The Garneau Block

by Todd Babiak

  “Sure, Raj.”

  “This band is from Edmonton.” Rajinder unbuttoned his suit jacket. To Jonas it sounded as though the singer were being whipped with something. Rajinder nodded his head in time with the bass. “I have seen them in nightclubs downtown. They do this thing with meat. It is all quite avant-garde.”

  “I don’t think avant-garde’s possible.”

  Rajinder opened his beer and sat back in his chair. Soon it would be dark and the air would cool. “Would you like me to tell you a secret, Jonas?”

  “Secrets are my favourite.”

  Rajinder nodded toward the darkness of 10 Garneau across the street. “I know where Jeanne and Katie Perlitz are now.”

  Jonas sat up. “Really? Madison’ll wet herself.”

  “Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the nature of secrets.”

  At that moment, the basement suite door of 12 Garneau opened. Madison waved and began crossing the street.

  “She reminds me of a movie star.” Rajinder stood up and waved.

  “Which one?”

  “A plain yet beautiful movie star, with a sincere smile.”

  Jonas turned to Rajinder, whose posture was painfully straight. Almost imperceptibly, he wet his lips and adjusted his tie.

  “You be careful, pal,” said Jonas. “She’s a viper, that one.”

  “A viper.” Rajinder laughed, and smiled as Madison started up the red walk. “Thank you for coming, Madison.”

  “Thanks for the invitation.” She stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Hey, Jonas.”

  Jonas wished she would go away for a couple of weeks while he solidified his new best-friend status with Rajinder. He realized Madison had certain gifts that, given the nature of Rajinder’s sexual orientation, could offset his charms. But all in all, Jonas was confident his wit and warmth were more winning than her sincere smile and silky red hair. “Maddy.”

  “Please, sit down.” Rajinder pulled a chair out from behind the patio table, which was decorated with a mosaic of stained glass. “What shall I get you? Wine or beer? A cocktail? Or if you are still refraining from alcohol, a soft drink?”

  Madison asked for a soft drink and Rajinder hurried inside. She sat and smiled at Jonas. “What’s this music?”

  “Some S&M thing. Rajinder’s really into S&M.”

  “Oh, he is not.”

  “He also mentioned he hates babies and haikus.”

  “Jonas, stop it.”

  He took a long drink of beer. “Stop what? What?”

  “I’m not going to take Rajinder from you. I know you want him to be your new best friend.”

  “That isn’t true. I’m hurt that you should say that. You’re my best friend unto the end of time.”

  Madison shook her head. Rajinder opened the door with his elbow and walked out with a small red cooler filled with ice, beer, and an assortment of pop and juice boxes. In the other arm he carried a platter of devilled eggs. Madison helped with the cooler, placing it next to the patio furniture.

  “Did you make these?” said Jonas, while Rajinder pulled the plastic off the devilled eggs.

  “After work today, yes. I followed a recipe from the Internet. It is nothing special.”

  Jonas realized that Rajinder had been holding out on him. The devilled eggs were in the fridge all along, and Rajinder had waited until the divine Madison showed up before he unveiled them.

  All was lost.

  “Should I leave you two alone?”

  “What?” Madison looked at Jonas as though he had punched her in the stomach.

  “I just thought…”

  “No, Jonas. You shouldn’t leave us alone.”

  Rajinder walked around the table and nodded. “I cannot speak for Madison, but I enjoy your company very much. Do you feel slighted because I kept the devilled eggs hidden until Madison arrived?”

  Having his feelings aired like this made Jonas feel somewhat petty. “No, of course not. I was just being provocative for no good reason. Earlier today I smoked crystal meth with some kids in the alley and it’s messing with my bean.”

  Rajinder opened his mouth. “You did?”

  “Stop being so serious, you two. We’re young and clever, and we live in a country with universal health care. Let’s party.”

  “Let us party, then.” Rajinder walked around and took a new beer out for Jonas. “And Madison? What is your poison?”

  “Did I spot some cranberry cocktail in there?”

  “Indeed you did.”

