“I don’t mind for me,” Madonna said. “But Silver’s nerves — are bad again and he’s sniffing my goddamn Cutex.”
“Tell Silver not to worry, I’ll take care of it — I will take care of you both, I promise,” he said goodheartedly.
“No money will come of this,” Madonna said, “Everette won’t give us a cent.”
In early July, Everette brought them into the shack and told them: “It’s comin. But you guys have to cap it — at your barn — that’s the safest place to do it. I tried to think of somewhere else — I can’t move or the cops will be on me — so — take it to the barn. No one bothers you down there — “
Then, in a rash moment, drinking wine, he admitted something. He stood and walked about the shack, shaking his head as if he were remorseful and needed an act of contrition. He admitted he had stolen from them all — not only five hundred dollars, but six hundred more, and the two cheques his sister had managed to get from welfare. That is, all of Silver’s money, all of Madonna’s, and most of Michael’s went towards paying for the mescaline.
“There was nothing I could do — I just had to act. Now everything will work out. If I left it up to you —” here he reached over and rubbed Michael’s head — “the money would’ve been all pissed away. Now we’ll make about four thousand each — and that’s just the first of it.”
Michael and Silver laughed, as if Everette had their interests at stake and could read them like a book. And for that second, all of the anxiety they’d felt over the last month was forgotten.
But at the moment when everything was going well once more, when the plan was going to take place, Everette went out celebrating and got drunk, lost control of his bike, the Harley Sportster he was so proud of.
TWO
Everette lay in the hospital in a coma, half the skin on his side torn away and his head cut open. They were worried about his brain swelling. The last rites were given.
His face was covered with bloody wrapping and gauze which left one eye and part of his forehead exposed. There was yellow fluid coming from his ear.
Whatever else the accident said to Michael it said that Everette had done nothing to prepare himself for this. That the drug deal they were talking about did not prepare him or anyone of them for this. That the way Everette held things over other people, bullied his sister, lived in self-torment, did not prepare him for this. Other things in life, all other things, were more important.
The morning of Everette’s accident was the last time Michael took any drugs.
But still Michael no longer thought of the fear he had of Hutch, but of how much he was obligated to him. And he thought, too, that if he did just one more thing to prove himself, with Everette now dying, he would show himself to be the friend Everette needed him to be,
Michael had, without knowing it, replaced Tom with Everette. This unseen fact had much to do with what happened over the next few days.
The group that gathered to keep the death vigil was monitored by Constable John Delano, who had been tracking drugs all spring long. Delano was looked upon in Michael’s group of new friends as a narc and a rat because, besides being an rcmp officer, he was their age. Michael felt this most of all because of John’s friendship with Laura McNair. He felt it because he was supposed to, and because he hadn’t taken time to think in any other way.
Delano watched Michael as if he were an unknown equation here. Michael noticed his glances and fumed.
“Who does he think I am?” Michael mumbled three or four times, within earshot of the constable.
Michael went to Delano and told him off. He assumed a particularly moral attitude when he spoke, and felt quite empowered. “The only thing you have is a uniform, nothing else, and you’re letting that suit puff you up.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Skid.”
“Well, I do feel that way — because — well, because that’s the way I feel,” Michael said. He put a coffee to his lips and tried to drink it, but his hand was shaking. The air smelled of antiseptic, linen, and urine. The hospital corridor was awash in darkness even though it was eleven in the morning.
Delano looked at Skid. He knew how much Laura McNair admired him,
“Michael,” he said. “Come on — how can you be fooled by this?” He waved his hand in a quick arc and smiled slightly, as if he were calling on Michael’s integrity. He was also calling on him to do something — and that was to give up his posture. This was just hinted at in his smile. And it was this smile that Michael reacted against.
“Who are you to take notice of who visits Everette?” Michael snapped. “Just because my family has a special position and I’ve been to private school doesn’t mean I don’t understand people like Everette Hutch —” He wanted to continue, to keep going, but Delano looked away, embarrassed by this extravagance, and then looked at him again. He stopped smiling.
“If this is a time for histrionics,” Delano said, calmly, “sit in the waiting room, where some of his friends might listen to you.”
And Michael flushed with anger and embarrassment. He went to the waiting room, feeling he had lost a valuable piece in an important chess match. The worst of it was, until that moment in the hospital, he did not know a chess match was being played, that it was being played all summer long.
Recklessly he said to no one in particular: “I guess we all have to watch ourselves, for we’re all suspects now — if we say hello to someone they are a suspect — well, Laura McNair speaks to me and I to her —” He felt pleased that he was able to include Laura McNair within this web of surveillance.
Michael’s posture flew in the face of Constable Delano — that very constable who had found Everette Hutch bleeding and unconscious, brought him to the hospital, and therefore had saved his life.
Delano, standing by the nurse’s station, didn’t acknowledge his remarks. But later, when Michael was alone in the corridor getting another coffee, Delano came over to him and, placing his short red hand on Michael’s left arm, said: “I will tell you this much — Miss McNair is a friend of mine, and has had a difficult time. She has lost her brother, her mother has a heart condition and is in and out of care. She has also received death threats — probably from the man in that room. Her father worries about her day and night, and they have not let her mother know. That’s why I’m here. You might also think that I’m a terrible man and that it’s just a few grams of hash. Well, I don’t care at all for a few grams of hash — “
He said this perfectly calmly, and Michael felt another personal sting of anger.
