Annick MacAskill

MISSING MINOU

By Annick MacAskill

Maddie realized she was going broke on a muggy Saturday afternoon during the summer between the second and third years of her B. Comm. degree.

It was late June and Halifax was leaning into its first heat wave. You could feel it in the ground, in the air, in the way everyone suddenly looked tired. Maddie was sitting under a fan in the living room of the two-bedroom South End apartment she shared with Alison, a friend she had made in first-year psych. The pair had their laptops out and were cross-legged on the parquet floor, slouched against the second-hand couch they’d inherited from Alison’s older brother, drinking homemade coolers made from cheap vodka and cheaper, sold-in-a-can pink lemonade.

While Alison scrolled the pages of a celebrity gossip site, Maddie was re-reading her bank’s overdraft policy. She found herself stretched too thin between student loan payments, and still without a summer job. She had not prepared for this, and was now solidly in the red.

I’m worried about money.

Hm? Alison sang.

Did you hear back from your father? About the job?

Alison took a swig of her drink. Not yet. The office is busy, though. And I keep mentioning you.

Maddie nodded. She opened a new tab in her browser and typed in the name of a job search website.

Fuck, it’s hot.

I know, Maddie said, blinking at the screen.

Should we go for a drink? Alison was already on her feet, stretching her arms and yawning.

Alison and Maddie were walking home from the pub later that night when they met Eric. A white sprinter van was parked at the edge of a gravel lot on Green, across from the Sobeys. The side door of the van was open, and clothes were hung from the door and on aluminum standing racks both inside and in front of the vehicle. A sign boasted 75% OFF MACEY’S AND BLOOMINGDALE’S.

Do we even have those stores here? Maddie whispered to Alison. Alison ignored her, turning into the lot.

Maddie saw him first. He rounded the van as Alison narrowed in on one of the racks. Because the light was dim, Maddie couldn’t tell how old he was, but she guessed thirty. He wasn’t very tall, but he was buff, his biceps pushing the sleeves of his white tee to its limits. He wore faded black jeans and a belt with an oversized, shiny buckle, the kind cowboys wear in the movies. A White Sox cap, which he tilted in greeting when they approached.

Alison ignored him, slipping her hands right into the middle of a rack, grabbing a khaki skirt before moving on and fanning through the rest of the clothes. She examined the tags, squinting.

Maddie hung back, watching her friend. She didn’t have money to spare, especially after three pints.

You’re not into clothes? the man asked.

She shook her head and tried to laugh, as if she didn’t care. The sound came out like a wheeze.

No, I’m all set for summer, she lied, eyeing a pair of denim shorts. Embroidered orange and white flowers trailed down the sides.

Those are the latest season.

Doubt that, Alison countered from her side of the rack. She abandoned the skirt, moving over to the man. She hooked her thumbs through the belt loops of her cut-offs. You have anything else?

You haven’t been inside, have you?

Alison smiled. With you, I take it?

I have a flashlight.

He slipped in the van, emerging a few seconds later. His flashlight was actually a battered green camping lantern. He flicked it on and waved Alison over.

After a pause, Maddie hurried after her friend. The three of them were able to stand straight up, the girls turning around slowly, as if in a cave.

Well?

I like this dress, Alison said, slipping a hanger off the rack. Maddie guessed her roommate had picked at random. Can I have it? Alison asked, rubbing the turquoise material between her thumb and forefinger.

If you’ve got the cash, the guy replied, bringing the lantern closer. That’s a popular style.

Is it? Alison asked, faux-sweet. I don’t have any money on me. Maybe you just let me take it?

The guy gave her a look Maddie couldn’t decipher.

Can’t give things away for free.

Let’s go, Maddie interrupted. Sorry. It’s late and we have work tomorrow.

Too bad.

The girls stepped out of the van. The man followed.

There’s a spelling mistake on your sign, Maddie commented, her feet meeting the pavement.

Oh?

Macy’s with a c-y, not c-e-y.

Right. He smiled at her. Thanks for the tip.

It’s nothing.

No, really, he said. I owe you. Take something.

Alison was already crossing the street.

We have to go, Maddie said over her shoulder. Sorry.

Alison left for work early the next morning. She woke Maddie up so she could ask to borrow a pair of heels.

