The Sandbox Theory

“The business meetings were with Robert, but yes, we had one with Andrew in his hang-out, remember, the Blue Marlin. Classy place, a few Hollywood people are regulars, but we laughed about the party at Sahiya. Great guy.”

  “Andrew’s OK then?” Sid pushes. “I mean really.”

  “Oh, he is doing quite well. He’s showing some interest in the Trent business. I mean, why not? His father started a lucrative enterprise. Our Uncle John gave his family everything. Andy needs to appreciate it, to get involved – you too Ryan,” Franco taps the salad scoop in front of his brother. “You can move up, Ryan, into a classy apartment like your last one and something even better later. You just need to discipline yourself to this opportunity right now.”

  Sid sighs.

  “So it’s all digital stereo equipment? Like those amps and speakers we unpacked?” Ryan takes a drink of beer, looking out the window as he slowly speaks.

  “There’s that and more, Ryan. Full home entertainment systems with all the components, plasma screens, seating, top of the line sound … we unpacked that sample stereo and you had it laid out for install in fifteen minutes. You understand how assembly works, brother, so you’ll be able to talk the talk once you learn the lingo. You’ve been to Latin America now, so you have firsthand contact with the assembly plants. You just have to get to know the customers. Talk about deep-sea fishing, or ask about hockey games and baseball, whatever makes them tick. You’re a naturally friendly guy and that’s what we want, to be friends with our customers.” Franco coaches Ryan. He steps out the back door with an empty plate, quickly returning with a sizzling steak.

  Forking the steak over onto the plate, and scooping potatoes from the barbeque tin foil Sid digs into the meal, not having realized how hungry he was. He munches a slice of garlic toast as he listens to Franco.

  “We have a warehouse over on Twelfth Avenue. We invoice at rock bottom prices across Western Canada. We sell the first load at cost or below – well depends how sales go of course, just to get our foot in the door. Big box retail will be our challenge, but we operate as a wholesaler, the trick is to stick with good business. Robert’s a bright guy, so we put our heads together and stick with what makes good business sense, Uncle John’s way of doing things. We should be distributing across the country in a year.”

  Ryan looks up from the mind-pictures he’s been sketching with his finger on the table. He doesn’t really smile, but he still has at least a shimmer of the pura vida look.

  “You know Franco, I met a business man a couple times in San Jose. He’s knows all about cocaine.” He counters his brother’s proposition. “I can get a hold of the guy. We could import coke and sell it, how about that? We wouldn’t need any warehouse, and we could distribute that across the country in less than a year.” Ryan mimics his brother, maintaining a cool demeanor, hinting at a level of seriousness.

  “Cocaine. Yah right, Ryan, never mind. Let’s keep that option on the back burner. You’re thinking along the right lines though.” Franco’s winning smile twitches only slightly. “We want to get some business going, but we have to keep it above board. You get in trouble dealing in the illegal, and that’s really high risk.” He doesn’t seem so disturbed by the why of the illegality as the risk, treating the suggestion as just another possible transaction needing evaluation for merit.

  “What about you and Andrew at the reunion?” says Ryan.

  “We don’t need to mention that, it was only once, and just recreational. Like having a beer. Let’s focus on the home entertainment systems, all right brother?”

  Sid finishes his meal, chasing it with a can of Diet Sprite, his latest drink of choice. Weaseling in a couple more inquiries into the Trents, trying to find out all he can, he finds himself listening to Franco painting an all too wonderful picture of pretty well everything in their lives. Not what Amy had said, two years ago, in her version of Andy.

  The afternoon wears on as Sid listens to Franco’s persistent attempts to convince Ryan. Ryan waivers at times, asking about what it would be like, but then looking out the window, he talks of Uncle Nick and what he says about living life to the fullest. If you don’t worry about money so much, it’s possible to have a job that’s fun, and that’s just the start. There’s a way to do well without so much cash in the bank, or super pay checks or a huge house. Uncle Nick said so, anyway. Franco listens, that ability of his that allows him usually to get someone over to his side eventually.

