Wixon's Day

by Phil Williams

  Jimmi sticks his shovel into the ground and looks down at it, then rolls his head back to Marquos. There is uncertainty in his eyes. He hesitates, so Marquos prompts him, “What’s up?”

  “I’m trying to do something here. Trying to make stuff grow, even when there’s not enough light. I’m trying to find some answers. You’re straight admitting that there aren’t any, though.”

  Marquos bites his lip, unable to respond.

  “Has everything you’ve seen out there really given you that little hope? You’ve just got to…keep moving?”

  “I’m surviving my own way. Same as everyone else. The more I see, the less sense any of it makes. I keep travelling and travelling, hoping something out there will grab me. Something will finally click. But nothing has.”

  “What are you heading to the North for? You got business up there?”

  “I’ve got something to take care of, yeah. I want to see the great folds of mountains, though. There are lakes of ice separating walls of snow up there. Rocks that spit fire, even.”

  “You can see those things elsewhere, in lands not overrun by bandits.”

  “I’ve been to other lands. Their stories are not the same. Doesn’t it bother you?” Marquos asks seriously. “Don’t you want to see more of the sun? This darkness is depressing. The fog is insufferable. Don’t you want to see more than a kilometre when you look across a landscape?”

  “It’s not that high on my priorities. I’d rather see things grow, as best they can, in any conditions. Besides, you’re not going to see landscape like that in the North.”

  “It’ll be different up there. Very different,” Marquos says. “That’s what I’m after, nothing more. I want to see something different.”

  “You want to put yourself in harm’s way.”

  “Jimmi,” Marquos gives him a lighter grin now, “I’m already there.”

  When Marquos returns from his various travels, Red is excitedly manoeuvring cookie trays, hands grubby with dough and face peppered with flour. She runs to give him a welcoming hug, and he can’t help but hug her back as she smears muck on his clothes. Mother watches his face with delight as Red explains what they have been doing. Marquos is pleased to hear there is more to be done and lets them continue. He has business to attend to with his father, down at the Hypnagogia. He presents the ageing man with an engine, tightly packed into a corner of the boat. Father looks over it carefully before grunting his acceptance. They move out to the open-air, standing on the stern as the chill of night closes in. Father starts sifting through metal coins from a cloth pouch; chips. In theory, they can be taken to a smelter and exchanged in bulk for goods, but in practice they change hands from trader to trader without ever being smelted, more convenient to be kept as a currency than traded in.

  “I shouldn’t ask where it came from, should I,” Father mumbles as he counts.

  “It’s an honest find,” Marquos answers. “As honest as any these days.”

  “That’s what troubles me. These days. These days,” Father snorts, handing over the chips. “People think that because the days are shorter and more fuels are being harvested, the world is changing. They take it as an excuse to harbour their immorality and that’s what will change the world. Look at these dark days, they tell themselves, and how can we not be darker ourselves?”

  Marquos gives his father a humouring look, unconvinced.

  “Look at the love in that little girl of yours’ eyes. It’s the same childish innocence the world’s always seen. Your mother is still a saint, your brother is still an idle dreamer and the butcher still slices as unfair a cost to us as he did to his cattle.”

  “Barns isn’t a dreamer, dad. He’s made something of-”

  “Oh, rot! It doesn’t matter. My point, boy, is that if you think that circumstances allow a different nature of man, you’re wrong. There’s no more justification for immorality now as there ever was.”

  “I didn’t steal it, dad,” Marquos insists. “I salvaged it from a wreck. It was four kilometres beyond the nearest town, so it was out of anyone’s jurisdiction. There was no one to ask. The pilot of the boat was dead.”

  Father grunts, “Dead?”

  “I found him that way.”

  “What way, exactly, was that?”

  “Dead, dad. Let’s not go into it,” Marquos takes some of the chips in his free hand and holds them up. “You’ve given me too much. I don’t want any more than is fair.”

