Angel in Blue Jeans

by Richard L. Coles

  Dave sighed and finished his drink. Barbara stood up, walked over to him, patted his hand, and continued on into the kitchen.

  Time passed. I wonder if there are any jobs going in the Scouts head office? Or even in the Reserves? It’d be a desk job, but that’s what I do, I guess. Or a park ranger, yeah, outdoors, that would be cool.

  He heard the back door, and the sounds of his son Cody galumphing into the house: the fridge door slamming, sounds of voices, and Cody crashing downstairs, presumably to watch videos or play computer games.

  He didn’t really care—he really didn’t care about anything right now. He’d helped in the fights against the cuts, and it hadn’t worked. That’s all there was to it.

  He looked at his empty glass. He needed to act. He walked over to the cabinet, refilled his glass, and stood watching the streetscape through the window. This was a habit. He sipped his drink. He enjoyed good scotch, often. Some say it’s not good for you, a bad habit. Humph!

  There was a swirl of fallen leaves blown by the wind gathering on the street at the end of the driveway. Two teenagers ran through the pile as they moved along the street. Angelo and Peter, thought Dave. Yeah, I guess scotch wasn’t good for them, but they’re still kids, and we’re blocking off the brewery so they won’t be into that gig again.

  He continued to sip his drink. Damn government bureaucrats, he thought, screw you.

  - 5 -

  Dana snuggled her head against Tony’s shoulder, curling her feet up onto the couch. Tony stroked her hair. The only light in the Ferruccio basement rec room came from the television, a vivid light in ever-changing colours, staccato-like images, freeze-framing any movements Dana and Tony made.

  They watched as if entranced, yet not absorbing. Heavy rock wasn’t really their thing, but there was nothing else to watch, and at least they were on their own. The others were scattered about the house.

  Since the accident, Carmella spent most of her time fussing in the kitchen or tending to Roberta, who seemed to be chronically ill these days. Angelo was grounded; he was on probation. He had taken to heart the loss of Vincent—they had been very close—and spent his evenings in the room they had shared. Gina was very quiet about the whole business; she said little, and kept mainly to herself.

  Pino had taken it very badly; night after night he sat in silence in the front room, in a subdued light. Often, he was still there the next morning. He went to work as usual, but did not enter into conversations at home. He usually ate his meals alone, separate from the others. A month had passed since that fateful night.

  Tony adjusted his position, causing Dana to sit up. She kissed him.

  “Lucasz Woslewski’s been suspended again,” said Tony.

  “Why?”

  “He and Jake were found drinking round the back of Keeler’s portable. An’ Pete says Woslewski’s been charged by the police.”

  “What for?”

  “Seems he’s been doing some trading in liquor. He bought stuff from some gang that did a heist across the river in Gatineau. Then he’s been selling it to kids. Been doing it for months.”

  “Tony, I bet that’s where Bryce and Vince got their stuff.”

  “Probably.”

  Dana shifted her position, and sat facing him.

  “Tony, does your dad know this?”

  “Don’t think so; I’ve not told him. Why?”

  “Don’t you see? Just look at your poor dad. He’s going through hell. He thinks it was his liquor they got into. You know he’s locked everything away. We have to help him out of this horrible mess.”

  “Yeah, I see what you mean. I could check with Angelo if he knows; I think he’s been shocked enough to give me a straight answer. I mean, he and Peter were with Vince and Bryce in the car till they jumped out. Then I’ll talk with Momma first, before I say anything to Pop.”

  Dana kissed him again. “Do it quickly; your dad needs help.”

  They embraced.

  Suddenly, light appeared from the stairwell. Dana and Tony unlocked and watched the doorway.

  Gina came into view, and stood silhouetted. “Hey, you guys, can I come in?”

  “Sure. Wassup?”

  Gina came into the room and sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of them. “Turn that sound down, Tone.” Gina winced.

  Tony picked up the remote and silenced the television.

  “Momma’s crying again,” Gina continued. “We gotta to do something. She and Poppa are hardly speaking to each other these days. They’re so miserable. It’s awful living here with them.”

