The Exile Book of Native Canadian Fiction and Drama

by Daniel David Moses

  Janette drove by one more time in the government truck checking the mail for the college. There were four roads to the post office. She chose the road that I was always working next to, which was the slowest. Was I imagining this? No. She looked back, waved and smiled. I waved, stepped out on the road, watched her. She tapped her brake lights twice just to let me know that I wasn’t imagining us.

  I was gonna fuck her so hard it was gonna be brutal...

  I re-read all of my Dad’s Playboys, couldn’t find one Playmate that even remotely looked like Janette. Snuck one of Dad’s condoms from the bathroom and came back into rubber.

  Donna called during supper, twice. Mom told her to call back after seven.

  “Is that Barb’s daughter?”

  I scooped a chunk of caribou into my mouth and nodded.

  “I always wondered what happened to you two.”

  “Mom,” I said, “we were in grade five.”

  Dad nudged me under the table with his leg. “You know,” and I could tell I was gonna get a speech because he pulled out his favourite toothpick and moved to his chair by the woodstove. “I don’t know how they do it in Africa, but here in the north, it’s the bulls who pick, hey?”

  “Here we go,” Mom said and rolled her eyes.

  I got up and poured Dad a coffee and made one for myself. I even put on water for Mom’s tea. “Go on.”

  Dad put his coffee on the rocks, by the woodstove. “Love only works if it’s the man who chooses.”

  “Hmph,” Mom said.

  “Now, Norma, hear me out. If a woman picks a man, it never lasts. It has to be the man who chooses. When a man chooses, that’s when love lasts.”

  “Oh baloney,” Mom said.

  “Think of the caribou, Norma. It’s not the cows who pick. It’s the bulls. Think of the moose, the bison. That’s nature workin’.”

  “I chose you,” Mom said.

  Dad stopped and looked at her, and the house fell quiet. My Dad smiled and reached out, “Norma, you just made my day. Son, disregard everything your old man just said.”

  They laughed and went for a kiss. I saw the eagle feather quiver that Mom made Dad on their wedding day. It was filled with eagle feathers they’d collected together over the years when they went camping. Then the phone rang. They looked at me. Dad got up.

  “I’m not here,” I said.

  “Maybe it’s Jonathan,” Mom said. “You never know.”

  “Yeah right,” I said.

  Dad answered it. “Hello?”

  He listened and covered the receiver: “You here?” and motioned by pointing at the receiver and mouthed: “It’s her.”

  “Nope,” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Cruisin’.”

  Candy Lane betrayed me that night. The Slug’s Chev was parked outside Janette’s house. The only light on at 10:15 couldn’t have been her daughter’s. Fuckin’ guy. I revved my motor outside her house. Nothing. I revved it some more until the neighbour’s lights turned on and her neighbour poked his head out. I didn’t stop. I kept revving again and an outside light popped on two houses down. Just when I thought the motor was gonna blow through the hood her curtains moved. It was Doug. I peeled out and sped away.

  Saw Donna walking down Main Street, swerved down a back road even though we both knew we saw each other. It was true – we did used to go out.

  Grade five – she cried at a party and her cousins surrounded me: “You’re really mean, you know,” they said.

  “Mean? Me?”

  “You think you’re so cool,” Dolly said.

  “What did I do?”

  “Yeah,” Jonathan said. “What did he do?”

  “Donna likes you, okay?” Dolly said to me. “Are you happy now?”

  I knew Donna did. And the whole school did too the day she wrote my initials on her runners where everyone could see. After a week of nagging from all of her cousins, I agreed to go out with her – if she’d just stop crying.

  “Okay,” I said as we sat on the playground fence. “Here are the rules. If we’re going to go out, you can’t walk beside me.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “We’re not going to hold hands.”

  “Okay.”

  I pointed at her. “Ever.”

  She was smiling, glowing with happiness.

  “You can’t call my house and you’ve got to stop crying.”

  She sniffled. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She tried to touch my hand, but I pulled it away as if burned by water. “I’m not kidding, Donna. That’s strike one.”

