A Complicated Kindness

twenty-seven

I was in four places last night. The Kyro Motor Inn and the hospital and the Silver Bullet and the blue field out behind the dump. It was like being in the middle of the ocean because the sun was just coming up and making the dew on it sparkle and seagulls from the dump were flying around and making a little noise so when I sat on the hood of the car it was like being on the deck of a cruise ship and I could see water for miles and miles and miles. I had this strange feeling.

It was the same feeling you get when you’ve spent a lot of time with a friend or relatives or someone and you’re kind of sick of them and want to be alone again but then the time comes for them to leave and suddenly more than anything you don’t want them to go and you act really nice again and run around doing things for them but you know that time is running out and then when they’re gone you’re kind of relieved but also sad that you hadn’t been a better friend and you tell yourself next time for sure I’ll be a better friend. And you kind of want to call them up and apologize for being a jerk but at the same time you don’t want to start something stupid and you hope the feeling will just go away and that nobody hates you.

Just an hour or so before I sat down on the car hood, I was in the hospital looking for Lids, but she wasn’t in her room and her stuff wasn’t either and I wondered if maybe the Rapture had happened and I wandered up and down the halls looking for a nurse or somebody who could tell me where my friend was and then I spotted the orderly guy Lids and I had known from school, the one who’d wiped up the apple juice I’d thrown, and I went up to him and asked him if he knew where Lids was and he said she’d been moved to Eden.

What? I said. What?

Eden, he said.

What the hell is Eden? I whispered. I’d started whispering for some reason. It’s that place, you know, on the other side of the river, a few miles from here…was he being cryptic?

Eden, I said. She’s gone to Eden? He nodded.

I’m not sure, he said, but I think her parents gave Dr. Hunter permission to…He touched his head with all ten of his fingers and said zzzzzzz.

I don’t know what you’re…I said.

Shock therapy, he said. So she can judge things better, like…better judgment. I don’t know, he added. All I know is she went to Eden, that mental institute out…somewhere west of here. He had to go swab a patch of corridor.

I walked back towards the front door of the hospital and a nurse behind the counter asked me if there was something she could help me with. I walked up to the counter and whispered that I thought I was dying and she asked me how old I was and I said sixteen and she said that was silly, I was as healthy as an ox.

Is there nothing you can do? I’d asked. I remember attempting to roll a joint right there in the hospital, trying to get my stupid papers out of the cardboard thing and not being able to. I kept tearing them, one by one, going shit, shit, shit.

What seems to be the problem she asked me and I said it seems my face is the problem. I get these face aches. I get so aahhhh…I just want to, you know, rip my head off, or just, shit, shit, shit, like fuckin’ annihilate…everything. I don’t know. I mean, not annihilate but…These papers are driving me…ohhh. I mean I wonder if some kind of painkiller, like Aspirin, or morphine, or…surgery. I don’t know. An X-ray. But I think I’m gonna die, you know? Did you hear me? I feel that way. I feel halfway there.

You’re sixteen, she said, that’s a wonderful time in a girl’s life. Go home and make yourself a cup of tea and try to relax.

Yeah? I said.

Yes, she said, just lie down on your bed and close your eyes.

But I do so much of that and it doesn’t…okay I will, I said. If I still have a bed. The furniture keeps. Can I…I pointed at some files behind her head. Do you have sample kits or you know…sample…no? Okay, you said tea, right? And lying down, closing my eyes. Sorry, but did you just say the world is my oyster? She nodded. Okay, thank you. I’m sorry for bothering you so late at night and stuff, you don’t have any matches on you, do you? Mine keep…I think…it’s pretty windy outside now, isn’t it? I mean, do you know where Eden is?

She shook her head and began to type something.

So then I went to the blue field and sat in the dark watching the car lighter pop out about a hundred times and holding it close to my hands for warmth. I slept…that long sleep I was talking about…and woke up on a cruise ship.

