Grannie's Cottage (translated into fiction)

I’m stuck in the back with Andy the Tormentor. It’s too hot. It’s always too hot in the car. Sun in our eyes, the sky completely white. My bare legs are stuck to the back seat even before we get to Gran’s. No one but Dad ever drives his car. He parks by the walkway to her apartment building. Mom is in front with the baby. Little sister Susan. Dad calls her Susie Q.

Starting off early in the morning – or as early as we can, which is never early enough for me – and we’re on our way to the cottage, Gran’s cottage, for the whole summer, all the way until school. At least, Gran is staying – and me too.

Gran waves down to me from the balcony, her glasses bright in the morning sun. She’s my mother’s mother. Which is a funny thing to say – Mom’s Mom. She’s from Scotland and can speak Gaelic and Pig Latin. Her name is Fiona Robb Sinclair. That’s why I’m Fiona Katherine, but everyone just calls me Katie. Except if I'm in trouble, then I'm Fiona Katherine again.

I run to be first at her door. Mom says I'm always in a hurry. Slow down. It’s too hot. I know, I know it’s too hot. Dad comes up behind me and leaves again with a load for the car. Back and forth to the car. Gran has piles of things all around her living room. Andy can’t carry much but he tries so hard.

They make trips back and forth, but I stay inside. Gran checks to make sure she has everything. The keys with the special black knob on the chain. The keys are most important. She shuts all the blinds and curtains because she won’t be back until Labour Day.

When we’re finally on our way, Andy sits behind Dad with his arm out the open window. Gran sits right in the middle of the big back seat, sitting like she’s on her couch at home. Andy and me fit around her. I hold on to her knee and the front seat, opening and closing the ash tray. Andy sits forward too, with his face in the wind from Dad’s window.

But then Gran closes the back windows to stop a chill. Mom closes hers too. Andy winds his down again, just a little bit. We have boxes at our feet and piled around us on the seat. The back ledge is filled with bags that give us some shade for the long drive. The bags on the seat behind me make me hot. My feet rest on Gran’s pressure cooker on the floor.

Whenever we go by farms, Andy moos at the cows. We say P.U. and plug our noses for the pig farms. Andy says I did it. He always does that, snorting and oinking at me. Gran says pay no attention to that little rascal.

Andy says, “The ice cream store is soon.”

Mom turns to Dad. Gran says she’s thirsty and Dad parks the car.

The store is a special store only for ice cream, all silver, like tin foil in the hot sun. We run in with Dad, and Andy runs back to tell Mom and Gran the flavours. Dad stands by me in the crowd at the counter and tells the girl what we want. We hurry up and decide. Dad eats his ice cream like an apple, and we go on.

Gran has a lick of everyone’s cone, to try every flavour. She helps me with my drips. Mom hands back a Kleenex smooched red with lipstick. Gran gobs on it and rubs my face and hands clean. She keeps the Kleenex down the front of her dress.

We wind down the big hill to the marsh and stop near the Popeye store. Dad and Andy come back with strawberries and potatoes, carrots and apples.

Now I sit with my feet on a basket handle.

We’re almost there.

After the last town by the marsh, the road goes very fast up and down hills. Dad drives, and everyone else is quiet. Sometimes my stomach flies higher than the car. Beside me is the lake, but I can’t see it yet. It’s way over the hills. Andy pushes over Gran and me to get a better look. He strangles me with his arm.

Mom says, “It’s too hot for that.”

The sun goes up the empty sky. The glare on the cars hurts my eyes. Inside the car, we get hot. I only see farms, cows and sheep. Sometimes horses.

Andy knows when to look and sees it first. I can’t see it. I can’t see it until we’ve turned the corner and head straight for it. Suddenly, over a hill, I see the water, huge, gray and flat.

Andy says he’ll be the first to jump in. He has on his bathing suit under his shorts and is going to jump out of the car the second it stops, and jump right in the lake.

Me too.

Andy says I don’t have my suit on.

Mom doesn’t know where it is, “It’s somewhere.”

Andy is going to build a boat and sail away.

Without me.

Mom says, “Quit. It’s too hot for that.”

I want to stay with Gran anyway, not sail away.

Not with my stupid brother Andy.

We pass the candy store where they sell black balls and bubble gum. Over the railroad tracks. Past another pig farm. P.U. Straight down, almost right into the water. Then we turn by the marina and go over the wood bridge to our beach.

On one side is the forest. On the other are the cottages, down long driveways to the lake. We drive slowly along our dirt road. Gran leans by me to look and then says, “It’s still there.”