Medicine River

by Thomas King

  “Lost Saturday’s games. Close scores though. Could have used you, Will.”

  I tried smiling. “Had to come back…forgot about it, the photographs. Couldn’t stay if I wanted. You’d already gone. I left a message with Buster…you know…at the registration desk. Didn’t you get it?” Lies are hard things to smile through.

  Harlen smiled back and shifted his weight. “Figured it was something like that. Floyd said you left because you were mad I didn’t play you more.”

  I shook my head.

  “You know, after the game, Louise Heavyman came over and asked where you were. Good-looking woman, Louise.”

  “Sure.”

  “I must be getting old, Will.” Harlen leaned over the crutches. “I haven’t hurt this ankle since high school.”

  “Dancing?”

  “What?”

  Harlen’s face was a blank. I was still angry. Playing dumb wasn’t going to help. I wanted a piece of him.

  “You know, that night at Gladstone Hall, hoop dancing, wasn’t it? You fell and hurt your foot.”

  Harlen’s face tensed up, and he shifted around on the crutches. It was a cheap shot.

  “Dancing? Hell, I’m a horrible dancer, Will. Hurt the ankle playing basketball. My cousin Billy, he’s the dancer in the family.”

  “Billy?”

  “Yeah, real good, too. Funny you know about that. Happened…damn, happened years ago. Just bad luck. Billy stepped on a hoop and went down hard. Real embarrassing. Hurt his arm, but that wasn’t the worst of it. You know Thelma Simpson? Billy drove her out to Snake Coulee that night…a little romancing. Well, Thelma got mad, pushed him out of the truck and drove off. And it was February. Billy almost froze to death.”

  “Damn it, Floyd…” I caught myself saying it out loud.

  “Floyd’s okay,” said Harlen. “He’s got a great jump shot.”

  It served me right, it damn well served me right. I wanted to laugh.

  Harlen laughed instead. “Floyd bet me a beer you were quitting the team. How I love those easy beers.”

  I looked at him, standing there on his crutches. “Look, I appreciate your coming by to talk me into staying with the team.”

  Harlen raised his hand and shook his head. “Serious now, Will. I came to talk to you about the team. Team gives the boys something to belong to, something they can be proud of. The boys look up to you, Will. Like a brother. Floyd said it wasn’t the same, driving into the key and not seeing you standing there under the basket.”

  “That’s about all I do.”

  “You give the boys confidence, Will. They got respect for you, and we got a good team. We can win the league championship. You know what the team needs?”

  What the team needed, Harlen said, was a better grasp of the basics. He was going to bring some folding chairs down to the gym, so we could practise dribbling around them. He’d also bought some record on how to be a successful coach. It came with a book of plays and a poster of Bobby Knight.

  I knew what the team really needed. A new centre. Someone young, fast, good hands, strong jumper. But I wasn’t going to tell Harlen that. Not yet, anyway.

  * * *

  —

  I HAD EXPECTED James to be angry about his drawings, but all he talked about was the eagle and how he was going to do a whale next. The eagle looked great hanging out the window. You could see it all the way down the block. Even Henry said it looked good.

  “James say anything to you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Figured he’d be angry.”

  “He didn’t mind. He thought it was funny.”

  “If my brother did that to me, I’d stuff his face in the trash.”

  “I didn’t do anything. You did.”

  “Hey, you helped, Will. You drew the cigar on the eagle and that stupid hat on the buffalo, too.”

  “It was just a joke.”

  The rain came first and soaked the butcher’s paper and plastered it to the side of the building. The wind came a few days later and tore the drawing loose. Some of the ink bled through, and for a long time after, you could see a faint outline of the eagle in the brick. James could draw. He really could.

  * * *

  —

  I CAUGHT UP with Floyd at the American Hotel a couple of days later. He was having a beer with Elwood.

  “Hey, Will,” said Floyd, and he pulled out a chair for me, “don’t see you in here much. Sit down. You seen Harlen? Really twisted that ankle. Christ, it looked like a purple grapefruit.”

