by Thomas King
“The woman who owns the house is an amateur photographer,” Elizabeth explained. “She develops and prints her own photographs. I understand you’re a photographer, too.”
“He’s a very good photographer,” said Louise.
“I’ll have to keep you in mind,” said Elizabeth.
The darkroom was surprisingly complete. The woman had installed an expensive water-filter and temperature-control unit and had built a really nice redwood bench to hold the developing trays. There were overhead safe lights and a long square table for the enlarger. The toilet was covered by the table. “She uses the sink to wash the film,” Elizabeth told Louise. “And that wire above the tub is for hanging the negatives.”
It was a good-sized room. The window had been blacked out, and the door had seals all around.
“What do you think, Will?”
“She did a good job,” I said. “My first darkroom was about half this size and not near as nice.”
Louise slapped my shoulder. “Not the darkroom…the house.”
Elizabeth smiled at me, and I smiled back. “I like the house, too.”
Harlen was full of suggestions.
“You got to get moved in right away, Will. Women have a way of taking over. Man’s got to mark out his territory or there won’t be anything left. You give your notice yet?”
“I’m not moving in, Harlen.”
“Have you talked to Louise?”
“No.”
“Will, why do you think she bought a house with a darkroom? Why, she’s probably been looking for a house with a darkroom for months.”
“It just happened to be there.”
“Four bedrooms, too?”
“She wanted a big house.”
Harlen put his hands between his knees and rocked forward. “A big house with a darkroom. Think about it, Will.”
Louise bought the house, and two months later, Harlen and Floyd and Elwood and three of Louise’s brothers and me drove our cars and trucks over to Louise’s apartment, packed up her things, drove to the new house and helped move her in.
Harlen hadn’t given up. As we carried in the stuffed chair, he said, “Where you want this, Will?” And, when Floyd and Elwood took the bed off the truck and asked Harlen where it should go, Harlen said, “You better ask Will.”
Harlen even went downstairs to the darkroom and said, “Boy, looks like the kind of room a real professional could appreciate. Too bad it’s going to waste.” And he said it loud enough for the neighbours on both sides of Louise to hear.
We started moving at about noon and by five-thirty that evening, Louise and South Wing were in their new home.
Louise caught me as I was bringing in the last box. “Will,” she said, “why don’t you stay? I’ll find a couple of pans and make us dinner. You can use the shower.”
Louise gave Harlen thirty dollars. “Take the boys out for pizza or something. I really appreciate you guys helping me move.”
I walked Harlen to his car. “Louise is just waiting for you to ask.” He smiled and patted my shoulder. “Better do it before she gets those boxes unpacked.”
Louise was able to find one pan. We discovered a package of hamburger that hadn’t made it into the freezer. It was beginning to thaw, so Louise cooked it up and threw it on top of a pot of noodles with some butter and ketchup.
South Wing fell asleep between the boxes, and I set her crib up and put her in it. Louise wandered around the house, looking at the rooms. We tried to find the box with the toothpaste and the soap and the shampoo, and after a half an hour of looking, we gave up and fell into bed.
We made love that night, and afterwards, Louise rolled over and said, “Will, do you ever think about us?”
“Sure.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Sure.”
“Will…” And she reached down and pinched me. “I’m serious. You ever think of us living together?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, what do you think?”
The blankets on the bed were heavy. I was beginning to sweat.
“I’m not saying we should,” Louise propped herself up on one elbow. “It’s just that sometimes it gets lonely with just South Wing.”
“You’ve got me.”
Louise curled up against me. “This is nice, Will,” she said. “Don’t mind me. It’s just the new house.”
* * *
—
THERE WERE ANOTHER fifteen people in the kitchen. Susan was in an apron at the sink, talking with two other women.
“Will.” And she turned off the water, shook her hands and gave me a hug. “I told you not to bring anything.”
I didn’t know anyone. Susan had her arms around my waist. “I’m sorry about what happened, Will. When all this calms down, we’ll talk.”
She took the bottle and put it on the drain board. “Jane, Alice, this is Will, the photographer I told you about. Will, this is Jane and this is Alice.”
“Susan tells us you’re Native, too,” said Alice. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it? I mean, being a photographer.”
“What?”
“You know…the way Indians feel about photographs.”
I got a glass of punch from the bowl in the middle of the table and looked around for a corner. Susan found me standing by a bookcase in the living room. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll give you a tour.”
We started upstairs. “There’s hardwood under the carpet upstairs and down. Alice says I should take the carpet up.”
“Hardwood’s nice.”
“I’ve got to do the bathroom first, though. See what I mean?”
The bathroom was large. It had an old clawfoot tub and a pedestal sink. Someone had rigged a shower to the tub, but they hadn’t done a very good job. The linoleum around the toilet was curling and starting to come up. There was a rather strong smell of urine.
“The family I bought the house from had three boys. God, but they must have all practised missing the toilet.” Susan turned off the light and walked down the hall. “Come on. There are only two bedrooms, but they’re both large. Did you ever meet Meg and Beth?”
