Running on Empty (22 page)

His face dissolved into a still photo of a laughing, blue-haired Raye, the words
Rayelene Constance Palmer
appearing beneath it. What followed was a visual montage of moments captured in photographs: Raye as a baby, her tiny hand gripping
the much larger finger of an adult; Raye as a toddler, her face aglow with both fear and delight at having navigated her first steps alone; Raye as an eight-year-old in an ugly dark uniform, the sash across her shoulder covered with Brownie badges. The next image fluttered into action, a video Ethan had taken with his cell a couple months ago: thirteen-year-old Raye reverently holding a battered bass guitar in her arms as she coaxed tentative notes from it. These notes morphed into professionally recorded music, the original “Smoke on the Water” from Deep Purple’s 1972 album
Machine Head
, which Ethan had recently discovered in Winnipeg Joe’s music store.

When he’d decided to embed a portion of the song into the profile he was creating, Ethan had listened to the words for the first time. Of course, the song wasn’t new to him—Raye had played it more times than he could remember—but because he’d never before paid attention to the lyrics, he was surprised to learn about the real-life event it recounted, a 1971 fire in Montreux, Switzerland. Deep Purple had gone there to record
Machine Head
in one of Montreux’s casinos. On the fourth of December, a concert-goer foolishly shot a flare into the casino’s ceiling, starting a fire that razed the building. Hearing the band sing about the burning of a gambling house on that long-ago December evening, Ethan had felt a chill shudder through him. He felt that same chill now. It was on the fourth of December that Raye had followed him into the longest night of his life.

Deep Purple’s song melted incrementally into the background, becoming something else, something muted and indistinguishable, as images of Raye at various ages layered the screen. “It’s amazing,” Ethan’s off-screen voice resumed, “how a person can share the same house with you nearly your whole life yet not once do you tell her how much she means to you. Not once do you even consider what it might be like never to have the opportunity again to make her understand how remarkable she
is. To tell her how weird and absolutely wonderful a human being she’s become.” The background music grew louder, swelling into the refrain of “Running on Empty,” Jackson Browne singing of aimlessness and loss before fading away. “And then,” said Ethan, his voice catching momentarily before continuing, “something happens that makes you regret all those opportunities you let slip by.”

The room suddenly echoed with the sound of a single gunshot as newspaper clippings cartwheeled onto the screen, their headlines screaming the events of that night:

Teen Gambling Leads to Tragedy
.

Daughter of Prominent Lawyer Shot
.

Girl Takes Bullet Meant for Brother
.

“What do I think is important now?” asked the onscreen Ethan back on the Macdonald Bridge. “What do I
know
is important?” He glanced away, swallowing hard before turning back to the camera. “Only one thing: moments when you can tell the people you love how much you care for them. I’ve wasted too many of those, and that’s a mistake I’ll never make again. For anyone watching this now who may not know her, I’d like to introduce my sister, Raye. She saved my life.”

The onscreen Ethan dissolved once more as a final image of Raye appeared. Her face pale and thin, she stood supported on one side by a crutch and on the other by a lanky Brad Clahane. Above them hung an arch made of silver balloons and a tinsel-covered sign bearing the words
Lakewood Junior High Christmas Dance
. Even behind brand-new eyeglasses—the colour of which matched her blue hair and dress perfectly—the twinkle in Raye’s eyes was unmistakable. She’d been smiling at Ethan as he took the picture, beaming as he’d told her yet again how beautiful she was.

I’ve never been big on conspiracy theories, the elaborate connections people make to prove that individuals and organizations have been working together to commit outrageous acts. I once had a sociology professor who was convinced—and who attempted to persuade his students—that personal electronic devices were invented by governments intent on keeping citizens isolated, insulated from each other, so they’d be more compliant, less likely to rebel and join forces against political corruption. I recall laughing at his claim, but I recently had occasion to remember it. I was riding a subway when a power failure on a section of track ahead stranded our train between two stations during rush hour, which meant that many of the people jammed into our car (mostly twenty- and thirty-somethings) were forced to stand wedged together for nearly an hour. Increasingly annoyed by the likelihood that I’d be late for a meeting, I expected to grumble about the delay with the people around me. But I was surprised by the silence that descended on the occupants of that car. Although many of the passengers were wedged beside people who were clearly their companions, very few of them spoke, most choosing instead to text on iPhones, listen to iPods, or surf on iPads—isolated, insulated from each other despite extremely close quarters. It was a sobering moment.

