3

Yvette brought him the news.

“Virgil’s been in an accident. The truck went into a tree outside St. Jerome. They had to use blow torches to get him out.”

Just when everything seemed to be going right, Duddy thought. Son of a bitch.

With the coming of summer there was the promise of two wedding movies and the camp featurette to be made for Grossman. The distribution side of Dudley Kane Enterprises had begun to show a nice profit too. Duddy had just been considering making a bid for more land at Lac St. Pierre when Yvette came into his office.

“Where is he?”

“At the Neuro. They brought him in at one last night.”

It had taken them nearly ninety minutes to free Virgil from the cab of the Chevvie. Luckily he had been unconscious most of the time. But his injuries had been so severe, he had lost so much blood, that the ambulance driver had taken his time driving back to Montreal. “This guy’s had it anyway,” he said.

Five ribs were broken, his skull had been fractured in two places, and his spine had been severed near the base, but Virgil survived the crucial first night. Duddy and Yvette found him in the public ward. He was only semiconscious. His head had been shaved and bandaged, both eyes were blackened, and he was held in a huge plaster cast. Virgil’s face was gray. A tube coming from an overturned bottle ran into an arm that was yellowish and twitching. He’s going to die, Duddy thought, and, his stomach rising, he took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth.

Virgil’s eyelids flickered, he smiled faintly. He had recognized them. Yvette began to sob quietly.

“I think we’d better go,” Duddy said, taking her arm.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You can stay longer tomorrow,” the doctor said.

Who are you trying to kid, Duddy thought, and outside the ward he excused himself. He swayed dizzily over a washbowl for a while, but he wasn’t sick. Duddy splashed cold water on his face, wiped his eyes, and went to look for the doctor and Yvette. The doctor was gone.

“He says Virgil will never walk again. His spine was smashed.”

“Let’s get out of here, please.”

“It has something to do with torn nerves and the spinal fluids. I couldn’t understand everything he said.”

He led her outside. They sat in the car together and smoked.

“I’ll take care of him for the rest of his life,” Duddy said. “He’ll never want for anything. I swear it.”

“It’ll be months and months before he gets out of bed. Then it’s a wheelchair for the rest of his life. If he pulls through, that is.”

“All right, Yvette. O.K. He’s my friend too.”

“They lose all sense of feel below the hips. They can’t control their bowels and they don’t know when they’re urinating.”

Duddy slumped forward with his forehead pressed against the wheel. He stared at the clutch.

“I want you to know all the details. You’re not going to get off easy.”

I wish I’d never met him, Duddy thought. I hope he dies and I never have to see him again. “You’re taking a lot for granted,” he said. “How do you know he had a fit? Accidents happen every day.”

“Their legs get thinner and thinner. Like dry sticks. They would break them twenty times and they wouldn’t know and it wouldn’t heal. The circulation is practically dead.”

“He was happy to get the job. I didn’t force it on him.”

“You knew it was dangerous. I warned you.”

“Crossing the street is dangerous. You’ve got to live. A guy takes chances.”

“There’s no getting around it. You’re to blame.”

Only a week before, what with the summer season coming on, Duddy had considered hiring a man to work with Virgil. But after so many months the distribution side was just beginning to show a profit and Duddy had decided to hold back on the assistant until July first, when things would really be moving up north.

“I’ll take care of him. Anything he wants.” But he knew what Yvette was thinking. Virgil’s fits had begun again when Duddy had asked him to move downstairs into Yvette’s apartment. He had understood, he said, that Duddy and Yvette wanted to be together, but he no longer ate with them every night he was in town and Duddy and Yvette sometimes went off to dinner or to the movies without him. He understood, he had said, but the fits began again.

“We were entitled to some privacy,” Duddy said, “weren’t we?”

“You always treated him like your personal message boy.”

“Look, I happen to like Virgie.”

“You like me and that doesn’t stop you from behaving like… well, like you owned me.”

“Oh,” he said, relieved, “we’re going to start on that, are we?”

“No, Duddy. We’re not.”

But when they got back to the apartment she gathered her bedclothes together. “I’d rather sleep downstairs,” she said.

“Would you like to marry me?” Duddy asked.

Yvette smiled.

“We could get married,” he said. “You know.”

“Are you beginning to worry that the deeds are in my name?”

Duddy slapped her hard across the face. “Get out of here!” he shouted.

