At the back of the yard there was an especially high snowbank, created by snow that had slid off the steep roof of the coach house. It was in this snowbank that the Weird siblings began to dig a tunnel. Abba and Kent worked from the south side. Lucy and Angie tunnelled from the north. Richard supervised from the outside, making sure that the two ends would meet up.
This was the winter that Besnard had started heating the coach house in an effort to preserve the Maserati. But the heat fled through the uninsulated roof as fast as the small heater pushed it out. The coach house remained cold. All Besnard had succeeded in creating was a row of long, pointy icicles, which hung directly over their tunnel. The afternoon had turned unseasonably warm, above zero, which made the snow wet and perfect for packing.
The tunnel was almost complete, with less than three feet separating the two teams of diggers. Richard suddenly felt an overwhelming compulsion to look up. He looked at the icicles. He looked down to where his siblings worked beneath the snow.
“Out now!” Richard screamed. “Everybody out now!”
There was something in his voice, a confidence, a complete lack of doubt that none of them could question. They scurried out of the tunnel. They ran as fast as they could across the backyard. They stopped just before the east wall of the house. They turned and looked back at the tunnel. Nothing happened.
“What?” Lucy demanded.
Then they heard a crack and all of the giant icicles fell from the roof. The tunnel was speared at sixteen different points.
“I hate it when you do that!” Lucy said.
“You hate it when I save your life?”
“You don’t know that,” Kent said. “They might have missed us.”
“They would have speared your skulls!”
“Or maybe not. They could have missed.”
“How could they? Look!” Richard said, pointing to the sixteen-time-speared tunnel.
“Still, you have no proof that you saved our lives,” Lucy said.
“Not for sure,” Kent said. Richard let out a very deep sigh.
And that’s how it went. Even with proof as tangible as sixteen icicles, going along with Richard’s predictions remained, for Lucy and Kent at least, an act of faith, every time. Although they always eventually went with what Richard said, they never stopped wondering what would have happened if they hadn’t. Would the danger have been exactly as Richard predicted? How bad would the bad thing be? As the years progressed they began to wonder if being so careful all the time was actually the best course. It didn’t seem to be working out all that well for Richard.
RICHARD, LUCY AND ANGIE STOOD so close to the automatic doors that their bodies triggered the sensors, keeping them open. Passengers gave jet-lagged sighs and wheeled their suitcases around them. Angie and Lucy didn’t move until Richard put down his camera.
“You’re not still letting Mother cut your hair?” he asked.
“You think I paid for this?” Lucy said.
“See, Lucy? Is this a coincidence?” Angie asked. Then she stepped forwards and hugged her older brother. Both her belly and the seven years of separation made this awkward.
“Wow!” he said.
“I’m pregnant. Not fat. Just so you know.”
“You’re beautiful,” Richard said.
“The clock is ticking,” Lucy said. She gestured towards the departures board to their right. Very near the top, their connecting flight aboard Airways Upliffta, flight AU812, was listed. There were forty-seven minutes before takeoff.
“This doesn’t feel fated to you? This doesn’t make you believe?” Angie asked her.
“It means nothing if you don’t get him to come along,” Lucy said.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Forty-six minutes …”
“Okay!” Angie said to Lucy. She took a very deep breath. “I went to see the Shark …” she said to Richard.
“Good God why?”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
“She’s on her deathbed …”
“Again?”
“Listen to me!” Angie said. She stomped her foot. Her crazy hair flopped crazily around. “She told me that she blessed each of us at the moment of our births. But these blessings became curses and ruined our lives. In thirteen days …”
“Twelve.”
“In twelve days, at the moment of her death, provided I gather the five of us in her hospital room, she will lift the curses, finally and forever.”
“What did she say that she gave me?”
“That’s it?” Lucy asked. “You’re just buying that?”
“Self-protection,” said Angie.
“Interesting,” Richard said. He rubbed his thumb against his wedding ring, making it circle his finger.
“Lucy is directions. I’m forgiveness. Abba is hope. And Kent is, like, fighting. He’s only strong when he’s fighting.”
“When exactly did you figure you’d swing by to pick me up?” Richard asked.
“Before Kent. Obviously before Kent,” Angie said. “We’ll need everybody if we’re gonna get Kent.”
“And how does she know she’s going to die in twelve days?”
“It’s her birthday.”
“Perfect,” Richard said. “What makes you believe her?”
“It just feels like truth. Doesn’t it?” Angie asked.
“It certainly isn’t fair,” Richard said.
“We don’t have much time,” Lucy said. “You’re either in or you’re out.”
“This does feel like a pretty big coincidence.”
“I don’t believe it for a second. I’m just going to see Abba. I’m only going as far as Abba,” Lucy said.
“Isn’t it time to see Abba? Isn’t that much at least worth doing?”
“It is,” Richard said. He picked up his suitcase. “I’ll do it. I mean, I’ll go like Lucy. I’ll go as far as Abba.”
“Oh Rich … ard!”
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m … not … crying.”
“There’s one condition.”
“What?”
