Sea to Sky

So,

I'm posting my story "Sea to Sky", which won this year's Fiddlehead fiction contest.

This was a big deal to me. Not just because they gave me $2000 for it, but because it marked my first appearance in one of the big-deal literary magazines.

Or, as Kris Bertin recently described them, "the gang of girls too pretty to talk to me".

The judge for the contest was this poet Steven Heighton, and in his write-up when it was published he called my story "the opposite of kitsch" and "antiphonal".

I had to look up some of those words...

He also said that I deepen the emotion "by means of specific, sometimes unpleasant, physical details", which sounds a lot more like me.

(Did you ever read my column "Ode to Pooping"?)

Unfortunately, my story came out when they decided to have the ugliest cover of all time. Apparently that atrocity pictured at the right is a mural in the University of New Brunswick, but I thought it was a new low for lit magazines.

And lit magazines quite often have terrible covers.

Weirdly enough, I named my main character Darby. I wrote this almost a year before I ever met my girlfriend, but I told her she can brag that I wrote it about her, if she wants to.

Anyways, I've posted the story after the jump. I won't tell you anything about it, because you can read it yourself. But be warned: It's nearly 6000 words. That's not short.

Will!!

Sea to Sky
Will Johnson

I met Darbys mother while I was stationed in Petawawa in 1979. I was from Halifax and she was from Prince George out in BC and I liked her long legs and I liked her blond hair. Darbys got the same hair and she hates it because it breaks hairbrushes and you should see the bathroom when she stays here. The drain is like an animal but I like it because everything smells like fruit and even if its messy it seems clean with all the pink shaving cream. I only see Darby in the summers because she lives out in Red Deer and Im in Squamish now and lets face it her mother isnt too fond of me. We were married for 14 years so I don’t know how she can pretend to be surprised when I do this or that and Im not saying Im not sorry for some of my mistakes but I was pretty happy when Darby decided she was going to live with me. You shouldve heard her mother on the phone she was like Jesus Rick you never think of anyone but yourself which obviously isn’t true because of course Im always thinking about Darby and the boys. Im their father. We had to wait until Darby was fifteen and I had to rearrange some of my stuff to make her a bedroom and I had to change my lifestyle a little and Mike and Dylan dont come out but its different having a girl around the house. I like it.

*

Dad brings me to the bluff most days. We sit on a blanket in the grass and sip our morning coffee. I can smell the ocean from hundreds of feet away. The waves swell and surge but the surface of the water is always slick, smooth and undisturbed.

I like to watch the kite surfers. They hardly look real. They’re like tiny neon toys being hurled around mercilessly by the wind. I wonder who has enough time to take that up as a hobby. We watched one get sucked up into the air maybe twenty, thirty feet. A mist floated behind him like the vapor trail behind an airplane. Dad whistled between his teeth. I think he secretly hopes to see one of these guys crash into a cliff.

Last week I drove him down to Vancouver for his doctor’s appointment. I don’t even have my full license but he let me drive the whole way down the Sea to Sky Highway. It curved and weaved along rocky cliff faces and the whole way down I could look out at the ocean. It looked like eternity.

Dad fell asleep in the passenger seat. I rolled down the window because he farts a lot. I turned off my music and watched for waterfalls through the trees.

Dad never lets me come into the doctor’s office but afterwards we went out for sushi together. He pretends to like it, though he still hasn’t figured out how to use chopsticks. We walked along the sea wall in Stanley Park, but he didn’t get far before he had to sit down. We sat on the bench and looked out at the giant tankers that sit in the harbor like moving castles. Some seagulls fought over a clam overhead.

“You know they want to rename this place?” Dad said. “I saw it in the news.”

His eyes crinkled and I put my head on his shoulder.

“Nothing ever stays the same for very long,” he said.

Dad doesn’t have the Internet at his house, just a tiny TV in the living room that gets about five channels. He watches reality shows like “1000 Ways to Die” and “World’s Worst Disasters”. I brought a DVD player from Mom’s house and tried to introduce him to HBO, but it’s no use. He always falls asleep.

