A Boy of Good Breeding (24 page)

“Oh,” said Hosea, “what happened this morning?” He used the heel of his right hand to smooth the drops of water into his shorts and immediately felt a sharp pain from the scar on his palm.

“Genvieve called and told me she’d be willing to move here if she could set up a darkroom and do her photography. I told her I had this offer to go to Indianapolis and she said if I did I could just, how do you say that, get out of her life …”

Of course she did, thought Hosea, hating all women for a split second and feeling intensely ashamed of himself. “Well,” he said, “does she want you to move back to Montreal?” The doctor shook his head and more drops of water fell onto Hosea’s shorts.

“No, no,” said the doctor. “That’s the thing. Now she wants to get out of Montreal, she’s tired of all this yes, no, yes, no business, so she’s decided to marry me and move to Algren.” The doctor was beaming. Hosea willed himself to smile back.

“That’s great,” he said meekly. “Wonderful. Wonderful news.” Hosea shook his head slowly as if to indicate the wonder of life and all its sudden glory.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I’m very happy that you’ll be staying in Algren. Your services have been … impeccable. And I’m really looking forward to meeting Genvieve.” Hosea stuck his hand out the window. “Put her there, Doc. Congratulations.”

The doctor put both his hands over Hosea’s and said warmly, “Thank-you, Mayor Funk.” Bill Quinn had stopped licking his balls and was fast asleep in the middle of the sidewalk. Hosea heard the faraway sound of a child laughing and a mother calling, “Come here right now and put your sun hat on. I mean it. Come here right now.”

“Well,” said the doctor, “I’d better be getting to work. Care to join me on my rounds today, Hosea? I know how much you enjoy visiting the hospital—”

“No, no,” said Hosea, smiling. “I’ll leave it to you. Say, when is your girlfriend coming?” He glanced at Bill Quinn. Had that damn dog cocked his ear just then? Was he listening to everything Hosea said? Hosea wiped his brow. I may need medication, he thought.

“Oh, in the fall,” said the doctor. “She has some loose ends to tie up over there, you know …”

“In the fall,” Hosea repeated. Thank the Good Lord Jesus Christ Almighty, amen, he thought. “Well,” he said, “in the fall. Lovely. That’s lovely.”

The doctor nodded. “I’m happy,” he said. “I love her.” Hosea was about to say, me too, but said instead, “I’m sure you do.”

The doctor whistled at Bill Quinn and said, “C’mon, boy, I’ll give you some leftover tuna casserole from the cafeteria … See ya, Hosea.” Bill Quinn leapt from the sidewalk, had a quick piss on one of Hosea’s tires, and left with the doctor. Hosea stayed where he was and looked at the position of his hands on the steering wheel. Ten to two, he thought. He remembered that stupid joke Tom had told him: “Hey, Hose, when’s it time for you to use a rubber? Ten to two, get it? Get it? The arms on the clock are the girl’s legs, get it?” Hosea had hated that joke. He hadn’t got it at first but when he did get it, he hated it. He hadn’t known what a rubber was and he’d never had sex in his life. At least, he hadn’t thought he had. Hosea moved his hands on the steering wheel to six o’clock. “And keep it on,” he heard the woman’s voice coming from far away. “If I see that sun hat lying on the ground you’re coming in for the rest of the day. And I mean it.”

Hosea drove away slowly from the curb. He felt his pulse and wondered if his heart was racing. “Relax, Hosea,” he said out loud. “Calm yourself.” He turned onto Second Street towards the water tower.
That’s it, sweetheart
, he heard the voice of Euphemia,
that’s it. Find a peaceful place inside yourself and go there, Hosie, don’t worry anymore.

When Hosea was about five or six, he had insisted that Euphemia warm up his bed for him while he was in the tub, having a bath.
Is it ready?
he’d screech from the bathroom,
is it ready?
Warm as toast, Hosea, she’d yell from his bed, make a beeline for it! And Hosea would leap from the tub, grab a towel and run for his preheated bed. At just the right moment Euphemia would lift the blanket and Hosea would dive in. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new record, Euphemia would always say and make up a time less than the one before. Hank
Williams would be singing in the living room and Euphemia would read a
Reader’s Digest
or a novel and Hosea would curl up next to her and fall asleep.

Well, thought Hosea as he drove down Second Street, that was a peaceful place. He tugged on his shirt and cleared his throat.

He drove into the tiny parking lot at the base of the water tower and got out of his car. That’s a beautiful thing, he thought to himself. The workers at the top waved down at him from their scaffolding and gave him the thumbs-up sign. Not one of them was wearing a shirt. Hosea cleared his throat again and returned the gesture. “Nice,” he yelled up at the men.

