Chapter 7 of The Trickster

Prelude

Molly's hand rests upon my back: Val, it’s alright, you’re having a dream.

I’m sitting upright in our bed. Still trapped in sleep’s net, it takes me a moment to orientate. I sigh; no longer surrounded by the turbulent current of unconscious tides. Molly’s baby-blues are sleepy but reassuring; as warm and welcoming as the soft kisses she arouses me awake with. We laugh and I surrender into her arms. That was a weird one!

We spoon together. Restored safe through weary wanderings tossed, I settle back into the deep, fluffy down, curling close to her belly.

I was with my ol' dog Shirley and we were chasing a fox through the cemetery.

I lower myself and lay my ear against Molly's tummy. My father was there. There were these crows... no, I correct myself, they were harpies and they started eating Shirley. I tried to save her. But my father warned me about the fool I’d become. He pointed a gun at me… I sigh… and then he shot me.

Molly chimes sympathetically. That’s horrible. She strokes my hair.

Maybe I should tell her about the fox. But I’m still ashamed. I was eighteen when I killed her; old enough to know better. We were at my friend Frank’s family cottage in the Township’s. We had been drinking heavily and when Frank suggested we try some target practice with the  .22 his father kept on the premises.

It was all fun and games when when we were taking target-practice at trees. But when a red fox appeared from behind a bush, Frank challenged, I bet you can’t hit it.

Without hesitating, I raised the gun and fired.

It was only a dream Val.

I want to disagree but an unexpected kick to my head prompts me to segue. Hey, she just kicked me in the ear. I listen even more carefully to the sounds emerging from her belly womb.

Molly laughs: Did you know that my great grandmother's name was Shirley? It’s a nice name. Molly laughs and repeats the name again: Shirley. What do you think? She speaks in a singsong voice as much to me as the stirring fetus. Is she a little Shirley?

We’ve been getting along so well lately. I hope this lasts. Maybe we’re finally over the hump.

We change positions and Molly lays her head upon my shoulder; smooth her perfect skin is lilac-scented. Her silky hair filled with flowers. I’m savouring our intimacy, happy that we can share moments like this again.

Molly whispers in my ear: Are you nervous?

What should I be nervous about? I know what she’s getting at, but I still want her to voice it. She rolls over and pushes her belly against me. About becoming a father? About what’s going to happen to us?

No, I smile. I’ve never been more certain. I caress her cheek and kiss her forehead. She snuggles into me and we caress each other lazily and tenderly.

Sharing my life with you... having a baby together, I'm sitting on the rooftop of the world.

I reach for the loony-sized sun that dangles from a gold chain that hangs around her neck. I twirl the pendant that once belonged to my grandmother between my thumb and forefinger. It was destined to find a home with Molly.

Happy astonishment radiates from her smile. Enriched with merit, fortified with hope my heart leaps when she pulls me close. You make me so happy.

I do?

More than you’ll ever know. She kisses me on the mouth and then pulling away. I have an idea. Don't go to work today!

What?

Let’s stay in bed together all morning. We’ll order in lunch… it’ll be just like old times.

I laugh, tempted by the offer. Sure, why not?

Even better, she continues, why don’t you just quit that stupid job?

It’s so unlike the normally pragmatic Molly, I can’t believe my ears. Did you just say what I think you said?
She laughs at me, I'm serious... you hate that job.

Oh I get it, I'm still dreaming. My pregnant wife wants me to quit my job before our first child is born. I roll my eyes. Clearly you’re hormonal.

Molly slaps me playfully, then her expression turns sheepish and she blurts out. My parents want to buy us a house in Hudson!
In Hudson!
Before you say no, just think about it. We would have a back yard.
It's an hour away from Montreal. What about my job?
Quit.
And what will we live on?
I’ll still be a freelancer for The Star.
Yeah, I squint. What about me?

You're almost making as much money from your painting as you are from the library. And I know you're going to sell like crazy in New York.

We can't be banking on that. What if I don't sell a thing?

Don't be ridiculous. Besides we won't need as much... my parents are going to buy us a house. She claps her hands together excitedly. And think of the extra time you'll have to paint.

What about my studio?
The house has a garage. We can convert it.

Just the thought of Hudson’s rural quaintness makes me nervous. Suburbia in all its mind-killing glory; it’s everything I fear. It’s a conformist story plagued with future woes: And where is this mansion with a back yard and studio slash garage?
It's on the golf course. Molly smiles guiltily.
Oh no… don't tell me!
You'll be able to play every day.
Where, exactly on the golf course?
It’s the little Tudor two doors down from my parents.
No... no... no... I moan. I don't want to be a part of the cult.
Think of the baby.

Molly… You said it yourself, your parents are meddlesome and your sister and Steve never shut up. It's unnatural. It wouldn’t be good for the baby. I rub Molly’s belly. Do you really want to turn little Shirley into a member of the Manson family?
Molly shoots me an angry look.
Hey, it’s what you call them. I defend myself.

Yeah, well, they’re my family and I can call them whatever I want.

I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Ever since I've known you, you've complained about Judith’s smothering nature. And now you’re telling me that you want us to make house right in the heart of the hornet's nest.

Impatience and anger contort Molly's features. It's an incredibly generous gift... and I'd rather that you stop pointing out the negatives.

I sit up, laughing. Weren't you the one who was taking the piss out of Kelly just last month for living across the street from your parents? What was it that you called Steve... something neutered... oh I remember, you called him the steer.

Hoisted by her petard, Molly’s face is red with rage. She turns her back on me.

