Corana Chapter 2 and 3 Taken, Betrayed Again…Naturally

Chapter 2

 

After a few days, I realised that life had to go on.  The boats still needed fuel and fixing and a dead father seemed to be a meagre excuse for most of the people who relied on us for their amusement.  I loved these people normally but their chronic insensitivity to my pain in the face of getting gas for their pleasure boats was pissing me off.

The solution to my dilemma walked through the door of the marine office just as I was thinking I did not want to do this anymore.  She was tall, statuesque and stunning with long flowing dark hair that had a gentle curl.  The man in me fought desperately not to stare at the perfectly perky pair of boobs barely covered by a Canadian maple leaf patterned bikini top or the tiny blue jean shorts.  She caught me looking and just offered a soft gentle laugh that let me know that she wasn’t upset or uptight.  She told me a few days later that she expected to be looked at when she dressed like that.  If she were a knight that outfit would be her armour.  It made her feel powerful and probably hated by every female on the planet.

Her voice was soft and relaxed as she said, “Hi Davis.”  She acted like she knew me but for the life of me I couldn’t place her.  But she seemed awfully familiar.

“Maybe you don’t remember me; I am Jack’s daughter ….”

“Mandy,” I interrupted finally making the connection.  Jack was my Dad’s closest friend.  He lived on an island in the lake with his second wife whose name I could never remember.  He had been at the funeral but there was no way I would have missed Mandy, grieving or not.  The last time I saw her she was 11 and she and her Mom were moving away to Perth.  Seems Jack found a new model who couldn’t have been much older than Mandy who had to be 20ish by now.  ..A classic mid life crisis gone wrong.  Jack used to hang out here all the time but his new wife wouldn’t be caught dead in a grease pit like this.  My Dad missed him no matter how much of a cad he thought he was, Jack was his best friend.

“Wow, I can’t believe you remembered me after all these years,” Mandy said wondering how.

“Well it was difficult because I thought you had moved away …. The last time I saw you was…..”

“Yeah, I remember,” Mandy interrupted not wanting to relive the pain.  “But I spend my summers with Jack and Lois,” The way she pronounced her stepmothers name and referred to her father as Jack pretty much told me that time had not healed every wound.  “Anyway, I just wanted to come by and tell you how sorry I was about Rod’s ……passing,” there was a long pause as she searched for the right word.  It’s funny but this was the first time since the funeral that anyone had used my Dad’s name.  It felt strange.  Not only had my Dad died but a real person called Roderick Davis had died too.  Mandy started again before the awkwardness could continue.  “Anyhow, Jack wanted me to ask if you needed any help.  I don’t know much about marine engines but I can catch a rope or pump the gas…well after you show me… and you don’t have to pay me,” Mandy added clearly hoping I would not agree to that last part.

“I would love to have you working here.  I can’t pay you a lot but I am sure we could work something out.” I said truly hoping to just toss the whole damn Marina in her lap and walk away.  Mandy seemed like fun, a bit wild and so full of life, she would be a welcome change from the environment of death we had going on for the last 12 weeks or so.

I took her to meet Joan even though Joan really didn’t have a say in the matter.  She was family and I felt obligated to include her in things.  Joan took one look at her and said out loud, “Holy crap she’s gorgeous.”  Then she said in my ear, “If you don’t sleep with her, I will.”  I knew she was mostly joking but I thought I better spoil the party before I found out for sure.

“Ah Joan, this is Mandy….”
“Jack’s daughter,” Joan said sounding a bit disappointed.

Mandy was a bit confused but smiled happily anyway.  Mandy, Joan and I sat down at the kitchen table with Joan still salivating despite the fact Mandy was the daughter of our Dad’s best friend.  She was young enough to be Joan’s daughter and I realised that ‘damn it she was young enough to be my daughter too’.  Of course, she was just a year or two younger than Larsen.  I felt like slapping myself silly for even thinking it.   Mandy caught me leering again and again she laughed when I tried to look away.  Admittedly compared to Joan I was respectful.  Finally, I just called Joan’s name,

“Joan!”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it’s just that I can’t get over how much you look like your mother.”  Joan said trying to cover the fact she hadn’t even seen a female in about 14 weeks.

“I think my mother is quite pretty,” Mandy said with a smile but obviously trying to diffuse an awkward moment, “So thanks for the compliment.”

Joan replied, “Oh you’re quite welcome.”

Joan turned to me for rescue but I was thinking of just letting her hang herself.  But finally, I interjected, “So I imagine you’d like to know what we want you to do for the marina?”

“Well actually I was enjoying hearing how pretty I am, but if you want to make this all business….” Mandy said laughing.  Joan laughed too much and I just let my eyes do the laughing for me.

“Well I am not sure how early you can get here but we won’t open the shop until then.  Then if you could take care of the cash, manning the pumps which I will show you in a minute and then just keep an eye on the boats making sure they get moored ok…that kind of thing.”  I rattled off her duties as quickly as I could because I kept getting rattled myself looking into those dark blue eyes.  She was a friend’s daughter and I was still filled with complicated emotions about Larsen not to mention she was now an employee but I could not help finding her attractive.

My thoughts betrayed me as she caught me off guard with her next question, “Shall we get started?”

“What?… um oh yeah.”

“You were going to show me a man with cash that I could pump…. Well at least that is the way I heard it.”  Mandy teased.

All three of us burst out laughing.  It was something Joan and I had not done for a few days.  Mandy’s shock humour was just enough to send us into hysterics and we all laughed too long and too hard.

Finally, Joan said, “There is no doubt about it the Marina is in good hands, this girl is hilarious.”  Despite Joan’s initial attraction, now she just genuinely liked the girl.  Despite my attraction, I felt the same way.

Mandy learned her duties quickly but like a comedian on a roll she continued with the innuendo.

“Can you come inside and I’ll show you how it works?”  I asked as we were going in to see the shop cash register.

“Wow you almost never hear a man say that.”

“Can you hold this for me while I turn it on,” I asked as I handed her an oil can that fell from the shelf as I went over to the cash.

“Now there is something I do hear from guys all the time,” Mandy laughed.

I laughed too but I finally said “Oh god I think we have created a monster.”

“You just keep layin’ em out there and I’ll keep knocking them away,” Mandy said using a sports euphemism

“Now there is something you don’t hear girls say that often.”  And we both laughed again.  It was going to be a fun summer.  Mandy was nice to look at and had a warped sense of humour.  The only way to ruin the fun would be for us to get involved so I resolved at that moment it would never happen.

Mandy arrived promptly the next morning wearing a ‘hot girls are people too’ purple tee shirt and a micro mini that I wasn’t sure was covering anything.  One thing for sure she was great for business.  I had never seen a larger collection of middle aged letches and penis head teenage boys in my life.  One of them bought a can of oil and I don’t think he even had a boat.  She learned quickly…I even heard her exclaim to a couple of boys, “If you’re not buying anything you’ll have to leave.”

I was finally free to work on the engines.  There is some satisfaction in taking a broken engine and making it work again.  Over in the corner there was a 50-year-old Evinrude sitting in a test tank that I worked on whenever I had nothing else to do.  A boy named Tim had brought it in to me after he found it in his grandfather’s garage.  It was on an old wooden boat that had more dry rot than wood left.  The boy was lucky to be alive because he rowed that boat about a mile before it literally sank in my dock.  I got the crane on the motor just in time.

As I was working on the motor and tearing it down I started thinking about progressive compression chambers like a jet or a turbine and I started thinking about using many fuels instead of one.  One to power the initial compression reaction for a further compression of something inert that became volatile when compressed.  I had done it.  I had solved the problem that the scientists in the propulsion lab had failed to.  You could hyper compress the fuel use its decompression to fuel the next reaction and so on down the line until the two most volatile fuels mixed to create a cataclysmic reaction.  I wanted to call Larsen and tell her but she had chosen to use my designs as engines of death.  The only thing I could do was build one myself.  If it worked in water with the chemicals I could easily get like hydrogen, nitrogen and oxygen, it could work with more sophisticated chemicals.

I would build my super engine later; right now, I had an internal combustion engine to take care of.  It had a cracked cylinder head which had scored up the cylinder pretty badly but it was fixable.  That kid hadn’t been back since the day he almost drowned.  Yet another parts delivery I would probably never get paid for.  I could see why Dad was always such a stickler for half down when he did a major repair…at least his costs were covered.

I peered out the open garage door to catch Mandy thoroughly bent over pumping gas on a small cabin cruiser with two delighted old men enjoying the show and one angry older woman looking disgusted.

“Hey Mandy,” I yelled out.

“Yeah?” She looked up and smiled one of her you’re-a-man-and-I-own-you smiles.

“Do you know a kid named Tim who sunk a boat here?”  I yelled the question wondering if she would find it as dumb as it sounded.

“I should, he is my boyfriend,” Mandy said, matter of factly.

The words hit me by surprise.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that someone that pretty had a boyfriend but this Tim kid was well young…probably her age as I thought about it.  Now I was having second thoughts about fronting the kid the parts to fix the engine.  He probably couldn’t get his hands on a boat to go with it anyway.  The little schmuck who gets to touch that face, kiss those lips, run his hands through that hair and …..

“Why?” I heard Mandy ask in the background.

“Oh um…just thinking about something,” I said trying to escape my good deed out of pure jealousy.  Mandy was finished her boat fill-up-sex-tease… “and look they gave me an extra 10 bucks,” she said genuinely surprised.

“Imagine that.  Couldn’t be the outfit, could it?” I said under my breath.

“What? No… well a little skin can make a man feel as guilty as sin.” Mandy laughed at her quote from god knows where.  “Anyway, for some reason I feel like I have to explain about Tim and me.”  She offered but I tried to stop her before she finished.

“No, no not at all.  I guess I assumed you didn’t have a boyfriend but I never asked and it really is none of my business.  I mean god knows you are pretty enough but I guess I thought ..well none of these kids would be good enough for you,” I felt like I had turned three shades of purple and  just kept digging myself in deeper.

“So, you think I am that hot?” She asked very pleased at herself for putting me on the defensive.

I just nodded because anything I said here would just make it worse.

“Tim lost his father a while ago and now his grandfather.  He looks like he is about 14 but actually he is 18 and lives with his sister and her husband in their grandfather’s old house.  I call him my boyfriend ‘cus we hang out a lot and it helps get rid of some of the boys. But I am older than him and he knows that so it’s really platonic, though there are times when I am sure he would like more than that.  Then again there are other times when I am not sure he is in to girls….He has a huge G.I. Joe collection and he notices shoes…what’s that tell ya?”  She laughed to my relief because I was laughing too.

 

Joan could zero in on nervous laughter like no one else I knew.  “What’s going on?” She asked curiously and maybe a little defensively.

“Mandy her has a boyfriend who is in to G.I. Joes and notices women’s shoes,” I said teasing Mandy.

“Oh, poor girl! I was in love with someone who was gay too.  But since she and I were both gay that made it a lot easier.”  Joan was teasing but still flirting rather sadly with the girl who was 25 years her junior.  “What you need to do,” Joan continued “is have an affair with a mature woman.  That will pay the boy back for his preferring the sausage.”

Mandy looked at me before she realised that Joan had just been teasing her which made me laugh even harder.

“It’s not like that,” Mandy protested.  “Tim isn’t really my boyfriend and I don’t know that he is gay.  From the way he looks at me I would say that he isn’t but he does play with dolls and is aware of shoes…”

“Rob, quick without looking, what kind of shoes is Mandy wearing?” Joan asked still teasing.

“Um white ones?”  I really was guessing because I had no idea even though we were talking about shoes.

“See, despite the fact my brother would blow a man to measure the scientific reaction, I know he is not gay.  Only women, gay men and shoe makers actually notice shoes.”  Joan continued until we all were laughing hard.

“Hey I would not blow a guy just to measure his reaction.”

