Medicine River

by Thomas King

  “No rush there. Billie’s only two months along.”

  So I told Harlen what I knew. It wasn’t much, and Harlen, not being one to take his information secondhand, finished my sausage, drank his coffee, told me to think of a good way to tell Billie’s parents that they were going to be grandparents, and left.

  In the meantime, Kevin Longbird, Gary Frank and Amos Morley were all released from jail. But the police didn’t release David, and it didn’t look like they were going to.

  The Medicine River Herald carried the story. Ray Little Buffalo had been shot in the stomach. He was found in Chinook Park by the river. David had been arrested and held for questioning, but it was a back page story, and there weren’t many details. For that, I had to wait for Harlen.

  Harlen caught me at my apartment. He rang the doorbell once and then walked in. I didn’t even bother to get out of my chair. “Fresh coffee in the kitchen,” I said. “Help yourself.”

  “You read the newspaper, Will?” he said, as he rattled around for a cup.

  “Every evening about this time.”

  “You read about Ray and David?”

  “Almost made the front page.”

  “Did it say anything about David’s jacket?” Harlen came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee and the last of the fried chicken. “Hope you don’t mind, Will. Real hungry. Been working hard.”

  “Got some leftover pizza, too.”

  “This is fine,” said Harlen. “You remember that jacket that David always wears around?”

  “You mean the red one?”

  “When they found Ray,” said Harlen, tearing a mouthful off the chicken leg, “he was wearing it.”

  “David’s jacket?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s crazy. David wouldn’t let Ray wear his jacket. David wouldn’t let you wear his jacket.”

  “Doesn’t make any sense alright.”

  * * *

  —

  MY MOTHER HAD a favourite expression for all those times in life when things didn’t make sense or couldn’t be explained. “That’s the way things are,” she’d say. It wasn’t an answer. It was more a way of managing the bad times. A lot of people like to blame those kinds of things on everything from luck to God. My mother would just shrug and get on with what she was doing. She’d use it when James and me asked those questions that kids will ask. “Why doesn’t Dad come home?” “How come Henry got a bike for Christmas?” “How come the television doesn’t ever work right?” She would just shrug and say, “That’s the way things are.”

  * * *

  —

  “JUST DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE.” Harlen finished his coffee and went back into the kitchen for another cup. “Where’s that pizza, Will?”

  About two months ago, David was in the American, just back from one of his trips. He was wearing the jacket, and he started bragging about Wounded Knee again. Ray had heard all the stories before, and he could have made allowances, but he didn’t. “Hey,” Ray said to David, “what does AIM mean? Friend of mine says it stands for Assholes in Moccasins.”

  David turned his back on Ray and said, so that everyone could hear, that he’d rather be an asshole than an apple or a coward. Ray got out of his chair and went over and stood at the bar next to David. “I hear that most of those AIM peckers are ex-cons and perverts.”

  Tony Balonca who was tending bar saw the fight coming before it even started and called the police. Ray and David were still staring each other down when they arrived.

  “Is this from Santucci’s?” Harlen held up the last bite of pizza.

  “Heat it in the microwave.”

  “It’s good cold.”

  “You figure it was David?”

  Harlen finished the rest of the pizza. “David wouldn’t have given his jacket to Ray, that’s for sure.”

  David didn’t give his jacket to Ray. By the time Harlen dropped by the studio on Wednesday, he had all the details. According to Amos Morley, who told his mother who told Eddie Weaselhead down at the centre who told Harlen, Ray and three of his friends caught David behind the American Hotel and beat him up. “Damn, Will,” Harlen told me, “after they beat him up, Ray took that jacket. Ray’s a lot bigger than David, and when he tried to put the jacket on, you know, just to tease David, he ripped it.” According to Harlen, David jumped back up and started swinging again, and Ray beat on him some more. After it was over, David went into the American to wash the blood off and then went to his apartment and got his deer rifle. He found Ray down by the river drinking and throwing rocks at the empty bottles. Ray was still wearing the jacket.

  “That jacket,” said Harlen, “must have been real important to David; you know, like a woman or children.”

  “No jacket is worth killing someone for.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “David. You know. Killing Ray like that.”

  Harlen shook his head. “David didn’t kill anybody. You got it wrong, Will. I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Well, you know that Ray beat up David and took his jacket?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you know that David got his rifle and went looking for Ray?”

  “I know that, too.”

  “David found him and started shooting at him. But he missed. When he ran out of bullets, he went home.”

  “Who shot Ray?”

