Part 22 (2/2)
”Absolutely.”
”Not that we're getting married.”
Rajinder opened his mouth to speak but did not speak. Madison's face went hot and she considered putting her head through the pane of gla.s.s on her immediate left.
”Nang,” she said, through her teeth.
”I am looking forward to it, Madison. To our first date.”
She waved and closed the door to Sparkle Vacations, slapping herself on the forehead for dropping the M-bomb, an even more destructive piece of ordinance than the L-cl.u.s.ter. When the phone rang and a man with a smoker's voice asked about honeymoon cruises in February, Madison pined for the desolation of February.
57.
a real talent David made his way to the fourth downtown homeless shelter. He didn't have much time before he had to get back and meet the appraiser, so David hurried up the cobblestone streets of the improvement district, past men and women in doorways and on the sidewalk, swivelling in their wretchedness. They asked him for money and cigarettes. If, as he expected, Barry Strongman was not at the fourth downtown homeless shelter, David would return to the Garneau Block satisfied that he had done everything, and more, to find the man.
Bruised by the slow savagery of self-destruction he had witnessed at the first three shelters, David found himself repeating, like a mantra, that these people had made a choice.
Several men and women were gathered at the entrance of the fourth shelter, pa.s.sing a bottle wrapped in brown paper. ”How's it goin'?” one of the men asked, as David started up the concrete stairs to press the door buzzer.
”Very well, thanks. And you?”
The man looked down at himself, his layers of grey clothing and the ma.s.s of toilet paper and Superstore bags that served as his left shoe. ”I haven't had a shower in a week and a half. Doin' brilliant, partner, A-number-one. I appreciate your asking.”
David pulled his right sleeve over his hand, so he wouldn't have to touch the black buzzer. The intercom looked and smelled as though someone had seen fit to urinate on it.
”Yes?”
”My name is David Weiss. I'm looking for a fellow called Barry Strongman. I'm sure he isn't here. I was just...”
The heavy door hummed and David opened it. At the bottom of the steps, the man with the toilet-paper shoe said, ”Liars told me they were full. Got half a mind to burn the place down.”
Inside, pods of the unfortunate filled a vast room of chipped white tile. There was a pool table in one corner, several old couches in another, and what appeared to be a healing circle in a third. On David's right was a bulletin board. Five sheets, each a different colour, advertised a daily Let's Fix It meeting.
A woman with a big mess of dyed blonde hair, in red overalls, approached David with a wide smile. ”You're here for the meeting?”
”Agh.”
The woman shook David's hand, looked him over, and tilted her head. ”I'm Jane, the a.s.sistant director. You're not...what are you doing here?”
”I'm a friend of Barry's. A few weeks ago I lost track of him.”
”Well, he's in the middle of a session. Feel free to join in but don't interrupt until he asks for questions. Before question period, he gets a little testy.” Jane led David to a door in the back of the room, not far from the pool table.
David recognized Barry Strongman's m.u.f.fled voice coming through the thin wall. Jane opened the door and David entered. It was a cla.s.sroom with only two empty chairs in the back, so David quickly settled into one and looked up. Barry Strongman, who had briefly stopped talking, stared at David and continued.
”There's top-down power and then there's bottom-up power. They're both important.”
Near the front of the room, a few of the pupils grumbled in opposition.
”If you can't listen quietly, you can leave.”
One of the pupils put up his hand. ”But I think you're wrong.”
”Really? Get out!”
”But.”
”Out!”
The pupil, in a soiled lumberjack coat and CAT Diesel hat, shuffled out of the cla.s.sroom with a mumble. Once he was gone, and the door was slammed, Barry Strongman paced the front of the room.
”Anyone else think I'm wrong?”
A few of the pupils said no.
”I can't hear you.”
”No.”
”Louder.”
”No!” said the pupils.
Barry Strongman clapped his hands. ”Do you know why all the trees in this neighbourhood are so skinny? It ain't from folks p.i.s.sing on them so don't say it, Lou. They're skinny because no one's dreaming around them. No one's looking ahead and thinking, 'Dang, I'm gonna make something spectacular out of myself,' which is the vibe a tree needs if it's expected to grow. Anyone think I'm wrong about that?”
The pupils looked around at one another. It was close to noon and David was satisfied that Barry Strongman was safe and alive and, apparently, happy. So he made for the door.
”Where you going, David?”
He stopped and gripped the door handle. ”Back home.”
”Back home to do what? To fix it? We're fixing it right here, brother, where it counts. Let me tell you something, my people. This man kicked me out of a PC Riding a.s.sociation meeting because I was homeless.”
”Barry, that is a private matter.”
”You see, we can dream past this place, hope ourselves into the future. But then we hit barriers like this man, David Weiss, who wants to keep us down because we threaten him.”
”He is a top-down man,” said one of the pupils.
Barry Strongman pointed at the pupil. ”Shut up or get out!”
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