***
It's eight-thirty in the evening. I pour a pint of Propeller Bitter, grab my notebook and relax on the top step of the Wonders' front porch. The Sack is silent, save for the occasional muffled sound of cars on nearby streets. Although it's still light out, darkness looms in the distance.
After a sip of drink and a moment of solitude, the sounds that lie below the Sack's surface begin to emerge. These secondary sounds can only be heard with a careful ear.
***
The first sound is a female voice. It's Norma.
Norma calls out Ben's name from within their tidy home. She draws it out into two syllables, "Beh-en!" Befitting a weeknight in July, all of their windows are wide open.
Ben responds with a loud, but casual, "Yeah?"
His voice sounds a bit more distant. He's probably down in the little workshop at the back of his basement. Norma calls out something else, but I can't make out her words. She must be calling down the stairs or have her back to the front window.
I decide that she wants Ben to open a pickle jar for her.
***
The next sound tells of rushing water. Eventually, I see Gordon near the back of Big Doug's property. He's cleaning the siding on Big Doug's shed.
Gordon has a new pressure washer. He ran out of things to clean at his own place. Now he's making the rounds to clean stuff for others. The Wonders' home now has the old town's cleanest driveway. You could probably eat from it, if you were so inclined.
But I'd stick with plates if I were you.
***
When the water pauses, I hear the sound of footsteps on a wooden deck. The footsteps sound like the quick, firm cuts of an axe against a thick tree.
I don't look up from my notebook. To make eye contact will only lead to idle banter with the owner of the footsteps. This would spoil the moment.
But my curiosity eventually gets the best of me.
***
Elizabeth is walking down her front steps. She pays no attention to me.
Soon, she has a garden hose in her hand and begins to water the flowers in her front garden. It's then that I notice her curious appearance.
Elizabeth is wearing what looks like an expensive spring coat. The coat extends only to the middle of her thighs. Her legs are bare, except for a pair of medium-heeled house slippers. The coat is grey with a black belt. The slippers are a burnt orange colour.
It's obvious that Elizabeth has recently emerged from the shower. Her hair is wet and combed straight back across her scalp. With an odd sense of discomfort, I wonder if she's wearing anything underneath her expensive spring coat.
I decide that she's wearing flannel shorts and a T-shirt under the coat.
***
Suddenly, the coat starts ringing.
Elizabeth digs out a cordless phone from one of the pockets and nestles it between her shoulder and ear. She continues to water the garden while talking on the phone. Occasionally, her voice rises, but I can't decipher a thing she's saying.
***
As my attention drifts from Elizabeth, I pick up the plaintive sound of a hungry cat. I look over at Little Doug's house immediately. Little Doug owns a posse of outdoor cats. The cats arrive home at the end of their killing day and cry out for admission into the house.
An enormous long-haired, black cat is on Little Doug's porch. It continues to bawl, but no one answers the door. Daisy is usually the one to let the cats in. Little Doug and Weed will do it, but only if they notice the cats when they're leaving the house or coming home.
But Daisy's probably busy with Baby Doug and has forgotten about the cats. She's got bigger fish to fry, now.
***
A metallic rattling sound suddenly enters the Sack.
It's coming from Weed's car as he motors into Little Doug's driveway. Oscar says Weed's car has a loose thingamabob. He was actually a bit more specific about the problem, but I don't recall what he said.
The workings of the automobile remain a mystery to me.
***
Weed gives me a brief wave and heads toward the front door. He knows he can't tarry now that the baby is upon them.
Thankfully, he lets the hungry cat into the house.
***
Silence returns, but only briefly.
Elizabeth has gone back into the house. Gordon seems to have finished his pressure washing for the evening. Ben has satisfied whatever request Norma had for him. Maybe she has her pickles now.
A taxi drives into the Sack and moves around the centre circle. The car is a BMW, an odd choice for a taxi. I've seen it around the old town on numerous occasions. A young man exits from the cab and goes into Ben and Norma's house. I think he's a relative of theirs.
The BMW taxi drives away. I make a mental note to ask Oscar about it. Oscar usually has accurate intelligence on such banal matters.
***
A few more minutes of relative silence elapses.
Then I discern the sound of a radio program. I can't make out the words, but the smooth tones of a polished radio host can be distinguished. Eventually, I recognize the program as one from CBC1, the national radio network. The host is a well-known social democrat and his guest on this show is the editor of a conservative Alberta-based monthly magazine. The program was on the car radio when I returned home earlier. I was only half-listening to it at the time.
Although the host and his guest are polar opposites on the political front, they seem to get along quite well. I can even make out the sound of occasional laughter.
The radio broadcast seems to be coming from Florence's house next door. I wouldn't mind at all if she turned the volume up a bit.
***
I'm suddenly distracted by a definitive-sounding, "No!"
The voice seems to be coming from Doo's house. It should be no surprise that the voice belongs to Doo's mom. When it comes to Doo, "no" seems to be an integral part of her parenting vocabulary.
I don't hear any response from Doo. I think he's very accustomed to hearing "no." So he's probably getting better at knowing when "no" really means "no."
I decide that Doo wanted to stay up until ten o'clock.
***
Before I can pick up any other Sack sounds, a spotlight at the foot of the Wonders' porch suddenly comes to life. It's set on a timer to come on at dusk.
The spotlight bathes me in a white light. Suddenly, the porch is a stage and I'm its sole occupant.
It's time to call it a night.
***
4 comments:
Too bad Gordon didn't get his power washer before the muffin showed up.
Yeharr
mmm that was nice it made me feel nostalgic or something ridiculous like that
I knew of a man who was so excited about his power washer that he was known to sprayclean the siding of his neighbor's houses, usually unrequested and at odd hours of the night. My friend's father is a large, intimidating man with a booming voice, and he used every ounce of intimidation to make sure that his house would never be power-washed without permission again.
Thanks for reminding me of the beauty of observation.
Ah, the ubiquitous power washer goes where the old garden hose dares not go. Gordon would have made quick work of the muffin, for sure.
I'm hoping he doesn't go as far as the man Jessica mentioned, but anything is possible. . . .
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