She went down to him.
— Hello, Brown Eyes. Haven’t seen you in here in a little while.
— That’s true.
The cook spoke through the wicket: Helen, your fried chicken’s up.
— It’s real busy, Brown Eyes, said Helen. Maybe later on.
— I want a cup of coffee. Maybe I’ll order some lunch.
She brought Lee a mug of coffee. He emptied two sugars into it and stirred in some cream.
Helen took a plate of fried chicken from the wicket and delivered it to a woman down the other end of the counter. Lee watched her. The place was busier than he had ever seen it. Near Lee, a man was trying to flag Helen down to pay his bill. Helen came and took the bill and returned the man’s change. The man left her two quarters. She moved a strand of hair from her forehead and asked Lee if he was hungry.
— Am I hungry. Why not. I’ll have the BLT.
She wrote the order down and posted it on the wicket. Lee lifted his coffee. He watched her work. The old deaf man had finished his soup. Helen cleared away the bowl. The old man counted coins out of a leather change purse and laid them on the counter. He stood up from his stool and shuffled out of the diner.
The cook called to Helen that the BLT was up. She brought the plate to Lee and refilled his coffee. She had her other hand knuckles-down on the countertop. Lee closed his own hand over hers.
— Haven’t seen you.
— I’ve been busy.
She pulled her hand away. The people sitting around them were making an effort not to notice.
— I’ll check on you in a bit.
— Wait, said Lee. What time do you get done today?
— It’s real busy. I don’t know what time I’ll finish. I’ll check on you in a bit.
She moved back down the counter again. Lee raised his hand, called to her:
— Hey, miss. There’s a hair in my sandwich.
She returned to him. He was grinning.
— It’s real busy, Lee.
— Let’s just make some plans.
Helen pressed both hands down on either side of Lee’s plate and pitched her voice low and lethaclass="underline" If you’ve got to know, Lee, you talked about all that serious shit. You and me, serious. You think that’s what I wanted to hear? You can’t even keep a goddamn job. Now why don’t you eat your sandwich and pay your bill and get back to whatever it is you were doing.
She went back down the counter, moving with her shoulders lifted. Not three seconds later there was the noise of crockery breaking. All conversation in the cafe came to a halt. Lee was standing when she turned. She could see the shards of his plate and the mess of the food on the floor. He drove the coffee mug forward off the counter. The mug burst on the floor as the plate had.
Helen could feel all the eyes on her. Lee’s hands were opening and closing. He bared his teeth and said: You’re nothing but a cheap goddamn bitch, you know that?
The cook came out of the kitchen and stood with his arms crossed. Lee hauled his billfold out of his pocket. He flung a handful of change and one-dollar bills onto the counter, and then he turned and went out of the cafe.
The bell on the door chimed his departure. A woman in a booth laughed once and then clapped her hand over her mouth. The radio was still playing Christmas carols.
The old men convened at Western Autobody. They stood in the office, Stan, Dick, Huddy, some of the others, drinking coffee, watching the garage. Bob Phillips and the other mechanics had two cars raised on the lifts. The pneumatic wrench whined. The old men in the office exchanged bits of gossip from the last week. Dick and Stan leaned against the wall together.
— I’ll be working Christmas Day, said Dick. I’m coaching the new kid. He’s a bit of a mouthpiece. Always knows best, that kid.
— Reminds me of you, said Stan.
Through the window, they watched Bob as he tightened the lugs on a tire on one of the lifted cars. After awhile, Stan said he should be getting on.
— Where do you have to be? said Dick.
— I’m going up to the shopping mall. I have a present to buy for Louise. I’ve got something in mind. She likes to go fishing and she likes to know the names of everything, every goddamn bird and bug you can imagine.
Huddy was putting his hearing aid back in. He peered at them, said: Birds?
Stan went out to his truck. Dick caught up with him.
— Stan, are you in town on Christmas Day or are you staying out at the Point?
— I’ll come into town to see Frank and Mary and the girls. It’s easier than them coming out to me.
Dick went and started the unmarked car and Stan started his truck. Then Dick came over and leaned on the side panel.
— Stanley, I overheard Frank on the telephone with Mary. I know about the house. I’m sorry.
Stan nodded. He said: I know. But it’s … Mind you, it’s a few years off yet. Anyhow, I’ve got some things I want to do with it, some new doors to hang. I never was much of a builder. It takes me a long time to do any of that. But time I have. Time I have.
— It’s a good old house.
— I know. So you’re working on Christmas Day?
— I am, said Dick.
— I’ll come by after I’m done with the family. You leave the new kid on the desk and we’ll go get some lunch. We’ll find someplace that’ll be open.
— Okay, Stan.
Stan found a book called The Young Naturalist at the bookstore in the shopping mall. He turned the book in his hands. He opened it and read a passage on the denning of beavers. The woman at the checkout asked him if it was a Christmas gift and he said it was and she asked him if he would like to inscribe it. She offered him a pen. He printed: Louise, here is a good book about nature. You amp; me can learn together. Happy Xmas, Grandpa. His printing looked peculiar to him. There was sway in the letters. He paid for the book and the woman gift-wrapped it.
Stan had seen Eleanor Lacroix the day before yesterday. She’d called and asked him to meet her in town. They’d met up for a cup of coffee at a small diner near Stan’s old boxing clubhouse. They talked for half an hour or more-mostly Eleanor did the talking. She and her fiance, Tommy, had a vacation they were going to leave for the next day. She had to get away, she said. She couldn’t imagine Christmas at home without Judy around.
Stan nodded. He told her she looked like she was doing well, which was true. There was colour in her face again and she’d put some weight back on. He’d only ever been able to say he’d come up short looking into Judy’s former boyfriend. He was sorry. He was goddamn sorry there wasn’t anything more. He was sorry for a lot of things. He did not elaborate on this. He just listened as Eleanor told him about her vacation plans.
Outside the diner, she got a rectangular gift-wrapped object from her car.
— Thank you, Stan. For everything.
— It was nothing, said Stan.
— Maybe you think that. But it’s not right. Because what you did is you cared. I won’t ever forget that.
Eleanor put her arms around him and kissed him quickly on the mouth.
— This is for you, said Eleanor. I couldn’t really think of anything but then I found this.
She gave him the gift-wrapped thing. It felt like a book. All he could say was, Happy Christmas and so long.
Later, after he’d gotten home, Stan unwrapped it. It was a big hardcover book. The Illustrated History of Canadian Boxing, published by the Canadian Amateur Boxing Association. Eleanor had bookmarked a page a third of the way through, and though he’d never seen the book before, he had a sense of what might be on the page. He was correct. Himself, nineteen years old, poised on the mat with his gloves up. He thought maybe the picture had been taken in Parry Sound shortly before he’d gone professional. If it was the Parry Sound fight, he’d won it with a knockout in the fifth round. He couldn’t remember much about the opponent, neither his name nor his face, but he’d worked the man into the ropes with body blows until the man dropped his fists, and then he’d fired his right cross into the man’s jaw and watched him fall sideways. The fight was in a fairgrounds tent and the mat was canvas stretched over hay bales. Hard as rock. But there he was, little more than a boy, living a part of his life he could scarcely remember now.