Critical Injuries (34 page)

But at home there wasn't anything to do, except feel more and more trapped; worse than jail, in a way, since now there was a choice about going out, and choice always makes everything harder. His grandmother kept trying to feed him, and she kept smiling at him, but she seemed shy of him now, and didn't have much to say except the same kind of rambling gossip she talked about when she went to see him in jail. When she went out, she said, “Will you be all right, Roddy? Rod, sorry.” Like if she was away for a couple of hours, he'd go rob a store, maybe shoot somebody? Maybe that's not exactly what she meant, but it was how it sounded.

By the fifth day he had to get out, no matter what. He thought around suppertime there wouldn't be too many people around, and a lot of the stores downtown would be closed and he might have the streets more or less to himself. And mainly he was right, and it was nice kicking along, looking in store windows, breathing free air, wondering at everything being the same when he was so different. Like he'd had a whole life while everything else stayed still, like some old “Twilight Zone” episode.

Then, turning a corner, there was Mike.

Maybe they both went red; Mike did, anyway, and Roddy felt his own skin turning some colour or other. He wasn't going to speak first. Anyway he didn't know what to say. He should have known this would happen, he should have been ready. “Hey,” Mike said finally. “Hey. Good to see you.”

“Yeah?”

This wouldn't be like him. Waiting, giving no ground — he could see how Mike would be confused and thrown off and uneasy. “When'd you get back?”
Back
, Roddy noticed, like he'd been on a holiday.

“Few days ago. I didn't figure you'd still be in town. Couldn't you get your hands on enough money to leave?” Maybe it was strange that now, actually seeing Mike, Roddy was angrier than he'd been when he was arrested or in court or in jail. He wanted to punish Mike, make him suffer, make him feel even a little of Roddy's abandonment. Here was Mike strolling around town like he was innocent, like nothing had happened to him or Roddy or anyone else, just like he'd never crapped out on a friend, not even a thanks, just going on with his regular life the whole time. Well, piss on that. Roddy's fingers curled into fists.

Mike looked down. “No, well, no, I didn't.” He looked back up. “That whole thing scared the shit out of me. I mean, how'd it happen? That was never supposed to happen. I mean, Christ!” So he'd washed his hands of it; declared his own innocence. Probably he'd have to do something like that, just to get through the day.

Good question, though, how'd it all happen.

“So yeah,” Mike continued, “it pulled me up short. So I'm finishing school this year and then I'll get out of here. I don't have a job, though. Everybody figured I was in on the Goldie's thing. I know I owe you for keeping me out of it, but everybody knows we were tight and nobody figures I didn't know. So I can't get a job here. Look, you want to go someplace, grab a beer or something? Like, I know I owe you for not taking me down, too.”

“I don't think so,” Roddy said coolly. About going someplace together, he meant. A beer! “So how come you weren't around?”

“To see you? My folks said no way. Honest to God, I'm sorry about that, too, but they said it'd be asking for trouble.”

“Guess it would have been.”

Mike shifted back on his heels and sideways a little. “Was it bad?”

What kind of stupid question was that? “Could have been worse. And I got my Grade 12. Nothing much else to do. I got by. Met some guys. Hung out. I made it, anyhow.”

“What're you going to do, stay here?”

“I don't know yet. I've only been out a few days.”

He had almost nothing to say any more to this guy who'd been his best friend, his buddy, since his first day in this town. “I got to go. I got a lot of stuff to do, catching up now I'm out.” As soon as he turned away and wasn't looking at Mike any more, he felt nothing at all. Mike was as remote as the town. He heard Mike behind him say, “Roddy,” but he didn't turn around and no words followed that one. He guessed people don't necessarily disconnect at the same time, or turn remote on each other. He guessed he might have felt worse about it if he hadn't had so long to get used to the idea of not being Mike's friend any more.

Alix called to see how he was doing back home, and to ask if they could visit like usual, and she rented a car, which is what she does when she absolutely has to, and drove to his grandmother's. She sat on a Sunday afternoon talking nicely with his grandmother, and politely greeted his dad, who passed through the kitchen as if even Alix couldn't hold his attention. Roddy's grandmother was welcoming enough, but very uneasy, knowing who Alix was. Alix said finally, “You want to go outside, Rod? Aren't you dying to be out there after being inside so long?” His grandmother flinched, like Alix was being tactless, but it was just a fact, only true.

Even sitting beside Alix on the front steps, not going anywhere, was a relief, the first time since he got out that he felt comfortable, like he belonged. That was with Alix, nothing to do with the place or whether he was indoors or outdoors or whatever. She said, “You're not very happy here, are you?”
Happy
was a funny word. He doubted he was supposed to be.

“Not really.”

“Have you had time to make any plans, or have you just been getting used to being home?”

“No plans yet.” Plans stumped him. He didn't have much confidence in them anyway, the only real, detailed plan he'd made having gone so horribly wrong. “I guess I'm still getting used to the idea of being able to. Or having to. Having a choice, I mean.”

“Well then, I have one. Or not a plan, just an idea.” When she looked at him, he fell right back into her eyes. Her skin was amazing; like it was lit from the inside. Her idea was amazing, too.

“What I figured was, whatever you do, you probably can't do it here. I bet it's not easy, right?” She knew everything. “So this could just be for a while, till you get on your feet and figure things out, but there's my place. It's really tiny, but it's central to everything you could be interested in, and also you could help me. I do these talks about crime, and you know about the volunteer stuff with the drop-in place, and I figure you could help, if you wanted. Because you've been there. Kids would listen to you. And my job, it's about finding jobs for people, so I don't see why I couldn't find one for you. So anyway, that's my idea: move into my place for a little while until you get fixed up yourself, and help me and I'll help you.” She must have known his stunned longing. “I only mean that, though, just sharing the place. It's two rooms. We could figure out a way we could each mostly have one. Plus there's a bathroom, of course.”

