tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61333471477158795222024-03-05T14:06:02.293-05:00Not Know, NoticeOver 16 months, I wrote 52 stories inspired by emoji sequences that friends and acquaintances provided me for the purpose of generating stories. Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-41335199824444332132017-01-21T06:48:00.000-05:002017-01-21T06:48:13.809-05:00Number Zero of Ten Or So Albums
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Facebook, that strange non-place. So lovely. So
toxic. So much of the world distilled into some sort of essence, though not the
world entire because so much of what is important is missing. Quiet. Trees.
Fresh air. One hundred other things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">There is music there, though. Videos of this or
that new or nostalgic thing. And recently posts by many of my (Facebook)
friends of the “10 albums that made a lasting impression on you as a TEENAGER,”
to quote my (Facebook and ex-[brief]girl) friend Zoë quoting someone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">There’s ugliness on Facebook too. Minor and major.
Mercifully I only deal with the minor ugliness, what with me being a straight
white man in what can be called middle age. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Early middle age. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">38. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I thought these lists were a very beautiful thing.
Then I woke up on Saturday and was scrolling leisurely through my feed and saw
Zoë had posted a defense of her list. Then I saw that someone else had called
their friends out for making the albums on their lists cooler than they should
have been. Then I read a few more people’s posts on the topic of this list of
ten albums. I hadn’t even had a chance to put my list together and already I
was feeling shitty about it, so I posted:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="color: #1e2128; font-family: HelveticaNeue;">I suppose I shouldn't be
surprised that this 10 important albums to you as a teenager thing has dredged
up all kinds of weird shit amongst my friends and in my gut. It seemed so
lovely, but has become "jokingly"—as in "hey, I was just joking,
dude"—about what was authentically important to you as a teen and what is
you looking back and trying to impose something on your teen self, be it
greater or lesser coolness. I have some fantastic records from when I was a
teen. I have some fantastic records that people now consider—even then
considered—gauche. I listened to some still very cool shit. I work with teens
every day and I am reminded how insanely intense the years between 13 and 19
are and how constant change and evolution are. My top 10 albums would have been
different every week. As far as albums that I still like, well those would look
filtered to be cool. As far as albums that have had a profound effect on me,
those would be in line with the many, I think cool, manifestations of my person
during and since my teen years. If you want the embarrassing shit, that's a
different thing. But the policing of "honesty" versus
"coolness" going on in my feed right now reminds me of, well, high
school. Soon people will be accusing each other of being "phony" or
"a hypocrite" and we'll all have nasty tastes in our mouths or
indigestion because, after all, we are all middle aged now and gastro will
probably be the result of trying to prove that we loved Drive Like Jehu back
then. Or Gastr del Sol. Or Jesus Lizard. Or that we tried to puzzle out
Coltrane. Or that when we were in grade 9 we earnestly loved, maybe that we
still love Pearl Jam.</span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">(Notes
on my Facebook post: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">(-I don’t “work with teens every day,” but I hope
you will agree that five or fewer days a week for ten months of the year, minus
two weeks at Christmas and a week in March, is close enough to excuse the
hyperbole.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">(-I’m not thrilled about the use of the word
“gauche” here; I think “embarrassing" would have been better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .5in; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">(-Gastr del Sol should have been the first band I
mentioned, not Drive Like Jehu, so that “gastro” and “Gastr” could have nestled
closer together. I’m no poet.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I think lists tell a story,
but I would rather hear, would rather tell, the actual story around the album.
So here we go, here is a series of short memoirs about the lasting impression
made by ten or so albums from when I was a teenager, for what it is worth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Below is number zero of ten or so.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><b>0.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></b></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><b>A pre-teen
album, from when I was 12 Years Old, I think. Public Enemy’s <i>Fear of a Black
Planet</i></b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Grade seven was my first of two grades at
Montclair in Oakville. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Andrew L., </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;">with </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;">whom I’d gone to pre-school, whose mother
worked with my mother, went there as well. He was one of the few people I knew
other than the handful who transfered there from my rural primary school, Percy W.
Merry.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">There had not been a lot of black people at P. W.
Merry. Nor were there many black people at Montclair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">My dad worked with a black man, a surgeon, Ofei,
from Nigeria I think. Or Ghana. The country wouldn’t have been significant to
me or, probably, to my family. Only that it was in Africa would have been
significant from our vantage. Ofei and his wife and children came over for
dinner once or twice. Ofei became the first black member of the golf course my
grandfather and aunt belonged to. In my family’s story of Ofei, my
grandfather—born in Markham in 1915, and once racist in that way that one is
when one has no one towards whom to be racist—was instrumental in this breaking
the colour barrier at the golf course. Ofei was the surgeon who removed from my
grandfather the lung with the malignant tumours. Ofei gave my grandfather three
more years of life in my family’s estimation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Now that I’m thinking of it, though, there was a
black person at Percy Merry. And how could I forget Norman A., Norm, one of my best friends
for a few years, which when you are in primary school is no small thing. He was
one of the few who attended Montclair as well, one of the few who went with
me. But at Montclair Norm and I had a falling out. As I understood it, he was shoplifting
from the convenience store across the street and across the high school football
field from our school. And then our house was broken into and a pocket watch my
grandfather had bequeathed me, the Upper Deck Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card and
twenty dollars from my parent’s closet was all that was missing. One of my
favourite baseball bats—one of Norm’s and my favourite baseball bats—was by the
front door instead of in my bedroom, as if whoever had broken in had gone first
to my room to grab this weapon like a talisman or security blanket or whatever. Which is to say that we suspected Norm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But which is all to say, all of the above is to say, that I did not
fear a black planet. These two men, a surgeon who prolonged my grandfather’s
life and one of my best friends, did not constitute a threat to the
overwhelmingly white part of the Greater Toronto Area that I lived in. Nor,
I’ll say, did I perceive blackness as a threat. Maybe more of a novelty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I had a lot of the <i>Rap Traxx</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> compilations on cassette and would listen to them
while I played Nintendo. Super Mario Bros. and Bionic Comando. De La Soul’s
“Buddy” off <i>Rap Traxx 3</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> was
the big discovery for me on those albums. I’d had Run DMC’s <i>Raising Hell</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> for a few years, nestled in my collection beside
my Rush cassettes. I bought De La’s <i>Three Feet High and Rising</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> and listened that to death. Bought Young MC and
Maestro Fresh Wes, too. At some point I bought <i>Fear of a Black Planet</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I couldn’t remember if anyone mentioned Malcolm X
on <i>Fear of a Black Planet</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">.
“Welcome To The Terrordome” was my favourite track for its air-raid siren sound
and the fury of Chuck D’s delivery. The other day I looked up the lyrics. I
have no idea what sort of sense they made to me when I was twelve. I know that
I could rap along with some accuracy. And there, in the third verse is Malcolm
X.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">…How
to fight the power, cannot run and hide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Bullets
shouldn’t be suicide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">In
a game a fool without the rules<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Got
a hell of a nerve to criticize<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Every
brother ain’t a brother<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">’Cause
a black hand squeezed on Malcolm X the man<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">The
shootin’ of Huey Newton<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">From
the hand of a nigger pulled the trigger<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And maybe—somewhere between my sister Emma’s piano
lessons and Oakville Place, a short drive that for some reason I associate most
strongly with listening to my <i>Fear of a Black Planet </i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">cassette—Mum and I had a conversation about
Malcolm X. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Maybe my friend Andrew L. told me about Malcolm X.
Andrew’s Mum, Barb, was more up on social justice stuff than anyone in my
family, at least as far as I could see then, as far as I can see now. Andrew,
too—who got turntables and a mixer and a crate full of the latest hip hop LPs
at some point around then—was more up on issues of civil rights and racism than
I was, at least as far as I remember. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I know, though, that my dad, who still lived with
my mum, sister and me then, found out about a black book store on Bathurst.
When, years later, I discovered A Different Booklist I wondered if it was,
thought that it must have been, then doubted that it was where Dad took me to
buy <i>The Autobiography of Malcolm X.</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> The
store I remember was north of Bloor, much larger than A Different Booklist and
run by a white haired black man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><i>The Autobiography of Malcolm X</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> has come up recently and it comes up with some
regularity as I teach students who are black, who are otherwise racialized, who
are women, who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered, queer, two-spirited,
students who are subject to bias and prejudice. Maybe most significantly—though
<i>not</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> most importantly—it comes
up because I work with young white, straight, and/or cis-gendered, middle-class
men. Men like me. And some of these young men feel that feminism or Black Lives Matter or
really any acknowledgment of and action against oppression is unfair, that it
somehow excludes them and targets them and concludes that they are, as
individuals, fixed forever as the bad guy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I can offer these young men anecdotes about
listening to Ani DiFranco and feeling like she was singing about me quite
literally, probably because of the narcissism of my social position and because
my girlfriend at the time had given me the cassette with DiFranco’s songs. I can offer
these men the fact that I then consciously shifted my thinking to consider the
fact that Ani DiFranco didn’t know me, doesn’t know me, and that I didn’t have
to be like the man or men that she was talking about and that I was probably in
many ways not like the man or men she was talking about. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Or, more powerfully I think, I can offer these
young men an anecdote about me reading <i>The Autobiography of Malcolm X</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">. In the book, Malcolm X calls the white man, The
White Man, the devil. That’s me. At least that’s what I first thought. I talked
to Mum about this, I’m sure. Little twelve year old me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Little was Malcolm X’s first last name, a slave
owners name, the name he had when his father was murdered by white
supremacists. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">It wasn’t hard for me to understand that the white
people who had made little Malcolm Little and grown Malcolm X suffer, the white
people who built the USA, the white people who benefited from the spoils of a
state and economy built on slavery, the theft of people—not to mention theft of
land—the white people who continued to benefit from the oppression of black
people even if they themselves were not the direct instrument of that
oppression, that these white people could powerfully and without much of an
imaginative leap be called devils. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I wrote a speech about Malcolm X and delivered it. I was selected
to present my speech in front of the whole school. Dad agreed to take me back to the
bookstore where we bought <i>The Autobiography of Malcolm X</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> and the white boy that I was and my white doctor
dad bought a men’s medium shirt, black, with a white near-silhouette of Malcolm
X and his name printed on the front. On the back was an excerpt from a speech that began,
“I am not an American. I am one of the 22 million black people who are the
victims of Americanism.” I wore my new shirt when I presented my short speech
about Malcolm X in front of the school. I also wore, proudly, an Africa medallion that
Nicole W., my black classmate, loaned me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I had the T-shirt for years. When I wore it in
grade 9, I became a magnet for skinheads. One of them, whom everyone called
Squirt (and with whom I keep in touch via Facebook) asked me if I was proud to
be white. I was not. I have a feeling it was him who introduced me to the
phrase “race traitor,” a phrase that when I was sixteen or so I saw boldly
printed on a white T-shirt worn by a guy sitting on the steps of the Art
Institute of Chicago. Racetraitor, I would later learn, maybe when I was still
a part of the overwhelmingly white, straight and male
Mississauga-Oakville-Burlington hardcore scene was a band in the Chicago
hardcore scene, which scene I suspect was similarly largely white, straight and
male.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I reluctantly threw the Malcolm X shirt out when
it became nearly transparently threadbare sometime in my late twenties or early
thirties. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Today, I’m still not frightened of the idea of a
black planet, but I suspect that the election of Donald Trump in the USA, the
ongoing endemic of police and state violence against black bodies and the
necessity of the Black Lives Matter movement, to name a few easy ones are signs
that too many people are afraid of a black planet, at least in the US and,
really by extension Canada, or at least the part of Canada where I live. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><b>Credits: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Welcome To The Terrordome” lyrics by Chuck D quoted in <i>The
Anthology of Rap</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">, edited by Adam
Bradley and Andrew DuBois<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-36180635537291644432016-08-03T05:55:00.000-04:002017-01-03T06:08:31.759-05:00We Meet<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When you were little, someone had given you a
wallet with a horse’s head in profile so you had decided you liked horses. Your
parents got you riding lessons at a local stable where you spent most of the
afternoon in a pool, supervised by disinterested lifeguards related in various
ways to the people who ran the camp. When you did get to be around horses, the
instructors told you to be extremely careful because they might kick if you
came up behind them. You didn’t know at the time, but it had recently come up
at a family lunch that the week before you had gone to the camp, a kid had been
knocked into a coma. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was later, on an activity day at a resort you
attended with your family, that you really came to fear horses. There was an
excursion and all the kids went by bus to a ranch so that all the parents could
golf or fuck or argue. At the ranch, a huge horse with a white patch between
his eyes butted your stomach and chest with his muzzle. The ranch hand’s
explanation was that the horse was asking you for food. If he’d been a smaller
animal maybe you would have been charmed, but there was substantial force to
his nuzzling, so substantial that you had no trouble recognizing how quickly
and with what ease the animal could overpower you, harm you, kill you. You
never even climbed on the horse’s back and the stable had no other animal
available for you to ride so you did what? “I don’t remember.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You know, I’ve never ridden a horse,” I told you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s just a tattoo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Really?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Well, sort of. My last name means someone who
shoes horses.” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“So it’s not really just a tattoo,” you said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Well, I guess my name’s just a name though,
right? I mean a horse means a lot of things.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ve been using that running horse emoji a lot,”
you told me. You used it when someone texted you to say they were running late,
or when your sister texted you to say that she and her husband had finally
cleared out the room that they planned on turning into a nursery in their small
condominium. You used it to express excitement when your friend invited you to
go see Bruce Springsteen at the Air Canada Centre. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I don’t know, but I found you charming as you know
now. I was worried that you were letting too much of your mind out to me,
maybe. Like that it might become overwhelming or exhausting. Or that you would
run out of thoughts to share. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The first time we “did it”—fucked, or “made love,”
or whatever—I thought of a horse snorting and thrashing and racing around,
white froth which was its sweat, I guess, clumped here and there on its skin as
it passed the camera. I say camera of course because I’m thinking of something
from a film. In my imagination or memory, it’s from a Terrence Malick film. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You started talking about guns because of the
six-shooter tattooed on my other wrist. When you were nearly six your
grandfather had let you fire his shotgun at a tomato juice can nestled into the
crotch of a tree and your mother, who had left you with him as she ran errands,
had arrived in time to hear the shot and had nearly killed your grandfather,
probably would have killed him if it wasn’t the death part of guns that so
profoundly offended her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You told me that that same grandfather had used
that same gun—maybe it was a rifle—to kill a <i>bouvier des flandres</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> puppy, nearly full grown, whose temperament had
turned mean. Later, when you started reading through forty years of your
grandfather’s daily journals, you discovered that he’d killed the <i>bouvier</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> earlier the same day that he let you fire the
gun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He also had a toy six-shooter that he had helped
you put real bullets into.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And when you were little—a little older, though,
and with the permission of your parents—you’d been skeet shooting with your
best friend, whose father hunted ducks, mostly. You were good at it. At least
you remembered being good at it. Meaning you hit things. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I had on a pair of Ray Bans that I’d found on the
street. Unfortunately, whoever had lost them had a prescription that was a bit
too strong for my eyes, but I liked how they looked perched on my head. Anyway,
I pulled them down because I didn’t want you to see my eyes when I told you
that I had the gun tattooed on my arm as a way to reclaim the idea of guns.
Through the sunglasses you looked clear, but much farther away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Reclaim? Why?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I explained how, you know, people reclaimed
language that had been used against them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Someone used a gun against you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I told you how when I was twelve, my father was
held up at a gas station. A robbery. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You did this blinking thing. It was the first time
I’d seen you do it, but I’ve seen you do it since. It’s like you are trying to
bring the world into focus. Figuratively. “With a gun?” you asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He was killed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh my God. I’m sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Why? You didn’t do it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You looked at some filthy spot on the floor of the
club. “No,” you said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A member of the band turned on an amp and the
sound of a chord swelled briefly into the club. The rest of the band took their
places behind instruments and microphones. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The story of my father’s murder was true and
painful, but I told it with some frequency. There were other details, which
eventually you memorized. Like, “He had twenty dollars in his wallet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That’s it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Did they take it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes.” Or, “It was as a gas station right by my
parents’ house.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Did th—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The band started their first song. I got up off my
stool, grabbed my beer from the tall table beside me and put my lips up to your
ear. “What’s that?” I shouted as gently as I could over the hammering guitar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You swallowed before you turned your head and
stretched your neck to bring your mouth to my ear. “Did they move?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I shook my head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You blinked again. This time it was like something
had suddenly become clear. “I’m sorry. I guess I mean did your mom move?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I shook my head and smiled gently. I found the
modification charming. Almost thoughtful. But also very strange. As if you
thought—though I know you didn’t think—that changing “they” to “your mom” could
leap back in time to pull my mother out of the funk that followed. Funk isn’t
the word. Crippling fear, anxiety, depression, shock. PTSD. “No. We didn’t
move,” I said, but our heads weren’t close enough together for you to hear me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You looked worried. Mouthed, “What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I shook my head, No. It’s nothing. Nevermind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You leaned your head close to mine, your mouth
near my ear. You shouted, “What did you say?” then looked at me, all carefully
rendered concern. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">My hesitation, my reluctance, was real.
Eventually, I leaned in to say, “It’s okay. Seriously. We can talk after the
band.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We did keep talking after the band.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">But first we stood there. I stood stiffer than
usual. You too, I realize in retrospect. Someone watching silent video of the
two of us at that show couldn’t have guessed that the band was good, that there
were grooves. A few songs in, you finished your beer, held the empty bottle in
the air in front of me—closer than it appeared through the prescription Ray
Bans—and when I looked at you, your face was asking if I wanted another. You
pointed at the bottle, just to make sure I understood. I nodded, Yes. You went
to the bar. I finished my beer while a welcome warmth started somewhere near
the bottom of my ribs and spread out. I returned the Ray Bans to their nest in
my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We stood closer as we finished our second beers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The band finished and our conversation went on to
cover Bill Callahan, a.k.a. Smog, and his lines “skin mags in the brambles/for
the first part of my life/I thought women had orange skin” which you said the
pin-up girl tattoo on my left arm reminded you of and which (the lines)
reminded you of your own earliest exposure to <i>Playboy</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">s and <i>Hustler</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">s or whatever stashed under a log down a dead-end dirt lane between
your neighbour’s house and their neighbours on the other side or in a pile of
leaves behind your mom’s best friend’s house. In response to a question I asked
you inspired by your anecdotes about the skin mags, first you, then I talked
about the teachers we wish we could have kissed or fucked or who we wish could
have been our parents. At this point, the fact that we would soon sleep
together was becoming obvious. The friends we’d come with drifted to the
corners of the club. We went on. You described the bedroom you grew up in, one
wall covered in Sunshine Girls a classmate gave you, in—you realized as you
told me—some strange flirtation, probably. I described the different favourite
band posters from different points in my evolution as a music lover. I asked
you about where you lost your virginity. It was in your basement bedroom in the
house you moved to with your mom and sister when your parents got divorced. It
happened on a summer afternoon after a walk by the Sixteen Mile Creek a few
weeks before you moved out on your own. You asked me where I lost mine. It was
a bathroom at a party after the person I was with, not dating but talking to,
someone I knew from school, confessed that they were a virgin despite the story
they’d made up for their friends and I said that I too was a virgin, and while
I wasn’t so ashamed that I made a secret of it, that I would be happy to break
the ice or come of age or come with someone else—or whatever it took to lose my
virginity—so we snuck into the bathroom and locked the door and fumbled our way
through it while people banged on the door and speculated about who was taking
so long before being swept back into the party by whatever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We were among the last to leave the club. Your
friends had left, my friends had left. The bands had loaded out and the
bartender had turned on the lights. We held hands down the stairs from the
venue and we walked a block in no direction. When you asked where we were
going, I kissed you under a streetlight. The beer on my breath must have
neutralized the beer on your breath because I tasted you. Your taste is like
oatmeal with milk and brown sugar. Sure, sometimes the milk is sour. Or the
oatmeal is thin. And in the morning there is something off in there, like maybe
an unfinished bowl of oatmeal got dumped into the compost bin and while it
remains the most prominent smell, the rotting vegetables and leftovers and the
drying coffee grinds are an unpleasant counter-scent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A streetcar rattled by and we interrupted that
first kiss and walked down the first residential street we came to. In a
parkette we found, I backed you into a play structure and held your head with
both hands and looked at you. You were expectantly expressionless, your mouth
open, your breath shallow. You shivered. We continued our kiss, this time more
forceful and purposeful. With your teeth, you gently held onto my lower lip as
I pulled back to change angles and I nearly came. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I knew I didn’t want to have sex that night,
though. I don’t know why. Maybe I knew there was enough to savour already.
Maybe I wanted the first time to be special. Maybe it was just that it was too
late, way too late in the night and I needed the few hours of sleep I could
still get before I went to my mom’s place to celebrate my grandmother’s
birthday. “I have to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Uh—” You shook violently. “Okay.” I put my hand
to your sternum, my fingers brushing your clavicle. Your heart beat like it was
oversized, a horse’s heart or an elephant’s. Elephants are beautiful creatures,
you know. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I have family shit tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I kissed you, kept my one hand against your chest
so you wouldn’t blow away, then I put my free hand between your legs. You
moaned into my mouth at a frequency that vibrated and warmed my ribcage. I
moved my hand to your right pocket, squeezed my fingers past the hem and pulled
out your phone. I pulled my lips from yours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">With your eyes closed, your head leaned forward
like our lips were magnetized. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I woke your phone up, tried to open it, but it was
password protected. I held it out to you for you to unlock it, but you told me
your passcode. You had to tell me twice, I was so unprepared for this openness.
I went to your contacts and added my name and phone number. I checked it twice
to make sure I hadn’t mistyped something. “I should be done at my mom’s by,
like, eight at the latest.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Can I text you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Can I come to your place?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes,” you whispered and shook. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Walk me to the streetcar?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You agreed. We held hands like we were new to it,
trying different positions to find which brought us closest, which felt best.
You waited for the streetcar with me. You leaned against the shelter’s glass. I
faced you and let your fingers explore my knuckles, my nails, my fingers, the
lines on my palms. My breathing was shallow. Then I explored your hands. You
blinked away tears or sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We heard the streetcar’s metallic call as it
stopped two blocks away, its three front lights looking right at us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Text me as soon as I get on the streetcar,
please. So we make sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll text you now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You looked strange lit by the phone’s screen. You
wrote your full name and I pulled out my phone to wait for it to buzz through.
It did. We kissed again, kissed until the streetcar’s lights were brightening
one side of us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Later today,” you said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I looked back once as I climbed the streetcar's
steps. You smiled. I stood above an empty seat so I could watch you as the
vehicle pulled away. You stood there watching me for a long enough time that I
didn’t see you turn and point yourself towards home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, July-Aug 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eleanora Ferrari<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b>Lee Sheppard</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-36792906733838356942016-07-24T09:49:00.000-04:002016-12-03T06:23:09.708-05:00Despite All That<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In the <i>New York Times</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> article “Divers Find Body of Toddler Snatched by
Alligator at Disney Resort,” it was the word “unwitting”—used by an apparently
sympathetic lawyer to describe the victim and his family—that really changed
how you imagined Alton’s birthday in Gatorland. Changed it to the point that
you couldn’t eat your Harvest Grain ’N Nut® Pancakes, which Darren ate after
finishing his own Double BLT and Elise’s Raspberry White Chocolate Chip
Pancakes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is something wrong?” Darren asked you. Then a
minute later, “What’s wrong?” and “What’s bothering you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You kept trying to give him a look that adequately
conveyed, “I’ll tell you later,” but he just kept staring, kept asking
questions, confusion crashing his eyebrows towards each other, shaking his head
like he’s never met anyone so irritating and secretive and unknowable, as if
you don’t painstakingly include him in every thought, every decision, not that
Darren even really listened. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darren started talking up Gatorland to the kids.
“How many alligator’s do you think we’ll see today?” and “Do you think you’ll
be scared?” You went to the bathroom for some refuge. When you got back, Darren
said, “You are acting super weird,” just like that, totally in front of your
kids and without regard for anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Sorry,” you said, so off guard that it probably
didn’t sound super sincere. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Despite all that, you tried to focus on delivering
your message without getting upset. After you’d buckled the kids in you said,
“Darren?” and he said, “Yeah?” and you said, “Come here,” and he did, but the
rental mini-van’s two automatic sliding doors were still closing so you didn’t
start talking right away and he made this impatient gesture, pointing his hands
skyward, shrugging, his lower jaw jutting and his mouth open and you just
wanted to say, like, “Close your mouth,” or “Trying to catch flies,” or
something hurtful, but instead you just said, “I can’t do it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Do what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Go to Gatorland,” you whispered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And Darren made a
disappointed-to-the-point-of-injury face and you realized that at that angle
the kids could see him. Elise said, “What are you guys talking about?” the
question muted, but not garbled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s wrong Dad?” Alton asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You felt like laughing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When Darren was done taking a deep breath, he
said, “It’s that kid at Disney, isn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I told you, I bet Gatorland—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Can you please lower your voice?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Fine,” Darren hissed. “But Gatorland’s gotta be
the safest place to see gators—alligators—because that’s like their whole
business. Disneyland is too busy dressing people up as Elsa or fucking Goofy or
some shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s Disney World.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Disney<i>land</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> is the one in California. You said Disneyland.” Even you didn’t know
why you were being so annoying. “I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t go to Gatorland.
Can’t take the kids to Gatorland.” Darren looked so frustrated. “I’ll make it
up to you,” you promised.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Really?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You nodded, yes. Which for people who are
unmarried, or people married differently than you—whose marriages function
differently, like maybe they don’t have kids or something—‘I’ll make it up to
you,’ meant you were committing to at least a blowjob. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What are we going to do for Alton’s birthday,
then?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Right.” You pulled out your phone. “There’s like
twenty amusement parks around here.” You searched ‘amusement parks orlando’—or
rather ‘amussment parks orlamfo,’ but the phone knew what you meant. You went
to the usatoday.com article “10 best theme parks in Orlando” that you had read
while researching the trip and even as the page loaded you knew where you
should go. “Legoland,” you said, maybe a little too loud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Elise said, “What? <i>Lego</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">land?” the rental van’s windows not muffling her
disappointment. “You said we’re going to Gatorland?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darren was smiling at the kids, so you turned and
looked at them. Alton’s eyes searched your face for clues about what was
happening, then searched his dad’s, then searched yours again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Elise looked at you and said, “Can we get going?”
exactly like you’d say it so you laughed and Elise could tell you were laughing
even though you covered your mouth and turned away. That pissed her off so she
shrieked, “Stop it,” then asked, “What time does Gatorland open? I want to be
there when Gatorland opens.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“They’re going to be disappointed,” Darren said.
“So disappointed.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Alton will be excited about Legoland.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Maybe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">But Elise said, “Oh, no! Dad, can we go to
Gatorland? Can we please go to Gatorland?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And Darren said, “Your mother doesn’t think it’s
safe.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">To which Elise said, “Mumma, ugh, oh, you’re just
so stupid. That’s just so stupid.” Elise started crying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You looked hatefully at Darren and said, “Thank
you,” as quietly as you could and still make sure that he heard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m not a liar,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You were thinking, ‘When I suck you off later I’ll
bite your dick,’ when Alton said, “I don’t think you are stupid, Mum.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thank you,” you said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think someone’s tired,” Alton said to his older
sister. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Elise shrieked, “I’m not tired, I just love
alligators. Alligators are my favourite animals.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What about cheetahs?” you asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No!” Elise replied. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Can you find out how I get to Legoland?” Darren
asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When you didn’t answer right away, Darren said, “I
can do it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No. No. You have to drive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You didn’t believe Google that it would take 51
minutes; it took over an hour because there were so many cars on the highway
veering unpredictably for exits they realized too late that they needed to take
or blasting impatiently past too slow cars. Darren liked to drive at exactly
the speed limit when he could, though he stayed in the right lane no matter how
slow the families or grandparents in front of him were going and when you made
even a hint at a suggestion about how he drive—“We aren’t getting off the
highway for another thirty minutes,” say—he would come back with something like
how he was wondering about the number of people who died annually in car
accidents versus alligator attacks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">At Legoland, the kids wanted to eat again as soon
as you were past the gate. After you’d taken a picture with the Lego
brontosaurus outside of the Market Restaurant, Darren said he was still full
from breakfast. You grabbed his arm a little too tightly, pulled him towards you
and whispered a little too loudly that you were going to see if they could do
something for Alton’s birthday. Darren stuck his middle finger in his ear and
wiggled it, but he didn’t complain, just said, “Alright, but I’m not eating
anything.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In the restaurant, they told you that you had to
book a party in advance. You told them that you didn’t want a party, just a cake
or something and maybe some people to sing. They did all that, but there was no
candle on the cake and it was super awkward and Alton seemed super
confused—he’d gotten up on his knees to blow the candles out and all these
people were looking at him, but there was nothing for him to do. One of the
other diners clapped and that seemed to relieve the tension for Alton, but you
heard people murmuring about the conspicuous absence and one elderly woman with
some southern accent said to you, “That’s just awful that they couldn’t find a
candle for your lovely boy there. Just awful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When you complained to the manager about the
candle, the manager apologized, but reminded you that they were out of candles.
You cried. The manager clicked his tongue like maybe you were crying on purpose
or something. He apologized again and said, “Let me see what I can do.” While
Darren was finishing off everyone’s meals, your server came out with a red
Legoland balloon for Alton. The elderly woman pursed her southern lips and shook
her southern head. You stood up to go and Darren, his mouth stuffed with
Elise’s French fries, said he’d meet you and the kids outside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You tied the balloon to Alton’s wrist, of course,
but of course it came undone and drifted up, up, up and away. And while Alton
wailed and buried his face in your belly, some dad leaned down and said to his
kid, “Oh, lookit. Someone lost their balloon.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darren came outside just then and said, “Didn’t
you tie it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You said, “Of course I tied it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alton said, “You didn’t tie it well enough,
Mumma.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And you thought, Thanks Darren. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And you thought, You’re welcome Alton. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And you thought, You wouldn’t have that balloon if
it wasn’t for me, Alton. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And you thought, Happy Birthday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What you said was, “Why don’t we split up for a
bit?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You took Elise to the Cypress Gardens area because
you’d read a bit about Legoland in your pre-trip research and discovered that
it was on the site of some old, very famous theme park that opened near the end
of the Great Depression and that had some legitimate claim to popularizing
stunt waterskiing, but that was a theme park essentially centered around
plants, that even offered guided rides through manmade canals to look at
plants. You took Elise’s picture with a Lego southern belle and then got some
passing French Canadian tourists to take a picture of you and Elise and you <i>merci</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">ed them in your rusty <i>français</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> then <i>en francais aussi</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> asked them where they were staying. In English
they told you that they spent half the year in the Tampa Bay area, that he was
a retired baker and she was a retired teacher and that they loved it here, but
that they missed their children and grandchildren. Then the man smiled,
flashing gold from three teeth and rubbed Elise’s head, flashing gold from
three of his massive fingers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darren and Alton went on some rides, including one
near the entrance that lifted them high above this former swamp to look out
over the highway and subdivisions and lakes. As Darren described the view to
you, you recalled the view as you’d flown in, remembered thinking how
persistent nature seemed to be in the face of Floridians’ dogged determination
to pave it over. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You thought of the sinkholes that open up and
swallow people in their sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darren pulled out his phone and showed you a
picture of Alton on all fours screaming in the open jaws of a Lego alligator.
“Thought of you,” Darren said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You wandered around together and took pictures of
the kids with some people dressed as Lego figures, then you and Darren decided
it was time to head back to the hotel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That was fun,” Darren said when you got into the
mini-van. “Wasn’t that fun?” he asked the kids. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They both shouted, “Yeah,” like you guys were in
some commercial or something and you felt immediately grateful to Darren,
suddenly willing to forget what a shit he’d been, but for some reason you said,
“One hundred dollars worth of fun?” like you were testing him maybe, seeing how
he’d reply. “One hundred American dollars? Each?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Aw,” he said, “we can’t think like that. About
money.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We’re lucky,” he said, backing the van out of the
parking spot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was true, you were lucky, and sometimes you
even felt lucky, though for some reason now wasn’t one of those times and you
had suddenly channeled your immigrant grandmother’s spirit and started
calculating all the day’s costs, like as if that was going to help anyone, or
like your grandmother enjoyed anything like the security that she and your
parents had gifted you. You breathed in through your nose louder than you meant
to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s wrong?” Darren asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You shook your head, but you’d started crying out
of nowhere. Second time today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Whatever,” Darren said, exasperated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s nothing,” you told him. You didn’t turn
around to see if the kids had noticed you crying because you didn’t want them
to notice when you turned. You tried to find them in the side mirror, but the
mini-van’s windows were reflecting too much bright Florida sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You ate at a T. G. I. Fridays and Darren
complained of being full after draining his pint and cleaning his plate of
burger and salad. Then he finished Alton’s French fries and grilled cheese and
Elise’s chicken fingers. You felt that by not finishing your Caesar salad he
was maybe trying to make a point about your second margarita or maybe waste
generally or costs or something, but you knew that that particular anxiety was
your grandmother haunting you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When the bill came, Darren smiled softly and
winked at you and you didn’t know what he meant to mean by it, but suddenly you
remembered that you had promised him sex, had promised you would make up for
the fact that you had not gone to Gatorland. Darren was a good man and a good
partner, but right then, in T. G. I. Fridays you decided that because he had
never given his body up to grow someone else’s body, had never split in two,
had never pushed something out of himself that felt like a part of himself that
he had to watch grow further away from him and go farther away from him, had
never experienced profound, rapid, temporary physical changes, had never
experienced profound, rapid, permanent physical changes, as you had twice now,
that he was not capable of, was not forced to experience, the same type of
love, the same type of giving, the same type of selflessness that you
experienced. That he could still get sulky about losing a silly opportunity
that would subject your children to dangers that were profoundly unnecessary
considering that he carried a device in his pocket with which he could easily
and at any time access fantastic videos of alligators and show them to Elise
and Alton without putting them in harm’s way, that you would need to reward his
sulking with the sex, was all too much for you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You excused yourself again and went and sat in a
bathroom stall again to try and think about something else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Back at the hotel, Darren took the children to the
pool. You fetched Alton’s gifts from the corners of your suitcase. Once the
gifts were laid out on the bed Alton and Elise were sharing, you found the
matching lacy underthings you had tucked into the bottom of a small inner
pocket of your luggage. In the bathroom, you undressed and put on the fancy bra
and panties and looked at yourself in them to make sure that they were fitting
correctly over all your mounds of flesh, that the pink ribbon running through
the dark grey fringes was visible where it was meant to be visible, was lying
flat too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">As a teenager, you’d hated your body. Now you
missed that previous incarnation, that fresh—that first—arrangement of your
adult self. But staring at yourself then, you saw something useful—not to
Darren, but to your children. You saw something powerful and valuable. And it
looked sexy to you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Standing there in your underwear, you grabbed your
makeup bag, a gift from your mother-in-law, and you put on red lipstick. Then
you put on eyeliner and eye shadow. And blush. You tied your hair back in a way
that Darren said once that he liked, but once you’d but your clothes back on—an
Old Navy V-neck and some Old Navy cargo shorts—you looked in the mirror again
and decided you didn’t like your hair that way, so you put it back down then
went and lay on the queen-sized bed you and Darren were sharing and you looked
at the gifts you’d wrapped for Alton. You sat up, went to Alton and Elise’s bed
and rearranged the gifts then lay back down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alton was excited about his presents, though he
was still too young to seem excited about individual presents, or each
individual present anyway. You weren’t sure that you got him enough and maybe
that was because there were no presents from any of his grandparents. Or maybe
you were feeling cheap suddenly, the shadow cast by your grandmother’s
spendthrift ghost. But why ever it was, your anxiety about it forced you to lie
and say that you had another present at home, a present that had been too big
to bring. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darren seemed to know you were lying, but you
managed some trick with your face, some configuration of mouth and eyebrows
that made him nod and give you a covert thumbs up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Elise brushed her teeth with Darren supervising.
You brushed Alton’s teeth. Elise wanted to watch something on the room’s big
flat screen. Darren told her no, which was the right answer. You were grateful
someone else was being the bad guy. Through your shorts, you adjusted the
crotch of your fancy underwear with your thumb. You turned off the light and
sang to your children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darren put on his pajamas and brushed his teeth in
the bathroom. You lay in the bed beside your children and waited for their
breathing to drop into their easy sleeping rhythms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When Darren lay quietly down beside you, Elise was
sleeping, but Alton was still tossing and turning. You ran your hand down
Darren’s stomach and whispered to him to turn towards you. He was already hard
by the time you ran your nails through his pubic hair, his cock warm against
the back of your hand. You had just started tugging on it slowly when Alton
said, “Mumma?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes?” you said, your voice strange. “Yes?” you
repeated, attempting to compensate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I need to pee again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay. You know where the bathroom is,” you told
him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alton hopped out of bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darren tried to undo your shorts. You grabbed his
wrist. “Wait.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alton turned the bathroom light off when he was
done, then complained that it was too dark. Darren turned the bedside light on
for him. Elise groaned and rolled over, but did not wake up. Once Alton had
tucked himself in, Darren turned out the light again. You reached back into
Darren’s pants and held onto his penis and occasionally brushed his scrotum
with your fingertips to keep him awake and interested. You thought about
getting him off right there, then masturbating when he fell asleep, but you
wanted him to see what you were wearing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Once Alton’s breathing calmed, you got up, grabbed
Darren’s hand and pulled him into the bathroom. You closed the door and told him
to get undressed. “Oh my God,” he said as you stepped out of your shorts and
pulled your shirt over your head. He stood close enough to you that the tip of
his cock left sticky, translucent slime on your belly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It all didn’t last as long as you needed it to.
After Darren peed, washed his hands and apologized a second time, he went to
bed. You sat down on the toilet and waited for Darren’s spermless semen to ooze
mostly out then wiped yourself with a wet white facecloth. You put a white
towel on the floor, draped another white towel over your shoulders and drew
yourself a hot bath. While the tub filled, you sat hugging your legs, the towel
pulled up over your head. The warm smell of your body, of your moistness,
accented by Darren’s spunk spoiled, or at least sullied, the comfort of your
little tent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darren was asleep when you lay down beside him. A
sliver of streetlight snuck past the corner of the curtain. Your husband’s
mouth was open and his arms were crossed above the hem of the sheet, one hand
tucked under the pillow the other hanging limply beside the opposite shoulder.
His breathing was nearly deep enough to be a snore. You lay on your belly, your
right hand between your legs, your left pinching a nipple. You closed your
eyes, turned away from Darren and set your mind to taking care of one last
thing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Duncan and Gambier Island, July 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence:</b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> Lauren Ferranti-Ballem<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story:</b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-12371884471275146062016-07-11T08:45:00.000-04:002016-07-11T12:39:49.232-04:00Baggage<!--[if !mso]>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_T4jounO2Oupp2qt013fbX3-YmSYqeiFicfgspQntdpAARQMlZqRRAkErBXtPspnsncVRsAIPEsb3yEHyocwKk6TsGFvV_Bvocj8KfsigMbmoyRAp33ywMG-AHD5ysaLYDci8SfYEnU/s1600/Sammie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_T4jounO2Oupp2qt013fbX3-YmSYqeiFicfgspQntdpAARQMlZqRRAkErBXtPspnsncVRsAIPEsb3yEHyocwKk6TsGFvV_Bvocj8KfsigMbmoyRAp33ywMG-AHD5ysaLYDci8SfYEnU/s1600/Sammie.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex stared out a big east window of the Trinity
Community Recreation Centre. The clouds were an incredible grey-blue and Alex
imagined that they were a school of enormous fish crammed gill to gill and
passing over some sunken, post-apocalypse Toronto or a tiny model of this city
as it is today sinking slowly past the thin layer of ocean through which the
sun’s light remains visible. One of the men playing ping-pong behind Alex
roared as the ball bounced off the wall behind the man and took shorter and shorter
hops back to where he stood waiting for it. Another bolt of bright blue
electricity found its jagged way to the tip of the CN Tower. Standing nearby,
dripping, was a short, thick guy wearing a T-shirt with fluffy white emoji
clouds spitting yellow, stylized lightning bolts. In his right hand he had
small bag of dog shit and a thin black leash roping him to a shivering Italian
greyhound frantically lifting one tiny foot then another in some sort of
spastic panic dance. The dog nearly fell over when the thunder banged and
rumbled through the community centre. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex sat down on a bench and pulled a cell phone
from a back pocket, ran a hand through drying, bleached then dyed grey hair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No texts from River.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Under the tree where River and Alex were supposed
to be meeting, under the tree where Alex and River first kissed publicly,
proudly, under that tree right then in the pouring rain and thundering
electrical storm a sloppy cis couple staggered and swayed and swigged from the
same can of beer, first him, then her, she chucking the can into the wet grass,
then each of them clawing at each other’s asses and necks and pressing
rain-soaked bodies and mouths together, she nibbling on an ear and running her
hand through his soaking hair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex looked at the tiny screen of the cell phone,
unlocked it and typed to River, “Is everything ok?” because Alex had already
asked, “Where are you?” twice. Alex feared that River was moving on, that
River’s name might be a metaphor, River might have chosen the name as fucking metaphor.
