“It’s okay,” Irwin tells her. “We’re going to fix it.”
“I’m going to get rabies and die. It happened to a raccoon in our backyard.”
“You’re not going to get rabies and die.”
“How do you know? You don’t know anything. I want Mummy.”
“If we tell Mummy where we were and why you got bit, she’s not going to like it.”
This makes Heike sob even more, and he wishes he could free her of her suffering, absorb it like his own. Physical pain he can endure, watching Heike suffer he cannot. “It’s going to be all right.”
“You don’t know anything.”
Forbes sits on the couch and places his hand on the towel. “I’ll keep the pressure on it. Go get the basin from under the kitchen sink, fill it with warm water and grab a clean face cloth and a bar of soap.”
“I’m going to get rabies and die.”
“No you’re not, ace, but you’ve got to steer clear of dogs. They’re animals with big jaws and sharp teeth. You’re lucky he didn’t go for your face. Dogs aren’t cuddly toys.”
Irwin returns with the basin. Forbes slides the towel under Heike’s leg, lathers the soap into the cloth and gently wipes off the blood, revealing puncture wounds and bruising. “What’d you get in a dog fight for anyway?”
“I didn’t get into anything.”
“She was processing an SOC.”
“Which one?”
“The basement stabbing in the apartment building.”
“Oh now that’s a good place to hang out.”
“We weren’t hanging out,” Heike insists. “The murder victim deserves a proper investigation.”
“Yeah, but don’t you need backup when you’re dealing with basements and dogs and stabbings?”
“Irwin was with me.”
“I mean backup with guns and Tasers. Police stuff. You’ve heard of them. You dial 911 and they show up with all kinds of cool equipment.”
“She thinks LEOs are useless,” Irwin says because Heike isn’t saying anything. She’s staring wide-eyed at the tooth marks.
“I always thought dogs were my friends,” she whimpers.
This is the beginning, Irwin thinks, of the end. He remembers this, when he became afraid after Harriet fell. When the world became shadowy and threatening and nothing—and no one—could be trusted. “Most dogs still are your friend,” he says. “You just surprised that dog. You were in his territory and he was defending it.”
“Why didn’t he bite you then?”
This is a good question. Irwin was closer to the dog. Maybe the dog knew that Irwin wasn’t a threat, just a big booby. “I don’t think I scared him.”
“I didn’t scare him. I didn’t even see him till he bit me.”
“Their muscle fibres fire about a thousand times faster than ours,” Forbes explains. “So if they decide to bite us, we don’t stand a chance. What kind of dog was it?”
“I don’t know,” Irwin says. “Big.”
“Do you know the owner?”
“No.”
“You better ask him if the dog’s up to date on vaccinations.”
“I’m going to get rabies and die!” Heike howls.
“Take it easy, ace. It’s just a precaution. Most people make sure their dogs get all their shots.”
Irwin can’t imagine the moustached man with tattoos and Indian braids making sure his dog gets all his shots. Vets are expensive. Mrs. Schidt continually complains about vet bills. “I’ll go ask him.”
“You can’t do that!” Heike shrieks. “He’ll kill you. He’s mean.”
Irwin fears, if the dog hasn’t been vaccinated, Heike will require a rabies shot. Uma doesn’t believe in vaccines. Heike has never been jabbed by a needle. The thought of her body being violated in this way pitches him into gasping darkness.
“I’m going,” he says.
“Don’t go!” she screams. “You can’t go! Don’t let him go!”
“We need to find this out, ace.”
Irwin can still hear her cries as the elevator doors close behind him.
Twenty-five
His legs feel numb, like his gums when Dr. Du freezes them. He drags them into the apartment building and knocks on the door. The dog barks and Irwin knows he’s going to lunge at his face, and that he mustn’t jerk away because the dog’s fangs will tear through his flesh. When no one answers, he knocks again. He can hear the TV, and the bass beat from a stereo continues to pound through the building. He knocks harder. The moustached man swings the door open with the dog drooling at his heels. “I told you, you freak, you were trespassing and she provoked him.”
