The Flying Troutmans by Miriam Toews Page B

Every few months she’d come up with some new diagnosis, one she’d make on her own with help from library books, and new hope for Min’s recovery. Our own family doctor had given up on Min. He said there was nothing wrong with her that a little maturity wouldn’t straighten out. She needed to grow up, basically, was his theory.
    We talked for a while about Grandma, how she’d once been rescued at sea and dragged onto some Jamaican beach by a group of fishermen. She had taken Thebes to Jamaica for a short holiday after her brain surgery and they’d gone banana boating. My mother fell off and was laughing so hard she couldn’t climb back onto the boat.
    She was also really fat, said Thebes.
    So a bunch of guys saw her laughing and bobbing way out in the sea and swam out to rescue her.
    One guy on each extremity, said Thebes. Grandma looked like a starfish, a laughing starfish. Even though salt water was splashing into her mouth, she couldn’t stop laughing, said Thebes.
    Yeah, I said, remember when she was almost trampled to death by that herd of elephants?
    Yeah, said Thebes. At the last second some Kenyan shepherd yanked her out of the way.
    Hmm, I said, she liked to travel around the world getting into trouble and being rescued. In that way shewas a little like Min. In that way she was a little like all of us. Once, I mentioned off-handedly to her that I was sometimes afraid of Min, that I wished I didn’t have to share a room with her because I was tired of staying up late, night after night, waiting for Min to fall asleep first so I wouldn’t have to worry about her stabbing me in my sleep. I’d kind of been kidding, but I’d wanted my mother to know that although I was young, and although I loved my sister, and although I usually trusted her, I didn’t always trust her. My mother scooped me up in her arms and laughed and said I didn’t have to worry, really, Min was only a danger, and a slight danger at that, to herself. I hadn’t known exactly how that was supposed to be reassuring. I put bubble wrap on the floor around my bed, just in case, so I’d be able to hear it popping if she walked towards me late at night with a butcher knife in her hand. Nothing that crazy ever did happen.
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    We were zipping along the highway towards the U.S. border. Not a single cloud in the sky, just a jet stream that resembled arthritic vertebrae and a few bossy crows swooping around up high, plotting some sort of attack. We were quiet now, for about six seconds, staring out the windows of the van in three different directions.
    Then Thebes said, Min told me a story about you.
    Yeah? I said.
    About you guys renting scooters in Corfu and riding on a road that circled and circled and rose and rose until you were finally at the highest peak of the island, saidThebes. Nothing but blue sky, rock and sea. Kids threw pomegranates at you and old men laughed. On the way back down you took a turn too sharply and wiped out and scraped layers of skin off your legs.
    We had such a hard time getting off that island, I said. Our parents had paid for that trip after one of Min’s melt-downs. Logan was just a baby and Cherkis took care of him while we were gone. Cherkis brought us to the airport and waved to us from the observation deck with Logan all curled up against his chest in a Snugli.
    Why? Weren’t there boats? asked Thebes.
    Well, yeah, I said, but the one we wanted to take left every morning at six and we could never get up on time. That went on for days.
    Well, did you have an alarm clock, like a tiny travel one? she asked.
    No, we didn’t have anything at all, I said. We were counting on the sun.
    That’s flaky. What about a rooster? Did you have any roosters?
    No. Just the sun. If we’d had a rooster, we’d have eaten it.
    Well, why didn’t you stay up all night? she asked.
    We tried that, I said.
    And?
    And it didn’t work either, I said. We