Queen's Park

Thursday, August 3
CHAPTER 16

Ernie was caught in the distorted reality of a nightmare.

He blinked.

He remembered the horror of wanting to run but being unable to. He saw the knife’s reflection. He felt the steel across the bridge of his nose. Uncle Bob said, “Don’t make a sound or I’ll cut you!”

He was fully awake and slick with sweat.

“Ernie?”

His door opened.

A silhouette in a nightgown.

“Mom?”

“You okay?” Beth stepped inside the room.

He heard the fear in her voice and saw it in the hesitating way she moved.

Scout nudged his hand with a cold, insistent nose.

“I heard a scream,” Beth said.

“Nightmare,” he said and blinked when she switched on the light.

She said, “You’re so pale!”

“It was a nightmare, Mom.”

“You scared me. That scream. That bloody scream. This has to be the fourth night in a row.”

Ernie shivered.

“Come on.” She gestured for him to follow.

“Where?”

“I’ll make a cup of tea.”

He swung his feet out and onto the floor, keeping the sheet across his lap. “Mom.”

“Oh, I’ll meet you downstairs, then.”

They’d discussed every crisis over a cup of tea. He held the taste of Earl Grey in his mouth, remembering the other times. “Ernie your grandfather has died. Ernie, your father and I are splitting up. Ernie, we’re moving in with Nanny.” Each time they’d sought the warmth of something familiar, something they could share by boiling water.

They sat across from one another at the white plastic table on the deck. Each had a mug in hand and the tea pot in between. Scout curled like a fox around Ernie’s feet. The orange of sunrise was a pale line on the horizon.

“What was the nightmare about?” she said.

“Uncle Bob.” Ernie took a sip, then carefully set the cup down. A flashback would shake the burning liquid out of the china.

“What did he do to you?”

“I’ve already told you everything. Everything I remember!” “I mean, this time.”

“He told me to keep quiet and I screamed. He cut my nose.”

Scout scampered to the end of the deck and cocked her head so she could see around the edge of the house. She growled.

There was the sound of metal sliding over metal as someone worked the gate latch.

Ernie felt his heart beat accelerating, his bowels cramping. “Scout?” a familiar voice whispered.

Ernie forced himself to take a breath.

“Ernesto?” Beth said.

Half of Nonno appeared around the corner of the house.

“Helen said you would be up. She said Ernie and me should go golfing.”

The old man’s hand wiped a thumb under moist eyes.

Goose bumps sprouted along Beth’s arms and back. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Can Ernie go golfing? Please?”

“Ernie, Grab my ankles!” Nonno lay on his belly. The toes of his running shoes stuck into the sloping rough at the edge of the pond.

“What?” Ernie looked left and right down the fairway. The golf course Marshall had threatened to kick them out last month. Something about not using the proper etiquette, which really meant Nonno had been swearing. Nonno had said it was impossible to prove he was swearing because the Marshall couldn’t speak Italian. The two had gotten into an argument. Ernie looked back at the tee and ahead to the green. No other golfers in sight. How did he get himself into these predicaments? At least, he thought, getting up this early meant no one else was around.

“Hurry!”

Ernie took a step toward the edge of the pond where cattails swayed. The soles of Ernie’s running shoes slipped on the dew covered grass and he fell. “Shit!” He’d tried to warn his grandfather that the slope to the pond was too steep. He’d told Nonno to forget the ball embedded in the muddy bank. Now the old man had the golf ball but couldn’t move backwards on the slick grass.

Ernie crawled forward.

“Sonamabitch!” Nonno tried to put his right hand on the edge of the grass. It quivered with fatigue and slipped back into the pond. “Va… ” the remainder of the curse was lost as his head went under water.

Ernie scampered the rest of the way.

The old man’s calve muscles shivered with the strain.

Ernie reached out, locked his hands around Nonno’s ankles and leaned back.

“Whoof!” Nonno took a gulp of air.

The boy grabbed the cuffs of Nonno’s pants and pulled. Ernie held onto one cuff with one hand and reached out with the other to dig his fingers into the rough. Ernie pulled, dug and pulled until his right arm cramped. By that time it was easier to pull the old man who was like a seal being dragged over the ice in some Inuit documentary.