I am a river. I am river, quintessentially. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Isn’t there enough movement in our lives? Alex
asked once after Alex and River had fucked for, like, only the second time in
Alex’s bedroom, for only the second time with Alex’s face pressed into the pillow
and River with their new cock stretching—transforming—Alex’s anus for only the
second time, and River had seemed bored, had said, when confronted, I’m just
turned on by new things. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">New name. Shifting identity. An arsenal of dicks,
most of them good enough, each one fine with Alex—though River always carried
more than one, sometimes three or four in a dirty, light-blue JanSport—but not
one dick so much the same as another to sate River’s need for something else,
for choice, for movement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex had had enough of change. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex kept binders and sports bras after the point
that they smelled too much, to the point they were torn and ineffective. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex still lived at home with parents who used old
gender pronouns because so much of Alex’s odyssey required maintaining balance
on the tossing deck of their gender identity, required sailing from port to
port as Alex tried to get home and Alex was looking for shipmates. For real,
Alex’s parents were a crusty crew, but they were reliable, had been sailing
with Alex from the outset, and there really was no one who could replace them,
no matter that they didn’t respect the captain’s authority. The captain’s
navigational decisions. The captain’s complex self. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">So Alex lived a lie with them and River liked the
lie to a point—having to use Alex’s old pronouns, fake at being cis, or sort of
cis—because it was a shift. But River wanted to shake Alex’s parents up, too,
and would speak too loud about Alex’s “real” or “true” self or sometimes
“selves” in Alex’s—Alex’s parents’—basement rec room, which still housed
Barbies, a coral castle, a neon Corvette with the streaks of black paint over
the pink on the trunk—little Alex had only gotten that far when Alex’s mother
had caught Alex and cried and cried and cried. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">River didn’t understand because River’s parents
had fully embraced their son when that’s what River wanted to be, had given him
money for binders and cocks, had bought him the butchest jeans and an array of
plaid shirts and toasted their new son with the new name. Alex thought the
acceptance had been all too much for River, so he had to move on, had to ditch
the simple, new pronoun and become gender-fluid to push those accepting, lovely
parents to their breaking point because all the other people in River’s support
group were suffering, had parents way less cool and open and further along, so
River, Alex thought, was exploring the borders of what River’s parents could
understand and accept. Alex knew that this was an ungenerous and, well, phobic
perspective, knew it even before Alex shared the idea, tried to cut River with
it, probably, as they lay in the dirt in the woods in High Park after Alex had
disappointed—upset—River by saying no to River cracking one of those cocks out
of that dirty JanSport and fucking Alex in the swaying, diffuse discs of summer
sun the canopy couldn’t catch. River had a different reading about change and
about constant revolution and about the culture’s and the individual’s
inability to think past language and popular paradigms and River sounded smart,
which was hot and Alex felt chastened—schooled—and angry because of the shame
Alex felt River wanted Alex to feel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">But also turned on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Until River tried to eat Alex out. Actually, Alex
nearly let River do it—despite the fact that Alex’s body would menstruate
soon—but Alex didn’t let River do it because no matter how dirty River talked,
no matter how into it River said they were, no matter how into it Alex thought
they might be, Alex still wasn’t comfortable with their pussy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Then River told Alex that the boundaries Alex drew
around Alex’s queerness were the wrong boundaries, that maybe Alex was simply F
to M and not non-binary enough or genderqueer enough or “whatever you are
saying that you are this week,” enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex walked northeast alone, trying and get out of
High Park as quick as possible. Later, once they’d made up and River had leaned
Alex over the counter in the Alex’s parents en suite bathroom and fucked Alex’s
ass, River said that they took their JanSport down to the lake and even walked around
for a while looking for someone to eat out, but that no one looked half as good
to them as Alex, except one hot femme with Serena Williams thighs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The cis couple was rolling around in the wet grass
now and Alex was feeling so dejected and abandoned and misunderstood that they
cursed the stubborn persistent shape of the tree, the unlikelihood of lighting
crackling down and splitting that old oak—or was it maple?—so one of the
massive branches would drop and press the cis couple into each other in one
pulpy, boneless mess. As if responding to Alex’s fantasy, lightning sounded and
burst into some building nearer than the CN Tower, but unseen over Alex’s
horizon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex’s phone buzzed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex moved so fast that the nervous Italian
Greyhound crashed into her owner’s ankles and he said some name—it sounded like
Casey—cursing the nervous dog. Alex smiled to themself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Sorry, the text read, I couldn’t find my phone.
Just leaving now. Should we forget it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex looked out at the guy and girl under the
tree, muddy now and covered in grass bits, but the guy’s hand between their
bodies, the girl’s legs cocked up. Was she biting his shoulder? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No. Come, Alex texted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex looked up and the guy with the dog was
watching them. He smiled. It was gentle, inviting. Alex smiled back. Nodded.
Turned back to the phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Bring your bag of dicks, Alex wrote. It was a
question, almost. Are we going to fuck? Are we breaking up? Alex texted a
question mark and waited, listening to the monotonous, conflicting rhythms of
the multiple ping-pong games, drifting into memories of playing ping-pong at
Alex’s grandparents house with Alex’s aunt and mother, remembering the joy of
playing, remembering Mom’s skill, thinking about the hours Alex spent playing
with Mom and the hours Alex’s mother and aunt must have played as children,
considering the simplicity of the game and limited variability, considering how
peaceful and safe and pleasing the repetition was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The phone buzzed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">River had texted, Always, with an emoji of a hand,
index finger pointing to the left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The couple under the tree were sitting up now,
soaking wet, the girl laughing, the guy laughing with her. The girl reached
into her backpack and pulled out two tall cans. She handed one to the guy and
they toasted each other or the rain or orgasm and they laughed again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex wondered how many people were watching or had
watched this couple make out, how many people had not said anything about it
because it was two straight people having sex in a park. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">All at once, Alex understood something. Alex
wanted to use—thought that probably River would be thrilled to let Alex to
use—one of River’s cocks to fuck River however and wherever River wanted to be
fucked. Like, wherever as in anywhere location-wise and body-wise. Even from
behind under the tree, even if it meant being seen and being seen as deviant,
monstrous, some violation. Even if it meant being arrested by cops who could
probably beat a couple of queer kids with total impunity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No, Alex thought. No. I am not that tough or
radical or whatever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex wondered, even, if they would have the
courage to tell River what they had fantasized about, that they wanted to wear
one of the cocks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex looked at the phone. Would texting it be the
way? Type it now while Alex maybe had the courage instead of letting the
thought, the hope, get swallowed up by the army of butterflies that gathered in
Alex’s guts when River was around in body or in thought? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex ran their hand through their hair and looked
out at the rain and waited for the next burst of lightning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, ON-Duncan, BC,
July 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence:</b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> Sammie Urquhart<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-67644657955566409702016-07-02T07:22:00.000-04:002016-07-02T07:22:42.406-04:00Might Be<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No, I don’t think so.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You look so familiar. You didn’t go to Pearson
High School?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I am shaking my head, No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Well, here’s a drink anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I don’t drink. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Shit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I’m holding the beer out to you anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I am lifting my hands in the air, my palms towards
you as if to say, What do you expect me to do with that? Then I bring my lower
lip up into my upper lip hard, which I just recently read means I’m pursing my
lips, or some people would say that. I mean, I think this is different because
I know that the skin between my nose and mouth is bulging out and, by the way,
I am actually blinking back tears right now because the reason I do not drink
is that my grandmother and my father and my little sister all have heavy
drinking problems and that brand of beer you are waving at me happens to be
consumed by the case by my family. Not that I am sad about their alcoholism, I
am sort of over it, okay, so I cannot really explain the tears. Maybe you
should just get away from me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I’m lifting my arms up like, Hey, Whoa, Sorry,
Sorry, in each hand a beer dangling from its neck and here comes some guy
looking towards the bar and the crazy mob trying to order and I’m taken with,
like, Christian good will, or maybe it’s despair, or maybe it’s one to fight
the other, and I hand out the beer to him and he’s like, What the fuck? Thanks,
Boss, and he grabs my shoulder and actually he must work out or something
because, Holy fuck, his hand is seriously strong and Ow, Ow, Ow, he’s drunk too
so he’s all off balance and I think he’s trying to hold himself up on me, Shit,
so I’m patting his hand and saying, No problem, and he says, What? because of
the music and maybe his gratitude or surprise, so I say, No problem, again and
then it’s, Ow, Fuck, like he’s trying to climb up on my shoulder so he can put
his ear to my mouth and I twist because, Jesus, the pain, man, and I say, I
said, No problem. He kisses me, then lets me go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You look so surprised that I laugh despite my
alcoholic family. The left half of your face smiles followed shortly by the
right half. Did he go to Pearson? I ask. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Now that’s funny.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Did I hurt your feelings?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No. No. That’s Brian. I dated his younger sister,
Julia, for three weeks. We were in love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Best three weeks of your life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">It was hard when it ended. Actually.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Was Julia your first? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">First breast. First girl I felt up. She had an
inverted nipple on the right side. Every set of nipples I’ve encountered since
have been a disappointment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I have never been felt up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You’re joking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I am. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Why would you do that to me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">What? Joke?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Lie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You lied about Brian. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But not about Julia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I know how much men like to be a woman’s first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I don’t know what to say for a second and I want
to look at your breasts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You’d find these disappointing, though, I say, my
hand tracing and back-tracing a line between right nipple and left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Both normal, then?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Sadly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But your breasts are on the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I lean forward and rest my breasts on the table.
Look at that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You’re a joker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Yes. I will laugh after the first time we have
sex, too, which will be in—I check my watch—less than thirty-six hours. You
will orgasm prematurely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Damn it. I’m sorry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I will not laugh at the orgasm, though, and the
sex will be pretty good—not great, though, never great the first time, not for
me anyway. What will make me laugh is how badly you feel and it will make me
feel, well, grateful that you are considerate, but a little worried that you
may never have the kind of swagger in the bedroom that really turns me on, at
this stage in my life anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You were going to tell me about the first person
who felt you up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Was I?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">If not now, sometime soon. It was traumatic for
you, wasn’t it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Happened at a party in Diane Offson’s basement.
Alex Mansfield did it. Got chip grease all over my shirt and bra. He did not
stop when Diane’s mom turned on the lights and asked, What’s going on down
here? and stood with her hands on her hips looking straight at us. Straight at
me and Alex, who had one hand down the collar of my shirt and the other right
on top of it, his hands working like he was playing with Play-Doh or a stress
ball.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">That doesn’t sound so traumatic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You won’t think so when I tell you, either, and
we’ll fight about it. It’ll be the hottest day of summer and all the city’s
lights will be out, its power down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Hunh. Still, what was traumatic?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I liked Alex, but I didn’t want him feeling me up
at a party in front of my friends and one of my friends’ mothers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Okay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Then I will tell you about when I was in high
school and my friend and I went to a punk show, then crashed at this guy’s
apartment where he forced us to give him blow jobs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And I’ll get that it was rape?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I won’t?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No. It’ll take us having a daughter before you
understand that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I’m sorry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I wish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But then you will ask me—tell me—to straddle your
face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Here it comes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And pretend that I’m forcing you to suck my dick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Yep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And you’ll expect me to understand that even
though some guy raped you, raped in quotation marks, that now you want me to
pretend that I’m doing the same thing that he did because in a different context
it turns you on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Fuck you, quotation marks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I don’t understand that and I’m not sure I will.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You will, but it will be, like, fifteen years from
now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Right, when we have a daughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">That’s right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Could I get you a soft drink?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Right now, I would just like you to go away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But I won’t go away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I’m being annoying, aren’t I? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You’re cute, though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Am I?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And that thing with that guy hanging off you, you
handled that well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">What should we talk about?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">It is super-loud in here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">True. The music’s okay, though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Is it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I love the Pixies. Where else could you dance to
the Pixies? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">The Smashing Pumpkins?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Okay, sure. They’ve got some decent songs, though.
And wouldn’t you rather listen to them than, I don’t know, Usher?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Oh, the DJ’s playing that song by the Roots. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I don’t recognize it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You don’t know this song? With Erykah Badu?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I shake my head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Don’t you listen to music?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I listen to music nearly constantly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">How have you not heard this?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I don’t really listen to the radio? Just albums. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Well, get this one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I will. I’ll be listening to it on the way home
from my grandmother’s funeral, late at night and a little drunk, driving alone
in the dark to my mom’s place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">That will be when we are broken up?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">The first time, yes. And when this song comes on,
I’ll think about how now you interrupt me, whatever I am talking about, and in
a second will walk me to the dance floor, your classic-looking, bold red dress
swaying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I stand up and grab the beer bottle out of your
hand and hand it to someone nearby. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I won’t remember this part.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">He hasn’t touched it, I tell them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Is that true?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You haven’t touched it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I’m too focused on the fact that you are holding
my hand to notice that the person you gave my beer to holds it in front of
their chest for a few seconds before they lift it to the light to see where the
beer comes up to—how much beer is in the bottle, you know? Am I saying that
right? They’ll check to see that no one has taken a drink then shrug to their
friend who will make an I-don’t-know face. They’ll smell the mouth of the beer
bottle as if it would smell like my mouth or like anything other than—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Here’s the chorus. I love the chorus. I put myself
in front of you and place your hand on that soft, concave stretch between my
hip and my rib cage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And hold my other hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I sing along with Erykah.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I am close enough to hear that you have a
beautiful voice, or to think that I hear that you have a beautiful voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">My voice is not beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Come on. Hey, don’t stop singing. I like the
feeling of your breath through my shirt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Even though it’s so hot in here?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And the sound of your voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I put my head against your chest. Is that better
than my breath?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">My heart is beating too hard and too fast. I. It’s
like. I’m embarrassed like a teenager dancing with a boner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Don’t ruin this by being crass. The force of your
heart is like a miracle. I worry that you maybe have a problem, but the rhythm
is regular and strong. There is nothing wrong with your heart the organ.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But my figurative heart?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Over the next few years you will have trouble committing
to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">That’s true. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And the story you will tell about it—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Story? You think I’m lying?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No. But in a few years, I will read Thomas King’s <i>The
Truth About Stories</i></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> and his
phrase, The truth about stories is that that’s all we are, will really influence
how I talk about—how I think about—truth in quotation marks or the way we tell
truths about ourselves to other people. Your story, your truth about why you
have trouble is related to your parents and their divorce.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">It was hard on me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I know. And it will explain and be used to excuse
your coldness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I don’t know if—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Shh, here’s the chorus again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You sing against my chest and the vibrations are
gorgeous. It reminds me of being a child, before my parents were divorced and
they would have people over and I would hear my father’s and mother’s voices as
vibrations, their words unclear, but their feelings and their identity somehow
clearer without the confusion of words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Like they were singing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">When we have children and we start visiting with
friends after our children have gone to bed, I will wonder if they hear us
talking and singing the same way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><i>Baby don’t worry, you know that you’ve got
me-ee.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">When she’s a teenager, our oldest daughter will
tell me she hates my voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And you will not speak to her for a week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Which will make a point.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But be deeply irritating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Why for you? I won’t understand that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Because what kind of example will that set?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Can’t my feelings be hurt?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Obviously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Let’s talk about something else. Like, when do we
start dreaming all the false dreams? All the lovely fantasies?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Well, the song ends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">With that fantastic fast drumming by Questlove.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">You will make some comment about “Stairway to
Heaven” and school dances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And you’ll laugh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I will introduce you to the friends I came with
and you will introduce me to the guys you came with, but mostly we will sit on
two stools we will be lucky enough to find free and we will talk over the music
until our throats are sore. I will tell you what I do—work in a library, study
book history and religion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But not theology. Like, you aren’t becoming a
minister or priest or whatever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No. And you will tell me what you do—work in an
art supply store. Play in a band. We will go get falafel across the street with
the friends I came with so they can make sure that you are okay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I’m fine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">An okay person. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Oh, right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And not too drunk to be sensible and kind. We will
fool around at my apartment until sunrise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But we won’t have sex—I’m not complaining. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">No we will not have sex, not until the second time
we see each other, which is soon anyway, and then a few times every day for a
week or more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And you will come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Plenty of times. But tomorrow morning, when our
lips are sore and we are tired but exhilarated, you will tell me that you want
to move to the country and raise peafowl and many children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">We’ll have four kids. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">But no house in the country. And no peafowl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Those are lovely fantasies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">They could be lovely realities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">What about what happens long term? Like the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Death? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">So the end of us is when one of us dies?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Do we have to talk about this?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I guess not. But that’s pretty cool. Impressive, I
mean. Like, that’s commitment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Yes, it is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">We should be grateful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I am grateful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I am too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I will be sad when it happens. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Wait, sad to leave or sad that I’m leaving?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">We said we weren’t going to talk about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Not now. Let’s just enjoy the song. Here’s the
chorus again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I love you. I will love you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">And I will love you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">What if none of this happens?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">That’s possible, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Toronto, June-July 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;"><b>Emoji sequence: </b>Erin Tee of <a href="https://www.etsy.com/ca/listing/203076266/big-brother-big-sister-big-sis-big-bro">Kappamaki Design</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Garamond;"><b>Story: </b>Lee Sheppard</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-45339720588420140982016-06-25T05:49:00.000-04:002016-10-28T06:02:51.151-04:00Behind This Door<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward had been lying there, awake. From his hotel room, he could
see the clouds getting lighter behind the Cathedral of St. Mary of The
Assumption up on Gough and he felt he finally had permission to get out of bed.
He was here to have a break from the problems that seemed to be the air he
breathed back home. So far, that only worked during the day. During his waking
hours, he should say. Ward’s sleep was still being interrupted by repetitive,
persistent dreams about his ex and his children and his new, almost completely empty
house, which he rented from a lovely, possibly single, former colleague. He
hated clichés like, “Wherever you go, there you are,” but there it was and that
was probably the best way to explain what was going on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He got dressed, a sweater for San Francisco’s
summer chill, new blue jeans that fit fashionably, if somewhat uncomfortably.
His thighs hurt from walking something like—what was it Google Maps said? 20
km? He’d seen the Mission District, Dolores Park, Haight Street, Amoeba Music,
Golden Gate Park, the Pacific Ocean. Ward had worn new shoes, not wanting to
walk around this cool city in his sensible sneakers. His desperately red high-top
Chuck Taylors were likely amongst the worst possible shoes for epic strolls.
Not that he had actually intended to walk so far when he’d set out. Still, he
had known he would be walking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward sat on the bed and put on his walking shoes.
If feet could sigh relief, could sigh at all, they would have let out a long
exhale, maybe even choked back some tears, as they were embraced by their old,
uncool friends. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He threw his copy of David Simon’s <i>Homicide</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">, a notebook and a pen into his World Famous
canvas shoulder bag. He’d found it at the bottom of a box with an old rotary
phone, some drawing pens, a Gumby figurine and various other old shit when he
was moving out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In front of the mirror, Ward stopped. He adjusted
his shoulder bag. He looked at himself and tried see himself as handsome. He
needed a haircut.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The hotel was nice enough, but it wasn’t a place
Ward could really make his own, a place anyone could make their own, he didn’t
imagine. It was in the Japanese neighbourhood and its décor was “Japanese”—like
an ink drawing of a horse instead of the standard issue hotel flower
painting—and the tub in Ward’s en suite was exotically deep. Perfectly cool,
perfectly ventilated, nearly scentless, clean, the hotel was to a home like a
mannequin was to a person. Even dressed up like a bedroom or a bathroom, even a
Japanese bedroom or bathroom, a hotel room maintained a mannequin’s stiff
flatness. That dramatic uprightness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The hallway reminded Ward of his ex—behind each
door was one of the lives without him he had dreamed about over the last
months. On the carpet, there was a room-service tray. Finger- and lip-smudged
champagne flutes stood awkwardly beside a stainless steel ice bucket and an
open, presumably empty bottle. The elevator was free of people, but in the
lobby, some of the housekeeping staff had started their work. They all wished
Ward a good morning and he thanked them or wished them a good morning or
nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Outside, the cold air startled him back into his
body. His legs ached properly, like fit, healthy legs that had walked a long
way. His feet felt okay. Ward blew his nose into his handkerchief. It was one his
ex bought him before they’d had kids, a Japanese wave pattern, actually. Ward
put it back in his pocket and breathed a deep lungful of July in San Francisco.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When he turned north on Fillmore, Ward starting
singing Pavement’s “Fillmore Jive” to himself. Ward looked at himself in a
store window. When Stephen Malkmus wrote the song he was years younger than
Ward was that morning. Ward walked on, and even though something at the heart
of “Fillmore Jive” was heavy it warmed his vocal chords and soothed his hurts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was his second morning at the coffee shop, his
second morning being greeted by the brash synthesized chimes triggered by the
door. He checked the time on his phone. Yesterday he had been an hour later and
showered when he arrived. The girl was working again, though. Her dark hair and
tan skin offset her light green eyes in that way, like the National Geographic
cover girl. This girl, the one in the coffee shop, wasn’t a girl. Maybe she was
the daughter of the man whom because of his work ethic and impatience Ward
assumed owned the shop, and whom because of the small red and white flag with
the cedar tree protruding from behind the flat screen TV mounted in the corner
of the room Ward assumed was Lebanese.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Americano, please?” Ward asked the woman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?” she said. She looked confused. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Um, an Americano. You have espresso drinks,
right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She waved her palm at Ward and turned. She pressed
her fingers against her ear. “Yes? I’m sorry,” she said, facing away. Ward
noticed the white, kinked wire interrupting her jaw line, brushing against an
exposed bit of collarbone and disappearing into the valley between her breasts.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The man who might be the owner came over and said,
“Yes.” He was clearly annoyed, but obviously not with Ward. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The woman disappeared into the back through an
open doorway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward ordered his Americano again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The screaming synthesizer’s attempt at chimes,
made the man look towards the door. The man smiled. “Hello.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Walking up to the counter with an ease that seemed
both subconscious and studied was a slender black man in grey slacks and a blue
shirt with an open collar. He smiled and nodded. “Adnan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“My friend.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward mouthed the word “Hi,” and nodded when the
black man made eye contact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Good morning.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adnan, the probable owner, called “Haifa,” and in
a few seconds another, equally lovely woman, this one younger, maybe young
enough to be called a girl still, came out from the open doorway, sticking a
pencil into a hasty bun at the back of her head. “Yes?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Americano for this gentleman,” Adnan told her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll have one, too,” the black man said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hi Richard,” Haifa said to the black man. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Good morning, Haifa.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You’re early today,” she said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah. Got some paper work I need to finish up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward ignored the conversation. He let himself fall
in love with the ease with which Haifa worked the hissing and groaning espresso
machine, with the way the stray hairs bounced around the pencil’s well-worn
eraser, with the indents of her underthings in her soft flesh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes, excuse me, sir,” Adnan said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward felt a tap at his elbow. It was Richard. He
pointed towards Adnan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That will be two fifty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh sure, of course.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">By the time Ward had paid, Haifa had his order up
and he no longer had an excuse to stand at the counter and watch her work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward’s Amerciano was in a disposable cup with a
paper sleeve. He’d forgotten to tell Adnan that he was going to be drinking his
coffee here. Ward felt hurt. The disposable cup seemed to be suggesting that he
leave. Looking at all the free seats, looking at the table he sat at yesterday,
Ward considered turning around and asking for a ceramic cup or just walking out
the door and into the morning cold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He sat down, pulled out his notebook and his pen
and set them beside his coffee on the table. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward grabbed his phone. He checked the weather,
then, force of habit, went to Instagram. He had some small data allowance here,
had paid his service provider for it, but was wary of overusing so he looked up
at the counter. Adnan had disappeared and Haifa was standing, holding a large
remote control up towards the TV, trying to find the angle that would make its
signal effective. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Excuse me,” Ward said a little louder than he
would have liked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Haifa stuck the tip of her tongue out between her
teeth as she aimed the remote again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward stood up and took a few steps towards her,
holding his phone out. “Excuse me. Haifa?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She turned, surprised to hear her name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I heard that other customer, Richard, and your,
well, the man who works here, they both called you Haifa.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She nearly laughed and it wasn’t mocking, it was
kind and open and shining. Toothpaste commercial sparking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward shook his head to remind himself that he had
a purpose. “Do you,” he held up his phone, “do you have wi-fi I could use?
Wi-fi for customers?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“KM Café Guest.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Our wi-fi is called ‘KM Café Guest.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh. Right. Thanks. Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward sat back down and started scrolling through
Instagram, his mind empting to make room for pictures of the books his friends
were reading, dog and cat pictures, articles by his friends, articles about his
friends, the places his friends were if it was away from home, selfies. He
paused at a picture of a young woman he used to work with holding a clear,
empty liquor bottle against her bare breasts. When Adnan called Haifa, Ward
scrolled past the breast picture, wondered how long he’d stared at it. A few
pictures down his feed was an image of his wife, his ex, sunglasses he’d never
seen sitting on a sun brightened white tablecloth, her hands crossed and a very
particular smile on her face that he recognized, but hadn’t seen in years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It had been her idea that they each take a trip.
She’d been the first to go. Ten days to Greece. Ward’s ex-mother-in-law had
taken the kids for a night at the beginning of the trip and a night at the end,
but the seven days he’d single-parented, planned and executed meals, made sure
Alex and Liz were clean and dressed and at school on time or in bed or wherever
they needed to be had made him realize that whatever it was that had chased
Laura from their marriage had to be substantial enough, deep enough, propped up
by enough conviction that she chose to live like this, the exclusive caregiver
for two powerfully needy humans, all week each week except for a few hours on
Wednesday nights and every other weekend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura had told him where she was going, but not
that she was going with anyone and he hadn’t asked. Who was taking the picture?
Ward knew Laura’s girlfriends and unless something had changed drastically
between her and one of them, this was not a smile for a girlfriend, Laura’s
eyes too narrow, too encroached on by facially manifested joy, joy, joy. Good
God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward dropped his phone like it was hot. Not Snoop
Dogg and Pharrell “Drop It Like It’s Hot,” though. More like X-files. Like some
alien spirit had zapped into and nearly melted his cellular device, some alien
spirit that could create a present in which Ward doesn’t exist or maybe never
existed. He felt sick. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He felt like Laura was getting laid and he wasn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Despite his shaking hands, Ward sipped his coffee.
He was walking down that hotel hallway of possible futures and one of the doors
had opened a crack. It wasn’t the door that led to the kiss-and-make-up future
Ward realized he was holding out for. He focused on his breath, his eyes closed.
Deep inhale. No, deeper. Ward’s ribs seemed to be hugging him, but he just
wanted air, as much air as he could get. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Fuck it, fuck it. Meditating wasn’t supposed to
make you feel claustrophobic, suffocating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Coffee was the answer. He took another sip. Maybe
he should stop. Could his heart handle it? He let some breath out and that made
a difference. Had he been holding his breath? No. No way. Impossible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He opened his notebook to a blank page. Picked up
the pen. Took the cap off, put the cap back on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Write, but write what?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Maybe his coffee could tell him. Ward took another
sip and when he set the cup down the paper sleeve slipped. A red organic shape
cut with wrinkles caught his eye. He lifted the cup out of the sleeve and saw
the lip print in its entirety. Behind the counter, Haifa was checking something
on her phone. Maybe sensing Ward’s gaze, she turned towards him. Haifa raised
her eyebrows, opened her eyes wide. She was wearing lipstick. It was red. Was
it the same colour as what was on his cup? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Maybe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Could there be another explanation? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">So, Ward would find out when Haifa finished work
today. If she had no plans maybe she would show him her favourite neighbourhood
places? They would grab a lunch or a late lunch or a dinner of tacos or sushi
or burgers or Indian food or falafel. Maybe she had a cousin or something who
had a falafel place. But falafels at her cousin’s shop would be later, a few
days from now, after they had kissed on the sloping grass of some hillside park
overlooking a playground and the Bay, after they had made love in his hotel
room. Today she wouldn’t be sure about her father and sister knowing, would
want it to be a secret, would want to keep Ward for herself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">But how would he go up and talk to her? What would
he say?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Take the cup up. Hold it out. Smile. She was alone
now. If he waited, Adnan might be there and she might be embarrassed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">How old was she? What were the laws here? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward picked up his phone and unlocked it.
Instagram was still open on the picture of his wife, but this cup with this
lipstick print, with Haifa’s lipstick print, had shielded him from the full
force of Laura’s photo. He hit the home icon and Instagram raced to the top of
his feed where he saw someone’s photograph of raindrops on a flower. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What would he search for? Legal age California. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He looked at Haifa. She raised her jade eyes to
the TV screen then back to her phone without looking at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She was in her early twenties, Ward figured. Home
from a year at University. College, people called it in the U.S. Or Caw-lidge.
Would she tell him about her studies? Medicine or Women’s Studies. Semiotics.
Literature. Law. International Development. Would they have better things to
talk about? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Would they laugh? Of course. But about what?
Ward’s try-hard red Converse. Ward’s long walk yesterday. Ward’s kids? Would
that scare her?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He closed his notebook and drained the last sips
of coffee. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He looked at the cup for a few beats, then back up
at Haifa. She still wasn’t looking at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward stood up, threw his notebook and pen and
novel back into his World Famous bag and lifted the cup to his lips like there
was still coffee in it, just for the extra seconds it bought him. Why was he
standing? Maybe just to be a tall presence in the space that Haifa couldn’t ignore?
Could ignore. Was ignoring. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The screaming synth chimes announced Haifa’s next
customer, a man, a young man in a trench coat with pronounced facial bones,
skin that looked parchment-thin and thick lips. He reminded Ward of the son
from one of those <i>New Yorker </i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">back
cover watch ads that sells the timepiece as a legacy for future generations.
Haifa stared at her phone for a beat, then up at the news program. Adnan
worried out of the back of the store and greeted the young model man. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward sat back down, clutching his empty cup with
the kiss print. He took another empty sip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The model man ordered a latte, which Ward figured
made some sort of sense. While Adnan took model man’s money, Haifa went to the
espresso machine and started it whirring and hissing and groaning. To be
friendly, Adnan made some comment about the weather and the model man looked at
the floor, said, “Yep,” and pulled the trench coat back so he could jam his
fingertips up to the big knuckles into the pockets of his black skinny jeans. Haifa
glanced at the model man, her cheeks and mouth barely containing her laugh, as
if model man’s rudeness was just the cleverist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adnan thanked model man then disappeared into the
back again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“How are you today?” model man asked Haifa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She said she was fine, thank you, and asked how he
was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m very fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Haifa set his latte on the counter without a
sleeve, lipstick mark facing out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Well,” model man said, tilting his head to make a
show of noticing the lipstick mark. “Thank you,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward looked at his own cup. The print was
different, but only slightly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s on all the cups,” Haifa said, picking up her
phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh,” the model man said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Welcome to the Kiss Me Café.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That’s—” model man laughed. “I like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You don’t spend hours a week kissing cups.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Do you?” model man asked. “Do you do that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Me and my sister.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward sat for a minute more, feeling the gentle
weight of his books against his side, feeling his back and buttocks pressing
into the seat. Tired. He was tired. For years he had imagined opportunities
with women other than Laura, but it had been more than fifteen years since they
had been opportunities he could act on, and this fact was how he explained to
himself the feeling of relief that soaked his organs and muscles and bones, relief
that Haifa, the lovely, too-young stranger who made his Americano, had not made
an advance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ward knew that if he could stand up, walk out of
here, get back to his hotel and wander down that generic hallway without
imposing any figurative meaning on it that he would be able to crawl back into
bed and despite the coffee get back to sleep, even if only for an hour or two. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, June 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji Sequence:</b> Fiona Laviolette</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b>Lee Sheppard</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-78867071980474869382016-06-12T06:39:00.000-04:002016-10-04T05:52:18.937-04:00Your Place In The World<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It’s the morning of your birthday, the first
birthday you’ve ever spent without your mother—not because she’s dead, she’s
too proud for that—but because the week of your birthday happened to be the
only week your partner’s family, dispersed now across Canada, could meet up at
the family home on Vancouver Island. You have made it down the wide, creaking
staircase without waking any child, you have crossed the hallway, littered with
shoes and sleeping dogs, without stumbling or stepping on anything that barks,
you have entered the kitchen and closed the door and are walking towards the
kettle and the French press when a pain in your foot collapses your leg and you
curse, which wakes Brandy, your brother-in-law David’s deeply compassionate
golden retriever-German shepherd mix, who scrambles up, her nails scraping the
hallway floor, which wakes Harold, your sister-in-law Stephanie’s boneheaded
boxer who barks and whips his head around desperately to try and figure out
why, why, why he is barking. “Oh, shut up,” you say, your voice an eerie
emulation of your father, though you make this observation so quickly that it
slips through the net of your memory of the event and swims back into the sea
of your subconscious. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A toy unicorn. Someone’s fucking toy unicorn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And now someone is crying. Harold has stopped
barking but he and Brandy seem desperate to go upstairs to help. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In the moment it takes you to figure out if it is
your youngest daughter or your youngest niece crying, you toss the unicorn
towards the living room then see your brother-in-law Stan asleep under a nylon
sleeping bag and glistening with sweat. The unicorn hits him near his feet. It
slips sibilantly off the sleeping bag, bounces from the couch and thumps
against the floor. Stan rolls over mumbling something about stupid dogs and
covers his head with a throw pillow that you can’t tell for sure in the dark
but you think may have a Popsicle stick stuck to its coarse fabric.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It is your daughter. The crying is your daughter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">So you tell the dogs to “stay” and charge upstairs
as fast as your tiptoes can carry you up the creaking stairs. When you see your
youngest daughter, Erica, standing against the netting of the Pack ’n Play, you
know that all hope of a quiet, private morning has vanished. Still, you are
whispering that you are there, that it is okay, that she should, shhh, just go
back to sleep. Erica is quiet when your partner comes in bleary eyed and sees
you standing there. “Oh, okay,” your partner says and Erica gets excited and
reaches for her mother. “Hi,” your partner says. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your oldest daughter whimpers then and you wave
your partner away in a way that you know she finds rude. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She scowls. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You pick Erica up and shake your head at a pace
that says, I can’t fucking believe it, it’s five-thirty and I got up to avoid
all this shit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your partner says, “I can get up,” and you flick
your head quickly, No. “Why don’t you go back to bed?” she suggests. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You press your finger to your lip, telling her to
shhh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Stop it,” she says, like you’re one of the dogs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You hold your hand out, palm down, your way of
silently saying, Relax. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You are driving your partner crazy. “Okay, I got
it. You don’t want to be here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Good morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Happy birthday,” she says as she turns and heads
back to bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You manage to get out of the bedroom and down the
stairs again. Erica says, “Dogs,” as you cross through the hall. Brandy raises
her head. “Don’t even think about it,” you say and feel badly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You start the kettle and hand Erica a piece of
banana which she seems more interested in mashing against things or seeing how
much dirt she can cause to adhere to than eating. Then, as you are measuring
out the coffee, she throws the banana and starts shouting for yogurt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Stan over on the couch mutters something. Erica
gets scared and she starts crying. You take her out onto the porch, and the
sound of that, probably specifically the sound of the suction on the outer
door, the sticky snapping open and the woosh of air that makes any closed door
rattle against its latch—or maybe whatever enticing smells flood the house—gets
the dogs shuffling around, agitated, and vocalizing. You can’t be bothered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It is cool outside and your hands go immediately
cold. Your ears, too. Erica isn’t satisfied playing with the Rubbermaid bin of
toys on the porch and wants to walk on the lawn with its human-scale dog feces,
which is so much harder to see in the dim early morning light. You do that for
a few minutes, startling the sleepy, slow flies from their shit-beds, or their
shit-meals or whatever shit thing they are doing and sending them buzzing
lazily in the air before you spot your stroller hanging from a large coat hook
on the outside of the house where you hung it so whichever of the neighbourhood
cats wouldn’t piss on it again. You grab Erica from under her arms and she
laughs like she thinks you are playing. “Let’s go for a walk,” you say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You go inside to grab a sweater for you and a
sweater for her and you pause by the kitchen counter to consider making that
coffee, but as soon as you do, Erica starts to strain towards the door, her arm
reaching and saying, “Walk, want walk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You go into the room you and your partner are
staying in and set Erica down in the nook created by your partner’s fetal
positioning. Your partner say, “Hunh?” and you whisper, “Watch her for a sec.,
I’m just gonna grab us sweaters.” Your partner says, “Sweaters?” like you are
crazy, possibly dangerously, and you say, “Yes. Sweaters.” She asks you what
your problem is. You don’t answer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You are ninja-quiet going into the room where
Erica’s older sister, Virginia, is mercifully, probably delicately, still
asleep. Out the open window a motorcycle screams by—it sounds like it's racing
along the sill—but Virginia doesn’t even sigh. Then, suddenly, you are worried
that she’s dead and you watch her chest for a minute to make sure that it is
still rising and falling rhythmically. It is. You leave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You walk into town. Erica is singing. The birds,
too. The coffee shop that you love, a bastion of familiar coffee options and
near-familiar feeling, is closed at this hour, which shouldn’t surprise you,
you know. Shouldn’t upset you. Tim Hortons is open and you go there and order
the dark roast coffee you scoffed at the ads for. You buy Erica a donut. The
feeling in Tim’s is familiar too, from your youth, and if the tables and colour
schemes have changed in the last thirty-years they have been changed with a
delicacy and care that intends to escape your notice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What is different is the clientele here on the
Island, in Duncan, at six on a Saturday morning. The erasure and assimilation
project so central to Canadian colonialism isn’t as far along here, will
hopefully never get so far here as it has in the Greater Toronto Area. There
are, you take pains to acknowledge, a woman your age with a stethoscope around
her neck, its black rubber wrapped in beautiful, colourful beadwork and an
older Native couple at a table by the front window having a quiet breakfast and
conversation, the man’s hair carefully combed—slicked—and the woman smiling
warmly at Erica when they spot each other. But there is also a woman who seems
to be at the tail end of a substance-hammered night clutching at her
extra-large coffee like it’s the only buoyant thing in her sea of suffering.
There is a man with large, vicious looking scabs coming out of the bathroom who
makes eye contact with you and offers a grin with gaps, maybe fresh. You nod,
possibly imperceptibly, and say, “Hi,” with too little breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A maybe twelve-year old boy with black hair and a
No Fear shirt opens the door to enter, spots you trying to leave and tells his
siblings to, “Wait, guys,” and you thank him as you navigate Erica’s stroller
out the door trying desperately not to spill your coffee. For whatever reasons,
you apologize to the people you presume are the boy’s parents as you scuttle
past them on the sidewalk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
cross the highway and walk towards the river. Any time you slow down or start
pushing the stroller with one hand and it arcs as a result, Erica says, “Go,
go, go,” and jerks her body forward and back, her head slamming the back rest.
This means that you drink much less of your coffee than you would like. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Before the bridge, you push the stroller off the
sidewalk and down a path of flattened grass that allows you to avoid the stairs
leading to the gravel walkway running parallel to the Cowichan River. The
gravel is much harder on the stroller’s wheels and you are actually stopped a
few times before you curse and give up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Erica is saying, “Out, out, out,” and you are
telling her to just hold on. It is hard to find a spot on the ground where you
feel confident that you can set your coffee down and it won’t tip over. You
decide to put it on the edge of the path a few feet away. Erica is rocking
forward and back again as you approach to unbuckle her. As soon as you set her
feet on the ground, she races down the slight incline to the tall plants that
create a barrier between the path and the river. You tell her to hold on as you
grab your coffee and with one hand swing the stroller onto the grass. You have
to tell yourself to relax, and you do tell yourself. The river’s long monologue
is audible in between the sound of trucks passing over the bridge on the
highway. Erica is happily running with her hand out, sweeping the long grasses.
The coffee is starting to work. The wind is playing ventriloquist with the
leaves on the trees and the sun is drawing elongated images of houses and trees
east of the path. You can feel the day cooling off your heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">But Erica has disappeared. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You look back along the path towards the highway.