“Any … thing … Richard.”
“You have to answer one question. Both of you. And you have to answer it truthfully.”
“Y … es. Of course.”
“How will you know if I don’t answer it truthfully?”
“I’ll know.”
“What’s the question?”
“Have you forgiven Dad?” Richard asked. Lucy looked at her feet. Angie looked at her stomach. They’d looked down for opposite reasons. And then Lucy looked up first.
“No,” she said. “I haven’t.”
“Oh thank God,” Richard said. “Thank God I’m not the only one.”
Several quiet moments passed. And then, together, they walked to get Richard’s ticket and the automatic doors finally closed.
HAVING LEFT RICHARD in first class, Angie and Lucy reached their seats in row 23. Angie realized that her sister had given her the window seat. She stopped. She did not stow her carry-on luggage in the overhead compartment. Passengers bunched up behind them.
“You do remember that I’m pregnant?”
“Who could forget that? You’re huge.”
“I want the aisle.”
“Then you should have bought the tickets.”
“That is so not fair.”
“Truth isn’t fair,” she said, calmly.
Angie looked over Lucy’s shoulder. The waiting passengers gave her no sympathy. Exaggerating the difficulty Angie pushed into the row and sat down in 23F. Lucy sat down beside her. They did not speak. Their silence continued as the flight attendant did her safety presentation. It remained as they fastened their seat belts for takeoff. Not a single word passed between them as the plane taxied down the runway. But just as the wheels left the ground, Lucy leaned over.
“You remember Zach Picard?” Lucy asked, loudly.
Angie raised her eyebrows. She slowly nodded her head. The back whe
els left the ground.
“I fucked him.”
“Recently?” Angie asked. The plane angled steeply as it climbed into the air.
“Not exactly.”
“When exactly?”
“High school,” Lucy said.
The wheels contracted into the plane. Angie’s fingers curled into fists. “What grade?” she asked.
“Well, I was in Grade Eleven.”
“But after he and I had broken up, though. Right?”
“Not exactly.”
“While we were dating?”
“I’m afraid so,” Lucy said.
The plane levelled out. The seat belt sign flashed off. Angie rushed down the aisle to the washroom and locked the door. She turned on the tap and pumped soap into her hands. A long repressed rage rose inside her, which she took out on her forearm.
The skin on Angie’s arm turned red, yet the black marker remained. She shut off the tap. She stared at her reflection. She felt it slowly building inside her. It grew and grew and then it washed over her. The forgiveness flooded her from head to toe. She was filled with it. Absolutely and completely, without hesitation or resentment, Angie forgave Lucy. It was easy. It was beyond her control. It took more effort to dry her hands.
When she returned to row 23 Lucy had moved to the window seat, giving her the aisle. “Thanks,” Angie said as she sat down.
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“No.”
“Really, Angie? Really?”
“What?”
“You’re not mad?”
“Oh. Zach?” Angie said. “That was shitty. You shouldn’t have done that, Lucy. But, yes, I forgive you.”
“Do you really mean it?”
“Of course,” Angie said.
Lucy took her hands. She held them. She maintained eye contact for an uncomfortably long amount of time.
“Jesus Christ,” Lucy said.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“She did it. The Shark really did curse us,” Lucy said. The plane hit a patch of turbulence. The seat belt sign flashed on. Lucy let go of Angie’s hands and they both fastened themselves firmly into their seats.
THE ONLY BAGGAGE CAROUSEL in the Uplifftian International Airport squeaked as it rotated. Angie and Lucy and Richard watched it go around and around, even though there wasn’t a single suitcase on it. Local time was 2:15 p.m. Angie was pretty sure it was April 9, although it was hard to tell since Lucy had made them reset their watches during the three-hour layover in Helsinki. She was definitely too tired to figure it out. Dazed and jet-lagged, they waited for their luggage, for anyone’s luggage, to appear.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Angie said and she had to look away.
Their suitcases arrived thirty minutes later. They wheeled them away from the baggage carousel and followed the other passengers. As they walked past a row of uniformed men, one of them reached for Lucy’s purse, but Lucy clutched it to her body and the men left her alone. Then they walked through a set of automatic doors and found themselves standing on the sidewalk in front of the airport.
“Where was customs?” Lucy asked.
“Maybe where that guy tried to see your purse?”
“But I pulled it away …” Lucy said. Angie shrugged her shoulders. Richard kicked a stone from the sidewalk. It rolled underneath the only taxi waiting.
According to their father’s theory on the condition of taxis, accepting a ride in this cab would represent an exercise in self-loathing. Rust had eaten through its wheel wells. There was a sports sock where the right windshield-wiper blade should have been. Both doors were covered with an orange-coloured mud. They stood there for several minutes. But the taxi remained the only one available. Richard approached it. He opened the back passenger door on his fourth attempt. He got in and then Lucy held the door for Angie. She climbed in and sat beside Richard before she’d thought it through. “You know,” Angie said, now sandwiched between her sister and her brother, “I’d like to remind both of you that I’m still pregnant.”
