The Second Son (5 page)

He was an exuberant fellow, Jean’s baby brother. In his mid-thirties, he made me think of a high school halfback in a tight suit, looking like he was about to bust out of it, no matter how much he might have paid for it. There was more than a touch of the old Glengarry in Danny McEwan, I had to admit. He seemed to know everyone who came through the door, as he directed them toward Andrew. I guess I threw him a few dark looks, watching him scurry about like a water beetle, slapping backs and pumping hands, because Jean touched my arm at one point and looked at me like she understood. “Later,” she whispered. “I’ll explain later.”

It was good that Jean was beside me in the receiving line. She kept most of the talk moving away from me. As it was, I lasted less than an hour. I must have shaken fifty hands, yet only knew who belonged to four or five of them. And that was because they were my relatives, who had long since worked out the right temperature to greet me with — not too warm, not too cool, very civilized. Then I spotted Chief Kennedy, about six people down. He must have been over eighty, long since retired, still looking tall and righteous, even if he was smiling. I leaned over and told my mother I was going for a smoke. I don’t know if she heard me. She seemed to be in a daze that afternoon.

I made a beeline for the coffee room and lit up a cigarette. A few drags and I decided the lineup could live without me. I was alone for several minutes, wondering why no one else seemed to want coffee, when Johnny Gervais joined me. My father’s first cousin on his mother’s side, Johnny had always been one of my favourites. He was a curlyheaded, bright-faced butterball of a man, one of the many inheritors of the Gervais happy-gene, with that joy of life I loved in my father. I used to enjoy listening to him and Johnny talking about the old days.

Johnny pulled up a chair beside me. “How ya doing, kiddo?” he asked as he slapped me on the knee and started digging out a cigarette of his own.

“Jesus, man, didn’t you just have heart surgery?”

He laughed. “Yeah, double bypass. That’s why I’m stuck with these friggin’ filter tips. Can’t get no smoke, eh?” He broke the filter off and dropped it into his shirt pocket. He patted his pocket and smiled. “Gotta make sure the wife doesn’t find these.”

I laughed for the first time that day. “Bet you’re still drinking the rum and coke, too.”

He finished lighting his cigarette and took a deep drag before he answered, “Nope, had to switch to the diet coke.”

“Cut back on the rum, too?”

He gave me a foolish grin, “More, actually. How else you gonna kill the taste of that diet shit?”

I laughed some more and we started talking about the old man. “You know, your father missed you, Mike,” he told me at one point. “Often talked about you coming home.”

“Yeah, he thought this town was heaven on earth. Couldn’t accept that it started going downhill in the fifties, and him with it.”

He deflected my cynicism. “Seriously, kid, he used to talk about maybe getting another cottage, where you could kind of ease your way back in. On the river, maybe, in Lancaster. You know, sort of test the waters.” He stopped and laughed at his own joke, before he continued, “Even had me looking for one, a couple of years back. Before his heart started giving him problems.”

“That’s right, you’re in the real estate business now.”

“Keeps me busy. Besides, a man can’t live on that chickenshit pension they give you.”

“I guess the old man was lucky my mother had her post office pension.”

“Yeah, your father was lucky in love. Used to say your mother was the best thing ever happened to him.”

“Did he?” I crushed my butt in the ashtray and lit another. I looked at Johnny through the rising smoke. “What were they like, back then? Didn’t my grandfather MacRae refuse to go to their wedding?”

“I guess your mother was pretty upset over that.”

“For how long,” I mocked, “a week?”

Johnny smiled and tried to keep it neutral. “Well, you know, people weren’t mixing as much, back then.”

“How’d my father take it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He was kind of moving up in the world, when he started taking your mother out. It was the town big shots he was hanging around with in those days. The English crowd, I guess.”

“You think that’s why he chased after her?”

“I don’t think he had to chase her very hard. She was considered a catch, but he was no slouch. He had just opened up his store, and the women were hot to have him on their dance cards. He was quite the dancer, you know. So was your mother.”

He paused for a moment, conjuring up a memory. “Man,” he sighed, “they loved that swing music. Glen Miller, Guy Lombardo — the sweetest music this side of heaven, they used to say. That’s when you could tell they were really a couple. I seen them one time at the Armouries. They’d been arguing for half an hour, probably about his drinking. But when the music started up he held out his hand and she went smiling to the dance floor. Dancing was their thing, you see, gliding across the room, feet barely touching the floor, the golden couple.”