You squint. You call, “Erica?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She squeals from somewhere beyond the wall of
plants. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your coffee rocking and splashing out from the
hole you tore in the lid and landing burning on your hand, barely registers
against the hot humming panic animating your body, yet some corner of your mind
manages to tell your left hand to grab the cup so your right hand can grasp it
from the top, your fingers free of the splashing, burning beverage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Erica?” you call again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She laughs again and bursts out of the grasses
running on stiff legs and waving a pair of jean shorts in the air. You laugh
relief, then surprise because where’d she get a pair of jean shorts. Now the
pain of the coffee on your hand forces a, “Fuck!” and you again grab the cup
with your left hand, this time more consciously, and flick your right hand as
if that’s a way to get rid of the pain. Erica drops the jean shorts and runs
back towards what you see is a concave dirt rut cut by use through the tall plants.
“Where are you going?” you say and her hands and eyebrows leap up and she
screams like you are playing a game with her now. “Erica!” you shout. She
shudders with surprise, falls onto her diaper-padded bum and begins to cry.
Certain now that she won’t go any where, you walk over to inspect the jean
shorts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They are cut to the edge of the back pocket, short
enough that the thin, light blue front pockets would hang below their frayed
hem. Through one leg hole you can see a pink, frilly fringe and a pattern of
tiny black and yellow bees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You put your burnt, throbbing right hand into your
pocket, pull out your phone and take a picture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Squatting, you pick Erica up with one arm and she
rests her snotty, tear-streaked face against your shoulder. You walk her down
the path. A few steps towards the Cowichan and the riverside plants already
reach past your head. You see a depression that looks like a deer bed. “Is this
where you found those shorts,” you ask Erica. She lifts her head and looks, but
says nothing. “Is this where you grabbed those jeans?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Jeans,” Erica says. She buries her wet, warm face
in your neck and laughs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Curiosity walks you to the riverbank, raised and
clear here. There is a path down to a rocky, shallow pool. Though called a
river, the Cowichan is closer in size to the creeks you know from southern
Ontario and there is something about it that makes you feel like you are home,
reminds you of bike rides with your mother, Sunday drives with your
grandparents, exploring with your father. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Near the water’s edge you notice a twelve pack of
Labatt Ice—the box anyway—a clutter of brown empties visible through the torn
top. Beside the box is a bottle on its side half in the water, rocking
slightly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">As you walk back to the stroller sipping coffee,
your brain writes stories. It is the need to account for the women’s underwear
still in the jean shorts that seems to push each ending to an unhappy
place—drunk, bottomless swim leads to drowning; sex in the grass followed with
a hasty bottomless departure. You buckle Erica in and wonder if you missed a
body bobbing around some bend in the river, or a used condom hanging off some
tall riverside plant like the limp pupa of a monstrous butterfly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The sound of a car door slamming means nothing to
you until you see a beautiful girl, obviously tired, obviously upset, walk to
the edge of the wall of plants then along it, head turned towards the hidden,
monologuing Cowichan. She is wearing a long, white shirt with some sparkling
design. She stops and takes a few steps down a path like the one you so
recently emerged from, but before she disappears you notice that the back of
her shirt has some sort of plant matter clinging to it. When she returns from
down the path, you notice her breasts rocking rhythmlessly as she trots along
the edge of the plant wall. You turn your head forward, conscious of staring,
and you see an older woman—possibly her mother—watching the girl. There is a
cluster of keys and tchotchke key chains bouncing from the middle finger of the
older woman’s impatient left hand. “Found them,” you hear the girl shout, her
voice tired, but relieved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay,” the older woman shouts, too loud for how
close you and Erica are. She smiles nearly apologetically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You nod.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Let’s go,” the older woman shouts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The girl shouts back, “I’m coming.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A hundred meters down the street, they speed past
you in an old Ford Focus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Back at your in-laws’ place, your partner and
Virginia are up and they both wish you a happy birthday. David is sitting in a
low lawn-chair, Brandy lying at his feet. David wishes you a happy birthday,
too, then sips his coffee. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your partner asks how you are. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You smile too wide and hold up your right hand,
your thumb and index finger forming a circle. “Perfect,” you say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your partner suggests that maybe you go off on
your own today, like go for a walk or go sit in a coffee shop and read or
something. You want to tell her about the girl and the beer and the jean shorts
and the underwear, but don’t know what you would say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Virginia runs up to you and smash-hugs your
thighs. “Daddy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She holds up the unicorn that you stepped on and
tossed accidentally at her Uncle Stan. “It moved,” she says. “It’s magic.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">That makes you laugh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?” she asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your partner explains that Virginia remembers leaving
it “set up” in the kitchen and that when they woke, it was on the coffee table
by where Uncle Stan was sleeping. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Uncle Stan comes outside, trailing two of David’s
kids. Virginia gets quickly distracted. Stan wishes you a happy birthday, then
sits down and starts telling David about a dirt bike engine he’s trying to
re-build. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Erica is chasing some cousins around and
squealing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You ask your partner if she’s good, if you can go
have a shower. She says yes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You say good morning to your mother-in-law who’s
making another French press of coffee in the kitchen. She asks you if you want
a cup. You tell her yes, when you are out of the shower you would love a cup.
She makes a face before saying, “I’ll just make a fresh batch then,” because
both of you know that there will be no coffee left five minutes from now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It takes David’s wife, Lisa, wishing you a happy
birthday to remind your mother-in-law of the day’s significance. She
apologizes, wishes you a happy birthday then apologizes again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In the shower, you think about the girl and now
that you know she is safe you feel permission to make the story positive. Sexy.
You can imagine the riverside plants all around you, under your bare knees. The
sound of the water going down the drain is the murmur of the Cowichan, the warm
water the warmth of another body pressed willingly, thrillingly against your
own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It is only after the shower, hearing your
daughters’ voices through the open window that you imagine yourself the jean
short girl’s mother. Despite the guilt that the thought brings, you still
resolve that tonight you will suggest to your partner a walk down by the river.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">As you are getting dressed, your partner and
children come upstairs to the room you are staying in. Virginia and your
partner give you cards. Your partner hands Erica a package and the girl nearly
gets it to you before she drops it on the ground and starts tearing at the
tissue paper. Your partner tries to stop her, but you say it is okay and you
get down on the floor and unwrap the gift with Erica’s help. It is a
short-sleeved chambray shirt. You put it on. You thank your partner and she
hugs you and kisses you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">All morning, your partner’s family compliments you
on your new shirt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">After lunch, you call your mother. She wishes you
a happy birthday and tells you that since she woke up this morning she has
wanted to call you, but she wasn’t sure when she should call because of the
time difference and because she knows it can be busy at your in-laws’ place.
She asks you how you are doing and you tell her about waking up to be alone and
about the dogs and Erica and the unicorn toy that you threw and that now
Virginia thinks is actually magic. Your mother tells you she misses you, but
that she understands. She tells you how proud she is of you. She tells you how
important you are to her and how when you were born she finally understood her
place in the world. You know what she means. You have heard it before. You tell
her thank you, because you appreciate it. You tell her about Erica disappearing
in the grass by the river and the horrible flood of fear. Your mother tells you
that once she lost sight of you at the CNE and that it was only a few seconds
before she found you and picked you up so quickly and with such loving force
that you cried, but for those few seconds she felt— She can’t find a word. You
picture the midway at the Ex: all the metal amusements, all their moving parts,
all the people. “I can’t imagine,” you say, which is obviously not true, but
you don’t bother to correct yourself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You spend the afternoon with your partner’s family
at a provincial park along the river. People are going down some small rapids
on one of two yellow, inflatable mattresses. Virginia and you go too and the
first time Virginia screams and cries, but when you reach the end of your run
she says she wants to go again, so you do, many times. You collect stones at a
gentle bend fifty meters up river. Erica naps under a small nylon structure
that David and Lisa brought, then, when she wakes up she sits in a shallow pool
with her grandmother and your partner. Your partner looks good in her bathing
suit and you notice, but you have to think about other things. Three times you
get up to go pee in the woods, each time walking further down a small path and
scanning the bushes for deer beds and discarded clothes. As you are leaving the
park, Virginia has a tantrum about a hardboiled egg that she has thrown in the
sand and still wants to eat. There are no more hardboiled eggs. She says she
hates you and you hug her and she tells you to let her go, that you are hurting
her. In the car on the way back to your in-laws’ house, your partner tells
Virginia that when she shouts like that you and your partner worry that the
Child Services or Children’s Aid will come and take her away. You watch the
sunlight flickering between the cedar trees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">After your girls have gone to bed, after dinner,
your partner’s family surprises you with a cake. You thank them. Some people
give you cards, the card from your mother- and father-in-law has a cheque for
one hundred dollars. You thank them. Your father-in-law makes coffee and offers
a cup to anyone who is interested. You consider it, briefly. Everyone eats
their cake and you eat your cake, but you are waiting for an opportunity to ask
your partner to go on a walk with you, but your partner, who misses her family
for the eleven and a half months that you spend halfway across this massive
country from them, is engaged in a conversation with her sister and you just
don’t have the patience to wait. You stand up and announce that you are going
for a walk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Do you want me to come with you?” your partner
asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s up to you,” you say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Maybe you’d like some time to yourself,” she
says. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Sure,” you say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll come,” she says. The kitchen is quiet and her
whole family is listening, because they can’t help it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No,” you say. “It’s okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You stand for a second at the curb out front of
your in-laws’ house. You are lonely and angry. Plus, your mind is constructing
violent, fearful, racist narratives now. Some tricked out Honda Civic with a
muffler modification rips past and your exhausted body shudders. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You go back up the walk to the house, stop at the
threshold and, looking down at your shoes like you need to look down at them as
you take them off, you say, “You know what? Fuck the walk. I’m beat.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You’re going to bed?” your partner asks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah,” you say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Everyone wishes you a good night, then Lisa
remembers to wish you a final happy birthday and everyone follows suit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“See you in the morning,” you say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You ascend the creaking stairs and prepare
yourself to sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, June 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence:</b> Kat Armstrong</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story:</b> Lee Sheppard</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-34799640409697690162016-05-20T06:31:00.000-04:002016-12-17T05:20:12.579-05:00Shining<!--[if !mso]>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgC82BIZTparDIAGcqCAfUe3Nd8vxXTIsjEsYWrOdkdb14m1wWWW6UPo231ypoMEHaJlihGsFDx5epXHn-7xIbVggnLMWcQXJv55bydFHGecNth2jWu3dKMXh6bu6qcC3xaWMzbC5-kQ/s1600/Mum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgC82BIZTparDIAGcqCAfUe3Nd8vxXTIsjEsYWrOdkdb14m1wWWW6UPo231ypoMEHaJlihGsFDx5epXHn-7xIbVggnLMWcQXJv55bydFHGecNth2jWu3dKMXh6bu6qcC3xaWMzbC5-kQ/s1600/Mum.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They’d met in primary school. Lisa liked Jens’s
smile and his blond and twisted hair looked to her like the fur between her
yellow Labrador retriever Tina’s shoulders. Jens thought Lisa’s skin was like
bread crust or one of those new things Mom was buying from Tim Horton’s—cross
aunts he called them. Or cwah-sawnts. Under the slide once, Jens put Lisa’s
forearm into his mouth to see if it tasted baked. He couldn’t remember the
flavour, but years later he would recall the sound of her laugh when she pulled
her arm away and the way that her brown eyes nearly disappeared when she
smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">That year—kindergarten—Jens’s family went to visit
relatives in Sweden and he was gone for the week before and after March Break.
One night while Jens was away, Lisa broke into tears on the bathmat and her
father, Mahir, held her while she said Jens’s name over and over. Tina came to
lick away her tears and Mahir kept asking, What’s that? and, What are you
saying? It wasn’t until Lisa said, “He’s so cute, He’s just so cute,” that
Mahir realized that Jens was a name and that Lisa had a crush. Mahir figured
out that Jens was on holiday and that his absence was the reason for Lisa’s
distress—she worried Jens was gone forever. Mahir asked if Jens was in her
class picture and Lisa wailed, “Noooooo.” Mahir said, “I bet he is, Lisa,” and
they went to check. He was standing in the back row wearing big, crooked
glasses and a Minnesota North Stars jersey. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">There were a few years of girls and boys being
icky to each other and love being embarrassing, completely out of the question,
a curse like cooties or unutterable like the word shit, though with a totally
different magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In grade four, Lisa started “going out” with Jack
Edwards, a grade six who, the grade four girls agreed, looked like Jonathan
Knight from New Kids on The Block. At recesses, Jens played a game they called
kickball—a sort of hockey played with a tennis ball and without sticks. Jack
played kickball, too and Jens, who was the biggest kid in their grade four
class, thought that Jack, who was the third tallest of the grade sixes, was too
rough when they played. Jack played with his head down and his arms out to
protect himself, so it was not uncommon for the other players to take one of
Jack’s elbows or fingers to the face. In fact, more than once while Jens fought
for the ball against the school wall, Jack hit him. It was disorienting to Jens
at first, but playing against Jack taught Jens to be more aware of who was
around him. When Lisa started going out with Jack, it turned Jack into an
object of intense hate for Jens. When he looked at Jack, Jens saw a drumstick
or a steak like in the cartoons, or he imagined he did anyway. Not that Jens
hated drumsticks or steaks, but he understood that some form of madness or
hunger had blinded him and transformed Jack into something that he, Jens,
wanted to devour. When Jack accidentally knocked off Jens’s glasses, Jens
stepped on the tennis ball, grabbed Jack’s forearm and took Jack’s thumb in his
mouth. He bit down on it and held it there. It tasted like fruit rollup and
roast beef sandwiches. Jack hit the back of Jens’s head with his open hand and
shouted, “Ow, shit, ouch, oh my God,” and cried, his face disfigured by fear,
pain and shock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa stopped skipping rope with her friends to
watch. It took Mr. Warden, Jens’s favourite teacher, to talk Jens into opening
his mouth. Mr. Warden had been eating lunch in the staffroom, when Doris
Anderson, the parent volunteer helping supervise lunch, knocked and said, “Mr.
Warden, we have a problem with Jens.” Mr. Warden liked Jens too and he sat with
the boy in the main office until the principal could see Jens. Jens was
suspended for a day and instructed not to play kick ball. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The other kids who played, though, they knew what
a menace Jack was and when their attempts to discourage Jack—picking him last,
never passing him the ball, even elbowing him in the ribs—all failed, the
kickball games stopped. Jack and Lisa started spending lunches under a white
pine tree near the back corner of the playground and Jens spent recesses
walking around forlornly until someone told him that Erica Dubois, who was
maybe the second prettiest girl in their class, thought he was cute. When Jens
and Erica started dating, they made the maple tree near the kindergarten class
their territory. Then, maybe a week after Jens and Erica became boyfriend and
girlfriend, someone brought a bat and a ball and someone else brought a glove
and they were pitching and hitting on the little baseball diamond and the next
day a bunch of the guys who played kickball also brought their gloves and bats
and balls. In a few days Jack, then Jens joined in too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Through the summer, Jack called Lisa, but when
grade seven started and Jack was at a new school, he told Lisa that he still
really liked her like a friend and even more than that, but that he had to move
on. It didn’t occur to Lisa to wonder where Jack had heard a phrase like “have
to move on.” She cried a little bit, but she’d also started to find Jack’s
phone calls annoying. Especially trying to say goodbye to him—he’d always say,
“But I don’t want to get off the phone,” or “I don’t want you to get off the
phone,” and sigh and keep Lisa on the phone for a while longer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">By the time school started again, Jens had
forgotten that he and Erica had been going out. One of Erica’s friends—Heather
Stevens—came up to Jens and said, “Erica wants to know if she’s still your
girlfriend.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens tried to think of the right thing to say, but
couldn’t. “I don’t think so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens was walking with his friend, Norman, when
Heather and Erica and a few of the other girls in grade five surrounded Jens.
Erica stood in front of him. The other girls held Jens in place. He waited for
Erica to say something. Heather said, “Do it. We can’t hold him here forever.”
Jens wasn’t fighting them at all, it was just Heather getting bored. Then Erica
stepped up to Jens, put her arm around the back of his neck and pulled his head
down towards her or tried to lift herself up to him, maybe. She closed her eyes
and Jens knew she was going to kiss him. He wasn’t expecting her tongue, wet
and hard, to press past his lips and part his teeth. It broke into his mouth
with such force and determination that while it didn’t reach his uvula the
anticipation that it would forced him to gag. His head jerked forward and his
chin collided with Erica’s. His eyes watered in panic. Erica said, “Mmm,” like
she was tasting something delicious. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens went and sat with Norman under the white
pine. Norman was excited about what had happened and even a little jealous.
Heather came back and asked Jens if he wanted to go out with Erica. “No!” Jens
shouted and started crying. Heather stood there with her mouth open for a while
before turning and leaving. Norman asked if Jens was okay, then left, too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa walked over to the tree. Jens stood up,
walked over to the fence that separated the schoolyard from the fallow, rolling
field behind it and took off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes. Lisa lifted
herself up onto one of the pine’s branches. It was sticky with clear, hard sap
that stuck to the star-print fabric of her sundress. Jens noticed that the
fence post he was leaning on was loose. He started to wiggle it back and forth
like a giant wooden tooth. It fell over and Jens fell forward with it. The
panic he felt was surprise, but also fear that he had violated something—the
fence, the field, the rules. He crawled backwards onto the school property, his
knees and hands finding the ground through the rectangular holes of the broad
metal mesh. Lisa was there, suddenly off her tree branch. She didn’t ask Jens
if he was all right, she just helped him lift the heavy wooden post and balance
it where it had always stood for all they knew. The bell rang and they walked
back to class together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Starting in grade seven, Jens and Lisa attended
different schools. Jens lived farther south and was bussed to a middle school
in an affluent town by the lake. Lisa lived farther north so she was bussed,
like the majority of the former students of their primary school, to a middle
school in the farming town that occupied a large square at the center of a
quilt of pastures and cornfields. Jens pined over Paola, a grade eight with
tight blonde curls, three different Pink Floyd shirts and sunglasses in the
shape of hearts. Lisa started dating Alex, a grade eight who wore hockey
jerseys and joked too often and not well, so had developed the tic of sticking
out his tongue so people knew when to laugh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens was eating his lunch one day when three girls
from his class—Jodie, Claire and Alice—sat down with him. Claire sat beside
him, Jodie and Alice across from him. Alice said, “Will you flex for us?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?” Jens said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Your arm,” Jodie said. “Will you flex your arm?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He was confused, but he held up his right arm and
flexed his bicep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Claire reached across and touched it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yep,” Alice said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I told you,” Jodie said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Claire giggled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?” Jens asked again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Do you work out?” Alice asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Work out?” Jens asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Like, with weights,” Jodie said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens shook his head. Were they making fun of him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Claire thinks you’re cute,” Alice said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Alice!” Claire said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Will you go out with her,” Jodie asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens had forgotten being swarmed by Erica and
Heather and her friends. He felt deja vu claustrophobia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Look how cute she is,” Jodie said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens turned to Claire. She looked down at her
hands, which she had folded awkwardly in her lap. Then she looked up at Jens
and something there, the vulnerability maybe, set some warm feeling spilling
through his guts. He was about to speak when something blunt collided with his
eye and his glasses were suddenly gone. A white light burst in the corner of
his right eye where he’d been struck. He closed his eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Alice said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Alice!” Claire said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens opened his eyes and Alice was holding his
glasses in front of her. “I just wanted him to get a good look at you,” Alice
said. “I’m so sorry,” she told Jens again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Three weeks later, when Jens and Claire French
kissed in the small nook outside the staffroom entrance, she rhythmically
scraped his lips with her braces like she was chewing and he drooled down her
chin. They waited three days before trying again, in a walkway between nearby
houses, and it wasn’t anywhere near as painful or as embarrassing. Still, just
a day after that second French kiss, Alice and Jodie came up to Jens while on
the other side of the school yard, Jens could see Claire was talking to Derek,
a grade eight guy with stubble and a dresser full of Los Angeles Raiders
clothes. The phrase “more as just a friend,” was used. Jens understood and was
actually kind of relieved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa and Alex had been dating for a nine months by
the time Lisa’s mother, Deborah, asked Lisa to invite Alex over to their home.
Alex’s mother and father drove him from their modest farmhouse, down their gravel
driveway, left down a straight road, then right onto 7<sup>th</sup> Line
towards the ravine cut by the creek. Lisa, Deborah and Mahir lived in a house
with big windows and graying cedar siding designed twenty years ago by the head
architect at Mahir’s firm. Dappled by sunlight, the house nearly disappeared
into the woods that surrounded it, a whole different type of modest than Alex’s
family’s farmhouse. Martin, Alex’s father, said, “That’s a house, eh?” then
coughed as if he could move the lump of phlegm that lived in his lungs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That roof’s upside down,” Alex said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin laughed then coughed again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex’s mother, Penny, nervous to meet Deborah and
her husband told Martin and Alex to cut it out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">But Alex was right, actually. The architect chose
to have the roof in the shape of a V to invert the traditional form and to
create two separate upstairs spaces. The problem was that in such a well-wooded
area, Mahir and Deborah were forced, annually, to clear nearly fifty garbage
bags of debris from the gutter in the center of the roof.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex rang the doorbell. When Lisa opened the door,
her parents were right behind her. Mahir had seen looks like the ones Penny,
Martin and even Alex gave him, but they seemed to reach deeper into him than
normal because he knew immediately what it meant for Lisa. Maybe Deborah saw
the looks, too, but she still invited Penny and Martin in for tea. She’d made
granola squares and when Martin refused, then coughed, Deborah offered to get a
package of cookies. They even refused those. Lisa asked Alex if he wanted to
walk down by the creek, but he shook his head. For an hour the families sat
facing each other. Martin, Penny and Alex couldn’t get comfortable and in the
car on the way home they would blame the furniture for it, though they did talk
about Lisa being brown and why didn’t Alex tell them and Alex would swear he
hadn’t known while in his mind he was wrestling with the fact that meeting
Mahir had knocked Lisa out of the position he’d held her in. He knew it was
wrong, but he knew it was true. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In grade eight, Lisa didn’t date anyone. It was a
choice, but she wasn’t sure that the choice was entirely hers. For a week Jens
dated a cheerleader in grade seven, but mostly he longed for an opportunity to
date Christine or Nadege or Laura, three girls in the French emersion program,
all lovely, all aloof. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Mahir and Deborah, with Lisa’s consent, enrolled
Lisa at the high school in the affluent town south of them. They hoped that the
larger, more diverse community it served would be less of a struggle for their
daughter to fit in to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Grade nine was a tough adjustment, but people
started dating very quickly, as if needing to share the burden of going to a
new school. Jens was already dating JoAnne when, on his way to Science, he saw
Lisa getting a binder out of her locker. Something shifted in Jens’s body. It
was a startling sensation, but it wasn’t unpleasant. “Hi, Lisa,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She smiled when she saw him. It was the first real
smile—the first smile that she couldn’t deny—that she’d shared at her new
school. Lisa had been struggling to make friends. She was honest about it with
Jens, when he asked how she was doing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The bell rang. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Are you around at all before school?” Jens asked,
as he started walking to class.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“My dad drops me off a little before first. So,
yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Come to the cafeteria. I’m always in the
cafeteria with my girlfriend.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You have a girlfriend?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens nodded. “JoAnne.” Jens smiled a little sadly,
Lisa thought. “See you later.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa and JoAnne became friends and stayed friends
even after JoAnne and Jens broke up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The school hosted a coffee house in December.
JoAnne and her older brother played a set of five songs. They covered Nirvana,
Pearl Jam, Led Zepplin, and Heart. Their fifth song was an original written by
JoAnne and Lisa. Jens started to play guitar. Lisa bought a bass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens’s first band did covers, too. His favourite
was Pearl Jam’s “State of Love and Trust.” Jens’s band played the spring coffee
house, but broke up shortly after because the singer wanted them to do too many
U2 covers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">JoAnne and Lisa started playing with Nancy, a girl
in grade eleven who was in JoAnne’s brother’s music class. They recorded a demo
of six original songs. They were denied a spot in the coffee house line-up. The
official reason was that they did no covers. But in the summer, they played a
festival at a park by the waterfront. Jens was there and he thought they were
amazing. He bought a copy of the demo and listened to it over and over again.
He only stopped when, while trying to sleep off a raging fever, he dreamed of
Nancy, JoAnne and Lisa dousing him with buckets of water. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In grade ten Jens started playing rhythm guitar in
a punk band with three guys in grade eleven, twelve and thirteen. They played
all original songs. They played coffee houses at their school, but were also
invited to play at other schools. Their most popular song was about kidnapping
a porno star. They broke up shortly after they recorded and dubbed 100 copies
of their demo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">JoAnne, Lisa and Nancy kept playing together,
though they rarely played shows. Being denied inclusion so frequently was
exhausting, so, more often than not, they didn’t even bother asking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The last show Jens’s band played was in the
basement of the Masonic Lodge in town. Two hardcore bands played, one from the
city, one from a community like Jens’s on the other side of the city. Jens
bought everything of theirs he could—a demo cassette from the city band, a
seven-inch record and a patch from the band from the other side of the city. He
had to go to a friend’s house to listen to the seven-inch. He copied it onto
cassette. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens started going to hardcore shows and buying
records from Adam, a French Canadian guy who would display the albums in
shoeboxes. Jens would read the little reviews Adam wrote on recipe cards and
scotch-taped to the front copy of each record. For his birthday, Jens’s mom
took him to a stereo shop and bought him a record player so he could finally
listen to all his seven-inches and LPs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa was getting frustrated with her band. They
had twelve new songs, seven of them written by her, and she thought they were
ready to demo them. But Nancy didn’t trust Jacob, the guy that they recorded
their first demo with, that everybody they knew recorded with. Nancy and her
mom were looking for an affordable studio that also had experience working with
women. They weren’t writing anything new, because they felt like twelve was
maybe even too many songs for a record. And they still weren’t playing many
shows. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">One morning neither JoAnne nor Nancy was at their
table in the cafeteria and Jens was super-excited to tell Lisa about a split
seven-inch he’d bought from Adam at a show on the weekend, so Lisa asked,
“You’re still not playing with anybody, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens said, “Yeah, that’s true.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Why don’t we play together?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“But you’re in a band.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I can be in two.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t know. I.” He put his Walkman on the
table. “I’m just really into hardcore right now.” He handed her his headphones.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa put the headphones on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens turned the volume down, then pressed play. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa relaxed her expression, then blinked slowly,
opened her eyes wide and stared blankly at the photo of Queen Elizabeth above
the entrance to the cafeteria. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens pressed pause. “Wait,” he said. “What song is
it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He moved to the other side of the table and spent
the twenty minutes before class shuttling the tape around to play this
amazing bassline, that amazing scream, this other song he loved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa liked the music, had to insist to Jens that
she liked the music, then wanted to know when they could get together to start
working. “We don’t have a drummer or anything,” Jens said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We can start writing,” Lisa suggested. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Uh, okay. I’ll play guitar, I guess. You’ll play
bass?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Right. I can bring my bass to school. Maybe we
can practice at your place? Thursday or something?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t have a bass amp.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Does your amp have two inputs?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think so. Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“For now, I’ll just plug into that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa asked Jens for a copy of the tape he’d shown
her. He brought it the next day. Lisa listened in her room and tried her best
to play along.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens kept trying to think of a hardcore band he’d
seen with a girl. He couldn’t think of any. It made him nervous, like maybe he
was making a mistake. He put on his copy of Sonic Youth’s <i>Dirty</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">. He didn’t like the songs Kim Gordon sang as much
as he liked the songs Thurston Moore or Lee Ranaldo sang, but they were still
pretty good, still pretty punk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">On Thursday, on the walk to Jens’s, Lisa talked
about which songs from the cassette she liked and said that she had been playing
with a few ideas. Jens said, “I haven’t thought of anything.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa was excited to play with someone new. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens was watching his feet and trying not to stare
at Lisa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What will we call ourselves?” Lisa asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We gotta find a band first.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“JoAnne plays drums now, too. She’s pretty
good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I like JoAnne.” She is a much better guitar
player than me, Jens thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We can ask someone else. I mean, maybe it would
be good for me to play with all new people.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t really know. We could ask Tim.” Tim was
the drummer from Jens’s last band.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We don’t need to decide now.” Lisa smiled at
Jens. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens attempted to smile back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s wrong?” Lisa asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Nothing,” Jens said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You seem weird. Is something bugging you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa asked Jens what were the names of some of the
bands that he really liked. Like not necessarily bands he really liked, but
names he thought were good. He told her. “Okay,” Lisa said, “so what if we were
called, like Frozen Ground? Or Scorched Earth?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Those are pretty good,” Jens admitted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Or Stasis? Or Aperture?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I like those, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay,” Lisa said. “I guess we can think about
it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Awesome.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They played for two hours before dinner. Lisa had
not had any trouble, through her investigation of Jens’s cassette, picking up
any of the genre’s tropes and she had a lot technically to show Jens, whose
approach to his hardcore records had been much more emotional. They both felt
like they were just scratching the surface when Jens’s mother called down and
asked if his friend was staying for dinner. Lisa called Mahir and explained
that they had played already, but that they weren’t finished and that she’d
been invited to dinner. Mahir said it was no problem, she could stay and that
he’d be happy to pick her up any time before ten. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens’s mom, Erica, didn’t remember Lisa from
primary school, but was very excited that she and Jens had known each other for
so long. Jens’s little sister, Astrid, couldn’t stop looking at Lisa. It
embarrassed Jens, who also felt like he couldn’t keep his eyes off his old
friend, but after dinner Lisa said she thought Astrid was cute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They started working on a song. Jens was nervous
to shout at first, but when Lisa started singing with him, he lifted his voice
louder. They wrote lyrics together in a notebook Jens had intended to use as a
journal. Jens was hoarse when he said goodbye to Lisa. He couldn’t sleep. Lisa
went home and wrote more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In a few weeks, they had six songs and had decided
to call themselves Focus. They asked JoAnne to play drums. She told Lisa that
she was worried how Nancy would feel about it, but said sure anyway. Over their
time playing together, Jens and Lisa had developed a language around song
structure and Jens was aware of it and felt proud. Listening to Lisa and JoAnne
humbled him. They almost didn’t need to speak. To JoAnne, Jens could barely
convey even the simplest information about the songs he and Lisa had been
working on. For a while, Lisa functioned like a translator between Jens and
JoAnne. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Focus played their first show a week before JoAnne
got her license. Mahir drove them to the local YMCA. Jens had gotten to know
Mahir and he really liked him. JoAnne and Lisa joked that maybe the two of
them—Mahir and Jens—should start their own band. Jens said he thought that
would be cool, then asked if Mahir played sitar or something. Lisa asked if
Jens was serious. Jens said, “What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He grew up here,” Lisa said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“So,” Jens said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She shook her head. “He plays piano.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What did I say?” Jens asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s racist,” JoAnne explained, “assuming he
plays sitar.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m not racist,” Jens said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The promoter came over to them. “Hey, sorry. Hi.
You guys need help with your gear?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens said, No, but JoAnne said, Sure. The promoter
carried the drum hardware upstairs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Focus played well. Jens didn’t remember ever
seeing so many girls at a show. They mostly came up to JoAnne and Lisa and told
them how amazing Focus was and asked if they had any records for sale or
anything. Some people even asked where they were from, which hurt Jens’s feelings
because he’d been coming to these hardcore shows for a while and even some of
the girls who were familiar to him, who he thought should probably recognize
him, they still asked where Focus was from. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens bought some records from Adam, who said he
tought dat de band sounded great—<i>tight!</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">—and dat e was glad dere were finally some women playing in de local
scene. Jens said he’d fucked up a few parts, but thanks anyway. He was glad
Adam thought they sounded good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">JoAnne, Lisa and Jens waited outside the YMCA with
their gear. “Adam said we sounded tight,” Jens told his band-mates. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa said how people were really excited and
JoAnne said how she got the impression that this was a really male dominated
scene, “like, maybe even more male than most.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What about all the girls who come out to shows?”
Jens asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh my God, they were so happy that women were
playing,” Lisa said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“One girl even said how she was going to ask that
promoter, Trevor or whatever, if her band could play,” JoAnne said. “It was
like maybe they’d never even thought they could ask.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens said, “But is it really the scene’s fault if
that girl has never thought to ask?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa looked at her feet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">JoAnne said, “Yeah. It is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They didn’t talk much more. Mahir picked them up
and asked how the show had gone. He was very tired, though, so when Jens, who
was even more enthusiastic to speak to Mahir than he’d been on the way to the
show, tried to engage in conversation, Mahir just said, “Unh, hunh,” and, “Oh,”
and, “Okay.” It was pretty discouraging for Jens who was feeling like maybe he
was racist and maybe Mahir knew. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They dropped JoAnne off first. Once they’d dropped
Jens off, Mahir asked Lisa if everything was okay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“The show went great,” Lisa said. “People really
liked us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“But?” Mahir asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t know.” Lisa said. “I guess that’s it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Do you want to talk about it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Not really,” Lisa said. “Not tonight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">As they got closer to home, Mahir had a thought.
“Do you remember,” he asked, “a long time ago— You had just started school I
think, and there was a boy in your class who went away for a while and you
cried and cried.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t remember that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You kept saying something over and over again. At
first I couldn’t tell what it was, but eventually I could make out, ‘He’s so
cute, he’s so cute,’ over and over.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa laughed a little bit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think that was Jens.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She looked out the window at the dark trees
whipping past. “We went to primary school together, so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I thought so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Over the next year Focus wrote four more songs,
recorded a cassette, wrote another five songs and played school coffee houses
and church basements and Masonic Lodges all over the place. They got to play,
at different events, with both of the bands that Jens had seen at the Masonic
Lodge that turned him on to hardcore. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When Nancy eventually came to see Focus, Lisa and
JoAnne were both really nervous about it. Nancy loved the band. She said that
she wanted to practice with JoAnne and Lisa again and that she’d found someone
to record their album. Between songs at a Focus practice one afternoon, JoAnne
and Lisa started talking about playing with Nancy and how frustrating she could
be to work with and how much each of them—Lisa and JoAnne—felt like their old
songs were still pretty good, but that they had moved on from where they’d been
as musicians since they played with Nancy. So, it was a bit of a surprise to
Jens when, a few practices later, Lisa and JoAnne told him that they thought
that Focus should take a of a break so they could focus on their recording with
Nancy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was a lonely experience for Jens. He’d been
spending so much time with Lisa and JoAnne and now he only really saw them a
their table in the cafeteria before school. It was during this hiatus from
Focus that Jens decided that he was in love with Lisa. A few times he asked her
if she wanted to come over, but she was always busy—studying, working on a
project, practicing. Once he asked JoAnne if she wanted to come over—a sort of
retaliation for Lisa being unavailable—and JoAnne was way more enthusiastic
about the prospect, but she was “jamming” with her brother that night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa missed playing with Focus and even missed
Jens, too, but things had started to go badly at home. One morning, on their
drive to school, Mahir told Lisa that he and Deborah were separating and that
he had rented an apartment near the school where Lisa would be welcome to stay,
but that Deborah had agreed to drive Lisa once Mahir moved out. Lisa asked why
they were separating. At first, Mahir didn’t want to say. Lisa didn’t push, but
something about her silence, maybe, spurred Mahir to explain that Deborah and
David, the contractor who had been slowly updating various rooms in their
house, had been having an affair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">One morning Jens asked Lisa what was wrong, but
she didn’t know what to say. A few days later, Lisa was desperate to tell him,
but there was need written on Jens’s face that discouraged her, a need that was
much different than her own, at least for the moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">That Friday, Jens went alone to see one of their
favourite bands at the YMCA. At the show, a girl named Melanie asked when Focus
would be playing again. Jens told her that he didn’t know. Melanie said that
they were her favourite band. Jens thanked her. She stood near him for each
band and watched where he went in between performances. He wasn’t surprised
when she asked him for a ride home. Nor was he surprised when, before she got
out of the car, she leaned across the parking break and kissed him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They exchanged phone numbers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens thought about the kiss and about how nice kissing
felt. He thought about Melanie. Then he thought about Lisa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Melanie played bass, too, and she was eager to
play music with Jens. Jens felt like if he wanted to keep making out with
Melanie, to keep seeing Melanie, he had to start bringing a guitar to her house.
He plugged into her bass amp, which she had to keep prohibitively quiet. They
wouldn’t ever play for long enough to get anything done before they would push
Melanie's stuffed animals aside and make out on her brass bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Mahir moved into a condo that you could see from
the high school. Lisa helped him buy and arrange new furniture and he thanked
her and kept saying how this wasn’t something someone’s child should have to
help them do. She reassured him that lots of families had problems and that she
thought she probably had more friends with parents who were divorced than she
had friends with parents who were together still. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">JoAnne, Lisa and Nancy had finished recording for
their album. They had done a mix of it, too, and had all taken home copies to scrutinize.
