Provider's Son (17 page)

When Sinead was on the same turnaround Levi usually ate supper with his crew and had a cup of coffee and a piece of pie with his daughter after.

“I didnt know Jons father was Bill Smith. Hes one of the big-shots for Erbacor.”

“Jon doesnt like people knowing that,” Sinead said.

“Like it or lump it, if the boys knows it everybody knows it.”

“Well, still, dont act like you know.”

“Youd think he would have hooked up with a better job.”

“He doesnt want a better job. He wants to be here where the action is. Hes basically doing research.”

“Research eh? Is you part of that research?”

Sinead glared at her father. “Thats a bad thing to say.”

“I was joking.”

“Sure you were. But as a matter of fact wer both doing research. Im working on a novel and hes working on...well, he gets ideas for his artwork here.”

“Yeah, ideas, and a nice paycheque for doing fuck all. Dont try to tell me a security guard is hard work. The boys spends more time stood up chatting in the office than anything else. Whats your book about anyway?”

“Its complicated…”

“Oh, you thinks I wont understand.”

“I never said that. Its about an aboriginal girl.”

“In Australia?”

“No Dad, aboriginal. Native. Here in Canada.”

“What happens to her?”

“Well, shes adopted into a privileged white neighborhood in the city, goes to the best schools, you know, gets the best education. But decides she wants to find her real mother. And when she does she completely disavows her past life, and becomes the leader of her people. Then she tries to bring them out of poverty.”

“Yes by, that sounds good. Like Moses, only a woman.”

Sinead stared at him, and then clenched her forehead. “Shit. How did I not make that connection? Oh now Im filled with more self-doubt than ever.”

“Self-doubt? Why? Sure lot of stories copies Bible stories dont they?”

“Yes, I know, but still…I cant believe I didnt make the connection.”

“Well you says youre one of them atheists.”

“Yes, Im no fan of religion, but who doesnt know the story of Moses?”

“Did you ever read the Bible?”

“I skimmed through it.”

Levi laughed.

“Did
you
ever read it?” Sinead said, smirking.

“Cover to cover.”

“Yeah right. When?”

“You dont believe me. The ol man used to make me and the boys read so many pages a day when we turned thirteen. Parts of the Old Testament used to put me to sleep. This one begot that one, who begot this one, and on and on. The New Testament whudnt too bad though.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Put it this way. I was damn near sixteen when I finished. How come you didnt tell me about this book before?”

“You didnt ask.”

“You think you would tell your own father that youre writing a book. Thinks Im too dumb to understand that stuff do you? Your poor old father is not so stunned as you thinks.”

“I dont think youre stunned. But theres a lot of things we dont have in common. I just didnt think youd be that interested.”

“What? Youre me daughter. Im interested in everything you lays hands on.”

“Its not just that...Im really insecure about it too. I dont know if its any good. For all I know a publisher might throw it straight in the garbage.”

“Go away with you. You got brains enough to do anything. You dont get it from me thats for sure. Must get it from your mother I suppose. Although youre smarter than her too.”

“Youre smarter than you give yourself credit, Dad.”

“I hope. What do Jon think of your story?”

“Jon says you cant stop a true writer like me, but I dont know how to take that. I think hes avoiding the question.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “That dont surprise me. Hes a bit of a queer hand that Jon. I cant figure him out.”

“Hes a good person. Youll see that when you really get to know him.”

“You can be a good person but still be a prick.”

“Hes not a prick!”

“I know I know. What about hes mother? What do she do?”

“His mother is a lawyer.”

Levi took a sip of his coffee.

“So is this serious or what? He and you.”

“It could be. Someday.” She grinned. “So is it serious between you and him?”

“Right serious.”

Levi headed down the hallway to Jon's dorm room with Sinead beside him. He had been back on his job from the third turn-around for two days when Jon said the chair was finished. Jon had not wanted Levi to see any of the work until the whole thing was completed. It was hard, but Levi respected his decision. Now that the moment had finally arrived, however, Levi could hardly keep himself from running down the hall. He was still wearing his coveralls and his work boots that clomped loudly on the linoleum.

“Slow down,” Sinead said. “Youre excited about this arent you?”

“Im just wondering what he got done to it is all.”

“Im glad hes finished to be honest. He was obsessed with it. Ive never seen him work so hard on a piece before.”

“Did he do a good job or what?”

“Its amazing. Seriously. Youre going to love it.”

Levi grinned.

“A warning though,” she said. “Hes not as neat as you when it comes to his work area.”

Sinead knocked. “Security! We know what you have in there!”

Jon unlocked the door and in a muffled voice told them to come on in. The room was filled with fine sawdust and wood shavings. Jon was wearing a white mask over his face and his crinkled eyes revealed that a smile was underneath it. Chisels were strewn about the room, kicking about the floor, and scattered about the desk and bed. Dirty laundry sat in heaps in every corner, along with discarded Amp energy drink cans, and half eaten bags of Doritos.

“Welcome to the pigsty,” Sinead said. “But theres treasures hidden in the mud.”

Levi didn't hear her. The bas relief carvings on the chair flowed upward from the runners to the crest rail as if the chair was not made in pieces, but carved out of a single piece of wood. On both runners were roots which grew into foliage sprouting up the legs, followed by moose, bears, rabbits and fowl. Above the seat, on the leg of each corner was a native man, woman, daughter, and son in traditional clothing, their hands extended in reach. On the back of the splats were the faces of children. And in the background, at the center of the back of the crest rail, was a building, its square corners in contrast to the flowing nature of the rest of the chair. On the building two pillars stood on each side of a door with thirty-eight windows surrounding it. A bell tower stood at the peak of the roof and atop that was the Cross.

“What do you think?” Jon said.

“I thinks you got a fine job done.”

