by Charles Webb
‘But it might give you an idea how to help me put the person out of my mind.’
‘I said you could, Colin.’
‘Yes. Well it happened this morning. I was at Doug’s, at the Chamber of Commerce.’
She continued braiding her hair loosely together.
‘And he wanted me to sign this complaint form,’ Colin said. ‘Do you know the little art shop on Main Street?’
‘Petersons.’
‘That’s it.’
‘That’s where my butterfly stickers came from.’
‘So you know who the Petersons are.’
‘I knew their daughter when she ran it. She’s the one who sold me the stickers.’
‘Judy.’
‘She went nuts last year.’
‘Right,’ Colin said, ‘but Doug wanted me to sign a complaint form to help get them out of their shop. Apparently he considers them something of a blight on the community.’
Mandy moved the large braid up beside her face to try to see the part of it she had finished.
‘But I didn’t want to sign it. As important as I could see it was to him, I just didn’t want to get involved in some political infighting here in New Cardiff. So I said I’d take a form along with me and think about it. But he was clearly annoyed with me. He’d been nice enough to sit for the portrait, and he was asking me sort of as a favour in return to help him out with his problem, and I felt very bad saying no, but on the other hand—’
‘Colin.’
‘Yes, Mandy.’
‘Not to be rude, but in a way I don’t see what this has to do with what we were talking about.’
‘I’ll tell you,’ he said. ‘The first thing—the very first thing—that happened as I came out of his office was I wished I could talk to the other person about what to do.’
She had braided the hair all the way down to the end. ‘Can you toss me that rubber band?’
‘Where.’
‘There on the table.’
There was a table several feet in front of the chair. Colin leaned forward, reaching toward it.
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I can get it.’ The chair’s legs scraped across the floor as he made several lurching motions in the direction of the table.
‘I should have just got up and got it myself.’
‘I have it.’ He picked up the rubber band.
‘Just toss it. You don’t have to bring it.’
He threw it over to her, then pushed with his shoes against the floor till he’d moved the chair back to where it had been before.
‘So in other words,’ she said, ‘you want to know what you should have done when you came out of Doug’s office so you wouldn’t have thought of me.’
He nodded. ‘That’s my question. What should I have done, there in the hallway of the Chamber of Commerce, so Mandy didn’t flood into my mind for the hundredth time since I woke up this morning.’
‘Hundredth time.’
‘Ninety-ninth. Hundred-and-first. In that area.’
Mandy put the rubber band around her fingers, then transferred it to the end of the braid. ‘I thought we were just going to talk about the one time.’
‘That’s true, I shouldn’t have mentioned the others.’
‘I’m not going to sit here and tell you a hundred different ways not to think of me.’
‘I was getting greedy.’
‘But actually the thing I’m going to tell you would work every time it floods in.’ Mandy tipped her head back and looked at a butterfly with green-and-blue wings directly above herself.
‘I’m ready to hear it.’
‘I know you’re ready. I just in a way don’t like to bring up personal things from your family life.’
‘What family life.’
‘You know.’ She kept her eyes on the ceiling. ‘Your parents and everything.’
‘My parents.’
‘Your father,’ she said, ‘to be specific.’
Colin looked up to see which butterfly she was studying, then back down at Mandy.
‘He’s the thing you should put your mind on instead of thinking of me all the time.’
‘My father.’
She nodded.
‘Whenever I find myself starting to think of Mandy, I should force myself to think of my dad instead.’
She lowered her gaze to Colin and nodded.
‘That’s an interesting technique. Is that what you did?’
‘What.’
‘When you were still thinking about me too much—you’d substitute your dad when I would come to mind?’
‘I didn’t do it. I’m saying you should.’
‘But when we give advice,’ Colin said, ‘we usually base it on our own experience.’
‘Right,’ she said, ‘but my dad’s not having an operation.’
It was quiet a moment or two, then Mandy pointed at a clock on the same table where the rubber band had been. ‘Could you just turn that to face me,’ she said. ‘I can’t quite see what time it is.’
‘I’ll just tell you.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Ten to seven.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Colin said.
‘What.’
‘That your dad’s not having an operation.’
‘Well I hope your dad’s works out okay. I’m sure English doctors are just as good as American ones, so I don’t think you should worry too much.’
Colin looked down at one of the struts of the chair coming up between his legs.
‘And this is just my own opinion, but it really does seem like you should probably go back to England while he has it.’
For a long time he sat looking down at the top of the red canvas-covered support. ‘Mandy?’ he said finally.
‘What.’
‘I’m just trying to think back to when we had our discussion about my father’s operation.’
‘Well don’t try too hard. We didn’t have one.’
He nodded. ‘That’s probably why I’m having difficulty.’ After another few moments he looked up at her again. ‘So you didn’t hear about it from me.’
‘No.’
‘Through the New Cardiff grapevine?’
‘Colin, I think we both know who I heard it from.’
