Free Monday Night Man by Grant Buday Page A

wants to go up and speak next, so there’s confusion. Jerry thinks Star wants to go up too, and, being a polite guy, he insists she go ahead.
    Others immediately join in. “Yes! Come on! We haven’t heard from you in ages!”
    Star stammers. “I was only going to the bathroom …” And she edges off toward it. Yet the bathroom is in the opposite direction from the exit. Fuck! She’ll have to cross in front of the entire group to get out; they’ll see this and make a big deal. She can’t face that. So Star finds herself in the cold clammy bathroom of The Iron Workers’ Hall wondering what to do. It takes a minute before she notices the small window above the toilet tank. Standing on the seat she looks out at a dumpster directly below, glances back at the washroom door, then at the dumpster again. Taking a deep breath, Star begins squirming through the window.
    And gets stuck at the hips.
    â€œOh fucking Christ!” She struggles, wedging herself tighter, then, exhausted, lets herself hang down the stucco wall. She feels like weeping. But she doesn’t. The crushed glass of the stucco glints in the evening light and the wall actually smells pleasantly of sun-heated cement, which reminds her for some reason of childhood. Star misses childhood.
    Then it occurs to her that Glen could come into the can and find her like this, giving him every excuse to grope her under the pretence of pulling her free. The thought of Glen feeling her up terrifies Star. Why couldn’t Ruth find her? Star reaches out and grips the edges of the dumpster, gives a pull, and feels her arse getting moulded into a square by the window frame. Jesus … She’s doing a sort of handstand now. She finally hauls herself through and drops with a small cry headfirst into the garbage.
    June finds Star in the alley. Star’s white blouse is stained yellow with something she does not even want to imagine. Her left shoe and shin are brown from stepping in a can of wood stain.
    June says, “I thought honesty was the whole idea.”
    â€œIs that what that was?”
    â€œYou think I was unfair?”
    â€œHow about getting Dad to give his side?”
    â€œThe same day you invite Bunce to give his.”
    They stare at each other.
    In the car they’re silent. Then June is crying again. She cries but her gaze is steady and her voice strong. “For your information, what I didn’t tell everyone was how he always made me give him that enema!”
    Star says nothing.
    June says, “Don’t be an old woman before you have to.”
    Star glances over. June sits absolutely at ease with herself, hands folded in her lap and eyes on the vermilion sky above Vancouver’s North Shore mountains. After a while, June says, musingly, having passed beyond the argument, “I’d like to go for a midnight swim.”
    â€œThe water’s too polluted,” states Star, as if June should know that.
    When Star drops her off they part in silence. Star gets the kids then wades through the putting-them-to-bed ritual, fending off questions about her brown left leg. When she’s done, she pours herself a glass of white wine, then checks her messages. Nothing from Ruth. Star is hurt. Surely Ruth saw how upset she was. Surely she noticed something was wrong. Jesus! Star went into the bathroom and never came out! She dials Ruth’s number. The machine comes on. Star listens to Ruth’s voice. She hangs up, redials, and listens again.
    Star goes into the bathroom to scrub her leg. The hairs on her shin remind her of Mrs Gurniak’s moustache.
    Later, Star sits on the edge of Karla’s bed stroking the child’s smooth, clear cheek as she sleeps. Karla loves Bunce. Bunce, who likes watching horses ridden into the ground and then shot. Bunce, who’d have a good laugh if he heard Star was going to something like Arete. Star slides her fingers down over Karla’s neck and