{"id":779,"date":"2018-01-14T15:11:31","date_gmt":"2018-01-14T20:11:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sewerlid.com\/?p=779"},"modified":"2018-01-14T15:22:40","modified_gmt":"2018-01-14T20:22:40","slug":"andy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/2018\/01\/14\/andy\/","title":{"rendered":"Andy"},"content":{"rendered":"

For all the Marynissen boys<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Technically, he has two arms. He has two hands, two wrists, two biceps.<\/p>\n

Technically: Andy Marynissen has two arms.<\/p>\n

With the right side of his body, he is very strong. Can do push-ups one-handed, many in a row. Can chuck a baseball fast, has one heckuva hook that\u2019s knocked the shit out of a few different suckers, but only if they deserved it. Like the time in grade seven when Grayson Matthews tells Alicia Spione that nobody\u2019ll marry her cause they don\u2019t want to have any retard kids, and Alicia, who\u2019s got a brother with cerebral palsy, starts crying, and next recess Andy charges at him, spears him to the ground easy with a tackle. Sure, the rest of Grayson\u2019s friends soon pile on, leave Andy with more cuts and bruises than anyone, but he lands a couple good ones, alright. Sure gives Grayson quite a black eye.<\/p>\n

Andy\u2019s left arm is misshapen and twisted and small. Shrunken, shrivelled, a stub, its five tiny fingers cannot tie a shoe, or pull a trigger.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Despite the arm there are many things he can do. A three-legged farm dog may not run so fast\u2014may not run at all<\/em>, not at first\u2014but it learns, it finds a way. It will still try to dig under the chicken coop, and at nighttime bark from the back porch at the coyotes squatting in the darkness on the edge of the orchard.<\/p>\n

For instance: Andy can drive.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s Mr. Jankowski who teaches him how to. Mr. Jankowski\u2019s this old Polish guy, lives just a bit further down Concession One. Came over to Canada in the \u201850s cause a cousin had already done the same, bought a farm though he didn\u2019t know a thing about farming (hardly knew English, either). Been growing peaches, cherries, apples ever since, now into his seventies.<\/p>\n

During the summer before he starts grade nine at Niagara High, Andy goes looking for a job. Sees ads in the classifieds, HELP WANTED posters in the shops on Queen Street. But each time he goes for an interview, boss takes one quick glance at his arm\u2014\u201cNot hiring, kid.\u201d<\/p>\n

His mother suggests Mr. Jankowski\u2014\u201cGive the ol\u2019 goddamn Polack a try,\u201d she says\u2014so Andy does, heads down Concession One to the old man\u2019s house.<\/p>\n

\u201cI uh-no interest,\u201d Jankowski says to Andy, who\u2019s on his front porch.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d Andy sticks his good arm out, tries to stop the old man from shutting the door. \u201cI\u2019m Andy. Andy Marynissen.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now, to most people in Niagara, hearing this name would not have done Andy any favours. See, the Marynissens were known \u2018round town as a good-fer-nuthin buncha drunks. His aunt and uncle both spend most nights in the basement of the Legion, and Andy\u2019s father was once the guy who drove the Zamboni at the Virgil arena but got fired after getting loaded and puking on the ice before a Bantam game. Few years back, Andy\u2019s mom tells him his dad is going to plant trees up north for a while, with his buddy, and neither has heard from him since. The kids at school can sense this sort of thing, too. Might not understand why but they notice the fact that their parents always stop to talk to other parents in the grocery store or at the post office but they never stop to talk to Andy\u2019s mom. They notice that his leather jacket is too big, doesn\u2019t fit right\u2014a hand-me-down from his older cousin\u2014it always smells like cigarettes.<\/p>\n

