Ragged Company (14 page)

“Help us with the ID thing,” Timber said.

“Or you could cash in the friggin’ thing and then piece us off,” Digger said.

“Piece you off?”

“Yeah. Give us the cash.”

“I don’t think I’d want to do that.”

“You don’t want someone giving you a ticket that’s worth thirteen and half million bucks? Come on, Rock. Get real.”

“Well, I suppose I could have my lawyer draw up some papers to say that you are who you are and he could have bank accounts opened for you. You’d have to pay for that, of course, and it would likely take some time, but I think we could get it done that way. Or there’s a trust account arrangement.”

“Trust account?” One For The Dead asked. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yes. Well, someone has an account opened in your name and then looks out for it. When you want money for something, you have to go through them. It’s a way of keeping your money safe.”

“No. I like the first way better,” Digger said. “Cash is cash. I wanna be able to get it when I want it, not on someone else’s time.”

“Me too,” Timber said. “I guess if it’s ours, it should be ours.”

“You’re all sharing this?” Granite asked.

“Fucking right,” Digger said. “That’s what ya do fer your wingers when you’re solid.”

“You piece them off?” Granite asked with a grin.

“You piece ’em off,” Digger said, also grinning.

“Well, maybe I should go and look into this right away. There’re a few hours left in the business day still and we can get the ball rolling for you. Thirteen and a half million dollars doesn’t want to sit unused for very long, does it?”

“What should we do, Granite?” One For The Dead asked.

Granite looked at her an’ his eyes were really kind. “Did you know that there are movies that you can take home now?”

“Fuck off,” Digger said. “How’re ya gonna do that?”

“They’re called videos. Once a movie’s been through the theatres the company releases it as a video or a taped movie. You can rent the taped movie and watch it at home on a player that hooks up to your television. I watch movies that way all the time.”

“That sounds nice for you,” One For The Dead said.

“Well, it would be nice for
you
if you want to come to my home and watch one while I take care of this business.”

None of us was able to talk for a long time. We all stood there lookin’ at Granite like he wasn’t even talkin’ English no more on accounta this was a big surprise. Us guys. Us guys goin’ to someone’s house. Granite’s house. To watch movies. This was gettin’ to be a really amazin’ kind of day.

“Us?” Timber asked finally. “You want us to go to your house and watch movies?”

“If you like, yes,” Granite said.

“Why?” Timber asked.

“Cuz we’re fucking special,” Digger said. “Ain’t that right, Mr. Square John? Now that we got what other people want we’re fucking special just like the tarted-up babe at the lottery office told me.”

“Yes,” Granite said, lookin’ Digger right in the eye. “You
are
special. But not because you have money. Money doesn’t make anybody special. You’re special because you take care of each other. You’re special because you don’t desert each other. Ever. You’re special because even though this big friggin’ thing happened to you all, you’re still trying to get into the movies. You’re still trying to be who you are. That’s what makes you special. To me, anyway.”

“You got any hooch?” Digger asked.

“Hooch? Well, I don’t know about hooch but I have some things to drink. But if you like, you can stop off and get some hooch. You can’t get drunk in my home, though.”

“No problem,” Timber said. “I just want to get into a movie and not have to think about this any longer.”

And so we headed out of the park to get a ride over to Granite’s house an’ all’s I could think about on the way over there was rows and rows of movies all just waitin’ to be watched, an’ I figured if gettin’ a bunch of money could get you to do somethin’ like that then it must be okay. I was with my friends. That’s all I cared about. Long as we was together I was gonna be okay no matter what on accounta they’d never let nothin’ bad happen to me. Granite was my friend now too an’ I knew he wasn’t gonna let nothin’ bad happen to me neither.

