I had already called Esther. The answering machine at her house said leave a message, which I didn’t. Her work voicemail said she was away. I didn’t leave a message there either.
The last time we spoke she told me I whined like a mule. “That’s creatively original,” was my less than creative response. “By the way, nice mixed metaphor.” Not that I know what a metaphor is, but I’d heard her say the same thing.
We had stayed married for about twenty years. The things we don’t do for our children. Or only daughter in this case.
A recollection had just started to crawl up from the depths of my addled brain when Darryl found me.
“Miller, there you are. Lorne’s looking for you and he’s pissed off.”
“How does he know we’re hungover again?”
“You shouldn’t slobber down a co-worker’s cleavage first thing when you come into work. Especially if she goes to the same church as the boss, you dumb shit. And not we. Just you. I’m not the one who looks like he’s still wasted.”
“You always drink more than me and look at you.” I blinked at his reflection in the mirror. Darryl’s glaring-white, tapered shirt, crisply tucked in, revealed his broad-shouldered upper body. His black hair was perfectly groomed, without any of the grey which spread like a fungus from my temples.
“It’s all in the genes,” he said. “I told Lorne I’d go find you — I kind of figured you’d be here puking — so at least I could give you a head’s up.”
“I’m not puking. It’s the dry heaves.” The near constant pain in my stomach surged and I leaned my face toward the sink. Nothing happened.
Darryl clicked his tongue. “Whatever. Just get moving.”
I turned toward the door and tried to properly tuck in my wrinkled Walmart dress shirt, which stretched across my belly and ballooned across the lower back.
He grabbed my arm. “And, hey. Keep me out of this. I’m not the one stupid enough to get caught. Again.” He passed me his apartment keys. “Just in case,” he said.
I made my way to Lorne’s office. He immediately made eye contact with me and dropped the sheet of paper he was reading on his spotless, uncluttered desktop. He did not stand up or offer me a chair. Maybe he surrendered the psychological advantage because he was a large man and would have towered over me had he stood. Especially if I sat down.
Instead he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his massive midsection, his thick arms resting on the chair’s arms. Without preamble or the usual lecture on company image, he said, “You are being suspended without pay for the rest of the day. The reason: inebriation in the workplace after multiple warnings.”
“You can’t do that.” I vaguely waved my finger in his direction. “You can’t even talk to me about this without a union representative present.” I heard movement behind me and turned to see a uniformed contract security guard and a barrel-bellied retired cop from the internal security department hovering at the open door.
Lorne glanced at his watch. “I am intimately familiar with disciplinary procedures . . . because of you. You can have your say to the union at a hearing on Monday morning in the Staff Relations office in Personnel. Now that’s Monday three days from now. This coming Monday morning, at 8:30 AM.”
“All right. Monday. I’m not stupid.”
“I want to make sure you don’t have one of your convenient ‘misunderstandings’.” He picked up the sheet again and held it toward me. “This note reiterates what we’ve just discussed and, in bold, indicates the time and location of the meeting. Don’t forget to report via the security kiosk. Until then, please leave.” He nodded to the two men at the door. The ex-cop, whose name I would never remember placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“I’m launching a grievance, you know.”
“Fine.” Lorne did not move.
“Come on, Rex,” said the ex-cop, and squeezed my shoulder lightly.
My security entourage followed me to my desk and watched me fumble through the telephone directory. I wanted the union office phone number but couldn’t immediately find the listing. “Screw it. They’re in on this conspiracy anyway.” I threw the directory aside.
Darryl was nowhere to be seen when I was escorted out. The ex-cop asked me if I intended to drive home; he could call a cab if I needed one. “I intend to walk,” I replied, “to my buddy’s place, where my stuff is, and have a sleep. Thanks for the send off, boys.”
They went back inside without another word.
I headed to Darryl’s, fondling his keys in my pocket, for a well-deserved nap before going for a well-deserved drink.
I sat with Willie, the permanent resident of The Coffee Cavern, across the street from the building. He scratched his chin under his scraggly beard and flakes of dead skin drifted down onto the table.
He drained the glass of Guinness I’d bought him. “Jeez Rex, that bites. Sounds like them bastards are out to get you. You should get a lawyer or something. Especially if them union guys are in on it. You could probably sue them for a couple of hundred grand, eh?” He waved his empty glass at the server. “Do you mind?”
“What are friends for?” Although I hoped I wouldn’t need the money for something else.
He attracted the attention of the server on station at the black marbled bar. I waved two fingers at her.
Willie said, “They’re not going to send you to rehab again, are they?”
“So what? Darryl helped me out last time sneaking in the occasional flask. The Rehab staff was way overworked and I was a model attendee. Yeah, Esther dropped me off that time but I couldn’t deal and I pretended to buzz in. Then came here. Remember that night?”
He nodded, staring down at his glass. Of course he remembered, even though I didn’t completely. How many times had I told that Esther story?
I’ve never told what really happened the next day.