Meg and Beth were sitting on a bed watching television. Meg looked up and smiled. “Hi, again,” she said, and went back to watching the show. Beth was asleep.
“You’ve already met?”
“He was at the door. I thought he was Jerry.”
“Jerry?” Susan looked at me and smiled. “This isn’t Jerry honey. This is Will.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Why don’t you turn that off and get ready for bed.”
“It’s almost over.”
“When it’s over, it’s time for bed.”
“I can’t sleep with all that noise downstairs.”
“Beth is sleeping just fine.”
“Beth is boring.”
The other bedroom was smaller. Susan closed the door behind us. “I’m going to fix this up, too, but the bathroom is first.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry about the way I left, Will, but I needed to get away. It wasn’t just Ralph. It was me. I kept giving my life away to people. To Ralph. To you. There was nothing left for me.
“You know what I’ve discovered? I don’t really have to have someone. I can do everything myself. Men are used to that, but I never knew I could do it all by myself. Life, I mean.”
I said I understood.
“That’s what Ralph said, too. You’re both sweet. There’s something I wanted to tell you, and I didn’t want to do it in a letter or over the phone.”
I was feeling uncomfortable, standing there in Susan’s bedroom, but I didn’t want to sit down either.
“Things have changed, Will. I have a job, house, my two girls, and a new life. It’s kind of exciting. You know what I mean?”
“Sure.”
“So, that’s what I had to say.” Susan got up and took my arm. “I want you to be happy, Will. Come on, there’s someone you should meet.”
; We went downstairs. If anything, there were more people now than before. Susan worked her way through the crowd to a grey-haired man in a blue suit.
“Let me guess,” I said, extending my hand. “This is Jerry.”
Susan shook her head and started to laugh. “No, Will. This is Ralph.”
* * *
—
THE NEXT MORNING, Louise was up and in the shower before I had even rolled over for the first time. I lay there in bed listening to the water run. South Wing was moving. I could hear her beginning to cry. I found her standing in her crib with her arms stretched out and tears in her eyes. She wasn’t awake yet, so I brought her back to bed with me.
Louise found us that way, South Wing rolled up like a sow bug next to me. “You guys…come on, I’ve got unpacking to do, and you have to go to work.”
“Today’s Sunday. I don’t work on Sunday.”
“What about the football games?”
“What games?”
I stayed in the shower as long as I could, and thought of ways to bring up the subject of living together. There was plenty of room, so we wouldn’t get in each other’s way. A darkroom at home would be nice. Maybe Harlen was right. Maybe Louise was just waiting for me to ask. Maybe she wasn’t sure and was hoping that I would make the first move.
South Wing was in her chair, eating cereal. Louise had her head in a large box. “You want breakfast, Will?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. You look in the big box in the corner.”
“What for?”
“Breakfast.”
We had graham crackers, cheese and tea. The kitchen looked like a trash bin. South Wing disappeared into the living room. We could hear her rattling around in the boxes.
“God,” said Louise, “where will I begin?”
“Better start in the kitchen. You got to eat.”
I stayed around and helped move some of the furniture and a few of the boxes. I couldn’t think of a good way to bring the subject up. I left after lunch. Louise walked me to the door. “Why don’t you come back tonight? Place will be in better order. Besides,” she said, and she gave me a kiss, “moving makes me horny.”
For the next week, I spent every night at Louise’s new house. And every day, Harlen was at the studio offering advice.
“Take a few clothes over and leave them there.
“Do some of the repairs. Show her how handy you are.
“Ask her if it’s okay to store some of your photographic equipment in her darkroom.
“Maybe walk her past Herron’s jewellery, and see what she says.”
I had to work Saturday morning, and when I got to Louise’s a big white panel truck was just pulling away from the house. Louise was in the living room, lying on the couch. All the boxes were gone.
“What happened to all the boxes? I was beginning to like them.”
“Will, I will never do this again. I think everything is finally away.”
“This the end of sex?”
Louise got up and gave me a long hug. “As a matter of fact, it is. I’ve got a bladder infection. I’ve got some medication, but it’s going to be cuddling for the next few days.”
“Too much sex?”
“Too much sex.”
“Come on,” said Louise. “I want to show you something.” And she headed into the basement.
“The plumbing people came by today,” she said. “What do you think?”
The darkroom was gone. There were holes where the water pipes and the filter had been, and you could still see the line against the wall where the table had stood.
“I’ve got some people coming on Monday who are going to repair the tile, put down some new linoleum and do the drywall. I figured I could paint it myself.”
Harlen was upset when I told him. First he was upset with me. Then he was upset with Louise. “You see what I mean, Will? Formidable. You just don’t know what people like that are going to do. There’s two bathrooms there already. What does she need a third one for?”
But I could see her point. I really could. And I wasn’t upset at all. “You can always use another bathroom,” I told Harlen. “She doesn’t need a darkroom.”
