Part 15 (1/2)
Noel nodded towards the flask. ”Pyridoxal phosphate.”
”Cool.” JJ leaned over and examined the billowing liquid. ”What's that?”
”It's ... well, involved in the synthesis of two neurotransmitters-serotonin and norepinephrine. There's something about it in my dad's notes.”
”Very cool. Everything on track?” cool. Everything on track?”
”I think so. How about you, JJ? How are things going?”
”Rollin'. All four tyres pumped.” He grinned, gleamed.
JJ was always gleaming-his very blood must be high-gloss, a special glaze or lacquer. Which protected him from things like loneliness or boredom or depression, which allowed him to go through life with a smile on his face, to see life as a treasure hunt and the world as Aladdin's cave. ”Do things ever ever go badly for you, JJ?” said Noel, between mouthfuls of white tuna. ”Are you go badly for you, JJ?” said Noel, between mouthfuls of white tuna. ”Are you ever ever unhappy?” unhappy?”
The question made JJ shrug. ”I guess I'm hardwired for happiness. Every day there's something new and magical in life. Although I have to admit I'd go back to my childhood in a second. The past is safe ...” JJ let the sentence trail. ”I remember one time after a baseball game-”
”You were carried on your teammates' shoulders, I know. But as an adult do you never never get sad or depressed? What about ... I don't know, after losing family members or ... friends?” get sad or depressed? What about ... I don't know, after losing family members or ... friends?”
”Well, I was sad when papa papa met his Maker in '97, and when Jesus welcomed met his Maker in '97, and when Jesus welcomed maman maman to heaven in '91, and when my girlfriend dumped me in '86. Of course I miss them. But I'm grateful for the time I spent with them. You see, no one can take that happiness away from me. It's mine, for ever and ever. I still have that love, inside me. I carry it around wherever I go. It lives on in memory.” to heaven in '91, and when my girlfriend dumped me in '86. Of course I miss them. But I'm grateful for the time I spent with them. You see, no one can take that happiness away from me. It's mine, for ever and ever. I still have that love, inside me. I carry it around wherever I go. It lives on in memory.”
Noel nodded, swallowed. ”And those three times are the only only times you've been unhappy?” times you've been unhappy?”
”There's been other times. But heh! If you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain. Under the snow lies summer, remember. If everything was perfect, we'd appreciate nothing.” JJ poked one of his nostrils with his finger, causing Noel to look away. ”When life zigs, zag!”
Noel smiled, his mind drifting to something Norval had said about JJ, about his ”fatal penchant for potted wisdom.” But this was not a bad quality, Noel decided, and certainly not fatal. JJ lived his life by adages such as these, and they were worth living by. In a state of abstraction Noel gazed at his guest's attire: a fire-engine-red bathrobe with a toothbrush sticking out of one pocket, a cell phone out of the other.
”Do I look fat in this?” said JJ.
”No ... not at all, I was just-”
”I know. I took one of your toothbrushes. Your new purple one, I hope you don't mind. But you've got so many ... I mean, it's none of my business, but why do you have so many? Do you sell them?”
Those with small heads are fourteen times more likely to develop AD, Noel recalled as he gazed at JJ's huge head ... He pushed pause, rewound an inner audio tape. Why so many toothbrushes? For Noel and synaesthetes like him, the answer was obvious. Because each day's a different colour. Monday, for example, is dirty yellow, like smoker's fingers; Tuesday a shade of orangey red, like paprika; Wednesday the rich blue of a Phillips' Milk of Magnesia bottle; Thursday ...
”Earth to Noel, come in please, Earth to Noel ...”
Noel watched his friend's lips move for two or three seconds. ”Sorry, I ... I guess I just like variety-it's one of the things that stops me from going mad. Or madder.”
”I hear you. Variety's the condiment of existence, eh?”
Noel eyed JJ's bathrobe again; the sash was slowly loosening its grip round his waist. ”Listen, I should let you go ...”
”Yeah, I have to shake a tower.”
”You have to ... take a shower.”
”And then I have to fake a moan call.”
”You have to ... make a phone call.”
JJ exploded into laughter. ”I've got tons of them. Do you want to hear more?”
”Another time?”
”Time? Time wounds all heels.”
”Right.”
”Your mom loves these. They slay her. Laughter's good therapy, eh? Especially in Montreal. It ma.s.sages the vital organs, it's a form of internal jogging. Neurobics. He who laughs, lasts.”
Noel's forehead puckered. ”Especially in Montreal? Because of ... what? The Just For Laughs Festival?”
”No. What's the city's most famous street?”
”Saint Lawrence Boulevard?”
”What river's the city on?”
”The Saint Lawrence.”
”And who was Saint Lawrence?”
”Uh ... a martyr of some sort?”
”The saint of laughter. He died laughing. In the third century. While he was being roasted to death on a gridiron, he asked to be turned over, saying that he was underdone on the other side. Now that that's a sense of humour, that's laughter therapy at its finest.”
Here JJ's cell went off. He paused to read a text message.
”Great. It's in. An extract from red-wine fermentation called ANOX. It's from Switzerland. It's for your mom. A source of red-wine polyphenols, which have a much bigger effect than either red wine or red wine powder on the inhibition of platelet aggregation in vitro in vitro.”
Noel nodded as he rolled these words over in his head. ”JJ, you're a quick learner. Very quick. Thanks. We'll certainly try it. How much do I owe you?”
”Nada. A guy owed me a favour. No hay problema.”
”But I'll pay-”
”Oh, before I forget. I've been doing some experimenting-on myself. So far so good. You want a clear, razor-sharp brain for your research? Don't pleasure yourself in the morning or afternoon or evening. If you have to do it-and I'm not saying you do, I'm just advising you based on my research-do it only late at night, just before going to sleep. Otherwise, it saps your strength, fogs your brain. It's the curse of Onan.”
”Good night, JJ.”
Chapter 12.
Noel & Samira (I) When Noel checked on his mother that night he found her in her nightgown and tennis shoes, packing her bags. There were two grey Samsonite suitcases on the bed, and she was now sitting on a third, trying to get it to close. She turned to look at her son, her face scarlet from exertion. ”I know money's tight,” she said. ”I know I'm a burden.”
A red h.o.r.eshoe began to pulsate inside Noel's brain: the PET scan image of his mother's shrinking hippocampus. ”Let me help you with that bag. They can be a real b.u.g.g.e.r sometimes.” One step forward, two steps back. Why is nothing nothing b.l.o.o.d.y working? b.l.o.o.d.y working?
”They don't work ... like they used to.”