The Carpenter Page 19

  Emily put her lips against his ear. Her breath was warm. She told him she would be back and she kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand. Then she was gone.

  Pete was very hot. He made his way over to a refreshment table along the far wall, beneath a banner of the school mascot, a snarling cartoon Indian brave. Snacks were arrayed on the table around a big punch bowl. He poured a cup and drank it. The punch was not spiked but it was queasily sweet.

  Nancy came up to him from somewhere. It was all on her face and in her voice. They said hello to each other and then asked the cursory questions people are required to ask-what have you been up to, what’s new? Her tone was clipped: How come you never called on me?

  — I don’t know, said Pete.

  — I thought you were nice. I don’t fool around with just anybody.

  — I don’t know, Nancy. I’m sorry.

  — Was it because of Emily?

  — What?

  — You thought I couldn’t see it? Well I’ve got one thing to say to you. Be careful.

  — What?

  — You think Emily doesn’t have big ideas about her life? No offence, but you’re a dropout. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Peter.

  She seemed like she was waiting for a rebuttal. Instead, Pete went back over to the dance floor, tipping down the punch on the way. It almost made him gag.

  Emily and Samantha had returned and sat in the chairs. Pete came up to them and Emily stood up and kissed him. He could taste rum.

  — Is it just me or is it roasting in here?

  — I’m boiling, said Pete. Actually, I think I’ll go splash some water on my face.

  Pete went down the corridor outside of the auditorium. He found the boy’s washroom and went in. He was alone but for one pair of shoes glimpsed beneath a cubicle.

  There was a round stone sink in the middle of the floor. Pete looked at himself in the stainless-steel mirror over the basin. He adjusted the stiff lapels of his rental tux and loosened his bow tie a little bit. He scrubbed cool water into his face and into his hair. Then he heard the door open and close. He knew who had come before he even saw them.

  — Look who it is, said Roger.

  He had a friend with him. Pete straightened, water dripping off his jaw. They had come around to the side of the sink, casually. Roger spat on the floor.

  — Are you having a good time?

  — The punch is too sweet, said Pete.

  He had nowhere to go without having to go around them. They exchanged a look and then they smiled at him. It was their advantage and they knew it, and Pete wondered exactly how bad this was going to be.

  But then the cubicle opened. A kid with long hair and an ill-fitting suit took two shuffling steps out. His face was dead white and he was smacking his lips.

  — Buddies, said the kid. Buddies.

  The kid swayed. He dropped to one knee and vomited onto what must have been Roger’s father’s oxfords. A stench of stomach acid and raw alcohol filled the air. The kid shuddered and vomited again. Roger’s face went bright red. He tapped out a peculiar dance to extricate himself from the waste on his feet. His friend looked like he was getting close to retching himself, going pale, staring, taking great gulps of air.

  Pete stepped around them and went into the corridor. A moment later, he could hear voices lifting in outrage. He was ten paces away when he heard the washroom door clap open. He chanced a backwards look and saw Roger’s friend jogging into the corridor with a hand clasped over his mouth.

  When Pete re-entered the auditorium, the heat was almost forceful. There was a slow song playing again and Doug and Samantha and everybody else were up dancing.

  Emily came up behind Pete and took his arm. She was frowning. When Pete looked past her shoulder he saw Nancy in the near distance.

  — Are you okay?

  — I’m fine, said Emily.

  — Well. Do you want to dance?

  — No. I want to get out of here. This is ridiculous.

  — What about your friends?

  — They’ll be fine. Doug lives a block away and that’s where they’re going.

  — Okay. Do you want to go home?

  — Oh my God, Pete. I didn’t get dressed up to be home by ten. Let’s go do something. Come on.

  Emily told Samantha that they were leaving. She linked her arm into Pete’s and they walked out. He was relieved. He got his car started. Emily thought for a minute and then she told him exactly what she wanted to do.

