Helens-of-Troy by Janine McCaw

Helena went back into the neighbor’s house and found her daughter sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through an older issue of National Geographic. The pages were crinkly and sticking together, indicating it had most likely fallen into the dishwater at some recent point during the magazine’s life.

  “Brushing up on the ‘Wraith Riders of St. Paul de Vence’ issue?” Helena chided. As much as she tried to forget that Helen told her she had dealt with some nasty demons, she couldn’t.

  Helen had the pages open to the centerfold. It had her totally transfixed. “Take a look at this photo,” Helen said, sliding the magazine towards her mother.

  “You want me to look at a group of naked women in Papua New Guinea?” Helena asked, sliding it back.

  “No,” I want you to take a closer look at the tribal chief who is standing there with the naked women from Papua New Guinea. Is it just me, or does he look familiar?” The magazine made another trip across the wooden table.

  Helena looked at the picture and sighed. “Trust National Geo to take a magnificent photo of your father.” She looked at the date on the issue. “I guess I now know where he was that time he missed your elementary school Christmas pageant. His loss, you were an excellent sugarplum fairy.” She turned the magazine over and looked at the cover. “Yup, this goes back a few decades. Betty must have been cleaning out the attic recently.”

  “Aren’t those tribes cannibalistic?” Helen shuddered. “I hate to think of Dad being offered up as a human burger.”

  The idea was not nearly as distasteful to Helena. “We should be so lucky,” she sighed.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said we should look so plucky,” Helena covered. “Forget about the cannibals. I need you to try and focus on Gaspar.”

  “Who?” Helen asked. She rocked her chair backwards, tipping it precariously against the wainscoting on the wall.

  “The vampire. He has a name.” Helena stood her ground on the other side of the table. The chair-tipping maneuver was something Helen had always done when she wanted to get into an argument. It had started when she was four and didn’t want to eat her peas and progressed through to her teens when she didn’t want to do anything.

  “How do you know this?” Helen asked suspiciously. Her mother was avoiding her gaze, a certain sign that something was amiss. “You know,” Helen added mischievously, “I had some time to think while you were back at your office locking up.”

  “Oh really?” Helena replied.

  “Do you know what’s bugging me?” Helen asked. “When you told me the whole ‘Marita blows up on the Fourth of July’ story, you never mentioned what happened to her son. That’s kind of ironic now, because I seem to recall her son’s name was…”

  Helena tapped her fingers nervously on her other arm. “Gaspar. So? Don’t look at me like that, Helen. Gaspar is a common name.”

  “Where? In Portugal? Come on, how many other Gaspars do you know?” she waited for her mother to come up with a name, but Helena was too slow. “I thought so,” she smirked with satisfaction.

  “Yes, Marita’s son was named Gaspar,” Helena admitted. “However, I remember she was Spanish, not Portuguese.”

  “Do you know what I remember? I remember that he had a lot of issues,” Helen continued. “What happened to him? Did he die?”

  “Sort of,” Helena replied. “I still see him around from time to time.”

  “What?” Helen asked, moving forward so that her chair legs touched the ground again. “What do you mean, sort of? Is he dead or isn’t he?”

  Helena glanced at her wrist watch and sighed. “Okay, Helen. I’ve got something to tell you, but we need to make it fast. We’ll just wrap everything up in one shot, okay? We’ll talk about your father, that rat-bastard, and how he always has to make a scene wherever he goes. And we’ll talk about Gaspar, Marita’s son, and why, up until you and Ellie came here a few nights ago, he lived with me. Sort of. And we’ll talk about how we LaRose women have to stick together, come hell or high water.”

  Helen sighed. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  “Not much,” Helena admitted. “Let’s start with your father, Alexander.”

  Helen raised her hand. “Mother, I know he’s not your favorite person. You’ve made that clear over the years, and it’s unnecessarily clouded my opinion of him to some extent. That’s another reason I don’t talk to Ellie about her father. I want her to have her own imaginary version of Jules. It’s easier that way.”

  “You called him Julian earlier,” Helena reminded her.

  “No I didn’t,” Helen protested weakly.

  “Yes, you did. You told me I was crazy for suggesting his name was Jules.” Helena noticed Helen’s lower lip start to tremble.

  “I did, didn’t I?” Helen winced. It was her turn to be slow with a suitable cover story.

  “Fine, Helen. I don’t really care who Ellie’s father is or isn’t. One thing’s for certain though, your J-man whoever he is, might have been perfect, but Alexander is at the other end of the scale, let me tell you. You are old enough now, Helen, to know the bitter truth.”

