Monsters

by David Alexander Robertson

  “But it’s not!”

  “So what advice do you need? How to keep secrets from one of your oldest friends?”

  “We used to have feelings for each other. We were engaged, you know.”

  Brady rolled his eyes. “When you were seven, right? What do feelings really mean when you’re seven? Let alone an engagement. Things change.”

  “It still means something to me. Anyway, I don’t want to tell her anymore, but I want to be friends with Michael again, and I have no idea what I should do.”

  “I’m not playing this game, Cole.” Brady leaned back and crossed his arms. He started to slowly shake his head.

  “What?” Cole said.

  “I want to tell you something, as a friend, as one of your best friends, but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” Brady said.

  “Okaaay…”

  “But at the same time, I don’t think there is another way to take it. So, you’ll just have to take it however you do.”

  “Okaaay…” Cole repeated and leaned forward.

  “Does it ever register with you, in particular right now, that you’re talking to me about love interests—”

  “I don’t love Pam. I told you, it’s so Michael—”

  “Whatever. You’re talking to me about her and Eva and this huge problem you have, meanwhile, my boyfriend just got killed. Does that even cross your mind?”

  Cole sighed. It hadn’t, and he felt like an asshole. His whole body slumped. “No. I’m sorry. It should’ve. I’m an…I’m such an ass.”

  “And you’re sitting there, on the couch, mulling over the same thing, I guess, and, you know, I’d really like to be doing the same thing sometimes, but I can’t. Because you need so much, Cole.”

  “I just thought…” Cole leaned back. He felt his eyes start to well up. “…you’re so much better at this than me, life, everything, and I trust what you say.”

  “That’s fine, my friend, and I appreciate it. I really do. I don’t want to guilt you, either. But Cole, once in a while, if one of those questions was, ‘How are you doing, Brady?’ I’d really appreciate that.”

  “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Cole slunk even lower in his chair. “I keep thinking about how Ashley died in front of me, and it’s like the only thing I can see. Even at his wake, that’s all that was in my head.” Cole got up and started pacing around the kitchen. “And I’m talking about girls, and…” Cole stopped in the middle of the living room. He stared at the wall, away from Brady. He couldn’t even look at him right now. He thought about everything Brady had done for him, taking him out on the land, taking him to a sweat, counselling him about what he’d been through, making him lunches and dinners—and what had he done for Brady? What meals had he made? “I do care how you’re doing,” Cole said through a shaking lower lip. “I’m sorry, man.”

  Cole felt Brady’s hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” he said, “hey.” He turned Cole towards him. “Friends tell each other uncomfortable things sometimes, and they’re honest with each other. They trust each other enough to be honest.”

  Cole had spent the first part of dinner with Pam picking at his fish and chips, a meal that he ordered without giving Rebecca any trouble. He still didn’t have an appetite. With his eyes trained on the plate and the mutilated food, his mind was somewhere else entirely: Ashley and Brady. He imagined them sitting in this booth, eating together. Pam was almost done her supper because they weren’t talking much.

  “Do you really think I’m entitled?” Cole asked out of nowhere.

  She quickly dabbed at her mouth, caught mid-bite. Aside from exchanging hellos and ordering food this was the first time Cole had really communicated.

  “I think things are different in the city than they are here,” Pam said.

  “The longer I’m here, the less I feel at home. Is that weird or what?”

  “You’re not mad are you, Harper? Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”

  “No, I’m not mad,” Cole said. “I think you’re right, that’s all. I didn’t at first, but now…”

  “I usually am, so…” Pam put her napkin down and took another bite of food.

  Cole stabbed at his fish. “I keep thinking about how Brady will never have Ashley around. I keep thinking how, I don’t know, like, we’re here, we can do this, and Brady can’t.”

  “Not with Ashley,” Pam said.

  “Not with Ashley,” Cole said, and Ashley’s face displayed prominently in his mind again.