  It was a house league night but there were a few lanes open for the public. They switched their boots for the rental footwear. They bought colas and hot dogs and went to their lane and bowled badly. The house league teams were drunk, shouting at the balls thundering down the hardwood. Pete and Emily were objects of some amusement in the clothes they were wearing, but nobody bothered them.

  Pete sat in one of the plastic chairs at the head of their lane. Emily took up a ball and launched it with unnecessary force. It curved into the gutter. She turned back around, laughing. Pete watched her with complete wonder. The sight of her in that moment was taking hold of him. Her eyes were big and clear, her skin was pale, and her mouth, usually set cool to match the way she carried herself, was pulled open in a wide smile. Through the times to come, whenever he thought of her, this was how she would appear.

  By midnight, Pete’s car was parked close alongside a snowy meadow north of Echo Point. Lights passed infrequently along the highway. The back door of the car opened and Pete emerged, wrapped in a wool blanket, and jogged over the snow in his work boots. He went out twenty feet and opened the blanket only wide enough to pull off the condom he was wearing. He flung it away and urinated into the snow and jogged back to the car.

  The car engine idled and the heater blasted away. Emily was sitting in the back with her legs up on the seat. Pete turned the engine off and got into the back seat with her and draped the blanket around them both. For some time they were quiet. The windows were foggy. Emily traced her initials.

  — My grandpa’s place is close to here.

  — Yeah?

  — It’s the house on Echo Point. Right where … that boat crash happened. Your uncle.

  — Where my uncle’s friend got killed.

  — Yes. Grandpa’s lived there a long time. The house was in his family before that. He wants my folks to take it from him. My mom was an only child.

  — How long ago did your grandma die?

  — Two years ago. It was in the spring. She had a stroke and she died right in her garden.

  — Jesus. That’s terrible.

  — I think it’s kind of nice in a way, said Emily.

  — Nice?

  — She loved her garden. It was a beautiful morning. I remember because they called me into the office at school and I was looking out the window when I took the phone. Here’s my dad telling me, and I’m looking outside and thinking what a beautiful day it is. I didn’t get upset at all. Not until I got to the hospital and saw Grandpa. She was gardening when it happened, which was her favourite thing to do, and she just lay down right there. We should all be so lucky.

  — My grandma is dying of lung cancer. She’s been sick since the summer. She smoked a pack a day for her whole life and finally she quit, maybe two years ago. But she was too late. She’s got a tumour in her lungs. They can’t do anything for that at her age. You know what I’ll remember best? Go get Granny her menthols, Pete. I grew up hating the smell of cigarettes. I hate them now.

  The cold was creeping into the car. Emily moved closer against him. There was nothing to see outside the car, nothing of their surroundings.

  — Was your granddad always a cop? said Pete.

  — Yes, forever. He was sixty-two when he retired. I think he had to at that point, legally and all, but it was hard for him. But when he was really young, twenty or so, he was a boxer. Grandma used to tell me about it. They had these old newspaper pictures. This handsome boy wearing funny trunks, with a funny haircut. A moustache. G
ot his dukes up. I couldn’t recognize him at all except for the eyes. It’s hard for me to imagine that time in his life.

  — Was he a cop here in town?

  — Always. Here’s something. The last guy they executed here? Grandpa arrested him. The man had killed another cop. They executed him, out behind where they have the library now. Grandpa never talks about it. I only know because my mom knew. She told me about it once when we were visiting her aunt. We took the train down to the city to visit, and on the way back Mom told me a lot of things I never knew. It’s funny what happens when you grow up. How you learn about things in the lives of the people you love. The big things, the bad things. They happened before you even existed.

  — You find out and it changes things.

  — I guess.

  — You don’t think so?

  — Well, I think with the people you love, unless you find out they’re murderers or something, you still love them. It’s just you find out they’re actually people. They’re not giants any more.

  — My uncle is a murderer, said Pete.

  — What?

