Relations
He was succinct, if nothing else. “My arse is a star.”
She snorted. “What?!”
“If you’re telling me that that woman is
telling you that she is related to Gordon Pinsent, then I’m telling you
that my arse is a star.” He nodded forcefully at her, coffee mug lifted to
pursed lips, as if to prove a point.
“So I’m supposed to go and ask her to prove it, then?”
She couldn’t believe they were even having this discussion.
“Well. Why not? I mean, we know she lies. That’s what
she does for a living, I’m pretty sure…” He rolled his eyes.
“You can’t say that!”
“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” He always called a
spade, a spade.
“Yes, but…”
“All right, then. Go and ask her exactly how
she’s related to Gordon Pinsent.” He tapped the table repeatedly with his index
finger. “I mean, if she’s related, then she ought to be able to say how,
right?”
She sipped her tea, rolled her eyes back at him. “So…I
said: ‘Marcy, that’s so amazing, to hear you’re related to Gordon Pinsent. Do
you know Mum saw every one of his films, just because she was sooooo in love
with him, especially the ‘him’ from The Rowdyman. Back when she and
Gordon were both young and hot. Fancied she could bed him, back in the day.’
You think I should say that?!”
He pushed his coffee mug around on the table, looked
up, quirked an eyebrow. “Now, why would you tell Marcy all about your
mum wanting to fuck Gordon Pinsent? That seems a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way. For God’s
sake…” She looked out the window. Watched a black squirrel hightail it across
the back fence. “So. I shouldn’t ask her…or how, exactly?”
“No. Ask her. It’s bullshit, her saying she’s related
to him. Next thing you know, she’ll be saying she’s related to Christopher
Plummer.” He watched the squirrel jump to its near death outside. “I mean, she
wants to be an actress, or an actor, or whatever it is these days. She wants to
be ‘like someone else,’ doesn’t she? Can’t be herself at all.”
“Sad, really…”
“Suppose…but still. Ask her. Just to see.” He shrugged
as if he didn’t care anymore.
“It’s possible, though…I suppose…that she might be?”
Her words up on their toes against his now, all questioning and uncertain.
He paused. Put down his mug firmly on the table. “I know what you ought to do. The only way to tell…” Raised an eyebrow, smiled a sneaky smile.
“Oh, I know that look…what are you up to?”
“Well. Obviously! You get yourself to her great-aunt Colleen’s funeral in Grand Falls, actually, and then you see if Gordon shows up!” His arms, flung wide, voice rising, as if underlining a key point. “Simple!”
“You want me to crash a funeral? To find out if Marcy’s related to Gordon Pinsent? Do you think that’s really the best option, the best way to figure out if he’s who she says he is?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Fuckin’ right I do. Us, though. Not me. You and me both! I say we get in the car, go out there to Grand Falls for the funeral and then we wait. We sit through the wake, sign the book there, go to the funeral, and then we eat the really amazing sandwiches at the reception.” He smiled widely now. “I mean, Christ, everyone knows that the funerals are best for the tiny salmon sandwiches on Wonder Bread and maybe, if you’re lucky, some Vienna sausages on the side.”
She shook her head, dumbfounded. He never ceased to surprise her. “So…we go to Marcy’s aunt’s funeral just to see if Gordon Pinsent shows up…is your plan, like?”
“Yes. Absolutely. If nothing else, we get to eat the sandwiches. That’s what funerals are all about: the luncheon! You know that. Best. Egg. Salad. Ever.” He jumped up. “Get your laptop. We’ll book an AirBnB and sort it out online. I’ll go gas up the car. When’s the funeral, anyway?!”
She put both of her palms flat on the table, felt the surface of the wood underneath her fingers. Lifted, then dropped them together at the same time with a hollow thud. “Fuck. Seriously? A last minute road trip to a funeral that’s likely happening sometime tomorrow…from here? To Grand Falls?”
“Yup. Indeed. Wicked time we’ll have. You know it.”
“And, so…what comes after that? Say he shows up. Then what? You go over, next to the casket and say…what, exactly?” She rolled her eyes. He was so stupid. She couldn’t believe that she lived with him. Christ, she couldn’t believe she had sex with him sometimes. “What happens after that, if he shows up?”
He snorted. “Well, shit. If he’s there himself, maybe Leah will be too! I mean, I had the biggest crush on Leah Pinsent when I was eighteen. She was hot. Likely still is…”
“Seriously? But you also had a crush on Megan Follows and her as Anne of Green Gables back in the mid-80s…so…” Her eyebrows raised high, mouth curled up derisively.
“So harsh! How am I even in a relationship with you, I sometimes wonder…” He let the words drift, then deftly avoided the rolled up newspaper that she tried to hit him on the head with. “Hey now! Enough!”
“Listen! What comes after you see Gordon, saying he is there in the funeral home? You do what, then? Tell me.”
“Well…I go over and say this: ‘Hey, Gordon. My mother in law, Rita, she’s got a mad love for you. Back in the Rowdyman days, she so wanted to fuck you, you know? You were popular then…with the ladies in St. John’s. Then I’d say, ‘Would you mind signing the back of this funeral card for her? For her collection of Pinsent things?”
She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“I am. That’s why you keep me around.”
She offered up a half smile. “Well…I thought it was because your arse was a star, to be honest. God knows that, if a woman can’t find Gordon, then…you’re next best.”
He snorted out a laugh, leaned over, grabbed her dramatically and pulled her in to his chest for a kiss. “Jesus, but you’re a harsh woman sometimes.”
Over his shoulder, in the backyard, she watched the
squirrel do a flying leap from the fence onto the lid of the compost bin, wondering
briefly if a road trip to a funeral wasn’t even just a bit macabre at the best
of times. Figured it was, but closed her eyes and then leaned into the kiss
anyway.
