Ragged Company

by Richard Wagamese

  He stood up and looked at the three of us. “You guys know what I’m talking about here, right?”

  We nodded.

  “Okay. Explain it to them, maybe, but I gotta go.”

  And then he walked out.

  “I don’t know,” Granite said.

  “I don’t know, either,” Margo agreed.

  “Digger just needs to be Digger,” Timber explained. “I know how he feels. I wanna get out of here too. I wanna do something normal.”

  “Normal like what?” Granite asked.

  “Normal like walking down the street with nowhere in particular to go,” Timber said. “Just walking. Just looking. Maybe having a drink somewhere. Just out. There’s too many walls.”

  “I wanna go to the movies,” Dick said. “That’s normal, huh?”

  “That’s normal,” I said. “I need to get out for awhile too.”

  We talked for a long while about the best plan. Granite and Margo worried about us. They wanted to make sure that whatever we chose would be safe for us. Timber finally put on his coat and moved toward the door. He turned when he got there and I saw the ragged, lonely man from the park in his eyes.

  “I just have to go,” he said. “This is nice, but it’s all too much. I need to walk. I need to be away right now.”

  “Be safe,” Granite said.

  “I will,” Timber said. “I’ll be back. I will. Don’t worry. I need some street too.”

  “Should we go see Field of Dreams?” I asked when he was gone.

  “Not without them guys,” Dick said. “We all picked that one together.”

  Granite had a paper sent up from the lobby and we scanned the movie ads and Granite read a few reviews out loud. We settled on Three Fugitives because it sounded funny. I needed to laugh. I needed to not have to think. I needed to do something normal like Timber and Digger had said, and the movies felt normal. Every step we took on our way out of the hotel felt lighter. The closer and closer we got to the open space of the street, the looser I felt in those new clothes. Finally, when we stepped outside and my feet touched pavement again, I breathed a full breath. This wasn’t a neighbourhood I knew. It wasn’t somewhere I had travelled before but just the feel of concrete on my shoes made me more comfortable, and as the four of us walked down the street toward the theatre I found myself wondering how money might change that if it could at all. Around us, the shadowed ones moved in their relentless search for peace, and seeing them again I knew that the part of me that was born and the part of me that died on those streets would be joined with it always; my spine concrete, my blood rain, my heart unrestrained by walls.

  Timber

  IT FELT GOOD to walk. It felt good to be away from the walls and the air that felt like it didn’t move. I didn’t know where I wanted to go. I didn’t know what I wanted to see. I only knew that being outside was the only thing that made sense. So I wandered. I found myself miles away from downtown eventually. Miles away in a neighbourhood of small stores, coffee joints, and tree-lined side streets. The people I passed nodded at me. They were dressed neatly and comfortably and my new clothes seemed to fit into the surroundings even though I didn’t feel like I did. There was a liquor store on a corner near a park so I stopped there and used the plastic card from the bank to pay for a mickey of Scotch. I never drank Scotch but somehow it felt like a good thing to say when the man asked me what I wanted. I got some tailor-mades too, and a lighter. The man called me sir when I’d finished paying with the card and I could only look at him. Three letters, one little word that had been missing from my life forever, it seemed, and it only took a leather blazer and clean clothes to earn it. I found that curious. I thanked him and crossed over to the park.

  The Scotch tasted good. Smoky. Rich. Fine. I sat on a bench close to where people were playing with their dogs and watched for a while. It was like a little social club for Benji, Spot, and Rover and I found myself smiling at the play.

  A Frisbee sailed over the head of a black mixed-breed pooch and landed at my feet. The dog trotted up, looked at me with big brown eyes, sat on its haunches, and thumped its tail on the ground.

  “Go ahead, sir!” his owner yelled. She was a young blond woman in running shoes and a track suit. I picked up the Frisbee and flung it over the dog’s head. It tore off after it, kicking up a spray of dirt with its back feet. “Thanks, sir!” she called to me.