Mr. Jankowski, of course, is not part of this town gossip. Knows the Marynissens only as the people next door. Says simply, in return: \u201cWhat you like?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanna work<\/em>. For you. Whatever you need.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWork<\/em>? What you wanna work?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn the farm. I\u2019ll help you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jankowski looks Andy over. Notices the arm, raises his eyebrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou uh\u2014no like my work,\u201d the old man. \u201cIs too hard.\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Think, for a moment, about all the times Andy must\u2019ve gotten this same look. Teachers, classmates\u2014fuck, even his parents<\/em>. When his dad was still around he takes Andy, once, to go fishing at the Queenston Gorge. Climbs down to the very bottom of the gulley with a pair of rods and a six-pack and a bucket, cracks can after can till the bucket\u2019s full of little common carp\u2014\u201cThey\u2019re all retarded from the boats in the dock, makes em easier to catch,\u201d he claims\u2014then lugs them home, sells them to a guy he grew up with who teaches science at NHS now, and uses them in his classroom (\u201cDunno the hell he does with em but it gets me <\/em>fifty bucks,\u201d he tells Andy). So the two of them spend a Sunday afternoon down there, filling up the bucket, and when they go to head back up to their truck, Andy grabs the handle.<\/p>\n

\u201cGimme that,\u201d his dad says, but Andy\u2019s adamant: \u201cI can lift <\/em>it,\u201d he counters.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, kid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI got <\/em>it, Dad. I can do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gives him the raised-eyebrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cKid, it\u2019s heavy<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me try.\u201d<\/p>\n

The two go walking back up the escarpment, Andy holding the bucket in his one good arm, and he\u2019s straining\u2014it\u2019s heavy<\/em>\u2014but he\u2019s got it, he can do it. And he would\u2019ve <\/em>done it, too, would\u2019ve gotten the fish all the way up the hill, to the truck, but he happens to trip on this root that\u2019s sticking out, sends him flying forward and the bucket drops, most of the water splashing on the back of his dad\u2019s pants while the fish fly out, fall off the side of the path and slide down into the thick brush. It\u2019s no fault of his, an accident, that\u2019s all. Got nothing to do with what he\u2019s carrying, nothing to do with a good arm or a bad one.<\/p>\n

But of course his father doesn\u2019t see it like that.<\/p>\n

\u201cGoddamn <\/em>it, Andy\u2014look what you did<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

His dad never takes him fishing at the Queenston Gorge again.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Andy\u2019s been looked at this way many times, but sometimes it\u2019s too frustrating. Sometimes he\u2019s just about sick of it.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on<\/em>!\u201d he snaps at the old man. \u201cDon\u2019t gimme <\/em>that\u2014I can work hard! I will! You think I can\u2019t handle <\/em>it? You think I can\u2019t do <\/em>it? I\u2019ll show you! I\u2019m fuckin st\u2014I\u2019m strong<\/em>, sir. I am strong, and I\u2019ll work hard, I promise. I promise, I prom<\/em>ise. Let me show you. Let me do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The old man stands in his door, thinking. He can <\/em>use some help.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d Jankowski says. \u201cLet\u2019s work.\u201d<\/p>\n

That afternoon, Andy helps Mr. Jankowski pick up brush from the field. (He works real hard.) The next day, he goes back. For the rest of the summer, Andy works for the old man nearly every day, Jankowski teaching him how to pick, thin, prune. Some things he\u2019ll start to explain, then stops, glances at the arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs okay, is hard job. I do,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

But Andy stands up straight.<\/p>\n

\u201cShow <\/em>me, Mr. Jankowski. I can do it. Show me how.\u201d<\/p>\n

So the old man shows him, and though he shows him with two hands Andy watches him carefully, thinking about what needs to be done, and then, despite his left side, he does it, too. He finds a way. When the old man hands him pruning shears Andy figures out how to keep one of its handles held firm, tight under his left armpit, and gripping the other handle with his strong right hand he snips at the branches just as fast and frequent as Mr. Jankowski does.<\/p>\n

