A Boy of Good Breeding

thirteen

Richard? thought Hosea. No. Tobias? No, no. Magnolia? Scarlet? Or just Jane? Emmylou? No, he couldn’t. How about Lorna? She’d hate it. Not another Lorna Garden, she’d groan. Euphemia? Hmmmmm … too bad Summer Feelin’s taken, he thought, and smiled. He was on his way to Gord and Veronica Epp’s place. On the way he’d survey his town and note the progress Knute was making with the flowers, the painters were making with the water tower, and the renovation people with the old feed mill.

It was a beautiful hot mid-June day and Hosea was wearing shorts for the first time that year. He also had on a tomato-red T-shirt with white letters spelling Canada, a woven belt he’d bought at a Native American craft shop in Denver when he’d been trying to impress Lorna at the auctioneers’ convention, white tube socks, and his L.A. Gear runners. And, of course, his hat, Leander’s hat, which was the same shade of beige as his shorts. He looked down at himself, for a second, while driving, and thought he might look like Indiana Jones’s dad. Oh well, he didn’t care. Things were good, only one person too many in his town, a woman who loved him, an almost guaranteed visit from the man who must be his father, a bun in the oven — sorry, he thought, a baby on the way — and, to top it off, he’d lost six and a half pounds.

He drove down First Street and turned left onto Main, towards the feed mill. On the sunny side of the street he saw Knute, who had been taking care of the flowers, suddenly drench herself with the water in her watering can, and the doctor standing beside her wearing cycling shorts and a tight T-shirt and laughing. Hosea smiled. Nothing wrong with that, he thought. He watched as Knute shook her head and sprayed water all over the doctor.

Hosea wiped his brow and rubbed his sweaty hand on his shorts. “Gad, it’s hat,” he said out loud like an American in a sauna somewhere in Texas. Knutie and Bonsoir can’t be having a, a thing, can they? he thought to himself, remembering the young men in the city Lorna hugged and cracked jokes with. If I wasn’t so old, he thought, if I wasn’t Indiana Jones’s pappy, I’d understand. Hosea quickly tugged at his shirt front and dropped his shoulders in an attempt to appear relaxed. No, can’t be, he thought. He knew Max and Knute were a happy couple these days … he’d been hoping Max would leave town again, mysteriously disappear like before, in fact he was sure it would happen, and now … it wasn’t happening. But of course he was happy for Max and Knute and Summer Feelin’, he just, dammit, he just needed Max to leave. He needed somebody to leave, anybody really, he had thought Max would be the natural choice. But S.F. loves him, she knows him now, how could he hope Max would disappear …“Fucking hell!” said Hosea. He looked down at the neatly ironed crease in his shorts and his pale legs and thought about the Prime Minister, about Lorna, Euphemia, his own unborn child, and what a doofus he was. To hope that a child’s father would disappear so that he, an adult, a responsible mayor and soon-to-be father, could have one afternoon with his own dad, alleged dad, not even …“Oh for fuck’s sakes,” Hosea said again. He waved to Knute and then to the doctor who had left Knute standing, soaked, in the sunlight, and was now walking east down Main towards the hospital. And was that, dammit, it was, thought Hosea, it was Bill Quinn trotting along beside the doctor like a self-righteous St. Bernard on a life-saving mountain trek. Hosea slowed down and drove up beside the doctor and the dog.

“Hello there,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get rid of that dog for weeks now, and here he is again …”

“Ah, Hosea,” said the doctor, ignoring his comments, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Hosea stopped his car and the doctor came over and leaned in through Hosea’s open window. “Oh, nice belt,” said the doctor. Hosea was about to say “Thanks, it’s a Native American blah blah blah,” but the doctor said, “So, this is the thing. I’ve had an offer from a big hospital in Indianapolis, it’s a teaching hospital with a good reputation, it’s in a great neighbourhood, it’s altogether a great offer, and the money, of course, is much better, not that that’s your fault or anybody’s, it’s just fact.”

Hosea cleared his throat and nodded, “And?” he said. He smiled and glanced for a second at Bill Quinn, who was lying on the hot sidewalk licking his balls. Bill Quinn lifted his head for a moment, winked at Hosea, and then resumed his position, head bowed and bobbing, back leg sticking straight up in the air.