  I was still looking for a piece of someone. “Great hoop dancer, huh? Trying to compensate, huh?” Chewing on Floyd was going to make me feel better. “Why don’t we talk about Harlen’s cousin Billy.”

  “Billy?” Floyd looked at Elwood and then back at me. “Harlen doesn’t have a cousin Billy.”

  3

  “You know,” said Harlen, “they got people who get paid for figuring out ways of breaking things down into little pieces.”

  Harlen always talked like this around tax time.

  “Categories, that’s what they call them.”

  Harlen would spend a good month musing about the wonders of taxes, and then he would take his T4s over to Louise Heavyman.

  “They got names for those categories that I can’t even pronounce. You know why they do that, Will?”

  I took my tax forms to Louise too. Neither of us could be trusted with the mysteries of simple addition.

  “Bank called me up, Will. Said I was overdrawn again. You know, they must have made a mistake.”

  Before Louise opened her own office in Medicine River, Harlen and I took our tax business to Jerry Peterson. Jerry ran a finance company, but he did taxes on the side, when the loan business slowed down just after Christmas.

  “You ever read any of those brochures Jerry used to give us, Will? One of them said I should be making a thousand dollars for every year I’ve been alive.”

  Jerry gave out free pens in plastic wrappers.

  “You know, I really liked those pens. I told Louise she should give out pens too.”

  “What did she say?”

  “You know Louise.”

  Jerry liked to get paid at the same time he did your taxes. “Not good business giving out credit,” Jerry told Harlen once. “It’ll just lower your self-esteem.” And then he’d give you a pen.

  Louise wanted to be paid at the same time she did our taxes, too. But she wasn’t worried about our self-esteem.

  “I’ve got rent to pay. I can’t be spending my time chasing out to the reserve or tracking you guys down.”

  Harlen, who sees the good in everyone and is always trying to help, told her that he really didn’t mind her not giving out pens, but that now that she was a successful businesswoman, she should think about getting married.

  “What did she say to that?”

  “She said she’d consider it.”

  Which wasn’t exactly what Louise had said. Elwood had been there with Harlen.

  “Should have heard her laugh,” Elwood told me. “Big tears in her eyes. Had to blow her nose six or seven times.”

  Louise had never been married.

  “Real smart though, Will,” said Harlen. “Even in boarding school, she was real smart. Has a great sense of humour. Good personality, too. What do you think?”

  I liked Louise, and I told Harlen I liked her, but that wasn’t what Harlen meant.

  “Good-looking woman, Will. Strong hips. You know, for children. Tall, too. Always good to have a tall woman.”

  Harlen and I had had this conversation before. “You must be forty or so, Will. Don’t look it, though. You’re a handsome man, good job. Good teeth. Good personality, too. You ever think about getting married?” Then he would drop hints about the way a life should be lived.

  “A man’s not complete until he has a woman by his side.

  “Nothing more important than the family.

  “A son of yours would probably be a sports star of some sort.


  “Beats the hell out of eating your own cooking.”

  I didn’t mind. Harlen meant well.

  “Seeing a man live alone is sad, Will. You get all drawn out and grey and wrinkled. Look at Sam Belly.”

  “Sam’s over ninety.”

  “And he’s not married.”

  “Sam was married for over fifty years, Harlen.”

  “Course he was. Wouldn’t have lived this long without a good woman. But do you think he’ll live another ten years?”

  Every so often, to keep these conversations from being one-sided, I’d throw out a few statistics of my own.

  “You know, Harlen, I was reading an article on marriages, and it said that at least fifty percent of marriages end in divorce.”

  “Hell, Will. If you could get odds like that in Vegas, you’d be rich.”

  That was Harlen.

  Harlen kept up on all the gossip. Nothing happened on the reserve or in town that Harlen didn’t know about. When he stopped by the studio on Wednesday, I could see he had something big on his mind. He was smiling inside, and it was leaking out the sides of his mouth and his ears.

