Some Great Thing (40 page)

“No! It’s too late. It’s all too late. I don’t want to see you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t.”

“But why? I just want to talk.”

“Why?”

“Because everything’s … because your room’s empty.”

“What?”

“And I want to try to make toast for you, Jerry. I want to talk to you. You know. You can come over and I’ll make some toast for you. I can … Just take it easy. I could wake you up sometimes, or you could wake me up—I don’t know, kick my bed in the morning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want you to tell me things. Can’t we just grab a coffee?”

“No.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing!”

“It’s … you know, it’s sad for me if you don’t like me. Because, look at you. How did you do it? You’re all tall. You look, you know, you look like one of the good guys, one of the popular guys. It’s sad for me if you don’t like me.”

“Take it easy, Dad.”

“I’m your dad.”

“I know.”

“She’s gone, Jerry.”

“So?”

“I thought you should know. I haven’t heard from her. You saw her fall or something, didn’t you? She was sick. She was a drunk, Jerry.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“But she’s gone, buddy. And I … I haven’t been looking for her. I promise I haven’t been looking for her.”

“So?”

“Do you hate me?”

“Who cares? No.”

“If you come home, if you visit or whatever, it will just be me there.”

“I’m not coming home.”

“I’m not letting you go.”

“I’m faster than you.”

“I’m stronger than you and I know your name’s Kevin. I know you crash at the Y sometimes. I know your name’s Johnny and Tim, and I’ll catch you, Jerry, and I’ll sew you into my side. You’re not getting away from me.”

“What do you want?”

“Can I see your tattoo?”

“No.”

“Do you want to get a coffee?”

“I’ve lost my job now, because of you.”

“You haven’t lost your job.”

“How can I work there now that you know I work there? You’re not catching me. You think you can catch me, but I’ve escaped from you and that fuckin house for a long time. I’m grown up. You think I can’t escape again? You have no right over me. You can’t sew me anywhere. You’re a fuckin weirdo. You’re a total stranger. I don’t live in your world. I won’t live in your house. I don’t want to see you. I have my own life. I was a kid, you fuckin idiot. I was scared all the time. Now I’m not. I don’t need to be scared like that any more. I don’t need to live in that fuckin house.”

“But she’s gone.”

“Well, so am I.”

“Oh, don’t run, Jerry, goddamn it! You don’t have to be so dramatic. Don’t run! Don’t! ‘So am I’! Listen to yourself! Come back and listen to yourself! Fuck, Jerry! Stop! I’ve got your hat! I’ve got your hat! You can’t get anywhere without your hat!”

W
ELL, HERE
’
S HIS HAT
.

It wasn’t quite an anchor or a magnet. That clever trick of mine (“you can’t get anywhere without your hat”)—he didn’t quite fall for that. So here’s his hat as a funny memory of his days as Kevin.

I’ll just grab a beer.

I can’t tell you what a relief it was to see what he looked like. Everything was possible again. His voice was deep, yes, shoulders big, but he still had a bit of the puppy in him. When he said he wasn’t scared, his voice broke.

Do you think I let him out of my sight? For the record, for the history of the battle between Jerry and Jerry: Jerry never escaped from Jerry.

So he wasn’t as happily surprised to see me as I thought he might be. Have you ever been happily surprised to see your parents? In the future I would give him some warning that I was coming, prepare him for the pleasure.

When he ran away from me across the parking lot I ran to my
truck and sped after him. He ran over a grass bank and into the next parking lot, which was attached to a mall. I guessed he would run for the mall so I drove around, out on to the street, into that parking lot, and I just saw the back of him swing into the mall. The stores weren’t open yet, so he wouldn’t have many places to hide. But I figured it would be better if I just watched him for a while instead of confronting him again.

I stayed in my truck and drove from one end of the mall to the other, watching the exits. After a couple of hours I thought he’d slipped away, fuck, but I saw the little chimp sneaking out eventually.

