Miriam Toews - A Boy of Good Breeding

The Epps lived on the edge of town in an old house with a few modern additions built on. They had hay bales around the old part for insulation, and a swimming pool in the backyard. Their cars were rusted-out beaters and their farming equipment was brand new. Their silo had had skulls and crossbones spray-painted on it by one of their teenage sons, and a homemade wooden sign that dangled from their mailbox said Welcome to the Epps.

Hosea drove up the driveway and parked in front of the two-car garage. He hoped Gord wouldn’t be home. He and Gord had never really spoken to each other. They knew each other, of course, like everybody in Algren, but they’d never had much to say to one another. Hosea wasn’t sure if he could entirely believe what Jeannie had said about Gord accusing Veronica of having an affair, and him not being the father of the triplets, and all that stuff, but he could believe that Gord wasn’t much of a help around the house because he spent most of his spare time in the Wagon Wheel drinking coffee and chatting with the boys. Hosea got out of his car and straightened his hat. Where was everyone? he thought. Where were all the kids? Hosea walked to the front door and rang the bell. He peered in through one of the glass panes and saw Gord lying on the couch in the living room, apparently asleep. He saw a baby swing set up in the living room, next to a giant TV that was on, but no babies, no Veronica, just Gord. Hosea looked at Gord asleep on the couch. His bare stomach hung over the couch like a pillowcase half full of Halloween treats, and one arm covered his head and face. Gord’s work boots were placed neatly beside the couch. Hosea could see tiny streaks of sweat on the back of Gord’s neck. He decided to go home and call Lorna about the backgammon briefcase. If Veronica hadn’t already left with the triplets, she would by the weekend. Or so Jeannie had said, anyway. Hosea had just about reached his car, when the Epps’ front door swung open and there was Gord. “What’s up, Funk?” he said, looking tired and pissed off. “What’s the problem?”

“Oh,” said Hosea, “Gord, hi, I hope I didn’t wake you up, there’s no problem, it’s just—”

“How’d you know I was sleepin’?” asked Gord.

“Oh,” said Hosea again, “well, I, uh, I could see you through the window on the door, you were sleeping on the couch—”

“I wasn’t sleeping on the couch, I was lying on the couch. Thinking,” said Gord.

“Okay,” said Hosea nodding his head. “I hope I didn’t, I hope you weren’t, um—”

“She’s gone, Hosea,” said Gord. “I don’t know what to do about it. I wish I did.” Gord sat down on the front step and stared off towards the road. “And here it is,” he said sadly, “a beautiful day.”

“I’m sorry, Gord,” said Hosea.

“She just, you know, left,” said Gord. “Just left. She said I wasn’t doing what I should be doing and if I didn’t know what that was, then that was it, she wasn’t gonna tell me. That was it. You know, I had bought these diapers, these Huggies, expensive ones, for her, and that perry natal care stuff like the doctor said, you know, and I was trying to keep all the other kids from mauling the babies and giving her a break and, well, I thought I was, we were, okay, it was hell, but we were okay, we were managing.”

Hosea walked over to where Gord was sitting. He put his hand on Gord’s shoulder and kept it there for a while, the way the doctor had. “I’m sorry, Gord,” he said again.

“When the kids come home from school, I have to tell ’em,” said Gord. “Veronica said and tell ’em why, just before she left. But fuck me if I know why … we were doing okay … I don’t know what to tell ’em.”

“She might come back,” said Hosea. “She probably just needs a break.”

“I was givin’ her breaks,” said Gord. “I was. I was trying to. We needed a break together, that’s what we needed. Go somewhere, drink champagne, go on a tour or something. That place we went to once. We needed a break together, that’s for sure.” Hosea took his hand off Gord’s shoulder. One Veronica, three babies, that makes four gone. Hurray, hurray, Hosea thought bitterly. And one broken man. Right here, right beside me.

“It’ll just take a little time to get used to, probably,” said Hosea.

“I don’t want to get used to it,” said Gord. “I want her back. I want my babies back, too.” Gord shook his head and stared off at the road some more. “I never thought this would happen,” he said. “Not in a million years.” Hosea stared at the road too and tried not to cry. He wanted to leave the Epps’ sad farm and call Lorna and tell her how much he loved her. He hadn’t made Veronica go away and take the babies. No, he hadn’t. Gord had. Or maybe he hadn’t. Who knows why Veronica left? He wished she’d come back, for Gord’s sake. There was still a week left. Maybe a different family would leave before July first, all together and for a good reason.

“When I see that school bus come down the road with my kids in it, all happy and innocent, I’m gonna cry,” said Gord. “I’m just gonna sit here and cry and my older boys are gonna despise me and the little ones will just be scared of me crying. And I don’t even know what happened. And even if I did, it’s too late. I waited too long and now I’m screwed.”

“Why don’t you call her at her sister’s?” said Hosea.

“Ah, so I guess Jeannie told you where she went, eh?” said Gord.

“Do you want me to call her?” said Hosea. He didn’t have a clue what he would say, but he’d call if Gord wanted him to. “Gord?” said Hosea. Gord put his hands over his face and shook his head.

“I can’t talk to her, Hosea,” he said through his tears. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never known what to say to her, that’s been my problem. A long time ago, I figured it out that I didn’t ever know what to say to her to make her happy, so I just tried to do things to make her happy, and not worry about the talking, and then somewhere along the way even that stopped, the doing stuff, and then—” Gord cried. Hosea sat down beside Gord and put his arm around his shoulders. Finally Gord spoke again. “I just love her, I want her back. And the babies, too.” Hosea nodded and both men stared off at the long road and the empty sky above it. After a while Gord said, “Do you listen to Lightnin’ Hopkins ever?”

And Hosea said, “Country’s my thing, really.”

Gord nodded and then said, “You know what the names of my babies are?”

“What are they?” said Hosea, vaguely remembering.

Gord took a breath. “Indigo,” he said, “and Callemachus, and Finbar. He’s the one with a little lung problem, Finbar is. But the doctor said it would heal.” Gord looked at Hosea. “Do you like those names at all?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Hosea, “you know, I do. I really do. They’re names of, well, of distinction.”

Gord stared at the road. “The bus is comin’,” he said. “I can hear it.”

“I guess I’d better be going,” said Hosea.

“Yup,” said Gord, getting to his feet. “That’s an Impala?” he asked, pointing to Hosea’s car.

“That’s right,” said Hosea.

Gord nodded. “Nice lines,” he said. “Good mileage?”

“Pretty good,” said Hosea. “I don’t go very far.”

Gord opened his front door. “Well,” he said, “that bus is comin’.”

“Bye, Gord,” said Hosea. Gord nodded and walked into his house.

What the hell is this? thought Knute. She’d gone up to Hosea’s office to call Max and see how things were going and she saw a note addressed to her on Hosea’s desk.

Dear Knutie, here’s twenty dollars to buy yourself a regular pair of shorts and some nice sandals, for the festivities on the first. Hope you don’t mind.