A Rhinestone Button (33 page)

Job felt his face flush. “Hello!” he said.

“Wondered when you were going to get around to knocking,” she said. “Whatever are you wearing? What’s with the sunglasses?”

“Oh,” he said, but didn’t take off the glasses. Both hands were occupied.

“What’s that?”

“Firefly. Lightning bug.” He held it up for her to see.

“You know I’ve never seen one?”

It flew up just then, past her head, flitting and sparking into the house.

“I’m sorry,” said Job.

“It’s all right. Can’t be that hard to find a bug with a light stuck to its butt.”

He took off the sunglasses and remembered the box he was carrying. A case of Medjool dates. He had phoned half the grocers in Edmonton to find them, then panicked when he discovered the cost but emptied his wallet anyway. “These are for you,” he said, and handed her the box, realizing at
that moment that the gift was too much. He thought of Jerry’s dog, wagging his tail even as he crouched in fear.
Please love me
.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“They were on sale,” he said, thinking this might make the gift seem less expensive. But regretted this too. Would she think he was cheap?

“Thank you. Have a seat on the couch. I’ll bring us some tea.”

He held his cup by the handle but didn’t drink. The weather was too hot. He wanted water instead, or cool lemonade, but couldn’t bring himself to ask for it. He wanted to take the jacket off but was afraid of underarm stains. The mud in his mind churned for something to say as he looked around the living room. A cluttered house now. Not with mess, but with furniture. The room had the appearance of a tea house, with tables and chairs placed carefully around the space, dressed up for a conservative clientele. All things cozy. An ancient and ragged framed embroidery hung to the side of the front entrance.
Home Sweet Home
. Below it an overstuffed armchair with a doily over the headrest.

“Darren says I can have the house,” said Liv. “He doesn’t want Jason living in some rented place. And he never liked it here. Too many memories, I guess. And the ghost scared him, though I haven’t heard much from it lately.” She waved a hand at the furniture around the room. “I’m collecting for a bed and breakfast, or a tea house. People around here don’t know the value of an antique. They want the new. Their barns are full of this stuff. I just went around asking if anyone had old furniture they wanted to get rid of
and I picked it up for a song. This,” she said, patting a side table, “cost me five bucks. Five bucks! I saw one like it in Vernon when I was down visiting Mom. They were asking five hundred.”

A knock on the door. Job stayed on the couch as Liv answered the door and talked to the boys on her step. Job heard Ben’s voice. “Jason’s on the road with his dad,” she told them. “You’ll have to find someplace else to hang out tonight.”

“Why?” said Ben. “You got a date?”

“Yes, I’ve got a date. Now go on.”

She closed the door on their singsong “Liv’s got a boyfriend, Liv’s got a boyfriend.”

Job tugged at the sleeve of Ed’s jacket as Liv sat back down on the couch beside him.
Boyfriend
. “I was wondering if you wanted to go to Ruth’s wedding with me on Saturday,” he asked her.

“As your date?”

“The ceremony is at two. There’s a reception to follow In the church basement.”

“Sure. Sounds like fun.”

Job fiddled with his cup. With the task of this visit now accomplished, he was unsure how to proceed. Should he stand to go? “I’ll be going to the wedding rehearsal tomorrow at three,” he said.

“You wouldn’t think there’d be much to rehearse. I assume you’ll just be standing there.”

“And handing Wade the ring.”

“Yes, the ring.”

“And I’ll be helping to decorate.”

“The church?”

“The basement. For the reception. Ruth’s picking up a helium tank, to fill balloons.”

“That’s nice.”

“You working tomorrow?”

“No.”

“You’re not working Saturday?”

“No.”

“That’s good.”

They sat in silence. Too long.

Job pushed himself up from the couch. “I should be going.”