JoAnne had a page in her notebook dedicated to each song, even though on some
pages she’d written only, “Sounds great.” Nancy had filled nine pages of lined
notepaper front and back with notes about the mix and the performances. Lisa
had nothing. When her friends asked her how she was, Lisa said she was fine,
that she was sorry, that she would make some notes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa told Jens that she needed to listen to the
mix and that she had a CD. Then she asked if, maybe they could drive around in
his car and make notes. They drove down to the lake and along the lakeshore,
pausing the CD and pulling over after each track so that Lisa could write their
thoughts. It was after the fifth track that Lisa told Jens that her parents had
separated. She did what she could not to cry. Jens turned off the car so that
Lisa wouldn’t feel rushed. She said she was sorry. Jens said, “For what?” then
tried to soften his response by adding, “you haven’t done anything wrong.” Lisa
leaned over and put her arm around Jens’s neck and pulled him towards her. He
hesitated because it reminded him so much of his first kiss with Melanie. But
Lisa just wanted a hug. Jens’s hand accidentally brushed her breast as he tried
to fit it between Lisa and the seat and he hated himself for even noticing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When they started listening again, Jens pointed
the car north. He didn’t know where he was going at first. After listening to
the ninth track they pulled over on the side of Highway 24. Jens could see the
Tim Horton’s where his Mom would buy him croissants whenever she picked him up
from school. By the time they were done track ten, they could see their primary
school. They paused the CD. Jens pulled in to the school’s small parking lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You want to get out?” Jens asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes,” Lisa said. “But we’ve got work to do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay, what are we saying about that mix?” Lisa
asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Uh,” Jens held his hands up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa started writing her thoughts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It seems so small,” Jens said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa looked at him, her expression heading towards
hurt, but currently stuck on confused.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens smiled. “The school.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I thought you meant the mix.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No. I thought the mix sounded good. Honestly, my ears are tired. Is that a thing? That’s a thing, I think.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think that’s a thing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Doesn’t the school seem small, though?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa looked at the red brick box of the gym, the
rows of classroom windows, the two leaning cedars near the front door. “I
guess. You know, I live nearby, though. So I see the school regularly. I mean,
when’s the last time you saw the school?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I guess it’s been years.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The air was just a bit cooler than either of them
was dressed for. They stepped over a sagging length of chain between the
parking lot and the asphalt where the girls used to skip and the boys used to
play kickball. “I’m really sorry about your mom and dad,” Jens said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thanks,” Lisa said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They rounded the back of the school and the
playground came into view. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Your parents were never married or something,
right?” Lisa asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah,” Jens said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“How’d that work?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You’d have to ask them, I guess. I don’t know if
I believe in marriage, though.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Have you ever seen it work?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“My grandparents, maybe. My mom’s mom and dad. I
mean, they’re still together.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Does that mean it’s working?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Maybe not.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They stopped on the hard packed sand around the
jungle gym. Jens put his hands in his pockets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“How’s Melanie?” Lisa asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens had forgotten all about Melanie. “Fine,” he
said. “I don’t know,” he added.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What don’t you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Ah,” Jens said. “I just don’t know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa sat down on the foot of the slide. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Do you remember,” Jens said, “I think I licked
your arm under here.” He pointed to the small space under the platform at the
top of the slide. “I don’t even know if I could still fit in there.” He
squeezed sideways past the ladder and sat in the dark with his knees by his
chin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa stood at the entrance. Jens couldn’t see the
expression on her face when she said, “My dad remembers me crying about you one
night. You’d gone away or something.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh yeah?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I kept saying, ‘He’s so cute, he’s so cute.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens swallowed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa said, “Shove over.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They sat there in the dark with their knees at
their chins, their sides pressed together. Lisa put her head on Jens’s
shoulder. “It’s warmer under here,” she said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jens put his arm around her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I love you,” Lisa said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Without thinking, Jens said, “I love you, too,”
then his body started burning from his guts and his heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eventually Lisa lifted her head. She removed
Jens’s glasses and they kissed and for Lisa it was like all of her body became
her lips and her mouth. For Jens it was like his body and the whole world
around them and time had disappeared in this one shining moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, May 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence:</b> Anne Peace, who is many amazing things, but also Lee's mum</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story:</b> Lee Sheppard</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-73586387839142888032016-05-06T05:42:00.000-04:002016-08-18T05:29:35.577-04:00Strong, Bad<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad’s hedge was meant as a defense against the
surprising number of poor golfers who would hook or slice those tiny white
moons towards our house, but Dad’s little cedar trees just couldn’t grow fast
enough. It was years before they even peaked their heads over our fence. Dad
would be washing the dishes, say, and some white streak would disappear in the
direction of the weed patch my parents once imagined would be Mom’s garden. Dad
would curse, lean across the soapy water and try to spy through the fence’s low
lattice crown the offending member of whatever group was walking down the
fairway of the 11<sup>th</sup> hole. “Fuck,” Dad would say and I would look up
from my train set, or my TV show or, eventually, the book spread across my
knees. “Fucking golfers,” Dad would say, or sometimes, “Fucking trees,” as if
those cedars were doing something undignified, huddling behind the fence there
or taking some unnatural amount of time to grow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Of course, windows broke, too. The two bedrooms at
the back of the house, regular victims of golf-ball attacks, became an unused
office and a guest room that Mom would only allow guests in after dusk and from
which, at dawn, young me would be tasked with chasing them by being allowed to
play with my bin of noisy toys—a Fisher-Price musical instrument with
interchangeable mouth pieces, a xylophone with a foul note, a Tickle-Me
Elmo—otherwise kept on a high shelf in my closet. My parents had a sunroom
built off the family room. It was a great cage constructed of mosquito screens
and white-washed wood that saved the sliding doors from sudden, surprise
shattering. I would tell you where I was each time each of the other back
windows broke, but it happened so frequently that just the litany of events
I could remember—a fraction of them—would bore you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We’d hear our neighbours’ windows shatter, too,
and if it was close enough Mom or Dad would get up and go check the basement
windows or whatever windows they were far enough from that they could imagine
having been the source of that sickening sound. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">More often a ball would thump against the fence,
its vertical wooden slats proving our finest defense against the threat of
strong, bad golfers. I can’t say that we all always did it, but I think most of
the time we would each, if we’d heard a ball contact wood, walk to the window
and look out to see who came looking for their ball. When windows broke, the
twosomes, threesomes or foursomes playing the eleventh would stick to the
fairway, keep their eyes on the course and on their balls, especially whoever
was hitting a replacement. I’d watch them from the office, from the guest room
or, if the weather was nice enough and I was outside, nestled amongst the
stunted cedars, my face pressed against the fence’s wooden slats. I could
usually guess who’d done it—the person lagging behind everyone else, the person
who would hit their next ball then pivot their head in a jerking, wild panic
wondering where this missile would land, knowing it wasn’t where they’d
intended. But the balls that hit the fence, we’d always know who hit those
because they’d come cursing or shouting to their fellow golfers—“I think it
landed here! Over there?! Got it!”—before either trying to play it where it
lay, well out of bounds, or taking a stroke and walking it back past the paved
path to drop it near the edge of the fairway. Very few of these fence hitters
noticed us or our neighbours plotting repairs and revenge in the shadows behind
our back windows. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When I turned 13, Dad bought me an air rifle. It
was an unusual gift for a girl who’d never expressed an interest in shooting
anything, who’d never even had a cap gun. I practiced from my window, trying to
shoot the stunted, brown-spotted leaves off the heritage oak that the
developers who built our subdivision had been forced by some historical or
preservation society to work around. If a squirrel or something skittered out
onto a branch, I’d put the gun down. Or if a car pulled onto our street. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Once, one of the neighbours—Mrs. Bartholdi, whose
house was filled with replicas of the Statue of Liberty because her husband was
a descendent of the French sculptor who’d designed it—spotted me from the front
window of her house across the street. It was early May and still cold out so
she put a jacket on over her housecoat. As she crossed the street Mrs.
Bartholdi held the jacket closed with her hands. She hadn’t bothered to change
out of her slippers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I set the safety and leaned the gun up against my
dresser. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The doorbell called through the house. I pushed my
door nearly shut and sat beside it to listen to the conversation. Dad answered
the door. Mrs. Bartholdi was upset, reasonably, but I was too young for her to
demand to see me. Dad explained that it was an air rifle—nothing to worry
about—and explained the simple rules they’d laid out for me: never point it at
someone, make sure that any people around are aware that you are shooting. She
wasn’t really reassured. Dad explained that I was a very good student, that I
was kind, that I cried once when he’d had to set a mousetrap and wouldn’t look
at the flypaper he hung above the garbage cans in the garage. Mrs. Bartholdi
wanted to know what a girl was doing with an air gun anyway. Dad said, Now Mrs.
Bartholdi, and, Wasn’t Annie Oakley a sharpshooter? I believe she was. Mrs.
Bartholdi asked, Who’s Annie Oakley? Dad said, It just goes to show that women,
girls, can do whatever they want. Mrs. Bartholdi expained that I could not
point a gun towards her house and if I did it again she would call the police
or if she saw me pointing a gun towards any place with people again she would
call the police. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The door slammed. I was almost certain Mrs.
Bartholdi had slammed it, but I took a few leaping strides to get to the window
and try and read what had happened from her pace and body language. She leaped
from our front lawn to the road inches below and without breaking stride
whipped her head left then right to make sure no cars were coming. She hopped
the curb onto her own front lawn, then snapped her head around to look up at my
window and I nearly hit my chin on my dresser ducking to get out of her line of
sight. When I dared look again, she was violently pulling budding plants from
the garden beside her front walk, a dirty row of her green victims already
lined up beside her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Erica?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I flinched.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Mind if I come in?” Dad was already half inside
my room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You startled me,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad sat on my bed. I sat beside him. We both
looked at my air gun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“New rule,” Dad said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No shooting where people might be?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Only shooting out back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“There’s lots of people out there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“She,” Dad gestured towards the window, towards
Mrs. Bartholdi, “can’t see you if you use the back window.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad grabbed my air rifle and walked out of my
room. I followed him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad was mad about the golf club’s maple sapling,
which was growing at a much more impressive rate than our cedars and would,
once the cedars cleared our fence, continue to cast our evergreens in shadow
for part of the day. Worse, the maple tree might manage to keep us and our
windows safe before the trees Dad planted would and that would mean that the
course designer’s or landscaper’s or whoever’s kindness and thoughtfulness not
Dad’s would be the thing that kept Mom and me and Dad safe from the real threat
of the golf balls and the exhausting state of alertness we lived in each
daylight hour eight months of the year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The little maple, its leaves a bright, translucent
green in the sunshine, stood proud and vulnerable. Out on the 11<sup>th</sup>
fairway a man in yellow and black plaid plus-fours wiggled and swayed while he
stared down his club at his ball. A woman in a broad brimmed hat and a man in
an argyle sweater-vest watched the man in plus-fours. But there, looking at the
lovely little maple, was Aaron Martin, a quiet guy in my grade 7 class who
played saxophone in music and who had a black and lime neon fanny pack in which
he kept a Game Boy that he played all lunch and between classes. He had a set
of clubs hanging from a strap under his left arm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The man in the yellow plaid looked towards the 11<sup>th</sup>
green then back at his ball. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad slid the window open. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Aaron looked up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Shit,” Dad said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Aaron turned away from our house and away from the
maple tree. I noticed that he didn’t have on his fanny pack. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad wiggled the screen a few times to clear it
from the frame. I watched carefully, ready to help. Dad set the screen against
the guest bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When we looked back to the course, Aaron was
looking towards our house again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay. What are you staring at, kid?” Dad
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The man in the yellow pants struck the ball.
Leaning to his right and holding his club in front of his face, the man watched
his ball fly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Aaron turned back to the game and started to walk
away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad lifted the air rifle to the window, closed one
eye and sighted down the barrel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The woman in the broad brimmed hat set down her
clubs and walked up to her ball. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I tried to figure out at whom Dad was aiming. I
saw his finger pull the trigger. I watched his brow twist up in confusion when
nothing happened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“The safety,” I told him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He grunted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Not Aaron, please,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad looked at me. “Who’s Aaron?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Him.” I pointed. “He’s in my class.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay,” Dad said. He was aiming the gun again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When he fired I watched the players for a
response. Nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Damn it,” Dad said. He told me to go and get more
pellets. By the time he’d loaded and gotten set again, Aaron was lining up a
shot. Dad fired and missed again. He swore again. Then he asked me if I wanted
to try.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The answer was no, but I took the gun anyway. Once
I’d loaded a pellet, I used the sill to steady my hand and I sighted the man in
the sweater-vest. He was preparing to chip out of a bunker near the green. I
fired as he raised his club up. I’d meant to hit his arm, but he’d drawn that
up and back exposing his side. I watched the club fly out of his hand and straight
up in the air. He yelped as he sat down heavily in the sand, clutching his
ribs. He was checking the air around him, trying to divine the source of his
pain. I was laughing. Dad was hooting as quietly as he could and shaking my
shoulders. When Aaron looked towards our open window we both stopped. The man
in the plus-fours and the woman with the broad-brimmed hat were laughing and
teasing the shot man who was now moaning and brushing at his clothes like
whatever had stung him might be stuck in there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It must have been in May or June because I
remember being in school a day or two later and one of our teachers asking us
to write about what we had planned for the summer. Aaron mentioned that he was
hoping to do much more golfing, so at lunch I had a reason to go up to him and
ask about the sport. I even mentioned that I lived near the golf course and he
asked, “Like, in those houses along the . . . Which hole is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“The eleventh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah, the eleventh. My Uncle Murray got stung
there, in the sand trap. Do you guys have trouble with bees or hornets or wasps
or something?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh yeah,” I lied. “It’s bad.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Shooting Aaron’s Uncle Murray was a terrible thing
to do, really, and someone could have really been hurt. What’s that, “You’ll
shoot your eye out,” thing from <i>A Christmas Story</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> or whatever, with the Red Rider BB Gun? Believe
me, there were times when I thought about that. But shooting golfers became a
thing between Dad and me. When Mom was out. I was always careful to avoid
aiming near people’s eyes and only fired at golfers’ heads when they were
turned away. Dad started calling me Annie or Miz Oakley, even around Mom, and
he bought me a target and insisted that practice in the back yard or in our
unfinished basement so that the nickname made sense, but also so I could get
better. I did of course. Like, I missed in that first year, obviously, but not
often. Then for my next birthday, my 14<sup>th</sup>, Dad got me what was
essentially a BB gun equivalent of a sniper rifle and my success rates went way
up. We kept stats and stuff. A bit embarrassing really, but Dad was proud of me
and that was nice. A bond, you know. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And in our defense, it did feel like we were owed
something by the golfers, so there was that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The cedar trees eventually grew too tall, which
was good for our windows, but bad for sport. Like if when I came home from
school to visit, Dad and I wanted to shoot, we had to go up on the roof to do
it. We did that a few times, lying flat on the side of the roof facing our
small road, our backs to Mrs. Bartholdi’s house. I think that was what did it,
what stopped us—the possibility that after all our years of clandestine
shooting our neighbour would make good on her threat to call the police if I
was caught. So we stopped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad and I had a few hard years of sitting around
and looking at each other wondering what to do to replace the shooting.
Wondering what hobby we could share. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We took up golf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, May 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence:</b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> Kate Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story:</b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-25413990060329072352016-04-27T06:13:00.000-04:002016-04-27T06:20:08.631-04:00Fellow Passengers<!--[if !mso]>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVwvPGcYVeMKuoDGa-ofwM3K9TA-HK91tgPcB6YxDpel3nbxV5lWruGSmujkrIoFEtBlmcopUnFujUgeeERSe093E1ZyI7g4IvRiDAkxGfNqaAVe-UV8kvD6-l32GSl63_gyqSDkeS2w/s1600/Angelyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirVwvPGcYVeMKuoDGa-ofwM3K9TA-HK91tgPcB6YxDpel3nbxV5lWruGSmujkrIoFEtBlmcopUnFujUgeeERSe093E1ZyI7g4IvRiDAkxGfNqaAVe-UV8kvD6-l32GSl63_gyqSDkeS2w/s1600/Angelyn.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The person who served you your coffee assumed that
you were a doctor. He, a small, dark brown man with an accent you wouldn’t
presume to place, said, “Will that be all, Doctor?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your brain had to make sense of the mistake before
you could say, “Yes. Yes, that’s it. Thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You sat down at your regular table. Two actual
doctors, a pair of old white guys, were sitting a few tables away. One of them
was hunched over a Tupperware container filled with sliced fruit, the other was
staring off towards the elevators and twisting his wedding ring like he was
trying to unscrew it but the threads were stripped. A few children raced past
and a man with a deep voice said something sharp and foreign and one child
stopped running and turned towards the man, then back towards his sibling or
cousin who was still zigzagging and laughing. A different man with a sharper
voice, a voice that made the ring-twisting doctor flinch, said the same foreign
thing and the second child stopped, sat down and cried. One man, you didn’t
know if it was the sharp voiced or deep voiced man, walked over to the crying
child and picked them up then led both children back to where their family—at
least three generations of it—was crowded around two tables as far to the side
of the dining area as they could get.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The coffee was too hot. It wasn’t bad coffee, had
never been bad coffee, but it wasn’t good either. It was an excuse for you to
sit here, that’s all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A man and a woman got off the elevator. You pulled
a newspaper out of your black bag and set it on the table. While the man
stepped back to look at the signs above each vendor’s counter, the woman looked
around at the people sitting at the cafeteria tables. She made eye contact with
you and smiled sadly. You nodded and looked down at your newspaper. Your arms
bracketed the folded broadsheet and you rubbed your thumbs against the pads of
your index and middle fingers, but your eyes watched the woman walk up to the
man and the two exchange hushed words. The woman put her hand on the man’s far
shoulder and the man raised his shoulder nearest the woman so that he could
gently extract then bring his elbow over her head and hang his hand off her far
shoulder. You saw then, maybe in the gesture or in the shape of their hands or
their postures, that they were brother and sister. They walked to the new Hero
Burger—it opened early last month—and started reading the menu. The man asked
the server if they sold veggie burgers then the woman explained to the server
that she has a severe nut allergy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The doctors at the nearby table stood at the same
time. They weren’t even looking at each other and if they had exchanged some
signal you missed it. One of them, the one who was twisting his ring, said,
“Well,” to which the other one replied, “Well.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You agreed with them, but you didn’t stand right
away because, well, leaving with them would be strange and obviously—you don’t
know—collegial? Like they might have started talking to you about some doctory
thing and you wouldn’t know what to say and your cover would have been blown
which would have been devastating because what would you have done, what would
you do without the hospital? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was a year earlier you started coming here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Okay, not quite. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Not really. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You started coming here, like, let’s see, uh
fourteen months earlier. The regular visits anyway. At first you were coming
with your partner whose cancer had come back and come back in more than one
place, not just their beautiful brain. The surgeon who’d seen it said it was
beautiful. You knew it was beautiful in its operation, in its functioning, in
its living state. Something about the surgeon’s comment—meant as a
lighthearted, even laudatory Nice work!—conjured a brain in a jar, your
partner’s brain in formaldehyde on some surgeon’s shelf, admired for its shape,
admired as a specimen or a teaching tool. “This is where we dream. This is
where your balance comes from. This is where your memories live. This part here
helps you form attachments.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Thirteen months ago you were visiting your partner
here because keeping pain from hammering that beautiful, dying brain required
intravenous opiates. You asked your boss to fire you so you could collect E.I.
while you and your partner’s mother sat in the hospital room watching her child
drift further and further away. Other family came too, of course. You would
leave the room and go for walks. The ubiquitous nurses and doctors were like
the staff on or even the engine of the impressive ship the hospital was. The
patients were the ship’s passengers, suffering on their way to the shores of
either the continent of life or the continent of death, their families, their
loved ones, their people anxiously traveling with them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When you were younger you loved, even still you
love, taking the bus and observing the person across the aisle, reading over
the shoulder of the man or woman in front of you, closing your eyes and
listening to the music escaping the headphones of the person next to you,
closing your eyes and imagining what that music might be calling up or washing
away for them. Thinking about this communion calls to your mind a jug being
filled with water from two sources simultaneously. Or hundreds, thousands of
people walking the banks of rivers, to the shores of lakes and oceans and
pouring out jugs and water bottles and glasses like it is some religious
festival. With this image you experience overwhelming warmth somewhere near the
center of you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Just under twelve months earlier you stopped
having a reason to come here. And right away you missed it. The day of your
partner’s funeral in the suburb where they grew up, you were also surrounded by
many people, but it was different because you had all gathered for the same
reason, the same grief, the same difficulty and it was a pain that you were
perceived to be one of the main bearers of. As a consequence, so many of the
people grieving, carrying their own hurt, came to you with the sweet hope of
sharing and easing your hurt, but with the side-effect of adding their
suffering to it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your partner’s favourite drag queen had been
invited to perform and she was weeping her way through a second rendition of
“When Doves Cry” when you got up, whispered to your partner’s mother that you
were going to the washroom and walked out. Your heels were bleeding into your dress
shoes by the time you reached the train station. Your train had just left and
the next one wasn’t due for nearly an hour. You bought a coffee and sat on the
platform waiting and enjoying the emptiness. A train traveling in the opposite
direction stopped and a stream of people with their own lives and worries and
griefs walked the same direction for the length of the platform, took the same
stairs and one of two tunnels before going to their own cars or to get into the
cars of friends, lovers, mothers, fathers or to get on the bus that would drop
them where they needed to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Sometime between then and when the train carrying
you home was splashed in a burst of setting sunlight coming through a gap
between two mountainous skyscrapers, you had decided—or come to know,
really—that you were heading to the hospital. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You bought another coffee from the man who had
mistaken you for a doctor and again he called you doctor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When the elevator came and opened its doors, you
walked on, but you were so occupied trying to find a way to hold your coffee
without a creeping burn finding its way through your skin that you forgot to
press a button to tell the elevator which floor to go to. You heard a muted
conversation before a set of doors at the back opened up and a caretaker with
his head down wheeled a cart across a tiny gap. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Excuse me,” you said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh. Excuse me. No, God, pardon me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s no trouble.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Behind him was a vast area with canvas bins and
silver-barred shelves with bottles and linens, its cinder-blocked walls marked
black from contact with rubber stoppers that protected the corners of things. A
short man with greased hair, probably Filipino, watched you slide out of the
way of the cart, then bent back to his task, his arms and part of his head
disappearing into a sack of canvas hanging from a stainless steel frame on
large, grey, rubber wheels.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Nice weather lately,” you said. “Looks like we
might have a summer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Fly season,” he said. He pressed the button for
the fourth floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You reached over and pressed the button for the
fifth floor to see where the conversation would go. “What’s that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Seen ’em fucking everywhere. Flies. I mean having
sex everywhere. I’m not a vulgar talker. Don’t use the F-word for emphasis.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Anyone you talk to’s all delighted the weather’s
getting warmer again, but when you work with garbage . . . ”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I can see how warm weather might be a mixed
blessing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Mixed nothing. What’s the blessing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“When you aren’t at work?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You think I’ve got A/C? There’s a nice time in
the evening where if I happen to be by the lake or— Nah, you’re right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m sorry?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No need to be sorry. I’m just in a bad mood’s the
truth. The weather is nice. The flies agree.” The elevator stopped, the doors
dinged open and the caretaker pushed his cart out. “You have a good day, you
hear?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You too.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">On the fifth floor you got out and did a circuit,
careful not to spill your coffee. Most of the doors were closed, but you passed
one that was open. A hunched nurse was sticking electrodes to the chest of a topless,
bearded man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You took the elevator back to the first floor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Whoever had designed the hospital’s lobby had,
either by carelessness or design, used ramps and gardens to obscure sightlines.
If you were eight or maybe ten feet tall you would have been able to see the
whole vast multileveled open space supported by regular columns and partitioned
for various purposes. There was value, you thought, or beauty maybe in the way
that the walls and the green life here seemed to direct you down safe, quiet, known
paths—to lead you this way to the front doors, this way to the pharmacy or that
way to the small, private sitting area where just over a year earlier you and
your partner’s mother had discussed the details of your deathwatch rotation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You heard singing and you followed the sound up a
long ramp to a small courtyard outside of the gift shop. The plants lining the
sides of the ramp obscured your view of the performer, but you could see a
woman crying in a dirty bathrobe with clear tubes up her nose, could distinguish
a decent version of “Purple Rain,” could sense an inexplicable heaviness in
your body as if your feet and your arm—reaching for the banister and holding
tight—knew something that you too smugly ignored. When you cleared the last
plant, a rubber tree reaching its waxy leaves out into the walkway, you saw,
smiling welcome, then smiling recognition, your partner’s favourite drag queen,
the one who’d sang “When Doves Cry” twice at the funeral. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It shouldn’t have been a surprise. All of your
partner’s people had developed relationships here, especially in the last
months of your partner’s life. You’d never seen the drag queen here before, but
there was no reason to think that they didn’t perform regularly to lift the
spirits of who? Well, the lady with emphysema all folded up like she was
smoking outside on a cold day. There was a man with a new baby, or a bundle of
fabrics in varying shades of white that had taken the basic shape of a new
baby; a bald person—a hairless person actually—of no clear sex and no obvious
age; a woman whose body seemed tired, who had bags under her eyes, but who
otherwise seemed well. Two boys too young to be alone sat up on the edge of one
of the concrete planters. The larger boy, was hammering his heels against the
wall he was sitting on. The smaller boy was pulling pieces of fern off the
plant and dropping the pieces to the floor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You didn’t feel like you could leave, but you were
desperate to. How would the conversation with the drag queen go? “What are you
doing here?” would certainly be a question, most likely the first one. “Oh, you
know, this is what I do now. I come here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A man wearing Madras shorts and a sweatshirt with
the hood up came out of the gift shop and handed the boys on the wall’s edge a
package of wine gums each then lifted them both down simultaneously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hey, you don’t pay,” came a voice from the gift
shop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The hooded man turned back even as he began
walking down a ramp, his hand on the boys’ backs pushing them, guiding them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He no pay,” said the voice. The small woman who
ran the gift shop with her husband came out the doors, looked at the crowd and
pointed in the direction the man and his sons had disappeared in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No one in the crowd moved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You smiled. You stood. You walked past the drag
queen, held your palms up and shrugged while mouthing the word “Sorry.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hey,” the woman said. As you rounded the corner,
you saw that she had spotted a security guard who turned towards her. “That man
with two boy, again he no pay.” The security guard nodded, turned and ran in
the direction the hooded man was walking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You slowed down and took a relieved breath. Your
heart was racing; you put your hand over your chest as if to calm it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">By the time you passed the security guard, he had
caught up to the man and his sons and he was saying, “Well, why’d you bring
them if you were going to steal?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The hooded man mumbled something in reply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Well, this is not the first time you’ve stolen
something here. You shouldn’t have brought them if you knew you were going to
steal.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You could see the glass doors to the street,
students passing with their backpacks and side bags and white headphones, a
businessman on his cell phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was time to go home, for the day anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, April 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence:</b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> Angel Rendal, writer, <a href="http://angelrendal.blogspot.ca/">blogger</a>, contributor to
Vol. 2 of <i><a href="http://weass.tumblr.com/">The West Enders</a></i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-4056727895754291742016-04-19T05:31:00.000-04:002016-11-13T05:49:02.523-05:00One Day One<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7yDupEqmdVo0ZQXnW2UgimlYys14npRNvxMNA3qaE2gJexPudzGslXif0AQA7MjM7dDBJcBevNRNNqCVlKUeSqzWyuXCEQSSs0qwTRr0J6FzcuLmwkc6_R5f-Z0u8itxjfTAuJ1VxYeI/s1600/Matt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7yDupEqmdVo0ZQXnW2UgimlYys14npRNvxMNA3qaE2gJexPudzGslXif0AQA7MjM7dDBJcBevNRNNqCVlKUeSqzWyuXCEQSSs0qwTRr0J6FzcuLmwkc6_R5f-Z0u8itxjfTAuJ1VxYeI/s1600/Matt.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea knew her cell phone was in here somewhere.
Under her graphic novel, maybe? Nope. It vibrated again. Sounded like it was on
something soft. Had she thrown it on the laundry pile vomiting—no,
erupting—from that wicker hamper her guardians had given her so that she
wouldn’t have some stinking laundry pile oozing over, consuming her bedroom
floor? Nope. Or at least she hoped not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Where’d she put her pants? She knew right away
that’s where it was—the pocket of her black Levi’s corduroys that Eric’s mom,
who was like exactly the same size as Chelsea, was going to throw out, was in
the process of throwing out this one time when Chelsea was over there, like
maybe two months ago, and that fit Chelsea perfectly, like so perfectly that
when she got them and tried them on and looked in the mirror and turned around
she was like, whose butt is that? That’s my butt? Damn that’s my butt. The
picture she took and captioned “damn That’s my butt!?” had 347 likes on
Instagram and, like, 400 and something responses on Facebook. She found the
cords under the hoodie that Jayden loaned her last week. The cell phone was in
the pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">♥ :) :/ :(</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">2m ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">What’s
up?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Every time she got a text from Max and saw how
he’d written his name in her contacts, she rolled her eyes. I mean, she could
change it, but it was pretty funny.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">As she was punching in her passcode, he texted
again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥ </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">now<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">I
mean you got any plan’s <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She did have plans, but<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Why should I tell you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Before Max texted back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Whoa,
okay, just relax<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea
was already thinking about which emoji to send him because she was feeling bad
about being cheeky or whatever you want to call it, but also because she
thought it would be fun to, to, to try and distill her plans down to pictures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">So, like, she was supposed to meet Kenny sometime
around three and that would be a mushroom, but right now it wasn’t even noon
and she’d even had some food already so all she needed to do was get dressed
and she thought that maybe before that she’d watch something, one of her
guardians’ old videotapes from when her guy guardian—I mean, what should he be
called, dad guardian? Peter?—from when Peter was in film school or whatever and
he collected all this, like arty cinema. So, like, a snail for taking it easy
and there was definitely a videotape somewhere. Okay, okay, there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max texted<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">jks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">and
Chelsea was like, Alright. Hold on Max. Still, it was pretty funny that he was
squirming. After the Shrooms, though? Well, the most surprising thing was who
she was doing them with: Will. Workout Will. Will the Angry. Will the Good.
Will who hadn’t ever even been drunk, who said he’d had alcohol once when he
was, like, five and his grandfather let him taste it. Will read an article from
a <i>New Yorker</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> magazine that his
dad was going to throw out. It was an article about psilocybin by some food
writer that he thought maybe she was supposed to have heard of. And it was
about how, like, mushrooms brought dying people to a, like, place of peace or
serenity or some other amazing place about their dying. Like helped them face
the idea of their own death or some such. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea was looking for a character to represent
Will and was stuck between— Actually she was just stuck. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Chels?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">For some reason Max was dying, so she just picked
a knife because the plan was to cut the mushrooms up and make little personal
pita pizzas. The rocket ship was for getting high. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She sent the sequence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Then sent<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">#plans<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">before
she had a chance to regret not using the pizza emoji. She threw her phone on
the bed, grabbed Jayden’s hoodie, Eric’s mom’s pants, some underwear, a bra and
socks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She found her towel and smelled it. The scent
burst into the back of her throat and stuck there like a wet wad of dog hair.
She dropped the towel, kicked it towards the laundry pile and went to the linen
closet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When she got back from her shower, she grabbed her
phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">6m ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">I
mean #soundslikefun<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">9m ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Any
way, either scenario sounds like fun<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">9m ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">…cause
it matters to Christ how you do your homemade tattoos.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">10m
ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Or
maybe you are meeting a giant snail to watch home movies from when you and the
snail were… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">15m
ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Whoa,
my phone auto corrected maché to have the accent aigu.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">15m
ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">You
are going to smoke weed and watch a movie. No, you are going to make a movie.
A…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea unlocked the phone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">You
are going to smoke weed and watch a movie? No, you are going to make a movie. A
rant about mushrooms and how weird you think they are. They are super weird.
And about how you watched Planet Earth and there was that part with the ants
getting that fungus that makes them stupid then kills them. Or maybe you’ll
tell a story about taking shrooms. And cutting yourself. Accidentally. You
thought your arm was a sausage and you were just so hungry. Then you and your
friend Max (me, not some other Max) are going to build a rocket ship out of
cardboard and space helmets out of paper maché. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Whoa,
my phone auto corrected maché to have the accent aigu.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Or
maybe you are meeting a giant snail and the two of you are going to watch home
movies from when you guys were little. You and the snail are family friends.
Shit, though, the video is a VHS so maybe it’s from when your parents were
little. Then the mushroom is for playing Super Mario Bros. for NES because that
seems appropriately VHS-esque. You and the snail are going to give each other
homemade tattoos of rocket ships using a knife for some reason. Chelsea, use a
needle like everybody else for Christ’s sake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">…cause
it matters to Christ how you do your homemade tattoos.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Any
way, either scenario sounds like fun<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">I
mean #soundslikefun</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">As she was typing out her reply, Max texted again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Alright,
I guess the conversations over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Conversation’s.
Conversation is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea deleted her text about Will coming over.
That was Will’s business. Besides, Max clearly liked her and Chelsea, honestly,
was into Will, but had no idea what the rest of her day would be like and if
things did not go well with Will then what was the point of discouraging Max,
at least discouraging Max right now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">#tellyouaboutitlater<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">#you’rekillingme<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">How her day went was like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea got herself an almost full deck of Premium
Plus crackers, a side plate, a knife and a tub of cream cheese and sat down to
watch Peter’s copy of <i>My Own Private Idaho</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">, which Peter insisted that she would love. Only the VCR started
making these two noises, both of them rhythmic, one a grind and one a squeal.
Then there was the pop and whirr of the machine trying to eject the tape. And
the pop and whirr again and again. When she got to the VCR, cream cheese and
cracker nearly overwhelming her mouth with its sticky bulk, cracker dust
spraying with each exhale, the cassette was in mid-eject and bucking on beat
with the pop and whirr. She couldn’t get her fingers in the VCR to help
anything, so she unplugged the machine to at least make the noise stop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea decided to stream the movie on Peter’s
iPad, but got distracted by Facebook until 2:55 p.m. It was after 3 by the time
she left the house and she was texting Kenny to assure him she was coming and
Kenny texted back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>Kenneth
George</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"> now<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Coming
where?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They
had a little back and forth and it became clear that he’d forgotten they were
supposed to meet and he didn’t have any mushrooms right now anyway, sorry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea stood there in the middle of the street,
staring at her phone. A guy frosted in sawdust and stinking of cigarettes and
work, snarled, “Fucking iPhones; everybody’s in love,” as he walked by. It
snapped Chelsea out of her stunned disappointment. She sat down on the stoop of
an apartment between storefronts. She texted Will. She had to text Will. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">It’s
probably for the best.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Ken’s an idiot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">I’m
not sure I’m ready.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea bit her lower lip and looked up at sun
before typing and sending<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Still wanna come over anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Her heart hurried until Will replied<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">That’d
be great.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Yes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Sure.</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Peter was making dinner and Chelsea was sitting in
the kitchen debating whether or not she should mention what had happened with <i>My
Own Private Idaho</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> when Will
arrived. After Peter introduced himself and said he wished he’d known that Will
was coming over, Peter invited Will to dinner. When Will explained that he was
vegan, Peter looked at the meat sauce he’d just set to simmer and said, “Uh, do
you want just noodles or something? Or, I’ve got mushrooms. I could make a
cream sauce.” Will politely declined before Chelsea had a chance to tell Peter
that cream sauce wasn’t vegan either. Peter said it was nice to meet Will and
asked Chelsea to be sure to say next time Will was coming over. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">After Chelsea convinced Will that Peter or Erica,
who had just gotten home, weren’t going to barge into her room, Chelsea and
Will started making out. One thing led to another and eventually Chelsea rolled
over and fished a condom out of her bedside table. Will asked, “What are you
doing?” She held the square package up so he could see her rip it open. “I—
No,” Will said. “I’m flattered, but no. I’m not ready.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea was let down, but she was also frustrated
that she’d wasted a condom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Will saw some flicker of those feelings and said,
“I’m sorry.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She threw the condom towards her desk and it
landed on a pile of books before sliding off onto a dusty portfolio filled with
drawings from an art class she’d taken years ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m sorry,” Will said again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea lay flat on her back. He rolled towards
her and eventually—without letting her touch him once—he got her off twice and
somehow she was more eager than ever and she said she could go fetch that
condom, but he said, “We can do this again sometime. I’m still just— I don’t think
I’m ready.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They got dressed and went downstairs. In the front
hall, Will put on his shoes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea followed him to the front porch, where she draped her arms over Will’s shoulders and French kissed him before he turned
and walked away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She was getting into bed, feeling both more
relaxed and more alive than she had in a long time—since at least Eric, or
maybe not even, maybe since Jayden—when her cell phone buzzed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span style="font-family: "symbol"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;"><b><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Symbol;">♥</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">2m ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Text
me when you’re done. I want to hear all about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px;"><span style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">15m
ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">And
I know you’re tripping right now, cause you told me about the shrooms earlier.
Not telepathy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">16m
ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Sorry,
you’re probably tripping right now. It’s Max. Not some light being.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">21m
ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Will
like shrooms or what?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><b>max</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b>♥</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";"><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times";"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "symbol";">:) :/ :(</span></b></span></span></span><b> </b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";">21m
ago<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "arial";">How
are you guys doing?</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chelsea picked up her phone and unlocked it. She
thought about replying to Max. She looked through the emoji. She considered
various hands, or texting just the eggplant. Or the heart. Then she selected
the rocket, but put her phone down instead of sending it. Chelsea turned out
the light, the cell phone screen casting a blue glow towards her ceiling before
fading to a dimmer blue then going dark entirely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, April 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Matt Silva, writer, moviemaker, Lee’s former
student<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-77835034430329578592016-04-13T06:07:00.001-04:002016-11-22T05:34:19.880-05:00Sadie<!--[if !mso]>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZhcmWrjccMcdQRJPDOWsDxPfSYcFD7ziSW_qAOrYfXnAfzd8UJyvHbtnEH6WWQmXk09xKBZI1_00pXAsctOu9fnyqDKGeZj9ygZFeoSa38tya1Hp1Zzmv5NmHuIMqpvdIeyg_ZyQTTI/s1600/Diane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZhcmWrjccMcdQRJPDOWsDxPfSYcFD7ziSW_qAOrYfXnAfzd8UJyvHbtnEH6WWQmXk09xKBZI1_00pXAsctOu9fnyqDKGeZj9ygZFeoSa38tya1Hp1Zzmv5NmHuIMqpvdIeyg_ZyQTTI/s1600/Diane.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Besides the fact, or maybe in addition to the
fact, that we’d broken up nine or ten days earlier, Andrew doesn’t like to
dance. So, while I was laughing and spinning and jumping and putting my hands
up up to “Single Ladies” or shouting “It’s fun to stay at the,” then closing my
eyes, bouncing on my toes and forming a giant Y, a giant M, a giant C and a
giant A with my arms, Andrew was lying on the rich grass on a little slope that
someone told us later was the edge of the septic bed, not that that was such a
big deal, only that it explained the remarkably lush cushion of green. Probably
to say good-bye without saying good-bye—my family had always liked
Andrew—people were stopping by: my dad to chat between heaving breaths, to sip
bottled water and to smoke in anticipation of another spin on the plywood
floor; my sister Stephanie to say how much she likes him and how she hopes
she’ll see him again then to hand Andrew a baby monitor and ask him to listen
for her daughter, Marcie, while she went for a “little walk” with her latest
boyfriend, Philip; my cousin, Alicia, and her fiancée, Max, to talk and to
strip down to their sports bra and undershirt, respectively, and lay their
(matching) dress shirts out on the dense grass to dry. It was Alicia and Max
who lay on that same cushion of septic-fed grass and looked up at the sky and
noticed the clouds closing in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When Andrew raced over to me, my heart was in the
“Safety Dance” and the sway of my thrifted red dress. I couldn’t understand how
weather could inspire such urgency. By that point people were starting to hurry
towards cars or towards the hosts’ house or towards our tents in the
neighbouring field. The DJ was undeterred, so I was tempted to stay, but “Okay,
okay,” I let Andrew hold my arm as he led me out from under the party tent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A crackling flash illuminated the clouds’ rumbling
black bellies as they stormed from the ocean towards the still eerily moonlit
Mt. Sadie. As we dashed towards our tent, the wind blew us from the right so
that to stay on course we had to walk almost diagonally. When the rain started,
it felt like it was coming up out of the ground, so powerfully was the wind
whipping the clouds towards Sadie. The tent was bucking against its ropes.
Entering the tent gave me two powerful, conflicting feelings. The first was
that at any point the wind might lift us in the nylon shelter and sail us over
the hedge, the road, the narrow valley and into the side of the mountain. The
second was that despite the possible risks, it was imperative that we be in the
tent, borrowed from Andrew’s father, who I had, after two years of dating
Andrew, still not met. Who I figured I would never meet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We zipped up the tent. I turned on a flashlight
we’d hung from the low center of the ceiling and, kneeling, without thinking,
started peeling off my dress, which was soaked on my right side and on my back,
but surprisingly dry from my left shoulder to at least my waist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m sorry,” Andrew said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?” I turned my head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Andrew was crouched near the tent door, his knees
angled to one side, his face averted. “I could wait outside.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh my God, it’s crazy out there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m already soaked.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You’re being silly.” I felt badly, but it was
nothing he hadn’t seen before. Then, despite the crackling spray of the rain on
the tent skin, I heard voices. “What is that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s just people in another tent.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I turned my head left and right to try and focus
my hearing, my dress top hanging from my waist. “It’s coming from your pocket.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He put his hand down and felt the baby monitor
there. When he pulled the monitor out, the noise was clearer, like background
chatter from a radio play party scene. He looked up at me for a moment and
smiled before noticing my breasts, framed by my finest bra, which he told me
later was his favourite. “Sorry,” he said, looking down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh, who cares,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He nodded without raising his eyes. “Yeah.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Whose is that?” I pointed to the monitor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Steph’s.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Why do you have it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“She and Philip went for a walk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“In this shit?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Andrew took a deep breath before exhaling a,
“Right,” then repeating himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I slid the bra straps over my shoulders and
uncupped—or maybe I should say de-laced—my breasts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I guess I should go find her. Find Stephanie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I twisted the bra around and down so the clasp was
above my belly button. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The wind whined, the rain drummed harder against
the nylon and the tent leaned against Andrew. He pressed back against our
shelter, reached for the zipper. “Okay, I guess I’ll— Oh my God,” he said when
he saw my breasts. “Please.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think you should fuck me,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He opened his mouth like he was about to speak,
then closed it. He looked past me. He held the monitor up and opened his mouth
again, closed it again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I pulled my dress over my hips, sat down and
slipped it the rest of the way off, the sleeping bag whispering beneath
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Andrew watched. Andrew dropped his knees down so
he was no longer squatting there. Andrew dropped his knees down between my
spread feet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I held my arms out to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He bit the right side of his upper lip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I reached between my legs and grabbed his belt,
black and unfamiliar. He’d borrowed it, too, from his father. The buckle came
away easily in my hands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">At that point, I was not imagining that we would
get back together. In the maybe three weeks since we’d broken up, my roommate’s
boyfriend had set me up with some handsome single friend of his, Luke, and I
had slept with an ex-girlfriend, Beth. Both encounters were pleasurable in
their own way, but mannered and, well, awkwardly new. Even with Beth. That
afternoon, when Andrew had arrived early at my apartment, wearing Old Spice and
a suit he later told me his mother had purchased for him before his high school
formal, despite the strangeness of his dress and the masking of his scent, it
was as if his smell set all the other smells in my place right, the smell of my
roommate’s piss and fruity Body Shop soap, my plants’ damp potting soil in my
sun-warmed back window. Plus, my grandfather had worn Old Spice. I offered
Andrew coffee and he offered to make it and even that, even the coffee made
with the same beans in the same grinder and the same French press, suddenly
smelled right again, smelled like the coffee I drink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He asked then, sipping hot coffee in the
mid-afternoon light of my apartment, if I was sure that we wanted just the one
tent, that his dad had more. I told him again that I wasn’t sure how big the
field was or how many people were pitching tents there and that I thought one
tent was better, but if he’d feel more comfortable, then whatever we could make
it work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Even with all that warmth he’d made me feel when
he was at my place, I experienced that as sadness, or disappointment at least.
