Sourmouth Read online

  Sourmouth

  Story by Cyle James

  Edited by T. Leanna James

  Chapter 1

  If it wasn’t for the ever present swaying that went along with it, the ferry ride from Horseshoe Bay would have been a beautiful one. The view was brilliantly tranquil and the Queen of Capilano was an unsightly but appealing ship. But as it was, the trip was a 30 minute ride from hell to get from mainland Vancouver to Bowen Island. At least it was for Violet, who was suffering from a ravenous bout of sea sickness that had her doubled over to her knees in her seat. Her husband stood over her with a hand softly sitting on her shoulder in effort to comfort her as he looked out onto the thrashing blue waters.

  Riley was a mild-looking man in his early thirties, average in height with a small paunch underneath his grey wool sweater that matched in colour to his short salt and pepper hair, which had slowly been increasing in its sodium content over the past few years. The only identifiable features that weren’t wholly generic-looking were his horn-rimmed black glasses and his perfectly shaped 5 o’clock shadow facial hair. All-in-all he was incredibly plain-looking. Riley was the background character in the restaurant scene of a movie, the extra that you weren’t supposed to bother noticing was even there. It was a look that had suddenly crept up on him as he aged away from his wilder young-adult phase that seemed like a lifetime past.

  Violet on the other hand stood out, largely in comparison to her companion. She was a few years younger than Riley, with a personal style that showed it. In a loose fitting black rock t-shirt that hung completely to one side exposing the opposite shoulder, and tight skinny black jeans with stylized rips in the knees, she looked more like she was dressed for a night in a lounge listening to music than a wife approaching middle age going on a vacation. She had shoulder length dyed hair in various shades of pale green, with a collection of silver earrings in her left ear. She was the cooler, hip older sister with no younger sibling to speak of.

  They were a mismatched pair that confused onlookers wherever they went. They weren’t always such the odd couple. Riley used to be a special effects artist for a small company in Seattle that did work on movies filming in the area. That’s how they had met, Violet was working as a personal assistant on the set of a horror movie that he was designing monsters for. And for the two, it was love at first sight.

  “This was a fucking mistake,” Violet groaned out through gritted teeth, her head still tucked between her knees.

  Riley pursed his lips and let out a slow gasp of air he wasn’t aware he had been holding in, “What was?”

  She tilted her head up to look at him. “This. Coming to this place. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to get in a boat. I’m a landlubber only”.

  He broke his line of sight of the distant British Columbia mountain tops that had him so enraptured since they had departed from the docks nearly 20 minutes ago. “Are you sure you don’t mean the vacation as a whole? I’d understand if you were having second thoughts...”

  She just shook her head, which was a mild mistake, given that it only made her feel even queasier. It was just like Riley to automatically jump to the world-ending conclusion.

  Violet straightened up and ran her fingers through her hair to straighten it back. She had to admit, the scenery was striking. Bowen Island looked exceptionally better than even its pictures showed. The sun tore through fluffy clouds with its heat in full fall effect, giving them a nice warm feeling in between the gusts of cool wind that warned of a winter on the horizon. And though she despised the rocking motion that came from it, she actually enjoyed the sounds of the waves crashing into the hull of the ferry.

  “Have you made up your mind about what you want to do first?” she asked, trying to change the subject and give herself something else to focus on.

  He shrugged.

  “Did you want me to just decide everything for the next week? What we do? What you wear? What you eat?” she asked in irritation as she clutched herself tightly.

  He shrugged again.

  Riley’s typical indifferent attitude wasn’t helping her feel any better.

  “How about we just check into the hotel and then go from there? We’ve got plenty of time to decide,” he answered finally as he turned back to watch the view.

  Violet pushed off of her knees and stood up to stare into the back of her husband’s head, “Because, I know you. And I know that we’re going to get into the hotel, you’re going lay down on the bed and watch cable for the entire day as you try to make up your mind. I would like to actually plan something so that we might actually attempt to do it for once”.

  Riley cracked his neck, which Violet recognized as one of his passive-aggressive signs of being annoyed.

  “Let’s check into the hotel and then take a look around town. Let’s find some sort of gift shop or something to get trinkets for your bimbo friends and then grab a bite to eat at some roach-infested diner”.

  Violet just raised her eyebrows a bit, “Despite the general attitude, I am happy that you were able to make a decision that didn’t involve flipping a coin”.

  And then they fell silent, watching as the land to their periphery slowly etched by as they got closer and closer to their island-paradise-to-be.

  As the seconds drifted by like so many fish underneath the ferry, it was Riley that broke first.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit tired from the trip. I honestly don’t care what it is that we do. I’m not here for the extracurricular activities, I’m here for us. I’m here for you”.

  Violet’s steely resolve vanished into a small grin and soft eyes, there was only so much energy she had to get upset with him and frankly she had been depleting it pretty regularly over the past few months anyway.

