The Garneau Block Part 17

Madison took the down vest and hurried out the screen door. The dog bounded across the front porch and down the steps, delighting in his freedom. Behind Madison and Garith, standing in the doorway, Abby waved.

"I'm the proudest mother in Alberta!"

Madison hurried away from the Weiss household, past 10 Garneau toward the university. As usual, the students in the walk-ups were drinking Pilsner and Hard Lemonade on their balconies. They listened to rap music and insulted one another's private parts. Garith pranced down the sidewalk, and in and out of bushes and hedgerows. The threat of rain buzzed in the air.

After a short walk along Saskatchewan Drive, Madison returned to the block. The lights were on in 13 Garneau, but Rajinder Chana was not visible. Garith bounced around on the front lawn of 10 Garneau, which had grown to a ticklish length.

Madison walked toward the sound of a woman singing, "Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha huh," repet.i.tively. The spare room window was open so The Magic Flute leaked out into the block. Madison didn't mean to spy but she could see the professor, by dim orange lamplight, kneeling over a large book as if in prayer.

44.

self-concern Three teenage sisters wandered through the Rabbit Warren, arguing quietly over the right gift for their mother. Shirley Wong looked up from the front page of the sports section to watch them. The youngest girl was nervous, washing her hands without water and making too many suggestionslavender bath salts? Moses doll? Smelly candles? Finally the oldest sister, wearing jeans so low-cut that the veins along her pelvic bones were visible, whispered, "Shut it, shut it. Oh and please shut it."

Shirley stepped out from behind the counter and smiled at the sisters. "Can I help you in any way?"

"No," said the oldest. "We're just looking."

"For a friend? A relative?"

The youngest sister, her dry hand-washing less deliberate now, stepped away from the other two and said, "Our mom."

"Is it her birthday?"

The youngest turned to the other two, who looked away. One of them sighed and mumbled something. "Well," said the youngest girl, perhaps thirteen, "she's sick and we just want to get her something. We thought flowers but they'll just die and we didn't want to, like..."

For a moment, Shirley watched the quiet interplay between the sisters. She understood their mother didn't have a cold or the flu.

"Well," said Shirley, to the youngest. "I have a few things your mother might like."

The other two reluctantly joined Shirley and their little sister in front of a display in the back of the store. Instead of selling something, Shirley wanted to take the girls into her arms and squeeze the worry out of them.

"A woman I know carves these from solid blocks of wood." Shirley ran her fingers along the smooth backs of several small sculptures. "She only speaks Chinese even though she's lived in Edmonton for thirty years."

"They're pretty," said the youngest girl.

Among them was a b.u.t.terfly, a crab, and a crane. Shirley took each off the shelf but the oldest daughter seemed most interested in the cicada. She reached for the sculpture and cradled it. After a moment, Shirley said, "The cicada represents immortality."

"Immortality?" said the youngest.

"Yes," said the oldest, to cut off the conversation. She turned it over and looked at the price. "It's nice, thank you, but kind of expensive for us."

"How much do we have?" said the youngest.

The oldest sighed and they congregated at the counter to pool their money. Between them, they had $37.86. The cicada, before tax, was $45. Shirley's cost was $35 so she took the money and wrapped the little wooden sculpture. The youngest and oldest smelled candles while the middle sister leaned forward on the counter. "Our mom has bowel cancer."

Shirley whispered so the oldest sister wouldn't hear. "I'm terribly sorry."

"We've known for a while that she'd get really sick but now she is and it's, um..."

Shirley stopped wrapping for a moment and put a hand on the girl's wrist. "Your mom is very lucky to have such lovely and thoughtful daughters."

The middle sister bit down hard and looked at the floor.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"What grade is that?"

"Ten."

Shirley finished wrapping the cicada and pa.s.sed it across the counter to the middle sister, who said thank you and hurried out the store. The other two girls turned to Shirley, thanked her, and followed their sister on to Whyte Avenue. When they realized the middle sister was crying, they put their arms around her and guided her around the corner. Shirley watched them go, and sat behind the counter again.

Since Raymond confessed that he was a s.e.xual deviant, Shirley hadn't been feeling too sprightly. But it was immoral to be so self-concerned when mothers were dying of bowel cancer. She thought of Katie Perlitz, who had watched her own father bleed to death.

Shirley forced herself to smile, and then laugh: she imagined Raymond, her donkey of a husband, asking his ma.s.seuse if she might, you know, perhaps, in a perfect world, er, well, harrumph. The yearning to beat him over the head with a spatula came and went like hunger pains. Someday soon, she would speak to him about why he had not been satisfied with her. It would be a dreadfully humiliating conversation and she hoped, somehow, it would be unnecessary. For now, to avoid thinking about this conversation, there was merchandise to order, a store to keep tidy, and two newspapers under the counter.

Deep in the sports section was a small story about a new team in the Alberta Junior Hockey League, the Edmonton Jesters. Their season was just about to begin and three of the players, from small towns in the north and south, needed to be billeted. At the bottom of the article was a phone number. Before Shirley had much time to think about it, she was speaking to the wife of the team's general manager.

"You sure you're interested in that sorta thing?" said the woman. "Seventeen year-olds can be..."

"Maybe you could bring them by for a coffee?"

"Coffee." The woman coughed. "Since the story was in the paper, we've had a few calls. One boy's already found a place. How many bedrooms you got?"