  “Fair? What’s fair got to do with the sale of a dead man’s motor? I’m your father, you’ll take what I give you.”

  “Take it back. I can get by without-”

  “Shut your mouth and keep the money. You need it more than me. Come on, let’s move this heap of junk.”

  Together, they carry the engine out to Father’s wagon, and drive in little more than silence back to the house. Father slinks off to his workshop, bidding his son thanks and best wishes for his journeying again. Marquos watches him depart, as though it is the last he will see of him.

  “You haven’t spent the same time with him as I have,” Barns says, announcing his presence alongside Marquos. “But he’s changed.”

  “He was saying that the world is the same.”

  “He says it a lot. It’s funny though, because, for all he says of it, he’s probably changed the most. I don’t know if it’s the darkness, maybe it’s old age. Maybe it’s all his children moving away.”

  “He’s just saying those things to get a reaction.”

  “Yeah. Maybe. But he’s grown quieter. It’s guilt. It comes from guilt. We’re doing this to the world,” Barns swings an arm skyward, to the deep black that surrounds them. “Reaping these fuels is casting a shadow over everyone, and his machines directly profit from it. He feels guilty as hell, and all he can do is try and convince everyone around him that nothing’s changed.”

  When they return to their mother in the house, through to the living room, Red has collapsed on a sofa, exhausted. The cooking has left the child, and all her surroundings, filthy. Nicole arrives and they all come together to eat; Red quickly becomes the centre of attention. She doesn’t talk about her time in the Mines, but rambles with great enthusiasm about the meals her mother used to cook, and asks countless questions about the family and their town. She insists that Nicole is Marquos’ girlfriend, repeatedly, and takes great fascination in Barns’ explanation of his theatre company and their roving productions. She repeatedly asks that he one day make a play about a friendly river troll, who takes kidnapped children back to their parents, which no one quite knows how to take. By the time the dinner is finished, Red is exhausted again and falls asleep the instant she hits the bed Mother takes her to.

  5

  It is cold; Marquos has given Nicole his heavy coat, but still she is hugging her arms close to herself. Their breath forms clouds across each other’s faces.

  “She’s absolutely adorable,” Nicole says. “I hope you find her family okay.”

  “I’m sure I’ll find them,” Marquos replies, rubbing his hands for warmth. “I just hope they’re good people.”

  “You can’t judge them, Marq, they’re her family.”

  “I just want the best for her,” he pauses. “It’s all I’ve got to hope for right now.”

  Nicole watches him shiver for a moment, before shifting and putting an arm around him. She says, “Was that really awkward in there? I know we laugh it off, but all her talk of us being a couple. You know it’d never work, you and me, right?”

  “Nicky,” Marquos is grinning again, and gives her a light kiss on the forehead. “Bless you, I don’t want anything more from you. You’re like a sister to me. This sort of talk is like a sick joke.”

  “The sort you like best. I do worry about you, Marquos. When are you going to get yourself a wife? I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “Actually, there’s a girl I’m hoping to see in the Meth Fields. I met her last time I was passing through.”

  “Will she travel wi
th you?”

  “No one will,” Marquos scoffs. “What am I supposed to do about that? Where’s the adventure in people’s hearts these days?”

  “Everyone’s growing up. Life gets in the way of that sort of thing. That’s why the only person you can get to go with you is a child.”

  Marquos looks up with reflection. He says, “Red makes me want to stop. I want a kid like that, of my own. I don’t know how to have the life you need to get a kid. Not when it brings so many restrictions. I’d love to take you out of this town, Nicky. You can’t see the stars with the street lamps burning and the clouds above. There are pockets between towns where the clouds thin and you can see the stars again. They’re rare, but they’re more beautiful than anything on this world.”

  “There’s a spot on the hills where I’ve been going with Henra, it’s good for seeing them. It’s good enough, at least.”

  “How much can you see?”

  “On a good day, a little patch, a few dozen stars, it’s lovely.”

