Angel in Blue Jeans

by Richard L. Coles

  A blast of discordant, whole spectrum sound from the synthesizer shook everyone into rapt attention, as three disguised teens moonwalked onto centre stage. The beat started, and the middle moonwalker began a rap version of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, backed up by the others, to the great amusement of the adults, and vigorous applause at the end.

  As the moonwalkers departed, six girls in cowgirl boots, shortshorts, Western shirts, and hats, bounced onto the stage to line-dance a Country and Western version of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen”. Thunderous applause helped them execute some pretty fancy footwork.

  As a finale, the rappers, the cowgirls, and the whole troupe combined forces, with Jason Johnson on synthesizer and brother Jeremy on triangle, urging their audience to join them as they sang the conventional version of “Silent Night”.

  Jane was proud of them. It had all been the teens’ ideas. She and Kelly had suggested, led when they seemed to be faltering, had offered resources where needed, but it was all the kids’ efforts.

  It was time for refreshments after all that effort. The kids were organized down by the counter as parents and helpers handed out juices and cookies.

  Kelly carefully handed a tray with a tumbler of juice and three cookies to a little five-year-old girl, who timidly carried them across the hall to Santa, who had stayed to watch the performances. Dana had waited by Santa, and helped the girl offer him his treat.

  Santa thanked the girl and patted her on the head. She ducked timidly and ran quickly back to the others, turning to watch Santa from afar. He quickly consumed the cookies and juice. Standing up, he gathered up his sack, and waved to everyone.

  “Ho, ho, ho, Mee-rry Christmas to all!” he called.

  “Merry Christmas,” was the reply, as Santa left by the double doors. Dana followed him.

  Jane and Kelly quickly ran after three of the know-it-all twelve-year-old boys, who were intent on blowing Santa’s disguise, and prevented them from reaching the doors.

  Outside, Tony stopped for a breather, pulling down the hairy beard and moustache that he had caught in his mouth as he ate the cookies. Dana caught up with him.

  “You were very good with the kids,” she said.

  “Thanks, Dan. I really thought that big fat kid was going to tug the beard down when he leaned forward to say thank you.”

  “Oh, Joey Lister? Yeah, I remember him from softball last spring. He’s too pushy.”

  “So, how’ve you been?”

  “Okay. Nice to be home for a while. Not having to get up early, do all the inspection routine, drill, before even eating breakfast; it feels good.”

  “So, do you like it, really?”

  “Yeah, it’s tough, but I can see why they make it like that. It really does make you organize your time, and learn self-discipline. The courses are pretty good; there’s a couple I’m having a bit of trouble with, but I think I’m okay. So how about you?”

  “Aw, not bad. Think I took on too many courses. Though they said that was what I had to do to be full-time. Got one instructor who’s a jerk though, he and I don’t see eye-to-eye on much. Think he’s got it in for me. He even told me I couldn’t go into class one day.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Said I’d been drinking.”

  “Well, had you?”

  “Just had a beer with my lunch in the pub. Nothing wrong in that.”

  “Just one?”

  “Er … maybe two.”

  By now they had reached Tony’s car.

  “Jeez, where did I put the key?” he said, frowning as he struggled to pass his hand through the Santa suit to his own pocket. “Damn. Oh yeah, it’s in the other one.”

  As he struggled, Dana smiled at his discomfort. “Got anyone special?” she enquired.

  “No, not really, there’s a gang of us hang out in the pub at breaks. Girls and guys. I’ve dated a couple of the girls, they’re friends, good fun, but nothing serious. You?”

  “You kidding? I don’t have time! No, there’s this one guy, he’s a hulking six foot two. Thinks he’s God’s gift to women. But he’s gross; none of the girls has any time for him; wouldn’t want him if we had time!”

  Tony had found his key at last. He opened the car door. “See you around before you go back?”

  “Yeah, sure. Merry Christmas, Tone.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Dana watched as Tony drove away. They had ended their close relationship before she went to RMC. It was a mutual, amicable break-up; it just seemed to be the sensible thing to do.

