Pallbearing

  He got back to the apartment. Melissa asked, “Where’s dinner?”

  “Oh fuck.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Sorry, it was just packed on the bus and I forgot. Here.” He gave her back her debit card.

  “You want me to go pick it up?”

  “I just got home.”

  “Without dinner. You know what?” Melissa took a deep breath and stepped over John to the door. “Never mind. I’m going out.”

  John waited a couple of hours, reading his phone on the couch, and then went down to the corner store and spent the last of Melissa’s change on a bag of chips and a microwaveable burrito.

  * * *

  John was already up, sitting at the kitchen table, when Melissa came in the next morning. He said, “What happened to you last night?”

  “Nothing, I stayed at a friend’s.”

  “What friend.”

  “Nancy.”

  “Who’s Nancy?”

  “From school.”

  Melissa stepped over a pile of shoes and pivoted into the bathroom. She said through the door, “I’ve got to get to class.”

  “You didn’t call. Or return my texts.”

  The shower started. John tried to pace but there was no room. He went into the kitchen area and leaned on the counter.

  Melissa came out in a towel and opened the clothes bin and started digging. He said, “I can’t believe you just let me sit here.”

  “Look, I just fell asleep. I didn’t mean to stay.”

  “I was worried.”

  “Worried you’d have to pay rent?”

  “Hey, that’s not fair.”

  “I didn’t even have enough left on my card to pay for dinner. How much did you take out?”

  “I was going to give you the change, but you left so quick I forgot.”

  “Okay, well . . .” She held out her hand.

  “I got myself dinner.”

  “Fuck, that’s it. You need to get your own money.”

  “From where?”

  “I don’t know, get a job maybe?”

  “You know I can’t. It would fuck up my settlement.”

  “I’m sick of hearing about the settlement.”

  “Well, what do you want me to say?”

  “That you’re going to get some money, for starters.”

  “You want me to go home and waste my fucking life working with my dad?”

  “There are other jobs. Wait tables or something.”

  John was about to tell her it would all be okay when he got the money, but she grabbed her bag and left before he could get out the words. He looked at the closed door awhile. They hadn’t even really fought; she’d just left. She’d never done that before. He thought about what to do.

  If he got a job, the settlement would disappear, and he’d spent too long holding out for it to give up now. It had been over three years since his lawyer had first told him that not working was going to be key to a big settlement, and he’d taken that advice to heart. Melissa hadn’t minded him not working early on; she’d been sympathetic to his pain, didn’t complain about always having to cover the rent and buy food. But then they’d got kicked out of the cheap place they shared with three other girls — the roommates had decided that rent should be split five ways by person, rather than four ways by room, which John had convinced Melissa was ridiculous —and suddenly she was putting more of her student loan into rent and things got a lot tougher. She’d had to take summer jobs to make some extra money. Things had gotten rough over the last year. She’d started dropping hints about him getting work and was impatient with him when he claimed back pain. And now, she seemed serious.

  There wasn’t much else he could do. He’d tapped all of his friends for loans; Chad was the only one who was good for it, but he’d only ever give John a fifty at a time anymore, and only when he came to visit, which wouldn’t be for another couple of weeks. There was no way he could call his dad, and that was it for family. He just needed that settlement.

  He called his lawyer and left a message with the secretary. Later that day, he called back.

  There was no update. No date for a hearing set. “Soon,” he said. “You got to be patient.”

  “I’m broke,” John said. “I need to get a job.”

  “I would strongly recommend not doing that. Our entire settlement ask is based on you not getting to work. If you work . . .”

  “I know, but what am I supposed to do in the meantime? You’ve been saying soon for years.”

  “I can’t advise you on what to do, but I’d suggest borrowing some money.”

  “Lend me a few hundred dollars?”

  “That would be unethical, and extremely illegal.”

  “Well, fuck.”

  “John, listen. We’ve come this far. You’ve just got to hold on for a little bit longer.”

  John hung up. He lay down on the futon and tried to think of a way to buy himself a bit more time.

  * * *

  John tapped the dashboard to the beat of the music until Melissa said, “Cut that out.” He did. She moved into the fast lane and passed a few cars.

  “Still mad?” he asked. She kept her eyes on the road.

  They were on their way home for her reading break. He had wanted to stay behind but he had no money and when he’d asked Melissa for a few bucks, she’d said no way. They got into a fight. He told her there was no way he could go to their town because he hated staying at her parents’ house. Her dad made him sleep on the couch and made it clear he didn’t like John. And, of course, his dad’s house was out of the question. She hadn’t budged; in fact, she’d packed his bag with enough clothes to last him for weeks and thrown it in the car, all while telling him he was a complete deadbeat and an anchor on her life. He’d taken offence and they’d yelled at each other on the street, but given the choice between starving or spending some time in his hometown, John caved and eventually got in the car.