‘All right. And did the source of your information also tell you what the operation is for?’
‘No.’
‘Well first let me ask you something else,’ he said. ‘Did this have anything to do with your leaving the motel?’
She shrugged.
‘I’d like to know.’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘It did.’
‘It sort of did.’
‘And you have no idea what the operation’s for.’
‘Heart bypass or something?’
‘Heart bypass you think.’
‘Colin, I said I didn’t know.’
‘But since it’s the entire reason you moved out—and you say “sort of”, but it was obviously why you did—don’t you at least think you should know what kind of operation it is?’
‘Go ahead and tell me then.’
‘I will.’
‘It seems like you always have to beat around the bush about everything.’
Colin looked over at the small clock on the table for a moment, then back at Mandy. ‘A year ago, my parents moved from one flat in London to another, to be a little closer to the store. And most of the furniture was moved professionally—sofa, beds and so forth—but some of the smaller stuff—an odd chair, pictures and such—they took to the new place themselves. And one item they took over was a wooden stool. And one afternoon my father was carrying the stool out of the lift in the new building. And accidentally he dropped it. And where did it land? On his foot. On his toe to be exact.’
Mandy reached up to pull the rubber band off the end of her braid.
‘Well that toenail,’ Colin said, ‘of the toe he dropped the stool on, started kind of curling under,
after that happened.’
She put her fingers into her hair to comb out the braid.
‘My mum was after him for almost a year to see a doctor about it.
And finally, on her birthday, for her, he did. And what do you suppose he told him.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Ingrown toenail.’
‘Is that right.’
‘And yes, they will have to operate. They’ll have to remove the nail so the new one grows straight. Now as far as Dad’s chances of recovery go …’
Mandy got up from the bed.
‘ … I would say they’re fairly good.’
She went to the door.
‘But whether the chances of recovery are as good for whoever’s been supplying you with your information is something we’ll just have to see.’
‘We admitted two new residents today,’ Mandy said, putting her hand on the doorknob, ‘so I’m kind of tired, Colin.’
Colin placed his hand on the floor beside the chair, twisted around and put his other hand on one of the struts behind him as he tried without success to hoist himself up.
‘That’s why I don’t sit in that too much.’
Finally he bent sideways, put both hands flat on the floor and crawled out of it, tipping it over.
‘Could I ask you something?’ she said.
‘Of course, Mandy.’
‘So she lied about the operation,’ Mandy said. ‘Well, not lied exactly, I guess.’
‘I’m comfortable with lied.’
‘But whatever you want to call it,’ Mandy said, ‘there was something else she told me too.’
‘What was that.’
‘About the way you met each other.’
Colin nodded.
‘Your two mothers in the waiting room.’
‘The Story.’
‘That was true?’
‘Unfortunately.’
‘Not that it’s important,’ she said. ‘You just like to know when someone’s telling you the truth once in a while.’
‘Vera’s fond of telling people we met as foetuses.’
‘Personally,’ Mandy said, ‘I wouldn’t exactly call that two people meeting.’
‘It’s not a popular method.’
‘But I guess she looks at it that way.’
‘Social clubs where foetuses can get acquainted. Foetuses meeting through personal ads.’ He shook his head. ‘I agree with you. I don’t see that catching on any time soon.’
Mandy opened the door, then it was quiet a few moments.
‘Mandy.’
‘I have to get ready for bed now. I know it seems early.’
‘May I ask you something now.’
‘What.’
‘Do you have a passport,’ he said.
‘Passport.’
‘A United States passport.’
‘Colin,’ she said, pulling the door open farther, ‘I’m sorry to be rude, but I’m just really tired.’
‘Do you have one?’
‘No.’
‘You don’t think one might come in handy someday.’
‘No.’
He looked through the door as a woman came out of the apartment across the landing and disappeared down the stairs.
‘Because I went into City Hall. It’s in the same building as Doug. I just went in to see how it’s done here. It doesn’t cost much. And they have a fast-track system so you can get one quickly.’
‘Colin, I don’t want one, okay?’
‘But what harm would it do.’
‘No harm. I just don’t want one.’
‘What would it take.’
‘Take?’
‘For you just to go over on your lunch break tomorrow and apply for one.’
‘Colin, what part of “I don’t want one” don’t you understand.’
‘But there must be something I can do so you’ll get one.’
‘There isn’t.’
‘Owning a passport doesn’t commit you to anything, Mandy.’
‘Colin, you need to get over me!’
‘But I love you.’
She looked suddenly away.
‘Forgive me for putting it in such a trite way,’ he said, after a few moments had passed, ‘but I love you with all my heart.’
She stood a long time with her hand on the doorknob looking out across the landing. Then nodded.
‘What,’ he said.
‘There is one thing, Colin.’
‘One thing what.’
‘One thing you could do so I’ll get a passport.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Just one.’
‘What is it, Mandy.’
