Milosz (13 page)

Suddenly the narcotic shifts gears, elevating Milo above the debris hut, among the stars looking down upon his human toil, and he says loudly into the darkness, ‘Wait a minute, now just wait
one
minute. I do! Yes, damn it,
I
give a shit!' All of them, all of them want him to stay
inside the lines
. The People of the First Nations, Geon Van Der Wyst, his fellow thespians, his fucking useless agent, the dead or alive Gus, Zosia, even Tanis who he'd thought was a kindred spirit, a free-thinker, a fence-opposer. Even Tanis has rules by which he must play. Fuck her, fuck all of them. Bunch of fucking caged thinkers. He's in the wild now, free in body and soul. He needs nothing and no one. He will make fire, dig up wild edible plants and tan animal hides. He will
survive
!

e wakes in unimaginable darkness. Despite repeated blinking, the dense and sooty blackness remains. He tries to sit up, slamming his head into the ridgepole. He rolls onto his stomach, dragging himself out ass-first. Remembering the leeches and maggots, he shakes himself and ruffles his hair, shedding twigs and leaves and creepy-crawlies. He digs his fingers into his nose and ears then shouts, ‘Get me out of here!' into the thick silence. His mouth is so dry his lips stick to his teeth. What was he
thinking
? Gus used to say this and Milo tried to appear as though he had been thinking when in truth he had no idea what he'd been thinking.
You weren't thinking
, Gus would conclude.
You don't think
. Tanis also said this. Thinking has only meant trouble for Milo. All those gnawed thoughts rattling around inside his skull. Who needs that shit? He should be home in bed, thoughtless, preparing for another day of junk removal. Why must he always chase the dream, the big break, the ticket to a life free of cash woes? Although it's not really about cash, is it? It's about recognition, approval.
You did a good job there, son
. Why couldn't he have said that? Just once. When Milo painted the entire house barf beige as instructed, all his father saw was the drips. ‘Fuck you, old man!' Milo shouts. Then ‘Get over it!' to himself. He begins to dance what he imagines to be a First Nation peoples' dance, hopping on one leg while lifting the opposite knee to his chest. He begins to chant, periodically pounding his chest and uttering war cries. Or just cries. Because he is so utterly and irrefutably alone. ‘Fuck you!' Milo shouts at the invisible forces pitted against him. His screams comet through the woods, burning themselves out until there is nothing left but the ricocheting pain, which in itself has become company of sorts – a reminder that he is alive, not a quitter, still a fighter, deserving of survival. For what? To do what? Watch
TV
, eat, shit and Facebook? The stars told him he could pack it in – where are they now, the fuckers? The chickenshit stars are hiding behind clouds. ‘Come out and twinkle fucking twinkle!' he shouts.

‘Stop making so much noise.'

Milo stumbles. ‘Who's that?'

‘Tawny Farmer. Who are you?' The voice sounds young.

‘I can't see you.'

‘Stop jumping around and shouting.'

Is she a teenager? What's she doing in the woods at this hour? ‘Sorry,' he says, ‘I didn't think anyone could hear me.'

‘The animals hear you. They need sleep.'

‘Of course. Sorry. Where are you?'

‘Right in front of you.'

Milo stares in front of him for several seconds before he can see the outline of a small person.

‘What're you doing here?' Tawny asks.

‘Umm, well, I'm part of a theatre group.'

‘Where's the other part?'

‘I don't know. I'm lost, actually.'

‘That's too bad.'

‘Yeah, well I was trying to make the best of it. I built a debris hut.'

‘A what?'

‘A shelter.'

Conversing with a faceless voice makes him gesture as though talking with the deaf. Never before has he understood the need to read facial expressions. Is this girl in cahoots with Gary and company? Is this some kind of prank? Are they about to descend upon the worm turd and steal what is left of his cash?

‘What are
you
doing here?' he asks.

‘Getting you to stop making noise. Are you okay? You seem pretty freaked.'

‘I'm fine.'

‘If you say so.'

Twigs crunch as she starts to walk away, leaving him desolate in the maw of the muddy, buggy night. ‘Wait,' he yelps. ‘Where are you going?'

‘To my trailer.'

‘Can I come?'

‘To my trailer?'

‘Yes. I won't be any bother. I'm just … I'm just … ' He feels sobs of humi­liation pending. He
is
a quitter. He doesn't deserve to survive. He sucks in air to prevent an avalanche of dejectedness. At least she can't see him.

‘Come on.' He feels her hand in his, firm and warm, taking charge. He follows like a child.

Kerosene lamps illuminate the small trailer. Stuffed animals occupy the pullout bed. Spread across the table are books:
Relationships for Dummies, Dating for Dummies
and
Why He Isn't Calling You Back
. Dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, Tawny looks overweight and homely, despite her long, shiny black hair. Milo would like to shield her from the books, assure her that males are taken in by the packaging and that the how-to pulp won't help her, that one day the right guy will come along and see beyond the packaging. Milo can't say this because he doesn't believe it. She will go on blaming herself for being unable to become something she is not. She will endure endless diets, bad jokes and fucks in her search for love and approval.