  Melissa weaved the car in and out of the fast lane, not saying anything. John kept his mouth shut. They had two hours to go. John looked at the passing signs.

  Twenty miles later, she said, “Thirty-three thousand, four hundred.”

  “What?”

  “That’s how much you owe me. That’s half the rent for three years. Maybe a hundred dollars a month for food. Another fifty for bills. Not to mention all the dinners out and all the times you ‘Just needed to borrow a twin.’”

  “You know I hate it when you do my voice like that.”

  “‘You know I hate it when you do my voice like that.’”

  “Come on.”

  “Well fuck, John. I’ve spent four student loans on you.”

  “You know it will all be good when the money comes in.”

  “Stop saying that. Just. Stop. Saying. That.”

  They were quiet again. John turned up the radio. She turned it back down. It was an hour to the exit, another half-hour down the long road to their hometown. It seemed longer.

  The sign welcomed them. When they turned toward John’s house, he said, “I thought we were staying with your folks?”

  “I need space.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t just drop in on my dad. He’ll fucking lose his shit. He told me I wasn’t welcome there unless I start working for him. I can’t do that, you know I can’t —”

  She stopped in front of his dad’s house. “Get out.”

  “No.”

  She turned off the car and pulled the keys from the ignition. She said, “I’ll come back for this later.”

  John followed her. He told her that his dad was psychotic, that he couldn’t go home, that she was abandoning him, that it was unfair, and that everything was going to be okay once he got the money and after all they’d been through how could she throw away all their
years together. When they got close to her house, he asked her if it was because she was fucking someone else, was that why she was treating him like this? Those nights at Nancy’s? Was that what was going on? Was that why she was being such a fucking bitch?

  Melissa slammed her parents’ door in his face. John saw her dad look out the window and decided to head over to Chad’s. He waited on the steps. A few hours later, Chad pulled up in his truck. Said, “Nice to see you bud. What brings you to town?”

  “Mind if I crash here?”

  “Things going well with Melissa I take it?” Chad tapped John in the crotch, but told him to come on in.

  He tried calling Melissa that night and then again the next day. And again the next night. Three days in, he went to her parents’ house and knocked on the door. Her dad opened it and said, “She’s gone back to the city,” and closed the door in his face. Her dad had always been an asshole.

  He tried calling her until the end of the week. Finally, she picked up and said, “You have to stop calling, John.” It sounded like she was already crying.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “I have to focus on school. It was too hard with you around all the time.”

  “You’re kicking me out?”

  She didn’t say anything. He screamed into the phone, “Are you breaking up with me? After all these years?” He said a lot of other things too and kept at it until he realized she’d hung up. He put down the phone.

  Chad said, “How’d that go?”

  * * *

  John tossed his tools into the bed of his dad’s truck and rubbed his back.

  “Oh, does your fucking back hurt, pretty boy?” His uncle Rob threw his tools in beside John’s.

  “No.” He’d been through this before.

  Uncle Rob went into it anyways. “I had a fucking wall fall on me. I was pinned under it for six fucking hours before your old man finally realized I was missing and came to find me. Broke three goddamn bones in my back. I still can’t feel my left foot. You know how much work I missed?” John did, but Uncle Rob answered before he could respond. “None. I got a back brace and came right back. Pull up your panties and deal with it, you useless fuck.”

  Chad came out of the trailer with his backpack and a case of beer. He tossed his pack in the truck and passed around beers. He said, “Great pep talk, as always, Bob.” He cracked his beer and toasted, “To another fucking week done.” They all clinked beers. Uncle Rob spat and asked for a smoke. He never had his own.

  John’s dad came out of the trailer. Chad handed him a beer, which he drank while he looked over the site. He found a couple of empty cigarette packages and tossed them in the back of the truck. He said, “Let’s head home, boys.”

  John got in the truck and checked his phone.

  Chad said, “Melissa begging for you back?” Chad reached across and slapped John on the penis. “She miss that massive cock of yours?”

  “Jesus man. Come on.” John tilted his legs to the side and put his beer over his crotch. He tried not to think of her. It had ended poorly — a drive to the city with Chad; Melissa, and the other guy there, “studying,” a shouting match, neighbours threatening to call the cops and then back to Chad’s and then John called and called and called.

  There were no messages on his phone.

  They drove from the site to John’s dad’s house and parked in the back. It was payday, so John’s dad went into the house and came out with the beat-up accordion folder he used for accounting. He spread out his papers on the truck’s hood, totalled the hours, marked them down in his book, and started to write cheques. Uncle Rob and Chad drank another beer. John went around to the front of the house to check the mailbox.

  An official-looking envelope from his lawyer was there. He’d been waiting on it for weeks. It was his settlement cheque, which was “Not worth the fucking time I wasted on this case,” according to his lawyer. He’d been furious when John had let him know he’d gone back to work with his dad. The lawyer’s whole case had fallen apart and he’d been forced to settle for a much smaller amount than planned. And that amount, John saw now looking over the paperwork, was even smaller after the lawyer’s fee and other deductions were taken off. He read everything a second time, then thought about calling his lawyer, but he knew right away that would get him nowhere. The amount was less than the paycheque his dad handed him.

