Mad cow, p.23
Mad Cow, page 23
She walked out of the bathroom and stood in the dark hallway, listening to the creaks of the house. She could hear the light sound of Clay’s snores as she walked by his room. Perhaps she should go downstairs and read a book or watch some TV. She continued down the hall past Colton’s room. The door was shut, and she pushed it open and flicked the light switch, half expecting Colton’s normal chaos: his clothes strewn on the floor, the smell of dirty socks and the scent of cigarette smoke and sweat that followed him. But the room was clean and the bed made. Colton had even vacuumed before he left. Some of his things were still there; his stereo and posters of rock bands on the walls, a guitar and a shelf filled with books. A wave of sadness passed over her as she entered the room. One of his dresser drawers was open a crack and she bent over to close it. As she leaned in, she saw the corner of a plastic Ziploc bag. She opened the drawer and pulled out a bag full of green, gnarled buds. She reached into the bag, touched the dry buds and crushed a few of them between her fingers. A small glass pipe and some rolling papers lay in the drawer on top of black t-shirts, an old black hooded sweatshirt, several pairs of white socks that had gone grey and a few navy blue t-shirts from the auto body shop where Colton had worked.
Donna held the baggie in her hands and sat on the bed. Colton’s packing had been a whirlwind affair and he’d had so much to do before he left. It happened so fast. He told them he was leaving, and then he was gone. Maybe he’d meant to get rid of this pot, or give it to Lily or Booger. Donna had only smoked pot a couple times when she was in university, before she met Gord. The first time it didn’t do anything to her, but the second time, she smoked it with her friend Rebecca in college and they watched cartoons and laughed, and she felt warm, relaxed and full, like a pregnant ant. Rebecca had some cotton candy and when they ate it, higher than kites, Rebecca told her they were eating cartoons.
Maybe pot was what Donna needed tonight. They gave pot to cancer patients and people in pain, didn’t they? Some dope might take the edge off. She walked back to the dresser and took the glass pipe out of the drawer. There was a lighter on the top of the dresser. She’d seen people smoke pipes in the movies. She could figure out how to do it. But she couldn’t just sit in her son’s room and smoke a pipe. Someone might smell it. And she’d feel so bad if Clay, Allyson or Gord saw her, especially after all the times she and Gord had berated Colton for smoking pot. Gord hated it. Said pot made you stupid and started you down the pathway to other, harder drugs. Donna had actually liked it when she’d tried it with Rebecca, but after hearing Gord talk about it, she hadn’t bothered to smoke it again.
She took out one of Colton’s black hoodies and put it on, stuffing the baggie, pipe and lighter into the hoodie’s front pocket. She could sit in the barn with the horses, dogs and cats and freeze her ass off. Or she could walk across the yard and go to Abby and Al’s. She hadn’t been inside the house since they died, but somehow it felt right to go there tonight.
Standing near the door, she pulled her winter boots on over her bare feet and put on a warm coat. She was careful not to let the door slam behind her as she ventured out into the cold. Flakes of snow were falling. The snow might here to stay. She felt a pang of sadness. Snow meant another long winter. She wasn’t sure if she could handle it. The cold greyness and long stretches of darkness made everything worse.
As she walked across the yard, Maggie and Rascal raced to join her. She was glad for their presence. When the children were younger, she worried about them accidentally stumbling out of the house at night and getting attacked by a coyote, even though Gord told her again and again that the chance of that happening was almost nonexistent. She must have seen it in a movie once and that put the idea in her head, and now she couldn’t get rid of it.
She reached Abby and Al’s front door and pulled it open. Part of her felt guilty and horrible, as if she was doing something wrong. But Linda had been in the house numerous times since the accident. Why couldn’t she go in there too? Just thinking about Linda made her think about Craig, and anger wormed its way through her body.