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, we’re not actually doing anything, just eating,” Pam said, “well, I’m eating anyway. So, don’t feel guilty.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean…”

  “Easy, tiger,” Pam smiled, “I’m attempting to set you at ease by throwing you off-guard. You should know about that. Reverse psychology, right?”

  “Right.” Cole managed a chuckle.

  “Brady’ll be okay, you know. Eventually. Not right away, but one day. And he’ll find somebody else, and they’ll eat fish here. Some people will look at them weird, and some won’t. It’ll be good.”

  “And then I think of Maggie, too. And, you know, Alex. Keep thinking she’s going to come out from behind the counter and mouth off or something.”

  Pam put her fork down. She leaned forward, tried to catch Cole’s eyes, but he was being elusive, staring at his food again. She waved her hand over his plate, and he looked at her.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Alex and I were friends, okay? Is this…do you feel guilty about that?”

  “I’m feeling about one trillion things right now.”

  “I mean, that’s pretty obvious.”

  “Why did you come tonight?” Cole asked. “I missed.”

  “Because I wanted to,” she said matter-of-factly, “and the food’s always good. I’ve actually been wondering why you came. You’re not really here.”

  “Sorry. I wanted to come. This week’s just been…a lot.”

  “The past, like, three weeks have been a lot for everybody, I think.”

  “Yeah.”

  Cole poked at a piece of fish. Pam ate the remains of her burger.

  “Cool.” Pam pointed at Cole’s shirt with her fork. “Bon Iver, Bon Iver. Let’s switch gears. What’s your favourite song from that album?”

  “‘Holocene’,” Cole said, trying to show some signs of life. “And best video, too. The beginning of it, with all the wilderness, reminds me of here.”

  “‘Beth/Rest’ for me,” Pam said.

  “Why?”

  “Hmmm.” Pam put up a finger, asking him to let her swallow food. When she had, she said, “Good question. I love the eighties and it kind of sounds like an eighties song. I don’t know what most of the lyrics mean but I dig trying to figure it out. That being said, I do think it’s about death, and it’s really pretty. I like the thought of a pretty death.”

  “Because of Alex, or…”

  “Just because. Now, your choice. Dissect ‘Holocene’, please.”

  “I just like the song,” Cole said quietly.

  “Harper, I’m doing all the work here, you know? Come on, your turn.”

  She was right. Cole was moping, again. Moping, and thinking, and being distant. Michael would not be jealous about what was happening here. The fact was, if he let himself, he might actually have a good time. Pam was easy to talk to, relaxing to be around, and she wasn’t dating somebody else. If Eva wasn’t around, would he be fully into Pam? Maybe he owed it to Eva, too, to just do this date, and not let it be about Mike or Eva. How about he let it be about Pam?

  “And at once I knew I was not magnificent,” Cole said. “I like the idea of being small, knowing you’re small, and that the world is big. That you’re insignificant, and that’s okay.”

  “But how can you feel insignificant when you’re entitled? Riddle me that.”

  Cole stammered. “I…I mean…”

  “Oh, Harper,
what do I say?”

  “Easy, tiger?”

  “Very good,” Pam nodded. “Now, you make a legitimate ‘Holocene’ case. Admittedly, it’s my second favourite song on the album, so you’re not far off.”

  Cole took a bite of a French fry. He looked behind the counter, where Alex used to work; at the pictures on the wall, trying his best not to count them as he went from collection of pictures to collection of pictures over each booth; and then at the people who were occupying the booths. Victor, the man with the story about the creature, was sitting by himself with a pot of coffee.

  “Do you believe that guy?” Cole asked. “Victor?”

  “Victor?” Pam gave a single shake of her head to one side, dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, catching some ketchup at the corner of her lip. “Crazy story, that. Scary as hell.”

  “So you think he’s—”

  “And yet…”

  Cole leaned forward, trying to provoke Pam to finish her sentence. Finally, he said, “And yet what?”

  “He’s not one to run his mouth.” She thought for a moment, chewing up and swallowing a French fry. “But maybe he just saw some kind of animal and came up with the first thing he could think of. Like your anonymous kid.”

