by Jan Tailor
police car had not been named.
Bobby’s level of tension and guilt was lessened by repeat of the news every quarter hour and the subsidence of the mania brought on by the mushroom. By seven thirty in the morning he was frustrated at the lack of new facts in the radio’s story but he still could not let go of the thought he had a hand in the accident. His mind still fizzled with afterglow of mushroom and he knew sleep would only come if his guilty mind was beaten into submission. He waited around the gas station till the liquor store opened and got himself a bottle of vodka.
‘A hang over at midnight was twice as bad as one in the morning,’ Bobby thought while gulping down water. He had been so focused on getting his hurting body to work that he had not gotten any news about the accident yesterday morning. But with most of the work done for the night his tunnel vision broadened and the guilt came back.
At about one Constable Clink walked in the door. Upon seeing him Bobby threw up a little in his mouth and turned white.
“It looks like you saw a ghost… you ok Bobby?” Bobby had never heard Clink use his name.
“I ahhh, had a few beers after work, sunny day and all. Now I’m paying for it. How’d you know my name?”
“It’s on your shirt.” Clink walked up to the counter. “We’ve never been formally introduced. I’m Josh.” Clink extended a hand.
“Yeah, Bobby, it’s on the shirt,” Bobby did not know what else to say. This was Clink in the flesh but his affect was wrong, too casual, too respectful, and not at all the power tripping prick who normally walked in the door.
“Bobby, I had the strangest night last night. You might say I had a spiritual awakening… and man I can’t believe how asleep I was. God shone a beam of light on me yesterday morning. The stuff that happened cannot be coincidence.”
Bobby wanted to flee. He stepped back and tried to look cool leaning against the back counter. “Yeah?”
“So I was driving home last night and I get totally distracted by the flashing light downtown to the point where I’m rolling down the road at 10kmh with other drivers honking at me. It took me a few minutes to find a space big enough to get my car into. Then once parked I looked back from the side walk. The spot has 5m at each end of the car and this cracked me up.” Bobby did his best not to laugh as he was unsure where this was going.
Clink continued, “I’m in the worst part of town but I know I need a drink so I walk into the closest bar just across the street. I pull up to the bar and order a drink when the guy beside me pushes me and yells, ’Taggurt, you’d better stop trying to play hockey and beat the shit out of someone or you off the Team!’ Every hair on my body stands as my asshole coach used to say that to me. I turn to the voice and it’s my buddy Donny, the star centre from the days I was on the Spruce Kings. He was the best player on that team by far, went on to the juniors but fell off the map after a blown knee. He led the WHL in rookie scoring the year he was drafted. But it’s not the big filled out hulk of a man I would expect him to be, he’s skeletal. A strong wind could blow him over. I shake his hand and say I’m feeling off. He looks me in the eye and said, ‘what you on?’”
Butterflies appeared in Bobby’s stomach but Clink stuck to his story. “I said, ‘nothing, I’m a cop now… but I did catch a bunch of hippies on Wreck Beach holding some weird shit. Donny tells me I’ve probably been dosed on acid but not to worry he will take care of me. And he does. He got the bar tender sell him some whiskey, drove me to my place, and dealt with the crazy way I’m acting. After awhile the weirdness falls enough for the drink to catch up but I’m still able to… like this is going to sound crazy, but feel as if they were physical people’s feelings. I can reach out and touch them like you would a wall.”
Clink looked at his reflection in the window for a second before going on. “I felt Donny as the pain of his addiction grew, it was sharp and itchy like fiberglass splinters at first. I asked him about it. He answered he got addicted to the oxycontin the first time he took it for his knee. It not only took the pain from his knee but all the beatings from his father were temporarily forgotten. For a while he could play and get away with it but it took him out finally and two years later the leading rookie scorer in the WHL is on the Downtown Eastside with only one goal to score some drugs.” Josh had to stop and wipe an eye.
“Here,” Bobby handed Josh a tissue.
“Sorry… Donny was my idol growing up. He almost made it. I only made it to the police league.” Josh got back to the story, “I could feel Donny get more agitated it’s like a fire sparking up. His aura was burning me. He was telling me, he does not want to do anymore drugs but he needed to. I never understood that need to do drugs until I’ve had my idol making me feel as if he’s going to explode from the anxiety and tension in him from the need for drugs. But he doesn’t want to do it anymore. I had enough where with all to start calling detox houses but I can’t get him in and I don’t know what else to do. Finally, he’s not having any more of it. And I don’t know how to help him without locking him up which I can’t do. So I gave him some money and he stole a bunch of T3s.”
“Fuck… I mean frick, that’s horrible.”
“Yeah… then I sat on my balcony with the whiskey and questioned how I viewed the right and wrong in the world. And I understood it was more about helping those that need it than punishing people for doing wrong. I’m also certain this was no coincidence. It was meant to happen whatever it was, God wanted me to see my faults, He knew I had to before I could help others.” Josh smiled, “You got any coffee on?”
“Yup, freshly brewed. None of that old stuff from yesterday.”
“Sure there’s nothing in the coffee?”
Bobby smiled, “Just caffeine.”
Josh took out some change, “Here for the coffee.”