  It had been Tony’s suggestion, and at first Dana felt hurt. But trying to maintain a long-distance relationship, with both of them embarking on new ventures, would have been difficult, and Dana knew in her heart that it wouldn’t have worked. The old days, when they were still in high school, were long gone now. And to be honest, the last few months of that era were not as much fun as the earlier times.

  The change, Dana suddenly realized, had set in just after they had first gone with Mr Simpson to visit Mr Hennigan in Kingston; after that visit, Tony had often seemed a little more distant, and as time went on, they had gradually spent less time together.

  Granted, Dana thought, I really did spend a lot of time working on getting the Centre up and running, plus all the extra schoolwork I had to do.

  But as she walked back toward the Centre, she realized that, although they were no longer an item, she still had strong feelings for Tony; she really was interested in how he was doing at college; she did want to know about his girlfriends, and she knew there were little niggling seeds of jealousy lurking in there. And she worried about his mention of hanging out in the college pub—after all that had happened with Bryce and Vince.

  Yeah, she thought, and that instructor banning him from class—was that an isolated incident, or is it more than that? Is Tony into the habit of drinking and skipping, or missing, classes?

  She shrugged her shoulders as the wind whistled past her, and she hurried back to the warmth. She had four more years at RMC to concern her; that had to be her number one priority.

  PART 2

  - 24 -

  “It was a nice funeral yesterday for Arthur Donnelly, if you could use that term to describe a funeral.” Dwayne Hampden closed his car trunk lid as Dave Adkins was walking past with Brutus the dog.

  “Was it? Good. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be there. I had a youth workers’ workshop in Toronto yesterday and the day before.”

  “Sad really, but he’d had a good life. You know, Arthur and Edith Donnelly were about the first to buy a house in this area, sort of had a wide-open choice of lot at the time.

  “Anyway, he’s gone now, bless him. He’s done well. An old friend gave a short eulogy. I hadn’t known that Arthur fought in the Second World War—he was wounded and was a POW.”

  “He’d been ill for quite a while, hadn’t he?”

  “Yes. He’d not been in the best of health. It was cancer of the lung in the end. He’d had that nasty cough for a long time, but then it flared up quite quickly.”

  “Is his wife staying in the house?”

  “Uh-huh, she will, at least for a while. Edith is a very quiet person. I don’t know how she’ll get on without him. I gather there’s a son somewhere out west—he didn’t come to the funeral, so I don’t suppose there’s much hope of him looking after his mother. Elizabeth and I will keep a good eye on her, but we’re getting on in years ourselves.”

  “Aren’t we all, eh, Dwayne?”

  “Yes, I guess we all are. There was quite a turnout, though, at the funeral. I was quite surprised really, particularly at the number of younger folk there from the community—you know, the late teens and early twenties. To tell you the truth, though I was against it at the beginning, I really think that your new Centre has a lot to do with it. I say new, but it’s been around now for, what, three years or so? The way it’s run by you and your council, it’s done a lot to give the young folk a sense of—of—community, if you l
ike. You have a lot of support and help from some good people, too. You can be proud.”

  “Thanks, Dwayne, I appreciate that. Er, you know, I don’t usually pry into other folks’ business, but I was rather concerned the other night as the dog and I were on our walk.”

  Dwayne looked up quizzically from the rosebush he had been checking.

  Dave continued, “There was an awful row going on at the Ferruccios’ place. It seemed that Pino was raging at young Tony about something, and throwing stuff out onto the driveway. I couldn’t hear much of what was being said, but what I did hear was not pleasant. Never heard Pino in that state before; Tony must have screwed up really bad.”

  “Haven’t seen Tony about for many months,” said Dwayne. “I’ve heard that he isn’t too welcome at home. Apparently, he’s got in with a crowd of not-so-goods somehow, lots of drinking and such.”

  “I thought he was going to Algonquin College.”

  “He was, but Elizabeth told me he’d failed a lot of courses and had to quit.”

  “That’s too bad, he’s always seemed a good kid. What happened with him and Dana? I guess they split when she went into the military? Dana has never mentioned it when we’ve talked.”

