Part 19 (1/2)

We watch him carve around the filigree in the knee. I realize that my father is a handsome man. That I probably won't be as handsome when I'm his age. For some reason I'd thought the human race was evolving into better looks, but it's not the case.

He understands the physical world: electricity, plumbing, capillary action. He has built all the furniture in the house, and the copper ornaments contain his planis.h.i.+ng. He has opinion and decisive comment whereas I am hampered by the acceptance of multiple views. I have learned no trail through the world. If I could show him batts of insulation.

25 Dad asks where Long's Hill is and Lydia says, It's the very bitter end of the Trans-Canada, Mr English. You never put on your indicator. The Trans-Canada turns into Kenmount Road and Kenmount turns into Freshwater and Freshwater turns into Long's Hill and Long's Hill is where Gabriel lives.

We visit Junior at his shed in the woods. He's studying stories of Labrador. He wants to move there. He wants to be the Member for the region. He asks me how difficult that might be. He says it's only an idea.

The shed is a garage on the first floor and a living quarters above it. Two snowmobiles lie under tarps flanking six cord of wood. He has a sky-blue Ford Fairlane standing on a sheet of plastic. When I ask, he says,You ever hear of the wick effect? Moisture coming out of the ground, it will attach to the metal of your car and rot it. A sheet of plastic acts as a vapour barrier.

He keeps one window open a crack to avoid condensation.

Inside he has a hole cut in the floor and a plastic bag full of milk, eggs, and bacon. It's cooler down in the garage, he says. I got no electricity yet. I've got no running water either. I'm living on potatoes and moose.

26 We drive to the cabin. We paddle up to Boot Brook at sunset. It takes twenty-five minutes to get to the point. Windy. It's almost ten oclock before we start fis.h.i.+ng. I tell Lydia to fish in the calm water of the brook. Past the white stump that has sat in the current and, in low-water times, been fully exposed. I used to believe that Boot Brook produced calm water. That calm water poured from the brook, and at dusk, this still water spread over the lake and made it smooth.

We catch a few fighters.

We paddle back in the dark. The lake is vast and quiet under the stars. First the Big Dipper and this leads us to Polaris, and from that we get Ca.s.siopeia. About two miles down the lake we see the lights of a car on the bridge to Howley. The lights cross the water and wink out.

The caribou have pulled carrots out of the ground to munch the green fern, but a two-legged animal has been at the spuds.

Lydia puts in a fire and we drink beer and play crib. We decide to leave the generator off and just light the oil lamps. There's no one else on the lake. You can hear the water lap against the big rock.

In the morning Lydia cooks the trout with bacon and squeezes lemon over the fish and packs on the pepper. We eat a loaf of bread by tearing it.

27 On our way out to the highway a moose stops us on the road. I get out. I approach the moose. It's a nervous calf. He backs up. I hear Lydia, out her window: Gabe. Behind you.

I turn to see a cow moose ploughing through the ditch, her head low. She starts up the grade. I put the car between us. The moose is determined. She clambers up Lydia's door, kicks herself onto the roof. I watch her teeter up there, turn around, metal popping and kinking like a pop can. The moose stands on Jethro's roof and stares at me, some ma.s.sive hood ornament. Then she scrabbles down my side, feints my way, and veers left to her calf. She pushes her calf and they trundle off into the scrub.

Lydia stares at me through my window. She gets out. The roof is covered in stretched craters, like the punches superheroes put in metal.

We drive back to St John's and shower and head out to a party at Max's.

Max says to me, Youve got to loosen up. There's nothing going on with Lydia. She loves you. She's crazy about you. Okay, so you guys fight. Who doesnt fight? Youve got to be a big man.

Me: I know it. Thing is, I'm battling exhaustion.

Max reflects on this. Youve got to stop looking and listen with your heart. Your heart will know. Is your heart getting fed?

I go to the kitchen because Wilf is there. I lean up against the counter beside him. Alex comes in, barefoot. Wilf puts out a hand.

Dont come in here, Alex, cause I broke a gla.s.s.

This is clearly a lie.

But it forces Alex to sit at the table.

Have you tried the soup?

The soup is delicious, I say.

And Wilf turns and sees me for the first time.

Alex says, Would you mind getting me a bowl?

I ladle her up a bowl. I can't find a spoon so I give her the ladle.

Wilf turns to the chicken wings. I join him. I say, How did the show go?

What?

The show at the Hall. You were the special guest.

What?

I'm thinking maybe he forgot about the show. I dont want to be the one to remind him.

Youre talking about the show next week, he says.

Oh, that's it.

Yeah, that show. It went well.

And he gives me a little grin.

Went really well.

Lydia walks in and Wilf says, It's time for you to have some kids.

Alex:You dont need kids.

Wilf: Sure you do. He nods to me. And you dont have to worry about the donor.

We walk home to Lydia's, exhausted.

Lydia: What do you think of what Wilf said?

Me: I think he's pretty brazen.

Lydia: He's funny, though. Can't you see how he's funny?

28 I sit in on one of Earl Quigley's lectures. Earl is talking about the physics of decay. He describes a coffin birth. A pregnant woman dies in childbirth. She is buried, and the soft tissues degenerate. The fetus slips out of the womb into the coffin.

I look at Lydia in the mirror of her study. How I can see her face ageing, and what her face will be like. As if the mirror distorts her or she is not Lydia. So I can see her face as skin and bone and not an ident.i.ty attached to it.

It's like holding a drawing up to a mirror to see if it's balanced.