Unravelling
Page 23
The young man jumps to his feet, propelled by his own fury. “What about what she’s done? When’s she going to pay for that?”
“Don’t drag a sick old woman into your sad little conspiracy theories.”
“You tell me the truth, then. I’m sure you know what she did.”
Todd shakes his head in disgust. “Do you know what my wife would say to you if she could?”
“What?”
“She’d tell you that some people like to play the hero, some people like to assign blame and others actually get things done.”
After a minute or two of watching them posturing, Vivian can’t remember why they are arguing. Her husband and the young man. He’s such a nice young man. Charming. Well-dressed. Well-spoken. He looks a lot like someone she used to know.
She smiles at him, the young man. He would make an excellent mayor. “We should talk. We can make that happen.”
She winks at Todd, who frowns. Perhaps he’s jealous. The young man is very handsome.
“We have big plans for this town,” she says. “It’ll come back. It always does.”
Vivian closes her eyes and dreams it. Dreams the future she has spent so long planning. She has come up with a solution to all of Stapleton’s problems. It is nothing short of a stroke of genius. You won’t even be able to see the trash. These days they build it up into grassy hills, everything hidden underneath. Just like Stapleton. They’ll use the old mill site. Hide the contamination. Vancouver’s waste needs to go somewhere.
Todd helps her out of her chair and takes her away from that dark place. She doesn’t look at them as she leaves, Frank and the widow. She doesn’t want to see their faces and she doesn’t have to. They can’t make her look anywhere, anymore.
Todd drives her home. He slips her shoes off and removes her thick cardigan. It’s too warm in here, he should turn down the heating. He leads her to the nearest chair and lowers her gently into it. As she sits, she realizes things aren’t right. Father is not hanging over the mantelpiece. There is no mantelpiece. In front of her is a large television and beside her are white-haired people she doesn’t know. Why has he brought her here? She tries to get up, but she hasn’t the strength. He puts his hand on her shoulder, reassuring her. “It’s alright, Vivian ...”
He sits beside her as a nurse comes over. “Time for your medication,” she says cheerfully. Todd squeezes her hand as she stares at the tiny yellow pills. She looks at him, and he nods gentle encouragement. The day has shaken her; the anxiety pulsing from her chest has subdued her desire to fight. She gulps the pills down with water so they don’t stick in her throat.
She is very tired now. Todd is sitting beside her and they are watching television. She should get on with her knitting. Doesn’t she have some knitting to do? She turns to ask him about it but he has picked up the remote and turned up the volume.
The TV screen is full of tiny yellow pills. Dropping out of a chute into medicine bottles. “Breaking news” the ticker reads. Female news reporter in a fitted red suit. She’s talking.
“GBA Pharma has admitted that its dementia drug Cefegana not only increases the speed at which dementia takes hold but can also trigger a range of other side effects, from nausea and frequent nosebleeds to increasingly erratic behaviour and heart failure. The company only yesterday defended its claims that the drug delayed the spread of the disease and increased periods of lucidity for most dementia sufferers.”
Nose bleeds. She gets nose bleeds. It’s the dry air. She should ask Todd if he gets them. She turns to him. He’s busy at the moment, watching something on the TV. She tries to focus on the woman in the red suit. The reporter talks quickly and is difficult to follow.
“GBA Pharma CEO Zac Fuentes has stepped down amid allegations of corruption. The government announced today it is launching an inquiry into the shortcuts the company took during the research and manufacturing process for the drug, allegedly in an attempt to boost profits. Fuentes claims the shortcuts were designed to make life-changing medication available to dementia patients as quickly as possible.”
Todd cannot seem to remove his eyes from the screen. The little yellow pills pop up again. She has seen those before. Ads follow; for sunscreen, fast food and more pills. Then a family discusses something animatedly in their kitchen while the husband makes pancakes. Every few seconds there’s laughter, though not from the family. No one on the screen is laughing. Vivian quickly loses interest in the nonsense.
She looks down at Todd’s hand, tightly holding hers. He’s worried about something, she can tell. “Come into the garden with me,” she says. “I want to look at the flowers.” His eyes are watering and he’s pressing his handkerchief into them. He helps her up and walks her over to the window where they gaze at the blaze of colours. He has planted tulips. They look so pretty, blooming in pots on the patio. It’s getting dark now. Perhaps they’ll go out and admire them tomorrow.
Acknowledgements
I have been writing stories ever since I can remember. They weren’t always very good. Thank you to my first readers who persevered and encouraged me: Elaine, Duncan and Patrick Boxwell, Diane Diggle and Michelle Riches. Thank you also to David Keppel-Jones and Nina Johnson for their expert opinions, and to Steve and Hilda Hummel for their support, especially during the final stages of this process.
David Bergen’s mentorship as part of the Humber School for Writers’ Creative Writing Correspondence Program was invaluable in developing a first draft. Thank you to my editor, Lindsay Brown, and the team at Guernica Editions for taking my manuscript and turning it into a novel.
Finally, thank you to my partner, Erica Hummel, for bringing me to the little corner of British Columbia that inspired this book.
About the Author
Josephine Boxwell writes fiction and creative nonfiction. Her work has appeared in several magazines and anthologies. Originally from the UK, Josephine lived in Ontario and British Columbia prior to a recent move to Alberta. This is her first novel.
josephineboxwell.com
Instagram: @joboxwellwrites