“Yes, you would and then you’d get someone else to blow him to see if the law of diminishing returns holds true in a sexual vane or not.”  Joan’s comment was probably true.  For science, I would probably do almost anything.  Not sure if I would go that far or not but I had done some unusual things to measure a scientific truth.

“I am wearing brown sandals with a small heal, in case you were wondering,” Mandy pitched in.

“Sorry,” I offered

“Don’t be.  I guess I would be more worried if you did know what shoes I was wearing.  I had you pegged as straight and I would have had serious gay-dar issues if you turned out to be gay,” Mandy said still half teasing.

“Anyway,” Joan interrupted, “I was wondering if you two would like to take the big boat, go out to Perth and get some dinner.  I want to talk to both of you.”

I hadn’t even fired up the engine of the cruiser since before Dad died.  I had come in and turned the blowers on and run the bilge pump for a while but I didn’t start it.  The Sacred Heart as Dad named her was built by an Ontario firm called Grew.  She was a 26-foot mahogany lapstreak wooden boat built in the 70s with a small forward vee cabin and a fold away galley table.  As kids, we went on all kinds of trips on her but after Mom disappeared it was only occasionally.  Dad loved the boat; spending every winter re-conditioning the hull and making her sound for the water.

It was the first engine I ever worked on.  The original engine was a 350 Chevy that I had developing over 500 horsepower with a new inboard-outboard using a variable pitch and through the hub exhaust propeller.   My Dad was very proud of the modifications.  Especially proud when his cabin cruiser was blasting past ski boats half its size.

As we gathered up the stuff we need for the trip, I reflected on how far Joan and I had come.  We hadn’t stayed in touch over the years.  She had resentments and so did I but we overcame them all and here we are today as close as any two siblings can be.  My sister was talented.  She kept my Dad strong right up till the end.  It was her strength that allowed him to keep his dignity and not haemorrhage to death.  She was the one who made most of the arrangements while keeping me going at the same time.  I was proud of my big sister.  I had only just found out she was a lesbian and the story of her life was really quite sad.  But she knew me and knew I was afraid of the love that was developing between me and Larsen more than I was angry at Larsen’s betrayal.

She helped me see that I was changed and quite a bit more receptive to what the future might hold.  The engine fired up right away like the heart of my father living inside of it.  I looked around the small marina with its blue painted wooden floating docs, the boathouse in the back where we kept the speed boat, the white and grey marine office where people signed in for overnight docking and bought their supplies; the two big pumps, one with diesel and the other with pure gas and several gas oil mixtures that hardly anyone ever used anymore; the trees that lined the back so you couldn’t even see the  parking lot behind them and behind the boathouse was my house where Joan and I grew up.

I never realised how much I really loved this place.  Joan was right I was just hiding out but now I really felt like I was home.  With Mandy running the marina and me fixing boats and able to experiment and play, I can’t imagine any other place in the world I would rather be.  Joan could come back on the weekends and spend some time here and I would keep the place running.  Sure, there was no trip to Mars, but there was a life and a strange feeling of contentment came over me.  For the first time since my mom disappeared, I felt like I belonged somewhere, right here at home.

 

I untied the boat from the doc cleats and threw the rope on top of the deck.  I thought the lone turquoise border strake that connected the deck to the hull looked a bit dingy and could use a coat of paint.  Dad would have been pissed that I let this go so much.  While the boat just floated, I took down the musty smelling tarp and opened the back deck to the sky.  I revved the engine once and then popped it in reverse for a second then let it coast back.  The Sacred Heart floated back quietly.  I put the cruiser in drive and steered her toward the refuelling doc.  Mandy and her sexy short dress were waiting for me and I tried to divert my eyes as she fuelled the tank.  In this day and age, it is unthinkable to even admire beauty. But since the boat needed gas it would have to be this way…for now!

Things like regular hours and opening and closing times had never been part of the regimen of the marina.  So, it was no issue for Mandy to join Joan and I to just leave.  As the waves pounded gently on the old wooden hull, the boat planed perfectly past the many rich man islands as we traversed the lake.  We pulled up to an old government dock that had seen better days and moored there and we walked the old road into the town of Perth.  We found a nice-looking restaurant and as we walked in past the nautical décor on the walls and waited until each man had a chance to rape Mandy at least once with their eyes before we sat down at a table for 4.

“Before you get too drunk, I just wanted to tell you that it’s time for me to go back to Ottawa.”  Joan said without a hint of smile.  “Now that you have Mandy to run the shop and we’ve had time to grieve.  I think its time to get back to reality.”

“Are you sure?”  I said hoping that she would say no.  “I mean I knew that sooner or later you would want to leave….”

“No, it’s not that I want to leave.  In fact, I’ve really enjoyed this time with my baby brother… getting a chance to re-connect with you has been one of the best times of my life…in spite of why it happened.  But I need to be a nurse, to save lives, to feel useful.  I need to be me again.”  Joan said it like she was asking for permission.

“I understand,” I lied. “I guess I just hate to lose my big sister now that I have found her again.”

“Well that’s just it.  We have reconnected and I will not stay away this time.  I will be back as often as time permits and who knows I might even learn to pump gas or something.  We are not going to lose what it took losing our father to get.  I will be part of your life and nothing you can do will stop me.”  Joan reassured.

The hours sailed by and after a fill of Lobster flown from Moncton to Ottawa and picked up by the restaurant in Perth that very day….I made mine dance and used the claws for castanets…yeah I was hammered…it was awesome.  The three of us had a blast and we somehow staggered our way back to the boat.  I passed out on the transom bed and the girls went down below deck and if I am not mistaken, spent the night getting off with each other.  They must have been in better shape than I was because all I could think of was how the boat was going side to side and I was spinning.  At one point, I covered myself with the musty smelling tarp as I had donated enough blood to the save-the-mosquito foundation.

In the morning, I untied the boat and headed back home.  It felt odd like this might be the last time.  I didn’t know how or why but I had a sense of impending doom and I could not really explain it other than an odd turn in the grieving process.

Just as I pulled up to our dock, Mandy and Joan opened the cabin door, albeit sheepishly, and Mandy handed me a coffee which I was so grateful for, I think. I almost forgot about what sounded like multiple trysts the night before.

I wanted to but I didn’t bring it up and all Joan would say or do is “Thanks for your discretion little brother”. And we left it at that.

Despite Mandy’s pleas for Joan to stay just a bit longer.  Joan left later that afternoon.  I wasn’t sure if it was just that the kid had never had anyone love her and leave her but she seemed insistent until Joan was finally really short with her.

Mandy said, “If you leave now you will never see me or your brother again!”  Joan just smiled and grabbed Mandy into a hug and said, “Trust me you’ll get over it.”  And at that she packed her last suitcase into her car.

I should have asked what Mandy meant but I just chocked it up to youth and forgot about it until much later that night.

 

 

Chapter 3 Taken

Joan and I packed up the rest of her stuff into the car so she could get on her way.  Mandy was nowhere to be found.  It was later summer now so the daylight was leaving early like it had an appointment somewhere else in the world.  It was still hot and humid and I could feel the sweat making my clothes cling like I was using bad dryer sheets.  Or, it might have been the fact that for the first time I would be alone in a place where my Dad had always been an island of peace in a world of tribulation.  Now that my sister was leaving I would have no choice but to miss him and feel truly alone.

I knew I’d keep busy with the boats in the summer and snowmobiles in the winter—there was always gas to pour, engines to fix and gadgets to sell.  It was a simple life that I had opted for and I was going to share with my father for at least another 10 years or so.  Now that he was gone I had no choice but to keep his dream going.

Joan was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt and did not look overheated at all as she gave me a brief hug and said, “I’ll see you soon little brother …. oh, and tell Mandy I’m sorry, I thought she understood it was just a night of fun.”

“I’ll take care of it.” I said knowing I would never say anything to the kid.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks.”  Joan said to the open window as she drove away.

A few months ago, and that would have seemed like a threat and now I was really looking forward to it.  As Joan drove away up through the trees on the long driveway, I went back to the cabin cruiser to putter around and wait for customers. For a while I just looked down into the crystal-clear waters of the Big Rideau Lake and allowed myself a chance to feel sad.  I had been so focused on doing things that this was my first real opportunity to grieve.  I was alone.

 

My melancholy had driven me to a deep sleep under the canopy on the back of the boat.  If there had been any customers, I am sure they were not happy but I had slept so deeply that I actually felt better.  It was very dark now but there were very bright lights coming from the other side of the house.  They looked like police lights and I quickly turned on the radio.  There had been accident, someone had driven off the bridge near the Lake and the lone occupant had not been found.  If it had been Joan, there was a chance she was still alive.  I jumped off the boat and ran to the house but these men and women were not police.  They were wearing uniforms of what looked like thick but pliable plastic and helmets with lights built in.  Just up the driveway was a long jet-fighter sized flattened tube with small glass windows and more of the uniformed people inside.  I think I am just about to be kidnapped by aliens but these were not aliens at all, they were speaking English and looked like soldiers.  I wonder if the damned Americans couldn’t get their missiles to fly properly and were here to take my brain apart…but they didn’t look like Americans either.

As I got closer I still had not been seen.  There was one standing with his back to me with a gun in his hand.  I am not a soldier or even trained in any way but instinct took over and I had knocked the guy over before I knew what the hell I was doing.  He fell with a thud…head first.  I don’t know if I killed him but he did not look well.  I took his gun and as I looked up, coming out of the door of the house was Mandy and behind her was another soldier.  I fired and hit him square in the face.  He went down quickly.  I screamed for Mandy to get down but as I did she lifted her odd-looking small sceptre-like weapon and shot me. The she shouted, “He’s out here,” as I felt myself melt like I had been turned into soup

Unconscious I was apparently taken aboard the ship and thrown into a cage like I was a wild animal.  I had been betrayed, there was a chance that my sister was dead, I was still grieving my father, I had left the radio on in the boat and the person behind it all was being paid minimum wage…. by me!

I was really feeling like things could not get worse as I was still half-dazed but when I opened my eyes I saw a petite lovely young woman in the adjoining cage with her white blouse too far open to be considered professional with weepy eyes that when you looked close at them, sparkled between blue and sometimes green…God how I hated her.

“Hey Davis,” she said without a hint of emotion or a hint of regret or even acknowledging the year that had gone by since we last spoke.  Or even the fact that we were captives on some sort of sky ship headed away from the comfort of the lake and soil that I am guessing now is so far beneath us.

“Ms. Larson,” is all I could say without opening a bag of hatred that I had hoped to use the next time I saw her.

This was now two women who had betrayed me.  Mandy had just shot me with some sort of heat ray gun which although not fatal, wasn’t the most pleasant experience I ever had.  It felt like I was being boiled alive for a second and then I felt nothing.  I think it felt worse that an old family friend could do this but I had to remember that it was her youth and beautiful face and body that made up for the fact that I was a gullible man and I really didn’t know her that well.

As I looked around there really wasn’t anything other-worldly about the ship.  In front of me was a narrow hallway with metal locker-like doors and the cages on the other.  I felt cheated that there wasn’t some sort of force field…just metal cages like the ones they had at the SPCA for large dogs.  There looked to be about 10 cages but only 5 of them had people in them.  Two of the captives were moaning and crying, another was sort of catatonic and just two were curious.

Our captors looked more like cops in green than they did military.  Most looked like they were fit humans in their mid to late 40s.   They wore jumper style flight suits with a shiny black x belt that attached in the middle of their chests.  From that hung the sceptre weapon, a communicator {I assumed} and some sort of scanning device.

My cage was somewhere in the middle of the ship with about 15 feet to the front and to the back.  At the back, I could see Mandy in a mini dress whoring it up with a few older soldiers, laughing and giggling like she was deciding to sleep with all of them at once or just one at a time.  She saw my stare, stopped smiling for a second and went back to being an unconscionable whore.

