bench

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she gushed, trying to catch her breath. “I got stuck at work and then my car wouldn’t start – it was such a mess getting down here.”

She took a seat on the stiff wooden bench that faced the inlet, watching the distant sea vessels travel slowly across their view like swans and geese drifting through a pond. There was a chilly wind that came over the seawall and across to that bench, disturbing only her hair and lightweight scarf that was wound around her neck.

“I can’t stay very long either, I promised Tim that I’d take him to lacrosse practice across town,” she briefly glanced at her watch, and then returned her gaze to the water. “He’s trying out for the provincial team, you know, going to try to make it at least for second string. Coach said that he had a solid defence and good stamina, so he put in a good word with the provincial scout.”

She smiled gently, glancing down at her hands that sat entwined in her lap. “I took over the chaperoning after – you know. Mom just loses it behind the wheel and she has no patience left for anyone. We just give her the space she needs, whether or not she wants it. But she keeps it together otherwise, especially at work. All that planning and organising just distracts her from the rest of it…from us, I guess.”

A particularly strong gust of air passed over the bench, and the woman paused to straighten herself out. “How am I? I’m good – I mean, I’m still fighting with my student loans and car payments and Trent is still a pain in my ass, but that’s life, right?” She laughed lightly. “I’m working hard to keep busy, not that that’s really hard, but I’m still trying to straighten things out. We’re still getting your mail.”

She reached into her bag and withdrew a few envelopes, holding them loosely in her hands. “Mom’s called Telus a few times but they still send them. Oh – and there’s your Hockey News, still get them every month, and Sports Illustrated keeps mailing us to renew our subscription, even though we haven’t replied to any of them. I guess you were such a good patron that they didn’t want you to leave.”

She shuffled the envelopes in her grasp, pausing to straighten out the Hockey News. The faint smell of newspaper print swirled in the air around her and she wrinkled her nose briefly at the familiar scent. “We use this to clean up after Sydney now, although most of his messes need the rug cleaner. Dogs just can’t hold their bladders like they used to,” she chuckled. “He’s a good guy though; he helps keep everyone’s spirits up. Well, except Mom – she’s always the one cleaning up after him.”

She glanced over at the other end of the bench, smiling sadly, “I know I say it all the time, but yeah – we do miss you. The house is too big for the three of us, even with Sydney. We’re thinking about moving somewhere smaller, or at least Mom wants to move away with Tim. Trent and I might try and find a place for ourselves.”

“Most of your stuff was sold or thrown into the dumpster; Mom had a field day with it. I tried to save most of your records, but I had to stuff them in my closet with some of your old rugby sweaters. I also had to save a couple pictures from being broken, but I think that Mom will be able to handle them later. Don’t worry; she can’t erase all of you.”

She glanced at her watch, realizing how late it was becoming, “I’m sorry to cut this short, but it’s getting late. I’ve got to get Tim to practice.”

She placed the envelopes besides her on the bench, gathering the rest of her things before she turned back to the other end, “I’ll see you next week – I love you too, Dad.”

She got up to leave and made it only a couple of steps before an older woman called out to her, “Excuse me, Miss? You forgot your mail.”

She turned to the older woman who was standing next to the empty bench, holding the mail in her outstretched arms. With a purse of her lips, she shook her head and feigned a laugh, “Right, my fault.”


(c) 2011 The Avalanche
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Contact: taylor(at)crookedteeth.org