Liv pulled him back down. “You can stay. Awhile.” She leaned forward and kissed him. Her tongue like a date in his mouth. Then she leaned back and put his index finger in her mouth. The feel of her tongue and teeth on the pad of his finger. Tingling. She kissed him again. Warm hands on the damp skin of his face, his neck, his shoulders, pulling at the shirt tucked into his pants. They rumbled on the couch, his hands on her breasts, her rump and sliding past the elastic of her skirt. He opened his eyes for a moment and saw a flash in the air above him, and wondered if this, of all things, had brought the colours reeling back, then realized his mistake. The firefly flashed and darted, and flashed again. Job pulled back a little and said, “Look.” The firefly streaked an arc across the ceiling, blinked out, and streaked another.

“That’s the first time that’s happened,” said Liv. “Fireworks.”

The lightning bug flew at them and caught in Liv’s hair. She batted at it. Job searched through her hair, trying to find it, but it had stopped blinking, or had fled under one of the many tables or chairs. “I think it’s gone,” he said.

“Let’s go upstairs, where it’s more comfortable.”

She left the lights off and led Job by the hand up the stairs. She undressed him and then herself as they kissed. Once on the bed, she sat on top of him and guided him into herself. He held her hips as he came and then held her hips to stop her from moving. The sharp pain of her riding his sensitive penis. She pulled herself from him, the pain like a bandage pulled from hair, and lay beside him. Some time later she put his hand on her thigh, as if expecting something, but Job didn’t know what. Had he missed something? He rolled to his side and held her and breathed at her neck. The smell of her. Sandalwood. Oranges.

Above their heads the firefly flashed and streaked. He felt a sudden flush of wonder at it. This private display of fireworks. “Must have come up on our clothing,” he said.

“Yes.” She shifted away from him.

Job lay on his back beside her, feeling the ease of being in accepting company for the first time in his life. “I’d like to stay the night,” he said. He was already drifting into sleep.

“Fine.”

He spent the morning staring down at her, watching her sleep, waiting for her eyes to open. When she did finally wake, opening her eyes to find him there, she startled.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“You slept in.”

“What time is it?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“I usually sleep in to about ten when I’m not working. Anyway, I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean anything. It’s nice that you slept in.”

She held the blanket over her and yanked her robe down from its hook beside the bed before pulling it around herself. With her back still towards him she said, “I guess you must be hungry.”

“A little.”

“I’ll make us some breakfast. Brunch.”

He sat up. “Can I? Can I make you breakfast?” He all but felt his tail wagging, and lay back against the pillow. He put an arm behind his head. “I mean, I like to cook.”

“All right. Sure.”

Liv watched as he cracked eggs into a double boiler and stirred in lemon for a hollandaise sauce, as he fussed over the poached eggs and worried that he didn’t have English muffins and would have to make do with toast. He chose her best china, with a rose pattern, to serve breakfast on. “I hope that’s all right. If you like your eggs done harder, I can redo them.”

“No, no, this is fine. I don’t usually eat breakfast, just have a glass of orange juice.”

“You want orange juice? I was going to squeeze some but you’re out of oranges. I can run over to the co-op and pick some up.”

“No, no, this is fine. Really. It’s great. It’s remarkable. I’ve never known a man who cooks like this.”

She ate and gave Job a forced smile. “Good!” she said, her mouth full.

“If you want another I’d be happy to make it.” He stood and started for the fridge.

“No. Job. Sit.”

He sat.

“Listen. I appreciate all the trouble you’ve gone to here this morning. And the dates and everything, but I really don’t think this is going to work out.”

Job looked at his hand rubbing the tablecloth.

“I guess it’s just too soon for me,” she said.

“Was it last night? Did I do something wrong? I thought you might want something, but I wasn’t sure what.”

“No.” She pushed her plate away. “Yes. It wasn’t that you were doing anything wrong. It was just like being a teenager again. All fumbling and then—over.”

