Reproduction

by Ian Williams

  Edgar returned with bread, a knife and a tub of margarine. Few things activated the nurturer gene or socially conditioned response in Felicia like seeing a man unable to perform basic and daily tasks that she regarded as basic and daily. How could he not, after all this time, prepare a decent meal for himself? How was he going to offer a guest in his house bread and margarine? Why did he need to hire a woman to clean the house that he himself dirtied? Uncleaned. Defiled. Too far. Still. Get it together. It what? Everything. His life. Get it together already.

  No more cheques, she said.

  Edgar spread margarine on a slice. Have you given thought to ending our separation?

  Before she could reply, he got up and walked back to the kitchen. He returned with plates.

  More civilized, he said. And for the record, Felicia, I did not rape anyone left, right and centre. She was making copies. I was standing behind her. There was small talk. I tucked in the tag of her blouse. That’s all I’m going to say on the subject from here on. You understand?

  There was only one?

  That is all I am going to say on the subject.

  The china cabinet faced them, the arrangements untouched in fifteen years: gravy boat on gravy tray, flanked by sets of standing blue and gold plates, which were propped behind teacups on saucers. She had never bought herself a set. China always seemed to her a wedding gift. To buy oneself china was like a woman buying her engagement ring. One of her sisters had inherited her mother’s china. Edgar’s eyes followed Felicia’s to the hutch.

  He took another bite of his bread and margarine. His grey eyes, like Army’s. He said, Help yourself.

  Felicia said, No more cheques.

  * * *

  +

  The following Tuesday (yet another class on Payroll Fundamentals missed), Felicia was back on Edgar’s ancient couch with a blank, signed cheque.

  What did I say, Edgar? Stop trying to buy me.

  Let me be blunt because I don’t think you’re getting me. I am trying to make amends.

  Don’t make none. I not keeping up any malice regarding you.

  There are good schools here.

  Nobody’s moving.

  You don’t have to move right now.

  You and me, we done. To this day you never so much as say you sorry for what you do to me.

  Regardless. Edgar waved a hand as if to suggest bygones, which incidentally Felicia always thought was a yam-like root vegetable because her grandmother used to utter the phrase while cooking. Edgar clasped her hands between both of his. Felicia had to look down to double check the sensation of his hands on hers. Just take the money, he said. Just take it, Felicia.

  When Felicia looked back up into his eyes, she was squinting. He had communicated something of the truth by touching her. She suddenly understood what was happening. Edgar was transferring his assets.

  Are the women suing you?

  He let go of her hand. We’re not talking about that.

  For how much?

  Later, much later, Army said, Question for you, pretty lady. How much does a lawyer cost?

  The word is retain, she said.

  Noted, he said.

  She waited for him to ask it correctly.

  How much does a lawyer retain?

  How much does it cost to retain a lawyer? she modelled.

  Yeah, that.

  You better not be in trouble. Across her mothermind, various likely offences presented themselves, mostly forms of theft, fraud, and racketeering. What kind of trouble you in?

  Mom, you need to seriously, like, chill with the juvey fear.

  He had called her pretty lady and she had already convicted him of being a disappointment. She felt a pop of shame followed by an intuitive moment similar to this one with Edgar where she knew that Army was planning to set himself up as an arbiter of petty teenage dramas. You will not be a lawyer, she said with finality. And regretted it.

  Edgar sighed. I have decided to take a leave of absence.

  I thought you was going to resign.

  I have changed my mind.

  The way he was talking, so formally—I have this or that—made Felicia suspicious. She asked, You decided or they making you?

  Ultimately the decision is mine.

  Felicia recognized that as Edgarspeak.

  I have decided to take an indefinite leave. He glanced at her to see how the announcement was being received before going on. And the damage is already done to my reputation.

  Since when you care about your reputation?

  Felicia, stop rubbing salt. Whatever the outcome, the damage was done by the accusation. There’ll always be a footnote next to Edgar Gross. How am I supposed to recover?

