Down to the Dirt (19 page)

Then I remembers the Nevada tickets and I whips ’em out all excited. Nope. Nope. Nope. Cherries! Lemons! Nope. Nope. Nope. I goes through the whole stack and all I comes out of it with is a free ticket and five bucks. And that’s why I never gambles, ’cause I’m always left holdin’ the shitty end of the stick. Even though I knows it’s useless and stupid to try and cash the tickets in somewhere, I can’t bring myself to throw ’em away. At least it passed a bit of time. So does the whiskey. Soon I’m loaded again.

It’s gettin’ cold so I goes back in to the end of the alley to sit down out of the wind. I pulls a greasy cardboard box out of the dumpster and sets it on the ground to sit on so’s my arse won’t get so numb. I keeps on drinkin’ ’til my head starts to feel so heavy that I decides to grab a quick wink to pass the time. First I roots around in the dumpster for another box, which I pulls around myself to block the cold. With my backpack for a lumpy pillow, I drifts off to sleep. This time more soundly.

I dreams Natasha is standin’ over me. Her hair is brushin’ my face and it’s the nicest thing I’ve smelled in a long time. It’s the old Natasha. The Natasha I fell in love with. The one with long, careless blonde hair and the army boots. Not the new
Natasha with the designer jeans and them flimsy new-age fake-leather fuckin’ George Street shoes. She’s strokin’ my face, smilin’ and callin’ my name.

—Keith. KEITH! Get the frig up!

I’m yanked out of my sleep to find that she really is here in front of me. I tries to stand up but I trips out over the cardboard box that I’m wrapped up in. When I hits the ground I gets the sickly-sweet stench of regurgitated booze off the ground and this causes me to wretch, and wretch again ’til I’m heavin’ and chokin’ to beat the band. Nothing comin’ out of me only the raw liquor. It burns my throat and runs out my nose and my eyes are stingin’ and watering. Can’t breathe right.

I feels her hands in my hair and I wants to scream in her face. I wants to whisper in her ear and I wants to tell her everything and I wants to not have to say anything, or say exactly the right thing, ’cause I never meant to be so drunk and I’m not drunk, I’m just sick ’cause I missed her and I still loves her so goddamn much and she’s my little girl and I’ve come through all this just to lay eyes on her and please, please don’t make me explain it all over again.
Please just come home now.

But Mr. Jim Beam has his own plans for what comes out of my mouth this fine morning.

—You cunt-face. I nearly froze to death last night and you were—

Someone else is with her.

He’s holdin’ her hand.

He’s got a tongue.

—Listen up, Keith. I can’t have you talking to Natasha like that. Watch yourself.

Watch yourself?
Now what the fuck is this? I wipes the vomit
off my mouth and tries to stand up. Arms reach out for me but I pulls away. I gets my hand against the wall for balance and manages to half-lean, half-stand against it. They’re not holdin’ hands now. But they were. I saw it.

—Hello, Little Red Riding Hood. Not happy to see me? Who’s your friend?

I makes a lunge at buddy, but I’m so badly off balance that he don’t even know I was aimin’ for him. I staggers and falls and cracks my head off the other wall, but I don’t stay down. I’m up now. And I’m sober.

—You’re in my fuckin’ bedroom, you know. Know that, Mr. Fuckin’ Cock Rock?

I’m gonna rip his Jesus throat out. I’m gonna shove my fingers up his nostrils and ram his head off the concrete wall ’til shit runs down his leg.

I takes another step towards him and trips in my own boot. Fuck. Natasha reaches out to steady me and I lets her. Her hand on my arm feels real.

—Keith, listen, what’s going on? You’re after scaring the life out of Auntie Gert. She didn’t want you back at the house because she’s afraid of you. She watched you come in here last night. I didn’t know but I’d find you dead. I was afraid to come alone. This is Mitch. He’s a friend. You’re after screwing up this time. Look at yourself for frig sakes.

For frig sakes.
How grand is she after gettin’ at all?

—You were holdin’ his hand, ’Tash. How fuckin’ friendly are ye? How stupid do you think I am?

—I was not holding his hand. You’re seeing what you want to see now. So wrapped up in yourself that you have me pinned down as a slut or something just because everything
isn’t going
your
way. I haven’t been seeing anyone up here. I’ve been looking for work.

She’s fuckin’ him. I can feel it in my bones.

—Gertie told me you stayed at his house last night.

—She said nothing of the sort, so don’t lie. I stayed at Jenny’s house. Remember Jenny? If you’d get past yourself for a second and listen to what someone else might have to say you wouldn’t be in this mess now. Would you?