Well if they want to buy us a house why can't they buy us something around here?

They're buying us the house so they can be closer to their grandchild.
I don't know. Tell them we need to think about it. They're putting in an offer today.

What are you talking about? I shake my head.

Molly bows her head. I only found out two days ago. They said it’s the wedding present they would have given us if we'd formally tied the knot.

I know she’s lying. Her parents hate me. A wedding present… Come on, you can do better than that.

Molly’s sheepish posturing speaks volumes. I can tell just by looking at her that she’s holding back. They’ve already put an offer in haven’t they?

She nods her head. Please don't be angry.

I stand up. I want nothing to do with their cursed house. Why do you always spring these things upon me? Just once couldn’t you be straight forward with me.

We’re talking about it now. She’s on her feet, following me out the door.

Yeah, now that the damage has been done, I’m losing my patience. And was the offer accepted?

She nods her head. Please, let's just go back to bed and talk about it.

Talk about what exactly? It sounds to me like I don’t have a choice in the matter. Within a month her mother will be nagging at me give up painting and look for a real job. I shake my head. She’ll never leave me in peace to make art. With her everything is about fucking appearances! I can just hear her: - A man who stays at home all day painting in the garage while his wife goes off to work, I can only imagine what the neighbours must think? Soft in the head is what he is… a freeloading gigolo?-

You don’t think we’re going to make it. I turn away from her. That’s why you want a nest right next door to your parents.

This is all her sisters, Kelly’s fault. Ever since she learned about our troubles she’s been encouraging Molly to dump me… The thought of living across the street from her is a real pisser.

You’re being paranoid.

I shake my head.

I walk through the kitchen towards the bathroom. Molly is right on my tail. I’m flabbergasted by her desire to drag me into her family's lunacy. Look, I love your parents... on holidays and anniversaries. But the thought of them, every day for the rest of our lives strikes me as a recipe for disaster… Don't you see how sick and incestuous it is? I'm raging, not meaning half the things I’m spitting out, but the desire to vent is greater than my need to be tactful.

I hurry into the bathroom, seeking sanctuary. I shut the door behind me and lock myself in. My head is a mess. I can’t believe Molly didn’t even discuss this with me. I need to cool off. Stepping into the shower water sprays over me, but it doesn’t lower my temperature. I remain under the water longer than I normally would; inured by this new melancholy I am forced to bear.

I know I must sound like an ungrateful douche. They are buying us a house. But I see through the pretext. Molly and I have been here before and I’m always the one who ends up burned by her surprises. Stay calm, I tell myself: concentrate on breathing. But I can’t stay calm… I can feel Molly on the other side of the door, stewing... waiting.

It’s important to stay centered, not to be flung from the path. Maybe I should be happy about this? But how can I be? Two doors down from her parents! In Hudson! Except for the members of the cult I don’t know anyone out there. It's the principle of the thing that pisses me off. It's a foible of Molly’s: she’s always springing things on me. She never lets me into her plans unless she has to, only unveiling her intentions to me after the process has already been set in motion.

And frankly it's an absolutely crazy set-up. Her mother is such a judgmental control-freak. She'll be over every single day bulldogging her snout into our business. And they'll be no way of keeping her out. She'll regard any attempt at privacy as a snub. It’ll be one endless guilt-trip, with an endless barrage of reminders that she and Claude purchased us the house. Christ, I’ll end up neutered out there or chased from the pack. My only ally will be Steve, the steer.

By the time I unlock the bathroom door twenty-five minutes have passed. But when I step into the kitchen, just as anticipated, Molly is standing by the counter ready to pounce. As I walk past her, she ambushes me. I shake my head as she pleads for me to sit down with her and hammer out an understanding.

I hold up my hand denying her windy explanations. I’m too pissed to talk right now.

Why?

The house is for you. Your family doesn’t want me to make it. You could at least tell me the truth. I walk towards the bedroom.

Please don’t shut me out; I understand you’re upset, but I know if we talk it over you’ll see what a wonderful opportunity this is.

I’m rushing now: I scramble around in the closet, hurrying into clothes, shoes and a jacket. What a wonderful opportunity: I’m going to have to quit my job, give up my studio and set up shop right next door to my in-laws.

Molly’s frustration is reaching a tipping point and shifts from pleading to a new tactic... aggression. As I slip into my hush puppies she calls me a selfish son of a bitch. Have you forgotten that we're having a baby? Things are going to change whether you like it or not.

Of course things are going to change. But they don't have to change into this. You and your parents are making decisions that are affecting my life and you don't even talk to me about it. I thought that we were supposed to be a team. I open the front door and inhale the freshness of the fanning breeze.

Molly loses what is left of her composure. Only a coward would walk out the door.

Ignoring her, I scamper down the stairs. When I hit the pavement I look back up at her. She's standing on the porch in her tee-shirt and panties. We'll talk later after I've had some time to digest what's happening. We'll both be calmer then.

I know that you're off to see that whore of yours, she spits.

It’s a low blow... her wrath ill-grounded, her suspicions base! I have to fight back the desire to really lay into her. I repeat: Like I said, we'll talk when both of us are a little cooler. I walk away.

Molly continues to hiss. Your dream was right. What did you say your father called you? A fool wasn’t it? Well that’s exactly what you are! As she returns inside she slams shut the door. Across the street a man walking his dog turns and regards me with the kind of expression that makes me feel like I’m some kind of abuser. I'd like to wipe the contempt off his face. I glare at him and he turns away.