I woke up in Victoria Park beside a little playhouse. A young girl with a snotty nose was poking me with a stick. Her mother, sitting on a nearby bench and rocking a baby, kept yelling at her to leave me alone. Funny the things you do remember. I heaved myself up by clinging with both hands to the window opening of the playhouse.
“Good thing the cops didn’t find you, eh?” The mother said with a smirk.
“You bet,” I said and staggered to a coffee shop next to the park.
Suddenly there was this guy sitting across the table from me. Dressed like a tree-hugger in a vest with a million pockets, he was my height and his face was smooth with no crows-feet or black rings under the eyes. His dark hair, without a hint of grey, was pulled back in a ponytail much like the way my hair used to be twenty years back in those carefree university days. Those days before the grinding tedium set in under a perpetual plume of sales quotas and shipping schedules.
The guy extended his hand and said, Kingsley.
With hesitation I reached forward. My fingertips tingled from his firm grasp.
What would your daughter say if she saw you now?
“None of your business, jerk.”
Are you sure?
“Daddy?”
I swung around and knocked over my coffee. “Christine? What are you doing here?”
She stood over me, lower lip quivering. Her entire body was tense and hunched: so vulnerable. “I thought you were in rehab.”
“I am. I mean, I’m on my way. I just wanted a coffee.” I looked around. Kingsley was gone. “Christine? Did you see that guy?”
She was already sopping up my spilled coffee with a handful of paper napkins. “Why do you do this?”
I gently touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey. Can you drive me over there right now?”
She blinked hard, but did not tear up, and nodded.
I held her cheeks with my fingers and kissed her forehead.
She threw the napkins in a garbage can and apologized to the staff for my mess. It was then I decided I’d better do the whole stint at rehab. And a good thing, because I’ve never been
stalked by creepy Kingsley since.
After my release though, it took Esther less than an hour to discover nothing had changed. She packed up and took the dog. We’d been apart ever since.
Willie said, “You okay there, Rex? Kinda zoned out.”
We had a few more before Darryl joined us. “Close call there, buddy.” He waved three fingers at the server. “I thought they were going to fire your ass.”
“It’s not over yet. I have a meeting with Personnel on Monday.”
“Pah, you’ll just get another disciplinary letter. Maybe suspended for a week or something. Come on, pal. It’s Friday night. We got all weekend to party.”
“Wait a minute. I have to call Esther. There’s something I’m supposed to do.”
“What do you want to talk to her for? She’ll just bring you down. Willie, my man, here’s some coin. Fire up the jukebox.
“And look, here’s our brewskies.”
The phone rang. Lorne. I was an hour late for the meeting in Personnel.
“I’ve got the flu,” I told him. “I took some heavy medication last night — from the doctor — and I don’t think my alarm clock is working.”
“You were able to see your doctor over the weekend?”
“24-hour clinic. If you don’t believe me, call his office.”
Lorne sighed. “When can we expect you?”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to orient myself. The pain in my stomach was constant. I showered quickly and skipped shaving. The dress pants I had been wearing for the last week had mud and grass stains on the knees and butt. I kicked them behind the toilet. Snippets of the weekend were coming to me.
I had drunk a lot. Puked a couple of times. Slept Friday and Saturday at Darryl’s again and spent Sunday afternoon at his place watching football and drinking beer. I’d then walked to Wascana Lake and weaved along the shore. Chucked a rock at some geese on the water. My throw landed nowhere near the birds but it did spin me around and I fell to a sitting position in the wet grass and new thistles. I’d felt a hand on my shoulder.
The guy with the pretentious vest and my old ponytail loomed over me.
“Kingsley?” I said.
Well, well. I am amazed you remember me.
“What the hell do you want?”
Do you remember what you are supposed to do?
I drew a blank. “What do you know about it?”
I know more than you might think. It’s simple. I want what’s best for you.
I staggered to my feet. “What if the best for me is to smack you in the face?”
Go ahead. Remember though, you missed those geese by a mile.
I tried to plant my left foot to deliver a right hook, but only stumbled.
Kingsley stepped forward, grabbed my shoulders and steadied me. Serious memory loss. You will have a revelation when you least expect it. And you will be filled with remorse.
“Remorse?”
Someone called my name. Darryl. He strode toward me, swinging his arms, hands balled into fists. “You idiot. Do you want to get tossed in the drunk tank?”
“How did you find me too?”
“Too? What are you babbling about?”
Kingsley had disappeared again. “Did you see the guy I was just talking to?”
“Come on, let’s get you out of here. You look like a freaking rummy. It’s a good thing I found you.”
“Why do you bother, anyway?”
“When I saw your car still parked in front of my place I knew you were on the lam. I was the last person you were seen with. I don’t need hassle from the pigs if you get into more trouble.”
We didn’t say anything else to each other when Darryl drove me home.
I put on my cleanest pair of pants and headed to the appointment I was more than two hours late for. The meeting itself lasted about an hour. Lorne, the union representative, and the Manager of Staff Relations talked about me in the third person. I was addressed directly only once by the union rep when he asked me if I agreed to the terms.
