Miriam Toews - A Boy of Good Breeding

Bill Quinn walked over to one of Hosea’s tires and lifted his leg. “Hey!” shouted Hosea. “Cut that out!” He threw his car into reverse and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. Bill Quinn looked behind him at the spot where the tire had just been, put his leg down and continued to cross the street. He found a square of sunlight and lay down in it. With his legs stretched out in front of him and behind him he took up the entire width of the sidewalk.

Hosea watched as a woman and her child gingerly stepped over the dog. The child bent down and scratched Bill Quinn between the ears. Bill Quinn licked the boy’s face and the woman smiled. Hosea shook his head.

Well, thought Hosea, I’m really no further ahead than when I started. I’ve got three new babies and Max on my hands and nobody gone except Leander. I’m no further ahead. Hosea remembered raking leaves for Euphemia. As soon as he’d finished a patch of the lawn, the wind would blow and more leaves would fall from the trees directly onto his freshly raked patch. “C’mon in, Hosea,” Euphemia would yell from the doorway, “don’t worry about every single leaf.” But he had worried about every single leaf. He’d stay outside until ten or eleven at night trying to rake up every leaf, trying to beat the wind. Sometimes Tom would help out for a while but eventually he’d get bored and wander off. “I’m going to bed, Hose,” Euphemia would eventually call out into the darkness, “wherever you are, good night.”

Hosea parked his car on the street in front of his office and got out. He said, “Hello, Peej,” to a small stooped man who stood on the sidewalk gazing up at the sky. “Have you got seeding weather, Peej, or not?” Hosea smiled. “Let’s hope,” said Peej.

“Well, take ’er easy, Peej.” A vicious jerk of Peej’s chin by way of saying good-bye and Hosea had safely entered his office building.

He peered out the window of his office. He watched a couple getting out of their grey Subaru and going in to the Wagon Wheel. The woman glanced at Bill Quinn lying on the sidewalk and smiled. He thumped his fingers against the windowsill to a familiar tune. Waterloo, he thumped, my Waterloo. The couple took a table next to the large window in the front of the café. Hosea watched as the man removed the woman’s coat and then disappeared into the café, looking for a place to hang it. You’ll have to hang it over the back of a chair, it’s the Wagon Wheel you’re sitting in, not the Ritz, thought Hosea. He stared at the woman and wondered if she was married to the man or was she his sister, his daughter? He thought of Lorna. The woman sat at the table, her legs crossed and sticking out to the side, and picked up a menu. She looked up at Hosea. Hosea looked up at the sky, to the right and to the left as if he’d just heard an airplane, and then quickly moved away from his window. He noticed a note lying on his desk and picked it up.

Hi, Hosea, I let myself in with the key you gave me and I called the paint places in the city. It will cost, this is the cheapest, about $2,500 dollars to paint the water tower, without the horse. With the horse, about three grand. So … let me know what you think. Also, as you probably know, Bill Quinn is still in town, but I’m working on it. And I’ll be buying the flowers later today with the money from that account. That’s where I’m going now. Oh yeah, Lorna called. See ya, Knute.

P.S. Are you still interested in turning the old fred mill into a theatre because Jeannie, you know, your neighbour? said she’s thinking about buying it and turning it into an aerobics/laundromat kind of place. She said she’d talk to you.

I’m sure she did, thought Hosea. “When?” said Hosea out loud. When, Knute? When did Lorna call, what did she say, how did she sound? Was she at work, at home? Why hadn’t Knute just let the answering machine go? It would have been more helpful. At least he could have heard her voice. Hosea stood up and walked over to the window. He watched the couple for a while. The woman didn’t look up at him again. A warm wind touched him. Knute’s note fluttered off the desk and onto the floor. “You!” he shouted at Bill Quinn. The dog lifted one ear. “Get out of my town! Get the heck out of Algren!” Bill Quinn let his ear drop, yawned, and tried to get comfortable again. Combine Jo, who had been standing on the street with her back to Hosea, peering into the window of Willie Wiebe’s Western Wear, turned around and looked up at him.

“Who the hell are you yelling at, Hosea? It’s a little undignified, don’t you think?” She was grinning. “Have you lost your mind, Hosea? Why the hell don’t you come on out of your little tower and enjoy the sunshine. Summer’s just around the corner! Did I mention S.F. and me are gonna be riding our bikes over on the dike? Hey, Hosea, you gotta bike?”

Hosea shook his head. “I was, uh, talking to Bill Quinn, to the dog,” he said. “To that black dog there on the sidewalk.”

“Oh him,” shouted Combine Jo. “He looks harmless. Hey, wait a second, did you say his name is Bill Quinn? You mean from the original Bill Quinn? Is that one of his? Oh boy.” Combine Jo shook her head.

“What do you mean, ’oh boy?” shouted Hosea. “What’s the story with the Quinns?”

“Oh, they’re just wild, Hosea. They can’t be trained. They can’t be taught a thing. They do as they please. A few generations must have lived in Whithers or who knows where, ’cause you obviously missed out on it. Just ask Cherniski! She’ll tell you all about it!” Combine Jo shook her head. “Christ,” she said. She looked amused. “I guess they’re back. Yell all you want, Hosea, that dog ain’t gonna budge.” She turned back to the display window of Wiebe’s with a little wave over her shoulder. Hosea lifted his hand.

The phone rang.

“Lorna,” said Hosea as he picked up the phone.

“How’d you know it was me?” said Lorna, laughing.

“Well, you know, if you want something bad enough …” Hosea coughed. “How are you?” he said.

“I’m fine. How are you?” she said.

“I’m okay,” said Hosea, “I’ve …” Lorna interrupted.

“I’ve missed you, too,” she said.

Hosea had been about to say I’ve been better.

“Yeah,” he said. “How are you?” he asked again.

“I’m okay. Pretty good. Hosea, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Yeah,” he said. He wondered what it could be. “Yeah,” he said again. “We should talk.”

“Could I come out on the bus tonight?”

“Oh,” said Hosea. “Of course you can, of course you can. I’ll be there to pick you up. I love you. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. Lorna, I’m just really sorry.”

She sighed. “You keep telling me that, Hosea, and nothing ever changes.”

Hosea whispered, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Will you quit saying you’re fucking sorry!” she said.

“Okay,” said Hosea. “Yes I will, I love you.”

“And stop saying that, too!” said Lorna.

“Why?” asked Hosea. “Why should I stop saying I love you when I do?”

“Because it makes me sad, Hosea, that’s why. Because I wonder.”

“Okay,” said Hosea.

“Is that all you can say? Okay? So what does that mean, Hosea, that your love for me is a sad thing, that you don’t even know if you mean it or not?”

Hosea put his hand on his forehead. “Tell me,” she said again, softly. Was she crying?

“I have a plan, Lorna,” he said. “It’s a, well, it’s just a plan. And if you’ll just come here tonight I’ll tell you everything and then you’ll understand. My love for you is not a sad thing, Lorna. Please don’t think it is.”