People Park (20 page)

VII

HE PHONE RANG
and rang. Sometimes this happened, Adine knew, the connections on the Islet were dicey, when lines went down hours would often pass before workers and the proper equipment could be shipped out, plus whatever time it took for repairs. But there’d been no storm, it was late afternoon now, and Adine had been trying Sam since lunch.

The door opened.

Adine hung up.

Debbie came over, kissed Adine’s forehead. You left all the bedding out?

Can’t see, said Adine, tapping her goggles.

Right. Can’t put the bedding away, can’t clean the mousetraps —

Adine sniffed. It smells in here. Your friend left his scent.

Debbie moved into the kitchen. Cupboards were opened, pots and pans clanged and rattled. Adine turned on the
TV
.

Where’s that big casserole dish? called Debbie.

You’re making a casserole? Is that my dinner?

More banging around.

What are you doing in there?

Adine felt her way to the kitchen. It smells even weirder in here. Are you cooking?

Nope.

Then?

It’s probably the bird.

The
. . .
bird?

Yeah.

What, you bought a bird? To what — roast?

No, I found one. It’s hurt.

Oh man. First that snoring monster, now this. It better not
sing all night, because I can’t take something tweeting and twittering —

No. I told you, it’s hurt. I’m making it a bed.

And then?

And then we’ll nurse it better.

Nurse it. At your bosom? Should I be jealous?

No reply. Adine felt they were on a raft with a slow leak. She stepped forward, groped, found Debbie’s elbow.

I was just trying to be funny.

Were you?

Wasn’t I?

The air shifted: she sensed Debbie facing her now, imagined those wide eyes all wounded and withering. She rubbed Debbie’s arm, up and down, mechanically.

The arm slid out from under Adine’s fingers.

I’m putting the bird here by the window. So watch out for it.

Adine said, Okay, and went back into the den. On the
NFLM
station was pingpong: the knock of the ball struck back and forth, a third man commentating — she pictured him clutching the table, watching almost greedily. Check out these dooshes, said Adine. Hey, Deb — help me out here. Does the third guy look like, greedy?

Debbie sat down beside her, the cushions split, Adine slipped into the gap, had to dig herself out.

So the protest? said Debbie. A bit of a bust.

I saw on
In the Know
about the statue. I’ll flip to it, only the
U
P
button works, hold on.

Yeah. That was sort of awesome actually.

Was it you guys?

No. This was important to Pop. He wouldn’t have sabotaged it.

As the channels climbed higher the programming became more inane: a humming couple convinced they’d discovered an overtone that linked the universe, a man hosting a telethon to support his telethon, the Bookland channel where the shop’s mousy proprietor whispered reviews of novels no one would ever, ever read.

So this thing I went to, said Debbie, last night. This thing they’re doing in Whitehall.

What? You went to
Whitehall
?

Sure. It’s fine, I don’t know what the big deal is. People think —

At night?

Not alone! With Calum, from the Room. I thought maybe I could write about it, but.

About what? What would you write about?

Well this is the thing. They’re doing something out there, those people — I don’t know how to describe it. Like a noise
. . .
show. Sort of.

At channel 0 the set burst into static.

Hey, said Debbie. Don’t change the channel, it’s just like this —

But Adine kept flipping, the screen came alive with music and words, brief lucid flashes until she paused on channel 12, and Isa Lanyess.

Anyway, said Debbie, you need to see it. Or hear it. Or just come. I can’t stop thinking about it. I hated it sort of but I want to go back — maybe tonight.

And you want me to come. Tonight.

Not want. Well sure, want. But more I think it’s right up your alley. And also there’s that potluck earlier in Bebrog? We could go there first, then —

Can’t.

Why?

Tonight’s Raven’s big
illustration
. I mean, fug if I care, but it’s important to Sam. He’s out there all alone on the I. He hasn’t got anybody else.

A rigid silence fell between them.

It’s important to him, said Adine. He’s my brother.

She let the words hang, knew they boxed Debbie into a corner.

I have to go, Debbie said, standing.

Well thanks for stopping in.

In the kitchen the fridge hummed, from down on the street came a mother’s shout and a shrill reply from her child, and in the subsequent quiet Adine heard a sharp intake of a breath, either the inhalation of unspoken words or a stifled sob.

Fug, Deb! Are you crying now? What are you crying about?

I’m not crying! She paused. Adine? Please take off those glasses.

Adine laughed, turned up the
TV
. Isa Lanyess was interviewing Loopy about her missing statue: You must be destroyed, said Lanyess, which Loopy confirmed: Destroyed.

Adine? Please, come on. Take them off. It’s enough.

Enough what? Enough me doing my job? I don’t ask you to quit
. . .
helping.

I miss you.

Right. You pop by to drop off a dead animal, then head right back out, now I won’t see you till tomorrow morning. Seems like your heart’s just bleeding to spend time together. Adine felt the current of her words hurtling her forward, she’d no idea what she
might say next. Here it was, coldly: Are you sure you need me at all?

