Read Online Year of Lesser by David Bergen - Free Book Online Page A

own baby not as a baby at all, but grown up like him, and he’s wondering, Will it be happy when it’s thirty-six? That’s what he wants for the child, happiness. It’ll be a girl, he’s almost sure about it. He wants a girl.
    He says to his sister, “Is Roy needy? Does he pull at you? Block you in?”
    Carol shrugs. “Sure,” she says, “but he’s a man.”
    “Charlene and me, we don’t have sex any more,” Johnny says. He lifts a hand, touches the baby’s neck.
    “That surprises you?” Carol asks.
    “How ’bout you and Roy?”
    “We’re all right,” Carol says. She gathers up the baby, who’s fussing, and holds him like a football. She sways in the centre of the room. “Roy’s not like you though.”
    Johnny watches his sister lull her child to sleep. What she has become, this mother, amazes him. He’s proud of her. He says, “And, who am I?”
    “Roy doesn’t always think about sex. He can take it or leave it. That’s how it is. So, we live like that. Besides, children drain you. I’m beaten up by bedtime.”
    Johnny nods his head. “I’m going to be baptized,” he says. “In three days.”
    “Well,” Carol says. “Again?”
    “Yeah. On the advice of Phil Barkman. He compared the earlier one to an infant baptism; though I was sixteen I probably wasn’t terribly conscious. Conscious. That’s what he said.”
    “I guess Phil Barkman knows then,” Carol says.
    “I guess. It’s this Sunday evening. At the MB Church. You’re welcome to come.”
    “I was at your first one.”
    “You were baptized once,” Johnny says. “Weren’t you?”
    “Of course, everyone was,” Carol says. “I was twelve.”
    “Huh. Anyways.”
    “You should see Charlene,” Carol says. “She’s gonna kill herself out there alone. Walk outside drunk. Fall over and freeze or something.”
    “I will,” Johnny says. “Right after supper.”
    But, he doesn’t. Instead, he goes back to the centre. Allison is there, sweeping the floor. She has her own key and often lets herself in. She’s playing music. It’s too loud.
    “Turn it down,” Johnny shouts.
    Allison doesn’t hear him. She’s holding the broom, her back to him, and her head’s bowed and moving slowly. Johnny tramps over to the stereo and turns down the volume. Allison swivels and smiles. “Thought I’d clean up a bit,” she says, pushing a hand out at the room.
    Johnny lifts an eye. “Nothing better to do?”
    “Not really.”
    Johnny goes to his back room and phones his house. Charlene surprises him and answers.
    “I’m just wondering,” Johnny says, “if you want me at home there? You decide, okay? I’ll do what you want.”
    Charlene’s voice is calm. “I’m strong enough,” she says.
    “You wouldn’t do anything stupid?” Johnny asks. Charlene laughs and then stops. Johnny listens to her quick light breaths and then says, “You’ll call me, if you need anything?”
    “Sure.”
    After he hangs up he sits for a long time, his eyes closed, and listensto Allison’s music. She shouldn’t be here, he thinks. It doesn’t look right. Not these days. He puts on his coat, tells Allison he’s going out, and drives down to the river and over the bridge to Glenlea. He could stop by St. Adolphe for a drink but he doesn’t want to, not really. He turns up the 75 and drives towards Morris. The inside of a car at night is a wonderful thing. There is a glow, a low hum; it’s his own egg. Johnny goes fast. His car is big and new and creaks faintly on the small bumps. Later Johnny pulls over and watches the traffic pass by. He talks to himself. “I am not a good man,” he says.
    When he gets back to the centre, Allison has left. Johnny brushes his teeth and climbs into bed. He stares up at the ceiling and thinks how believing in God makes him feel special. It gives him another side. He is not just one more philandering unbeliever, a descendant of an ape who, after spilling out his lonely life, returns to dust. In the darkness