Cherry Bites by Alison Preston Read Free Book Online Page A

other chairs, but nothing good for cozying up in. I’m pretty sure I’m the first generation of Rings or Woodmans to place any priority on physical comfort.
    On the nights when we were stuck outside, Henry would reach up and untwist the back door light in its socket, just a little, to give us some privacy while we kissed and touched and pressed up against each other.
    “Cherry,” he whispered in my ear and reached underneath my top to touch the bare skin of my back.
    I wanted to suggest that we go into the backyard and lie down on the grass, but I was afraid he would think I was wanton. Maybe the raw ground was too wild for Henry.
    “You’re tremendous,” he said.
    “Thanks.” I loved being tremendous.
    Before he left he twisted the light back on and retrieved his glasses from in amongst the dahlias. I went inside and tried to act casual in front of Nora, hoping that nothing showed. She paid me no mind. I could have walked in with a miniature version of Henry perched on my shoulder and she wouldn’t have noticed.
    I never stopped wanting some mothering from her, some advice maybe, on how to live my life, on what not to do, something I could save for later on: don’t wear pointy-toed shoes, wash mushrooms really well before eating them, don’t say fuck , for sure don’t say cunt .
    One spring day, when Henry and I had been together for less than a year, he announced that he and his family were moving away. His dad had been transferred to Markham, Ontario. He was a trainman.
    “Don’t go, Henry,” I said. “I need you to help me keep my life together.”
    “I have to, Cherry. But I’ll be back. And we can write letters!”
    He actually sounded excited about writing to me. I couldn’t work up any enthusiasm at all. I needed more than words on paper. It was his body and his voice I needed and his soft, soft lips. He probably wouldn’t think to say I was tremendous in a letter.
    Henry did write to me, long letters about The Beatles, The Kinks, The Rolling Stones, his new school, his new friends; he was sure we could stay together over the miles. He kept assuring me that no one there compared to me. I wrote back, but I wasn’t as hopeful as Henry. And I was mad at him for liking his new home.
    Nora talked constantly about moving, too, about leaving Murray’s ghost behind. I prayed we never would. I didn’t want to leave my dad and I thought I might lose him if we left the house, even if we took his ashes with us. And what if I wasn’t there when Henry came back?
    Murray had left a big life insurance settlement, so Nora didn’t have to work to make ends meet. But she updated her skills at Success Commercial College and found a job with another one of her prominent uptown law firms. She wanted to get out of the house.
    “This place would smother me otherwise,” she said.
    I found I spent far more time gazing into my own version of the past than I did actually reading my mother’s journal. A half hour could go by before I turned a page. So many memories were flooding back.
    After eating my chicken pie I took Spike for a long walk around the neighbourhood. It still wasn’t dark when we got home. I had a thought I’d never had before, as far as I could remember. And that was that sometimes in Winnipeg in June the sun shines for a little too long. Sometimes the night closing in is the most welcome part of my day.

CHAPTER 7
    I continued to jump around inside Nora’s journal; I’m still not sure why. Maybe I had to intersperse the parts that were written before I was born to give myself some breathing room, in case she said something about me I couldn’t bear.
    Often, though, it was no easier to read about the distant past.
    Luce lied down for the men tonight. She made me go up to my room before it happened. But when I got up to use the pot I heard animal sounds. I tiptoed to the top of the stairs. Grunts came from the downstairs bedroom. I crept to the landing and snuk a look at the table where they play