The End Of The World. It certainly seemed to Dodd that the world was on the brink of chaos, that reality was growing feeble and order was disappearing. What was true one day was wrong the next. The idea of something being permanent was forgotten. There was always New Advances. And in his head the images of the war, the terrible silence, the endless marching through craters littered with dead women and children, all with their arms around each other, around their poor dead animals, dogs and chickens, blackened, bloating, eyes white and featureless like hard-boiled eggs. No rot, no stink. Perfectly sterile.
Dodd found himself wanting to believe Jesus Christ was coming back to save him, he wanted desperately to believe. He couldn’t, though. He just couldn’t find it in himself. He couldn’t trust JTV, because it was big business and this was a big event, and all he could see was the money they were going to make because of all the people who wanted so desperately to believe.
And yet, Dodd couldn’t believe the United Church would risk the anger of a world of betrayed believers.
The beetle at his feet crawled down a crack, disappearing from sight. Dodd put his hands into his pockets and continued on his way, walking down the block to his apartment complex, a small, cheap dwelling compared to the massive corporate-housing complexes looming to the north, south and west. He passed the row of garages, guiltily thought about the graffiti painted inside his own, and walked up to his front door. “Open please,” he told it.
Recognizing his voice, it obeyed.
The television was silent. Dodd was amazed. He wondered where Sheila had gone, and walking down to the bedroom he was tickled to find her taking a nap in his bed. He stood over her in the dim light that filtered through the electric shades, studying her prone, nude figure sprawled across the unmade sheets. Her bright red hair spilled across her shoulders and back, messy and unwashed. Seeing her like this made Dodd feel better, and he bent over and gave her a gentle kiss on the small of her back. Her shoulder blades twitched, and after a moment she raised her head, turning and looking over her shoulder. Seeing him she smiled and rolled over on her back, splaying her legs. She took a hold of his arm and pulled him insistently down.
5. EXPECTING
Savina watched Dodd walking away from the house, her smooth face set into a frustrated expression. She needed to talk to him and her father had scared him away. Her father also forbade her to leave the house because they were going to church that night, so she couldn’t go chasing after him.
“What’s wrong, child?” her father asked her.
“Nothing,” she replied.
Behind both of them the television showed one of the JTV
choirs that the Church was so proud of, a gathering of perfect-faced men and women singing with all the enthusiasm their hearts and lungs could muster. “… blood runs so red to my face,” they sang, “… I am awash in shame … when the Savior arrived … I had not yet been saved …” Savina wanted to gag.
Her father spontaneously hugged her, kissing her hair.
Religious things always made him so emotional. “I love you, child,” he said.
“I love you too, Daddy.” She hugged him back, and something flashed in her mind in the mutual squeeze. An idea. “Can I invite a friend along to church tonight?”
“What friend is this?” her father asked.
“A girl from one of my classes.” Savina thought frantically.
“Her name is Lamissa.”
“She isn’t going to church with her own family now?”
“Her family are atheists – I’m trying to convert her.”
“Ah, now!” He seemed very pleased.
Here’s the trick, Savina thought. “They don’t have a phone. I have to go over to her house to ask her to come.”
“No phone, child? What kind of family has no phone?” His voice was suspicious.
“They’re anti-techs. Back-to-the-trees people, but Lamissa’s not like that – she believes in God, and she really needs guidance.”
“Where does Lamissa live?”
“Not far, between here and Dodd’s.”
Her father seemed to deliberate. “Okay, child. But you be back before we go to church – we are not going to wait around.
If you make us late for church you’ll be paying for it later.” He pronounced it “lay-tah,” stretching the word out for emphasis.
“It won’t take long, Daddy,” she promised. She gave him a kiss, and smiled. “Bye!”
“Remember what I said.”
“I will!” She was already on her way to the door.
“Bye bye now,” he said, “and good luck with Lamissa’s parents.”
“Thanks!” She opened the door, then dashed outside. In reality there was a Lamissa in one of her classes but Savina hardly knew her. She certainly had no intention of inviting the girl to church. When she got back from Dodd’s she would simply tell her father that Lamissa’s parents wouldn’t let their daughter go.
She trotted across the front walk and down to the sidewalk, following Dodd’s footsteps. He was nowhere in sight – he had quite a lead on her – and she wanted to catch him before he got home and Sheila got her hands on him. With Sheila around he wouldn’t talk to her.
Savina remembered the days when Dodd had been living with Leslie. She thought of the time as “BS,” “Before Sheila” – a happy time of warmth and excitement and freedom. Her parents used to let Dodd and Leslie baby-sit her, and they had taken her to the coast, to the mountains, out skiing; they were some of the happiest memories she had. Dodd and Leslie were so easy to talk to, she kept no secrets from them, and felt free to ask any questions she liked. They were open, honest. Savina had learned a lot about sex. It was no big deal. She and Dodd and Leslie had grown to be very close friends, and then Leslie got transferred to a new job and she left. She just left. Dodd had said it was okay, that Leslie had to leave because of her career and he had to stay because of his job, and that was life. He tried to hide it, but Savina could tell his heart was broken. Savina was fifteen at the time, and had an enormous crush on him. She would have done anything to make him feel better.
That’s when Sheila came into the picture. Sheila was the woman in the apartment upstairs, the woman who’d been watching Dodd through the window and panting over him in the hall. She’d gotten to him when he was vulnerable and used sex to keep him.
Savina thought she was a slut. Even her parents thought the woman was a slut, and had abruptly stopped using Dodd as a baby sitter.
That hurt Savina, and made her dislike Sheila even more. Dodd was her friend, the only person she had left that she could open up to, and the only person that could give her advice that was worth anything. The only one that supported her dreams. Savina needed him now more than ever.
She reached his apartment without seeing him. Damn it, she thought. Reaching out an index finger, she touched the burnished metal beside the blue-gray door and stood nervously waiting. After a minute she touched the button again.
No answer. Savina began to wonder if Dodd hadn’t come straight home, if he’d stopped somewhere else. She touched the button again, standing on one foot then the other. She was beginning to feel a little foolish, just standing there. Where else could he be? she wondered. He occasionally went to a bar about seven blocks away, but that wouldn’t do her any good –
they wouldn’t let her in.
After ringing the bell again and waiting another minute, Savina walked with crossed arms around to Dodd’s bedroom window and peered through the shades. At first she couldn’t see anything – there was only a small slit she could see through – but in the dimness beyond she could make out the bed, and figures on the bed … pale, moving … and Savina ducked and moved away from the window, her heart hammering and face flushed. She felt guilty and frustrated. Sheila! She hated Sheila. The slut had firmly wedged herself in between her and Dodd, cutting them off completely. What could Dodd possibly see in her?
Savina strode away, face burning, arms crossed. Her hopes were crushed – she couldn’t talk to Dodd and it was all Sheila’s fault. She walked in the direction of the neighborhood subway station, heading reluctantly to her boyfriend’s house. Her boyfriend by all rights should be the first to know, but Savina would have felt more secure if she’d talked to Dodd first.
At the entrance to the subway station Savina halted, watching the people emerge, staring at the old men, the women, the kids, the occasional raggedly-dressed anarchist … She realized she had no idea of what to say to Greg. She was so angry she could slap his face, and at the same time she wanted to hug and kiss him until the fear was washed away. What am I going to say? she thought. How am I going to break the news? It was so hard to talk to him.