  You know by running away, everybody go think you guilty.

  He shrugged.

  You won’t regain your status by trying to protect yourself.

  Then?

  To err is human; to forgive, divine. But our Lord and Saviour stood in the breach.

  English. Talk to me straight.

  Penitence. Tell the truth. Confess.

  I told the truth.

  The real truth.

  Which one is that? He seemed genuinely confused, as if he had told her multiple versions of his situation.

  Humble yourself, Felicia said. That was as much tenderness as she was willing to grant him.

  He walked to the kitchen through a bead curtain she had put up when she lived there. Wooden beads interspersed with blue crystal discs. Her heart fractured open, as thin as a crack on a teacup.

  Edgar couldn’t say the next bit to her face. He called from the kitchen, I’m not joking about reconciliation, Felicia. In fact, I’m just going to come out and say it. I want a child.

  You have a child, Felicia said. But she knew he meant something like a child from scratch.

  Another.

  So you could have something to coo at during your leave of absence?

  I’ll help.

  You’ll help? If, if I took you seriously, and I’m not— She forgot what she was going to say. She was positioning Army in the mix. She said, You go turn your back again.

  I won’t. He was becoming exercised. Trust me.

  She laughed. It was the trust me that made her laugh at first but her laughter converted itself into something less caustic, into something genuine and diaphragmic. There was joy in her laugh but she was not entirely laughing for joy.

  Edgar tried to laugh along.

  If somebody better come along, Felicia said, trying to settle herself, you go tell me to pack up my things and go.

  Better? Edgar opened his arms. Come on.

  Felicia would need to use his bathroom before she left.

  Anyway, I’m not playing hypotheticals, Edgar said.

  Who you go leave me for this time, Edgar?

  That’s a stupid question.

  No one? Felicia pushed. She was a little giddy.

  You? That’s what you want me to say.

  You’d leave me for me?

  Yes, I would leave you for you fifteen years ago.

  Felicia took mild offence. You’re saying I’m old.

  Don’t ask stupid questions if you can’t take the answer.

  And that was the sentence that quelled any further sound that might resemble laughter.

  Don’t call me stupid, she said.

  I didn’t call you stupid.

  There’s a way, Edgar. There’s a way to be in a conversation.

  He laid his head on her shoulder and heaved. I don’t know anymore.

  She had to console him. Her Christian duty. So she took her thumb and pressed his forehead.

  Not a day goes by, Edgar said.

  Army

  Extravagance

  A few days earlier, there was a letter from Paperplane. Not addressed to Felicia. Addressed to him. Full legal name: Armistice Gross.

  Boys, Army said. He wiped haircrumbs from his hands. He had stopped talking about the sweepstakes with them, but he felt something special em
anating from the envelope. He held the letter in both palms like a Samurai sword.

  Troops, Army said. Gather round.

  Weights clinked. Hendrix put away his bag of hair.

  I thought you were going to feed it to your ants.

  I’m saving it so they’ll have something to eat in the winter.

  Army felt the occasion called for a speech. Once in every man’s life, he began, there comes a moment that divides the men from the boys, the haves from the have-nots. You, boys, are witnessing such a moment. Now, I’ll never forget you. He turned to each person gallantly, letter still in his hands. Coughdrop, I’ll make good on replacing your bike (it was stolen in June while in Army’s possession, official story). Hendrix, little Hendrix, ants, bees, wasps, anything you want.

  Guy, shut up and open the letter.

  This envelope, this envelope that I am holding, he slapped it with his knuckles for emphasis, from Paperplane Canada, contains our futures. Dramatic pause. He wished Heather wasn’t at the mall. The people we are now will cease to exist. These clothes. This house. This is the last time you will see me like this.

  Boy thinks he’s Jesus.

  Swimming pools and Lamborghinis, Army raised his voice, are just the start of what will be a future full of fullness.