As she flicked on the light switch, she caught a glimpse of a tiny brown body skittering across the tile floor. She willed herself not to scream. She hated mice and always had. The erratic way they moved scared her. Abby would lose it if she knew there were mice in her house. Donna smiled at the thought. She hadn’t yet let herself feel angry at Abby for the decision about the farm. How could Abby do this to them? Granted, she wasn’t fully aware of what she was doing. But still. Donna pulled off her boots and held them in her hands. If she put them down, a mouse might run inside. Better to keep them with her.
The house smelled musty, but it also smelled like Abby and Al, even though they hadn’t been here for over a year now. It was cold, so Donna kept her coat on. Craig and Linda must left the heat on to keep the pipes from freezing, but not enough to heat the house. She walked towards the stairs and turned that light on, before hurrying back to the front hall to turn off the entranceway light.
She climbed the stairs, looking at the photos that decorated the walls of the staircase. There she was holding Clay. In another picture, the family beamed at the camera, all of them except Colton, who never smiled on cue. He stared straight ahead, stone faced. Donna stopped at a picture of Abby and Al smiling, their entire bodies angled toward each other. She noticed a thin coating of dust on the top of the picture frame and brushed it off with her finger. Upstairs, she turned on the lights and the hallway lit up. Part of her felt she should be going room to room, inspecting the entire house. The house felt lifeless, even though it looked the same. She walked through the other three upstairs bedrooms, visiting the rooms where Craig and Gord had grown up. Abby had redecorated a long time ago. One of the rooms had been her sewing and crafting room. Linda must have taken things out of here, because it didn’t look the same as when Abby lived there. The two spare bedrooms, known as the pink room and the blue room, looked the same, except for the thin layer of dust coating the furniture.
She got to Abby and Al’s bedroom and turned on the light. The closet was bare and she could see empty hangers and the white wall behind them. The pictures that had been on the top of the dresser were gone. The bed was made, but it was covered with a plaid quilt Donna didn’t recognize. Linda must have dusted. Even though the house smelled stale, the room was clean, without the coating of dust Donna expected.
She’d been in this room when Abby and Al were alive, but not for a long time. She’d spent more time in here when the kids were small. She pulled off her coat and got under the plaid quilt. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the baggie of pot, the lighter and the pipe. She put a couple of buds into the pipe and lit them, inhaling the warm, skunky smell. She wondered if Linda would recognize it if she came into the room. Maybe she would think a skunk had made its way into the house. The thought made her smile, and she took a quick pull on the pipe, inhaling the smoke in her lungs and holding it there. It burned and she coughed, letting the smoke out. Then she laughed a little to herself, thinking about the strangeness of the situation. Here she was, sitting in her mother-in-law’s bed, smoking pot like a petulant teenager.
She felt calmer now. She inhaled again and held the smoke inside her lungs. How much did she need to get high? It had been so long since she had done this. Had Chloe and Clay smoked pot? For a second, she felt guilty about berating Colton for smoking. What a hypocrite. But Colton had probably done stronger drugs. She took a few more pulls off the pipe, careful not to burn her fingers on the lighter as she held it over the buds. She wasn’t sure how much to smoke, so she stopped when her lungs felt like they were about to ignite. Then she put the pipe on Abby’s nightstand, checking first to see that it wasn’t hot enough to leave any sort of mark. She settled down under the covers and stared at the ceiling, transfixed by the stucco patterns. The bed smelled musty, but she could also smell the faint scent of Al. Or maybe she was just imagining things. What would have happened if he had been here? Would he have been able to pull his sons into some sort of united front against the border closure? Abby wouldn’t be so crazy and useless, just waiting to die.
She could see faces in the stucco pattern. When Clay had been about four, he ran into the room to jump on the bed. She didn’t want him to jump, so she made him lie on his back and look for things in the stucco. He found a shoe, a rocket ship and faces that reminded him of the man in the moon.
As she studied the ceiling, the whole thing struck her as absurd. She had entertained her child by making him look at shapes on a ceiling. She started to giggle. Her warm body relaxed, and her toes tingled. The warmth radiated up her body in lines, shooting up from her toes, travelling all the way to her head. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the glow.