  “I’m sorry too,” she said as she grabbed him by the hand, “I don’t mean to be a naggert. I’m just a little worried that this is all going to be a fruitless endeavour. I’m worried that we’re just trying to resuscitate something that’s too far dead”.

  Riley tightened her hand in his, “It’s not going to be fruitless. We’re going to have all of the fruit. And there’s nothing that even needs reviving because there isn’t anything dead. And...I don’t think ‘naggert’ is a thing”.

  Violet jokingly slapped her husband on the arm before pulling him into a light, slightly awkward hug. Sadly the moment had to pass as Violet was forced to throw up her breakfast over the hull of the boat just as the ferry slowly swayed its way into the Bowen Island docks.

  #

  Stepping off the Queen and into Snug Cove felt like stepping back in time. At least it did to the two big city dwellers. While the island was a popular getaway for the people of Vancouver during the summer time, during the fall it was rather uninhabited. There were a few folks stepping off the boat and venturing forth with their prior experience of the island in pocket, but in terms of new visitors it seemed like the Tylers were on their lonesome.

  The couple stopped in the brisk cool air to admire the view that was so uncommon to their eyes. The sprawling canvas of emerald coloured trees. The intimidating mountain that continued to rise and rise towards the sky. The walkways made of pale wood with splintered handrails. And the one branching road that led into a small greeting area to the North of the water.

  “Somehow I don’t think there’s going to be a shuttle service from here to the hotel,” Riley said as he adjusted one of his bags over his shoulder to prep for the inevitable walk.

  Violet started forward without him with her rolling bags in tow, “If we follow along this path there should be a visitor’s centre that should be able to help us contact the car rental center. At least that’s what the website said”.

  Riley followed suit, carrying his suitcase by its handle, occasionally scrapin
g it against the ground as he walked.

  It was only a few minutes of walking along the road to reach the offshoot of the main street, which gave access to various small businesses. To the right of the branching path was a mom-and-pop diner and a bike rental hut that was closed until the spring. To the left was the library and to the right of that was a small kiosk-like building that carried the prestigious title of “Information Center” high above its frame.

  At the shuddered window sat an older cherub looking woman with dark skin and big poufy hair straight from the ‘80s. She wore a heavy poncho-like dress that appeared be made of something akin to leather, adorned with intricate patterns of flowers and birds. The woman sat lost to the world reading what appeared to be a cheesy off the rack romance novel.

  Violet felt a little apprehensive about interrupting people, so Riley knew to take the lead with a knock on the wood window frame.

  “Excuse me,” he asked, poking his head forward over the counter, “sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could help us?”

  The woman folded up her book and smiled at him from below, like a friend’s mother does when you visit their house after school for cookies and milk.

  “That depends, sweetie, what is it that you need help with? I’m already married, just so you know not to try anything frisky...”

  Violet caught the brightness in her husband’s cheeks and had to suppress a smirk.

  “Um, we’re looking to get in contact with whoever can rent us a car. We called the rental agency previously and they said to just phone or come by the shop when we arrived, no reservations needed,” he explained.

  The woman just smiled, her eyes darting back and forth between the two. “You’re not from aroun’ here?” she asked, assumedly meaning not from the Vancouver area.

  “No. We’re from Washington,” Violet piped up.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” said the woman with her hands folded in her lap on top of her book, her smile unwavering.

  And then nothing. She made no attempt to make a call. There were no further questions as to what exactly they might need.

  After a few long moments of silence it was Riley’s patience that gave first.

  “So are you able to help us with the rental center? Give them a call maybe? We didn’t bring our cell phones with us. This is kind of a getaway, so it would be nice if you could make the call as soon as possible so we could get going”.

  The lady’s gaze fell on him with what almost felt like pressure, the smile never fading from her face.

  “We get a lot of your type here,” she said with an emphasis on the word ‘type’ as if it were a dirty word. “I will give them a call and they’ll bring a car along I’m sure. If you’d be kind enough to wait over by the library, I’m sure it won’t take more than a bit”.

  The woman didn’t bother waiting for a reply before turning her eyes back to her trashy book. Her hands nowhere near to picking up the telephone that hung inside of the booth.

  Riley cleared his throat and did his best to crack his own smile in return, “Thanks for your help”.

  It was Violet who stepped away first, feeling particularly awkward as a bystander in their exchange.

  “What the fuck was that about?” he whispered as they proceeded to stride towards the library.

  Violet made a face like she was sucking on a lemon, “I don’t know. But now you know how I feel whenever you can’t make up your mind. Nothing gets done unless you get angry”.

  Riley faked another smile, this one even less convincing than the one that he shined previously, “Funny girl. I can see why I haven’t divorced you yet”.

  Violet chuckled, “You haven’t divorced me because you’re becoming a fat old man and you’d never get another piece of ass like me unless you paid for it”.

  He shrugged, “Who says I’m not paying for it now, one way or another?”