I’m sick of all mine, she whined, plunging herself into Maddie’s closet. She pulled out a pair of black pumps Maddie had found in pristine condition at Value Village.

Sure, Maddie yawned from the bed, sitting up. Have a good day at work.

After her roommate left, Maddie burrowed back in the sheets, sleeping for another two and a half hours. Stumbling into the kitchenette after 10, she poured cold coffee from the pot into an oversized ceramic mug that read WORLD’S GREATEST AUNT.

She changed into yesterday’s clothes and grabbed a banana, heading out the front door. She would walk to the waterfront and spend the day in the sun. In the afternoon, an hour or so before Alison was due home, she would pound a couple pints and head back up the hill, stopping at the two grocery stores on the way to ask for job applications. She’d get home, make herself a vodka soda, and fill out the paperwork before she lost her nerve. Alison kept promising a job at her father’s firm, but Maddie couldn’t wait any longer.

Maddie was so focused on her plan she didn’t see the van parked in the same lot on Green.

Hey, whizkid!

It was a word she hadn’t heard in over a decade. Blinking, she met his eyes.

Hi, she offered, stopping on the sidewalk.

Back for your outfit? He stepped out of the van.

No. I was just going for a walk.

Oh, come on. You really helped me out there. Look, I fixed the sign. He showed her the Bristol board. MACY’s with a c-y.

She smiled, tucking her hair behind her left ear. Cool. But I should get going.

To work?

Uh, yeah, she said, remembering the lie.

Where is it? Can I give you a ride?

It’s a short walk.

You don’t work with your friend?

Okay, she said. So there is no job. I’m still working on that.

He nodded.

I’m Eric, by the way.

Maddie.

If you’re not going anywhere, and you don’t like the dress, let me buy you an ice cream?

She looked at him. He appeared younger than he had last night, and he was cute. She was sure Alison had been into him. He was wearing the same outfit as the day before, but then again, so was she.

Eric drove them across town, then kept going, pulling onto the highway. Maddie didn’t feel afraid, but she found herself remembering the self-defence advice she’d read in teen magazines. If you’re trapped by a strange man, fake an illness. Say you have to get out of the car. Tell him someone’s waiting for you. Make yourself throw up on him if he gets too close. Shit your pants.

He put a hand on her shoulder.

Relax, he said. I only want to show you a good time. You can call your friend and tell her what we’re doing if you want.

Maddie shook her head and grinned, trying to imitate the way Alison looked at guys, a mix of sugary challenge and comfort. That’s okay, she said, pressing her hand over the cell phone in her right pocket, leaning back in the passenger seat.

He drove them out to Peggy’s Cove, parking by one of the fishing shacks. He raised his left hand, palm out, and nodded at the old man selling lures and buoys inside. Eric bought them ice cream cones across the street, salted licorice and caramel. They ate the cones as they walked up the hill to the lighthouse, weaving through the road to dodge the tourists. Maddie and Eric sat on one of the flat grey rocks near the water, their backs to the crowds behind them.

I never come here, Maddie said, pressing her palms into the rock and squinting at the ocean.

Really? It’s so beautiful.

It’s so touristy.

That’s not the Cove’s fault.

They lingered long enough to get hungry, heading to the Sou’Wester for fish and chips. When it was time for the cheque, Eric told the waitress they were together and paid cash, peeling a few bills off a roll the size of Maddie’s fist.

They drove to a nearby beach and sat on the sand. When they got warm, Eric told Maddie to grab a suit from inside the van. She picked a lime-green one-piece. Before stepping back outside, she checked her reflection on the cloudy locker-sized mirror tacked to the wall, teasing a few strands of hair out of her ponytail. Eric slipped on a pair of blue swimming trunks he pulled out of the dash.

He took her hand and they jumped through the waves. Eric said a storm must be coming because the water was so warm. Maddie couldn’t remember the last time she had been in the ocean.

Her cell phone woke her the next morning.

Meet me in 15? the text asked.

She checked the time. 6:53.

Sure, she texted back, almost jumping out of bed.

She put on the sundress he’d pressed into her hand the night before. After Peggy’s Cove, they’d spent the day at the beach, eating hamburgers and fries from a nearby shack, watching families crowd the sand then scatter away. They stayed for the sunset, sitting on a faded bath towel Eric pulled out of the van. He drove her home shortly after dark.