*
It took her several minutes to realize where she was when she woke up the next morning. She was so hot, still wearing Colton’s hoodie over her pyjamas, her face smashed into the pillow, drool congealed by the side of her mouth. She rolled over, remembered where she was and what she’d done the night before. There was no clock in the room. Linda must have taken it to the hospital for Abby.
The baggie, lighter and pipe sat on the nightstand, and she put them in the front pocket of the hoodie, got up and made the bed. There was something comforting about being in this room. It felt like a sanctuary. She could pretend she was back in another time, waiting for Abby and Al to come home. Here, she could listen to her thoughts and not have to worry about others. But she had to leave. Gord and the kids might have woken up and they would wonder where she had gone.
Her boots rested by the side of the bed, and she picked them up and started towards the door of the bedroom. Downstairs, she put on her boots and opened the door. She would come back and clean the house later, when she had more time. It was still dark outside as she crept back across the yard.
As she walked to her house, she heard a screech and a scream, coming from the barn. She started to run. Inside the barn, she saw her daughter and Chloe. Her daughter’s hands were buried in Chloe’s hair and she was yanking hard. Chloe yowled like an angry cat.
“Girls!” Donna said. She pulled on her daughter’s arms, trying to force her back. But Allyson was strong, and able to resist her mother’s movements. Donna grabbed onto her daughter’s arms and tried to pull her back. Her daughter didn’t move. The two girls were in a deadlock. Donna pinched her daughter’s neck hard and fast, driving her nails into her daughter’s skin. Her daughter recoiled in shock, and her hold loosened. Donna was able to pull her off her cousin.
“Stop!” Donna said, even though the two girls were already apart.
Chloe put her hands on the side of her purple haired head, and wept. Allyson was breathing hard, like one of the horses after it had been running.
“What is this about?” Donna said. “Why are you acting like animals?”
Neither girl answered.
“I’m not sure what happened, but you can’t act like this,” she said. “Enough is enough.”
She pulled Allyson by the arm and led her towards the house.
As her mother led her out of the barn, Allyson burst into tears. Donna kept heading back towards the house. She knew she should ask what was wrong, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to deal with the mess, or unravel teenage feelings. No need to get involved in any of that. She didn’t want to spend the little bit of energy she had trying to figure out what had happened.
“Go to your room,” she said to Allyson once they got to the house. She knew this wasn’t a punishment. Allyson would be happy to be alone in her room. She’d just read or draw or listen to music. At least it would keep her away from her cousin.
Inside the house, Donna kicked off her boots and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. If she could get to the shower without having to deal with anyone else, she’d be able to hide in the shower alone for about half an hour, and let the water wash everything away. In the shower, she could stare at the tiles, focus on the feeling of the water massaging her back, and try to forget.
*
It was an early morning in late November when she heard the first shot. Donna was getting ready for work, and Allyson was off at school. Donna had heard shots before on the farm. You couldn’t live on a ranch and not expect to hear a gun go off. Sometimes the men needed to shoot sick cattle, and one time, Al had taken their old dog, Bruce, behind the barn to put him out of his misery.
Donna’s mind went to the worst possible place. Gord hadn’t told her he would be using a gun this morning. She jammed on her boots, pulled on her jacket and ran outside. She stood, listening and waiting for the next shot. Maybe there was a hunter on the property. Maybe Craig or Gord shot a coyote. The door of Craig and Linda’s house opened and Craig walked out and stood on the stoop. He put one hand out towards her, telling her to stay put. They’d barely talked at all since Thanksgiving. He went back into the house and returned wearing his jacket and boots. As he started towards the barn and the back of the corral, there was another shot, followed by the bawl of a cow. A third shot pierced the air. Donna remembered the first time she’d heard the loud, angry crack of a bullet. It sounded exactly like the guns she had heard on TV. Every time she heard a shot, her heart beat faster. A shot was never a neutral sound. It always meant something was going to die, or something needed to be scared off.
