Edgy People

by Barb Nobel

  After I overheard that conversation I decided to just answer to Martha. I must say that the staff all seemed delighted that my memory had made such a miraculous recovery.

  Brown is my next colour, for my oldest child, Diane. Joe and I named her Diana, but in her early teens she insisted on being called Diane, complaining that Diana was just too dramatic. I guess most people would pick a more feminine colour for a girl, but brown suits Diane. She was always a serious, closed off little girl, who grew into a serious, closed off woman. Diane never married, and her work as a lawyer seems to be her only interest. She’s at an age when she can consider retiring, but then what would she do with her time? I always wondered if I could have done a better job with Diane, whether I failed her somehow.

  Blue is for Joe junior; we called him JJ for short. He came along when Diane was two. A chubby, happy boy, with big blue eyes, he became a kind, conscientious man, who married a kind woman. He coached his son’s baseball team and his daughter’s ringette, and brought my two grandchildren to visit me every last Saturday of the month.

  These rows here are pretty, lilac and pale purple. Purple was always Clarisse’s favourite colour. My youngest, born when JJ was four and Diane almost seven, Clarisse was energetic, rebellious, but always kind. She was the girl who defended the unpopular children in middle school, who auditioned for every star performance in school plays, and who snuck out her window late at night to hang out with friends. She lives in Ireland now with her 20 year old daughter, whom I have only seen twice, and no husband.

  “Look at the sun” Penny says, pulling the drapes. “It’s nice and warm now. You won’t need that scarf till next winter. Just look at it. If it gets much longer you’re going to be able to wrap it around yourself several times. You won’t even need a coat next winter.”

  “Penny” I say. “I want this to go with me.”

  “Go where with you?”

  “Into my coffin,” I say.”

  I can see that Penny wants to tell me I won’t get cold once I’m in there, but she refrains. She isn’t insensitive. So I say it myself, make it into a joke, and Penny laughs. But then I tell her I’m serious, that this scarf has meaning for me, and she says she’ll tell the family that’s what I want. I tell her thank you, and I mean it. I can’t explain to Penny why this scarf is important, I don’t even want to explain, but it is important to me.

  After the purple come a couple rows of sparkly yarn, blues, and greens and pinks. Joe and I went on a cruise after the kids grew up. It wasn’t the first time we had travelled together, but it was special. We renewed our vows. We thought about them, and talked about them, and wrote the vows. We vowed to be more appreciative, to talk more, and to remember why we valued each other. It did bring us closer. When Joe retired, we both worked to be more considerate.

  These black rows are for when Joe died, of heart failure at only 67. It was a time of sorrow for me. I was angry for a little while too, that Joe had been taken from me when he was so young. But mostly, I was sad.

  I remind Penny frequently now that I want this scarf to be buried with me. I also tell JJ, who looks puzzled and asks why. I can`t explain, I tell him, but that`s what I want. JJ says he will make sure it`s done. He tells me my granddaughter, Heather, will be married this fall, and she wants me to attend. JJ says he will pick me up and bring me back whenever I want, but I tell him I`m just too tired now. I wish the young couple all the best, and call Diane and ask her to give them a cheque for $100.00 from my account.

  When I was thinking about power of attorney, Diane pointed out, quite correctly, that it was about the law, not about being nice, and she was a lawyer, and JJ was a plumber.

  Tomorrow I will start on grey. The grey is for Lizzy again. Lizzy as a grey ghost. She is coming back to me now, after 82 years, coming during that time between wakefulness and sleep. She is still three years old, but somehow mature, and she tells me that it`s okay, that I’ll find only rest and peace. She says that I’ll be with her again, and with Joe again. I`m so tired now, and life isn`t that good to me. I`m ready.

  ***

  “There`s really nothing of any value here, Pammy,” says Diane, surveying the room.

  “Penny,” says Penny.

  “Clarisse is flying in, so the funeral will be on Friday. I know Mom was fond of you, so if there is anything you want here, help yourself. The rest can go to charity.”