He said good-bye without trying to kiss her, or even asking for a hug. He had a big smile and she wanted to ask if they would see each other again, but that felt desperate.

Maddie snuck out of her room, careful not to wake her roommate. Alison had been full of questions when she came home. Maddie told her everything, but her roommate acted like she was leaving something out.

There was no time for a pot of coffee, so Maddie prepared a cup of instant. She filled the mug with ice cubes so she could chug the beverage down, gagging.

She slipped out the apartment. The van was already parked in front, Eric leaning across the passenger’s seat so he could look out the window. The hairs on his thick, tan forearm glinted in the sliver of sun that reached through the trees.

Ready to work? he asked.

What?

While you’re waiting on that office job, he said, grinning. I thought you could help me out.

Really?

Sure. He shifted the van into drive. Figure I could do a lot better at this with a woman in tow. And you need the money, don’t you?

Maddie didn’t know what to say. She was barely awake. Her head and mouth felt like they were stuffed with cotton.

I pay cash. That means no taxes.

She nodded. What else was she up to?

Sure, she said. If you think I can do it.

He took the MacKay bridge and drove them to Dartmouth. They went through a drive-through and he bought them breakfast sandwiches, coffees, and a bottle of orange juice to share. They stopped in the lot of a near vacant strip mall.

No one will bother us here, he said.

Maddie quickly learned there was nothing complicated about the job. Eric picked out a dress and she changed in the van while he waited outside. He took care of loading and unloading the clothes. He was good at arranging them, selecting the brightest pieces to hang over the door.

They worked from eight in the morning until sundown, though Eric made sure they took breaks. They couldn’t eat or relax at normal times, because that’s when most people came by—on their midday breaks, or on their way to dinner from the office. But Eric took long lunches between two and four, and every day he drove them to get ice cream after it got dark.

Maddie was tasked with getting people to look at the clothes. Women didn’t always feel comfortable with a man working by himself, Eric explained. They would worry he was a creep. He didn’t blame them, of course.

She was surprised at how well the plan worked. She didn’t know if that meant she was a good salesperson or if Eric just knew how to read people. Women her mother’s age lifted shirts next to their cheeks and asked her if she thought the shirts flattered their colouring. Maddie nodded and smiled and murmured encouraging things every time, no matter how bad their choices were, how much the aqua or cherry red or orange washed out a woman’s face. This turned out to be all the convincing most shoppers needed. She felt like a fake, but no one ever questioned her enthusiasm. It was as if all the years spent swallowing her feelings and being nice to people were finally paying off.

The girls her age were a different story. They were aloof, sizing her up. Maddie would have felt uneasy, but she had Eric by her side. He picked out the best pieces for her to wear, the dresses that looked like they came from an expensive store instead of an outlet warehouse. Maddie smiled in her new salesgirl role, for once confident that she had something over someone else. She knew she didn’t have to be rude to the girls the way they were rude to her. In fact, the more assured she was the easier it was to be nice to them, which made it all the easier to make the sale.

Every night when he dropped her off, Eric took a few bills off the wad of cash he kept in his pocket, counting under his breath. Maddie looked forward to this moment every day, as if it were a good-night kiss. He never tried to touch her beyond patting her shoulder or knee.

The best part of the job was counting out the money and hiding it in her room. Maddie put it in her underwear drawer, stacks of small bills gathered with rubber bands and scattered among her threadbare tube socks. She slipped the larger bills—Eric mostly paid in fifties—in between the pages of textbooks from subjects she would never take again—Psych, Canadian History, Spanish. She started paying for everything in cash, even delivering her half of the next month’s rent to her roommate in a fat stack.

What am I supposed to do with that? Alison asked, blowing on her nails. She was giving herself a manicure when Maddie approached with the money.

Take it to the bank, Maddie said, putting the money on Alison’s vanity.

I’ll look like a fucking gangster.

Not exactly.

Where’d you get the money?

I’ve been helping Eric out.

I thought you two were dating?

No. But I help him with his business sometimes.

Are you for real? That’s what you’ve been doing? Alison spun around in her chair. His “business” is fully illegal, Maddie.

I doubt it, Maddie lied. I think he has some sort of license.

Right. I mean, whatever. Alison turned back to her nails, the brush working a thick coat of tangerine over her left thumb. You do you. He’s cute and all. If he hasn’t touched you by now, he’s probably gay anyway.

