Provider's Son (10 page)

“Youre here.”

“Im not here for the money.”

“No, me either. Im here for the free lunches.”

“Never mind your sarcasm. Im here as a witness. And I wont be staying.”

“A witness to what?”

“Destruction.”

Sinead came back to the table.

“I couldnt help notice you guys were having a deep conversation this time,” Sinead said to Jon. Levi told her that they agreed she was a good girl. Then he grabbed her and kissed her on the head.

“You better treat her good, young fella!” Levi said.

Sinead laughed, but looked embarrassed. “Dad.”

“I know, I know, but Im just saying is all. I knows youre only courting.”

“Courting,” Sinead said.

“Oh my,” Levi said, “not allowed to say them Newfie words around here, am I?”

“Thats an old word,” Jon said. “Victorian-era.”

“Reads a scattered book do you?” Levi said.

“Why do you think he hides behind that monitor in the security office,” Sinead said.

It didn't take long for the alcohol to work its way to Levi's bladder, and he found himself heading to the washroom. There was a time when he could polish off a dozen beers and not go to the washroom once, but those days were long gone. He was in there less than a minute when Jon came in behind him. He stood next to the urinal and stared at the wall. Until Jon spoke, there was no sound except urine hitting porcelain.

“You offered me a shot on purpose to test me.”

“Test you for what? I offered you a shot because Im friendly.”

“I saw the grin on your face.”

“You got to relax, young fella. Take that chip off your shoulder and stop taking everything so serious.”

“I suppose you figured Id be drunk here tonight.”

“Well, you is,” Levi said, pulling up his zipper. He turned to the sink.

“So what if I am?”

“Sure I dont care if you crawls out of here on your hands and knees by. Im just saying you is. Im not exactly cold sober myself.”

“How can Sinead be your daughter? Shes one of the most intelligent women Ive ever known.”

“Ive wondered the same thing.”

“You sure she is yours?” Jon said, smiling at Levi for the first time that night.

Levi looked at him in the mirror and smiled back without humour.

“Well?” Jon said.

“You want me to tell you the truth?” Levi said, hauling up his zipper and heading to the sink. “How youre getting on right now? Thats how every Indian I ever knew acted when he was drunk — either as bad as you or worse. Ill say one thing though. Most Indians is as good as gold when their sober. Youre a prick
all
the time.”

“How many of us injuns have you known exactly? Four? Five even?”

“Enough to know.”

“Enough to know youre racist. I knew it the first time I met you.”

“Go sober up buddy for fuck sakes,” Levi said, and marched out of the washroom and out of the bar. He was feeling more than tipsy, and the white walls of the hallway were even more suffocating than usual.

Two men stumbled their way up the hallway in front of him. Coming towards them was a scrawny young man, looking bored, walking behind a floor scrubber. The two drunk men walked in front of him, forcing him to stop. They slapped him on the back as they talked to him, but Levi was still too far away to discern what they were saying. The young man was chuckling along with them, but it was obvious that he was trying to get back to work.

Levi could pick out what the young man was saying as he neared them.

“Twenty-three dollars an hour,” the young man said in a slightly defensive tone.

The two men scoffed. “Sure thats fuck all!” one said. “We makes almost thirty-five dollars an hour at the scaffolding. Whudnt you rather be at that than cleaning toilets? Go back home and get a trade by!”

“I might yet,” the young man said, blushing.

“Tell them youll do whatever makes you happy and to leave you the fuck alone, eh by,” Levi spoke up as he came within talking distance. The two men looked at him and grinned maliciously, their eyes nearly vacant from inebriation. They rocked against one another and stared at him, surveying. Levi was glad he didn't recognize them from his crew. The janitor turned the floor scrubber back on and escaped.

“Where you from?” one with a ball cap asked. He looked no older than forty. His buddy looked in his late twenties.

“Gadus, in Bay Vierge.”