  “The boogeyman.”

  “Yeah, like that.”

  “Do you think it could be, you know…?”

  “Okay, well,” Pam leaned back against her chair, took a deep breath, “if I were a betting girl, on the balance of probabilities, from what I’ve heard about it from Victor and others, sure.”

  Cole took a bite of fish.

  “Or it could be an escaped monkey or something. A rabid monkey-man.” Pam shrugged. “How about you? You believe in it?”

  Let’s see, Cole thought. I have supernatural abilities, I talk to Coyote and also a half-burning ghost girl. “I don’t know.”

  Pam picked up the remaining fries on her plate and ate them. With a full mouth, she said, “I guess being away for ten years, in the big city no less, might’ve beaten that out of you, hey? Not to mention—”

  “Making me entitled,” Cole droned.

  “Bingo,” she laughed. “I guess I have to find some new material, hey?”

  “I’m onto you.”

  “Whoa,” she said, “you’ve gotta kiss me first. Holy!”

  Cole turned white. His heart started to thump a thousand beats per second.

  “Holy shit, I’m just screwing with you,” Pam laughed. “But that’s not to say a kiss is out of the question.”

  “Oh,” Cole took a long breath in through his nose, “right. Totally.” Expelled it for seven seconds.

  “So,” she said after allowing Cole to get his colour back, “how long are you staying out here?”

  “I have no idea,” Cole said. “I thought I was out here for one thing, and it turns out I either wasn’t, or there was just…more things.”

  “Packed light?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Pam pointed at the shirt. “Brady’s shirt?”

  Cole felt flushed, like he’d lied. “That’s still my favourite band,” he blurted out.

  “Harper,” Pam pushed her plate away, “you have to stay at least long enough for me to help chill you out. Okay?”

  She stood up.

  “It’s just—” Cole stood up, too. “I wish I knew what to do.”

  “About me or the boogeyman taking the folder?”

  “How about both, among other things.” Like going to the research facility, he thought. He wanted to ask Pam if they could sit down and stay longer, procrastinate longer, but he didn’t want to ruin the few good moments they’d had.

  “Welcome to being a teenager,” Pam said, “the water’s warm.”

  10

  HELLO AGAIN

  COLE ENTERED THE RCMP DETACHMENT, his presence announced by a little bell hanging over the door. The bell was a new addition, and it wasn’t the only one. He’d been curious to see how Choch had fixed up the cell that Cole had escaped from the night of the memorial. Not only were the bars as good as new, no longer bent to the sides like they were pipe cleaners, but the cell boasted new bedding and over the bed there was a painting of a coyote emerging from the woods, and a potted plant hung from the ceiling.

  Lauren’s desk was covered in papers and reports, work that had undoubtedly increased since Wayne’s gunshot wound. When she saw Cole, she put up a finger for him to wait a moment, and kept at it. Jerry had no papers on his desk. Jerry did not put up a finger for Cole to wait a moment. Jerry was dead to the world. He was leaning back in his chair, feet up on the desk, head tilted back, snoring. That’s when Cole noticed the earbuds stuck into Lauren’s ears, and heard the music playing in them, probably to drown out Jerry’s snoring.

  “Cole.” Lauren took out her earbuds, picked up the piece of paper she’d been working on and slipped it into a folder. “Have a seat.”

  Cole, who’d been politely waiting at the front door, sat across from Lauren in an old office chair. He instantly started swivelling back and forth.

  “How’s everything going?” she asked.

  “Some days are better than others,” Cole conceded, silently debating where this day landed on the spectrum. Somewhere in the middle, he decided.

  Lauren smiled. “It’s hard to get over—” she started, before getting interrupted by a particularly loud snore. “Sorry.” She picked up an eraser from the pencil holder at the corner of the desk, and tossed it across the room. It connected with Jerry’s cheek, and he grunted and sat up straight.

  “What’s that?” he croaked, and looked around groggily.

  “Just checking for a pulse,” Lauren called across the room to him.