  “Morning, Will.” And he helped himself to a chair.

  I had a stack of order forms in front of me, and with any luck, I figured I could get through them before Harlen got around to what he wanted to say.

  “Morning, Harlen.”

  “Nice day outside, Will. You remember Louise Heavyman?”

  “She did our taxes last month.”

  “That’s the one.”

  The corners of Harlen’s mouth started bending up, and his head began bobbing up and down like a turkey’s.

  “You know, Will, I don’t really mind that Louise doesn’t give out free pens.”

  “Hmmmmmmm.”

  “Those pens Jerry gave out never did work too well, you know.”

  “Hmmmmmmm.”

  “A couple of them leaked all over my shirt. Skipped a lot, too.”

  “Hmmmmmmm.”

  “And the colours…black and yellow…looked like you had a shiny bumblebee stuck in your pocket.”

  “Hmmmmmmm.”

  “The next time I see Louise, I should tell her that.”

  “Hmmmmmmm.”

  “What do you think, Will? You think she’ll invite us to her wedding?”

  “Who?”

  “Louise.”

  “What wedding?”

  Harlen looked all around the room. “Louise is probably getting married.”

  You never knew just how far Harlen’s probables were from actuals, and most of the time, neither did Harlen.

  “That was pretty sudden.”

  “Fellow from Edmonton. Leroy and Floyd saw them at Casey’s. Leroy says that they both sat on the same side of the table.”

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “Leroy says he thinks the guy is Cree.”

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “Probably soon. You don’t sit on the same side of the table unless it’s serious.”

  For the next month, Harlen brought me all the new information about Louise and her boyfriend.

  “Should have seen them, Will. Walking hand in hand. Daylight, too.

  “Rita Blackplume saw them at the movies…off in a corner by themselves.

  “His name is Harold. Drives a Buick. Comes down from Edmonton every weekend. Floyd saw his car in front of Louise’s place…all night.”

  After the second month or so, Louise and her boyfriend slipped into third place behind Mary Rabbit’s divorce and Elgin and Billy Turnbull’s driving their father’s truck off the Minor Street Bridge into the river. Elgin broke his arm. Billy put his head into the windshield and broke his big toe. Louise and her boyfriend were interesting, but Harlen was intrigued by Billy’s toe.

  “Can’t figure how he did that, Will. Broke his toe. Can you figure that? Hit his head and broke his toe.”

  Billy’s toe healed, and Elgin’s arm was out of the cast in two months. And Louise didn’t get married. Harlen called me at two in the morning to tell me that.

  “Will, you awake?”

  “Harlen?”

  “Will, wake up. It’s important.”

  “Harlen, it’s the middle of the night.”

  “Louise isn’t getting married, Will. Betty over at the hospital told Doreen that Louise and her boyfriend broke up about three weeks ago, and Doreen called me. You awake?”

  “I’m in bed.”

  “Will, Louise is pregnant. I’ll be by in ten minutes.”

  “Harlen…”

  “Okay, twenty.”

  I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth, when Harlen let himself in.

  “Coffee on, Will?”

  Louise was pregnant all right. Betty at the hospital had seen the results of the tests. About two months along.

  “Louise told Betty she had planned it this way. Said she wanted a baby, but didn’t want to get married. That’s Louise, isn’t it?”

  “She’s a strong woman.”

  “No, I mean the front. You know, Will, lying like that, so everyone will think you’re okay.”

  “You think…”

  “Sure. She’s all alone. Made a mistake. Scared to death. Family will probably disown her. Probably lose all her friends.”

  “What about the boyfriend?”

  “He’s Cree, Will.” And Harlen held his arms out and shook his head. “We got to do something. What do you think?”

  Helping was Harlen’s specialty. He was like a spider on a web. Every so often, someone would come along and tear off a piece of the web or poke a hole in it, and Harlen would come scuttling along and throw out filament after filament until the damage was repaired. Bertha over at the Friendship Centre called it meddling. Harlen would have thought of it as general maintenance.

