Miriam Toews - A Boy of Good Breeding

“No, I know you’re not, John,” said Hosea. “You’re not a toy.” Hosea didn’t know what else to say. Johnny stood there glaring at him.

“But I’m out, right?” he said. “Out again, isn’t that so, Hosea? Isn’t that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“It’s just that this particular piece of land is, well, has always been, a real trouble spot. It goes back a long way, and the province is still trying to figure out just where it belongs.” Hosea’s hand went to his chest.

“That’s bullshit, Hosea, and you know it. You just haven’t got enough to do, that’s the real problem.”

“Enough to do?” said Hosea. “Enough to do?”

Just then it started to pour.

“Look, Hosea,” said John, “why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee and I’ll tell you what’s wrong with this country. Guess there’s no way you could put me right out of the country, eh, Hosea? Why quit at the municipal level? I’ve always wanted to live in a hot place, Myanmar, say. Or Burma, or is that the same thing? Anyway, why don’t you get your pooh-bah at the top to make a really big mistake and move me and my toy barn and silo and tractor and little horses and cows all the way over to Myanmar?” Hosea looked at Johnny. He noticed Johnny had a strange way of speaking. What should have been the last word of a sentence seemed to become the first word of the sentence after it. Like, I’ll tell you what’s wrong with this. Country guess there’s no way you could—

“I’m just kidding, Hose. C’mon in. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

“No. No, I’m not,” said Hosea. I’m just kidding, Hose. C’mon. In you’re not allergic to cats, are you? Hosea repeated in his mind. Maybe he was asthmatic. Maybe it was a breathing problem. Hosea was intrigued with the way that Johnny spoke. Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“Good. I’ve been having problems with those damn. Cockroaches ever since Yusef. Died Tiny’s not a roach eater so. I’m trying cats.”

By this time they were inside and Johnny had pointed to a kitchen chair. Hosea sat on it. Johnny went over to the counter to make some coffee.

“You mean the Algren cockroach?” Hosea asked.

“The one and only,” said Johnny. “Are there. Others, I mean around here?”

“I don’t know,” said Hosea. His shoulders slumped and he felt depressed. “I guess there could be,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Johnny, “there could be.”

“Johnny,” said Hosea. “I know you want to be the fire chief. I’m sorry, I …”

John turned around. “Hosea,” he said. “I’m a farmer and a widower since the age of. Nineteen I’ve learned not to rely on. Anything, not my cows, not my horses, not my dogs, not my crops, not the weather, not my health, not my friends, not you, not women, not love, not the fire chief. Job I’ve been in and out of this damn town so many times it’s a. Joke I don’t know what the problem is at the top, as you say, Hose, but, you know, I’ve stopped. Caring I think you must have some kind of a plan but what that plan is I cannot begin to imagine. Hosea, in, out, what difference does it make. Anymore, I’m here in the same. Place so I can’t be the fire. Chief I’ll keep putting out fires just the. Same it’s what I have to do doesn’t. Matter what anyone calls me, chief or. Johnny I’m gonna put out fires and if some government pantywaist tells me I can’t, that won’t matter to me. Either a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta. Do do you understand what I’m talking about, Hosea?”

“Yes,” said Hosea. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay,” said Johnny.

“I didn’t know you were ever married, John,” said Hosea.

“Well, I was.”

“To who?”

“Whom, you mean. To Caroline Russo.”

Hosea thought for a second. “Caroline Russo?” he said. “But she was the girl who died in that house fire years ago, wasn’t she? She was our age?” And then Hosea stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry, Johnny. Caroline Russo? I had no idea. Nobody knew you two were married. I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“Thanks, it’s. Okay it was a long time ago.”

Hosea and Johnny were quiet. Both men had sips of their coffee. Hosea remembered Caroline Russo. She was wild. She was very funny.

“We took the train to the city and got married at City Hall I,” said Johnny. He smiled at some memory. “Guess we eloped.”

“Oh,” said Hosea. He smiled too. “She was a beautiful girl.”

“Oh yeah,” said Johnny. He smiled again. So did Hosea. “So I put out fires.”

“Yeah,” said Hosea. “Yup.” They smiled at each other again. There was no reason to say anything more about it. It was a neighbour’s stubble fire that started it. The fire just got out of control and spread. The kids in the house were drunk and didn’t have a chance. Hosea knew that Caroline Russo was five months pregnant when she died in the fire. Everybody did. Well, everybody did after the coroner’s report. Nobody knew before that. Except Johnny, I guess, thought Hosea. And Hosea knew that Johnny had been one of the lucky ones. He had gone outside to piss or puke, that detail wasn’t ever really clear, and then had passed out in the yard behind the house. But nobody knew Caroline was pregnant with Johnny’s baby. Nobody knew they had married.

“I wanted to tell. People but I didn’t at the. Beginning and then it just sort of got too late to,” said Johnny. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Johnny,” said Hosea.

“Well, I may not have to be sorry about it, Hose, but I am sorry about. It I’m as sorry as they come.”

Hosea put his head into his hands. By moving Johnny out of the town limits he was destroying Johnny’s chance at redemption. And for what? For his own personal gain. For a kid’s dream of meeting his dad. Johnny never got to see his kid, never got to hold him in his arms and protect him from harm, never got to show him off and call him son and sweetheart. Hosea’s head hurt. He would put Johnny back. Somehow. And before July first. Maybe tomorrow. He knew Johnny would just laugh if he said, Oh, by the way you’re back in. He’d have to do it soon, though. And he’d have to get Johnny the job of fire chief of Algren. He was the only man for the job. It was his destiny. And I, thought Hosea, am not God. He took a deep breath.

“So,” said Johnny, “more coffee?”

“You were going to tell me what’s wrong with this country,” said Hosea.

“Right,” said John. “Remember Yusef, my. Lab, the garbage eater?”

“Big, black …” said Hosea.

“Yeah,” said John. “He died in the fall, sudden. Death from lead poisoning.” He smiled.

“Lead poisoning?” said Hosea.

“I shot him,” said John.

Hosea smiled and nodded. “Why?”

“Cancer of the. Throat I gave him two Big Macs, his favourite, put the rifle to his head and … Bam Yusef’s. Gone didn’t even know what hit. Him far as he knew he was eating a Big Mac with special sauce, box and everything.” John shook his head and had a sip of his coffee. “He was a good dog, Yusef.”

“Mmmmm,” said Hosea. He had a sip of his coffee.

“So a couple of months before Yusef died I got Tiny, another black lab, as a. Replacement they became really good. Friends I hoped Tiny would kill cockroaches the way Yusef. Had but no. Dice Tiny’s all right. Not like Yusef, mind you, but Tiny’s got a head on his shoulders and his heart’s in the right place.”

Where had Yusef’s head and heart been? thought Hosea. He had another sip and said, “Well, that’s good.”

“After Yusef died I buried him out. Back it was a hell of a job because the ground was beginning to freeze, but I got him in there and I said good-bye.”