Clutterbucks — episode 5

Jane carefully opens the envelope, reaches inside, and pulls out a letter. 
“I knew it!” she says. “I should have left the stupid animals in there.”
“What do you mean?” Daphne peers over her glasses.
“He’s trying to get the house. Matthew. He’s suing for everything when it sells. Can he do that?”
“Did you sign a pre-nup?”
“They didn’t have those back then – did they?”
“Of course they did. Do you remember if you signed anything?”
“Not bloody likely I’d have married him if I’d had to sign one of those. I don’t mind admitting it now – I married him for his money and I wouldn’t have signed anything that denied me it – knowingly anyway.”
“Well that’s the key, isn’t it? – knowingly – I say get a lawyer.”
“I can’t afford a lawyer.”
Greybird’s truck stops in front of the store. Jane sees it and runs outside, the gaggle of bells turning into Cee Lo Green’s Fuck You! 
Greybird comes around the truck to the sidewalk. He has forgotten his baseball cap again and his head is covered in a silver dome of tinfoil.
“Greybird! Did you dump the animals yet?”
“I wouldn’t call them animals but if you mean did I dump the aberrations yet, the answer is no. They are a difficult thing to dispose of. I have them in a storage unit at the station, waiting for the opportunity to incinerate them.”
Daphne comes from the store. 
“Morning Bird,” she says. “You forgot your cap.”
Greybird gasps, covers his head with his hands, and runs to the truck, hops in and searches for a hat. 
“I don’t know what he’s got,” Daphne whispers to Jane, “but it’s always good. Offer half of whatever he asks. He’ll take it. Always does.”
“Gotcha.”
“I’ve got a few appointments this morning,” Daphne continues. “I’ll try to be back mid-afternoon but if I’m not, close at six and I’ll see you at your place afterwards. Open House tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Jane says slyly. “See you at six.”
“And I want to talk about the podcast. It’s less than a week away.”
“Right. I’ve been thinking about it. I’m getting a few ideas down for you. You’ll be fine. Just be yourself,” she laughs. “Wait. Maybe try being somebody else. Anyway see you tonight – and Daphne – remember, honesty is our new policy.”
“Not yet,” Daphne says under her breath.
“And Hilda was grateful,” Jane adds. Daphne keeps walking, her raised hand indicating she knows what Jane is talking about. “I told her you might be interested in helping with the rest of her things. We can go over tonight if you like.”
A few minutes later the van careens from the alleyway onto the street, Daphne at the wheel. Jane spots the soles of four bare feet on top of the van and wide-eyed, she watches Daphne pull over and first Avo, then Gracief, climb down and tumble into the back seat.
Jane shakes her head. “Never a dull moment,” she says, turning to Greybird who is wearing a hat with the words I can see through your clothes.
“It’s the only hat I could find,” he explains sheepishly. “I cannot see through your clothes.”
“Neither can I.”
The voice comes from behind. Jane turns and it’s Michool who has been waiting at the side of the building for Daphne to depart.
“Hi June,” he says. “Just need to measure a few things.”
“Measure a few whats?” Jane asks but Michool’s dialing his phone.
“Coast is clear,” he says and hangs up.
“Jane,” Greybird says. “I gotta few things to show you and then I gotta get going – building a new world is very demanding – but what were you saying about the aberrations?”
“I want them back,” Jane says. “Bring them over tonight.”
Michool slips into the store and a few minutes later Mr. Sedesky, who Jane doesn’t know, enters the store, and a moment later, another man follows.
“Now,” Jane continues to Greybird, “let’s take a look at what you got!” 