  “You know I’ve got this line from ‘A Few Good Men’ going through my head right now…” Helen admitted. “I’m not so sure I want to hear this.”

  “He was an animal,” Helena declared, sitting down in the chair across from Helen. “Handsome as hell, but an animal all the same. I couldn’t satisfy that man if I tried. And try I did. ALL THE TIME. Morning, noon, and night. Hellsbelles, that man was driving me crazy. Come here, Helena. Bend over, Helena…”

  “Mother, please!” Helen said, putting her hand over her ears. “Some thing should just be left in the closet.” She had always imagined her mother as the sexpot in the family, and she wasn’t ready for another family myth to come crashing down.

  “Stop being childish,” Helena insisted, waiting for her daughter to listen to what she was saying. “As much as I enjoy a good physical release to this day…”

  “I figured that out the other night,” Helen reminded her.

  “Helen, let me finish. Alexander was sleeping with every woman that he could within a five mile radius of the house. I was mortified when I found out. I was a clichéd woman. I was a Betty Lachey, for God’s sake. So I tossed him out.”

  “To tell you the truth, I figured it was something like that,” Helen admitted. She had seen her father sneaking out of her best friend’s house one grade ten afternoon. She had never told Helena about it. “After you two had divorced, he came with someone new every time he came to see me.” Helen admitted. “He came to visit a lot after Ellie was first born, but then he just stopped. Ew…I hope one of the ladies he brought with him wasn’t from his cannibal-fetish days.”

  “Forget the cannibals, will you? There’s something I need to get off my chest.” She stood up again and walked over to the kitchen counter, where she stood facing Helen, putting some distance between the two of them in case the fur started to fly. “It was Alexander who messed up the exorcism,” Helena said, watching for Helen’s reaction. Willie would have been disappointed. Helen barely flinched at the news.

  “It was Alexander who accidentally killed Marita Harbinger,” Helena continued. “Seriously, I wish people would just leave the supernatural problems to the experts.”

  “Experts like us?” Helen asked. The tone of her voice was sarcastic in nature.

  “Yes. Whether we like it or not,” Helena replied, sincerely.

  “So, Dad just popped in to say hello and wound up killing your neighbor, my ex-nanny?”

  “She wasn’t just your ex-Nanny,” Helena started to explain.

  “I know. You told me. She was a demon,” Helen screamed at her. “Why can’t anything be simple with you?”

  “Me? It was your father who had the affair with Marita Harbinger. It was your father who tossed her out, when she became pregnant. Marita knew where I lived because he had flaunted her in front of me the summer before. You count your lucky stars th
at at least he continues to acknowledge you. He ignores the rest of them. Anyway, that’s why I felt sorry for Marita, and why I inadvertently sent a demon over to your house to babysit Ellie. I swear I just thought she was your father’s ex-floozy who needed some help, not an escapee from hell.”

  “Back up,” Helen said angrily. She got out of her chair and unblenchingly approached her mother. “The rest of them?”

  “The rest of his illegitimate children. I guess he makes an attempt to stay in touch with you every so often because I’m the only woman he married.”

  “Exactly how many children does he have?” she asked hesitantly. She had grown up thinking she was an only child, so the news that she had other siblings opened a flood of emotions for her. Her father had told her he was a government spy who had to change his identity and whereabouts from time to time for their protection, and she had chosen to believe him. Their rendezvous were always clandestine. She knew now it was probably to avoid her mother, but it had given her father an air of mystery and intrigue, and a reason for forgiveness, all the same.

  “A few. I know at least one of them, or I thought I did. Marita’s son, Gaspar. He’s your half-brother.”

  “Gaspar? That sickly little boy? Are you sure? It sounds like Marita slept around a lot too.” She certainly hadn’t noticed any family resemblance between herself and the young child.

  “I’m sure, Helen. I’ve gotten to know him over the past year, and let me tell you, you are two peas in a pod.”

  “What do you mean you’ve gotten to know him? Where is he?”

  “He lives at my house. Or he used to. And he’s not sickly anymore. Not that type of sickly, anyway.”

  “What did you do with him? Did you send him on vacation or something because we were coming?” She presumed that was possible. She had initially told her mother she and Ellie were just staying for a short visit.

  “Of course not. He’s kind of on his own journey right now,” Helen offered.

  “Where does he sleep? You don’t have any other bedrooms in this house, and let’s face it, our rooms are definitely feminine. I didn’t see him in the basement when I was doing laundry. Does he sleep in the cottage?” She stood up and faced her mother. “Is your Naturopathy Clinic just one big cover-up?”