  “Okay. Dana’s just had an idea, but we need to check it out. We need to find out how Vince and Bryce got the liquor, and if that really is what’s eating at Pop and Momma, then we might have the answer.”

  “Listen up, guys.” Dana was in charge. “Look, all our parents, yours and mine, are in a mess. They don’t know how to handle what’s happened, and how to handle themselves. It’s goin’ to be up to us, we three, to help them. Like, we’re old enough, we know what’s going on in the world. An’, like, I really did get some good ideas from Jane, the policewoman; I think we need to try some of them, like, now.”

  “Hi, dear.” Caroline Munro called out as Dana slid into the house.

  Not as quiet as I thought I was, realized Dana. “Hi, Mom. Is there anything to eat? I’m starved!”

  “Look in the fridge; there’s some stew, or there’s still some rice and stir-fry.”

  “Nah, I’ll just have some cheese and a yogurt.”

  The fridge door slammed, and cutlery clattered in the kitchen, as Dana found sustenance. The noise gave way to the normal quietness of the Munro household as Dana moved into the living room, balancing a hunk of cheese on a yogurt tub in one hand, a glass of milk in the other, and a spoon in her mouth.

  She dumped herself onto the couch, placed the milk and cheese on the side-table, and proceeded to fiddle with the top of the yogurt tub.

  “How’s Tony?” her mother began.

  “Mm-okay,” the response emerged through a mouthful of yogurt. Dana swallowed two more mouthfuls, and paused. “Mom. We’ve found out how they got the liquor.”

  Dana realized too late that she had hit a tender point too directly. She watched her mother tense up immediately, and her breathing become rapid.

  Dana knew that Caroline was willing herself to be strong, but it was a fragile state that she had been living in, this past month. Her mother and father rarely spoke to each other these days, except for essential day-to-day things.

  It was not that they had any disagreement, or anger, between them—they had both separately assured her of that. It was just—well, just that the spark had gone. Neither could pinpoint any one thing, except the one enormous gap: for all his faults, all his troubles, Bryce was their son—but no longer.

  Images flashed into Dana’s mind: the little baby, the toddler, the Cub Scout, the day he knocked the paint can all over his head, the time …

  Dana, stop. Your mother needs you. “Mom, are you all right?” Dana moved and knelt at her mother’s side.

  “Huh? Oh, yes, dear. I’m sorry.”

  Dana put her hand on her mother’s arm.

  “Sorry, Dana, what did you say?”

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  Caroline smiled, and nodded.

  “Tony and I’ve been checking a few things out. One of the guys in Tony’s homeroom’s been charged with selling stolen liquor. Apparently, he’s been doing it for months. Anyway, I wondered if that was how the boys had got theirs. So Tony talked to Angelo tonight, and Angelo says that, yes, they did get it from Lucasz Woslewski.”

  “I see. Well—that will be some relief for your father. He’s been wondering all along where they got it from.”

  “We think Tony’s dad thinks they stole it from his bar in the basement—and that’s why he’s so miserable. Tony’s going to try to talk to him later.”

  “Is he?”

  “Mo-om?” Dana had recognized that her
mother was still struggling.

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Mom, is everything really okay with you and Dad?”

  “Yes, dear, of course,” replied Caroline, unconvincingly. “Don’t forget your yogurt.”

  Dana returned to the couch and continued her snack. Her mother picked up her book and began to read.

  Dana noticed that one of the leaflets on grieving that Jane had given her for her parents was lying on the side-table. At least Mom or Dad must have looked at it, she thought. I gave them to Mom in the kitchen.

  They sat in silence for several minutes. Dana emptied her glass, and stood up. “Night, Mom.”

  “Night, dear.”

  - 6 -

  Often when he needed to think, Dave took the dog for a walk. These days, he was desperately trying to think of a new career, a new direction. Brutus was, perhaps, one of the fittest dogs in town.

