The Italian Teacher(69)
For a spell, he fell low indeed, even selling himself for a few years to pay for cocaine and amphetamines, prowling business hotels around King Street, downing a double amaretto in the lobby bar before 9 a.m., then heading to the elevators: upstairs for work. But that’s the past, he says. “Hey, I was listening to the CBC the other day, and these critics were discussing your father. Apparently he’s been discovered again.”
“So I hear.”
“I tell everyone at work how I was at U of T with Bear Bavinsky’s son,” he says. “And the rest of your family, Charles? You still see that grandmother in Montreal?”
“Ruth died a few years ago. An unhappy end, I’m afraid, given what happened with my mother.”
“What happened with her?” Marsden asks, concerned.
“Gosh, really has been ages since we spoke.” Pinch is never sure how to say this. Typically he says Natalie died of a long illness. But he tells the truth this time.
“I remember answering sometimes when she called from London,” Marsden says. “I know you two were very close.”
Pinch never considered it this way until hearing it. Natalie does accompany him more as years pass—when brushing his teeth at the medicine cabinet mirror, for instance, he sees her expression in his own. Or Natalie standing in his living room, looking at him; she shrugs.
“Did she explain why?” Marsden asks.
“In movies there’s always a note. But hardly anyone leaves a note, it turns out. They leave an act.” As Pinch speaks, her ceramics around the living room seem to light up. “I hate that you remember me avoiding her calls.”
“I remember you talking to her.”
“I feel guilty about what happened. Extremely.”
“It’s hardly ever somebody else. It’s something inside the person who does it. I’ve met people like that.”
“Should that be worrying to me in another way? My grandfather attempted suicide; my mother did it.” He adds: “With my wild social life, I could walk offstage without the curtain moving, though my afternoon tutorials schedule would be a disaster!”
“Don’t joke about things like that.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“So lovely talking to you, Charles.”
“I’m so pleased I called you, Mars. Hey, do you ever pass through London?”
“World travel isn’t in the cards, I’m afraid. On my wages, it’s month to month.”
“Well, if you find a pot of gold, you’re welcome to crash on my couch.”
“I will definitely consider it,” Marsden replies, meaning, I definitely can’t.
“Actually, know what? I’ve got school vacation in a couple of months, and I normally motor off to my dad’s cottage in France. But what about this: What about you let me fly you here to London? You’d be helping me—I need your opinion on a few things.”
“My opinion isn’t worth an intercontinental flight. It’s yours for the price of a phone call.”
“No, this needs discussing in person. And honestly,” he says, chuckling, “aside from my dogs, I’ve actually got nothing to spend my savings on.”
“Except flowers.”
“How do you mean?”
“That wasn’t you?”
“What wasn’t me?”
“Oh, nothing. Someone’s been stalking me with flower deliveries. I don’t know anybody that nice around here. Probably some creepy old loser.”
“Not necessarily,” Pinch responds, a trifle defensive. “I’m sure you have plenty of admirers.”
“But no dogs, alas. What kind are yours?”
“They’re two sons that people mistake for dogs. Come meet them.”
“It’s a generous offer. But I couldn’t accept.” As soon as they hang up, Pinch cancels his planned visit to France and resolves to buy his friend a plane ticket.
56
When Marsden emerges from Earl’s Court Station, Pinch hesitates. His friend has the body of an ex-bouncer now, in a sweatshirt and jogging pants, face jowly, heavy pouches under his eyes. Pinch strides forward, touching Marsden’s back in welcome. It’s like clapping a stone column.
They’re formal at first, both concerned that five days might be excessive. As thanks for the plane ticket, Marsden insists on treating at every meal, which causes Pinch—mindful of his friend’s poverty—to divert them to the cheapest eateries, claiming each as a favorite. “It looks a bit greasy but it’s the best fish ’n’ chips in London.”
Marsden notes that Pinch sought his opinion on something and wanted to speak face-to-face. But Pinch delays. How can he say it aloud?: I’ve destroyed a major work of art by my own father. I’ve committed fraud. Everyone is going to find out. He’ll come clean to Marsden, but not yet. This visit is too important.
Mostly the two middle-aged men visit art museums—a decorated backdrop before which to restore their bond. Marsden wants to go to Sensation, an edgy show at the Royal Academy featuring contemporary British art, among which a frozen head made from the artist’s blood, a dead shark mounted behind glass, and child mannequins with mouths like anuses and noses like penises. The boisterous young crowd is giddy and goaded.