Roachville

When I woke up early the next morning I decided that my foot was good enough to take a hobbling trip down town. Outside, the sky looked as if it was going to rupture from the weight of heavy clouds, so I just threw on some jeans and a new ‘sky is falling’ grey t-shirt. I didn’t forget my phone and my cord jacket (did I mention it’s tapered at the bottom, hence the amazingness).

I drove to St-Werburghs and parked very close to where I had first encountered the faceless suit. I hobbled to a bench and listened to the new Radiohead album in a loop. There was a feast of layers to peel and the music helped to get me out of myself for a bit and stop wondering why Ely hadn’t replied to my email. I checked all the news items, fearing I might see something about the murder of a man with two different coloured eyes. There were plenty of horror stories, but nothing I could link to Ely’s disappearance. I walked to his shop. It was closed and I didn’t linger. As I made my way back to the car, a loose strand of hair grazed my cheek. I swept it away, picturing the insect dream and my aborted struggle with the faceless man. Was the nightmarish figure only in my head or was the naga giving me a taste of an alternate reality? Was that the different plane I had to prepare for? If so, I was far from ready.

The sun made a triumphant comeback in the afternoon – a good omen for Vi and Bek’s party. It was 3 pm and I had time to step out in my tiny garden. I grabbed a handful of soil and threw it towards the fence. Nobody was there as far as I could tell. Scanning my surroundings, I noticed a new shoot poking its head through the dusty soil. Ever since Kenneth Tann had destroyed it, the garden had been a desolate desert. I bent down to study the life form. I didn’t know much about plants, but this was different from the usual weeds that grew in my backyard. I circled the plant with care and ran back to the kitchen in search of a watering device. After I had watered it plenty, I crouched next to it. The stem was rubbery and thick and, at the end of the shoot, a small triangular shape had formed. I could swear it was bigger than when I’d poured water all over it a moment ago. I scratched my head. Was this a water plant and, if so, how could it have managed to grow through this small dust bowl? I bent down closer to the plant and whispered to it, ‘Don’t go anywhere. I’ll look after you, I promise.’

I half-hobbled, half-skipped back to the house to put some music on, just in case my plant would like to listen to it with me. I had a bit of time before going to Vi and Bek’s, but I sure didn’t want to be the first one there. I walked back out with a chino cushion, frisbeed it next to the plant and landed on it before the first beat of the music. I sat in the lotus pose with my elbows on thighs and studied the new shoot. I stayed in this position for a while, listening to mixed pop music and jazzy overtones.

The neighbour’s dog started barking and I fantasised about finding a road construction site, where I could attach the dog on a very short leash in the path of a soil compactor whose driver was a notorious drunk and often got lulled to sleep by the languid pace of his engine.