Garden of Heaven: An Odyssey

EXCERPT

The rain had slacked off to about nothing. Grandmother was sitting behind the wheel and Jayee was sitting in the shotgun seat by the time I got in the car. As we drove out east of town, Jayee unzipped his dungarees. He did it several times to make sure we knew he was about to illustrate something.

--Sweet Pine, why don't shove your bony fingers inside my drawers right now, slip an elastrator ring around my nuts and get it over with?

--Don't be throwing that castration phobia of yours into my face every time you don't get your way.

--Get my way? Is that what I'm about?

--You're not due at Mr. Jerrold’s office until the day after tomorrow.

--Shit.

--That’s about what I’d expect from an asshole, Grandfather, I said. Some birthday trip.

Jayee reached back and slapped the side of my face hard enough to knock my head crooked. Grandmother locked the brakes down and fishtailed the car onto the shoulder just past Flatiron Creek. She checked my face, taking care not to touch the red spot.

--It’ll hurt but it’ll heal, she said and I saw a lot more in her eyes than she was saying. Now go break in those new boots while Jayee and I talk asshole to asshole.

I stood on the gravelly shoulder and looked east. I had more to say even if it meant getting my head slapped clean off. That was my first duty, wasn’t it? That was my job of work, wasn’t it? Otherwise, I’d just as soon cross the reservation border into Cut Bank of all places than shuffle in a slow circle through the leafy spurge between the highway and the Great Northern tracks like a tethered lamb.

As I left, I heard Grandmother get out of the car and tell Jayee she was going to walk back to the café and call somebody to drive her home. Jayee was free, quite free if I heard her correctly, to ‘drive like a bear fart’ to Cut Bank, Shelby, Havre, Wolf Point, Culbertson, or—what the hell—on into Minot if the urge struck him and have all the jobs of work he could find.

Jayee was shouting at me and I turned and walked back to the car.

--What are you going to do, David?

--If I had a gun I’d shoot myself and you could put thirteen candles on my grave.

Jayee handed his .38 police special out the window.

--Well for Christ’s sake, shoot somebody.

Grandmother grabbed the revolver and fired a round into the left front tyre.

--Mother of God, woman, if you want to go look at rocks we’ll go look at rocks, shouted Jayee.

He couldn’t get out of the car fast enough to stop her from shooting out both headlights and the right front tyre.

--Don’t move, or the next round is headed for the gas tank, she said casually.

Jayee didn’t move. Neither did I. We were frozen in time. Jayee’s mouth was open and his face was white and free of ketchup or any kind of discernable expression. My mouth was closed and I was wondering if a bullet through the head would hurt more than the flat of Jayee’s hand. Grandmother fired once, maybe twice, and roar of the gun was all there was of sound and consciousness until my world filled with her laughter.

Neither Jayee nor I was dead but we were still frozen in time. Grandmother’s laugh hobbled us there on the spot. She threw the empty revolver on the front seat of the car and the empty Beemans pack out toward the centre line.

--Jayee, I expect you have a job of work to do here.

She was still laughing when she began walking back to Browning. When I followed her, it broke Jayee’s heart. I was sure of it.