“Did you think it through?”
“Don’t underestimate me, Mother.”
“But did you think about the gas? Your car—”
“It’s not my car.”
“Cars need gasoline to operate.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Well, how much do you have?”
“The tank is almost full.”
“Is? Or was?”
“Was.”
“How long ago was that?”
“About three hours.”
“And how long can you go on a full tank?”
“I’ve done the math.”
“How long?”
“Six and a half hours.”
Margaret turned in her seat, away from her daughter, her eyes focusing on the drops of rain hitting her window rather than on the scenery. “When your car—”
“It’s not my car.”
“When this car runs out of gas,” Margaret continued, turning again to stare at her daughter, “I will get out and make my way back to my hotel. If you try to stop me, I will punch and kick and bite and scratch. If you continue to try, I will explain to those around me that this strange, green-skinned woman has kidnapped me.”
“You’re green too.”
“Not like you. I’ve been out of the water so long that my green has faded to almost nothing. I bet you still scare people.”
Aby looked in the rear-view mirror.
“I’ll tell them you drugged me and took me from my home. You will be prosecuted by their law and confined to a very small box, where you will spend the rest of your life unwatered. You will die, on land, with air in your lungs. Do you understand this?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know that I will do this?”
“I do.”
“Will you turn around now?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so,” Margaret said.
The rain continued to fall. The windshield wipers seemed loud. Aby’s grip on the steering wheel was very tight. She had discovered one thing she did not like to do in water, and that was drive in it. The rain seemed to be falling more heavily with every kilometre. Aby had to pay close attention to the road, although she continued to steal glances at her mother.
Margaret leaned forward and extended her index finger to the windshield. Starting in the upper right corner, Margaret traced the crack. When she reached its origin in the centre, she turned towards her daughter, but kept her left fingertip pressed against the glass.
“This is the part of you I’ve always liked best. I like you bold. I like your stubbornness. You certainly didn’t get it from Pabbi,” Margaret said. Looking down, she noticed for the first time that there were several bottles of water at her feet. Aby had put them there for her, knowing her mother would be thirsty when she woke up. Opening one of the bottles with her teeth, Margaret pulled three-quarters of its contents into her lungs. Tilting her head back, she pushed the water out of her mouth and through her gills. Making a fountain of herself, Margaret let the water land on her face and eyes and spill down the back of her neck.
“This is what we’ll do,” Margaret said. “You may keep travelling east. From now until your car runs out of gas, I will listen and you will try to persuade me. You can use any argument you want. I will keep an open mind. Should you succeed, I will willingly return to the water.”
Aby turned and studied her mother’s face. Her mother was not lying. The deal Margaret was offering was much more than Aby could have hoped for. She knew that her mother, working within the limits of her personality, was being more than reasonable. Aby looked at the fuel gauge; the needle was just below the halfway point.
35
Zimmer’s favourite pastime
Zimmer studied all seventeen video monitors until he was sure he was alone in E.Z. Self Storage. He looked at his watch—7:05 a.m. It was rare for anyone to come in this early. Reaching into his right pocket, he pulled out his large set of keys. He flipped through them until he found the one he was looking for: a silver key, slightly smaller and thinner than the rest.
Holding it between the thumb and index finger of his right hand, Zimmer left his office and walked to the first floor of the storage units. Extending the index finger of his left hand, Zimmer tapped each lock as he passed it, leaving a hallway of swinging locks behind him. At the end of the hall he got into the elevator and took it to the third floor. He walked directly to unit #387 and used the silver key to open the padlock.
Once inside, Zimmer began to open boxes. He opened one that was full of winter clothes and wrapped six scarves around his neck. In another box was a cowboy hat, which Zimmer put on his head. He opened boxes filled with antiquated kitchen appliances, textbooks with uncracked spines and children’s toys. Then he found ski boots and a pair of cross-country skis in a tall bag and put them on. He clumped down the hallway and back.
Zimmer took off the skis and boots and stepped back into the storage unit. He removed the scarves, the cowboy hat. He put everything back exactly as he’d found it. Leaving the unit, Zimmer looked over his shoulder to make sure he’d gotten everything just right. Satisfied, he turned off the light and locked the door.
Taking the stairs down to the second floor, he found that he was unable to resist stopping at unit #207. He already had the slightly smaller, thinner key between his thumb and forefinger when he saw that the lock was missing. Quickly, Zimmer pulled open the door of unit #207 and discovered that it was empty.
36
The symptoms
Having not yet eaten breakfast, Rebecca peeled three bananas and sliced them on the table. When she opened the refrigerator to get milk, she saw a carton of eggs. Taking out two, she set them on the table and opened the cupboard to get a bowl. Inside the cupboard she saw granola. After pouring the granola into the bowl meant for the eggs, Rebecca returned to the refrigerator and saw a tub of yogurt. With the yogurt in her hand, she turned back to the table and froze, unable to decide if she should add it to the sliced bananas or the granola.
