Lake on the Mountain. Jeffrey Round
Читать онлайн книгу.
“Yes. I’m okay.”
“Do you know the Coffee Time Donuts on the southwest corner of Jones and Danforth?”
“Yes. I’m a block away from there.”
“Can you manage to get there? I can be there in five minutes.”
“Okay — yeah. Thanks. I really appreciate it, Dan.”
Dan arrived with Ked in tow. The shop was garish at that hour. Table surfaces reflected the glare of nighttime windows. Fluorescent fixtures lit up over-sized posters for coffee and bagels, making the racked donuts glow with a blue tinge. Coloured sprinkles and powdered sugar vied with sticky glazes for counter appeal, finding none. A sleepy-looking employee roused himself and approached the register, his hair weirdly illuminated by the light.
“Good morning,” Dan said as cheerily as he could manage.
The boy mumbled a few words that vaguely resembled English. Whatever the intended meaning, the sentiment was clearly not welcoming. He wiped his hands on an apron that looked like it had done time in an abattoir. Dan ordered three donuts and a cardboard container of milk for Ked, who looked at him strangely.
Dan frowned. “What? It’s good for you.”
Ked rolled his eyes. He picked up the tray and went off to a table in a far corner, slouching into the seat.
Dan looked around. One table over, an old Asian man picked at the crumbs on his plate. Or someone’s plate. At the far end of the shop, a serious young woman in a beret conferred in quiet tones with a man in a thirties-style suit. Bonnie and Clyde in an idle moment. Dan and Ked were the only other customers. In the daytime, the place bustled with immigrants who didn’t share the North American disdain for cheap coffee and lacquered tables. At this hour it looked more like an Edward Hopper study for the lost, the lonely, and the rebellious.
Steve came through the door and stood blinking in the light. Whatever he’d undergone in the four months since leaving Glenda, it didn’t look good on him. A cup of tea might have served him in good stead. Dan could have gone for something with a bit more bite.
Ked waved at Steve and turned back to his Game Boy. Steve mumbled an elaboration of his apology for calling so late. Dan let him ramble on about the break-up with Glenda. Steve’s hands fidgeted as he related the events that had brought him to his current state. He seemed to be rehashing things to find their meaning or else to locate himself in time, as though he’d gotten lost a few months back.
A moment of silence passed. His tale seemed to have run its course. Steve’s hands relaxed as his eyes took on a vacant stare.
“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” Dan said. “Is there something I can do to help?”
Steve blinked. “I just thought … I better talk to someone. You were the only one who came to mind. I mean, apart from those pathetic help lines you hear about.” He smiled weakly.
At least he hasn’t lost it completely, Dan thought. They’d always been friendly, sharing day-to-day concerns across the adjoining fence, but Dan never assumed he and Steve were anything more than neighbours. Over the past year, Steve had brought news of his ongoing arguments with Glenda in what would eventually become a lasting break-up. At the time it felt like simple domestic griping, one man to another. To Steve it had obviously meant more.
“Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep, I used to look over and see the light in your study. That’s why I remembered you stayed up late.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I just wanted to talk to someone.”
Dan tried for a reassuring tone. “It’s all right. I’m glad you called. But I think there’s more to it than that, isn’t there? Talk can always wait till the morning. Something happened tonight, didn’t it?”
Steve’s face twisted in an odd half-smile. “What do you mean?”
Dan leaned closer. “I think you were afraid of yourself. Afraid you might do something. You reached some sort of breaking point tonight, didn’t you?”
Steve’s lip trembled. A tear splashed onto the table. “Does she want me to kill myself? Why won’t she even talk to me?”
Dan put a hand on Steve’s forearm. “It’s okay.”
“I did everything for her. Why wasn’t she happy?”
In the corner of his vision, Dan saw the old man wander over to another table and start on the crumbs there. He signalled to Ked to give the guy a donut.
Steve shuddered. “I know why,” he said at last. “Because she doesn’t need me any more. She used to need me. When we were in college together we were terrified of the future. We lived in this one-room dump. We used to cling to each other every night, saying how awful life was. We really needed each other then.”
“Then what happened?” Dan said.
“I don’t know. Life was getting better. Things were getting easier. Or I thought they were. I worked hard to give her everything she wanted. Then one day she asked me to leave. She said it wasn’t working for her. All this time I thought we were happy....” His voice broke on the final syllable. He reached for a napkin and swiped at his eyes. “I gave her the house. Did she tell you?”
“She asked you to leave and you told her she could have the house?”
Steve nodded.
“And she took it?” Dan asked, incredulous.
Steve nodded again. Of course she damn well took it, Dan thought.
“I just ...” Steve shuddered. “I just want her to be happy.”
She is happy, Dan thought. Now that you’re out of her life. He envisioned Glenda raking leaves in her cocktail outfit, just one of a million reasons why he hated the city. Toronto had changed in the years he’d lived there. When had the horrible, selfish hordes moved in and taken over? He thought of the sour contempt with which his fellow citizens viewed the rest of the country, the smug satisfaction they exhibited over their meagre little domain. His neighbour on the other side was no better: a patronizing boor who treated his wife like a piece of real estate, interrupting her whenever she spoke, which was seldom, and raising his voice through the roof the moment he set foot in the door. In the warm weather you could hear him talking non-stop, morning to night. He spoke to Dan with half-disguised contempt, as though he were only being nice to the queer-next-door for form’s sake. On the other hand, guys like Steve were a little too nice. “Is there any chance you could —?”
“No. She doesn’t want me back.” Steve’s words slurred again. He seemed to be concentrating to counter the effects of the tranquillizer. “What did I do wrong?” he asked, like a chastised child.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. People grow apart for a lot of different reasons.”
“I know.” Steve blew his nose on the napkin and looked up. “I just never thought it would happen to us.”
“I think you need to accept it for now, and go on with your life. Maybe things will change, but you need to get on with things. Are you working?”
Steve shook his head. “No — I’m too much of a mess. I haven’t been able to concentrate since this happened.”
Dan looked over at Ked, who’d fallen asleep in the chair after giving the old man a donut and the carton of milk. Bonnie and Clyde were holding hands across the table, still speaking in whispers, planning their next heist. The store clerk had disappeared behind his counter.
“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “It was selfish of me to call. I didn’t realize you had Ked with you.”
“I’m glad you felt you could call me.” Dan squeezed Steve’s forearm. He was thinking that next time he might not get a call till it was too late. He’d hear from Glenda over the fence how poor Steve had killed himself out of grief, trying to sound as if she cared.