by Matt Lennox
In the dark, it was difficult to make out the lay of the property, but after they’d turned off the side road, they followed a long driveway hemmed in by pine trees. Then the headlights shone against a wood-frame storage shed on one side of the driveway and two camping trailers on the other, an Airstream and a Prowler. Speedy stopped the van in a small patch where the snow had been cleared. They got out. The land dipped sharply and a footpath led through the snow. Forty yards farther on, they came to a building perched on a headland over the lake. The windows were boarded over but faint edges of light came through from inside.
The door in the back of the building opened. Gilmore stood there in silhouette. He was wearing a dark jacket and treaded boots. He said: Come in out of the cold, pals.
He led them through a storeroom to what had at one time been a general store and a small restaurant at the front of the building. There were four or five tables with chairs overturned on them. On one of the tables was a rusty metal tool box. There were wooden grocery shelves all stripped bare. There was a range and a round-top Kelvinator propane fridge. At the front of the restaurant, a pay telephone was mounted on the wall.
Two overhead lights were on. If nothing else, the place still had hydro. A space heater in one corner was pumping out warmth.
— You got the van? said Gilmore.
— I got the van.
— And the scanner?
— It works. I’ll show you.
The telephone rang. It was an alien sound, startling. Gilmore looked at his watch. He looked at Lee.
— Take the call, Lee.
The phone rang a second time. Lee went and picked up the receiver. One of the front windows was unboarded. He could see himself in the dark glass.
— Hello?
A pause, then: Lee. It’s Maurice. Is Gilmore there?
— He’s right behind me.
A long hiss of static, and then Maurice said: Well, tell him there’s nothing different.
— He says there’s nothing different.
— Nobody’s been there since they closed at four, said Maurice.
— Nobody’s been there since four.
— Tell him to call again at midnight, said Gilmore.
Lee told him and Maurice said he would. After the call ended, Lee went back over to the table.
Gilmore said how Maurice had set himself up in a room on the fourth floor of the Shamrock Hotel. He’d been able to watch the bank and the alley behind it all day. Based on these details, Lee had a feeling that the bank they were going to was the National Trust-but so far, no one had said it outright.
— So what’s next? said Lee.
— We load up.
Up in the storage shed, Gilmore showed them to a locker framed into the corner. He unlocked the padlock and opened the door. He turned the overhead light bulb to light up the enclosure and what it contained.
There was a canvas duffle bag packed with tools: crowbars, sledgehammers, a power drill with a concrete bit. A second duffle bag was packed with a welding mask and leather coveralls. There was a milk crate containing four Truetone walkie-talkies. The biggest part of their inventory was a homemade burning-bar rig. It consisted of a dolly with an oxygen cylinder strapped to it. Attached to the oxygen cylinder was a hose and a regulator and beside the dolly were five lances bundled together. They were made out of old salvaged iron pipes, each about four feet long, with one end threaded to fit the oxygen hose. The lances could be lit with a portable Victor torch set, the kind you might carry around in the back of a truck.
Lee looked at what was before him. These were tools and he was conscious of the surety in them, of their seriousness. Things were happening now as though they were always meant to happen this way.
They loaded the tools and the bags into the back of the van. The lances were very heavy. When they were finished they pulled a canvas drop cloth over the load.
Speedy went back into the shed as if he’d forgotten something. Gilmore was examining the scanner. Lee lit a cigarette and came around the front of the van and leaned beside the door.
— I suppose maybe you’ve seen the inside of this bank.
— You think we’d be moving on it otherwise?
Lee couldn’t help but prod Gilmore a little further, he didn’t know exactly why. He said: Did the cleaning girl show you in?
Gilmore drew slowly back from the scanner. He said: The cleaning girl.
— The one who killed herself.
— What happened to just watching, pal? Just being our eyes and ears?
Lee lifted his shoulders: I’m going into the shed. I don’t have much love for the cold. When do we get going?
— Twelve-thirty, Lee. Rest up. You have all your questions answered?
— I just want to be sure what I’m dealing with. That’s all.
When he went back inside the shed, he saw Speedy squatting in the middle of the dirt floor, oddly simian. He was doing something with his hands. Lee came up on him.
— Fucking Christ, said Lee. What is that for?
Speedy was pushing bullets into a magazine. A Browning 9mm automatic was balanced on his boot.
— Just for security is all, said Speedy.
Speedy was talking quickly. He fumbled a bullet on the top of the magazine and it bounced on the frozen dirt below. He retrieved it and pushed it at the top of the magazine but it wouldn’t load. He looked contritely upwards at Lee.
— I think she’s full.
The Texaco had not had a customer in close to two hours. In the store the radio was playing “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” Duane was into a car magazine. Pete was looking at the newspaper. Caroline came out from the office with a mickey of rum and a carton of eggnog. She put them on the counter and she mixed three drinks in paper cups.
Outside they heard Jake Brakes, and through the snowfall they saw the lights on the back of a bobtail rig that was slowing down at the edge of the apron. But the rig didn’t pull up to the pumps. They heard its air brakes squeak and then heard it gear up again. The lights moved off towards the highway.
