“My goodness!” Cathy said, standing. “What happened?”
“I’m fine. I just fell off my bike. Any messages?” Cathy’s face was red and blotched, and he thought it was better not to ask.
“I’m not often in before you, so I knew there was something.”
“What’s in the post?”
“I’m just going through it now,” said Cathy. Her voice changed and she looked down. “Sorry, I haven’t been in long myself.”
William heard something, an invitation to inquire or perhaps an excuse to be offered, but let it go. At forty-two years old, Cathy was not very different from him in age but had never started life. If it wasn’t a problem with the loser she had married, it was her children demanding everything of her. There was always a sorrowful tale in the family: an injustice of some kind, an unwanted pregnancy, a debt owed, medical investigations needed. It was terribly complicated in her world, but William thought it was simple to understand. Cathy was not up to life as an adult and preferred to create the intensity of a television soap opera rather than accept responsibility for her own life. Her neediness and availability had not always disgusted him, but it did now.
Cathy said, “I’ve just been talking with Dennis. There’s been a message from SynchronoX, asking if their shipment has been received. I said it hasn’t come.”
He could see now what the puffy red face was all about; Dennis was snuffling at the trough. He knew it would only cause drama and suck energy out of the firm. She may have to go, he thought, but right now he had to deal with the man in the car.
“All right. There’s not much for me to do until you’ve gone through the mail. I’ll get some coffee. Try to be done with it before I get back. I have my iPhone with me if you need to call.” William moved to the stairs. “The accountant is coming at eleven today. We need to be ready to screw Canada Revenue.” William smiled as if it were a joke. “He’ll want to see the books too, so I want to go over the last three months before he arrives. So, deal with the mail and filing, then get the books out.”
Leaving the office, he looked up and down the street, avoiding eye contact with the man in the car, and began walking slowly to Tim Hortons just a few blocks away. His head and shoulder pounded with each step. Behind him a car door opened and closed.
The morning coffee queue in the Tim Hortons was five people long. The small athletic man who had followed stood behind him. William turned his body and spoke quietly, seeing Uri for the first time.
“What are you doing here? It’s not what we agreed.”
“You didn’t come to the meeting, William. We cycled the route three times trying to find you. We were worried about you. What happened to your arm?” There was no hiding the Russian in his voice.
“We have a protocol for that and I was going to use it.” William drew breath. “I was five minutes away from the meeting when I fell off my bike. I’m fine. It will be a couple of weeks before I can meet in the usual way.”
Uri nodded. “Sorry to hear it. I’m glad all is well with you.”
“Uri, your delivery hasn’t arrived yet. I’ll let you know when it has.”
“William, why are you upset with me? I just want to make sure you are well.”
“You know I am well, Uri. You were outside my house when I got back from the hospital. You watched my wife help me out of the car. If I hadn’t recognized you, we would have called the police.” The two men shuffled up in the queue. “That would have drawn attention to all of us.”
Uri said, “We were worried about you. Nothing wrong with that.”
“We have an arrangement. Everyone does well out of it, but you have to keep to the protocol. We don’t have an arrangement if you don’t keep to what we agree.”
“You’re right, William. It is good that you want us to take care of each other.”
“I have to be able to trust you. It’s always about trust in business, and being reliable.” William knew it was useless trying for the moral high ground with someone like Uri.
“William, it is not me you talk to if you want to pull out of a deal. You understand.” His apologetic tone did not alter.
“We have an arrangement, but you must not come to my work again, and never to my house. Can we agree to that?” They shuffled forward.
“Yes, we can agree, William.” He shrugged. “But there are others.”
“Tell them, Uri. Never to my house.”
“I will speak with them for you. These people, William, they understand. People always have limits, but they understand.”
“Next, please.” A smiling young woman in a brown uniform and netted hair spoke to him from the counter.
“A double-double, please.” William handed change to the woman and walked to the end of the counter to pick up his coffee. With his one good arm he dropped the cup into a cardboard sleeve and covered it with a plastic lid. When he turned, Uri was gone.
William thought he had already done too much. His head felt bulging, the light of the day was incandescent, and the thought of drinking his coffee was nauseating. He sat in a corner away from the window, allowed a wall to take his weight and closed his eyes. The grey light penetrated, saturating his view. An ocean wind whistled in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut and shielded them with his good hand. Gradually, as he remained still, the pain and intense light ebbed away, leaving a grey mist. Something small, in the soft grey distance, between eyes and lids, moved.
“You okay?” A gentle hand touched William awake. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. It’s just a headache.” William saw with disgust the dishevelled young man inspecting him. It was the second time in two days he had been roused by a young and filthy man smelling of earth. He stood up to leave.
“Your coffee!”
“Keep it,” said William. “Looks like you need it.”
November 21, 2017
William listened to Kelly asking her mother, “How’s Dad?”
“Don’t worry, he’s fine. Nothing broken.”