As looked to the front of the ship I saw someone that made me think I was dreaming and I would wake up with a hang-over and a laugh.  Ten feet in front of me was…. but it couldn’t be…my mother.  First, she hadn’t aged since I was a kid.  Secondly, she had been gone for more than 20 years!  She looked and saw me but it obviously didn’t register who I was and she resumed talking to the men and women around her.  All I could say was, “Mom?” over and over again until the slut who betrayed me was standing in front of me.

As she bent down all I could think of was wrapping my hands around her perfect little neck.  I grabbed but the cage was in the way.  She just smiled and turned around and pulled up her mini skirt and said, “What’s wrong Mr. Davis don’t you still want to DO me?”  Then she started to laugh as she slowly put her thonged butt away and turned back around.

“Jesus Davis, were you robbing kindergartens up there in the north?” Larson said with a sarcastic snicker.

Mandy kicked her cage hard enough that Larson decided that was all she was going to say for now.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here and where you are for that matter,” Mandy started.

“No, I always begin my vacations with a couple of shootings just before being kidnapped by aliens,” Davis said without a hint of humour.

“First, I would be careful not to remind them if I were you.  You shot a couple of their men and they are not happy with you at all. Secondly, most of us are not aliens…. we’re kind of like mercenaries from Earth representing the planet Usalus….

“The planet useless?” Larson interrupted just before Mandy kicked her cage again.

“Usalus, and this will go quicker if you just let me finish.” Mandy said getting angrier now.  “Most of us are volunteers who were given the option of leaving our troubled lives on Earth and becoming peace and security workers.  It’s a pretty simple job since we don’t have wars to fight.  Usalus has very few enemies except for a border dispute with a nearby planet in an adjacent solar system.  So, we spend our days training for a fight that hopefully will never happen. 

“Why mercenaries from Earth?” Davis asked in spite of himself

“Well that is a funny thing, they found a portal…sort of a black hole… that leads to this galaxy and saw the Earth was the only planet where people fight each other and they decided to take advantage of our war like tendencies.”

“Yay us!” Larson said without getting a boot this time.

Mandy continued, “At first they took homeless people, people from plane crashes….

“The Bermuda Triangle?” Larson interjected again

“Not as many as you might think, Mandy said trying to be patient.

‘Larson, for god’s sake…lets just get through this,” Davis injected not sure whom he was mad at.

“Oh, Sure now he speaks to me.  If you think he is difficult now, try working with him….” Larson started until she realized they were both just staring at her.  “Oh, right sorry…Can’t interrupt or Davis wont get his rocks off with the child,” She muttered under her breath. 

Mandy was getting angrier now.  “First, I would have been more into you than him but even if I did do Davis, which I didn’t…” She was getting flustered now. “Secondly, if I had, it would have been for this mission and nothing else!”  Mandy paused and waited for Larson to say something and then went on.  “Over the years there have been a few …what the Usalans call ‘Reluctants’ but for the most part every one of us is a volunteer.  We left because we just could not stand our lives back on Earth.  You two with the other 3 are our first real Reluctants in a long time.  The Usalan Science Command came across a design for propulsion which involved the mixing of 2 different fuels…

“I am familiar with it…I designed it and she,” Davis said, pointing at Larson, “Stole it.”

“Anyway, they are hoping that you will adapt it to their technology so they can defend their interests better….’, Mandy recited.

“And take more and more people from Earth who may or may not want to go.”  Davis stated the obvious.  “Well I’m excited.  I can’t wait to be part of more kidnappings.” Davis said sarcastically

“Look Mr. Davis you were nice to me…”

“Oh, I’ll bet he was…” Larson muttered and they both ignored it with an eye roll “So I will tell you the truth,” Mandy continued whispering, “They use creatures…that …well… don’t control you but give you that moment of near euphoria and you’ll do anything to feel it.  I’ve seen it happen.   Believe me you don’t want that.  But that is exactly what they will do to you if you don’t cooperate.”  Mandy was back to full volume again.  “But none of that is ever going to happen because you’ll realise you can pretty much have whatever you want whenever you want it.  Except to go home.” As the woman Davis thought might be his mother… except younger… started to walk by, Mandy introduced them.

“And I know you know this lady,” Mandy said still feigning excitement

The woman looked down at Davis and then back to herself and back down again.  “Roger? She asked curiously

“Mom?” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The First Steps to a World Without Money

 

The First Steps to A World Without Money

 

By RR Murchison

 

 

 

It wont take you long after you start reading this to realize that I am not an economist.  Like President Trump, I like to pretend to know more than the experts but realistically I am not sure I can legally fill out a will…that whole ‘sound mind’ thing really gets to me every time.  I wish I knew more but frankly whatever knowledge I have was apprehended on other people’s genius and recognition that just because a guy drives a cab or cuts hair doesn’t mean he or she is not smarter than the people who hide in the forest to get away from the trees.  Experts have the inane ability to reject common sense by saying stupid things like “If it was that easy we would be doing it already”.    Its been my experience that there are 2 arguments against doing anything and only one argument for.  The only argument for or against something that makes sense is “Is it possible?”.  When the answer to that question is “yes” then we must consider it.

 

Fundamental Truth

 

 

 

Money makes the world go ‘round.  It is a cliché but it is sadly true.  There is no function in society, no relative contribution to its detriment or its well-being that cannot be weighed, measured and valued.  Money can’t buy true love but it can buy some damn good acting from pretty much anyone who believes that prospering is better than just surviving.

 

To that end, we are all hookers under the skin.  While some of us may not do that in our homes or with our bodies but we have, no doubt, prostituted ourselves in the work place and in social interaction to further ourselves financially.  It is the way of things.  Everything and everyone has a value, a potential value and can be a value-added commodity.  Human beings in a market economy are only valued by their ability to generate or maintain income.  The second question after “how do you do?” in the market economy is “what do you do?”.  The relative consequence of answering that question determines your value to the questioner and ultimately to society.

 

If the respondent answers “I am unemployed” or “I am a housewife and care giver to two children” the relative value to the questioner is nil.  If, however, the respondent answers “I don’t do anything but spend my father’s money and he is a contract killer for the mob” your perceived value to the questioner increases.  The full-time care giver is considered a pariah by the questioner even though that person has been entrusted with preparing two elements to the future of humanity.  The child of the killer who does nothing but spend his father’s ill-begotten gains is treated with greater respect and admiration because he has access to money.

 

Our society which some say is supposed to be based upon values espoused by Jesus Christ is fundamentally flawed.  Or perhaps more accurately, supposed Christian values are flawed by Fundamentalism.  This type of fundamentalism shrouds itself in conservative morality, a morality that completely ignores the plight of the less fortunate as a group and some people’s fundamental truth that “God is Love” and that God alone is judge; and ‘if a man asks you for your coat you give him the shirt off your back too’. 

 

The conservative Fundamentalism may not have trouble with the notion that morality is based on loving God with everything that you are and loving others as you would like to be loved as they would see that as individual obligation superseding collective will.  The conservative fundamentalist ignores or rejects outright the passage in the Acts of the Apostles when St. Peter, the man chosen by Jesus to be the head of the church, said that ‘all goods owned by individuals who call themselves members of the church should be used for the common good of all.’ (Truly abhorrent behaviour to someone who believes that his or possibly her lot in life was a blessed right given by God). The Fundamentalist ignores St. Peter’s approach and wraps themselves in the capitalist mentality that exploitation and greed should be rewarded. 

 

 How did we depart from “no man can serve God and money?”, “Make friends with filthy mammon?” and “Money is the root of all evil?”   These are purported to be Christian values and yet have nothing to do with the values and principals of the economies of “Christian” nations around the world.  And we wonder why other faiths don’t understand our values.

 

It makes me wonder if anyone in Capitalist North America and western Europe could even understand an economy based upon actual Christian values.

 

 The Lie of Efficiency

 

During the Harper years in Canada, for example, it was plainly evident to me (Again not an economist…just a bitchy observer) that the government was doing whatever it could to maintain higher unemployment in the manufacturing sector in favour of the resource sector.  Higher unemployment is desirable for the Conservative as it drives down wage demands and is resultantly anti-inflationary.  Its cruel to those who yearn for employment to feed their families but effective at driving people from one part of the country to another as well as reducing the relative expectation of salary.

 

Business in general prospers as the echelon wages and bonuses increase while general salary expenditure decreases.  The bottom line looks so much better when you are paying next to nothing for labour.

 

Over the long term, it is self defeating, of course, as fewer and fewer people have the money it takes to drive the economy… which eventually hurts the bottom line for all those who benefitted from lower wage demands.  Many of those companies decided to further augment the bottom line by moving service and manufacturing to third world countries. 

 

It really is even more self defeating as even fewer people have the money to purchase the products and services those same companies produce.

 

The sad part is, from a corporate value point of view, those same companies seem to be more efficient and making more as they quietly destroy the economy they claim to be part of.

 

“Efficiency” is the root of all corporate evil.  The Private Sector uses the word to justify mass lay-offs, getting rid of middle management and moving to cheap labour countries.  While the word should be embraced, its application has become a source of pandemic evil through-out the industrial world.  Nothing makes a worker cringe more than hearing that his or her company has hired an ‘efficiency expert’.

 

The public sector on the other hand has never been what one would call efficient.  Rather, that is a term used to get rid of enough low-level operatives so that the individual department can no longer fulfill its mandate.  The harsh reality of the public sector is that if there is to be a purge, the purge should really begin at the top.  Most of the higher-ups in the public sector have ridiculously high wages for the work they rarely actually do.  In my pathetic little province of New Brunswick, The Standing Committee on Public Accounts document, shows 1,664 employees in 43 departments, Crown corporations and agencies earned more than $100,000 in 2011-12…(There are even more now) that is frankly insane for a province of 700 000 people.  I would doubt there would be more than a few hundred people in the private sector making that kind of money…. we’re a poor Province.

 

Money Makes It Happen

 

The dependency on money has brutal limitations.  Even if our corporate masters would allow it, is there enough money for all of us to have a decent life?  According to some policy makers there isn’t enough money to make sure everyone in the world has enough food and water…or so we are told.  Those that make the cash say it can’t solve our homeless issues.  Around the world there are people desperate for medicines that we have in abundance and yet the desperate don’t have the money to buy them.  I guess this is Darwin at work? 

 

According to some news story I can barely remember, we might be able to develop (Or have developed?) plasma engines that could be installed in just a few years that would enable us to fly to Mars and beyond but we can’t because we don’t have enough money.  So, we have both the technology and the desire but we need the money.  We can’t feed the starving, we can’t give medicines to those who need it and we can’t explore the galaxy because the artificial wallet we make for ourselves doesn’t have enough fake money in it. 

 

Using the Cost-Benefit Formula

 

My father’s simplistic solution to that, still rings true for me today.  You own the mint, if you need money, print more!  No, he was not stupid.  He believed that if government applied a cost-benefit formula to its expenditures and eliminated the annual deficit in favour of a 4-year plan, the returns from wise investment would offset the seemingly crazy expenditures.  It would require a lot of political good will to implement and government courage unlike any we have ever seen.

 

The rewards, however, would be huge. 

 

The New National Dream.

 

To illustrate high spending with higher rewards:  Imagine high-speed rail crossing the second largest country in the world in less than 24 hours.  Its financially impossible now but if we could convince the International Monetary Fund and other nations to agree to let us pilot the notion of working on a 4-year cycle, we could see major projects approved just on their positive cost to benefit realization.  A closed-off-to-the-weather, near-linear mag-lev and magnetically-induced rail-line travelling at air travel speeds is possible.  It is just a matter of economic and political will.  Can you imagine something manufactured in Halifax arriving the next day in Vancouver?  Can you imagine people leaving Moncton and arriving in Calgary the next day having never left the ground?  It would change the dynamic of this country forever.  It would put an end to massive air pollution from short haul planes and jets and much faster than taking your car.  Heck it might pay for itself just from American travel tourism alone.