Daphne resumes driving soon as Avo and Gracief tumble into the back seat. Gracief falls asleep.
“What’s up boss?” Avo asks.
“Estate sale in Minden. You can drive when we get to the highway.”
The roads are busy – it’s rush hour – and Daphne keeps deeking onto side streets, taking every shortcut she knows and some she doesn’t, a strategy that backfires about half of the time. 
Gracief suddenly wakes up, catches her breath, sits up straight, turns, and presses her forehead against the window. Her breathing quickens, and stops all together when they pass a broken-down house on an otherwise pleasant street in North York, not far from the 401.
The house is in ruins, but it appears to be occupied, a choke of slender sooty smoke rises from the old station wagon in the gravel driveway. Christmas lights, broken and faded, hang off the roof like veins. A little flick of the closed curtains. 
Gracief turns and stares through the back window until the house disappears from view, and then she falls against Avo, trembling. When they come to the crossroads, he peers out at the street sign and notes the name: Chancery Lane.
“Don’t worry, Gracief,” Avo whispers to this strange girl he has fallen in love with. “You’re safe with me.”
By this time, Avo has read the letter from his family and plans on leaving in just a few days. But before he goes, he will do all he can to make sure Gracief will be safe – which includes leaving her all the money he’s saved, some of it from outsmarting his not-so-outsmartable boss.
But Gracief is way ahead of him. 
When you’re alone in a basement for ten years with a globe and a pile of books, in many different languages, you lean the languages, you learn the world. Gracief taught herself seven languages, including Arabic, and she, too, has read the letter from Avo’s father, and she knows that this strange man she has fallen in love is going to leave her. 
It wasn’t too far from where they are right now the place Avo first found her, wandering on the ramp to the 401 in North York at three in the morning only a few months ago. He pulled over and asked if she needed help. He tried to call the police but she ran until he shouted he would not call the police, but that he would help her. She was frightened, she’d just escaped from Room for real, but she desperately needed to hide so when Avo opened the door for her she scrambled in, over the front seat and threw herself into the back of the van, hid under the pile of mover’s blankets. He drove to the police station, but she screamed and wouldn’t budge – he knew just how this would look – so he tried the hospital next, again she screamed, so he decided the best way to help her might be to let her rest, let her sleep, so he parked the van as usual, fell asleep himself in the driver’s seat, and did not distrub her.
In the morning Avo offered her food and water, and she stayed in the back of the van for three days.
Finally, he got her to say her name, but she’d forgotten her real name and told Avo it was Gracief because “Uncle” had said things like: “Gracie if you ever get away from me I will find you.” and “Gracie if you ever tell anyone ever I will kill you.”
So she started believing her name was Gracie if. Gracief.
And before too long Gracief and Avo became inseparable.
Today, while Daphne is with them, Gracief will start the hoax in which she pretends she no longer needs Avo. She knows he is going in less than a week. She saw the big black letters and numbers that seeped onto the table at Our Salad Days. She’s been underestimated long enough.
When Daphne pulls over to let Avo drive, Gracief stays in the back seat. Avo pats the passenger’s seat, Daphne opens the sliding door to exchange seats with her, but Gracief stays put.
“You don’t want to sit beside Avo?” he asks.
She doesn’t answer but remains in the back. Avo and Daphne share a confused look, and Daphne returns to the front seat beside Avo, who continues to look at Gracief in a puzzled way.
Gracief is looking out the window, her jaw hard.
“It’s not Gracief,” she says. “My name is Grace. And I’m hungry. Can we stop for breakfast?”