But before that, before the hospital and the field, sometime, I set a truck on fire in the parking lot of the Kyro Motor Inn, parked hastily outside room number six. They must have found a sitter for the Cabbage Patch doll. It was just a tiny corner of a rolled-up carpet sticking out of the end of the truck, but it went poof, fireball, really fast.

I drove off and picked up a Mountain Dew and rolling papers at the Mac’s and Gloria asked me what I was still doing in town. I’m…I don’t know, I said.

I thought you were leaving for the city, she said.

I am, I said. I mean I can’t really.

But I thought you’d already gone. You came and said goodbye, right?

Yeah, but…I just…I wanted this, I said, pointing at the can of pop. So…thanks. I’m sorry for saying goodbye and not leaving. She said it was okay.

Did you cut your hair for the summer? she asked.

Yeah, I said. I mean no. But I like it, she said. I said thanks and just stood there with my head tilted way over so it was almost resting on my shoulder as though my shoulder was somebody else’s shoulder or should have been.

What were those rules again? I asked her.

No hugging and no picking flowers, she said. Yeaaaahhhhh, I said. I wanted to hang out with her until her shift was over and then we’d go back to her rec room and feed the fish and listen to some records and trade clothes and watch TV. But another customer came in and I slowly swivelled around to stare at him like he had no fucking business walking into that store and then Gloria had to find some mayonnaise for him so I eventually straightened my head and walked out.

I walked all the way to my grandma’s old house and knocked on the door. I didn’t know what I would say to whoever opened it. I thought of: Hello, I’m sorry to bother you. But that might have left an awkward and ambiguous silence if I had nothing further prepared. Nobody answered my knock so I opened the door and went inside and up the stairs to the little bedroom with the slanted ceiling that had belonged to Trudie when she was a kid. There was a messy bed in it and a wooden crate and a yellow dresser and a bookshelf with what seemed like a thousand Hardy Boys books. Little piles of clothes on the floor. A few posters of hockey players and one of Jesus.

I lay down on the floor and closed my eyes and tried to imagine Trudie dreaming of musicals in the city. I saw her flying through the air, catapulted from my cousin’s motorcycle, Tash and me screaming in the grass.

My hand accidentally grazed the small flannel pant leg of a pair of pyjamas. What is my problem, I whispered. I got up to leave and noticed a small class picture on the boy’s bookshelf. I wondered which one he was, if I could find clothing in his bedroom that would match his outfit in the photo, and then I saw Ray, standing proud and tall, smiling, at the end of the back row. Mr. Nickel, Grade Six Teacher. The kid beside him was looking up at him with a sidelong glance and laughing. No doubt Ray had made a cheesy crack seconds before the shutterbug had snapped the shot. For a minute I stared at the picture and considered taking it with me.

I took the cornfield path behind the cemetery to The Golden Comb’s place because I thought there’d be a chance I would get lost. I passed a wooden sign that said SLOW: HORSE CROSSING and for a second I thought hey Travis would like that for his room. And then I thought oh, right. And suddenly it seemed that the very best experience the world had to offer me was in Travis’s room, lying face down on the cool concrete, listening to him play “Fire and Rain” or anything at all on his guitar, maybe lifting my head slightly, smiling, saying wow, crazy. Or maybe not saying anything, just taking his hand and putting it on my heart, and he would know everything there was to know about me.

The Comb opened his screen door. Eldon was in the living room playing air guitar with The Kinks and I smiled and held out my hands.

I’m broke, I said. The Comb nodded slowly and asked me why I was there then.

I don’t know, I said. He gave me one of his cigarettes and I handed him my can of Mountain Dew. He said it was okay, I could keep it. I sat down on the floor by his front door and held the can against my cheek.

Tired? asked The Comb.

No, no…I said.

Watch out, he said. Your hair’s gonna…I moved the cigarette away from my head and nodded.