  “That from the fucking lawyer of yours?”

  John put both cheques in his pocket. He said, “Yeah.”

  “You didn’t get the big payday.”

  “No.”

  “I told you, you have to work to earn money.”

  “I know.” He didn’t bother arguing that it would have been more if his dad had just loaned him enough money to last a few more months. Or if Chad hadn’t said he was too broke to put up John for free. Or if Melissa had just held on a few more weeks.

  John’s dad softened a bit, as much as he ever did at least. He said, “Look, I’m happy you’re working finally. And you know I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and Melissa . . .” John had a flash of embarrassment — calling, messages, calling again, texting and texting and texting. He forced the thoughts from his mind. His dad went on, “I always liked her. But listen, this is a good job, good money, there’s downtime between jobs. Once you get a bit better at things, I can start showing you how to do the books, put together bids. Hell, you can be in business on your own in a few years.”

  John nodded; it was always the same with his dad.

  He went back around the house. Uncle Rob had shaken up a beer and was holding the foam-spraying bottle over his crotch while he chased Chad. He stopped when John appeared. He asked, “You coming to the Oak with us?”

  “Sure.”

  They piled into Uncle Rob’s little hatchback for the short drive to the bar. John took out his phone and thought about texting Melissa. He had planned on sending the settlement to her, thought it might be a good excuse to get back in touch with her, to see how things were going. He’d even thought he’d head back to the city, take her out for dinner. Maybe she’d be happy to see him . . . but it was so little money in the end, not anywhere close to what he owed. By the time they pulled into the bar’s parking lot, he’d decided to hold on to what he’d got. There was no reason to pay her back if she wasn’t going to talk to him anyways. And he knew then that if he wasn’t going to get her back, he had no choice but to stay in town and save up some money and hopefully find a way to get back to the city on his own.

  Uncle Rob went straight into the bar while Chad and John finished their beers in the car.

  John said, “On me tonight. I got some extra cash.”

  “Sounds fucking good man, you’re only into me for about thirteen hundred more drinks.”

  They went into the bar and settled in for the night.

  When Things Wear Away

  Other Things

  Moira played with the ocean, chasing the waves as they pulled back into themselves. Her pink rain boots splashing through the water were the only colour on the rocky shore. She turned to David and laughed. A wave came in behind her and covered her feet and went over the top of her boots before she noticed. She looked down at the water pulling away and then at her dad, and then did what she always did when she was surprised: she started to cry.

  David walked over and picked her up. He told her it was okay, just water, then turned her away from the ocean and asked, “Do you see how they built a wall there?” He held her on his hip in the crook of one arm and pulled her boots off with his free hand. She was trying to tell him about her feet being wet between exaggerated sobs. He said, “Over there. Look. Do you see the wall?”

  She didn’t say anything, but looked where he was pointing. David continued. “A long time ago, before they built the wall, there was a graveyard here.” He dumped the water out of one boot, then the other. �
�Back then where we’re standing was underground.” He moved her onto his other hip and tugged off her socks. “But the waves eroded the ground.”

  She had forgotten that she was supposed to be crying while she tried to follow what he was saying. She asked, “What’s ‘eroded’?”

  David turned back to the water. “See how every time a wave comes up it pulls some rocks back with it? That’s eroding. It’s when things wear away other things. Eventually, the waves will wear through the wall and wash away the city.”

  Moira looked at the wall and then the ocean and then her dad. “Really?”

  “Yup.” He said, “Hold these,” and handed her the boots. He pulled off her socks and wrung them out as best he could. “Eroding takes a long time though. Hundreds of years. But anyways, back before the wall was built the waves were eroding the ground, wearing away the graveyard’s dirt, and you know what’s under the dirt in a graveyard?”

  She thought. “Dead people?”

  “That’s right. And they’re in coffins. So when the waves came and wore away the ground, all these coffins were getting uncovered and they started floating out to sea. After bad storms the bay would be full of them, like little boats bobbing around in the water.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s true. It was a real problem. And, of course, no one wanted coffins floating around the bay, so they built that wall to keep them in.”

  David pulled Moira’s socks and boots back on and set her down on the ground. She ran up to the wall and looked back at her dad. “Really?” He nodded. She ran her hand along the wall. It was pitted and rough, small rocks stuck out where the concrete had worn away around them. She grabbed one of the rocks and pulled. It came off in her hand.

  “See,” David said. “Just like the coffins.”

  She held it up close to her face. David looked up the beach and said, “We better catch up with your mother.” Katherine had walked ahead while David and Moira dawdled. He could only see her outline against the rocks, but even at that distance, David could feel her impatience.