I did not experience it as desire. Even when he told me, “You look great,” and
smiled to break your heart, I didn’t anticipate that there we’d be, together in
his dad’s tent in the chaos of a storm, listening for my sleeping niece and
having the best sex we’d ever had or maybe making the finest love we’d ever
made. Whatever you want to call it, it was thoughtful, it was sensual, it was
confidant. It was hot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We were lying there in the bare brightness of the
flashlight looking at each other, Andrew’s hand resting between my thighs, I
running my knuckles gently along his cheekbone and jaw line, when we heard
Steph saying, “Andrew. DeeDee? Andrew? Deanna!” in an urgent whisper, so
desperate to be respectful of people sleeping, but also determined to be heard
over the storm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh, shit,” Andrew said. He sat up and started
looking for the monitor, looking for his pants. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Here,” I said to him, “I’ll tell Steph we’re
here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Right. Sure. Right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I unzipped the tent and called my sister. She was
soaked. “Are you naked?” she asked. Before I could answer, she said, “Is Andrew
with you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He’s got your monitor right here.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Well, well,” Stephanie said. “Hi Andrew.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hi Steph. How is it out there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Like I went swimming. Like I’m still swimming.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah,” Andrew said. He handed me the monitor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Deanna looked good tonight, didn’t she?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah,” Andrew said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Probably still looks good. Did Marcie make any
noise?” Steph asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t think so,” Andrew said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No,” I said. I handed my sister her device.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Not that you guys heard anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“She was fine,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I was joking,” Stephanie said. “See you two in
the morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I guess so,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I was hoping to leave early, though. I had plans
to meet someone, a date, but in truth I was already planning to skip it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">With one sleeping bag as a mattress or maybe a top
sheet and one as a comforter, we pressed together and fell asleep to the sounds
of the quieting storm. The first time I woke up, my skin where it touched
Andrew’s was soaking wet and hot like I couldn’t imagine skin being hot. I
moved as far from him as the tent and the shared sleeping bags would allow. The
rain had stopped, but everything was dripping. The second time I woke, Andrew
was mumbling and shouting wordlessly in his sleep. I said his name and shook
him awake because I was worried he would wake the other campers. Without
opening his eyes, Andrew told me that something had happened to Marcie, that he
didn’t know where Steph was and something had <i>happened</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> to Marcie. He threw the top sleeping bag off and
said, “I have to go find her.” I told him that he’d been dreaming, told him to
go back to sleep. I put my hand on his bicep and its heat was startling in the
early morning chill. The third time I woke, it was dawn and no matter what I
tried I couldn’t get back to sleep. And not because of the radiant heat of
Andrew’s body, though I was deeply aware of it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I got dressed and stood outside the tent for a
while. Mt. Sadie was surrounded by clouds, though these clouds could easily be
called mist so gently indistinct were their borders compared to the
full-bellied storm clouds that charged her last night. I waited for the wind to
blow a break in them so I could see Sadie’s peak. It didn’t come quickly enough
for me and I walked back towards the party tent and the house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">As I had hoped, the desert table had been left out
and there was still coffee in the large thermos. I had a cup went back to the
tent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I unzipped the door and squatted just outside the
opening. Andrew was awake and lying on his back with his forearm over his face.
He moved his head so he could see me with one eye, then he covered his eye back
up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Good morning,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I had the worst sleep,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“There’s still coffee out. It’s cold, but . . . ”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No,” he said. “I feel— I don’t feel right.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I touched his foot. “You’re really hot. You were
really hot through the night, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I had the weirdest dreams. Or not weird, but
frustrating. There was something wrong with Marcie, but I couldn’t figure out
how to get into her room. I swear, it was, like, hours of dreaming about how to
get into her room.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You want me to get you some water?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think we should just go. You’ve got that thing,
right? We should just go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll cancel, if you want to stay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No. I’m going to cancel it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Andrew got dressed. I put my things into a duffel
bag, he put his things into his back pack. We took down the tent. Anything
Andrew could do sitting down, he did sitting down. By the time we had the car
packed, Steph and Marcie were up. Andrew sat in the driver’s seat while Steph
asked us why we weren’t staying around to help clean up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Andrew isn’t feeling well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Too much to drink?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He has a fever. Maybe the flu or something.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Aunt Tanya’s making breakfast.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We should go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We, eh?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Do you have any Tylenol? That’s good for fevers,
right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You want Baby Tylenol?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thanks anyway.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Alright. Marcie, say good bye to your Aunty
DeeDee.” Marcie just buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I grabbed my niece’s foot and gave it a shake.
“Bye, sweetheart.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Will you say good-bye to Andrew?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Marcie looked at him and waved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Andrew lifted his hand and smiled. When I got to
the car, he asked if I’d mind driving. “Not at all,” I told him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We were a few stoplights from the field where we’d
slept, from the house where we’d celebrated, when Andrew said something
quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m sorry,” he said. I took my eyes off the road
for a second to glance at him. He had his thumb over one eye, his fingers over
the other. “I don’t mean to ruin the party.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I told him I’d had a great time and the pleasures
of last night and the rain and the dancing all flooded my body again and filled
me up. I put my hand on his knee. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Andrew put his hand on top of mine. “You’re
probably going to get sick, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll help you if you need it,” he said. “If you
want,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah,” I managed to say. “I do want.” I don’t
think he noticed I was crying.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, April 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji Sequence: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><a href="https://dianedechief.com/">Diane Dechief</a>, whose sequence is inspired by a
true story, which she promised to share once Lee was finished his fiction<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story:</b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">
Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-39954507041844929202016-04-06T06:04:00.001-04:002016-09-23T05:52:52.493-04:00Beside Us<!--[if !mso]>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPk6vjHtYsn-63y-Or4X_J6o5DaSmFfKND2FPaCsLRDNKWhrwkKxFjf_R4hxHu4SpujBWof9Il0nRmecPC6IrGmeKeve5S6UTGONrNj3sOyg8AAKXm9Jqi69dLiCzaNv_l8sARrD8Syc/s1600/Emma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPk6vjHtYsn-63y-Or4X_J6o5DaSmFfKND2FPaCsLRDNKWhrwkKxFjf_R4hxHu4SpujBWof9Il0nRmecPC6IrGmeKeve5S6UTGONrNj3sOyg8AAKXm9Jqi69dLiCzaNv_l8sARrD8Syc/s1600/Emma.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Mom died in February because of pneumonia or old
age or boredom, maybe. She left Dad with no one but the hamster to look after. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I visited him on a warm, early-Spring Sunday in
April. We sat outside to watch some of Mom’s flowers come back to life. On Monday
morning he called me and said, “Beryl, I just called an ambulance to take me to
the hospital. I’ll let you know what happens when I get there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I was on the 80 Bus speeding and swaying up
Parkside. “What’s going on?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">There was a pause before Dad said, “I can’t get
out of bed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll come out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He took a breath, bracing himself. “No need to
make a fuss.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I was too worried to wait for the next bus south,
so I walked back down Parkside. I did the first few blocks in my high-heels,
but was losing my balance and my patience, so I went the rest of the way in my
stocking feet. My manager was irritated when I called to say I wasn’t coming
in. I drove out to Mom and Dad’s, but when I got there, Dad had already been
taken away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The house felt warm and smelled lived in, smelled
and felt like it was itself a living organism. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I called Dad. He was in the ambulance. “I think
we’re going to Credit Valley. Hold on.” He put the phone against his chest and
I could hear his heart beating and the rumble of his voice. “Credit Valley,” he
said. “Have you called your siblings?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll do that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The hamster wheel squeaked. I glanced in his cage
and he was sitting in the metal contraption and staring off somewhere,
motionless despite rocking back and forth slightly. I put some food in his bowl
and changed his water while I worked up the nerve to call my brothers and
sister. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin didn’t pick up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura said, “Shit,” asked which highway exit to
take to get to the hospital then said she’d be right there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby was on a run, so he was already out of
breath. I told him to find a seat. “Oh no,” he said. Once he was sitting I
explained where Dad was and he cried. It started with an ugly, pained whimper
squeezing through some place deep inside him. I told Darby that Dad had asked
if I would call everybody, Laura and Martin too. “No, no,” Darby said again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Look, I really should get going.” He didn’t
respond, so I just told him that he should come out as soon as he could. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I tried Martin again, then I texted him, “Dad’s in
the hospital.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I was in the car when Martin texted back, “K.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">At the stoplight at Burnhamthorpe and Erin Mills I
wrote Martin. “He asked if I’d contacted everybody.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I was by Dad’s side when Martin texted back, “He
alright?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad was holding my hand then and in the eighteen
hours since I’d seen him he had changed. Sunken is the word that comes to mind.
That’s the cliché, isn’t it? It was like all the soft bits of him were getting
out of the way, starting the process of abandoning his skeleton. “Sorry Dad,” I
said. “Give me a sec.” To Martin, I typed, “I don’t think so.” Dad had his eyes
closed and was smiling. I deleted my message. “I think you should come to the
hospital.” I added “Credit Valley,” when I realized that Martin might not know
which hospital. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura arrived as they were moving us to
Palliative. Darby arrived as Laura and I were waiting outside while the doctor
examined Dad so Darby was there when the doctor, an angelically kind woman,
explained to us that she didn’t know how long Dad had, but that it wasn’t long.
Laura asked what “wasn’t long” meant. “No way to know. Could be today, could be
a week from now.” I called Martin while Laura and the palliative care doctor
each held one of Darby’s hands and the doctor encouraged Darby to breathe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When Martin arrived, sometime around two-thirty or
three in the afternoon, Dad greeted him the same way he’d greeted all of us,
with a whispered, “Hi,” and a smile, his eyes fighting to stay open long enough
to find our eyes. Then he added, “All my kids in one room.” In my lifetime, Dad
had always asked us not to buy birthday gifts. “I just want my family to be
together, that’s gift enough.” His birthday party was the one time every year
when we were all in the same place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">At around four-thirty, Martin’s partner, Jack,
arrived with their children Barnett and Stuart, to say good-bye to Grampa.
Darby, Laura and I waited in a room at the end of the hall. Darby’s daughter,
Lisa, was too young, Darby thought, to see her grandfather “like this,” he
said. By then, Dad’s body seemed even more changed, like he was a figure you
might meet in a dream who you would know was him, but who wasn’t him really.
Martin left with Jack, Barnett and Stuart. He said he’d try to be back in the
morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura’s kids, Eric and Astrid, arrived with her
partner, Susan, after dinnertime. Darby phoned his wife, Julie, and talked
about maybe bringing their daughter Lisa out, but Lisa had already gone to bed.
“Tomorrow, then,” Darby said. After Susan, Eric and Astrid left, Darby looked
at us and said, “I think I’ve got to go.” Laura asked if Darby was okay to
drive and offered to give him a lift to the train station. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll be fine,” Darby assured us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dad died at eleven twenty-three p.m., Laura and I
by his bedside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was after two a.m. when I drove to Mom and
Dad’s place. The house felt cold. I walked around checking the windows and
doors. When I was little, in April we’d open up the house whenever we had an
opportunity. The fresh air felt so good after winter’s staleness. I figured Dad
had done that, had started to open up the house, but every window and every
door was shut. I was standing back by the front
door and wondering why I’d come when I heard the hamster nosing around in his
food bowl. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I went into the kitchen, picked up his cage with
him in it and walked it to my car. I had to take second trip to grab his
Tupperware container of food. It was nice to have his company on my drive home.
I turned the stereo off so I could hear his little noises. He chirped like a
bird with a cold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I have only street parking and had to park a ways
from my house. We were walking from the car and were maybe half a block away
when a big breeze blew the hamster’s fur around his tiny body and he squeaked
and ran around looking for something to hide behind. “It’s okay,” I told him. I
picked up my pace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We held a service for Dad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin and Laura’s mother, Dad’s first wife
Shelly, showed up and offered Darby and I her condolences. Every time I
interact with her, I am surprised by her kindness. The only other times that
had happened, though, was at Martin’s and Laura’s weddings and, you know, I
could explain her kindness away because those were both happy occasions. But at
the reception after Dad’s service she was generous and patient and, I don’t know,
really in tune to me. Focused on me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I think she rattled Darby a bit. Darby is still
loyal to our family’s vision of her as— As what? Um. As unkind. As missing some
essential thing. As someone who hurt Dad because of some unforgivable, unalterable flaw. As the root of the otherness that made Martin and Laura gay, maybe—yes,
our family had that quiet homophobia, at least had had it. As being by
definition responsible for the otherness that made them half-siblings who were
only around occasionally and who were cold to Mom. Or skeptical about her. Or
ungenerous towards her. Unforgiving, maybe, that for them, towards them, she
was no mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Why’d she come?” Darby whispered across my
shoulder, his hand gripping my wrist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Shelly was hugging Martin, whose eyes, even
distorted by tears his lower eyelids refused to let go of, were Dad’s eyes.
“It’s okay, Darby,” I told him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When he said, “It’s not okay,” I wished I’d said,
Get over it, instead of something kind. “I mean, who invited her?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Obviously Martin or Laura.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Obviously.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“They were married for, like, fifteen years,” I
reasoned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh, stop being so nice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We met at the house on the Sunday a week after my
last visit with Dad, my last visit unburdened by the knowledge of Dad’s
immanent death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">My nieces and nephews were all coming, so I
brought the hamster to honour his purpose. Mom and Dad got him so the grandkids
would have something to entertain them. The hamster wasn’t looking good—his fur
was matted and his eyes seemed, well, glazed. Glazed like a donut is glazed.
Like with an inconsistently translucent white coating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s wrong with him?” Stuart asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Astrid said, “Is he going to die, too?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Well, duh,” Barnett said. “We all die.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eric started to cry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Be nice,” Martin said to his sons. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Be nice,” Laura told her daughter. “It’s okay,
Eric,” she told her son.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The kids just turned down the volume on their
conversation. Jack walked over to where they were standing. After looking at
Laura, Susan followed Jack.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby leaned against the piano holding onto Lisa
and staring into some invisible distance. “I’ll take her,” Julie said to Darby.
“Darby?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s that?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll take her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Julie took Lisa to where the other kids were.
Darby sat down beside me on the couch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin said he’d get us all glasses of water. Did
we want tea or coffee? He sounded just like Dad. He probably always had, but
I’d never noticed. “Beryl, coffee with a half-teaspoon of sugar, right?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Only if you’re making some,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m making some,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Through my teary eyes the room seemed flooded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’d take tea,” Laura said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I know,” Martin said. “Darby, you like tea too,
yeah?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We were quiet for a while. Barnett and Stuart went
into the backyard to play catch. Eric went out to watch them. Twice while we
were sitting there, Stuart missed the ball and it streaked past the dining room
window and banged into the wooden fence. Both times Eric eagerly raced after
and retrieved the ball. Susan and Julie sat on a bench by the garden.
Periodically Susan would encourage Astrid to go join her brother and her older
cousins, but the girl preferred standing between her mother’s legs or climbing
up on the bench and running her hands through Susan’s hair. Julie sat with Lisa
on her lap. Lisa watched the ball flying back and forth like some cartoon
tennis spectator. Jack walked around Mom’s garden surveying it, and squatting
periodically to touch some leaf or petal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin took steaming cups to the people outside
before he came to the door with a tray with waters and coffees and teas for us.
“Shall we?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura stood up. Darby followed her then I followed
him. We went downstairs like that, oldest to youngest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin put the tray down on the coffee table.
“Grab a seat,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You have your key,” Laura asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Of course.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ve got mine, too,” Laura said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay. Sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin went to a closet under the stairs and
returned with a black box. “This is heavier than I thought.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Isn’t it fireproof or something?” Laura asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Can you help me put it down?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura and I both stood, but Laura was closer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Inside there were envelopes for each of us,
Darby’s and my names written in Mom’s handwriting, Laura’s and Martin’s names
printed by Dad. There were two letters inside each envelope, one from Mom and
one from Dad. I knew they were written a long time ago because Mom started
hers, “I wish I could be there with you.” As I alluded to earlier, near the
end, her end, Mom had given the distinct impression that she had outlived her
interest in life. I set both letters aside and read them later that night when
I was alone. I looked through the will. There were no surprises. Martin was the
executor. Everything was to be split. 17% each for Martin and Laura, 33% each
for Darby and me. Dad had a mathematical notion of fairness. I understood, or
figured, I guess, that the rationale was that Martin and Laura would also
inherit from their mom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Dad rounded up for you guys, eh?” Darby said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Well, it’s correct,” Martin said. “I mean one
sixth of one hundred is sixteen point six six repeater, which goes up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby shook his head and went back to reading the
will.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin stared at him long enough to decide not to
react. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">After 20 minutes, Martin directed us to the other
stuff in the box. “You guys know this is where the funeral information was?” he
asked, holding up a folder of papers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I didn’t,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I assumed you had been given it,” Darby said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It was here,” Martin said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby glared at him like maybe he was worried
Martin had, I don’t know, tampered with the contents of the box. I put my hand
on Darby’s back to try and calm him down, but he shrugged my hand off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I figured you all had enough to think about,”
Martin said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It would have been nice to know,” Darby said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Well, now you know.” Martin smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">There was the deed to the house. Laura reminded us
that we should start clearing the place out. Sitting in the basement there, I
could imagine the weight of all their stuff, all my old stuff, all Darby’s old
stuff pinning me down to the couch, or at least barricading the basement door.
Martin mentioned that in their letters, Mom and Dad had said there was no rush,
since the house was paid off. I felt relieved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">There was banking information. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">There was a list of jewellery that was valuable
and jewellery that was sentimental. Mom had put names beside each item, though
overwhelmingly she wanted the items to go to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby was looking up at the flat screen TV.
“Anybody else want that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura and Martin each looked up from a different
scrap of paperwork. Martin shook his head, No. Laura shrugged, frowned and shook
her head too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby looked at me. “It’s fine,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He stood up and touched the corners of the TV
gently. He looked behind the unit, biting his tongue as his eyes searched for
screw heads and wires and whatever else he might need to see. Martin said,
“I’ve got a flashlight on my phone. If you need it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh, thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura stood up. “I’ll get the toolbox.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Can we just leave it?” I startled myself with how
loud I made my request. My siblings were startled, too. We were all quiet. They
looked at me. They looked at each other. We heard my nieces and nephews and
their parents come back in the house and spread out. Someone turned on the TV
upstairs. “Let’s just leave things for now,” I said. “For today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That’s fine with me,” Martin said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Absolutely,” Laura said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Whatever,” Darby said. “I don’t see the
difference, but sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Will you guys give me a minute?” Martin asked.
“I’ll be right back.” He took the stairs two at a time. Darby sat down beside
me again, but made a point of not looking my way. I put all my paperwork down
on the coffee table, upsetting a little cloud of dust. My coffee was
surprisingly cold, cold like it had never been warm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby went to the washroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura asked, “You okay, Beryl?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I mean you lived here more recently than anyone.
Other than Dad and your mom, of course.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I just kept nodding because there was something
too touching about Laura thinking of that simple fact and what it meant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Was the basement even done when Darby lived
here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I broke my nodding rhythm and flicked out a quick,
No.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The toilet flushed and we heard Darby at the sink.
Laura rubbed her eyes. Darby came back and sat down again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Laura asked Darby questions about Lisa and it took
him awhile to warm up to answering, but he was going on at great length about
his and Julie’s impressions of Lisa’s daycare by the time Martin came down
clutching a tiny, steaming ceramic jug by the neck and holding, leaning against
his chest for balance, a stack of tiny cups like they serve tea in at Chinese
restaurants. “Okay,” he said. He set the jug down, took a quick breath and
waved his hand to cool it down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s that?” Darby asked. His tone was
unwilling, closed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Saki,” Martin answered. He set the four cups out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Mmm,” Laura said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s saki?” Darby asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin explained that it’s rice wine, that you
drink it warm. He poured some for each of us. Darby took his, sniffed it and
put the cup to his lips. Martin opened his mouth like he was about to stop
Darby from taking a sip, but he didn’t. Darby twisted his face up, way
overselling his dislike of Martin’s saki.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay,” Martin began. “I— Let’s drink to Dad.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We all held our glasses up, but none of us spoke
and none of us put any effort into touching anyone else’s glass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“To Dad,” Martin said and took a sip. We all
drank, even Darby. “So. Um.” As Martin thought about how to say what he wanted
to say, he pulled his lips up and in. “We don’t see each other enough.” Martin
looked at Laura and I knew they had spoken about whatever he was about to say.
“Look. I’m, well, I’m not doing anything, I haven’t done anything to fix that.
But I— What I want to say is I think— I think we should think about buying a
cottage or something. Together. A vacation place that’s, like, got room for all
of us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What, like one of those mansion cottages?” Darby
asked. “Like one that’s nicer than my house?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No,” Laura said. “Well, we can talk about it, but
what Martin and I have been talking about is more like one of those old
resorts, I think people called them. They’re often, say, a few acres near a
river or on a lake—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“And we could each have a cabin was what we’ve
been thinking.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“With this money?” Darby pointed to the basement
floor. “The inheritance?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Martin nodded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I need this money,” Darby said. There was a
fierceness in his voice that made you feel sorry for him. I knew he owed a lot
of money on his house, that daycare costs were stressing him out, that he
wasn’t sleeping. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We don’t have to decide now,” Laura said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Just think about it,” Martin said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Can’t we do something normal, like invite each
other over?” Darby was worked up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Sure,” Martin said in his quietest voice. “Sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Plus,” Darby said, “we’re going to see each other
a lot dealing with— Clearing this place out, right?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We all nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What do you think, Beryl?” Laura asked. “About a
place to go, to meet up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What I thought was how much Dad loved it when we
all got together. What I thought was that if we had a place together, that it
is where Dad’s spirit would be. What I thought was that I would like it, sure,
especially if I ever decided to start a family of my own. What I thought was,
“I like the idea.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby looked at me like I was betraying him. Then
his face softened a bit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Someone upstairs screamed. Eric screamed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">By the time I arrived in the kitchen, my brothers
and sister were joining their partners and children around both sides of the
counter where the hamster’s cage was. On the far side of the counter were
Barrett and Stuart, Jack framed between his son’s shoulders. Lisa was in
Julie’s arms. Susan was leaning down in front of her son and Astrid, desperate
to get a look at the little hamster carcass in her brother’s hands, was
pressing against her mother’s shoulders and trying different angles to get a
clear view. Poor Eric was holding the hamster on flat hands inches from his
face and trying to blink his tears away. You could see that he felt an urge to
look, to hold the little hamster close, but was also repelled, maybe even angry
at the beast for dying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What happened to him?” Darby asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He was old,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Was somebody playing with him?” Darby asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No,” Julie told Darby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Why was the cage open?” Darby asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He really wasn’t looking good this morning,
Darby,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Then why’d you bring him?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I couldn’t answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Why was the cage open!?” Darby was shouting
again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Enough, Darby,” Martin said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lisa had started crying.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Why was the cage open?” Darby asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I thought maybe he was asleep,” Eric said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I know,” Susan said. “I know sweetheart.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Did you open the cage?” Darby asked Eric.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Stop, Darby,” Julie told her husband. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Darby took a deep breath, glared at his wife then
left the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I found him in his old bedroom. I sat down beside
him on his bed. Just like Dad used to do, I sat down beside him and was quiet.
Just like Dad used to do for me and for Darby and Laura and Martin too, I’m
sure, I sat down beside Darby and just let him cry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, March-April 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji Sequence:</b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> Emma Sheppard, teacher and sister extraordinaire<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-73404257187175902712016-03-29T21:09:00.001-04:002016-10-19T05:23:59.674-04:00Day Two<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It’s only your second day on the beach and already
you’re not sure you’re glad—actually, you’re sure you’re not glad—that you let
your sister convince you to come. Already you’re sick of how everything here,
even your older sister, Melanie, makes you feel old. Or bad. She is fit,
tanned, organized, disciplined. Always laughing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Melanie is not really single, but she and Eric,
who isn’t really her boyfriend, “I mean, what does boyfriend really <i>mean</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">, anyway,” have an open thing, or “Kind of a
polyamorous, um, arrangement,” which you take to mean that Eric is gay, or a
little gay anyway, and that it doesn’t matter how perfect your older sister is,
dude still wants dick. This is probably a jealous and not overly sophisticated
view of things that reflects more your own frustration at your seeming
inability to hold on to anyone (David) or anything (David), to produce, elicit,
exert the kind of gravity that could hold someone (David) to you. To have held
David to you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Okay, so, the scene: you are in a chaise lounge
sometimes drifting towards sleep and sometimes not looking at, but acutely
aware of the one fold in your tummy, a deep fold that you have to be basically
lying down to eliminate. You are in a chaise lounge on this huge beach that
seems to stretch infinitely to your left and infinitely to your right. You are
on this huge beach that seems to be playing host to every white young person
your age, all from back home even though this beach is attached to a country
that your parents would call “Third World,” and that you’ve heard called
“Developing,” but no matter what description a person attaches to this place
they’re just calling it poor. Recognizing that it is impoverished. There are
people from this country here. They ask you to buy things or they bring you
drinks and act super nice, then they try and get out of the way, most of them
do anyway, because they are an interruption of the illusion whoever is behind
all of this is trying to create. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your sister is stretching in front of your chaise.
On her chaise is her towel, which you had to admit <i>is</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> the softest towel you’ve ever felt when your
sister made you feel it and asked, “Isn’t that just the softest towel you’ve
ever felt?” On the towel is the book she’s reading—something about money and
how to make the money you have make more money for you. These things don’t make
you feel old, but they make you feel bad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What makes you feel old is the way your sister,
whose stretching is really an elaborate yoga routine designed to highlight her
strength, her flexibility and her ass, is drawing the attention of all the guys
walking by and all the girls, too, who are trying, and failing, to ignore her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No, it isn’t that, either. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It’s that she fucked one of the dancers last
night, one of the locals handsome enough and with good enough English that they
are paid to take women on trips around the dance floor. The guys who work here,
in this capacity in the hotels on this stretch of beach, hotels marketed to
young people, these are the pick of the crop guys. Top notch. What made you
feel old, though, is that you went with your sister, Melanie, to the “club”
where all this shit happens, but you had to come home because you couldn’t keep
your eyes open. You went back to your room and passed out only to be woken up
four hours later by Melanie and this guy Carlos, Melanie being all like, “Could
we have a few minutes? Would you mind?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You sat out on the balcony and willed the sound of
the waves to drown out Melanie screaming and moaning into Carlos’s shoulder or
the pillow or whatever, to drown out Carlos speaking rapid Spanish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When it was all over, Melanie slid open the glass
door and thanked you. She was still catching her breath. You went and lay down
for a bit, but couldn’t get back to sleep. The sun was coming up, so you went
for a walk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><i>That </i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">made
you feel old. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">But the real thing that makes you feel old is you.
You have a kid back home and you miss her. As much as you would like to be with
somebody, would like to like to be having a good time—actually you’ve not
really felt much like having sex since Alice was born—you are just spending all
your time thinking about your sweet girl back home with Mum and Dad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When you see a bikinied woman walking with two
guys, hanging off one of their arms, you imagine Alice in a few years and worry
about her safety. You don’t imagine yourself in that girl’s shoes, that girl’s
bikini top, your breasts a carefully framed and managed object of desire, a
lure to help you snag what? Sex, certainly. Companionship. Intimacy. You
imagine your breast in Alice’s hungry mouth, her crying mouth. You remember
your vulva stretching to accommodate Alice, to welcome Alice. The thought of
allowing some giggling doofus on vacation to root around in there looking for
his own pleasure, his own gratification, a confirmation of his desirability,
whatever else he might be trying to find inside you? Well, it isn’t appealing.
Or worse, letting a paid someone perform for you? Would they feel they are
earning a living or receiving a tip? Maybe both.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The beach was beautiful this morning. It was
quiet, the sun sitting low behind the hotels. Some grey-hairs walked along the
shoreline, taking advantage of the fact that many of the people in the hotels
on this stretch of sand had just gone to bed. You smiled at them, grateful of
the presence of people at a less desperate stage of life than most of your
peers. Some of them smiled back. Many of them smiled back. Some of them looked
at you like you were violating the natural order being there at that time,
being up then. You wanted to ask them about their children, assuming they have
or had children, to relate to them adult to adult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You were wearing your pajamas: loose blue
sweatpants with fraying laces cinching the waist; a black tank-top you
purchased because its neckline could be pulled down to comfortably accommodate
your breast; no bra. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">There was a short, dark man in white pants,
sandals and a light blue golf shirt with the hotel’s crest embroidered above
his heart. He had a short spear that he used to impale a plastic cup. Then he
brought the pierced cup to his shoulder, which was covered by the lip of a
garbage bag, and he used his shoulder to detach the cup, which disappeared down
the mouth of the bag. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You sat down on the foot end of a chaise and
watched him perform the same action with a cigar butt, then a cigarette butt.
It made you want a cigarette, then a coffee. You looked toward the dining area
then back in the direction of your room. The surf sound soothed you with its
crashing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You straddled the chaise, put your hands on the
arm rests and brought your butt back so you could settle into the seat, so you
could lie against the backrest. You hugged yourself because the wind was
whispering chill thoughts against your skin. You weren’t cold exactly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Breathing the beach air was different without all
your peers, without your sister. Without thinking about it you closed your eyes
and listened to the conversations of the passing people, listened to the waves
carrying on their crashing conversation with the sand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your arm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Something was touching your arm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You opened your eyes. It was yellow. There was a
yellow thing on your arm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was one of the cheap, faded yellow towels that
were folded and stacked by the pool, that the housekeeping staff left in the
closet of your room each morning. “Pardon, Señora.” The garbage man was
standing over you. “You were cold, yes?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I no mean to wake you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The beach traffic had picked up slightly and the
sun was throwing your shadow and his shadow into the surf. “No,” you shook your
head. “It’s no problem.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He bent down and lifted his garbage bag from the
sand to his shoulder again. It had clearly gotten fuller, heavier. He grabbed
his spear from where it was leaning against the chaise. “Pardon for molest,
Señora. For disturb you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You laughed. “I really appreciate it.” You lifted
a corner of the towel. “You’re very thoughtful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He stood there a moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Lovely morning,” you said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Bery beauty here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes,” you said. “It is.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">His eyes searched the beach for the next piece of
refuse. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Are you from around here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Aroun’ here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You pointed vehemently at the sand beside the
chaise. “Um, here. Do you live here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No. Beach por visitors. We live . . .” He held
his spear in the air and waved it towards the hotel, but at a pace and amplitude
that suggested far past the hotel. “Away.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Are you from here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“From?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Were you born here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Ah. No, bery far. Maybe two hours in car. Small
place, yes? Is small.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“A nice place?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Nice? Yes. My wife and children, yes? They live
there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“And you live here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes.” He noticed some people behind you. “Buenos
dias,” he said. “Good morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A man and a woman in his and hers Lululemon
running outfits and garishly neon sneakers jogged past without acknowledging
the garbage man. When they reached the edge of the surf they ran in place and
squinted down the beach in both directions trying to decide which way to go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“My name’s Sarah,” you said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Bery nice to meet you, Sarah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s lovely to meet you. What’s your name?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Alejandro. You call me Alex.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay, Alex.” You smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex nodded. “Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You were saying that your family lives two hours
away?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“How old are your kids?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Keeds?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What you say? Keeds?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your Catholic aunt from Northern Ontario often
chastises you for saying kids, which she says is an American thing. “Your
children,” you say. “How old are your children?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh, yes. Yes. My niño is eight and my niña is
five.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Niño means boy? Son?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes. His name is Jorge.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You repeated the name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is George for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You reassured Alex that you can say it the Spanish
way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is good. Bueno.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“And your Niña?” you ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Her name is Ester.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“They are beautiful names,” you say, though you
really mean, ‘Thanks for talking to me, keep talking to me.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You think so?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is . . . I worry, you know, they will think is
too plain.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is no too plain?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Not where I’m from.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is not many George or Ester there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Not to many.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You have Keeds?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes,” you laugh. “One. A niña, a daughter.
Alice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Bery nice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You smiled thinking about her and about the plane
that would fly you home to her in five more days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You sad here.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I miss her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is sad for me, too. What is word? Lonely?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You nodded and looked at Alex.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“How often do you see your family?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Ebery four weeks, yes?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Wow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is weeks, yes? Is how you say?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah weeks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Your eyes teared up at the thought of not seeing
Alice for four weeks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Pardon,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s fine,” you said. “I can’t imagine the
hardship.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Bery sorry. Is vacation for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Don’t be sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What is hardship?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Difficulty. Trouble.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay. Hardship. Is Alice with her papa?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The story of Alice’s papa sits like a pound of wet
clay somewhere in the region of your diaphragm. This morning, when Alex
reminded you of it, you had to shift in your seat to make room for its heavy,
slimy mass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I am sorry,” he said. “Is not my business.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We’re sharing,” you said. “His name was David. Is
David,” you began. You skipped the part about David being in a band that you
listened to and that your coworker knew; skipped the part about how nervous you
were to meet him; skipped the part about how artfully and purposefully he drew
you out and how his seeming interest in drawing you out, his seeming
determination to draw you out, was part of the art. His art. “He was visiting
town for . . . Well, for work.” You skipped that they were spending a month
recording at a studio in Kensington Market, that the first night you met him,
drinks at the Rivoli with your coworker and some people he’d gone to film
school with, that he was sober, but you had too many Manhattans and he kissed
you by the bathrooms but refused your offer to take him home with you because
you were drunk and he didn’t want to take advantage. ‘I’ll call you as soon as
I sober up,’ you said. ‘I’m in the studio all day tomorrow,’ he said. ‘What are
you doing tomorrow night?’ you asked. ‘Fucking you, I guess,’ he said, but he
blushed. You didn’t tell Alex the part about how David came to your parent’s
house that first night because you’d forgotten that it was your aunt’s birthday
and he said it was fine, he could see you another night, but you said, ‘No,
come,’ and he did and afterwards he stayed the night and you guys, the two of
you, did something that at the time and for a while afterwards you would have
called making love it was so gentle and respectful. “We fell in love,” you told
Alex. “I thought we were in love.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes,” Alejandro said, meaning, ‘Go on.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I got pregnant right away,” you told Alejandro.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He winced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">David stayed with you for the month the band was
in town. Your period was due on the Tuesday of the third week. When it didn’t
come, David bought the pregnancy test at a drugstore near the studio and stood
in the bathroom with you as you held it between your legs and peed on it. You
were both happy, at least in each other’s presence. David kept saying, Wow.
You’d fantasized about having children together, about living in the country
together, about having peacocks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">David wrote a song ‘Inspired by you,’ and played
it for you on the night before he went back home. You guys talked on the phone,
sometimes twice a day. They were touring, playing in Pittsburgh the night that
he called you to say he thought you should have an abortion. He was in Columbus
when he called to apologize. When the band got home from tour, he came back to
the city and the two of you found a bigger apartment together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We were together for,” you looked out at the surf
while you did the calculations, “for almost a year, but . . . ”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">David was skeptical of home birth, but you were
determined to try it. Your apartment was so close to St. Joe’s that he joked
that he would pick you up and carry you to the hospital if something went
wrong. David was there when Alice was born on the futon your parents bought you
when you turned fifteen. David was there for three weeks afterwards then he had
to go back home to rehearse with the band for their European tour. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“. . . But he was, he is a musician and he has to
travel a lot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I understand,” Alex told you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">‘I’m— ’ David said. ‘I . . . I don’t think I’m coming
back here. I’m not coming back here after Europe.’ He said he loved you and he
loved Alice, but he wasn’t in love with you and that, besides, he couldn’t be
present enough to be the dad that he wanted to be. Then he expected to stay the
night. You told him to get out. You told him you knew that he was out on the
road fucking fans, though you didn’t know that at all, but it was just a
suspicion you’d been living with. You told him again to get out, that you
couldn’t stand to see him. He spent the night at the bus station and took a
Greyhound home in the morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In the year since, you haven’t had a chance to
meet anyone new. You have seen David so that he could see Alice. You tried to
arrange with him to look after her while you and Melanie were here, but he was
scheduled to play a festival in Whistler, is probably playing in Whistler right
now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Melanie has finished stretching and she heads to
the ocean’s edge. With the exception of the short nap that Alex woke you from,
you still haven’t slept since she chased you from the room so she could fuck
Carlos. You look around the beach, hoping to see Alex. Alejandro. Three guys
walk by, two of them checking you out. One of them farts loudly. Another one
says, “Oh!” and puts his forearm over his nose and mouth. All three break out
in laughter. You give the air a minute to clear and walk to the water’s edge. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Melanie is standing out in the low waves. “Coming
in?” she asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You tell her you are going back to the room for a
nap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She nods. She’s disappointed. “Are you okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You hesitate before saying yes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You want to talk about it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You want to push her head underwater and hold it
there is what you want. You want to go home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You shake your head, No. “I just need some rest,”
you tell her, and it’s true. Sleep helps your bad moods more than anything
else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay,” she says, like you need her permission.
“What if I need something from the room, though?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Whatever,” you say. “Just come in if you need
to.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">On your way back to the room, you turn over the
number of different things you should have said to her about last night, about
Carlos, about how you are only here because Melanie convinced you she wanted to
do something nice for you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Getting away from the beach calms you down. More
people here have shirts on. You don’t see Alejandro anywhere. What do you want
from him? Nothing. Sensible talk. Talk about things that matter to you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">There is a woman in your room, cleaning. She has
almost no English other than, Pardon, Finish soon, and You’re welcome. You
stand and watch her make your bed for who knows how long before she looks at
you and says, “Pardon, finish soon,” and holds her hand out to Melanie’s bed.
You sit down on the edge of it and watch the woman’s hands work at folding and
flattening the sheets. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When was the last time you made the bed at home?
Had you even made the bed before you left for the airport to fly here? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">David used to always make the bed. He loved
crawling under the covers when the sheets had been straightened, flattened out.
You made fun of him for it, but you miss it, you miss those kindnesses. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You manage not to cry before the woman leaves, but
you forget to give her a tip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You take off all your clothes. The sheets feel
cool and clean and smell of some sort of pleasant chemical. You hear someone, a
man, shout from a nearby pool. People laugh in reply. The sounds are muted and
thus relegated so some space where rather than annoy you they can mingle with
your memories in a gentle, nostalgic way. The sounds of youthfulness all around
you become like birdsong, unfamiliar and beautiful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Signifying nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, March 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence</b>: Meghan Scott, the Fashion Director of <a href="http://www.odalisquemagazine.com/">Odalisque Magazine</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story</b>: Lee Sheppard</span><b> </b></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-13571169438935455332016-03-09T05:42:00.000-05:002016-11-23T05:46:32.677-05:00Fog<!--[if !mso]>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnFDOCxNSE8uKlRiFkm02nIZPNyUmTu_8u4o5BGg3rzSB3VoJAe0a1WfUhau0tQ_zKxk0_-UXOxEgU0guonNlp3cRfTSssd3YwmakEpBdsQzwksPprAEIxZlgBbApzwEYZ9WNopvAQoA/s1600/Katie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnFDOCxNSE8uKlRiFkm02nIZPNyUmTu_8u4o5BGg3rzSB3VoJAe0a1WfUhau0tQ_zKxk0_-UXOxEgU0guonNlp3cRfTSssd3YwmakEpBdsQzwksPprAEIxZlgBbApzwEYZ9WNopvAQoA/s1600/Katie.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Outside was, like, soupy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No. That’s not it. Not really. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Outside was like if you were in a cloud, but
moving with it, right? ’Cause clouds usually blow with the wind. No, they scoot
and scuttle. Clouds deserve cute words, don’t they? Hey, don’t clouds always
seem to go one way? I mean I’m just thinking about that now. You watch those
nature shows, ever? Maybe it isn’t even on those shows. Is it? But where you
see those time-lapse—time lapsed?—images of the, like, the whole globe, and a
the clouds all twist and swirl and mash together. Not like in a tornadoee way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Oh my God, what am I even talking about?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was foggy outside. That’s what it was. Had been
for maybe a week already. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Wait, I know. Did you see those pictures from that
warehouse in Maryland or whatever that had acres of spider webs? It was all
over the Internet right before that—the Internet—all ended. At least it ended
for most of us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The fog was like those spiderwebs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Or like the thickest fog you’ve ever seen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Beautiful really. But really eerie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We had a fire going, which meant we had to have a
window or something open somewhere. That was Paula who thought of that. She was
always really smart and careful about stuff like making sure we could always
breathe. She opened one of the big, you know, garage doors that would have been
for deliveries. If you went near it you could see the fog get sucked in and
swirl around before it disappeared. It was weird to see it moving, because
outside it was so immobile. Still, I hated that it was coming in and one night
I dreamed that our warehouse had been overwhelmed by the fog, even though,
well— I don’t know why fog doesn’t come inside. It must come inside sometimes
in some places. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I was sitting on my wooden chair, which I could
tell—I knew—that Aaron was, like, very eager to throw in the fire, but it was
my favourite because it totally reminded me of one that my dad used to use, but
I really didn’t feel like that was, you know, cool to say to these guys as far
as giving a reason why I did not want it used as fuel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eric came back with some apples from our orchard.