She would never be a high flyer, he thought. She would soon lose the power of focus and nothing would be clear. If she were really bright or gifted in some way, it might be different. She was a nice girl, for whom private schooling was a waste, but she was happy, it was what her mother wanted, and there were opportunities for her to try things out and build her confidence.
Kelly said, “Tell me about the owl.”
“An owl tried to steal his hat and knocked him off his bike,” Julie said.
“Do they do that?”
William entered the room. “It was a surprise to me. I thought I was getting caught in the bushes as I cycled along, but there was an owl pulling my hat off.” Kelly gasped and giggled at her father. “Then I was flying through the air.”
“Like the owl! What kind was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did it fly away with your hat?”
“No, I held on. It got my headlight though.”
Kelly asked, “Why, Dad?” She looked toward him with unsteady eyes. “Why did you hang on to it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I thought …” He hesitated. “I don’t know. I just did, without thinking.” There was a moment of awkwardness. “Your mother tells me you’re playing soccer.”
“Yes, and we have to go,” said Julie. “I’ll get my coat. Do you have your soccer kit?”
“Yes, it’s here.”
William said, “I haven’t seen you play. How do you know where the ball is?”
“There’s a bell in the ball and we hear where it is. I see a little but mostly I hear it. I don’t need to see it.”
“Hmm. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. I couldn’t kick a ball that I could only hear.”
“Yes, you could. You can tell where it is. It just needs practice.”
Julie’s voice came from the hall. “Come on, Kelly.”
“Why were you in the park? Mum said that you were just going along Marine Drive.”
“Well, I ju
st got into a rhythm, you know. It felt good so I went over the bridge.” It was a necessary lie, but only a little one. “Your mum is waiting. You better go to practice. Play well.”
“Bye, Dad.”
The door to the garage opened. A car started and moved off and the door closed. Mother and daughter were gone. He had not spoken so many words to his daughter in weeks, or was it months? The household was unfamiliar even when they were there. The routine was not his and, sitting in the living room, he had a sense of being superfluous to it all. Kelly was changing, becoming a teenager. She had never questioned him about something he had done. More challenges would follow. Soon there would be boys at the door and the task of protecting her would take a new turn.
In the quiet of his house he lifted his noise-cancelling headphones and placed them on his head. The outside world disappeared as he switched them on. He had not realized how much noise there was to cancel in the quietness of his house. For the first time William heard, with perfect clarity, the rushing noise that had bothered him since the fall. There was nothing to interfere with it. He listened and concentrated to hear every strand and whisper. Would it go away, he thought, or would he struggle against it always?
His iPhone buzzed. The number was unknown. There was a message waiting. He pushed his headphones aside and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hello? … Yes, it is.” He listened to the hospital receptionist. “I understand if the doctor thinks it’s necessary … how quickly can we do it? … I think that will be fine but I will have to check my diary … would you send me an appointment? … Thank you. Goodbye.”
More tests meant less time at work. He checked the message that waited for him. It was an emoji, the absurdly innocent signal from Uri. He knew what it meant.
The ringing in his ears would not stop.
November 22, 2017
The young men finished unloading. Dennis supervised them and kept a running total in his head as they worked. Now he returned from outside the delivery bay, having squashed the end of his cigarette into the concrete with his boot. Stacks of boxes in the delivery bay towered over him, each one marked with the garish yellow and black logo of SynchronoX. He began counting again, in earnest. At the bottom of each stack he used his pencil to softly write the accumulated total to keep track of the inventory and check the numbers against the order. Satisfied that the total was correct, he returned to the beginning and began checking the white sticky label on the side of each box to compare each serial number with that provided by the manufacturer, just as he had been instructed to do. The delivery man waited patiently for the signature he needed to move on. It was never quick enough for him, but for Dennis, it was a process of ritual importance to get right. He was, after all, the person responsible for deliveries and dispatches, and should there be an error, it could be only his. Now especially, with the boss off work for a few days, he had to ensure everything was done as it should be done.
Dennis inspected and checked each box, confirming the serial number against the delivery note in his hand. The sequence of serial numbers suddenly discontinued and started with a second series. He double-checked against his record and, having satisfied himself that all was well, continued on.
He walked through the delivery bay to the truck’s cab. “Okay,” he said to the driver. “Thanks for waiting.” He reached to sign for the delivery. “Sorry to hold you up.”
The driver said, “I guess if I had just spent a couple hundred grand on a pile of bikes, I would want the numbers to add up.” The two men smiled. “See ya next time.”
Dennis reached in his pocket, retrieved his phone and called the boss.
* * *
William was still holding his iPhone, checking his calendar and entering the hospital appointment, when it rang.
“Hello,” said William. “They all arrived as we ordered? … Good … oh, you did … no, don’t do anything more tonight … we’re a little late with the order, not your fault, so one of the retailers is coming in over the weekend and arranging their own transport … no, no, nothing needs to be done. I’ll come in and open up … that’s kind of you but you don’t have to come in … I’ll be all right. You have a good weekend … oh yes, I should be in on Monday. It’s feeling better already … bye, Dennis. Thanks.”