There’s something about Kreskin. 
He plays snippets of songs he “gets” as people walk by and they stop walking, pause, turn around, and are drawn to him, his sweet smile, his rendition of their favourite song, and they often come over and sit near him.
The newly-painted benches in front of the store are rarely empty these days, and Daphne has asked Avo to keep his eye out for a couple of bistro sets because it’s beginning to be a lunch spot, a rest spot – and for some – a destination.  
Simple Simon, from Simpletons across the street, has noticed the effect Kreskin has on people and he, too, has fallen for him, loves his music and finally getting the courage to ask, he crosses the street and says hello. 
Kreskin looks up and smiles good morning.
“I was hoping you’d be open to a suggestion. I love your playing but can’t hear your music over the traffic and what I was thinking is –”
“Sure,” Kreskin says, “I don’t see why not.”
“But –”
“I think I’d like that.”
“We are talking about the same thing? About piping your music to my side? Spreading your sunshine?”
“Yes.”
“Okay great. That was easy. I’ll set it up this afternoon!”
“How about this evening? Too many people in the afternoon. And I think you need to get Avo – do you know Avo? – I think you need to get him to do it. There has to be an on/off switch. I want to be able to turn it on when I am playing and off when I’m not. Otherwise you’re going to hear a lot of yelling. My mother and Daphne can get, well, heated that’s for sure. And I voice-record on my phone and I talk to myself a lot as well and that’s not something you want to hear.”
Simon’s not so sure.
“So come by later when it’s quiet.”
“Okay. Say six?”
“Sure. It’s a date.”
Norma hears and looks over, not exactly concerned, but not exactly unconcerned either.
Jane comes out of the store and sits on the bench, the gaggle of bells turning into These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ .
“Hey mom.”
“Morning.”
“You get it all sorted out with dad?”
“Not with him. In spite of him would be more accurate. I have to delay the sale. Until I can figure out how to fight it. As you know my circumstances have changed and I don’t mind being a little bit fair. He must need the money. I don’t think he’d want everything unless he needs everything. Funny. First time in a long time – maybe even forever – I feel like I’ve got the upper hand. For the first time I’m in control.”
“Good for you,” Kreskin says.
His phone rings and Jane goes back inside where Michool and Sedesky are measuring walls and yelling numbers at the third man who scribbles the figures on a blueprint he has taped to the wall. Jane has no idea Daphne has no idea.
“Hi Dad” Kreskin says into the phone. “Sure. How much you need? Come on by. 22478 Kingston Road. Yes. I moved out.”
He hangs up and his phone rings again, and this time it’s Vanity Long, his publisher.
“Sure. It’s done. Come on by. 22478 Kingston Road. Yes. I moved out.”

In the diner, Grace orders the lumberjack special. Avo is amazed, and barely able to eat his own breakfast. He shares glances with Daphne, who sips her coffee, finds the crossword in the Globe and Mail, asks the waitress for a pen, and begins. She skims it, does a few, thinks for a moment, and passes it to Grace, who finishes it quickly, between bites, and gives it back with a smile.
They continue on to the estate sale in Minden, Avo driving, Daphne sleeping in the passenger’s seat, and Grace belching in the back seat.
“I want a hair cut,” she says.
They are in Minden now, stopped at a crosswalk 
“And a library card. And a Walkman.”
A drunk stumbles across the street in front of them. He is wearing the same desert boots as Grace.
“And new shoes,” she adds.
When they finally get to the estate, everyone is leaving. Daphne recognizes a few of her dealer-friends and asks what’s going on.
“They won’t open the door. Not sure what’s up. They don’t speak English. Korean somebody said. I don’t know. I mean it was advertised all over the place but for whatever reason, they won’t let us in.”
“Want to give it a try?” Avo asks Daphne. “Use your charms?”
“I can speak Korean,” Grace pipes up, “or I can read and write it at least. Give me a pen and paper and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay,” Daphne says. “But wait til everybody goes so we can have first pick if you can get us in there.”
Grace waits for the cars to clear, goes to the door and knocks. A man opens the door and quickly slams it again, but when Grace hollers something, he opens it again, wide this time, and a woman appears at his side and waves her inside.
“What the hell?” Daphne says.
Avo looks at her blankly and shakes his head. 
Grace comes out twenty minutes later.
“Come on in. It’s all worked out.”
“What was the issue?” Daphne asks.
“Their daughter can’t make it. She’s their interpreter. Looks like it’s all ours.”
Daphne’s antique expertise does not extend into the Asian market, but she buys a dozen or so items anyway judging their value by what she’s seen on Antiques Roadshow. Avo follows her, gathering her bits and pieces and placing them at the door, where the couple wait. 
Grace has been in the basement and surfaces with a box. She speaks to the couple in Korean.
“I want this ink, the tools, all the t-shirts you’ve got down there and the silk screen press. Also the rolls of silk. And this book because I think I have a lot to learn.”
The couple look at each other and shrug. Grace is not as good at spoken Korean as she thinks. She walks over to Daphne.
“For now only, Daphne, can I borrow the one two hundred dollars they want for all this stuff? I will pay you back, with interest let’s say twelve percent, within six months. Can you do that?”
“I can do better than that. Watch.”
Daphne goes up to the couple and the three of them talk privately before Grace sees money changing hands.
When Daphne returns, she says, “one hundred. Talked them down. So you can pay me one fifty in three months. Sound good?”
“Sure does,” Avo pipes in.
“Grace?” Daphne asks, “sound good.”
“Sounds good!”
When Daphne is finished her shopping she gathers it all by the door and the couple come up with a figure and for once, she does not haggle.
“What’s a yen worth anyway?” she asks Avo as they pack the items into the back of the van. “I mean this stuff was so cheap it’s either garbage or they think dollars and yen are equal?”
Avo is in the act of relieving Daphne of one of her items by putting it in the inside pocket of his jacket – a fountain pen that he was able to leave teeth marks in – and might be gold. He turns to her and smiles brightly, “I do not know my dear. All I know for certain is that you got a good deal – a steal. I will go back inside and help Grace.”
“Let her do it on her own, Avo. Let her be.”
“Of course. You are right.”
“Why do you have a suitcase in the back?” Daphne asks. “Is there something I need to know?”
“I have the suitcase but not for the reason you may think,” he says. “However. I am going back home so you did not miss the mark entirely. It’s just that I am not taking anything wi–”
“You’re leaving? Why?”
“Do not tell anyone this. It is because in Yemen, we practice arranged marriage. And my mother and father have found a wife and I must obey. Also no hanky panky until marriage and–”
“You mean you and Gracief – Grace I mean – well, you and Grace don’t.”
“We do not.”
Grace comes out of the house and calls to Avo to bring the van to the front doors, he peels over, and she loads the big silkscreen press, hundreds of T-shirts, a chest full of ink and wax and tissue paper, rolls of fabric and silk, and three smaller presses, lightly used but clean and in terrific condition.
They start the drive home in silence. Grace is in the back seat figuring something out on paper. 
“Daphne,” she says, “can I rent the part in your store at the back near the south corner? I only need 15 square feet. I can’t start paying you right away but in three months I will start paying you $250 monthly for a year and then we will renegotiate.”
“Why all the way back there in the dark?”
“I need running water and there’s a sink,” she says.
“I can put a sink in closer to the front. You can take that little area to the side of the window. You know where the clothes are? I want to get rid of that section anyway. Nothing ever sells. That way you can get some light.”
Yes. She’s been hiding in the dark long enough.
“Avo will build it all for you. Anything you like. Just ask.”
“Yes,” Avo nods. “I will build for you with pleasure.”

