Return of the Trickster by Eden Robinson (ebook voice reader TXT) 📗

“I find it relaxing.”

“Mom phoned,” Mave said.

“Granny Nita?”

“Yup. She wants to visit you after she drops in to see Aunt Agnetha.” Mave took another swipe.

“Cool,” Jared said, trying not to think about the fact that he was the thing Granny Nita had always feared he was, her worst fears made Jared-shaped.

Mave had her own fears. “She hasn’t spoken to me in ten years, much less darkened my door. I don’t think I’m up to this.”

“She can be harsh,” Jared said.

Mave slumped. “She’s exhausting. I can never say the right thing. When did she put you on her ‘good person’ list?”

“We’ve been writing each other. I think she needed to tell someone about her adjudication. She didn’t want them to get away with torturing her, but telling strangers the details of residential school messed her up and she didn’t think it was worth it in the end.”

His aunt cleaned the icing off the plate, her expression unreadable. “I’m glad you were there for her.”

—

After he iced the cupcakes, Kota picked him up and they went to Jared’s regular morning AA meeting. He spotted Mallory. He’d recognize her rose-painted leather jacket anywhere. He’d never seen her at a meeting before. Not that he went to all of them. Not that he knew everyone. Kota nudged him and pointed his chin at her. Afterwards, she came up to them on the sidewalk as Kota was sucking back a cigarette.

“Hey, Jared,” Mallory said. “Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“I’m really shaky today,” Jared said. “I need to get home.”

“Maybe talking would help.”

“I’m not up to company.”

“I hear you. If you change your mind, give me a call. Do you still have my number?”

“No,” Jared said.

She playfully tried to grab his hand and he stepped back.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m a mess right now.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “I’ll see you around.”

“Later.”

Kota watched her leave. “I knew you weren’t over Sarah.”

“Shut up.”

“I won’t tell Sarah about you flirting with the random chick.”

“Oh, my God, please shut up.”

Kota grinned and lit his next cigarette on the old one and stomped the butt out harder than he needed to.

“You use humour like me,” Jared said. “And yours is kind of sharp this morning. What’s up?”

Kota blew upwards. “You noticing shit all the time is creepy.”

“You don’t have to share.”

“Just family shit. You’ve got a lot on your plate. I’m not dumping it on you. Again.”

“I’m not Phil’s biological son, but he was the only dad I knew.” And I got him killed, he wanted to add, but that just meant explaining more things Kota wouldn’t believe. “Now you.”

Kota studied his hands. “Mom’s coming to town. She’s driving your gran in. She hasn’t called or texted me. And she won’t. She’s never forgiven me for being gay.”

“Sorry.”

Kota finished his smoke. “Real soap opera we got going, huh?”

Jared laughed. “As the Bannock Burns.”

“All we need is some hair pulling and some evil twins.”

“Give it time.”

—

Jared wanted to do some real baking, the kind Mrs. Jaks would have approved of, so they stopped at the nearby twenty-four-hour SuperValu on the way back, but it still didn’t carry almond flour. The clerk had given him a cool once-over the last time he’d asked, saying he’d have to go to one of the hippie stores down the street for that shit. Jared had been hoping to make macaroons, but he’d have to settle for meringues.

When they got back to the apartment, Kota surveyed the cupcakes on the kitchen table.

“I put strawberries in the frosting.”

He patted his torso. “I’m trying to rip the ol’ abs.”

“They’re cherry chip.”

“You are pure evil.” Kota picked one up, took a bite and put it back on the table. Then he snatched it back, peeled off the liner and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, mumbling, “Evil.”

Kota watched TV while Jared looked up meringue recipes on his new phone. He discovered there was a vegan one, involving the juice from canned chickpeas. Mave had three cases in the pantry, so he didn’t think she’d miss a few cans while he experimented. It seemed weird, but the juice frothed up well and he guessed, if you added enough sugar to anything, it would seem dessert-y. As the meringue was drying out in the oven, he made hummus with the chickpeas. Kota came back into the kitchen and Jared peeled and chopped up some carrots for him to dip.

“What’s up with you?” Kota said.

“I want to do something, but nothing’s really going to help. So, you know, cooking. Burns off some anxiety. And it’s useful.”

“You don’t have to be useful,” Kota said. “You just have to get through this.”

—

Mave had another bag of carrots that were going soft, so Jared grated them for carrot cake. He used vinegar and baking soda to substitute for the eggs so Sarah could eat it. All the pineapple and carrots were going to make it moist anyway, but he didn’t want it too dense. Maybe add some shredded coconut. Go for the whole tropical vibe. None of the frosting mixes in the cupboard seemed a decent substitute for cream cheese, so he decided he’d dust icing sugar over it. Maybe add some candied peel.

Mave also had a bag of organic lemons that needed to be used soon. Maybe a lemon meringue pie. Or lemon bars. In the living room, Kota pretended to skip rope, sweat dripping down his face and chest.

Justice and Sarah hello’d as they came in, carrying a heavy-looking folding screen. Justice wore overalls rolled up to her calves, blue stilettos and a fuzzy blue cape that matched her headband. Sarah was in jeans and rain jacket, her hair braided tight against her head.

“Hey, Kota,” Justice said. “Could you help Maamaan? She’s down in the parking garage.”

He saluted her and jogged out.

“Jared, my dude, this is a ridiculous amount of baking.” Justice kissed his cheek.

“The meringue is vegan.”

“Did you hear that, Sarah? The meringue is vegan.”

“The carrot cake is, too. It should be out