Ferris emptied the pipe s ash into an ashtray. He did this appearing dignified, and with

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1 Ferris emptied the pipe s ash into an ashtray. He did this appearing dignified, and with eclat as to the simplicity of the situation, and was impressed that Billy could see. He resumed his posture, leaning with his back against the couch, his glasses making him appear honest, complex, and capable for wit. You know, Billy many times, before now, many years back, the love I had for life was escaping me. And now it has returned. Billy felt as he often did in his own home, three houses away from Ferris Mulchock. It was a moment with an adult, like a parent, and he had to be quiet and listen. He could listen for a while, but then his attention would fade, and he could hear a cough coming, and would straighten up again. To Billy, today at least, it seemed Mr. Mulchock was really revelling in the times. It seemed to Billy that he would remember this, some time after he passed away, and that he could see Mr. Mulchock in a forgiving light, wearing a smile before going into an afterlife, and coming back someday, to another world. Billy was not unaccustomed to the light, and funerals, and tears that sprang forward all the time, even if feeling bored was the main emotion. By crying he could see all the time, into the past and the future, and he could tell this way, that funerals were sad. Of al the people that died it seemed that Mr. Mulchock wasn t one who should go. He was nice, in terms of his manners, his never forgetting how important it was to listen, and not overindulge. Billy s father liked him, and at the dinner table, Mr. Mulchock was animated, smiling and happy. They ate, and talked, and by the end of the meal it was like Mr. Mulchock s words were eaten too. He was very light, in listening and feeling, and talked with care and curious interest.

2 Twenty years prior, before Billy was born, Mr. Mulchuck argued with Billy s Dad about a brass cross erected on the front of his house. His Dad saw it in a dumpster, and like a flag or a thing that needs decommission, he pulled it out of the dumpster, and put it in his truck without philosophizing much about it. On the way home he could see the cross on the front of his house, a Tudor house that with a cross in front would make the house look better. Anybody that thought ill of Billy s Dad was sure to see this, and contemplate in cold silence what indeed he was up to again. It might have been so cockamamie that a neighbour might cry, as the whole world was conspiring against average people. His friends, that were also neighbours, would stop and think about it. If they laughed they had by then figured out the joke, and why a cross, ten feet high and six feet wide, was stuck to the front of his house. Mr. Mulchock argued with Billy s Dad, and forgot to stop inquiring, and grew peevish and annoyed. Billy s Dad smiled, and fixed his eyes as if he knew Ferris would forgive him, and smiled and said, Ferris, when you believe in God, when you practice religion, this is what you do. The whole neighbourhood is smeared now, with your religious ideals. Not everybody is a Christian, you know. Why don t you try and blend in, be happy? You don t need a cross. Is this some kind of horror movie or something? Billy s Dad laughed. Mr. Mulchock said, That was a time, amongst a number of first times, that I felt like dying.

3 Billy listened. By now Mr. Mulchock had coughed repeatedly twice, and Billy was paying full attention, even if he had heard this story before, as his Dad told it. Billy was sympathetic. He may have known moods that make people suicidal, and like an angel offer wisdom as to the wonder of life. During the pause, Billy said, Why did you feel like dying, Mr. Mulchock? It felt, to my eyes at least, that I was losing in this world. Losing against everything. And what made you want to live again? That s a good question, Billy. I realized, despite the fact that I was losing in the world, that the problem was I wasn t accepting things. It could well have been a pile of garbage bags, that with no garbagemen in the world, I realized I had to take the garbage to the dump, and be done with it. You took out your garbage? Billy asked. Figuratively. I accepted a lower notch on the totem pole. In college everyone was alive. Ethical issues like freedom, and pride in being a man or woman, heterosexual or gay, these were things that inspired people to learn more, say more, and take part in demonstrations, taking pride in everything that is right. Isn t that all good, Mr. Mulchock? It is, but I realized, long after college, that people in an adult world, if I can call it that, are wiser than they appear, as becoming an adult allows one a grace period to learn. There were people seeing me that knew who I was, and what I am and stand for, so I just had to give in and let their wisdom change the way I lived my life. It was accepting a better idea for how to live than just ideals taught in college. I understand, Mr. Mulchock.