Vanity Long was not born yesterday, but she tries to look like she was. She’s had a little lip work done and her cheekbones lifted and her neck tucked. She exercises and practices yoga daily. She looks like a Barbie doll. She dresses in head-to-toe Prada or Chanel, wears her long blonde hair down, eats like a bird, wears heels all the time, and has her makeup tattood once a year. She has a driver who can’t stand her but suffers through social engagements pretending to be her partner. It’s excruciating, but for a quarter million dollars a year he can fake it.
The limo pulls up in front of Clutterbucks and Miss Vanity Long, editor-in-chief – Flank, Reek, Castles and Mergatroid – scarecrows her way from the car to the sidewalk. Kreskin reaches for the old sign he took from the store, which used to say BACK IN 5 but now, due to faded and cracked paint, says BACK IN ?. He places it on the seat of his chair, offers Vanity his arm, and accompanies her through the store, down the stairs, and into his room.
The gaggle of bells plays Money.
Twenty minutes later they come back out.
The gaggle of bells plays Paper Back Writer.
Norma is staring at them. Simon is staring at them. Norma and Simon stare at each other and shrug simultaneously.
Kreskin moves the sign, sits down, and picks up his guitar as Vanity Long, carrying a thick manila envelope, elegantly folds herself into the back seat of the waiting car.
There is a man standing on the sidewalk watching her every move, his mouth slightly agape. He turns to Kreskin.
“Oh my God, son. Who was that?”