Nonno rolled onto his side and spat a mouthful of muddy water. There was more mud in his nostrils. He smeared the black across his cheek. He opened his hand, a muddy paw, revealing the orange pearl within.

Ernie laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Nonno picked mud out of his nose.

Ernie put his hands around his belly. He imagined the old man’s nose cutting a furrow in the grass. A plow, with a woman behind, skirts billowing, dropped seeds into the furrow and folded the soil over with her toe. Ernie felt the tears rolling out of the corners of his eyes.

“What you laughin’ at?”

Ernie pointed at the shadow trail his grandfather’s body had painted in the silver tipped grass.

“I got the ball.” Nonno rose to his feet in stages. He looked toward Nonna sitting in the golf cart. “I know the boy needs me.”

“Okay.” Ernie rolled to his feet.

“I know, you say I’ve only got a little time left.” He stuffed the ball into the pocket of his trousers and bent to wipe his hands on the grass.

“What do you mean?” Ernie looked at his grandfather and then at Nonna. This is nuts, he thought.

Nonno’s eyes were deep in their sockets; a pair of brown buttons melted into waxy flesh. He stepped closer and Ernie felt the back of his grandfather’s hand on his cheek. The old man embraced him. Ernie caught the ever present scent of wine.

“She says I’m out of time.” Nonno nodded in the doll’s direction.

“Out of time?” Ernie fought his way out of the old man’s arms.

“That is the life.” Nonno shrugged.

Ernie looked at the doll. A breeze pushed strands of blond hair into her ever open eyes.

Nonno climbed in behind the steering wheel and patted Nonna’s knee. He smiled at her and turned to the boy. “Pick up your club.”

Ernie bent and gripped the driver. “How could she know what’s going to happen?” He slid the club into the bag at the back of the cart then perched on the rear bumper.

“One more hole and we’re finished,” Nonno said.

Ernie absorbed the acceleration with his arms and legs.

The cart’s motor whirred.

Nonno turned right.

“Hey!” Ernie leaned and held on.

Another cart slipped out of the bushes about five meters ahead. MARSHALL was written in red letters, low down, across the Plexiglas windscreen. The driver wore a white hard hat, white golf shirt and a cigar. Smoke puffed out the side of his mouth.

Nonno stamped his foot down on the accelerator. “Hold on, Ernie!”

The Marshall pulled the cigar out of his mouth. “Stop!”

Ernie’s knees absorbed another bump in the fairway. The clubs rattled and bounced. He looked over his left shoulder and saw the Marshall turning to follow.

“Hey!” the Marshall said.

“We’ll skip the last hole!” Nonno said.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ernie said.

Nonno glanced over his shoulder. “Always wanted to do this ever since he called me a stupid wop!” Nonno grinned as he took his left hand off the wheel to shake his fist. The cart veered right. Nonno straightened out and said to Nonna, “I’ve been waiting a long time to get even!”

Ernie looked over his shoulder as they climbed the fairway to the clubhouse at the ninth hole. The cart gradually lost speed. The Marshall was less than six meters behind. “He’s catching up to us!”

“What’s he gonna do, ban me from golfing for life?” Nonno roared with laughter and looked at Nonna. “Now, Ernie’s never gonna forget our last day together. Perfect!”

They skirted the ninth hole and accelerated along the paved path leading to the clubhouse. Nonno hit the brakes.

The Marshall pulled alongside. The tip of his cigar glowed. He swung his legs out of the cart to stand staring at Ernesto who walked around the front of his machine. The Marshall pulled the cigar from his mouth and said, “Only two golfers to a cart!”

“Grab the clubs, Ernie.” Nonno stepped between Nonna and the Marshall.

Ernie eased the bags out of their carriers.

“If you wanna golf on this course, you gotta obey the rules!” The Marshall pointed his cigar at Ernesto.

Nonno turned his back to the man, lifted the doll over his shoulder. A puff of wind lifted the doll’s dress revealing her perfect, naked backside.

“She’s a doll!” the Marshall said.

Nonno pulled the hem of the dress down over the backs of her knees. “Come on Ernie, we gotta go to the mall. Your grandmother needs underwear.”