Chapter 14
Paulie's mum hugged him, too. She also covered both his cheeks and his ice cold forehead in violent kisses, before handing him off to Paulie's dad, who was a little more discreet in his affection on account of George, Pinder and Akira standing and watching in the hall.
"We were worried sick," his mum said, now hugging George, whose face she was smushing against her bosom, an act he didn't seem to be minding one bit.
"We called the school to ask about your volleyball team and your newspaper. They told us that volleyball season's over and that the paper closed last year from a lack of funding," his dad said.
George finally came up for air. He had a big smile on his face. Pinder greedily took his spot.
"You shouldn't lie to us like that," Paulie's mum said.
"After calling the school, we called your parents," his dad said to George and Pinder. "They didn't know where you were, either."
Paulie's mum let Pinder breathe, but he pushed right back in for seconds. "That's when we figured you must be laying a trap," she said.
"For the bullies."
George cleared his throat.
"We got them good," Paulie said. Lying, like any skill, improved with practice. "Once and for all. They won't be messing with me, or any of us, any more."
"It looks like it was quite a scrap." His dad was noting the razor blade cut on Paulie's neck. "And you lost a tooth, I see." He crossed his arms in front of his body. Like that, he looked slightly regal, definitely not a run of the mill hobbit. "Which is not to say that I condone the use of violence to solve problems, but in this world sometimes you've got to drop the gloves."
A hockey reference? Paulie was stunned. His dad didn't like hockey. He watched baseball and golf.
"Drop the gloves to teach people a lesson," his dad went on. "You fuck with the Shire, the Shire's going to fuck back with you."
"Honey!"
"They've heard worse, pumpkin. Trust me." He turned to Paulie. "But no more lies. We know you're growing up and you've got your own life and your own problems that you want to solve your own way, but we're a family and a family depends on honesty. If you don't want to talk about something, tell us you don't want to talk about it. Don't make up stories."
"Yes, dad," Paulie said.
"As for the rest of you boys, you're more than welcome to stay for a late spaghetti dinner but only if you call your parents first. I'm sure they're worried."
George and Pinder called home. Akira pretended. Tears welled up in his eyes as he held a short, imaginary conversation with the only parent he'd ever had, and whom Paulie was sure he'd never see again. Thankfully, eating brightened Akira's mood and for an hour they all set the world aside. Spaghetti had that ability. Akira slurped down long strands of it, sending sauce flying everywhere.
George and Pinder left by ten o'clock. Akira lingered, visibly dreading going back to his own house, but when Paulie suggested he stay overnight, Akira refused. "I will have to return some time. I do not see the point of delaying."
"Do you want a ride?" Paulie asked.
"I will walk."
"You're not your father," Paulie said. He'd blurted it out, hoping to say something trite and soothing, but the words appeared to sting Akira instead.
There was more than a hint of jealousy in his response. "I apologise in my own and my family name for what my father did or attempted to do. He was a brilliant man who was corrupted by an evil world." Or perhaps men like him were the ones who made the world evil, Paulie thought. He didn't say what he thought. After a pause, Akira added, "He was interested in you, Paulie. He was never interested in me. Maybe you can find value in that."
After Akira left, Paulie heard his parents wooing over George and what a brave boy he was, and he felt perhaps some of the same emotions that Akira was feeling. If it wasn't quite jealousy, it was certainly inadequacy—the feeling of being welcome but insufficient, like non-alcoholic beer.
After his parents disappeared, giggling, into their bedroom, Paulie disappeared, silently, into the bathroom.
He plugged the bathtub drain and opened the faucet.
Warm water pounded first against the tub and then against itself, as the water level rose.
Paulie stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It seemed no less illusory than the objects it reflected. Is that what Paulie was, an object? His face was scratched, his neck cut and the taste of blood persisted in his mouth. He treated his wounds with a Q-tip dipped in hydrogen peroxide and gargled salt water. When the tub was nearly full, he turned off the faucet and stripped off his clothes.
He flicked on the bathroom fan. It came alive, droning out every other sound.