  Someone went to grab the letter out of his hand.

  All right. Army stopped speechifying, tucked the letter in his armpit, and wiped his hands. Then he slipped his finger under the flap and pulled out the letter.

  It wasn’t a letter because there was no writing. It was a blank piece of paper that enclosed a cheque with a sticky note on the front. His heart accelerated.

  The Post-It read, Dear Armistice, For your birthdays. Yours,. Army turned over the Post-It. That was it, Yours,.

  The name was on the cheque, where it belonged. Edgar Gross. And the cheque was for $1,000.

  Army fanned it in the air and whooped. The boys held their fists to their mouths. Everybody wanted to see it.

  * * *

  +

  Army didn’t tell Felicia about the cheque.

  I want to start keeping my own bank card and bank book.

  When you’re sixteen, Felicia said. I not stealing your money.

  Mom, mom, I’d never accuse you of that.

  You was accusing me just recently.

  I’m trying to save you time. I’m trying to save money. He unleashed a smile. Do you want me to be responsible or do you want me to be dependent on you forever? It’s time I start managing my affairs. I’m practically fifteen, which is practically sixteen.

  Give me the cash and I’ll deposit it for you, Felicia said.

  I can do it myself tomorrow.

  Felicia eyed him as she dug into her handbag. She gave him his card and his book. Deposit only, she said.

  Of course, of course.

  And both the card and the book come back to me tomorrow evening.

  To exit the room, Army made an offensive drive to the hoop, whirling around imaginary defenders and laying up and slamming the lintel over the door.

  * * *

  +

  But Army held on to his property and Felicia seemed to forget. That is, until one evening she came out of the house into the garage, holding his bank book, which she must have retrieved on her own.

  Above her recent deposit was a deposit for $1,000.

  Everybody go home right now, she said.

  She pointed Army into the house and closed the garage door.

  Where did you get $1,000?

  He sang, I work hard for the money. So hard for it, honey.

  I not playing. Since when people paying you by cheque? she said, for she had read the deposit line carefully.

  Oh, you’re talking about that thousand. That’s from a separate enterprise. Paperplane, he said.

  When?

  He shrugged. Last week.

  And you didn’t tell me.

  I didn’t? When I asked you for my card.

  You did not.

  There wasn’t much to tell. He retrieved the note from his room and showed it to her. She confiscated it.

  You not keeping that money, she said.

  * * *

  +

  The money disappeared from Army’s account and a package appeared in the mail.

  Boys, Army said. Gather round.

  It was the size of a gold bar, but not heavy. Very light in fact.

  I want to know who you doin’.

  Who yo’ daddy is?

  Sometimes fortune smiles on the brave, Army’s speech began, and rewardeth the humble of heart. Sometimes a little box containeth great reward. Whatever could it be? you ask. He began unwrapping the package. Could it be thousands of dollars rolled into a ball? Or could it be South African diamonds? Perhaps, a Fabergé egg.

  It was a cassette.

  The shop laughed. Army reddened.

  It probably has instructions on it, Hendrix said. He was the only one undeterred.

  Army put it in the double-cassette stereo and they listened for the first few moments. Nothing. Army held his wrists. He turned up the volume until he could hear crackling. No message. Not even breathing.

  It was clear that there would be nothing on either side of the tape, but Army let it run, just in case. When the play button clicked off automatically, he had already forgotten that the background soundtrack to their chest and abs workout was his father’s bungled attempt at music.

  * * *

  +

  Not counting the cheque or the blank tape, Edgar sent Army fifteen birthday gifts that got progressively more eccentric. (When Felicia asked Army, he said that Edgar had sent him “nothing.”)

  The blank tape finally had given the boys some advantage over Army, whom they regarded as most likely to become an aristocrat.

  Hey, Army, I have a message for you, one might say, then freeze, eyes open, mid-step.