I said, “Sounds good to me.” Then I signed some forms, made a quick stop at the bank, and I was at The Cavern shortly thereafter.
“I tell you, Willie, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened. They terminated me with a week’s pay for each year of service plus all outstanding vacation pay, plus one month’s pay in lieu of notice. And they handed me a cheque right on the spot. I’ve got full access to my pension. I just have to call a broker and get a RIFF set up. One of the forms I signed said I wouldn’t sue, and she’s a done deal. I didn’t even clean out my desk.”
“That’s a real godsend, pal. Work was interfering way too much with our drinking anyway.” Willie licked his lips when our order arrived.
After our second round, I phoned Darryl and told him to join us after work. And then I went and threw up. That continued for a while. I’d drink, then throw up. The stabbing pains in my temples steadily worsened and my vision blurred. I sent Willie out for painkillers and antacid tablets.
Then finally, finally, after a few boiler-makers with scotch, I achieved that euphoria that had eluded me. I was back to normal and ready for some action.
The bar had filled to capacity and Willie had disappeared into the crowd.
Darryl was at another table chatting up a lanky blonde in a short leather skirt and white blouse with the top two buttons undone. A swarm of young, seemingly drunk girls came shrieking into the bar. I was trying to get a good look at them through my blurry vision when Darryl sat down across from me.
“I’m going to be cutting out of here pretty soon with my new friend over there. She’s got a ‘BFF’,” he quoted with his fingers. “How about it?”
“That’s what I like about you, Darryl. Always looking out for me.”
“That’s what I’m here for, buddy.”
“I’ll let you know in a couple of minutes.”
“Whatever.” He stood up. “Don’t take too long. When our drinks are gone, so are we.”
At that point I found myself interested in the girls, particularly one sitting on the periphery of the group. She was hunched over the black marble bar and seemed detached from her friends and just a bit out of place. There was a sense of vulnerability about her.
I approached and squeezed in between her and the wall.
I said over the din, “Hi. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before.”
“Daddy?”
I staggered backward, the bar disappeared, and I was alone in a circle of light, surrounded by blackness. Christine’s eyes were wide but dry, her lower lip quivering; the same expression I had seen countless times before.
Kingsley stopped me from crashing to the floor. Coveting your own daughter now?
My head ached. My stomach burned. My heart hurt. I remembered when Christine was born. Esther said she was our Godsend.
How much more do you think she’s going to take?
Christine’s nineteenth birthday. I had promised to spend it with her.
“What have I done?”
You know what you’ve done.
I heard Darryl telling me to hurry. I raked my fingers over the stubble on my face. Willie was at the edge of the light staring at Christine, licking his lips.
“Come on, Miller, hustle up,” Darryl said. “These wenches aren’t going to wait all night.”
There was a ripping hurt all across my chest. “Scuttle back to the hole you came from and die,” I said to Darryl. “You too, you lecherous old bastard.”
Willie faded into the blackness.
“Suit yourself,” Darryl said to me.
Your daughter. Enduring you all these years. At the very place you’ve called home longer than you’ve been at home with her.
“Help me fix this.”
Only you can fix this. Kingsley did not let me fall. His face reflected mine, unblemished, like mine used to be. Like Christine’s. He made sure I was standing upright. I returned to the
bar, the noise, the stink, and Christine. Silently enduring me, yet again.
I stammered, “What are you doing here?”
“Celebrating my birthday with my friends, bar-hopping.”
“But you don’t drink.”
“Yeah. Designated driver at my own legal drinking party.” She turned away from me and indicated to her friends that she was leaving.
The girls kept glancing over at me; expressions of contempt obvious and unbridled, while they gathered their things and prepared to leave.
That ripping had to end now. I touched Christine’s shoulder. She didn’t turn but did say, “What?”
“Do you think your friends would mind if you drove me somewhere?”
“Isn’t there enough booze here?” Then she did turn to look at me, the way a child would examine a poor misshapen worm caught on concrete after the rain, trying to decide whether to nudge it onto the dirt or put it out of its misery.
“No. I need help, Christine. Can you help me? Please.”
I pressed the emergency buzzer and muttered my name into the speaker. After a few moments, the lock clicked and I opened the door. I turned to wave goodbye to my daughter, watching me from her car.
Bring It On
Once upon a time
when the last world of Christ
came and went
we feasted on diodes and silicone
in a polymer Eucharist
— The Gryphonic Techno-Bastards
A SONIC ASSAULT OF LYRIC GUITAR percussion disruption slams him. Arrhythmia’s reverberations vibrate his chest. Humidity clings to his face. Strobes and Fresnel lenses dark red deep blue flutter his pulse. The Master-Blaster soundboard and Wonkin speakers tower stelae-like in the shadow on the raised stage. DJ Q-Tipp’s spectral visage pogos to baseline time phases in and out of the laptop screen’s glow. He resonates with Q’s modulations. Becomes one with the amalgam. Gyrates. Breathes deep, regains equilibrium, smiles at the writhing mass of humanity.
Thorn-Field Page 14
