pauses and looks around the room. He’s preaching and he hates that. His heart’s not in it today.
He tries again. “I don’t think we should glorify the heads in our schools. The guys, like I used to be, who think they have a corner on genius because they’re walking around stupid and stoned. Uh-uh.”
Melody Krahn is shaking her head. Johnny doesn’t know if she’s tired or disagreeing. When he’s finally finished, his mouth is dry and he wants to sip at something strong. Melody comes to see him as he’s putting on his coat. She’s wearing a T-shirt that claims Gandhi was just another skinhead . She pushes at her hair and says, “You don’t really believe all that, do you?”
Johnny shrugs. “Of course, why not?”
“I dunno.” She laughs, her eyebrows go up and then down. Her voice is fine, as if her life were full of secrets. “This short-term memory stuff you were talking about. You lost yours?”
“I lost my long-term memory. Ha!” Johnny flutters his hands at his sides like a little bird. “Hey, you’ve been at the centre.”
“A bit.”
“Good, keep coming, we need you there.”
Johnny figures maybe he should have been a teacher. He feels good driving away from school. He lights a cigarette and immediately stubs it out. Ms. Holt had a second part to that saying. It went something like, No event occurs twice, precisely because it has occurred once already.
“Yes, that’s right,” Johnny thinks. He says this out loud to himself. It still doesn’t make much sense but that doesn’t matter, he feels intelligent saying it.
He drives past his sister Carol’s house and, on a whim, pulls into the driveway. He lets himself in and finds Carol breast-feeding her new baby in the living room. The TV’s on and Erica is flipping channels. Johnny sits and watches the baby’s head beat a slow rhythm against Carol’s skin. He is amazed by the colour of his sister’s breast. So white. Perhaps it is the contrast, the round black head against her flesh.
“How’s Roy?” he asks.
“Fine. He’s got a road trip next week. Out to Calgary.” She pulls the baby away. It comes up sloppy and wet.
“Here, let me burp him.” Johnny stands and takes the boy. He smells the baby’s neck and ears. The baby burps, its head wobbles. Johnny thinks about the little pea tucked inside Loraine’s body. He misses Loraine, wants to lift her sweater and poke at her stomach. Maybe she’ll show up at his baptism; he doubts it.
While Carol mixes tuna salad, Johnny rocks the baby and flips through a mail-order catalogue for women. There are bras and panties, stockings and skirts. The models are young. Johnny doesn’t really notice the clothes. He can’t think of any women who look like this; certainly not Loraine, Charlene, or his sister Carol. And that’s fine. He prefers women who are flawed in some way, women who need someone like Johnny to dig for their centre and rescue them. Carol comes into the room licking mayonnaise from a spoon. She pauses, looks at her brother, and shakes her head.
“What?” Johnny says.
“Charlene called last night. She wanted me to come over. I couldn’t. Roy was out till late. She sounded drunk, said you were gone.”
Johnny nods. “I saw her this morning. She’s okay.”
“She’s going to lose her job,” Carol says. “She doesn’t need that.”
“She’s got my money.”
Carol ignores her brother. “She always knew you were seeing Loraine.”
Johnny swallows. This is not what he expected.
Carol continues, “She could live with it, but now with the baby, that’s killing her.”
His sister’s shirt has a wet spot on one side. Her full breast is leaking. The baby bangs his head against Johnny’s chest, gums a fist. “Is he hungry?” Johnny asks.
“I just fed him,” Carol says. Her own mouth is like Johnny’s, he can see that; coy, greedy. Johnny’s been watching his own body lately, observing its quirks, its descent, and he’s been imagining his
He tries again. “I don’t think we should glorify the heads in our schools. The guys, like I used to be, who think they have a corner on genius because they’re walking around stupid and stoned. Uh-uh.”
Melody Krahn is shaking her head. Johnny doesn’t know if she’s tired or disagreeing. When he’s finally finished, his mouth is dry and he wants to sip at something strong. Melody comes to see him as he’s putting on his coat. She’s wearing a T-shirt that claims Gandhi was just another skinhead . She pushes at her hair and says, “You don’t really believe all that, do you?”
Johnny shrugs. “Of course, why not?”
“I dunno.” She laughs, her eyebrows go up and then down. Her voice is fine, as if her life were full of secrets. “This short-term memory stuff you were talking about. You lost yours?”
“I lost my long-term memory. Ha!” Johnny flutters his hands at his sides like a little bird. “Hey, you’ve been at the centre.”
“A bit.”
“Good, keep coming, we need you there.”
Johnny figures maybe he should have been a teacher. He feels good driving away from school. He lights a cigarette and immediately stubs it out. Ms. Holt had a second part to that saying. It went something like, No event occurs twice, precisely because it has occurred once already.
“Yes, that’s right,” Johnny thinks. He says this out loud to himself. It still doesn’t make much sense but that doesn’t matter, he feels intelligent saying it.
He drives past his sister Carol’s house and, on a whim, pulls into the driveway. He lets himself in and finds Carol breast-feeding her new baby in the living room. The TV’s on and Erica is flipping channels. Johnny sits and watches the baby’s head beat a slow rhythm against Carol’s skin. He is amazed by the colour of his sister’s breast. So white. Perhaps it is the contrast, the round black head against her flesh.
“How’s Roy?” he asks.
“Fine. He’s got a road trip next week. Out to Calgary.” She pulls the baby away. It comes up sloppy and wet.
“Here, let me burp him.” Johnny stands and takes the boy. He smells the baby’s neck and ears. The baby burps, its head wobbles. Johnny thinks about the little pea tucked inside Loraine’s body. He misses Loraine, wants to lift her sweater and poke at her stomach. Maybe she’ll show up at his baptism; he doubts it.
While Carol mixes tuna salad, Johnny rocks the baby and flips through a mail-order catalogue for women. There are bras and panties, stockings and skirts. The models are young. Johnny doesn’t really notice the clothes. He can’t think of any women who look like this; certainly not Loraine, Charlene, or his sister Carol. And that’s fine. He prefers women who are flawed in some way, women who need someone like Johnny to dig for their centre and rescue them. Carol comes into the room licking mayonnaise from a spoon. She pauses, looks at her brother, and shakes her head.
“What?” Johnny says.
“Charlene called last night. She wanted me to come over. I couldn’t. Roy was out till late. She sounded drunk, said you were gone.”
Johnny nods. “I saw her this morning. She’s okay.”
“She’s going to lose her job,” Carol says. “She doesn’t need that.”
“She’s got my money.”
Carol ignores her brother. “She always knew you were seeing Loraine.”
Johnny swallows. This is not what he expected.
Carol continues, “She could live with it, but now with the baby, that’s killing her.”
His sister’s shirt has a wet spot on one side. Her full breast is leaking. The baby bangs his head against Johnny’s chest, gums a fist. “Is he hungry?” Johnny asks.
“I just fed him,” Carol says. Her own mouth is like Johnny’s, he can see that; coy, greedy. Johnny’s been watching his own body lately, observing its quirks, its descent, and he’s been imagining his
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