The plastic yogurt container in her hand began to sweat. Rebecca remained where she was, the refrigerator humming behind her. She saw that fruit flies had already found the peels. She knew all she had to do was decide: bananas, granola or eggs. Still she stood there, frozen with indecision, until the phone rang. Picking it up, Rebecca pressed it against her ear.
“Rebecca? Is this Rebecca?”
“This is Rebecca.” She recognized the voice but couldn’t place it.
“It’s Edward.”
“Edward Zimmer?”
“That’s right.”
“Hello, Edward.”
“How are you, Rebecca?”
“I’m not so sure, Edward.”
“I saw that you cleaned out #207.”
“I did.”
“How does it feel?”
“I was just trying to figure that out,” Rebecca said. She thought about the ways she could answer this question. She was almost positive that she felt very different, but she couldn’t be sure she accurately remembered what she had felt like before.
“Rebecca? Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” Rebecca said. Her grip on the phone was hurting her hand, so she dropped it, watching it fall to the carpet. She picked up the phone, placed it back on the charger and returned to the kitchen table. Seeing that the refrigerator door was open, she closed it. The phone rang again. She waited until the third ring, then picked it up, although she still did not speak.
“Rebecca?”
“Yes?”
“Maybe we should have a talk. You know? Maybe you should swing by and we can talk. Can you do that for me?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Edward.”
“Edward Zimmer?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I’m doing very well, Edward.”
“Then you should come see me.”
“Where?”
“E.Z. Self Storage.”
>
“Yes. I can do that.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“142 Broadview Avenue.”
“Do you need directions?”
“I’ve been there a million times.”
“That’s true . . .”
“Well, maybe not a million.”
“Rebecca, maybe you could just do one thing for me?”
“What’s that?”
“Will you take a taxi?”
“Why?”
“Picture turning left, against traffic.”
“Oh. Yes. It doesn’t matter anyway. I left my car somewhere.”
“Do you want me to call a cab for you?”
“No. I’ll be okay.”
“Can I just make one other suggestion?”
“Yes.”
“Wear what you wore yesterday.”
Rebecca looked at the peeled and sliced bananas, the box of granola, the eggs and the yogurt.
“Yes,” she said. “I think those are both good suggestions, Edward.”
“You’ll be fine, Rebecca. I promise.”
“Okay,” Rebecca said. She set the receiver gently in the cradle and stood beside the telephone. She was unable to decide if she believed him or not.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in the clothes she’d worn the day before, Rebecca stood at the southeast corner of Dundas and Ossington, trying to hail a cab. She had debated whether she should walk to the corner and hail one, or call one and wait at home. Unable to decide, she had flipped a coin.
A number of cars passed, but none of them were taxis. This made her angry. But then, half a block away, she spotted an orange car with a sign attached to its roof. Rebecca raised her hand. The taxi approached, then passed without slowing. Watching it continue east on Dundas, Rebecca felt crushing rejection. Tears welled up in her eyes. The feeling was as intense as any she’d ever had—as if she’d just been dumped or passed over for a promotion she richly deserved.
When she saw a second cab, she was too nervous to raise her hand. But as she watched it come closer, the feeling of rejection began to disappear. When the taxi was fifty metres away, she raised her hand, but it, too, drove past her. Rebecca became furious. “You fucker!” she yelled at the driver. She stomped her foot on the ground. She put a piece of nicotine gum in her mouth and chewed ferociously.
Her anger evaporated when the third taxi came into sight. She raised her hand. As the cab slowed down and stopped in front of her, Rebecca was overcome with joy. She began bouncing, jumping up and down on her toes while raising her arms over her head. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said, climbing into the back seat. She sat in the middle, leaning into the gap between the seats. “I’m so happy that you stopped! I’m really, really happy that you stopped.”
“Oh, yeah,” the driver said, turning on the meter. “Where to?”
“E.Z. Self Storage. Broadview and Queen!”
The driver said no more. The taxi pulled away from the curb. Rebecca looked down at her hands, wondering what she’d just been so happy about.
Edward Zimmer greeted her at the door. He certainly is tall, she thought.
“Hello, Rebecca,” Zimmer said. He could not gauge Rebecca’s emotional state, and this caused him great concern.
“Hello,” Rebecca replied.
“Do you know me?”
“You’re Edward Zimmer.”
“How well do you know me?”
“I met you on April 14th, seven years ago, when I first rented unit #207.”
“Are we friends?”
“We’re on a first-name basis. That must mean something.”
“What does it mean?”
“That we’ve known each other a long time?”
“Is seven years a long time to know someone?”
“It’s longer than I’ve known most people.”