  Sid needs to go. He has to get over to Jamie’s for the Saturday evening supper, part of the invitation. Ryan and Franco say a Debden crowd is visiting for the weekend; Sid will be eating well again yet today. He’ll have to ask the aunties more about the Trents.

  He leaves the two brothers talking, escorted to the door by them and the Sealyham. Outside, darkness is yet to come, as spring stretches days out into extra sunshine hours. Lots of light, but the heat comes so much later on. Summer will return though, he convinces himself longingly, as ice crystals trail his frosty breath out to the van.

  Chapter 14

  He approaches an old two-story home, crying hard for a fresh coat of paint. Along the curb out front, an Escort holds a spot in front of a banged up half-ton. No triple garage nor catamaran casting long shadows here, just an easygoing arm stretching out to give a visitor a warm embrace.

  Auntie Teresa answers the door. She and Uncle Francis would be up for the long weekend. A family celebration of the Christ’s return to life all those years back. And of course the eggs, rabbits and chocolate; some vague connection – new life, rapid proliferation? – with that resurrection after a Roman crucifixion.

  “Hello Sidney. Come in, come in. We’re just taking the chicken out.”

  “Auntie Teresa. I heard you might be here.”

  “Come in. Come in.” He feels an extra tingle of warmth, not just the blast of furnace air from a heated home, but something more. He closes the door behind. A noisy bustle from the kitchen bursts into Auntie Anna coming out to evaluate.

  “Are you working hard, Sidney?” She crinkles her face.

  “Sure am.” Sid gives the required grin.

  “And are you coming to Easter mass?” Her lips tighten.

  “You bet, Auntie, that’s what I came for.”

  ###

  They crowd in around the table. Uncle Francis and Uncle Pete talk chocolate eggs with Jamie’s kids, as if the Rabbit will drop some off for them too. The dinner set out will prepare everyone, practice them up, for the grand feast tomorrow, on Easter Sunday – the said morning when Jesus appeared first to crying Mary.

  After lifting their heads with the Amen of grace, the uncles don’t make a sound. Both wives sitting at one table bespeaks a time for a sister-sister talk. Firstly, the aunts bring Jamie into discussion of Ryan’s upcoming wedding, this news having arrived far ahead of Sid. Next, the issue turns to Nick and Lola, and at this, all others chew quietly. Auntie Anna was just on the phone to California.

  “So what else did Lola say?” Teresa looks across the expanse of the table.

  “Like I was telling you, Nick was there for three days. That’s two weeks ago Tuesday when he arrived. He was at a business conference.” Anna looks up stiffly as she digs her fork into carefully arranged peas.

  “Ohh, is he still in the fish business?” Teresa asks. The uncles’ eyes light up, though not a murmur comes from either mouth.

  “Lola said he’s getting out of that now. What do you expect? They are only aquarium fish.” The uncle’s eyes dim noticeably. “He’ll uproot himself again for some other wild speculation now; that boy just can’t settle down.” Anna’s elbow hangs suspended, holding a fork of peas, all lined up in a row.

  “Oh my, I hope he’s doing the right thing. We’ll just have to keep him in our prayers.”

  Anna frowns, then slides the row of peas carefully into her mouth.

  “Still, it is wonderful they got together.” Teresa’s voice drops, “You know, I just got a letter from Nick today. I never had time to read it
, so I brought it along.”

  “Sister, you must read it directly and tell me what he says.” Anna’s peas have disappeared as she slices her chicken into identical cubes.

  “Yes, Anna, I will read it … right away. But first I have to tell you what Lola was telling me when she called me yesterday.”

  ###

  “More chicken anyone?”

  “For sure,” says Francis. “Excellent meal, Jamie.” Uncle Pete nods. Jamie gets up, grabbing the platter to top it up in the kitchen.

  “I want a wing,” calls out Jamie’s daughter.

  ###

  “Tell me Teresa, tell me what Lola said.”

  “Ohh, she was feeling quite down. The truth is, things aren’t going so well with John.”

  “What do you expect? She never should have run off. I don’t know what Lola was thinking back then, so young and knowing everything.” Auntie Anna lifts her fork high in the air as a lecture wand.

