An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [82]
In the evening, Mercedes and Cyril are holding a Paddy’s Day celebration. “We’re expecting you there. Nancy and Henry are coming. Wear green,” Cyril tells me. I’ve managed to avoid Henry lately. Every day at 3:30, there’s his knock on the door. I don’t answer. There was a giant-size Swiss chocolate bar in my office mail slot one day. Don’t eat it all at once. HK, the note read. I had the secretary return it to his mail slot.
He arrives wearing a plastic green leprechaun hat with a kiss-me-I’m-Irish button. His arm is wrapped around Nancy’s waist. He grips a bottle of beer in his hand and points it in Cyril’s face as he talks. I take shelter in the kitchen. Either way, I can’t escape Henry. If it’s not a conversation with him, it’s a conversation about him.
“Nancy would have gone out with you but now she’s hooked up with him,” Mercedes says.
“They seem happy.”
She wipes her hands in her apron, pokes her head through the kitchen door then returns to the sink to tend to the cabbage soaking in a bowl. “If they were any happier, they’d be doing it on the floor in front of us. Nancy’s never been so taken by a man in all her years. I don’t know what she sees in him.” She lowers her head and whispers, “He’s on pills to keep his blood pressure down, pills to keep his penis pressure up, he’s overweight and a fine candidate for our cardio ward. Nancy can’t be expected to care for him the rest of her life.”
“A nurse is probably what he needs. He would never put any faith in what I have to say to him.”
“You’re a fine one to be preaching. You’re so skinny, the wind would blow the milk out of your tea. Go on out of my kitchen. Have yourself a beer. And not one of them light ones.”
I wander into the living room away from the smell of the curried lamb. Cyril and Henry are talking. Nancy’s listening. The news is playing in the background.
“It’s a light version of rugby,” Henry says. They’re comparing refereeing in hockey with football, or soccer, as Cyril calls it.
“They’re some fine crowd of soccer players in St. Lawrence.”
Henry agrees with Cyril then tells him how he drove to the town to see a game. Fights broke out in the stands. He says he hasn’t enjoyed an English game as much as the Newfoundland version since then. Nancy listens patiently, smiling or laughing anytime Henry speaks. He turns to face her at the end of each sentence. Every so often she bends down so they can kiss.
The news report is about Y2K. “The amount of money wasted on preparing for the worst is estimated in the millions, our sources tell us...”
The local news comes on with a pretty female news reader who’s as expressionless as a statue. I recognize the sign to Cape Spear. Ray Harding is talking then Norah’s picture appears. I turn up the volume: “Harding spotted the snowshoe sticking out of the ice. Divers were called to the scene, where they found only a moose carcass. The investigation into Myrick’s disappearance is ongoing. Police would like to remind people to stay off the ice this time of year.”
Mercedes comes into the room and asks why everyone is so quiet. Cyril turns off the television then takes her by the arm into the kitchen. Nancy follows.
Henry sits by my side, crowding me on the chesterfield. He lays his arm around my shoulders. I brush his arm off and leave the room. The hallway is dark but I know the way to the basement. I lock the door from the inside. I don’t bother with the light on the stairs or in my bedroom. I pull the blankets up and around my neck. I feel myself sinking, like during those last uncountable seconds before falling asleep, or like an object floating slowly to the bottom of a pond.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
redeeming apologies
IMOVE MY CHAIR FROM