Since Tomorrow

by Morgan Nyberg

  BC managed to create a frail and momentary smile. “I never seen one up close. I doubt if I got the parts.”

  “What!” said Wing. “The Parts Gang don’t got the parts?”

  Frost said “No leaf springs? No metal for the arrows? I’m disappointed, I truly am. I was sure if anybody could make me a crossbow it would be you. See, I thought maybe it was you who made those crossbows for... Lameflea?”

  “Lungtea?” said Wing.

  BC turned and walked after Wind. He said “Long trail home.”

  Frost and Wing did not move. They waited. Then Frost called “So, about payment for that wagon you built....”

  BC stopped. He stood immobile for a few seconds. Frost and Wing watched him. He turned and came back, looking down at the ground. He said nothing. He seemed very weak, as if he wanted to lie down there in the drizzle.

  Frost said “I will pay you for Wing’s wagon.”

  BC nodded, not looking at either of them.

  “But I can’t spare six months of food for five people.”

  BC muttered “I’ll take a cow.”

  “A cow” said Frost.

  “You’ll take a cow?” said Wing. “Where you going to pasture a cow? In that muddy junkyard of yours? Is it going to eat fenders?”

  BC said “I’ll take the meat.”

  Frost said “That’s a lot of meat. How you going to keep it?”

  BC shrugged.

  Frost said “Langley’s got Wing’s cows. And I can’t spare one. I’ll give you my next calf, how’s that? I’ll raise it and slaughter it and salt the meat for you.”

  BC nodded and shook hands with Frost on the deal. The three men started toward the domicile. But soon BC cleared his throat and said “I need some today.”

  They stopped. “Some what?” said Frost.

  “Some meat. For down payment.”

  “You want meat for down payment on Wing’s wagon?”

  BC nodded. “Give me twenty-five kilos.”

  Frost said “We just killed a cow, but it’s not salted yet.”

  BC said “I’ll take it fresh.”

  “There’s no way you and your crew are going to eat twenty-five kilos of meat before it goes off. Anyway, I can’t spare twenty-five. I’ve got extra mouths to feed. I’ll give you ten for now.”

  BC shrugged, stared into the distance the way he had stared at the river.

  When their business was done, BC and Wind did not go back along the River Trail. Instead they headed south along the foot of Frost’s Bridge, then swung up an exit ramp and onto the bridge itself.

  Frost and Wing stood against the east wall of the domicile, where less rain fell. They watched the couple pull their two-wheeled wagon up the slope of the bridge, with their new cargo of bloody meat in a plastic bag.

  Wing said “They’re headin’ into Town to trade that meat for his skag.”

  Frost said “I know.”

  22

  Daniel Charlie said “This is called a fish hook.”

  Surrey said “You made it too small. Fishes are bigger than that.” He was a sturdy, dark haired, dark eyed boy. He had a wool shift but was barefoot. He sounded as if he were accusing Daniel Charlie of stupidity.

  Daniel Charlie said “Will, couldn’t you find some kind of shoes for this guy?”

  Surrey said “My feet ain’t cold. You couldn’t even eat a fish that small. One bite.”

  Daniel Charlie said “How big is a fish?”

  Surrey threw his hands as wide apart as he could.

  Will and Shaughnessy snickered. Surrey glared at them with menace. He was shorter than either of them.

  They were on Amber’s barge. The tide was changing, and the river was as still as it ever could be, with eddies forming and fading across its surface. The three boys stood around Daniel Charlie, who was sitting at the edge of the barge with his feet dangling over the water. Behind him at the end of his braid his ruined eagle feather brushed the weathered planks. Ten feet to either side of him stood a plastic flower pot with a rose plant. On the plant to his right there were the remnants of a single wilted blossom. He said “You don’t grab the fish with the fish hook. You get the fish to bite on it. The hook gets stuck in his mouth.”

  The boys gazed with reverence and fear at the thing Daniel Charlie was pinching between a thumb and a forefinger. He said “It’s hard makin’ somethin’ this small. Hard to get it sharp enough. Fish have tough mouths. It has to be really sharp.”

  Shaughnessy said “How do you get the fish to bite on it?”

  “Now that’s an intelligent question.”

  Shaughnessy stuck his tongue out at Surrey.

  A small white plastic bag that said Delta Pharmacy sat to the right of Daniel Charlie near Surrey’s dirty feet. Daniel Charlie reached back into it. He said “I’m always happy when I see a worm. Worms behave like everythin’ is fine and always has been and always will be. Worms are dependable. Not like fish. If I had another daughter I would call her Worm.”

  The boys bent close to watch him thread the creature onto the hook. He left a half-inch free to wiggle.

  Will said “Fish eat worms?”

  “If there’s a fish anywhere in this river it will smell this worm and come runnin’.” A six-foot length of plastic pipe lay across Daniel Charlie’s lap. The line was a blue strand of nylon twine. The float was a small plastic bottle. The weight was a flake of concrete. He called “Amber, where exactly did you see that fish?”