A
ND THEN WE WERE FIVE
. Walking out of that little park that afternoon in the company of friends, I felt almost like being home. They were a strange assortment. They were like little boys in great big bodies, and I felt such a strong tug of motherhood in my chest it almost made me cry. I guess I’d never given myself the time to think about my lack of children, never allowed myself to consider how my life as a woman might have changed with motherhood or even whether the capacity for love within me was ever strong enough to make me fit for it. Right then, I knew. Right then, I knew for absolute certain that I could have loved enough to be a mother and raise happy, contented kids. Those boys walking beside me took me right back to the dusty, bush-lined roads of Big River and I felt like little Amelia again, with a heart full of love and a head full of dreams. Around us I saw the shadowed ones moving about in that moist spring air and I wondered how many lives had turned in that little space of green, how many fortunes had been altered through word or deed on that same bench we’d gathered at. Ours had. In whatever way Creation had desired for us, our lives had become something different with the energy of a simple choice. We would go to Granite’s home. We would sit in the space that he created for himself and we would share time. We would watch a movie and we would wait to see what motions we needed to go through to get the money that had been sent our way.

The money didn’t matter to me. It was still a dream. It was part of the invisible world and not yet here. What mattered was my boys. What mattered was the fact that we were all learning to be together and that we were willing to risk things we might never have risked before. Us, heading to a Square John’s home and a Square John inviting us there. The world widens incredibly sometimes. If you stay wakeful enough you can see it. The sky gets bigger at times like that, the light gets brighter and the wind blows harder, more insistently. Like Creation is heaving a huge breath so the new growing can take place. That’s what it felt like
walking out of that park that afternoon. Like the world was heaving a big breath for us.

We piled into a cab, the four of us rounders scrunched up in the back while Granite sat in the front to direct the driver. It felt like a hayride or the feeling I used to get on the tail of the wagon with my brothers when we’d go to chop and gather wood on Big River. The boys elbowed each other for room and there was a lot of good-natured grumbling and jokes about the smell of feet, bad breath, and bony shoulders. Just like in days long gone, and I had to smile at the impact of this sudden gift, this vague returning.

When the cab pulled up in front of the building where Granite lived, I could feel all of us stiffen. It was a huge, pale pink building with lots of trees and bushes out front and a long curved walkway made of cobblestones leading to a set of big glass doors. There was a small room encased in glass before you got to the lobby where some grandfather-looking chairs sat in front of one of those fake fireplaces and a jungle of plants. Just the kind of place you learn to avoid when you live like us. A police call is made before your feet even get to those glass doors, and the boys and me felt nervous and anxious stepping out of the cab.

Granite led the way. I could see Digger looking quickly in each direction and back over his shoulder. Timber and Dick walked with their heads lowered like they wanted to sink into the cracks between the cobblestones. Me, I just walked behind Granite watching the world breathe.

We didn’t pass another person on the way into the building and didn’t see anyone all the way up in the elevator or in the hallway to Granite’s door. The air was different inside there, though. It didn’t move. It felt like you were walking through something in order to get anywhere. I could sense the walls around me. The boys were all eyeballs and Adam’s apples, their gaits more cautious, and I knew that they could feel the walls around them too. We were actually grateful, I think, when Granite opened his door and gestured us through.

It was marvellous. There were big windows in the ceiling where the light flowed in, and one entire wall was a window too.
He had a fireplace that stood all by itself in the living room and it looked like a smaller version of the old stove in our house on the reserve. There were a lot of big plants around and even a tree in one corner whose branches spread out over a lot of the room. Dick gaped at the biggest television I think I ever saw and Timber was scrutinizing the shelves of books. Digger stood and looked at everything, nodding his head slowly. I liked it. There was so much light it was like being outside. It felt comfortable, but as I looked around I couldn’t help but wonder about the fact that there weren’t any pictures of people anywhere around. There was art on the walls but no pictures of people, and as I watched Granite move around nervously, showing us where to hang our coats and directing us to the living room, I knew that he wasn’t that much different from the four of us. He was part of our ragged company despite the shimmer and glow of this space he lived in.