Jankowski shows Andy how to drive a tractor, Andy leaning his shriveled limb on the steering wheel to keep it steady and straight whenever he has to switch gears. \u201cAnd don\u2019t forget,\u201d he says. \u201cWhen turn off, first, engine run, then <\/em>turn off.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy nods, promises: never<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Jankowski tells Andy where he hides the key to the old wooden shed behind the barn, the shed where he keeps hammers and saws and all his other tools, and pesticides and a lawnmower and a wheelbarrow and a ladder. \u201cAnd don\u2019t forget,\u201d he says. \u201cNo go in unless when I say, and shut door, tight, so no rats.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy nods, promises: never<\/em>.<\/p>\n

And Jankowski teaches Andy how to drive his car.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs like tractor,\u201d he says. \u201cBut more fast.\u201d It is <\/em>just like the tractor: Andy leans what he can of his left side onto the steering wheel\u2014sometimes uses his legs, too, to secure the wheel at the bottom \u2013 and with his right arm switches from first to second to third. Though he does not even have a driver\u2019s license\u2014the old man doesn\u2019t know, or care, about such rules\u2014Jankowski sends Andy down Highway 55 to the Fruit & Vegetable Co-op, to grab a big stack of baskets, or fertilizer, or spray.<\/p>\n

\u201cMake sure is buy Peraxynyl,\u201d he says. The old man swears by the stuff, says it\u2019s the best pesticide there is, and though you gotta dilute the shit out of it (it\u2019s sixteen times more corrosive than battery acid, and if you don\u2019t water it down it\u2019ll burn through the branches and the leaves) if you know how to use it right you\u2019ll keep every bug off, won\u2019t have a single spot on an apple or a peach.<\/p>\n

Andy always takes the back roads, of course, so he won\u2019t run into any cops, but sometimes he takes the long way home, and at the far end of Concession One he idles the car and stares straight on down the road, like a speedster at the starting line, Concession One stretching straight ahead and somewhere down there is the old man\u2019s house and somewhere past that is his house but Andy cannot tell where\u2014all he can see is the bare black pavement pointing towards infinity. He pushes down gently on the pedal so the motor purrs, then he takes off, and as soon as he can he gets the car from first to second to third, and sometimes, when he\u2019s feeling especially daring, he gets it into fourth, and boy, he\u2019s really flying<\/em> then, and his small stump does not matter, has no significance or consequence as he\u2019s leaning back, his good hand on top of the wheel the way they drive in the movies.<\/p>\n

But one time, as he\u2019s really flying<\/em> down Concession One, a cat runs out from the ditch, runs right out and leaps in front of the car, timed so exact it is as though it is trying <\/em>to kill itself. Andy slams on the brakes and the tires squeal as the car fishtails to a halt but he is not fast enough: he hits the cat, the front end bashing into and then rolling overtop of the body with a deep dull thud. Andy rips himself out of the car, looks back. In the middle of the road the cat writhes and wriggles. The left side of its head is flat against the asphalt, as though pinned in place, while the rest of its body spins round and round, some sick maypole dance, corkscrewing and twisting as it hisses, desperately, pained.<\/p>\n

It stops. The cat: dead.<\/p>\n

Andy spots a collar round its neck, and to his left, sees a house. He does not know if the cat has gotten out of that house but he picks it up into his right arm, the body still warm and totally limp, a puppet with its strings cut, the head in particular hanging loose, swiveling.<\/p>\n

As he nears, a woman runs out, hands to her mouth, screaming.<\/p>\n

She runs to Andy, sobbing, shouting, so hysterical it startles him and he drops the body. The cat hits the ground and the woman screams louder.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell <\/em>did you do<\/em>!\u201d she cries. \u201cWhat the hell <\/em>did you do<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman now at Andy\u2019s feet, rubbing her hands along the cat\u2019s still frame.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m\u2014I\u2019m sorry,\u201d Andy stammers. \u201cIt ran right out. I couldn\u2019t stop. I tried to. It was an accident, ma\u2019am. I tried to, I\u2019m sorry, I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you know how to drive<\/em>,\u201d she shrieks. Looking up, she notices Andy\u2019s shrunken shrivelled stub.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou fucking freak<\/em>!\u201d she begins to scream. \u201cYou freak<\/em>! You shouldn\u2019t even be allowed <\/em>in a car! Look what you did<\/em>, you freak<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