I love the West Coast. There were mornings in Red Deer when I truly believed I would never be warm again. Mom woke me every morning for school and I would slip out from under the covers fully dressed. I wore hoodies and sweatpants to bed. I’ve got my lifeguarding certification now, so Dad thinks I should be able to get a job in Whistler. I love the cobblestones, the clothing stores and the mountains. Everyone in Whistler seems hyper-busy, like they rarely take a break from their exhausting schedule of mountain biking, cross-country skiing and sitting around in luxurious mountainside chalets.

A nurse comes to visit once a week. She makes him wear headgear while he naps that makes him look like a fighter pilot. Coiled tubes trail out of the oxygen mask.

“It’s good you’re here with him. It makes a big difference,” she told me. “He’ll never admit it, but I think he’s been pretty lonely these last few years.”

*

Darby always asks me about my stories and I cant think of them right away so I figure the best way to do this is just write them all down. I dont have a computer but I could buy one and type all this out kind of like my memoirs. That would be a gas. My memoirs. It hurts to write my wrist isnt used to it but most of my body aches most of the time anyways. I throw up pretty much every morning and I don’t know if it’s the medication or its just my body falling apart. Its hard to hide it from Darb so sometimes Ill hold in a cough for half and hour just because I dont want her to get upset. Anyway thats not what I wanted to write about. I wanted to write about her mother because Darby never got to see us when we were in love because I was gone by the time she was five but there was a time when that was a real romance. We were at the army base and I wasn’t the best soldier. I didnt like carrying my gun everywhere and we always had to clean it and sleep with it and treat it like it was our best friend. I was at the shooting range one day and Darbys mother was there doing target practice with a revolver and her commanding officer stormed up to her and screamed until his face was purple. She was letting the gun kick back under her chin each time she fired until the barrel was pointing straight up at her jaw and her CO was saying goddammit private youre gonna blow your fucking brains out if you keep firing your weapon in that fashion and she started to cry and I thought it was beautiful. She was beautiful. I don’t study psychology so maybe someone will say its strange that Im attracted to crying women but when I see a woman cry I just want to gather her up in my arms and never let her go. What a sap. I came over to her after all that was over and I offered her a cigarette and she said no thanks I dont smoke which I thought was peculiar as all hell. And then I said Im Rick and I think it would be a shame if you shot yourself in that pretty face and she started crying again and then I was in love.

*

I can see Mike and Dylan in Dad. He never closes the door when he pees and he lets out this grotesque, shuddering sigh like he’s experiencing the most divine pleasure. Both the boys do the same thing, especially when they come home drunk from the bar. They’re both starting to get freckles around their eyes, just like him. I hate how much I look like my mother. I want to look at myself in the mirror and see Dad. He said I’m lucky and then he patted his big belly. He has this little brown smiley face scar just under his belly button from the time he got hernia surgery a couple years ago. The hair on his stomach is thick and black and curly.

I’ve been going to the Internet café to Skype with Brandon. He’s working as a medic on the oilrigs but he promises he’s going to come visit by the end of the summer. They have partitions between each computer, so while no one was watching I lifted up my shirt and showed him my bra.

When I got home I lugged the grocery bags out of the backseat and balanced the coffees with my other hand while I struggled with the keys and maneuvered in the front door.

“Dad?”

He was lying facedown in the living room. Nothing looked disturbed. He was wearing boxer shorts and his giant hairy back slowly rose and fell. I could hear him snoring. I quickly put everything down and I rolled him over and held him in my lap. A line of drool dribbled from the side of his mouth and I mopped it up with my shirtsleeve. He looked up into my eyes and he said, “Monica?”

“No, Dad. It’s me. It’s Darby.”

The EMTs showed up about ten minutes later. By then he’d put on some sweatpants and was sitting on the couch. He smelled horrible and I decided that afterwards I was going to make sure he trimmed his beard. They shone tiny flashlights in his eyes, they checked his pulse and they asked him lots of questions. Finally they picked up their giant red bags and nodded kindly at me as they left.

