23
In another room Frost could hear someone coughing.
The light of a cloudy winter day sifted through the polyethylene that covered the window. It lit the room poorly. Frost lay on the rabbit skin rug that covered the mattress, on his back with his elbows out and his hands behind his head. The room was cold, but Frost had no poncho, and he had not covered himself with the spread of stitched-together rags. His sandals sat on the concrete near him, paired neatly. His glasses lay on his chest. He was staring up at the faded and smoke-grimed paint of the ceiling.
His white hair circled his head like a tattered halo. At the corners of his eyes and on the cheekbones where the beard did not cover, there was a web of deep wrinkles. The skin looked slack. The eyes did not reveal their blue colour in the feeble light of the room, but they did appear to be deeply sad. The sound of Amber’s concertina drifted from somewhere in the building. I’ll Take You Home Again, Cathleen.
Frost reached out and touched the metal fire bucket. It was cold, but he kept his hand against it anyway.
The door of the room opened. Frost got up onto his elbows. His glasses tumbled down his chest. He sat up and put them on. It was Noor. They did not speak for a few seconds. She stood by the door, looking at him. She had on her fur poncho, and she had her sword.
He said “Going somewhere?”
Noor said “Where’s Grace?”
“I don’t know. She wasn’t at the clinic, so I thought she’d be here. What’s wrong?”
“You tell me.”
“What?”
Frost looked up at her. She was very tall and looked very strong. A whiff of cold outdoor air drifted to Frost from her clothes. No, it was not strong she looked, it was angry. She said “Is he dead? You said he was dead.”
“What are you mad at?”
“You said he was dead.”
Frost began to stand, but Noor charged toward him and stood over him, and he had to sit again. He rolled away from her and snatched his glasses and got clumsily to his feet. It took him a second to find his balance. He said “Who?”
“You know who.”
Frost hesitated, as if he were deciding what to say. “No I don’t know who. If you told me, then I would know who. Why are you mad?”
“My father. Is he dead or not? You said he was.”
“Oh. okay.” He reached to touch her, but she stepped back. He looked down and rubbed his beard. “I heard Steveston had died. That’s all I know.”
“Who told you?”
“Don’t interrogate me. I don’t remember. It was years ago. It’s best if you don’t think about him anymore.”
“I shouldn’t think about my own father?”
“You’ve got enough to think about. We all have.”
“Enough to think about. I see. So, you don’t think about my mother.”
“Yes, I think about her often. But I shouldn’t. Not now.”
“Well then, don’t tell me not to think about him.” Her voice had risen.
Frost sighed. “No. No, fine, I won’t. But, listen. He left when Zahra died. He couldn’t stand to be here anymore, and he left. He took off. Even if he was alive he wouldn’t come back. So there’s no point….”
She interrupted him. “But you heard he’s dead.”
“I did, yes.”
Frost was managing to keep his voice level. Noor was not. She said “Someone told you.”
“Yes. I don’t remember who.” Frost stepped around her, not looking at her, and went past the fire bucket and stood apparently staring out at his farm and the distant ruins of the suburb. The plastic over the window made the scene murky and dull. “I don’t feel good, Noor. I can’t carry it all on my shoulders. I’m too old. I need you to support me.”
“But he’s not. Is he?”
Frost did not answer. Noor said “He’s alive, god damn you. Why didn’t you tell me!”
Frost refused to turn from the window. He said weakly “Why do you say he’s alive?”
“Oh, give it up! Stop pretendin’ you don’t know what I’m talkin about.” She sounded disgusted. “You’ve been lyin’ to me all this time!”
“Not all this time.” Frost sounded weary now. Still he would not face her.
She screamed at his back “He’s my father!” Frost flinched but would not turn. She was moving away as she cursed him. “You bastard! You bastard! If I can’t even trust you…! I’ve had enough. I’m takin’ off.”
Frost spun around at last. Again he reached out. There was something like terror on his face. But the room was empty, and he was alone.
The concertina and the distant coughing went on and on.
24
Frost descended the dark stairwell and got his poncho. Outside Jessica and Night and Salmon were sitting on the steps at the entrance, and old Ryan was standing at the bottom. They all were smiling. He heard Ryan say “…Christmas.” Frost glanced down at the raw-looking stump of Salmon’s arm. She smiled up at him. He nodded and went down the steps. Behind him Jessica said “Where was Noor goin’ in such a hurry?”
Frost walked on a few paces, then turned and cleared his throat. “Has anyone seen Grace?”
Ryan said “I seen her yesterday comin’ out of the clinic.”
Jessica said “What’s wrong, Frost?”
Frost continued toward the clinic. Up on the bridge someone was leaning back on the railing — he couldn’t tell who. He stopped and watched for a minute. The figure moved away. He walked on. The air was moist and there was a cold wind. King came up behind him and nudged his hand with his nose, but Frost pulled his hand away. As they approached the clinic King ran on to greet Beast, who was tied to the staple by the door. Beast tried to leap up against Frost, but he pushed her down.
The clinic was empty and cold. Frost sat on the couch for a minute, with both dogs lying in the open door, watching him. Then Frost and King left Beast whining and lunging against her cord as they walked down to the river.
Daniel Charlie and Granville were working on one of the spokes of the water wheel. A whiff of sawdust mingled with the smell of the river. Frost stood on the bank, and they looked up at him, waiting for him to speak. He said “Have you seen Grace?”
Daniel Charlie said “Nope. You going to come and give us a hand?”
Granville’s head was covered in a stubble of orange-red hair. He observed Frost with an eager and fearful smile.
Frost said to him “How’s life treating you?”
“Good, Frost. Thanks to you, Frost.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.”
“No, that’s right too. You can say that again.”
As Frost walked away Daniel Charlie called “What’s wrong?”
He had not gone far when he heard fast, limping footsteps behind him. He turned and waited.
“Frost, Frost.”
Old Brittany was as tall as Frost’s chest, and she was as thin as a snake. Her small, sharp features were difficult to locate among wrinkles. “Frost, I seen her. I seen Grace.” She had a child’s voice.
“Good. Who told you I was looking for her?”
“What? No, Frost, I seen Grace.”
Frost opened his mouth to answer, closed it, said. “Where did you see Grace?”
“I seen her over there at the domicile. She gets along good with that one arm, don’t she?”
“That’s not Grace, Brittany. That’s Salmon.”
“No, no, Frost, Grace is a woman. Fish don’t got arms. Jesus, Frost, are you crazy! Anyway, there’s no god damn salmon no more.”