down.
A brand new laptop shined silver and out of place on the bedside table, its charger plugged into the brass outlet in the base of the reading lamp.
“Like my new toy?” Hector ran the palm of one hand over the computer. “It’s not even a week old. I’m writing a book.” He looked proud of himself.
“A book? What’s it about then?”
“Two fellows who work a ranch together.”
“A cowboy type thing?”
“Something of the sort.” Hector pulled the straight back chair out from the little desk, dragged it on two legs into the centre of the room. “Have a seat, Joseph, and tell me what brings you to the Capri Motor Court. You in town for business?”
“Pleasure, I guess. If pleasure is the opposite of business. I run a garage in Drumheller. I’m just in the city for a couple of days. A holiday, I guess. Couple people I need to see. And I’m looking for a cello teacher.”
“You’ve got kids then?”
I shook my head. Guess I didn’t much look the musical type. “It’s for me, actually. I’m just learning. Don’t really know which end to start with, though, so I need a little help.”
“You’re the first cello player I ever met.”
I looked directly at Hector for the first time. What was left of his silver hair was cropped real short, almost shaved. His moustache and beard were neatly clipped, all straight lines. I put him in his early sixties.
“You’re the first writer I ever met.” I rattled the ice cubes in my glass.
He took off his sweater and hung it on the edge of the little suitcase rack next to the desk, then leaned over with the bottle of scotch and poured us both another shot. His hands were steady. Not a hard boozer, unless he was one of those guys who you could never tell were always plastered. Franco used to be like that, in his early days.
Hector’s T-shirt looked like it had just come out of the plastic wrapping, the fold lines still in it. He took a sip and made a face. “That’ll cure what ails you.” Fixed his brown eyes on me. “You married, Joseph?”
He had a way of staring right at me when he asked a question that kind of threw me off. Like he asked because he wanted to know, not just to make conversation.
“Divorced. About a year ago.”
Hector waited for me to continue, his eyes dark brown
and crinkled at the edges. I could feel the scotch working its warm way into my arms and hands.
“Actually, one of the reasons I came to Calgary is because I need to drop off the last of her stuff. She’s living here now, with her new … partner.”
“She’s remarried already?” Hector winced, sympathetic. “She didn’t run off on you with one of your buddies, did she?”
“Not exactly.” I was about to leave it there, but for some reason it wouldn’t stay. “We were married for five years, and I was crazy in love. She changed my life. I thought we were going to you know, do the whole thing. Get old together, teach the grandkids to water-ski. I learned to like vegetarian food. She’d been to Europe.”
I stopped, but Hector didn’t say anything. Just motioned for me to go on.
“So there I was, thinking I was the luckiest guy I knew, until a year and a half or so ago. Me and Ally had been trying to have a baby for a while and it’s not happening, so she has some tests done and then I have some tests done, and it turns out, it’s me who’s, you know, shooting blanks. So I guess I went through a hard time about it all, and she swore up and down that it didn’t matter. But then last October she sits me down at our kitchen table and tells me it’s over. She’s leaving. And then she does, like, the next day.”
I drained my drink. Hector held the bottle out, but I shook my head. My lips were already numb, and it wasn’t even six o’clock yet.
“She leaves town with the wife of this guy I play hockey with. They leave together.”
I looked at Hector to see if he was following me, but I
couldn’t tell. I didn’t know why I was telling him all
A brand new laptop shined silver and out of place on the bedside table, its charger plugged into the brass outlet in the base of the reading lamp.
“Like my new toy?” Hector ran the palm of one hand over the computer. “It’s not even a week old. I’m writing a book.” He looked proud of himself.
“A book? What’s it about then?”
“Two fellows who work a ranch together.”
“A cowboy type thing?”
“Something of the sort.” Hector pulled the straight back chair out from the little desk, dragged it on two legs into the centre of the room. “Have a seat, Joseph, and tell me what brings you to the Capri Motor Court. You in town for business?”
“Pleasure, I guess. If pleasure is the opposite of business. I run a garage in Drumheller. I’m just in the city for a couple of days. A holiday, I guess. Couple people I need to see. And I’m looking for a cello teacher.”
“You’ve got kids then?”
I shook my head. Guess I didn’t much look the musical type. “It’s for me, actually. I’m just learning. Don’t really know which end to start with, though, so I need a little help.”
“You’re the first cello player I ever met.”
I looked directly at Hector for the first time. What was left of his silver hair was cropped real short, almost shaved. His moustache and beard were neatly clipped, all straight lines. I put him in his early sixties.
“You’re the first writer I ever met.” I rattled the ice cubes in my glass.
He took off his sweater and hung it on the edge of the little suitcase rack next to the desk, then leaned over with the bottle of scotch and poured us both another shot. His hands were steady. Not a hard boozer, unless he was one of those guys who you could never tell were always plastered. Franco used to be like that, in his early days.
Hector’s T-shirt looked like it had just come out of the plastic wrapping, the fold lines still in it. He took a sip and made a face. “That’ll cure what ails you.” Fixed his brown eyes on me. “You married, Joseph?”
He had a way of staring right at me when he asked a question that kind of threw me off. Like he asked because he wanted to know, not just to make conversation.
“Divorced. About a year ago.”
Hector waited for me to continue, his eyes dark brown
and crinkled at the edges. I could feel the scotch working its warm way into my arms and hands.
“Actually, one of the reasons I came to Calgary is because I need to drop off the last of her stuff. She’s living here now, with her new … partner.”
“She’s remarried already?” Hector winced, sympathetic. “She didn’t run off on you with one of your buddies, did she?”
“Not exactly.” I was about to leave it there, but for some reason it wouldn’t stay. “We were married for five years, and I was crazy in love. She changed my life. I thought we were going to you know, do the whole thing. Get old together, teach the grandkids to water-ski. I learned to like vegetarian food. She’d been to Europe.”
I stopped, but Hector didn’t say anything. Just motioned for me to go on.
“So there I was, thinking I was the luckiest guy I knew, until a year and a half or so ago. Me and Ally had been trying to have a baby for a while and it’s not happening, so she has some tests done and then I have some tests done, and it turns out, it’s me who’s, you know, shooting blanks. So I guess I went through a hard time about it all, and she swore up and down that it didn’t matter. But then last October she sits me down at our kitchen table and tells me it’s over. She’s leaving. And then she does, like, the next day.”
I drained my drink. Hector held the bottle out, but I shook my head. My lips were already numb, and it wasn’t even six o’clock yet.
“She leaves town with the wife of this guy I play hockey with. They leave together.”
I looked at Hector to see if he was following me, but I
couldn’t tell. I didn’t know why I was telling him all
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