  Penny crosses the room and picks up the long scarf off the bed. “Your mom wanted this to be buried with her,” she says.

  “Penny`s right,” JJ says. “Mom told me that several times.”

  “I`m not putting that ugly thing in with her,” says Diane. “Look at it. There`s no pattern to it, none of the colours complement each other and it’s all grimy from being dragged on the floor. Look at the last rows. The ends haven`t even been finished, they`re all unravelling.”

  “I can tidy up the ends,” offers Penny.

  “She really wanted it to go with her,” says JJ.

  “Forget it,” says Diane.

  “Diane, I know you have the power of attorney and all, but Mom asked me a couple times for this to go with her. Obviously it meant something to her.”

  “We can put it by her feet and no one will see it,” says Penny.

  “Forget it,” says Diane again.

  She takes the scarf from Penny and drops it in the trash basket. Penny thinks for a moment of retrieving it, but really, what would she do with it? At six o’clock, the scarf is carried out with the rest of the garbage.

  The Fridge and the Calendar

  FEBRUARY 14

  On the fridge: a newspaper blueprint for a house, with “den” written over the “fourth bedroom” designation, held in place by flower and dinosaur magnets; a “Better Half” joke: “Stanley and I settle all our differences like two rational screaming idiots”, held in place by a magnet advertising breakfast food; a crayon picture of a blue sky, huge flowers and three stick figures done in bright, primary colours, signed by Tiffany and held in place by a happy face magnet; a grocery list and menus for the week, held in place by a Mickey Mouse magnet.

  On the calendar: Call sitter, meet J 6pm Rocco’s Pasta Palace yum, yum.

  FEBRUARY 26

  On the fridge: the house blueprint; the “Better Half” joke; a second crayon drawing of a cheerful dragon done in blues and reds, signed by Tiffany, and held in place by a lady bug magnet and a butterfly magnet purchased for this specific purpose; a new menu and a grocery list.

  On the calendar: J. working late. AGAIN the housework is all mine, again.

  MARCH 18

  On the fridge: the blueprint; the “Better Half” cartoon; an article cut from a magazine— “Why we can’t communicate. According to recent studies, men interrupt women five times more often than women interrupt men. Men think they’re smarter than they actually are, while women tend to underestimate their own intelligence. Often, men don’t seem to be listening because they’re not hearing; men suffer hearing loss earlier in life and at twice the rate women do”— the menu and a grocery list.

  On the calendar: 7 p.m. marriage counselor, 451 Oak St.

  APRIL 14

  On the fridge: the blueprint; the article – “Why we can’t communicate”, a crayon drawing of a flower garden signed by Tiffany, this year’s school picture of a six year old girl, the grocery list.

  On the calendar: Confirm with sitter. M’s party 8 p.m.

  JUNE 4

  On the fridge: the magazine article; a Maxine joke: “You know what leprechauns and men have in common? Most things you tell them go right over their heads”; a crayon drawing of three stick people and a house done in blues and greens, the school picture, the menu and a grocery list.

  On the calendar: Counselor 7 p.m.

  AUGUST 3

  On the fridge: A Maxine joke: “There is nothing like an extended cruise! Why don’t you take one? Leave today.”; a partial grocery list held in place by a magnet fe
aturing a mouse and a piece of cheese with the inscription: “Age is not important unless you are a cheese”, the school picture, a grocery list.

  On the calendar: J. picking up his junk (don’t forget dirty clothes), coffee with Mary 7 p.m.

  SEPTEMBER 12

  On the fridge: a child’s picture with two large stick people and one very small stick person, with a storm in the background, done in dark blue and black and signed by Tiffany, the school picture, a grocery list.

  On the calendar: Lawyer 3p.m. 1242 Lawrence Ave.

  DECEMBER 18

  On the fridge: the program from a school Christmas Concert, the child’s picture with two large stick people and one very small stick person, with a storm in the background, done in dark blue and black and signed by Tiffany, a grocery list.

