Wandering in Exile (27 page)

It hadn’t snowed in a few days but there were still mountains of it piled along the sides of the road, taking up half of the sidewalk and making crossing streets almost impossible. The salters had been busy and pools of brown slush were everywhere.

And it was as cold as fuck. Christmas, New Year’s, and all that went with them had come and gone, taking all joy with them and leaving nothing but bills and remorse. January in Toronto was almost the worst time of the year.

February would be worse though. Cold and dark and each time it would snow, it would have to be piled higher and higher. For a few years, Deirdre used to take pictures of him standing in it for scale, but Danny was getting sick of shoveling the cars out. And it never failed; just as he finished, the plow would come around and block the driveway again.

And he was broke. And there was talk of layoffs. But Deirdre was out of town for the night so he could go ‘off leash’ for a little. He phoned home but had to leave a message. Martin never picked up when he saw it was him.

But at least he’d told them; he was going to stay in the office for an hour to catch up on a few things and they should go ahead and heat something up for themselves and he’d be home soon.

He felt a bit bad about it but it had been a rough day. Since the ‘Common Sense Revolution,’ everyone was scared. It was bad enough that they had to suffer ‘Rae Days,’ but now they were to be sacrificed on the altar of fiscal evangelism. He had seniority but you never knew. At best he would have to do more for less while the wealthy took another tax holiday. It just wasn’t right.
This country was made by immigrants coming over and spending their wages. Cutting their wages was going to fuck it all up. Maybe from now on they’re just going to let in people who already have money.

He needed to drop into the Windsor, just for a quick one, to chase away the blahs. He’d only have the one and see who else was prowling around.

“Ah, it’s yourself,” Jimmy McVeigh greeted him, cordially but with a hint of suspicion, like he was welcome, but only for a while. “And what will it be?”

“Just gimme a pint there, Jimmy, like a good man.” He really wanted a few whiskies, to ward off the chill, but he knew better. Jimmy had made it very clear the last few times he was in. He had a very good idea of what was going on with Danny and didn’t want him getting drunk there. “Has Frank been in lately?”

“No. We haven’t seen him in a while.”

Danny assumed they had another row but when Jimmy placed the pint in front of him, he leaned so only Danny could hear him. “He’s been laying off it for a while now. Drying out a bit, don’t ya know?”

He looked like he was waiting for some reaction so Danny just raised his pint. “The first since New Year’s.”

It went down a charm, slithering down to where his nerves were all in knots, loosening them and letting him breathe again. But he drank it slowly like he was savoring it and not to seem like he was needing it or anything, even though nobody along the bar was paying much attention.

Most of them, in groups of three or four, were just getting in a few quick ones before facing home. They were the ones that could still manage to enjoy themselves. They’d spent the whole day smiling in the face of shit-storms and they deserved a bit of time before going home and having to face more. They never said stuff like that but Danny knew; they just hadn’t gotten around to getting honest with themselves yet.

He ordered another without thinking, from the barman, but Jimmy looked up from the till at the other end of the bar. Danny pretended he didn’t notice. He’d just have this one and get himself the fuck home. It was too fucking depressing trying to have a drink in public.

He checked his watch before beginning the second one—so they’d all know that he was keeping track of the time. And he’d drink the second one faster. And he’d order a taxi too. There was no point in going back for the car, and the cab would make it all seem more respectable.

He felt better when he thought like that—like he wasn’t such a bollocks after all. Sure he’d had a spot of bother every now and then but he was going to get it all together this time. He’d just have these few and then get ready to start taking the anti-booze. That would show them.

He’d stay on them, too, at least until Paddy’s Day. He’d have to go off them for that, but he could go back on them again and there’d be no harm done.

Mind you, if he didn’t go off them—that would really show them. Then, by the summer, he could have a few beers in the evening and not have everybody making a big deal out of it.

That’s what always drove him back on it—everybody making such a big deal out of nothing. He just liked to sit in the basement and have a few beers while he listened to some decent music. Deirdre and the kids were always listening to shite.

Besides, they were a lot happier without him. He would have fucked off on them only he wasn’t like that. His father had done that to him and there was no way he was ever going to be like that with his own kids. He’d been doing his best for them and, considering the example he’d been given, he wasn’t doing too badly.

Only Martin didn’t see it like that. He was developing a real attitude and Deirdre was letting him get away with it. If it wasn’t for Grainne, Danny would be gone and fuck the pair of them. Nothing he ever did was ever going to be good enough for them.

He thought about having a third but he didn’t. He was feeling good inside and it wasn’t just the booze. He was really going to get a grip this time.

“Not for me,” he announced loudly when the barman stopped in front of him. “I’m going to grab a cab and get myself home to the wife and kids.”

“Goodnight,” Jimmy acknowledged from the other end of the bar.

As he stood outside waiting, Danny thought about Billie and all the times they had together. He never should have left her. That’s why everything went to shit. Not that it was Deirdre’s fault; it’s just that they weren’t really very good together. He and Billie were so much better. They understood each other and accepted each other for what they really were and not what they wanted to become.

That was the thing with Deirdre; everything always had to be improved and then improved again. Life was just one big project after another. She was probably like that because of her work. He’d tried telling her that, but she didn’t even listen to him anymore. She never really did and had always treated him like a child—an errant one that always needed scolding. But what could he do now? They had made their bed . . .

Still, he’d get his act together if for no other reason but to show them he wasn’t the only problem in their world.

“Bayview and Millwood,” he told the cabbie as he hunched into the back seat. “But I need to stop at the liquor store on the way.”

“There’s one on Church.”

“Great.” He knew it well; it was just around the corner from where he used to live on Jarvis. He was just going to pick up some rye. He had a bottle of coke that he had to finish.