Cradles the cat in her arms like a baby, heads back towards the house.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry<\/em>,\u201d Andy cries out, again, but she does not turn.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

The NHS offense squats at the twenty yard line. Down by five with a single play left in the teams\u2019 first meeting of the season, the Niagara High Trojans eye victory against the Dennis Morris.<\/p>\n

Andy, the only ninth-grader on the squad, looks straight into the eyes of the DM lineman across from him.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood luck, you fucking crip<\/em>ple.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood luck,\u201d Andy grunts back, stare held. \u201cFucking Cath<\/em>olic.\u201d<\/p>\n

On the sidelines, Coach McCarthy has his arms folded, motionless, while his right foot taps the ground. \u201cI wanna beat these fucking guys,\u201d he mutters, under his breath, to Gary Englund, his assistant coach. \u201cI really wanna beat <\/em>these guys.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure \u2018bout the Marynissen kid?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d says McCarthy. \u201cBut I\u2019m not not <\/em>sure.\u201d Ed McCarthy has coached football at Niagara High for eighteen seasons, but he\u2019s never come across a player like Andy. Most kids came out to football \u2018cause they want to be part of a team, or at least, they want all the hallway perks that come with being part of a team. But in the locker room, at practice, on the bench, Andy doesn\u2019t even seem to realize there are other players there<\/em>: never says a word, just stands silent, brooding, pacing, like he\u2019s eager to uncage something trapped inside for far too long. His back is always flagpole straight but his head dips low, like a boxer\u2019s, his eyes darting, careful, watching, as though he\u2019s always in the middle of a ring. He has an underbite, too, just slightly but it\u2019s there, and when he looks at him, McCarthy can\u2019t help but be struck by the many ways in which he resembles a bulldog. McCarthy\u2019s noticed, too, it\u2019s the same way Andy walks about the school: solitary and somehow slightly scary. He\u2019s not surprised the other kids keep their distance.<\/p>\n

Doesn\u2019t help that he\u2019s a Marynissen.<\/p>\n

At the line of scrimmage, the center snaps the ball between his legs and into the hands of Jack Andrews, Niagara High\u2019s starting quarterback.<\/p>\n

The DM lineman charges Andy, who meets him, and though his opponent is much larger, Andy does not budge: they collide, Andy leaning his right shoulder into the oncoming body, their bodies hitting hard but the guy from DM bounces back. Keeps his eyes locked on Andy, as he has since they first greeted head-to-head at the scrimmage line.<\/p>\n

To the left, Andy spots movement. Another DM linebacker has circled around the commotion of the play, and is charging, so fucking fast, towards Jack, the quarterback.<\/p>\n

So Andy begins charging, too, directly towards <\/em>this barrelling opponent. However strong he knows himself to be, he knows, too, that the basic laws of physics have long ago determined that he is neither rapid nor robust enough to stop a collision from occurring\u2014yet he knows, most of all, that while this impending and inevitable collision cannot be altogether prevented, the participants affected can <\/em>be. Andy lunges towards the linebacker, lunges and leaps, and the linebacker collides with him, bashes into Andy\u2019s body with a deep dull thud.<\/p>\n

The DM linebacker lands on top of Andy, pins the left side of his head flat against the grass. Underneath, Andy squirms, corkscrewing and twisting. He is smothered, but he can hear commotion: clapping, whooping, cheering.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou fucker<\/em>,\u201d the DM linebacker spits at him. Andy shoves him off, rises. He is, of course, sore, but he does not notice: Jack has grabbed him round the waist, lifts him up, spins him round.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe did it! We did it, you crazy sonuvabitch! We fucking did <\/em>it!\u201d<\/p>\n