“And,” said the doctor, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Hmmm,” said Hosea. “I can understand that.” Leave! he thought to himself, Go to Indianapolis! Take Bill Quinn with you!

“I kind of like Algren,” said the doctor. “Especially now that summer is here, it’s an easy place to live, you know, an easy place to practise. I wish I could take on a few more challenges professionally, but then again, that may be overrated. I think people like me here, maybe—”

“Oh no, for sure, Doctor,” said Hosea. “They like you for sure. I know I do …” and he really did, he always had. He admired the doctor’s easy ways and his unfailing professionalism and dedication. And they will in Indianapolis, too, he thought sadly, and happily at the same time. This could be the one. The one to leave and make Algren’s population a perfect fifteen hundred. He could easily get another doctor immediately after July first, or so he hoped. The doctor and Hosea smiled at each other like a couple of kids.

“Thanks, Hosea,” said the doctor. “I like you, too.” He patted Hosea on the shoulder and Hosea smoothed down the front of his Canada T-shirt. He nodded.

“Good,” he said. He looked down at his white tube socks and back up at the doctor’s smiling face. “Good,” he said again, awkwardly patting the hand the doctor had rested on Hosea’s shoulder for the time being. Is this a French thing? he thought. He might kiss me.

“So, anyway,” said the doctor, much to Hosea’s relief, “I don’t know what to do.” A few drops of water fell from the doctor’s hair onto Hosea’s lap. How soon would this happen? thought Hosea, trying to remember what highway you take from Algren to Indianapolis. “At least,” the doctor continued, “I didn’t know what to do until this morning.”

“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.

Dear Knutie, here’s twenty dollars to buy yourself a regular pair of shorts and some nice sandals, for the festivities on the first. Hope you don’t mind.

Regards, Hosea Funk.

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.

“How the hell are you?” asked Marilyn. “Are you in the city?”

“No, I’m at work, in Hosea’s office.”

“You’re working in the office now?”

“No, I’m calling from the office. I have to go and paint a sign.”

“The one in the ditch? The smallest town in the world?”

“In Canada. Yeah.”

Marilyn laughed and said, “Well, you still have the job, that’s a record, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I think so. I think it is, actually.”

“How’s the domestic situation?” she asked.

“Weird. How’s yours?”

“Stupid.”

“I figured. So, hey, do you and Josh want to come out here for Canada Day? There’ll be a little midway and fireworks, Baert might even show up.”

“What? The Prime Minister? Really?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan. It was in the paper a while ago. He promised to visit Canada’s smallest town on the first. And we might be it. I have to wear nice sandals.”

Marilyn was laughing. “Herod’s idea?” she asked.

“Hosea’s. Yeah. I know, I know.”

“You know, I’d like to meet the Prime Minister, I’ve got a couple of questions for him. What’s he gonna do, operate the ferris wheel? He’s pretty ancient, isn’t he?”

“He’ll just walk around, I guess, and check things out, make a speech. You know, the usual.”

They talked for a while and Marilyn told Knute she’d try to make it out on the first, and then Knute had to go and paint the sign. On the way to the ditch she decided to stop in at home and see how things were going. Everything was quiet when she got there. She looked around thinking maybe Max and S.F. would jump out at any second and scare the shit out of her. She looked into Tom’s bedroom and he appeared to be fast asleep. Then she heard some murmuring coming from the basement and she snuck down the stairs as quietly as she could.

“Yeah,” she heard Max say. “I miss you, too. Yeah. Yeah. No, not really.”

He was on the phone. Who does he miss? she wondered. And then she knew. He missed a woman. Some woman she didn’t know. Some woman he had met in Europe or somewhere. She sat on the bottom stair looking at his bare back and listening to him talking to this woman. “No,” he said, “I’m not, either. Yeah, I still do. I love you, too. What? Yeah, sometimes. Summer Feelin’. I know. My old girlfriend. She has blond hair, yeah, she’s four. Five? No, she’s four.”

