Sourdough
by Shauna Checkley
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 4 |
part 1
When Jasmyn nicked her finger along the edge of the broken window pane, she drew just the very tiniest drop of blood. “Owie,” she mumbled, sucking on her cut finger.
Yet instantly her mind flew to him and left the strained, outer edges of suburbia, where dogs argued and fought through fences, and the newest, super high-tech devices were delivered right to front doors; her thoughts entered a murky, inner montage of unshaven faces sporting wifebeaters and black hearts. Reid. Her online love, her web mate.
But then an unsettling image came to Jasmyn. The man cutting the screen door. The man attempting a break-in. A lost childhood memory had returned, and she shivered momentarily at the remembrance, that strange life concoction of awe, dread, fear and longing like some ugly mixture.
“It’ll probably just be standard size,” Gordie, her partner, said flatly, in reference to the broken window.
When Gordie was standing above her at the window, Jasmyn fixed instantly on his birthmark, the large dark patch-like stain between his ear and neck, the very place where her line of vision usually fell. Why does it bother me? Jasmyn wondered. Why do I always see it? Did I see it as much in the early days? Did it bother me as much back then? She didn’t know.
“I’ll go get one, then,” Gordie continued. “I may as well get that fixed. Hope the store is open on Sunday.”
“Okay,” Jasmyn mumbled.
Jasmyn heard the car start in one roar. Then it was gone. Good, that’ll keep Gordie busy, she judged. Then there’s the hockey game on TV tonight. I should be free for most of the day then, except for supper, of course. But I could see if he just wants to order in? We haven’t had pizza in a while and he’ll probably agree to that. If not, there’s always fish sticks. That’ll give me the time and freedom I need...
Recalling the newspaper article on Reid, she remembered her curiosity about him. Then once she saw him through the plexiglass visitor’s window, she was hooked. And how that she hinted that, if it was allowed, they could FaceTime. So, she gave him her phone number.
Pouring herself a coffee and taking a sip, she tasted an old, burnt aftertaste, early morning coffee that had sat too long and was no longer palatable. I’ll make another pot. Want everything to be fresh, perfect this afternoon, just right even down to the last drop.
They didn’t have much time together: Sundays only at 2:00 p.m. then 7:00 p.m. It was then that Reid was alone in the Chaplain’s office, and he was allowed the last fifteen minutes of his Zoom lecture for private FaceTime calls. This was when the kindly Chaplain left the room to award his charge some much-needed privacy. But they had learned to make do; whenever that beep and ring sounded, she instantly felt herself transported into a passionate, inner wonderland. It fed her like nothing else, a rush unbound.
Until next time... She let his last parting words echo back to her. She had been doing it all week long, letting his latest words speak to her, again and again.
While the coffee pot made its choking sound, a long, slow strangle before the familiar rich aroma, she studied herself in the bathroom mirror. Jasmyn smiled. She was pleased. She couldn’t help but approve of the image before her, as anyone would accept the strangely youthful, cute, little blonde, even Gretel-to-Hansel mall mom rooting through discount bins for marked-down Play Station games, and fuzzy, sassy, girl tights. Still look as good as I did back in the Neville days, Jasmyn thought, briefly revisiting that old drama.
Wonder what Reid thinks of me? What he really thinks? He said I was cute, beautiful even; at least once, anyhow. But you can never trust men or believe them. They just say anything, promise anything. Especially cons.
After the eternity of the brewing, Jasmyn made a mental note to herself: Need to buy a new coffee maker soon. She then poured herself a fresh cup and settled in front of her P.C. It was time for FaceTime! And then that coveted beep and ring sounded, exploded in her heart: Reid.
“Hi, babe!” Jasmyn squealed.
“Hey, girl,” he grinned.
But she was instantly disappointed. Reid was clean-shaven and had a relaxed, almost goofy grin on his face like Gordie when he had just looked up from eating Saskatoon berry pie last night and some goo was stuck on his lips. Still it was him, Reid, present appearances aside.
She had liked Reid’s appearance better last week. He was unshaven, wild-eyed from not sleeping and been wearing a black T-shirt. He had hardly even smiled, just stared hard into the webcam.