The whole team forms a giant mob around the two, Jack having just completed a pass straight into the arms of a Niagara High receiver planted firmly in the end zone, Andy having just intercepted a bullet aimed straight for Jack.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat a block!\u201d Jack beams at Andy. \u201cWhat a block, you crazy fucking wildman<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

For the first time in many seasons Niagara High seems to have a team that can hold its own, even\u2014especially<\/em>\u2014against Dennis Morris (those goddamned Catholics). Many reasons for this, but one that\u2019s undeniable is the pairing of Andy Marynissen and Jack Andrews. Jack is a good quarterback: he\u2019s talented, naturally so, has that intangible yet so-very-real knack <\/em>for the game, the kind you cannot want or will yourself into, cannot fight for, cannot earn but by birthright. He\u2019s so good, in fact, that the coaches and the players and the parents\u2014on the Trojan\u2019s side, and against\u2014think he could do <\/em>something with it, really go and do <\/em>something. With Andy on his offensive line Jack can throw more completed passes than any other QB in the board, rarely fumbles and, though it seems impossible, after several games has never been sacked, not with Andy on guard, a watching and willing martyr. Andy blocks and bashes, takes bullets blindly, offers himself sacrificially for the sake of the squad but specifically for the sake of Jack, buys him moments, forces openings, falls so that Jack may stand, for the universe is fueled on balance and equal scales, to push you must pull, to give you must take, and Andy gives himself over so that Jack may then take for the team. Jack is good. Andy makes him better.<\/p>\n

But here\u2019s the thing.<\/p>\n

Though it is never acknowledged, Andy has a limitation, tangible and so-very-real. While Andy makes Jack better, Jack does not need <\/em>Andy. Jack needs a left tackle and Andy fills the spot but if Andy was not around, someone else, eventually, could take his place. Without Jack, Andy has little to offer. Andy can help score but Andy cannot score himself, and this is a significant distinction: Andy is the drummer of a band and yet however steady he keeps the beat, Jack is the frontman\u2014Jack writes the songs, Andy brings the tune to life but without him you can still sing the chorus, whistle and hum it, pick it up and put it in your back-pocket. Andy may keep the beat steady but without Jack there wouldn\u2019t even be anything for him to bash along to.<\/p>\n

Andy needs Jack.<\/p>\n

Jack does not need Andy.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\"image1\"<\/a><\/p>\n

One night after practice Andy is pulled aside by Jack.<\/p>\n

Jack\u2019s leaning by the trophy case across the hall from the locker room. Tyler Kazynski, team kicker, stands at his side.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, man!\u201d Jack calls, looks around to make sure no one is listening. \u201cGreat practice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNuthin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWicked.\u201d<\/p>\n

Both Jack and Ty look at each other, as though something\u2019s not going to plan. Ty nudges Jack with his foot.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, listen,\u201d Jack begins. \u201cMe and Ty were wondering\u2014you wanna hang this weekend?\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy squints.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, man. Get to know each other.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTeam bonding!\u201d adds Ty.<\/p>\n

\u201cExactly,\u201d says Jack, grinning. \u201cWe\u2019ll come by Saturday afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou \u2026 wanna come to my house?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor sure, man!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll \u2026 right?\u201d Andy offers.<\/p>\n

\u201cGreat, man,\u201d Jack says, looks at Ty, smiles.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, great,\u201d echoes Ty.<\/p>\n

Andy nods and walks away.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

That Saturday Jack and Ty ride their bikes to Andy\u2019s.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s it going, man?\u201d Jack asks, soon as they get into his bedroom.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right,\u201d he answers. \u201cYou?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re good, man. Nice place.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy looks around his room. It\u2019s mostly undecorated.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n

