One or the Other (5 page)

When they finally left, walking out into the sunshine in the parking lot, Ste. Marie said they'd take the rest of the day off, it was Sunday morning then. “We'll get back to it Monday morning,” he said, getting into his car.

Dougherty drove Caron home, dropping him off at a bungalow in Ville St. Laurent and then got home and had a couple hours' sleep before picking up Judy and heading out to the West Island for dinner with her parents.

He had the engagement ring in his pocket and he'd been thinking of ways to ask her the question. At first he thought he would just do it casually, maybe even while they were driving, take out the ring and say, “What do you think, should we get married?” But then he thought, no, she wouldn't really like that. She wouldn't say she didn't but it didn't seem to really be Judy these days. Dougherty might joke sometimes that she'd come a long way from her radical days, but he didn't really think that was true. She was still trying to help people, still trying to make a difference in the world, still talking about social justice and working for it but she was living her own life, too.

So Dougherty figured while they were out in Point Claire maybe they'd go for a walk, some park near where she grew up and he'd ask her there.

It was a good plan and it might have worked. But then the last thing Judy wanted to talk about was getting married.

On the drive out to the West Island for the once-a-month Sunday dinner, Dougherty started to understand the draw of the suburbs, leaving the city behind, really feeling like you were getting away. Train tracks ran alongside the expressway, and he wondered what it would be like to commute into the city in the morning and ride back at night, reading the newspaper and not thinking about work again until the next day.

Every once in a while, as they passed through Dorval, Dougherty caught a glimpse of the river at the end of a couple of blocks of houses to his left and he thought living by the water could be good.

He said to Judy, “You sure you don't want to teach out here?”

“I'm sure.”

They drove through the Dorval circle, passing the exit to the airport, continued on the expressway till the St. John Boulevard exit and pulled off into Point Claire. Near the train tracks the houses were mostly older, pre-war, a couple had once been farmhouses before the housing developments started popping up. Dougherty was thinking it would be nice to move into a brand new house on a brand new street.

He said, “Was your house new when you moved into it?”

“Yeah, the whole street was new. Exactly the same.” She was looking straight ahead, not at the houses they were passing as they moved into the newer area. “Well, there were maybe three designs but they weren't very different. At all my friends' houses, I knew exactly where the bathroom was.”

Dougherty said, “They look different now, though.”

“Not really.”

Pulling up beside a station wagon on the driveway, Dougherty said, “It is nice here.”

“You think that because you didn't grow up here.”

They walked up to the front door of the bungalow, and Dougherty was wondering where Judy's father's Buick was when her mother opened the door and said, “Oh dear, I forgot to call you.”

Judy said, “What's going on?”

Her mother was standing in the open doorway and she didn't say anything for a moment, and then Judy's sister Gillian came out, saying, “No dinner tonight, Dad moved out,” and kept going, walking down the driveway and along the sidewalk away from the house.

Judy said, “What's she talking about?”

“I meant to call,” her mother said, “I've just been so busy. Come on in, we'll order St-Hubert or something,” and she turned around and went inside the house.

Judy stood in the driveway looking at Dougherty for a minute, then she said, “Oh, for Christ's sake,” and walked into the house.

Dougherty followed and once inside the house he heard rock music playing in the basement and figured Judy's youngest sister, Abby, must be there. He walked into the kitchen at the back of the house, where Judy's mother was leaning against the counter with a drink in her hand, saying, “It was coming for so long, you must have expected it.”

“No, Mom, I didn't expect it, why would I expect it?”

“All we did was fight. Or ignore each other.”

“He just moved out? Where is he?”

Dougherty had avoided calling Judy's mother by anything; Mrs. McIntyre hadn't seemed right and he didn't want to call her Audrey. He figured it was because of the odd living situation between him and Judy. They weren't living together, or living in sin, as his mother would've said, but the fact they often spent the night at one another's apartment was an open secret their parents just didn't talk about. Up until this moment it had been about the most awkward thing between them. Dougherty had felt like they were in limbo, waiting for Judy to graduate and get a job and then they'd settle down and things would be easier, but now he was thinking he wasn't so sure.

But for some reason it made calling Judy's mother Audrey easier, so that's what he did, saying, “Is there anything we can do, Audrey?”