That’s truly stupid, Maddie said, her face hot.

Just be careful, Alison continued. You know that stuff is stolen.

Maddie didn’t know what to say. She had already figured that part out, had decided she didn’t care. Whatever the source of the clothing, she was working for the money she made. She was learning about business, too. Profit, revenue, costs, proof of concept. There was also the stuff her professors never talked about—interacting with customers, getting to know what they liked. Researching locations to sell the clothes. Saving her money, as much of it as she could.

I’m sure it’s not what you think.

Whatever. Just don’t bring that stuff up if you get an interview with my dad.

I won’t, Maddie answered.

Eric liked to work every day except Monday.

The first Monday off was a surprise to Maddie. He had texted her both Saturday and Sunday morning, as early as during the week. Maddie was hungover Saturday morning and the day felt twice as long as the ones before. When she came home Saturday night, she skipped drinking with Alison and Alison’s date, which meant that Sunday was much easier. Maddie felt high from the sales she and Eric made. The stack he gave her that night was the largest she’d seen yet.

That first Monday, Maddie woke early, dressed, and sprayed her new perfume on her ankles and wrists. She had bought it the day before, when Eric stopped at a drugstore to get chips at the end of their shift. The perfume smelled like peaches and vanilla. She remembered reading somewhere that perfumes that smelled like food were the best for attracting men. Maddie wondered if Eric would like it.

Nothing had happened between the two of them. She had a feeling that either nothing ever would, or Eric would wait the whole summer before making a move. He never mentioned a girlfriend and smiled at her constantly, as if he could only be in a good mood when she was around.

Maddie was lost in thought when she heard her phone ding. Sorry, the text said. Not sure if I mentioned it, but I have things to do today. Mondays are for tying up loose ends.

Not wanting to run into Alison, Maddie slipped a few bills in her back pocket, grabbed her keys, and left the apartment. She didn’t bother to take her cell phone, deciding at the last minute she wouldn’t need it.

Maddie started spending Mondays in her neighbourhood, wandering the streets and looking for things to do. She left her phone in her room. She picked up litter and talked to seniors, helping them cross the street or carrying their groceries home. She gave small bills to homeless people, smiled at kids, and picked the occasional iris or rose from a private garden when no one was looking.

The third Monday off was particularly muggy. Even the wind was hot and damp. Maddie walked the empty streets slowly, observing. She watched a crowd of ants scramble over a dropped ice cream cone. She stopped to look at books neighbours left in neat piles on their front stoops, paper signs reading TAKE ME or FREE. A couple hours into her walk, she decided she would buy a popsicle at every corner store she saw, working her way through red, green, orange, and blue before realizing that what she really wanted was fudge.

Maddie loved wasting the day, doing the most banal, self-indulgent things she could think of. As on the first two Mondays, she avoided thinking about school or money, beyond patting herself on the back for finding a summer job she enjoyed. It wasn’t something she could put on her résumé, but she had done the math—if she kept working with Eric, she would make it to the fall and her next student loan payment no problem, even have a little cash to spare for the year.

Turning down a quiet, still road, she noticed a poster taped onto a telephone pole. In bold black letters, it read

MISSING MINOU

and beneath that, in smaller type,

I recently lost my most beloved cat MINOU a 7 yr old Male he is very sweet but sometimes
afraid of Humans if you see him (He is in the photo) Please call me
$$$$ REWARD IF YOU FIND MINOU $$$$

Maddie stopped to read the poster, examining the grainy photo of a fat, nervous looking grey cat. She kept walking, and within three blocks saw another four posters, all identical, all calling out for the owner’s missing Minou.

The poster seemed over the top, but Maddie felt for whoever had made it. She also kept thinking of the dollar signs, bobbing in her mind like buoys on the ocean. She walked back to her apartment and grabbed her cellphone. She doubled back the same way until she saw the poster. She took several photos of it, memorizing the image of the cat and the owner’s phone number. For the rest of the afternoon Maddie walked up and down the streets in the neighbourhood, calling out the cat’s name whenever she was sure she was alone.

Alison didn’t seem impressed when she showed her the poster.

Cute cat.

Oh, I know. And the reward, Maddie added, trying to sound casual. How much do you think it is?

