Provider's Son (16 page)

“Jesus...”

“The only ones dont give good tips are Newfies and immigrants. Well, the younger Newfies are fine. And immigrants dont come in here anyway.”

“You know why that is?”

“Because youre cheap-asses?”

“No, because Newfie baymen have only had any money the last thirty years. Going to a restaurant was a big treat when I was young. Me father could barely afford the meal let alone a tip. I daresay most immigrants that comes here is the same thing. See which one will open his door for you the quickest though, a mainlander or a Newfie.”

A young man behind him guffawed.

Levi turned around and saw Jon standing by the door.

“Your xenophobia is showing.”

“Tell me what zee-no-fobia means and Ill tell you why youre wrong.”

“Thats pretty big generalization, dont you think? Does the word ‘mainlander' encompass all of Canada besides Newfoundland? Lot of different cultures there my friend.”

“No, its from say…Quebec to…Alberta.”

“From the frogs to the cowboys,” said Caprice, laughing.

“Does that include all the native reserves as well?”

“No. Probably not. Natives is not much like mainlanders.”

“Yeah, you already explained to me what natives are like.”

“Oh come on, I was drunk when I said that.”

“You still believe it.”

“Lets get off this topic. Im done arguing with you young fella. I brought up something for you from Newfoundland.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes sir. Got it in me luggage. Not easy either. Had to leave three quarters of me clothes home.”

“So what is it?”

“Youre going to have to wait until the luggage comes here to see.”

“Crack?” Caprice said, laughing.

“Hey!” someone seated at a booth shouted, and wagged his finger to Caprice.

“Do I look like a dog to you?” she said.

“I want a beer!” he shouted.

“Well come up to the bar and get one!” she said, then “fat prick” under her breath. The guy pushed his gut out from behind the table and moseyed up to the bar.

“I have a feeling I know what you brought,” Jon said, as he and Levi strolled into the lobby, which was now full of people waiting for their luggage. Levi had consumed three beer in an hour of waiting at the bar. He was feeling better.

His luggage was a hockey bag and a big black suitcase. He opened it right away to check for damage. There was none.

“Well miracles do happen,” Levi said under his breath.

“I knew it,” Jon said, grinning.

Levi took one of the back-slats out of the suitcase and handed it to Jon.

“Its curved to give lumbar support right?”

“Thats right.”

“Coincidentally I was checking out some amazing rocking chairs last night online. Blow your mind. Yours are really good, but these chairs are on another level.” Jon looked back down at the slat. “The grain doesnt look very tight and it feels hard. This is going to be a bitch to carve.”

“Yeah, I thought about that. You can give that slat a try anyway. See what happens. If you ruins one slat Ill get over it. But if you can manage we should try to finish a chair.”

“Yeah, that would be cool,” Jon said, and Levi was happy that he didn't hear anything but sincerity in the young man's voice.

While dragging his bags back to his room Levi met a man carrying two dozen beer.

“Where did you get that?” Levi said, half joking.

“You want booze, buddy?” the guy said.

“Yeah, wouldnt mind.”

“How much?” the man said, laying down the two dozen on the floor, and taking out a pen and pad. Levi chuckled.

“A dozen?”

“One dozen? Has to be at least a two-four, or a twenty-six ounce bottle.”

“How much?”

“Thirty-five dollars for a twenty-six or a two-four.”

“I see. Ill have two two-fours of Canadian.”

“No choice in brands, buddy.”

“Oh, well, thats different. What kind is it?”

“Coors Light.”

Levi thought it over and the man looked impatient.

“Yeah, alright, but make it five dozen.”

“Hundred bucks.”

“You want the money now? I dont even know you.”

“Buddy, where am I going to go? I live in the same dorm as you.”

Levi handed over the money to the man.

“What room are you in?”

“The one with the blue door.”

The man laughed.

“Thirty-three,” Levi said.

“Be back in twenty minutes or so.”