This sounds half-reasonable, like half of me wants to believe it so there don’t have to be a big racket, but I ain’t swallowing it. Not right away. If it don’t smell right, don’t put it in your mouth. If it don’t taste right, don’t fuckin’ swallow it. I knows this girl. She can be pretty goddamn cute when it comes to covering her own tracks.

—So here I am then, Natasha. A bit hungover, but I’m not dead. Might wish I was dead but that’s something else altogether. Nothing to be afraid of. It’s just me. I’m not lookin’ to hurt no one. I just wants to talk is all.

I looks across at Mr. Mitch, but he won’t make eye contact. He’s not so fuckin’ big. He looks a bit nervous and I wouldn’t blame him in the least. He’s got on his good jeans too. He could get his head split open. Then I remembers the gun. I reaches into my pocket to feel the handle. If I pulled it out and stuck it in his face, he’d shit himself, and so would Natasha, and it’d be something neither one of us would ever forget for the rest of our lives. Then I looks at Natasha and her hair is all flippin’ around with the wind and I knows that somewhere in there she’s the same girl she always was. Way back when. Sure I can’t hurt her, not like that. Besides, it’d probably be a ton of paperwork if the fuckin’ gun went off.

—Mitch, why don’t you mind your own business and fuck off out of it?

He takes a step towards me and I watches his fist tighten up. His right fist. That’s the one that’s comin’. I readies myself for a good brawl. Natasha gets in between us and pushes him back.

—Why don’t the two of you grow up? God. Look, Mitch, can you just give us a minute?

He gives Natasha this intimate
concerned-for-your-personal-safety
look. She walks him out to the mouth of the alley, tells him she’ll catch up with him later. Like fuck she will. I offers him a shrug and a little grin. He looks back and forth between myself and ’Tash, then sulks out to the road and disappears. Sure I didn’t need no gun to take that nancy-faced bastard to the ground.

So. We’re here. At long last. Face to face in a filthy alleyway in Halifax City. It’s come down to this. I had this chunky notion floatin’ around in my head that things’d be much grander than this, that this was more than anything anyone’s ever done out of love for her. I’ve travelled a thousand miles to see her face and this is what love is all about. But no. None of that. The Big Bad Wolf is after trackin’ ’er down. I s’pose Andy was right with his talk about there not bein’ no romance to it all. He got a decent head on his shoulders for all his bullshit.

—Keith, before you start, I don’t want to hear it. I have enough money here for you to take the twelve o’clock bus to North Sydney and fare for the ferry as well. There’s a bit here for food, but not much, so I hope you got cigarettes. I’m right to assume that you’re flat broke?

—Don’t be talkin’ so fuckin’ grand, girl. It’s only me.

—Keith—

—Are you sleepin’ with him, ’Tash? Tell me the truth.

—Keith, I told you, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about another one of your big neurotic adventures, about how you almost froze to death. You’re here now. You got what you wanted. Alright? You caused your big scene. Now you’re gettin’ on that bus supposing I have to knock you out and put you on it!

I laughs at this and takes a big suck out of my Jim Beam. She belts it out of my hand, bangin’ the rim of the bottle hard off my teeth. It bounces off the wall but it don’t break. Most of what’s left seeps down through the cracks in the concrete. Tragic. I picks it up and finishes it off, this time out of range of her barbarism. I smashes the bottle myself when I’m done. I loves that dramatic shit.

—Holdin’ his fuckin’ hand, strollin’ up the road like you knew him all your life. That’s what I saw. And you were with him the last time you called me.

She tries to reply but I don’t let her. I’ve come this far and I’m gonna have my say.

—Half of me felt so stunned you know, ’Tash. I hoped I was just bein’ paranoid, that it was all in my head, that I was just bein’ irrational. But it was my gut, the other half. And my gut is always right. Something to trust. Oh, but you don’t care about this shit. I’m just an inconvenience now. I ruined your day is all.

She pushes the money into my hand and yawns in my face.

—Keith, listen for a second—

—I won’t! I just slept here in this fuckin’ shit and I’m
gonna have my say. All you tells is lies anyhow…I got a blowjob off a prostitute last night.

She just smiles and nods like I’m makin’ it up to hurt her. Like she knows me or something. She don’t fuckin’ know me.

—I did, Natasha. Best blowjob I ever had. Unless you counts your lovely cousin Margaret.

She puts her head down, brings it back up poker-faced. I s’pose I shouldn’t have said that last bit.

—’Tash, I’m sorry. I’m just pissed off—

She pulls an envelope out of her inside pocket.