I experienced a number of equally sobering moments while conducting research for
Running on Empty
. I was stunned by the percentage of high school students who gamble—some sources
indicate that as many as one in three wager money on a regular basis—and by the early age at which many of them turned to gambling, some as young as seven. And I was dumbfounded to learn of the number of teenagers who struggle with gambling addiction—one source suggested that number in the United States alone is in the hundreds of thousands. During an interview with an addictions counsellor, I learned that for every teenager who seeks help for a gambling problem, there are many more who elude discovery. While they may be up to their ears in debts owed to friends, family members, and bookies, most continue to have a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs because they have parents who provide these essentials. Teens don’t default on mortgages like adults do, so they avoid detection more easily.

Of all the things I learned while researching teen gambling, the most disturbing was the way our society encourages it. Film after film honours risk-takers, revering those who live on the edge while subliminally sneering at those who choose not to take chances. Reality TV programs not only make gambling a form of entertainment but glorify the individuals whose lives are governed by it. And people in the media aren’t the only ones guilty of creating this culture of betting and bookmaking. Few adults would even consider giving a pack of cigarettes to a child, but an alarming number think nothing of including lottery tickets in children’s birthday and holiday gifts. And what student hasn’t brought home from school at least one handful of tickets to sell on a draw of some sort? And what adult hasn’t said to a child, “I
bet
you …”?

What does all this have to do with conspiracy theories? During my research, I encountered an individual who claimed that some Internet sites for young children—like those in which youngsters earn points to support virtual pets—have been created by branches of organized crime. Their intent, this person claims, is to groom a whole new generation of risk-takers
who will more readily accept gambling in their lives. Do I believe this? I didn’t at first. Now, after everything I’ve read and viewed, I don’t know. If nothing else, it’s at least worth thinking about, keeping us all mindful of how easily—and insidiously—attitudes can be shaped. The more important question is how to cope with the tremendous toll that gambling takes on individuals, their families, and society as a whole. If you or someone close to you struggles with a gambling addiction, there are people who can help. A simple Internet search will identify those in your area. Call them. Today.

As always when I finish writing a novel, there are people whose support I would like to acknowledge. Among them is my agent, Marie Campbell, who willingly represented a novel about a serious issue despite working in a market that’s increasingly driven by fantasy and dystopian literature. As well, I’d like to thank the incredible team of professionals at HarperCollins, who continually demonstrate how committed they are to their craft. I especially want to thank my editor, Hadley Dyer, whose vision of the story kept me on track when I seemed all but determined to derail. In particular, I’m grateful for her editorial exacto knife, which slivered ten thousand unnecessary words from an early draft. William Faulkner is among the people said to have advised writers, “Kill your darlings.” I’m indebted to Hadley for killing mine.

Finally, I would like to thank my wife, Debbie, who urged me to write a story about teen gambling. I’m often asked by beginning writers to identify the single element most important to an author’s success, and my answer is always the same: a great wife (or a great husband or a great partner). I began writing in 1988 and, throughout all the years that have followed, Debbie has been my first reader, my first editor, and my very own cheerleader. I could never have begun this journey without her. It is my wish for any would-be writer reading this now that you, too, will find a partner equally as supportive and as committed to your success.

“A father’s love crucifies.”

From
Father and Son
,
a film by Alexander Sokurov

Cover photo: Valentino Sani / Trevillion Images
Cover design: Lisa Bettencourt

Running on Empty
Copyright © 2012 by Don Aker

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EPub Edition © APRIL 2012 ISBN: 978-1-443-41440-1

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Trophy
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Quotation from the film
Father and Son
by Alexander Sokurov used with permission.

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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Aker, Don, 1955–
Running on empty / Don Aker.

ISBN
978-1-55468-754-1

I. Title.
PS8551.K46R85 2012    jC813’.54    C2012-900851-6

RRD
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

The author is grateful for financial support from the Province of Nova Scotia through the Grants to Individuals Program of the Department of Communities, Culture & Heritage.

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