"Two downstairs. My kids lived down there, when they were home."

"I can bring the boys by tomorrow night, Mrs. Wong, if you're free."

"Ms."

45.

best friends unto the end of time Rajinder Chana hooked his iPod to a couple of speakers and placed them at the corner of the front porch. "What would you like to hear?"

"Something sophisticated, my good man, and in English please." Jonas sipped his beer. Since he had became Rajinder's new best friend, Jonas had graduated from Pilsner to Grolsch. Inspired by Rajinder's tendency to wear suits for virtually every occasion, even to drink beer on the porch of an evening, Jonas had also taken to shirts and ties.

Earlier in the kitchen, while eating leftover snacks from the Let's Fix It meeting, Jonas had spied a tube or two of decent Scotch in Rajinder's cupboard, which had cheered him. "The sun is going down, so keep that in mind. We'd also like the music to complement the sounds of lawnmowers and the professor crying in the Weisses' spare bedroom."

"Is he really crying?" Rajinder sounded worried.

"I don't know."

A moody art-rock song began playing from the small speakers. "Is this all right?"

"Sure, Raj."

"This band is from Edmonton." Rajinder unb.u.t.toned his suit jacket. To Jonas it sounded as though the singer were being whipped with something. Rajinder nodded his head in time with the ba.s.s. "I have seen them in nightclubs downtown. They do this thing with meat. It is all quite avant-garde."

"I don't think avant-garde's possible."

Rajinder opened his beer and sat back in his chair. Soon it would be dark and the air would cool. "Would you like me to tell you a secret, Jonas?"

"Secrets are my favourite."

Rajinder nodded toward the darkness of 10 Garneau across the street. "I know where Jeanne and Katie Perlitz are now."

Jonas sat up. "Really? Madison'll wet herself."

"Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the nature of secrets."

At that moment, the bas.e.m.e.nt suite door of 12 Garneau opened. Madison waved and began crossing the street.

"She reminds me of a movie star." Rajinder stood up and waved.

"Which one?"

"A plain yet beautiful movie star, with a sincere smile."

Jonas turned to Rajinder, whose posture was painfully straight. Almost imperceptibly, he wet his lips and adjusted his tie.

"You be careful, pal," said Jonas. "She's a viper, that one."

"A viper." Rajinder laughed, and smiled as Madison started up the red walk. "Thank you for coming, Madison."

"Thanks for the invitation." She stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Hey, Jonas."

Jonas wished she would go away for a couple of weeks while he solidified his new best-friend status with Rajinder. He realized Madison had certain gifts that, given the nature of Rajinder's s.e.xual orientation, could offset his charms. But all in all, Jonas was confident his wit and warmth were more winning than her sincere smile and silky red hair. "Maddy."

"Please, sit down." Rajinder pulled a chair out from behind the patio table, which was decorated with a mosaic of stained gla.s.s. "What shall I get you? Wine or beer? A c.o.c.ktail? Or if you are still refraining from alcohol, a soft drink?"

Madison asked for a soft drink and Rajinder hurried inside. She sat and smiled at Jonas. "What's this music?"

"Some S&M thing. Rajinder's really into S&M."

"Oh, he is not."

"He also mentioned he hates babies and haikus."

"Jonas, stop it."

He took a long drink of beer. "Stop what? What?"

"I'm not going to take Rajinder from you. I know you want him to be your new best friend."

"That isn't true. I'm hurt that you should say that. You're my best friend unto the end of time."

Madison shook her head. Rajinder opened the door with his elbow and walked out with a small red cooler filled with ice, beer, and an a.s.sortment of pop and juice boxes. In the other arm he carried a platter of devilled eggs. Madison helped with the cooler, placing it next to the patio furniture.

"Did you make these?" said Jonas, while Rajinder pulled the plastic off the devilled eggs.

"After work today, yes. I followed a recipe from the Internet. It is nothing special."

Jonas realized that Rajinder had been holding out on him. The devilled eggs were in the fridge all along, and Rajinder had waited until the divine Madison showed up before he unveiled them.

All was lost.

"Should I leave you two alone?"

"What?" Madison looked at Jonas as though he had punched her in the stomach.

"I just thought..."

"No, Jonas. You shouldn't leave us alone."

Rajinder walked around the table and nodded. "I cannot speak for Madison, but I enjoy your company very much. Do you feel slighted because I kept the devilled eggs hidden until Madison arrived?"

Having his feelings aired like this made Jonas feel somewhat petty. "No, of course not. I was just being provocative for no good reason. Earlier today I smoked crystal meth with some kids in the alley and it's messing with my bean."

Rajinder opened his mouth. "You did?"

"Stop being so serious, you two. We're young and clever, and we live in a country with universal health care. Let's party."

"Let us party, then." Rajinder walked around and took a new beer out for Jonas. "And Madison? What is your poison?"

"Did I spot some cranberry c.o.c.ktail in there?"

"Indeed you did."

The three new best friends sat on the porch, listening to the tortured prairie pop music while the sun began to set. Jonas was about to begin a conversation that might steer toward Madison's unfortunate pregnancy when the front door of 12 Garneau opened. David Weiss emerged with Garith.

Rajinder waved. "Mr. Weiss, sir. h.e.l.lo."

"Howdy, Rajinder."

"If you and Garith would like to join us for a beverage, please feel more than welcome."