  On the calendar: Lawyer apt. 3 p,m. Dental apt. for T. 6 p.m.

  JANUARY 23

  On the fridge: two Maxine cartoons: (1) “If you insist on dating younger men expect some immaturity – just like dating older men”, (2) “Why don’t they have re-cycling centers where you could drop off your ex-husband?”

  On the calendar: J. picking up T. 6 p.m. for the weekend. Drinks M & G 6p.m.

  No Fighting

  IT’S ALMOST MIDNIGHT WHEN WE GET to the last call on our work sheet, and I say to Vern that I think maybe this customer might be a little sore, so let me do the talking. Vern’s a nice guy, most of the time, but he isn’t what you would call diplomatic. The customer’s appointment was between two and five in the afternoon, and so we’re six hours late, and I wouldn’t blame them for being pissed off.

  The woman who answers the door is good looking, long blonde hair and a great body, but she’s taller than Vern. Vern tends to not like that in a woman. He likes women to look up to him, both physically and in every other way.

  Me, I’m a little over six foot, and stocky, but Vern is short and kind of skinny, and he’s always out to prove himself. It can get tiresome.

  I apologize immediately to the lady for being so late, and tell her that we had a lot of trouble at the last place, had to remove all the doors and even the door frames. I tell her that we can come back in the morning if she prefers. I always tell the women that, because, like I said, I’m a big guy with a beard and tattoos, and sometimes the women are afraid of me, and it is late at night.

  Before I met Carly—that’s my wife—I didn’t realize that women might be afraid of me, but then Carly told me that. I took a good look in the mirror and figured she was right.

  I’ve been big all my life, but I’ve never been a bully. When I started in school my dad told me that I shouldn’t pick fights because I was bigger than most of the kids and could hurt them bad. He told me it was okay to defend myself, but not to pick fights. He also told me that I should never hit a girl, even if they hit me. I sure listened to my dad, and I never had any problems. Except for that one girl in grade five who kept calling me a moose. That sure made me upset, but my mom told me to not show it and the girl would stop, because all she wanted was to get attention. So I did like my mom said, and she was right, and that girl and I even became friends when we went to high school. But I never had a fight, and I was glad my dad taught me that.

  Carly will tell you that I’m a teddy bear, that I wouldn’t hurt a flea, and that I cried when Beth died in that movie Little Women. I generally wouldn’t tell anyone that, but now that I’m telling this story I’m saying so, because I want to explain that that’s the kind of person I am.

  It’s Vern you have to watch out for.

  The woman at this last job is a little cranky from all her waiting, I can see that, and I don’t blame her, but she tells me she waited this long, and she’s got to go back to work tomorrow, she can’t miss another day, so please just get going and do what we have to do. I ask if I can see where the hot water tank has to go, and she shows me in. The house is kind of old, but I can see right away that we won’t have to remove any door frames here, although maybe one of the doors will have to come off. The only way we can know this is to get started, so I tell the woman, and she says to go ahead. I tell her also that my name is Joe, and it’s Vern who will be helping me. She tells me her name is Marlena.

  We get the tank on the dolly and get it into the house without a problem, but the door to the basement is a little small. We try a couple times to wedge it through without wrecking the paint or anything, but it becomes clear that it isn’t going through. I tell Vern I’m going to the truck to get the tool box and remove the door. Right away, Vern starts to argue, saying the lady can repaint it if we scratch, and what can she do about it anyway, we’re two men and she’s just a woman.

  “Maybe she has a big husband,” I say, and that shuts Vern up.

  When I get back in with the tool box, I can hear Vern yapping it up, and I don’t like what I hear. It sounds like he’s telling Marlena that her husband should be up checking out what we’re doing because, after all, it’s his house, ain’t it? I get in there as fast as I can, talking loudly, hoping the lady can’t hear what Vern is saying, but I can tell by her face that the damage has started. I shoot Vern a dirty look.

  “What?” he smirks.