“I agree.” Irwin hopes he can be heard because he can hardly hear himself.
“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to know if your dog is up to date on his shots.”
The man starts to laugh as though Irwin has told a really funny joke. His shoulders shake and his gut jiggles. Irwin rarely makes people laugh and shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.
A straw-haired woman with a cigarette pinched between her lips peers over the man’s shoulder. “Who’s this?”
“It’s the kid who was with the girl that threatened Toto.”
“She didn’t threaten him,” Irwin says.
“He wants to know if Toto’s had all his shots.” He turns his back to Irwin, blocking the woman’s face from view. “Toto’s had all his shots, hasn’t he, honey?”
“Fuck yeah,” the woman says. “He was at the vet’s just last week getting shot up.”
This makes the man laugh even harder as he slams the door in Irwin’s face.
Back at Forbes’ apartment, Heike is eating chocolate chip ice cream and asking Forbes if he would rather be killed by a shark or an alligator.
“A gator. Totally. Those jaws take you right out, you don’t even see it coming.”
Heike sucks on her spoon. “Same with sharks.”
“Are you kiddin’ me? Sharks keep tearing pieces off you—first an arm, then a leg. Meanwhile you’re drowning and your blood’s turning the water red, attracting all the other sharks. No thank you.”
Irwin sits on the footstool.
“What’s up, Spidey? What’d they say?”
“They say he got shot up at the vet’s last week.”
“They actually said ‘shot up’?”
“I think they were lying.”
“Why would they lie?” Heike asks.
“Because they don’t want their dog put down.”
“If you report it to the cops,” Forbes says, “they’ll have to show his vaccination record.”
Heike sits up. “No way I’m reporting it. The LEOs will think I compromised a crime scene.”
“Which you did,” Irwin says.
“I did not. I didn’t touch anything.”
“Okay.” Forbes scratches his eyebrow with this thumb. “Ace, you need to go home and tell your mom about this.”
“I’m not telling Mummy anything.”
“How else are you going to explain the dog bite?”
“We’ll just say I scraped my leg.”
Irwin shakes his head. “I’m not lying to your mother.”
As they approach Uma’s house, with Heike limping and Irwin’s brain short circuiting from the stress load, Heike says, “We’ve got to get our stories straight.”
“I’m not lying to your mother.”
“We were in the park and the dog bit me. If you tell her what really happened, she won’t let you babysit me anymore.”
This hadn’t occurred to Irwin. Without Heike—without life itself—he cannot function.
Uma, bent over her rocks, doesn’t notice them right away.
“Hi, Mummy.”
U
ma remains bent over, her buttocks looming large. “Hi, honeybun, can you believe the litter collecting here? The wind blows it down the street into our garden and it catches on the rocks. It’s a disaster.” She stands up, holding empty chip packets and chocolate bar wrappers. When she notices the gauze and sterile tape on Heike’s calf, she drops the garbage and clambers over the rocks to her. “What happened?”
“I got bit by a dog.”
“Oh my god.”
“It’s okay, Mummy. It’s had all its shots. It just wanted to play. We were in the park playing grounders and running and the doggy got all excited and tried to catch me.”
“Oh my god.” Uma crouches down and examines the dressing. “Who did this?”
“Forbes,” Heike explains. “He’s an emergency room nurse. He knows all about dog bites. He even put disinfectant on it that made my skin orange, but it didn’t hurt or anything. What’s for dinner? Can Irwin stay?”
“I’m not staying. It’s Bingo Night.”
“Oh, can I come? Please please please?”
“Heike,” Uma says, “we have to get you to the hospital.”
“No way. It’s all good. Forbes fixed it.”
“I’m sure he did his best but you may need some medication.”
Irwin knows Uma means shots and antibiotics. He has experienced too many of these treatments and the thought of doctors doing them to Heike intensifies the zapping in his brain. He releases her hand in an effort to walk away, but she grabs him around the waist. “I’m not going to the hospital without Irwin.”
“Irwin’s busy. I think you’ve seen quite enough of him for one day.”
