Matt Lennox - The Carpenter

He went up to the casket and stood by for a respectful pause and then he stepped back.

— Thank you for coming.

Stan turned and saw that Eleanor had come to him. Her hand was extended. He shook it.

— I knew your family, said Stan. I knew you when you were just little girls. I suppose you hear that all the time, about how somebody knew you when you were yay old.

Eleanor looked at him steadily. Her eyes were bloodshot.

— It’s the kind of thing you hear when you grow up.

He didn’t think she recognized him.

— I’m sorry for your loss, said Stan. Your sister was a fine young woman.

She nodded her thanks. Stan directed a final look at the casket. Then he went back into the corridor and out into the twilight.

Across from the mortuary was a small trucking company. Three rigs were parked beneath a bright spotlight. Stan got into his truck and put his hands on the steering wheel. He hoped that the visitation would be the end of it.

It was raining when Lee woke for work, and he was soaked by the time he got to the Owl Cafe. He took the stool at the end of the counter. Over the last two weeks, the stool had more or less become his place.

The time had gone by quickly. He’d seen his mother and Donna and Barry just once. He wanted to see them more, especially his mother, but it was hard to get out to where they lived-and for all he’d had to come home to help his mother, she seemed to be taken care of, as much as she could be.

And it was not as if Lee’s return did not cause his family some upset, especially Donna. He knew it. But given enough time, perhaps a month or two more, maybe he’d find his place with them. They just needed to see what he could do now, what he could make of himself.

Last week, he’d had a meeting with his parole officer, a foppish little man named Wade Larkin. They’d met in a room in the new municipal offices and all Larkin asked was how was work going and was Lee staying sober and had he had any run-ins with the police. Some girl in town had killed herself, right around the time Lee came back-the girl had made the news-and Larkin wanted to confirm that she was nobody Lee knew. She wasn’t, Lee told him. Larkin said that was good, and made a note of it, and that concluded their meeting. They wouldn’t have to meet again until next month. Larkin had given Lee his card with instructions to call right away if he got into any kind of trouble.

Helen came down along the counter with a mug of coffee and took his order.

— Give me your Thermos, Brown Eyes. I’ll fill it up.

She took his order to the wicket and she filled his Thermos from a coffee maker behind the counter. Lee was chilled from the wet. He lit a cigarette.

He had just finished his breakfast when he saw Bud’s car outside. The headlights were dense through the rainfall. Lee paid his bill.

— See you next time, said Helen.

Lee got up and took his lunch pail and tool belt. He went over to the door. Then he stopped. He went back to the counter. Helen looked at him and he gestured for her to come over.

— Something wrong?

— No, nothing’s wrong. Look. My name is Lee.

— Okay, Lee. But I might keep calling you Brown Eyes, because of your pretty brown peepers.

— Your name is Helen. It’s on your shirt there.

She smiled. Lee put his hand to the back of his neck.

— Anyways, I wondered if you’d want to get dinner.

— Sounds like a date you’re asking me on, said Helen.

— A date. Yeah.

— There’s a rule where I’m not supposed to go on dates with customers.

— Oh.

— But I don’t really care about rules. So yes, Brown Eyes Lee. I would love to have dinner with you. Meet me tonight. Seven-thirty at Aldo’s.

He was surprised that she’d named the place-wasn’t that his to figure out? — but he supposed it was just one more thing that had changed while he’d been away. He said: That’s the Italian place downtown?

— That’s right.

She smiled. Lee stood back from the counter.

— Okay, said Lee. Seven-thirty.

— Rain before seven quits before eleven, said Bud. Just you watch.

Bud was correct. The crew sat in their vehicles for an hour but by eight o’clock the rain had tapered down. The air was cold and damp and Lee was glad to start moving his body again.

The big cottage was assuming form. The shingles had all been laid. They’d done that through some sunny days when the tar was soft and the flashing was almost too hot to touch. The sheathing had been house-wrapped and taped. Lee had never met the owners. He’d only heard speculation on their wealth. He did not even know their names. The bathroom on the second floor was bigger than two cells in the penitentiary put together.

Of late he was not having any dreams he could remember, and that was a relief. He would get up early and go to the cafe for breakfast and make small talk with Helen. Bud would pick him up and they’d head to the job site.

He was getting to know the crew. The two framers were father and son, Jeff and Jeff Junior. They would sing country standards, Buck Owens and Hank Snow tunes. They would work quickly to frame the walls and Lee and Bud would often have to trail behind them, moving studs a half-inch to the left or right before re-spiking them. The French guy’s name was Sylvain. He was a subcontracted landscaper who’d worked with Clifton many times before and he was there to grade the property. He behaved with a kind of jovial hostility, and he would grin and ask Lee and Bud if they were extra lazy today, boys, or what? Clifton himself would move around the site with the sole purpose, it seemed, of wringing his hands and looking at his watch. He would invoke larger forces or biblical passages when any of the men appeared to be dawdling: Idleness! You-know-who likes to take advantage of idleness. I’m telling you for your own good.

By late morning Lee and Bud were both black with muck. They were in the midst of digging a drainage ditch around the foundation. Their hourly cigarette break came. Bud straightened up and stretched.

— This is a good one. A guy goes to see a doctor because his dick is orange, and the doctor says has he been eating Cheezies, and … Wait. No. It’s what he tells the doctor. At the end. I frigged it up.

Bud gave his head the same brisk shake that Lee had seen the first time, and then shot him a hapless look. Lee just grinned, and they ground out the butts of their cigarettes and got back to work.

Clifton stayed for lunch that day. Conversation was usually muted when he was around. Clifton said that he hadn’t seen any of them out at Galilee Tabernacle yet. The doors were always open. They could take their time, of course, but they ought not to take too much time. This Clifton said happily. God’s patience runs out once you’re at the gates. Then he looked at Lee and said: And how about you?

— How about me?

— I haven’t seen you at Galilee. I figured you’d be front row centre, what with Pastor Barry being your brother-in-law and all that.

— Well, I’ll get out there one of these days.

Clifton nodded, said: I’ll be watching for you. You’re getting along in town?

— Yeah. Matter of fact, I got a date with a gal tonight.

Lee was immediately sorry he’d said it. He didn’t know why, except that it felt like he’d given something away. He looked at his hands.

— Is that so, said Clifton.

— Is she doing community service by going with you? said Sylvain.

Lee did not reply. He didn’t know what to make of Sylvain, whether or not the man was a prick by nature or was just laying track with him, or if he even had bad blood with Lee from the distant past. It was possible, more so than he cared to consider. All he could think to do was to ignore the man’s comments.