by Scott Drake
That morning stuck in his mind like a hardened spit ball clung to the top corner of someschool room wall. The gilded mountains sat in the north like a crown to the city as he exited hisbasement suite earlier than usual. They were calling Montreal at work, which meant he had to bein the office by seven, an anomaly in his routine as a phone surveyor for a minaturized version ofAngus Reid. He was careful to remain on the gray cement paths, avoiding the wet grass thatwould soak through his new canvas shoes.
At the bus stop a few people were gathered and the heat from their coffees escapedthrough the plastic travel lids of paper cups, the smell dispersed in the immediate vicinity. A buspassed, going the opposite direction, the empty sound of metal on metal ringing as the bus glidedalong the electric lines over top the street. His breath showed in vapoury mists through the air.The sky was pale blue, clear as though translucent and he strained his tired morning eyes hopingto see past the atmospheric blue. He reached his hand down into the side pocket of his cargopants. He wanted to hear a jingling sound, like change rattling. It would ease his mind for somesuch sound to utter from within the cotton confines of his pocket. As his hand wrapped aroundthe small cardboard box he knew no such noise would greet his ear. No, the ring was securedtightly, it wasn't moving anywhere. Still, he thought, the sound would be a nice reminder that itwas there. Not that he was apt to forget about it, the ring and this day had weighed heavily on hismind in the past few months, but he knew how easy it was for something to slide out of hispocket, especially among the city noise, the inch sized box crushed beneath the tire of a car whilehe unsuspectingly crossed the street. He had to be mindful of its presence.
The vision of the box slipping out of his pocket persisted until his bus rolled up. Hescrambled to remove his hand and reached into a back pocket, the one with his bus fare. He tooktwo steps up on the bus, still searching for the change, but it wasn't there. Embarrassed hesubmerged his hand in each compartment of his pants. Nothing.
The driver kindly dropped him off at the next stop. He kicked the ground dejectedly andsat down on the wood bench. He thought about calling Joanna, but when he saw the digital clockthat alternately flashed the time and the weather on a sign outside the royal Bank, he realized thatshe was gone to work already. He calculated the time it would take to go home, get his moneyand return and then go to work and if he ran he thought he might be able to make it. The unlightthat tipped the mountains dropped and covered the entire side of the street on which he sat. Hemoved instinctively, as though he had an aversion to the sun. H walked down to the market andstopped only when his path was obstructed by water. A small ferry ran underneath the bridge andcarried passenger traffic across the inlet into the main center of the city. Two other passengersbraved the small craft with him. The boat was low, he felt as though he were almost under thewater and the ripples bounced the boat like a rubber dingy. He resisted the urge to check hispocket, he knew it would be there, he had to stop obsessing. He tried to conjure up the perfectionof the moment of his proposal.
They were going out to dinner that night, to Angelino's, a fancy Italian restaurant,darkness, candlelight, music, the whole Italian romance idea, she loved Italy, she loved romance,combine the two, he thought and you have a winner. He told her the night before, when heworked up the courage he had pined away the last three or four months, that after work she wasto meet him at the given address.
"What is it?" she asked.
"You'll find out," he said.
He had hidden the white pages and the yellow pages. She guessed a couple of things, buthe refused to answer one way or the other.
"Well, what do I wear?" she questioned.
"Something nice," he replied.
"I can't know what to wear unless you tell me where we are going."
"Who said anything about we?" he replied.
The remark threw her off the scent and she went silent. She was sleeping when he left forwork in the morning.
The ferry driver cut the engine, stood on the outer deck, reached a rope out and knotted itaround a wooden post at the end of a small dock. Elbion exited the boat with the other two,passing by a single who was waiting to take the ferry back the other way. He kept along theshoreline on a paved pathway in the shadows of buildings, the bridge and trees. He seemed to beoutrunning the rising sun, one step ahead and by the time the sun rose to its midday peak he hadrounded the outline of the city and was embraced by the centurion firs of Stanley Park. Thecomfort of the looming trees increased his agitation. All his doubts his fears began to runthrough his mind. In her reply he was confident. They had lived together for five years andtalked often about family life, kids, vacations, marriage was almost a given. But would the nightbe perfect? Would he be able to create that one special moment that defies all time, that lendsitself in the mind of the other to thoughts of bliss even if the recollection were a century later?Should he have waited until he would choose some more suited place, something not so ordinary,so realistic, so cheaply veiled a disguise for a creative idea? Maybe he should call it off. Just goout for dinner and have that be the big surprise, after all it was an elegant restaurant, and howoften did they go out for such meals? He thought about phoning her at work, telling her not tobother going to the address, that he'd meet her at home, but he had already laid the seed ofcuriosity and to back out now would only bring troubling thoughts to her. She would fantasizeexactly what he had done, that he lacked the courage, perhaps she would call it love, to make theproposal. She would question the whole relationship, pick it apart like a DNA specialist, turnagainst his little quirks, like the way he forgot to lock the door when he went out or failed to tellher when he saved a message on the answering machine, she would transform these from littleglitches to obvious signs of neglect for her feelings and paint him out to be a man who carednothing for her. With his hands shaking, wanting to thrust his hand into the pocket and grasp thebox, cling to it was thought through some mystical element it would show him, like a crystal ball,what path to choose, but not daring to because he knew that the moment he clasped his fingersaround it the temptation to launch it into the thicket of the forest could very well overwhelm himin his current state of mind. He trudged out of the shade and into the dying light of the sun, backin the city streets.