“I never see enough of Irwin. He’s my big brother and I hardly ever see him.”
Irwin pushes her away while the big swollen thing inside him crowds his lungs.
“I’m calling a cab,” Uma says, pulling on Heike’s wrists.
“Irwin!”
“I’ll see you tomorrow after camp.”
She starts to cry like a seven-year-old again. He staggers down the street while her sobs grow faint behind him.
At Mr. Shotlander’s—set up for Bingo Night—Mr. Chubak talks about bonobo monkeys on the left bank of the Congo River. He believes if bonobos ruled the world, we wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in. “The females dominate,” he explains, squatting on his three-legged stool from Nepal. “No such thing as alpha males with the bonobos. And the females are fertile all the time so the males don’t kill each other over them. They have sex when they feel like it—it’s communication to them, no big whoop. Sometimes the girls have sex with girls, and the boys with boys. It’s all about giving pleasure. Nothing to do with power. That’s the trouble with humans, everything’s about power. The bonobos couldn’t care less about power. They just want to eat, sleep and have sex.”
“Very sensible,” Mrs. Chipchase says, knitting on the couch.
“Terrific!” Mr. Hoogstra jabs a toothpick into his gums.
“With humans it’s all a pissing contest,” Mr. Shotlander concludes.
Forbes spins the bingo ball cage again and calls out a number and letter. Those with N56 place their markers, but nobody shouts bingo.
Irwin shakily pours pop for the seniors, although Mr. Quigley brought Gatorade along with his skipping rope. He said he missed his workout today and has to skip for twenty minutes to make up for it. “What’s the matter, Irwin?” he asks. “You look beat.”
“I’m all right.” Irwin has been trying to think about other things than what’s happening to Heike in the hospital. Seizing in the park should be foremost in his thoughts as he hasn’t had a seizure for two years. And Gennedy claiming Harry was mentally ill and had a personality disorder. Rufus in 609 is mentally ill and hears voices. When he first moved in, Irwin assumed he had a tiny phone hidden on his person because he was always talking to somebody. Heike once asked him whom he was talking to, and Rufus said loudly, “Bee, this isn’t your hive,” and swatted the air in front of her face. “Buzz off, bee.”
Harriet never heard voices.
The more Irwin tries not to think about what doctors are doing to Heike, the more he sees men in white coats jabbing her with needles and making her cry like a seven-year-old.
“Pass the chips around, Irwin,” Mr. Shotlander urges. Forbes keeps spinning the bingo ball cage and calling out numbers and letters, but nobody says bingo.
Between placing his markers, Mr. Quigley skips rope. “Did you hear about the carjacking attempt?”
Mr. Shotlander scrutinizes his bingo card. “What carjacking attempt?”
“The thief couldn’t drive stick shift. He forces the driver out of the Porsche, gets in and can’t work the clutch. He keeps stalling the car. So the thief gets out and the driver gets back in.”
“Terrific!” Mr. Hoogstra scratches under his captain’s hat.
Irwin pours Mr. Shotlander’s Coke and sits in the fold-out chair beside him. “Do you know anything about organ donation?”
“What about it?” Mr. Shotlander fingers his bingo markers.
“I just wondered if you knew anybody who got one, or gave one.”
“Chubak, who was that fellah got a heart and swore they put it in wrong?”
“Borts. Nice guy till he got that heart.”
“What happened when he got the heart?” Irwin asks.
Mr. Chubak sips Orange Crush. “He was always cussing it. It was like the heart was his arch-enemy.”
“The doc told him he’d had to sew the dang thing in deeper than his old heart,” Mr. Shotlander explains. “That’s why it felt higher.”
“So Borts tracks down the donor family and finds out he got a black woman’s heart.”
“All hell broke loose,” Mr. Shotlander says. “He said if he’d known they were going to put a coloured woman’s heart into him, he would have refused the surgery.”
Mr. Chubak scratches his bald spot. “He was from Alabama, a racist born and bred.”
“He said he could feel it beating wrong and coming unstitched.” Mr. Shotlander drains his Coke, and Irwin pours him another. “He tried to cut it out with a kitchen knife. Remember that, Chubak?”