4 So I associated my disappointment with the world, my coming acceptance of being an average man, with the cross. I didn t have to go up there and hang on it, feet and hands pierced, but I had to realize something. Whatever it is that I hate, I have to accept, like drinking poison. Billy smiled a bit. This was enriching adult food, and he understood, and in his heart, he prayed there be some mercy for Mr. Mulchock. Suicide is a serious thing. He knew the word, and in his seven years of life, he knew a few people that died of a suicide. But I did, he said. And I still wear the same smile today. I talk to people as if they re a thousand times smarter than me, and bigger than me, and more handsome than me, he said and laughed. Billy laughed too. Enough is enough, and for forever, that s a term in life leading to what? He refilled his pipe with fresh tobacco. Its smoky form smelled good, and even the fresh tobacco smelled good, but he knew that smokers were a certain sort, and when he saw Mr. Mulchock, he tried to imagine he wasn t actually smoking. Still, the pipe tobacco smelled good. He said, I talked to your father afterward. I was sorry. I told him that I wasn t thinking, and that it was his every right to put up a cross, be it brass or oversized, as it reflected his beliefs. From what I learned in university religion isn t so bad. It s very human, and reverent, and at times beautiful. Just because I don t wear a cross, nor count on anybody to go up there and die for me, doesn t mean I should criticize a normal human mode of life. Billy was relieved he made up with his Dad. When it came to very deep things, his Dad had a softness. He wanted Billy to know that side of him, even if it was deeply human and not much like how his Dad normally is. His neck downcast, and walking through the sliding door, his father could see him and his hat and his white face, gleaming in the sunshine, walking towards his father, one man whom Billy loved more than anyone else.

5 There were trees in the backyard, beyond the grass, and further in were trails that spanned a few hectares, allowing the imagination to go on and on. He followed his Dad. There was a tree fort he had seen before but had never heard the story of its creation told. He said, When we were kids, we built things like that. Back then we got along with everybody, like it was some kind of peace term before our hormones came in and started raging. That s the thing with tree-forts, there was peace time before real life began. Billy looked at the tree-fort. It was old, and the wind was blowing through the walls. How old were you then, Dad? We were between five and ten. It was my idea, because I saw someone building another one, and the guys thought that was a great idea, and we built it in about a day. Billy didn t say anything. The sun was shining down onto the trees, and through the leaves and needles, and light and dark moved with the wind. Do you think it s my time to build a tree-fort, Dad? You can build a tree-fort anytime in your life. But usually kids build forts before they re ten. You can see what they did, with the rope, and the two by fours, and the walls. Yeah, Billy said. What did you do in your tree-fort? We played cards, read magazines, ate stashes of candy. Then we all sort of grew up, and spread apart, and for a while the tree-fort just hung up there. People rarely ever take them down, and much later in life, people come back and see these things and smile, as it shows much of who they were at that age. I should build one, eh, Dad? A tree-fort?

6 Think about it for a while. You ve got to decide what kind of tree-fort. You can make one out of rope and wood, or wood and nails, or all three. Let your imagination tell you what to do. Then, one day, set to work on it, and in there you can have all your friends in, and eat candy, tell jokes, whatever you want. Of all the times Billy s father had gone soft on him, this one was lukewarm. The big idea was that Billy could make a tree-fort all of his own. The other part, the part Billy wasn t sure his Dad was intending to say, was that people are all different, and they grow up, and the magic of youth is gone, or so he had heard this somehow before. As a child before that time, he felt that his childhood would go on forever, like a beam of light. Only when he felt adult, gratifying himself, would he forget and ignore his childhood, and move on as a man. His father was very sympathetic to this. He knew Billy the way he knew himself as a kid. He knew the tree-fort talk would shake him up, make him feel queasy, but to him, as of now, the tree-fort concept seemed profound. Over the years this idea grew on him, much like a fine wine, and now in its ripe maturity, he could talk about it with a smile, as if to with gumption send something to its end, and pray for its eternal wellness. Mr. Mulchock went on talking. With Billy he could relax, the progeny of Billy s Dad, and the smoke from his pipe would not bother Billy. There are certain people drawn to the smell of a pipe, and Billy may have been one. But he listened well, and kept his eyes fixed on Mr. Mulchock, and showed deep sympathy and pain for the hurt Mr. Mulchock suffered.

