Lee got up and took his lunch pail and tool belt. He went over to the door. Then he stopped. He went back to the counter. Helen looked at him and he gestured for her to come over.
— Something wrong?
— No, nothing’s wrong. Look. My name is Lee.
— Okay, Lee. But I might keep calling you Brown Eyes, because of your pretty brown peepers.
— Your name is Helen. It’s on your shirt there.
She smiled. Lee put his hand to the back of his neck.
— Anyways, I wondered if you’d want to get dinner.
— Sounds like a date you’re asking me on, said Helen.
— A date. Yeah.
— There’s a rule where I’m not supposed to go on dates with customers.
— Oh.
— But I don’t really care about rules. So yes, Brown Eyes Lee. I would love to have dinner with you. Meet me tonight. Seven-thirty at Aldo’s.
He was surprised that she’d named the place-wasn’t that his to figure out? — but he supposed it was just one more thing that had changed while he’d been away. He said: That’s the Italian place downtown?
— That’s right.
She smiled. Lee stood back from the counter.
— Okay, said Lee. Seven-thirty.
— Rain before seven quits before eleven, said Bud. Just you watch.
Bud was correct. The crew sat in their vehicles for an hour but by eight o’clock the rain had tapered down. The air was cold and damp and Lee was glad to start moving his body again.
The big cottage was assuming form. The shingles had all been laid. They’d done that through some sunny days when the tar was soft and the flashing was almost too hot to touch. The sheathing had been house-wrapped and taped. Lee had never met the owners. He’d only heard speculation on their wealth. He did not even know their names. The bathroom on the second floor was bigger than two cells in the penitentiary put together.
Of late he was not having any dreams he could remember, and that was a relief. He would get up early and go to the cafe for breakfast and make small talk with Helen. Bud would pick him up and they’d head to the job site.
He was getting to know the crew. The two framers were father and son, Jeff and Jeff Junior. They would sing country standards, Buck Owens and Hank Snow tunes. They would work quickly to frame the walls and Lee and Bud would often have to trail behind them, moving studs a half-inch to the left or right before re-spiking them. The French guy’s name was Sylvain. He was a subcontracted landscaper who’d worked with Clifton many times before and he was there to grade the property. He behaved with a kind of jovial hostility, and he would grin and ask Lee and Bud if they were extra lazy today, boys, or what? Clifton himself would move around the site with the sole purpose, it seemed, of wringing his hands and looking at his watch. He would invoke larger forces or biblical passages when any of the men appeared to be dawdling: Idleness! You-know-who likes to take advantage of idleness. I’m telling you for your own good.
By late morning Lee and Bud were both black with muck. They were in the midst of digging a drainage ditch around the foundation. Their hourly cigarette break came. Bud straightened up and stretched.
— This is a good one. A guy goes to see a doctor because his dick is orange, and the doctor says has he been eating Cheezies, and … Wait. No. It’s what he tells the doctor. At the end. I frigged it up.
Bud gave his head the same brisk shake that Lee had seen the first time, and then shot him a hapless look. Lee just grinned, and they ground out the butts of their cigarettes and got back to work.
Clifton stayed for lunch that day. Conversation was usually muted when he was around. Clifton said that he hadn’t seen any of them out at Galilee Tabernacle yet. The doors were always open. They could take their time, of course, but they ought not to take too much time. This Clifton said happily. God’s patience runs out once you’re at the gates. Then he looked at Lee and said: And how about you?
— How about me?
— I haven’t seen you at Galilee. I figured you’d be front row centre, what with Pastor Barry being your brother-in-law and all that.
— Well, I’ll get out there one of these days.
Clifton nodded, said: I’ll be watching for you. You’re getting along in town?
— Yeah. Matter of fact, I got a date with a gal tonight.
Lee was immediately sorry he’d said it. He didn’t know why, except that it felt like he’d given something away. He looked at his hands.
— Is that so, said Clifton.
— Is she doing community service by going with you? said Sylvain.
Lee did not reply. He didn’t know what to make of Sylvain, whether or not the man was a prick by nature or was just laying track with him, or if he even had bad blood with Lee from the distant past. It was possible, more so than he cared to consider. All he could think to do was to ignore the man’s comments.
— Just you make sure you’re up and at it for work tomorrow, mister man, said Clifton, digging at his teeth with a toothpick.
Later that afternoon, while Lee and Bud were digging, Bud said: You were in jail, were you?
— Yeah. I was.
— A long time.
— That’s right.
Bud looked up from his shovel. He smiled.
— I knew. F-ing A. But you don’t have to talk about nothing if you don’t want to.
— I’m glad you say so.
Bud looked at him once more, then bent back to his work. It was okay. Lee liked Bud. Most of the time Bud stayed quiet. When they were on a smoke break or in the car he’d tell his jokes, or he’d talk about hockey or how he couldn’t get his wife to go to bed with him unless he gave her jewellery.
The dirt they were digging was heavy from the rain. There were roots they had to carve through, and in places the soil over the bedrock was not deep. He’d drive the shovel blade down with his boot and feel it stop hard against rock.
— You been out for long? said Bud.
— Not real long. I was in the city for six months. I was on day release at a St. Leonard’s Society house. I worked in a shop that built office furniture.
— And you’re back up here in town for your ma? She’s sick?
— She’s got lung cancer.
— That’s an f-ing drag. Same as that kid.
— Kid?
— That one-legged kid who tried to run across the country, Terry Fox.
— Oh yeah, said Lee. I heard of him.
— They say he’s got tumours this big.
Bud made circles with his thumbs and forefingers and put them on his chest.
— Can you imagine that?
— No, said Lee. I see what’s happening to my ma and I can’t imagine nothing.
— Me neither. Hey, it’s three o’clock. Let’s have a smoke.
That evening Peter came by to bring Lee some leftovers Donna had sent. When Lee told him he was going on a date, Pete stayed to help him dress for it.
— You don’t have anything other than jeans?
— No. I was at Woolworths on Saturday to get some new clothes. What you see in the closet. But I didn’t think to buy nothing fancy.
Lee stood in his bathroom with the door open. He was wearing his undershorts and undershirt and he was shaving. Aqua Velva hung in the air. Pete selected a clean pair of jeans and a collared shirt and laid the clothes on the armrest of the couch.