Daphne’s at Jane’s door at six. There’s a new pile of junk right on the stairs and the geraniums Jane recently planted have been yanked up and tossed against the fence. 
There is a bonfire burning beneath the For Sale sign.
“Oh brother,” Daphne says.
She climbs up the stairs and steps over pots and pans, broken dishes, a dishrack, rubber gloves, towels, wine bottles, buckets, a recently emptied fishtank. 
“Hey Splash,” Daphne says to the bright yellow fish which has hardened against a plank on the floor and resembles a leaf.
Daphne knocks lightly and the door falls open.
Jane, sweaty and messy and fierce takes a gulp of her drink. There is a drum beating in the background, a dozen horrible taxidermied animals, and a certain stench. 
“That fucker’s not getting anything because this house isn’t going to sell and me, Jane, is making sure of that. C’mon in.” 
“Not sure I will, actually,” Daphne says looking around. 
“I know,” Jane says finishing off her drink and rising to grab herself another. “Who in their right mind would ever want to live here?”
“Nobody,” Daphne answers. “But I tell you what. Give Bird a call and get him to come pick these monstrosities up.”
“Never!” Jane says, “or at least not right now.”
She walks past the five or six animals standing in the living room and pets each of them in turn until she comes to the pink-snouted-zebra-pig. 
“Jesus. Greybird didn’t have to bring that one. Maybe I will give him a c –”
“Jane. If you’d told me what you were thinking, I would have given you a perfectly simple solution. Go on and call him. Tell him to come pick your new friends up. And I’ve got the perfect place he can take them. Except that one. It needs to be destroyed immediately.”
Daphne picks up her phone. “Karen? Listen. I need you to kibosh Halliday Hills. Yes. Give it three weeks. Thank you. Yes. I’ll see you in the morning. 19 Regency Square. Perfect. Great street. Have a good night.”
It’s not until the next evening when her mother says something about cats that Daphne remembers Rig and Mortis were mysteriously absent the previous day at Jane’s.
“I think the cows are back!” Harriet said. After all these years. Do you remember they were in the field way out back when you were little? Well I think they’ve finally found their way back. They don’t move around like they used to but they’re there. I guess Hydro gave up the field and the Sinclaire’s got the farm back. Just hope the barn cats don’t swarm us again. Remember all those crazy cats? But imagine! The cows are back. And after all these years, Daphne!”
Harriet stops crocheting straight lines and starts knitting circles.
Blankets for the cows.

She’s hard as nails, Miss Vanity Long, but later that night she calls Kreskin in tears.
“Oh my God, James. Oh my God. I love it. Your book. Oh My God. Not what I was expecting at all. I mean this isn’t the book you told me it would be. So different from the way you explained it. But I don’t care. It’s great. It’s so fresh and surprising and good and oh my God! Where did it come from? I’ve never read anything like it! I’m taking it to ‘troid first thing in the morning. We’re gonna get it published quick! So you can be eligible for the Booker. Or the Pulitzer even. And it’ll get optioned soon as it goes public, mark my words. It’ll make an amazing film.”
“Kreskin,” he says softly. “Call me Kreskin. James is still in the basement.”
“Kreskin. I like it. This is the book I’ve been waiting for my entire career. Or maybe my entire life. Good night.”
“Good night,” Kreskin whispers as he rolls over, Simon barely budging beside him.
Funny thing is that Kreskin didn’t give Vanity the book he thought he was giving her. He’d been working on a piece of fiction, just for fun, and as a way of escaping the arduous task of writing the “real” book, the one for his generation. But he fished under the bed and handed her The Whispering Gentlemen instead.  
By mistake.
Which leads us to a very big questions. Do mistakes really exist?
Simon gets up early and starts the connection. It’s not as easy as he thought, but Avo, who’s been going in and out of the store with building supplies since 5am, comes over to give him a hand.
“You must be Simon. Kres told me you might need the help. You want to give me? I can fix. I can put a switch so he can turn it on and off. Easy-pleasy.”
“Well actually,” Simon whispers, “I don’t want the switch. Well. I mean since Kreskin asked for it, you have to put it there, but I don’t want it to work if you know what I mean.”
“So you will hear everything and all of the time?”
“Yes.” 
“And invade the privacy of Kreskin?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” Avo says doing math in his head. “For an extra two hundred forty seven dollars I can do so that no detection and Bob is your uncle.”
“That’s a lot.”
“So is to invade privacy.”
“You have a point. I will give you cash this afternoon,” Simon says, pointing across to his store. “That’s my store. Come over at three.”
“Thank you. Now move out of the way and I will do you a perfect job,” Avo says.
Avo hums as he works – the sweet sound of exactly ten thousand dollars rolling nicely around in his head.