  — I can’t say for sure. There aren’t many things other than murder that you do that long in jail for. But I can’t say for sure because nobody in my family talks about anything except Jesus. My grandmother is dying and nobody talks about that. My real dad ran off somewhere before I was born and nobody talks about that. My uncle was in jail for seventeen years and definitely nobody talks about that. Half of what I make at the gas station goes to Saint Barry for rent-he counts it every time- and you don’t hear anybody talking about that. I don’t even talk about it. If it weren’t for Jesus I would live in one quiet house. Are you cold?

  — Yes, a little.

  He reached into the front and started the car for the heater to blast again.

  — You know what they told me about sex? said Pete. They left a booklet on my bed. I was twelve. It was called The Christian Path to Growing Up, and it was a booklet full of reasons why if you beat off or if you neck with a girl you’re going to hell.

  — My mom told me everything, said Emily. I could have done with just an explanation. I didn’t need her to talk about techniques.

  — That’s better than a booklet about the evils of necking, believe me.

  — Tell me how evil necking is, said Emily.

  She moved against him, shifting out of the blanket. Her pale body moved fluidly in the dim light. She kissed him with her tongue inside his mouth and her fingers tracing along his cheek.

  There was nothing to compare this feeling with.

  He wanted her to be vulnerable, wanted her to need him as much as he felt he was beginning to need her. He was even willing to believe that it was so, that she did need him as badly. She moved on top of him and slid her hand down his stomach.

  — Do you want to go again?

  — Yes, said Pete. Anything for you.

  — Good. After that, you’ll have to take me home so I can go to bed like a good girl.

  A few nights later, Pete picked up Lee and Helen after work to take them to Donna and Barry’s house for supper. Lee had dressed in what he had for a formal occasion, jeans and a collared shirt and his Carhartt coat. Helen wore big hoop earrings and a leather jacket over a tight-fitting dress. Lee held the door for her and she got into the passenger seat. He got into the back.

  Pete had assembled a picture of Helen from what Lee had told him, and in person she was not far removed from what he’d imagined.

  — Haven’t I heard a lot about you, said Helen.

  — Hi, said Pete. Hey, Uncle Lee.

  — Hey, Pete.

  They drove out to the house.

  — This is a nice-looking joint, said Helen. Why don’t you move out here, Brown Eyes?

  — It’s filled up with people out here is why, said Lee.

  They were halfway up the walk when Donna opened the front door and stood there thinly against the backlight, wearing grey slacks and a cardigan. Lee went up first. He and his sister embraced stiffly and he went to kiss her on the cheek but she had already turned her head. Helen came up the steps and took both of Donna’s hands. Pete could see his mother’s shoulders climbing in defence.

  — Hello, said Helen. What a big beautiful property you guys got out here.

  They were shown into the living room. Helen was as misfit a figure as Pete could imagine, but she seemed oblivious to it. Donna served them hot apple cider. Lee took Helen’s jacket and showed her to the couch. Irene’s recliner remained vacant. The Christmas tree was crooked. Donna went into the hallway and tapped on Barry’s office door.

  — He’ll be out in one minute, said Donna. He’s working on his sermon for Sunday.

  Donna came back into the living room and Pete brushed past her to the office door. The door was open a few inches so he opened it fully and stood on the threshold. Barry was at the desk with his study bible open beside him.

  — Just a moment and I’ll be out.

  — Take your time, said Pete. My mother is only half panicked. You’ve got a couple minutes before she loses her mind completely.

  Barry put on a look of forbearance: What is it, Peter?

  Pete took the week’s rent out of his wallet. Barry darted a look into the hallway. Then he composed himself again.

  — You’re a day early with that, said Barry, taking the money.

  He counted it carefully and stowed it in the strongbox in the drawer. Peter craned his neck to spy a bible quotation Barry had transcribed and underlined on his legal pad. It was about the angel appearing to the terrified shepherds, bidding them be unafraid, for that day a child was born.