Yeah, she’s fucking four, Knute thought to herself. Get it straight, asshole.

“Yeah, I broke it,” Max said. “Oh, I fell. Nah.”

“Tell her how you fell!” Knute yelled and she ran for the phone and grabbed it from him and threw it against the wall as hard as she could. Max sat there with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds and then he started yelling.

“What the hell are you doing? Where’d you come from?” That sort of thing and Knute was yelling, “What the hell are you doing, you fucking asshole!” That sort of thing. That sort of very typical thing. She yanked the cord out of the wall and then threw the phone at Max, both of them screaming the whole time. He ducked and the phone knocked over a lamp and the bulb shattered all over the rug. “Where the hell is S.F.?” she yelled. By now she was sobbing and yelling, “I thought I could trust you!” And mixed in with “Where’s S.F.?” and “Who was that?” and “I can’t fucking believe it.” Then back to “I thought I could fucking trust you!” Over and over. Max was trying to get to her, to hold her and calm her down, but his cast hooked onto the phone cord and he fell into the broken light bulb, and he cut his back and started to bleed, and just lay there, saying, “Calm the fuck down, Jesus Christ, calm the fuck down, please. She’s playing in the back, she’s playing in the backyard with Madison. Shut the fuck up and let me talk to you.”

Knute could hear Tom yelling from his bed, “What in the Sam Hill is going on down there? What broke?!”

And then she left. She ran out of the house and out of the town and past the sign she was supposed to be painting and she just kept running down the highway.

“Hello, sweetheart,” said Hosea from his desk. He saw Knute’s note and smiled. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, fat,” said Lorna over the phone. “And green.”

“Fat and green?” asked Hosea.

“Pretty much, yeah. I’m hideous.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I feel hideous,” said Lorna. “How are you?”

“Well, I’m fat, too,” said Hosea. “Fat and white. I’m wearing shorts.”

“Well, it’s hot enough,” said Lorna.

“What are you wearing?” asked Hosea.

“Nothing,” said Lorna.

Hosea smiled. “Really?”

“No,” said Lorna, “I’m wearing shorts, too, with a panel.”

“A panel?” asked Hosea.

“Stretchy stuff in the front, maternity shorts.”

“Oh,” said Hosea, “I should get a pair.”

Lorna laughed. “I don’t really need them yet, I’m just trying them out. How’s the plan?”

Hosea cleared his throat. “Remember when I told you that Veronica Epp had left with her triplets?”

“Yeah,” said Lorna.

“That’s actually a shitty thing,” said Hosea.

“But it brings it down to one person, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah, but it’s shitty for Gord and her other children.”

“I guess it would be,” said Lorna. “But, you know, it might be good for Veronica. Anyway, Hosea, it’s not your fault, you know.”

“I wish I didn’t feel so happy about it.”

“You’re not happy about that,” said Lorna. “About her leaving, specifically. You’re happy that the numbers have gone down enough so that Algren might be the smallest town and you’ll get to meet your dad.”

Lorna was quiet.

“You’re laughing, aren’t you?” asked Hosea.

“No, of course not.”

“Lorna!” said Hosea.

“Well, okay, I am, but c’mon, Hosea, what do you expect?”

Hosea thought for a second. “I don’t know,” he said. He wanted to beg Lorna never to leave him. He wanted her to promise she would never leave him sitting heartbroken on the front step. He wanted her to promise she would never take their baby away from him. “The water tower looks great, though,” he said. “It’s perfect.”

“Is the horse on yet?” asked Lorna.

“Almost. Hey,” he said, remembering the favour he needed to ask of Lorna. “Do you think you could buy one of those backgammon-type briefcases for me and bring it out when you come on the thirtieth?”

All right, okay, thought Hosea as he popped an Emmylou Harris tape into his car deck. That’s taken care of. They’d made arrangements that Lorna would come out on the thirtieth with a bag of clothes and the backgammon briefcase, and after the first they’d move the rest of her stuff into Hosea’s place. Their place. “Huhhhhhhh,” said Hosea, expelling a giant breath of relief. One more’s gotta go. Just one more. I’m happy, thought Hosea. He thought of Gord on his front step. Am I happy or am I sad? he thought. I don’t know which to choose.