He slipped into the tub and sat with his back against the cold wall tiles and his shoulders above water, absent-mindedly rubbing cheap shampoo into his hair.
His desire to drown bordered on desperation.
The girls' football field bordered the forest, through which Dr Mizoguchi had pulled him—had guided him...
His neck was still tender.
He scooted forward, letting the tub water cover that, too.
And drape his chin.
When he swallowed the first mouthful of water, it flowed through his mouth tasting of chlorine and the salt that he hadn't properly rinsed out after gargling. It flowed over his tongue, navigated his gums and pooled in the swollen gap where his hurting tooth used to be.
That tooth wasn't exceptional. He was exceptional. That the tooth allowed him to drown without dying and enter the Ninetieth Degree was a hypothesis, a theory. It wasn't proved. It wasn't a certainty. All he needed to do was allow himself to die. That was the key. There were no other tricks...
He took a deep breath, exhaled and went under.
Underwater, he felt free. The thrill of the full potential of the unknown was incomparable. He knew that ordinary human experience was but a sliver of all that existed beyond, and he possessed the gift: the power to explore that beyond. But, no, it wasn't a gift. A gift implied a giver. Here there was no giver. Therefore, there was no gift. His was an ability, a mutation. He was a freak, like an X-Man or the first single-celled organism. And everybody else—they were a blind mass of dumb meat.
The water started choking him.
Baby carriage point of view of a night sky, first kiss, Patrice Bergeron pumping his fist.
But:
The carriage tipped over, sending baby sprawling to the concrete sidewalk, where lips weren't kissing him but were a dog's, threatening to bite, and Patrice Bergeron's wasn't pumping his fist. Patrice Bergeron was punching him in the gut, over and over and over—
Paulie exploded upward out of the tub.
Water splashed everywhere.
He was coughing, wheezing, bent over and puking, trying to breathe, as his dad forced open the door and rushed to his side.
All Paulie needed to do was allow himself to die. That was the trick. It wasn't about the tooth. The tooth was a coincidence, an explanation his mind had concocted because it was convenient. Coincidence was not causation.
His dad slung a towel around his body and patted his back. "It's OK. Everything's OK, just get it out. Get it all out."
Except that allowing one's self to die wasn't easy. Not when you were no longer sure...
Not when you so badly wanted to live.
Chapter 15
The plane landed in Prince Rupert without incident. Dr Mizoguchi stepped outside with the dozen other passengers and crossed the tarmac to the airport. He didn't wait for the luggage claim. He hadn't packed anything. The only things he needed were on his person.
Still at the airport, he rented a car with a roof rack and drove it to a nearby sporting goods store, where he bought a canoe and a large waterproof bag. He paid in cash.
He attached the canoe to the car roof in the store parking lot, and took Highway 97 south out of the city. At McLeese Lake he turned east onto Beaver La
ke Road.
Beaver Lake Road merged with Horsefly Road.
He took Horsefly Road all the way to its terminus at Haggens Point on Quesnal Lake.
He got out of the car, took down the canoe and filled the waterproof bag with gravel using his bare hands. He tossed the bag into the canoe, pushed the canoe onto the lake and jumped in. He paddled until he was far out on the lake.
It was a beautiful spring day. The sky was blue dotted with fluffy white clouds. The sun shone.
Dr Mizoguchi reached into a hidden pocket on the underside of his jacket and retrieved Paulie's tooth. He'd sliced it into several pieces. He swallowed each of them in turn.
He tied the waterproof bag to his ankle.
He stood up.
The canoe wobbled.
Dr Mizoguchi jumped in.
About the Author
Norman Crane lives in Canada. He writes books. When he's not writing, he reads. He's also a historian, a coffee drinker and a cinephile.
His first novel, Paunch Full of Pesos, is a spaghetti western.
On the internet, he keeps a blog, has Facebook and tweets (@TheNormanCrane).
Attributions
Thanks to sean4 for this Creative Commons image, which was used to make the cover:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/98912285@N00/3525384125/
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