  I get the door off and set it aside carefully, and we put the tank on the straps. Vern negotiates so he’s the first to go down the stairs, the part I usually do. He wants to prove how strong he is. I’m not going to argue with him. I know from past experience that will be useless.

  Well, we get the thing down the stairs and get it hooked up, and I go back up to replace the door while Vern lights the pilot.

  The protocol now is that we show the home owner how the tank operates. It’s one of the newer models, but really, it’s still simple for the owner.

  I call the lady to come down the stairs, addressing her as “Miss” because that’s the polite way to do it. But I can see that Vern is itching.

  “Bring a pen and paper so you can write the instructions down for your husband,” Vern calls up to her.

  When Marlena comes down the stairs her face is red, and her mouth in a straight line. She looks Vern in the eye and tells him that she owns the home, lives here by herself, and is perfectly capable of understanding the instructions.

  “Yeah, I shoulda figured you wouldn’t have a man,” Vern says.

  “What in hell is that supposed to mean?” Marlena says, her arms crossed.

  “You’re the kind of woman who thinks she’s as good as a man any day. You’re not that bad looking. Lose the superior attitude and you might be able to get a man.”

  I’ve had enough of Vern now, and tell him flat out to shut up. He’s not too happy with that.

  I explain the instructions to Marlena, give her the booklet, apologize again for the delay, and thank her for her patience.

  But Vern can’t let it go.

  “Think you can remember those instructions?” he asks.

  The lady has had it now, and I don’t blame her, so I don’t interfere.

  “Listen, squirt,” she says. “I’m a corporate lawyer. I oversee mergers and acquisitions while you lift things up and down stairs. Don’t for one second think you’re superior to me in any way, because it’s obvious you aren’t.”

  Calling Vern a squirt burns him bad, and his face turns scarlet. I practically push him out the door ahead of me. Vern gets in the driver’s seat while I climb in the passenger side, but before I can say anything he jumps out again.

  “Forgot something,” he mumbles, and goes back to Marlena’s house, his steps as long as he can make them. I figure Vern’s going back to get in one last insult, but I’m just too damn tired to care now. Anyway, I guess Marlena can dish it out just as well as Vern does.

  Marlena opens the door and, after a little hesitation, lets him in. A few minutes later, he comes back out with something in his hand. I’m relieved he comes out so quickly. He can’t have done too much harm in those few minutes. Vern goes to the back of the truck. Something clunks as he throws i
t inside.

  “Left the screw driver behind.” He grunts as he gets back into the driver’s seat.

  “Yeah, sure,” I mumble.

  When I get home it’s almost 1 a.m. Carly has left some food in the fridge for me. I’ve told her several times that she doesn’t have to do that, she works all day as well, but she does anyway. I’m so tired, I just leave the food and go to bed.

  The next day is Saturday, and I get to sleep in and don’t get up till after 10 a.m. Carly has gone to yoga, and I eat the food she left me last night. I turn on the radio, which is my usual habit, and I’m scanning the newspaper when something on the radio catches my attention.

  There’s been a gas explosion in a house. I think I catch the street, but I’m not sure. I get real fidgety because I think the street name they said is the street where we did the last service call. Marlena’s street.

  I start to leaf through the paper to see if there is anything there, but of course the paper probably came out before the explosion happened. Now I switch to a news station to see if I can catch some news, but I’m so nervous that I keep switching stations back and forth when I don’t hear anything. Finally I get lucky and catch the news piece, and, oh my god, it is the street we were on, Marlena’s street. One person is seriously injured, in emergency care in St. Joe’s.

  Vern, please tell me you didn’t do anything last night – turn off the pilot light or something.

  Then I feel like a total shit for thinking like that. But, I’ve worked with Vern a long time, and I know what he’s capable of.

  When Carly comes home, I’m pacing the floor, and she knows right away something is wrong. But I can’t, I just can’t, tell her about it, because what am I going to do? I tell Carly instead that I’m going out for a walk.