“I’d like to remind you that there’s no way for us not to see that.”
“I was hoping that you’d bring that up, Angie. Have we met the father?”
“Are we ever going to?”
“I shouldn’t have to be in the middle! Or have the window seat in planes! I shouldn’t have to be doing any of this!”
“Ehrtr id iy yhsy you’f likr yo hoz?” the driver asked. They looked blankly at him and then blankly at each other.
“Right. The language.”
“Did either of you think to bring a phrase book?”
“Is there such a thing?”
“English? Please?” Lucy said, loudly.
“Duvk my vuvk you dyupif Smericians. Rnhlidh noy yhr only boivrss,” the driver said, loudly.
“We need to go to the Royal Palace.”
“Queen Abba? Your queen? We’re family.”
“Take us to your leader!”
“Nice.”
“Sentrill bizness diskrit!” the driver said.
“Close enough,” Angie said.
The driver started the engine. The car jerked forward and they pulled away from the airport.
“I can’t imagine taking a cab to Windsor Castle and asking to see Elizabeth,” Lucy said.
“Do we even have her phone number? Can you just call the queen? Even here?” Angie asked.
“I seriously doubt that the royal standards in Upliffta and England are in any way comparable,” Richard said. He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his dress shirt. A purple flowered crop none of them could name grew on both sides of the road. And there was an inescapable smell: pungent, fishy and unwelcoming. The closer they got to downtown the stronger it became.
“What is that stink?”
“Sewage?”
“Are they having a plague?”
The driver looked in the rear-view mirror. He made exaggerated sniffs with his nose. “Yhsy dmrll?” he asked.
“What is it?”
“Slönguskinn.”
“What’s shlongskinn?”
“Slönguskinn?” he repeated. He took his right hand off the wheel and moved it up and down in a wave-like motion.
“Terrible,” Lucy said.
Even without the smell the back seat would have made Angie nauseous. Newspapers on the floor crunched under her feet. The windows were covered with grime. The stink of fish mixed with the smell of old cigarettes. The engine kept racing, making the car lurch forwards and then slow back down. Angie tried to focus on the hood ornament—which might have been an ox, it was hard to tell—but it didn’t help.
“Stop the car!” Angie yelled.
“Ehsy?”
“Right now!”
“Pull over!”
“She needs to get out!”
“Trlsc! Trlsc!” our driver called. He pulled to the side of the road and stopped. Richard shuffled out. Angie followed, quickly. Three steps from the taxi she bent over and puked on the lovely purple flowers. She did it again. Then Angie glanced up and saw a large sign, which read:
WELCOME TO UPLIFFTA!
You won’t regret your arrival!!
She looked back at the ground and puked again. It was the exclamation marks that did it. This was the first time in her life that Angie was prompted to regurgitate by punctuation. The driver turned on the radio. Richard and Lucy looked at each other and then they began to laugh.
“I’m sorry,” Lucy said.
“I’m sorry too,” Richard said. Neither stopped laughing.
“We always knew you were a crybaby …”
“… and now you puke like a baby too!”
Angie looked up at them. She spit. She remained bent over, with her hands resting on her knees. She saw the billboard from the corner of her eye and she puked again.
The taxi didn’t have power steering or power windows but the driver took Visa. Angie wasn’t sure how much y576.78 was, but she was almost positive that she over-tippe
d. The driver helped them with their luggage and then they stood in downtown Upliffta. The tallest building was five storeys high. Most were two. There was only one stoplight in view. Their taxi drove underneath it, becoming the only vehicle on the road.
“Maybe they really are having a plague,” Richard said.
“What do we do now?”
“It’s over here,” Lucy said. She pointed to her right. Without looking back Lucy marched across the street. Richard and Angie shrugged. They looked left and then right. No cars were visible in either direction and they hurried across the road.
Every store was closed. The streets were narrow and mainly in shadow. The cars parked on them were rusty and unfamiliar. They saw no people as they walked. And then from quite far away they heard a large crowd cheering. Richard and Angie stopped. Lucy continued for half a block before she noticed that her siblings lingered behind.
“Come on!” she yelled.
“Maybe we should go that way?” Angie asked. “Towards the possibility of humanity?”
“But the palace is this way. We’re really close.”
“Are you sure?”
“Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“I’m just here to see Abba,” Richard said. He took his phone out of his pocket. He had no service. “But where is here?”
“It’s less than six blocks away. I promise you,” Lucy said. She walked away briskly. Several moments later Angie and Richard began to follow her again.
They walked past a house that leaned to the left. A large chunk of the road ahead of them was missing.
“I think these cars are Soviet,” Richard said.
“Where the hell are we?” Angie asked.
“I’m suddenly much less envious that my sister is the queen of this,” Lucy said.
“Queen of Shithole-ia!” Richard said.
Angie laughed. Then she ran into Lucy’s back. Lucy did not move. Angie stepped around her. She saw what had caused her sister to freeze.
“I just got envious again,” Lucy said.
“Is that what I think it is?” Angie asked.
“Full scale,” Richard answered.