Who knows. Could be fifty, could be five hundred.

That much? You think?

Sure, Alison said, cutting a lime with a small knife. She squirted a wedge into a small glass filled with vodka and ice. You want some?

You really think someone would pay five hundred dollars for a missing cat?

Why not? Cat people are crazy. Tracy, this woman in my dad’s office, once found a missing cat. She got six hundred.

Seriously?

Are you coming to the bar? Alison passed her a glass. I might meet up with a guy and his friends.

Can’t. I’m working with Eric tomorrow morning. Maddie took a small sip from the drink, then placed it back on the counter.

Alison glanced at the glass and rolled her eyes. It’s not a real job, you know. I think you can get a bit drunk the night before.

On Tuesday, Maddie managed to wait until their lunchbreak before showing Eric the poster. They sat in a parking lot, eating cheeseburgers and onion rings. Eric was still paying for everything.

He’s cute, Eric said, glancing at her phone.

Yeah, she said, clearing her throat. She took a sip of her strawberry milkshake. My roommate thinks the reward could be a lot of money. Like five hundred. Can you imagine?

He looked at her. Do you need money?

She laughed, hoping she didn’t look too invested. Always. But not, like, desperately.

He nodded. I can advance you. If you’re in a pinch.

I’m not.

Good. People like us can’t afford to be.

What do you mean?

We don’t have anyone to look after us. He stared out the window, as if mesmerized by the flock of pigeons fluttering in front of the car.

They were halfway through July. It was a grey day. The sky matched the pigeons’ grey feathers.

We won’t sell anything today, Eric said after a pause. Do you want to go to the beach?

Maddie nodded. It occurred to her she had never said no to him, except that first night, when they met.

They drove over an hour to a beach Eric knew where you could park on the sand. They stayed in the van, watching sandpipers dance before the ocean. When it started raining, the birds flew off, their fleet a shimmery curl over the water.

Do your parents give you money? Eric asked without turning to her.

They’ve tried, Maddie said, staring at the point on the horizon where she’d lost sight of the birds. They know student loans aren’t enough. But they’ve also asked me to borrow money.

They pay it back?

Sometimes.

My parents never paid it back.

Oh. Shit, that sucks. She glanced at him, his face in profile. You don’t lend to them anymore?

I don’t talk to them anymore.

Shit. She looked out at the water. The waves were quick in the wind. The way they crashed together made her think of horses, rushing in a herd.

I don’t talk to mine much either.

That’s alright. He frowned. It’s good you’re in school. You should stay there.

You never went?

I did. Dropped out pretty quick though.

Oh. Would you go back?

No. I’m busy enough. I have everything I need.

Eric, where do you live?

He gave her a sour look.

You don’t need to worry about me.

I don’t, she lied. She reached a hand to his forearm. He flinched and she drew her hand away.

Eric leaned forward in his seat, his head in his hands.

I’m sorry, he said quietly. I’m not mad at you.

Okay.

I like being your friend.

I know.

Eric frowned. You should look for that cat, he told her. Your roommate might be right, and five hundred bucks is a good thing to have in your back pocket. That’s how I got this van.

With five hundred?

No, but with many five hundreds I saved over time. I was working with these guys, doing bullshit errands for them. They needed someone with a van. It was a way to take a step up.

I see.

And it worked. The errands did help me get there. Fuck, you should’ve seen the shit I did for them. He pressed his lips. I was also delivering pizzas in my beat-up car. I’d squeeze in tasks for these guys before and after my shift, sometimes during. The pizza job paid for my life. The other money—I saved it. The bumper was half hanging off my car, but I waited. I knew I would go somewhere. It just took time.

And now, he continued, with this gig, there’s security. I can do a lot more with a van, which means I make more money. Which means I can hire you. I had a feeling you would make me money, but it helps to have a cushion, in case things don’t work out. It means freedom. I didn’t have to run it by them.

You mean your bosses don’t know about me?

They don’t need to, he said, swatting a fly away with his left hand. They wouldn’t care, anyway. Like I said, I have enough. That’s freedom.

Eric. It’s not just clothes, is it?

Who knows, he continued. With that five hundred, you could pay for some licensing exam you need. You could save for a car so you can drive to work if you get a job across the city. It sounds ridiculous, searching for a lost cat, but that’s the kind of gig you always need to be looking for, to help round things out. No one will turn you down for something like that because they don’t know your father. Just don’t blow the cash if you get it.

