“It’s all right boys, he’s in good hands. The ambulance is coming.”
It took only a few minutes for the paramedics to come running at top speed. The crowd of families watched as the boy was briskly lifted onto a stretcher, a brace around his neck.
“They didn’t put him on the respirator. That’s a good sign. It means he can breathe on his own,” Gregory pointed out to reassure the twins.
We returned home in a daze. Overloaded.
Later in the afternoon, we got a call from Marc, asking if he could come to the house to discuss something with us. He arrived a few hours later, accompanied by a police officer. At first, I couldn’t understand why.
“I’d like to talk to you alone, please,” he said.
I was sure he was going to tell us the boy was dead, and I pushed the twins into their room.
“Mateo is paralyzed,” he began.
I covered my mouth with my hand. Gregory stood at my side, arms crossed, nodding sadly.
“He may never walk again.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” I said, my eyes filling with tears.
“Yes. He regained consciousness, but he’s in a lot of pain. SickKids Hospital contacted me because he woke up talking about the twins.
“Our twins?” asked Gregory.
The police officer cleared his throat and this time, he was the one who spoke. “He said they scared him in the locker room, and that’s why he fell.”
I stopped breathing for a moment. Gregory was already on the defensive.
“Well come on, why would he say that? It’s not as though they pushed him.”
“Calm down, sir. I’m here to tell you that we’re investigating this as a case of severe intimidation. Mateo said that your children shamed him physically and threatened him.”
“How did they threaten him?” Gregory flung his arms as he spoke.
“Your sons told him that they could put a curse on him… Did you hear a whistle at the pool?”
Yes, I thought.
“No,” said Gregory.
“According to Mateo, the twins hexed him by whistling to make him miss his dive.”
“Oh come on, and you believe this nonsense?”
“Of course not. That’s why I told you it was intimidation, and not witchcraft. I’d like to talk to Daniil and Vanya now.”
“In the meantime,” Marc said apologetically, “the boys are suspended from the club.”
“But—” I looked from Marc to the policeman “—it’s because they lost their cat yesterday.”
I didn’t know what I was saying anymore, so I stopped talking.
The twins’ guilt could never be proven. It was the word of one against another. Regardless, because of pressure from other parents, Dive Toronto decided not to let the boys back onto the team.
They hadn’t dived since. And we never got another cat.
I didn’t know what to think about their sudden renewed interest in diving.
July was hot but grey this year. Despite all the attention I lavished on my fig tree, I realized hopelessly that it wasn’t growing. I had begun tearing out the invasive mint to make sure the roots weren’t strangling the little fruit tree. I threw myself into the work for a good ten minutes before realizing I’d need a tool to complete the purge.
The garden shed was a mess, despite my best efforts. Unsurprisingly, my pruning shears weren’t in their usual spot. I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to tidy up the shed if I was ever going to find them.
The children’s toys still cluttered the lower shelves, and I figured it was time to organize the mess. I unrolled a clear recycling bag and started to fill it. Balls and plastic trucks gradually accumulated inside. The twins had never really played with those things.
Watching the toys pile up in the bag, I couldn’t hold back a few silent tears. I remembered buying them, looking forward to the pleasure they would bring my children, but not one of these toys had interested them.
“What are you doing?”
Vanya stood before me. I hadn’t heard him come in.
“Just a little cleaning,” I said, sniffling discreetly.
He nodded with approval.
I held out my hand. “Do you need something, my love?”
He ignored my hand, which hung for a moment, suspended in the air, grotesque. Vanya turned and left without another word. His gait was supple, his body moving gracefully. His grey T-shirt stretched between his shoulders in a wide fold that fell down his lean back. On the nape of his neck, his hair had darkened and started to curl. He had no beard yet, but we guessed it would be the same deep blond. I thought he was so beautiful. And, then, the thought: I had no part in it.
The bag of toys yawned open before me. I closed it by tying the ends, not yet knowing what I wanted to do with it. I moved a few bags of soil, and finally saw the pruning shears in the back corner of a shelf. I had to contort myself to pull them out. Catching hold of the handles at last, I suddenly froze. There were traces of dried blood on the blades. When I touched it, part of the stain peeled off in a little strip. Who could have hurt themselves with them? I dropped the shears in disgust. I didn’t feel like gardening anymore.
“Do you know their friend?” asked Gregory when he got home that night.
“What friend?”
“I just ran into the twins and they said they were going to play soccer in the empty lot with a friend.”
I didn’t know them to have a single friend. Any friendship they developed could only be a good thing, we figured.
“By the way, did you hurt yourself with the pruning shears?” I asked after a moment.
Gregory rarely did any gardening, as he usually took care of the larger construction or repair work.
“I found blood on them.”
I’d spoken calmly, but Gregory became agitated right away.
“You found blood?”
I went to get the shears. There were only a