7 Why he was unburdening this on Billy he did not know. But Billy found facility in listening to him, and reminded himself that to show interest in what he was saying was to show respect, and he wanted Mr. Mulchock to know that he respected him. When I met a woman, my whole future seemed to be open again, like a million chances and a desire, and if I did things right, I could make a way for myself that would last ages. Billy went on listening. She was a blonde, and smarter than me, but she was thoughtful enough to break into laughter at any time, because I could see her games. She was needy and tearful, but if I caught her in the middle of a lie, she d break into laughter. Crazy laughter, like some bad guy in a cartoon, laughing maniacally. Billy laughed. He could picture her. She moved in, and it turned out she was more than a small problem. She yelled at me night and day, nothing would please her. After a while I was scared to return back home from work. She hung in there like a tiger and the cage was our house. The chances of her killing me were good. You ve seen those eyes. Billy nodded. Mr. Mulchock coughed again, and appeared grey and old and dusty. Billy blinked when he wasn t looking. This was one of his strangest days. I married her, and one month after she divorced me, and took half the house with her. Billy tried to imagine this. I paid the mortgage on that house for years after that, along with the rent I paid monthly in a rundown apartment. How did you get the house back?

8 She died. It turned out she was murdered. I was asked to court and said my piece. I had absolutely nothing to do with it. Who was it? Her ex-boyfriend. She married me after escaping from him. I thought later, I was probably lucky, because he could well have killed me too. I was glad the court case was over. So you got your house back. Yes. This is my house. Despite all the times, I am really comfortable in it. I look at myself in the mirror and I know I am well, I m healthy, and this house is the crucible of my being, in all kinds of weather. I can look out the window and see what I think, how I feel, and predict the kind of day it is going to be. Billy said, I like my house too, Mr. Mulchock. Well. It turned out, after almost suffering a nervous breakdown, that I was feeling better than ever. Since Marie went away I felt better than ever, much like surviving something resembling a test. I wake up feeling proud, and capable. I smile at myself in the mirror, and bristle my moustache. I became a happy man, after narrowly escaping death. Billy went on listening. He would be fine for another ten minutes. And now I can bring back all of what has happened, as if my house is a ship, and the roads and highways rivers and streams. I look out and know that all is right in the world. Billy smiled. That s cool. I see your Dad all the time. Him and I talk, and it s almost always the same. He gets the better of me and now everything is on his terms again. Your Dad is a bossy person. But he likes you. As it appears. By then I m done ranting and raving, and have nothing left to say.

9 He likes you. He even said so at the dinner table. He says he gets a kick out of you, and what you say. Like what? Like your car. You said she fits like a glove. She does. It s a Dodge Colt and it s a small car but it fits like a glove. Driving in it I feel very happy. Billy laughed. But you call it a woman. Why do you call your car after a woman? Oh, Mr. Mulchock said. Well, I guess a car could be a man. I prefer to think of her as a woman. That s what my Dad laughs about. He says you re a real original. Mr. Mulchock let go of a short, knowing laugh. The thing I was getting around to, Billy, is that life has a number of stages, and I think I m at the last one. When I listen to music now, I hear all kinds of things. It s like every page and chapter of my life is now concluding, and finally I ll breath my last breath. Billy said, Are you feeling suicidal again? No. But there s a light beyond the one I know. It s brighter and wiser, brighter than your own Dad. I look to it and, honestly Billy, I feel the greatest peace. And that s God, and he is a kind God. If he were mine I d do everything I could to keep him. Billy made a strange face, and straightened it again. His Dad was really bright. I love that light now, as it goes beyond everything. Every person I ve loved or hated, that light is beyond it. And it s like I can see that ocean, and the light on it, and can be with God like I am.

10 Billy let a tear come to his eye. He had been trying, for the last few moments, to hold it back, but it came and so he felt as if he were crying like a baby again. Of course Mr. Mulchock saw it, and smiled as if he knew the situation more than well. He tried to communicate to Billy that this was normal. Billy wiped the tear from his eye. Mr. Mulchock relit the tobacco in the bole of the pipe. He puffed once, and twice, and held the smoke in, and exhaled. I used to think smoke was lovely, he said. I could see dragons in the smoke, and purple and white hair, and elegant dancers, and stampedes of elephants. But I realized later that was a flaw. The smoke in the room collected into a whole, like a cloud, in the living room, kitchen, hallway. Now I don t think much of it. Staring at smoke is for the utterly foolish or morbidly wise. Billy said, I like the smell, but you know you shouldn t smoke. Smoking kills people. You re right, Billy, Mr. Mulchock said, and put the pipe down, and let the embers go out. I wish I had the inner strength to quit this habit. Not only me, but people around me, breathe it in and it is second hand smoke, so they can die too. In other words, I am killing people by smoking. Billy said. That s thoughtful. I bet you wish you never started. I do. If it were that simple, I would. But smoking has been with me for years. It is like a friend that you ve known since teenage years. When I need comfort and support, it is there. To