How’d you learn so much about money?

She wasn’t flattering him. She might be doing a business degree, no one in her classes seemed to know a thing about being broke. Especially the profs.

He took a long sip of his milkshake before answering.

From my parents. From watching what they did and doing the exact opposite.

On Mondays, Maddie continued wandering her neighbourhood, searching for Minou.

She went up and down streets, often going back over the same steps several times in a row. She peered into front lawns and backyards, stood on sidewalks for minutes at a time, staring up into the trees. She got down on the ground, her t-shirt rising up so that her belly scraped the asphalt, and looked under the cars parked along the side of the street. She tried whispering and calling the cat’s name, made kissing noises, snapped her fingers and clapped her hands. Whenever she saw a cat she approached it, even if it looked nothing like Minou. She’d squat a few feet away, glancing at the cat and then whipping her head to the side. Someone once told her that cats didn’t like prolonged eye contact, that they wanted to feel dominant all their relationships, including with humans. She’d crouch and wait, as if the cat might tell her something. Mostly the cats stayed put, content to sun themselves. Sometimes they’d wander off, and she’d try to follow as discreetly as possible. They always caught onto her, picking up speed and darting away faster than she could run.

The task felt impossible. But she told herself that so long as the posters were up, she’d keep trying.

I need your help, Eric said one Friday night, driving her home. Maddie had a cup of unfinished soft serve between her thighs.

Yeah? she said, twirling a plastic spoon through the melted vanilla mush.

I have a meeting tomorrow with one of the suppliers. I want you to come.

Really?

Yeah. I want you to meet these guys. You’re good at this, you know, his eyes flicked to meet hers. She thought, not the first time, that his were the kind of eyes girls like Alison would call smouldering. I never sell as much as when I’m with you.

Sure.

I mean it, he said, speeding up at an orange light. You should be in sales. Customers love you. You’ll have the same effect on these people.

Eric told her he’d pick her up Saturday around eight. This meant Maddie had the day to look for Minou, but she found herself distracted, unable to focus. She came home early from her walk and spent the afternoon leafing through a couple of fashion magazines Alison had left in the living room.

He showed up that evening right on time and they drove across the bridge. The sun was about to set and the sky burned a bright yellow-white.

He pulled over into the near-empty parking lot of a strip mall and they stepped out of the van. He handed Maddie a dress and she slipped into the back. She emerged a minute later, the outfit still bunched in her hand.

I’m not wearing this.

You have to.

Eric, seriously? It’s super short.

Just let me see.

Maddie stared at Eric for a second before ducking back into the van. She pulled the dress on and shook out her ponytail. She was pissed, but trying to get a look at herself in the small, smudged mirror, she wondered for a moment if he thought she was pretty.

She came out a few minutes later, her face hot, pulling her hair over her shoulders.

His eyes flicked up and down the length of her.

Looks good, he offered, folding his arms and turning slightly so he faced the strip mall. You can see your legs, he added.

Maddie stared at him.

Seriously?

He shrugged. That’s what they’ll like, I figure. His face cracked into an over-broad grin. He turned back to face her.

That and your winning personality.

Maddie stepped off the van.

Eric—no. I can’t.

What do you mean? In the dark his teeth were clean and sharp. You can charm anyone.

Not like this.

The grin widened. It didn’t look like a smile anymore, it looked almost painful. Maddie, I won’t let anything happen to you. You know that, right? I really like you. I would do this myself, but I don’t think it would have the same effect.

She couldn’t laugh. It was unnerving, how desperate he sounded.

Eric. I can’t.

He threw up his hands. Okay. Wear your regular clothes.

No! She shook her head. I’m sorry. I’ve changed my mind. I can’t go in.

Eric looked at her, his brow furrowed. After a minute, his face relaxed.

Fine. Wait in the van.

Please, she said, surprised at the sound of her voice. I want to go home.

I really can’t be late.

Eric, I don’t want to be here by myself.

Fuck, I’ll keep my ringer on, okay? You call if you need me. But you won’t.

Eric.

He was already headed towards the mall. She watched as he went through the door of a small café. A giant coffee mug was outlined in blue over the glass window. There were a few customers inside, seated at small tables. Eric walked past them and then shimmied behind the counter, disappearing out of sight.