“So, how ya been?” Reid asked genially.
“Okay. And you?” she replied.
“As good as it gets,” he said.
They both laughed.
“I guess so,” she agreed.
“So what you been up to this week?” Reid asked her.
“The usual, you know,” she groaned “Taking care of my kid, taking care of things. Gotta attend to my sourdough mother soon.”
“Your what?” Reid asked.
“That’s what the sourdough batter is called, the mother,” Jasmyn explained.
“Oh, so that’s it.”
“And you?” she asked in return.
“Same as ever. Nothing ever changes here, eh? But, hey, did I tell you we had some excitement though! One guy beat another guy to death with a pipe. They were on plumbing duty. But I guess there had been bad blood between them for a while.” Horror and wonder both registered in his tone of voice.
“Why?” she asked. For an instant, her mind flicked back to the man trying to cut the screen door when she was a child. Then that memory, like the man, too, was gone.
“Dunno. Don’t wanna know either; the less I know the better,” he said and shrugged.
She nodded.
“That’s why I’m glad that they moved me to the library,” Reid remarked. “That’s why I’m glad Zane is my workmate now; it’s much better than being around crazy Colton all the time.”
Reid worked six out of seven days in the prison library with only Sundays off. It was his choice. He could have worked only five days but opted for six to keep himself fully distracted and busy. Just don’t want too much free time, not in this place. In this place, an idle mind is a dangerous thing.
“Mhmm,” she murmured.
They fell silent. Jasmyn studied Reid for a moment when he suddenly appeared serious with his brow furrowed, his lips drawn tight. Once again, she felt her breathing catch. She fell into a rhythm of breath and heartbeat. They sat locked in their web-cam world, their own private portal into the unknown, that brought a different offering every week, every time even, this shared space like their very own fish bowl world.
“Stay safe, babe,” she cooed.
“Tryin’ to,” he said, laughing wryly.
For a moment Jasmyn imagined a crimson pool seeping out of him as he was being battered. Would something like that ever happen to Reid? She shuddered at the thought of it.
“But did I tell you about all the stuff I’ve been reading? Really cool stuff on spirituality. Way cooler than you might think. Pastor Rob even likes some of it. We still read the Bible together, though,” Reid insisted. Once again, his jaw line relaxed and the boyish grin emerged. Like something buried deep inside that had fought its way out.
I hope Reid doesn’t launch into all those books again, she thought. I don’t have the heart to tell him he should try philosophy instead. Or even political science. Yet she knew how metaphysical he was, and she did like how it seemed to enliven him, awaken him.
But Jasmyn preferred Reid’s dangerous moods, when he came before her angry or stressed and exhausted, when fear or insomnia had bored a tiny hole through his soul. On those occasions, he was gritty and edgy, with a darkness rising from him like some sort of strange shadow. This she liked, because it fed her own restless curiosity, her own simmering pain. Their twin symmetry seemed to be one of unbalance.
Just when Jasmyn was about to speak, Gordie burst into the room. Instantly she pressed the button and turned her computer right off. Did Gordie hear anything? See anything? She was flooded with fear.
“Canadian Tire had some of what I needed, and I went to a few other places. I’ve got everything now.” Gordie spoke matter of factly, yet with a friendly, explanatory tone as he always did.
Instantly, Jasmyn was at ease. She knew she hadn’t been found out. “That’s good,” she replied.
Gordie left the computer room, and soon she heard him at work on the kitchen window.
Okay that ends it for now! But I can always try at 7:00 p.m. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed; short-changed, even. For she lived for the rush of on-line hook-ups with Reid. And she felt irritation rise in her, mutate and morph her into some different kind of self, a dark and desperate being.
Gordie should have been longer at it! He shouldn’t have returned home so soon! Isn’t measuring, buying and replacing a window an all-day affair? But I guess not; little do I know about those kinds of things.
