by Mark McCann
She got quiet and looked at me with a gentle smile. It was like she faded away inside herself for a moment. For the first time since I had met her, she broke her spirited smile, and I found I missed it immediately. Something was indeed wrong. She couldn’t look at me, and instead stared at the table, “At least you were born how you were meant to be. Some of us… some of us have to fight our way to who we truly are and then, as if that isn’t bad enough, when we get there, we still aren’t accepted by anyone.”
I felt like I had shaken hands with myself. I promised I would deal with this better. I would deal with life better. We were both quiet. It felt like the moment had been paused. My head had a single train of thought, and I sadly watched it go by.
We were no good with accountability. We were no good with a lot of things we had control over but didn’t change. Our not doing something didn’t mean the choices weren’t there; it meant we chose not to. I knew I would have to look for the choices, to find them; life wasn’t going to be automatic for me and neither was ignorance.
“I always thought I was most comfortable with the truth, but I’m seeing it can easily be redefined, and it probably should be and probably quite often.” I chuckled and wondered if I had done it right, my chuckle, that is. I looked at her with a seriousness she had yet to see and said, “The second I think I know it all is the moment I’ll be failing at life. Ding Ding asked me to pick him up the other day; I told him I would when I was done putting the dishes away. He told me to pretend I was done. It struck me as absolutely brilliant. When and why did we stop pretending? Actually: we probably don’t stop, we just stray from the fun and magic to more serious delusions in our so-called real life. Sitting here with you, it’s clear I’m not done learning and I like that, I need that. I like the point that it makes and, most of all, the hope it implies.”
She smiled a most sincere smile, “Me too.” Then, being as friendly as she was, and as human, she touched my leg. I jumped, which made her jump, at which we both shouted loudly, “SORRY!” We began to laugh, and then I squeezed her leg and regretted it, and it showed in my face, which made her laugh even harder. That had me laughing all over again too.
We both calmed a bit, the enjoyable aftermath of a smile remaining on each of our faces. “Oh boy,” Candy sighed. I was in agreement. “I can’t believe your father just up and flew to Mexico the way he did.” She’d begun down an avenue we hadn’t yet taken but rightfully should have. My mind sprang forward, thinking, of course, that will get us where we need to go. “He almost got me to go with him,” she continued, “but I just couldn’t, oh, and I felt so awful about just leaving you guys, but your dad thought it best for everyone.” I winced and my head felt heavy; the truth was tall and it looked down on me. “I simply can’t do anything on a whim like that,” she said, “I made it here and that was as far as I could go along with it. I just cannot go without my beauty sleep the way your beautiful father can, plus, he gets by with his naps, but, honey, I am not that old yet.” She shook her head. “While we were standing at the bar, he said he’d never been to Mexico after overhearing someone mention how cheap it was to fly there right now. Well, your dad must have thought they meant right that second right now because that was that, off we went, and, oh, he was as excited as a little kid. I mean, he really should not be running off and doing things like that, on account of his heart,” she said solemnly.
“Why? What’s wrong with his heart?” I asked, very alarmed, thinking, Holy God, what else don’t I know?
She shook her head, “Oh no, nothing like that, honey, it’s just old,” she paused to revel in the moment, which I took to mean HA HA, before she said, “See, you’re not the only one who can be funny.”
“Yes, that’s… yes.”
She thought she was indeed very funny and continued to show me by laughing and giggling and then wiping something off of her left breast, which I thought over and catalogued as a separate incident from the supposed joke.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about your dad,” she said. I didn’t know if I’d ever quite heard someone say ‘oh, if these lips could talk,’ but for some reason that was what I heard. So as she began to speak again, the ‘inside my head’ voice began to hum really loudly. I had yet to see Candy rattled by anything, but she was certainly looking uncomfortable now, and once I realized why, I was quick to apologize.
“Sorry,” I said softly, “I honestly meant for that to be in my head. Wow, funny and embarrassing, I seem to be ejected from my mind sometimes, and it is never at the moments I would like it to be. I’ve never told anyone this, but I almost killed…” I stopped as her phone began to ring and vibrate about in a circle on the table. She held up a finger.
