Chapter Fifty-Two
FIFTY-TWO
Joar’s old man didn’t die. Of all the strange things that happened that summer, perhaps that was the strangest of all, Joar tells Louisa.
“Time’s such a damn thief, you don’t notice what it’s stealing from you,” he says, the skin hanging heavy under his eyes.
The mornings after his old man’s accident blurred together, the days ran away, one week became another. The doctors at the hospital told Joar and his mother that his old man had suffered terrible brain damage, they said that when he woke up, everything would be different. He wouldn’t be able to walk, he’d hardly be able to speak, he’d need help with everything. The doctors looked so upset when they said, “He’ll never be himself again,” because presumably they thought that was why the man’s wife and son had tears in their eyes.
Of all the strange things.
His mother would stay with his old man, Joar knew that at once, not because his old man deserved it, but because the bastard needed her. Joar realized that no one else would understand that, because how could they? There was no one like his mother to compare her to. She smiled and people saw superficiality, she was kind and people saw weakness, no matter what she did they would always talk crap about her in the supermarket. Women like her can never do the right thing, their men’s guilt is always theirs. Even Joar underestimated her, he realized, and felt ashamed. He had always assumed that her goodness made her light, and the world isn’t built for light people, the planet spins and they keep getting thrown into walls and fists. But now he and everyone else could see the truth: it was his old man who was tiny, his mother was the giant.
Her son thought that the woman had a thousand lives inside her that she could have lived, but she would never wish for any but this one, because this was the only one where she had this particular son. He left the hospital room to go and get coffee for her, when he came back she was asleep in a chair beside his old man’s bed. He looked harmless now, that bastard would never be able to raise his fists against her again, Joar tried to think that perhaps that would have to be enough.
The men from the harbor sat in the waiting room, they stood up when Joar arrived, he went from man to man and shook hands with them all. He still had all the bruises and cuts left from his old man’s most recent assault, and when he looked all these right sort of guys in the eye, many of them looked away. They had seen that his mother had a black eye as well, it was impossible to pretend not to know what had happened then, yet still they tried. Men always have excuses, but deep down they knew the truth now. They had minded their own business, never asking questions they didn’t want the answers to, making do with only one side of a man. As if that was all a man has. That guilt was theirs to carry forever.
Kimkim’s dad was last in line. He was the only one who didn’t try to wipe his wet cheeks, and when Joar saw that, he struggled to keep his own dry. When they shook hands, the man didn’t look away from the bruises. Instead he leaned over and whispered, with a sob in his voice:
“I’m sorry I stayed silent. I’m sorry I was a coward.”
Joar looked at him and wondered if he meant his silence all the times he had picked up Joar’s old man in the mornings, or if he meant his silence in the harbor. He wondered if any of the men had yelled “WATCH OUT!” when the beam was swinging, or if they had just let it happen. He never asked. He just said:
“You should say the same thing to Kimkim. Before it’s too late. Soon he’ll go far away from here, and I hope to Hell that he never comes back…”
Kimkim’s father’s eyebrows jumped for a moment at that, then he blushed, he knew his own son so little that he didn’t even know his friends called him “Kimkim.” Joar walked away, his back straight, leaving the man standing there, bent double.
Joar fetches more coffee in the kitchen in his little house. It is clean, Louisa notes, it’s old and worn but everything smells good. The lawn is the prettiest on the whole street. Joar clears his throat again and says:
“On the way back through the hospital I walked past one of those God rooms, or whatever the hell they’re called?”
“Chapel,” Ted says.
“Chapel!” Joar nods and smiles at Louisa. “I went past and looked in, and which three idiots do you think were lying asleep on the benches in there?”
“Your idiots,” Louisa grins.
Joar grins too. He says he didn’t know how long they had been there waiting for him, but it was just so obvious to them that none of them were going home until they were all going home. Who has friends like that?
Ali woke up sleepily and leaned her head against Joar’s shoulder when he crept down by her side. Ted was snoring. Beside Kimkim lay a drawing, he had drawn the chapel, but he had drawn a light through the window that wasn’t there in reality. And who the hell can do that? Draw light ?
“Do you think God exists?” Ali asked her friends.
“Yes,” Kimkim replied, running his pencil across the drawing so gently that it was impossible to know if it made a difference on the paper or just inside him.
Joar was breathing hard.
“Damned if I know… I don’t even think all the people who go to church every Sunday believe in God. I think they just need company. To feel that they belong to a group.”
Kimkim nodded gently and replied:
“But I don’t think that means that God doesn’t exist, Joar. I think maybe that’s what God is.”
They woke Ted, and walked close, so close to each other as they left the chapel. Joar found a vending machine and managed to sway and shake it so a can of soda came loose and fell out for free. One small victory against the universe, things like that shouldn’t be underestimated. The four friends shared the can and just as they drained the last drops, Joar opened his eyes wide.
“Where’s the drawing? Did you leave it in the chapel?”
“Think so…,” Kimkim said.
“Are you crazy?” Joar exploded. “That’s worth millions!”
They ran back, but the drawing was already gone.
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll do another one,” Kimkim promised.
“You should just draw money, it would save time!” Joar said.
Kimkim laughed, then Joar laughed, and then Ted and Ali laughed too, and perhaps that was the last time they all did that out loud, in such a liberating way, together.
They didn’t see the man standing behind a corner, eight trembling fingers carefully holding Kimkim’s drawing.