Republic of Dirt (28 page)

I
’m staying with my dad right now. It’s better than staying in the car with my mom, but it’s also more boring, especially since Earl and Seth started visiting me at night. We never talked much because they wanted me to sleep, but it was fun having them there. While I’m at my dad’s, we can still leave each other notes.

The fort has been nailed shut. I don’t know why. I didn’t tell Earl and Seth that Target and I had been going in there to watch the farm, because then they’d feel bad about nailing it shut and feel even sorrier for me. Lots of things about me were embarrassing, such as that I couldn’t stay alone at night even though I’m eleven and should be mature enough, and I keep hanging around a place where I’m not allowed to be. I didn’t want to add to it.

Target said we could use a hammer to pry the door open, but I told him they probably closed it for a reason, such as safety. I told him that pretty soon the social worker would do his report and then my parents will let me go back to the farm, but Target said I shouldn’t “hold my breath.”

It was interesting to hear him say that, because Target doesn’t talk in a mature way like that very often. I told him he sounded sophisticated, which is a word that means smart and old. We learned it in school a while ago.

He just shrugged and said social workers don’t always do what they say they will, because they get new jobs and move away.

That made me worried, so I called social worker Pete’s office and they said he was out. I asked when he’d be back and they said they’d take my number, but instead I just hung up.

Then I sat around in my dad’s apartment. I knew he was over at Woefield working with Lucky. I should be over there, too. It’s too bad my parents are not leaders enough to decide what should happen with me. They’re just waiting for the social worker to tell them so they can’t blame each other. I asked my mom about it and she said things would work out and that I should be patient.

Some people at school have started calling me Bedbug Spratt, but then Target told them to stop and they were so surprised that Target talked that they stopped. That was really neat. I’m lucky to have Target for a friend. Maybe I’ll call him up and see if one of his foster moms will invite me over.

M
e and Eustace went to the casino three times before we found him. A young feller working the front door said hello. He was the only one in there who didn’t look like a three-day-old TV dinner left on the back porch.

Tell me if you see him, said Eustace.

So we start walking around, and that morning the casino looked like the saddest geezer convention you ever seen. There was a few younger people glued in front of them machines but not many. None of ‘em looked like they had money to lose, not even dimes or quarters or whatever you have to feed into them blink boxes.

If I ever end up sitting in front of some blinking, squeaking, farting machine on a Thursday morning when there’s things to do outside, you can go ahead and shoot me.

With the loud music and the machines making a hellacious racket and who knows what all going on in there, I started to lose my damn bearings. Got to feeling like I might have some kind of fit if I wasn’t careful. But then we come around a corner, just around from some kind
of gambling tables with nobody sitting at ‘em, and there was young Stephan McFadden. Never would have thought his uncle Brian living with a pig in a hoarder trailer would look like he had himself a nice situation, but he looked a damn sight happier than his nephew.

Young Stephan had a red baseball hat pushed halfway off his head. The place wasn’t none too warm, but he was sweating and muttering to himself while he shoved coins into the machine and jammed down the lever.

That’s him, I told Eustace.

Eustace stood right next to him and said hello.

Young Stephan didn’t look over. Not now, he said. I’m due. I had this one till closing last night. I was first in line this morning so none of these old fuckers could try to scoop me. This bitch has eaten like four grand. I’m fucking due.

Would that four grand happen to belong to a young lady with a farm on Woefield Road? asked Eustace, cool as you please.

The little bastard looked up, red face and little mustache and a scruffy beard.

No, he said. I spent her money in here weeks ago. This is money I got from another lady to buy stuff for her new bathroom.

Get up, says Eustace, but before the kid could do anything, I got in there and knocked his damned hat off his head. It was the way he talked. Like it didn’t matter worth a shit that he took Prudence’s money. I would have liked to smash every machine in the place and make the little bastard sweep it up.

Hey man, said the kid. I’m not saying I
won’t
build her barn. Or whatever it was. I’m just down a little. But I got this other advance for materials for the other lady’s bathroom. She wants a lot of high-end shit in there. Soaker tub. Double sink. The works. So I brought her
money in here to win back
the other lady’s
money. Fuck, you can’t just hit me like that. I came in here like first thing to get the job done!

Let’s all settle down, said Eustace.

What’s going on here? asked a feller in a red coat who come walking up. A manager or a security guard.

Everything’s fine, said Eustace. We’re just talking to Stephan about some business matters.

Keep it civil or go outside, said the security guy, who looks like he lost everything he ever had on one of those goddamned fancy pinball machines. What do they call them guys who can’t quit gambling? Degenerators. Stephan and the guard were both degenerators as far as I was concerned.

Absolutely, says Eustace. You could tell he was used to dealing with scared farm animals. Even I simmered down some.

Look, Stephan. We need to talk this over. I’m sure the casino would be interested to hear that you’re spending stolen money in here.

I’m sure they wouldn’t give a shit, said Stephan.

The security guy made a confused face like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to give a shit or not.

Let me put it this way: I bet the newspaper would be interested to hear that this casino let you spend money you stole from pensioners.