From the orchard. “Can’t see a fucking thing out there.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Wish I knew when it was going to stop— When the
sun was coming back out,” Paula said. She had a collection of plants she’d
stolen or she’d dug up and potted in stolen terracotta. Every day she fussed
around them, watering them when they needed it, touching them, dusting them.
She was standing beside them. “This could be very very— Could be trouble.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The apples Eric had with him, the apples he’d
brought back, were pretty good. Not eat them raw good, but still. I cut the bad
bits out. The worms and stuff. Are they worms? We call them worms. They must be
larva. Sometimes you wish you still had the Internet. Or knew someone you could
ask. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Paula brought me a pot to put the good bits of
apple in. She pulled out her knife too and we sliced the apples together, our
thumbs the only cutting board we needed for our dulled pocket blades. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A few months ago, Aaron sharpened Paula’s while
she slept and when she started slicing apples, the knife sliced through her
easily. “We’re just lucky that didn’t— That could have been a lot worse,
Aaron,” Paula said once the bleeding was under control. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Aaron was mad since they’d stopped sleeping
together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You could at least be grateful. Like a thank you,
maybe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t need it so sharp.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Not for apples, no, but what if some creep tries
something?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Paula shook her head. “I don’t need— I can take
care of myself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">That was a few months ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: 16px;">Back at the time I’m trying
to tell you about, I was telling you about, back at that time a few months
after the knife thing, Eric was sitting by the fire.</span> The way he stared at it was
like maybe he was trying to burn the fog from out of his mind. He shook his
head before he came up to Paula and me chopping. “Is Aaron off fucking around with
Joyce?” There was a small stone, or maybe a piece of floor loosened from
one of its many cracks, lying at Eric’s feet. He kicked it and it bounced with
a muted clacking off towards our beds—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The Nest is what Aaron called it, still called it
even though he left it the first night he brought Joyce back here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">At first the whole Aaron leaving the Nest thing
was hard on Paula, who, like, really actually suffered a lot because of Aaron,
which was, simply, because she loved him, but that didn’t really fully explain
the suffering bit. For that you’d need to really get inside her head and maybe
even his head, but I think it was like, that maybe Aaron was a little abusive
the way he talked to her and withheld hugs and stuff. Or the way he loudly
talked about how it was her, actually, who had stopped fucking him. We didn’t
have the Internet, like I said already, and the library had been pillaged, most
of its materials probably burned, so we didn’t even bother to go there to look
for stuff anymore and so even if they still had resources about abuse in
relationships, even if they hadn’t been stolen to be read or burned, I hadn’t
gone to look for them because why bother anymore? We never went there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">But I was talking about Aaron and Joyce, whose
name was Joyce even though she was from the local Reserve and even though Aaron
kept pressing her for her real name, like how could that be her real name,
shouldn’t her real name be, like, more nature based? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I was talking about Aaron and Joyce leaving the
Nest and how it bugged Paula at first, but now it seemed to bother Eric the
most because Eric seemed to be having feelings for Joyce, who seemed to be
feeling things back. Good things. Because Joyce seemed also to be feeling
things about Aaron, too, but they weren’t good. Like how she flinched around
him. Like how she tensed right up when she was trying to talk to us and Aaron
would inevitably interrupt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Like how she had a fresh bruise, or one we could
see anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We went back to the fire and we hung the pot up
over it for the apples to cook. Nobody talked but nobody left to look at the
fog or to wait for Aaron and Joyce to drive back up in the car. In Aaron’s car.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t know what Aaron’s— I think Aaron expects
too much of Joyce,” Paula said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Like she knows every fucking thing that Indians
knew, or know, or whatever,” Eric said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I know that not every reserve is even on or near
where the people forced onto that reserve are even from originally. Still, I
don’t know about whether that was true for Joyce’s Nation and I can’t look it
up. I didn’t want to ask her where she’s from because, I mean, think how that
would sound, think how that would have sounded before things started to break
down, never mind after all the vigilante problems we had around here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I also didn’t ask her because speaking isn’t my
thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“She hasn’t given us one useful thing,” Aaron said
to us the other night while Joyce peed outside. We had stopped using the toilet
in the warehouse because even though the water ran the pressure was so bad it
just wasn’t worth it, so Joyce was, like, far away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Isn’t she now— She’s our friend,” Paula said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You can’t eat friendship,” Aaron said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We ate my fucking dog,” Eric said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Cannibalism had been practiced in the Americas, I
think. I mean, that’s true isn’t it? And I don’t mean by Native people. I had
an uncle who was in a band called The Donner Party. The changes because of the
fog, to the light, I think, they had us all acting really nervous. Maybe
something in our lizard brain? Isn’t that what it’s called? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Doesn’t Joyce— Did you ask Joyce about the fish
in the river?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We don’t even trust the water from that river,”
Aaron said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We collected rain in a rusting barrel that had
held something industrial back before this was our home. Eric thinks maybe some
sort of oil. Petroleum product was how he put it. I like the word petroleum.
But any water that we had to get from the river, Aaron made us boil then we
would put a piece of burnt wood in it. Burned wood. Aaron’s parents had been
sorta rich and he remembered them buying charcoal twigs imported from Japan to
purify their drinking water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Those fish are all falling apart, like the scales
can’t wait until the fucking fish are dead to rot right off them,” Eric said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Aren’t they— I think they’re spawning,” Paula
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Kay, but does Joyce know about them?” Eric asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Do I know about what?” Joyce asked as she walked
back towards the fire. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“The fish in the river,” Eric said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Aaron shot him a look. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Those big old ones. They are so nasty,” Joyce said. “They’re
like, I don’t know. My mom left a cucumber in the fridge too long once and I
went to pick it up and it fell apart. The plastic around it held it together,
but there was this milky juice all over the fridge shelf and the cucumber was
moldy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Don’t rotten— Cucumbers smell so . . . so
unfortunate when they go off,” Paula said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“They’re fucking nasty,” Eric said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You ready to go to bed?” Aaron asked Joyce.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I guess so,” Joyce said. She smiled at us. “I
just love talking to you guys.” Joyce smiled at me, then smiled at Paula and
Eric in turn. “It reminds me of my friends on the Res. There’s still a few of
them left, too. You should come visit us sometime.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Let’s go,” Aaron said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Are you going back to the Reserve? I mean
eventually?” Eric asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Aaron said, “Come on,” so fast that we could hear
Joyce say, “Sure. Eventually,” even though they both started at the same time
and Aaron made himself much louder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">That was from a night a few days before. Joyce and
Aaron went to bed after that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Aaron’s engine interrupted the sounds of the fire
and the bubbling of our applesauce. The murk outside burned eerily from Aaron’s
headlights, which he insisted on using even though Eric and Paula both told him
that they didn’t think you were supposed to have them on in fog. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He came in alone. “Fuck your applesauce,” he said.
“I don’t want applesauce for the rest of my fucking life.” He smiled like he
was hurting somewhere. “Come here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Nobody asked where Joyce was until we were out by
the car. Then it was Eric who said something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“She’s not coming back,” Aaron said. He opened the
trunk and it was filled with meat all wrapped in plastic. Dried meat. We hadn’t
seen meat, hadn’t seen much food other than apples, in a long time. We’d talked
about how if we were still alive that maybe some other large mammals were still
out there, too. Like deer or moose. Maybe bears and wolves and coyotes. Some
people still had dogs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Where’s this from?” Eric asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Paula and I looked at each other and I knew that
Paula was thinking the same thing as me, that maybe this was Joyce in the
trunk. The edible parts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Joyce’s aunty gave it to me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Why would she do that?” Eric asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“If you had food, you wouldn’t— I can’t— Would we
really share food if we had it?” Paula asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Some people believe in generosity,” Aaron said.
“Like it’s some higher principle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I was staring at the meat and feeling a little
sick, actually. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Paula had one of those burps that you hold in
because you think there might be something solid along with it, but then you
let out when you are sure that it’s just air.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Here,” Aaron said, putting a piece of dried meat,
neatly shrink-wrapped, into Eric’s arms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We ate so well that night. Despite our fear and revulsion. Only Aaron didn’t have
his meat with applesauce too. Still, we ended up leaving most of the mush we’d
made earlier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eric was totally energized after. Like the meat
gave him super powers. He started talking really quickly about <i>Repo Man</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">, some old L.A. punk rock movie. “Remember,” he
said, even though none of us had seen it, “Remember the alien in the trunk and
how when they see it that one fucking guy is like, ‘Let’s go do some crimes.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That doesn’t even make sense,” Aaron said. “As a
sentence I mean.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That’s what’s so funny,” Eric said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I guess it isn’t a realist— I mean, why’s there
an alien in the trunk?” Paula asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“’Cause it’s a movie,” Eric said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m still stuck on that stupid sentence,” Aaron
said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The boys ended up play fighting. Or maybe it was
real fighting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Paula and I cleaned up. At one point, Paula, who
was normally super hard working and efficient, she stopped in the middle of
throwing some garbage into the fire. She was holding a sticker that had been
placed on the meat. I came up beside her. The boys were over in the Nest. Eric
had thrown a blanket over Aaron and was straddling it to keep Aaron pinned and
Aaron was thrashing to get free. Paula pointed to an address on the package. “I
think that’s on the Reserve,” she said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Don’t you think— I mean, maybe we could go,”
Paula said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I knew Aaron wouldn’t like it. And I knew we’d
need Aaron’s car. Plus the map Aaron kept under his pillow when he slept. “We
have to bring Eric,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I wouldn’t— We will,” Paula said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">My heart was beating quickly. I wanted to ask when
we were going to go, I wanted to ask which one of us would drive, I wanted to
ask Paula if she knew that, ‘If we go we won’t be able to come back here,’ at
least I didn’t think so. I asked, “Do you think we’ll see Joyce?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I— We’ll see.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, March 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">visual artist, <a href="http://www.katiebondpretti.com/">Katie Bond Pretti</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-44133168358340725632016-03-02T06:07:00.000-05:002016-10-15T05:35:58.784-04:00How Many Roads<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam called her the Albino Jogger and she ran by
the house at 6:23 a.m. each day, give or take a minute. If it was a workday and
if all was well, Adam would be on the concrete landing outside the front door
sipping coffee and having his first smoke. Sometimes in a parka and Sorels and
stretchy gloves he’d cut the fingers out of himself. Sometimes in hospital
pants he somehow convinced his father to lift from Toronto Western and whatever
T-shirt he’d worn to bed. Once, during a heat-wave, he stood out there in
boxers that, he discovered later, were the boxers he had intended to turn into
a rag, he <i>had</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> turned into a
rag, a change in purpose he’d signified by ripping a hole in the crotch, a hole
he’d failed to recognize maybe because of the hangover or the swelter or maybe
just because one of his roommates had put the rag back with his underwear when
they found his laundry in the dryer and did him the favour by folding it all,
which was nice, but which meant when he woke up feeling all swollen and strange
and unable to open his eyes, when he struggled even to find the drawer handle
and could barely wriggle his bare ass into the boxers, he certainly wasn’t
going to recognize that the bunched up feeling he had between his legs was
because his junk was hanging out of this rag that was, currently, functioning
as crotch-less boxers. It was a good thing the Albino Jogger never turned her
head towards him. That morning anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Except in the very coldest weather, the Albino
Jogger wore white running shoes that looked to Adam like Asics, white skintight
jogging Capris, what Adam had decided after careful scrutiny must be short
white bike shorts in place of underwear, a white tank-top, a white sports bra
and a white head band. Against the winter, which turned her bursts of breath
into vapour, she wore a furry white headband and a white coat that had
horizontal puffy bars that reminded Adam of the Michelin man or a cloud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">And if the Albino Jogger wasn’t albino, she had a
surprisingly small amount of pigment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">On the occasion of their one-year anniversary,
Adam raised his coffee cup to her and she spit, though presumably without
seeing him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">After Adam started dating Linda, he gradually
spent more and more nights at her much nicer apartment. Eventually, he would
just go to work from there. Linda was a fortune-teller who would sometimes wrap
a colourful scarf with a fringe of circular mirrors around her head sit on the
street beside a small folding table and a deck of Tarot Cards. She told people
she was a Gypsy because, “They wouldn’t even know what I meant if I said Roma,
and besides no one really wants a Czech lady reading their cards.” Linda
encouraged Adam to quit smoking. He was down to one a day, which he still liked
to have with his coffee. He was out on Linda’s balcony in a pair of plaid
pajama pants that Linda had bought him when the Albino Jogger ran down the
alleyway beyond the back fence. Adam spilled his coffee as he ran, with burning
cigarette into Linda’s bedroom to check the red numbers on her bedside clock.
6:32. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He exhaled, impressed. If he walked to Linda’s
place, he liked to leave himself twenty or twenty-five minutes. Adam walked
over to his bedside table, stuck his lit cigarette in his mouth and reached
down to pick up his watch. 6:35. Still, he thought. With a great rustling of
sheets Linda rolled over. Adam suddenly saw the smoke rising from his cigarette
and backed out of the room waving his arms in an attempt to get the smoke to
come with him. At breakfast that morning, Linda asked if he could smoke further
from the sliding doors because the smoke was really starting to permeate the
apartment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam started having his coffee and cigarette at
6:25. He would sit out there enjoying the air until he heard the Albino Jogger
coming up the lane. He smiled when she passed the neighbour’s pine tree and he
could see her. Some mornings she would have to jog in place to wait for this or
that car, whose driver would usually stop the vehicle so the Albino Jogger
could pass in the narrow space between the side mirror and Linda’s wooden
fence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Even after Adam finally quit smoking he would
drink his coffee out back for the fresh air and the sight of her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When Adam and Linda broke up, Adam had a rough
patch. He applied for a police foundations program. After being accepted, he
moved to a spacious apartment in a grand old building out by the college. Near
the end of August he started running on a path along the lake. He wanted to get
a head start on training for fear that his terrible physical condition would
ostracize him from his likely much younger and fitter classmates. Adam pushed
himself so hard on the second Saturday morning that he vomited into a hedge
separating a rusting children’s playground in the backyard of a building from
the blue-black asphalt of the running path and the breakwater’s freshly
quarried rocks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He sat down on the nearest bench and rinsed his
mouth with water from his bottle. His eyes teared ferociously. He saw a white
figure come towards him in a familiar rhythm. He tried to blink back the tears,
tried to wipe them away, but she had rounded a bend before he could be sure it
was the Albino Jogger. He wasn’t wearing a watch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When Adam got back home, he made himself a coffee and used Google maps to trace his route, trying to figure out how far the hedge was
from his apartment. No matter how accurately he placed the route’s line, he
couldn’t get that hedge further than 6.2 km from his front door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Then he created a route from his old apartment to
the hedge, wondering if the Albino Jogger could possibly be running such a
serious route each day. The hedge was at least 15 km from his old apartment. He
decided that, if it was her, this must be a special weekend route.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Each Saturday after that, Adam ran past that hedge
and each Saturday it got easier. He tried leaving his house at different times
and once, on a cold November morning, he even tried sitting on the bench and
waiting for her, but the Albino Jogger never came back, or maybe had never been
there at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam was considered one of the fittest members of his
cohort and he consistently finished in the top three in their long distance
runs. He would even, once he finished, run back along the route to encourage
the stragglers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When he joined the gun club, it was because he
wanted to get a head start on his classmates and on all the other candidates
for the few jobs on nearby police forces. He started going every Monday,
Wednesday, Friday and Sunday afternoon. After his Sunday practice, he’d have a
beer in the restaurant of the hotel across the street. Diane was one of the
servers there and by June of Adam’s first year of the police foundations
program, they were dating. She would join him on his Saturday jogs. They would
get caffeine-free Americanos and a croissant from a new café near by, then
drink their coffees and split the croissant on the bench near the hedge where
Adam had vomited last summer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was there, with Diane, that Adam saw the Albino
Jogger again. Only this time she was jogging with a handsome Asian guy, an East
Asian guy, probably Chinese. She was covered in colour, too. The Asics logos on
her shoes were cool pink fading into neon green, the shoe’s body covered in
grey green splatter; her Capris were light blue with a yellow stripe starting
wide at her hip and tapering to nothing just above her knee; the tight tank top
pressing against her breasts was orange with reflective silver tiger stripes;
her headband was a purple that might have been loud as part of a different
outfit. The colours offset her unbelievably light hair and skin in a surprising
way. Adam felt like he was seeing an old friend and he was thrilled when her
blue eyes landed on him and held him for a second before leaping to Diane. Her
mouth twitched with some change of feeling, then her companion said something
and she laughed. Adam looked into his coffee, which was cooling with the lid
off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s wrong,” Diane asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Stop asking me that,” Adam said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam looked up. The Albino Jogger and her
companion had disappeared around a bend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“So what do you think?” Diane asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“About what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Were you even listening?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam took a deep breath. He’d been feeling angrier
lately. He looked at the lake and imagined pitching his decaf Americano into
the water. Another deep breath took some of the edge off his anger. “I’m sorry.
I was distracted.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Obviously. Do you know those people who ran by?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Nah. The woman’s just someone I used to see a
lot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Does she have . . . what’s that condition?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Albino?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh. Maybe. I was thinking about that thing
Michael Jackson had.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh. Vitiligo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah yeah. You’re so good. How did you remember
that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam laughed a bit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?” Diane asked, leaning against his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ve got it on my balls.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Come on.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m surprised you never noticed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Balls are gross. I try my best to ignore them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Diane asked Adam again about whether he would want
to take a trip with her. Maybe fly down to Florida or Cuba or somewhere south
during his reading week. “I’ll pay for it,” she said. Adam worked part-time
still, but he was supported largely by his mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam wasn’t sure. “Um,” he started. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">His search for what to say next was interrupted by
a guy racing along the path in worn, loose sneakers, baggy jeans, ball cap and
a T-shirt that still had some flecks of what was once an ornate network of gold
ink covering most of the material. The guy jingled as he went by. One of the
teenagers who worked at the coffee shop was chasing after him, too out of
breath at this point to be shouting anything about, “Stop that man,” but his
determination told Adam that he should stop that man. The guy was fast, but
Adam was faster. They were on a stretch of the path where there were no grassy
patches, so when Adam tackled the guy, they landed on interlocking bricks out
front of a row of posh new condo townhouses whose façades were designed to make
them look old. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“My fucking hands,” the guy said. One finger was
dislocated. Adam turned away. The guy tried to kick Adam off him, but the
exhaustion or the fall had rendered the guy’s legs extremely weak. “Okay. Fuck.
I’m not going anywhere.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh my God, thank you. Thank you,” the teenager
from the coffee shop said to Adam. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Nobody seemed to know what to say then. Adam, the
guy and the teenager just breathed heavily while a crowd gathered. The guy was
looking up at the sky and started moaning a little. His breath smelled like
malt liquor, sleep and stale smoke. The teenager was hanging his head,
exhausted. Diane was standing near by, holding the two cups of coffee and
half-eaten croissant. Adam smiled at her, though he was disappointed not to see
the Albino Jogger and her companion in the assembled crowd—just some tiny,
fluffy dogs with old people in Tilley hats and children with their parents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The guy coughed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay,” Adam said. “So what happened?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He’s got our money,” the teenager said. “Give me
our money.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was from the tip jar, so it was just over
twenty dollars of change. Adam had needed to dig in the guy’s pockets to fish
it out because the guy’s hands were in really bad shape. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam took the guy in a cab to Emergency. The guy’s
name was Max and he was 19, though he looked like he could be in his late 20s.
His health card was in his wallet, but he’d left his wallet at home. “I always
leave that shit at home. Nothing in it I can use. Not even a library card or
some shit.” Adam smiled apologetically at the woman in a hijab holding her sick
child within earshot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is there anybody at home I can call?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Kwame’s there today.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Kwame was a worker at Max’s group home. Adam left
Max at the Hospital and went home to get his car. He explained the situation to
Diane, who was getting dressed to go for her shift. Then Adam drove over to the
group home. It was right near the gun club.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">By the time Max had been seen and Adam had dropped
him off, Adam had decided to volunteer with the kids at the home. That week her
arranged with Linda, Kwame’s boss, to come and do a fitness program Wednesday
night instead of going shooting and Sunday afternoons after he’d gone shooting.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Instead of going on a trip with Diane over his
reading week, Adam did a series of full day activities with some of the kids
from the group home, including a canoe trip. From the back of a canoe with Max,
Adam watched the first snow fall on the city. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam and Diane had broken up by Easter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Years passed. Adam started working for the City’s
police force. Because of his work with youth, he became involved in a
mural-painting program that supported illegal graffiti artists to find legal
contracts and do legal work. When he turned 30, Adam bought a small bungalow
for himself in a neighbouring municipality. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Adam’s dream had always been to work in homicide
and when he was 33 he got his chance. It was fascinating and he trained his
brain to hold on to and turn over details, which was a professional asset, but
a personal liability. One victim, killed in a domestic dispute, was albino, but
an albino of African descent. Still, in his dreams, as his mind sorted through
the troubling details of that particular investigation, it inserted the Albino
Jogger, dressed in all white as she had been back when he’d lived a less
structured, less useful life. He lay in bed for a while, then sat up and
grabbed a book. Eventually he fell back to sleep with the book on his chest and
his bedside light burning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When Max called Adam with the good news, Adam was
jogging along a different stretch of lake, red and yellow leaves skittering
across his path. He was out of breath, but happy to hear from Max. “Married! To
who?” Allison had been another kid at the group home back when Max was there.
Like too many girls her age, she’d hated her skin and buried her face in
cover-up of a colour that under the group home’s lights matched her natural
skin colour, but that took on too orange a hue when she went outside. Max had
kept in touch with her and they’d both straightened out their lives and they’d
fallen in love. “Great news. That’s great news.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I was, well, we are hoping you can come.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“When is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“In February. In Mexico.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh. Wow. That’s excellent.” He closed his eyes.
He’d never been to Mexico. “Yeah. Yeah. Send me the invitation.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He gave Max his email address. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When February came, Adam had just been involved in
an investigation into the disappearance and likely murder of a nine-year-old
girl from his old neighbourhood. He hadn’t had a full night of sleep in 29
days. He spoke to his supervisor about the possibility of staying home to keep
working on the investigation. His supervisor told him he needed the break.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The airport was chaos, but Adam was in no way
responsible for managing the chaos, so it had a calming effect on him. He went
to the newsstand and was looking at sports magazines and exercise magazines
when an image of an Albino child caught his eye. He bought the magazine even
though it was about photography. He also bought a book for young adults because
he liked the graphic on the cover. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He ran into Kwame at the gate. Kwame was married
to his longtime boyfriend, Alex, and the two lived in a co-op in Cabbagetown.
Kwame was working with the school board now, as a social worker. He had never
been to Mexico, either. They checked their tickets and realized that they were
sitting in different parts of the plane. Still, they would be seeing a lot of
each other. They laughed. They talked about what a great kid Max had been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">On the plane, Adam tried to read his book, but
realized that it was the third in a series and, though he’d been enjoying the
book, he found this fact discouraging. He pulled out the photo magazine and
looked through it as he sipped a complimentary coffee. He was so tired. He
leaned back to sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He dreamed of the Albino Jogger. She wasn’t dead.
She was jogging past him on a street of red brick houses he didn’t recognize
and wearing a sky blue outfit. She was running in her familiar rhythm, going as
quickly as always, but somehow she was stuck in front of Adam. When he realized
this, his sleeping mind made the sidewalk a treadmill and even put a person on
it who whipped by in the opposite direction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He woke when the pressure in his head told them
they were on their descent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He woke rested. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He smiled at the woman next to him, but he was
smiling for himself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, Feb.-March, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji Sequence: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Chloë Lum of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><a href="http://lum-desranleau.com/">Chloë Lum & Yannick Desranleau</a> (f.k.a Seripop),</span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> formerly of <a href="http://aidswolfs.blogspot.ca/">AIDS Wolf</a></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> </span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lee Sheppard</span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-48904731906119183312016-02-24T06:36:00.000-05:002016-02-24T11:56:21.724-05:00Patented High Quality<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh opened Patented Highest Quality Aesthetics ten years ago with money from cleaning houses. In those ten years yuh had
earned and kept many loyal customers. One a them, maybe the most loyal, was a
white lady, Mrs. Culverhouse, Helen, who drove down to your neighbourhood and
parked her fancy cars—first a red BMW convertible, then a green Jaguar in the
shop’s ten years—out front of PHQA. The man them from the barbershop would come
out and walk around the car. Young men on their way past would walk slowly,
getting eyes full but too proud to stop and admire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Long before PHQA, since a few weeks after yuh
arrived here, yuh’d cleaned Mr. and Mrs. Culverhouse’s home in the country. A
bungalow spread out over the top of a hill at the heart of a lovely yard. Yuh loved
driving down the long lane, the trees reaching out fi your car as yuh drove
slowly past, the gravel crunching and popping under your tires, a sound yuh
found peaceful but that put fear in yuh, fear fi the undercarriage of your
Civic, fear of what Desmond would say. Your light-skinned husband with the dark
heart, Rest In Peace not that he deserves it. Yuh just do not want him haunting
yuh more than he already does. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The Culverhouse’s bungalow was filled with dove
pictures and dove sculptures, even dove salt and pepper shakers. One day Mrs.
Helen explained that Culverhouse was an old English word fi dovecote, the place
people keep their doves. Though there was one room in the basement, Mrs.
Helen’s office, that was filled with rabbits and she said that it was because
her maiden name was Warrener and growing up she’d always been told that a
Warrener was someone who kept a rabbit warren, but that her father had
misunderstood and that you keep a rabbit hutch, not a warren and the name
Warrener was more properly a game keeper, but weren’t the rabbits cute? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Earlier this week, yuh got a call. The woman on
the phone sounded like Mrs. Helen despite her bent up, unsteady voice. She told
yuh that, “My mother, my mom, Hel—” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh waited fi her to go on, but the whine of agony
told yuh what Mrs. Helen’s daughter—yuh guessed Jennifer—was about to say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jennifer took a deep breath through her nostrils
and it reminded yuh so much of Mrs. Helen that yuh started crying right there
in the front window reception desk of Patented High Quality Aesthetics.
Jennifer said, “Your friend, Helen Culverhouse she’s—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It meant a lot that she said, Your friend, that
she understood enough to know that the two of yuh were friends. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eventually Jennifer could say, “She’s dead, my mom
is dead.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh thanked her fi telling yuh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Pardon,” she said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thank yuh,” yuh enunciated as clearly as your
grief and your accent allowed, “fi letting me know,” yuh added. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The funeral was in two days time and there would
be a visitation. “Would you consider doing, we would like you to do mom’s
nails. We’d pay you, of course.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh looked at your appointment book. Yuh looked at
Sharon working on that young girl’s nails, her mother waiting patiently fi yuh
in the next chair, looking away from yuh out of embarrassment at or maybe
respect fi the tracks of your tears. Yuh closed your eyes and imagined asking
Selah, your daughter, to take a day from classes tomorrow to work in the shop.
She would understand and one day would not make or break her midwifery studies,
but she was still sensitive to any request to miss school because when she was
a youth yuh and Desmond had so often required her help looking after her
younger brothers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Mrs. Gordon?” Jennifer said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Me sorry, Dear. Yes, of course me do it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“How much would you like? Money.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thirty dollars is the normal fee fi manicures,”
yuh said. Yuh considered doing it fi free, sat with your mouth open fi a few
seconds trying to coax the offer out, but Toronto rents were changing and the
shop needed some updating and, wait, where were yuh going to have to drive to?
“Where a Mrs. Helen?” yuh asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What? I’m sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Where <i>is</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> Mrs. Helen?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Jennifer explained to yuh
where the funeral home was. Yuh wrote the address and directions down on an old
page in the appointment book. She gave yuh the name of the funeral home’s
director and yuh wrote that down, too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“So thirty dollars, then,” Jennifer asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That’s fine,” yuh said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh forgot to ask why Mrs. Helen died.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The woman whose nails yuh were working on wanted
to talk to yuh, to boast about her beautiful daughter being spoiled by Sharon
in the next chair over, and yuh knew from the pauses when to say, Oh, and,
Yes?, and, Wow, but honestly yuh were only hearing sound and occasional words
and phrases like honour roll and scholarship and special treat. Sharon, bless
her, was asking questions to cover up fi your distraction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What was the conversation like when they decided
to get the black lady mother loved so to come out fi do her nails and was Mr.
Culverhouse part of the decision? When yuh pictured the girls, yuh pictured
photos at least ten year’s old, photos in frames yuh’d dusted every month.
Never had yuh found the courage, or the desire really, to go to the birthday
parties Helen always invited yuh and your family to. Yuh’d known Mr.
Culverhouse because he had been in advertising and sometimes he worked from
home, was working from home when yuh’d brought ideas fi the sign fi the shop to
Mrs. Helen fi her to look over. Helen was enthusiastic at first, but something
in Mr. Culverhouse’s face was saying, No, no, no, all wrong and Helen seen it
too and she chased Mr. away back to his home office. She told yuh that she’d
talk to him later, but that she thought Patented High Quality Aesthetics
Copyright was redundant and to maybe lose Copyright. The whole time, though,
yuh were nervously doodling, a little left to right loop dropping down then
coming back up level with the starting point. Helen saw it and said, That’s it.
What’s that? That’s beautiful. Yuh told Helen how yuh’d done it fi as long as
yuh could remember, that when yuh were a girl and yuh finished your school work
yuh would fill up notebook page after notebook page with this loop and think
about whatever yuh needed to think about to keep yourself from talking and
upsetting your teachers. She said to put it on the sign. “It’s so free. So
simple, but so free. Like a signature.” Yuh had a signature, of course and yuh
thought she was calling yuh uneducated. So yuh wrote her a long thank you
letter fi her help with the store sign and mailed it off and yuh thought even
the Queen would have been impressed by your diction and grammar and it’s true
yuh could write, can write beautiful, proper English. Yuh signed your full name
on that letter and when Mrs. Helen Culverhouse came down to PHQA that first
time she said to yuh, “I had no idea what a lovely name you have, Mrs. Prudence
Honor Cerene Stephenson Duncan,” then added, “The sign is fabulous,” because
even though she vexed yuh with that comment about yuh not having no signature,
yuh loved that down dropping and up swinging loop so yuh’d had it put on the
end of the sign like yuh had doodled even on that. She asked if yuh would put
the loop on one of her nails. “With sparkles, please.” Yuh did it fi the first
time on Mrs. Helen Culverhouse and so it did become your signature because no
nail, not even the longest artificial nail, would fit Prudence Honor Cerene
Stephenson Duncan. Even just PHCSD was too long to fit on someone’s pinky
finger. Of course yuh no sign everyone’s hand, but some people yuh offered it
to and some people asked yuh fi do it. When Mrs. Helen come the next time, she
ask fi it again, but she said, laughing, “Doug hates it.” Doug was Mr.
Culverhouse. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">After Sharon and yuh finished the proud mother and
her high-achieving daughter’s nails, Sharon asked yuh what was the matter and
yuh managed not to cry as yuh told her Mrs. Helen died. Sharon touched your arm
and shoulder like that might help. Yuh thanked her and called Selah to arrange
fi her to take your appointments tomorrow. Selah had met Mrs. Helen a number of
times over the years and terms Mrs. Helen sometimes used, like “you people” or
“your people” or even “new Canadians,” bothered Selah. Yuh admired your
daughter fi that, but told her yuh cyaan judge Mrs. Helen too harsh fi the
limits of what she knows and that includes what she knows and doesn’t know to
say. When yuh explained to Selah why yuh had to miss the day, when yuh
explained that Mrs. Helen died, Selah just said, “I’m sorry Mum. I know how
much you two loved each other.” You had to go to the bathroom to cry, her words
touched yuh so. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh slept well and woke happy that yuh hadn’t
dreamed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">To reach the funeral home was easy. Take the
highway to East Beach View Lane, turn right and go until you see Morton’s
Funeral Centre, Willowwood Chapel. Yuh parked Desmond’s Lincoln—yuh still
thought of it as Desmond’s car—in the back lot and yuh actually felt
disappointed that it was paved and there were no stones to go popping off the
wheels and pinging against the under parts of the car. Yuh remember that when
Desmond died, it was Mrs. Helen convince you to tek the Lincoln and give the
Civic to Selah. Yuh felt like a queen driving the Lincoln the first time,
though yuh felt like yuh needed to apologize to Desmond before yuh turn the key
in the ignition. Not no more. Yuh treat that car so fine, yuh sometimes feel
like Desmond just was taking care of it fi yuh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The doors to Morton’s were locked. Yuh checked
your watch, then looked in the windows fi business hours. Yuh saw an intercom
with a little black button. Yuh pressed it and a woman with a grey skirt and
matching jacket came waving and stocking-footed from some back room. She
called, “Sorry, sorry, coming, coming.” She was the granddaughter of the Mr.
Morton who opened the funeral home, but you didn’t catch her name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Mrs. Helen was in a workroom off a narrow hallway.
There was a framed picture of her on a table beside an open black briefcase
filled with makeup. Yuh looked there first because yuh weren’t ready to see
your friend. “Take your time,” the granddaughter said. “My father will be with
you in a minute.” There was a free metal cart which yuh assumed was left there
fi yuh. Yuh put your bag down on it, a purse yuh once or twice used to take
nail stuff to a friend’s house. Quickly, yuh looked towards Helen Culverhouse.
They’d done a nice job of making her look like her lovely self. A fine,
adjustable, rolling stool was sitting up by her face, her head, her shoulders.
Yuh grabbed the stool by its ergonomic backrest and rolled it away from there.
Yuh shivered like yuh were cold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The chair and table were on Helen’s left so you
brought them around her feet. Yuh always started on a person’s right hand.
Helen asked yuh once if there was a reason fi that. “Me never noticed me did
it,” yuh told her. Since then yuh’d come up with a few explanations, but, “Just
because,” was the truest one. Yuh nearly said something to Helen about it
before yuh remembered she was dead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh jumped when yuh heard a voice, “I see you’ve
made yourself at home, Mrs. Gordon.” The tall man half smiled at you.
“Apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.” His hair was blond and white, the
colours all mixed up and warring like in an old-time battle with swords or
cutlass where yuh have to come face to face with your enemy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That’s alright, me hope. That I made myself at
home?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m finished,” he said. “She’s all yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thanks,” yuh said before yuh had a chance to
really hear what he was saying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He held out his hand. It was cold and soft. “My
name is Andrew Morton. My father started this business fifty years ago. It’s
our anniversary year.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Congratulations.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Business is always good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh smiled, trying to be a good guest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He bent his head forward and raised his eyebrows.
A practiced gesture. Then, with his hand open towards Helen he asked, “Is this
your first time?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh were too shook by how easily he switched into
sympathy to take in his question.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Mrs. Gordon? Have you worked with a . . . a
corpse before?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Don’t worry about hurting her. She can’t feel
anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I understand you were friends?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That’s my understanding, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He laughed too loud then put his hand on your
upper arm. “That was funny, Mrs. Gordon. Do you have instructions?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Me spoke with her daughter, but,” yuh paused,
then shook your head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He pulled a pile of neatly folded notes out of his
left pocket and opened a few before he found the right one. “Let’s see. Mr.
Culverhouse says, ‘Do what she liked. Subdued colour. No loop, please.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh nodded. “Thank you Mr. Morton.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He touched your arm again. “Call me Andrew.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thank you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is an hour enough time?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh.” He reached inside his coat and pulled out a
narrow envelope. “This is for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He was gone before yuh thought to ask how Mrs. Helen
died. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh opened the envelope and saw a fifty-dollar
bill inside. Quietly yuh went to your purse and found a twenty-dollar bill, but
when yuh took the fifty out, yuh saw the note. “Keep the change. —Doug.” Yuh
set it all down—the $50, your $20, Doug’s note—on the cart’s metal top.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Helen’s right hand was folded awkwardly, her pinky
tucked up under her ring finger. It wasn’t cold, objectively. Yuh were trying
to stay objective. The hand was room temperature. And it felt heavier now. Of
course as yuh arranged her hand and fingers she wasn’t helping yuh work against
gravity like she normally would. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Her outfit was made of a lovely material, but it
was a heavy blue. Navy. Yuh’d never seen her in anything so dark and it seemed
to team up with the rich brown she died her hair in an attempt to overwhelm her
face. “Who picked this outfit?” Yuh asked her. “Maybe it was one of your
favourites, Mrs. Helen. How me know?” Yuh opened your bag. The nail polish
bottles rattled around as you ran your hands through them. It was too loud.
Plus, it was hard to see the colours, despite the bright bank of lights
overhead. Yuh set the bottles out one by one along the edge of the cart. “What
we have here?” Yuh picked up a fluorescent orange. It leapt out against the
blue of the suit. Yuh giggled. “What Doug say to that funeral director? Keep
the colour subdued? Yuh think this one subdued enough Mrs. Helen? No, me no
think so neither.” Yuh turned back to your row of bottles. “A nice red, maybe?
Leaning towards orange.” Yuh picked it and placed it next to the fabric. “Me
think so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh massaged and moisturized her hand. It was once
the cream was on that yuh worried that it might not take the same way it used
to. “Me know yuh like this Mrs. Helen, but me hope we don’t need wipe the lotion
off before me leave.” It was while yuh filed her nails that yuh asked, “So,
what happened to yuh? Yuh not old enough fi this.” Yuh remembered her fight
with breast cancer, but assumed she would have told yuh if it come back. “Me
not think to ask someone yet. Yuh look good, though, so me no think yuh were
hit by no car.” Yuh laughed. “Yuh too young fi this, Mrs. Helen.” Yuh worked
quietly fi a while. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was while yuh were painting the nails on her
left hand, when yuh were nearly done, that yuh said to her, “Yuh remember we
used to talk about Desmond, my husband, he haunts me. Not in no poltergeist
way. He not what we call back home a duppy. A spirit. A ghost. He haunts my
mind, though.” Yuh wiped at your eyes. “Me a miss our chats, Mrs. Helen. Helen.
Me know yuh prefer just Helen.” Yuh finished the last nail. “Maybe yuh can fit
me into your haunting schedule? Even once a month, like regular? Or once a week
like when me used to clean your house?” Yuh put the red nail polish in the bag.
Yuh started to clear the other bottles off the tray, but got distracted by the
money yuh had left there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Before you put the fifty in your wallet, yuh found
a pen in your purse and wrote on the bottom of Doug’s note, “Please find your
twenty dollars change in this envelope. —Prudence.” Yuh added your loop after
your name and it made yuh laugh. “What you think of that, Helen?” Yuh laughed
again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh looked at the remaining bottles of polish. The
neon orange was still there. “This a beautiful, fi true Mrs. Helen. I know yuh agree.”
Yuh laughed again and wondered if someone heard you would they think yuh sound
like some villain in a Hollywood movie. “A final touch.” Yuh put the loop on
the pinky of her left hand. “My signature, Helen. Yuh be sure to tell anyone
yuh meet from now on where yuh got your nails done.” Yuh held her hand and blew
on the nail. Then yuh just held her hand. When yuh were sure the nails were
dry, you tucked the pinky with your signature under her ring finger. “I hope
you can keep a secret, Helen.” Yuh finished packing up, then stood there
holding your things. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When you finally decided to do it, yuh put your
bags down on the chair and leaned over your friend. “Thank yuh,” yuh told her.
“Me love yuh, Mrs. Helen.” Yuh kissed her cheek, then examined it carefully.
