Where Old Ghosts Meet - Kate Evans [63]
“Sir?”
“Yes, Gerry.”
“I have a plan, sir, for when I finishes grade eleven.”
“When you finish, Gerry. You must get it right.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what is your plan, Gerry?” He continued to read and make corrections to the exercise on the desk in front of him.
“I want to be an actor, sir.” His voice was steady. He waited, aware that he had drawn no comment. He waited a moment longer then continued to plough on, staring straight ahead at a dirty smudge on the white wall behind the desk. “If I could just get to New York, sir, and if you could help me a bit, maybe I’d have a chance to get started. I’d work hard and do whatever was necessary to get–”
With a clunk, the heavy black fountain pen with the gold band hit the wooden desk.
The young man’s eyes went from the pen to the face behind the desk and saw a look of utter disbelief.
“Don’t be talking such bloody nonsense.” The voice behind the desk was cold, quiet as death and with a hint of fear. “We are aiming at getting you to the university college in St. John’s. That,” he spat the word out, “is what we are working towards.”
Unexpectedly, the man who never laughed, laughed. It was a quiet dismissive laugh that lingered with mocking candour on the chilly air. The heat rose in the young man’s body, and like a flash fire, a crimson flush spread across the back of his neck and swept over his cheeks and forehead, rising into the very roots of his hair.
“I didn’t know we had decided on that, sir.” He was staring at the dark spot on the wall again. “I don’t remember ever discussing that.” His eyes hurt.
The teacher’s fist came up suddenly and landed in a crashing thud on the desk. “Well, we’re discussing it right now, young man!”
“We!” The pent-up anger spurted out like bright blood from a new flesh wound. “Who is this ‘we’ you’re talking about all of a sudden? In case you didn’t know, it’s my bloody life that we’re discussing and just because you’ve made an arse of yours doesn’t mean to say I’ve got to do the same with mine. Now, if I wants to be a bloody actor, I’ll be a bloody actor, whether it’s all bloody nonsense or not, and I’ll do it with or without you.” He stood his ground, hot with fury, his breath visible in the frigid air.
For a moment there was a stony silence in the room, both realizing that a line had been crossed.
“For now, if you take my advice,” the voice was cool and controlled again, “you would do better to concentrate on learning the correct use of the English language.” He picked up his pen then and resumed marking the exercise in front of him.
Patsy Cline was done on the juke box and the place felt empty. “Of course, later on I regretted everything,” Gerry said with a smile. “I was glad I’d picked up for myself but it was like losing a friend, more than a friend. I knew things would never be the same again. I was no longer the boy he’d brought along. If he hadn’t laughed, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad. Anyway, shortly after that he left and I never went back to school again.”
“So what did you do?”
“I wrote my exams and went to St. John’s to the university college … eventually. So he had his way. But, it was my choice and not his.”
Suddenly she could stand the heat no longer. She had to get out of the place. “Maybe we should be off.” She made a move to leave.
He finished his beer in one swallow, went to the bar, counted out several bills and threw them on the counter.
Nora made her way to the door. The lone figure by the stove had raised his head and was looking at her with the blank stare of a cow looking over a fence. He blinked once, and for a second she thought he might speak but then he lowered his head and returned to his crouched position. She opened the door and stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine.
“Sorry if I upset you,” he said when he caught up with her. “But you did ask, and I gave it to you, warts and