They weren’t pensioners! said Stephan. The girl in Cedar is young. Hot, too. And the bathroom lady is still working. Volunteering and doing charity stuff and teaching gardening classes. It’s fucking depressing, actually. She must be terrible with her money.

Unlike you, genius, said Eustace. Come on. Let’s go outside.

Dude, the kid says to the security guy. You need to get them to leave. They’re ruining my entertainment experience. And this thing is just about to deliver.

By this time, a guy in a black suit had come up and he seemed to have a little more thread on his spool than the guy in the red jacket.

Come back when you’ve got yourself sorted out, he said to Stephan.

My machine, man! said the kid. He sounded like he was going to cry.

The manager and the security guy walked us outside.

Shit, said Stephan when we were standing on the sidewalk. Now my whole investment is going to someone else. You guys have quite the timing. He sighed, like he was already done being upset.

Can you give me a ride home? he asked.

What about that fancy truck? I asked.

Sold my truck. Well, sort of lost it in a wager. Fucking Canucks. Should have stuck with Montreal.

You’re a full-blown addict, said Eustace.

Oh, for sure, said the kid. That is not in doubt.

We walked through the parking lot to Eustace’s big truck.

Nice ride, said the kid. You need any work done around your place?

Eustace give him a look and the kid said, Just kidding.

Here’s the good news, said Eustace. You’re going to be too busy building Prudence’s barn to let that casino take any more money from you. But before you do that, we’re going to take the lady’s bathroom money back to her.

He stopped. Looked at the kid. You
do
know how to build, don’t you? he asked.

Are you kidding? Got my ticket and everything. Born to build, said the kid.

I’ll say this for him, he’s a cheerful little bastard, considering there are probably quite a few people around who want to break both his legs.

That Eustace feller has a way of making you feel he has things all under control. If we can just get Prudence on her feet, I do believe the two of them can get our troubles sorted.

T
wenty-four hours after I saw the new doctor and started the new medication, I began to feel like myself again. It was like a miracle. I got out of bed to find the farm thrumming with activity. Normally, Earl and Seth operate at what is best described as a leisurely pace. When Sara was here, she was steady but not swift. I’m the only truly speedy person on the farm. When I emerged from my room feeling like a vampire that’s finally had a drink of blood after a years-long fast, I shuddered to think of what I’d allowed to happen due to my stubbornness. I thought of Sara left alone all night in a cold, dark car. I thought of the things half done and the things done so badly I’d have to redo them myself.

I couldn’t afford to get overwhelmed or wallow in guilt. All that was left was to redouble my efforts. It was time to move forward. The thing I know about me, Sara’s parents, and everyone else is that people are almost always doing the best they can. It sounds trite, but it’s true. Thinking people are setting out to do their worst never helped anything or anyone.

I was reminded of that when, instead of finding the farm in disarray, I went outside to discover Earl and Seth and Stephan McFadden preparing a foundation for our new barn. My god! If you’ve never seen a building go up on your very own land, you have no idea what true satisfaction is. I could see why people became developers!

As if that wasn’t exciting enough, Eustace was helping Sara’s father wheel the wagon over into the middle of the field. The wagon seemed to be moving smoothly on its wheels. Then I saw that Lucky was harnessed up and standing like a docile little lamb at the hitching post.

Well, I couldn’t contain myself. I just had to go out and peek at the building supplies that lay neatly stacked under a blue tarp.

“Oh, it looks fantastic!” I told Stephan McFadden, Earl and Seth. “It’s all so tidy. You are all marvels of responsibility.”

Seth coughed into his arm.

“Seth? Are you sick?”

“No,” he said. “Just glad to see you up and around.”

“Thank you, Seth,” I said. “I needed that talking to.”

He grinned and ducked his head under his Judas Priest ball cap. He’s too old to still be growing, but Seth actually seems taller lately. It’s the oddest thing.

I gazed around. The farm seemed to sparkle in the early winter light.

“I was worried things wouldn’t move forward without me, but look at this! You guys don’t even need me.”

“Nice to see you again,” said Stephan McFadden, coming over to look at me in a caring manner. Seeing him again reminded me why I’d hired him. In addition to his low quote, there was a lovely, clear-eyed farm boy innocence about him. Total confidence. That’s what his rosy cheeks inspired in me.

“Get to work, Stephan,” said Earl to the boy.

Seemed like a strange way to talk to our contractor, especially one with the face of an angel, but Earl has his own communication style.

“How long until the barn will be ready? Bertie and Lucky will be so thrilled to move in!”

“We’ll have it framed up by the end of tomorrow. Another day for the roof. Then we’ll finish up the walls. Put in the windows and whatnot. Pretty simple. Should be ready for the weekend.”

“That is just incredible,” I told Stephan. “I could kiss you.”

He beamed at me. “I’d allow that,” he said.

“I wouldn’t,” said Eustace, who’d come up behind me. “Get to work, Stephan.”

A thought popped into my head and I called Stephan over again.