  “She was crying. She told me what it was like in that house, John’s big house. He’s an ambitious man, and that’s the most important thing to him. The first year was nice, mind you, he showed her all around, showed her off I suppose … but then she found out how she fit in … to the business.”

  “Well … she never mentioned this to me.”

  “You remember how tidy Lola was, how she did so much cleaning around the house. We never had to tell her to. So she moved into a house with fourteen bedrooms, and a galley kitchen. Can you just imagine?”

  “Why hire help when you have a wife.” Anna lifts her nose, shaking her head. “So she became John’s housemaid.”

  “Yes sister, now she lives in a mansion, but she never has a moment of rest,” says Teresa, shaking her head. “Vacuuming, dusting, cooking … can you imagine … fourteen bedrooms?”

  “A very wealthy house maid.”

  ###

  “Watch, it’s hot.” Jamie comes back out from the kitchen.

  “Mommy, where’s my wing?”

  “Here it is honey. Can you pass this down Uncle Pete?”

  ###

  “So sad, sister … still, there’s even more,” says Teresa, looking down at her plate, then up. “I mean it is for every wife, you know, but she says somehow she felt so cold about it. The children, I mean and what they mean to John.” Teresa gives her sister a knowing look.

  “Shocking,” says Anna, eyes showing fire. “He needs an heir no doubt. She’s lucky she had Robert first, and not a girl.” Anna’s eyes narrow, like a judge about to sentence maximum penalty. Uncle Pete holds both hands up in hollow fists, rattling two imaginary prison bars in front of him. Francis shakes his head in warning.

  “Andrew seems like such a nice young man,” says Teresa. “At least she did have the children around her, no matter what John was thinking. What a load, though, to raise three children, and to look after that house.”

  “I told her she was dreaming. Like a little princess with her young girl’s wish.”

  “Well, I suppose it really was that way to start,” says Teresa. “Silk gowns, everyone gathered around her at those elegant dinners.”

  “She’s just his trophy. Men just look for what they can win. A pretty young wife, on display in the case.”

  “A castle for a while though …” Aunt Teresa’s voice drifts, her eyes becoming misty.

  “Nick was there then.” Anna speaks stiffly.

  “Ohh … yes, Nick was there. They talked about it Anna, back when she ran off. Nick did try to stop her, you remember? He had the clearer head, but he just couldn’t get through to her.”

  “He was too young too,” says Anna, shaking her head.

  “You know, they used to be such good friends …” Auntie Teresa voice wavers. “But she said Nick is sooo angry now. Still. They must have argued way back then, but she wouldn’t say anything more.”

  “They must have some tiff,” says Anna. “Not just her running off, but maybe about Ksandra, sister, you remember before the funeral, when things were so unsettled.”

  “Yes I remember ... she came running home that day, after Nick and Harry found Ksandra … but everyone was so upset, that’s to be expected.”

  “I don’t know if everyone was upset. Look at Harry, he didn’t even come to the funeral,” says Anna holding her lips tight. “He could be dead by now for all we know.”

  Sid almost chokes on his mashed potatoes. If women stay in touch with everything, they missed this one. Don’t they know Uncle Harry quit drinking? Typical alcoholic thinking on Harry’s part if he didn’t tell his sisters. At least Sid is ahead on some family news.

  “Well, I do hope Lola and Nick can work things out,” says Teresa. “Maybe they’ll both come to the lake next summer … to the next reunion.” She stands, gathering up a pile of empty plates.

  Auntie Anna carefully places her last chicken cube on a white potato pillow, lifting her fork to its on-hold position.

  “They must get over their differences,” says Anna, raising her voice as Teresa moves off to the kitchen. “And Lola must do something about that John. She deserves better. Castles are for children.” She squeezes the cube pillow mound off her fork with her taut lips.

  ###

  Jamie joins her mother bringing out dessert. Uncle Francis looks at Uncle Pete, holding an imaginary hand of cards in front of him, grunting Sid’s way as well. Sid raises a left eyebrow, nodding. Uncle Francis leans back, content. A happy responsible farmer, holding title to his own inner kingdom.