“With the right wood it could have been better, but I had to work with what I had. Obviously thats not your fault because you started it before we decided to work on it, but if we make another out of a wood with a tighter grain I think it could really be awesome.”

“It looks awesome now,” Sinead said.

“The only thing I dont get is that church you got put on the top.”

“Its not a church.”

“It got a cross on top.”

“Its still not a church.”

“It looks like a church.”

“Its a residential school.”

“Oh...is that where natives went to school on the reserve?”

“No,” Sinead said, “it wasnt on the reserve.”

“What, the school wasnt on the reserve?”

“It was sometimes only a few miles away,” Jon said. “Although it was just as well as if it had been a thousand. They lived there. The parents werent allowed to see their kids during the school year. Not even during the Christmas concerts.”

“You dont know anything about this, do you Dad?” Sinead said.

“No, cant say I do.”

“I should give him that book,” Jon said to Sinead.

“He wont read it,” Sinead said.

“What makes you think that now?” Levi said.

“Dad, besides woodworking magazines Ive never seen you read a book in my life. Although you says you read the Bible, which I still finds hard to believe.”

“I read Death On The Ice, and I read the Bible too, from Genesis to Revelations. Jesus was a carpenter. I dont know if he made rocking chairs but he was a good carpenter. Did you know that?”

“Dad, everyone knows Jesus was a carpenter. Id say most Hindus know that.”

“Just because he was a carpenter doesnt mean he was any good,” Jon said.

“Who, Jesus? It dont say anything in the Bible about Jesus being a bad carpenter.”

“It dont say anything about him being a good one either. Maybe that's why Judas resented him, because he had to keep repairing The Messiah's sloppy carpentry, and not getting any credit for it.”

“Is you gone off your head? He was Jesus Christ by. You knows he was a good carpenter. The best in the world.” Levi paused. “Come to think of it he probably didnt have much time though. He was too busy curing the blind to be building door frames.”

“See, there you go,” Jon said.

“If my mother heard what I just said shed disown me,” Levi said.

“
A National Crime
is the name of that book,” Jon said.

“What book?”

“The one you said you were going to read.”

“Oh yes. Yeah. Go get it for me. So now its my turn with the chair. The finish.”

“What kind of finish do you use?” Jon said.

“I got me own recipe. Combines different things.”

“I bet boiled linseed oil is one of them.”

“Yeah, thats one of them.”

Levi wished he had not said he would read the book.
Death
On The Ice
seemed like a single chapter compared to
A National
Crime
. It had been sitting by his television for days after Sinead brought it over. Actually it didn't look much thinner than the Bible. He simply couldn't bring himself to pick it up. Slogging through that big book just didn't interest him. The only part he read was the back that said:

For over 100 years, thousands of Aboriginal children passed through the Canadian residential school system. Begun in 1870's, it was intended in the words of government officials, to bring these children into the “circle of civilization.” The results, however, were far different. More often, the schools provided an inferior education in an atmosphere of neglect, disease, and often abuse.

That was all he needed to know wasn't it? He couldn't remember anything he read in books anyway. He couldn't remember a single line from
Death On The Ice
. He knew the general story, but nothing specific.

Art and Money

After Levi had completed the finish they both called in sick for the day and headed for Edmonton. Jon had set up a meeting with his art dealer, Edward Gannon, at the Verendrye Gallery.

“So do these gallery owners make a good dollar or what?” Levi said as they neared the gallery.

“Some do. Edward and Lawrence are doing okay. Not rich, but making a decent living.”

“Well, thats the problem there. You should never go into partnership in a business.”

“Well, theyre not really business partners. I mean they are, but theyre partners outside of that as well.”

Levi stared at him for a moment before it clicked in. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“I cant wrap me head around that stuff by.”

“Around what, that hes gay? Its two-thousand and eight, Levi.”

“There was a fella on that first plane trip. Queer as a three dollar bill he was.”

“How do you know he was gay? Did he tell you?”

“If he whudnt queer Im not straight.”

They were silent for a while.

“To be honest he reminded me of a fella my age used to live in Gadus,” Levi said. “Luke White. We used to call him Snow White. To hes face too. Some of the boys used to pick on him too by. He had a hard time of it when he was a teenager. I used to poke fun at him sometimes, but I was never into bullying.”

“Poking fun is bullying if its constant.”

“Well, nothing physical. Like the boys.”

“Did he fight back?”

“Sometimes, but…he was scrawny eh by. A late bloomer. He even sounded like a girl. He took off to the mainland as soon as he was old enough to work anyway. He comes back every five or ten years to see hes mother and father. I seen him at the store last summer and we had the big old chat. Hes more queer now than he ever was.”

“People dont get more gay Levi. Hes just an older man now and more comfortable in his own skin.”

“I suppose.”

They drove a while in silence.

“I should have told you earlier,” Jon said, “but Im really nervous about this.”

“
You
are! Ive never been to a art gallery in me life.”

“You dont understand. Im hoping hes going to love it, but theres a chance he might hate it. I mean really hate it.”

“What for?”

“He went to a Catholic residential school. And from the occasional comments hes made over the years I think he went through a very hard time there.

Edward met Jon and Levi carrying the chair at the doors of the gallery. It was a six thousand square foot bungalow of white walls and hardwood floor. Every piece of art was lit from various angles above and below in a soft light as to minimize shadow and contrast. Levi wished he had taken a bigger mouthful from his flask in the Ultramar gas station a half hour before, but now it was too late.

“Youre early,” Edward said.

“A rarity for me, I know,” said Jon.

“Be careful now,” Edward said as he led them through a small lobby into the main area of the gallery. “Sorry about this. I would have a sensible loading zone if I owned the place, but Im only renting. One of these days I suppose...”