After the flight back, Deirdre felt the way she imagined Danny did. A few days in Calgary always made her feel like that. That and being traipsed around the country like a trophy; the bank’s poster-girl. Women, for all the changes, were still a currency.

Toronto had looked nice from the air, but once she landed and retrieved her case, the one with the wonky wheel, and gone outside to wait for a cab in the wind, it felt like desolation.

Danny used to sing that song—the one by Dylan—but she’d never really liked it. She used to say it was because of Dylan’s voice but the truth was she just didn’t like looking at things that way. She got it; she just didn’t see the point. Life was difficult enough. Danny used to say that she was the one in denial and that if she ever really looked at the world, she’d understand what he was going through. “It’s all bullshit,” was his old tired mantra and sometimes she almost agreed with him. But that was the toxicity of his world spilling over and the only way she could stop it was obvious.

She would. She just had to wait until the right time.

Was there ever a good time to break up a marriage?

She’d called again before she left the airport but no one picked up. She was getting anxious.

She had hoped to catch the earlier flight so she could have missed rush hour, but her V-P needed her to stay for the whole meeting in case anybody asked a question he couldn’t handle. No one did but it was just as well. He was old and really only liked to talk about himself and his struggles, growing up in Westmont, in Montreal, and having to adapt to a new life in Forest Hill. Two days of his company and now she had to go back and face her own wonderful life. But then she thought of Martin and, even though the 427 was down to a crawl, she smiled. He’d be twelve this year. Time was flying by and he was in such a hurry; he hadn’t waited and was becoming a teenager already.

And Grainne was worse. Boys had begun to dominate her life, along with what her friends thought. Deirdre was so tempted to sit down and have a talk with her but who was she to be offering anybody advice about anything?

Christmas had been painful. They got through it but it hadn’t been easy. Danny insisted on trying to involve himself again. To be fair to him, he had stayed relatively sober, but it was too late. She wanted to tell him that but she couldn’t be bothered, and by the time they had the nights to themselves, she was far too tired. Besides, he’d slink back down to the basement while she climbed the stairs to her large empty bed where she’d think of Eduardo.

He phoned just before New Year’s. She wasn’t happy at first—with him calling the house, but he told her that he had to hear her voice. He’d spent the last week going from family to family.

She envied that even though he described it as a miasma of mustached aunts force-feeding him while all his balding, greasy uncles looked at him with suspicion—like they knew he was going to turn his back on all that was proud Portuguese, and especially Azorean—“the proud heritage of the children of a penal colony.” His cousins, who worked in construction, always made him out to be gay, or worse, a Canadian.

“It sounds wonderful.”

She really meant it. Anything was better than the cold, cautious life she had made for herself and her kids. After she hung up, she let herself think about what it could be like with him. He was warm; even his call had briefly chased the chill from her heart. He wanted to see her but she couldn’t. Not during the holidays and not until after her trip. He tried to change her mind but she wouldn’t. She would make a clean break before starting a new life with him and she hoped he would do the same. He never talked about his wife anymore. Not that she wanted him to, but sometimes she wondered about the woman whose life she could shatter by just saying yes.

Traffic was lighter along the Gardiner and the city was lit up like a tree. It started to snow softly as the cab turned up the Don Valley where they slowed again.

Everybody would be home by now and hopefully Danny had fed them, even if he had just heated something up. She was tired and later, after she had tucked the kids into bed, she might pour herself a glass of wine and soak in a bath. Danny would stay in the basement and she could have an hour or two to herself. But the house was dark when the cab pulled up outside, and that wasn’t a good sign. She hoped the kids had gone to friends but there was something ominous.

“I’m home,” she called to check after she had let herself in and turned on a few lights. They might be downstairs watching TV. No one answered, even when she called down again, so she went to the kitchen and found Frank’s note.

“Martin called me and told me that Danny was drunk and terrifying them. I went straight over and got them. I hope you don’t mind. I just didn’t think they needed to be around that.”

“Are they okay?”

“They’re fine. They were a bit shaken up but we had pizza and watched
The Lion King
, twice.”

“Frank, thank you so much for doing this.”

“It’s no problem. I like kids, especially the ones I can give back.”

“I’ll be straight over. Have they eaten?”

“They’re just finishing.”

“More pizza?”

“No. I cooked spaghetti.”

Deirdre’s heart was beating too fast. She was angry and relieved. “Is Grainne eating it?”

“She is. She even helped me make it. Do you always add ketchup in yours?”

“Of course not. That little . . .”

“It’s not bad; maybe you should try it. Is he still there?”

“No. There’s no sign of him.”

“I told him to fuck off out of there and leave you alone, only I’m not sure he got the message. I’ve never seen him so bad.”

“He didn’t hurt them, did he?”

“Not really. They said he came home and went into the basement for a while. Then when he came up he just started yelling at them and calling them names and stuff. Martin said that he tried to stop him but Danny just told him to fuck-off. That’s when they phoned and I went straight over.

“Danny was back in the basement by the time I got there, but I warned him. I told him that I’d beat the crap out of him if he ever talked to them like that again.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Frank, but I’m so glad it was you.”

He had them all ready by the time she got there. Grainne wanted to stay—they were having so much fun. “Uncle Frank let us make a tent with sheets in his living room.”

He’d even slept in an armchair so they would know he was nearby.

“I know I crossed the line. I don’t know what came over me.

“I’m sorry,” he added when she didn’t answer. She didn’t dare open her mouth. Not until she gained control over herself. She was fit to kill him.

“And I know you’ve heard it all before, but this time I was going to stop. I’m going on the pills, only I just had to have a few to get ready.”

She held her hand over the mouthpiece so she couldn’t hear the way she was breathing.

“You were right all along. I am an alcoholic. I admit it now.”