The Man Game (79 page)

Fortes cried: Sheer pandemonium.

Sammy threw his hat in the air and caught it again, put it back firmly on his head. No one has any patience anymore,
look
.

What Sammy said was true. Molly turned her attention away from her husband's warm neck and saw that no time was being lost before Litz stood forward, declared his intentions to emphasize Pisk's dominance, and paired up against Furry. The two men tore off, shook hands, and collided in a slow, dissident Greco-Roman. The pace was gruelling. Campbell could wait no longer: he took a few strides to the left of the game in progress and said he wasn't satisfied leaving in the shadow of Daggett's pure disgrace until he had his turn to gain back a little. Predictably, Hoss stepped forward to greet his rival. They started to undress. Campbell was kicking off his calicos and Hoss was shirtless when running down the sand embankment came a surprise in his Sunday best, and with a firm hand, he took Hoss by the shoulder and pulled him back a little and out of the fray; it was Sammy Erwagen.

Erwagen, said Campbell. 'The—, hey now,
you
?

That's right, me. Erwagen paid Campbell no more attention. He looked Hoss in the eye. Hoss was young and angry and never lost his appetite, and he was dented by a terrible childhood, but he understood this moment. He'd done the same thing himself. He understood not to argue, that they were now teammates. Hoss
understood. To look Erwagen in the eye meant having to crane his neck way back, and, startled by the altitude, he could voice no argument contra the inventor's husband taking his place in line anyway. I'll take this round, Erwagen said, and proceeded towards Campbell. Hoss looked back to Molly for her reaction. He saw how she cheered her husband on, and felt heavier, more mule-like. Meanwhile Erwagen was working apart the shirt buttons and soon he was down to his creased slacks. For a young man, his frame was skeletal but it was not brittle. Smith's snowy complexion was at least pinked by his impeccable circulation. Erwagen's skin was pale like a bread mould. Some strength had returned though, that was most obvious in his toned shoulders and arms. But was he ready? No one, Campbell least of all, forgot to whom Erwagen was happily married. There was little time for Campbell to assess the risk. Sensing the opportunity for an easy win, Meier had already leaped forward to shake Hoss's hand and the two were to grunting, Moe Dee not far behind, taunting Boyd's lack of grooming. Soon enough everyone would be piled into the melee. It was already a riotous show before it infected Fortes at last, who threw off his towel and entered himself on behalf of Pisk and Litz to handle Smith. Every man was on his feet, matched up. Six weeks ago Sammy was an invalid. Today he was showing impressive bounce. What was his backstory, who was this Erwagen fellow? The bookkeeper was ready and so was the logger. They shook hands.

It was a simple motel bedframe without a headboard and no posts at the foot-end and with rivets and leaves, a pre-Ikea metal frame that required some assembly. With Minna's help I assembled this bed in my bedroom. I talked the whole time and I made her laugh. I had a joke for every screw and nut. We were friends. And it didn't take long to set up. Once the pieces fit, there was no keeping her. She had to go. She was
so
tired. It had been a long afternoon. We'd discovered a secret history. The bedframe was on castors. The last thing we did was roll
the bed into a corner. I threw the boxspring on top, fitted the sheets on, puffed the pillows, and called it a day. At the apartment door, we embraced. It was a platonic embrace, full of love and friendship. I said goodbye and she said goodbye. I went and stood by the window and watched Minna unlock her ten speed, throw a leg over to the other pedal, and push away. She waved up to me goodbye. She knew I'd be there to watch her go. And I, from the window, waved back goodbye. Goodbye, Minna. Goodbye. I turned, and with that small-time sentimental goodbye still in my head, stared at my apartment and all its many shades of brown. Hardwood floors with dust. Beige curtains. Pine shelves. I wanted to listen to music but my roommate was watching a depressing movie, so I went to my room and sat on my new bed on top of the brown duvet. I lay down on the mattress for the first time, feeling its spring. I stared at the chalky stipple on the ceiling above me, stared with ambient fascination at the minor white topologies, thinking about the man game. Bedroom. Boredom. I was compelled to stand up. So I went and put on my shoes and locked the apartment door behind me, back downstairs and got into my Chrysler Dynasty and took off down the street. At first I wasn't sure if I was driving after Minna or somewhere else. Could I catch up to her, surprise her by following along beside her bicycle with my Dynasty, and with my spontaneity intact, amuse her some more, amuse her back into bed, amuse her into marrying me? As I drove I remembered Minna. I thought about her the whole drive that evening. What I really wanted was to drive and park my car in front of a completely different home, go and sit down in a whole new living room and ask what's for dinner. I drove for half an hour or more feeling delirious or bipolar as I made my way through Vancouver. I fought with the lights. It seemed I hit every red. The traffic was sludgy slow. By now the sun was gone and this being January, the air rapidly cooled down. The sky was a smoky purple. On my drive I passed through prickling rain in one mossy neighbourhood where an accident caused delays, and street repaving in another neighbourhood shrank traffic
going both ways to one lane switching back and forth with the help of a po-liceman. Undeterred, I kept driving. I sought out the wild destructive core of things but at the very same time I was attracted to the rules. I wanted a set of principles like the stars that I could look up to and see, fear, and interpret. Stars were scarce in my world. I lived in a city surrounded by purple clouds. After I parked the Dynasty, instead of going all the way around to the backyard like we did this afternoon I just went up to the front door and knocked loudly. I was overwhelmed by a weird funny terror. I considered bolting. I rattled my carkeys in my pocket. Ken opened the door and while I tried to explain the reason I'd come back, he let me in without saying a word, and I said hello to Silas and Cedric who also came to meet me in the entrance, we all shook hands, and I followed them down the incline to the living room where they introduced me to her.

A Readers Guide for
The Man Game
is available at
PenguinBookClub.ca