The Carpenter by Matt Lennox Page A

consideration. Finally Lee put the menu down and pushed it away.
    —What’re you smiling at?
    —Nothing, said Lee.
    —Tell me.
    He felt something brush against his ankle. It took him a moment to conclude that it had been her foot.
    —Well, I think I’m in over my head. This is a nice place. But I don’t know what the hell any of this stuff is.
    She laughed loudly. She leaned over the tablecloth and touched his hand and said: You’re an interesting one, Lee.
    When the waiter came, Lee figured he’d follow Helen’s lead. She opted for the prix fixe—a salad to start, a baked pasta with bacon and mushrooms for the main course, a slice of chocolate cake for dessert. The sequence seemed elaborate. Lee couldn’t predict what would happen if he asked for a cheeseburger or a fried steak. Helen looked across at him and told him he might like the ravioli. He told the waiter he’d have the ravioli.
    —Everybody likes ravioli.
    —I was twenty-five the first time I ever ate spaghetti, said Lee.
    They had some cigarettes. She finished her drink and was moving the ice in the glass.
    —Tell me about you, Brown Eyes. What do you do after I see you for breakie every morning?
    —I’m a tradesman. Carpentry. Windows, doors. Cabinets. Joining. You name it.
    —But you haven’t been doing that real long, have you? At least not here in town.
    —What makes you say that?
    —You’ve got a certain aura around you, said Helen. I’m good at sensing these things. I’m real spiritual. It’s what you get with a Pisces like me.
    —Well, okay. But what about you? You got a story outside the café?
    —Oh my. I’m just an old soul, Brown Eyes. I just keep on keeping on.
    She laughed again.
    Her salad came and she ordered another drink. Lee went to the washroom. It occurred to him that she might be gone by the time he returned, that certain truths were evident no matter what, and that she need only to wait for an opportunity to slip out undetected. But she was still there when he came back, and he started to feel good.
    They were into their suppers. He liked the ravioli and he liked the way she was smiling. She talked in a rambling fashion and came round eventually to where she’d started out, which was a mid-sized town in the south part of the province. She’d done a year or two of college, had quit to travel with some Hare Krishnas, and had at last ended up back in the big city. Where the action was, the city.
    —The city, said Lee. Yeah. I lived there for awhile too. Right up till the end of the summer. That’s a hell of a place. All kinds of action. Sirens all night long. I never thought of myself as ending up there, but I guess it’s funny how it goes. Where you end up. Anyhow, if you were down there, how’d you end up here?
    —Oh, the way karma plans things for you, you know.
    She’d had four drinks by the time the dessert arrived. Her face was flushed. She carved a piece of cake and offered it to him on her fork. The waiter brought the bill and it ate up all the money Peter had loaned Lee and five dollars from his wallet besides.
    —Where to now, Brown-Eyed Lee?
    —I don’t know. We could get a cup of coffee.
    —Or you could show me where you live.
    —Sure.
    —You don’t sound sure.
    —I am sure, said Lee.
    —I know. But you don’t have a car.
    —No …
    She stood up from the table, weaving a little, and told the waiter to call them a taxi. Then she took Lee’s arm and led him out of the restaurant. The sidewalk outside was quiet. She put a cigarette in her mouth and Lee lit it for her.
    —You were in prison, weren’t you, said Helen. You were a jailbirdie.
    —How did you know?
    —It’s your aura. It’s strong. I like it. Are you strong?
    He smiled, still feeling good, and he rubbed at a spot on the pavement with the toe of his boot. He said: Am I strong? I don’t know. I guess I’m no slouch.
    A taxi came. The same cabbie who’d driven Lee out to Donna’s house was behind the wheel. He ogled Helen.