Yet, Gordie had always been efficient, swift, and uncompromising when he set about to do things: windows, leaky faucets, what-have-you. All of that had been a comfort in the beginning, of course, when her child Petra was a toddler and things needed to be done. When Jasmyn was still in her shell-shocked single mother phase and couldn’t think, couldn’t extend beyond the present need or disaster, even something as simple as the next diaper change. Now it was different, it had become predictable, banal even, though she was still appreciative of his efforts.
Gordie. The man who had saved her. Loved her. The one who should be her king... But her mind had taken a sharp turn elsewhere.
Glancing at her watch: Petra. Almost time to go pick her up anyhow. She let abate the irritation she had been nursing.
* * *
Walking along the bay outside, Jasmyn drank in its radiance. The sky was like blue eyeshadow. The day felt like a living, breathing, glorious being, as if Gaia and Mother Nature and every other myth and archetype had sprung to life, her walking companion, step for step, stride for stride. It felt like the angels were accompanying her. God, how I miss my walks with Karli! Jasmyn thought. Those girlfriend talks like no other. Karli Mathers had been her best friend and next door neighbour but had unfortunately moved away, leaving Jasmyn with a quiet ache not yet filled or stilled.
But Jasmyn strolled along. The warmth and sweet smell of blossoms was intoxicating. The breeze caressed her. The sun spoke to her. All together, the sights and sounds transported her to a new dimension of wide-open garage doors like big ready mouths and collections of children springing wildly about, laughter diffuse and spreading. Winter had morphed into spring. Finally, she thought, after such a long, dark, incubation period.
Jasmyn stared straight into the light. Is that Petra? She saw a little blonde head bobbing in the distance. No. So, she just kept going past pedestrians who travelled in schools and swam past her with ease.
* * *
When they were at supper that evening, Jasmyn watched the others who seemed lost in serious contemplation, jaws chewing intently on pizza but with lost, faraway eyes. Finally, she asked Petra, “What’s the matter, babe?” Both Gordie and Petra answered at the same time; both believing the question was addressed to them, their voices bleeding together like tomato in cheese.
“Hailey said I made a mess when I didn’t. She’s bossy,” Petra complained of her friend.
“I think they’re scrimping on the cheese,” Gordie remarked.
Jasmyn didn’t know how to respond to either. Finally, though, she swallowed and said, “Don’t play with Hailey anymore if she’s gonna be like that.”
The child glowered at Jasmyn as if somehow the whole thing was her mother’s fault. But the little girl quickly forgot about the whole thing. She picked up another piece of pizza and declaring in a sassy, triumphant tone, “Hahaha, I got all the cheese!”
Leaving his crusts carefully on his plate, Gordie repeated, “I still think they’re cutting corners on the cheese.”
“Cut the cheese!” Petra squealed to Gordie. She quickly plugged her nose in a comic fashion.
They both laughed. This led to near convulsions, peals of laughter from Petra who laughed and chewed and talked with her mouth open, the cream-colored pizza dough rolling on her pink tongue, popping in and out of sight in a dangerous peek-a-boo fashion, chunks of cheese bobbing like logs, flashing up then down.
“Stop it: you’re going to choke!” Jasmyn ordered.
“Ya,” Gordie agreed.
Petra quieted.
“Now have a drink and wash it down. Careful,” the mother instructed her child, who dutifully did as she was told, responding to a certain familiar sharp edge in Jasmyn’s tone.
Satisfied that the episode was over and that Petra was safe again, Jasmyn said to Gordie, “Hope you didn’t mind that I ordered in. I’ll make that veggie squash thingy tomorrow.”
Gordie grunted his consent. Jasmyn watched him pause to refill all their glasses. “No worries,” was all he said.
But then Gordie was very good-natured like that, agreeable, genial. One that wouldn’t raise the roof over a cooking miscue or any other life grievance, major or minor, real or imagined. He lived in the practical now, the unquestioned moment, and it eclipsed any dramatic leanings for reasoned composure, necessary action.
They all ate quietly til there was one last forlorn slice in the take-out box, a long. shrivelled-looking piece.
“I think I’m done,” Jasmyn remarked as she pushed away her plate.
“Me too,” Petra giggled.
Gordie plucked it from the box and rammed it into his mouth unceremoniously.
* * *
Copyright © 2025 by Shauna Checkley