 

But we can’t because it would cost too much.  Yes, there is a significant cost benefit that might pay for itself over 20 years but no one cares about that because the initial capital outlay is prohibitive.    I know there is an Eskimo in Alert with a bag of chips saying to his only neighbour for hundreds of miles…” If I give one to you I gotta give one to everybody else.”

 

There is that problem with opening the door on extreme spending, that once you open it, it can’t be closed.   But I would suggest it might make the price of oranges a bit pricey {sky rocketing inflation by way of putting too much money into circulation in a short period} but if the end resulting revenue from taxes exceeds the short-term costs, it is well worth doing.  Isn’t it?

 

This would be the beginning of the end of the monetary system as we know it.

 

The numbers might be scary… a multi billion-dollar deficit for the realization of a few billion in returns over 4 years and only recovering the investment over 20 years.  It’s a risk that no one wants to take but I think it is the only way to move forward.

 

 

 

A GAIn for the Working Poor

 

(Yes, I know you’ve heard this a lot lately but I feel like I was among the first advocating for it so I want my version to be heard.  I first wrote about this in a paper I did in high school back in 1977 and I have been an advocate ever since) There have been pilot projects in Manitoba (late 70s early 80s as I recall) and recently in Ontario and in PEI.  It was a recommendation by the MacDonald Commission on the Economy circa 1982, became Liberal Party policy as Negative Income tax in 1983 or 84 but luckily for me Conservative Senator Hugh Segal created it in the late 80s.  I don’t care whose idea it was or wasn’t…its good government policy and is the beginning of not using money to cover basic necessities moving into the future)

 

There is no way to spend money on trains or anything else for that matter without addressing poverty. 

 

Put simply, a Guaranteed Annual Income provides a certain level of income to every man woman and child so that their basic needs are met.  It is the best way to make sure everyone has enough money to survive without the stigma of welfare and the short-term solution of unemployment insurance.

 

Arguments against it range from “if you pay people to do nothing then nothing is what they will do” and the (Former Prime Minister)Paul Martin Junior argument that there just isn’t enough money to give people an amount that would allow them to survive.  Ok, there are other more legitimate arguments as well.  It could be hyperinflationary as Loblaws, Sobeys and the landlords realize how much more they could be charging for food and lodging.  And, the provinces could fight it as it wanders into their jurisdiction.  For the latter, I have no answer other than we really need the provinces to be on-board as without them there really wont be enough money for everyone.

 

The primary conservative argument that if you pay people to nothing then nothing is what they will do is not borne out in the places that had guaranteed annual income.  Most Norwegians earn(ed?  I have no idea if they still have the policy) less from their jobs than they received from their guaranteed annual income and yet most went to work.  I refuse to believe that Norwegians have a better work ethic than Canadians.

 

I do believe that businesses that are generally exploitive and use turnover as a weapon might want to rethink that policy if the people working for them could get almost as much money staying home.  This too might contribute to inflation as a number of low paying employers will simply have to pay more to keep good people. I don’t expect the GAIn amount to be so lucrative that it will pay people to stay home but it might give them options where none exist now.

 

Far more problematic is the question of ‘would there be enough money?’.  The idea is to take all the social expenditures from welfare transfer payments, GIS, CPP Disability, certain health transfers, tax savings, Child tax benefit, GST HST refunds etc together with the cost of administering those payments and gather that all in to one cheque payable to all taxpayers who make $25,000 per annum or less.  I am guessing that without Provincial involvement, it would be about $18,000 for adults and 8,000 for children.  With the provinces participating I am hoping it will be $25,000 per adult and $10,000 per child. That is $4,000 more than the average full-time minimum wage.  The individual amount coupled with a spouse’s amount together with the amount for a couple of children, it could put an end to child poverty permanently.

 

It will be tougher for low paying employers to keep workers but if it’s a decent place to work, many GAIn recipients, if not most, will continue to work at their job regardless.  It puts a little balance in the workforce and it creates a more competitive environment for employers to get good people and keep them.

 

Changing Taxes

 

To facilitate the Guaranteed Annual Income and to make it worthwhile for those who benefit from it, there must be some major tax changes.  I would suggest a very nominal tax rate for the first $25,000 of earned income; somewhere near one half of 1 percent for the first $25,000 and then 35% of each dollar above it.  This insures that we’re putting money in the hands of the people who spend it without it breaking the bank to pay for the GAIn.

 

Maximum Wage

 

I also believe the time has come for us to say no to the moronic greed in the upper echelon of corporate Canada.  Anyone making more than a million dollars in a single year will pay a heavy tax penalty of 90% of every dollar more than that amount.  Sports professionals will be partially exempt and we will continue to allow forward averaging.

 

HST GST

 

There is no question the Guaranteed Annual Income will be a strain on the Government coffers.  To that end we must take advantage of what we hope will be increased consumer spending at the low end and raise the Federal and Provincial Sales Taxes.  The Federal rate should be in and around 10 percent.  This insures that the Government will get back some of what it added to the economy without taking it away before it is even spent.  Income tax on low income earners is an anchor to growth and it hurts children and the poor to benefit those who don’t need it.

 

How would it work?

 

Administration of the GAIn would be challenging but there are 2 methods that spring to mind.  One is make it universal and tax it back from those who don’t need it.  The other is to allow Canadians to apply for it as they need it.  For example, if Tom has a job that pays $20,000 he could apply for a quarterly GAIn cheque of $1250 and as his circumstances improve over the next quarters his GAIn cheque would go down. But if he lost his job or got his hours reduced he could apply for an immediate top up.  If he got overpaid over the course of the year it would be reflected in his payable taxes and his GAIn amount in the coming year might be reduced. 

 

The basic idea is to have a family of 4 make a minimum of $70,000 per annum.  25 thousand for each parent and 10 thousand for each child.  I don’t know how likely that is but its an amount worth shooting for.  Fundamentally (so to speak) the concept is low income Canadians would have enough to pay for food, clothing, lodging, communication and transportation.  While the $10,000 for each child may seem excessive but it would be taxable as it puts the mother and father over the tax threshold of $25000 and therefore taxable at the rate of 35%.  Health deductions might apply so we would leave it at the higher rate.

 

A World Without Money

 

I believe these are the first steps to removing money as the only way of determining value and measuring prosperity in a future world.  If we eliminate annual deficits by measuring a cost to benefit formula for government spending, we have exchanged the artificial value of currency for a longer-term value of return on investment.  I wont get into the obvious cautionary tale about what constitutes a solid investment. 

 

If we follow the basic formula that spending now returns enough by way of saving on future spending within 4 years {The Social Benefit Formula.  You feed a person today and it saves you on medical and/or policing expenses tomorrow} And the return on capital investment formula whereby there is sufficient return over a period of 4 to 10 years to get the money invested back and longer term to realize a profit on the investment. The value of money changes from something limiting and quantifiable to something limitless and stimulative.

 

Similarly, the use of a Guaranteed Annual Income reduces the use of money to a basic credit for the essentials of food, clothing, shelter, communication and transportation.  While one can make more than just the Guaranteed Annual Income and improve one’s quality of life, the basic standard is there and is quantified only by choice.

 

The only purpose for money at that point is the measure of advancement and the incentive to advance.

 

Perhaps, as we evolve, we will no longer need to measure success individually and collective prosperity will be our true measure.  Ok start naming all the successful communist countries….hmmmm. 

 

Yes, measuring prosperity by collective success could take a while before people could accept it and it would have to coincide with the general acceptance of a fundamental Christian view that “Whatever you did not do for the least of these my brethren, you did not do for me…”  but eventually people might see a world without money has to be better than rewarding greed and narcissism.  Perchance to dream.  Hmmm what would Jesus do?

 

-30-

 

 

 

 

 

Lilly The Cat

Lilly The Cat

By RR Fry

(Translated from a lot of meowing)

Since the Fat Man came back to live with me and the Treat Giver last February, I have made it a point to keep him awake as often as I can just to remind him how unwelcome he is in my apartment. The Treat Giver may think she owns the apartment but lets face it, I make her buy me food, I make her give me water, I let her make my bed which I allow her to sleep in and I make her clean my litter box…really, which one of us is in charge? The only reason I keep her around at all is for the treats.

The Fat Man on the other hand serves no Earthly purpose to me other than the fact I make him give me cold meats. I usually wait until his eyes are shut while he is laying his obesity on the couch and then I get 2 inches away from his face and scream with a loud meow…HAM! HAM! Until the massive monster wakes up, yells something back and then we repeat the process until His Fatness gets up and gets me ham. If he fails to tear it up into bite-size pieces or gives me the wrong cold meat I will relentlessly repeat the HAM HAM chant until he complies.

He’s not that bright so I have to show him each day where the Fridge is and point out where the ham is located. Honestly I really don’t know what the Treat Giver sees in him. I used to let him play laser pointer with me and I’d make him think I was chasing the light but really I was just testing to see how long it would take for his arm to give out. Then he said something stupid like ‘the batteries are dead’. The liar, batteries are like mice, they don’t die until you’re done playing with them.

Just to humour him I let him drag industrial strapping on the floor which I will chase and chase until he gets bored and throws it on the floor…like I would play with it by myself. I really can’t stand to see him not worshipping me so when he sits down at the computer, I’ll walk back and forth in front of his face occasionally stepping on the keyboard until he turns red with appreciation for my typing skills.

I wish I didn’t need humans but until someone can train another animal to do all I need to have done, I just don’t think I could live without them. They are hard to train. I can never seem to get them to open the window when I want them to. They seem to leave just when I was ready to allow them to give me some affection and they shower instead of bathing which prevents me from playing the water. I really hate that. Playing in bubbles is the most fun you can have without a half dead bird to torture..I mean play with.

Speaking of birds, I spend a lot of time looking out the window. I have grown quite fond of this Pheasant who walks by my window ’cause, lets face it, he’s too dumb to fly. I am trying to learn bird but languages are difficult when you only have one vocal chord. It was hard enough to learn how to say ‘Ham’ in the human tongue, Bird Speak has a whole set of other challenges. I’ve got the cadence down but I am pretty sure my tone is off because when I ask the birds to come closer so I can kill and eat them, they seem hesitant. This is even after I have explained that we all must follow our natures.

There are days when I wish I could go out and live like a hunter cat but whenever the humans have called my bluff and let me out, it’s a world of loud noises and cold weather. It may seem intriguing but what if I got locked out and I had to train new humans? Sounds like too much work. I’ll just go lie on the bed the Treat Giver made for me and wait for the Fat Man to go for a nap…I’m pretty sure there is more ham in the fridge. Besides I really can’t stand to see him relaxed.

Lilly is a cat with cow like markings who is a freelance writer and a feline food getting strategist in a Moncton apartment.

RR Fry is a Fat Man that Lilly allows to live there.

Understanding Clinical Depression

Understanding Clinical Depression

Is there any way any of us can understand people who are depressed? I have been an amateur psychologist and know-it-all for more than 25 years and even I don’t get it.

The simplest answer is…well… you can’t understand clinical depression unless you have it. If you can understand it …well you’re crazy. There is no rationale for clinical depression. It is not something you can snap out of. Its not the same as that day you could only get round hamburgers and you really wanted a square one. It’s not the same as when your pet hamster just simply refused to get on the wheel. I think JK Rowling described it best as a Dementor attack…it was like all the joy in life was sucked out of you and you’d never feel happy again.

Moreover it is like living in constant pain and you don’t know where the source is. You just want it to stop. You know there is no logical reason for it but it permeates you and it’s all you can feel. You have to make it stop. You convince yourself that everyone is better off without you and you have nothing left to give this world except more pain.

If you’re drowning in the Abyss and its not even midnight yet and all you can feel is the pains of life then you need to go see someone…now!

For some there are environmental causes, the loss of a loved one, unemployment, making a foolish mistake etc. But all too often it makes no sense whatsoever… you can be rich with everything to live for and want nothing more than escape from the pain. Depression is indiscriminate, it crosses all divides and makes life a living hell for those who suffer from it and those around them.