  — Do you believe that about the angel coming down to talk to the shepherds?

  Barry blinked, tugged at his ear: Why wouldn’t I?

  — I’m just curious.

  — How God calls us is up to God. That’s exactly what I’ll be talking about on Sunday. It would be good to see you there. It would be good for your mom to see you there.

  Pete went back into the hallway. When he was going back through the living room, John and Luke were being presented to Helen. They were both wearing the dress shirts they wore to church, pressed and tucked in, and they had identical left-sided parts in their hair.

  — Couple of little heartbreakers, said Helen.

  Donna served a roast ham with peas and a macaroni salad. Lee and Helen were seated next to each other across from John and Luke. Barry sat at the head of the table. Pete and his mother took their usual places. The spot for Irene at the other end of the table remained conspicuously empty.

  Barry said they would pray first. They held hands around the table and Pete watched them bow their heads. He was holding John’s hand. The boy had his eyes pinched shut. Barry told the Lord thanks for the food and the fellowship of family. Across the table, Lee’s eyes were closed. Helen was looking at Pete, grinning.

  Amen was said. Donna served their plates.

  — Would you tell us about yourself? said Barry. We’ve heard a little bit.

  Helen shrugged, hand to her chin. The boys stared at her.

  — I didn’t come from around here. I don’t know anything about this town to tell you the truth. It’s funny how we end up in certain places. I went to college for a year or two, this was, like, ‘67 …

  She laughed as she spoke. Barry smiled sociably. Donna and Lee were both staring into their meals, slicing through their ham with something approaching savagery. To see them, you would conclude, finally, that they were sister and brother.

  — I travelled for awhile with these Hare Krishnas, said Helen. We shared everything. They were real good people. Then I went back to the city in about 1972. The city was where the action was.

  She told them more, a rambling stream of words interrupted by the odd giggle. It was difficult to understand what had driven her to the city, but she told them she had a son.

  — He’d be about your age, said Helen to John.

  John gaped at her. Lee sounded as if he�
��d caught something in his throat. He coughed and cleared whatever it was, and slowly set into his ham and his peas again.

  — Does your son go to school here in town? said Donna.

  — Oh no, said Helen. I don’t … He doesn’t live with me. But the way it goes, things have a certain way of working out, you know? Like, to everything there is a season and a purpose.

  — But you were in the city, said Donna. How’d you end up here?

  — You got a lot of questions, said Lee.

  — That’s okay, said Helen.

  But Donna had put her knife and fork down on either side of her plate: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy.

  The boys stared around the table. Barry chewed methodically.

  — It’s fine, said Helen. Come on, Brown Eyes, she’s asking me about myself.

  — I didn’t mean to be nosy, said Donna again.

  — It was a man, hun. Isn’t it always a man for us gals? Anyways he’s not my problem any more. I don’t even know where he is.

  — I see.

  — And he owed me money, but, oh well. Maybe Lee should go have a chat with him. Tell him what’s what.

  Silence fell like a shroud. They all went on eating, pretending nothing had been said.

  At length, Barry cleared his throat: I’ve seen Clifton at church. It’s a difficult time for him but he’s handled it well.

  Lee chuckled dryly: And he wasn’t even in the god- He wasn’t even in the boat when it happened. Good for him. I wonder if he’s helping Bud’s wife to handle it, too. He’s sure done a lot to check up on me.

  — He always mentions what a hard worker you are, Lee. You really did impress him.

  — Well, how about that.

  Helen had caught John staring at her. She crossed her eyes and puckered her lips together. The boy blinked down at his plate. She told him he’d catch flies with his mouth open like that.

  — I made a cobbler for dessert, said Donna hastily. She got up and started to clear the plates.

  — I’ll help you, said Helen.

  — No, I have it.

  But Helen had already lifted her plate and Lee’s from the table. She laughed: Oh, hun, I’ve been a waitress for a long time. Stuff like this is one of the two things I’m any good at.