  Fuck, I was mean to her. She’d follow me around the playground and I’d shoo her away or ignore her all day. Then she’d cry and I’d have to talk to her. One hug usually made her happy, but then she’d hold on for dear life and I’d be like, “Okay, you can let go. Okay? Okay!” I had to kill it as summer came. Who knew what tourists would be coming for summer vacation bringing their daughters with them?

  God, did Donna cry. Her cousins used their bodies to circle and shield her from seeing me. The bell rang and I slunk by. She yelled out to me, “But what was strike two and strike three?”

  Her mascara was all over the place. It was too sad to look. I just kept walking. Then the strangest thing happened. She ignored me. Who did she think she was? That summer nobody hot came to Simmer. I’d see Donna in the park and I’d be like “Hi.”

  And she’d look to her cousin and say, “Did you hear something?”

  Dolly popped her gum and was like, “Nah.”

  The only time she acknowledged me was at the Northern. One time, I was helping Mom shop and I saw Donna with her Mom. While our Moms decided to have a high school reunion in the dairy aisle, I walked up to her. “Hi,” I said.

  She walked away without saying a word. Her eyes flashed fiercely as she looked away.

  “Hey.” I followed her but she sped up. I bolted after her and she was trying to hide in the baby food aisle. I had her. And then I said the stupidest line of my life. Right there, across from the Cheez Whiz, I said the stupidest thing I ever could have said and I don’t even know why I said it: “Don’t walk away mad, okay? Just walk away.” I even had my hands out for full effect.

  She rolled her eyes and blushed. “Whatever,” she said, before walking away.

  When I came around the corner, there stood our Moms. I could tell by their eyes that they’d been watching us and were disappointed that I returned alone. How cheap. This had been a set-up.

  Donna tapped on my window at three a.m. last night. I was rock hard and tempted. Gotta cool it with The Hammer. Got raw spots where I shimmied that sting when it gasped for air. It would have been a nice night for a walk with her, to talk and stuff, but I thought it was best not to lead her on.

  I couldn’t believe she walked all the way across town to stalk me. That was a lot of pussy power making her do that. I always wondered what it was like for a woman to feel horny with nothing to get hard with but their pink erasers. Maybe the pull I felt for Janette was the same pull Donna felt for me?

  Goddamn that Janette. Stopped cruising down my street at work. I was desperate all day. Went behind the log pile and measured The Hammer with a tape measure: a little over seven and a half. Not growing, not shrinking, just was.

  Then – then! I slammed my frickin’ thumb with the back of the hatchet by accident. God, the pain! It throbbed with agony that did not let up.

  “She’ll turn black,” Boss Hog said at the first-aid station, “and fall off pretty quick.”

  Harold handed me an ice pack and shook his walrus head. “You should have a new thumbnail by the time grade twelve starts.”

  I looked out the window and winced as a new wave of throbbing came for my thumb. At least Donna had quit calling work.

  Just as I thought all was lost, I cruised down Candy Lane and Janette’s car wasn’t there. I raced across the potato field and sped down Main. Sure enough, her car was outside. The Slug’s. The
re. In the car. They were sitting and yelling at each other. The Slug looked like he was barking at her, he was yelling so loud. I cruised by, but she didn’t see me. Things were looking up.

  “Dad,” I yelled as we cleared the last of the deadfall. “Tell me about Doug Stevens.”

  Dad turned off his chain saw. “The Slug?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bad dude. Nasty temper. I told you what he did to his babysitter.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He gets a lot of women, that guy.”

  “But how? Is he rich, or what?”

  “No more than the rest of us.”

  “So why do women go after him?”

  “Funny how that works. Women just can’t seem to get enough of a mean man. Isn’t he seeing that new woman? What is she – French?”

  Dad already knew. He and his pallies got together every night at Stan’s house and had a couple cold ones. They listened to Waylon, shot some stick. I couldn’t wait until the day they invited me to join them for a drink. They knew, I was sure, all about Janette and the word was out, you could bet, that I had it for her something fierce.

  “What’s it take, Dad,” I asked, “to break a woman’s grip on a man?”

  Dad stopped and looked at me. He looked at my build and read my eyes. “A good fight can settle things pretty quick. Women respect that. But you’re a little young for her, don’t you think? Why not go for the one who’s calling the house?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Too young.”