‘Is this part of the reservation?' he asks.

‘Yeah. It was my dad's workshop. He carved stuff for the cottagers. Stuff to put in their gardens. And driveways. They like having their names carved on signs.'

‘Is he no longer with us?'

‘Snowmobile accident.'

‘I'm so sorry. Is your mother alive?'

‘I guess you could call it that. What about your parents?'

‘My mother's dead and I thought my father was, but now some people think they saw him on a reality show. I suspect they're mistaken.'

‘You don't want him to be alive?'

‘Not really.'

‘Why not?'

‘He's an asshole.'

Tawny sits on the pullout bed. ‘I thought my dad was an asshole but then he died and all I could remember were the nice things about him.'

‘I don't have that problem.'

‘You just aren't remembering hard enough. Stop thinking about all the bad things all the time. I'm trying to do that with my mom before she's dead. Like, not see all the bad things all the time.'

‘Is she ill?'

‘No, but everybody dies. That's what's so dumb about humans. We pretend we're not going to die. Animals don't do that. If people told me
my
dad was on a reality show I'd go looking for him so I wouldn't spend all day wondering if he was dead or not. I'd sleep better.'

‘I sleep better thinking he's dead.'

‘Not me, I miss my dad. He used to take me on his snowmobile. I'd hold on tight and feel totally safe. I never feel that anymore.'


Milo tries to remember if he ever felt totally safe with his father. Maybe in the truck while Gus focused on the road, both hands firmly on the wheel. ‘I've been feeling guilty about hating him,' he admits.

Tawny passes him a bag of Oreos. ‘Maybe unconsciously you knew he wasn't dead. Like, you could feel him around you. I don't feel my dad. He's definitely dead. You're lucky. ‘ She bites an Oreo. ‘Do you have a girlfriend?'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

‘Just hasn't worked out.'

‘What do the girlfriends say when they ditch you?'

‘The last one said I coast.'

‘Is that bad?'

‘I think she just got tired of me. I think she wanted someone with ­ambition.'

‘You don't have ambition?'

‘Why should I when we're all dying anyway?'

‘To make things better for future generations.'

He has read that the People of the First Nations look out for future generations. Unlike the white-asses who only look out for Number One. ‘Do you go to school?' he asks.

‘I'm going to be a lawyer. I'm going to fight for Native rights. What's it like in Toronto?'

‘Busy. Polluted. It's nicer up here.'

‘Guess that's why you were screaming to get out.' She picks up a news­paper. ‘What sign are you?'

‘Virgo.'

‘
Something about you is commanding attention these days. You have what is called presence. When you walk into a room, heads will turn. You can join any conversation effortlessly and quickly lead the discussion. Be prepared to be the life of the party
.'

‘Can't wait.'

‘Do you want to sleep?'

‘Where?'

‘Here.' She pats the bed. ‘I have to study anyway.' She pulls a backpack from under the bed and starts spreading textbooks out on the table. ‘I need the chair,' she says.

The prospect of horizontal dozing on a soft, dry surface entices him. He rolls onto the bed trying to think of something he can offer in return for her kindness. ‘Tawny?'

Already she has the books open, pen ready, revealing the lawyer in her.

‘Don't try too hard with the guys,' he says. ‘They don't like it when you try too hard. They're turned on when you don't seem to care.'

‘That's twisted.'

‘It is.'

She looks back at her books while he coasts into oblivion.

Banging on the trailer wakes him. ‘Worm turd, you in there?'

Tawny pushes the door open. ‘Stop making so much noise.'

‘Is he in there?'

‘Who?'

‘The actor.'

‘What actor?'

Milo drops to the floor by the bed.

‘I seen him!' Elvis squeals, rapping his knuckles on the window. ‘What you hiding him for, Tawny? Did you get lucky?'

‘Get out here, boy,' Gary orders. ‘You've got people looking for you.'

‘What people?' Tawny demands.

‘It's all right, Tawny,' Milo says, realizing this could be the moment he has been waiting for. Is it not possible that his infernal night has been a trial by fire? That once again he will receive a hero's welcome? Geon will ask to speak to him personally on his cell, commend him on his innovation and fortitude and award him the lead. Milo scribbles his address and phone number on a slip of paper and hands it to Tawny. ‘If you ever make it to the Big Smoke, give me a call.'

The
SUV
jerks up a dirt road. Elvis puts his arm around him. ‘Did you get any pussy?'

‘Are you crazy? She's just a child.'

‘Elvis has dirty dreams about her,' Elton says.

‘Where are we going?' Milo asks.

‘Wouldn't you like to know,' Gary replies.

‘So no petting or nothing?' Elvis asks.

‘Nothing. Leave her alone. She's a nice girl.'

‘Her dad was a prick,' Elvis says.

‘Used to throw beer bottles at her,' Elton adds. ‘So Elvis wants to save her but she's not too interested.'

‘She just doesn't know me good enough yet.'

‘Where are we going?' Milo repeats. ‘Where are the other actors?'

‘They left,' Elvis says.

‘Left? Where did they go?'

Elvis shrugs.