“Do I ever. There was blood all over the place. They took him away in an ambulance. Poor old Borts. A nice guy till he got that heart.”
“Did he die?” Irwin asks.
“We never heard another peep about him, did we, Shotlander? The next thing you know, the movers showed up. He had two beanbag chairs. I’d never have taken Borts for a beanbag man.”
“Maybe he bought them after he got the coloured woman’s heart,” Mr. Shotlander says.
Irwin associates moving men with death, and dreads seeing their trucks parked out front. Seeing valued possessions transformed into junk distresses him. He avoids the lobby on moving days, sits in the apartment looking at the possessions that will be transformed into junk when he and Lynne are dead. Who will look after Betty and Bob?
“Bingo!” Mr. Quigley hurrahs.
“What the heck?” Mr. Shotlander says. “You’re supposed to be skipping.”
“I’m multitasking.”
Irwin hands the toonies he collected from the seniors for prize money to Mr. Quigley.
“That fellah’s got horseshoes up the yin yang,” Mr. Shotlander grumbles.
Sydney’s on the couch drinking wine again. “Why did you tell your mom what I told you?”
“I didn’t tell her you told me.”
“Gee whiz, I guess she figured it out all by herself.”
“Was she mad?”
“She phoned me at the gym and called me a twat.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Means I can’t trust you.”
Irwin hadn’t realized she’d trusted him. The loss of her trust causes puffs of dejectedness, forcing him to sit on the couch. “Is she making
you move out?”
“Not likely. She’s too desperate for cash. No way am I ever going to let myself get that desperate.” When Sydney gets bombed, she imagines a future much grander than working reception at LA Fitness.
“How are you going to prevent getting that desperate?”
“Careful planning. I’m seeing that programmer again. He’s got connections. It’s all about making the right connections.”
“But you didn’t like him.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like him. I said I was tired of hearing about his dead cat.” She curls her hand around her glass and brings it to her lips. Her eyes are Windex blue tonight. If he could lie down and rest his head on her lap, the oppressive clouds might disperse.
“I want a house with a private drive,” she says. “A friend of mine bought a house with a mutual and it’s, like, total war with his crazy neighbour all day every day.”
“But the programmer lives in a condo.”
“For now. Anyway, who says I’m interested in him? I’m just saying he’s got connections. The problem with your mom is, she’s got, like, nobody. It’s like she’s never figured out how to network.”
Irwin shifts as close as he dares to Sydney. “She was looking after me. She didn’t have time to network.”
“Make excuses for her, junior, if it makes you feel better. The truth is she needs to get her head around the fact that networking isn’t about time, it’s about people skills. Your mom scores minus ninety at people skills.”
“She was nicer before Harriet died.”
“Okay, you know what, junior, it’s time you stopped obsessing over Harriet. For real. I mean, are you going to drag this Harriet thing around for, like, forever? That happened to a friend of mine. Her two-year-old stuck a strawberry soap in his mouth and choked to death. My friend and her husband were watching the Academy Awards and didn’t hear the kid gagging in the bathroom. Usually they closed the door so the toddler couldn’t get in there. But this one time they forgot. So anyway her husband got over it, or through it, or whatever they call it. But Trish just couldn’t. Mourning her baby became, like, her life. Dave took her to Arizona because their shrink said a change of scenery would be good for them. He got totally into the desert Indians and their crafts and history. He was, like, consumed by how fucked over the Indians were by white people. It was all he could talk about. Meanwhile it was driving Trish nuts and interfering with her grieving for Ashton. She started saying his name over and over to Dave so he would grieve too, and showing baby pics on her phone, and reminding Dave of the cute things Ash used to do until Dave was, like, just standing there holding some Indian artifact, and she said, ‘You’ve left us.’ And he said, ‘I can’t stay where you are.’” Sydney tips her head back on the couch. Irwin watches the pulsing artery in her neck. “You don’t want to stay where you are, junior.”
On the Shores of Darkness, There is Light Page 35
