CARTER'S ARMY: WILLIAM CARTER
1
Chapter 09 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
December 5th
William shivered; he sat at the small kitchen table in Brody's
house, staring in misery out at the snow falling more steadily now. That was
how you were supposed to feel when it snowed, miserable? But Will hadn't even
noticed the snow. His mind was firmly fixed on what he had done to Andrew.
Will had done it supposedly to protect Andrew from hurt. But
that didn't change the pain in those blue eyes, the loss. And Will knew that
feeling, he felt the emotions of the last few days welling up into him, tears
threatening to spill over the abandoned book on the table in front of him.
What was going through his head? The electric thrill of that
kiss under a street lamp in the snow... the warmth of Andrew's skin as they
pressed against each other just to stay alive. The soft vowels of his voice,
the hint of French in his accent. The pain in those eyes.
All those conflicting things assaulted him, and he remembered
the Major throwing him up against the wall, the shock driving home the fear
that came with the thoughts. He was a teenager, and gay was dangerous. It
was the reason kids got beaten up by gangs; it was the reason kids committed
suicide from the bullying. It was something to be afraid of.
Brody set the bowl of Habitant pea soup, a staple of French
Canadian cuisine that came in a distinctive yellow can. You couldn't be French
without keeping at least one can of the hearty soup on hand for an emergency.
Will looked at it, thick yellowish-white substance that would
talk to him if it weren't eaten quickly. He looked up thankfully, and he opened
his mouth to say something but was cut off by the phone ringing.
Brody shrugged, a paternal look on his young face as he answered
it. "Oui Hello?" the bilingual answer giving the caller the choice
of a language to respond in. Brody glanced up at Will and nodded, "Yeah
he is, hang on Mrs. Carter." He covered the phone and extended it to
Will.
Will's face went ashen: the Jackal was calling him. Why would
the Major's wife call him? He stood shakily and accepted the phone timidly.
"Will here..."
The voice on the other end of the phone caused the tears to
spring from his eyes unbidden, rolling down his cheeks. The old and leathery
sounding voice of his grandmother. "William," she said as if she
knew he was crying the moment he had heard her voice, "are you all right?"
There was a determination to her voice, a concern that was genuine.
It was with good reason; she had raised him after his mother
had abandoned him. She had been the one to hold him at night, to change his
diapers and kiss his bruises when he fell. She had been the one to teach him,
bring him up, love him...
"I'm okay..." he managed between heavy sobs. He noticed
that Brody, the emotionally aloof warrior, had left him alone with the phone,
retreating to the living room and a hockey game.
"That's a relief," she said, her voice softening "I
heard from your father last night. I had to call your Aunt Majella to find
out where you were."
Will smiled, Majella, although not really his aunt, was his
grandfather's niece, the closest to family he had there. A meddlesome and
domineering woman, she had a kind heart and could be as protective as a lioness
over her brood. His grandmother and aunt talked frequently - there was little
Gran didn't know about his life.
"I...I..." Will stammered, not really sure what to
say, what could he say that would reassure her that he was alright. He wasn't
exactly sure he would be himself.
"Good," she said as if she made up her mind, "I
couldn't believe your Dad would do something like this..." her voice
sounded disappointed, but she knew her son too well. "I want to make
sure you are all right and..." she became a little uncertain of herself,
"find out what you wanted to do now."
What she meant by that was very clear. Halisham, the little
town she lived in lay just south of London in England. Five thousand miles
away from his current life. He felt his stomach clenching, part of him screaming
for him to take the offer, tell her he wanted to go home more than anything
in the world. Finally escape and just... go home.
But...
Canada was his home, he had been out there a long time, his
schooling was coming along and he had his friends. He had given all that up
once before to follow his dad's dream of a new life. Could he really give
it all up again to go back? His grandmother sensed his apprehension, "You
don't have to come home if you don't want to," she said softly, reassuringly;
she knew his father because she had raised him, but she also knew Will for
the same reason. "I could talk to Majella, her and Arthur have that apartment
but they might be able to..."
"They don't have room Gran..." Will said tiredly resting
his back on the counter and looking out the window at the snow falling across
Brody's truck, "I don't know what choice I have..."
Brody appeared in the doorway to the kitchen and made a gesture
for the phone, a simple beckoning indicating he wanted to talk to Gran. Will
frowned and handed the phone over.
"Hello Madam Carter?" Brody said, his accent thicker
as he became more formal on the phone; he turned and pointed for Will to give
him some privacy.
Will shrugged as he walked back into the living room and flopped
down into the chair. Brody was up to something again. Like a demented Frenchman
on a mission, French Canadian, he corrected. There was a different kind of
nut that came from the descendants of frontiersmen. Few people remembered
that it was Cartier and a group of those insane Frenchmen who had built the
first colony in North America, and had founded through pride a great nation.
Will quirked a smile, too bad the English had ... borrowed it awhile.
Brody returned to the living room and tossed Will the phone
before sitting back down on the couch. Will caught it and lifted it back to
his ear, "Hello?"