After a minute, Maddie drew a breath and followed. She entered the restaurant, still wearing the dress. She ordered a tea before realizing she didn’t have any money on her because she’d left her things in the van. She felt a tightening in her chest. When the girl working behind the cash handed her the tea, Maddie swallowed.

I’m with Eric, she said, hoping it would work.

The girl nodded. Anything else?

Maddie thanked the girl and picked up the tea. She sat by the window. She blew on the steam, wondering why she had ordered something hot. She crossed her legs, tugging at the hem of the dress. It was green and strapless. Maddie felt naked. She looked out the window at the sprinter, remembering now that it would still be unlocked. She sat there, her hands wrapped around the paper cup in front of her, eyes fixed on the van. She didn’t know why she was so upset.

Even though she was looking outside, she could feel it when he came over to her. She tilted her head up, smiling, tears streaking her cheeks.

Let’s go, he said. He didn’t look angry or even surprised. She left the tea at the table.

Eric drove slowly, taking the route back to her apartment.

Did it go well? she asked after a minute.

It was fine. The usual. He glanced at her. Thought I might get a better price on some new clothes. With you there.

I’m sorry. It just made me uncomfortable.

He shook his head. It doesn’t really matter. I should have explained it better to you.

They sat in silence for a minute before he continued.

I hope you don’t think—I would never let anything happen to you.

I know.

No, you don’t. I understand.

It’s not--

I got beat up pretty bad, he interrupted. When I started out in this.

Really? Why?

Why do you think?

Eric--

His voice was quiet. As if you don’t know.

I don’t!

Whatever. Pretty sure your roommate had me pegged for gay the second I told her she couldn’t take that dress. It was more obvious when I started out. I was stupid.

Maddie swallowed. Oh, Eric.

At least when I recovered, I knew what to do. All it took was a haircut and some new clothes. A baseball cap. I found some new partners, ones who hadn’t already figured it out. It had to happen. Anyway, not all guys can get away with it this easy.

She looked at her hands. She felt stupid for not knowing.

Eric, she started slowly. What if I worked with you this fall?

You won’t have time.

I could. I won’t be in class every day.

He exhaled loudly, a puff of air behind his Ha, pulling up to a red light. He stopped the car and turned to look at her, his mouth and jaw embraced by a strip of the evening’s soft yellow light. When she saw his eyes, she realized he knew exactly what she was doing, that she was trying to make it better by offering something she thought he wanted.

Don’t be fucking stupid.

When they got to the apartment, Eric parked the van. He helped her out, looking away as she pulled at the hem of her dress and gathered her regular clothes from the back.

They stood outside her building.

I don’t have a crush on you, you know, Maddie said.

I never thought you did.

Really?

There’s a reason I picked you, he answered. His tone was friendly, though he still wasn’t smiling. Maddie wasn’t sure what he meant, but she didn’t think she’d like it.

Can I buy you an ice cream? she asked. My treat this time.

For a minute, he didn’t say anything.

I guess that’s the least you can do.

They started back to the van, but Maddie stopped cold.

Eric.

It was right across the street, as if it had been waiting for them. It looked even fatter than it did on the poster, so big it resembled a raccoon, a little bear. She crouched down, balancing herself with her fingertips on the pavement.

Wait, Eric whispered.

Maddie ignored him, advancing cautiously. She made the kissing sound she had perfected while practicing on the other neighbourhood cats. The animal watched her, motionless, like an enormous ball of grey yarn. For someone who had been missing for so long, he looked surprisingly content. Though by now the sky was dark, the cat blinked lazily, rolling onto the ground and stretching over the asphalt, tilting his belly to the sky, as if the sun were shining down just for them, warming their bodies with an invisible, loving hand.

Annick MacAskill is the author of three previously published poetry collections, including Shadow Blight (Gaspereau Press, 2022), winner of the Governor General's Award. Her fourth book of poetry, Votive, will be published with Gaspereau in 2024. Her fiction has previously appeared in journals including Canthius and Plenitude. MacAskill lives in Kjipuktuk (Halifax, Nova Scotia), which is in Mi'kma'ki, the traditional and unceded territory of the Mi'kmaq.

​MISSING MINOU

MISSING MINOU