  This morning, Dave kicked off his boots angrily in the back entrance, having brought Brutus back from his constitutional, given him fresh water, and put him into the run at the back of the house.

  “Cold out, hon?” Barbara called from inside the house.

  “Damn cold for the second week in December.” Dave was blowing on his hands and rubbing them together. “There’s a signboard gone up on the wasteland along Millerby Lane. We’ve all feared the worst—now it’s going to happen.”

  “Oh dear, I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “You sure won’t when I tell you what’s on the sign,” replied Dave. “It says this: J. Albez Builder—Fine Townhouses—Ready by Spring. Brewery Mews: Prices starting at—”

  “Oh my God, not that,” gasped Barbara. “Just what no one wants around here.”

  Dave was still shocked cold. How could they? he thought. There had been no notices in the paper—at least, he hadn’t seen any. They couldn’t just do that, like this, surely?

  “That’s awful,” Barbara mused.

  “I’ll say it is. They oughta do something about it. I mean …” Dave fell silent, lost for words.

  At that moment, the phone rang in the Adkins’ kitchen; Dave picked it up.

  “Hello, Dwayne.” Dave saw the name on the display.

  “Hi, Dave—you’ve seen the sign?”

  “Hell, you can’t miss it.”

  “Look, Dave, I’m calling to ask if you would draft up a petition to the city against this construction.”

  “Dwayne, I have to say I’m not keen, really.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself, Dave. I feel you just have a way with words for a good petition—far better than me, and anyone else I can think of right now. The Johnsons and the Baxters have already agreed to help take it round the community.

  “Please, Dave, for the community. We’ve gotta do our best to stop this guy from building, and it ain’t going to be easy.”

  Dave sighed. “Oh well, okay. I guess I could—should. I still don’t feel it’s really my bag. I mean, the last one about the brewery fizzled and came to nothing.”

  “Good man. Thanks, Dave.” Dwayne rang off.

  Dave mulled over the wording of the petition for several days. His heart was not really in it, and he wondered whether the community would be.

  He knew the mood in Brewster Gardens was sombre. Usually by this time in the year, most homes sported strings of Christmas lights along their eaves, or on trees in their yards. But not this year; not a special light was to be seen, anywhere. And even those families who tended to leave drapes open, so that house lights spilled their glow out onto the snow, had drawn their drapes or muted their lights.

  The kids were nowhere to be seen: no street hockey, no noise, no chatter. The commuters and the shoppers seemed to come and go invisibly. The whole crescent was still in mourning for those two boys.

  And yet, life must go on. Dave knew that if they didn’t do something quickly, the builder would be on the wasteland, and there would be no hope of stopping the townhouse project.

  But he really was finding it hard to be enthused; somehow, losing his job had destroyed his own self-confidence. He felt unsure of anything he started to do. This was unlike him, and he knew it, but he could do nothing about it; he couldn’t muscle up the power to get motivated for anything.

  Dwayne and a couple of others had pressed him hard, and he finally agreed to help with actually taking the petition round. Hesitantly, he decided to start at the brewery end.

  Petition in hand, he set off round the Gardens. The Donnellys gladly signed. They would be directly affected. Being the first house on that end, the view from their windows would change drastically, and they would be greatly affected by increased traffic and general activity. The Donnellys were in their eighties, and valued a quiet life.

  Feeling encouraged at last, Dave moved on to the Hampdens next door. He knew he was welcome here.

  Elizabeth Hampden came to the door. “Good evening, Dave. Do come in, and sit yourself down. Dwayne’s down in the basement; I’ll fetch him.”

  Dave sat in the easy chair by the fireplace. The room breathed confident comfort. He knew Dwayne had a good job, and he knew that both Dwayne and Elizabeth had an artistic bent that meant that their choice of furnishings and decor was always in keeping with a theme. He wished that he and Barbara could have half of these skills to use in their home.

  Dwayne came clumping up the basement steps in his slippers. “Hi, Dave, what’s up then?”

  “I’ve brought the petition about the townhouses. I hope you and Elizabeth will sign it.”