There is no power of positive thinking, no set of exercises or any short term therapy that will stop it. There is some hope in medication and on-going therapy but its not easy. To add to the complexity, I believe that for certain women the answer may lie in hormonal therapy as the fluctuation of hormones wreaks havoc on brain chemistry as in postpartum depression, menstrual cycles and menopause. I have no way of saying that is accurate for sure, it just makes sense to me. I am not a medical professional so the salt that I give is only available in multi grain.

The really crazy thing is that irrational behaviour cannot be rationalized. No one can or will understand why you feel the way you do because the way you feel is not normal. You’re smothering and all you want is a minute of free open air. It is there and you will find it but only those who live it or those whose job it is to help you beat it, can help you. Even then it might take time, going through different professionals, drugs and therapies before you get what you need.

For those who are depressed but not clinically….There is no doubt that for most people ‘life sucks and then you die’ is pretty much an accurate depiction of how things go. Life is depressing and there really is no value to it whatsoever….especially if you are that guy that just drove down Mountain Road at 35 klicks per hour. If you need to drive that slow then life is truly passing you by.

That being said there is an inherent value to life. If you live to yourself you die to yourself. If you live to help others then you always have something to live for. I don’t just mean swinging a hammer for Habitat for Humanity (although that is an awesome thing to do) but more helping provide for your family, being there for friends, and/or living each day to make life better for yourself or someone else by community involvement. It’s been my experience that these people have the most hope…for today and tomorrow.

Sadly for those who suffer from Mental Illness, helping others is often lost on them as they can’t see past the pain. Eventually, when they get help, the pains of life will give way to the joys of living. They can and will see a better tomorrow coming.

So if you feel lost and alone…you are not. There is hope and the only way to find it is to get help. If you can’t get help…well…someone has to write those damned Christmas movies where Santa needs you to save Christmas with a crippled reindeer and a mentally challenged elf. Until I started looking in to Clinical Depression, I used to wonder what kind of human being would write that stuff…and now I know.

 

RR Fry is a former broadcaster, producer, political aid and freelance writer living in Moncton.

Rules for Moncton Driving

They say sarcasm is the lowest form of humour. I can live with that. Having said that please remember these rules are NOT to be followed.

While I may find it a bit frustrating, these are the rules for driving in Moncton that I have observed over the years. Not observing some of these rules could prevent accidents and save lives so use caution:

Driving Rules:

  1. Men must wear a cap – you never know when a random baseball game might break out and no one wants to be unprepared.
  2. You must drive an oversized urban pick up truck that has never carried anything heavier than groceries. (2a)Your tires have to be wide enough that they don’t fit in between the lines and (2b)high enough to make sure your headlights shine directly into the eyes of oncoming traffic. (2c) You never carry anything heavy and no matter what the Mythbusters said about increased drag, (2d) you have to have a cover for the back that will never be opened.
  3. Never ever ever look in the mirrors except to fix your hat or adjust your make-up. [The fist rule of Italian Driving is the 3rd rule of Moncton driving…WHAT’S BEHIND YOU IS NOT IMPORTANT.
  4. Always too fast or too slow…nothing in between. If you accidentally see something behind you your top speed is 40 kph except in winter when its 60. If you think nothing is behind you (DONT CHECK) then the speed is 80 in a 50 zone and 135 on the highway or if followed then its no more than 80 kph especially on Wheeler Boulevard. Remember causing fast driver death is ok with law enforcement or the sign would say ‘Suggested’ rather than ‘Maximum’ 100 KPH.
  5. The left hand lever on the steering column sometimes called ‘the turn signal’ serves no purpose (or, if you feel you have to use it, you can switch it on after you’ve begun your turn so people who already could see what you were doing can know for sure). Remember using the turn signal before you apply your brakes will just let people know what you are up to and no one wants that.
  6. Driving for conditions might mean slow down when its slippery in some places but not here. Here it means drive as fast as necessary so there is no way you can stop in an emergency. People who slow down on icy streets and low visibility are just scaredy-cats who put too much value on human life.
  7. Remember if you’re driving a fast car, a motorbike or your hopped up truck…make as much noise as you can. People love that….especially girls who think ‘wow I can’t wait to be wolf whistled by that guy’. Go as fast as you can even if you’re only going ten feet to maximize the noise.
  8. Drinking and driving is always wrong but those rules that you said you believe in don’t apply to you…you’re a big guy, two or 3 might be enough to make some people a menace, but not you. Besides if anything bad happens you’re just thinning the herd…who needed that guy anyway?
  9. You bought that big truck for a reason…to drive on Elmwood Drive and Lutes Street and feel the roll of the waves ….but just the same, make sure you randomly jam on your brakes as if you had a truck load of eggs whenever you see a pebble out of place…The people behind you love that stuff.
  10. Remember how your Dad used to stop and help people…Never do that…They bought that Dodge…they knew what they were getting into…They deserve what’s coming to them
  11. Just like when you were in elementary school, never stay within the lines. Driving on or slightly over the lines maybe a little discourteous and perhaps deadly but that is what driving is for.
  12. No matter how many cars are behind you and how unexpected it maybe for them, always jam on your brakes and let the driver turning on to the street, out in front of you. Its courteous to them and completely discourteous to the people behind you…well done!
  13. The distance between you and the car in front of you is directly proportional to the desperation of the person behind you to get by. Block all turn lanes by at least three car lengths and make sure only you and the car in front of you make it through a flashing light.
  14. Always wait to see the whites of the eyes of the people coming up behind you in the passing lane before you pull out to pass that truck and then only overtake the truck by 1 km per hour…then pull in front of the truck and race the guy trying to pass you, it make for fun motoring for everyone.

    To sum up the rules of Moncton driving, be as discourteous as possible while maintaining a complete sense of obliviousness to the world around you. Or you could try something totally different and think about the needs of others on the road…Naaaaaah! Sorry, I forgot where I was for a second. Happy Motoring!

 

RR Fry is a freelance writer from Moncton and a former broadcaster, copywriter and political assistant

corana

Corana

Chapter One

Good Byes and Yesterdays

 

His eyes were glassy, thick with tears that would never come.  He held out his hand to me and for the first time in my life I was afraid to take it.  I knew it would be for the last time.    He grabbed my hand hard and held it there for a second until I could feel his remaining strength.  The tube in his neck that prevented him from talking coughed a mucous filled snort and trickles of blood trailed out of his trachea.  Time was so short now.  He motioned for the children’s toy pad he used to write with.  I picked it up and lifted the plastic sheet to give him a clean surface to write on.   His snarl and that look of “you idiot” he always had when he was teasing me about some dumb mistake I made, told me I goofed again.  He wanted me to read what he had written.  He grabbed the stylus and began to write with his shaky hand.

 

“You’ve always been smarter than the rest. But you made a mistake leaving that girl behind.  You left the space program for the right reasons… but now you have to use that brain…..”

 

His hand stopped but I knew what he was trying to say so I finished it out loud for him, “for more than fixing outboard motors and fishing”.  He nodded, smiled and winced from the pain and more blood trickled from his neck.  He and I had never spoken about me leaving the propulsion lab.  I just figured he would not understand but evidently my sister had been providing more than just her nursing skills.

 

            It flashed back in my mind

We were in a large conference room… too large for the few people in it.  There were three American military men fully decked out in uniform complete with medals like they were supposed to mean something to me. They all had grey hair but were otherwise in great shape.  They kind of looked like triplets and I almost laughed at them for their rigid demeanour.  My boss, Tom Arnold (no relation), was head of the lab and a person who had gone out of his way to make me comfortable in my stay in Florida.  He was heavy set and balding…looking far more worried than any multi millionaire should ever look.

 In the middle of the room seated at the middle of the table with her white blouse too far open to be considered professional was a petite lovely young woman with weepy eyes that when you looked close at them, sparkled between blue and sometimes green, my propulsion engine project team-leader. She and I had an often too flirty relationship and I had come to regard her as a close friend.   

I would have been pining for more under different circumstances but she was just fresh out of school and I had been working on the space program for almost her entire life.  Well, that and she was kind of out of my league. When she smiled, she was breathtakingly stunning and I was well… unarmed.  I assumed she was there for my benefit…to make me feel like I wasn’t being persecuted.  The uniformed men all sat rigid and left the arguments to my boss. 

            “Look Davis we have no choice…they…” pointing at the military boys, “…supply the money for this project…” my boss’ round face turned purple as he argued a point that he knew I would never accept.

            “They are my designs and I will not have them used for weapons of destruction … mass or otherwise,” I argued back.

            “These men here represent the US government and they have paid for the development of your designs,” my boss yelled back.

            “I am Canadian, so I don’t give a crap if the President of your country is here, they are my designs and I will not have them used for any other purpose other than what you agreed to, which was to send people to Mars faster than any of your people ever thought was possible before.” I was fuming.

            “And your design will be used to go to Mars but we can’t do that without money,” my bosses colour came back and he calmed down.  “We give these guys what they want and they give us money to complete our project,” he said calmly.

            “I can’t be part of killing people, Tom”.  “Please,” I pleaded. “Don’t let them do this.”

            “It’s done, you can’t do anything about it Davis except finish the project and help us use it for what it you intended it for,” the lovely young woman… the woman I thought was my friend… interjected blind-siding me with her support for the military application of the design she helped me work on.  It hit me like a knife and I could barely think.

 

            My boss spoke to her like I was invisible now.  “So, Ms. Larsen do you feel that you and your team can finish the project without Dr. Davis here?”

            “It will be harder, but yeah I think we can…..”

            The rest of what Larsen said faded in to pain.  She turned on me and stabbed me in the back and in the heart, all at the same time.  I thought she and I had a connection…an understanding…something.

            We had fun working together.  We laughed all the time and Larsen was one of those people who produced tears when she laughed hard enough, so I tried to out do myself  each day.  She was playful and fun taking my constant innuendo, which would have sent most people screaming to the sexual harassment office, as if it was a new joke. 

When we hung out after work we both remarked about how neither of us had that much fun before… taunting and teasing until we had to leave as we both had separate ways to go.  At one point, she asked one of those cryptic questions about my feelings, whatever they are and I just reminded her that, as my father always said, “Never ask a question you don’t want an answer to.”  I was a scientist, not a Hallmark Card.  I couldn’t have feelings.  Just because my serotonin levels were out of whack when I was around her didn’t mean I …

            “I mean I know that you know how I feel and down deep I think I know better than even you how you feel; if either of us felt anything, which of course we do not.”  She laughed at my pretended rejection of human emotions. “So I know that you know…you know? Like every human being that craves socialization into a harmonious pair bond, I want to hear it, just once, but it changes everything and it changes nothing.”  As cryptic and confusing as it was, we both understood and we never spoke of our “feelings” again.

            My separate way, as I called my girlfriend, crashed and burned…seems I was having too much fun with a co-worker.  She left me and I hardly even noticed because I couldn’t wait to get back to work and see Larsen.  To try and figure it out, I called my Dad and I told him all about her and he said if he didn’t know better he’d say, I had surrendered to the ‘human pair bonding ritual’ referring to something I wrote as a kid about how love didn’t exist. 

            It doesn’t … I was right.  I never spoke to Larsen again.  Even thinking her name causes me to relive a betrayal and the feeling of stupidity… how could I think she felt something for me?  How could I have been so wrong? 

            I left Florida that night hoping to never think of those people again.  I flew back to Canada, rented a car and drove to the small town of Portland on Big Rideau Lake near Ottawa and started working at my Dad’s small marina. It had 15 or 20 small motorboats and a few sailboats all tied to floating docks that seemed to spring from the heavy evergreen trees that almost obscured the small marine garage where I fixed small engines, an office and the house behind it. I had a bit of money saved up and I wasn’t in any hurry to see my inventions used to slaughter innocent people again. 

            Boats are simple and boaters can be trusted. 