*

Darbys mother went to church every Sunday and she never cursed and until I took her to the pub on base about three months after we started dating she had never been inside a bar. She drank coke and I didnt know what to do so I ordered sprite which I hate and the bartender gave me this look like Id lost my mind. He knew me. His name was Mark Medvord I remember that and he knew I wasnt the kind of guy that drank sprite and I must really like this girl. I liked her because she liked camping. She didnt need to shower everyday and she never complained when we canoed and hiked and slept in tents (separate tents because she was a good Christian girl) and after six weeks I asked her if she would be my wife. She said no at first because I didnt believe in God and I told her of course I believe in God Ive just never really been to church and I promise to come every Sunday and pray every night and she looked at me like I was a big child. She said Rick Ive never known anyone like you which is silly when you think about it because there is nothing special about me theres about a million guys like me but I really believed it when she said it so I drew her up in my arms and I kissed her until I ran out of breath and then she laughed and she said I love you Rick. I love you. Now with a story like that you look back and you see all the ugliness and all the fighting but I also think about sitting in the lobby waiting for Dylan to be born and then Mike and then Darb and I think about the way she looked in a wedding dress and the first time we put the kids all in car seats and drove clear across the country. Her family was still in Prince George but I wanted to live in Vancouver or as I close as I could get. That was the dream. When we were in Manitoba and it seemed like we were just driving forever and nothing was changing Dylan threw up on Darby and then Darby threw up on Mike and I dont think Ive ever seen so much puke everywhere and they were all crying on the side of this road with this thick dust storm. Our air-conditioning was on the fritz and it was a blazing afternoon but I was a man with a family and a car and three kids and a beautiful wife on the side of the road. Maybe that was the happiest Ive ever been.

*

Dad has been losing a lot of weight. The skin around his face sags and his beard is almost completely gray. The meat of his eyebrows casts shadows over his eyes. We drove down to Vancouver and the doctor came out into the waiting room to talk to me. He explained that Dad isn’t allowed to drive anymore, and pretty soon he’ll have to rely on a cane. Or maybe even a wheelchair.

I put Dad’s motorcycle on Craigslist and a few days later a guy came by. Dad refused to come out to the driveway, so I stood there while the guy circled the bike, kicked the tires and squeezed the handlebars. He groaned appreciatively as he examined the engine.

“This is a nice piece of machinery,” he said.

When he fired up the bike and drove away I could see Dad watching from behind the curtains. I went inside and he was sitting on the linoleum, struggling to put on his boots. He announced he was walking into town for cigarettes.

“Dad, you can’t.”

“I’m sick of everyone telling me what I can’t do,” he said. He took off in his bathrobe. I was so worried I jumped in the car and drove behind him. I kept twenty feet back. It took him thirty minutes to get to the gas station. In the parking lot, after he’d bought his smokes and lit one up, he started coughing and spat some blood on the concrete. I ran up to him and I put my arms around him.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he said.

I took him home to get dressed, then we drove down to the bluff and I put out the blanket. I let him smoke one cigarette and I threw the rest of the pack away. We watched the kite surfers until he fell asleep on his back. I traced my fingers along the plaid squares on his chest. I listened to him breathe slow and deep. I could hear the cars rocketing up and down the highway.

*

Darby showed me a picture of her boyfriend Brandon. I was surprised that hes skinny. Not like a skeleton or anything but hes not one of those oilrig boys with black fingers and big arms. He looks nice and she seems happy. If I could go back and be 17 again, or maybe if I could just go back and talk to myself I would say you should buy more flowers. Be nice. We make everything so complicated but really thats all you need. You need someone to be nice to, someone who will be nice back to you. Just be nice. Darbys mother was beautiful and I dont regret anything but if I could I would sit down with the young me and I would sit down with her and I would say maybe you should wait a few years to have kids. Have a couple years to yourself. These days with birth control nobodys having kids and nobodys really even getting married anymore and I think that wouldve been nice. I dont have any regrets I just want to say that again but I also think that maybe if there hadnt been kids and a mortgage and bills and car payments and church services with crying babies then maybe me and Darbys mother would maybe have lasted a little bit longer. Its stupid to think like that though because then we wouldn’t have Dylan or Mike or Darby and maybe when I look at Darb I want her to have what I had. I dont know. I feel confused and old lately. The world was a different place in the 80s. You shouldve seen the stupid clothes I wore. I wore my hair long in the back almost like a mullet and Darbys mother had the big shoulder pads and her hair combed all over to one side. The hairspray was the worst. No the music. The music was the worst. Everything all glittery and fancy and fake all the time. This was back when we were living in Ottawa in this apartment and we didn’t even have a room for Dylan we put his crib in the living room. He was born right before Christmas and when the day came we wrapped him up in blankets and we put him under the tree like a present.