— Gentlemen, said Caroline. How about a Christmas cheer?
— Fuckin’ A, said Duane.
She swatted his hand. They each took a cup and raised it.
Then the door opened and a small figure came in, bundled in a hooded coat. The snow on her shoulders was already melting. She pulled the hood down and smiled.
— Hey, Pete.
Pete was slow to reply: Emily … It’s almost midnight.
— I hitched a ride with a trucker.
Pete and Duane and Caroline all looked at each other.
— How come everybody thinks I was born yesterday? said Emily. Jeez. What I would like, if you don’t mind, is something to drink. I’ll pay for it.
— No you won’t, said Caroline. Come on, have a cheers.
Caroline poured another drink and Emily came and sat with them. She put her coat onto the stool beside her. She was still wearing the cardigan he’d seen her wearing at the church. Her snow boots came up to her knees.
— Merry Christmas.
They raised their glasses. Emily reached over and took Pete’s hand. Her fingers were cold but he could feel the blood pulsing back into them.
They stayed only for the time it took to drink the eggnog and then Caroline told them to leave.
— Go on, she said. Duane and me’ll close up.
— You sure? said Pete. Duane?
— Fuck you, Pete. Merry Christmas.
Pete warmed up his car first and then he drove them back into town. Emily closed her eyes as soon as she sat down, and she took his hand when it was not working the gearshift. Only when he’d stopped in front of her house did she come around.
— Park in that driveway, said Emily. The Jacksons’ house, they’re on vacation.
— Park?
— We’re not staying in the car, Pete.
He drove to a house a few down from hers. Several inches of snow had accumulated.
— Ar
en’t your folks home?
— Of course they are. It’s Christmas Eve. But it’s the one night a year my dad relaxes. He had three rye and Cokes after church and he was sound asleep by nine-thirty. My mom went to bed at ten. And anyways, she’s on my side. She sees what my dad doesn’t. Come on.
They entered her house quietly. The living room was dark except for the lights on the Christmas tree. They went down into Emily’s bedroom. The reading lamp was on. She had him sit down on the corner of the bed and she went out and closed the door behind her. He looked at a portrait of her grandmother she had on her desk. When she came back into the room, she was carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. She gave him one and she kissed him and she sat down in a rocking chair.
— I saw you play piano at your church tonight, said Pete. I wanted to stay and talk to you but I left before it was over.
— I know. Grandpa and my sister both said you were there. I had to see you, Peter. I had to talk to you. I’m sorry for how it all happened. But I can’t stop thinking about you.
Pete put the mug down between his knees. It was difficult to look her in the eye. He said, quietly: Do you know about me?
— I know now. My dad knows. He told my mother. He thinks he has to shelter me from these things. True things. But like I said, my mother understands.
Shame flowed through him. He closed his eyes, said: She told you …
— Yes. She said it’s why your mom moved to North Bay to have you, why you lived there for a few years. But, look … none of that is what makes you who you are now. It’s just where you came from. You’re a good person.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. He said: Did you hear what happened at Nancy’s house?
— Ha, yes I did, said Emily. Nancy and I aren’t speaking much these days, but Samantha was there. She couldn’t wait to tell me about it, how you came in by yourself, walked straight into the back room, and beat the hell out of all of them.
— It didn’t exactly happen like that. I’m surprised I made it out of there in one piece.
— I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I hope you won’t think I’m terrible if I say Roger Amos might have finally got what he deserved.
— I guess so, said Pete. It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking straight. It was the same day … I found out about myself.
— You really never knew, did you.
— No.
She put her hot chocolate on the corner of the desk. She leaned forward and took his face in her hands. She kissed him again. Her mouth was soft and warm. She withdrew and sat back in the rocking chair.
— What went wrong with us? said Pete. Was it finding out about me?
— I don’t care about that, Pete. Look. For a long time I’ve felt like I was done with school and everybody here in town. It’s too small here. People are too small, you know? I fast-tracked this semester and I’m going to go to university in the fall. A year early. We looked at the university while we were in the city. We saw the music college and met the dean. It’s amazing there, Pete. It’s everything I want. That’s what the problem was. It reminded me I didn’t want to care about anybody. I wanted to be able to get up and leave. I thought if I got away from you it would make it easier. But I was wrong. I’ve been thinking about you the whole time.
— It’s strange that you say that. One time you asked me what my plan was. Do you remember?
— Yes. You wouldn’t tell me.
— Tonight I came to your church to do just that, to tell you. But I didn’t know how, so I left. Anyway, since I quit school I’ve been planning to go out west. As far as I can. Right out to the ocean, I guess. Because I know what it’s like to feel like it’s too small here. I’ve known that for a long time. I told them at work that I was going to leave after New Year’s. But, now, with you … I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anything.
— I don’t know either. But … let’s think about that later. It doesn’t matter for now. It’s just good to be with you again.