  “Let me just have another look at it.” Dwayne’s hand reached across, and Dave offered the clipboard to him. Dwayne studied it for a moment.

  “Well, Dave, I can’t think of better words; I knew you would do a good job. Let’s hope it will do the trick, and we get enough signatures. Liz?” Dwayne called, leaning toward the back room, where Elizabeth was sewing, “Liz, do you have a pen out there?”

  Elizabeth came fussing in with three pens. “I don’t know why you couldn’t have come out and found one yourself. You knew I was busy.”

  “Now then, ‘mother hen’. I wanted you to come and see this petition Dave’s brought. It’s about the townhouses.”

  “Oh yes, I certainly don’t want any of those round here. Three or four new single-family homes on that site would be nice, but not townhouses. Just think what it will do to house values.”

  Dwayne chose a pen and signed his name on the next line. “There you are then. Liz, you’re next.”

  Elizabeth signed below Dwayne’s name. “There, Dave,” she said. “I do hope this will be more successful than that last petition about the brewery buildings.”

  Dave thanked her and turned to Dwayne. “I guess Pino will have the new gates on the brewery yard in a day or two, now?”

  “If the weather holds. And he told me that George Simpson has agreed to hold one key, Pino will have one, and they want you to have one,” explained Dwayne.

  “I guess I’m around here more than most until I find a new job,” commented Dave, glumly.

  “I feel so sorry for those two families that lost their sons in that accident.” Elizabeth pulled up a straight-back chair and sat down next to Dwayne in his La-Z-Boy rocker. “And they’re such nice people, the Munros and the Ferruccios, I really don’t know how those boys could have got into so much trouble so quickly.”

  “I know one thing,” said Dave. “Gord Johnson told me he’d given his kids a good talking-to. And I did the same with Cody. It has shaken them all. All the kids seem to be very quiet.”

  “I hope it’s been a lesson they will learn,” added Dwayne.

  - 7 -

  Never had she expected to find herself in such a turmoil, and certainly not at this stage. Jane walked back into her apartment, closed the door and leaned back against it. She folded her arms and closed her eyes, basking in the warm feeling that had engulfed her.

  “Jane Hunter? Jane Stennings,” she rehearsed to herself. “Jane Stennings—I like it.”

&nb
sp; She opened her eyes, and bounced across the room to sprawl out on the couch. She felt her cheek. Boy, was she ever warm. But what was that knot in her stomach? She felt so excited, she might burst. “Oh, stop it, Jane,” she told herself, “you’re on duty in two hours. Pull yourself together. But I can’t, I’ve gotta tell somebody.”

  She dialled the digits on the phone at her side. “Hi, Angie. It’s Jane.”

  “Hi, Jane, you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Guess what?”

  “You got a raise.”

  “No.” She laughed. “No, better than that. We’re getting married!”

  “Yay! This year?”

  “Yessss! Soon!”

  “Have you set the date then?”

  “We don’t know yet. Before summer …”

  “Wowee! A spring bride!”

  “Yessss!”

  “I have to be there.”

  “Of course! I’ll tell you soon as we know!”

  “Did he actually, like, propose?”

  “Yes, he did. Not on his knees, though.” She laughed. “No! He said it all formally. ‘Dear Miss Jane, will you …’” Jane burst into a fit of giggles. She gulped in a deep breath. “No, seriously, Graham was sweet. He’d got it all prepared in his mind what he was going to do. I just let him take the lead.”

  “So was this all planned, or did he sweep you off your feet?”

  “Well yes, we’d sort of decided we would when he got his promotion.”

  “I didn’t know he got his promotion.”

  “Yes, he did! Oh yes, you were out when I called you on Tuesday. Anyway, he’s Captain Stennings now.”

  “You moving in with him or he with you?”

  “Well, no. Neither apartment is really big enough. We’re sort of thinking about a townhouse, or something like that.”

  “Sounds cool. There’s quite a lot being built now.”

  “Yep. Anyway, better let you go. I’m on in less than two hours.”

  “Bet the guys will give you a tough time!”