Between a Rock and a Ferne
Sail loft: a loft or rooms where sails are cut and sewn together
Inside William was drawn to a black sign. The magnetic letters announced tomorrow’s “Private function for the friends of Jack McCoy — downstairs.” Now he remembered the place. Neigh- bours and friends had gathered here last year after his father’s death.
A tall man with a clerical collar and a woman, probably Reverend Strawbridge and his wife, glided up the stairs like two people who didn’t want to be heard leaving.
William stopped on the landing. He peeked into a room. It had high windows and panelled wood. The sunlight bathed his father’s smiling photo on an easel. The same one had hung in his father’s sail loft in Toronto.
Standing beside the easel was a stocky man with dishevelled grey hair. His grandfather’s head tilted to the sunbeam as if resting his cheek on it for warmth. Sorrow etched Daniel McCoy’s face. His small, confident smile had morphed into flat sadness. The yearlong storm had battered him, too. The hunched shoulders didn’t belong to the man William had left home to find. This wasn’t the Rock who would shelter man or beast from gale, gun, or grief.
William had another look inside. Behind the photo a table offered beer and rum for tomorrow’s visitors who wished to fill their hands with something to do during this awkward visit. There was also a pot of coffee.
His mind was crowding with faces that had been there last year, leaning in to him, hands tapping his shoulder, patting his hair in an assumed familiarity. He heard a chorus of “Sorry for your troubles … Sorry for … Sorry … Your troubles … Your troubles. Troubles.”
Now he couldn’t hear anything but ringing. Panic spun him around and propelled him towards the front entrance. He stopped a few feet from the door. He hadn’t come all the way to the east coast to leave empty-handed. He forced himself to turn back. The ground-floor door creaked open to a flood of sunlight and a dying conversation between Emmett and Harley. They turned towards him.
William whispered, “Granddad looks so old. This is the same room, isn’t it?”
Emmett bobbed his head. “The same room they used for your father’s wake? Yes.” He walked William over to his grandfather, who seemed unaware somebody was there.
“Daniel, look who’s come all the way just to be with you.” Daniel seemed focussed on Jack’s photo and a different time. He didn’t respond as Emmett straightened his jacket collar and smoothed back a wisp of hair.
The awkward silence drew him back to the present. Daniel peered at William. “Jack? Is that you, Jack?” Everyone said William was the spitting image of his dad when he was a boy.
His granddad’s voice hadn’t the deep presence he remembered. It sounded tired and thin from lack of practice.
“Uh, no, Granddad. I’m his son, your grandson, William. I just arrived on the bus from Toronto.”
Daniel’s mouth moved but no sound came out. He tried to process this bit of information. Then he looked to the table covered in refreshments. “Toronto? Oh, yes, of course. Would you like a glass of rum after your long trip?”
“Uh, well, I don’t drink rum, Granddad. I’m just thirteen.”
“Really? Happy Birthday to you, lad. A glass of beer, then?” asked Daniel.
William tried to keep a straight face. “Actually, I don’t drink beer either, Granddad.”
“Perfectly sensible of you. Alcohol has been the downfall of many a good man. How do you take your coffee?”
“Coffee? Well, uh, I guess I’ll take it like you do, Granddad,” said William about his first-ever coffee. Emmett and Harley smiled at him encouragingly.
Emmett waved William over. “Let’s call your mother, shall we?”
“Now?” he cringed.
-
Emmett sat in an alcove by the door using the visitor phone. William stood staring at the tiles. He wondered who had dropped the toothpick sticking out from under the chair.
He’d been so sure that his only living grandparents were his salvation and would invite him to stay. He never anticipated this. The phone rang in their Cabbagetown house in the heart of Toronto. Emmett activated the speakerphone. William wouldn’t miss a moment of his mother’s reaction.
“Hello?”
“Ferne?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Emmett. Emmett McCann.”
“Emmett? Emmett, my goodness. How are you?”
The speakerphone made his mother sound like she was trapped at the bottom of a hole. William pictured her. She would be wear- ing jeans and a T-shirt. She’d be at the kitchen table in front of her laptop. She’d lick her finger and flip through newspapers and magazines to the advertising section. Her lower lip would be black with ink.
The ads she’d placed to promote the soon-to-open boat shows would have been circled with a red pen. Promoting boat shows across the country was her job. That’s how they paid the bills now that they’d closed down his father’s sailmaking business.
William’s dad had said what his mother lacked in size she made up for with character and a great smile. He had been angry at his father for slowing her once-quick smile. Now here he was about to do the same.
“I’m calling about the pleasure of having William with us.”
Silence. William held his breath.
“We’re glad he’s here with us, Ferne,” Emmett continued.
“He’s what?” Ferne asked.
“Ferne —”
“But, he’s, he’s camping …”
“Don’t worry, Ferne. The boy’s fine. He’s safe. He’s with us for the memorial.”
“How did he get all the way — the memorial?”
“Oh Lord … Daniel didn’t call.” It was more a statement than a question.
“He hasn’t spoken to me since Jack’s funeral. Mary sent us an invitation but I thought it best … Will’s been angry with me for … What about getting him home?”
Emmett glanced at William. “Look, Ferne, why doesn’t the lad stay with us for a bit? Do us all good to have him here. School’s almost over, isn’t it?”
“He finished his exams, so there are only a few more days, class outings mostly.”
William dreaded explaining himself to his mother.
“That settles it, then. Don’t worry. Here he is.”
“Wait, Emmett. He, uh, since the accident William has been prone to nightmares.”
“Yes, well, there’s some of that going around.” He handed William the phone.
“Hello,” he said in a defiant tone. He expected her to say she was supremely upset with him, with ice-cold composure to mask the fire beneath it.
“William?” she said, and he was sure he heard her crying.
“Mom?”
“Why did you leave me?” Her voice broke.
Harley escorted Daniel through the lobby and Emmett saved him. “Tell your mother you’ll call her later. Mustn’t keep your granddad waiting.”
“Granddad’s leaving, so I have to go now.” Silence. “I’ll call later. Bye.”
Emmett muttered, “Dogs and the devil.”