  The ancient woman stood near the entrance of her decrepit shack, in her washed-out logger’s shirt and canvas pants and rubber boots. She was hunched over a large orange plastic bag that she was holding open with one hand while trying to stuff a blackened aluminum pot into it with the other. This hand also held her rebar walking stick. Her loose white hair dangled around the opening of the bag. She finally managed to shove the pot in.

  The boys moved away as she hurried toward them with short choppy steps. She was bent as if she were expecting flying objects. With every step she punched the deck with the rusted rod. She seemed to be looking out of both her blue eye and her whitened one. She leaned on Daniel Charlie’s head with her left hand and pointed with the rebar to a spot in the water about twenty feet out and slightly downriver.

  Daniel Charlie said “Then that’s where I’m fishin’. Watch out, there, Surrey. Watch out, Amber.” Surrey moved back from the edge of the barge. Amber said in her crone’s voice “I’m watchin’" but kept leaning on his head. Daniel Charlie tossed the chip of concrete back onto the deck, and the bottle and baited hook and the line went with it. He cast gracefully, and the float landed where she had indicated, but then drifted on the slow current until all the line was taken up, and then it swung a little toward the shore. “Close enough” he said. “Close enough to smell that worm.”

  “And come runnin’” said Surrey.

  Shaughnessy laughed. Surrey stared at him till he looked away. It was hard to know whether Surrey was angry or hurt or was simply studying the other boy. Some kind of change was happening in his face.

  Slowly the little plastic bottle swung in until it rested in shadow a few feet away from the barge, with the nylon strand taut to the end of the plastic pipe. They all leaned out and stared at it.

  Amber said “That ain’t where I saw it.”

  Daniel Charlie said “Well I can’t make it stay put.”

  “The fish? Of course you can’t make it stay put. It’s a fish.”

  “The line. I can’t make the line stay put. Go finish your packin’.”

  “I seen you people pull salmon out of this river by the ton. In your fishin’ boats.”

  “Who is you people?”

  “You Natives. That’s why you want to catch this fish, ain’t it? You want the old days.”

  “Don’t forget your squeezebox.”

  For a while they all watched the plastic bottle making its little adjustments to the movement of the water, slipping sideways an inch or even a foot before sliding back again
. But soon they all must have understood that no fish was involved in these movements, because Amber returned to her packing, and the three boys moved back a ways from the edge.

  Surrey still stood a little apart from Will and Shaughnessy. He spat on the silver-weathered deck and said to Shaughnessy “So, is your daddy dead yet?”

  Daniel Charlie said “What the hell?” and looked over his shoulder at Surrey.

  Shaughnessy paled and said nothing. He glared at the smaller boy. He seemed afraid.

  “Or is he just sick? Is he just gettin’ ready to die?” There was, on Surrey’s dark, round, dirt-smudged face, an expression of hostile glee. His eyes were wide and agitated. He shouted “My daddy’s dead! Shot by an arrow!” With a finger he mimicked the crossbow bolt striking his father in the side. He made a noise like something flying fast through the air. “Oh, did he scream!” Surrey hopped around the deck, throwing his arms around and screaming.

  “Jesus Christ!” said Daniel Charlie. He scrambled to his feet, still holding the plastic fishing pipe. Amber came out of her shack wearing a yellow rubberized rain hat that covered the back of her neck. Her concertina hung from one hand, making a wheezing sound. She stared at Surrey.

  Shaughnessy was white. He turned and walked quickly past Surrey, across the sloping deck and down the gangplank.

  Now Surrey was holding an invisible sword with both hands and was thrusting it downwards again and again, and he was screaming “And then they stabbed him! Stab! Stab! Stab!”

  Shaughnessy ran up the path that led through Amber’s garden. Surrey stood at the top of the gangplank and yelled “You should’ve seen the blood!”

  Daniel Charlie shouted “Hey! Shut up!” He tossed the pole out into the stream. He hustled across the deck, snatched up Surrey and strode down the gangplank, declaring “There’s no god damn fish in this river.”

  Will upended the pharmacy bag and sprinkled the bait on the water. He watched the worms drift and sink. After they were out of sight he continued to stare at the water for a while. Then he helped Amber set her concertina in the orange bag. She was shaking her head and moving her lips as if there were something she did not want to believe. Will had tears in his eyes as he swung the bag over his shoulder. She took his arm and they moved with small steps toward the gangplank.

  23

  In another room Frost could hear someone coughing.

  The light of a cloudy winter day sifted through the polyethylene that covered the window. It lit the room poorly. Frost lay on the rabbit skin rug that covered the mattress, on his back with his elbows out and his hands behind his head. The room was cold, but Frost had no poncho, and he had not covered himself with the spread of stitched-together rags. His sandals sat on the concrete near him, paired neatly. His glasses lay on his chest. He was staring up at the faded and smoke-grimed paint of the ceiling.

  His white hair circled his head like a tattered halo. At the corners of his eyes and on the cheekbones where the beard did not cover, there was a web of deep wrinkles. The skin looked slack. The eyes did not reveal their blue colour in the feeble light of the room, but they did appear to be deeply sad. The sound of Amber’s concertina drifted from somewhere in the building. I’ll Take You Home Again, Cathleen.