Thank you, I said. My favourite song was starting but Eldon took it off and put on The Commodores and started slow-dancing with himself. The Comb sat down beside me on the floor.

Hi, I said. You like sitting too? He said yeah and then he kissed my shoulder really softly and I put my head back and closed my eyes. Don’t cry, he said. C’mon now, don’t cry. He kissed me some more and while he was doing that he took something out of his pocket and put it in mine and then he stood up and held out his hand and I took it and he put my cigarette into a plant and we went into his bedroom and closed the door.

I woke up on the hood of the car in the middle of a pretty blue field. The Comb told me I gave it up real sweet, and I said oh my God, the car, I forgot it at the Mac’s. He gave me a ride to my car and said check your pocket. The key was still in the ignition and I got in and drove around for a long time trying to find something good on the radio and a place to get high, so I guess that’s where I ended up. I still had my can of Mountain Dew but it was empty. It was clear to me I’d found myself a home. I could live in the car, walk into town for supplies. I could pick up American radio stations that sometimes played real music late at night. I’d sleep during the day. Get a night job doing…something. I’d have my dad over for dinner and we could eat sitting on the hood of the car watching the sun drown and then throw the leftovers of our dinner overboard to the seagulls. I was thinking about that when Jesus Christ came walking across the water in a suit and tie carrying two cardboard cups of takeout coffee.

He put the cups down on the hood and took off his jacket and put it around my shoulders. The shiny smooth lining felt nice on my bare skin. Then he reached around and took two muffins out of the inside pocket where he always kept his church bulletin, folded twice, like he was planning to kill flies with it later on.

We’re on M, right? he said.

No, I said, N. It’s the next day.

I don’t have anything starting with N, he said.

I stared at the muffin.

Is that a nut? I asked.

It’s a nut muffin, he agreed.

I’m not looking forward to tomorrow, I said.

No, he agreed again. We did some staring off into the distance.

But Nomi, he said. There is the flip side to that.

The dump looks like an island, doesn’t it? I said. A clean island. I mean, it’s super tidy. You’re the world’s best dump cleaner.

We’re cleaning up the banks of the Rat today, he said.

Who is? I asked.

My students and I.

I looked at him. Yeah? I said. He puckered his lips and nodded slowly like the dipping bird I bought him.

Did you know that fear is something you can actually smell? I asked. The sun was sparkling off his head. He took off his glasses and breathed on them and then wiped them off with a handkerchief that he struggled for about five minutes to get out of his pocket because of his sitting position. He held them up, squinted at them, put them back on and stared at me. A clearer me.

Is that better? I asked. How many fingers? I held up three.

That’s for unconsciousness, he said.

We sat quietly, listening.

You can do anything, he said. I knew it wasn’t true. I knew he was saying, really, that he felt as though he could do nothing for me any more. But that also wasn’t true.

What’s the flip side, Dad? I asked him.

To what? he asked.

Before, I said, you said there was a flip side to not looking forward to tomorrow.

Oh, he said. Faith.

Faith is the flip side? I asked.

I think it is, he said. That tomorrow will be better. That sounds simplistic to you, doesn’t it? he asked.

Yeah, I said. It does kind of.

Well, he said, there you go. I think my dad might have been giving me a triggering point, but I’m not sure.

The Mouth and his silent wife came to our place for coffee and he spoke loudly, in echoes. Or maybe it just sounded that way because our house was empty and could barely absorb anything louder than a whisper. They stood in the front entrance next to my dad’s shoes and notes and my dad and I sat on the kitchen counter, on either side of the sink, listening.

It’s been determined, said The Mouth.

What has? asked my dad.

Nomi’s excommunication, said The Mouth.

I looked at him and whispered yikes, shit.

Based on what criteria? asked my dad.

Lack of attendance, said The Mouth. And other various…we can’t have church members setting fires…and…He glanced at me briefly. I hadn’t changed out of my cut-offs and bikini top. I was still wearing my police boots and I had streaks of dirt all over my legs. I smiled and nodded.