  “God, Lauren, I’m on a break,” Jerry said, and then he just rested his head on the desk and closed his eyes, not bothering to lean back.

  “So that’s what I’m dealing with,” Lauren said, returning her attention to Cole.

  “I don’t even think I’ve seen him awake before,” Cole said.

  “He’s my boss, Cole, okay? He’s in charge of me, with Wayne in the clinic.” Lauren slammed her palms against the desk in frustration. Jerry jumped and settled. At least his snoring was lighter now. “Whenever you think you’ve got it bad, just think of me, got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Where were we?”

  “Ummm, oh, you were saying it’s hard to get over…” Cole prompted.

  “Right, it’s hard to get over what happened, especially when you were in it.” Lauren picked up a pencil and slowly spun it between her thumb and index finger. “I’m just glad the village idiot over there forgot to lock the cell, or else…” she sighed “…I don’t know where we’d be now.”

  “I’m doing okay,” he said.

  Lauren tried to relax. She did her best Jerry impersonation and leaned back. “So how’s school? Settling in?”

  “School’s, I don’t know. New. Different than Winnipeg. There’s less kids but it still feels like it’s hard to breathe,” Cole said.

  “There are fewer kids,” she said.

  “I thought school ended hours ago,” Cole said.

  “Sorry, I get all grammar police when I write reports. Well, when I read Jerry’s reports.”

  “There are less kids,” Cole smiled, “how’s that?”

  “Better. You know, if it makes you feel any better, that’s not just a Wounded Sky thing, how you feel about school,” she said. “That’s every high school for most kids.”

  “Yeah…”

  “So what brings you here? Not that I don’t appreciate the distraction, from this,” Lauren pointed at her piles of work, “or that,” she pointed at Jerry, who was drooling on a thin pillow of papers.

  “The camp Scott was at,” Cole started, “did you guys happen to clean it out? Any chance?”

  Lauren shook her head. “When we finally got around to going back there, it was already picked clean. Figured hunters got there, went shopping.”

  “That’s wha
t I was afraid of,” Cole said.

  “Why?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just something I’m looking for.”

  “Drop something, or—”

  The tiny bell rang again. Cole and Lauren both turned their attention towards the door in time to see Reynold walk inside. “Evening, Constable. Mr. Harper.”

  “Everything alright, Mr. McCabe?” Lauren asked.

  “Perfectly,” Reynold said, “I came by to see my buddy Jer.”

  Sometime between when the bell rang and Reynold entered, Jerry had woken up, sat up, and busied himself with his paper pillow. Lauren looked surprised. Jerry working, even pretending to work, must have been a rare occurrence. Reynold crossed the room, stopped behind Jerry at his desk and gave the sleepy constable a hard squeeze around the shoulders and shook him.

  “How’s old Jerry Can, hey?” Reynold said.

  Cole mouthed “Jerry Can?” to Lauren, who rolled her eyes.

  “What can I do you for, Chief?” Jerry dropped the pencil he’d just picked up and turned around.

  Reynold sat on the desk behind him. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that, bud. Chief. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  “I’ll never get tired of saying it,” Jerry gave Reynold a wink and pointed at him with a finger gun.

  Cole and Lauren exchanged looks. Lauren, at the “‘Chief’” exchange, stuck her finger down her throat and feigned a dry heave. Cole chuckled, but it really wasn’t all that funny. After all, it wasn’t a joke. Reynold was Acting Chief.

  “Speaking of which,” Reynold crossed his arms, “at my party on Sunday…”

  “Victory party.”

  “…absolutely. I’ll need your presence, you and your,” Reynold looked over at Lauren, who stopped pretending to puke just in time, “lovely assistant.”

  “Won’t your cronies be there?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes, I’ll have staff there, but…” Reynold returned his attention to Jerry “…if any of our residents decide that they’re…unhappy…with the results…”

  “Ten-four,” Jerry said.

  “It’s more for Lucy than me, of course. I want to have her in the safest possible environment after I win this thing.”

  “Who says you’re going to win?” Cole asked.