  “You’re welcome,” I called back and waved.

  I took another pull on the mickey and fired up one of the tailor-mades. It was a warm late afternoon and the park was busy. Around its edges were fine older houses. Three-storied with hedges, garages at the side, and walkways that curved slightly, meandering their way toward steps that led to big doors with brass fittings and stained glass windows. People emerged from them and crossed over to the park with children, dogs, and playthings.

  “Afternoon, sir,” a young couple said as they passed arm in arm.

  “Sir,” an older gentleman in hiking boots and a sweater said.

  It amazed me. One day earlier, sitting in the same park with the same mickey in my pocket would have earned me a phone call to the police in this neighbourhood. But today, showered, shaved, and dressed expensively, I had become a sir. What had the soap washed off, I wondered? What did the clothes cover? What did the plastic bank card in my pocket buy me that I didn’t know I’d purchased? It felt strange. Despite the six hundred dollars on my body, the twenty-dollar Scotch in my pocket, the tailor-made cigarettes, and the key to a suite in a fancy hotel, I was still the same man. Nothing had changed but my appearance. I sat and laughed at the joke. All the sirs and all the politeness, all the nods, small salutes, and other signs of inclusion couldn’t hide the fact that I was still a ragged man inside, still a rounder, still more street than neighbourhood, still on a park bench alone while the world happened around me.

  I sat there and watched. I drank. I smoked. And when the light had faded from the sky, the streetlights and the house lights had flicked on around that neighbourhood, and all the little worlds around that park had settled inside the comfort of their walls, I got up and began walking back toward the hotel. Toward downtown. Toward the streets I knew. Toward a predictable place with the people I’d inhabited it with. Toward Dick and Digger and One For The Dead. Toward shelter.

  Double Dick

  THE MOVIE WAS FUNNY. Some people was on the run from pullin’ a robbery an’ there was lots of action an’ funny stuff goin’ on an’ I kinda forgot all about being rich on accounta the movie was so good. We all talked about it after on the way back to the hotel an’ I was happy that everyone had liked it too. But it felt funny without Timber an’ Digger. Granite an’ Margo were nice an’ I liked them, but it wasn’t the same. I even missed Digger bein’ grumpy an’ I wondered what Timber would have thought about the movie. When we got back to the hotel, Granite and Margo were gonna head off to where they lived.

  “Do you want to come to my room and watch TV, Dick?” One For The Dead asked me.

  “No,” I said, feelin’ kinda sad an’ missin’ my two pals but not wantin’ to worry her any. “I think I wanna be alone.”

  “Well, if you change your mind you just come and knock on my door. It might feel strange being here the first night.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Granite an’ Margo each wrote their telephone numbers down for us an’ told us to call if there was anythin’ we needed. They’d come back in the mornin’ to see us again an’ help us make plans. Once they left I gave One For The Dead a hug an’ headed for my room. It felt strange in there. But I had a few drinks from my bar an’ switched through all the channels on my TV until I found somethin’ I liked. It was a western movie an’ I always like western movies so I sat on my bed an’ watched.

  I fell asleep an’ started to dream. I didn’t have enough to drink before I fell asleep on accounta the dream came back. Most times, if I drink enough I don’t have no dreams. I don’t like dreams. Dreams scare me on accounta mine are all bri
ght an’ shiny like movies an’ they feel real. Everythin’ in my dreams is like life an’ the one dream I hate the most takes a lot of drink-in’ to keep away. But that night it came for me. It came for me like it always does. Like the night it happened. Just like that. Just like I remember. Everythin’, right down to the strange kinda white light from the TV set that night, flashin’ an’ blinkin’ an’ makin’ weird shadows across the room so that I screamed on accounta when I opened my eyes that same light was in my room an’ I thought I was back there. In the room I never wanna go back into again. The room where everythin’ went bad. So I screamed.

  The next thing I knew, Timber was there an’ he was shakin’ me. I kinda came back to the real world then an’ sat up higher in the bed.