We understand, said my dad.

You know, said The Mouth. He cleared his throat. Some of your neighbours are wondering what’s going on, just in terms of…there’s a cross in your backyard, and your front window…it’s shattered, isn’t it?

Yes, said my dad. I nodded. And…The Mouth looked around and shook his head. You have no furniture?

We’re…said my dad. He looked at me.

We’re cleaning up, I said. My dad nodded.

I see, said The Mouth. He smiled sympathetically.

Rather thoroughly, he said. I’m sorry Nomi.

Oh, that’s okay, I said. I’m…there’s…no, no. I waved my hand around. I smiled at my Aunt Gonad. The corners of her lips twitched slightly, like she was involuntarily coming to.

More coffee? I asked. The Mouth said no, they had to attend a ribbon-cutting event in honour of the new blade on the windmill at the village museum.

Oh, said my dad, that was quick.

Yes, said The Mouth, we’re thrilled.

I can imagine, said my dad. Let’s hope lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place, he said.

That’s right, said The Mouth. The windmill adds so much to the tourist’s experience of genuinely understanding how we once lived.

Exactly, said my dad. I nodded.

Those were the days, I said. I turned the tap on.

Water? I asked.

No thank you, said The Mouth.

I leaned over and drank from the tap. I stayed there, eventually soaking my entire head, until I heard the front door open and close.

And all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags, and we all do fade as a leaf and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away. That was my dad speaking. Intoning morbidly.

Is that a verse? I asked. Or did you just…I waved my arms around in the air.

Nomi, would I just…he imitated me, waving his arms. It’s a verse. I shook my head and got some drops of water on his glasses.

Sorry, I said.

Not at all, he said. I’d given him another opportunity to clean them.

Here, said my dad. He handed me a tablecloth to dry my hair and wipe my makeup off.

So what’s…your lung capacity? I asked.

Oh that, he said. Your face is grey now, he said. From rubbing your makeup. I looked at my reflection in the fat blade of our only remaining knife. I found a clean corner on the tablecloth and rubbed some more.

Should we…I’ll cook something delicious tonight. I’ve got a new system.

He nodded. Systems are good, he said. One needs a system of some sort.

And laundry, I said. Where are we at? I’ll get that done tonight, don’t worry. I thought about laundry. I ran downstairs and checked to make sure we had a washer and a dryer. When I came back up my dad was putting on his shoes.

May I? he asked. He held his hand out. I took the car keys out of my pocket and gave them to him. I thought he might have wanted to say something else because he stopped at the door and turned around to look at me.

Forget something? I asked. His glasses were very clean. Our eyes met and seemed to fuse, briefly, and then he left.

I pulled the tablecloth over my face and walked to my room without bumping into a thing because there was nothing to bump into, except something big and hard in the middle of my room. I took the tablecloth off my head and saw my French horn. I sat on my bed and took it out of its case. I blew into it a few times. I turned to face Christina’s World and blew as hard as I could. FUCK YOUUUUUUUU! she said. I opened my eyes and stared at myself in my dresser mirror. He was right. My face was grey. My head was bristly now. I held the French horn to my mouth. That’s better, I thought. Brass obliterated my face. I opened my case and found some of my old band music. And then I packed it all back up and took it with me to Abe’s Hill.

I sat in the toboggan hut and propped up my lighter on the bench next to the sheet of music so I could almost see the notes and taught myself how to play “All Through the Night.” I liked the way the flame lit up the gold shiny metal of the horn. I stared at the lights of the city. And then I plowed my way through it over and over and over until it became not beautiful, but in a way almost bearable.

I imagined Tash lying in her bed with her window open thinking hey, that’s Nomi on her French horn, the most beautiful instrument in the world when played properly. I tried to smoke a Sweet Cap afterwards but my lips were too numb to hold on properly so I just held it between my fingers and watched it burn away.