An awkward pause \u2013 no one speaks. Ty, once again, nudges Jack.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Andy, so\u2014whatcha wanna do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDunno.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe got an idea!\u201d Ty blurts in, and Jack shushes him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe were thinking,\u201d Jack begins, diplomatically. \u201cYou ever smoked pot?\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy shakes his head. Ty looks at Jack, betrays a look of surprise.<\/p>\n

Jack continues.<\/p>\n

\u201cUs neither. But we got some. Didn\u2019t wanna do it in town, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, yeah. Too fucking scared,\u201d Ty adds.<\/p>\n

Andy knows what they mean: both Jack and Ty live in Old Town, and, like so many of the other kids in Old Town, always worry someone\u2019s going to see them in some sort of shenanigan, tell their parents the trouble they\u2019ve been up to. Andy and the farm kids have no such fear: out on the Lines and Concessions, it\u2019s much easier to keep out of sight from neighbours.<\/p>\n

\u201cThought maybe we could come do it out here,\u201d Jack says, smiles at Andy. \u201cIf you want to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTeam bonding!\u201d says Ty.<\/p>\n

Andy thinks, shrugs.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d he answers. \u201cLet\u2019s do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jack and Ty grin. Ty pulls off a backpack, starts to pull out an orange polka-dotted pipe.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn here<\/em>?\u201d Andy asks.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah\u2026?\u201d Ty looking puzzled towards Jack, Andy.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe can\u2019t do it in here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy mom might know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould she even care<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy wouldn\u2019t she\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI dunno, man, I mean\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNevermind,\u201d Jack interrupts. \u201cWhere can we go then?\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy pauses, considers.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about the farm?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe farm<\/em>!\u201d Jack cries, claps his hands together. \u201cGreat call!\u201d<\/p>\n

The three boys head out, Andy shouting an unanswered goodbye to his mom in the basement.<\/p>\n

\u201cFucking cold <\/em>out,\u201d Jack says, zips his jacket to the very top, shoves both hands in his pockets. Ty is wearing only his Niagara High hoodie, starts shaking, shivering. \u201cWhat a wind.\u201d<\/p>\n

The boys head down Concession One, towards Jankowski\u2019s. Andy leads them over a ditch and through rows of fruit trees on the edge of the old man\u2019s farm, parallel to the house.<\/p>\n

\u201cKeep low,\u201d he says. Hasn\u2019t seen Jankowski in awhile, doesn\u2019t want to have to explain what he\u2019s doing there. He squats and peers towards the house. Lights off, no car parked: the old man isn\u2019t home.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on,\u201d Andy says, stands straight and tall. \u201cWe\u2019re good.\u201d<\/p>\n

The three boys march into the field, out of view of the road.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jack and Ty look at each other, shrug.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet the stuff, then.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWait,\u201d says Ty. \u201cMaybe we should go a little further.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, make sure <\/em>no one can see,\u201d Jack agrees.<\/p>\n

So the three boys walk even further into the orchard.<\/p>\n

Ty reaches into his backpack, hands shaking. \u201cFucking cold<\/em>,\u201d he says, though Andy\u2019s starting to suspect the temperature is not the only reason Ty is fumbling.<\/p>\n

He pulls out the baggie of pot and the pipe.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou go first,\u201d he says to Jack.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was your <\/em>idea!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well, I got <\/em>the stuff. You try it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy interrupts.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll <\/em>go first. Give me it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ty looks at Jack, looks at Andy.<\/p>\n

Raises his eyebrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cGive me it. I\u2019ll do it,\u201d Andy repeats.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll pack it for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI got <\/em>it. Give me it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy grabs the pipe from Ty, places it on the ground, squats. With his right hand, pulls out a pinch of pot, packs the bowl. Once full, he lifts the pipe, places it in his shrivelled and shrunken left hand. Andy grips it, as best as he can; it is awkward yet it is held there, however tentatively. In order to actually hit it, Andy has to lower his head, bend like a hunchback towards the bowl.<\/p>\n