I followed him again. He didn’t see my truck. He got on a bus, and I tailed that for about half an hour. I think he noticed me then. I saw people in the bus looking at me all the time because every car on the road was honking at me for driving at forty k and pulling over at bus stops, and the bus driver himself kept honking at me and waving me ahead.

When Jerry got out on Bank, he ran, flash, faster than any McDonald’s suit had ever been taken. He deked down a street which was one-way against me, but that didn’t stop me, then he ran into a park but it was only a block wide and I saw him run out the other side.

“Where can I lead the old man in the truck?” I could hear him thinking. I’m on to you.

I was a bit embarrassed for him at one stage. He ran through a car wash thinking that I would try to drive through and be compelled to get a wash. Maybe it was a glimpse of his low opinion of me. I drove around and saw him at the other side of the car wash getting on another bus. I started feeling sorry for him at that point. He was spending money he probably wouldn’t otherwise have spent. I decided to turn away.

H
E DIDN
’
T GET AWAY
, no no. It was just a trick. I let the bus out of my sight and then caught up to it again. Genius.

He got off the bus looking different—just a white T-shirt (his trousers were all that was left of McDonald’s Boy). The disguise didn’t fool me.

He had no clue that I was watching him. We were down near the market now—daytime crowds, one or two hoors still kicking around from the night before—easy to stay hidden from him, but hard not to get the attention of the hoors by driving slowly.

Jerry ducked down an alleyway at one point. When I looked more closely I realized it wasn’t an alley, but a passage to the basement of a building. He went in and didn’t come out for a couple of hours. When he was inside I took the risk of getting out of the truck and looking at the building more closely.

It was where he lived. My big Jerry. His own place, or maybe his and someone else’s. I don’t know. It smelled like piss and I wanted to sing with pride. It reminded me of Mrs. Brookner’s basement. Remember? Ah, buddy, you’re a brick.

I had an idea—just to let him know that I was proud. I went back to my truck and wrote a note:

When he came out of the basement and walked down the street a bit, I hopped out of the truck again and left that note for him for when he came home.

And I hopped back into my truck and kept following him.

I
GOT NO SIGN
that he wanted to see me. I never saw him swing by my place. He never acknowledged my truck.

I left more notes for him.

I just wanted to give him little reminders that I was around. Every Friday night he went to the same field out by the airport to lie down and watch the planes (Friday was the busiest night in the sky). I started leaving him a six-pack out there with little notes.

But he never touched them.

W
HERE DOES HE END
up one day?

Closer to the house, closer to the house, his bus is getting closer to the house, and it sets him down at the mall that McGuinty, Davies, and others hammered out of their dreams. Westview Mall, it has become, despite being in the south and having no view. And there it is, embracing my son.

Something told me to get out of my truck for a change. I didn’t know what he was doing there—I never knew what he was doing—and I guess curiosity made me follow on foot.

I couldn’t believe all the people in that mall. It was lunch hour, and there were men in suits walking around, women in suits, old ladies shopping, people jabbing fries into their mouths. It was still new, but it was
full
. I felt like I had planted a few seeds, forgotten about them, and now here was a forest with wildlife, flowers and nuts.

Can I admit to something, just between us? I forgot about Jerry.
I completely forgot about why I was in that mall. You will understand that I felt pride for having had a hand in the making of the building, but there was some other feeling that made me forget about Jerry for a minute.

Look at the man looking for an electric knife, the granny looking for a bluer rinse, the woman here looking for the right speckled frame for her glasses. They depress me, my friend. They’re all looking for something, and their sad little faces are telling me there’s a reason for their looking and it’s not roast beef or a weak shade of blue. There’s something outside, I tell you, and it’s making them all come in here, something scary, something waiting for all of them.

I’m sitting there chinning my thoughts, having a cup of coffee, and I recall my Jerry and the reason I’m in the mall. My Jerry. I realize that to him I am probably that thing outside, that reason for getting lost in knickknacks and the faces of strangers.

My quiet friend, let us take this moment to weigh the heaviness of that thought.