  Marquos shakes his head, “That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s possible to really see the stars. Across the whole sky. There’s no light in the North, and the mountains climb high enough to go above the clouds. It’ll be like standing on the very tip of the world, looking out to the lights that surround us.”

  “It’ll be beautiful. I look forward to hearing it from you.”

  “I want someone to share it with.”

  “You’ll find someone,” Nicole tells him, “And you can share it with everyone when you get back. Safely.”

  Marquos holds her close and smiles. “So good to see you again.”

  Barns interrupts their moment, leaving the house with a loud step and the slam of a door. He says, “Are you two good to go, then?”

  Marquos gestures to the side with the tilt of his head, and the three begin walking. Marquos keeps an arm around Nicole for warmth. They walk the short distance into town and Nicole parts from them, saying she has to see Henra. She leaves with a kiss and a hug for each brother, and tells Marquos to take care. He lets her go and heads into the Fern. Barns immediately asks him, on entering the pub, “You should’ve stayed here and partnered with her, long ago.”

  “I would’ve,” Marquos answers. “Life led me away.”

  “You damned coward.”

  “Do you remember my friend Teri? In the Meth Fields?”

  “I remember you speaking of her.”

  “I’m going to see her. I’m going to force her to come with me instead.”

  “No one’s going to come with you. No one wants to spend their life on that death-trap of a boat.”

  “It’s perfectly safe.”

  “It’s a heap of wood and metal housing steam and fire. It’s a death-trap.”

  “It’s home, though.”

  The pair head to a table where Jimmi is already seated, and they join him for metal mugs of liquor. Their favoured drink is a thick spirit, glus, so heavily brewed that it resembles engine oil in everything but function. It is a worker’s drink, and one that quickly lubricates their emotions. The trio spend some time reminiscing over seasons gone by; the squabbles they had as brothers, the adventures they had in the woods, the conflicts they had in school, the girls they dated. They are joined by a handful of other school friends still in the area, who join in the chatter with minimal talk of where each’s life is headed now. Before Jimmy can get a chance to duck out of their reunion early, as was always his intention, he is intoxicated to a point of singing and dancing on top of the tables. The party becomes uproarious, and by the morning all their heads will hurt and none of them will really recall the specifics of the evening.

  Barns and Marquos make enough noise on their return to stir their parents, and as Marquos is shuffling into his room in the dark, disrobing, his mother appears in the doorway and whispers to him, “She’s sleeping in your sister’s room. Absolutely tired out, the poor thing.”

  Marquos merely offers her a smile and a kiss good-night before slipping away. He doesn’t want to disturb Red, not in a drunken stupor where his breath smells and he doesn’t have control of his senses. He thuds into bed and buries his face in the pillow. Before he can fully slip away, he feels the impact of a small body upon his back and hears her little voice by his ear, “Marqy, I want to go back to the Hippo.”

  “What is it, honey?” he whispers back, rolling over to face her. Red kneels beside him on the bed.

  “The rooms are too big,” she complains. “The bed is so wide.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Marquos smiles. “You can spread out.”

  “There’s nothing to hold onto.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if I fall out?”

  “Are you sleeping in the middle of the bed?”

  “Yes but I could slip. It’s too big.”

  “Come here,” Marquos lifts his arms and holds her closer, “Don’t worry about it. Come here, you can sleep here with me, how’s that?”

  “Can I?”

  “Of course,” he hugs her, looking up at the ceiling as she slips onto his chest. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. We’ll leave tomorrow, you can go back on the Hippo then.”

  “You smell funny, Marqy.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you ill?”

  “No.”

  “Have you been drinking glus?”

  Marquos laughs. He rubs her back soothingly, “I have, actually. Not much though.”

  “It’s bad for you.”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have drunk it.”

  “My daddy drinks it. He drinks it a lot.”

  Marquos tenses, going rigid.

  “It smells a lot,” Red says.

