Read Online Finnie Walsh by Steven Galloway - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Galloway
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Nothing!” she slurred.
I remembered my father’s warnings and silently went to the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of juice.
“You drinking juice, Paul? I hope you’re not drinking that juice. That juice is for special occasions.”
“Oh. Sorry,” I said.
“I’m just pulling your leg, Paul-o. That’s just ordinary juice there. No such thing as special juice, Paul-o. No such thing.” My mother collapsed to the floor, laughing. “No such thing!”
I decided that this behaviour was more than likely outside the bounds of what my father had told me to expect, so I went out to the backyard to get him. I told him what was going on and he immediately rushed inside, arriving just in time to see my mother trying to beat the toaster to death.
“You’ll be toast, toaster,” she screamed, slamming it against the counter.
“What the hell are you doing, Mary?” my father yelled, grabbing at her with his missing arm.
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” she answered, resuming her assault. “I’m showing this damned toaster who’s the boss around here.” She threw the toaster onto the floor, where it shattered, sending pieces flying across the kitchen. “Who’s laughing now, huh?” my mother said as she fell to the floor, unconscious. We picked her up, piled into the car and drove to the hospital.
I was sure my mother was going to die and that Louise and I were going to be put into a foster home, since it was obvious to all of us that my father was not fit to raise two children on his own. I was understandably relieved when the doctor came out and told us that she was recovering. She had, it turned out, developed gestational diabetes. Her erratic behaviour was the result of her blood sugar being off-kilter. With insulin and closer medical supervision, she would be fine. The health of the baby was less certain, but all we could do was wait and see.
As if that weren’t trouble enough, Finnie began avoiding me. Whenever I asked him if he wanted to do something after school, he would get a peculiar look on his face and tell me he was busy.He was like that for most of the month of December and over the Christmas holidays I didn’t see him at all. I phoned his house several times, but Clarice informed me that young master Walsh was out and wasn’t expected back until much later.
I didn’t have a clue why Finnie would want to avoid me. He was the most loyal person I had ever known; I would have had to do something very, very bad to lose his friendship.
Without Finnie, I began to experience the same sense of isolation that plagued Louise. Unlike her, though, I was unprepared to sit quietly by myself, so I resorted to following my father around. I didn’t think he had noticed Finnie’s absence, but he had.
“Where’s Finnie these days?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think he wants to be friends with me anymore.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” my father said. “I have a feeling that boy’s up to something.” He reached into his pocket and handed me another rock. I spent the better part of the day trying to figure out what the rocks were for and couldn’t, but it did help me to forget about Finnie.
I was allowed to stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve as we said goodbye to 1981 and welcomed in 1982. Because my mother was pregnant and my father was not comfortable in social situations on account of his arm, the whole family was together for the end of the year. In past years Louise and I had been left at home with a babysitter while my parents had attended one of many neighbourhood parties.
That night as my father and I sat on the front steps, tightly bundled against the cold, we could hear laughter drift in from nearby cocktail parties. My father insisted upon being the first person to enter the house in the new year, so we were outsidewaiting for midnight. He had a glass of Jamieson’s whiskey and I had a glass of milk that he had secretly
I remembered my father’s warnings and silently went to the refrigerator and poured myself a glass of juice.
“You drinking juice, Paul? I hope you’re not drinking that juice. That juice is for special occasions.”
“Oh. Sorry,” I said.
“I’m just pulling your leg, Paul-o. That’s just ordinary juice there. No such thing as special juice, Paul-o. No such thing.” My mother collapsed to the floor, laughing. “No such thing!”
I decided that this behaviour was more than likely outside the bounds of what my father had told me to expect, so I went out to the backyard to get him. I told him what was going on and he immediately rushed inside, arriving just in time to see my mother trying to beat the toaster to death.
“You’ll be toast, toaster,” she screamed, slamming it against the counter.
“What the hell are you doing, Mary?” my father yelled, grabbing at her with his missing arm.
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” she answered, resuming her assault. “I’m showing this damned toaster who’s the boss around here.” She threw the toaster onto the floor, where it shattered, sending pieces flying across the kitchen. “Who’s laughing now, huh?” my mother said as she fell to the floor, unconscious. We picked her up, piled into the car and drove to the hospital.
I was sure my mother was going to die and that Louise and I were going to be put into a foster home, since it was obvious to all of us that my father was not fit to raise two children on his own. I was understandably relieved when the doctor came out and told us that she was recovering. She had, it turned out, developed gestational diabetes. Her erratic behaviour was the result of her blood sugar being off-kilter. With insulin and closer medical supervision, she would be fine. The health of the baby was less certain, but all we could do was wait and see.
As if that weren’t trouble enough, Finnie began avoiding me. Whenever I asked him if he wanted to do something after school, he would get a peculiar look on his face and tell me he was busy.He was like that for most of the month of December and over the Christmas holidays I didn’t see him at all. I phoned his house several times, but Clarice informed me that young master Walsh was out and wasn’t expected back until much later.
I didn’t have a clue why Finnie would want to avoid me. He was the most loyal person I had ever known; I would have had to do something very, very bad to lose his friendship.
Without Finnie, I began to experience the same sense of isolation that plagued Louise. Unlike her, though, I was unprepared to sit quietly by myself, so I resorted to following my father around. I didn’t think he had noticed Finnie’s absence, but he had.
“Where’s Finnie these days?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think he wants to be friends with me anymore.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” my father said. “I have a feeling that boy’s up to something.” He reached into his pocket and handed me another rock. I spent the better part of the day trying to figure out what the rocks were for and couldn’t, but it did help me to forget about Finnie.
I was allowed to stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve as we said goodbye to 1981 and welcomed in 1982. Because my mother was pregnant and my father was not comfortable in social situations on account of his arm, the whole family was together for the end of the year. In past years Louise and I had been left at home with a babysitter while my parents had attended one of many neighbourhood parties.
That night as my father and I sat on the front steps, tightly bundled against the cold, we could hear laughter drift in from nearby cocktail parties. My father insisted upon being the first person to enter the house in the new year, so we were outsidewaiting for midnight. He had a glass of Jamieson’s whiskey and I had a glass of milk that he had secretly
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