  He nodded and said nothing before starting the chainsaw back on and getting to work. Doug was a dirty fighter, mean. I was worried. I knew I couldn’t beat him. Fuck, I was only seventeen.

  Last night there was no tapping on my window. As I waited to hear her footsteps on our gravel driveway, I remembered us going out. I’d known Donna since kindergarten. Before we became strangers, she told me she used to wash her hair twice a day. She also washed her socks with bleach so they always looked new. You could smell it. She had always liked me. I couldn’t remember her ever having a boyfriend. She left town for a couple years. Her dad made some great money in Fort McMurray as a carpenter, but I guess they missed Simmer.

  The day Jonathan and I had it out, Donna was working at the Coffee Shop. I went there to talk to Jonathan but I knew the second I walked in the whole place was brewing for him and me to fight. He hadn’t cut his hair so that was a good sign.

  “Way to go, winner,” Jonathan said and pushed me.

  “What’s up?”

  “What do you mean – what’s up? I’m not going to Disneyland is what’s up. All because of you.”

  A small group of girls raced from their seats and surrounded us. “Fight! Fight!” they were yelling. The rest of the girls ran outside.

  Uh oh, I thought. Once the girls ran outside, there was no turning back. Jonathan shook his head at me because we both knew the girls would lock their arms into the shape of an octagon like in UFC.

  “Fuck sakes anyways,” he said. “Now we gotta fight.”

  “Way to go,” I said. They’d probably want us to whip our shirts off and fluff out our mullets now. That’s the classic in this town. I looked around. Even the adults and the Chinese owners knew there was no turning back.

  “All right,” Valerie announced as she walked in. “Let’s get it on!”

  Jonathan stood and we walked out into the bright sunlight and practically half the town was there. The girls had joined arms and they were all grinning. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Adults even stood outside the post office while trucks slowed down and pulled into the Terminal parking lot. I’d have to fight Jonathan now, and I didn’t want to. He had a bad knee from basketball but that was off limits. Maybe his face bone or his bony ribs. The circle of woman power opened to receive us. The girls all started to cheer and stomp their feet. How cheap. I just couldn’t even believe this was my life right now.

  Jonathan led me right to the centre before spinning around. “Come on, fucker!” he yelled. He whipped off his shirt and fluffed out his mullet! The girls cheered to hysteria and I could tell by his eyes he was really into this now. I couldn’t believe he’d turn this into an academy award performance. He tucked his shirt around his belt. I let out my breath and felt ninety years old. “Take your shirt off, Gerald!” one of the girls yelled. And then they all started cheering. “Shirt! Shirt! Shirt!”

  I wasn’t going to do it.

  “Come on, Gerald!” Debbie yelled. “Take that frickin’ shirt off and show us what you got!”

  The circle quieted for a second. Debbie’s brother committed suicide last summer in their basement so even Jonathan looked at me like I’d better.

  He lowered his fists. “Come on, Gerald.”

  Well, geez, I thought. I took off my shirt and all the girls cheered even louder. Even Debbie. They cheered so loud the back stoop of my mullet practically blew sideways. I tucked my shirt into my belt and smiled. This wasn’t so bad. I understood why our Dads did this. It was a Simmer mating ritual and our culture all rolled up in one!

  “Fluff the mullet! Fluff the mullet! Fluff the mullet!” they started to chant and I shook my head. God, the women of this town were so bossy.

  Jonathan motioned that I had to, so I did. I took my time and leaned back like Dog the Bounty Hunter all slow and luxurious. I flicked my back hair out like I was a party on two legs waiting to happen. The girls went crazy and I wondered if this was what it felt like to be one of the Beatles in their prime. The girls were stomping their feet and going bananas over our hair and I caught Jonathan smiling at me. He loved this. Holy cow, his nipples were the colour of Monday morning hickeys. Then his face hardened so I made mine, too.

  “I’m gonna down you!” he yelled and there was more cheering. The fight was on now.

  But I stood my ground. I planted my feet on the pavement and raised my hands into fists. “Okay, Jonathan. How long have you known me?”