“What’s that?” one of them yelled back.

“Nice!” said Hosea. “Nice work!”

“Okay,” said the guy at the top, and went back to his painting. It was perfect, thought Hosea. It was exactly the colour of the sky at five o’clock on a June morning, the colour of Knutie’s cigarette filters, and now all it needed was the giant decal of the flying white horse and it would be complete. A week to go, he thought, and the paint needs two days to dry completely, hopefully it won’t rain, the painters will be done painting today, they promised, which means the decal goes on on Thursday and then … then it’s time, thought Hosea, then it’s the day. He remembered a recent Associated Press photograph of the Prime Minister avoiding a scrum of reporters and holding his briefcase high over his head, the way a soldier holds his gun up in the air when he wades through a stream. It looked like a backgammon game, thought Hosea. In fact, all those politicians look like they’re hurrying to important backgammon tournaments all over the country. Hosea thought about his own briefcase and frowned. He wondered for a split second if he could get away with carrying around his old backgammon game on the first
when the Prime Minister came to town, but quickly thought better of it. No, he’d have to get Lorna to buy him a sleek, hard-edged briefcase in the city. He waved good-bye to the backs of the painters on the water tower and got back into his car, reminding himself to make that call to Lorna as soon as he got home.

The Epps lived on the edge of town in an old house with a few modern additions built on. They had hay bales around the old part for insulation, and a swimming pool in the backyard. Their cars were rusted-out beaters and their farming equipment was brand new. Their silo had had skulls and crossbones spray-painted on it by one of their teenage sons, and a homemade wooden sign that dangled from their mailbox said Welcome to the Epps.

Hosea drove up the driveway and parked in front of the two-car garage. He hoped Gord wouldn’t be home. He and Gord had never really spoken to each other. They knew each other, of course, like everybody in Algren, but they’d never had much to say to one another. Hosea wasn’t sure if he could entirely believe what Jeannie had said about Gord accusing Veronica of having an affair, and him not being the father of the triplets, and all that stuff, but he could believe that Gord wasn’t much of a help around the house because he spent most of his spare time in the Wagon Wheel drinking coffee and chatting with the boys. Hosea got out of his car and straightened his hat. Where was everyone? he thought. Where were all the kids? Hosea walked to the front door and rang the bell. He peered in through one of the glass panes and saw Gord lying on the couch in the living room, apparently asleep. He saw a baby swing set up in the living room, next to a giant TV that was on, but no babies, no Veronica, just Gord. Hosea looked at Gord asleep on the couch. His bare stomach hung over the couch like a pillowcase half full of Halloween treats, and one arm covered his head and face. Gord’s work boots were placed neatly beside the
couch. Hosea could see tiny streaks of sweat on the back of Gord’s neck. He decided to go home and call Lorna about the backgammon briefcase. If Veronica hadn’t already left with the triplets, she would by the weekend. Or so Jeannie had said, anyway. Hosea had just about reached his car, when the Epps’ front door swung open and there was Gord. “What’s up, Funk?” he said, looking tired and pissed off. “What’s the problem?”

“Oh,” said Hosea, “Gord, hi, I hope I didn’t wake you up, there’s no problem, it’s just—”

“How’d you know I was sleepin’?” asked Gord.

“Oh,” said Hosea again, “well, I, uh, I could see you through the window on the door, you were sleeping on the couch—”

“I wasn’t sleeping on the couch, I was lying on the couch. Thinking,” said Gord.

“Okay,” said Hosea nodding his head. “I hope I didn’t, I hope you weren’t, um—”

“She’s gone, Hosea,” said Gord. “I don’t know what to do about it. I wish I did.” Gord sat down on the front step and stared off towards the road. “And here it is,” he said sadly, “a beautiful day.”

“I’m sorry, Gord,” said Hosea.

“She just, you know, left,” said Gord. “Just left. She said I wasn’t doing what I should be doing and if I didn’t know what that was, then that was it, she wasn’t gonna tell me. That was it. You know, I had bought these diapers, these Huggies, expensive ones, for her, and that perry natal care stuff like the doctor said, you know, and I was trying to keep all the other kids from mauling the babies and giving her a break and, well, I thought I was, we were, okay, it was hell, but we were okay, we were managing.”

Hosea walked over to where Gord was sitting. He put his hand on Gord’s shoulder and kept it there for a while, the way the doctor had. “I’m sorry, Gord,” he said again.