“I would never threaten Ms. McNair or anyone else — you’ll soon be proven that!” Michael said, smiling. “And neither would my friends. If you’re jealous of me being with Laura McNair, that’s not my fault — every one knows how you’re bothering her.”
He went to go by him, but Delano responded, with pressure still on Michael’s arm and a look in his eye that was for Laura McNair’s benefit. “One must not be speaking on their friend’s behalf without examining their friend’s motives”
“Everette’s motives are all sincere,” Michael snapped. But strangely at that moment he was not thinking of Everette Hutch; he was thinking of Tom Donnerel.
Michael went back to the waiting room. He sat there for another hour and could not bring himself to drink the coffee he had bought. He kept talking about Everette with Everette’s friends — how kind he was to everyone who had dealings with him, the way he would give things to you without a thought.
Gail was praying, beads folded in her hands, while her old aunt recited the first decade of the rosary on her knees. After Michael had stopped talking, Gail turned and gave him an urgent smile: “Yes — you are right, Everette can be kind, and good at times. I do love my brother very much. But if God takes Everette now — instead of next year or the year after — but takes him now, all of us will be free. It will be best for Everette as well, that he goes and faces up to what he has done — before his creator now. So pray with us for that —” And she
blessed herself and continued with a Hail Mary, kissing the crucifix on her rosary.
A woman even older than Gail’s aunt sat in the corner, looking from one to the other and trying to hear what was being said about her son. Until the second day, Michael did not know this tired little woman, with a kind, intelligent face, was Everette’s mother.
By the third day, the doctor advised the family that if Everette did not come out of the coma soon, he would probably not live.
“I’m sure Delano will love to hear this,” Michael said bitterly, but for one moment he himself felt a twinge of relief. He also thought, strangely, though he did not want to, of all the money that would not come their way now.
Word had moved quickly through the small, violent neighbourhood where Hutch grew up, and people began to collect in the waiting room. Men who by nineteen had the look of cold, impregnable silence in their eyes were staring, in the cramped waiting room, at Michael, as if everyone knew of him.
Two of Everette’s uncles came by to collect fifteen dollars their nephew owed them.
The uncles were twins, both wore hearing aids. Both smelled of wine.
“Here,” Michael said, taking fifteen dollars from his pocket, and tossing it towards them. “Take it!” And he looked over at Daryll Hutch glaring at him.
“But — it’s fifteen dollars apiece,” one of the uncles said gleefully.
“Fifteen apiece,” the other said.
Michael didn’t have any more money on him. But just then John Delano came in and placed fifteen dollars in the second man’s hand.
“Here,” he said. “You can’t be bothering a dying man for money — now go home.”
“No, no — I wouldn’t,” the first uncle said with ingratiating piety. And both men, in ratty pants and worn shoes, nodded to everyone and slinked off.
“What are you staring at, Daryll?” Delano said, noticing Daryll Hutch’s continuous self-aggrandizing stare. Then John smiled. “Well, don’t be bothering Michael Skid here — he’s a good friend of your cousin’s.”
Daryll got up and left the room. He did not come back, and it gave Michael a great feeling of relief.
But he was agitated by this also, agitated by Delano’s thoughtful generosity after having just argued with the man. And he remembered what Gail Hutch had said: “Pray with us for his death now.” And remembered Everette’s mother’s silent accepting nod.
He went back and sat beside Everette’s bed.
In the early-morning hours, when everyone had given up hope, Michael felt Everette’s hand grab and clutch his. His face was bandaged. Only one eye was free of wrapping, to glare about the room.
Michael jumped up and went to the waiting room.
“He’s awake —” he said softly Gail, half-asleep, only nodded in acceptance and, with her mother, stood and went in. The old aunt broke out laughing.
When Everette was well enough to speak, he brought Michael close and whispered that his bike had been sabotaged by “certain people,” and that because of this Michael would have to take over the deal. He said that Michael had to do things for him.
“You have to become my legs — while I’m in here,” he whispered hoarsely with a tube still in his throat, and fluid draining from his ear running onto a white napkin pinned to his Johnnie shirt. “Take over — you have to make the big deal — it’s coming through — but here I am — you have to go in my place! Please!” he said. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t trust you — if I said anything to you — to bother you — I’m sorry — but I had to do it — no one would believe me — and I couldn’t trust Silver — only you. You have to go up to New Carlisle — it isn’t as far as you think — Daryll will tell you where to go — a place we can be safe — then cap it in your barn — you and Silver — take it to REX — on The Renegade — bring every penny back — “
For moments Michael did not respond. How could this have happened? How could he have gone from being on friendly terms with someone to replacing that person in something he did not agree with.
“I don’t know” Michael said.