*

The Vancouver skyline seems to appear magically every time I round the last corner down the highway. The city juts straight out of the water, like it emerged fully formed from the ocean. Like it could just as easily exist underwater.

I picked up Brandon from the Vancouver airport and it had been a long time since I’d seen that many people in one place. Everyone seemed to be speaking another language. I saw his head over the crowd, a toque pulled back on his head and his cheekbones pink from the sun. I squealed like a silly girl, laced my fingers behind his neck. I kissed him on the tip of his chin.

I let him drive back to Squamish. He rested his free hand in my lap the whole way. I played with his fingers and watched his face for wonder, but the trees and the mountains seemed to slip by without him noticing. He talked mostly about our friends in Red Deer. He said he could stay for with me two weeks, but then he had to head home.

I took him to the bluff to watch the kite surfers, but it was a calm day and the waves lolled along undisturbed. We hiked down half an hour to the beach, then Brandon sat down to have a cigarette. I stripped down to my underwear and I jumped in the water. I tried to splash him, but Brandon didn’t get within ten feet of the waves. Afterwards he held me against him and didn’t care that I was getting his clothes wet.

I’m not a prude, but most of my friends have given it up and for some reason I haven’t. This guy from school tried to force me to give him a hand job once, out in his truck parked behind the school. Other than that I’ve only ever kissed a boy, and it’s not because of church. I just want it to be special. That might sound stupid but if you knew some of my friends and if you knew some of the stories then you wouldn’t want to sleep with a Red Deer boy either.

Dad had another doctor’s appointment a few days later. Brandon drove us down to Vancouver and Dad grumbled a bit. I think he was embarrassed at all the attention. Dad hates that Brandon won’t stop talking while we’re watching TV. I can see Dad trying to tune out his voice.

“Enough with the commentary,” he said finally. “I’m trying to watch.”

Dad must have felt bad because he asked me to buy a twelve-pack of beer, then he invited Brandon to sit on the porch with him. When I came outside he said, “Darb, the men are drinking beer here” and he was kidding, but I think he actually wanted some time with Brandon.

Dad stumbled off to bed around midnight. I was reading a book in bed when Brandon slumped into the wall. He touched his forehead to the light switch and he started laughing, then he fell on top of me and he started kissing my neck. He was drunk and I hadn’t thought about it beforehand, but I decided that this was the first time we were going to have sex.

I slipped my shirt over my head and I started unclasping my bra and Brandon sobered up for a second and looked at me. He said, “Are we doing this?” and I just looked at him, a little afraid, and nodded my head.

I had two feelings simultaneously, the moment we were finished. The first was that was easy and the second was that’s it? It only took me about ten seconds to figure out the logistics and then it felt like our bodies belonged pressed against each other. I breathed with him and he breathed with me and it felt nothing like I imagined it.

*

As soon as we got to the West Coast I knew this is where I wanted to live for the rest of my life. I used to put Darby in her car seat and drive her down to Stanley Park and she would feed the ducks and I would smoke my cigarettes and I always got talking to all the pretty girls who could come up and say you have such a beautiful daughter, whats her name? This was back when they still had a real zoo and an aquarium before they came along and got rid of them because of cruelty or animal rights or whatever it was. Darby loved the fish and she would push her nose up against the glass and the few times we came as a family all five of us it was always hassle. It was expensive and there was complaining and we had to buy popcorn and go in the gift shop and one time Mike shit his pants and we didn’t have extra diapers and we had to take him home with my sweatshirt wrapped around his bum. That was my favorite sweatshirt and I don’t think I ever wore it again. One day Darby saw that mermaid statue and she asked me and I told her that yes there was such a thing as mermaids because parents always tell stupid lies like that and she started crying and I didnt know why. She was about four and I loved her more than Ive ever loved anything and I put my thumbs in her eyes to get away the tears and I know its weird but I put my thumb in my mouth and I tasted the salt and that made me cry. So then we both cried for a bit but then I made a face and she made a face and we both laughed at each other and then we walked a little ways down and bought some ice cream from an asian guy with no front teeth. Darbys mom left me about six months later and she moved to Red Deer with Dean (who has a stupid name like Dean anyway) and I told her I wouldnt fight her in court and I guess it went a lot better than it could have but the only times I really hated her were the days when Darby would call me on the phone and cry because she took my fucking daughter away from me.