  “It does,” he replies. Red yawns, snuggling against him. Her voice fades into sleep as she concludes, “I always know the smell…it reminds me of daddy…”

  He strokes her hair idly, still staring at the ceiling. Her father drinks. Marquos screws his eyes closed.

  “Marqy?” she utters through a yawn.

  “Yeah.”

  “When we get back to my home, with my mummy and daddy, and we’re all together, will Tojo be there?”

  Marquos opens his eyes again, tensing. He hesitates, not wanting to go through this again, not when she’s so close to sleep. In the time it takes for him to panic about such a question, she goes on tiredly, slowing down, “We can all make cookies together...and we’ll be so...happy...”

  A moment later, she lets out a little snore and snuggles closer to him, asleep. His face fixed in a concerned frown, his mind starts racing. He knows that if she asks him again, he won’t be able to hide the truth.

  6

  When Marquos leaves town, he has an extra passenger on board. Tim Helious was only briefly introduced by Barns as the brothers said their farewells on the jetty. Marquos had already bid his parents goodbye, with hugs and kisses and gifts of food, and then came to arrange a small piece of transport with Barns. Tim Helious is a slight man in worn clothing that was once smart, and though his appearance suggests a struggling actor, he still tries to present himself as sophisticated. He has agreed to ride the boat up the river, rather than join the rest of Barns’ troupe on their crowded wagons. Marquos offered to take more passengers, but Helious was the only one ready on time for their departure.

  As they float up the river, Marquos stands at the tiller with Red sat on the floor at his feet, drawing with crayons. The morning light is dim and the fog is returning, hanging a few feet above the water. The sky is encased with dark cloud. Helious comes out from below, where he was having a morning wash, and sits opposite the pilot, starting to draw on his own sketchpad, marvelling over the details jutting out of the Hypnagogia.

  After a brief discussion over the details of the functioning boat, Marquos grows weary of the actor’s overenthusiastic rambling and sends Red away to get his flute. She comes racing back out with the flute, and Marquos starts to play, his usual haunting tune, averting his gaze to
the water that rolls by them. The ripples calm him with the notes, though he can feel Helious’ enthusiasm piercing him. He can feel Red watching too, and it heartens him. She is so proud of him. He smiles as he plays on. They are delivered into the tune, all other sound ceases, and the boat slips on through darkness and mist under its usual forlorn herald. Marquos has to close his eyes. Song of sorrow. Song of loneliness.

  When he finally draws to a close, he looks up with a slight smile. Helious is staring at him with transfixed delight, his hands clasped under his chin. Red has returned to her drawing. Helious holds out both hands, almost weeping, “That was very much beautiful! Very much!”

  “Thank you,” Marquos replies in little more than a whisper.

  “So divine. So nice.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It would be wonderful that you play a tune so very nice for one of our plays. You would work wonders, don’t you think? We always need more talent, always!”

  “Maybe one day. It’s just a little tune I like to play, I’m not that good.”

  “But you are too modest!”

  Marquos shrugs. He can feel it in his bones that he is quickly coming to dislike this man. No one should be this happy. It seems fake. He says, “If you don’t mind, I’ve got to concentrate on this next stretch of river?”

  “Yes, yes indeed!” Helious spins to look at the waters ahead of them. “By all means, I will keep very still and quiet! The best of luck.”

  The actor settles back onto the small wall that surrounds the deck and stares alertly ahead of them for a few moments. Marquos is not really watching the river, which he knows will remain calm and empty until their destination, but is watching Helious with great curiosity. The excitement of facing a dangerous river has stirred something in the actor, and at no point does he seem to realise that the waters are as calm as they ever were. His eyes even dart to particularly vicious looking irregularities in the gentle waves that surround them. Marquos shakes his head in amazement. After some minutes, Helious turns back to the pilot and is about to speak, but Marquos quickly adopts a look of concentration and holds up a hand for quiet. Helious slumps obediently and stares back to the water. As some more time passes, he relaxes and begins to sketch on his book again. Marquos soaks up the calm of his silence happily.