A few weeks after I got home I caught my Dad coughing up blood and was having trouble speaking.  Despite his reluctance, I took him to the hospital.  The Doctors kept telling him there was nothing wrong with him until the last Doctor did an exploratory surgery on his neck.  I never got to hear my dad’s voice again; they left a trachea tube in his voice box and told me he had a few weeks to live.  They asked me if I wanted to tell him or if they should.  I said I would tell him…it would be better coming from me.  I wanted to run away…even the lab was better than this but I had to do it. 

            “Hey Dad,” he turned to me and smiled, “the news is not good, you have oesophageal cancer and the time is very short.”  I felt the bubbling of emotion and I nearly died myself when he wrote down on a piece of paper,

            “Any hope at all?”

 I just shook my head.  He waved good bye ironically with a forced smile and wrote,

            “Here till I die?” 

Meaning did he have to stay in the hospital until the end?

            “No… no you’re not,” and I picked up my cell and called my sister and asked if she could get away for a while.

They had always had a strained relationship so I figured she would be less than eager to look after him now. Nevertheless, she agreed to come out to the house and stay until the end.  The hospital and everyone said we couldn’t take him home but we insisted and spent the next 6 weeks tending to his every need…….

 

I had never believed in euthanasia but when my sister the nurse said my Dad, my friend…my strength, was going to haemorrhage to death and drown in his own blood; my beliefs were shot to hell.

“Its time” is all she said.  But it sounded like a warden getting the final word that there was no reprieve and the execution would proceed.  She would give him enough Morphine that he might not know anything at all until his heart stopped.

“Wait!” is all I could say.

“Rob, would you really want him to die by drowning in his own blood?   We agreed to this a long time ago when we said we would take him home to be with us…until his last day… today.  Please let him have his dignity.”

Even 6 weeks later it was still strange to hear someone call me by my first name. My sister, Joan, was less than subtle but I had to tell him one more thing…or maybe I was trying to buy him time.  Even I didn’t know.  Dad looked at me and then motioned to Joan to proceed.  The tears I had not shed during the 10 weeks of 24-hour-a-day chronic care, boosting his oxygen levels, feeding him through a stomach tube, cleaning his trachea and keeping his spirits up, suddenly started to spill out.

I was never what you would call emotional.  These might be the first tears I had shed since I was 5 but my emotions were leaking like they had spilled over my control line and I was powerless to suppress them.

I wanted to explain about what all happened with the girl, my life, but there was no time for that now.  He grabbed my hand and shook it like he was saying goodbye to an acquaintance and then let me go.   Joan was crying now and her hands shook so badly that I had to help her give him the injection.  No matter how I felt, this is what he wanted and I did not have the right to deny him that.   I could see his instant reaction of relaxation after the injection and we shut off the oxygen and waited.  There was a deafening silence as we listened to hear each breath and wondered if it was his last.

Joan wanted to distract me from discussing what we just did and I was relived to talk about anything else no matter how painful it was.  “So tell me about this girl Dad was talking about,” she asked.  We both spoke quietly so as literally not to wake the dead to a pain and a scene neither of us could comprehend.

“Did you ever meet someone you had an instant rapport with?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” is all she offered like she wasn’t really interested.

“Well Larsen and I had in instant but odd connection.  Differences in time and age meant nothing as I teased her relentlessly about her poor choice of words and hillbilly expressions.   We didn’t talk that much face to face; most of our conversations were over the company chat line.  I was glad of that.  She had a smile that could disarm a battalion.  Her eyes sparkled between hues of blue and green as they filled with mischief and playfulness.  She would innocently ask something like ‘how much thrust does this thing have?’  And I would respond, ‘how much thrusting do you need?’  She laughed easily without concern over the rights and wrongs of conversations between co-workers.  It was like I could never go too far and I could turn everything into a joke.  For the first time in my life I was having what other people might call fun.  She seemed to love it and teased me back as often as she could.  I couldn’t wait to go to work just to hear what she was going to say next.”

“You may recall, I had a girlfriend, Tanya, who hated my guts but so long as Larsen was around, I didn’t even care about that.”  By the look on Joan’s face I guess she didn’t know about Tanya either.  It really had been a long time since we talked. “Tanya had accepted my lack of profound emotion and scientific rationalizations but seeing me give those emotions, which I claimed I didn’t have, so freely to someone else was too much for her. Eventually she left me and I don’t even recall if she said goodbye.  Larsen was all I cared about and even the thrust mechanisms of the propulsion unit were a backdrop to my feelings for her.  A cheap excuse to spend time discovering who I really was for the first time.”

“So, you were in love with her then,” Joan said simply trying to boil the conversation down to nothing.

“No, of course not!  I just got used to her and how she made me feel.  Its normal to long for things you can’t have, isn’t it?” I asked rhetorically.  I understand the affect her youthful exuberance can have on someone like me trying to recapture his youth.  Her rampant pheromones caused stimulation to my neurons and the effect of which was euphoric.  Obviously, it was one sided and “the feelings” if you want to call them that will fade.  Like a million other men I just got it wrong.” I said it more to convince myself that Joan.

“So, if she walked through that door and pledged her undying love?”  Joan was teasing now.

“I would know that she was lying.  She loved her boyfriend.  She loved her work and she loved my designs.  I guess I just misunderstood; she loved what was in my mind.  I just let my fired-up testosterone levels from her too-low-cut shirts and captivating delicate features dominate my thinking.  It happens.  I just wish it would never have happened to me.  She did rescue me from Tanya though so I guess I could thank her for that.  But love? No, more obsession than love.  I think the best way to describe it is an addiction to a drug you can never get enough of until it kills you.”  I declared to my own pain and simultaneous satisfaction.

Joan wasn’t buying it.  “Get over it Rob.  You were in love with her.  Obsession is selfish and I don’t think you are a selfish person.  I think emotionally you are a 38-year-old three-year-old who couldn’t admit to love because it made him vulnerable.  She had you and you hated her power over you so you bolted.”  Joan didn’t pull any punches.

“Haven’t you been listening?  She betrayed me!”  I said too loud.

“Did you get an explanation?  Did you ask her why?  Did you even tell her you had feelings for her?  No, No and No,” Joan answered her own rhetorical questions.  Maybe she did all that to force you to get angry and admit your feelings.  But you ran away.  So, little brother…you blew it!”

Joan was fierce in her condemnation and I wondered what happened to her to make her feel that way.  But more I had to ask myself if there was a chance that she was right?  All this time it had been easy to blame Larsen and pretend I was running away for my own honour but now I was wondering if I wasn’t trying to hide from my own feelings.  I hated Joan for this but I loved her for telling me.

There was a long silence and then Joan opened up.  “I was in love once.  That is how I know how Larsen feels.  This girl was tall, blond an amazing body…most guys would have killed for a minute with her but she was a dyke like me……What?”  Joan asked as my mouth dropped in shock.

I had no idea.

“You knew I was Lesbian, right?”

I just shook my head

“Oh, my god Rob, you even walked in on me and my girlfriends when you were a kid.  Didn’t you think it was odd I was kissing them?  Let alone the fact I am in my 40s, don’t have kids and you’ve never seen me with a man.  You can’t be that dense!”  Joan said laughing at me

I felt retarded.  I did see them kissing and touching each other but I just thought she was playing around practising for a boy.  “I honestly had no idea.  I just thought you were career driven.”  We both laughed at how stupid I had been then the reality of us laughing with our Dad dying beside us brought us back to a quick sombre reality.

“Anyway,” Joan continued, “She was gorgeous and everybody wanted her.  She was so far out of my league that I didn’t even think to take a shot.  But she started flirting with me, a lingering hand on the shoulder, a poke in the side even a slap on the bum as I walked away.  It was clear she wanted to go slumming and I was her slum-lord.  I was drawn to her but so was everybody so even then I didn’t pay much attention.  I just figured she wanted to play around.  Once when she dropped by my office, she ran right up and kissed me on the cheek and I think she was turning to my lips when I laughed.  I mean this gorgeous girl could never want me, right?”  Joan asked rhetorically.

I wanted to intervene with some brotherly input but she waved me on like the queen passing in her car.

Joan was crying as she continued, “She must have taken my laugh as a rejection because she stopped being as flirty.  Then one day she came in to the office looking very serious and shut the door.  She got a job offer in Toronto and was asking me if she should take it. After she explained the offer to me I told her it was too good to pass up.  She left my office looking rejected.  All I really wanted to tell her was, ‘I want you to stay here with me,’ but I thought that was too selfish.  She gave her notice and the next two weeks were about her leaving and I feigned excitement for her.  The reality was it was killing me inside ‘cause I would always wonder if that kiss had turned into something real, if she would have stayed.  On her last day, I kissed her on her cheek again but I closed my eyes so she couldn’t see the pain.  We chatted forever and then she drove away.  I have never stopped thinking about her.  I wish I had betrayed her like Larsen did to you to try and get her to admit something or told her how I felt at least.  She was raped and murdered 24 days after she got to Toronto.  That playful personality, the beautiful face and body, destroyed by a maniac.  I told her in email how much I missed her but I never told her the rest and now I never will.”

The silence continued for a long time as both thought of what Joan said.  I want to run to the phone and tell Larsen that I was in love with her but there was still too much hurt there.

It was hours before his breathing stopped and Dad was gone.  I had never felt so alone and yet for the first time in my life I was never surer there was an eternal truth to existence.  This can’t be it.  There must be more to this universe than the random particles of matter that somehow coalesced into becoming cognisant beings.  At that moment, despite my scientific teachings and empirical sense of truth, I needed to believe there was a god and somehow my father was as special to Him as he had been to me.

Joan and I had never really been close as children.  She was older and out of the house by the time I was 10.  Nevertheless, we held each other like the closest of siblings.  We were orphans now and no matter how we felt about one another, we were the only real family either of us really had.  Our mother disappeared when I was 14.  Most people think she drowned in the lake and the body just never surfaced.  The police and the military searched for days and days and gradually any faint hope we had that she might come barging through the door dissipated over the years.  My father never gave up hoping and really never went on with his life because, “Helen might come home and find no one here, how would we explain that?”

She never did nor would she ever.  It took me a while to accept it …years really.  Joanie on the other hand some how knew Mom was gone forever the minute I called her that night.  She sensed something was wrong before I even called.

I was trapped in hope and I hated Joan for not hoping.  Each Christmas I would set a place for Mom but Joanie would always clear it away and tell me to “grow up…she’s gone… get over it!”  I knew but I didn’t want to know.  It’s like when a relationship breaks up and you sit by the phone, wondering why they don’t call.  You know its over and they are not going to and yet…you cling to the hope until time eventually reminds you it’s really over.

I called the extra mural hospital Doctor, the police and funeral director.  The police arrived first and waited for the on-call Doctor to say there was no foul play.  To be truthful I had forgotten that what we did might have been considered a crime.  When the Doctor came she simply said it was good that we got a healthy dose of morphine into him when we did as his lungs were filled with blood, and his death might have been much violent had we not been so ‘on the ball’.  There wasn’t even a wink in the sound of her voice.  Joan was relieved as that might have been the end of her nursing career.  But the Doctor and the police were satisfied.

When the mortuary came to take the body, it was much more traumatic than I thought it would be.  He was dead and they were waltzing off with a cadaver and yet it felt so real when they put him in the body bag, threw him on a stretcher and wheeled him away.   For the first time, I realised he was leaving the house and never coming back.

It was a quiet and dignified service and I think most of the people there didn’t even know who he was.  We had him cremated and even though it’s against the law, mysteriously his ashes fell out of my motorboat in the middle of the lake.  He’s always said that is where he wanted to be, just in case Mom was waiting there for him.  Then Joanie and I hit the throttle and drove one end of the lake to the other and back again at over 80 miles per hour.  It’s a fast boat.  Next to the old wooden 26 foot Grew Cabin Cruiser, it was Dad’s favourite and I could see why.  The beauty of going that speed is there will be tears on your face anyway and the water bounces up and washes them away.