“Oh, it’s your dad, he probably needs a ride home from the bar,” she said as she picked it up.
“He’s home?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah, he got in a couple of hours ago.”
“And he is already at a bar?”
She talked and laughed and it sounded like they were best of friends, or even family. She looked at me, her face tilting up from her phone, “I’m meeting up with him and we’ll eventually make our way home, would you like to come? Your dad’s already spoken to Katie, and, hold on a second, who?” she was talking again to my dad, while the sunny beach I felt I’d been basking on began to sink from view. I wondered why he would have called Kate. And why hadn’t she then called me? I’d find out soon enough, I guessed. I got my phone out of my pocket; it told me nothing regarding the recent developments.
I nodded at Candy, “I’ll even drive if you put a shirt on.”
She smiled like a villain and shook her head. She held the phone against her chest. Maybe she was video messaging. She pointed to the fridge and made a drinking motion. I shook my head while I yawned. She was listening and I again wondered what was going on. The phone was going up and down in her hand like she didn’t know if she should talk to me or listen to my dad. I tried to make a fair bit of commotion with my face and expression, indicating that I didn’t know what was happening but would really like to.
“Nate is picking us up.”
“…Up?”
Chapter 39 … Mickey’s … Or … Mikey’s … Or … Mixer’s … Or …
The Restaurant At The Mall
I left everyone at our table to use the washroom and then found myself standing at the bar instead of going back. I got a beer. I had intended on bringing it with me. Now the glass was half empty and I was wondering at what point in my life optimism had made its exit.
There was a young woman suddenly next to me, almost against me. I wasn’t sure if she was there when I got there or if she had just gotten there. I looked at my spot at the bar, and tried to figure out if I’d moved along down it somehow or if maybe she had. I wondered if I should ask her about it, then she smiled and introduced herself.
“Pardon,” I said as the dust of memory filled my head. “Your name is... Ariel? Argyle? Anagram? Arnold? Anxiety!” She shook her head to all of them and said it yet again. I nodded, “I thought you said that.” I might have been yelling at her. “So how many Q’s does that have? That’s like, oh, no, I know. That was the joke. Not a K sound for the first hour of it; it sounds like arachnophobia, but where there’s ‘K’ and ‘B’ sounds there’s somehow another ‘A’, hats off to your parents for that one.” I raised my glass. “It’s too bad it wasn’t, Anxiety. Not only because I can pronounce it, but the last couple syllables almost make it sound pretty, Anxiety. I think that’ll be my stripper name if ever I need one. I’ll just come out and push and pull on the pole like I’m trying to move it. Let’s hear it for Anxiety, didn’t budge a bit, stripper pole; one, Anxiety; zero, maybe next time.” I laughed, thinking my DJ voice was even better than the joke. “Oh, that’s nice of you to say or, you know, you can just laugh, whatever.” I laughed, “Yup, it’s a good thing I’m married and you’re not interested because I know already I would never say your name properly.” I finished my beer and got the at
tention of the bartender for another. Mentally, for a change, I let go of the side and went with the momentum I’d started, “Seriously, I’m sure we could sit here all day and I would, without the intent to, find a way to say your name differently each and every time I tried to say it. Then the more I had to drink, the worse it would get, until I gave up and stuck with something like Bardger, just skipping everything that started with an A. Wouldn’t know why or where it came from, but that’s what it would end up being: Bardger. And at that point, only you would know how far off I was. Yup, you’d go from your pretty name to me saying very awkwardly, and very loudly, close to your face, ‘You know what, Bardger,’ and then I’d tell you something I’d assumed you weren’t aware of, probably twice. But that’s nothing, really. My dad, on the other hand, would attach a penis to you and take you to Mexico. No, no, don’t be scared, I’m, he’s, it’s complicated,” I paused, my mind went BLAH and I gave it a shake. “Sorry, you were saying? Oh yeah,” I continued before she could speak. “So, what I’m saying is; it would be awesome if you could either accept that I say your name wrong or pretend I’m saying it right… or just let me call you, Bardger. Yeah, doesn’t matter how many times you say it – I’m probably an idiot, but I know I’ve been far dumber over far worse so I’m not too worried. Oh, ho, ho, you should meet my dad like right now.” I looked behind me in the direction of the table that everyone I was with was seated at. I turned back, took a drink and thought about how I hadn’t had any thoughts competing to be words the way I usually did. The words were just there, and I just said them. I looked at the beer and it overflowed with blame. Maybe stop drinking, I thought as I looked up at the wall of bottles behind the bar. I turned to look at – the face next to me, and stopped myself from saying anything more. She was staring at me, smiling grandly. I flinched.