Levi dragged his bags into his room.

A knock on the door, and when Levi answered the man was standing there with the two two-fours in his hands, and another dozen at his feet.

“This is getting heavy, buddy.”

“Thanks,” Levi said, taking the beer and putting it on his dresser.

“No worries. If you need more Im down the hall. Room 521. Although I wont always be able to get it as quick as that. But anything you want I can get. Perks, oxy, weed, you name it.”

“Ill stick with the booze.”

Team Work

Levi didn't like assembling his chair anywhere besides in his own shed, but he had no choice. Jon had quickly realized that to carve the chair in such a way that the artwork flowed from piece to piece it had to be put together first. And in Levi's cramped little dorm room this was not an easy task. But after he got a few items he needed picked up in Fort McMurray, and moved a few things around, he managed to assemble it.

First, glue was brushed in the mortice with a toothbrush. Then the leg was pushed into place in the seat, a pleasant sensation, feeling the tendon slide in tightly. When this was in place a wedge was driven into it to tighten it into the remaining kerf of the hole. There was no man strong enough to pull a leg out of its mortice once it was set. The whole process took a couple of hours, but his room stank with glue that would linger for days.

The camp attendants were what scared him most because he was afraid he would come back to his room someday and find his chair stolen. They were a shady-looking bunch, some of them, but he was relieved to learn the day attendant for his dorm was a pleasant, middle-aged lady from Newfoundland. The night camp attendant, however, with his greasy hair and missing teeth, he wasn't so sure about. He said hello to the man one night in the hallway and received no response. Luckily Levi didn't work nights.

After he was finished assembling the chair Levi treated himself to a Tim Hortons coffee and a smoke. On the way back he headed to Jon's room.

Once outside Jon's dorm room he raised his hand and it froze in midair when he heard a soft female moan from inside. He put his ear to the wall and listened. A low slapping sound of flesh on flesh. Heat rose to Levi's face and he quickly turned and walked the other way as quietly as possible, anger replacing the embarrassment. Half way down the hallway he stopped. Wasn't Sinead supposed to be working now?

Levi stood motionless in the hallway for minutes, staring at nothing. He slowly began to walk again, gradually gaining speed, and on the other side of the dorm hallway door he stared in through the door window.

Then he remembered the security cameras. He turned around and saw the black eye staring down at him. It was quite likely that right now one of Jon's security guard buddies was staring straight into his eyes, wondering just what the hell he was doing. He imagined it would be addictive, all those cameras pointed in every hallway, watching people going about their life in this strange little community.

No matter what the potential brain behind that black eye thought, however, Levi was not leaving until he found out if it was Sinead in that room. He tried to look casual by sticking his hands in his pocket and appearing as if he was waiting for someone. His cell phone was in his right pocket and that's when he realized a simple way to figure out if she was in there. Sinead didn't go anywhere without her phone.

Levi opened the door again and casually walked down the hallway. He took out his cell phone and called her number. He was relieved in spite of himself when he heard a cell phone go off in Jon's room. The song on her phone was
I like It Rough
, by Lady Gaga. Levi shook his head and turned back to the dorm hall door.

He called Anita.

“What do you think of Sinead being with a Indian?”

“Where did this come from? She hasnt even been with him that long.”

“I just wanted to know what you thinks of it, is all. Its getting more serious between them all the time.”

“You mean because hes a Indian? I knows a lot of them is drunks but he dont look like no drunk to me. At least not on the pictures.”

“Hes not.”

“Well whats the problem? I imagine hes a Christian so theres not that much culture difference I wouldnt say. What do you think of him?”

“Hes not my cup of tea. He looks down on people. He dont show me much respect either, for a man old enough to be hes father.”

“Everybody got their ways. You cant dislike him that much if youre building a chair with him. Sinead told me.”

“I suppose…”

Silence.

“Come back home.”

“Levi.”