A jangle of keys, the deadbolt clopped open. As always, Debbie had locked them in.

That’s it? You’re leaving?

I have to
go
, Adine. People are waiting for me. I didn’t even have time to make anything, I’m showing up to this potluck without any food —

Stick your new pet in the oven for fifteen minutes, howbout?

The door opened. Into the apartment seeped the faintly fecal odour of some other tenant’s cookery. Adine, sensing Debbie hovering in the doorway, told her, You know what you do? You look for holes in people and you just burrow your way in to fill them up, you’re this little helpful worm. You need to start finding home in yourself, you need — Adine was interrupted by a great commotion coming from the
TV
. Loopy was livid: Of course I’ll always have the
idea
, but you can’t
show
people your ideas! It’s the
thing
that matters! And no one ever got to see the thing!

You hearing this? Adine said. Unbelievable. Eh? Deb?

The apartment felt emptied — or, more, the apartment emptied itself into Adine.

Fine! she called. Leave me. I don’t care!

Somewhere down the hallway, in another unit, someone sneezed. Adine was left with Isa Lanyess and Loopy, beseeching viewers to share with them, for one full minute, a ceremonious moment of hope and silence.

IS HE WALKING
all the way across?

What? said Starx.

I can’t see him anymore. Can you? He went out on the bridge and now he’s just — gone.

Bailie, I don’t know, maybe he’s expressing himself over the side.

Peeing? You think?

No. No I don’t
think
.

Then? What’s he doing out there?

You’re so curious, go see.

They’d parked again by the onramp to Guardian Bridge. Above the Citywagon the bridge opened up: the crosshatch of beams and girders, all that black-painted steel, the setting sun carved through it in coppery spears. The bridge looked unfinished, a skeleton yet to be draped with skin.

No, I’m okay, said Olpert. I’ll wait here.

Me too, said Starx.

It was that time of day when the light seemed to slow and loosen before it collapsed into evening. Olpert always found this hour melancholy, maybe even nostalgic: before dusk, before nightfall, for a few careful moments the day took stock of what it had been.

He turned to Starx: What’s your favourite season?

Why, thanks for asking, Bailie! Starx faced him from the driver’s
seat, the great bulk of him heaped there, head scraping the ceiling,
arms
wrapped around the steering column for lack of anywhere else to fit them. He seemed to be considering, his breath came in whistles and gasps. Finally he spoke: I think probably winter.

Winter. Why?

Oh, I don’t know. Probably because I’m packing such a massive heater — Starx nodded toward his lap — and the cold makes it easier to heave this monster around.

I like fall.

I’m kidding, right? Bailie? That was a joke?

I like fall because it feels like the end of the day, all the time.

You like the end of the day? Why?

Why? Olpert searched his thoughts: he was sure, as the sun painted everything golden, that he felt in these cautious, delicate moments most at home in the world. He tried to explain this to Starx, but when the words came out they sounded inadequate, even false, and when Olpert looked out again over the Narrows the light seemed cold and harsh.

I’m a nighttime fella myself, said Starx. And the reason why is that’s when I’m at my awesomest. But you? I can see it — the fall, twilight. They’re like in-between. You’re an in-between kinda guy.

Olpert pointed up the bridge: He’s coming.

Back down toward the Citywagon Raven was moving swiftly, twirling his whip at his side, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his face.

What I’m saying, Bailie — Starx started the car — is that you’ve gotta start
living
. This in-between shet? It’s just waiting to die, man.

But you like the winter, Olpert said quietly. Doesn’t that mean you’re already dead?

Starx shifted into reverse. Shut your yap, Raven’s here, he said.

Gentlemen! cried the illustrationist, sliding into the backseat. One final question, Mr. Bailie, a most simple question. May I ask what it is you want?

I
. . .
want?

Yes! What you most desire, Mr. Bailie — what is it?

Um. What do you mean?

In life, in love!

In love?

Mr. Bailie, would it be presumptuous to suggest that you are a man without desires? And, Mr. Starx, what about you? What about anyone here, in your nice-looking city?

Starx drummed the steering wheel. What do I want? Quite a question. I mean —

Nevermind! Raven was gleeful, bouncing around in the backseat. You and your fellow citizens are in for a visionary performance! Such a people of longing! Now, let’s go.

Sure, said Starx, backing the car onto Topside Drive.

Mr. Bailie, please, activate your radio device. There are certain preparatory measures that I require. And then, my friends, all will be revealed.

What’s that then? You wanna give us a little sneak preview?

Ah, Mr. Starx, you impatient rogue! I’ll tell you only this: the people of this city strike me as wanting to wall up infinity. And you’re afraid to look on the other side of that wall.

Gotcha, said Starx.

Olpert checked the rearview: Raven was swivelled in the backseat, watching Guardian Bridge recede from view. So you’re going to show us, said Olpert, what?

Raven turned, caught Olpert’s eyes in the mirror, and held them. Why, he said, what you have always known to be true, Mr. Bailie. Only the truth. And nothing more.