  “My office?” Helen laughed nervously. “I’m almost offended by that remark, but we don’t exactly have a history of being honest with one another, so I’m willing to let it slide. Sit back down, will you? We really need to talk.”

  “I’d rather keep standing, thanks.”

  “He sleeps in the garden. Below the dirt. Usually.”“Okay, maybe I will sit back down,” Helen said, grabbing the closest chair. Her body fell effortlessly to the seat. She raised her hand towards her mother. “Wait,” she said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “Okay, I think I’m ready now.”

  “He used to come into the house, but I don’t let him in anymore. You shouldn’t invite him in either, if he comes back.”

  “Why shouldn’t I invite him in? Oh…oh, no…don’t tell me—you were serious about him being a vampire?”

  “You know, if you’d just believe me the first time I told you these things, it would be a whole lot easier on all of us,” her mother insisted.

  Helen slapped herself in the head. “Of course he is.”

  “It was the only way to save him. He was so shaken by the death of his mother that he tried to kill himself later that night. I had to work fast, let me tell you. Roy only knows half of what really happened at that stupid party. The night was still young when they took Marita’s parts away in a body bag.” She took both of Helen’s hands into her own. “I’m sorry I held the truth from you all these years, Helen. You had a right to know about your father. He’s a bit of an egotistical nutcase, but it was easier to just let you think that I was the unfair one, never giving him a chance. He does love you, I know that in my heart. It’s the only reason we keep in touch from time to time. I have to warn you though, I’m not inviting him here for Christmas. You can beg me to all you like.”

  Helen hung her head and remained silent.

  “We really should get ready, Helen,” her mother said. “We’ve got a job to do. I’ve asked Willie to babysit Stan.”

  “Willie?” Helen questioned.

  “Don’t freak, Helen. It’s going to be all right. I know he’s a handful, but I think he’ll be okay with the boy. He’ll never admit it, but while we were talking back at my office…”

  “You were just talking to him at your office?” Helen said in disbelief.

  “Yes,” Helena admitted. “We were talking about other people’s children and he seemed—I don’t know—somewhat sad that he didn’t have any of his own.”

  “Um, mother…” Helen flinched. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  “No, I think he was sincere.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he was. It’s just that…” she looked for words she didn’t want to say. “Oh, good God.” Helen sighed, putting her head into her hands. “There is no Jules. There is no Julian. There’s just…Willie.”

  “Willie?” Helena screeched uncontrollably. “Are you trying to tell me that Willie is Ellie’s father? Willie’s dead, Helen. What were you thinking? That’s one step short of necrophilia in my books.”

  “Nooo,” Helen replied delicately. “He still has some life in him, let me tell you.”

  “Seriously, Helen? Our Willie? Not some other Willie? Like Willie Wonka or even Willie Nelson?”

  Helen shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve never really gotten over Ellie’s father. Willie is Ellie’s father.”

  “ Talk about your long distance relationships,” Helena sighed.

  “When we’re apart I miss him,” Helen continued, “but whenever we’re together I just want to ring his bloody neck. That man is impossible. He was never home and he was always sneaking around. I couldn’t get a straight answer out of him if I tried.” She tried to mimic his voice. “‘I can’t tell you, Helen.’ That’s all he ever said.”

  “Well, technically he can’t tell you.”

  “You’re not helping, Mother.”

  “Did you elope with him or anything?”

  “No.”

  “Well that’s good. ‘Till death do us part' would have a whole new meaning with him.” She paused and thought for a moment. “I thought you hated Willie. You were furious with him the other night.”

  “I was furious with him because I thought the whole night walk was a ploy to take Ellie away from me. But I see now that he only had her best interests at heart.” Her voice softened. “I guess I owe him an apology.”

  “Well that takes the cake,” Helena exploded. “We are one messed up family, let me tell you. Who exactly split the wraiths, Helen? It was Willie, wasn’t it?”

  Helena nodded sheepishly. “Well, he did kind of help.”

  “You should have called me,” Helena insisted. “I would have come in a flash.”

  “There comes a time when you just don’t want to call your Mommy.”

  “There is never a time you can’t call your Mommy. Not while I’m alive—or after I’m dead for that matter. No wonder Willie’s so paranoid about helping us now. St. Peter must have had a field day with that one, let me tell you.”

  “We just thought maybe it would help with his body count. Bonus points or something.”