I was suddenly confused. “Are you talking or am I?” I asked loudly and added before she answered, “Well, it was nice to have met you, uh – hey.” Nate’s face suddenly appeared next to me. I was actually surprised he hadn’t shown up sooner now that I’d thought about it. “Hey, this is – her, alright, take care.” I stopped; I had one last thing to say to her. “No one but my wife has looked at me like that for a long time, and it’s as awesome as it is terrifying, which says a lot because I’ve had a really fucked up day. So, thank you, and yes: marriage and age stranges a person.” Stranges a person, I thought, stranges a person; I shook my head like I might have kept repeating myself if I hadn’t. I laughed. I knew nothing made sense and I wanted to continue the trend, “So yeah, I mean,” I paused, and then added an enthusiastic, “shit yourself.” She looked a little confused, but I stood behind what I said, nodding, urging it to sink in. Nate stood beside me, dumbfounded; but I was confident he’d never been more comfortable. I had set the stage, or so I thought; now everything Nate said would seem sensible. I gave him the official nod and waved goodbye to Bardger. “Whisper rebellion,” Nate said and patted me on the back before I disappeared to find our table.
I was feeling strangely sentimental. My dad, Candy, Nate, the cheer in the room, even my beautiful Katie; it all had me feeling a little off balance and out of place. The noise of everybody talking and eating and laughing made the restaurant feel far too busy. I needed to speed up and keep pace, or reach out and hold everything still.
My dad was talking about his trip, which consisted of waiting, travelling, a Mexican bar, a pool bar and a flight back. Katie was talking to Candy. If it wasn’t about Candy’s breast-dispensing top; it should have been. I took hold of the glass my dad had pointed to when I sat down. Then my dad was in on their conversation. I wondered why I didn’t have anything to add. Maybe that’s because I’m not listening. Why wasn’t I at least listening? And how did I get to feeling this… far from everyone, myself included?
I just had to stand and the moment would rise with me. I liked that: stand and the moment will rise with you. It sounded important, like it was a call for change. And so I did exactly that. I got up and went back to the bar. It wasn’t quite the change I had in mind. I thought I should write that line down. I considered typing it into my phone, but realized it didn’t matter. I no longer cared. I needed what it meant now, not what it could mean to someone else later. That and I was certain I’d already forgotten.
I leaned against the bar and pushed away from it as though I needed the momentum to leave it behind for good this time. I went out into the mall and walked like I had a destination. And I did; it was the direction right in front of me.
Everyone seemed either to be smiling or laughing. I felt like I was the only one who wasn’t doing either; maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the mono. I finally stopped walking and stood in front of the department store at the other end of the mall. I was considering going in to use the washroom when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned very slowly like I enjoyed the suspense.
It was everyone I had been with in the restaurant. It took a good amount of effort to get my face into something like a smile. I looked at the stores and people around us, then back at them. My hand began to rise from my side like I intended to reach for one of them, but then I stopped and left it there. I teetered. I took a step forward and then a couple of steps back. Concern and sadness flashed across each face. The words that typically ran through my head had stopped there with me. There was only confusion occupying that space now. It should have struck me as being quite ironic that the moment something wasn’t in my head, confusion took hold of me. I looked at each of them for some sense of direction or clue to where we should go from there. My only suggestion was the washroom.
