Miriam Toews - A Boy of Good Breeding

Combine Jo pushed her fishing hat back on her head and peered up at Knute’s window. She pointed to her catalogue and yelled, “It’s all in here, in here!” Marilyn and Josh, by this time, were standing beside Jo’s car, looking at her and up at Knute and back at Jo, and Marilyn was grinning.

“Hello,” said Combine Jo.

“Marilyn!” Knute yelled from the window. “This is Jo, Max’s mom, and Jo, this is Marilyn, my friend, and her son, Josh.” Knute felt like throwing herself out the window onto the pavement below.

“Is he here?” asked Marilyn.

“Is who here?” Knute yelled.

“Max!” she said.

“Yes, he is,” said Jo. “He’s got S.F. at home with him right now, or they’re somewhere around, who knows, he looks after S.F. while Knutie works for the mayor.”

“Well,” said Marilyn. “There have been developments.” She and Knute looked at each other and smiled. Combine Jo went back to her catalogue.

“Jo,” said Knute, “go ahead and get her a bike, with training wheels if you want. And, uh, thanks.”

“Hear that?” said Jo to Marilyn. “That’s the sound of ice breaking. Have a good time, you two,” Jo said to Marilyn. “Knutie needs a friend, you know. We all do from time to time.”

“That’s true,” said Marilyn, smiling, and disappeared into the building.

“Hey!” Jo yelled up to the window. “Knutie! Why don’t you bring your friend’s kid over to my house and Max can look after both of ’em? It would be good for S.F. to have a playmate for a change and then you two gals can have a real good talk, maybe a drink, Hosea wouldn’t mind if you called it a day. Tell him I told you to punch out.”

Knute felt like saying to Jo, “Would you shut the fuck up, please?” But instead she said, “Yeah maybe, maybe,” and slammed the window shut.

Marilyn and Josh came into the office. Marilyn and Knute, both laughing by then, gave each other a big hug. “How’s it going, buddy?” said Knute to Josh.

“Fine,” he said. “Can I play with Summer Feelin’?”

Marilyn and Knute looked at each other. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” Marilyn asked. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I don’t know,” said Knute. “Because I know you would have told me to ignore him totally, or kill him, or have mad passionate et cetera, et cetera [Josh was in the room] with him, and none of those things has happened. It’s all been just, you know, ordinary, really. I thought I’d be letting you down.”

“Ordinary?” said Marilyn. “Well, that is too bad. But you could have told me, anyway. I need to know these things. We’re best friends! You should have told me.”

“I know, I know,” Knute said.

“So that’s Combine Jo, eh?” said Marilyn.

“Yeah.” Knute rolled her eyes.

“She’s cool,” said Marilyn.

“Cool? Combine Jo? You gotta be kidding. She’s nuts.”

“Well,” said Marilyn, “she wants to buy S.F. a bike, that’s cool. She’s nice.”

“God, Marilyn, you have no idea. She’s a drunk. She’s crazy.”

“Well,” said Marilyn. “I would be, too, if I was Max’s mom and if I lived in this weird town and everybody was pissed off at me for something I did a hundred years ago.”

“I’m not pissed off at her for what she did way back then, I’m pissed off at her for telling Max to leave me when I was pregnant,” said Knute.

“Well,” said Marilyn. “I hate to tell you this, beautiful dreamer, but she didn’t put a gun to his head.”

“Oh, don’t be so sure,” Knute said. “Anyway, you’re here. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I need to know these things. We’re best friends.”

Marilyn smiled. “I didn’t know we were coming. Josh and I were walking around downtown ’cause it’s nice out and there was the bus station, and there was my cheque in my pocket, and there was the bus to Algren, and there you go. Here we are.”

“Here we are,” said Knute, smiling.

“When can I play with Summer Feelin’?” Josh asked. Knute looked over at Marilyn.

“Do you want to bring him over to Max’s?”

“Sure, what the heck. I’m dying to meet him, actually. Has he changed?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

“I guess.”

“You’re still hot for him, I can tell. Aren’t you, Knute?”

Before Knute could say anything, Marilyn said, “What about this guy, this mayor dude, is he cute?”

“Cute?” Knute said. “He’s old.”

“So?”

“I don’t think he’s cute. Well, maybe. Naah. And he’s got some kind of a girlfriend, her last name’s Garden.”

“Garden?” said Marilyn. “Weird name. Garden of Eden, forbidden fruit. What’s his name? Hosea? Strange biblical setup if you ask me. Can I meet him?”

“Maybe, he’s all over the place, usually. I don’t know what he does most of the time.”

“He could be dealing drugs,” said Marilyn.

“I doubt it.”

“Oh yeah,” said Marilyn, “drugs to farmers. They’re a very stressed-out bunch of people.”

“He wants me to get rid of a dog, actually. Bill Quinn. Do you want to help me?”

“Excuse me?” “Bill Quinn’s gotta go.” “The dog?” “Yeah.”

“Sure, I’ll help. How old exactly is he, Knute? Eighty, ninety?”

“Bill Quinn?”

“Hosea.”

“No, no, around fifty, I think.”

“Oh, pfft,” said Marilyn. “That’s nothing.”

Knute and Marilyn liked Combine Jo’s idea about the talk and the drink. While Knute was leaving a note for Hosea telling him her friend was in town and they were off to see what they could do about Bill Quinn, Marilyn opened one of his drawers and pulled out an old orange Hilroy scribbler. “Look at this. Remember these?” she said.

“Marilyn!” said Knute. “Don’t go snooping around in his drawers. Put that thing back.”

“Wow,” said Marilyn. “Hosea’s really on the cutting edge, isn’t he? He doesn’t even have an electric typewriter.”

“Let’s go,” said Knute. “C’mon, Josh. S.F. will be very happy to see you.” And they left.

“Bye-bye!” said Combine Jo. “You girls enjoy yourselves. And don’t worry about your boy there, he’ll be fine with Max. Hell, I might go home myself in a while, see if my goddamn bike’s in one piece. First I’ll order this little purple one for S.F. and then she and I could go bike riding together around the dike or around town, somewhere. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

Oh wonderful, thought Knute, cycling on a steep embankment with a crazy old drunk woman. Great. “Okay, Jo, just make sure it has training wheels on it. It needs training wheels.”

“Righto!” said Jo. She ripped out the page from the catalogue and smiled. “Have a good time, ladies,” she said, and waved them away.

“Did you see her looking at us?” said Marilyn.

“What do you mean?”

“The way she was looking at us. Wistfully like. I bet she’d like to join us for a drink. Does she have any friends, Knute, or what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably. Somewhere.”

They walked along Main Street towards the dike road and the hatchery and Max’s place. They took turns giving Josh a piggyback ride.

“You know, it really smells bad in this town,” said Marilyn.

“Well, it’s spring,” said Knute, “that’s all the fertilizer thawing, you know, shit on the fields.”

“Oh. Real shit?”

“Yeah. Well, not human shit — animal.”

“But real shit, not processed or packaged or anything?”

“Right. Raw animal shit. It might be liquidized or something, I don’t know. Because they spray it on. You know, like hose it on.”

“For fertilizer, eh?”

“Yup. It’s the best thing. Crops, crops, crops. This high.”