“Me think yuh make-up still okay. And me no leave no lipstick mark.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yuh touched her hand one last time before yuh
gathered your things and headed fi the door, reminding yourself to ask someone
why she died. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, Feb. 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji Sequence: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><a href="https://www.torontoart.ca/content/renata-janiszewska">Renata Janiszewska</a>, artist and educator<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Note: </b></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">I
am not a Jamaican or a Jamaican-Canadian woman. I was inspired by the books <i>Lionheart
Gal; Life Stories of Jamaican Women</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">
by Sistren with Honor Ford-Smith and <i>A Brief History of Seven Killings</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> by Marlon James. Also kicking around in my brain
somewhere is the work of d’bi young, Afua Cooper and the play <i>Da Kink in my
Hair</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> by Trey Anthony.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-24071324222963687742016-02-16T06:16:00.001-05:002016-11-19T05:56:57.122-05:00Back On Top, Soon, Part II<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjygaCjQgmq6P1Vir9mivT5hFWZ6vBGhyFs3r9bQKqQwPW2AvvGxI6Ko85vtAjnF87mSkM3cNnS2gzYjnt06JacCWYnk5nF3NoJ2g3WMl5CLqN9l6Yxs7dUjVtPVxoZzSkSOHqq7pyiQ/s1600/ScottC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjygaCjQgmq6P1Vir9mivT5hFWZ6vBGhyFs3r9bQKqQwPW2AvvGxI6Ko85vtAjnF87mSkM3cNnS2gzYjnt06JacCWYnk5nF3NoJ2g3WMl5CLqN9l6Yxs7dUjVtPVxoZzSkSOHqq7pyiQ/s1600/ScottC.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yeah, no, thanks. Thanks for asking. It was a lot
of fun, I guess. Actually it was a lot of sitting around. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I don’t know why we were there for so many days.
The producer, Eric, I think he, well, I think he’s kind of a nervous guy and he
wanted to have the, sort of, I guess, the most opportunities to get the footage
they wanted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eric and me and a camera guy, Matt. I really liked
the camera guy, actually.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I don’t know why. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He was married, so. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Obviously. I understand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Thanks for saying I’m beautiful. Even people
always being told how beautiful they are don’t always feel beautiful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I’m not being sarcastic. When’s the last time your
guts were all puffed up with gas and bloating and period and you thought, Yes,
thank you, I <i>am</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> beautiful? And
beauty, I don’t know. Isn’t there something about the unfamiliar in beauty?
Like, my point, I guess, is that it’s always you across from you in the mirror
so it’s hard to be all, Oh, wow. Beautiful. Though, let me say, when I saw the
footage Matt got of me, I mean, even those little blond hairs I’ve only kept
around because I’m afraid if I start going to war with them they will come back
darker and coarser, in the footage Matt got even those seem kind a lovely. I
mean, not like they are mine so. So I could step back and say, Objectively,
those hairs look soft and beautiful and sexy and perfectly acceptable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We were barely in the air before Matt and I had
covered all that getting to know you shit. Like, No, Silva is actually a
Portuguese name. Yes, I am a model, but I’m actually a musician, I’m trying to
make it as a musician. Actually, Matt even joked like you joke. He actually
said, Should be a winning combo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No, I’m not shitting you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yeah, maybe that is why I took a liking to him,
he’s a genius like my sista. Get this. He’s a music video director, too. He
said maybe he could make me—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I told you he’s married. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No, I won’t stop saying that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I hadn’t seen any of the videos he’s made, but we
watched a bunch of them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What do you mean where? On his computer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yes in his room. Was he supposed to bring his
computer to the beach? Come on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He left the door open and he sat in a chair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yes, okay. I lay on the bed. It doesn’t mean
anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Are you going to let me tell you about my trip? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Right, so I was lying on the bed watching videos
and I got really excited about his work so I went and grabbed my iPod from my
room and we listened to “Home Wrecker” and “Just One Weekend.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What do you mean, <i>Of course you did</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">? Of course we did because those are my only
finished tracks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No, not whatever. It’s true. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He wants to do a video for “Just One Weekend.”
I’ve got to save up some money or talk to the label. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I can’t— I’m not talking to you anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yes. He did offer to do it for free, but he was
just being nice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Why are you asking if he had speakers in his room?
No, he didn’t have speakers in his room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No. No. No. We didn’t sit there with one ear bud
in each of our ears our <i>thighs lightly touching</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">. He took the iPod over to his chair and I watched
him listen. His phone buzzed a few times while he had the headphones on, but he
didn’t hear it. He liked the songs and I was really happy he liked them. I
don’t know what he was expecting. He even said, “I don’t know what I was
expecting, but it wasn’t Alt Country.” We sat there for a sec, then I told him
about his phone. After he checked it, I asked if it was Eric and he said, “No.
It’s my wife. Facebook memory. I guess a year ago, one of my kids, my youngest
kid was sick. Threw her milk up all over my wife.” He showed me the picture she
sent. There was Milk puke, all white and chunky, sprayed on her gut and in her
belly button. “Bull’s eye,” I said. He smiled like the joke wasn’t funny. We
made eye contact. He said, “Sorry, that was a good one. I was just thinking
about something else.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Look, stop it. That is not what he was thinking
about. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No, not <i>of course</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">. That is not <i>of course</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> what he was thinking about. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Why would you ask about what her belly looked
like? His wife’s belly? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">A person is more than her belly. I am more than my
belly. She is more than her belly. It did look pretty good, though. For someone
who’s had two kids. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The kids are super-cute. He showed me on the
plane. I mean, I saw pictures a few different times. We were just sitting
around so much, so what else are you going to do? But on the plane, he was
talking to this guy across the aisle whose wife was pregnant. He had his phone
out to show that guy pictures. It was really sweet. The guy was really into it,
too. I mean, I would never just start a conversation with somebody like that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I think, well, the woman was pregnant. Not
super-pregnant, but one of those people, those women, who look like they’ve
tucked a ball under their shirt. Something about their body type. Skinny
ladies. Anyway, I guess it was unambiguous. Still I thought it was bold when
Matt was like, “When are you due?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No, totally. You wouldn’t— I mean on a bus or a
streetcar or whatever, you wouldn’t automatically get up for this chick,
’cause, like, you might wonder about it—she’d have a coat on I guess, she
didn’t have a coat on on the plane, I don’t think—but with a coat on, you would
really not be sure. She wasn’t, like, holding her lower back or anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Okay, so, Matt asks, “When are you due?” and the
husband jumps in, all super-sweet and proud. The wife, she looked relieved to
not have to talk about it. She just put headphones in and pulled out a
magazine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">So in between Matt and me getting to know each
other, and Eric just sitting all tense by the window and occasionally
interrupting to ask Matt if he remembered to bring this thing or that thing,
Matt and this dad, the future dad, across the aisle are having these cute
conversations. Like Future Dad would be like, How’s the sleeping thing? and
Matt would give some answer like, Well, it sucks for a while and while it sucks
you feel like the shitty times will never end, but then it doesn’t suck anymore
and you can’t even remember what it was like when it sucked or how long it
sucked for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It wasn’t exactly that, I don’t think, but
something like that. The part that was so interesting to me, though, was when
the pregnant wife got up to go to the bathroom. He said. Well, what he said,
that was something, but before he says it he looks me in the eyes then he sort
of changes his focus a bit to take in all of me. Not in some sleazebag way.
Still, it was hot, somehow, and I got this like rush of—feeling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yes, I did get— Yes. I was turned on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I’m not being demure. Anyway, Matt’s look was like
there was some calculating going on. Does that make sense? Like he was doing
the old emotional math. Then he turns to the guy and tells him, essentially, to
have as much sex now as he can because after the baby is born that’s it for a
long time. It was amazing the way his words started piling up. He was talking
fast, almost interrupting himself. Or like, it was like he’d had this five
minute speech ready and rehearsed, but he’d only been given two minutes to
speak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I wish I’d been able to pay more attention, but
Eric taps me from the other side and points to something out the window and
asks me if I’ve ever been to Cuba. So I’m making small talk with him. When Matt
finishes. I can see out of the corner of my eye that he’s sitting there
awkwardly, his hands on his lap. Eventually he pulled out a book and started
reading while I was listening to Eric talk about some Cuban metal band he saw
at a festival on his three week road trip to see “the real Cuba.” It, actually,
now that I’m talking about it, what Eric was saying was pretty interesting.
Super interesting. But—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Matt did not want to fuck me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Okay, sure, we were hitting it off. If he wanted
to fuck me, he would have . . . I mean he would have done something to— To—
Well, to do it. You know?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">How could I miss it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><i>Think about it</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">. Listen to you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Shh. Okay okay. I am thinking about it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Shh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What do you mean, <i>Just tell me what you are
thinking about?</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Okay, fine. It’s actually like a montage. Do you
ever wonder if we think like we think because of, whatever, TV and movies and
such? Or if we—I don’t mean you and me, obviously, but like people. Mankind.
Humankind— If we create things like montages because we have the technology
now, but we’ve always had that way of thinking?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Fine. I’ll start describing the montage. Roll the
film. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I have to close my eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">On the beach, he would never actually look at me,
except really quickly. Or he might stare at a foot or something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When I first walked out of my room with my bikini,
that one—that hot pink one—he looked down at his feet and held his towel over
his crotch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">On the beach, too, I could sometimes see his
little man raise its head and flop over to the side as he tried to, you know.
As he cleared his throat and shook his head at his open book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No. See, I told you. There’s more— Actually, well.
Although, that stuff’s sort of cute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Then Matt had to shoot me for the commercial. Or
Public Service Announcement or whatever. Eric had three bikinis for me to try
on and I’m getting changed in Eric’s bathroom and I notice he’s got condoms in
his open . . . his . . . those little, like, sometimes leather—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">—yeah, toiletries bag. His open toiletries bag. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I go out in the first bikini and Eric and Matt
scrutinize me and Eric is all asking questions like, “Don’t you think her
breasts look too flat in that top?” and Matt’s like, “I see what you mean.
Sure.” Then Eric would have me lie down on the bed, which made sense because I
had to lie down in the video. He’d stand up on the bed, he’d get down on his
hands and knees and look at my breast and my crotch. I flinched when he pointed
between my legs and asked me to adjust my suit. Then he’d have me flip over and
look at my ass. Each time he’d put hands on either side of me on the bed. I
could feel him breathing on the back of my thighs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><i>Ew</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">
is right. With the first bikini he tried to get Matt to come over, but Matt
said, “I can see from here.” Eric shook his head and snorted and, like, hot air
and maybe some snot sprayed all over me. I actually used his hand towel to wipe
it off before I put on the next suit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">As Eric was getting on the bed to check out the
second suit, Matt’s phone starts ringing and he picks up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You’re right. This totally isn’t a montage
anymore. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yep. A full-blown scene. Only I forget the
dialogue, exactly, but I know that from what Matt said into his phone that
Matt’s wife was missing work because one of the girls had a fever and that
there was some other trouble. Matt went outside to finish the conversation and
Eric was pissed about it, snorting like some bull or pig. Getting very barnyard. I
told him, “I’ve gotta pee,” just so I could get out of there, out of that room
with just Eric, and get myself behind a locked door. He wasn’t happy about it,
but he lifted his arm and let me free. In the bathroom, I stole two of his
condoms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You’re right, Eric does sound like a creep, but—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No, I don’t carry condoms with me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I just don’t. You think I have sex with people all
the time?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You know I don’t. It’s not my style. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><i>Ha-huh.</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> . . . I— Uh. Yeah. Yeah. You got me. I was going to say that there
were beautiful waiters and there were. Bartenders. Guys paid to dance with
guests. But no, it was Matt. I was obviously thinking about the possibility. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Exposed. Exposed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We picked a bikini and we drove to a section of
beach that Eric had found. Matt spent more time looking at the scenery than he
spent looking at me when I was on that bed. Eric watched—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Nah it didn’t hurt my feelings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I swear it didn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You’re right, I noticed. Obviously, I noticed. I’m
telling you about it. But it felt— I knew he’s trying to be respectful,
right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made sure he was watching
when I stripped down to that bathing suit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yeah I did, for sure, and wiggled my hips into the
bargain. As sexy as I got in me. Tried to channel my inner stripper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Why thank you. I hope I did a great job. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">That’s right. He got that shot of the little blond
hairs. With the camera in his hand now, Matt’s crawling all over me, too.
Straddling. So different, though. He apologized anytime his jeans brushed
against me or this one time his elbow bumped into my thigh. Even apologized
when he breathed on me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Sure thing. You can take the Canadian out of
Canada, but, no, can’t get that Canada out. Eric’s Canadian too, though. As far
as I know, so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">’Kay, but there’s this other shot Matt got. It’s
like, it’s not a zoom but the camera is moving up my legs, up between my
thighs. A tracking shot? Anyway, my ass cheeks look like a pair of the Rocky
Mountains. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In the best possible way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Like I got booty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Like that British guy, that British narrator, um—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Yeah, David Attenborough. Like David
Attenborough’s gonna talk about the, what is it? Rain shadow? I think that’s
it. The rain shadow of my ass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eric said, “Damn,” or something equally predatory
and appreciative. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No man, I make him sound dangerous. I could take
him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Okay, last story. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Sorry. You have work to do. You’re trying to get a
degree or something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Happy to help you procrastinate, sis. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alright. So, we are having dinner and Eric gets up
to take a call from his partner—business partner—and Matt says, Let’s get the
fuck out of here. We get out on the beach and there are all these other people
walking up and down and it’s dusk and I actually fully forget myself and I wrap
my arm around his arm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I did forget myself. It was a mistake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I’m not saying I wasn’t all for what it meant.
Like, it was an action I could stand behind, an action that I meant, but not
what I intended. It was too late, though, obviously. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Well, he squeezed his arm in towards his body and
put his hand on mine. I looked up at his face, not sure I should take it to
mean anything and he smiled and laughed and turned red. We sat down on the
beach because, he said, “It’s hard to walk with an erection.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Don’t tell me what he didn’t say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I told you we didn’t have sex. Sleep together.
Fuck. Didn’t I say that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Sure, I had my hand on the inside of his thigh on
a beach as the sun went down. I had my head on his shoulder. I laughed at his
jokes. He’s talking about hard-ons and his hand is exploring by back and my
side, even brushing the side of my breast as he plays his shaking fingers up my
rib cage. It seemed bound to happen. He was shivering. I asked him if he wanted
to go inside. “I’m not cold,” he said. “Let’s go inside,” I said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We were walking back to the hotel hand in hand
when he stopped. I was like what’s wrong and he went, “Agh.” We were like
almost back to the hotel when he let go of my hand and said, “Sorry. Someone is
texting me like crazy.” I stood ahead of him a few steps. He looked strange in
the blue light from his phone. I saw him shaking his head. I didn’t want to ask
what the texts were all about, who they were from. Mood is a thing. For him,
but also for me. I’m not some home wrecker. I’m not the girl from my song. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No, I’m not. I’m just a free person trying to get
with another free person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">What do you mean, Nobody’s free? That’s a bit
philosophical for you, isn’t it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">That’s a point. Obviously that’s the issue, right?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You don’t need me to tell you that it was his
wife. Texting. She was really sick and his girls were sick, too. “I told her to
call my mom,” he said, irritated. “She’s asking if there’s any way I can come
home sooner.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He couldn’t look at me. His eyes would find me for
a minute—for a millisecond—then he’d look out at the ocean or up at the sky. He
might have been crying. He told me he was sorry, he wasn’t feeling well. He
repeated that he was sorry, squeezed my shoulder and walked off towards his
room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Ha ha. Um. Yeah. No I didn’t come home with the
condoms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I told you that I didn’t sleep with Matt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Not some hot Cuban, either. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eric, obviously. I don’t know why. It wasn’t very
good. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He wasn’t, he’s not, dangerous. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I think I’d just prepared myself to sleep with
someone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Don’t call me that. You should know better. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Sure. I’m sure you could guess. He came too soon.
Not that I think I was going to come. I wasn’t that comfortable with him,
that’s what I’ll say. I’ve got to be comfortable with a person, feel like they
aren’t judging me if I’m going to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I think Matt had the same flu his family got. He
stayed in his room our last day. And Eric got kinda possessive. The flight home
was way less fun. We all took a cab together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eric was trying to convince Matt to come in the
cab and he kept saying no, no, no. Then Eric went to the bathroom and Matt
started saying goodbye to me. I asked him to come with us. He didn’t say
anything, just nodded. Eric got back from the bathroom and said, “Okay then,
Matty. I’ll call you later.” Matt said he was coming in the taxi and Eric acted
all surprised.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I know you gotta go. I just. Let me finish. We
dropped Eric off at his office. So, Matt lives sort a around the corner from
me. The cab went to his house next. I told him, Well it was nice to meet you.
He nodded. Said the same thing back. He wasn’t looking at me at all. We stopped
in front of his house. “Guess, I’ll see you,” he said. I told him where I
lived. “Maybe I’ll see you,” he said. He squeezed my hand, opened the door,
then got out. Before he closed the door, he pointed to my hand and said, “You
should probably wash that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Maybe it was because he was sick. Maybe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; line-height: 32px; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, Feb. 2016</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; line-height: 32px; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; line-height: 32px; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence: </b>writer, director and music video maker <a href="https://vimeo.com/user723916">Scott Cudmore</a></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times; line-height: 32px; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story:</b> Lee Sheppard</span></div>
</div>
<br />
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-49492007094574035182016-02-08T11:08:00.002-05:002016-02-08T11:09:01.078-05:00Another Announcement: Deathmatch Round 2 is This Week<br />
<div class="_1dwg" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 12px; padding-right: 12px; padding-top: 12px;">
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Friends, the 200 plus votes you guys gave me pushed me through to the next round of <a href="http://deathmatch.ca/">Broken Pencil's Deathmatch</a>. Please head over there again starting today at noon. Yes, I want your hourly votes, but let me humbly say that the story that my story "You People" is up against—"Moulting" by Madeeha Hashmi—is as nearly perfect a short story as I've ever read. It is an evocation of a new love and great optimism. It has a delicate narrative voice and many carefully crafted details. Please read it. I could give a shit about winning—that's not entirely true—but I love stories. Read "Moulting." Also, check out Hashmi's blog <a href="http://rakkan.tumblr.com/">Paper Bags & Napkins</a>. See you over at <a href="http://deathmatch.ca/">deathmatch.ca</a> </div>
<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="js_2b" style="font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.38; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden;">
#bpdeathmatch</div>
</div>
Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-44953778718176555142016-02-05T06:03:00.002-05:002016-02-05T06:03:40.411-05:00Announcement: Deathmatch Round 1 This Weekend
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<div class="MsoNormal">
My new story, “You People” is in an online story
“battle,” <a href="http://www.brokenpencil.com/deathmatch-2016">Broken Pencil’s Indie Writers’ Deathmatch</a>, this weekend from 12:00:00
a.m. on Saturday to 11:59:59 on Sunday. Go to <a href="http://deathmatch.ca/">deathmatch.ca</a> to read “You
People” and, if you’ve got a lot of time, the 15 stories that it is up against
in this first round. Vote for whichever stories. Be warned, though, you can
only vote once every hour. Of course, “You People” and I would like your vote.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Note: “You People” features The Oblititrons, who I first met way back in <a href="http://notknownotice.blogspot.ca/2015/05/the-oblititrons.html">May</a>, then again in <a href="http://notknownotice.blogspot.ca/2015/05/the-oblititrons-drive-prairies.html">two weeks later</a>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
#bpdeathmatch #theoblititrons</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-58230970123076150152016-02-03T06:25:00.000-05:002016-11-17T05:44:00.234-05:00Back On Top, Soon, Part I<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">After dinner, I wash dishes and listen to music.
Lately it’s been a lot of minimalist stuff. Ambient music. Uh, who? William
Basinski, this tape loop guy who Antony Hegarty slash Anohni—Anohni now, her
how—she recommended in this interview I read. And Willamette, who I found
through this record label I love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">So, I was super-low energy and I was in the mood
for something different. I put on De La Soul’s <i>The Grind Date</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> and skipped to the last track, Rock Co.Kane Flow.
It’s amazing. One of my favourites. Plus, it was my introduction to MF DOOM. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">So there’s this line, “Everyone cools off from
being hot/It’s about if you can handle being cold or not.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I mean, I know the line. I knew the line. I rapped
the line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Sometimes, though, something hits you, right? Well
this hit me. Ah, what a cliché. Man, this wiggled right inside me and tried to
push my heart out of the way. This landed behind my eyes and started wringing
everything out of my tear ducts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I’m crying into the dirty dish-water, this
fabulous track, this banger that I used to blast in the car and rap along with,
pounding at my feelings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I hear a shout. One of those shouts that you can
tell is not the first, but only the most recent in a series of, you know, ever
louder attempts to be heard. I went and paused De La. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“YEAH?” I shouted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“COULD YOU TURN THAT DOWN!?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“YEAH.” And of course I apologized. “SORRY.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I put on Willamette. The music seems sad. I mean
to me even it seems sad. But it, I don’t know, it fills me up. It calms me
down. I went back to washing the dishes, these big beautiful chords comforting
me, the sounds of my wife bathing my kids coming muted through the kitchen
ceiling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Only I can’t stop crying because I’ve cooled off
and I don’t know if I can handle being cold or not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I’ve been taking work shooting commercials and
PSAs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The house we bought with a lot of help from the
bank and some money I made shooting music videos, the money I made when I was
making money? The floors are too creaky, the walls are too thin, the rooms are
too hot or too cold, the basement is wet, it was built before fuel costs were a
concern so there’s no insulation. And I’m not even able to afford it on the
pittance my infrequent commercial work brings in, so my mom is helping us out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Of course, Mom’s also encouraging me to go into
teaching, like I’ve got a free year to just go back to school and never mind
the time it takes to apply or the time to get a job. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Sure, I guess a college might take me as an
instructor, but I don’t have a Master’s. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">No no. Fuck that. No. I’ll be back on top. Soon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“YOU ALMOST DONE DOWN THERE?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“YEAH.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I still had a pile of dishes, so I dried my eyes
and did them, then went upstairs to help get the girls to bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was good. I was in a good mood. Sometimes I’m
nasty. Impatient. But reading with my oldest, who is happy and healthy and so
totally not worried about any of this bullshit, that was a nice break from
thinking about it, for sure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Once they were down, I packed and took my bag
downstairs. I got my camera out, made sure I had all my lenses, that my
batteries were charged, that I had a few empty memory cards. Eric called and we
went over the details of the flight and the shoot and then he got going to me
about Joey and their office bullshit and blah blah blah and by the time I finally
got upstairs Jacqueline’s asleep with her thumb in a book and her bedside light
still on. I could see that she had on one of her nice bras and, honestly, I
figured that maybe she was washing her other ones. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When I sat down, she opened her eyes and, trying
not to sound annoyed, said, “How’s Eric?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What time do you leave tomorrow?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“The flight’s Eleven something.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“In the morning?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll still have time to get the girls where they
need to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Good.” She stretched, shook her head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Good night.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She put her hand on my thigh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s okay. You go to sleep.” We do normally try
to have sex before I go away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jacqueline pulled the sheets back. She was wearing
the underwear to match the sexy bra. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">So we did. We had sex. Check it off the list. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We used to fuck. With all the thrill and energy
that word connotes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Let me explain something that I wish I could tell
every future father. There were lots of clues. You told me how infrequently you
were getting any action. A mid-wife, many mid-wives, at prenatal classes and
various of our appointments, marveled at teenage couples who were having sex
nearly right after the baby was born. Each time it was brought up, it was in
response to someone asking, delicately, about what sex would be like or, more
often, whether or not a breast-feeding mother would require contraception. What
no one said in response was, “Forget contraception. You will have sex with a
frequency that at one point would have been inconceivably low, would have been
relationship destroying. You will have sex so rarely that you and your wife
will speculate on the genius of affairs and open relationships then go up to
bed separately so you don’t have to lie there feeling awkward and needy or
apologetic, so you don’t have to go through the sad process of rejection again
and again and again, each and every night. Guys, you’ll be lucky to get a hand
job. And when you do you will experience this strange mix of gratitude and
guilt.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Obviously, everyone’s experience is different.
Mine was that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was complicated by that fact that through
watching birth, I became a great admirer of the vulva. Not only is its
structure marvelously functional—my partner was lucky enough to have the
vaginal birth she hoped for—but through it came first one person, then another,
whom I love more than I love anyone else in the world. Which makes it all sound
like some intellectual enthusiasm I experienced. It wasn’t, though. Watching my
first daughter be born, I experienced a visceral adoration for what someone in
an Ina May Gaskin book, maybe Gaskin herself, calls “The Gates of Life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">That feeling has passed, so frequently would I
feel a surge of it and have it replaced by disappointment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Gradually, the sex comes back, though I’m still
waiting for it to return to what I once considered normal. Not that there’s
time for what used to be normal, not with a pair of kids. Saturdays stretching
out before us with nothing that needed doing, nothing but free time. Time to
ask the question, “What do you want to do?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In the morning, I made oatmeal while four-year-old
Sarah tried to draw a dog for Leah, who’s 19-months now and talking so much,
Leah who was stealing Sarah’s markers and making Sarah scream. Jacqueline came
down before her alarm usually goes, before I had her coffee ready, and said,
“Good morning. How’s it going?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We’re fine,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Leah’s taking my markers,” Sarah said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Leah snatched the marker Sarah was holding, held
it out for Jacqueline and said, “Mama.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Lee-AHHHH!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay,” Jacqueline said. “Thank you.” She took the
marker from Leah. Sarah reached for it and started jumping up and down and
crying for it. “Whoa. I’m going to give it to you,” Jacqueline said, “but you
need to calm down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Uhhhh,” Sarah shouted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Take a deep breath,” Jacqueline said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Sarah glared at Jacqueline. Jacqueline handed
Sarah the marker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">My wife came into the kitchen. “How are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Coffee?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She touched the small of my back and stretched up
for a kiss. “Bet you’re looking forward to a few days off.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I like my life.” I kissed her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We kissed again before she left me with the kids
half in their snowsuits. Our daycare provider told me she thought that our
cloth diapers might be giving Leah a rash and that maybe there was something
about how we were washing them, or the detergent maybe. As I was walking Sarah
to school and texting Jacqueline about the diaper concerns, Sarah, probably
because I’d been ignoring her for a few seconds, collapsed onto her knees and
told me she couldn’t walk anymore. Eventually I coaxed her up, but she pulled
against my hand and dropped down at least two more times before we got to he
school, where she was disappointed that we weren’t late enough for a late slip.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I took transit to the airport. Eric liked when I
took a taxi, but transit was slow and I could be alone for a while and read. I
was late, though—late for Eric’s taste—and he started texting me just as I sat
down to wait for the airport shuttle. I made a rule that I would only answer
after every three texts, but then I was checking my phone all the time anyway.
Eric implored me to take a cab from the station. I lied and told him I was on
the bus already. It was scheduled to arrive in five minutes or whatever, the
same time it would take me to walk outside and call a cab. “See you soon,” I
wrote.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">I looked at my book and took a deep breath to try
and calm down. The bus arrived. When I sat down, my camera on my lap, my
luggage at my feet, I pulled my file on the shoot out. A Hepatitis PSA with a
bikini-clad woman sunbathing then going into the water to cool off. Eric took
the work for the location—a beach shoot in wintertime. I pulled out my phone
and checked the temperature in Varadero. Highs of 28 on Tuesday and Wednesday,
partially cloudy Tuesday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Out the bus window, the cars, the highway, the
factories, the office buildings, the malls were all steaming and coated with
salt. I pulled out a screenplay I was working on. My main character’s gun had
been knocked across the floor and a villainous woman in tight leather pants and
a billowing red blouse was straddling his chest and pointing her gun right
between his eyes. I crossed out the word “right.” Now she was pointing her gun
between his eyes, but the scene was still derivative shit. I’d been aiming for
a feminist, genre challenging, post-modern action flick, but was pretty sure I
was failing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When we got to the terminal, I let everyone off
the bus before me then walked slowly towards the Sunwing check-in. Off in the
distance, I saw Eric racing away from me his head swinging wildly from one
person to the next, this woman in leggings chasing after him. I let them get
further away from me, knowing that soon, Eric would turn around. When they did
turn around, they were still too far away for me to see the woman’s face.
Honestly, I didn’t know who she was. In all our phone calls and texts leading
up to the trip, not once had Eric mentioned about anyone else joining us. I
came to the aisle of check-in counters where Sunwing was, Eric still far away.
I considered waiting and waving him down, but queued up to check in, instead. A
tiny woman in a navy skirt and short-sleeved jacket was going up and down the
line saying “Is anyone here for the 11 a.m. to Varadero?” I waited for anyone
else to put up their hand before she looked at me and I raised mine. “Please
come over here sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She rushed me over to a desk where a very tall
woman with big hands, wide eyes and a large mouth took from me my passport and
a sheet I had printed on my nearly toner-less printer. I turned and see Eric
going past in a frenzy and saw that the woman with him looked perfect enough to
be the woman in the PSA. I stood back from the counter. “Eric!” He didn’t hear
me at first. A little old lady with enormous sunglasses brought her boney
shoulders up as if to cover her ears. I cupped my hands over my mouth and shouted
again. “Eric!” He turned and stomped towards me, the girl startled that they’d
broken their rhythm took a second to figure to change course, then had to rush
to catch up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Matt,” Eric said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Mr. Arnold,” the Sunwing woman said. “We really
do have to hurry.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Eric was desperate to chastise me, but he heard
what the lady said and held his tongue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was as we were heading to security, as Eric
told me to just take a taxi next time or catch an earlier shuttle, that I
introduced myself to the woman we were traveling with. “Hi. Matt Arnold. I’m
the camera guy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Stephanie Silva. Steph. I’m ‘Woman.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hear you roar.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“‘Woman’ from the script.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I figured. Nice to meet you.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><i>Continued next week.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, Jan.-Feb. 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence: </b>writer, director and music video maker <a href="https://vimeo.com/user723916">Scott Cudmore</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story:</b> Lee Sheppard</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-12980278903526948332016-01-27T06:23:00.000-05:002016-01-27T06:23:42.345-05:00Cannibal
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Paul The Cannibal had driven by with his Mom on
their way to do errands, slipped the note into the mailbox and put the little
red flag up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Dad noticed it first. He happened to be looking
out the kitchen window because he was too lazy or hungover or something to get
a plate and so was standing over the sink, the crumbs from his toast and peanut
butter pitter-pattering like little raindrops onto the stainless steel basin.
He squinted as he sipped his coffee, it looked like because the hot hurt him or
something. “It’s Saturday,” he said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I didn’t know what he was saying other than the
obvious. “Yep.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Mailman doesn’t come on Saturday.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Mailman’s name is Susan. So I guess she’s a
mailwoman.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Firewoman, policewoman, mailwoman,
whateverwoman.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Postal worker?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Kay, but why are we getting mail on a Saturday?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“I don’t know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Go check the box.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I was reading. “I’m in the middle a something.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“That book’ll wait.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“You go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“I’m not dressed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I left my shoes untied and walked with the heels
dragging along the gravel. When I saw the paper, folded up into a square with
an eight ball drawn in blue ballpoint on the outside of it, I was glad Dad
hadn’t been the one to walk out and see who’d left us mail on a Saturday. The
drawing was pretty good for something rushed and probably angry. I remember
ruts of blue ink curving off here and jutting out there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">This was a time before cell phones and texting and
even though we were twelve and thirteen years old, me and my classmates still
wrote notes to each other, folded them up in elaborate ways and passed them up,
down and across rows of seats, the tiny packages tucked into our palms. I’d
never had one slipped into my mailbox before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">It read, “Church at hi noon. Your dead. Game over.
Finished. Paul. P.S. If you don’t show up, I’ll just come to your house.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Dad knocked from the inside of the window. I
turned and squinted, but I couldn’t make out his expression. Then he held his
hands forward, palms up in exasperation. “It’s for me!” I shouted. Roxy, the
neighbour’s dog, barked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I was sitting on the car’s dusty, twisted rear
fender rereading the note when the screen door squealed and Dad poked his head
out, “I said, ‘What’d we get?’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“I told you, it’s for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“What is it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Is it from a girl?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Paul.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Who’s Paul?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Guy in my class.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“What’s wrong with your voice?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Nu—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“You crying?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“No!” I dragged my shoes off around the car and
sat on the front fender, my head and face obscured by the pine tree we always
parked under.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Jack, I didn’t mean anything by it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Make fun of me, fine. But don’t lie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“It’s not like that, Buddy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">The wind picked up and a branch blew towards my
face. I flinched. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Come back inside,” Dad said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">The wind died down again. Someone started up their
lawnmower. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“When you’re ready, then.” Dad went back inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I wiped my nose on my bare arm. The snot darkened
my new, coarse arm hair. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and tried to
concentrate on the mower’s far off buzz. Paul flooded my mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I gave him the nickname Cannibal. In April, the whole
class got invited to a party at Suzy Orlean-Smith’s and in this nice finished
basement she had, Paul, me and some of the other guys ended up playing with a
dirty tennis ball Max found in his pocket. Somehow this game evolved to where
we were hiding behind the furniture and whipping the ball at whoever happened
to poke their head up. How the game went any length of time without something
breaking is pretty impressive. Dennis had the ball and wasn’t throwing it.
Trying to provoke him, Paul made a dash from behind this ornate chair, in front
of the fireplace, heading for the sectional couch. Dennis chucked the ball and
knocked over a jar on the mantle. It was made of metal, so it didn’t break. It
did clang a bunch. The mantle was deep enough that the urn rolled before
falling, rolled long enough that Paul had time to go and catch it before it hit
the ground. This big plume of ash puffed into the air and drifted down to the
carpet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">The noise from upstairs and out in the backyard
didn’t change. No one else had heard the urn fall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">All the guys came out from where they were hiding.
Some of the guys went and found things to do in other parts of the basement.
Dennis said he had to go to the bathroom. Geoff and I went to help Paul. With
my hand, I brushed the ash around the carpet. It was thick carpet and most of
the mess was absorbed. If you squinted, you could barely see the discoloration.
To my satisfied eyes, it looked like a shadow. I wiped my hand on my pants.
Geoff held the urn while Paul used the side of his hand, then the fireplace
brush to sweep the ash from the mantle and the hearth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">The whole time, we didn’t talk about what the ash
was. I didn’t know who the ash was, but I knew that it was a person. Maybe Paul
didn’t know. I have to assume he didn’t know, or that he wasn’t really thinking
when he started licking the fine ash on his fingers. I don’t know what face I
made, but I saw Geoff make this disbelieving, disgusted look. Paul’s features
dropped and hung loose for a second. Then he smiled and put his whole finger in
his mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“That’s someone,” Geoff said. “That’s someone’s
ashes.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Paul licked his hand clean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">At school on Monday, all the guys asked him what
it tasted like. I called him a Cannibal and he seemed proud. I remember seeing
Suzy crying at some point and I guess someone told her at least part of what
happened. Then at lunchtime, Paul beat up Dennis. “You could have at least
helped us clean up!” he shouted as Mr. Doucet held his arm and led him into the
school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Paul came back on Wednesday after a one-day
suspension and he beat Geoff up. He was suspended for three days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Paul waited a day after returning from that
suspension before kicking Max’s ass. The staff decided to give Paul a week
inside at recesses. That week, I got a note and a drawing in my desk. The
drawing, copied maybe from some record in Paul’s big brother’s collection, was
a person eating a heart, ink-blue blood dripping all over the place. The note
read: “You know Suzy’s little brother, Sam? Punch him in the head for me. The Cannibal.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I didn’t do it, of course. Paul passed me a folded
up piece of paper with a cat drawn on the outside and a hairy triangle covering
most of the page inside. It was captioned “Your a pussy.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Paul waited two days after he was allowed back out
at lunch before he punched Sam in the head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">That was it for recesses for Paul, for the rest of
the year at least. A social worker from the school board started meeting with
him once a week. And I started getting invitations to get my ass kicked after
school, in the locker room, in gym class, right now in front of everybody. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">One day he punched me in the back of the head as
we were doing laps around the track. He blamed me that he got in trouble. Said
I overreacted and that’s why Miss Aaron, our gym teacher saw. As if all the
teachers weren’t on high alert, watching for what Paul would do next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">By this point, the class had decided that eating
the ashes had been responsible for Paul’s change. Delicately, the girls in the
class figured out whose ashes they were—Suzy’s grandfather’s—and what he was
like—super-nice, no history of violence that Suzy knew about. To this day I
think that eating the ashes was what fucked Paul up. Guilt or magical thinking
or whatever. I would love to see that social worker’s notes, for sure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Whatever the reason, Paul was on a mission to beat
up everybody connected to the incident.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">When I went back in to my house, the note folded
up inside the pocket of my jeans, Dad said, “I could call your grandmother
over.” Since Mum died, that’s what he offered every time I expressed feelings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“It’s fine,” I told him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I went to my room and lay down. Determined bits of
light made it through the birch tree outside my window and danced on my floor.
The sound of the lawnmower was calming me, lulling me. Then it stopped and into
the sound’s absence rushed all the fear and anxiety and anger I’d been keeping
pent up wherever. Is there a gland for that? One of those organs that science
can’t figure out? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I had to sit up so I didn’t vomit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I stared at my stack of Nintendo games. I even
picked up the Super Mario Bros/Duck Hunt cartridge and blew on the bottom of it
like I was going to slide it into the system and coax it to work, but I felt
too weak to do even that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">It was ten twenty. “I’m gonna go,” I told Dad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Where to?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“I’m gonna meet someone.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“This Paul guy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“You want me to come with you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I hadn’t thought of that possibility and I let the
idea in and it settled briefly. I shook it out of its comfortable spot,
scowling and grimacing it away. No, no, no.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“You want to eat something before you go?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I wasn’t hungry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Let me pack you something.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I sat in the kitchen while Dad made me a peanut
butter sandwich and folded it up in plastic wrap. He put it with a red
delicious apple into a brown paper bag. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Is that enough?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I shrugged. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">He put a can of ginger ale in there too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I had to bike down to the bridge over the creek
and up the steep bank on the other side. I’d been getting better and making it
up the hill lately and if I got a good start down, I had a way better chance of
pedaling all the way up. That day though, I sabotaged my chances, holding the
rear break my whole descent. I stopped on the bridge and threw the brown paper
bag towards the river. It landed on the bank. I stared at it a while feeling
stupid and guilty, then I went and picked it up. I saw a stand of yellow
flowers that looked like dandelions. I picked a few. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I had to walk the bike up the slope, my lunch and
a bunch of flowers in my hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">At the top of the hill was this whole different
landscape. It was flat and the only trees were windbreaks dividing up the
farmers’ fields. My friend Ryan lived up here with his karate expert dad, and
my friend Marc, whose dad was huge and German and had been, Marc claimed, in
the Hitler Youth. Their three spoiled shepherds barked as I biked past. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">The United Church was modest by most standards,
but tall around here. It was at a crossroads and the cemetery was separated
from the road by a ditch and a wood and wire fence. I leaned my bike against
the church and took my flowers to Mom. I sat cross-legged facing the headstone
I’d come to think of as my mother and I ate my apple and sandwich, drank my
ginger ale. There was a bouquet that Dad must have left there. It was all dried
out against the headstone and I thought maybe I would throw it out once I
finished eating. The sun was warm and summery, though the ground held some of
winter’s chill. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I heard a car coming and I turned to watch it go
by. I didn’t recognize the driver. When it pulled into the church parking lot,
the Minister, Meg, stepped out. “Good morning, Jack.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I held up my hand to her, nervous what talking
might do to my voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">She came over. She smiled. “Here to visit your
mum?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I nodded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“I see you brought her some flowers.” She waited.