‘If you will promise me,’ she said, turning to look at him, ‘that you will never come over here again. That you will never come out to Shining Shores. Never call me. Never try to see me again. Ever. In your whole life and in my whole life. Then I will go down tomorrow to the City Hall, since that seems to be so important to you, and send for a passport or whatever you have to do.’
‘Yes, Mandy,’ he said, nodding.
‘Do you understand what I just said?’
‘After I leave here now we’re never going to see each other again.’
‘Ever.’
‘I understand the condition.’
‘And you accept it.’
‘Yes.’
‘Because I don’t think you really do.’
‘I do, Mandy.’
‘Our relationship is over,’ she said.
‘I accept that and I’ll deal with it somehow.’
‘Okay then.’ She stepped aside. ‘Goodbye, Colin.’
He walked past her and started down the stairs, but then stopped and looked back up just as she was closing the door. ‘If I never see or talk to you again, how will I be sure you sent for the passport.’
‘I’ll figure out a way for you to know, Colin.’
He nodded, then started down the stairs again. ‘Goodbye for ever.’
‘And don’t try to make a joke out of it, Colin.’
‘No.’
‘Because you might not think it’s true, but you’re going to find out it is.’
‘Goodbye not for ever,’ he said, continuing down. ‘I mean goodbye for ever, but not saying for ever. Saying just plain goodbye, knowing it’s for ever, but not saying for ever because it sounds like a joke.’ The door slammed behind him as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
15
CHAMBER OF COMMERCE—
VISITOR COMPLAINT FORM
Name: Colin Ware
Place of residence: London, England
Purpose of visit: Sketching New Cardiff inhabitants
Individual(s) whose behavior was displeasing (include name of venue where incident occurred): Harold Peterson, Petersons Art Supplies
Please use the rest of this page to go into as much detail as you can about the incident. Remember, as regrettable as your unfortunate experience was, you’re giving us an invaluable tool to prevent it from happening to someone else in the future, and in doing that you’re playing a vital role in the exciting story of an always-improving New Cardiff (your comments will be viewed only by authorised Chamber of Commerce personnel):
Because everyone here in New Cardiff has been hospitable to me in the extreme, going out of their way to accommodate me in every way possible, I’m highly reluctant to file this complaint against one of your residents. But if it will contribute toward New Cardiff becoming an even better place than it already is, I will state that Harold Peterson misrepresented a product to me.
The product was a pad of artists’ drawing paper. The misrepresentation was that he told me the paper was acid-free (it’s the acid content in paper that causes it to yellow over time, and this can be removed during the manufacturing process).
Since it is always designated on the paper whether it is acid-free or not, and since there was no drawing paper in Harold Peterson’s shop with this designation, I asked if he had any, stressing its importan
ce to me. I had to explain to him what it was, which seemed slightly odd to be doing to the owner of an art-supply store, and had I not been in a highly sleep-deprived condition at the time, I no doubt would have been more alert to this. In any case, though, he finally informed me all drawing paper now sold in the US is acid-free, and due to the well-known technological superiority of this country, I accepted this explanation as plausible and went ahead with the purchase.
About a week later, reviewing in my mind the circumstances of the sale, I began to feel nervous about the paper and I dialled the number of the company, which was listed on the front of the pad. I was greatly distressed to learn from the customer relations department that their company manufactures no acid-free paper.
As far as salvaging the situation involving my current drawings goes, I’ve heard of a product that can be sprayed on paper to reduce its acid content. So all may not be lost, and I will look into this when I’ve returned to England.
The second time Colin visited the Chamber of Commerce, Doug was in his office with a salesman, and motioned for Colin to enter when he saw him in the hallway. ‘This is Colin Ware,’ he said to the salesman as Colin came in, ‘the renowned British artist.’ He indicated for Colin to come closer. ‘Show Colin.’
The man turned toward Colin. He was holding a necktie up so that it fell down across his chest, a depiction of the Battlefield Monument running the length of the tie.
‘Don’t say anything,’ Doug said to the salesman. ‘Let him form his own opinion.’
Colin looked at the man holding the top of the tie up against his neck. ‘Tell us what you think,’ Doug said.
Colin studied the picture on the tie, then nodded. ‘It seems fine. It’s a little lighter in colour than the real one.’
‘That can be fixed,’ the salesman said, turning back to Doug.
‘Keep facing Colin.’
He turned to Colin again. The three men were quiet as Colin continued to look at the tie unfurled down the man’s chest.
Finally Colin shrugged. ‘I don’t wear ties myself as a rule …’
‘He’s an English guy,’ Doug said, stepping over to them. ‘He’s too polite to say it.’ He took the tie from him. ‘But he’s thinking it.’
‘Are you thinking it, sir?’ the salesman said.
‘Thinking what.’
Doug bent over slightly and held the top of the tie against Colin’s belt buckle so that it hung down between his legs.