Chapters (56)
- Cover
- Dedication
- 1.1 [close to the bone]
- 1.2 [and introducing...]
- 1.3 [half-split]
- 1.4 [the Semple challenge]
- 1.5 [Brickpower]
- 2.1 [shaker up]
- 2.2 [heavyweight]
- 2.3 [♀]
- 2.4 [hired hand]
- 3.1 [wheels and deals]
- 3.2 [don’t cry over spilled ...]
- 3.3 [three’s a crowd]
- 3.4 [“If You Want Blood (You’ve Got It)” or “Night of the Long Knives,” take your pick]
- 4.1 [all the comforts of home]
- 4.2 [white knight]
- 4.3 [pay dirt]
- 4.4 [book learning]
- 5.1 [AQ]
- 5.2 [kihon, kata, kumite]
- 5.3 [pride and prejudice]
- 5.4 [hurt and humiliation]
- 5.5 [“King of the Road”]
- 6.1 [“Father and Son”]
- 6.2 [nothing succeeds like success]
- 6.3 [naked]
- 6.4 [nakeder (I know, there’s no such word)]
- 7.1 [42 km/hr]
- 7.2 [first aid]
- 7.3 [interest is mounting daily]
- 8.1 [kiai]
- 8.2 [kumite (sparring)]
- 8.3 [white knight II]
- 8.4 [Hope is the thing with feathers—that perches in the soul ... Emily Dickinson. American poet, 1830–86. I’m showing off.]
- 9.1 [white knight III]
- 9.2 [“Dead Man Walking”]
- 9.3 [tattletale]
- 9.4 [scat]
- 9.5 [painstaking]
- 10.1 [buzzed]
- 10.2 [amethyst: spiritual calm and healing]
- 10.3 [self-defense]
- 10.4 [self-disclosure]
- 11.1 [self-respect]
- 11.2 [guerrilla warfare]
- 11.3 [Sensei (teacher)]
- 11.4 [“The Razor’s Edge”]
- 12.1 [man to man]
- 12.2 [Tully]
- 12.3 [Hockey Night in Hilchey Bay]
- 12.4 [“If You Want Blood (You’ve Got It)”]
- 12.5 [rerun]
- 12.6 [“the end is the beginning ...” Japanese koan composed by Brickson MacAvoy]
- [author’s note]
- [acknowledgements]
I watch her leave the kitchen, listen to the stairs creak as she climbs them. Her office door closes with a small click.
Is that what she calls keeping an ear open?
Before you know it, I’m bounding up the stairs and flinging the door wide. “Couldn’t you at least stay downstairs? What kind of mother are you?”
“If this is the way you’re behaving with Floyd, no wonder you’re in trouble!”
“I’m sick to death of being used as a punching bag!”
The words hang in the air. Truest words I ever spoke. Took me long enough to say them.
Her wind chimes jingle gently in the breeze.
“I’m also sick of being punished for crap that’s not worth bothering about.”
Opal says stiffly, “I’ll leave the door open. If I hear you’re in trouble, I’ll come downstairs.”
“Don’t put yourself out.”
“Thank you would be a better response.”
“Thank you for being such a fabulous mother?”
She slams her mug down on the table beside a cluster of amethyst crystals; tea splashes over the sharp purple edges. “I’ve always paid for everything you need and I know you pocket the change. I never once complained. To you or Floyd.”
“You don’t love me or Cassie. You’ve never loved either one of us. Why did you bother having us?”
She says flatly, “The first time, I let Floyd talk me into getting pregnant. He wanted a son to carry on the MacAvoy name, don’t ask me why. Cassie was an accident.”
“He’s been hitting me since I was six. Do you even care?”
“You never told me.”
“Don’t give me that—you’ve seen him.”
“Corporal punishment isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. Anyway, I’m not a maternal woman.”
“You call that an answer?” Corporal punishment ... she’s even starting to sound like Floyd.
“I spoke to him the day after we helped you up the stairs ... told him he had to clean up his act.”
“Oh, he sure cleaned it up. Just ask Cassie.”
“I’ll speak to him about that too. We need to move out of this house, I’ve been saying it for years.”
“If he ever lays a hand on her again, I’ll go to Social Services and they’ll take her away from here. Imagine the gossip in town ... a psychic healer whose husband beats up his kids.”
“That’s blackmail!”
“You’re damn right it is. Speak to him, Opal.”
In the breeze, a crystal hanging in the window snicks against the glass. Ripples of color waver on the opposite wall. I walk out, leaving the door ajar.
Floyd will be home soon. And I’ll never call the social worker.
My mouth feels like I’m chewing ashes, while my gut’s a lump of ice.