“It’s symbolic, Will. Formidable people are always doing those things.”
After a while, though, Harlen, who can always find a place where the sun shines, agreed that maybe we didn’t need a darkroom after all, that having three bathrooms in the house would be better, especially if there were more children.
When Harlen gets like that, I just let him go.
* * *
—
I DIDN’T TALK to Ralph. He went with Susan on a tour of the house. Susan said I should mingle, that I should talk to Alice. I found a quiet corner instead and listened to other people’s conversations for a while. Then I got my coat and left. I was halfway across the front yard when I remembered I was in Pickering.
“Nice night.”
Alice was standing on the porch. She was just buttoning up her coat. “Susan said you might leave early and that you would probably need a ride.”
“I thought I’d catch the train.”
“Too late,” said Alice. “The last one left an hour ago. Come on. I don’t mind.”
We got in Alice’s car. She put on her seat-belt and started the engine.
“Where’s the nuclear power plant?” I asked.
“You can’t see it from here,” said Alice. “You want to drive by it?”
“No.”
“It’s not out of the way. By the way, where do you live?”
I turned in my seat and looked back at the house. “Medicine River.”
“Where the hell is that?”
“Just west of Toronto.”
Alice put the car into gear. “I’ll take you as far as Toronto,” she laughed, “and from there you’ll have to walk.”
* * *
—
LOUISE GOT OVER her bladder infection. Harlen got over his disappointment. I got over four hundred dollars worth of filters, mixers and thermometers that Louise had asked the plumber to save for me. Even Harlen thought that that was nice.
Louise stayed in her new house, and I stayed in my apartment. Everything considered, it was probably just one of those times in life that we would all laugh about in the years to come.
17
I liked to spend my Sundays watching sports on television. It didn’t matter what sport. I enjoyed them all. I’d get up in the morning around ten and pour some cereal in a bowl and turn on the television. Cartoons were on for the first hour, and I’d eat and watch Coyote chase Road Runner or Elmer Fudd chase Bugs Bunny or Sylvester chase Tweety. Around eleven, a baseball game or a football game or a basketball game would come on, and I’d watch the Blue Jays chase the Yankees or the Vikings chase the Rams or the Bucks chase the Rockets.
It was a waste of a Sunday. I knew that. But it was relaxing, and to be honest, I enjoyed it.
Louise, on the other hand, spent her Sundays going to yard sales. She’d get the paper on Saturday and spend part of Saturday night marking all the ones that sounded interesting. She would even plan a route so that she could get from one sale to the next with the least amount of backtracking. There was a wonderful feeling of organization and efficiency to the lists she produced. But aside from the occasional toy or book, she seldom came back with anything.
* * *
—
MY MOTHER WENT to yard sales, too. There was hardly a Sunday went by that my mother wasn’t off looking in a garage or a backyard, sifting through tables piled high with toasters and dishes and lava lamps and digging in boxes stuffed with old issues of Reader’s Digest, paperback romances, clothing and car parts. She shopped with a vengeance, rifling the tables, quickly sorting the occasional find from the junk.
“Try this on,” my mother would tell me. And if it didn’t fit, if it was too small, she’d try it on James.
The clothes I grew up in had all belonged to other people. But it should be said that
my mother was a careful shopper. Most of the clothes or shoes or jackets she brought home looked brand new.
“Maybe you’ll take a dollar for this,” she’d say about an item marked four-fifty.
“This has got a tear in it. Maybe you’ll take fifty cents.
“Place down the street has one of these for two-fifty.
“My friend says Woolworth’s got the same thing on special for five dollars. Brand new.”
She continued to go to yard sales after I left for Toronto, and each Christmas, I’d receive a package with a shirt or a pair of pants or a tie. Each present was clean and pressed and folded as though it had just been taken out of the plastic wrapper.
* * *
—
LOUISE CALLED ME Saturday night.
“Will,” she said, “what are you doing tomorrow morning?”
“Got some work to do.”
“There’s a big estate sale over on Ninth Avenue. You’ve been looking for a couch, haven’t you?”
“For what?”
“They may even have a lamp, too.”
“I don’t need a couch.”
“It won’t take long. I could use your good judgement. You know, your artistic eye. We’ll be done by noon.”
The game I really wanted to see was the San Francisco Forty-Niners and the Dallas Cowboys. It didn’t start until two.
“How about I pick you up early tomorrow?” Louise said.
“How early?”
“Nine o’clock?”
“Couldn’t we go at ten?”
“Good stuff will be gone by then.”
Harlen called half an hour later. “Hey, Will, ready for the big game?”
“Your television not working again?”
“Television’s fine. Jumps a bit still. Thought you might like some company. You know, throw the ball around at half-time. I could bring chips and soda.”
“I’ve got to go out with Louise tomorrow morning. Estate sale on Ninth Avenue.”
“Hey,” said Harlen. “That must be Mrs. Gedaman. She died a while back. You mind if I come?”
