Robber Bride - Margaret Atwood [150]
She can think of only one person: West. West was living with Zenia before she turned up on Charis’s doorstep with a black eye. Charis views that black eye from a different angle, now. It could have had a valid reason for existing.
West teaches at the university, Zenia told her that. He teaches music or something. She wonders if he calls himself West, or Stewart. She will ask for both. It doesn’t take her long to track down his home number.
She dials, and a woman answers. Charis explains that she’s looking for Zenia.
“Looking for Zenia?” says the woman. “Now why in hell would anyone want to do that?”
“Who is this?” says Charis.
“Antonia Fremont,” says Tony.
“Tony,” says Charis. Someone she knows, more or less. She doesn’t stop to wonder what Tony is doing answering West’s phone. She takes a breath. “Remember when you tried to help me, on the front lawn of McClung Hall? And I didn’t need it?”
“Yes,” says Tony guardedly.
“Well, this time I do.”
“Help with Zenia?” says Tony.
“Sort of,” says Charis.
Tony says she’ll come.
38
Tony takes the ferry to the Island. She sits at Charis’s kitchen table and drinks a cup of mint tea and listens to the whole story, nodding from time to time, with her mouth slightly open. She asks a few questions, but she doubts nothing. When Charis tells her how stupid she has been, Tony says that Charis has not been particularly stupid; no more stupid than Tony was herself. “Zenia is very good at what she does,” is how she puts it.
“But I was so sorry for her!” says Charis: Tears roll down her face; she can’t seem to stop them. Tony hands her a crumpled Kleenex.
“So was I,” she says. “She’s an expert at that.”
She explains that West couldn’t have punched Zenia in the eye, not only because West would never punch anyone in the eye but because at that time West wasn’t living with Zenia. He hadn’t been living with Zenia for over a year and a half. He had been living with Tony.
“Though I suppose he might have done it just walking along the street,” she says. “It would be a definite temptation. I don’t know what I’d do if I ran into Zenia again. Soak her with gasoline maybe. Set fire to her.”
As for Billy, Tony is of the opinion that Charis shouldn’t waste time looking for him; first, because she’ll never find him; second, because what if she did? If he’s been kidnapped by the Mounties she won’t be able to rescue him, he’s probably in some cement cubicle in Virginia by now, and if he wants to get in touch with her he will. They do allow letters. If he hasn’t been kidnapped, but has been bagged by Zenia instead, he won’t want to see Charis anyway. He’ll be feeling too guilty.
Tony knows, Tony’s been through it: it’s as if Billy has been put under a spell. But Zenia won’t be content with Billy for long. He’s too small a catch, and – Charis will excuse Tony for saying so – he was too easy. Tony has thought a lot about Zenia and has decided that Zenia likes challenges. She likes breaking and entering, she likes taking things that aren’t hers. Billy, like West, was just target practice. She probably has a row of men’s dicks nailed to her wall, like stuffed animal heads.
“Leave him alone and he’ll come home, wagging his tail behind him,” says Tony. “If he still has a tail, after Zenia gets through with him.”
Charis is astonished at the ease with which Tony expresses hostility. It can’t be good for her. But it brings an undeniable comfort.
“What if he doesn’t?” says Charis. “What if he doesn’t come back?” She is still sniffling. Tony rummages under the sink and finds her a paper towel.
Tony shrugs. “Then he doesn’t. There are other things to do.”
“But why did she murder my chickens?” says Charis. No matter how she considers this, she just can’t get her head around it. The chickens were lovely, they were innocent, they had nothing to do with stealing Billy.
“Because she’s Zenia,” says