—Keith, this is a one-way ticket home. I bought it last week. I was coming home this Tuesday night. Do you have any idea how hard it was not to tell you? Bawling in my ear like a youngster. Accusing me of sleeping around on you. Cutting yourself up. Now, what was I thinking to want to come home to you? I hate it up here and I missed you. I told you that from day one. Theatre sucks and so does the nightlife. But now I’m thinking I’m probably a lot better off up here than I would be in that grimy little hovel with you. So, we’re going to the bus station and you’re gettin’ on the bus and going home.

—’Tash…C’mon. All I wanted was to see your face, girl. I can’t stand it without you. Nothing makes any sense to me. Everything seems like shit when you’re not around. You knows I’d keel over and die for you.

—You’d keel over and die for the cat, Keith. When was the last time you went a day without a beer or a draw or a pill?

—’Tash, I’m sorry. Drinkin’ just makes it easier to handle. Nights are so fuckin’ empty with you gone.

—Does it have to be
fuckin’
empty? Can’t you speak one sentence without cursing? You know, if I thought for a second that
you could get off the booze, straighten up and get some kind of future going for us, I’d be there in a flash. I wouldn’t think twice.

—Alright. Alright. I’ll give it up—

—Yeah. Right. I heard that one before—

—Look, I just came all the ways up here to see you. Don’t that say nothing to you? I loves you, girl. There’s nothing more important to me on this planet. Not booze, not fuckin’…sorry, not booze, not partying. Nothing. And if I thought that you were serious, that you’d come home to me if I sobered up, I’d never touch another drop. I loves you, ’Tasha sweetheart. I really do. Come here to me—

I reaches out to her but she pulls away, glancin’ out at the mouth of the alley.

—Keith, you’re a lunatic, you know that?

She says it soft though, and I finally gets a glimpse of the girl I came lookin’ for. I brushes her cheek with the back of my hand and I leans in to smell her hair. She finally gives in and lets me collapse into her arms.

Here, in a piss-ridden alleyway off Agricola Street, I actually have her in my arms. Nothing ever smelled so good.

I starts bawlin’ and after a while she starts in and you can hear it echoing up off the rooftops. But I feels lighter now than I can ever remember feelin’. Me and her, we’ve come through worse shit than this. Sure this is fuck all.

—So you’re not screwin’ him then?

—Keith! For the love of God.

—I’m sorry. Sorry. Just wanted to make sure.

Mitch gives us a ride to the bus station in a brand new 4x4. Must be his mommy’s. I feels like such a hypocrite. I don’t
want nothing from this prick. Natasha talked me into it. She sits in the back with me and I slumps down across her lap. We rides in silence. I can feel Mitch watchin’ us through the rearview mirror. She gets out with me when we gets there. The bus to North Sydney is already boardin’ so I have to be quick about buyin’ my ticket. We leaves one another with a thousand little promises and
I love yous.
She seems to be lookin’ forward to Tuesday night as much as I am. I hugs her tight and gives Mitch the finger from behind her back. Cunt. I makes a mental note to meet him again some day in some other dark alley.

There’s a smokin’ section on the bus, which surprises and delights me, so I smokes my way through the lonesome deciduous landscape of Nova Scotia. As Acting Ambassador of Newfoundland I decides that Nova Scotia is probably a prosperous place to live if you’re a sheep farmer with a video camera. All tasteful jokes aside though, I’m gonna make a go of cleanin’ myself up. The very thought of goin’ sober scares the shit out of me, but I s’pose I’m strong enough to pull it off. I’m sick of this shit. Wakin’ up and not knowin’ where I’ve been or what I said or did to who, never havin’ a cent and always feelin’ like I’m comin’ down with some disease. I’ll give it a try.

I’m still not fully convinced that Natasha wasn’t up to something with this Mitch fucker. Despite all that, I feels a warmin’ kind of…lightheartedness towards people in general as I’m driftin’ off to sleep. Things are gonna be alright.

I feels pretty broken and wore out boardin’ the ferry in North Sydney five hours later. About fifteen dollars left from what Natasha gave me and I heads straight for the bar. I’m thinkin’ about beer, but I orders up a big old pint of ice water at the last second. I can feel it rushin’ through my body, cleansing and healin’. Some dick named Evan Roberts is playin’ the most ridiculous
newfie
music you could ever imagine. This type of garbage is the very reason the word
newfie
still exists. Nothing wrong with traditional Newfoundland music, just the way some guys turns it all into this big joke. Like, hey everybody, look at me, I can barely play this here guitar and I can’t sing for shit but I’m gonna stand on stage
all night long
just to prove I don’t have a dust of sense either. And of course the crowd loves him. He’s a fuckin’ star. Fuck. People from all over the planet comes to Newfoundland and this type of shit is their first impression of our culture and heritage. It should be outlawed.