The Fortunate Brother (28 page)

He started feeling awkward standing there, his clothes bundled before him, and backed out the door. “Question,” he said, pausing. “Why're you so taken with my mother?”

She was billowing a clean sheet over the mattress. “She don't see me as Jack Verge's daughter. Grab that end, will you?”

He stepped back to the bed, pulled the corner end of the sheet over the mattress, and backed out of the room for the second time. “Stay to the inside,” he said, pointing to the bed. “Killer spring on the outside, here.”

He went back to the washroom, dressed, and hurried down the hallway. Sylvie was talking with their mother in her room. He snuck past the door, not wanting any more delays, and booted
it outside. Eight-thirty, eight-thirty, it was still early, she'd still be at the bar. He rounded the corner, wondering where his father was, and near tripped over him. Hove off by the side of the house, feet propped up on the gump, ruffling the ears of the dog splayed out beside him. His father was smiling. He was gazing up and smiling at the cloudy night. He looked like an old sailor who'd weathered a great storm and was now safely anchored to a pier of his own making.

“Turn on the light or something, old man. Near bloody tripped over you.”

“Think now, I'm scared of the dark like you?”

“I could've been a bear for all you know.”

“That's just it now, you're supposed to smell the bear before he smells you.”

“That's just it now, and suppose your nose is plugged. You have a cheery evening now.”

“Where you going?”

“Fishing.”

He started up through the shortcut, pushing aside limbs and branches. Trail needed trimming. He took up whistling as he passed the old sawmill. It was quiet. The wind showered through the trees and something creaked from behind him. Jaysus. A shiver rode down his spine. He flailed the rest of his way up the path and out onto Bottom Hill. Widen that fucking path, tomorrow. The wind had picked up, clearing a star-pricked sky. Hampden windows lit yellow through the dark. The moon's broadening smile rose above the hills and glimmered amongst stars that were mostly dead and yet whose lights still shone through the eternal sky. He
showed his fist to the proud evening star. “I'm taking her fishing,” he yelled. “Screw you, buddy, barring me in the haunted house!” And then he near tripped, face aghast—it winked at him. Swear to Jesus, the star winked at him…