Hosea drove away slowly from the curb. He felt his pulse and wondered if his heart was racing. “Relax, Hosea,” he said out loud. “Calm yourself.” He turned onto Second Street towards the water tower. That’s it, sweetheart, he heard the voice of Euphemia, that’s it. Find a peaceful place inside yourself and go there, Hosie, don’t worry anymore.
When Hosea was about five or six, he had insisted that Euphemia warm up his bed for him while he was in the tub, having a bath. Is it ready? he’d screech from the bathroom, is it ready? Warm as toast, Hosea, she’d yell from his bed, make a beeline for it! And Hosea would leap from the tub, grab a towel and run for his preheated bed. At just the right moment Euphemia would lift the blanket and Hosea would dive in. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new record, Euphemia would always say and make up a time less than the one before. Hank Williams would be singing in the living room and Euphemia would read a Reader’s Digest or a novel and Hosea would curl up next to her and fall asleep.
Well, thought Hosea as he drove down Second Street, that was a peaceful place. He tugged on his shirt and cleared his throat.
He drove into the tiny parking lot at the base of the water tower and got out of his car. That’s a beautiful thing, he thought to himself. The workers at the top waved down at him from their scaffolding and gave him the thumbs-up sign. Not one of them was wearing a shirt. Hosea cleared his throat again and returned the gesture. “Nice,” he yelled up at the men.
“What’s that?” one of them yelled back.
“Nice!” said Hosea. “Nice work!”
“Okay,” said the guy at the top, and went back to his painting. It was perfect, thought Hosea. It was exactly the colour of the sky at five o’clock on a June morning, the colour of Knutie’s cigarette filters, and now all it needed was the giant decal of the flying white horse and it would be complete. A week to go, he thought, and the paint needs two days to dry completely, hopefully it won’t rain, the painters will be done painting today, they promised, which means the decal goes on on Thursday and then … then it’s time, thought Hosea, then it’s the day. He remembered a recent Associated Press photograph of the Prime Minister avoiding a scrum of reporters and holding his briefcase high over his head, the way a soldier holds his gun up in the air when he wades through a stream. It looked like a backgammon game, thought Hosea. In fact, all those politicians look like they’re hurrying to important backgammon tournaments all over the country. Hosea thought about his own briefcase and frowned. He wondered for a split second if he could get away with carrying around his old backgammon game on the first when the Prime Minister came to town, but quickly thought better of it. No, he’d have to get Lorna to buy him a sleek, hard-edged briefcase in the city. He waved good-bye to the backs of the painters on the water tower and got back into his car, reminding himself to make that call to Lorna as soon as he got home.
The Epps lived on the edge of town in an old house with a few modern additions built on. They had hay bales around the old part for insulation, and a swimming pool in the backyard. Their cars were rusted-out beaters and their farming equipment was brand new. Their silo had had skulls and crossbones spray-painted on it by one of their teenage sons, and a homemade wooden sign that dangled from their mailbox said Welcome to the Epps.
Hosea drove up the driveway and parked in front of the two-car garage. He hoped Gord wouldn’t be home. He and Gord had never really spoken to each other. They knew each other, of course, like everybody in Algren, but they’d never had much to say to one another. Hosea wasn’t sure if he could entirely believe what Jeannie had said about Gord accusing Veronica of having an affair, and him not being the father of the triplets, and all that stuff, but he could believe that Gord wasn’t much of a help around the house because he spent most of his spare time in the Wagon Wheel drinking coffee and chatting with the boys. Hosea got out of his car and straightened his hat. Where was everyone? he thought. Where were all the kids? Hosea walked to the front door and rang the bell. He peered in through one of the glass panes and saw Gord lying on the couch in the living room, apparently asleep. He saw a baby swing set up in the living room, next to a giant TV that was on, but no babies, no Veronica, just Gord. Hosea looked at Gord asleep on the couch. His bare stomach hung over the couch like a pillowcase half full of Halloween treats, and one arm covered his head and face. Gord’s work boots were placed neatly beside the couch. Hosea could see tiny streaks of sweat on the back of Gord’s neck. He decided to go home and call Lorna about the backgammon briefcase. If Veronica hadn’t already left with the triplets, she would by the weekend. Or so Jeannie had said, anyway. Hosea had just about reached his car, when the Epps’ front door swung open and there was Gord. “What’s up, Funk?” he said, looking tired and pissed off. “What’s the problem?”
“Oh,” said Hosea, “Gord, hi, I hope I didn’t wake you up, there’s no problem, it’s just—”
“How’d you know I was sleepin’?” asked Gord.
“Oh,” said Hosea again, “well, I, uh, I could see you through the window on the door, you were sleeping on the couch—”
“I wasn’t sleeping on the couch, I was lying on the couch. Thinking,” said Gord.
“Okay,” said Hosea nodding his head. “I hope I didn’t, I hope you weren’t, um—”
“She’s gone, Hosea,” said Gord. “I don’t know what to do about it. I wish I did.” Gord sat down on the front step and stared off towards the road. “And here it is,” he said sadly, “a beautiful day.”
“I’m sorry, Gord,” said Hosea.
“She just, you know, left,” said Gord. “Just left. She said I wasn’t doing what I should be doing and if I didn’t know what that was, then that was it, she wasn’t gonna tell me. That was it. You know, I had bought these diapers, these Huggies, expensive ones, for her, and that perry natal care stuff like the doctor said, you know, and I was trying to keep all the other kids from mauling the babies and giving her a break and, well, I thought I was, we were, okay, it was hell, but we were okay, we were managing.”
Hosea walked over to where Gord was sitting. He put his hand on Gord’s shoulder and kept it there for a while, the way the doctor had. “I’m sorry, Gord,” he said again.
“When the kids come home from school, I have to tell ’em,” said Gord. “Veronica said and tell ’em why, just before she left. But fuck me if I know why … we were doing okay … I don’t know what to tell ’em.”
“She might come back,” said Hosea. “She probably just needs a break.”
“I was givin’ her breaks,” said Gord. “I was. I was trying to. We needed a break together, that’s what we needed. Go somewhere, drink champagne, go on a tour or something. That place we went to once. We needed a break together, that’s for sure.” Hosea took his hand off Gord’s shoulder. One Veronica, three babies, that makes four gone. Hurray, hurray, Hosea thought bitterly. And one broken man. Right here, right beside me.
“It’ll just take a little time to get used to, probably,” said Hosea.
“I don’t want to get used to it,” said Gord. “I want her back. I want my babies back, too.” Gord shook his head and stared off at the road some more. “I never thought this would happen,” he said. “Not in a million years.” Hosea stared at the road too and tried not to cry. He wanted to leave the Epps’ sad farm and call Lorna and tell her how much he loved her. He hadn’t made Veronica go away and take the babies. No, he hadn’t. Gord had. Or maybe he hadn’t. Who knows why Veronica left? He wished she’d come back, for Gord’s sake. There was still a week left. Maybe a different family would leave before July first, all together and for a good reason.