When the Water Gets Cold and Freezes on the Lake/ Your Protector

When the Water Gets Cold and Freezes on the Lake – Herman Düne(listen in new tab)

K steps out of the library. It’s 8:30pm. The sun hides low behind the buildings and shoots orange and strange smog-purples into the sky. In the northwest, a front of low grey clouds gathers to smother Wednesday’s sunset.

He stretches absently, reaching his arms straight up. A little pop in his shoulder. He’s not tired, but he’s relieved. Janine, Candice’s replacement, has been shaking the place down, trying to sweep out the door the legacy of Candice’s slow breakdown. New rules and new measures. Janine has planted herself like a surveyor’s glass. Only she knows the extent of the new geography. Everyone calls it “spring cleaning.” But, they all miss Candice, at least a little.

The security guard emerges, locking the door behind him in his regular way.

K wonders idly what he’s going to do tonight. No shift at Ulysses’ and Maura is working at the House of Peers. His mind mulls over yesterday’s exchange with Edmund. One more time through. Maura had withdrawn after, became evasive. K was left with questions. He pulls out his cell phone, starts to enter G.T.’s number. Maybe a beer and some new input will help.

He doesn’t place the call. K is stopped by something so oddly familiar, but so unexpected that he barely recognizes it when it happens. He doesn’t remember even seeing her sitting there. And when Shannon stands up from the bench near the library entrance and says sheepishly, maybe embarrassed at having rehearsed it, “I thought you got off earlier,” he is startled and drops his phone.

K, stoops, his satchel falls awkwardly in front of him as he picks up his cell. Slapping back the worn canvas bag in annoyance, “Um. Janine had me stay late.” He examines the phone quickly to insure there’s no critical damage.

And then her. She looks the same; maybe better. Maybe good. Everything about her appears to have found a middle ground, somewhere between the day before they met, and the day after he last saw her, but little from in-between. Reassembled by unscreened time into a composite of unknowns and their bitterer shared past.

K: “You were waiting for me?”

Shannon looks him in the eyes. K cannot remember the last time she did that. He doesn’t fully recognize what they’re telling him. “Yes. Claire said you were working here tonight. I was going to go in, but well… you know.”

K: “Yeah. Though, I hope we’re done with scenes.”

She laughs, smiles. “Exactly. Truthfully, I was scared. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”

K pockets his phone. “I wasn’t going to go out of my way, if that’s what you mean.” His voice is dry, but not ungracious. He could never be fully vindictive with her. He wanted to at first, but he left that somewhere outside the clinic or maybe outside her parents’ when he dropped her off in January.

Shannon, her voice a weak bravery: “Can I walk with you?”

K: “Sure. I’m just going home.”

They walk together. Bodies remember things longer, more deeply than our brains want them to, and they walk closer to each other than they realize or expect.

* * *

Your Protector – Fleet Foxes (listen in new tab)

Maura stands behind the bar at the House of Peers. The clock ticks past 8:30. She sighs, her mind is mired. Uncle Titus asked her to come in. Reluctantly, she accepted the distraction. It hasn’t distracted her much.

The bar is empty except for three old men sitting on stools, elbows on the bar. Each of them casually guard a pint of beer. They’re watching baseball. The teams look the same soft grey on the small, fuzzy black and white screen. Old ears strain against the TV’s low volume.

The ballgame competes with the low music from the radio. It’s a song they don’t know. But, the old men allow it. They watched Maura grow up and know that in some moods you should not cross her. So, they let her rock and roll slide tonight.

Old Man #1: “I spent all day out there. Man, I’m aching.” A cane hangs beside him. It balances precariously on the edge of the bar, resting as if it had worn a divot into the wood over the years.

Old Man #2: “Quiet… Commercial. Where? At that damned clinic? It’s not your turn.”

Old Man #3: “Things shook up when Carl went to that stupid home.”

Old Man #1: “I volunteered.”

Old Man #2: “Isn’t that how you got that hole in your leg.” They all laugh.

Old Man #1: “If I hadn’t you two wouldn’t be here now.”

Old Man #3 laughs loudly, slaps the bar. “I doubt that. I pulled you out of more holes than I can count in Holland.”

The door opens. The old hinges grind and let out a low long note. Maura and the three old men look to see who would possibly come in. Maura recognizes his shape, even before she sees his face. She admonishes herself for not forgetting it as thoroughly as she thought she had.

Edmund: “Well Maura, I figured I’d find you here. You look good back there.” She remembers how his voice had always been pacifying. It had always been his most treacherous quality.

But, Maura is immune now. She crosses her arms. Her eyes are acidic “What do you want? If Uncle Titus sees you here, he’ll probably shoot you.”

Edmund, smiles wryly that loaded, impregnable smile. “I have something for you. You left it at my place way back when.”

The old men turn their heads from Maura to Edmund, following the exchange in synchronous dashes from face to face. Now they watch as Edmund reaches into his pocket.

Edmund pulls out his hand, his index finger and thumb holding out a ring. The diamond on it, lights white in the dim glow of the room. “Anyways, I gave you this. It’s yours.” He places it nonchalantly on the bar and walks out.

The door closes behind him. Maura picks up the ring. Eyeing it closely, she remembers the day he first held it out to her. The beach, the sun, the long slow breaths of sea. Blue and topaz in every direction. He had gotten down on one knee. He looked good in a bathing suit.

Now she turns the ring in her hand. When she had thrown it at him, a year later, after all the shit, she had hoped it would kill him. That the diamond would cut a hole through him. She left without finding out. Left everything and came back to Toronto.

The old man settle in again. Maura slides the ring into her pocket. “Whiskey anyone?”

Old Man #1 taps the bar with his cane. “I’m never one to let a woman drink alone.”

Maura drops down two shot glasses on to the polished wood. “That’s the spirit.”