The day gone and he hadn't gone to work at all. He approached a man at an intersection,who stood impatiently waiting for the light to change.
"Excuse me sir, do you know what time it is?" he inquired.
The man removed his shades, pushed back the sleeve of his sweatshirt and uncovered awatch. He looked thoroughly for a moment and then without a word, reached his arm across hisbody, allowing Elbion the opportunity to see the numberless face. He tried to read it fast,imagine the numbers, counting back from the six, halfway between and the other hand, but thearm pulled back and quickly the sweatshirt swallowed it as the man crossed the street in syncwith the green light.
A panic blasted through Elbion, like a jolt of ice chilling wind, it left him frozen on thesidewalk. He couldn't remember what time he had told Joanna to meet him at the restaurant, sixor six thirty. And he was on the other side of town. He thought about a shower as he felt thesweat gathering on his back from the weight of his pack, there was no time. He speed walkedthrough the downtown gridlock until he came to the SkyTrain station. He clenched his fistswhen he remembered he still didn't have any change. He put his eyes to the ground and walkedacross the tile floor to the escalator, no guard, he was safe so far. When he came to the platformthere were two guards chatting against a wall. They didn't seem overly concerned and Elbionimmersed himself in the middle of a crowd where his short stature enabled him to remainvirtually invisible.
At his stop, when he exited the train, he realized with a shortness of breath that he hadn'tchanged his clothes yet. He ran into a gas station and changed in the washroom. The attendantgave a prolonged second look as though he should keep Elbion's face in his memory just in casehe saw him on crimestoppers or something. He looked suspicious strolling out the door in hisolive green pants, white button down shirt and black and green striped tie.
In the washroom Elbion had poured cool water over his face an wet his hair. He didn'thave to worry about brushing it, thank god, there was too little, hair and time. He skipped acrossthe street and through an alley. He spotted the small sign with Venetian boats supporting theword Angelino's on either end when he came out of the alley. He looked up and down the street,no sign of the navy Corolla anywhere, but she could have parked anywhere, maybe she found aparking lot behind the restaurant, he thought. He needed to be there before her and his heartraced as he strode across the street and pulled open the wood handle of the establishment.
The pressure of anticipation throbbed on his skull from the inside. Even the music whichmelodically danced from the cello in the corner, hidden from view at the entrance, failed tosoothe the speed with which his heart raced. Before he was attended to , he stuck his head intothe main part of the restaurant. The smoke flew off the dim lighted candles up to the ceilingwhere it was scattered like scared mice across the room. The arching windows showed picturesof Venetian boaters standing aloft, straight and rowing. When the music receded the silence wastaken u by lapping water which Elbion searched in vain to find the source. Joanna was not insight.
He sat on a stool by the bar and ordered a rye and ginger. He needed something to quellhis nerves. He purposely drank slow. He wanted to be in full control of all his faculties whenshe arrived. But an ulterior thought crossed his mind, I don't want her to see me at the bar whenshe gets here, that'll ruin the perfect night, that's all we will remember, me sitting at the bar,drinking as though it was the only way I could work up the courage to ask her. He downed thedrink and chomped on a piece of ice to bide his time. The bartender, a fat man with a darkcomplexion similar to his own, asked him if he wanted another.
"What time is it?" Elibion asked.
"Five-fifteen."
"Are you serious?"
The bartender nodded with a look that said would I lie? It took Elbion by surprise and hedidn't know whether to believe him or not. He stared hard into the man's eyes and decided hecould be trusted. Couldn't all bartenders? Didn't the relationship between drinker and serveralways come down to the fact that the drinker had to trust the server? Another rye and ginger fellinto his grasp. And two more and then a double. He decided it was time for a table. Hisreservation was for six the maitre de informed him. He ordered a bottle of red wine and twoglasses were poured. The second glass made him think of the task at hand. What was he goingto do? He wasn't drunk, but the alcohol he had consumed flowed through his blood like courage.Of course this was the perfect night, the perfect time. Everything would be beautiful, the dinner,the conversation, the dessert, and then he would ask, the proposal would cap the most memorableevening of their lives.