  “Too long,” he said and spit by my shoe. He gauged the crowd. The electricity was building. Even the bar stars had made their way around us. And they’d want an all-out brawl with bannock slaps and drop kicks.

  “Down him!” someone yelled.

  “Yeah,” another jeered. “Think you’re good, Gerald?”

  Jonathan was tough, but he wasn’t that tough. He raised his fists and started hopping back and forth, just like in grade seven when I had to teach him how to dance. We stood so close I could see the sweat beads he got on his nostrils in gym class. I started reading his eyes to see how far he was going to take this when a girl kicked me hard towards him. I looked back. All I could see were hands and eyes, hair and purses.

  “Listen to me,” I yelled to the crowd. “The second that fuckin’ principal left town is the second he admitted he did it.”

  “Bullshit! He’s embarrassed,” someone yelled back.

  “So embarrassed that he stole all your money?” I looked to the crowd. “All of yours? Think about it. This guy’s an adult, and he left town in the middle of the night—”

  “He’s our principal,” Jolene yelled. “He wouldn’t do anything like that!”

  “Yeah!” the crowd yelled. “You’re just jealous ’cause you didn’t fundraise.”

  “You lazy Dogrib!”

  “Frickin’ loser!”

  Someone spit on my face and I could smell tobacco and coffee and something like fries and gravy in it. Gah! Jonathan and I looked together to see who it was. Whoever it was was hidden behind the wall of people circling us, kicking us together so hard that Jonathan and I had to hold each other up.

  “We’re not friends anymore,” he said. “I thought I knew you, but it’s true. You didn’t fundraise. You were jealous ’cause we were gonna go to Disneyland and you weren’t.”

  “Punch the back of his head through the front of his face!” a voice yelled and the circle grew quiet.

  It was Torchy and his brother Sfen. I didn’t even know how they got where they were but they had their leather jackets off and we
could see their tattoos and muscles. They were hardened criminals and their eyes were warlike and fierce. How cheap. They were Dogribs, like me, Kevin Garner, and Wendy.

  “Come on,” Torchy said. “Is this a fuckin’ fight, or what?”

  Fuck, he looked rough with his crooked smile. I looked and, sure enough, they had their cowboy boots on. Dad told me they stuffed their cowboy boots with lead so they could kick you in the eyes when they got you down. Also, they only looped their belts at the 3 and 9 position so they could whip them out in a knife fight. They had Tonka-sized belt buckles, which they sharpened, to aim for your teeth and face.

  Once the whole crowd realized Torchy and Sfen were there, everyone broke up and stood still. I saw fear in Jonathan’s eyes as he kicked himself back into the crowd, turned, and pushed his way out of the horde.

  “Awwww,” the crowd yelled. “Fight him, Jon!”

  But even that sounded weak.

  Torchy started rolling a smoke and Sfen watched me, to see what I would do. It was like he could melt steel with his eyes he was so tough. I felt the cold gob of spit roll to my neck. I turned and walked away. I used my shirt to wipe the saliva off. It was just slimy and I’d probably get TB now. Gross! I was listening for someone to run behind me and try a cheap shot, but then Donna came running beside me.

  “Gerald! Wait!”

  I didn’t stop walking. She held a hot J-cloth to my face and wiped the spit off me. She had to hop up ’cause she’s so short.

  “Hold still,” she said, and I smelled dishwashing soap and vinegar.

  “Go away,” I said.

  “You’re a hero,” she said.

  I rolled my shirt on. “Leave me alone.”

  “No,” she said. “I love you.”

  My eyes bugged as I walked away. “Take it easy,” I said.

  Janette never cruised by work that day, so I went for a little cruise myself. Told the boss I had something in the mail and there, before my eyes, walked Janette and The Slug holding hands, downtown, together. I drove by, looked back and she looked away. I double tapped the brakes so the rear lights would flare and Doug saw that. Fuck. I seen him turn to her and I knew he knew. Fuck.

  Cruised all day with the sun hot on my arms listening to The Cult’s “She Sells Sanctuary” and Van Halen. Didn’t know what to do. Janette was in his grip and my dog balls were so loaded for her.