Job remembered Jocelyn in the van, placing his hand between her legs, then, when he didn’t get it, moving his hand up and down. He felt the tears well up. He wasn’t good enough. Not even at this, a thing bulls did without thinking. A knowledge they carried in their blood. He left the kitchen and headed for the front door.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Liv called out after him. And a moment later, “We could try again.” But he couldn’t face her. He left the house and shut the front door behind him.

Outside Liv’s house, Job leaned against the wall, feeling he might melt, dribble to the ground in an oily puddle. He was shamed by his inexperience. The small trails he’d travelled. Overhead, navy clouds boiled in a green sky and shot down fingers of lightning. He should get home and take a stab at bringing in the hay before the rain hit. But he heard his name called from across the street just as he settled into the truck. A familiar voice, from a stranger. “Will?”

Will had lost too much weight and shaved his beard. His jeans and flannel shirt hung off him. His eyes, staring out from blue-rimmed hollows, were at once yellowed and shining. Mad eyes, or stoned. Job had seen this yellowed look before, but couldn’t think where. Then he remembered his sister-in-law, Lilith, as she explained why she had put the cat in the dishwasher. The look of someone with one foot in another world and the other on something slippery.

“I thought this was your truck,” said Will. “Saw it here at dawn, when I went over to do chores.”

Job stayed put. He didn’t want conversation, but felt obliged to try. His voice was slow, slurred with the effort. “You staying at your mom’s?”

Will picked a chicken feather off his sleeve. “We rented out the farmhouse to a couple who work in Edmonton, until they find a house of their own. They’ve got kids and wanted a bit of country to raise them on. I’m still running the poultry.”

“Staying with Barbara makes getting to chores harder, doesn’t it?”

“Easier for Mom to keep an eye on me this way.” He jammed his hands into his jean pockets and looked over to Liv’s house. “Thought maybe your truck had broke down or something. But then I saw you coming out.”

“Uh huh.”

“Haven’t seen you in Godsfinger Baptist for ages. You still going to Bountiful Harvest? Or are you going to a different fellowship?”

Fellowship?
Job didn’t answer. Will spent much of his time under Jacob’s counsel and would know he wasn’t going to either church any more.

Will gripped the truck’s window ledge with both hands. “Don’t you feel the Holy Spirit moving you to go? Don’t you feel
convicted
to go?”

Job’s hand on the keys in the ignition. He felt the Spirit move him to start the truck, but paused.

“I’m very dependent on the Holy Spirit. Without him I’m afraid of what I might become. Jacob’s helped me see that in God’s eyes, sin is sin. Homosexuality is just that, sin, no worse than adultery or sex out of wedlock.” He glanced at Liv’s door. “I know now why I had the homosexual impulses. It was pride. I used to think God helped those who helped themselves. But I’m nothing unless I humble myself completely to the Lord. Now that I let the Holy Spirit
work through me, everything’s changed, everything’s easier. I don’t feel the temptation any more. I’m healed!”

Over Steinke’s canola, a flying saucer floated into view. Purple with green aliens waving out the windows. A hot-air balloon.

Job started the truck, but Will hung on. “I want to thank you, for saving me from myself. If you hadn’t told Jacob about seeing me and Ed, I don’t know if I ever would have found the Holy Spirit.”

“I should have kept my nose out of it.”

“Don’t say that! You can’t begin to understand the kind of favour you did for me. And I want to return the favour. It causes me great grief to see you so separated from the Lord,
backsliding
in this way.” He waved at a hand at Liv’s house. “But it’s no wonder if you’ve fallen away from your spiritual practices. When was the last time you picked up your Bible?”

The sky above Will’s head rolled like smoke from a chimney. “I’ve got to go.” Job eased down Liv’s driveway and stopped for the Bullick kid on his bike. The boy with a blanket tied around his neck and dragging in the gravel behind him. Trying to fly again.

“I wish you could experience communion with the Holy Spirit,” Will called after him. “I’ll pray for you!” It struck Job as a threat. He kept his eyes to the road and spit gravel as he sped off.