  “Are you okay, pal?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, rubbin’ my head to make the dream go away. “Get me a drink, would you?”

  I flicked off the TV an’ turned on the lamp beside my bed to chase those weird shadows away. Timber handed me a glass an’ I swallowed all of it. He got me another one an’ we sat there smoking for a bit.

  “Nightmare?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Bad.”

  “Not surprising. This place is strange.”

  “You don’t like it neither?”

  “No. Not much. It’s too different. Too new. I’m too used to being outside. Too used to the street.”

  “Me too. Did you just get here?”

  “I was just getting in when I heard you scream. Glad I left that door between our rooms unlocked. Is Digger here?”

  “You haven’t seen him?” I asked, feeling kinda worried all of a sudden.

  “No.”

  “Geez.”

  “Well, I know he was thinking of going to the Palace. Maybe he’s still there? You want another drink?”

  “I better.”

  “I think we’d better go look for him.”

  “Go look for him? How come? Nobody I know can look after himself better’n Digger.”

  “I know. But this is different. We’ve never been in this kind of spot before. Digger hasn’t either.”

  “Kinda spot?”

  “The money. It makes my head spin just thinking about it.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Scares me on accounta nothin’s the same no more. All of a sudden. Too fast, kinda.”

  “I imagine it’s the same for Digger. We better go look.”

  “Should we tell One For The Dead we’re goin’?”

  “No. No sense bothering her. We won’t be gone that long. We could even take a cab if we wanted.”

  “Okay. That’s faster. I wouldn’t want her to worry.”

  We put on our coats an’ headed out. Timber stopped at the front desk to get some money with his new plastic bank card an’ we got the men at the door to get us a cab. We told the driver that we wanted to go to the Palace an’ he gave us a real funny look but pulled out anyway. All the way down there I watched the street go by. It was different in a car. It felt different. I couldn’t get no feel for where we was. I couldn’t really tell what corner was what an’ I felt kinda lost riding in the back of that cab. But the driver knew where he was goin’ an’ we was there pretty quick.

  “You guys be careful,” he said. “This isn’t the kind of neighbourhood you want to be out in at night.”

  “I think we’ll be okay,” Timber said an’ grinned at me.

  I grinned back an’ we got out.

  Granite

  THE TELEPHONE RANG at 3 a.m.

  “Granite?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Amelia.”

  “Amelia? What’s wrong?” I asked sitting up in bed and switching on the light.

  “I’m worried about the boys,” she said. “None of them are in their rooms.”

  “They’re not? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I checked all three. I thought maybe they were together in one room or another watching a movie. But they’re not.”

  “I guess I can’t really ask you if they’ve ever done this before, can I?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, look,” I said, fumbling for my wallet. “I’ll call Margo and James and we’ll come down there. She can sit with you while James and I try to figure out what to do. They might show up before we get there, though.”

  “I hope so. Thank you, Granite.”

  “No problem. Are you okay until we get there?”

  “I think so. Just worried. We’ve never been in this situation before.”

  “I know. We’ll be as quick as we can.”

  Both James and Margo were waiting in the lobby when I pulled up. They looked surprisingly fresh after the day we’d had and I was impressed at their ability to pull themselves together in such a hurry. My own scratchy chin and hastily thrown-together attire seemed boorish in comparison. We discussed the possible whereabouts of our friends in the elevator. We agreed that the available money meant they could be anywhere.

  Amelia sat with her coat on at the edge of her bed. Margo went and sat with her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and talking softly in her ear. I made a pot of coffee while James called the concierge.

  “Well, apparently Timber and Dick left here in a cab about four hours ago and Digger hasn’t been seen all evening,” James said when he joined us.

  “They’ll be together,” Amelia said.

  “How do you know that?” James asked.

  “They’re rounders. They’d stick with each other.”

  “Stick with each other where, though?” Margo asked.

  “I don’t know,” Amelia said. “I wondered if they’d go to one of their digs.”

  “Digs?” James asked.

