by Ian Williams
That’s very kind, Edgar said.
I’m not saying it to be kind, Army said. I’m not even asking you. I’m telling you that I’m not leaving you here alone.
Edgar said something but Army missed it as he was stepping into the house. Army took Edgar’s wallet from the dining table. His keys. Couldn’t find his phone.
Where’s your cell?
Infested.
It took Army a moment to get it then he overlaughed at the joke, boggled his head. That’s rich. Infested. He strode toward the car.
Edgar didn’t follow. He began, Army this is very kind but—
Army interrupted him by twisting his face into impatient concern. how old you waiting to be Come, he said.
Edgar Methuselah didn’t move.
Army walked back and held his elbow. Come.
Edgar pushed his feet into his shoes and walked away from his house.
* * *
It was a record. Eight days into the semester, Riot had been suspended.
He received the letter from the disciplinary committee (consisting of just the ombudsman, as far as he could tell) at home the day after the tribunal, which suggested to Riot that his case was decided, typed, and mailed before the tribunal was staged. Riot opened the envelope and read the letter on the porch, right by the mailbox. The ombudsman could have saved himself the effort of composition and typed him a large X, 900-point font. Riot debated destroying the suspension notice, pretending that he had never received it, continuing to show up to class as usual, but he imagined a scene from a Tom Cruise movie where sirens would go off and campus security in black ninja-like outfits would descend from the roof by rope, ordering him to step away from the classroom with his hands behind his head. And, of course, Mutter probably already knew the verdict.
He didn’t want to go to Brownstone anyway. He just wanted to make budgetless, profitless movies (Are you even related to me? Army would say if he heard that) that were untainted by genre or celebrity and hailed as “groundbreaking” and “challenging.” His jerk-off videos, notwithstanding.
Riot dropped the letter on the couch. He turned on the TV, which was left on a home-reno show that was climaxing. Decision made? Decision made. And. Are you going to love it? Or will you list it?
* * *
+
Army’s room reminded Edgar of his office after the company shifted to literal and symbolic transparency. Everything that could be open so you’re legal in the room was already open: each drawer of his chest was open of course I’m legal to varying degrees, his closet was open, the side-table drawer was open, the pockets of his pants were turned inside out, his deodorant was uncapped. Freud was tenting his fingers under his chin: issues with closure.
On the dresser, behind several bottles of cologne, was the wooden carving of Army’s name that Edstr had sent him. I’m just asking What year was wood?
I have the other things somewhere, Army said. Not the candy, you can’t just look at people and assume obviously. Or the shoelaces. And I might have sold they illegal the Bulls jersey. But I got the crystal fish because they not German somewhere and those—what were they?—beads in a sack from Vegas.
Edgar snorted.
You should have dinner with me and my girlfriend tonight.
Another time, Edgar said. He just wanted a nap.
But you can’t say she’s my girlfriend.
Not tonight. He yawned.
Army looked confused. just a question I mean because I know a guy unless it’s just the three of us, then sure. Also, don’t mention her torso
Why would—
or anything about her body, really. She’s sensitive. If she’s wearing if you need help a babydoll dress over jeans, just compliment her and move on. But you don’t want to say that it gives her the illusion of a waistline or that it makes her legs look longer. Trust me on that. Army swiped some clothes from one side of the bed. She’s not so much hot I mean my business is airports more or less as she is young. But don’t tell her I said that.
Edgar reclined against the headboard I don’t need no help and closed his eyes you can keep that card while Army pecked at his keyboard to wake up his computer.
Did I tell you I manage talent? Army asked.
Edgar didn’t know what talent was. I need a quick nap.
I have a few clients. I’ll show you the website. When you wake up, not now. I just secured a gig for Mr. O.
Ten percent for you, Edblr said.
It used to be, Army said. He doesn’t do it for the money thank you very much anyway.
Your pillow’s flat.
Did I tell you he used to play in the subway? Rosedale. I got him a permit and stuff. But then there was an incident. Some girls were shouting at him from the other side of the platform, like calling him Meatloaf, washed-up, and he was trying to ignore them because he thought they’d get on the next train—Edgar I have a flight tomorrow was sliding through Denmark—but they kept on insulting him for like ten minutes, singing along but changing the lyrics, and he was getting more and more pissed—rosé are you legal in Chateau Lake Louise—and somebody pressed the emergency notification when he started heading to the girls like the Hulk with his—and here Edgar slid into sleep.
* * *
+
Riot took the GO bus to Yorkdale then the subway to St. Patrick Station and walked from there to the Toronto Coach Terminal. He had some clothes in a backpack, his laptop with editing software, two cameras, his passport, and granola bars. Those were the essentials to launch the early career portion of his Wikipedia biography as Chariot Soares, director.
He hadn’t been to New York since quitting film school last fall. Oliver was more disappointed that he wouldn’t get a partial refund for the semester than he was by Riot’s failure. It wasn’t really a film school in any case, just a program at an institute. Riot quit during the third week in September and, under Army’s advice, pocketed the money from Oliver until American Thanksgiving under the auspices of paying tuition. Felicia hated the cramped New York apartment Riot shared with Heather. She said she lived in a room once and she couldn’t understand why he would want to live like a refugee when he could stay home and go to Brownstone.