He sat alone at a table set for two with white cloth and a bottle of red wine, his gazealternating in expectance between the smoke that curled u from the the candle flame and the frontdoor. His table differed from the other twenty or so tables only by the occupation of the wineand the humanity. The parmesan air mixed delicately with the stringed notes of background celloto whirl out a romantic evening. He brought his wrist into view and cursed himself for nothaving worn his watch. He peeled away the package of a candy from the center of the table andpopped it in his mouth. Its mintiness worked to dislodge the traces of alcohol that lingered in histeeth and gums. She should be here, he thought, as his hand slipped inside his pocket andfingered the smooth square container that housed the object of his proposal. Almost synonymous with his thought Joanna rounded the corner guided by the maitre de andElbion's jaw dropped. Her long black hair dropped behind and left her shoulders open, tannedand exposed. From there his eyes followed the length of a plain black dress that curved aroundbreasts usually hidden in big thick wool sweaters or baggy T-shirts. Her waist looked firm in thedress as though there was a body underneath that somehow he had failed to notice before, orperhaps gotten used to, he thought as he stood up to offer her a chair. And her walk so elegant, inhigh heels to boot. There was more to this woman than he had ever dreamed. Yes, this was thenight.
'Joanna, you've got me speechless. I've never seen you this beautiful. I didn't evenknow you owned clothes like this and..."
Had the light been brighter he would have seen the faint tint of red rise to her cheeks asshe turned her gaze to look around the room and avoid the compliment.
"Oh well thanks," she said as through he hadn't really meant it at all, as though he saidthis everyday.
"So what's the occasion? I see you're dressed up too."
He pulled at his collar like style was part of his nature.
"I just thought we'd celebrate the both of us, being together, finding each other and beinghappy," he raised his glass, "and I propose a toast to the most beautiful woman in the world,sitting right in front of me, right here and right now."
She quickly raised her glass and the quiet ting sounded at the table. They both took largesips.
"Elly," she said, "you're in a good mood."
"And I hope it's infectious," he replied.
"Oh, oh, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Don't nothing me. There's something wrong and you'd better tell me otherwise you'llkeep it in all night and won't be able to relax. And we can't have that, not tonight."
"It's just my boss." She paused as the music surrounded them like a cloud, its notesswirling like the smoke from the candles around their heads like halos. "Well member he saidthat I could have a raise on my next paycheque?" Elbion nodded. "I got it today and you knowwhat it was? Ten cents! Can yo believe that ! I could have ripped his throat out. I mean all thework I put in around that place and what do I get an insult. It ruined my whole day!"
Elbion gulped back the remains of his wine and fingered the contours of his package.Maybe this was good, he thought as her tirade continued. Maybe if she got it all out of hersystem, then the night could progress as he had planned. She went silent and sipped at her winewhile the waiter came by and explained the specials. When he left Elbion tried to switch theobject of the conversation.
"I didn't go to work today."
'What?!"
"I forgot my bus fare and I figured that by the time I went home and got it I'd be late so Iwent down to the park and hung out."
"That's just great." She tightened her lips and he could see the rage seething beneath herattempt at calm. After all it was public place.
"You're the one whose always telling me to take work off," he started, influenced by thedrinks.
"Yeah, so we can spend the day together. And now you take off by yourself and godknows when the next time you'll ever do that again will be. I can't believe how selfish you are.Do you ever think of anyone except yourself?"
Elbion's grip around the package in his pocket tightened until he thought he would crushit. Her day was spoiled and now his night was spoiled. He wanted to let her know. He wanted topull the ring out of the box, shove it in her face and yell "'see this?' This is why I brought youhere tonight. I want to marry you! And you sit there calling me selfish. Selfish! Selfish! But goahead and keep rambling about your crappy day at work," but he didn't. He finished his glass ofwine.
"Are you drunk Eli?" she asked.
"No," he said trying to sound as sober as possible.
"You're lying! I can't believe this. Can't even stay sober enough for one nice dinnertogether. When have we ever had one romantic dinner? You ruin everything. I'm leaving, that'sit."
"Wait," Elbion said, "at leaststay for the food." He didn't want to eat alone.
The music that lulled in the background replaced any conversation that might have takenplace, it replaced the words that had run in Elbion's head all day. After dinner she left by herself.Elbion stayed behind. Then he went for a walk. About two blocks from the restaurant hereached into his pocket and felt a foreboding emptiness. He went into the corner store and threwthe contents of his pockets on to the counter, feigning a search for enough money to buy a packof cigarettes. There was no ring. He paid for his cigarettes and walked out into the soft night air.And just like that the ring was gone. A perfect end to a perfect night.