“And her being related to the former mayor and all those MacRaes that used to run Glengarry, that had nothing to do him chasing her?”

“You been stewing on things too long, Mike. Sure, the MacRaes were big shots, a ways back. Only your mother was a poor cousin at best. No, it was true love brought them together, and kept them together through all their troubles.”

I grinned. I was more than used to changing that subject. “Then how come the old man told me once to find myself a nice little French girl? And for godsakes sleep with her before I married her?”

Johnny’s cheeks got even redder than normal. “Yeah, I heard him say something like that, a few times. But he loved your mother, even if she was a little shy about some things.”

“One day I heard her tell somebody she was so inexperienced when she got married that she thought people only had sex once or twice a year, like the animals on the farm.”

Johnny stole a look in the direction of the reception room and blushed some more. “That’s a new one on me. Must have been a shock to your father.”

We both laughed and then I changed the subject again. “Did you see a lot of the old man?”

“Sure. We still went fishing every year, till he got sick.” He grinned. “We had a lot in common, eh? Used to sit around comparing symptoms. Only thing we never talked about was our bowels. Old Ed swore if I ever started telling him about my bowels he’d kick my ass right off his porch.” He paused to light up another cigarette and started laughing again. “I remember we were sitting on his front porch one afternoon and he was telling me about all the drugs he was taking. Six different pills, he said. So I tell him, ‘That’s nothing, Ed. I take seven different pills, every day.’ Well, he rocked a few times in his chair, didn’t even look at me, just drawled, ‘Yeah, and I suppose if I was taking seven, you’d be taking eight.’ ”

We laughed again at that one and I found myself getting a strange longing for a rum and coke. “Jesus, Johnny, it’s frightening, how you can lose every goddamn thing you love in life and you don’t even notice it’s gone — until you’re getting ready to bury it.”

He nodded his head slowly and looked again toward the room next door. “Truer words, Mike, truer words . . .”

That’s when the kid came wandering in, looking so much like his father he got my hackles up. I had to remind myself he was Jean’s kid, too. “How’s it going, Brian? You want a coffee?”

He stopped a few feet away and shuffled his feet. “Uh, no thanks.”

I saw him eying the soft drink machine. “You want a drink?” I stood up and dug some change out of my pocket.

“Uh, maybe a coke.” He eased forward and plucked the coins from my hand. He went to the machine and took his time getting a drink and snapping the lid open. Johnny and I looked at each other and smiled. We could tell he was nervous, and we both knew why.

“Where’s your sister, Brian?” Johnny asked, like he didn’t know.

“Aw, she’s still in there with Grandma. Says she has to keep her company.” He took a sip and stepped a little closer. “That place is crawlin’ with people.”

“Yeah,” I contributed, “lots of people knew your grandfather.” I could see he wasn’t interested.

Finally he stepped even closer and asked, “My dad says you’re a mechanic, Uncle Mike. What kind?”

I smiled. “Different kinds. Trucks, caterpillars, everything you’ll find on a drilling site.”

“You worked up north, eh?”

“Yeah, spent a lot of time in Fort McMurray. That’s in Alberta.”

“I know.”

“Got tired of the winters, though, got myself a job at the Canadian Tire in Nanaimo, last year. That’s on Vancouver Island.”

“I know.”

“You do, eh?” It wasn’t that easy to avoid thoughts of Andrew. I looked sideways at Johnny for support and he just shrugged. I pulled out my cigarettes and offered them to the kid. “You want one?”

He smirked. “No thanks.”

I took one and lit up, winking at him through the cloud of smoke. “Good idea. Bad habit.”

“Don’t you get bored, living alone?”

Jesus, I thought, just like his father. Doesn’t care if I know they’ve been talking about me. I tried to be polite. “Oh, I don’t know. I read a lot. You’re never alone if you’ve got a good book.”

The kid finally smiled. “That sounds like something my mother would say.”

Johnny laughed. So did I. “Well, your mother’s a smart woman. Wouldn’t hurt you to listen to her.”

He wasn’t interested in that, either. “Is it true? That you were in jail?”

“Not for a long time now. Why do — ”

“Brian,” Johnny interrupted. “That’s not really polite. You should know better.”