"I've talked it through with Brody," she paused a
moment, "You have a good friend there William."
"I know." Will said looking up at Brody, who was pointedly
ignoring the look, uncomfortable with gratitude and any kind of praise.
"We've talked about it and he is willing to let you stay
there until you finish high school; however I insisted on paying rent for
you." She hesitated, "He would only let me pay for half of your
utility bills and for your food." He could hear she was relieved about
that, "I am going to send you a cheque each month, whatever is left over
you can spend on yourself."
"Okay," Will said, struck by the lengths his Gran
was going to just to make sure he was okay. "Thank you..." he said,
his voice made him sound so little.
"You're going to have to be good, and I will be calling
you every week and having your Aunt Majella check up on you." Her voice
took on a warning tone, "and if your marks slip you will be on the next
plane home."
"They won't..." Will replied.
"They'd better not," she warned, "Look, it's
very late over here and I should let you get back to your homework. Just remember
you will be okay, and that I love you very much."
He felt the tears welling up again in the back of his throat,
"I know..."
"Good bye William," she said sincerely.
"I love you..." he said as he hung up the phone. He
turned to Brody, his mouth just hanging open about what he had just done.
He looked at the rebellious young man who tried to avoid responsibility,
and yet owned his own home, and now had stepped up to look after him. He was
a little older than Will, dark brown hair that was cut neatly into a half
pomp, straight and roguish like he was. The kind of eyes that glinted with
mischief, and a look of intent focus as the hockey game began to get interesting.
"Thank you..." he began, trying to find words for
his gratitude.
Brody looked up, "Hockey." He pointed to the screen.
"But..." Will tried again.
Brody looked over at him and grinned, "You needed a place
to stay, now I get to teach you how to appreciate hockey."
Will smiled, someone had already done that... he stopped as
his face fell slightly. That wound was still fresh, and something he would
sooner just forget. Not that the other kids at school would let him forget.
He had put up with the teasing, the derisive comments for much of the day.
The looks of disgust from some kids, and worse, the looks of pity from others.
Andrew had avoided him the rest of the day, until blessedly
the final bell had rung. And Will hadn't stayed, he had sprinted out to Brody's
truck and when the man himself had arrived they had just driven back to the
house in silence. If this was to be his life for the next year and a half,
it was going to be difficult.
The knock at the door caused him to jump. He looked over at
Brody, who shrugged simply and crossed to the door. Tossing it open revealed
a towering man with a snow-covered toque and beard. Arthur Aube was a broad-shouldered
dark man with very strong Native roots. He surveyed Brody a moment before
looking past him at Will standing behind him.
He pointed simply at Will, "Your grandmother just called,"
his voice was gruff, and accented like Brody's, "She wanted me to check
with you and take you shopping."
Will frowned, "Shopping?" he asked carefully.
"Clothes, school supplies." He shrugged, "get
your coat." It wasn't a request. Arthur had a way about him that was
firm. He had to be to live with Majella; it would take a very patient man
to tolerate her...determination. Will pulled on his old coat and shoes and
followed his Uncle out to the white Mazda truck. Once they were safely on
their way into the City of Ottawa, Arthur began to speak, "He kicked
you out?"
Will nodded, wondering how he would explain why.
Thankfully Arthur didn't ask, he just kept driving, and Will
realized that the shopping trip had an ulterior motive. Arthur had been sent
to talk to him. By who was obvious, Majella was a devout Catholic and even
the hint of something...that ran against her faith had to be investigated.
She wouldn't shun him for it, on the contrary she would be too concerned with
saving his soul. He felt a pang of pity for his Uncle, Arthur hated being
used in this manner. Will settled back into the seat of the truck. "Thank
you," he said after a minute or so.
Arthur shrugged his shoulders, "You need clothes to go
to school," he nodded to the aged coat Will was wearing which was a good
quality hand-me-down, but old. He fingered it carefully; he liked his coat.
His dad hadn't been poor, quite the contrary there was money in the house,
but Will couldn't remember the last time he had been bought new clothes.
The Rideau Centre was in the heart of downtown Ottawa; it was
the central Mecca of shoppers and kids. It was built as a major transit stop,
feeding commuters to and from work and its food court was massive. And there
were four floors leading up to a large movie theatre built on the top floor.
Even on a weeknight it was still bustling, people coming off of work and heading
for home, and kids lurking around looking for stuff to do.
Will was glad he lived in suburbia, Merrickville was just far
enough away to avoid the rush of the city, but close enough for Ottawa to
be the night life. He followed his uncle through the crowds of shoppers till
they arrived at Sears. The busy department store wasn't nearly as crowded
as it was normally, and Arthur guided him to the men's section and flagged
down at passing clerk. The overtly effeminate man scurried over, offering
to help them. Arthur watched Will's reaction very carefully. Will, knowing
full well not to look at the guy, picked at a rack of clothes. He wasn't being
shy, it was just, well he didn't know what was going on in his head.
Here Arthur was trying to find out if he was gay without asking
him, and if he was what then? Will didn't even know. He'd kissed a boy once.