  The three new best friends sat on the porch, listening to the tortured prairie pop music while the sun began to set. Jonas was about to begin a conversation that might steer toward Madison’s unfortunate pregnancy when the front door of 12 Garneau opened. David Weiss emerged with Garith.

  Rajinder waved. “Mr. Weiss, sir. Hello.”

  “Howdy, Rajinder.”

  “If you and Garith would like to join us for a beverage, please feel more than welcome.”

  David said he wouldn’t mind if he did, but he had to take Garith for a jog around the block first. Would it be okay if he invited Abby?

  Jonas sighed and popped a devilled egg into his mouth. And another.

  46

  cultural designations

  Jonas and Rajinder and Madison hung a line of blue Christmas lights along the back of the porch, to counter anxieties about looming homelessness with what Rajinder called “an atmosphere of gaiety.” When darkness fell, everyone but Raymond Terletsky had gathered at 13 Garneau. With the faint sound of slow accordion in the background, Jacques Brel chatted about being alone yet in love.

  The lights in place, Rajinder and Madison walked out on to the sidewalk to look from afar. “It is imperfect,” said Rajinder.

  In what she took to be a brave move, a signal, Madison slapped Rajinder’s arm with the back of her hand. “All the best things are.”

  Since there were only five chairs, Rajinder sat on a large rock in his front yard. Madison had preferred it earlier in the evening when they had been sitting next to one another, looking out on the avenue. An avenue that already seemed lost.

  No promising news or developments had come since the Let’s Fix It meeting. On the contrary, the newspaper had not even published David’s letter to the editor. It had been far too long and possibly libellous.

  “Has your lawyer friend looked into a historical designation, Rajinder?” said David.

  Abby shook her head. “Only two of the houses are original and Emily Murphy didn’t live in either of them.”

  In his reclined deck chair, David shrugged gently and patted Garith, who was asleep in a blanket on his chest. “It was only an idea.”

  “A good idea, Mr. Weiss, thank you. Unfortunately, neither petitions nor lobbying will achieve our goals. I was planning to offer a generous donation to the Arts faculty but I am afraid that would offer us no guarantees. It might only delay the inevitable.”

  Abby went to open a bottle of Okanagan white wine. “Can’t we try to do it without money? You might not know this, Rajinder, but since I retired from the teaching profession I’ve become a political activist.”

  “Here we go,” said David.

  “Clam up, honey. We certainly can’t rely on your Tory friends.”

  David looked down. “That’s between me and my party.”

  “I have real friends who can teach us how to protest in a serious way. These are deeply unpleasant yet committed people.” Abby pulled the cork and shook it in the air. “I’m talking chains. I’m talking black blocs. I’m talking Raging Grannies. To the barricades!”

  A long silence ensued. Madison didn’t look at her father, as she feared they would both crack up. Abby poured wine into her glass and Shirley’s glass, and sat back.

  “I haven’t heard any better ideas,” she said. “At least mine’s creative.”

  Rajinder smiled. “Mrs. Weiss, thank you for your enthusiasm and your contribution. It may be our only recourse, to enlist the services of your deeply unpleasant
friends.”

  “Just say the word, Rajinder.”

  “But the notion of creativity does lead us to one more option, somewhat similar to the historical designation.”

  Rajinder was interrupted by an orchestral fanfare from across the street. Raymond Terletsky, it seemed, was listening to opera again at top volume. Abby reached over Madison to put her hand on Shirley’s shoulder and squeeze.

  “What the hell is he doing?” said Shirley.

  “Recharging his psychological and philosophical batteries,” said David. “At least that’s what he said this afternoon. The good news is he took a shower today. Sorry, Rajinder. Back to your idea.”

  “It is not an idea. It is an option. Instead of an historical title, we can attempt to get a cultural designation.”

  No one responded for a moment. Madison wondered how that could be possible. There were no Fringe venues nearby, and even though bands and DJs performed at the Sugarbowl, you could hardly hear it from the Garneau Block. Then she snapped her fingers. “All we have to do is make Jonas a celebrity.”

  “I am a celebrity.”

  “A celebrity in the United States. Those are the only celebrities that matter.”