“Naw, it’s okay, Johnny.” I smiled at the boy. “It was a reform school, young fella. Not a jail.”

He shuffled his feet a few times before he finally looked me in the eye and asked, “You got any tattoos?”

“Now, Brian,” Johnny tried again.

I put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder while I studied the boy’s face. I could see Jean in there. “How old are you, kid?”

“Fourteen,” he answered from his stomach.

I smiled and took another drag on my cigarette before I butted it out. “I’ve only got one. Tattoo, that is. Wanna see it?” Johnny murmured something but I wasn’t listening. I was thinking of Andrew again. When the boy nodded I elbowed my jacket back and pulled my sweater up over my chest.

The boy’s mouth opened wide. “Wow, does that say — ”

“It says what it fuckin’ says, kid.” I was mad and I wasn’t sure why.

He was a tough little bugger, I’ll give him that. Wasn’t rattled. “Isn’t that the name of the girl who — ” He stopped short of saying it.

I gave him no ground. “The girl who what?”

“That’s dark, Uncle Mike.”

She almost yelled from the doorway. “For God’s sake, Mike.” It was Jean.

I dropped my sweater and smiled at her. “It’s only a name, Jean. Can’t hurt him.” The heat went out of me as she came closer. I grinned at her, “Besides, if he’s old enough to smoke he’s old enough to know the truth.”

She sniffed the air and turned to her son. “Were you smoking?”

The kid’s eyes popped and he shook his head like a wet dog. I laughed. “It’s okay, Jean. I made him put it out.”

She finally caught on and shook her head. “You’ll never change.”

That must have been enough for Johnny. He cleared his throat and muttered something about finding his wife. Jean acknowledged his parting and reached for her son’s arm. “Brian, your grandmother is asking for you.”

“Aw . . .”

“Now,” she said as she squeezed his arm and sent him on his way. She turned to me. “Can we take a minute?”

“Pardon?” I asked, wondering if I was about to catch shit.

She looked around and confirmed we were alone before she confided, “I need to talk to you about something.”

I widened my eyes in mock surprise. “It’s true, then. You’re expecting again.”

She forced a smile. “Thinking of your father, are you? He found out about Joanne before Andrew did, using that trick.”

I laughed. “That was his favourite. And like you say, he often got it right.”

“Yes, he did.”

I could see she was serious. “Okay, shoot. What’s happening?”

“Well, I hope you’ll understand why I’m bringing it up now. Can we sit?”

I nodded and we sat down. The look on her face made me ask, “Jesus, is someone sick or something?” Looking back I realize it was a stupid thing to say. Someone was dead, actually.

She must have been worried. She didn’t pick up on my clumsiness. “No, but there’s something going on you should be made aware of. Specifically, that Andrew is going to run for mayor, in the fall.”

Like a dummy, I asked, “Mayor of what?”

“Mayor of Alexandria.” I suppose I just sat there with my mouth open because she went on, “I saw you watching Danny earlier and I knew you must be wondering why he was fussing over everyone who came in. I’m not sure it’s in the best of taste, myself. And I was afraid if you found out too abruptly you might get upset.” She paused then, and when she got no reaction, finally said, “So, I hope you don’t find it upsetting.”

I was still staring at her. I don’t know what my face looked like. Maybe it was blank, or maybe it revealed the whirlwind racing round my brain.
The son of a bitch
, I was thinking,
now I’ve got him
! The blood must have rushed out of my head then, to my heart, maybe.

“Mike,” she said, putting a hand on my arm, “are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Can I get you a coffee, or something? Mike?”

I looked at her, startled. “What?”

“Can I get you a coffee?”

“A coffee?” I smiled, wondering what made her think I could possibly hold a Styrofoam cup in my hands after hearing this. “Does he really think he can win an election? In this town?”

She stared at me for a moment, probably trying to judge my mood. I waited her out and she finally answered, “You mean, because of . . . the trouble you had.”

“Yeah, Jean, the trouble I had.” I kept my voice flat. I didn’t want to scare her, not yet.

“Well, the question has been asked. I won’t lie to you about that. But a lot has changed over the years. Lots of new people.” She stopped, still trying to figure out my reaction. “Please tell me to stop if this is making you uncomfortable. I don’t — ”