Sophia looked up at them and waved.

The man ran back to the limo and hopped in, driving off. The apartment buzzer rang. Jared got up to let Sophia in. Mave roused Justice from the couch and murmured something that made Justice rake her hair and check her clothes.

Sophia was the usual vision. Her hair was finger-waved and she wore a cream pantsuit. Her lapel shone with the buttery glow of a high-carat gold brooch and her wrists with matching gold bracelets with Native eagle designs carved into them.

She held the pink box out to him, offering a selection of gleaming Danishes. He shook his head and she blew past him into the living room.

“Good morning,” Sophia said to Mave.

“Good morning,” Mave said.

“Could I have a moment alone with my grandson?”

“Of course,” Mave said. She kissed Jared’s cheek. “Love you.”

“We can go to my room,” Jared said. “You don’t have to leave.”

“A little nap never hurt anyone.”

Justice touched his hand before she followed Mave to her bedroom.

Jared decided to get it over with. “You know I didn’t know I wasn’t your grandson.”

Sophia waved that off with a flick of her wrist. “That’s in the past.”

“It hurt when you left.”

She met his eyes. “Where is this conversation going?”

“What would make you leave again?”

“Are you blaming me?”

“No. I’m trying to figure things out. Mom. I can’t. Everything’s—I’m lost. I’ve done awful things. Really awful things. I don’t think you’ll like me when you know what I’ve done.”

He wanted to tell her about what had happened after David tried to kill him. About Georgina. But his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind and he remembered odd things, like the first time he’d eaten a Koola Pop or the way he and his mom would howl at the moon when they were at their summer cabin. He tried to pull his thoughts back together so he could make himself clear. Sophia turned her