  “Why don’t you just punch me in the nuts, Maddy. I’d prefer that.”

  Abby clapped. “Yes, yes. His house would be a monument, like Bob Dylan’s childhood home. We drove by it once. Where was that again?”

  “Hibbing, Minnesota,” said David.

  Jonas got up and started into Rajinder’s house. In the doorway he turned and said, “I’m not famous. I’ll never be famous. And if any of you actually cared about me, you’d know I grew up in Beverly. Beverly, not Garneau.” He closed the door behind him.

  Madison looked out into the yard at Rajinder, and signalled toward the house with her eyes. Rajinder said, “Of course,” so Madison followed Jonas inside.

  This was her first time in Rajinder’s house, which was not so different from her parents’. The crown moulding was newer and prettier, and the paint was fresher. Rajinder had art on his walls, and framed yellow pages with Indian script, instead of plaques and photographs of the premier and other Conservative politicians competing with matted Greenpeace and Amnesty International posters.

  She found the bathroom, and guessed the glow underneath the door meant Jonas was inside. “Knock knock.”

  “Leave me alone, Maddy.”

  “Please come out.”

  “You made light of my failures.”

  “Jonas, you aren’t a failure. You’re my hero. Who comes to all your shows?”

  “Carlos.”

  “Who else?”

  After a moment, Jonas said, in a small voice, “You.”

  “I think you should be a Hollywood celebrity. You’re way funnier and talented than so many current ones, and more handsome, too.”

  “Well, I’ve always known that. In my heart of hearts. But thinking it won’t make it so.”

  “Jonas, you’re the greatest actor of your generation.”

  The door flung open. “Do you really figure?”

  “I do. I’m your biggest fan.”

  Jonas hugged Madison. Then he stepped away. “Can I put my hand on your little pot belly?”

  Madison lifted her shirt. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

  “Let’s name him Jonas,” said Jonas, with his hand on her belly. “Don’t you think it’s a majestic name?”

  Back on the front porch, Shirley had vanished. Raymond Terletsky was crossing the street toward 13 Garneau.

  47

  mythic power

  Raymond Terletsky stopped in the darkness of Rajinder’s walkway and watched his wife sprint home. “Shirley,” he said. “My love. Please.”

  Though she had been stunned by the professor’s creepiness at the Let’s Fix It meeting, Madison felt sorry for him. If she were to publicly declare all her nasty dreams and fantasies she wouldn’t be all that popular either. Shirley entered 11 Garneau and slammed her door, so Madison waved. “Come on up, Raymond.”

  He slouched in his sloppy jeans and T-shirt. “Are you sure?”

  “Please,” said Rajinder. “We have wine and beer and cocktails, and a variety of soft drinks in a cooler.”

  Raymond paused for a moment to tuck his T-shirt into his jeans, highlighting his paunch, and started up the red walk. “I’ll stay away from the liquor but a root beer might be nice. Those blue lights surely are pleasant.”

  “We just put them up.” Rajinder stood up from his rock. “To create an atmosphere of gaiety.”

  All evening, Madison had been waiting for Jonas to respond to the word gaiety but he stayed silent. Instead of dropping a witticism, he just winked. Raymond sat in Shirley’s chair.

  Rajinder cleared his throat. “I was just telling your neighbours, Dr. Terletsky, that one way to save the Garneau Block is to get a cultural designation from the city.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “That’s just it,” said David. “We don’t know. So far we’ve established that if Jonas here stars in the next Indiana Jones movie, we got nothing to worry about.”

  Madison put her hand on Jonas’s knee, to make sure he stayed put.

  “I’ve been sitting in a small bedroom across the street for two days straight, listening to the greatest musical genius in human history.” Raymond opened his can of root beer and took a drink. “I also read King Lear, twice.”

  “That’s great, Raymond,” said Abby. “Bravo.”

  “After spending my whole career on death, I’d like to focus for a while on life. All the great life-affrming themes come through death, you understand. For example, did you know Mozart was sick and depressed and tumbling toward his last days when he composed The Magic Flute?”

