Matt Lennox - The Carpenter

— I don’t know either. But … let’s think about that later. It doesn’t matter for now. It’s just good to be with you again.

They were quiet for a little while. Then Emily asked him, gently, how, exactly, he’d found out about his past. She quickly added that he didn’t need to talk about it if he didn’t want to, but he realized that he did. He said: Well, I kind of dragged it out of my uncle last Friday. He was drunk. He probably wouldn’t have told me otherwise, and I think now that I put a lot on him when I got him to tell me. I’ve only seen him one time since, and it was earlier tonight. He told me to stay away. He’s drinking again, and he’s out of work, and he told me the truth about my life. So I know he’s on the outs with my mom and Saint Barry. I know how they are.

— Didn’t you tell me it was Barry who got him set up here? Got him a job and everything?

— That’s true, said Pete. But I think Barry sees angles in things like that. There’s an old drunk I see downtown sometimes. I think I saw him at your church tonight. He goes around with a shopping cart and picks up empty bottles to take back for the deposit. I think Barry is kind of like that. His old bottles are the Lees of the world.

— Barry seems to be doing more than most people, who barely ever give a shit in the first place. I love my dad, I do, but if he had his way, people like your uncle would never ever get out of jail.

— Well, I don’t know what I think about that, either. This is what makes it hard about Lee. I want to be on his side again, and I wish I could tell you that I am … But I don’t know. I just don’t know.

She leaned forward and said: You should give him another chance. And more importantly, you should give yourself a chance, Pete. No matter what, there are lots of people who love you.

— I’ll be alright, said Pete. Things can’t get much more fucked up than they are now. Maybe they’re already looking up.

They finished their hot chocolates. She stood up and took his mug and put it on the desk, and then she sat down on his lap and kissed him deeply. They broke apart. Pete touched her hair.

— I guess your dad would kill me if he knew I was here.

Emily grinned: You and me both, buddy.

— Well, maybe I should go.

— Do you want to?

— No, said Pete. Not at all.

— Good.

She kissed him again. She settled her hips against his. He hadn’t thought it possible to be rid of the shame and uneasiness, but as she moved on top of him, he started to forget everything. Even if it was just for now. He was trembling all over.

She got up and went over and stood beside her bed, looking him in the eye. She unbuttoned her blouse, and then she reached up under her skirt and drew down her nylons and panties and stepped out of them. She lay down across the bed and reached out to him.

They were back in town shortly after one o’clock in the morning. It had to be the National Trust they were hitting. Lee was sure of that. They drove past Woolworths and past the cheerless frontage of the Shamrock, where the tavern was still open. Speedy turned the van at the bottom of the street and then doubled back up a laneway behind the buildings. The parking lot behind the bank was closed in on one side by a line of poplars and on the other side by a loading dock. A windowless steel man-door was set in the back wall of the bank. Speedy parked the van against the poplar trees. Gilmore switched on the scanner. They waited, listening.

There was little talk on the scanner. Some cop reported he was returning to the detachment. The dispatcher acknowledged. The words were dense with static.

They’d been there about fifteen minutes when they saw Maurice coming up the laneway. Gilmore looked at his watch. Maurice crossed over to the van. He opened the passenger door. Gilmore nodded to him.

— What a shitbag dump that hotel is, said Maurice. I didn’t see nothing down here all night.

— Good. Let’s go.

They distributed the walkie-talkies and tested them. Speedy was sent down the alley where he could watch the street. They waited. Then Speedy’s voice rasped out of the walkie-talkies.

— Come in, boys. I’m watching the street.

Gilmore told him to check in again every fifteen minutes.

Maurice got into the driver’s seat and backed the van across the parking lot right against the wall of the bank. They turned the ignition off and listened to the scanner for five minutes. Then Gilmore got out. Maurice told Lee to get up behind the steering wheel. Gilmore had the side door open and was digging around in the tool bag. He came out with a can of Styrofoam on a spray gun. Maurice got out and boosted Gilmore up onto the roof of the van. His footsteps thumped above. Lee stuck his head out the window and angled the mended side-view mirror upward so that he could watch.

The bank’s exterior alarm box was fixed to the wall five feet above the back door. Gilmore, standing on top of the van, fed the spray gun’s nozzle through the grill of the box. He emptied the can. This was something he’d done before, Lee could see. When he was finished there was foam bulging out of the grill. The foam would hold the clapper fast so it couldn’t strike the bell if the exterior alarm was tripped. Maurice, meanwhile, had drawn a crowbar out of the tool bag. He helped Gilmore come down and he told Lee to drive five feet forward.

Lee moved the van and put it into park. He turned it off and listened. The door at the back of the bank was directly behind the van and out of sight to him. Gilmore had come up to the passenger window. He stretched his legs as if preparing for a sport. He opened the door.

— How about a smoke, pal?

Lee gave him one. Five minutes later, Maurice came back, holding the crowbar in one hand.

— It’s open.

Gilmore nodded.

— Let’s go, Lee, said Maurice.

Lee got out of the van. The door at the back of the bank was open. It was dead black through the space. Up above he could see ridges of spray Styrofoam swollen out of the alarm box. He found that he was intensely aware of everything, of every sound, of the fabric of his clothes. Lee and Maurice hauled the burning-bar rig out and carried it into the bank. They lifted out the lances and moved them inside. Before they took out the tool bag, Maurice reached into it and dug for something. Gilmore came and leaned on the side of the van. He might have been passing the time of day.

— This is where it gets long. Maurice will work on the interior alarms now. Wait a few minutes and drive up to the corner. All you have to do is watch and listen.

Speedy checked in on the walkie-talkie and told them the street was still quiet.

Then Maurice had the tool bag over one shoulder and was moving away from the van. His big frame was moving with his breathing. He licked at one side of his mouth.

— We’re going in now. Every fifteen minutes on the walkie. Don’t fall asleep.

Lee saw that Maurice also had hold of a shotgun. The barrel had been cut down to just above the pump. Maurice saw Lee looking at it.

— Listen, Lee. Don’t get the idea that me or Gilmore haven’t worked this through. We got everything planned out. That includes you.

They studied each other.

— I’m here to work, said Lee. Make some money. That’s all.

Maurice wordlessly followed Gilmore into the bank.

Lee closed the back doors of the van and got into the driver’s seat. He moved the van back to the poplar trees. He parked it and turned the ignition off. He checked that the scanner was on. He checked the walkie-talkie. He looked at his hands on the steering wheel. The cold was settling into the vehicle. Lee looked out the window again. They’d left nothing in the parking lot and the falling snow had already begun to soften their tracks. The back door was closed. There was nothing to see but the buildings and the blanched night sky. He had a cigarette.