  “People are fragile. Doesn’t take much to break something. Starfish are lucky, you know. You break off one of their arms, and it grows back. I saw it on television.”

  Harlen poured himself another cup of coffee.

  “Most women would just fall apart, you know. You got to admire Louise. Betty says you could never tell she was on the edge of a mental breakdown.”

  I couldn’t imagine Louise on the edge of anything.

  “We got to help her, Will. Somebody’s got to look after her. Be with her. Take her out, so she’s not ashamed to be seen in public. You know what I mean?”

  I was afraid I did.

  “Harlen, you’re not suggesting I should start seeing Louise just because she’s pregnant?”

  “No, I wasn’t thinking that. Course you are single, so your wife wouldn’t get upset, and you’re not doing anything anyway. And you are good friends with Louise.”

  “I like being single.”

  Harlen smiled. “You know, Will, your mother and Louise’s mother used to be good friends.”

  “I don’t want to get married.”

  “Who said anything about getting married? Louise is going through a bad time. Some Cree gets her pregnant and then runs away. All her friends and family desert her. She’s afraid to be seen in public. She’s your friend, Will. Couldn’t hurt to help out. Take her out to lunch.”

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “You know what they say, Will. Lunch is the most important meal of the day.”

  I felt like a real ass walking into Louise’s office the next day. I probably wouldn’t have gone, but Harlen knew me too well. He picked me up and drove me over.

  “You can go now, Harlen,” I said. “I can get across the street by myself.”

  “I’ll just wait here, Will, in case you need to ask any questions.”

  Louise was in. She didn’t look pregnant, but she caught me looking. “Yes, Will, I am pregnant. God, you guys are the biggest bunch of goats.”

  “I didn’t come here about that.”

  “And Harlen didn’t send you.”

  “Harlen? No. Just thought I’d come by and say hello. See if you wanted to go ou
t for lunch.”

  “The same Harlen who just happens to be parked across the street. Will, Harlen’s already sent over Floyd and Jimmy and Jack Powless.”

  “Jack Powless?”

  “All three hundred pounds of him. They all wanted to say hello and take me out to lunch.”

  Sometimes you get into situations where you can do nothing but lie. It’s the fear that does it, I think. “Really, just came by to say hello.”

  Louise smiled at me the way you smile at a two-year-old. “Thanks, Will,” she said, and she went back into her office.

  “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”

  “Help yourself, Will.”

  I let myself out the back door and walked home. I unplugged the phone and lay down on the bed. When I woke up, I felt better. I was still angry with Harlen, but I felt better. So I called Louise. What the hell. “Louise,” I said, “it’s Will. About the lunch date…”

  There was one of those long pauses when you think you might have lost the connection.

  “Will…”

  “This has nothing to do with Harlen or your being pregnant. How about tomorrow? We can go to Casey’s.”

  There was another pause.

  “How about I pay for my own meal?” she said.

  “You eat that much?”

  I was sweating when I got off the phone, and my heart was racing. And I didn’t call Harlen.

  Casey’s was crowded. The hostess jammed us into a corner, and between the lunch crowd, the music, the dishes clacking in the kitchen and the waitress dropping by every two minutes to ask us if everything was okay, we could hardly hear one another. We were reduced to either yelling across the table or just smiling and nodding.

  The food made me brave. We passed the Paramount Theatre on the way back to Louise’s office. Revenge of the Nerds was playing.

  “You got plans for Saturday night?”

  “This about a date?”

  “Good movie, that one,” I said.

  Louise laughed.

  I got braver. “How about it? See the early show and grab some burgers at Baggy’s after.”

  “Not supposed to be eating things like that. Not good for the baby.”

  She caught me flat-footed.

  “I better eat at home,” Louise said. “But the movie sounds fine. What say I pick you up around six-thirty?”