“When the kids come home from school, I have to tell ’em,” said Gord. “Veronica said and tell ’em why, just before she left. But fuck me if I know why … we were doing okay … I don’t know what to tell ’em.”

“She might come back,” said Hosea. “She probably just needs a break.”

“I was givin’ her breaks,” said Gord. “I was. I was trying to. We needed a break together, that’s what we needed. Go somewhere, drink champagne, go on a tour or something. That place we went to once. We needed a break together, that’s for sure.” Hosea took his hand off Gord’s shoulder. One Veronica, three babies, that makes four gone. Hurray, hurray, Hosea thought bitterly. And one broken man. Right here, right beside me.

“It’ll just take a little time to get used to, probably,” said Hosea.

“I don’t want to get used to it,” said Gord. “I want her back. I want my babies back, too.” Gord shook his head and stared off at the road some more. “I never thought this would happen,” he said. “Not in a million years.” Hosea stared at the road too and tried not to cry. He wanted to leave the Epps’ sad farm and call Lorna and tell her how much he loved her. He hadn’t made Veronica go away and take the babies. No, he hadn’t. Gord had. Or maybe he hadn’t. Who knows why Veronica left? He wished she’d come back, for Gord’s sake. There was still a week left. Maybe a different family would leave before July first, all together and for a good reason.

“When I see that school bus come down the road with my kids in it, all happy and innocent, I’m gonna cry,” said Gord. “I’m just gonna sit here and cry and my older boys are gonna despise me and the little ones will just be scared of me crying. And I don’t even know what happened. And even if I did, it’s too late. I waited too long and now I’m screwed.”

“Why don’t you call her at her sister’s?” said Hosea.

“Ah, so I guess Jeannie told you where she went, eh?” said Gord.

“Do you want me to call her?” said Hosea. He didn’t have a clue what he would say, but he’d call if Gord wanted him to. “Gord?” said Hosea. Gord put his hands over his face and shook his head.

“I can’t talk to her, Hosea,” he said through his tears. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never known what to say to her, that’s been my problem. A long time ago, I figured it out that I didn’t ever know what to say to her to make her happy, so I just tried to do things to make her happy, and not worry about the talking, and then somewhere along the way even that stopped, the doing stuff, and then—” Gord cried. Hosea sat down beside Gord and put his arm around his shoulders. Finally Gord spoke again. “I just love her, I want her back. And the babies, too.” Hosea nodded and both men stared off at the long road and the empty sky above it. After a while Gord said, “Do you listen to Lightnin’ Hopkins ever?”

And Hosea said, “Country’s my thing, really.”

Gord nodded and then said, “You know what the names of my babies are?”

“What are they?” said Hosea, vaguely remembering.

Gord took a breath. “Indigo,” he said, “and Callemachus, and Finbar. He’s the one with a little lung problem, Finbar is. But the doctor said it would heal.” Gord looked at Hosea. “Do you like those names at all?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Hosea, “you know, I do. I really do. They’re names of, well, of distinction.”

Gord stared at the road. “The bus is comin’,” he said. “I can hear it.”

“I guess I’d better be going,” said Hosea.

“Yup,” said Gord, getting to his feet. “That’s an Impala?” he asked, pointing to Hosea’s car.

“That’s right,” said Hosea.

Gord nodded. “Nice lines,” he said. “Good mileage?”

“Pretty good,” said Hosea. “I don’t go very far.”

Gord opened his front door. “Well,” he said, “that bus is comin’.”

“Bye, Gord,” said Hosea. Gord nodded and walked into his house.

What the hell is this? thought Knute. She’d gone up to Hosea’s office to call Max and see how things were going and she saw a note addressed to her on Hosea’s desk.

Nice sandals? She didn’t think so. She didn’t think Baert would care what she wore, that is if he even showed up. She flipped the note over and wrote
Will Do, Cheers, K.
and pocketed the twenty. She could wear some of Dory’s regular shorts on the Big Day and buy Summer Feelin’ some new ones. She called home but it was busy. She stared out the window for a while and watched three guys and two women renovating the old feed mill into a theatre. Hosea thought he’d get Jeannie or someone to organize a production of
Arsenic and Old Lace
or
The Music Man
and get it running over the summer. Right now the only thing that would make anybody think it was a theatre and not a feed mill was a huge sign that read Future Home of the Feed Mill Summer Theatre of Algren. Which reminded her, she was supposed to give the Welcome to Algren, Canada’s Smallest Town sign a fresh coat of red paint and mow the grass around
it so it stood out properly. She decided to make a quick call to Marilyn first.