  In the past, listening to Raymond, Madison had always felt lucky to have avoided his classes. But on Rajinder’s porch, in the blue light, with Jacques Brel in the background, he gave off a nervous yet curiously appealing energy. For the first time in her life, she was actually interested in something the professor was saying.

  “Western philosophy,” he continued, “my specialty, ignores thunderstorms and sunshine, winter and summer, the natural world and instinct and care. The smell of lilac. The dignity of a rainy day. Quiet and nothingness. Art, my friends.”

  “Amen, Raymond,” said Jonas.

  “I have wasted my life in shadows.”

  “Testify!”

  The professor began pacing the front porch. Disturbed, Garith hopped off David’s lap and began following Raymond. “We have to accept death and incorporate it positively into our lives. Embrace it. Life is death and death is life. Tragedy is comedy. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Not a lick of it,” said David.

  Raymond sat down again. “I’ve realized what’s been missing from my life. My dry, false, secret and cold and craven life. Fifty-four years I’ve wasted. Wasted!”

  “What is missing?” said Rajinder.

  “Mythic power. A deep and abiding self-awareness, a sense of grandeur, a way to transcend my routines, my flaws, my interest in what people wear to the Academy Awards. And it’s not just me. It’s the block, the city, the province, and the country. Mythic power is missing from our lives. An abundant celebration of life through death, like The Magic Flute or King Lear. Something big and brave and messy. Here.” Raymond pounded his chest. “Here.” He pointed to each of his neighbours’ hearts. “And here and here and here.” After a moment of heavy breathing, he opened his arms to the neighbourhood. “Here. And most importantly, my friends, there.” Raymond squinted and tilted his root beer can triumphantly toward 10 Garneau.

  Jonas walked over to Raymond and hugged him. “I’m all sweaty, just from listening to you.”

  Abby applauded, and Madison and Rajinder joined in. David called Garith back up on his lap and shook his head. “I still don’t understand what you’re on about.”

  “Well, I don’t either, David. Not yet.” Raymond tapped his templ
e with the can of root beer. “But the idea is in motion, the great big idea.”

  “I think this is what I meant by Fixing It,” said Rajinder. “I did not know this is what I meant. But this is what I meant.”

  Raymond walked down the steps. He continued to the street in front of 10 Garneau. Rajinder turned to follow him. Abby and Jonas and Madison started down the stairs, and after a series of annoyed mumbles, so did David.

  The neighbours stood together in front of the dark house. “I don’t have a job at the moment, so I can spend some time on this,” said Raymond.

  Rajinder nodded. “On Monday I will find out what the city means by cultural designation.”

  “I think a buffalo or two should be involved.” Raymond took a step back and made a viewfinder out of his hands. “The northern lights, snow and stucco, and somehow the noble buffalo.”

  Without a word, David and Garith started to their front door.

  Abby yawned, looked at her watch and followed her husband and his dog. “I’m really excited about this, whatever it is. Keep me posted.”

  Raymond and Jonas returned to the porch, discussing the mythic potential of buffalo. Would it be too rural? Under the soft yellow street lights, Madison looked at Rajinder and smiled. They followed their neighbours back to the porch and she shivered.

  “Would you like a sweater, Madison?”

  “That would be great.”

  Rajinder stopped her, looked down at her baby-blue sneakers and then up into her eyes. After three breaths and a faint stumble he said, “In addition, would you allow me to take you to dinner some evening? Anywhere you like, excepting sushi. It does not agree with me. Please, please do not feel obliged to say yes. I enjoy my time alone. In fact, forget I asked. It was ridiculously presumptuous of me to assume you would be…”

  “I’d be delighted, Rajinder.” They continued along, and Rajinder placed his hand on her lower back. A tingle rushed through her body, and she felt unpregnant for almost ten seconds.

  48

  shirley wong acquires billets

  The hockey billets were named Craig Buckner and Blair Kravchuk, but everyone called them Steamer and Patch. They moved in on the first Monday of October, just as the crisp leaves and crabapples began to clutter Shirley Wong’s backyard. As she gave the boys a tour of their bedrooms in the basement, she attempted to refer to them as Craig and Blair, but they were adamant about being Steamer and Patch.