  “Let me tell you something, Helen. When it comes to opening the pearly gates, our testosterone fuelled next-door neighbor has a better chance of springing them than Willie ever will. Ryan will be out of jail long before Willie gets out of purgatory.” She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head towards her daughter, pausing a moment before she spoke. “I see now, why you’re so dead set against Ryan and Ellie becoming friends. You don’t hate the bad boys, you love the bad boys.”

  “Busted,” Helen admitted. “Ryan has those qualities—bad boy/good heart—you said yourself that Willie isn’t all bad.”

  “For the record, I think El
lie likes Tom better anyway.”

  “Right now, I’d be happy if she was in love with either of them. Because I’m afraid someone else has entered the picture. Someone who might not have that ‘good heart’ attribute. Someone who’s bad through and through.”

  “Helen, Gaspar is Ellie’s half-uncle.”

  “She doesn’t know that.”

  “She’s a sensible girl…”

  “She’s still a teenager. A teenager who thinks her mother is wrong, wrong, wrong.”

  “Hmm,” Helena pondered. In her mind she pictured Tom and Gaspar side by side. “I still think she’s pick Tom,” Helena said. “I think Gaspar’s going to remind her too much of someone else she knows.”

  “I just wish she was sitting in front of us right now, so I could say, ‘Ellie, you’re a great kid. Dress any way you want. Hang out with anyone you want. Just don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. I’ll miss you.” She wiped away the tear that had trickled down her cheek. “I am so afraid that’s going to happen before I’m ready.”

  “You don’t have to miss her. If you’re open to it, you can become good friends. She won’t stop needing you just because she’s a woman.” She looked Helen in the eyes. “Right?”

  Helen gave her mother a hug. “You are more right than you will ever know.”

  “Do you know what I’m afraid of?” Helena began, shaking ever so slightly with the words. “With Willie being Ellie’s father, what does this means Ellie is? Part human, part gatekeeper, part…”

  “Dead?” Helen questioned, and then quickly regretted her words. “I mean loved. She is very fully and wholly loved.”

  “You are sounding patronizingly like your father now and I don’t appreciate it. What the hell are we supposed to do?”

  Helen put her fingers to her temple. “Is there time for a massage before Willie gets here? Because that would help.” She moved her fingers to her ears and rubbed her lobes. “Did you hear that?” she asked her mother nervously.

  “Hear what?” Helena asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Ellie,” she said with terror in her voice. “She just called to me. She said ‘Mom, come find me in this hellhole.” Helen’s eyes began to well up uncontrollably. “What do we do now, Mom?”

  “We get ready to kill your half-brother,” Helena said matter-of-factly.

  “But he’s…”

  “He’s what? Family? I made that mistake too, Helen. Now look at what’s happened.” She rubbed Helen’s back to try to comfort her. “Are you sure you can handle this? I know killing is never easy, and it’s worse when it’s someone you know.”

  “I have another confession to make,” Helen replied.

  “Now?”

  “I killed cousin Frankie. Out by the lake. Full moon, werewolf. That’s the condensed version. I thought I had sank his body out in the deep blue water well enough, but the next day Ellie and I were out canoeing and up he came. The body part, anyway. She saw the whole thing.”

  “You killed cousin Frankie? Your aunt Joan has been blaming me for years. I kept telling her I didn’t do it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Helen offered.

  “It’s okay,” Helena sighed. “He had it coming. His father was a werewolf. I did kill him. What did you do with Frankie’s head? They never found it as far as I know.”

  “I toasted it with the marshmallows,” Helen confessed. “Willie got rid of the skull. He does come in handy from time to time.”

  “Well, experience is good, I guess. I’m sorry but there’s really no choice with Gaspar and Ellie,” Helena said solemnly. “I know in my heart that only one of them is going to come out of this situation alive. I think we’re in agreement which one it has to be.”

  Helen placed her fingertips on the table.

  “What’s wrong?” Helena asked.

  “Nothing,” Helen replied. “For a second there I felt the ground shake a bit. I guess it was nothing.”

  Helen stood up bravely from the table and did up her coat. “Where do you think Betty hides her whiskey?” she asked.

  Helena opened the cupboard above the stove. “I took a guess,” she said removing the cap from the bottle and taking a swig. “It’s so 1970 to hide it there.” She passed the bottle to Helen. “One for courage?”

  “One to ease the pain,” she said, taking a big swallow. “I’ve got to enter a trance and find out where Ellie is. I’m going to have one hell of a migraine.”

  “That’s my girl,” Helena said, her face turning fierce. “’Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned,’ - William Congreve. Well, let me tell you this, Mr. Congreve. Gaspar has just royally pissed-off two women. The wrong two.”