Everybody needs a friend like Avo, and Grace knows how lucky she is. He is possibly the nicest, kindest, most loyal person she’ll ever know and the minute they return from Minden he starts working on her space inside the store.
He decides where she will get the best of privacy and light, chalks the area, and checks with Daphne before they start.
“No. Go wider. Go right to the wall and make a little bedroom, too,” Daphne says when she gets a glimpse. “And a bathroom over–”
“Not four walls,” Grace says, “and not on the floor. Not closed in. Above. These ceilings are high. Build me a ceiling over my work space and that is where I will sleep. On my ceiling. On top and in the open. I will put my bed up there. If that’s okay with you, Daphne?”
“Why not? Give her a washroom, too, Avo. And a shower. It’s on me. It’ll improve the building. Old Sedesky will love it,” Daphne says crossing her fingers. ”Here’s my card. Go to IKEA and get whatever you need.”
Avo takes the card and leaves with Grace. “Grace moves Avo’s suitcase from the passenger’s seat.
“Don’t touch that!” he barks and immediately regrets it. But it’s too late. He has upset Gracief and reaches for her. “Come Grace. Come here. I am sorry. I can’t imagine what you went through in that house.”
She sighs and tries to collect herself.
”Don’t worry,” Avo whispers, “you are safe now.”
Grace looks into his eyes, ”I know you are going.”
”I must.”
“Yes.”
But they do not discuss the situation. They silently agree on silence.
On their last night together, Avo pulls the mattress from the van like always but Grace stops him. 
“No,” she says. “Inside. We need privacy tonight.” 

Avo’s alarm goes off at 2am.
His heart is heavy as he clips a lock of Grace’s hair, whispers good-bye, grabs his suitcase from the front seat, and leaves the van. His flight is at 6 and he needs to spend a few minutes in the store before he calls for a ride.
He’s made a sign without Grace knowing and he hangs it above her area:

SAVING GRACE T-SHIRT DESIGN & PRINT 

He finds an old AVON tin in the store and places the ten thousand dollars inside, puts the lid on, scratches out the “N” with his pocket knife, climbs the ladder, and places the tin on top of Grace’s bed.
He calls for a ride.
It’s Michool, moonlighting as an uber driver, and Avo gets quietly into the back seat.
“I know this place,” Michool says. “I just paid a lot of money for a poster if you can believe it. Didn’t even try to talk her down. It’s metal at least but still sometimes I think I am crazy.”
“I am crazy some of the time also,” Avo says, staring out into the night. “Chancery Lane in North York is where I am going first off the bat. I’ll just be a few minutes there, and then I’ll be going to the airport.”
“Oh boy. Wish I could take a trip. I mean since I started my own business, you know, I mean it’s been like a year and a half now and a lot of money and really, not much has happened at least in a forward motion kind of way. I mean it’s been one step forward, two steps back or at least sideways or whatever but I’m telling you I could sure use a trip. A little vacay. Because owning a business isn’t a holiday that’s for sure. Especially when it’s in the entertainment field. Or when alcohol is involved. I mean, drop the alcohol they say because that’s what’s taking so long. I mean Ontario has these crazy laws about alcohol and even though I think I’ve finally found the perfect place to open, it’s tricky, you know, because one, it’s already occupied by somebody who’s got a like hundred year lease and two –”
He suddenly shuts up because he notices his passenger is quietly crying.
“Oh man, you okay? What’s wrong? You can talk to me. You really can. Go ahead. Talk to me. Oh. Are you being deported? Because my uncle is an immigration lawyer and maybe he can help. Or is it too late?”
“No,” Avo says, “it’s not that.”
“What is it, then?”
“My parents have arranged a marriage for me back home and I am leaving behind the love of my life.”
“Oh my God I’d kill myself.” Michool says.
They reach the address. A small house in North York.
“Kinda spooky,” Michool says. “You got the right address?”
“Wait for me here,” Avo says, grabbing his suitcase. “I will be right back.”

When Avo gets on the plane a few hours later all he has with him is his ticket, his phone, his wallet in which rests a curl of Grace’s hair, and a device inside his left shoe which, as the plane takes off and careens over North York, he reaches for, and removing the safety, he presses the button.
He studied the trajectory carefully, he’s in a window seat on the correct side, and the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes to weep, to sleep, is the explosion.