“Wer from Conception Bay.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“What did you think of ol Willy? Past his prime aint he?” the younger one said.

“He still got the energy, but he dont have the voice anymore.” “Thats right,” the older one said. “He used to be the best in Newfoundland one time.”

“Well, I got to head back to me room,” Levi said.

The younger one sidled up in Levi's face, stumbling against him, whispering comically loud. “Buddy, you know where we can get some pussy? I heard they got hookers in this camp. Probably a few old squaws or something. Crackheads. But what odds, eh? You hear talk of any or what?”

“No by,” Levi said. “Cant say as I have.” He then continued on to his room, shaking his head.

Back in his room he laid down in his bed and tried not to think about work the next morning. In sleep he dreamed of nothing he could remember, but when he awoke the next morning his teeth were clenched.

Home Sweet Home

After twenty-one days of anxiety Levi's first shift was over. All he could think about now was getting his hands on that number four chisel.

When the bus pulled up and Levi dragged his suitcase and himself on board he wondered if he would ever come back. The camp life wasn't as bad as he thought at first, but the job...

The bus roared down a gravel road for twenty minutes, driving by the project and two tailing ponds before it came to the airstrip. Everyone groaned because there was another bus at the terminal just before them, which Levi thought was childish seeing as everyone would be issued their seat numbers inside the building anyway. But once he got inside he realized there were no seat numbers. Those with carry-on bags were checked halfheartedly, but those with laptops had to show them to security. Levi wondered how easy it would be for dealers to bring drugs back and forth on these flights. No doubt it was being done. Probably right now.

It seemed that everyone got as close as possible to the gate before they sat down. The plane was already at the terminal so the wait was about a half hour before the security called out for everyone to line up. Everyone jumped up and crowded into line. Levi was near the end, but what did it matter as long as he got on the plane?

When they opened the gate the men went forward. Some of the women were jostled about, and one lady, who looked well over sixty, fell to the floor. Levi helped her up.

“Jesus, slow down!” he yelled at everyone. The lady thanked him and they were the last two to walk across the runway and climb the steps to the plane. Air North was written on the wing, although the outline of an older logo showed through underneath.

“Grown men can be awfully childish sometimes cant they?” she said.

“Like five-year-olds.”

“At least youre a gentleman. Wheres you from?”

“Gadus. Bay Vierge.”

“Im from Bay Roberts. Some glad to get home out of it and see the family.”

“Youre not the only one, my dear,” Levi said, but all he wanted to see was his shed.

This was not Air Canada. Not that Air Canada was the height of luxury, but at least it looked like a passenger airplane, and not a cargo plane converted into a makeshift airbus. There would be no movie selection on the back of these seats.

There were no aisle or window seats available so he sat in the middle. It was then that he realized why everyone was in such a hurry to get on the plane. He had never sat in the middle seat before, and as soon as he turned to sit he saw the thinly veiled annoyance on the faces of the men in the isle and window seats. Although their irritation would be small compared to his, doing the subtle fight for arm room, and the shifting back and forth with no direction to lean. No leg room. No escape.

“How long do it take to get home?” he asked.

“Depends on how many stops we haves,” the window sitter said. If we stops in Thunder Bay and Winnipeg youre talking eight hours for sure.”

“Yeah, and provided theres no fog in St. Johns.”

“What happens if theres fog?”

“Youll fly back to Stephenville, or even Halifax. But we got to land in Stephenville first anyway. Thats where wer getting off to.”

The flight attendant delivered the usual spiel about emergency exits and procedures and the plane started moving down the runway.

“Say a little prayer. These planes is not fit,” the window sitter said.

“Why?” Levi said, laughing to cover up his nervousness.

“These planes is not fit by,” the aisle sitter said. “They used to be cargo planes, half of them. The right wing caught on fire on one there last week. Did you hear about that? They was carrying the Quebec crowd home.”