She had it worked out. She'd thought about it, about him, and come up with this plan. She made it sound like a kind of trade, each of them doing something for the other. “Why?” he asked. She was offering this huge thing, way bigger than Sunday visits, and she had to have reasons that didn't totally have to do with him, so what were they?

Of course she understood. She understands everything, even if like today she doesn't always let understanding something make her soft and merciful about it. She said, “Because we need to carry it through. None of it's any good otherwise. I'm not sure how it should work, but I have this feeling about how to get there.”

He wasn't clear at all what she was talking about. What she meant by
through
, or
it
or
there
. “Okay,” he said. “Yes.”

Alix, who has learned a whole lot about the justice system, took care of most of the details, like making sure moving was okay with the probation office and how he'd be reporting to them. She talked to his grandmother and his dad, too, so persuasively and compellingly that although they said no to begin with, they said yes in the end.

Roddy felt
swept up
. He felt
overwhelmed
, and
compelled
.

But that was okay.

“You be careful.” His grandmother was still very worried as he carried his two suitcases out the door the next weekend. She had tears in her eyes. She'd probably had whole different pictures. But maybe she was relieved, too. Anyway, she hugged him. “You come visit, you hear? You're always welcome. And be sure to phone. And you come back anytime you need to, all right?”

His dad said, “Be good, son.” The two of them stood out on the lawn waving as Alix drove Roddy away. It was another case of saying goodbye to a life. He guessed it would be that way for them, too, except they had to get used to something different that wasn't their choice, while he was heading off to adventure. Which wasn't altogether his choice, either, but still a wild turn of events.

It seemed whenever he saw Alix, his life kept turning over.

He felt bad, how easily and light-heartedly he was leaving them, especially knowing the care they'd taken, especially compared with what happened to a whole lot of other people; but he couldn't feel bad for the actual doing of it. He was young, they were old, things happen, that was the only way to look at it. They probably saw it that way too, and just had to get used to it. He had big things to get used to, too. He couldn't wait.

Alix said in the car, “I've got a bunch of stuff about different colleges and universities you can look at when you get settled. And I can tell you about what jobs are out there. But,” she glanced at him and smiled that perfectly comprehending smile, “don't worry, I'm not planning to pressure you. The right way will come clear, I know that.”

She has a funny sort of faith in things coming clear. He likes that, although doesn't, himself, have the same kind of confidence. She knows more than him about that sort of thing, though: faith, hope, all that. She's actually paid attention to it, studied up on it, in her way, if that Serenity group means studying up.

Her place is over a variety store. Two rooms, as she said, plus tiny kitchen, and bathroom. The bathroom has no outside windows, and so is very dark. The main rooms have a big front window each, facing the street, which is busy and took some getting used to, with the sounds of traffic and loud conversations floating upwards from the sidewalk, and sirens. On the outside, the windows are real dirty. Inside, Alix keeps the place neat as a pin, as his grandmother would say, and they do the actual cleaning together and take care of their own dishes and so forth; but it's still shabby. In her bedroom Alix has a single bed and a dresser and some shelves. Where Roddy sleeps used to be her living room, and still sort of is, and has a couple of wooden chairs at a plastic-topped table, an old soft green nubbly chair and an old soft green nubbly pull-out couch, which is where Roddy sleeps. It's kind of a pain, having to fold it up every morning and unfold it each night, but in this sort of space, there isn't a choice.

It's not exactly the sort of place he and Mike had in mind. Instead of riding an elevator home, as he and Mike had imagined, he climbs up dark stairs. Instead of looking out over the whole glittering night-time city, that brightly lit panorama of life being lived, the view is of brick and concrete and grit.

A year ago, everything in his head and his life was different.

Same goes for her, he supposes.

And for sure same goes for her mother, and everybody else in her family. “You ready?” she asks, coming up behind him. “You look good. Just right. Don't look so grim, you'll live through it, you know.” She smiles as if she's made a joke, but come to think of it, it seems possible he might not live through it. Depending on people's inclinations and moods. He can't hope to get through unscathed, anyway. It's a good thing he trusts her. He means, trusts the power of her presence.

And she really does look powerful. Not in some suit-and-briefcase way, but in the firm way her mouth is set, and how her eyes are so clear and untroubled it's like there's nothing worrying at all about what they're setting out on.

Is her family used to this? Do they have ways not to look at her directly so they're not dazzled? Roddy remains raw to it. After a couple of weeks here, he is still constantly astonished. Every time she comes through the door, or he does, and he sees her again, it's almost like the first time, being captured. Being lured, although not in some bad way. He doesn't know what it is. She
appeals
, he guesses: to his desire to be whatever he can, for her more than for him. “Be careful,” his grandmother said. And his father, “Be good.” Well, he would, if he could tell what
careful
and
good
mean in this new world, on this spectacular, unexpected, terrifying occasion.

So far Alix hasn't really asked much of him; except for today. What she said at the start was “You should explore, take your time,” and that's what he has done: getting up first in the morning, to be out of the bathroom before she needs it, setting out cereal and juice for them both and then, when she goes to work, he leaves too. He walks her to the bus and then, every day, even in rain, goes exploring. So many different kinds of lives being lived by so many shapes and colours of people! Even different kinds of food, fruits for instance that he isn't even certain are fruits, and whether they're supposed to be peeled or chopped up or cooked or just held like an apple and eaten. “It's wild,” he tells Alix. “I can't get over it.”