  Auntie Teresa’s dessert sits untouched as the others top up with raspberry pie and caramel ice cream. Could be brutal tomorrow, thinks Sid, imagining bellies approaching burst point. Teresa comes back down the stairs with paper and envelope in hand. Sid swallows hard, packing one last mouthful down, hoping for the best. Teresa’s eye glistens as she sits down beside her dripping ice cream.

  Her eyes scan the letter before looking at her sister. “It must be true what we were saying, because he is quite upset. He only went over once, and he didn’t stay long. He’s sorry now, he always wanted the best for her, but he’s really angry too.”

  “What does he say, Teresa?” A flicker of softness wafts through Anna’s voice.

  “He wants so bad to tell her, for one thing, that he told her so. But he’s so angry too … it just doesn’t sound like Nick at all. He’s angry at himself, that’s more like him … because he couldn’t stop her. Then he writes about Ksandra … and there’s still something there he isn’t saying ... that’s where the anger is.”

  “Well, we all told her so.” The softness lingers. “Ksandra was just a foolish young girl full of romantic ideas. Imagine! Going swimming in the night time. And all alone! She got cramped up and just couldn’t make it back to shore.”

  “That is what we all said … but oohh … I have this feeling now, maybe there’s more. Sister, we have to be careful what we say.”

  “For how long?” All softness dissipates. “For how long must we be careful, Teresa? I’ve had enough of this. The truth needs to be told. It will be difficult, but it will set everyone at ease. We must be strong, Teresa. Look at what Lola has gone through. Did she run off to her fantasy world just to avoid the truth?”

  “Maybe you’re right, Anna.” Auntie Teresa glances at her pie with cream that no longer has any ice. She carefully skims the letter again in silence.

  ###

  Sid wants to go curl up in a corner, as one at a time, the family members carefully raise themselves up from the table. Uncle Francis and Uncle Pete bite their lips, and clear off the table, while Jamie’s husband takes the kids out the back. The aunties stay at the table as Teresa picks at her softening pie. No corners to be found, Sid slinks into the kitchen to join Jamie on the dishwashing crew.

  His cousin turns her head, wiping an eye on her shoulder, sniffing, hands in the sink.

  “Happy Easter, Jamie, great dinner.” He forces a quiet smile, as he reaches up to stack plates on a high shelf. “Hey, that sermon you mentioned is at churc
h tomorrow is it?”

  “Yes, Sid. It’s morning mass. And like I said, it’s all about being rich.” She sniffs. “And there’s a discussion in the basement after. There’s a pamphlet around here somewhere … I’ll find it for you. You remember what we talked about at the reunion?”

  “Yah, the old woman and the coins, the camel through the needle …”

  “Well I’ve been reading …and I found another gospel that fits the same lesson plan as the camel through the needle. James teaches believers who are poor to be proud. God actually made the poor people spiritually rich. So poor people are actually God-rich.”

  “I see … the same lesson you say … meaning the ones who get through the eye of the needle are spiritually rich, but materially poor. And the bible tells them to be proud of that … ‘cause rich people have a hard time getting close to God … or being spiritually rich.”

  “Yes. Same idea … don’t you think so?” says Jamie.

  “Yah, I can see it that way. Poor people without much money have an easier time being close to God because they don’t have much clutter in the way. So James, is that Jesus’ brother who says to take pride in it?”

  “Right. And the wealthy young man who chose not to listen to Jesus, who wouldn’t follow him any closer, couldn’t, because he had so many possessions. He couldn’t become spiritually rich … but poor people already are.”

  “People who don’t spend much time counting their gold – or buying new cars and houses, by default, make better investments in God type activity,” he raises an eyebrow … she nods.

  He grabs the last handful of cutlery. The sounds of cards rat-a-tatting against the table with serious force remind him where he needs to be next. Jamie gives him a knowing glance, then smiles as he tosses the drying towel on the counter.

  He settles in to a seat at the table with the uncles, the aunties having retired to the front room. But what Jamie says could be just a way of making poor people feel better, Sid thinks, in spite of their condition. The opiate of the masses. And what about all the gold in the Vatican? The poorest don’t have gold … their thing is basic food. So much easier for a hungry person to hang onto being closer to God. Anyone can believe in God, it doesn’t cost a thing.

  “Cut for partners,” says Uncle Francis.