Taking his hands out of his pockets, Zimmer gently set them on Rebecca’s shoulders. With tender pressure, he steered her into the back office. Zimmer turned off the video monitors. He closed his laptop and turned off the radio. The room became quiet. The cars travelling on the expressway became audible, and the sound of constant traffic made Rebecca feel safe. Zimmer pulled out a chair for Rebecca, and she sat down.
“You have to describe everything you’re feeling,” Zimmer said.
“I’m not really feeling anything, Edward.”
“What about the small things? How are you reacting to small things?”
“You’re right about that. I just wanted to kill a cabby and then I practically kissed the next one.”
“And the big things?”
“Like what?”
“Like your sister.”
“I don’t think I feel anything at all.”
“Are you confused?”
“Only when you ask me questions.”
“Other than that, nothing?”
“I’m not very good with decisions right now.”
“When did you empty unit #207?”
“Two nights ago? Maybe three?”
“And what did you keep?”
“Nothing.”
Zimmer gasped. “Nothing?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“No photographs? No souvenirs? Not a high school yearbook or a piece of jewellery?”
“I threw everything away.”
“But you must have kept something at home?”
“Everything was here.”
“You threw it all in the Dumpster? Around back?”
“Yes.”
Zimmer swirled in his chair and looked at the calendar on the wall. It was Tuesday. The garbage should have been picked up Monday night, but there was still a chance. “Wait right here,” Zimmer said. “Don’t do anything.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, don’t do anything. Nothing.”
“I’m not a child.”
Zimmer did not feel like arguing. Forcing himself not to hurry, he walked across the parking lot behind the building. The Dumpster came into view. The top was flush. It looked empty to Zimmer, but he approached it anyway. He pushed up the lid and looked inside. A yellow plastic bag was stuck to the bottom, along with several pages of newspaper. He let the lid fall, making a loud, metallic crash.
Straightening his tie, Zimmer walked back across the parking lot. He found Rebecca sitting in exactly the same position he’d left her in. She looked up and tried to smile, but once again failed.
Zimmer went straight to the telephone and dialled the number of One Man’s Treasures from memory. “Yes, this is Edward Zimmer. E.Z. Self Storage. Client number XET-860. Yes, I’ll hold,” Zimmer said. Tucking the phone under his chin Zimmer pulled a pack of gum from the inside pocket of his jacket. He unwrapped a piece and put it in his mouth. Then he offered a stick to Rebecca. Rebecca stared at the gum but could not decide whether she wanted a piece or not.
37
Reaching empty
The needle was far below the red bar and Aby had failed to come up with a convincing argument. The engine stalled. Letting the car glide onto the shoulder, Aby turned to look at her mother. With her gills quivering slightly, she spoke. “Mom, would you please let me take you home?” she asked.
They listened to the windshield wipers and the sound of rain on the roof. Margaret looked down at her hands; Aby looked at her mother.
“That’s it?” Margaret said. She raised her head and stared at her daughter. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“I left the water for you!”
“About time.”
“I’ve travelled thousands of kilometres.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I risked my soul.”
“You think you risked your soul because you came out of the water?”
“Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“The point of Aquaticism is that it’s supposed to teach you how to think, not what to think.”
“What does that mean?”
“I can’t believe that you,
my own daughter, have never figured that out.”
“Tell me!”
“It means you’ve failed, Aberystwyth. You’ve failed.”
Margaret said nothing more. She leaned back in her seat, reached underneath her and found the ends of her seat belt. With small, careful movements, she buckled herself in.
Aby remained silent. She slumped over the steering wheel. She rested her head in the centre of it, accidentally honking the horn.
“You’ll need more gas.”
“I have a full can in the trunk.”
38
A warning unheeded
Anderson and Kenneth stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle of Mayor Matczuk’s office, dripping on the carpet. The sound of the heavy rain hitting the room’s only window was loud.
Behind the desk, Mayor Matczuk tented his fingers. Realizing that this gesture was perhaps too dramatic, he put his hands in his lap. He leaned forward in his chair and raised his eyebrows. “We just don’t have any proof,” he said. He had spent the days since hiring the rainmakers rehearsing this speech, and he was eager to recite his next line. “Yes, it’s raining, but can you prove that it was your work? And if it was, which one of you did it?”
“This isn’t about that,” Anderson said.
“Just listen,” Kenneth said.
“I’m sorry, but I’m simply unable to help you boys out.”
“Will you just shut up for a second?”
“This is bigger than that.”
“You need to evacuate the town.”
Matczuk openly laughed at Anderson’s suggestion and then looked directly at Kenneth. “He’s not serious?” the mayor asked.
“I agree with him completely,” Kenneth replied. Although neither father nor son noticed, it was the first time they’d acknowledged each other since they’d stopped working together.
“Well, that’s just ludicrous. We won’t be doing that.”
“Then don’t say we didn’t warn you,” Kenneth said.
“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. I hear your warning. I’ll be taking it under great consideration.”
The Waterproof Bible Page 16
