Return of the Trickster by Eden Robinson (inspirational books to read .TXT) 📕

of them slammed the door, stomped down the hallway and started the shower.

Maybe I can scrub my brain clean, he thought. I’m a Trickster, aren’t I?

But, again, some part of him must want to remember, because it was there, all of it, playing in an endless loop in his head.

—

His dad had made oatmeal for breakfast and Jared listlessly picked at his, not hungry but not wanting to make a big deal of things. Shirley stormed past them dressed in jeans, a white shirt and a green Dollarama smock. She slammed the front door as she left. Phil poured himself another coffee.

“Maybe I should go with you,” he joked.

“Are you guys okay?” Jared said.

“You’re still trying to help me. You know, Mother ripped me a new one when she found out you handed me all the money she gave you for school.”

Jared stopped stirring his oatmeal. He’d been Sophia’s favourite grandchild until he blabbed to her about being the spawn of Wee’git. He’d suspected the money she gave him had been some kind of payoff to get him out of her life, and it made him feel rotten, so he’d given every cent to Phil. “You didn’t force me to help you. I made that choice all by myself.”

“I feel ashamed.”

“Dad, you were going through shit. I get it. It’s fine.”

“I was so lost,” Phil said. “And then one night when I was in the hospital again, I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. And Jesus came into my heart. Now I see you for what you really are. A child. A child I selfishly used.”

“Sophia didn’t give a rat’s ass what I did with that money when she gave it to me. I don’t know why she threw it in your face.”

“What’re you and Mother fighting about?”

“What?” Jared said. “Nothing. We aren’t fighting.”

His dad sipped his coffee, watching him. “Is it me?”

“Dude, it’s not all about you.”

“I wish you would stay,” his dad said, reaching out and putting a hand over Jared’s. “I’d like to make it up to you.”

Yeah, that was so not happening. Even getting burned alive by David would be preferable to becoming his dad’s pity project. “I’m going home.”

“I wish you thought of my place as home.”

“I want to go back to school. It’s not…it isn’t anything against you.”

His dad bowed his head, closed his eyes. His lips moved soundlessly and Jared realized he was praying.

He choked down his oatmeal and washed his dish and put it in the rack. His dad followed him into the living room and they sat and watched the news in silence.

His dad sighed. “You’ve got a big blind spot, Jared. You think other people think like you, and care.”

“Let that shit go,” Jared said. “Okay? It’s done. It’s over. We’re starting new shit, better shit.”

“Good gravy. If you’re going to be a medical sonographer, you’re going to have to watch your language.”

“Maybe the world needs more swearing ultrasound dudes.”

“Don’t die, Jared, that’s all I’m trying to say,” his dad said. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

Jared wanted to go back to bed.

His dad handed him forty bucks. “For the trip down.”

Jared swallowed and it felt as if he had an egg in his throat. His dad hadn’t offered him money in a long, long time. “Thanks.”

“Don’t die,” his dad repeated.

—

Early in the afternoon, Jared heard a car door slam and then a knock. Jared opened the front door and his cousin Kota gave him a quick bro hug, slapping his back. When he stepped back, his eyes locked on the bruises around Jared’s neck. Then Phil came from the kitchen, where he’d been washing dishes, and Kota looked away. Phil took off his rubber gloves before he shook hands with Kota and introduced himself.

Jared felt as though he hadn’t seen Kota in years. His cousin had neatened his haircut to better show his neck tattoo and wore strategically ripped jeans and a T-shirt that indicated how much workouts meant to him. He asked Jared if he had any luggage or maybe a carton of Awake! magazines and Jared looked down at himself, laughed and shook his head.

Phil hugged him and then lifted his hands skywards and prayed. Kota checked his cellphone and then cleared his throat and said they needed to motor. Phil followed them out to Mave’s bug, a Volkswagen Beetle pimped out in Vancouver Canucks hockey logos with a vanity plate that read: BLD BLU. As Kota backed out of the driveway, Phil solemnly waved as if Jared was riding off to his doom.

When they were back on the highway, Kota finally said, “How the hell did you end up here?”

Jared shrugged.

“You weren’t fucking kidding, huh?” Kota said. “When you fall off the wagon, you fall hard.”

“Kind of a talent,” Jared said.

“It’s weird being on this side of the conversation. I’m usually the lapser in the family.”

Jared grunted.

“So what happened?” Kota said.

Trees. River. Sky. Cliffs. Granite. “I’m not ready to share.”

Kota had been his Alcoholics Anonymous sobriety buddy and knew better than to push. “You look like shit. Get some sleep.”

Jared put his seat back as far as it would go and closed his eyes. More to mime sleep so he wouldn’t have to talk than from any desire to go to sleep. He wouldn’t be able to get away with such easy avoidance with his mom or Mave.

Or Sophia. Once upon a time, she was his nana and he was her world. Before this new shit had happened, she and he had been cautiously testing their new relationship as non-related people, but they would never be what they had been. He wondered if she missed him with the same level of nagging ache as he missed her.

If he was going to attract magic and insanity, maybe it would be better if the people he cared about stopped caring about him so they’d stay safe. He was riding down to Vancouver as if it would solve something. But what could he salvage from the wreckage of