“Shhh,” Everette said, trying to look about him, to see who else was there. “You have to, Michael — who else can I trust? I’ve never had nothing in my life — my whole life — “
And Michael remembered how Everette had stolen the money to buy the drugs for this deal, and for some reason it made Everette seem vulnerable.
“Okay,” Michael whispered, “I’ll do it — this once but never again.”
“Everywhere is death,” Everette said. “People have to get closer to each other — they have to start trusting each other or we is all lost!”
Michael nodded.
Everette then sniffed and seemed to reflect on what he’d said. “If you can you bring me in a gun,” Everette whispered hoarsely and took his hand again, “I want to get John Delano if he tries to arrest me.”
Michael suddenly felt his face go numb. It was said with such casual rage. He looked at Everette’s red and blistered arm.
Michael said he would see. But he had no intention of bringing Everette a gun to shoot a constable or anyone else.
He went home and stayed with his parents for a day or two. He did not know what he should do.
He went downriver. The danger at least gave him a certain feeling of accomplishment.
That night he spent waiting in the woods, down a dirt road on the border with Quebec, far up by the Padapedia River for Everette’s drugs. He managed to bring the bags of uncapped mescaline and hash, the three-thousand-dollars’ worth of blotter acid, back to his farm by three in the morning. He fell asleep in a slumber on the verandah, looking at the stars, thinking of Spain, and thinking too of how terrifying all of this was.
It was by accident the very next afternoon that Michael met Karrie on the beach. By this time everything was ready to go. He would deliver the drugs and get fifteen thousand dollars and bring it back to Everette.
“Every penny,” Everette whispered to him, sitting up in bed and eating his supper, with a tube still in his arm.
Everette ordered Michael and Silver not to wait for him. When Michael got back to the farm that night Silver was gloomy.
“It’s his deal —” Silver said, sourly. “I’ve been thinking of this all day. If anything goes wrong, we’re screwed. Just leave the drugs for him — if we’re out money, who cares? The hell with it. I’ll do what you say — here I am — I’ll do what you say.” He was saying much about what he thought about himself, by his posture, which was huddled and bowed.
All along Everette had told them they didn’t have to know anything about what was happening — and now they were the ones forced to carry it out.
There was a pause. Their eyes met, and Michael knew exactly what Silver was thinking: that he, Michael, was a weak middle-class boy from town.
“Take the drugs to the boat,” Michael said.
Silver, standing in bare feet and cutoff shorts, looked at him.
“Take the drugs to the boat.”
“Fuck!” Silver said turning about. “You know Everette doesn’t care for you. His cousin Daryll — you can’t tell me that lad hasn’t killed before. Not a cent will come our way We bring that money back to Everette, who will see it? So what do you want me to do?”
Yet Michael felt obligated. He remembered his promise,
“No — we have to do it,” he whispered. “And then it will be over.”
Silver looked at Michael sheepishly His only comment, as he walked away mumbling, was, “Why do you think he is still in the hospital? It’s over three weeks. He should be out by now — but it puts everything on our shoulders. He has worked all summer long — to make us do this for him. He never intended to do anything himself. Why didn’t you listen to Madonna and go to Tom three weeks ago? He wants you in jail — Madonna told me that last fall — he wants the judge’s son in jail!”
“Don’t be ridiculous —” Michael commented angrily.
So little Silver went by moonlight
and put the drugs in the boat.
They left for the Island three days after he first met Karrie. Mist still clung to the trees and over the water. A great marsh hen flew in the silence over those trees, and the boat slunk, listing slightly to port, out of the flat inlet before it was daybreak. There was a moment when both of them were singing and laughing and sharing a bottle of wine.
But before the sun had reached full in the sky they had gotten becalmed. Not a breath of air. So Silver started the motor, but it died as well
Hours went by. At times they dragged anchor, at times they floated free.
Silver tried to get the motor going and had it in his hands most of the day The carburetor float was sunk and the lines were filled with dirt. And Michael fretted about the time, and about the danger.
Then they began to argue and bicker, each blaming the other for everything, including the weather. At 3:30 in the afternoon Silver pulled so frantically on the spinnaker mast he snapped the rope and pulley.
“What are you trying to do?” Michael yelled, noticing the spinnaker cracked along the boom.
“I’m trying to save your arse,” Silver said.
After this they worked in silence at opposite ends of the boat, the drugs sitting midship on the starboard side in a small cardboard box.
At nightfall Michael was approaching this box when, without any warning at all, the coast guard hauled along their port, four miles off their rendezvous point.
Michael, seeing only floodlights and hearing the blowhorn telling them they were about to be boarded, panicked and threw the drugs overboard in front of Silver’s startled eyes. Silver still had the carburetor in his hand from the old inboard Chevy engine.
Michael was ashamed of this. It was his one lapse.
The coast guard had come alongside to throw them a towline, and hauled them to within five hundred yards of their rendezvous. But they had no drugs to sell and could not make the meeting. Waiting for them was Daryll Hutch and two other men.
“It’s gone,” Silver said. “It’s gone — I can’t believe it — I saw it with my own eyes — all the caps just disappeared. It took me four days to cap it. I was in the barn day and night.”
The Bay of Love and Sorrows Page 10