“What?” I asked casually, “I just… I looked around and couldn’t see myself there and so didn’t. Then I guess I got here and thought, Hey, I’m going to go buy myself a shirt.” I pointed to the mannequins just inside the department store. “They look so happy, don’t they? I mean, who wouldn’t be happy dressed like that? Plus, they’re together; that’s got to count for something. It’s probably easier to stick together when you’re all colour coordinated and screwed to the ground you’re standing on.” I looked at each of them; Katie, my dad, Nate, Candy, Bardger – no, she wasn’t there, but that would have been funny – and then finally my dad again. He waited for me to say something, but I had yet to arrive at that moment. My focus was safely on the mannequins. “It’s such a nice fucking shirt,” I said distractedly like I didn’t understand why I wasn’t closer to it or trying it on. “They all just look so good,” I added, not knowing what else to say or why he had yet to say anything.
“Maybe Candy can try on some of the kid’s clothes, God forbid it fit her, eh?” He gave me a nudge and began to laugh but cut it short as though he realized there wasn’t time for it. “She and I are just good friends,” he said suddenly and continued when I was looking at him again and not the mannequins. “We met at Woodland Acres not long after your mom –” He stopped, but the silence said it anyway.
Something had twisted inside me and no matter how I stood, it wouldn’t straighten. “You were at the home?” I asked. Just like that, there was so much I didn’t know about the man I thought I knew best. “Why? I mean, like, or, I don’t know if it’s…” I stepped back to let a family pass through the middle of our group. “Where the hell did we learn to communicate with each other like this?” I blurted in frustration, while stepping back toward him. “It is so fucking helpful.” I didn’t know where to go from there or how to handle all the loose ends with only two hands. I was sure my face said it all.
He smiled. I should have asked him how he always managed to do that. Every time, when it mattered most, there was always that smile; at the beginning, at the end, it was always there. Maybe that was who Candy had learned it from. “If you can’t even talk to me about what you think is going on; how am I supposed to talk to you about what really is?” he asked calmly.
I shook my head, “I…” I began and ended.
“And, yes, I started in a program there, at Woodland, initially to quit dr
inking. That didn’t quite take,” he said; indifferent to the fact, “but I ended up back there in a program to help me deal with the loss of your mother, which, really, was the bigger problem. That went much better. And I figured that one might cancel out the other.” He spoke as he always did: so naturally, like in a past life it had been nothing but rehearsals for this one.
“You sound like me at college, just, you know, the programs were a little different and I don’t think I had any that turned out.” My voice was small and unsteady. I tried to see if I had anything in me that sounded like laughter, but I hadn’t.
My dad took a deep breath before leaning forward. “A lot of this started,” he said motioning to himself and everyone behind him, or maybe he meant the entire mall, I didn’t know, “with those books you have.” He nodded; apparently in agreement with himself. “When I watched the boys, while you took care of those things for me after your mom died, I got to reading some of the books, um, I believe by a Clark, something, Cassette?” He looked at me, hoping I knew what he meant, like it was all going to wash over me and I could simply thank him. Perfect, we’ll celebrate with a new shirt.
“Clark… Cassette,” I repeated slowly, “Clark? Cassette? I just, I don’t – that doesn’t ring a bell. And that sounds like something I would remember: kind of stands out a little.” I searched my memory. I started over. “I’ve got nothing, Dad. I have no idea what… oh, okay wait, do you mean Carlos Castaneda? That’s not – there was a bunch by him on the bookshelf in the living room? Or I should say there is a bunch by him. Clark Holy Shitting Cassette, wow! That’s practically the same thing, it’s just I roll my tongue when I say it, but yeah, same thing. Now I know where I get my dyslexic memory from. That was a whopper, Dad. I’m surprised you didn’t say ‘Clickety Clack’: you know, starts with some letters, ends with a syllable.”