Yvette didn’t come into the office the next morning or the morning after. She sat by Virgil’s bedside. Duddy drove out to St. Jerome to take a look at the truck. It was a complete loss and — according to the lawyer — once the insurance company established that Virgil was an epileptic he wouldn’t collect a cent. The projector, miraculously, was not badly damaged and the sound equipment could be easily repaired. Duddy had dug the playing schedule out of the battered glove compartment, ripped off the bloody cover, and shoved it into his pocket.

The lawyer told him. “He can sue you, you know. He’s got a case.”

“Aw.”

“He can sue you for everything you’ve got.”

“He’s a friend.”

“Get him to sign a release. I’ll make up a letter for you.”

“You must be crazy! I can hardly bring myself to go to the hospital.”

“Don’t look at me like that. You hired me to protect you and that’s what I’m doing.”

“I can’t do it. Let him sue me, better.”

Duddy began to interview replacements for Virgil but he didn’t like anyone he saw and finally decided to rent a truck and do the job himself in the meantime. He was short of cash and in no mood to chase around after deals or sit in the office. Reyburn was hired full time to work on the Hershorn wedding. He was competent, and not really such a bad guy, but Duddy was forever finding fault with him. “That’s not how Friar would have done it,” he’d say. Without Yvette the office was a bore. Going out on the road, doing Virgil’s job, was the only peace he knew those days, and heading back for Montreal at two in the morning he always drove as fast as he could, sure that Yvette would be home when he got there. He never left the apartment for even a package of cigarettes without leaving a Back in 5 Min tacked on the door. Often he woke in the middle of the night, thinking he had heard her on the stairs, but he did not go down to her apartment, and he waited for more than two weeks before he phoned her. “As long as you’re still drawing a salary,” he said, “you might show up in the office once in a blue moon,” and he hung up.

Yvette came upstairs. “You might go and see him,” she said.

“I phone the hospital every morning. They tell me he’s doing fine.”

“He’s not out of the woods yet. They’re worried about the fracture. There’s a sliver of bone that —”

“Awright.”

“He asks about you every day. He thinks you’re angry he smashed up the truck and that’s why you won’t come.”

“Let’s not waste time,” Duddy said. “Here’s a box of matches. You poke them under my fingernails and light them one at a time. Go ahead.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you.”

Duddy poured himself a drink. “Did he have a —”

“He had a fit. Yes. It was brought on by fatigue.” Duddy began to play the pinball machine. He won three free games.

“I want you to go to the hospital tomorrow.”

“When can I expect you back at the office?”

“I’m not coming back. You can stop my salary right away. I’ll consider the last two weeks as my notice.”

“What are you going to do?”

“As soon as possible I’m going to take Virgil to Ste. Agathe. I’ll get a job there and I’ll take care of him.”

“You make me laugh. Have you any idea how much money it’s going to take to look after him? The doctors’ bills alone —”

“I’ll manage.”

“How? On a chambermaid’s salary? I’m after Virgie. He’s going to have the best care. Anything he wants.”

“It’s all settled. I’m sorry, Duddy.”

“What about me? You said you loved me.”

“Looking after Virgil will be a full-time job.”

“Couldn’t we look after him together?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’ve got a martyr complex. Do you know that?”

“If you start shouting I’m going to leave.”

“I’m a realist but. I know you inside out. You’re gonna look after a cripple for the rest of your life? You’re no nun, let’s face it. You like it as much as I do.”

“There are times when I wonder what I ever saw in you.”

“You do, eh? Well I’ll tell you. You know what you saw in me? You saw a young guy who was going to make it. You saw a pretty good life ahead. Don’t look at me like that either. Let’s be frank. If not for me you might have been a lousy chambermaid for the rest of your life. Don’t! You try to slap me and I’ll kick your teeth in. ‘Sometimes I wonder what I saw in you.’ Don’t make me laugh.”

“We had some good times together, Duddy. Don’t spoil it. I prefer to remember that.”

“You want my handkerchief?”

“I’ll speak to the notary. The deeds can be transferred to your father’s name until you come of age.”

“You think the business is going to fall apart without you?”

“I never said that.”

“Well, there were lots of things you did pretty bad in that office. You couldn’t add your way out of a paper bag and it takes a magician to read your handwriting. You know what? I’ll tell you what. I’m going to get myself a real experienced secretary. A girl who can spell. real pretty. Boy, am I ever going to start having a good time.”

“Are you finished?”

“Shettup!”

“I want you to go and see Virgil tomorrow. I won’t be there. You won’t have to see me.”

“I wish Virgie was dead. Get out,” he hollered. “Get out, please.”