I
WENT BACK OUTSIDE
to my truck. I resolved to leave the boy alone. If he needs me like I need him, he will come to me.

It is time to return to work. Maybe it’s time to build another mall. I believe my Jerry could use one.

I started my engine and got ready to reverse when on my back window I heard a THWAP, a dirt-bomb whacking the glass.

I turned around and there’s my Jerry, smiling.

E
VENING
.

A weekend coming. A dinner. A party. Amen.

Thickening.

Uncle Simon’s invited to a gathering, with friends, frat boys, freshmen.

Reckoning.

A dinner, à deux, with Kwyet. All thoughts to be spoken, veins scissored open, minds considered and weighed.

Ripening.

After months she called him again.

He is in love. Simple. Always. He loves love, Kwyet is Love, and all other loves have been steps to her altar.

Back to Montreal for a seat at the Feast of Venus. The introductory event, on Friday night, will be a bit of a bacchanal, a dorm party, of all things, where Simon will meet Kwyet’s young friends and a handful of faculty.

On Saturday night is the main event, when Simon and Love will have dinner by themselves.

Until then he worked on a few scenarios, which you might be interested in. Some of these are noble, some downright salty, all of them end with Love’s splendid triumph.

When Kwyet first appeared naked to my mind’s eye, I had to turn away. But gradually I have shed my pudeur and I am now, then, capable of indulging some robust and vivid imaginings. It is all in this spirit of testing that I had lately come to enjoy. Will a house survive? How will Kwyet and Simon most successfully unite? One very simple scenario has the two of them enjoying their meal on Saturday, growing warm, frank, close, and
returning either to Simon’s room or Kwyet’s to grow warmer, franker, closer.

Kwyet has a bottom like a pillow, where I rest my head to consider what I look like from above. I send my soul up there to have a look. Kwyet on the bottom, me on hers, my graceful raffish soul tilting his head in Botticellian pose above my grateful rakish body (recently sated on Kwyet’s adaptable bottom). I smile and my soul winks back at me. I look good, I should say
.

And she never had a lover as curious and adept, I tell her to tell me. We are sitting on my windowsill (naked: downstairs), and we are both immensely pleased with me. She is at a loss for words
.

“S
IMON
!”

“Yes!”

“You never got my name, did you?!”

“No!”

“That is
so
funny! Where’s Kwyet?!”

“I thought you would know!”

“No, sir!”

“She said she would meet me here!”

“She’ll be here! For sure! She’s probably here already, but these parties are
so
big, so totally out of
hand!
It’s not just this room! This is just one, like, room! Let me introduce you!”

“Yes!”

“These are some of my buddies!”

“Hello!”

“That’s Gretchen! Tony! Tom! Ashley! Jodie! Bruce! Robert! Sean! Jodie Two! Dee! Peter! Alan! Michaela! Jay! France, Francoise and Francine! (They’re always together and French!)”

“Hello!”

“Here, talk to Bruce! I told you about Bruce before! His name’s Bruce!”

“Hello!”

“How’s it going?!”

“This is Simon! He’s! Like! He knows Kwyet!”

“Right on!”

“Yes!”

“Where is she?!”

“I don’t know! She said she would meet me here!”

“She’ll be here! Totally! I’ve got to go! I’ll be back!”

“So!”

“Yes!”

“Kwyet, eh?!”

“That’s right!”

“Right on!”

“Yes!”

“You one of her profs?!”

“I know her from Ottawa!”

“What do you teach?!”

“I don’t teach anything!”

“Cool!”

“I might see if I can find Kwyet!”

“What?!”

“See you!”

“OK!”

“Excuse me!”

“Yeah!”

“Excuse me!”

“Sure!”

“Where are the other rooms?!”

“We were talking!”

“Pardon?!”

“You interrupted us!”

“Forgive me! Excuse me!”

“You bet!”

“Are the …! Excuse me! Are the other rooms through here?”

“You bet!”

“Have you seen Kwyet?!”