  Frost reached out and touched the metal fire bucket. It was cold, but he kept his hand against it anyway.

  The door of the room opened. Frost got up onto his elbows. His glasses tumbled down his chest. He sat up and put them on. It was Noor. They did not speak for a few seconds. She stood by the door, looking at him. She had on her fur poncho, and she had her sword.

  He said “Going somewhere?”

  Noor said “Where’s Grace?”

  “I don’t know. She wasn’t at the clinic, so I thought she’d be here. What’s wrong?”

  “You tell me.”

  “What?”

  Frost looked up at her. She was very tall and looked very strong. A whiff of cold outdoor air drifted to Frost from her clothes. No, it was not strong she looked, it was angry. She said “Is he dead? You said he was dead.”

  “What are you mad at?”

  “You said he was dead.”

  Frost began to stand, but Noor charged toward him and stood over him, and he had to sit again. He rolled away from her and snatched his glasses and got clumsily to his feet. It took him a second to find his balance. He said “Who?”

  “You know who.”

  Frost hesitated, as if he were deciding what to say. “No I don’t know who. If you told me, then I would know who. Why are you mad?”

  “My father. Is he dead or not? You said he was.”

  “Oh. okay.” He reached to touch her, but she stepped back. He looked down and rubbed his beard. “I heard Steveston had died. That’s all I know.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Don’t interrogate me. I don’t remember. It was years ago. It’s best if you don’t think about him anymore.”

  “I shouldn’t think about my own father?”

  “You’ve got enough to think about. We all have.”

  “Enough to think about. I see. So, you don’t think about my mother.”

  “Yes, I think about her often. But I shouldn’t. Not now.”

  “Well then, don’t tell me not to think about him.” Her voice had risen.

  Frost sighed. “No. No, fine, I won’t. But, listen. He left when Zahra died. He couldn’t stand to be here anymore, and he left. He took off. Even if he was alive he wouldn’t come back. So there’s no point....”

  She interrupted him. “But you heard he’s dead.”

  “I did, yes.”

  Frost was managing to keep his voice level. Noor was not. She said “Someone told you.”

  “Yes. I don’t remember who.” Frost stepped around her, not looking at her, and went past the fire bucket and stood apparently staring out at his farm and the distant ruins of the suburb. The plastic over the window made the scene murky and dull. “I don’t feel good, Noor. I can’t carry it all on my shoulders. I’m too old. I need you to support me.”

  “But he’s not. Is he?”

  Frost did not answer. Noor said “He’s alive, god damn you. Why didn’t you tell me!”

  Frost refused to turn from the window. He said weakly “Why do you say he’s alive?”

  “Oh, give it up! Stop pretendin’ you don’t know what I’m talkin about.” She sounded disgusted. “You’ve been lyin’ to me all this time!”

  “Not all this time.” Frost sounded weary now. Still he would not face her.

  She screamed at his back “He’s my father!” Frost flinched but would not turn. She was moving away as she cursed him. “You bastard! You bastard! If I can’t even trust you...! I’ve had enough. I’m takin’ off.”

  Frost spun around at last. Again he reached out. There was something like terror on his face. But the room was empty, and he was alone.

  The concertina and the distant coughing went on and on.

  24

  Frost descended the dark stairwell and got his poncho. Outside Jessica and Night and Salmon were sitting on the steps at the entrance, and old Ryan was standing at the bottom. They all were smiling. He heard Ryan say “...Christmas.” Frost glanced down at the raw-looking stump of Salmon’s arm. She smiled up at him. He nodded and went down the steps. Behind him Jessica said “Where was Noor goin’ in such a hurry?”

  Frost walked on a few paces, then turned and cleared his throat. “Has anyone seen Grace?”

  Ryan said “I seen her yesterday comin’ out of the clinic.”

  Jessica said “What’s wrong, Frost?”

  Frost continued toward the clinic. Up on the bridge someone was leaning back on the railing – he couldn’t tell who. He stopped and watched for a minute. The figure moved away. He walked on. The air was moist and there was a cold wind. King came up behind him and nudged his hand with his nose, but Frost pulled his hand away. As they approached the clinic King ran on to greet Beast, who was tied to the staple by the door. Beast
tried to leap up against Frost, but he pushed her down.

  The clinic was empty and cold. Frost sat on the couch for a minute, with both dogs lying in the open door, watching him. Then Frost and King left Beast whining and lunging against her cord as they walked down to the river.

  Daniel Charlie and Granville were working on one of the spokes of the water wheel. A whiff of sawdust mingled with the smell of the river. Frost stood on the bank, and they looked up at him, waiting for him to speak. He said “Have you seen Grace?”

  Daniel Charlie said “Nope. You going to come and give us a hand?”

  Granville’s head was covered in a stubble of orange-red hair. He observed Frost with an eager and fearful smile.

  Frost said to him “How’s life treating you?”

  “Good, Frost. Thanks to you, Frost.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  “No, that’s right too. You can say that again.”

  As Frost walked away Daniel Charlie called “What’s wrong?”

  He had not gone far when he heard fast, limping footsteps behind him. He turned and waited.

  “Frost, Frost.”