  “Ray wasn’t shot. The papers sort of got that mixed up. When David started shooting, Ray tried to get out of the way, but he slipped and fell on the bottle he had in his pocket. Cut his stomach pretty bad. At first, everybody thought Ray had been shot, but he was just cut and drunk.”

  “That was lucky.”

  “David never was much of a shot.”

  * * *

  —

  WHEN JAMES AND ME were kids, my mother bought us a ball. It was just one of those cheap, pink rubber ones. James really loved that ball, spent most of his time after school bouncing the ball and catching it. The ball was for the both of us, but I guess James came to think of it as his own. We were playing with it down by the river one day, and I threw it too far. I didn’t mean to. It just went into the water and disappeared.

  James ran along the bank looking for that ball, and I guess, after a while, I laughed a bit. I didn’t like losing it, but it was funny watching him run along the shore looking for it in the dark water. James kept looking, and when he finally came back up the bank, there were tears in his eyes. He picked up a rock and threw it at me as hard as he could, and then he ran all the way home.

  * * *

  —

  “A JACKET,” said Harlen, “is a poor substitute for friends and family. I told David that.”

  “What’d he say?”

  Harlen turned his head and looked at the pictures on the wall. “He said he didn’t have any friends.”

  About once a week, Louise would make dinner, and I’d go over. It had gotten to be a habit. Louise and I had gotten to be a habit, and all things considered, it was a good habit. When I got there Thursday night, South Wing was waiting for me by the door.

  “Weeb, Weeb, Weeb,” she said and held out her arms. “Weeb, Mummy, Weeb.”

  Louise was in the kitchen. I picked South Wing up and spun her around.

  “Pee-pee, pee-pee, Weeb.”

  Louise laughed. “You got here just in time. It’s toilet training. You want a turn?”

  South Wing was already climbing down my side. “Pee-pee, Weeb, pee-pee.”

  “Dinner’s not quite ready yet, anyway. She’d love to show you her new toilet. Do you mind?”

  “What do I do?”

  Louise shook her head. “Men. Just watch her and make sure she doesn’t fall in.”

  “I can do that.”

  South Wing ran into the bathroom, and I followed. There was a red plastic ladder contraption with a toilet seat that fit over the regular seat. South Wing was already halfway up the ladder.

  “Me,” she said, and she sat on t
he toilet and rocked back and forth. “Me, me, me, me.”

  “Is this your new toilet seat?”

  “Me.”

  “Can you go to the bathroom all by yourself?”

  “Me.”

  “Maybe you should take your diaper off?”

  “No!”

  “How can you go to the bathroom with your diaper on?”

  “Me.”

  I ran out of questions long before Louise called us for dinner.

  “Did you show Uncle Will how you go to the bathroom?”

  “Pee-pee, Mummy, pee-pee!”

  “Did she do anything?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t suppose you looked.”

  “She didn’t want to take her diaper off.”

  Louise laughed. “She just sat there, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You know, Will, I paid thirty-five dollars for that thing.”

  “She sure says pee-pee well.”

  “Now if she’d only do it,” Louise said. “Will’s a hard name for kids to pronounce.”

  “Weeb’s close enough,” I said.

  “Weeb,” said South Wing.

  After dinner, Louise did the dishes, and I got to give South Wing a bath.

  “Will, could you put her sleeper on, too?”

  “Sure, no trouble.”

  “That was awful about Ray, wasn’t it, Will?”

  “Crazy.”

  “All that over a jacket!”

  * * *

  —

  JAMES STOPPED LOOKING for the ball after about fifteen minutes, but he stood down by the river for a long time. I finally shouted at him to come on up, that it was getting late. He didn’t yell at me like I thought he would, and I almost said I was sorry about the ball, but I didn’t. Instead, I told him to forget about the ball, and he leaned down and ran his hand over the gravel until he found a large stone.

  * * *

  —

  “I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND people doing things like that.”

  “It’s the way things are.”

  Louise made some coffee, and we sat on the couch. Christmas was less than a week away, and I still hadn’t got anything for South Wing. “What do you think South Wing would like for Christmas?”

  “She’d like anything, Will. Maybe a doll.”

  “Okay, maybe I’ll get her a doll.”

  “Sarah at the day home has a toy phone that she likes to play with, too. Anything’ll be okay.”

  “Maybe I could stay over Christmas Eve. We could open presents or go for a walk or something.”

  “Or something, huh?” Louise smiled and shifted around on the couch. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Will. I’ve made some plans for Christmas.”

  “Your folks?”

  “No.”

  “You going somewhere?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do I keep guessing?”