“Sure what about the last time we flew home,” aisle sitter said. “The pilot came on and told us he got to rev up the engines before we took off because there was something wrong with something or other in the engines.”

“Okay bys, dont tell me no more for Jesus sake,” Levi said.

The take-off seemed normal enough so Levi managed to relax a little. And he made up his mind right there that he wasn't coming back. Fuck Alberta and fuck that Indian going out with his daughter.

The first stop was Winnipeg for refuelling. Levi couldn't believe how truly flat it was. There was nothing to see but a city squat around a twisting river, with endless squared off farmland surrounding it. No mountains, no rocks, no trees. Nothing.

“Jesus bys,” he said. “What do they do in this place besides go to work?”

“Freeze their arses off. You should be here in January. Minus forty and wind enough to blow the socks off you.”

“I suppose its wherever you grows up,” the window seat man said. “Theres just about eight months of winter in Labrador, but I knows fellas grew up there that wouldnt leave if you put a gun to their heads.”

“Yeah, thats it. Where ever you grows up is home.”

Levi chuckled and looked out the window again. “All the same though bys. What do they do here in the winter? Get on their skidoos and ride for three hours in a straight line?”

After an hour in the Winnipeg terminal they were in the air again. It had felt good to stretch his legs, but after another hour in the middle seat Levi was agitated again, and the other two men were sound asleep. Yet, no matter how long Levi closed his eyes he could not do the same. A burp surfaced and with it so did a flutter of panic. He got up from his seat, pushed his way out over the aisle sitter, accidentally waking him up, and made his way to the washroom.

Once in the tiny washroom he splashed his face with water and stared in the mirror.

“Jesus not now.”

He wished he had sleeping pills. He would take at least three now. Anything to be unconscious in that chair.

“Three hours...”

He took a flask out of the inside of his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig. He felt like a drunk, sneaking a nip when no one was looking, as if he had something to hide. But that was nonsense. He was no drunk. He simply used the booze in bad situations like this to help him through.

Levi took a deep breath and stepped back out of the washroom. The flight attendant smiled at him, but he ignored her and made his way back to his chair. The lights were off and everyone was asleep. The roar of the plane engines, much louder than on Air Canada, was the only sound, and eight rows up ahead an overhead light was shinning for someone who obviously couldn't sleep either.

Levi sat in his chair and sighed.

“Cant sleep?” the aisle sitter said.

“Im not used to this flying racket.”

“It gets easier...a bit.”

“How long you been at it?”

“Ive been a cook on sites all over Gods creation for the last twenty-five years.”

“Married?”

“Was.”

“Yeah. Im going through the same racket now. Split up with the wife.”

“Her choice or yours, if you dont mind me asking?”

Levi was going to lie, but figured this wasn't the place. “Hers.”

“Id give you some advice but there is none, except time. Time is the only thing that makes it easier. Me and the ex been divorced about five years now I suppose. She didnt even leave me for another fella. She just left me.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

“No you dont by. No. At least then theres a good reason, but Mary just said she didnt want to live with me anymore. Hard thing to accept after being married for close on forty years.”

The aisle sitter whose wife's name was Mary looked at Levi. “And you know what I blames it on? This goddamn racket. I spent over half our marriage being away from home for two to three weeks out of every month — sometimes months at a time, and we got used to not living with each other. Then when I retired and came back, well, I wasnt used to cleaning up after myself. I was used to a camp attendant doing that for me. I wasnt used to taking care of bills, I wasnt used to the kids, I wasnt used to anything that people have to deal with in the real world.”

“I dont think Im going back anyway. Not my cup of tea.”

“Good man. Youll be better off. Most fellas complains they dont like it, but some of them is addicted to it if they told the truth. They gets sick of it, but give them a few months at home and youll see them hopping on the next plane to wherever, anywhere away from The House. Anywhere away from the bitch theyre living with or the house bills or the son beating up the car or the daughter coming home pregnant.”

Levi laughed.