Even then that had just gone horribly wrong. What was the big deal anyway?
He could tell if a guy was attractive and which were not. But have sex with
them? What was that - a joke? Not that sex with a guy was a joke...just sex
in general. Will wasn't one of the popular guys, he wasn't getting chased
around. So yeah he thought about sex, but to actually have sex with anyone?
That just couldn't happen, not yet...
He felt his cheeks flushing red, realizing the clerk and Arthur
were waiting for him and he looked up at them. "I... err." he stammered
shyly.
Arthur took over at that point guiding him through the store,
helping him to pick out clothes he liked. He kept his head down most of the
time, choosing things he liked, and Arthur, who had a real nephew Will's age
supplemented it with things he knew teenagers should be wearing.
He stopped as they passed the leather jackets.
Will's eyes widened in surprise and firmly locked on the price
tag, "I-can't." he said.
Arthur ignored him and selected a classic looking leather bomber
jacket and bade Will try it on.
"Teenager's not a man till he has a good jacket,"
he said quietly. "My dad bought me one when I was your age, I felt like
James Dean in it."
"Who?" Will asked naively.
"Just a second," Arthur reached out and pushed Will's
hair over a bit and he adjusted Will's collar, "There you go, that's
what he looked like." Arthur laughed, "It looks good on you, you'll
knock the ladies off their feet in that."
Again he studied Will's reaction, as if waiting for something.
Will just shrugged, staring at his feet. How had he allowed himself to get
into this situation? All because he had let some guy kiss him, and had been
caught. Except Andrew wasn't some guy. He was tall, athletic, intelligent,
sincere, heading that way, handsome...
Will's eyes went wide. Arthur started in surprise at the reaction
and looked about him self-consciously.
Andrew drew short when he saw Will standing with his uncle dressed
in sharp clothes and a leather jacket looking for all the world exactly like
a young James Dean. He stopped and gaped. Will felt himself turning red, glad
that Arthur had his back to Andrew.
Arthur frowned a moment as he shrugged and guided Will onwards
through the store and away from Andrew. "We have to find you new shoes,"
he pointed out Will's sneakers. And guided him off. Will cast a glance back
to see Andrew's mother Micheline holding a gaudy Hawaiian shirt up against
her son, who was too distracted to notice the horrible print pattern on the
front of it.
Will was halfway through trying on shoes, real shoes not sneakers.
They felt comfortable, and reminded him of his time at school in England where
he had worn real shoes every day. A well-shined pair of shoes reflected a
lot about a person, and he found himself getting excited, it was as if he
was changing a part of himself. Getting rid of the person he had been as if
he was getting rid of the cheap pair of sneakers.
Andrew rounded the aisle with his mother. The formidable woman
almost pushed him down into the seat alongside Will as she set off in search
of a new pair of shoes. He shifted uncomfortably a moment glancing at Will,
and then over at Arthur, who was thankfully talking to the clerk.
"Hi," he said quietly, "I'm sorry, my mom wants
to get me new sneakers... I tried to give you some space but ... she's been
funny since the accident."
He shifted in his chair adjusting his jacket and craning his
neck to see where she had gotten to. Will shrugged, feeling a pressure building
in his stomach. Had it only been a few hours since he had made his monumental
decision to stop anything with Andrew before it pulled both of them down?
It felt like ages ago. So much had changed in a few short hours.
He shrugged, "It's ok." Will said after a moment,
"I'm here with my Uncle Arthur."
Andrew followed his gaze over to the older man who was now arguing
with the clerk heatedly about something. "That's cool." And he looked
down at the new jacket Will was still wearing, "And it's good to see
you finally found a coat." Will blushed slightly feeling the heat rising
into his cheeks. "Yeah, I like it, it's..."
"I got the shoes at the sale price," Arthur announced
returning to the small seats with a shoebox under his arm. He glanced over
at Andrew and smiled, "Mister Highmore!" Will started then remembered
that Arthur worked at the local arena; of course he would know who Andrew
was.
"Mister Aube." Andrew nodded, "I was just saying
to Will that I liked his new jacket."
Arthur nodded approvingly, there was no suspicion in his eyes,
a Condor was above suspicion. They were local heroes, and Andrew was their
ringleader. It was just accepted that he was a normal guy. And Will felt a
little envious of that.
Andrew smiled, "I was just about to ask Will if he wanted
to chill a bit in the food court when he's done shopping. I'm here with my
Mom but was thinking about heading home afterwards, I could drop Will off."
Will's back tightened, he wasn't even being consulted, it was
a discussion between Arthur and Andrew. Arthur's eyes creased a little in
concern when he looked at Will, but when he glanced back at Andrew his eyes
drifted over the large golden C on the coat. And he just nodded, "It'll
be good for him," he said almost as much to himself as he was to Andrew.
Will felt trapped, and wondered how he could avoid the situation
that was developing, but realized he was really being given no choice at all.
Andrew wanted to talk, needed to talk. And you just couldn't say no him. He
was too clever for that.