  Chapter 2

  The “bit” that was quoted to them turned out to be nearly forty minutes of waiting. Perhaps the Canadian “bit” was longer than an American “bit”. They were sure that the fat old lady with the never ending smirk had deliberately told the car rental people to take their sweet time. To make matters worse, the car itself was a beat-up 1990’s sedan that looked like it had been painted with mashed avocado and smelled like it had been sitting out in the sun with bags of fruit in the trunk. They were assured that it was the only car available, despite the fact that as far as they knew it they weren’t travelling during tourist season. But, with a few signatures and a phone call to headquarters (which was more than likely just somebody’s basement), the car was theirs for what they hoped would be seven fun-filled days.

  Aside from the lackluster introduction to the island, the duo found the drive inwards to be rather relaxing. While the car had no modern accessories it did have an old cassette deck, which was broken and automatically played an old Tom Waits tape whenever the car was started. The player was also missing its operating panel, which meant that the tape couldn’t be stopped, flipped or ejected. It would run to the end of its ribbon on the one side, click, rewind and repeat. Happily it wasn’t disco that they had to endure in a never-ending loop.

  The island itself was undoubtedly beautiful with its lush vistas and old world charm. The roads were a bumpy method of travel as the pavement quickly gave away without warning to dirt roads and wooden bridges as they travelled towards the North East of the island where they were booked to stay in the Olde Cove Bed & Breakfast.

  It was about a twenty minute drive from the docks around the edge of the island and up a slight incline before they managed to reach their intended destination. The hotel was a small brownstone house overlooking a small bluff above the water. The Olde Cove was two stories tall plus a basement and an attic. It was a typical converted home-to-business property that most likely still belonged to the family that lived there. The front was decorated with hanging potted plants and wrapped vines, making the house look fresher than its foundation told. Its name was tackily perched above the doorway in large sundrenched red and blue lettering that clashed with the otherwise naturalistic motif. By the design and age of the thing it must have been put up sometime around the Second World War.

  To the right of the hotel was an even quainter little restaurant that possibly served as the breakfast portion of the B&B. To the left was a small art gallery that had signage boasting about its Squamish collection. Neither of the two were much in terms of being an island attraction. But they figured that it was better to have something than nothing at all.

  The couple parked the car in the designated area to the front of the hotel and stepped out onto the gravel to look at their surroundings further.

  “What do you think?” Violet asked, preparing herself for his typical reaction of hating everything about anything.

  “I have to admit that it’s not half bad,” he replied to his wife’s shock. “That is if the ground doesn’t give way and drop us into the Howe Sound I think I could actually grow to like it.”

  She grinned as she gently prodded his ribs with her sharp elbows, “Look at you being all flexible”.

  Riley swivelled on the rocks underneath his feet and swung his hand so that his palm slapped stingingly across her left ass cheek, “Just you wait until we get into our hotel room and I’ll show you a thing or two about being flexible”. And with that they proceeded to haul their luggage up the creaking wooden steps.

  The Olde Cove’s front door was made of a heavy, dark wood with decorative glass which gave entry to the equally ornate foyer. Surrounded by deep browns and shining silvers, the couple felt like they had stepped into a miniature history museum rather than a bed and breakfast. Fancy vases stood on faux marble columns, oak and leather chairs lined up against the walls in alternating sequences of different shades, needlessly complex candle holders sprinkled about on the walls with unlit candles half melted inside. While the exterior went for a humble design, the inside strove for elegant.

  Violet felt particula
rly out of place with her punk-rock styling as she stood almost helplessly waiting for something to happen. While he might have felt almost as lost, Riley at least could have passed as one of the townies. Just before either of them could attempt to call out for some sort of service their silent request was answered.

  “Welcome!” bellowed a deep voice from somewhere up above.

  Both of the Tylers were surprised to find it coming from a portly woman in her 50s standing at the top of the carpeted burgundy stairs just to the side of the entrance way.

  “How may I help you this fine day?”

  The woman was wearing what could only be described as a flapper’s dress for the plus-sized woman. It was made of red satin with dangling shiny silver tassels with black embroidered beads and fringe. In her puffed up hair was a large white feather that seemed to dance as she made her way slowly down the steps.

  With a beaming smile that gave away her amusement Violet spoke first, “Hi there...we’re here to check in. We’ve got a reservation for the week under the name of ‘Tyler’”.

  Upon hearing that informational tidbit the waitress’s face contorted into a frown, her heavy makeup making her look a bit like a sad clown, “I’m sorry, I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but I don’t believe we have a reservation under that name. From what I’ve been told from our regular front door concierge...we’re currently all booked up for the next three days in the very least”.

  Violet’s own face quickly tried to mimic that of the nameless jester before her, “What do you mean that you don’t have any more reservations? Can you please go and check to make sure? Maybe somebody put it under ‘Riley’ or ‘Violet’?”

  The woman raised her hands up to her sides in either exaggerated agitation or for balance as she swiftly waddled into a small side parlour. At a tall wooden podium she obtained a thin red booklet that she opened up to the exact desired page with obvious expertise.