Having driven back and forth between lower Rideau and Big Rideau so many times I couldn’t count, night had fallen and I didn’t even notice.  It was the first time I had looked up at he stars since I came back.  It was a clear night and you could see each one glowing in the black night sky.  There was a slight wind and the boat rose gently in the water and lowered with a slight splash.  I cut the engine and through out the anchor.  It caught nicely and I just looked up.

Joan looked up too and said, “So this is your office?”

“Well it was.  Now every damn star reminds me of missiles with my name on them and rockets that will never break 30,000 and…..”

“Larsen!” Joan fished my sentence for me.

“Yeah.  I can’t fight it Joanie why can’t I just move on?”  I asked not really expecting an answer.

“No one ever does Rob.  But believe it or not it does get easier…after a long time.  Not to change the subject but what is happening in the stars?  I keep seeing flashes and then what looks like satellites moving through the sky.” Joan was curious

“I see it too and frankly I have no idea.  It looks like the flashing of engine fire on some of the satellites but we would never be able to see that from here.  Ah well whatever it is…. maybe its some nukes with cool new engines ready to rain down on us.  Now that would be a thrill.” I said only mildly sarcastically.  Truth is I wish that was exactly what the phenomenon was.  I would never commit suicide but right now I yearned for death.

“Joan reminded me, “You would never be that lucky.”

We spent the next few hours watching the light show and then went back to port and drank Southern Comfort in the kitchen of the house and talked about lost love until the dawn broke through the window and told us to go sleep it off.  “To Dad,” we both toasted over and over again until we were both toasted.  At some point in the night the lack of sleep and the alcohol made us both giddy and Joan randomly confessed, “You want to know something?”

“Sure,” I said half crying and laughing wondering what she was going to say next.

“I’ve never slept with a man,” Joan said completely at random.  “I mean I am a lesbian so I guess I am not a virgin cause I have slept with girls.  I’ve slept with a lot of girls but I have never slept with a man.” Joan confessed while taking a huge gulp of Southern.

“You know what?” I asked half laughing.

“What?” Joan asked after a long drunken pause waiting for the punch-line.

“I’ve never slept with a man either…” and we both laughed so hard we fell on the floor.  After a long time of looking at each other and starting to laugh hysterically again.  “But…but I can go you one better, “I said still laughing.  “Not only have I never been in love, which you knew already…. I mean I have had lots of unrequited crushes which I guess you could call love, albeit a bit one sided…” I was randomly going all over the place and I couldn’t even remember what I was saying.  “What was I saying?”

“You said you had never been in love or that you had been in love but it was one sided,” Joan offered amazingly remembering what I was talking about.

“Right…That’s right.  I have never loved anyone who loved me back so I guess you could call that emotional masturbation…”  We both laughed for what seemed like hours still on the floor under the kitchen table like we were kids in a fort.  “Now I know what you’re thinkin’  What about Tanya?” I asked guessing what she might be thinking.

“Well no but ok what about Tanya?”

“Tanya loved scientists.  She was smart but she really got turned on by intellect.  She was involved with another scientist who was married when I got to Florida and I think she went back to him after she left me.  She loved me doting on her.  She loved me serving her every need.  She just didn’t love me at all. But here is the best part, she didn’t believe in open mouth kissing.  So, I am 38 years old and have never really kissed a girl,” sobering up long enough to finally deliver the end of the confession story.  Joanie was laughing at me now and as pathetic as it was I was laughing with her.

Time went on until finally I asked her about Mom. “Why wouldn’t you let me set a place for her at Christmas or even let me think she might come home? I really wanted to believe that after she disappeared she might just walk through the door.”  I was accusing her but I was mostly curious.

“For Dad.  It broke his heart when Mom disappeared. Like you I wanted her to walk through that door but even after a few days I knew.  See I knew something at 18 that a 10-year-old didn’t.  As odd as this sounds, the two of them really loved each other.  She would never stay away from him or from you unless she was really gone.  Dad and I had our problems but I could never let him think that the woman he adored didn’t love him enough to come home. ..Not even at Christmas.  He was hurting too much already.  I loved the old bastard you know.”  Joan was full out crying now.  After a few minutes of watching her tears and wondering if mine would ever come she began again, “He loved you… you know.  He was so proud of you.  Robby is going to MIT.  Robby got his PHd in physics and chemistry.  Robby’s inventions got patented.  Robby came home and made an outboard engine in to a jet.  Robby has gone to for the Rocket Propulsion lab to do something with magnetic induction and thrust amplification.  I was proud too baby brother but you made my Masters of Nursing look like a ‘I used the potty certificate’ at day care.”  Joan unloaded her baggage and I think we both felt closer.

“Sorry!  Its funny you know because all I ever heard was how well Joan was doing.  Joan saves lives.  Joan got a Masters in Nursing and now she is running a hospital.  Its too bad he could tell both of us how proud he was of us to our faces.”

“Yeah but that was him.” Joan threw in

“Yeah I’ll miss that too.”

With the light shining too brightly through the window we both crawled up off the floor and bounced off the walls to our rooms.  My sister and I had become friends after all these years.

 

They say the profound sadness becomes a dull ache in time, I wish I knew when.  The memories of my Dad are everywhere.  I can see and hear him as I look at the places he worked and lived.  It’s not so much about the things he said since most of his conversations through my life were grunts of acknowledgment.    “Can I give you a hand? I’d ask… “Uh huh” he’d say and then motion with his hand what he wanted me to do.    I’d give anything to hear a simple grunt now.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

After a few days, I realised that life had to go on.  The boats still needed fuel and fixing and a dead father seemed to be a meagre excuse for most of the people who relied on us for their amusement.  I loved these people normally but their chronic insensitivity to my pain in the face of getting gas for their pleasure boats was pissing me off.

The solution to my dilemma walked through the door of the marine office just as I was thinking I did not want to do this anymore.  She was tall, statuesque and stunning with long flowing dark hair that had a gentle curl.  The man in me fought desperately not to stare at the perfectly perky pair of boobs barely covered by a Canadian maple leaf patterned bikini top or the tiny blue jean shorts.  She caught me looking and just offered a soft gentle laugh that let me know that she wasn’t upset or uptight.  She told me a few days later that she expected to be looked at when she dressed like that.  If she were a knight that outfit would be her armour.  It made her feel powerful and probably hated by every female on the planet.

Her voice was soft and relaxed as she said, “Hi Davis.”  She acted like she knew me but for the life of me I couldn’t place her.  But she seemed awfully familiar.

“Maybe you don’t remember me; I am Jack’s daughter ….”

“Mandy,” I interrupted finally making the connection.  Jack was my Dad’s closest friend.  He lived on an island in the lake with his second wife whose name I could never remember.  He had been at the funeral but there was no way I would have missed Mandy, grieving or not.  The last time I saw her she was 11 and she and her Mom were moving away to Perth.  Seems Jack found a new model who couldn’t have been much older than Mandy who had to be 20ish by now.  ..A classic mid life crisis gone wrong.  Jack used to hang out here all the time but his new wife wouldn’t be caught dead in a grease pit like this.  My Dad missed him no matter how much of a cad he thought he was, Jack was his best friend.

“Wow, I can’t believe you remembered me after all these years,” Mandy said wondering how.

“Well it was difficult because I thought you had moved away …. The last time I saw you was…..”

“Yeah, I remember,” Mandy interrupted not wanting to relive the pain.  “But I spend my summers with Jack and Lois,” The way she pronounced her stepmothers name and referred to her father as Jack pretty much told me that time had not healed every wound.  “Anyway, I just wanted to come by and tell you how sorry I was about Rod’s ……passing,” there was a long pause as she searched for the right word.  It’s funny but this was the first time since the funeral that anyone had used my Dad’s name.  It felt strange.  Not only had my Dad died but a real person called Roderick Davis had died too.  Mandy started again before the awkwardness could continue.  “Anyhow, Jack wanted me to ask if you needed any help.  I don’t know much about marine engines but I can catch a rope or pump the gas…well after you show me… and you don’t have to pay me,” Mandy added clearly hoping I would not agree to that last part.

“I would love to have you working here.  I can’t pay you a lot but I am sure we could work something out.” I said truly hoping to just toss the whole damn Marina in her lap and walk away.  Mandy seemed like fun, a bit wild and so full of life, she would be a welcome change from the environment of death we had going on for the last 12 weeks or so.

I took her to meet Joan even though Joan really didn’t have a say in the matter.  She was family and I felt obligated to include her in things.  Joan took one look at her and said out loud, “Holy crap she’s gorgeous.”  Then she said in my ear, “If you don’t sleep with her, I will.”  I knew she was mostly joking but I thought I better spoil the party before I found out for sure.

“Ah Joan, this is Mandy….”             “Jack’s daughter,” Joan said sounding a bit disappointed.

Mandy was a bit confused but smiled happily anyway.  Mandy, Joan and I sat down at the kitchen table with Joan still salivating despite the fact Mandy was the daughter of our Dad’s best friend.  She was young enough to be Joan’s daughter and I realised that ‘damn it she was young enough to be my daughter too’.  Of course, she was just a year or two younger than Larsen.  I felt like slapping myself silly for even thinking it.   Mandy caught me leering again and again she laughed when I tried to look away.  Admittedly compared to Joan I was respectful.  Finally, I just called Joan’s name,

“Joan!”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it’s just that I can’t get over how much you look like your mother.”  Joan said trying to cover the fact she hadn’t even seen a female in about 14 weeks.

“I think my mother is quite pretty,” Mandy said with a smile but obviously trying to diffuse an awkward moment, “So thanks for the compliment.”

Joan replied, “Oh you’re quite welcome.”

Joan turned to me for rescue but I was thinking of just letting her hang herself.  But finally, I interjected, “So I imagine you’d like to know what we want you to do for the marina?”

“Well actually I was enjoying hearing how pretty I am, but if you want to make this all business….” Mandy said laughing.  Joan laughed too much and I just let my eyes do the laughing for me.

“Well I am not sure how early you can get here but we won’t open the shop until then.  Then if you could take care of the cash, manning the pumps which I will show you in a minute and then just keep an eye on the boats making sure they get moored ok…that kind of thing.”  I rattled off her duties as quickly as I could because I kept getting rattled myself looking into those dark blue eyes.  She was a friend’s daughter and I was still filled with complicated emotions about Larsen not to mention she was now an employee but I could not help finding her attractive.

My thoughts betrayed me as she caught me off guard with her next question, “Shall we get started?”

“What?… um oh yeah.”

“You were going to show me a man with cash that I could pump…. Well at least that is the way I heard it.”  Mandy teased.

All three of us burst out laughing.  It was something Joan and I had not done for a few days.  Mandy’s shock humour was just enough to send us into hysterics and we all laughed too long and too hard.

Finally, Joan said, “There is no doubt about it the Marina is in good hands, this girl is hilarious.”  Despite Joan’s initial attraction, now she just genuinely liked the girl.  Despite my attraction, I felt the same way.

Mandy learned her duties quickly but like a comedian on a roll she continued with the innuendo.

“Can you come inside and I’ll show you how it works?”  I asked as we were going in to see the shop cash register.

“Wow you almost never hear a man say that.”

“Can you hold this for me while I turn it on,” I asked as I handed her an oil can that fell from the shelf as I went over to the cash.

“Now there is something I do hear from guys all the time,” Mandy laughed.

I laughed too but I finally said “Oh god I think we have created a monster.”

“You just keep layin’ em out there and I’ll keep knocking them away,” Mandy said using a sports euphemism

“Now there is something you don’t hear girls say that often.”  And we both laughed again.  It was going to be a fun summer.  Mandy was nice to look at and had a warped sense of humour.  The only way to ruin the fun would be for us to get involved so I resolved at that moment it would never happen.

Mandy arrived promptly the next morning wearing a ‘hot girls are people too’ purple tee shirt and a micro mini that I wasn’t sure was covering anything.  One thing for sure she was great for business.  I had never seen a larger collection of middle aged letches and penis head teenage boys in my life.  One of them bought a can of oil and I don’t think he even had a boat.  She learned quickly…I even heard her exclaim to a couple of boys, “If you’re not buying anything you’ll have to leave.”