Riot bought a ticket for the 9:15 night bus, round trip to avoid suspicion at the border, and a bottle of water for the hours until departure.
* * *
+
Felicia drove home from work on autopilot. But when she landed she had to check whether she had pulled into the right driveway. Oliver’s truck was gone, the garage was open and—had she conjured him?—there was Edgar, standing upright (somehow she assumed he couldn’t) with a comforter I take it you’re a puritan of some sort around his shoulders, smoking. He was not Christian terminally ill. She had yes fallen you sound like you scorning me for a ruse. He had opened a bear trap yesterday and hidden behind a tree. He had slaughtered Army and Riot. He had bought the house and was asking her to leave the keys in the mailbox.
She got out of her Mazda and looked both ways as if crossing a street.
You visiting me now? she said.
He took a deep drag until his cheeks practically touched each other on the inside. He could take an infuriatingly long time you misread me to respond I’m Christian myself when he was what smoking.
Army, he said conceal your shock then sputtered coughs.
The devil I mean what denomination in that boy. After she had explicitly. She would draw a belt and whip him. Gone to the hospital. Explicitly told him. Hold him by the wrist and whip his tail.
He’s upstairs, is he? Felicia said.
Edgar nodded. He wore the mysterious pensive expression of Lutheran smokers.
She made an exaggerated display of swatting smoke do you pray out of her face.
Edgar finished coughing, pulled up phlegm and spat into the grate at the base of the driveway. His eyes watered now and again from the effort. He sucked on the cigarette.
Felicia took it from his mouth. But what was she going to do wi
th it? It wasn’t stub enough not for things to throw away. One thing Felicia was not was wasteful. Edsir withdrew another cigarette from a pack, lit it, and resumed why else would I pray as if he didn’t even notice.
Through what labyrinth of lies did he end up here? Who saw? Did the neighbours think it was Oliver’s brother spitting all over the place? When was Army that your sins be forgiven thee taking him home? How could Army bring him here to see where she was living? She scanned the inside of the house mentally. What to do with a perfectly good cigarette? She finally threw it down.
Nice house, Edgar said. I like the doorknobs.
If I suppose I knew you were coming, she said without finishing. The driveway needed sealing. The garage needed purging. The shrubs needed shaping.
I’m going to cut the charade, Felicia, Edgar said. I wasn’t in the hospital for the sniffles.
You was in the oncology ward, Edgar. I not schupid. I just didn’t want to embarrass you is all. I don’t know why you think you could fool people.
I had cancer.
Had or have? Felicia asked.
Had. Have. Had. Have.
You need to stop smoking. She lunged to take the new cigarette out of his mouth you does read your Bible but I don’t take it as a book one must read continuously he twisted his head like a horse and held it stiffly in profile and so no she didn’t dare.
He faced her slowly. I cut back.
Cut completely.
Of his own accord, he stubbed the cigarette against a wall you does go to church and smelled his fingers. As I was saying, not every week they got most of it.
She said how often nothing. She was waiting excluding Christmas and Easter to see whether he was still a boldfaced liar or not.
During surgery.
One more chance she was giving him.
About I mean they know me there a year ago.
You mean to tell me you cancer-free right now I used to take Mutter and was lying when she was able in the hospital bed yesterday for no reason.
I was dizzy, Edgar said.
You was dizzy, right.
I get sleepy lots. Maybe an hour after I wake up, three four times a year then I fall about that asleep again.
Why is only now you telling me this? Felicia frowned deeply. That is your problem from eternity. You does give people information too late. If I did know, I would have tell you about this place in Pennsylvania that does do all natural remedies. The naturopath did a program at church and he said that rum does bore holes in your lungs and sometimes they never fix themselves. That’s the warm feeling you getting.
I tried all that the first time.
What did you try?
Edgar ignored that’s the church where Mutter’s service will be the question. He said, Cancer is cancer. You think some green juice and prayer are going to save nobody going to die me?
Not if you keep smoking, not if you unbelieving.
Well, Edgar said. He drew another cigarette from the package is better if you say that is the church where you plan to get married then put it back. I prefer what I said Nice house, he said again.
Felicia heard his superiority.
I forgot my medication. Could you tell Army I forgot my medication?
* * *
+
Felicia found Army at the linen closet, selecting a sheet and pillowcases. Some of Oliver’s clothes were folded on the floor beside him.
What on earth is going through your head, Army?
You saw Boss?
What you bringing that man here for?
He needed a place to stay.
The man have a house the size of Buckingham Palace. He don’t need nowhere to stay.
He can’t stay there alone.
Says who?
Says human decency.
You mistaken if you think this man go be living under my roof, Felicia said. You mistaken big time.
Army dropped the bedding on the floor.
He is not staying here, Felicia said. He’s not going to die in my house.
That’s the point, Army said. He selected two towels. Do we have any Pine-Sol?