  “Probably. They wouldn’t have seen much of each other, with her being away.”

  “Guess so. Maybe that’s what sent him off on a bad track.”

  “You never know …”

  - 25 -

  As she turned the corner onto Millerby Lane, Dana felt the cool wind on her cheeks. There’s certainly a nip in the air now, she thought, as she picked up her stride again after skipping over the broken sidewalk.

  It was early October, Thanksgiving Saturday morning, and she was home for three days. Her three years at RMC had given her the routine of taking her morning run usually very early in the morning, but at home it was a little later. She had found a route that was long enough and quiet, so that she wasn’t interrupted by traffic.

  Back in Kingston, she enjoyed being able to run around the perimeter of the college and up around the Old Fort Henry. The hill up to the old fort was quite a challenge, and gave her legs and lungs a good workout. She found the view at the top quite exhilarating, out across the college to the town and, to the left, out over Lake Ontario.

  At home, there was nothing so uplifting. She would set out over to the intersection of Millerby Lane and Otterbrook Road. At that early hour, there was usually no traffic to delay her crossing over to the old railroad track-bed as it stretched away from the Gardens. It followed a ridge through a lightly wooded region for about a kilometre, until it crossed Axelford Road. She would leave the track there, and return along Axelford Road to meet Otterbrook Road down in the hollow, near the little white church her mother sometimes went to.

  Back along Otterbrook, she would pass over the Millerby-Otterbrook intersection and on for another couple of kilometres until the bottom end of the winding Millerby Lane came back to meet Otterbrook.

  Years ago, Millerby Lane had been the main road in this area, until Otterbrook was built to cope with the increased commuter traffic from out beyond the Greenbelt. The lane was showing its age, with many derelict buildings, their businesses long since removed to better sites—or bankrupted. Parking lots full of weeds, rusting signs, and other debris gave an air of despair to this end of the lane, in stark contrast to the new townhouses and the Hennigan Centre at the other end. The old sidewalk was crumbled and potholed, and Dana usually skipped out onto the roadway itself at this point, rarely seeing any vehicles this early in the day.

  Her rhythm was steady, her breathing came regularly and naturally, her legs moved smoothly and evenly; she was in great shape.

  Over the years, Dana had learned to use this time during her run to off-load all the petty issues that could clutter up her days. She was now able to bring each nagging thorn up into her consciousness, deal with it, and cast it out of her mind, or, if necessary, decide on an action or strategy. Once dealt with, it could give no further stress. On her return to college, or home, she was refreshed, bright, and ready for the day.

  She felt sorry for some of her classmates, who seemed to be at their peaks just as each day’s activities were closing down. How could they ever survive?

  She reached the section of Millerby where a few businesses still struggled to survive: a couple of auto-collision repair shops, a welder, a home renovator, and a floor tile place that looked as if it had gone bust since she was home last time.

  “Heyunh.”

  She heard the cry, more of a grunt maybe. Not sure of what or where it came from, she stumbled in her stride.

  “Hunh, Danh.”

  She stopped. She looked around her.

  “Herenh. Upv herenhh.”

  She turned toward the sound. Under the sagging awning of Carlo’s Collision, she saw a body sitting slumped against the wall, raising its arm sluggishly. She hesitated, not from fear—her training had taught her how to deal with one-on-one combat—no, not from fear, but from revulsion.

  “Danh, zh mee.”

  Slowly, she walked over to the body, slumped against the wall, its feet in mud-stained runners, its legs clad in torn jeans, the torso wearing a shirt that probably had colours in it if it were washed, topped by a grisly unshaven head of long, unkempt hair. Streaks of vomit splattered down its front to a pool between its legs.

  Dana gave an involuntary shudder. She had seen some pretty disgusting, gut-wrenching sights during her training, but this was too close, this hit home too hard. She stood, arms akimbo, three paces from the mess.

  The face lifted slowly. “Danh, helv muh.”

  “Tony, how could you? How could you get into this state?” Dana approached closer, torn between revulsion and concern. Was this really Tony, her Tony she had spent so many good times with before they parted?