They were quiet for a little while. Then Emily asked him, gently, how, exactly, he’d found out about his past. She quickly added that he didn’t need to talk about it if he didn’t want to, but he realized that he did. He said: Well, I kind of dragged it out of my uncle last Friday. He was drunk. He probably wouldn’t have told me otherwise, and I think now that I put a lot on him when I got him to tell me. I’ve only seen him one time since, and it was earlier tonight. He told me to stay away. He’s drinking again, and he’s out of work, and he told me the truth about my life. So I know he’s on the outs with my mom and Saint Barry. I know how they are.
— Didn’t you tell me it was Barry who got him set up here? Got him a job and everything?
— That’s true, said Pete. But I think Barry sees angles in things like that. There’s an old drunk I see downtown sometimes. I think I saw him at your church tonight. He goes around with a shopping cart and picks up empty bottles to take back for the deposit. I think Barry is kind of like that. His old bottles are the Lees of the world.
— Barry seems to be doing more than most people, who barely ever give a shit in the first place. I love my dad, I do, but if he had his way, people like your uncle would never ever get out of jail.
— Well, I don’t know what I think about that, either. This is what makes it hard about Lee. I want to be on his side again, and I wish I could tell you that I am … But I don’t know. I just don’t know.
She leaned forward and said: You should give him another chance. And more importantly, you should give yourself a chance, Pete. No matter what, there are lots of people who love you.
— I’ll be alright, said Pete. Things can’t get much more fucked up than they are now. Maybe they’re already looking up.
They finished their hot chocolates. She stood up and took his mug and put it on the desk, and then she sat down on his lap and kissed him deeply. They broke apart. Pete touched her hair.
— I guess your dad would kill me if he knew I was here.
Emily grinned: You and me both, buddy.
— Well, maybe I should go.
— Do you want to?
— No, said Pete. Not at all.
— Good.
She kissed him again. She settled her hips against his. He hadn’t thought it possible to be rid of the shame and uneasiness, but as she moved on top of him, he started to forget everything. Even if it was just for now. He was trembling all over.
She got up and went over and stood beside her bed, looking him in the eye. She unbuttoned her blouse, and then she reached up under her skirt and drew down her nylons and panties and stepped out of them. She lay down across the bed and reached out to him.
They were back in town shortly after one o’clock in the morning. It had to be the National Trust they were hitting. Lee was sure of that. They drove past Woolworths and past the cheerless frontage of the Shamrock, where the tavern was still open. Speedy turned the van at the bottom of the street and then doubled back up a laneway behind the buildings. The parking lot behind the bank was closed in on one side by a line of poplars and on the other side by a loading dock. A windowless steel man-door was set in the back wall of the bank. Speedy parked the van against the poplar trees. Gilmore switched on the scanner. They waited, listening.
There was little talk on the scanner. Some cop reported he was returning to the detachment. The dispatcher acknowledged. The words were dense with static.
They’d been there about fifteen minutes when they saw Maurice coming up the laneway. Gilmore looked at his watch. Maurice crossed over to the van. He opened the passenger door. Gilmore nodded to him.
— What a shitbag dump that hotel is, said Maurice. I didn’t see nothing down here all night.
— Good. Let’s go.
They distributed the walkie-talkies and tested them. Speedy was sent down the alley where he could watch the street. They waited. Then Speedy’s voice rasped out of the walkie-talkies.
— Come in, boys. I’m watching the street.
Gilmore told him to check in again every fifteen minutes.
Maurice got into the driver’s seat and backed the van across the parking lot right against the wall of the bank. They turned the ignition off and listened to the scanner for five minutes. Then Gilmore got out. Maurice told Lee to get up behind the steering wheel. Gilmore had the side door open and was digging around in the tool bag. He came out with a can of Styrofoam on a spray gun. Maurice got out and boosted Gilmore up onto the roof of the van. His footsteps thumped above. Lee stuck his head out the window and angled the mended side-view mirror upward so that he could watch.
The bank’s exterior alarm box was fixed to the wall five feet above the back door. Gilmore, standing on top of the van, fed the spray gun’s nozzle through the grill of the box. He emptied the can. This was something he’d done before, Lee could see. When he was finished there was foam bulging out of the grill. The foam would hold the clapper fast so it couldn’t strike the bell if the exterior alarm was tripped. Maurice, meanwhile, had drawn a crowbar out of the tool bag. He helped Gilmore come down and he told Lee to drive five feet forward.
Lee moved the van and put it into park. He turned it off and listened. The door at the back of the bank was directly behind the van and out of sight to him. Gilmore had come up to the passenger window. He stretched his legs as if preparing for a sport. He opened the door.
— How about a smoke, pal?
Lee gave him one. Five minutes later, Maurice came back, holding the crowbar in one hand.
— It’s open.
Gilmore nodded.
— Let’s go, Lee, said Maurice.
Lee got out of the van. The door at the back of the bank was open. It was dead black through the space. Up above he could see ridges of spray Styrofoam swollen out of the alarm box. He found that he was intensely aware of everything, of every sound, of the fabric of his clothes. Lee and Maurice hauled the burning-bar rig out and carried it into the bank. They lifted out the lances and moved them inside. Before they took out the tool bag, Maurice reached into it and dug for something. Gilmore came and leaned on the side of the van. He might have been passing the time of day.