Felicia felt blood ticking in her neck. Army only cleaned the bathroom under threat of eviction and now he was Molly Maid for Edgar?
Listen, he can stay and eat with us this evening. You talk to Oliver? And then I want you to take him home.
We’ll see.
I am telling you, Army.
We’ll see.
You don’t know how I worked my life out and now you go bring he here to freeload off me in he dying hour.
Two floors beneath them, Felicia heard the basement door open.
Army lowered his voice, I got this, Mom. Chill. He’s my responsibility. You and Oliver won’t even know.
Felicia fiercewhispered, You are not trained to take care of anybody, Armistice! You can barely manage yourself. He forget he medication. You going to drive back to Toronto to get his medication?
I’ll get it tomorrow.
Medication don’t work like that, Army. Take this man back to his house tonight.
Army was already sorting pajamas for Edwas, she saw. He picked up Oliver’s folded clothes from the floor beside him. Felicia snatched them out of his hand.
Use your own clothes, she said.
Army shrugged, as if Felicia had, in fact, given him a good idea. He left Oliver’s clothes in a pile between them and went downstairs with the sheet, towels, soap.
Felicia straightened the mess he’d made and shut the linen closet firmly by its crystal doorknob.
Then she turned her head and spotted the letter, the familiar Brownstone logo, down the stairs, on the arm of the couch.
* * *
+
As Riot was boarding the coach that night, he finally took Felicia’s call. He had avoided all previous calls from familiar numbers until he was sure he was sure he was beyond retrieval.
Felicia was shouting about the suspension notice. Riot had to turn down the volume of his phone. He kept his answers brief so the other passengers wouldn’t assume he was talking to his mother. She asked him to speak up. He told her he couldn’t talk now.
Well, I can talk, Felicia said.
He let her. She could have been talking about omega-3 fatty acids for all he cared. Her planet was distant and unrelated to his. He had an armrest. No charging station? He tucked his bottle of water into the mesh seat pocket in front of him.
Between Felicia’s sentences, he tried to squeeze in, I gotta go. Okay. I gotta go. I gotta, I gotta, listen, I gotta go. Bye. Buh-buh-bye. I gotta go. Buh, okay, bye. As Army would say, Stay on message.
Oliver called immediately.
What is this? Oliver said.
Riot pinched the bridge of his nose. Surely Pop-Pop realized that he was not visible over the phone. You found the letter?
Get home this minute.
I’m spending the night somewhere.
Where?
Somewhere.
Somewhere where? Nobody authorized you to go anywhere. People have been trying to reach you. Then, a few seconds later, in a quieter voice, as if he had secreted himself from Felicia’s presence and was now engaging in a secret deal, Oliver said, You’re breaking her heart, meaning Mutter’s, meaning his own, meaning Heather had gone missing before he was even born. I’m coming to pick you up.
I really can’t talk. Seriously.
Explain to me where you are that you can’t talk.
Nowhere.
Nowhere where?
I’ll call you in the morning or something.
The seat next to Riot’s was empty. When he was in middle school, a man on a Greyhound along the Trans-Canada Highway beheaded a fellow passenger. Felicia used to repeat versions of that story whenever he wanted to take the bus somewhere. Riot looked behind him. A history-major-looking girl. Sketchy people farther back. Old people at the front. He set his phone on the sill and began recording.
* * *
+
Meanwhile, Army was
having dinner with Faye, at her request but not her expense. He had motormouthed about Edgar through his quarter-chicken meal, overriding her attempts to share her puerile dramas, and as he was entering his debit information, she retaliated, in front the waitress.
You’re going to break up with me right when I have cancer? Army asked. Older women, like around twenty-five, usually got tired of him a month into their relationship but Faye had at least a few more weeks of love in her.
You don’t have cancer, Faye said.
I’m dealing with cancer.
So, I should wait?
Well, you can’t wait now.
No, if you want me to wait, I’ll wait. We can break up after chemo.
That’s cold, Faye. Army folded the receipt into his wallet for tax purposes. You don’t have reason to be so cold.
* * *
+
Oliver was trying to call again.
Seat 33 texted: ?
Upstairs bedroom texted Seat 33: COME HOME NOW!
Seat 33 did not text back.
Downstairs Bedroom texted Booth-in-Swiss-Chalet: Is Chariot with you?
Booth texted Seat 33: Are you supposed to be with me?
Seat 33 texted Booth: No. Ignore.
Booth texted Seat 33: OK
Seat 33 texted Booth: Got suspended for penisgate.
Booth texted Seat 33: Handling a situation. Talk l8r. U ok tho?
Seat 33 texted Booth: Yeah fine. Going to Vegas.
Upstairs Bedroom Texted seat 33: DID YOU HEAR ME CHARIOT? ANSWER.
Seat 33 texted Upstairs Bedroom: Copy.
Booth texted Seat 33: Know your limit play within it.
Upstairs Bedroom texted Seat 33: YOU HAVE ONE HOUR!
Downstairs Bedroom texted Booth: Are you together? Where are you?
* * *