“I’ll pull chairs out of the den and you can all make yourselves comfortable on the couch and the armchair,” Granite said. “Digger, there’s a bar over there by the fireplace. The bottom doors in the bookcase. Help yourself.”

Digger nodded but he and the boys just walked slowly across the room and planted themselves on the couch. Digger dug his mickey out and took a drink before passing it along to Timber and Dick. They all stared around in silence while Granite brought two more velvet-covered armchairs from another room. When he was finished, he stood in the middle of the room looking about like it was the first time he’d seen the place too.

“Um, Dick,” he said eventually. “I’ve got a collection of movies here if you’d like to see them. Maybe you can pick one you want to watch.”

He walked over to a closed bookcase and opened the doors.

“Geez,” Dick said. “Them are all movies?”

He got up from the couch and walked over with Timber and Digger right behind him. The three of them stood in front of that bookcase just eyeballing the rows and rows of small cases on the shelves.

“The top shelves are drama. Mysteries are on the third shelf, some comedies and westerns on the fourth, and foreign-language films along the bottom,” Granite said. “Have a look.”

He handed Dick one of the movies and Dick’s face was full of amazement and pleasure. Timber and Digger leaned in and looked at it too.

“Geez,” Dick said. “It looks just like the movie posters outside the theatre. What does it say, Timber?”

“It says,
The Deer Hunter
,” Timber read.

“Wow. That sounds good, huh, Digger?”

“Could be,” Digger replied.

“Here’s one you might like, Digger,” Granite said, handing him a movie case.

“
Requiem for a Heavyweight
,” Digger read. “Fights? Boxing?”

“Yes,” Granite said. “And a really, really great story.”

“What’s a wreck-ee-um?” Dick asked.

“Requiem,” Timber said. “It’s the Catholic service for the dead or a song or poem, I guess, that has the same feeling.”

Granite looked at Timber with a puzzled expression. Timber held the movie case in his hand and tapped it on his palm before looking up and catching Granite’s gaze. They nodded to each other and there were tiny smiles at the corners of their eyes.

“So these are all flicks like we see downtown, Rock?” Digger asked.

“Yes. I buy the ones I want to keep and watch again sometime. They’re like friends, really.”

“Friends?”

“Yes. Someone you’re always eager to see again.”

Digger looked at him steadily and Granite returned the gaze. Then, they nodded at each other, pursing their lips meaningfully.

“Can we try one?” Dick asked.

“Yes. Which one?” Granite asked him.

“Geez. I don’t know. I can’t read ’em. You pick, Digger.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. It’s your day. You choose,” Dick said, smiling at Digger.

“Let’s do the boxing one then.”

Granite busied himself getting the movie ready and the boys settled onto the couch. Me, I just sat there and watched them all. They’d settled into a comfortable place with each other and the strangeness seemed to melt away. Movies were our common ground and we all knew how to be when one was playing, we all knew how to feel when the buildup started inside just before the first flicker of light on the screen. It’s what made us friends. It’s what had brought us all here.

Granite pushed all the buttons and the screen lit up. He had his television connected to a big sound system, and when he adjusted the speaker controls the room was just like a movie house. He crossed the room and drew the drapes across those big windows and the four of us were at home in the movies once again.

“Drinks, guys?” Granite asked.

When he didn’t get an answer from the four amazed faces on the couch, he came over to me.

“Can I get you anything, Amelia?”

I smiled at him. “Maybe a little water. Some juice maybe, if you have it.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Granite?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Thank you anyway.”

He looked at me kindly and went to fetch my water.

J
AMES
M
ERTON
was a lawyer I knew well and trusted. He’d handled the sale of the estate and had advised me through the years on everything from potential libel to investment and real estate matters. I called him from the den while the sounds of
the movie playing carried in, along with several oohs and aahs. We traded banter awhile and then got down to the business of the call.

“You’re kidding me, right?” he asked.

“No. I’m not.” I said.

“Thirteen and a half million dollars?”