“They’re lovely.” Another pause. “Do you want me to take those old ones?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I shook my head, No. “I’ll do it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“We have vases inside. Would you like me to get a
vase?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“It’s okay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Well, I guess I better get to work.” She walked
towards the church, but said over her shoulder, “I’m just inside if you need
anything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">A few minutes later, I was lying there watching
the clouds slowly drift and shift, form and reform. I closed my eyes and opened
them again and tried and figure out how the sky had changed. I did it again and
again. I had no watch, no way of telling time, but I think I must have fallen
asleep, because when I heard the car door unlatch and creak open, my skin was
suddenly feeling sore and dried out like I’d been in the sun too long. Paul was
getting out of a beat up beige K-car with wood paneling. “Yeah, Mom, Jeesh. I
said it’s fine. I’ll walk home.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I rolled over, my heart beating like a bass drum,
and pulled my feet under me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Paul looked around. I tried to duck behind Mom’s
headstone without being seen. “Good-bye, Mom.” He slammed the door and turned
towards the cemetery. He spotted me almost immediately. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Are you sure, Paul?” His mother was leaning
across the passenger seat still lowering the window with the hand crank. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Yes, Mom. Get out a here.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I stood up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Is that your friend?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Mom,” Paul said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Hi,” she shouted to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I waved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Seriously,” Paul said. “Go away.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“What’s he doing in the cemetery?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“His mom’s dead,” Paul told her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Oh.” She said something quietly after that and
waved to me again, this time more gently, before she drove off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Is that your mom?” Paul asked from the driveway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Yeah,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“That was my mom. In the car there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“I know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Well, are you going to come out here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“So you can kick my ass?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Uh hunh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I looked around. The cemetery was small and,
really, I wouldn’t have wanted Paul chasing me through it for the disrespect
that would show. But it was surrounded by wide-open spaces that I could have
run through to get away. I was sick of waiting for the moment when he would
finally fight me, though, so I walked towards him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">We stood a few feet from each other, staring
awkwardly. I didn’t know what to do, so I let him take the lead. He stepped
towards me and screwed his face up into something angry looking. I was starting
to smile, not to mock him but as an entreaty, a call to negotiation, when I saw
his left arm lift awkward and unbent. I flinched. His hand crashed into the
side of my head. It didn’t hurt much, either because of technique or because
he, like me, had just stepped through the front door of the house of puberty
and his coordination hadn’t caught up to his body. I covered my head with my
forearms and open hands. He was raining me with blows. Isn’t that what people
say? Raining? It felt heavier than rain, but they were barely blows. Still, he
landed a fist on the side of my body and I jerked forward then dropped to my
knees. He started kicking me too. The kicks were harder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">When Meg came outside to see what the commotion
was and startled Paul into stopping, I thought I was laughing. She thought I
was sobbing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">She took me into the bathroom and she cleaned some
gravel off my face. Nothing was bleeding. Nothing was even swollen. Meg told me
she’d be right back. I washed my hands. She was holding a white vase with what
I know now are hobnails all over the surface, those little protruding
semi-spheres that look like the inverse of the divots on a golf ball. She
filled the vase with water. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">As we left the church, Meg walked right beside me,
her hand on my back. We didn’t see Paul right away and I assumed he’d started
his walk home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">It was when we turned to the cemetery that we saw
him. He was in front of my mother’s grave on his hands and knees and all tucked
into himself. His shoulders jerked and he paused before his shoulders rolled
slowly then jerked again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">“Hello,” Meg said. “Excuse me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Paul turned to us. His flush and the wild
movements of his eyes told me that he was up to something awful. I burst out
from under Meg’s hand and raced for Paul. He stood up and held his hands out. I
could see the matchbook briefly before I leaped at him and tackled him over my
mother’s gravestone. He landed on his head, with his neck at an awkward angle.
My momentum brought his body around and overtop of me. I threw him off, then
straddled his torso, grabbed his head and hit it once, twice against the marble
base of Mum’s marker. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">He stopped moving, his hands pressing against the
back of my thighs, trying, I know now, to return to their fetal position in
front of his chest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Meg was screaming for me to stop though I already
had.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">I thought, “I’ve killed him.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;">Toronto, January 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><b>Emoji sequence:</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;"> Gregg Hebert, teacher and writer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond;"><b>Story: </b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond;">Lee Sheppard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-8506317037829110692016-01-20T06:02:00.000-05:002016-01-31T05:13:43.835-05:00Do We Eat Here? Do We Shit?<!--[if !mso]>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9go0J0JDahAOiMJYq_pZKJhXd6aqMTD0A3AMiPGdNptBjMBxzTepJQsSLhZQbSighkNPO024NHeRvJ5pVyV3XRakvDuf21CNMoxkBcGx1EkP-hCpSwHiVknKdlg2r58J-U6iwZLOhSGY/s1600/Nadia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9go0J0JDahAOiMJYq_pZKJhXd6aqMTD0A3AMiPGdNptBjMBxzTepJQsSLhZQbSighkNPO024NHeRvJ5pVyV3XRakvDuf21CNMoxkBcGx1EkP-hCpSwHiVknKdlg2r58J-U6iwZLOhSGY/s1600/Nadia.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We, Max Load and Alex Oliver of Midnight Ryders
Productions, loaded up our bags, a camera, a laptop, a box of condoms and a
c-light and headed to a Best Western two hours north of the city. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max’s cousin’s wedding started with a long
ceremony in a hot church lead by a preacher or minister or priest or whatever
who mumbled into his chest for much much much too long. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The whole service, Max was trying to make eye
contact with some other cousin, his favourite cousin, the cousin he’d told Alex
about on the way to the hotel, the cousin who Max described as probably the
hottest person he’d ever known. Alex thought, No way she’s that hot, thinking,
we work with hot women almost daily, actually said, “No way she’s that hot,”
but Max pointed her out and, yes, she was remarkably sexy, definitely someone
that Alex could work with, but it was only really specific women who we
approached to work with him, to work with us—Max did camera and sometimes
P.O.V. videos—women with an often messy combination of self-hate and a desperate
need for approval or validation or confirmation sometimes masquerading as
who-gives-a-fuck confidence. And this cousin, Morgan, she had a different type
confidence, something much closer to grace, but grace without the
high-religious chasteness that word might imply to you. Grace on a human scale,
as Max might have said when he was studying art and filmmaking, as Max might
have said if he was in a mood to be mocked. Dirty grace, is the type of phrase
Alex would have preferred Max use, but dirty didn’t describe Morgan properly at
all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">At the reception, we were seated at the back
table, the table for singles and childless individuals. We got our food last
and we had to strain to hear the speeches, one of which included a warning to
Max’s now married cousin and her husband that they should enjoy themselves in
the bedroom now because maybe someone has told them, but probably not— as soon
as the kids arrive their sex lives are through. Alex worked his charm on some
modestly pretty maybe twenty-year-old relative of the groom’s who as soon as
she sat down was giggling over the attention that he paid her. Max watched
Morgan and her husband and saw the way that they avoided each other’s eyes, the
way that he kept his elbows in like he was afraid of bumping against her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">During the dancing, we really saw what Morgan
might mean for our modest website. When the DJ started playing “Like a Prayer,”
all Max’s girl cousins let out this excited, sustained, “Oh,” and threw their
hands up. One of the girl cousins, smiling and off-balance because of her
shining new heels, scurried over to one of the speakers and pulled from behind
it, like, twenty hula-hoops and gave them all out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">You’ve never seen anything like Morgan
hula-hooping. We’ve talked about it and for each of us our favourite thing is
when a leading lady rides cowgirl and grinds her hips like she’s possessed or
she’s dancing. Before the work made us sadly desensitized to these simple
pleasures, such moments could produce, in either of us, an instant effect. Morgan’s
hips have a range and nuance of movement, a language of wiggle that could make
her an instant adult film star. Alex thought, “I’ve never seen anything like it
before,” and Max thought, “I must have seen Morgan do that before,” but we were
too entranced to even turn and share a look that might have conveyed our
thoughts to each other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Somebody was whispering in Max’s ear. Annoyed, he
turned and nearly collided with a beefy bicep. The arm moved, wrapped itself
around Max’s shoulders. “What?” Max asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex turned then. The large, veinous hand and
forearm reminded him of an engorged cock. He backed away instinctively, then
turned back to watch Morgan keeping the hula-hoop up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The owner of the beefy arm said, “Erin wants us to
go over to the fairgrounds.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Behind the now slender, jaw- and cheekbone-defined
face, somewhere in the tilt of the smile or in the light behind the eyes, Max
thought he recognized the bride’s little brother. “Fat Phil?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I haven’t heard that name in too long.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You liked it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No, I didn’t.” He gave Max a squeeze. A very
tight squeeze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You look great.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thanks. The exercise is better than the
anti-depressants I was on back when I was— Back when I had that nickname.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Uh,” Max said. Needing an out, maybe, or trying
to be polite as some sort of act of apology—hard to say—Max introduced Alex.
“Phil, this is my business partner.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Phil stood and extended his powerful right arm.
“You’re the ‘talent’?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s that?” Alex asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max started burning. How did Phil know what we
did?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Phil repeated himself, louder now so he could be
heard over the church choir singing, <i>just like a prayer, I’ll take you there</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">. “You are the talent? In Max’s movies.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You a fan?” Max’s smile was just weaker than
hopeful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Before she passed, your mom told my mom what you
do.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex went back to watching Morgan, but Max wilted
in the heat of his understanding. The internet, so public. Pornography, so
hated, so automatically scorned. His family, so? So? So what? Wholesome.
Righteous. Ugly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: garamond;">“Like a Prayer” ended and we went to the bathroom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex unzipped his pants and started pissing into the urinal. “So? Everybody knows.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max stood there with his dick out, but he couldn’t
pee. “Keep your voice down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We’re the only people in here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried
to imagine that he was standing over his own toilet in his own bathroom in his
anonymous studio apartment in one of now six nearly identical buildings
clustered near the train tracks and the bread factory, but his meditation failed
because two men came laughing into the bathroom. They stopped when they saw us.
What did that mean that they stopped? Max zipped up, made quick eye contact and
nodded his head to try and gauge their reactions. Alex washed his hands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">As we gathered at the margins of the big group
waiting to walk to the fair grounds, as grandmas in high heels fretted at the
change in plans and tried to arrange cabs for them and their grandchildren, as
people made their excuses and left for their hotels, Max was scanning the
crowd, concentration making his brow crash angrily down on his eyes and fear
forcing his head to jerk this way, that way and back again. “You look crazy,”
Alex said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m just trying to figure out how many people
know,” Max said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Should we do a survey?” Alex suggested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You can survey me,” said the girl, the young
woman, the vulnerable female relative of the groom’s that Alex had been
working.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hi Deborah,” Alex said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Debbie, please,” Debbie said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Easy. Hi Debbie.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She touched Max on the arm and he flinched and
turned. “Hey.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is something wrong?” Debbie asked Max. When he
didn’t reply, she turned to Alex. “Is something wrong?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No,” Alex said. He saw a man turn towards them
and look Alex up and down, appraising him. Alex nodded an acknowledgment, then
asked Debbie, “Who’s that guy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“My dad.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hunh.” Alex started to feel the weight that Max
was carrying, the suspicion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He hasn’t talked to me in years.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Years? How old are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Twenty-one. When I was seventeen I had some
trouble with drugs and with boys. Somebody found a video on my phone and it got
back to Dad.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah. He called me a slut and kicked me out and
that’s that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex nodded. “You haven’t heard from him since?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Every once in a while he’ll get a bit drunk and
show up at my house to bang on the door and shout things.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Who’s this?” Max asked, suddenly aware of the
conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“My dad,” Debbie said. “We don’t really get
along.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Sounds like it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Debbie wrapped her arm around Alex’s and put her
face against his bicep. He moved back a step, recognizing Debbie for the storm
she was. She definitely would go back to the hotel with them and she would
probably be a little crazy, too. Which was good, for the videos anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Debbie’s dad looked at them again, only this time
the big brush-cut kid with him, a younger double of the old man, turned too,
menace on a rolling boil behind his eyes and under his broad shoulders. Debbie
grabbed Alex’s hand, squeezed it and smiled up at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex knew he was being used.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max realized he hadn’t seen Morgan in a while. Had
she gone home? Maybe she’d been in some advance party to the fair. Was cousin
Matthew giving Max some critical side-eye? Wasn’t Matthew the one who always
left crying from the woods behind grandma’s house? There was Morgan, sitting on
a leather loveseat behind the table of photographs of the bride and groom and
all their dead relatives. She was rubbing her feet, a pair of sneakers on the
cushion beside her. She smiled at Max and held out her arm, reaching for him.
As Max walked towards her, some kid ran into him, knocking him sideway.
“Sorry,” the kid said breathlessly. Max looked around to see what grownup was
responsible for this child and would therefore be also looking to scorn Max.
Morgan called his name before Max could find a head turned towards him. The kid
had been swallowed up by the crowd. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“How are you, Cuz?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hi, Morgan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Please, Maxy, you’ve never called me that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“How are you, Mo?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s a decent party, don’t you think?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I haven’t seen any of you in years.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That’s right, you weren’t at Sarah’s wedding.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think I was in Vegas.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Vegas? What for?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Work.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“There’s a porn awards thing there, isn’t there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max looked at his shoes, thought maybe he’d throw
up all over them. Morgan touched his knee, her fingers long and gentle. Max
wanted to tell her to wash her hands. What was wrong with him that he ever
imagined involving Morgan in his nasty work? He loved her. Which explained
something, he supposed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s wrong, Maxy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Does everybody know?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s exciting,” Morgan said. “That’s the wrong
word. It’s something to talk about.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Right.” Max looked over at Alex, Deborah standing
so close to him, talking to him about whatever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Is that they guy? The actor?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Alex? Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m sorry. I’ve never watched anything you’ve
done.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s probably better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s not really my thing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Maxy. I’m— I didn’t mean to upset you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You are one of my favourites.” Max made sure to
look at her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Oh, Max. You too. You too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She hugged him. He tried not to picture what her
body, the parts he could feel through his chest and chin and hand, would look like
naked. “I hate these family things, Mo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I hear you.” People were starting to leave the
hall for the street. “Looks like it’s time to go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max stood. He made eye contact with Alex. He
flicked his head in the direction of the hotel. Alex shrugged, grimaced a bit,
looked at Deborah. Max nodded, thinking he understood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">To Morgan, Max said, “I think I’m going to cut.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?” Morgan asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Leave.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“There’s so much more party left.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s really great to see you.” She hugged him
again. “Are you on Facebook?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Uh. Yeah. I don’t check it much, but.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m going to find you. Okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll watch for that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Great. Bye.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Bye.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max walked out the door with Alex and Debbie. “I’m
done,” Max said. “You coming with me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Can I join you guys?” She lay her hand across the
front of Alex’s belt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I gotta talk to Max.” Alex lifted her hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay, whatever.” Debbie turned towards Alex,
grabbed his wrist and forced his hand against her breast, her mouth open. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Mmm, that’s nice,” Alex said. “Real nice. But not
tonight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Fine.” She nodded to Max then jogged to catch up
with the long trail of people making their way along the sidewalk to the nearby
fair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We didn’t talk all the way back to our room. Alex
opened two cans of Budweiser from our cooler and we sat in deck chairs on this
small patch of flagstones level with the black asphalt driveway to the back
parking lot. We could see the Ferris wheel’s light through a thin stand of
trees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That girl Debbie was trouble,” Alex said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“In the good way?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think she wanted her dad to fuck me up. And did
you see her brother?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Carbon copy of the dad, man. And mean looking.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Saw you talking to Morgan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What she have to say?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You know, I think I love her Alex?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Your cousin? That’s some kinky shit.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Ah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I see it, though. She’s super hot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max could feel something open up in himself,
something parting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">We didn’t hear Debbie coming because she’d taken
off her shoes. She was crying. She wiped her face when she spotted us, then
tried to hurry past. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hey, hey,” Alex said. “You look like you need a
drink.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">He stood up and went inside. Debbie sat down in
Alex’s deck chair and stared silently ahead. “I’m staying here, too,” Debbie
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I figured.” Max sipped his beer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We’ve only got Bud,” Alex said, holding a can out
for her. “Sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She took it from him. “That’s fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max stood. “I’ll leave you two.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Max smiled at Alex. Patted him on the shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Alex sat down beside Debbie. Max listened to the
two of them talking, the words obscured by the sliding glass door, until he
fell asleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Toronto, Jan. 2016</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b>Emoji sequence: </b>Writer and educator, Nadia Pecaric</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story: </b>Lee Sheppard</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-6117007184334309442016-01-14T06:11:00.000-05:002016-12-11T06:10:43.050-05:00Still New, Part II<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwh_Q5F3FUU0g5c7hCgShkml2BMvFYms-K7NCXr65b4BF5X-Nt3kzeNcavreENpM8QVaoSpSH8TYWohrPcj5o5qwauow5uKSFMIvFsPYAkn_z5Np_pkegH6hNx8Zadt6fX66MrjlnSBM/s1600/Reuben.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwh_Q5F3FUU0g5c7hCgShkml2BMvFYms-K7NCXr65b4BF5X-Nt3kzeNcavreENpM8QVaoSpSH8TYWohrPcj5o5qwauow5uKSFMIvFsPYAkn_z5Np_pkegH6hNx8Zadt6fX66MrjlnSBM/s320/Reuben.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><i><b>Note:</b> As the title suggests, this story is a continuation of “<a href="http://notknownotice.blogspot.ca/2016/01/still-new-part-i.html">Still New, Part I</a>.”</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi was on his best behaviour. He asked all sorts
of questions about Jill, he made funny jokes, he offered to run to the store
and get stuff to make dinner. Once Levi had left, Robin asked Jill, “Is this
okay?” though he couldn’t change anything if it wasn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill laughed, remembering something Levi had said,
presumably. “I’m starting to understand why you like him so much.” Jill rolled
up her sleeves and started washing the piles of other people’s dishes in the
sink and on the counter. Robin reluctantly dried. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Not only did Levi come back with the makings of a
beautiful vegetarian pasta, he’d bought a big bottle of red wine and a six pack
of Anchor Steam beer. He explained that when he was living in a San Francisco
punk squat Anchor Steam was their beer of choice. Jill asked Levi questions
about the squat while she chopped an onion, three cloves of garlic, twelve
garden tomatoes. Robin got out pots and mixing bowls and listened, interested
in the stories but also feeling peripheral to the conversation. At some point,
Levi got warm enough to take off his sweater. At some point, Jill noticed the
stick and poke torpedo tattoo on Levi’s upper arm and said how she’d always
wanted a stick and poke tattoo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You still have India ink?” Levi asked Robin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Uh, do you want one right now?” Robin asked Jill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She was smiling, considering it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No pressure,” Levi said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Which seemed to confirm something for Jill, or
reassure her. “Yeah. Okay.” She giggled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin went to his room, which still smelled of him
and Jill, and found, crammed into a gap between an old IKEA shelf and the wall,
his toolbox full of art supplies. In his high school art class, the India ink
was kept in baby jars and half the time when you actually managed to get one of
the jars open the ink had turned into black sludge or a block of powder that
Ms. Aaron would then add water to in an attempt to return the medium to its
original consistency. Robin shook the jar, hoping for it to rattle. It swished.
He went to the basement bathroom to open the jar above the sink. Of course, he
should be happy that Levi and Jill were hitting it off. What else? Shouldn’t it
be that simple?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Did people really decide to get tattoos that fast?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin’s roommate, Stephen, opened his bedroom door
and walked, rubbing his eyes, towards the bathroom. Robin tried to twist the
top off the India ink. Upstairs, Jill laughed. Leaning against the hallway wall
outside the open door, Stephen said, “She’s still here, eh? Jill, right?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah. Levi, too. We’re making dinner. You want
some?” Robin ran the warm water, turned the jar upside down and put it under
the faucet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Nah. I’m meeting Louisa.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Cool.” Blackened water dripped into the sink
dying the dried toothpaste and soap scum. Robin tried again to twist the lid
free, but the jar slipped in his hands. “I can’t get this fucking thing,” Robin
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Want me to give it a try?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t actually want it open.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Whatever you say.” Stephen yawned as Robin
squeezed past him, the bottle dripping grey water onto his cupped hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi saw the pool of inky water in Robin’s palm.
“Paper towels?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“A dishcloth’s fine,” Robin said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’ll stain,” Levi said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t care.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi handed him a dishcloth, then took the jar
from him and opened it easily. He evaluated the ink’s consistency by slowly
tipping the jar this way and that. “Perfect.” Levi rubbed the jar rim with his
finger, removing the black crust from the lid’s grooves. Jill was stripped down
to her tank top now, leaning against the counter in front of the microwave
Stephen’s father had given them. She was sipping wine and looking at her
forearms. “I’ve always wanted a little black bomb.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin nodded and pressed his lower lip up into his
upper lip thinking it made him look thoughtful, but stopped himself when it
felt like frowning. He wondered at the phrase, Always wanted, wondered what, if
anything, he had always wanted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think, like, midway on my forearm.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi was stirring the sauce when he winced and
said, “I’ll also need a needle and thread.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin turned to go back downstairs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t need it now,” Levi said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You’ve got everything under control up here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Can I get you a drink?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin’s sewing kit wasn’t immediately visible in
the big junk drawer in the center of his desk. He’d moved the desk from his
childhood home to his first apartment then to this apartment without once
dumping out or sorting through the stuff in any of the drawers, and so it
occurred to Robin, as he started noisily running his hand through the junk,
that he was stirring years of accumulated odds and ends. The noise was lovely
and Robin was enjoying himself until the pad of his right finger found the
sharp end of his grandfather’s RCAF wings. It felt like someone had poured a
big old Gatorade tub of ice-cold regret over his shoulders. Robin slammed the
drawer and sat on his bed with his finger in his mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin heard her feet on the stairs, but figured it
was Stephen going up. Jill knocked at the door. “Are you okay?” She was holding
a bottle of beer in one hand and her wine glass in the other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I just stabbed myself on a pin. I can’t find my
sewing kit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill held out the beer. “Levi thought you might
like this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Just put it on the desk. Thanks.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">She set the bottle down, sat beside Robin and
kissed him on the cheek. “Come on.” Robin half turned his head towards her. She
tried to get her tongue in his mouth. He waited until she stopped then waited a
breath more before he stood up and reopened his junk drawer. “It should be in
here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Stephen walked by the open door of Robin’s room,
his clothes in his arms and a towel wrapped around waist. “Steve. Have you seen
my sewing kit?” Robin asked more to open the room up, so that it included
people other than just he and Jill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Shit, sorry. Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Actually?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Stephen returned holding out the small pouch, his
other hand hanging onto the towel’s knot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin stood to grab the pouch. “Thanks.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill stood too. “Oh my God, I— ” She looked down
at her left forearm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I can’t wait,” she said. She put her arms around
his neck and tried to look into his eyes. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to
pull him down to her. “For the tattoo or to fuck you later.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin gave a single nod and fought back his smile.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill bit his shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Ouch,” Robin said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You’re so hot.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin handed her the sewing kit and sat back down
on his bed. “I’ll be up in a minute.” He checked his finger. The injury was
disappointingly mild. “I gotta grab a Band-Aid.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Want me to bring your beer up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Uh,” Robin shrugged. “Sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">His Lorazepam was in the same dusty wicker basket
as the Band-Aids. He put the bottle in his pocket. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Dinner was delicious. Levi knew something was
wrong anyway, but when Robin didn’t have a second helping, Levi asked his
friend, “Is everything alright?” In that context it sounded like maybe a joke
about how much Robin usually ate, so Robin played it that way. He stood up and
patted his stomach, “I know, right? Maybe I’m getting sick.” No one laughed.
Robin and Levi did the dishes together. When Jill went to the bathroom, Levi
told Robin, “I don’t need to do it, you know. I can make up some excuse.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You mean the tattoo?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s fine. It’s good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You sure?” Levi leaned over to try and make eye
contact. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin met his eyes, then quickly looked down at
the dish he was drying. “Admiring my beautiful eyes?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“They’re not bad.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“The way everybody’s always trying to gaze into
them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin bared his teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill came out of the bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi asked Robin if he had any rags or, better,
some old towels. He did. They were the first round of hand-me-down towels
he’d ever received from his mother who seemed always to be finding newer,
fluffier towels that she just couldn’t resist purchasing and which pushed the
coarsest of her fluffy towels out of her linen cupboard and into Robin’s
apartment. “These are too nice,” Levi said when Robin handed him the pile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Have you felt my new towels?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“But these aren’t rags.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You can have them when we’re done, provided they
aren’t covered in carbon and gore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I hope there isn’t gore,” Jill said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“They’re just to protect the couch,” Levi
explained, “but they’re nicer than the upholstery.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“But easier to replace,” Robin reasoned. He spread
out the towels. Levi helped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Using rubbing alcohol Robin fetched from his dusty
wicker medicine basket, Jill cleaned the area on the inside of her forearm that
she wanted Levi to tattoo. Levi burned the tip of one of Robin’s sewing
needles, then wound a thread around the needle so that it would hold some ink
and he wouldn’t have to return to the well after each poke. Robin moved an easy
chair from the corner to where he figured Levi would want to sit, then left it
there when Levi said he would prefer something less comfortable. Robin fetched
his wooden desk chair from downstairs. <o:p></o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "garamond"; font-size: 16px;">Before returning the easy
chair to its home in the corner, Robin swept up the jackrabbit dust bunnies
he’d uncovered and discovered a die hiding in the dust bunny warren. He picked
the die up and dropped into his pocket, where it struck the Lorazepam bottle
and reminded him of his planned escape route.</span><br />
<!--EndFragment-->
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi carefully created a sketch of the bomb he
proposed to draw. Jill loved it, she said, but she wanted Robin to look at it,
probably, Robin realized later, because she was past the point of objectivity,
but so was Robin only for different reasons. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill’s energy was mesmerizing. She seemed more
upright, somehow. Sparks were flying off her teeth. She was moving faster, but
it looked like the correct speed, like everybody else was moving too slowly and
it took Jill’s excitement to help Robin see it. And that observation, maybe,
was what kept Robin from taking the pills that so slowed him down, what made
him sit and watch as his best friend held his new girlfriend’s arm and drove an
ink-coated sewing needle into her again and again, the two of them, Levi and
Jill, lock-focused on a tiny patch of her skin. Again and again Robin rolled
the die on the floor in front of the easy chair, not noticing what numbers came
up, just enjoying the sound and the distraction. When Stephen came upstairs to
get a glass of water and to leave, he said, “I thought you guys were playing a
game up here. Hi Levi. What <i>are </i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">you
doing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi looked at Jill then at Robin and gave each a
second to answer Stephen’s question before Levi decided it was okay for him to
tell Stephen, “I’m giving Jill a stick and poke tattoo.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Stephen took a few steps closer, but kept a
distance meant to be respectful and craned over Levi and Jill to see. “That’s
cool.” He turned with his dirty cup. “Whoa, who did the dishes?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Jill,” Robin said. “And Levi.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi was too focused on his work to say, And
Robin, like he normally would have. Which was right, Robin figured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Stephen left his cup beside the sink before putting
on his Converse and coat. He stood in the doorway and said, “Well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It was nice to meet you, Stephen,” Jill said, her
smile reminding Robin of the baby-faced sun on that fucked up kids’ show. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah, nice to meet you, too. Maybe I’ll see you
around.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill looked at Robin, still smiling like that sun.
“I hope so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin rolled the die again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Have a good night,” Stephen said. He closed the
door and the remote control resting on the PlayStation rattled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin rolled the die.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We should play a game after,” Jill suggested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi squinted to see the time on the microwave.
“What time is it, Robin?” Really, he was asking if he should stay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Uh, eight-thirty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ve got an early start tomorrow,” Levi said.
“I’m working on Anita’s film.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Cool,” Robin said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill asked who Anita was and Levi and Robin
explained that she was the one person in their film production class, a class
they’d been in for three years now, that was certain to make a career in the
industry. The conversation dried up quickly in the heat of Levi’s focus and
Jill’s excitement and pain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin got up for a drink, his body feeling like a
flat, grey photocopy and tingling like there were ants crawling on him. He
shook his head and rolled his shoulders. The beer Levi had sent downstairs for
him was sitting on the corner of the counter. He drank it as quickly as he
could, its warmth making it feel like oatmeal in Robin’s mouth. Once his eyes
had finished watering, he got a cold one from the fridge. “Can I get anyone
anything?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi and Jill both just wanted water. It made
Robin angry. He realized that he had only slept, like, four hours or something
in the last—the water ran as he did the math—the last close to thirty-six
hours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">At Levi’s request, Robin set one glass of water
down beside Levi’s chair. Jill took a big, thirsty sip then set the cup by her
feet. Robin returned to the easy chair and held the still cold beer against his
chest until his hand started to numb. He reached out and was able, without
improving his posture, to put the bottle on top of the VCR. He closed his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">When Jill woke him, it was over. “Are you okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah,” Robin said, sitting up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi walked into the living room from downstairs.
“I put the chair back. The towels are folded up on the chair.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin blinked heavily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I didn’t know where to put the ink so I left it on your desk. And I washed the needle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What do you think,” Jill said, presenting her
arm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was a sloppy, pointillist bomb, the black ink
already a little blue on Jill’s angry skin. Levi had done a great job with the
shading, giving an illusion of volume. “It’s good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I love it,” Jill said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“It’s small enough that you could always cover it
later.” Levi was being modest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No way.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They covered it with gauze Levi found at the
bottom of Robin’s wicker medicine basket. Jill and Levi hugged, Jill
energetically thanking Levi. As he hugged Robin, Levi said quietly, “Have a
good night.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin tried to say, “Thanks,” but was interrupted
by a yawn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">In his bedroom, Robin lay down on top of his
covers. When he felt Jill tug at his belt, Robin opened his eyes. As she pulled
his pants down, her grin shifted into some more focused look. To Robin’s
surprise, his body responded to her immediately. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They were like new people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">After they finished, they both finished, Jill lay
against Robin’s shoulder and thanked him and kissed him on the cheek and
thanked him again before they each fell asleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, Jan 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence:</b> Reuben McLaughlin, brilliant writer, editor and friend; publisher of <i><a href="http://thepilotproject.ca/">Pilot</a></i></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story:</b> Lee Sheppard, other publisher of <i><a href="http://thepilotproject.ca/">Pilot</a></i></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
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<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6133347147715879522.post-58555867175373355792016-01-06T06:02:00.000-05:002016-09-20T05:34:03.687-04:00Still New, Part I<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik3sz_pqRSSm5-wiE89WbD9akd_4OdgL_J8Abw1mNmv6PzB0HKP3Dli40JKNSRr5AEA_aQs4JJU6Mrl9GB8hQCSK8wYZeDv81XlTiz0wviQlviuKioHXhA-amcadN5f3klMyl_mdeQ8Ko/s1600/Reuben.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik3sz_pqRSSm5-wiE89WbD9akd_4OdgL_J8Abw1mNmv6PzB0HKP3Dli40JKNSRr5AEA_aQs4JJU6Mrl9GB8hQCSK8wYZeDv81XlTiz0wviQlviuKioHXhA-amcadN5f3klMyl_mdeQ8Ko/s1600/Reuben.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They were having a beer at the campus pub because
it was, by a few paces, the nearest place that served. Jill got up from the
table. Robin thought he saw Levi, silhouetted by the window, watch her go. Levi
maybe raised his eyebrows at Robin, then he definitely made a circle with the
thumb and index finger of his left hand and slid the index finger of his right
hand into the circle and out again. Levi meant, Are you guys fucking? Robin was
glad Levi hadn’t spoken the question; Robin didn’t know what word he liked for
sex—other than maybe “sex”—but “fucking,” Levi’s preferred term, was not it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin held up his right hand and made a circle of
his thumb and index. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi pointed at Robin, then held his pointing
finger sideways, his eyebrows still raised it seemed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I have no idea what’s going on,” Robin said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Are you guys schtupping?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin turned towards the bathrooms to make sure
Jill wasn’t on her way back to the table. “That’s the hope.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“But not yet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No. Not yet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Levi nodded and looked off to the side like maybe
he was doing a calculation. When Jill got back, Levi asked her a series of
questions. Where is your all-time favourite illegal swimming hole? When T.P.ing
someone’s house, how many rolls of toilet paper is too many? What’s the best
bathroom graffiti you ever saw? Was it a drawing or a phrase? When egging
someone’s house, how many eggs are too many? What album is the best for fucking
to?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill didn’t know how to answer any of the
questions and Levi didn’t know how to stop. No one ordered another round when
the waitress came to offer it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">While Jill wrestled on her leather jacket, Levi
maybe mouthed the word, “Sorry,” to Robin. Robin nodded, grimaced and looked
down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin and Jill talked about The Viennese
Actionists as they rode a rattling streetcar to Jill’s place, a large
semi-detached home in a neighbourhood with an overwhelming population of
unfortunate people. Less fortunate people. Drunks and drug addicts. Needy.
Robin never knew how to refer to these people in a way that conveyed respect rather
than fear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill had four roommates, all students at the
university. Two boys and two girls. Kay and Taylor were the girls. Kay, a
business student, was a bulimic and a flirt who had posters of Motörhead, The
Misfits and Madonna up around her room. Taylor was studying midwifery. Marlon
and Jack were the guys. Marlon was studying journalism and his beautiful voice,
fine face and keen interest in current events suggested a pretty likely future
in television. Jack had attended alternative schools, lived in group homes and
had problems with drugs and drinking until he started training and eventually
working at a boxing gym. He was a philosophy major. All four of them were home.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Jill?” Jack called. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hey Jack.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Three other voices called out Hey, Hi, Hello. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Robin’s here too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">All four said, Hi, Hey, How’s it going? and What’s
up? to Robin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Once Jill got her twelve-hole Doc Martins off,
Robin followed her to the big double doors into the living room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jack was passing behind Marlon, a bottle of
massage oil in his hand. Marlon was holding a pair of scissors and standing
over Kay who was wearing terrycloth short shorts and wrapped in a towel. Taylor
was sitting against the front of the couch, her head hanging loose, the narrow
straps of her white tank top pushed off her shoulders. “What’s up, guys?” Jill
asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Well,” Jack said as he sat on the couch, his legs
on either side of Taylor’s shoulders, “Taylor’s had a hard day and I’m trying
to help her relax without alcohol.” He started to massage her head. She
mmmoaned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kay
pulled the towel tighter around her shoulders. Marlon picked up a brush and ran
it through Kay’s hair. “And Kay needs a haircut, but doesn’t want to spend
sixty dollars at her hairdresser. If I make it worse, though, I’ll pay the
sixty dollars for her and she can go get it fixed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Marlon says he used to cut hair,” Kay explained. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I had a girlfriend who was turned on by it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He must be good,” Taylor said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Kay and Taylor laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Thanks Taylor, but it was a kink. I’m sure you
know. No matter who cut her hair, it made her hot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Yeah, yeah,” Taylor said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Marlon held Kay’s head with the tips of his
fingers and with his free hand he gently ran the brush through her hair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The bottle made a wet, flatulent noise as Jack
squeezed oil onto his hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Without lifting her chin from where it rested on
her chest, Taylor said, “You know, during a birth midwives use olive oil to
help the vulva stretch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I thought you were going to tell us about
all the shit again,” Jack said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Why don’t you join us?” Marlon asked Robin and
Jill. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin was relieved when Jill said, “Thanks, but I
think we just want to be alone. No offence.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m hurt,” Taylor said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Me too,” Kay said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Rubbing the oil into his hands, Jack asked, “Not
actually, though, right?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Not actually, what?” Marlon asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Like, no one’s actually hurt?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Of course not,” Marlon said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No,” Kay said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No,” Taylor said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Okay, good.” Jack stopped rubbing his oiled hands
and started massaging Taylor’s bare shoulders. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“We’d love to get to know you better, Robin.”
Marlon smiled his news anchor smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Me too,” Robin said. “I mean, I’d like to get to
know you guys better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“You feel like you know yourself well enough, I
guess,” Jack said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Robin replied. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Everyone laughed. Jill grabbed Robin’s elbow.
“’Kay,” she said. “See you guys.” They turned and walked up the stairs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The dark at the top of the stairs was surprisingly
absolute for a house in the city. The only light was what managed to reflect up
from the living room. Jill kissed Robin halfway down the hallway, pressing her
body against his. She held his hand as they walked up a second flight of stairs
to her third floor bedroom. She turned on the bedside light. <i>On Photography</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> and <i>The Bell Jar</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";"> were at the top of her pile of books. A Raggedy
Anne doll slouched against Jill’s CD player. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin sat down on the edge of her bed because that
was the only place to sit. “Look, I’m really sorry about Levi. He can be an ass
hole.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">With her back turned to Robin, Jill unzipped her
black hoodie. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He can be funny, too, I swear.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’ll give him another chance.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That’s good because”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">—Jill turned—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“he’s my best— Holy shit . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Her chemise was yellowed from the previous owner,
or from its time at Goodwill maybe, but the message that it sent was still
clear. Jill wiggled her shoulders to slip out of her hoodie. Robin lay back
awkwardly then got up on his elbows. Jill held his gaze and walked towards him.
With her toes, she nudged Robin’s feet apart, then stepped between his spread
knees. Robin was frozen, feeling his shoulders burn and the blood rush between
his legs. Jill brushed Robin’s thigh with her fingertips, then ran her hand
along the waistline of her Levi’s. Robin swallowed. “Unbutton my pants,” Jill
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s that?” Robin asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Unbutton my pants.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin unbuttoned Jill’s pants and slid them down
her hips. Her panties were, well, decorative enough to be worthy of the name
panties. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Once Jill had stepped free of her jeans, she
pushed Robin back onto the bed and fumbled with the buckle of the belt his
father had handed down to him. Robin didn’t know it then, but removing each
other’s pants would become part of their ritual. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Afterwards, though, after that first time, after
Robin had finished and apologized, after Jill stopped him desperately working
away at trying to get her off, after Jill apologized for not coming and Robin
apologized again, after Robin removed and tied off the condom then held it up
like a dead fish and asked Jill where to put it, after they lay there for a
while marveling at each other’s warm, moving, flawed bodies and listening to
the sounds drifting up from downstairs wondering if downstairs anyone had heard
any sounds from upstairs, Robin apologized again for Levi. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Don’t worry about it,” Jill said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He’s normally pretty funny.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“He was probably pretty funny tonight, I just was
getting impatient.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin smiled and air burst involuntarily from his
mouth, a sort of delighted laugh that he stifled because laughter in this
situation could be tragically misinterpreted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. I just— I mean,
you really had this planned?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“When’s the last time you saw me wearing a skimpy
top to Claude’s <i>Theory and Praxis</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">
class?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Now Robin could laugh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill laughed too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin squeezed Jill tight and pressed his face
into her shoulder. “Thanks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“For what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“For this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill rearranged herself so she could look Robin in
the eye. “Oh, you’re welcome.” She smiled, her teeth and eyes slightly less
vague shapes than the rest of her features. “Thank you, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“My pleasure. Maybe only mine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“No, mine too. But let’s try it again sometime.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Let’s.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They did try it again once more before falling
asleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">The next morning they ate cereal and drank orange
juice and coffee in the sun-blasted kitchen of Jill’s house. Robin was worried
Jack or Marlon, Kay or Taylor might interrupt his happy morning. They took
second cups of coffee up to Jill’s room. Robin watched Jill change. They
decided to spend the day together, but didn’t plan anything beyond heading to
Robin’s apartment so he, too, could get fresh clothes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They talked about Carolee Schneemann and Wes
Anderson on the subway. At Robin’s place they showered together, then wrapped
themselves in towels and ran tiptoed and giggling to Robin’s basement bedroom
where, to Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy’s <i>Ease on Down the Road</i></span><span style="font-family: "garamond";">, they got to know the look and touch of each
other in whatever daylight made it through the small window above Robin’s bed.
While they were eating a stir-fry Robin made with vegetables he could salvage
from his fridge, Robin’s roommate Stephen came home from a shift at Second Cup.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Steve,” Robin said standing, “this is Jill.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hi Jill,” Steve said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill smiled easily. “Nice to meet you Steve.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“There’s some stir-fry,” Robin offered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I ate.” Stephen rubbed his eyes. “Look, I gotta
go to bed. I’m sorry. Nice to meet you. Jill was it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Jill and Robin walked to a nearby park, sat on the
swings and talked about their families. Who were their allies, who their
enemies. Robin’s father, a doctor who recently prescribed Robin sleeping pills
from the Valium family that helped Robin get through a really rough patch
precipitated by a difficult production at school and, Robin doesn’t mention, a
catastrophic break-up. Jill’s aunt, a childless psychologist whose feminism and
socialism and encouragement had made Jill the first member of her immediate
family to go to university. “She ever get you good drugs?” Robin asked. He’d
only taken one and a half of the sleeping pills.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I think that’s psychiatrists.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“What’s that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“That prescribe drugs. Psychologists can’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Seriously?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“I’m pretty sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Crazy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">They were back at Robin’s place, sitting at
opposite ends of Robin’s couch—the couch, Robin explained, that had been in his
parent’s house, then his mother’s house, for as long as he could remember; the
couch that Robin’s mother was going to throw out, but Robin was determined to
one day have reupholstered because why throw out a perfectly good couch—when
the doorbell rang. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">It was Levi. “Hey man. I’m glad you’re home.” He
wanted to apologize. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Jill’s here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Jill’s here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin nodded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">“Hey Levi,” Jill called from the living room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Robin invited Levi in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Toronto, Dec. 2015-Jan. 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Emoji sequence:</b> Reuben McLaughlin, brilliant writer, editor and friend; publisher of <i><a href="http://thepilotproject.ca/">Pilot</a></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><b>Story:</b> Lee Sheppard, other publisher of <i><a href="http://thepilotproject.ca/">Pilot</a></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond";">Part II available <a href="http://notknownotice.blogspot.ca/2016/01/still-new-part-ii.html">here</a>.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Lee F. Sheppardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14711494866179762128noreply@blogger.com1