“Well, I guess you could order dinner. Abby's still here, I think. I'm not sure if Gillian is coming back or not.”

Judy held up her hands and said, “What are you talking about? Are we just going to pretend nothing's going on?”

“We're not pretending anything,” Audrey said. “This is what's going on.”

“Dad just moved out? What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Mom, something must have happened.”

Audrey drank what was left in her glass, looked like a rye and ginger to Dougherty, and said, “I guess we both finally got tired of pretending.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, Judy, you know, you saw it, you felt it.”

“No, I didn't.”

“We were like two strangers, just going through the motions.”

Dougherty was thinking that what Audrey was saying sounded more like something she'd read, or something Judy might have had said to her, than something she came up with herself, but it might very well be the way she felt. He'd certainly felt it, visiting the house for Sunday dinners and birthdays and at other times, but he'd always figured it was because of the situation between him and Judy.

Now Judy was saying, “This just came out of nowhere.”

“No, it didn't.”

“Mom, I'm sorry, but this doesn't make any sense.”

“Do you want a drink?”

“No, Mom.”

“How about you, Édouard?”

Dougherty said, “Sure, I'll have one.”

Judy turned around and looked at him over her shoulder. He started to move into the living room, saying, “I'll get it.”

“It's all right,” Audrey said. “It's here.”

Dougherty noticed the bottle of rye on the counter next to the toaster and wondered how long Audrey had been keeping it there instead of in the china cabinet in the dining room that Judy's father used for his bar.

“Mom, this is crazy.”

Audrey opened the freezer door of the fridge and got out the ice cube tray and with her back to Judy she said, “No, this is the first sane thing we've done in years.”

It was quiet in the kitchen while she made Dougherty's drink and topped up her own, and then she turned around and said, “Actually, I thought you'd be happy about this,” as she moved past Judy and handed the glass to Dougherty.

Judy said, “Why would I be happy?”

Audrey kept walking into the rarely used living room and sat on the couch. Judy followed her in, saying, “Why would you say that?”

Dougherty thought about staying in the kitchen. If it had been a normal Sunday dinner in Point Claire, then Dougherty and Judy's dad would've been sitting in the rec room in the basement watching golf on TV and not talking, and right now that seemed like a better idea, but Dougherty walked into the living room just in time for Judy to turn to him and say, “Can you believe this?”

She was standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. Dougherty often thought that when they came out here Judy changed a little. He never would've said anything to Judy but he thought when they came into this house she started to be a little more like her mother. She really did now.

Not that he'd ever say that. What he did say was, “I don't know.”

Judy stared at him for a moment and kind of shook her head in disbelief and then looked at her mother. “Why would I be happy about this?”

“I'm finally becoming myself, not just Mrs. Thomas McIntyre.”

“Yourself? And dad had to move out?”

“He didn't have to, but it's what he wanted.”

Abby came up out of the basement then and was on her way to the kitchen when Judy said, “Abby, come here.”

“No,” Abby said. “Don't talk to me.”

Judy said, “I don't believe this.”

“Well, I don't believe you.” Audrey was leaning back on the couch then, getting out her cigarettes and lighting one and saying, “I guess it was crazy of me to expect a little support from you.”

Judy said, “No, it's just . . .”

Dougherty walked into the kitchen then, thinking maybe Judy and her mother could use a little time alone.

Abby was on the phone, twisting the cord around her fingers and letting it go and twisting it again. Dougherty was pretty sure she was sixteen or seventeen, about the same age as his little brother, Tommy, but sometimes he got Abby mixed up with Gillian, who was a year older. There was one more sister, Brenda, between the two girls at home and Judy, but she was out west somewhere, Calgary or Vancouver or something, Dougherty was never sure.

“Okay, bye.” Abby uncoiled the phone cord from her fingers and hung up the receiver. “They still going at it?”

“They're just talking now,” Dougherty said. “I think it was just the shock — Judy wasn't expecting it.”

Abby went to the fridge and opened it. “Why not? Everybody else was.”

“I guess we didn't really know what was going on here.”

“I'd say you should've come out here more often, but I wouldn't come here if I didn't have to.”