He pressed play on his tape deck. Then he changed his mind and pushed the eject button.

Knute ran until she was too tired to run, and then she walked. She thought maybe she’d walk to Winnipeg, to Marilyn’s, or maybe all the way down the Trans-Canada Highway to Vancouver. She walked into the ditch and up to a barbed-wire fence surrounding a field. She lifted the top wire and climbed through the fence and then she walked to a little tuft of bluish long grass in the middle of the dirt and lay down.

Caroline Russo, thought Hosea. Caroline Russo was pregnant with Johnny’s baby. Wild Caroline Russo with the eldorado-coloured lunch kit and the leather flask full of Dr. Pepper. If she and the baby were still alive, they’d be the kind of family that would sail around the world on a homemade boat, and let the kids go naked, and Johnny would have a beard … they’d laugh a lot … Hosea pulled into Johnny’s driveway. Johnny was standing there in his doorway smiling and holding two bottles of beer, like he’d been expecting Hosea. “Am I out?” he asked Hosea.

Hosea smiled. “No, no,” he said. “You’re still in. Soon you’ll be Algren’s new fire chief.”

“Hmmmm,” said Johnny.

“It’s a paid position,” said Hosea. “No more of this volunteering.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Johnny. “Want a beer?”

Johnny and Hosea moved the picnic table into a shady part of the yard and sat down to drink their beer. “I’m glad you stopped by, Hosea,” said Johnny. “’Cause I’m leaving this place day after tomorrow.”

“For how long?” asked Hosea.

“For good. I don’t want to die here.”

“But you’re not that old,” said Hosea.

“I know,” said Johnny. “I don’t want to die here, you know, I don’t want to live here like I’m. Dead I don’t mind dying here, I just don’t want to die. Here do you know what I mean?”

“I think so,” said Hosea. “I didn’t know you hated it here.”

“I don’t,” said Johnny. “I don’t hate. It it’s fine.”

“You might not find another place you like any better,” said Hosea.

“That’s true,” said Johnny. “But I can have a look around anyway and. Besides, I can just keep. Moving I don’t have to stay put in one. Place there’s no reason for me to. Oh, don’t look so. Sad, Hose, it’s a good. Thing I’m excited about moving. On I’m looking forward to it.”

“But what are you going to do while you move around?” asked Hosea. “What about your farm?”

“I’m gonna put out fires,” said Johnny. “There are fires burning out of control all over the. World I’ll get fed, and put up in some place, and I’ll just fight fires all over, until I’ve had. Enough or until my lungs give out.” Hosea stared at Johnny. “And there’ll be other things to do, too, Hosea, don’t. Worry can I tell you something?”

“Yeah,” said Hosea. “Of course.”

“I want to sleep with women,” said Johnny. “Women from all. Over I want to have. Sex, you know? Just a lot of good, happy. Sex I’m tired of Caroline’s memory hanging over. Me I want to remember her, but I don’t want it to stop me from doing stuff anymore.”

Hosea cleared his throat and looked at Johnny gravely. “Do you really think you’ll be happy just moving around and screwing all sorts of women?” At that point both Johnny and Hosea began to laugh.

“Yeah,” said Johnny, “I really do.” Hosea was shaking with laughter now and Johnny could barely speak. “Yeah,” he managed to say, “I think I will be very happy doing that for a while.” Hosea was laughing too hard to say anything but he lifted his beer up to Johnny’s, against the pink sky, and they clanked their bottles together, and he thought he heard Johnny say, “To Caroline.” Or maybe he had said something else entirely and Hosea had only imagined that Johnny had said her name.

Eventually Knute woke up and decided to go home. First she sat in that blue tuft and examined the grass marks on her bare legs and then she wondered is it better to try to understand life or is it better not to? Which makes you happier? She remembered a book of Dory’s that said the mystery of life is one with the clarity and she thought, Yeah, okay, makes sense. Fighting and anger don’t necessarily drive a person away. And love and friendship don’t necessarily keep a person from going away. She had S.F. but she was losing Max. She knew she would in the end. She just knew it.