“You’re doing wonderful things here, and I know a young man who would love to help. His name is Anoop and his mother will be so thrilled to see him working. Are you interested in an assistant?”

Stephan didn’t say anything at first, but Eustace beamed at me. “Stephan here was just saying he’d love a helper. Maybe someone to handle the money for him. Right, Stephan?”

Stephan nodded and I made a mental note to call Anoop and his mother as soon as I went back inside. I knew I’d remember, too. What a wonderful feeling to have my memory back as well as my energy!

After that, I practically floated over to watch Lucky being harnessed up to the wagon. After I watched Dean Spratt drive him around the field twice without incident, I knew we were in a new era at Woefield Farm. The era of competence. Finally, we were on the right road.

N
ow that Prudence is back on her feet, she’s doing her very best mongoose impression. I don’t mean that she giggles when she mates, which the Internet informs me is what actual female mongooses do, but that she’s tackling the problems big and small, hers and others’, with an indomitable will.

Like me and Earl, she was horrified by Sara’s situation but stymied about how to handle it. No parent wants to be told they’re doing a bad job. So Prudence went to each of them and, without making accusations, asked directly if they’d reconsider their decision not to let Sara visit.

If you want any further evidence that they’re idiots, here it is: they both said no. They said they couldn’t afford to give the other one “ammunition” in the divorce and that they thought it was best to wait for the social worker’s report.

This is unbelievable on several fronts. Prudence got Mrs. Spratt some massive book deal and has given Mr. Spratt a new lease on life by letting him work with our mule. But no, that wasn’t enough.

Bloodied but not beaten, Prudence has decided to renew her efforts to impress the social worker. This is exhausting for everyone.

She’s trying to get the Great Christmas Mule Pull off the ground, and it doesn’t seem to be going well but I don’t like to ask, because then she might feel compelled to tell me.

She says she’s having trouble getting what she calls “community buy-in.” In other words, no one wants our mule wagon bringing customers to their places of business. I guess they must have talked to their lawyers about liability or something and decided to take the opt-out position. This is a small community. You can only afford to have so many of your customers maimed and killed in preventable mule-wagon accidents before it takes a toll on the bottom line.

So far, Sara’s dad has driven Lucky around the pasture and up and down Woefield Road a few times. He hasn’t taken our unpredictable mule onto any of the busier roads, and I sure as shit wasn’t planning to be sitting on that wagon when he tried.

She’s got that guy who faints when he eats spice and who wears nothing but jogging suits over here helping the young fraudster Stephan McFadden. Anoop’s mother has come to take video of him cleaning up the construction materials. I think she’s going to send it to some woman to prove that Anoop has a job. This interference is very much to Prudence’s taste, and she gets this look on her face like she’s just seen a sensational ballet performance whenever she catches sight of anyone doing anything even slightly productive. Indomitable. That’s what she is.

Prudence is also cooking up some other scheme for the holidays, but she hasn’t shared the details and I haven’t asked, because again, I don’t want to risk her telling me. All I know is that I have been put in charge of Christmas decorations. Which is fine, because my mom
is dying to get her leathery hands on the new barn and she loves to festoon every available surface with holiday garlands and other shit.

What else?

Earl and Prudence and I are all leaving notes for Sara. And in true thoughtful Sara fashion, she’s leaving notes for each of us. Her notes are matter-of-fact recitations of current events in her life, and she makes sure to give each of us a useful fact that we can use in our lives. They’re sort of like fortune cookie notes, only factual and not mass-produced.

The note I received today informed me that she’s in her school Christmas play and will be playing the role of the partridge. This means she’ll be on the stage “the longest out of anyone.” Then she told me some partridge facts, which I will treasure forever.

I think she’s been writing to Earl about Alec Baldwin, who still seems to be ailing. That rooster has tremendous star quality, so it’s a bit of a worry. Sara’s told Earl everything he should be doing, but I don’t see a lot of change in the white-crested Casanova. He’s hardly humping any of the hens in his harem and his crest is looking threadbare. Sara’s last note said she’s not sure how old he is, and so his problems might be age-related. On the plus side, the lull in Alec Baldwin’s sex life makes my nonexistent one look better by comparison.

What else? I finally wrote my overdue articles, and my editor, Tamara, loved them. She and I have been talking quite a bit. She is coming to BC for some online magazine awards gala deal in Vancouver, and then she’s going to Victoria to see some relatives, and while she’s on the island she’s going to visit the farm. And me. Will I sound like less of a man if I say I’m scared to meet her in person? She’s so cool, it’s kind of paralyzing.

Finally, every few days, I get an incomprehensible message from
the drama teacher, who has apparently taken a leave from her job. She says she’s using the time to finish her steampunk play, but I think she got suspended for showing up for class drunk. I’ve tried twelve-stepping her a few times, and every time she’s told me to get lost. Or to come over to finish what I started.

My guess is she only remembers a little bit about what happened between us. That’s probably a blessing.

Anyhow, life is not a total drag now. But we definitely need our Sara back, even if her mother isn’t leaving her in the campground anymore.