  Louise sighed and put down her coffee. “Will, South Wing and I are going to Edmonton for Christmas.”

  “What’s in Edmonton?”

  “Harold.”

  It’s funny the things you forget. I’d completely forgotten about Harold. “You mean Harold…South Wing’s…”

  “That’s right, Will, South Wing’s father. You know, he calls maybe twice a month. He’s even come down just to see her. I’ve always felt bad about the way I treated him. He’s a nice guy. You’d like him.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  Louise laughed and shook her head. “Yes, you would, Will. He wants to see South Wing, and he wants his folks to see her, too. He’s really very sweet, and she is his daughter. So, I said that I would. I’ll only be gone four days. We can have Christmas when we get back.”

  “Does this mean we can’t live together?” I laughed when I said it.

  “It doesn’t mean anything, Will. I don’t love him, any more.”

  “I know,” I said, still smiling. “He’s South Wing’s father. I understand, really.”

  “That’s right,” Louise said. “He is South Wing’s father.”

  I stopped by Harlen’s on the way home.

  “Hey, Will,” said Harlen, “glad you stopped by. Say, listen, my sister is having a big dinner at her place Christmas Eve. She said to invite you and Louise and South Wing. You know Howard Webster. He married Annie Whiteman. Real goofy guy. He’s going to be there, too. Real good food. Norma’s a good cook.”

  “Louise and South Wing are going up to Edmonton for Christmas.”

  “What’s up there?”

  I spent Christmas Eve alone in my apartment. It was no big deal. I’d done it before. I could have gone to the Lodge or the Pearl for dinner, or I could have gone out to the reserve with Harlen. Instead, I toasted up a cheese and tomato sandwich and opened a can of green beans and watched the news.

  It wasn’t the best Christmas I could remember. Louise and South Wing were in Edmonton with Harold. Harlen was at his sister’s place in Standoff. David was in jail. Ray was in the hospital. I wondered how Susan was doing. James was in New Zealand or Australia or somewhere. I hadn’t seen him since the funeral.

  My mother would have said that that’s the way things are, and she might have been right, but I lay in bed, anyway, hoping that James would call, so I could wish him a merry Christmas.

  Early the next morning, Louise called to wish me a merry Christmas and to tell me that Harold had proposed, and that he had a ring and everything.

  “It was kind of romantic, Will. He stood up in the middle of dinner, just like in the movies, and made this big proposal. Right in front of his folks.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “Well, it was kind of flattering, too, and all I could really do was smile. Can you believe it, Will? During dinner. We talked after his folks went home.”

  “You’re staying at his house?”

  “You know, he really wants to marry me.”

  “And…?”

  “He’s a nice guy, Will. But I don’t want to get married. I told Harold I didn’t want to get married. I hurt his feelings, Will. I didn’t want to, but I did. We’re going to drive back tomorrow.”

  “What about the ring?”

  “Harold said he kept the receipt.”

  Being alone at Christmas had steeled me. I didn’t feel sorry for Harold.

  “Will,” said Louise, and she said it in that warm way she has, “you know what I like about you? You understand me. Here, South Wing wants to say hello.”

  “Weeb,” said South Wing, “Weeb.”

  James called just before noon. He was back in San Francisco again and was doing fine. He had a job with a commercial art company. It was a good-paying job, he said, and if things went right, he thought he’d be up in the summer. “I would have called last night, but I was out with a friend. We didn’t get in until late.”

  We talked for a long time. I told him about David and Ray and the red jacket. We talked about being kids in Calgary, about Mom, and he told me I should come down and visit him in San Francisco.

  After we got caught up, I asked him about the ball.

  “Sure, I remember,” he said. “You threw it in the river. I was really angry.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. You threw a rock at me.”

  “That’s right, but I missed.”

  “I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry.”

  “About the ball?”

  “Yes.”

  James laughed. “Hell, Will.”

  “I just wanted to say I was sorry.”

  I put the coffee on and took the musical top out of the bag and tried it on the floor. It made a sweet, humming sound, the pitch changing as it spun in its perfect circle: red, yellow, blue, green. The scissors were in the drawer with the knives, and I spent some time trying to wrap the top. In the end, it looked awful. The bright blue paper was wrinkled and torn and pieced together at angles with bits of tape. The yellow ribbon was wound around the handle and tied in a pathetic, lop-sided
bow. But that was okay. South Wing was going to love it.

  I made lunch. The day had started out overcast, but standing at the kitchen window, I could see that the winter sun was out now and lying low on Medicine River. Later that afternoon, I went for a long walk in the snow.