Pasha Malla - People Park

Shhh, said Olpert.

You think he can hear us?

Starx, come on.

Look at him, what’s he doing? Is he smelling the road? Bailie? Can you tell?

I don’t know what he’s doing.

Oh shet.

From his knees, Raven was summoning them from the car. Gentlemen, he hollered. Please, I need your assistance and expertise.

Reluctantly they joined him.

Mr. Bailie! Mr. Starx! Tell me about this structure.

This. . bridge? said Starx. Sure. Well it’s called Guardian Bridge —

Delightful! Why?

Um. Bailie?

I don’t know, said Olpert. That’s just its name.

That’s just its name , enthused Raven. Fabulous, Mr. Bailie! What else?

Well, said Starx, it’s the only way on or off the island. Except by boat, or I guess plane.

Or helicopter, added Olpert.

They’ve been talking about building a second one from Whitehall for ages, but. . it’s not really happening. Whitehall’s sort of a disaster anyway.

Raven shaded his eyes with both hands, looked west. A disaster?

Yeah. It’s fugged up out there. People living underground, running amok. We do what we can to keep them in line. Isn’t that right, Bailie?

But Olpert was watching the illustrationist. He lay on his belly, stroked the pavement, licked his fingertips, nodded.

Yes, said Raven. Yes, yes, yes.

DINE WOKE TO the sound she’d fallen asleep to, or in spite of, or had kept her up all night, she wasn’t sure: Pop’s snoring. Despite Debbie having closed and Adine then locking the bedroom door, his snores drifted into their bedroom from the den in a phlegmy, spectral mist. It wasn’t yet seven a.m., her pillow was hot on both sides. Had she slept? Maybe she’d just dreamed of sleep, in some inchoate, semi-conscious state of dreaming. Though if she had slept, Pop’s snoring had found its way into her dreams too.

Overnight, Adine had learned this snoring like a song: the in-breath a gravelly scrape, a pause, a gleek and rattle, and the exhale contained a groan, a sputter, a cough, or a jammy smacking of lips, sometimes even the pasty slop of his tongue — and had at some point he cried out, Please, yes, oh? Adine hoped with all her heart she’d been dreaming.

She lay there in her shorts and T-shirt and blackout goggles, covers long flung off in a prickly fit. Beside her Debbie slept, she could sleep through anything, her breath swished in, out, in, steady as waves. Upon Adine’s feet she could feel Jeremiah, his little body rising and falling. It felt conspiratorial, the two of them slumbering so peacefully, while Adine had lain awake half the night, or all the night.

She dug an elbow into Debbie’s back until it elicited moans.

Ow, what are you doing, what time is it.

He’s out there, said Adine.

So?

I can’t see, remember. What if I trip on him or something. When’s he leaving?

Debbie pulled the covers over her face, said something muffled. Adine yanked them away. Do something with him, Deb. I had to listen to him snoring all night and —

Hi, said Debbie. Good morning. Are you going to ask me how my night was?

Oh. Do you want me to ask?

Yes.

Oh. How was it?

Thanks for asking. It was fine. We drank too much. I feel sort of ugh.

And. . your old colleague?

Teammate. Pearl.

Pearl.

Pearl is, I don’t know. The same but different. Or maybe it’s me who’s different. I mean, I know I’m different, but. .

What?

Pearl seemed tired.

Tired.

Like tired from her life. Not of her life — from it.

Her marriage. Her kids.

Maybe.

I don’t tire you, said Adine, do I?

Debbie smiled. No, you wake me up. Sometimes with violence.

Are you going to kick that guy out of here so I can go pee?

No, wait. That’s a good point. That’s the difference, right? Don’t you always want someone who wakes you up? Like even when things are lousy you’d rather be up, awake, than too tired to even. .

Adine’s eyebrows did a provocative bounce — up, out of the goggles, then back down.

No, not just that. A stimulant life, not a sedative life — isn’t that what you want?

I guess. I mean, once you guys head out I’m probably going to take a nap. .

Debbie shook her head, laughed, flicked the lenses of Adine’s goggles. I miss your eyes, she said. When’s this project going to be done?

Adine shrieked, Never! and with both feet pushed Debbie out of bed.

What are you doing today, said Debbie, pulling on her housecoat. You want to come down to the memorial protest, or?

Work.

Right, said Debbie.

Pop’s snoring intensified as the door opened — and faded as it closed. Adine scooped Jeremiah off her feet and hoisted him onto Debbie’s pillow, tried to find his face with her nose, felt a whisk of tail, and realized she was nuzzling the wrong end.

AT HOME MORNINGS to Pearl were the enemy. She treated those first few daylit hours as an adversary to tackle and vanquish and with the fierce resolve of a mad sergeant drove Gip and Elsie-Anne with bum smacks and handclaps from bed to breakfast and out the door. She seemed to be in three rooms at once, threatening, In the van in ten minutes or you’re walking to school! and when the garage lifted and Harry tore out of the driveway Kellogg invariably was left to drink the mug of untouched coffee she’d forgotten cooling on the counter.

So on Friday morning it was odd for Kellogg to be up with the kids, crouched over the camping stove with instant oatmeal dustily awaiting hydration in plastic bowls, while Pearl slept in the tent. Come on, Dad, let’s get a move on, said Gip, kicking his father’s feet, we have to get there early to get a frontrow spot. Remember yesterday? I don’t —

Hush now, said Kellogg, Mummy’s still sleeping, and he smoothed a bedheaded tuft of his son’s hair, it sprung up again in defiance.

Elsie-Anne sat at the picnic table in her pyjamas, her purse in her lap, a spoon in one hand and a blank expression on her face. From all over Lakeview Campground the sounds of other rousing families sifted through the trees: car engines growled, radios jangled, the patter of morning routines — dads, mums, kids, everyone starting their days, the big day, thought Kellogg, and the Pooles were part of it! Birds warbled and chirped, a gentle breeze came hissing up through the poplars from the lake, and if you listened close, beyond it, the shush of waves splashed the beach.

Kellogg only faintly remembered Pearl zipping herself into the sleeping bag beside him at some point after midnight — had he imagined the sickly smell of booze filling the tent? What if it had, she’d been with old friends, why not have a few? And so what if she slept in, it didn’t mean anything was wrong. They were on vacation. Maybe it meant things were going right.

Dad, whispered Gip, eyes urgent. We need to go.

Champ, hey, we’re a five-minute walk from the park. It’s barely gone eight. We’ll have some breakfast and when Mummy gets up —

Mummy? We can’t wait for Mummy .

No?

Do you want yesterday to happen again?

Kellogg stirred the water. Bubbles were just starting to percolate to its surface. Beneath it, the butane roared and blue flames battered the pot. No, he said. I don’t.

After breakfast and Kellogg had given Gip his meds and the dishes were washed up and everyone brushed their teeth at the communal tap ( Not potable ) and the kids put on clean clothes (No showers, Dad? asked Gip and Kellogg pulled a cap over his son’s jaunty hair and said, We’re on vacation!), it was almost nine and Pearl still hadn’t risen. Kellogg cocked an ear at the tent as a hiker might outside the cave of a hibernating bear. Gentle snores. He winked at his kids. Looks like Mummy tied one on last night.