Her boots crunched through the crust of the snow as she walked towards the corral. When she arrived behind the barn, she saw Gord aiming a rifle at a pen full of cattle. The gun went off again and the cow in front of Gord fell to the ground. Blood gushed from its head onto the snow, the red a startling contrast against the white.
“Stop it,” Craig yelled as he approached. “What in the hell are you doing?”
Gord was wild-eyed. His face was puffy like he’d been drinking. A small herd of cattle clustered together at the back of the corral, their eyes wide, breath coming out of their mouths in quick, anxious puffs. As Craig and Donna watched, Gord raised the rifle and fired again. The bullet hit a small red cow right between the ears. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she sank to her knees, falling in a series of spasms and jerks. The other cattle moved to the far corner, breathing hard. The little red cow shook once more, and was still.
“You need to stop,” Craig said.
“We can’t afford to feed them anymore,” Gord said, his voice hoarse. “I’m thinning out the herd. They aren’t worth anything anyway.”
Donna could smell the iron tang of blood mixed with cow shit, burned hair, animal and the sharp, acrid smell of the animals’ fear. Several dead cows lay in the pen, their faces contorted, mouths open, large pink tongues exposed. She gagged. Panicked, a couple animals charged the fence, threatening to go over. Donna stepped back, terrified of being trampled.
Gord raised the rifle again and shot a cow. Donna covered her ears and closed her eyes.
“You’ve lost it,” Craig said. “These animals are perfectly fine. We won’t even be able to sell the meat the way you’re killing them.”
Craig started to move towards his brother. Gord raised the rifle and for a millisecond, it looked like he was going to aim the rifle at Craig. He didn’t hold it on him, but Donna could see it happen inside her head. Craig froze. He said something, but Donna couldn’t make out the words. He closed his eyes and moved his lips, like he was praying. Gord’s face was empty, like a robot out of a late-night science fiction horror movie. In her mind, she saw the bullet fly and hit Craig in the chest, saw his body pitch forward as the blood poured out of him. She was too scared to speak or breathe for fear of startling Gord. Gord exhaled, a long deep sigh, and a puff of his breath hung in the air. Then he turned and shot another cow.
While Gord was busy, Craig backed away and moved towards Donna. She could tell he was scared but his movements were slow and careful, as if he’d wandered into a bear’s path and was trying not to spook it. He reached her and leaned down so his mouth was near her ear.
“Call the cops,” he said. “Call them right away. I don’t know what else to do.”
Donna nodded and started walking back towards the house, not wanting to turn away from Gord and his gun. She was having problems breathing again. There wasn’t enough air. She couldn’t get it into her lungs fast enough. What if something happened while her back was turned? She tried to count, tried to breathe, willed herself not to have a panic attack. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. If she lost it now and something happened, she would be partially responsible. She gulped and gasped and tried not to think about what she was seeing, tried to think about getting air into her lungs. She couldn’t make it to the house. She closed her eyes and leaned over, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was somewhere else. She couldn’t call the cops on her own husband, could she? Breathe, breathe, breathe. Count, 1, 2, 3, 4. Inhale, exhale. The oxygen entered her lungs. She bent over, counted and breathed. Then she stood up and started walking back towards the corral.
By the time she got closer, she could see Craig had gotten Gord into an arm hold. As she watched, Craig punched Gord in the face. Gord didn’t try to fight back, just let the blow fall. Craig hit him again. She scanned the pen for the rifle. Finally, she saw it leaning up against the fence. Taking a deep breath, she climbed up the side of the fence and hopped over, praying the cows would stay away from her. Her focus was on the rifle and getting it away from the men. She ran a few steps across the snow, picked up the rifle and headed back towards the fence. She pushed the rifle under the fence and then climbed up and over. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d climbed the fence. She didn’t even know she could still do it.