Flicks the lighter, several times. Only sparks. Shakes it and tries again but there is no flame.<\/p>\n

\u201cHurry!\u201d says Ty, hopping from foot to foot to keep warm.<\/p>\n

Andy again shakes the lighter, and this time, a flame does rise, but by the time he has lowered both it and his head towards the pipe, the flame has gone out.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck, come on<\/em>,\u201d says Jack. \u201cLet me do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jack reaches for the lighter but Andy pulls his hand away.<\/p>\n

\u201cI got<\/em> it. I can do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy shifts his body, turns sideways to block the wind. Tries the lighter once more, and again: flame rises but is soon extinguished.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s too windy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me do it for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s too windy<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll light it for you, let me\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not<\/em> gonna light<\/em>. I know how to light it, and it\u2019s not gonna. It\u2019s too windy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFine,\u201d Jack says, disappointed. \u201cForget it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about that shed?\u201d Ty says.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat shed?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe one we saw, by the house.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d says Andy, thinking about Mr. Jankowski, the promise he\u2019d made to stay out unless told, what he\u2019d think if he knew. \u201cWe can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou scar<\/em>ed?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019m not scared. We can\u2019t go in there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMan, just admit it,\u201d says Jack.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not <\/em>scared.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, not that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdmit you can\u2019t do it. Gimme it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He reaches for the pipe but again Andy pulls away.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine,\u201d Andy says. \u201cLet\u2019s go. Fuck.\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy leads Jack and Ty through the field, cuts diagonally across the orchard, and heads for the shed. From underneath the flowerpot outside the door, Andy retrieves the hidden key, swings the door wide open.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome in, quick,\u201d he says, and Jack and Ty follow. Andy shuts and locks the door behind them. It\u2019s dark inside, hard to see, but Andy can tell it\u2019s more cluttered than last time. The old man has thrown junk in there for the winter, but also a bunch of stuff he won\u2019t need until next season, stuff that he just bought at the Co-op on Highway 55: a stack of three-litre fruit baskets, some new pruning shears, and a big tractor tire that he\u2019s going to replace in the spring. The tire was on sale, and he got a heckuva deal, too.<\/p>\n

Got a good deal on three buckets of Peraxynyl, too.<\/p>\n

Swears by the stuff. Best pesticide there is.<\/p>\n

Use it right, you\u2019ll keep every bug off.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood call<\/em>,\u201d says Jack, looking around. \u201cLet\u2019s do this!\u201d<\/p>\n

Again, Andy lifts the pipe with his right hand, shifts it over to his left, uses his fingers to grip it as best he can.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI got it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s hard<\/em>, man.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI got <\/em>it,\u201d Andy repeats, his annoyance hardly hidden. Again, he flicks the lighter, and unlike before, out in the field, the flame stands tall and straight. Slowly lowers the flame to the bowl, and as he does he lowers his head towards it, too. His left arm is very small, and he really has to bend over severely to get his mouth all the way to the end of the pipe, a move he must do carefully, slowly, or he\u2019ll tip the pipe and it\u2019ll all spill out. So Andy moves gently, with control, but as he does, suddenly, the flame goes out.<\/p>\n

Maybe it is from the time it takes him\u2014maybe, in concentrating so completely on his left hand, he forgets about his right, and in so forgetting lets go of the lighter\u2019s spark wheel, releases the button and squashes the flame.<\/p>\n

Or maybe, through some gap in the structure\u2014a tiny opening beneath the doorway and the ground, or between one of the beams in the walls\u2014some of the wind (it\u2019s fucking cold <\/em>out) blows through and puts it out.<\/p>\n

\u201cGoddamn <\/em>it, man!\u201d says Jack, his impatience overwhelming. \u201cGive <\/em>me that!\u201d<\/p>\n