*

The airport seems to be flooded with white light every time I go there, maybe because there are so many enormous windows. I feel like I’m moving through a science fiction movie. I walked with Brandon through the lobby, through the ticket booths and the baggage claim area. I thought I was going to be able to walk him straight to his plane. I thought I’d be able to watch it disappear into the clouds. But they turned me back at Security.

“I’ll email you tonight,” he said.

I was relieved Brandon was gone, but that made me feel guilty. We had spent days learning the mechanics of each other’s bodies. I recognized his breath now, his smell. I told him I loved him, and I really felt like I was telling the truth. But something had changed. Our relationship made more sense on either side of a computer screen, or a telephone. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but I felt like I’d grown out of him like an old shirt.

I wonder if that’s how Mom feels. I never understood how she could spend fifteen years of her life with someone, how she could have three of his children, and then just banish him. I hated her for a long time. Every time I saw Dean in the kitchen in his boxer shorts I wanted to scream. The boys seemed to accept him as their new father, and it seemed like they just forgot Dad existed. I couldn’t do that.

When I got home Dad was asleep in his chair, wearing a bathrobe. He had a thick woolen scarf tied around his neck. He’d nuzzled his face into it. I ran my fingers through his hair and listened to him snore.

The next day Dad found some old photo albums in the crawl space. I woke up to find him on all fours, his legs sticking out into the hallway. He swore loudly as he tried to back out, dragging two or three dusty books. He tried to say something but he started sneezing, so I picked him up and walked him to his chair. We put on his headgear.

I sat beside him and folded open the pages slowly. The glossy paper holding the pictures down had started to peel back. Some of the photos hung limply from their position. I tried to pat them down, but it was no use. There were family photos outside our church, some birthday parties for the boys when they were young. In the pictures Dad’s hair is jet black and slicked to his head. His beard is neatly trimmed and he’s grinning uncomfortably.

“When your mother was moving out I hid these. Don’t tell her,” Dad said, his voice muffled through the mask.

The album on the bottom of the pile was light pink, but had a large brown water stain on the cover. There was glittery writing that said My Little Baby on the cover. Inside there were pictures of Mom in a hospital bed. There were fuzzy pictures of me in an incubator. Finally, there was a picture of my Dad holding me. His eyes were wide and he looked exhausted. But his mouth was gaping open in an ecstatic smile as he cradled me in his muscular arms.

“Dad, I think I’m going to break it off with Brandon,” I said.

He looked up from the album, surprised. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’m in love with him.”

Dad took off the headgear and placed it on the side table. He nodded, breathed for a few moments.

“Okay,” he said.

“I don’t want to go back to Red Deer, either,” I said. “I just want to stay here with you. I want to be here.”

Dad didn’t say anything. He just smiled weakly, looked away, then started coughing. When he turned back around I could see moistness on his cheeks, and the remnants of tears in his beard. He asked me if I wanted to go for coffee, then drive down to the bluff. I told him I just had to get changed.