I was finally free to work on the engines.  There is some satisfaction in taking a broken engine and making it work again.  Over in the corner there was a 50-year-old Evinrude sitting in a test tank that I worked on whenever I had nothing else to do.  A boy named Tim had brought it in to me after he found it in his grandfather’s garage.  It was on an old wooden boat that had more dry rot than wood left.  The boy was lucky to be alive because he rowed that boat about a mile before it literally sank in my dock.  I got the crane on the motor just in time.

As I was working on the motor and tearing it down I started thinking about progressive compression chambers like a jet or a turbine and I started thinking about using many fuels instead of one.  One to power the initial compression reaction for a further compression of something inert that became volatile when compressed.  I had done it.  I had solved the problem that the scientists in the propulsion lab had failed to.  You could hyper compress the fuel use its decompression to fuel the next reaction and so on down the line until the two most volatile fuels mixed to create a cataclysmic reaction.  I wanted to call Larsen and tell her but she had chosen to use my designs as engines of death.  The only thing I could do was build one myself.  If it worked in water with the chemicals I could easily get like hydrogen, nitrogen and oxygen, it could work with more sophisticated chemicals.

I would build my super engine later; right now, I had an internal combustion engine to take care of.  It had a cracked cylinder head which had scored up the cylinder pretty badly but it was fixable.  That kid hadn’t been back since the day he almost drowned.  Yet another parts delivery I would probably never get paid for.  I could see why Dad was always such a stickler for half down when he did a major repair…at least his costs were covered.

I peered out the open garage door to catch Mandy thoroughly bent over pumping gas on a small cabin cruiser with two delighted old men enjoying the show and one angry older woman looking disgusted.

“Hey Mandy,” I yelled out.

“Yeah?” She looked up and smiled one of her you’re-a-man-and-I-own-you smiles.

“Do you know a kid named Tim who sunk a boat here?”  I yelled the question wondering if she would find it as dumb as it sounded.

“I should, he is my boyfriend,” Mandy said, matter of factly.

The words hit me by surprise.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that someone that pretty had a boyfriend but this Tim kid was well young…probably her age as I thought about it.  Now I was having second thoughts about fronting the kid the parts to fix the engine.  He probably couldn’t get his hands on a boat to go with it anyway.  The little schmuck who gets to touch that face, kiss those lips, run his hands through that hair and …..

“Why?” I heard Mandy ask in the background.

“Oh um…just thinking about something,” I said trying to escape my good deed out of pure jealousy.  Mandy was finished her boat fill-up-sex-tease… “and look they gave me an extra 10 bucks,” she said genuinely surprised.

“Imagine that.  Couldn’t be the outfit, could it?” I said under my breath.

“What? No… well a little skin can make a man feel as guilty as sin.” Mandy laughed at her quote from god knows where.  “Anyway, for some reason I feel like I have to explain about Tim and me.”  She offered but I tried to stop her before she finished.

“No, no not at all.  I guess I assumed you didn’t have a boyfriend but I never asked and it really is none of my business.  I mean god knows you are pretty enough but I guess I thought ..well none of these kids would be good enough for you,” I felt like I had turned three shades of purple and  just kept digging myself in deeper.

“So, you think I am that hot?” She asked very pleased at herself for putting me on the defensive.

I just nodded because anything I said here would just make it worse.

“Tim lost his father a while ago and now his grandfather.  He looks like he is about 14 but actually he is 18 and lives with his sister and her husband in their grandfather’s old house.  I call him my boyfriend ‘cus we hang out a lot and it helps get rid of some of the boys. But I am older than him and he knows that so it’s really platonic, though there are times when I am sure he would like more than that.  Then again there are other times when I am not sure he is in to girls….He has a huge G.I. Joe collection and he notices shoes…what’s that tell ya?”  She laughed to my relief because I was laughing too.

 

Joan could zero in on nervous laughter like no one else I knew.  “What’s going on?” She asked curiously and maybe a little defensively.

“Mandy her has a boyfriend who is in to G.I. Joes and notices women’s shoes,” I said teasing Mandy.

“Oh, poor girl! I was in love with someone who was gay too.  But since she and I were both gay that made it a lot easier.”  Joan was teasing but still flirting rather sadly with the girl who was 25 years her junior.  “What you need to do,” Joan continued “is have an affair with a mature woman.  That will pay the boy back for his preferring the sausage.”

Mandy looked at me before she realised that Joan had just been teasing her which made me laugh even harder.

“It’s not like that,” Mandy protested.  “Tim isn’t really my boyfriend and I don’t know that he is gay.  From the way he looks at me I would say that he isn’t but he does play with dolls and is aware of shoes…”

“Rob, quick without looking, what kind of shoes is Mandy wearing?” Joan asked still teasing.

“Um white ones?”  I really was guessing because I had no idea even though we were talking about shoes.

“See, despite the fact my brother would blow a man to measure the scientific reaction, I know he is not gay.  Only women, gay men and shoe makers actually notice shoes.”  Joan continued until we all were laughing hard.

“Hey I would not blow a guy just to measure his reaction.”

“Yes, you would and then you’d get someone else to blow him to see if the law of diminishing returns holds true in a sexual vane or not.”  Joan’s comment was probably true.  For science, I would probably do almost anything.  Not sure if I would go that far or not but I had done some unusual things to measure a scientific truth.

“I am wearing brown sandals with a small heal, in case you were wondering,” Mandy pitched in.

“Sorry,” I offered

“Don’t be.  I guess I would be more worried if you did know what shoes I was wearing.  I had you pegged as straight and I would have had serious gay-dar issues if you turned out to be gay,” Mandy said still half teasing.

“Anyway,” Joan interrupted, “I was wondering if you two would like to take the big boat, go out to Perth and get some dinner.  I want to talk to both of you.”

I hadn’t even fired up the engine of the cruiser since before Dad died.  I had come in and turned the blowers on and run the bilge pump for a while but I didn’t start it.  The Sacred Heart as Dad named her was built by an Ontario firm called Grew.  She was a 26-foot mahogany lapstreak wooden boat built in the 70s with a small forward vee cabin and a fold away galley table.  As kids, we went on all kinds of trips on her but after Mom disappeared it was only occasionally.  Dad loved the boat; spending every winter re-conditioning the hull and making her sound for the water.

It was the first engine I ever worked on.  The original engine was a 350 Chevy that I had developing over 500 horsepower with a new inboard-outboard using a variable pitch and through the hub exhaust propeller.   My Dad was very proud of the modifications.  Especially proud when his cabin cruiser was blasting past ski boats half its size.

As we gathered up the stuff we need for the trip, I reflected on how far Joan and I had come.  We hadn’t stayed in touch over the years.  She had resentments and so did I but we overcame them all and here we are today as close as any two siblings can be.  My sister was talented.  She kept my Dad strong right up till the end.  It was her strength that allowed him to keep his dignity and not haemorrhage to death.  She was the one who made most of the arrangements while keeping me going at the same time.  I was proud of my big sister.  I had only just found out she was a lesbian and the story of her life was really quite sad.  But she knew me and knew I was afraid of the love that was developing between me and Larsen more than I was angry at Larsen’s betrayal.

She helped me see that I was changed and quite a bit more receptive to what the future might hold.  The engine fired up right away like the heart of my father living inside of it.  I looked around the small marina with its blue painted wooden floating docs, the boathouse in the back where we kept the speed boat, the white and grey marine office where people signed in for overnight docking and bought their supplies; the two big pumps, one with diesel and the other with pure gas and several gas oil mixtures that hardly anyone ever used anymore; the trees that lined the back so you couldn’t even see the  parking lot behind them and behind the boathouse was my house where Joan and I grew up.

I never realised how much I really loved this place.  Joan was right I was just hiding out but now I really felt like I was home.  With Mandy running the marina and me fixing boats and able to experiment and play, I can’t imagine any other place in the world I would rather be.  Joan could come back on the weekends and spend some time here and I would keep the place running.  Sure, there was no trip to Mars, but there was a life and a strange feeling of contentment came over me.  For the first time since my mom disappeared, I felt like I belonged somewhere, right here at home.

 

I untied the boat from the doc cleats and threw the rope on top of the deck.  I thought the lone turquoise border strake that connected the deck to the hull looked a bit dingy and could use a coat of paint.  Dad would have been pissed that I let this go so much.  While the boat just floated, I took down the musty smelling tarp and opened the back deck to the sky.  I revved the engine once and then popped it in reverse for a second then let it coast back.  The Sacred Heart floated back quietly.  I put the cruiser in drive and steered her toward the refuelling doc.  Mandy and her sexy short dress were waiting for me and I tried to divert my eyes as she fuelled the tank.  In this day and age, it is unthinkable to even admire beauty. But since the boat needed gas it would have to be this way…for now!

Things like regular hours and opening and closing times had never been part of the regimen of the marina.  So, it was no issue for Mandy to join Joan and I to just leave.  As the waves pounded gently on the old wooden hull, the boat planed perfectly past the many rich man islands as we traversed the lake.  We pulled up to an old government dock that had seen better days and moored there and we walked the old road into the town of Perth.  We found a nice-looking restaurant and as we walked in past the nautical décor on the walls and waited until each man had a chance to rape Mandy at least once with their eyes before we sat down at a table for 4.

“Before you get too drunk, I just wanted to tell you that it’s time for me to go back to Ottawa.”  Joan said without a hint of smile.  “Now that you have Mandy to run the shop and we’ve had time to grieve.  I think its time to get back to reality.”

“Are you sure?”  I said hoping that she would say no.  “I mean I knew that sooner or later you would want to leave….”

“No, it’s not that I want to leave.  In fact, I’ve really enjoyed this time with my baby brother… getting a chance to re-connect with you has been one of the best times of my life…in spite of why it happened.  But I need to be a nurse, to save lives, to feel useful.  I need to be me again.”  Joan said it like she was asking for permission.

“I understand,” I lied. “I guess I just hate to lose my big sister now that I have found her again.”

“Well that’s just it.  We have reconnected and I will not stay away this time.  I will be back as often as time permits and who knows I might even learn to pump gas or something.  We are not going to lose what it took losing our father to get.  I will be part of your life and nothing you can do will stop me.”  Joan reassured.

The hours sailed by and after a fill of Lobster flown from Moncton to Ottawa and picked up by the restaurant in Perth that very day….I made mine dance and used the claws for castanets…yeah I was hammered…it was awesome.  The three of us had a blast and we somehow staggered our way back to the boat.  I passed out on the transom bed and the girls went down below deck and if I am not mistaken, spent the night getting off with each other.  They must have been in better shape than I was because all I could think of was how the boat was going side to side and I was spinning.  At one point, I covered myself with the musty smelling tarp as I had donated enough blood to the save-the-mosquito foundation.

In the morning, I untied the boat and headed back home.  It felt odd like this might be the last time.  I didn’t know how or why but I had a sense of impending doom and I could not really explain it other than an odd turn in the grieving process.

Just as I pulled up to our dock, Mandy and Joan opened the cabin door, albeit sheepishly, and Mandy handed me a coffee which I was so grateful for I think I forgot about what sounded like multiple trysts the night before.

I wanted to but I didn’t bring it up and all Joan would say or do is “Thanks for your discretion little brother”. And we left it at that.

Despite Mandy’s pleas for Joan to stay just a bit longer.  Joan left later that afternoon.  I wasn’t sure if it was just that the kid had never had anyone love her and leave her but she seemed really insistent until Joan was finally really short with her.

Mandy said, “If you leave now you will never see me or your brother again!”  Joan just smiled and grabbed Mandy into a hug and said, “Trust me you’ll get over it.”  And at that she packed her last suitcase into her car and drove away.

I should have asked what Mandy meant but I just chocked it up to youth and forgot about it until much later that night

 

 

Chapter 3 Taken