“Well start over like nothing happened.”

“Im sure that would be easy for you.”

“You must be getting sick of cheese burgers by now.”

“You fool.”

“But I suppose being the business type, he only gives you coupons for ten percent off.”

Anita laughed. “For a man with his money he is cheap.”

“Youre a talented man,” Jon said, when Levi showed him the chair. “This is a beautiful chair.” He paused for a moment. “The only thing I would have done differently is had less slats in the back.”

“Splats.”

“I believe its slats Levi. Splats must be the Newfie version.”

“Its splats. Trust me.”

“Splat is something youd use to describe a sound in a comic book.”

“Not when youre talking about rocking chairs.”

“Well, whatever. You have six, but I would have made four, because it would have given me more surface area to work on. Less gaps. Ive been looking at hand crafted chairs on the internet too. I think four is more aesthetically — looks better.”

“No. Six looks better.”

“Well have to agree to disagree, but I was hoping to put a light bas relief mural in the back of them, so that will cut down my canvas. My area to work.”

“Youll manage.”

“Can I sit in it?” Jon said.

“Shes all yours by.”

Jon slowly sat into the unsanded rocking chair. “Comfortable.”

“It would be a lot more comfortable if I built it for your size, but I was already making that one to fit a average man. What are you going to carve in it?”

“I havent completely decided yet.”

“Well Id like to know.”

“I thought you said I had complete artistic freedom with this?”

“What?”

“I thought you said I could carve whatever I wanted?”

“Well, Id still like to know.”

“You didnt like my comments about the chair.”

“Say what you wants. I dont care.”

“Youll probably hear a lot worse than that if we take it to a gallery.”

“A gallery.”

“The whole point of art is sharing it.”

“Says you. I dont care about sharing it, unless Im making money off it. And thats not really sharing.”

“But youre not an artist.”

“What is I then?”

“An artisan.”

“Thats not what you said before.”

“I didnt say you were an artist.”

“Yes you did.”

“Anyway its your call.”

“Whats we going to do with it once you finishes carving? Who gets to keep it?”

“Well, like I said, if we took it to the gallery neither one of us would get to keep it. Unless it didnt sell. Not that I care about the money. Thats a white man's disease. Id just like to get it out there, find out what people think. I know a gallery in Edmonton that might be interested. The place where I bring my work.”

“How we going to get it there?”

“Me. Take it in my truck.”

“Truck. What kind of truck?”

“Its actually an SUV. Ford Explorer. I just call it a truck.”

“SUV? Yes by. I thought money was a white mans disease? You must have caught it too.”

“It was given to me.”

“The disease or the vehicle?”

“The vehicle, my father gave it to me. But he has the disease, no doubt about it.”

At supper Levi sat with his crew, and although he now felt as if they had finally accepted him, he didn't take part in the conversation. He was still bothered by Jon's remarks about the chair. He had never received a single negative remark about any of his work. Everyone back home seemed amazed by his chairs. And the galleries Jon said would be worse? It made his guts roll to think of some artsy fartsy art guy with glasses, beard, a scarf, and glass of wine, standing over his rocking chair, pointing out its every flaw. And the chairs did have subtle flaws. He was not Sam Maloof quite yet, the man who made chairs for American presidents, and seemed to be mentioned or interviewed in every woodworking magazine Levi ever bought
.

“Heard youre building a rocking chair in your room?” Patrick asked.

“Howd you know that?”

“Theres no secrets in this place, man.”

“Its not there anymore. Jon is working on it now.”

“That big Indian security guard?”

“Yeah. Hes doing the carving.”

“How did this come about?”

“Hes dating me daughter.”

“Is that Jon Smith youre talking about?” the foreman said.

“Thats the one.”

“Jesus, Levi, you wont have to worry about jobs if your daughter ends up with that fella.”

“Why, hes a big shot around here or what?”

“Big shot? Dont you know who hes father is?”