*

I lived alone for almost ten years after Darbys mother left and I never wanted to get married again. I had ladies when I needed them and the rest of the time I could stretch out my arms and roll around in bed and use all the pillows and I didnt have anyone telling me what I cant do. I liked working construction right up until my accident. Someone hadnt set up the scaffolding right and I ended up falling and its not a very interesting story but it all adds up to me living on WCB for the last part of my life and that gave me some time to think. I almost feel like Ive had too much time and maybe people are happier if theyre busy and distracted and stressed out right until they keel over because the moments I find myself really taking stock of my 58 years I dont feel like I have much to be proud of or much to take credit for. There was a day when Dylan came through Vancouver with his swim team and I went down to the aquatic center under the Burrard bridge and I watched him do the butterfly and I thought Hell if ill ever be able to do that. I like to watch Darby and I like to think that people see her smile because of me. She called her mother and told her shes staying out here and sure enough I had to get on the phone and it was the same old Jesus Rick for Christs sake and when she put Dean on the phone I just hung up. She met Dean at church. He was a deacon. This was back when we were living in Vancouver and she used to drag me out to church every Sunday. I didnt mind it to tell you the truth I liked the singing and all the people who always wanted to talk to you after the service. There were picnics and outings and we met all these nice young couples. But I got fed up with all the blood talk. Blood and Hell and Jesus this and Jesus that. It all seemed really morbid and then the boys were memorizing bible verses and asking me questions about what happens when we die and who gets to go to Heaven and who doesnt and I knew that they would just believe anything I said and I wanted to give them answers but really all I could say was I dont know. So then I felt like maybe I should figure it out. I tried for a while and I met with the pastor but it all sounded like mumbo jumbo to me and I couldnt really say that to Darbys mother so I just stopped going. The less I went to church the more obsessed she got until she was hosting this weekly potluck bible study and she asked Dean to help organize it. The kids loved it and it was good food but I got pretty suspicious pretty fast how those two would sit in the living room and look into each others eyes and pray all the time. Whenever I brought it up she just said Rick you would never understand which is stupid because of course I knew exactly what was going on. So one Thursday in front of everybody I dragged Dean into the front yard and ripped open his shirt and punched him until I had bits of blood all over my arms and my face and I know that wasnt a smart thing to do especially with the boys watching. I went upstairs to find Darby and her mother was calling the cops and Darby was in bed asleep and I wanted to wake her up but I was covered in blood so I just went down to the lawn and waited for the police to show up.

*

Dad gave me some money to buy clothes for my job interview in Whistler. I bought a navy blue blouse, a dark gray pleated skirt and some heels. It’s funny because if I get the job I’ll spend the whole time wearing flip flops, a pair of shorts and a lifeguard jersey. But I wanted to look professional.

I got the call two days later, on my cell phone. They wanted me to come in for orientation and I could start work in a few days. I was at the grocery store but I just left my half-full cart in the aisle and sprinted to my car. I couldn’t wait to get home to tell Dad.

When I opened the front door he wasn’t in his chair. I heard moaning from the bathroom. I flung open the door and Dad was keeled over the bathtub like a feeding trough. I had never seen him naked before. I kneeled beside him and I put my arm around him and he felt cold.

“I’m here, Dad. I’m right here.”

The vomit collecting in the bottom of the tub had writhing strings of blood in it like little worms. Dad couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t speak. I told him I was going to call 9-1-1.

The EMTs came and loaded Dad on to a stretcher. I wasn’t crying. I didn’t feel like anything was real. I stared at the carpet.

“He wants you,” someone said.

He was on the stretcher in the living room and he had pawed off his oxygen mask. He moaned my name, swore at the paramedic standing over him. He stretched out his hand and batted it around like he was sweeping away spider webs.

“I’m here, Dad.”

He calmed and he looked at me. There was vomit in his beard and he choked a little. I looked into his eyes until he lost consciousness.

I followed the ambulance for twenty minutes down the rainy highway. I veered around slow cars and whipped along the slick roads. A mist trailed behind me. But the sirens eventually disappeared in the distance. I gripped the steering wheel and stared out at the water. On the horizon the ocean blended with the soft blue of the sky, so that I couldn’t figure out where one started and the other began. I knew Dad was already gone, but I kept driving.

*

There are so many things that Darby doesnt know about me. She never met my parents because they were gone by the time she was born and shell never be in the army or live through the 70s and I hope she never has to break someones heart. I never knew the right thing to say and maybe I wasn’t the best father. I was a kid once and I was a teenager and then I was an adult and I never really knew what I was doing and when Im dead the times when I played kick the can or the first time I made love to her mother or that time I crashed my motorcycle all my memories will just kind of disappear and Im okay with that. Darbys doing fine and shell make new memories and I guess chances are Im going to miss lots of things in her life but we had a few summers and that was nice.