  Hey Army, message coming through, another would say, then press play on his sternum and release a massive belch.

  Yet receiving the cheque and the blank tape had energized Army’s business in a way that no amount of strategic expansions could. Everybody on the street hung around, expecting something to happen: romantic drama, a weight record, a spat, blood, a package.

  Almost every day for two weeks, a package arrived for Armistice Gross.

  Whack, a boy critiqued when Army held up the first gift.

  Army felt something he never had before, but that Heather seemed to experience often: embarrassment over his father’s effort. But when he thought more about it, he realized that the boy was jealous. Each time he opened a package and the guys dropped their weights and huddled their sweaty selves around him, they were all spending Christmas with their fathers.

  * * *

  +

  On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me:

  A family tree, sans partridge. Edgar constructed his side with tiny black script that Army appreciated more than the information. Now he could practice more than Edgar’s signature from the cheque. The note said, If you still need one for school.

  A Chicago Bulls hat. Note: I play in a men’s league, which confirmed to Army that he’d grow tall. Dark and handsome were givens.

  Leather wallet. No note inside, just Canadian Tire money, which was fine because Army could use it to trick out his bike.

  A case of Jolly Ranchers. Not a roll. A case. Note: Addictive. Army sold these.

  A wooden carving of his name, the kind you get at Canada’s Wonderland and place on your dresser. He would have preferred five golden rings.

  German candy. Gross.

  A wool sweater. Note: Not sure your size. The sweater was the colour of dust and out of season yet Army put it on immediately. Felicia asked where he got it. Zellers, he replied.

  A brass ring with Gross carved into it. Apparently Boss spent a lot of time at Canada’s Wonderland.

  A twig. Okay. All right. Dead insect in the box as well. Note: Makes a good switch.

  Tabs fr
om a pop can. Note: Apparently people collect these?

  A metal lighter. Note: I’m quitting.

  A silk pouch with colourful stones inside. Note: Got these years ago from a charlatan in Arizona. Supposed to make dreams come true.

  Red shoelaces. These were dope because surely Jordans would be next.

  A Bulls jersey. Note: I’m thinking of joining a league. Surely, surely, number fifteen would be Jordans.

  There was a three-day pause between gifts 14 and 15.

  A crystal keychain of a fish. Army held it over his head to see if there were Jordans underneath. Instructions maybe? Nope, just a keychain of a fish. Was he supposed to sell this to finance his sneakers? Then he read the note: Still working on one more thing.

  Make it good, old man.

  * * *

  +

  The final gift was not a pair of Jordans. It was like the first. A cassette. But this time there was music on it and Edgar’s tiny black script outlining the songs on the J-card. The music was classic at best and out of touch at worst, contradictory: Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, some guy named Nick Drake, Spandau Ballet’s True, Billie Jean, A Whiter Shade of Pale, Ebony and Ivory, The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.

  * * *

  +

  Felicia would not find out for months about the gifts. Army lied about the tape he played in the car. Define lie. I made it for Heather, he said, and truthfully he did copy Edgar’s tape onto a 90-minute tape as a parting gift for Heather, complete with more contradictions: Creep, Right Here (the SWV remix of Human Nature), The World Is Yours, Gypsy Woman, Juicy. If you don’t know, now you know. When Jordans finally arrived in the fall, Army was careful to wear them outside of Felicia’s presence. He changed before he entered the house and stored the sneakers in his backpack. The only mistake he made was discarding the shoebox in the recycling bin. He hobbled into the house from the arcade on garbage night and found a curious assembly of objects, notes, and envelopes with familiar writing from under his bed categorized on his comforter like the evidence of a police raid. Army was furious. Felicia was furious. She accused him of playing his part in a grand deception. He accused her of the same. She stormed into the kitchen. He heard the cutlery drawer rattle. She returned with a knife. He bosomed his Jordans and defected upstairs to the Republikflucht of Oliver.