My Name Is Venus Black(66)
Saturday morning, Inez gets an update from the folks at the center. Though they’ve taken lots of calls, so far there’s nothing “actionable,” meaning no strong leads or suspects. Turns out a lot of phone calls have come in from children who are scared of disappearing or becoming missing. Hearing this makes her feel horrible.
She spends the morning in a funk, watching old movies, unable to get off the couch. Earlier, when Shirley called to tell her that bowling practice had been canceled—because three people, including her, had the flu—Inez wanted to scream. She had really been looking forward to it.
Next to Shirley, bowling is what Inez credits with helping to save her sanity. Shirley was already in a bowling league when they met, and eventually she convinced Inez to join. After a while, Inez came to see the benefits. It gave her something to do when she got off work. And, unlike so many other sports or pastimes, you could actually drink while doing it.
Not long after Leo was finally declared missing, it came out that Shirley was a bad drunk—even had a reputation for making scenes in bars. But Shirley swore she hadn’t been drinking the day Leo went missing, claiming over and over that she only drank at night. Since Inez drank the same way, she was inclined to believe her.
A few weeks later, Shirley told Inez she’d joined A.A. Inez figured guilt drove her there, but she supposed she was glad for her. In time, she noticed positive changes in Shirley’s outlook and energy level. But, still, Inez wouldn’t be caught dead walking into an A.A. meeting. Unlike those folks, Inez mainly drinks wine and just enough—in her opinion—to wind down from her current job as a secretary in the administration offices for the Everett School District.
The irony that she doesn’t have a child enrolled in school isn’t lost on her. She regrets now that she didn’t do more to see about getting Leo into special-ed classes. Shirley has it easy because she continues to work only part-time at Penneys because of her late husband’s pension. Inez forgives her this, since Shirley does so much for her—including driving her to and from the Tyee several nights a week, allowing Inez to drink as much as she wants.
She can only imagine Venus’s disgust if she knew Inez hangs out at the Tyee Lanes. She was always so embarrassed that her mother had met Ray while working at a “disgusting bowling-alley bar.” But truth be told, Inez has found a sense of community down at the old Tyee. The people in her league are caring and funny. They never bring up the past or ask questions about her children.
Secretly, Inez is convinced she bowls better when she’s a little tipsy.
* * *
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BY NOON, INEZ is tired of watching Shirley Temple movies and decides to venture out. It’s been years since she visited Mukilteo and walked the beach. It’s a stupid thing to do in winter, she knows. She’s going to freeze her ass off. But something compels her to go anyway.
She wears a heavy coat and brings a blanket, along with some wine and a goblet.
As one would expect, the beach itself is pretty much deserted. But despite the cold temperature, she abandons her shoes. She wants to feel the hard sand—wet but firm—against her feet. Maybe the cold air and waves and the familiar smells of the Sound will give her some kind of peace or courage.
For tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day she plans to go into Venus’s room and clean, pack it up, and make sure it’s ready to show on Monday. Melissa Lansing has remarked several times that a basement bedroom with a three-quarter bath could be a big selling point. But she’s been wise—or maybe sensitive—enough not to ask to tour the basement herself.
As Inez continues to walk the shore, dozens of seagulls squawk overhead. She pays them little notice. Their sound is as much a part of Everett as the sulfur stench that belches from its troubled lumber plants.
The story she’s heard is that John D. Rockefeller and other investors thought the Great Northern Railroad would end here in Everett. Instead, Seattle got that honor. At some point Rockefeller pulled out. And now Everett isn’t famous for much but smelling bad. Still, when Inez married Raymond and he bought the house on Rockefeller Avenue, it had sounded rich to her.
Inez has to watch her step, since here and there the shore is littered with the remnants of cigarettes, beer bottles, and other garbage. For a public beach, though, it’s actually pretty clean. The tides have left their own litter, too—dead jellyfish, an occasional dried-up starfish, and a lot of purple mussel shells.
Inez spies some kelp—giant pieces of seaweed that resemble snakes. Venus always managed to find a long slimy strand of kelp to bring home and use as a whip to scare neighborhood kids. Until it would start to stink and Inez made her throw it out. Oh God, she misses that Venus—the bratty but funny girl who could have matured into an amazing young woman.
She thinks of Venus’s father, Joe, and how different their story would have gone if he hadn’t died. In retrospect, it seems to Inez like she hardly took time to properly mourn Joe. Perhaps because Venus demanded so much of her energy. Or perhaps because she met Ray so soon after.
Venus had been five at the time, and she looked a lot like Joe. Even though she had Inez’s strong nose, she got Joe’s wild black curls and starry blue eyes.
Of course, Joe adored Venus, doted on her, never resented getting up in the night with her. Inez had been a bit jealous at times of his devotion to his baby girl, the way his tolerance for her spread out beneath every cranky mood or tantrum like an enormous blanket of love that Venus could never crawl far enough away to escape.