November 25, 2017
William waited in the kitchen for the taxi. Julie stomped and clattered as she cleared breakfast away.
“Why are you going into work on a Saturday when you still can’t drive, or even cycle? You lasted one hour—one hour!—just a few days ago. You’ve done nothing but sit in that chair and sleep since then.”
“It’s the special delivery. It arrived yesterday and has to get out today. There is transport coming for it this morning. I have to go.” There was no defence, especially today.
Julie announced, “I’m taking Kelly to soccer. She said you wanted to see her play. Will you get to the game?”
“I’ll try,” said William.
Kelly arrived in the kitchen. “Are you coming to watch me?”
“I’ll try, Kelly. I have to go into work first.” He turned away from her disappointment.
“Get your soccer kit together, Kelly,” said Julie. “We have to go soon.”
“My taxi’s here,” said William. “I better go. Might see you later.”
It was a relief to be out of the house and on the way to work. His shoulder had settled a little but his head still throbbed with every movement. A North Shore soaker hammered the roof of the taxi, masking the hissing wind in his ears, and his mind wandered. The rain and endless rhythm of the wiper blades reminded him of the trips into the valley to see his father in Riverview Hospital, the large mental asylum far enough from the city to be neglected. It had been a relief when he had left his father and driven away, as it had been when his father had passed. Was it odd, William thought, to feel relief driving away from those who should be dear to him? It had always been so, but William knew there was something wrong in feeling relief.
Perhaps, he reasoned, it was inevitable that distance from family would grow if he wanted to be successful and secure their future. It was what men had to do if they were to prevent being stripped naked and buried by those that ran the province to suit themselves. His father being sent to Riverview was what happened to men not able stand up to those with enduring power and authority to do as they liked. William resolved never to allow it to happen to him.
The taxi stopped outside the reception of his warehouse and office. The driver watched William in silence, waiting for payment. William paid with cash and stepped into the street, putting his face to the sky. The cold rain soaked his hair and face in a second, distracting him from the throbbing. He thought of Kelly at her soccer match. How would she hear the soccer ball in all this rain? It might be indoors, but he did not know.
A large white panel van, parked down the street from the warehouse, watched him enter the building. William opened the door with his key and walked into the hallway, stopping briefly to turn off the alarm. He took the stairs cautiously to the first landing and kept a steady rhythm on the second flight to the first floor. The pain could be managed if he moved carefully. In the large outer office he went first to Cathy’s desk. It always annoyed him that the keys to the steel security cabinet enclosing the CCTV recordings could never be found when he wanted them. Cathy would put them in the drawer, in a pot on her desk or among the pencils. Finally he located the keys and knelt at the cabinet, opened the door and switched the security cameras off.
Downstairs in the warehouse, he pressed the release of the overhead roller door. The white van moved to the warehouse door. Three men emerged onto the street and ducked under and into the warehouse as the door rose. They headed for the boxes.
“Wait,” said William. “Not all of these are going. I’ll tell you which ones.”
The men stood while William found the manifest hanging on the wall, removed a document from his pocket and began comparing the one in his hand with
the one on the wall. The two documents were identical in every way except the manifest on the wall had nearly double the number of serial numbers. He inspected both documents and, having counted twice, turned to the waiting boxes. William saw quickly that they had not been stacked in order of serial number. He would have to find each one.
“You’re expecting twenty-five units, correct?”
A man nodded in agreement and signalled to his companions to start loading.
“Wait,” said William. “You’ll take the ones I give you. It’s going to be complicated. All the boxes look the same, but they’re not the same. They’ve been mixed up. I’ll point out the ones on your order.” By the time they finished, it would be as if the twenty-five bicycles being carried off in the van never existed.
William speculated that they would not be finished in time for him to get to the soccer game. It was unlikely. He would have to wait to see the shipment out of the warehouse, shred the manifest listing the extra units, turn on the security cameras and lock up before getting a taxi to the school. The game, inside or out, would be all over by then.
December 8, 2017
William switched off the Tesla as the garage door closed behind him. He should have taken Julie to the appointment with the doctor. She would complain again, but this time with good reason. It would be a weightier complaint than he had anticipated, since he had not told her of the neurological investigations that had been hastily arranged, or even that there was something to investigate. Julie would be angry with him for keeping it quiet. That would be the focus. Not the concern for his health, the operation that he needed, only that he did not include her from the beginning. She would be right to be cross, but it rankled that he would have to explain himself before the tumour in his head was acknowledged at all.
William tried to let the thought go and got out of the car. He took a moment to appreciate the orderly place he had created for his cycling gear and the neatly stowed household clutter, and then winced as he closed the car door. Kelly’s dusty bike reminded him of a challenging conversation he would need to have with her. How was he to tell Kelly of the tumour? Maybe Julie could help him. She was always able to speak to their daughter in a way he had not found.
The Kissing Fence Page 2
