Cadillac Cathedral by Jack Hodgins Page B

his classmates, and one of the boys had drawn admiring attention to the breasts in her white angora sweater. She’d heard, and turned to show her scorn.
    Surely she would not be inclined to hold his friend’s crudity against Arvo even after all this time. When he’d later forced himself toapproach her, she was as gracious as he should have known she would be. She’d laughed about the incident, and waved it off, and had even suggested they meet the following week for lunch without their usual circles of friends. But he had learned of his father’s illness the following day, and had not been able to do anything but leave her a brief note before heading home. For good, it had later turned out to be.
    The problem with being stalled and waiting like this was that it gave you time to think about this sort of thing. And, with time to think, there was a danger he might be tempted to reconsider this whole enterprise. He could easily convince himself that he was an old fool hoping to work some sort of magic that would revive a distant past that had barely existed in the first place. He could go home or go on alone, but hadn’t the heart for either. Instead, he got out and walked across the gravel to the store and bought himself an ice-cream cone — something he hadn’t done in years. He’d had no idea it was possible to choose from so many flavours, but chose strawberry out of — he supposed — nostalgia. A childhood favourite.
    Instead of getting back behind the wheel, he removed his shoes and socks and parked them on the log in front of the hearse. Then he rolled his pant-legs up to just below his knees and walked carefully down through the beach gravel and waded into the salt-chuck. Up to his ankles was far enough. This water was cold.
    He wasn’t sorry to be missing out on a visit to Lucy’s chicken ranch. He’d never been fond of chickens. He’d never been particularly fond of Lucy either. During her short time with Peterson he’d kept his distance. And Peterson had kept his distance from him . Whenever Peterson had come out of the Store with his mail or a bag of groceries, if Arvo had called a greeting from across the road, Peterson would wave but put his head down and head fast for home. Lucy had probably told him to stay away from Arvo’s workshop, where life wouldonly be wasted on pointless talk when there were plenty of chores to be done at home. Once the marriage had come apart, Peterson had apologized for keeping his distance.
    Arvo was interested, now, to notice his own bare feet become large and white and foreign as they sank into the bed of colourful pebbles. He breathed in the clean salt smell of the ocean, though it was accompanied by a slight creosote scent off the little wharf behind the store. Two red canoes, roped to the short dock, rose and fell with every small wave sliding in to shore. He used the paper serviette to wipe melted ice-cream from his chin while he watched a sailboat, tilted dangerously low, go skimming past.
    Several sharp honks behind him. When he turned, he was not entirely surprised to see the maroon Lexus cutting a wide semi-circle on the gravel and pulling up beside the hearse, its roof sign like a grotesque dorsal fin. The horn was honked twice more.
    If the realtor had allowed himself to be carried away with the pleasure of leading a parade he must have been disappointed to discover the parade had disintegrated and disappeared from behind him so had turned back to find out why this had happened. He hailed Arvo cheerfully from the shore, then removed his shoes and socks and rolled up his pant-legs to wade in and stand beside him.
    For some time neither of them spoke. Arvo decided to keep his mouth shut as long as possible. Gentle waves slapped at their four pale shins. Hairs on twenty toes stood up and waved.
    From beyond the gleaming white heap of oyster shells to their right, a pale green fish boat appeared and took its time puttering past in a sort of northerly direction. On