“We're not that far away.”

“Yes you are.”

Abby had a glass of ginger ale in her hand then and Dougherty could hear his own father complaining about the kids drinking his mix. In his father's case, it was Pepsi he mixed with rum but he never called it Pepsi or Coke, just mix. Who drank all the mix? Dougherty almost laughed thinking about it.

“How long has it been bad?”

“It's always been bad,” Abby said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So when did he move out?”

“I don't know. I hardly ever see him — working late was the official story,” Abby said. “I guess he stopped coming home a while ago.”

“Like a few days or weeks or what?”

“Shit,” Abby said, “you're such a cop. I don't know, a while.”

“Okay.” Dougherty realized he was thinking like a cop in a domestic. He wasn't really interested in the details, they didn't matter at all, he just wanted to get people talking, making conversation, getting people calmed down. But they were calm. He said, “You okay?”

“Sure, what's it to me? I don't care what they do.”

“Right, yeah.” Now Dougherty was thinking this was the point he usually left, everyone calmed down and talking, the husband out of the house. He never saw what happened next.

Judy came into the kitchen and said, “So, that's it. Crazy.” She crossed to the drawer by the sink and got out a bunch of restaurant menus and said, “You want St-Hubert or Chinese?”

“Either one.”

Judy looked at Abby and said, “What about you?”

“I'm going out.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I'm just waiting for Mark and Ralph.”

Judy said, “Okay.” She still had the folded menus in her hand, and she was just staring at them.

Dougherty said, “Why don't you get the Chinese, there'll be leftovers.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Abby put her empty glass in the sink and walked out.

Dougherty was trying to think of something to say to Judy but he couldn't come up with anything, and then Audrey came into the kitchen and said, “Have you decided?” She got out the ice cubes and started making herself another drink.

Judy said, “Chinese.”

“Get won ton soup, too.” She turned to Dougherty. “Do you want another drink?”

“Sure.” He drank the last of what he had and handed her the empty glass.

While Audrey was making the drink, she said, “So how are the interviews going, have you picked a school yet?”

Judy was dialling the phone and she said, “I'm going to have to take whatever I can get. Oh hi, I'd like to place an order . . . Yes, dinner number four . . . for six, I guess. And two, no three, won ton soups.” She gave the address and then went over the order again.

Audrey handed Dougherty his drink and picked up her own glass off the counter.

Judy hung up and said, “Half an hour.”

“Have you applied to all the school boards?”

“All the Protestant ones: Greater Montreal, south shore, Laval.”

“What about West Island?”

Dougherty walked out of the kitchen. He was glad they were talking, he was glad it was just normal conversation but it still felt odd, the way they could just move on.

Abby was coming up from the basement and heading to the front door without slowing down. Dougherty followed her and stepped out onto the balcony as she headed down the walk. A couple of boys were standing on the sidewalk waiting. They both had long hair and were trying to grow beards, and they were both wearing jean jackets and jeans and one of them had on a t-shirt that said
Disco Sucks
across the front. They all looked serious, Abby and both boys, no one smiled and they didn't seem to say much to each other as they walked away.

Dougherty looked up and down the street, and now he was starting to see what Judy meant about all the houses being the same. Still, it was quiet.

And it was quiet inside the house. Judy and Audrey were sitting at the kitchen table talking.

Dougherty went down into the basement and turned on the TV. There were album covers scattered on the floor in front of the stereo and the place smelled like cigarettes and pot and he wondered how long the girls had been smoking at home. Since before their dad moved out, he figured, however long that had been.

Monday afternoon Dougherty stopped in for a cup of coffee at the restaurant a few doors down from the bank building and saw Paquette on a stool at the counter.

Dougherty was thinking about walking out when Paquette said, “Hey, Eddie,” looking like he wanted to talk.

“Claude, ça va?”

“Did you hear?” Speaking English.

Dougherty said, “No, what?”

“
Tabarnak
, Gagnon and Levine, they got jumped last night.”

“What the hell?”

The lunch rush was over, and there were only a few people in the restaurant. A guy behind the counter refilled Paquette's mug and held up the coffee pot for Dougherty, who said, “I'm going to get a takeout, okay, boss?”