  “Where they stayed before,” I explained.

  Amelia nodded and gave me a small grin. “Yes.”

  “Do we know where that is?” Margo asked.

  “I only know where Dick stayed. It’s an empty warehouse in the industrial area on the north side of downtown,” Amelia said.

  “We need to check there,” James said. “Would they go there, though? I mean, they have money. They don’t need to go there now.”

  “They need to go there,” Amelia said quietly. “More than anything, right now they’d need to go there. Or somewhere like it.”

  “What about the Palace?” I asked. “Digger mentioned that he wanted to go and shoot the breeze with Ray.”

  “It’s almost four in the morning,” James said.

  “Well, maybe Ray or someone is still there closing up or cleaning. Maybe they might know where Digger went. And apparently where we find Digger is where we find the other two,” Margo said.

  James and I headed out. We drove through the dark streets slowly, both of us keeping an eye on the sidewalks as we passed. I’d never had to look for anyone on the street at night and it amazed me how different it looked when you really pushed to see it. There was a depth of shadow there that was spectral. There were holes. Impossible holes that streetlights couldn’t penetrate, and if someone were in there they couldn’t be seen. I’d always wondered how the homeless became so invisible to the rest of us, and I realized that night that we never really know the geography of our city. We know buildings, streets, intersections, and neighbourhoods but we never know the holes. Not until we’re forced to look. Not until someone close to us is out there in the night. Then we discover them. Then we learn to see them. The holes. They’re everywhere: behind a stairway, in a doorway halfway down an alley, beneath the lower branches of a pine tree, behind a wall. Holes in the city. The holes where the lonely go, the lost, the displaced, the forgotten. The holes that lives disappear into. The holes that daylight’s legerdemain makes vanish so that we come to think of the geography of the city as seamless, predictable, equal. It’s not. The holes in the streets told me that as we drove.

  “There it is,” James said, pulling me back from my thoughts.

  We pulled up in front of the Palace and could hear music. A man stumbled out the door with a bottle in his
hand, lurching down the sidewalk and disappearing down an alley. A couple followed right after and wobbled crazily to a car parked a few yards from the door.

  “Wild freakin’ bash,” the man said. “Wild.”

  James and I walked quickly to the door and pulled on it. It was locked. James rapped loudly with a gloved hand and we waited. He rapped again. Finally, the door opened a crack and Ray’s face was there.

  “We’re closed,” he said. “Private party.”

  “Ray? I’m a friend of Digger’s. Granite. Remember?”

  “Granite? Oh, yeah, the Square John from the movies. They ain’t here. They were here but they left.”

  “Where did they go?” James asked.

  “Fucked if I know. Nobody bails on a bash like this, man. Especially if you paid for it. We got strippers, man, some good smoke, tunes, and an open friggin’ bar. But they walked.”

  “They paid for this?” I asked.

  “Well, Digger did. Did you know the son of a bitch won the lottery?”

  “Yes. We did. That’s why we’re here,” James said.

  “You a cop?” Ray asked. “We got a permit for this. Private party, not sellin’ booze, we’re good, officer.”

  “I’m Digger’s lawyer,” James said.

  “Oh,” Ray slurred. “The money guy.”

  “Yeah. The money guy. Now where did Digger say he was going?”

  “He didn’t. They didn’t. Just kinda got up an’ walked out about an hour ago. Hey, listen, man. You’re gonna have to slip me a few more bucks here ’cause it costs more the longer it goes, ya know what I’m sayin’?” Ray grinned drunkenly.

  “Yes. Well. Send me an invoice and I’ll see what I can do. Here’s my card.”

  “No, no, no,” Ray said. “See, I need cash now, man. Gotta have it. Gotta pay the band, piece off the peelers, pay for the booze.”

  “I thought Digger did that?” James said.

  “Yeah, well, he did, man. But I need more.”

  “More?”

  “Yeah. Come on, man. He’s got it. I figure a couple grand would pretty much cover it.”