  A wave of nausea came over her as she caught the stench of stale alcohol, vomit, and body. Steeling herself, she went down on her haunches, gazing at the horror, searching for an answer.

  “Danh, helv muh uv. Ah godha gedh homevh.”

  Dana held her stance. “Tony, I don’t think your mom and dad are going to let you in like that.”

  “Ah godha gedh homevh. Danh …” His voice trailed off as he slumped further.

  Dana stood up smartly, and took charge. “Okay, guy, you boozed up once too many. On your feet, come on, come on. Make it snappy, I don’t have all day.”

  Tony gave a token effort to rise, but slipped into the pool of vomit.

  Dana grabbed his arm, on the cleaner side, and pulled him into a shaky standing position. She gagged at the stench. “Okay, you’re coming on your own legs. I’ll guide you, but no nonsense.”

  Slowly, they wended their way past Dino’s Auto-Body Shop, past the Hennigan Centre parking area. Tony stopped.

  “Come on, come on,” Dana pressed.

  “Godha leekh.”

  Tony fumbled with his jeans, half-turned his back on Dana, and urinated.

  By this time, Dana felt nothing but disgust for him, but yet she couldn’t just leave him, especially here, in front of the townhouses. Kids would be out playing soon.

  Slowly, she manoeuvred him along, into the Gardens, past the neighbours’ houses, and onto the Ferruccios’ driveway.

  “You’re on your own now.”

  “Nonh, Danh, helv muh.”

  She relented, and heaved him up to the door. She rang the bell.

  After a few moments, the door opened. Carmella Ferruccio appeared in a housecoat. She saw the mess and let out a loud shriek, promptly slamming the door.

  “I’m outta here.” Dana turned, but before she had gone ten steps, she heard a great roar. She glanced back to see Pino, Tony’s father, throwing Tony to the ground, grabbing the garden hose, and turning it on Tony as Tony crumpled on the driveway.

  Pino was yelling and cursing in a mixture of English and Italian. Dana could take no more, turning and jogging over to her house, letting herself in through the side door.
<
br />   The Munro house was quiet, early on that Saturday morning. Dana sat in the kitchen, still in her running gear, nursing a glass of milk, staring vacantly at the doorway into the dining room. The shock of the encounter with Tony was still with her.

  Why did he do it? What has brought him to this? And Pino’s reaction—phew!

  She sensed a sound—there it was again—someone was tapping gently at the front door. Moving quickly to the front hallway, she softly cracked open the door.

  It was Tony’s sister, Gina. “Can I come in?”

  Without a word, Dana pulled her inside. Gina embraced Dana, sobbing on her shoulder. At last, she broke away.

  “Come in and sit down.”

  “Thanks,” Gina forced a smile, and reached out to grasp Dana’s hand. “Oh, Dana, it was awful. Mamma was screaming, Poppa was yelling, and he threw Tony out into the yard and turned the hose on him. Then he beat him with a broom. Tony just lay there on the grass—he’s still there now. Oh Dana, what can we do?” Tears streaked down her face.

  “Has he done this before?” Dana asked.

  “Not like this, though. He’s come home drunk before, but that’s before he left home, and he was clean.”

  They sat in silence, neither sure what to say next.

  Dana took the lead. “Gina, Mom told me some months ago that she thought Tony was having problems, but she didn’t elaborate, and I just thought she meant with work. I didn’t give it much thought, ’cause I was in the middle of exams at the time. Tell me what’s happened to Tony.”

  “Oh Dana, I wish sometimes that it could be like the old days, like when you were still here, and you and Tony were together—we had great times, then. But—oh, Dan, please don’t get me wrong, it’s not your fault, that’s not what I mean, it’s just that, well, Tony’s never been the same since you two broke up.

  “You know he went to college—he did all right for a while. He was pulling good grades, but he got in with this crowd, see, an’ they spent most of their time in the bar when they weren’t in class. I got to know some of them; they were okay, most of them. I went out with one of the guys for a while, but then he wanted to get serious, an’ I didn’t.