Jack lunges for the lighter, snatches at Andy\u2019s hand, but Andy is fast. As always, his eyes dart everywhere, frantically and feverishly yet focused, careful, calculated, calm. Andy can see Jack\u2019s movement, can react\u2014has <\/em>reacted\u2014before he is even aware of what he is doing. Turns his body sideways, blocking the lighter, as the right side of his body collides with the left side of Jack\u2019s. Andy even leans into <\/em>the hit; Andy has been hit before, can take it. Jack, though, has not. He stumbles, falling backwards.<\/p>\n

Jack\u2019s hands reach out under him, trying to break his fall. The first thing they contact, though, is not the ground, but the plastic lids of two of the containers of Peraxynyl.<\/p>\n

Best pesticide there is.<\/p>\n

With his momentum and the full weight of his body baring down, Jack\u2019s hands plunge easily through the flimsy tops, splashing straight down, elbow deep, one hand each in a bucket of the caustic chemical.<\/p>\n

His skin begins to sizzle and sting.<\/p>\n

Jack yanks his hands out but it is already too late: such a brief contact, and yet, already, the palms of his hand is raw and red as layers of skin peel away, charred black at the edges and bubbling, blistering. The burns spreading up his arms and to the ends of his fingers. He looks at them and for a moment seems almost puzzled, saying nothing.<\/p>\n

But then he starts to scream.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, fuck<\/em>!\u201d Ty screams now, too. \u201cOh, fuck, man\u2014are you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jack rises to his feet, hands held out in front. Staggers to the door of the shed, screaming, no intelligible words but only anguished noises, screaming and screaming as Ty runs behind, screaming, \u201cFuck, man, fuck<\/em>,\u201d and \u201cYou okay?\u201d and \u201cWhat the fuck<\/em>?\u201d He turns back to Andy.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook what you did<\/em>, you fucking freak<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

Andy says nothing, stands wide-eyed, breathing heavy and fast as he watches Jack stagger away, Ty right behind.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2014I\u2019m sorry,\u201d he cries out, at last. \u201cI\u2019m sorry<\/em>,\u201d he repeats, louder, but neither of them turn.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Five weeks later.<\/p>\n

The Niagara High Trojans face the Dennis Morris Raiders, at home, in the regional finals.<\/p>\n

Jack, as usual, is quarterback. His hands had been in bandages for three weeks, but, just as the doctors predicted, they make a full recovery. There is no lasting damage.<\/p>\n

Andy is not at left tackle.<\/p>\n

Andy sits on the bleachers.<\/p>\n

On the Monday morning after the accident, Coach McCarthy calls Andy into his office to suspend him from the football team. Though Andy tries to protest, both Ty and Jack claim it was his <\/em>fault, he <\/em>was the one who pushed, he <\/em>burned Jack\u2019s hands, and nothing Andy says can change the decision.<\/p>\n

Doesn\u2019t help that he\u2019s a Marynissen.<\/p>\n

During the championship game Jack is sacked two times. However, it does not matter: he throws a Hail Mary in the game\u2019s dying seconds, and Niagara High wins their first zone title in many seasons.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

RYAN A. GAIO<\/strong>\u00a0loves listening to oldies on AM radio while wearing a jean jacket and will one day be the winner of Survivor: Canada<\/em>. A recent graduate of the MA in Creative Writing program at the University of New Brunswick, he can be reached on Twitter<\/a> and Instagram<\/a> at @ryanagaio.<\/p>\n

\n

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For all the Marynissen boys. Technically, he has two arms. He has two hands, two wrists, two biceps. Technically: Andy Marynissen has two arms. With the right side of his body, he is very strong. Can do push-ups one-handed, many… Continue Reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[8,16],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/779"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=779"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/779\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":811,"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/779\/revisions\/811"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=779"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=779"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sewerlid.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=779"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}