11 give up on smoking would be like forgetting or avoiding a friend. My friend needs me like I need him, or her, for that matter. At least you try, Billy said. It s a sad ending. I know people that have died from smoking. Well, at least you care, said Mr. Molchuck. I d like to quit, Billy, but I don t think I could, even if I tried. Billy looked out the window. The great light (it was a sunny day) shone on the lake, and the lake reflected it like all the ways it might have been listening. Billy said, I don t see God in the light, Mr. Mulchock. It s like everyday sunshine. He is there, Billy. I know. I can almost hear him, and then it is like small talk in a huge room, and it is patiently waiting, waiting to hear that voice that you love, until you re almost crying, and the light on the lake is magnificent. And all the while, you were thinking, and carrying on, lighting a pipe or whatever. That s lovely, Mr. Mulchock. I think I know God in my dreams. I just simply let him know I am listening, and I carry on doing my thing. I don t think he likes to directly talk to people. If I were God, I wouldn t. Just imagine, Mr. Mulchock said. Being God. What kind of story would that make? Imagine being a person nobody is smarter than. Mr. Mulchock blinked in pain. That s cute, Billy, but imagine the love, and war, and triumph. When you re that smart it s all about emotions. Everything else is supremely easy. I guess. But I think being smart makes you feel more alone. Again Mr. Mulchock winced. Or warmer and better. Some problems, even to a great mind, cannot be solved.

12 It takes time, like it always does. We get along, anyway, don t we, Billy? We sure do Mr. Mulchock. It s nice to have you here, he said, and looked at Billy through the smoke and light and dust and wind. It s nice to be here, Mr. Mulchock. Is there anything you want me to tell my Dad? Tell him he s the proud owner of a beautiful boy. Billy laughed, and said, I will. But hear me out. I started talking about this, I ll tell you the reason why. Ok. I still have time, Mr. Mulchock. I read a book one time by an author everyone was raving about. He said life is like a jail sentence, and death is the great release. But it goes on, Mr. Mulchock. It goes on forever. Well then, after the great release, I will be reinstated as an innocent, bumbling nobody. Why do I want that to happen? I don t know. Maybe there is a reason for it. A complex reason, like one God might one day explain. Mr. Mulchock winced. I don t think so, Billy. I think it is like the author said, that after the jail sentence, man can rest without any thought. He is free with his absence or presence to do whatever he wants. You see, in death, you are truly free. I don t believe so, Mr. Mulchok. I think in death, you rest. And you wake up another time to a completely different life. Life is different all the time. Don t you want to wake up and

13 see the surprises, and what s new, and how everybody is, like a reunion? Isn t it awesome to be alive again? It s the same, forever, Billy. The same concepts, maybe some new colours, new smiles. If this is God s comedy, I am laughing myself into a fit of hilarity. I am laughing so hard it hurts. Billy could see the humor in this, and smiled. We ve got different beliefs, Mr. Mulchock. Well, stand by your own. That cross on your Dad s house, that tells a lot about you. Your Dad is a good guy. He s a bright man that can say what he thinks. If you ever want to come to my place for dinner, you two are at the top of my list. Thanks, Mr. Mulchock, but I d better go now. So soon, Billy? Don t you want to hear more stories? And I think I have some chocolate in one of those cupboards. No thanks, Mr. Mulchock. It was nice talking to you. You re a good boy, Billy. Believe that. I do already, Mr. Mulchock. Well, believe in it some more. Let that smile of yours drown in belief. Billy smiled as funnily as Mr. Mulchock might have imagined it. He opened the door, said goodbye at last, and shut it, walking meekly home, trying to decide how he felt about those two hours, letting Mr. Mulchock get comfortable, and say what he really thinks, and even let a few tears.

14 The road was not a river, and he walked on, imagining a paved ocean, and smoke and fast cars. But his house was three doors down, and his parents were seated at the dinner table, and were glad to see him. His Dad said, What does old Mr. Mulchock have to say, Billy? He said you were really bright, Dad. And what did you say? I said I know. And what else? He says really you re a great guy. And that was it? Then he smiled, and looked all wise, and went on talking about something else. Sounds like you had a nice day. It was a nice day, Dad. Did he talk about death? All day, practically. He never really stopped. Was he proud when you left, son? He was more than proud. He said to drown in my smile. Ha ha ha. He s a good one. That s what I thought. They talked openly during dinner, and washed their plates, and went to watch sitcoms on TV. In the dark of the TV room, they laughed and laughed, and they were all feeling the same thing. The world was light and forgettable, and everyday came something new, besides one s same-old self.