Chapter 10

I slept late on Saturday. Mindy was still asleep, I thought, but my parents had gone out to run errands. I was surprised to find myself a bit at loose ends. I was so used to having things that needed to be done -- research papers, problem sets, class readings -- that I started to feel nervous, like I’d forgotten to finish something.

But no, this was the summer, Tom, and I’d better get used to it. So I finished the book I’d brought to Wallace’s in my backpack and later I went to the movies with Jeff.

On Monday I was again back at work. Ted was already in and Miriam came in just behind me. She nodded at me pleasantly, then sat down at the computer. Ted passed me the orders which had come in (which, I noted, he’d already entered into the order program and printed out neatly).

“You can start on these. There’ll be others later, I’m sure.”

My gaze was caught by a stack of cardboard boxes stacked next to his desk, and Ted saw me looking.

“Yeah, I cornered my old man over the weekend and made him remember where he’d stored the old orders. Once they’re entered into the system, they’re off to the landfill. I didn’t tell him that, of course, just that I wanted them around and accessible. That’ll keep him happy. And it’ll keep Miriam busy for awhile. At least a couple more days, anyway.”

I saw a brief smile twitch at the corner of Miriam’s mouth.

I picked the orders and loaded them into boxes. There’s a half hour killed. Not ready to read a book, I pulled out the catalog and browsed it again, starting at a different part than I’d perused before. This was tee-shirts with in-your-face sayings. “I’m not rude, I just have the balls to say what everyone else is thinking.” “Boobs: Proof that men can focus on two things at once.” “Oops. There goes my last flying fuck.” “Who left the bag of idiots open?”

Next page was gag gifts. A water bottle shaped like a thick penis. Candles shaped like a boob. A beach ball shaped like a boob. A baby bottle that looks like a bottle of beer.

I mean, this stuff was mildly amusing, but its humor value passed quickly and these things weren’t cheap. Still, Wallace had been in business a long time and people kept buying it so it must have some lasting entertainment value for some.

I suddenly realized that the number of items in the catalog couldn’t possibly fit in the few rooms Ted kept here at the mall. The rest must be at the warehouse. We just hadn’t encountered any of those items in the orders that had come in, so it must be only the most popular things that were kept here.

I was getting bored with the catalog already so I tossed it aside and pulled out yet another book.

Fortunately the mail had apparently arrived with a bunch of new orders so that occupied the rest of my morning. I boxed them up, we printed postage stickers for them and loaded them onto the truck. When I got back from the post office Ted told me to take my lunch.

I stopped by the bookstore, but didn’t see Karen, so it was a solo lunch today. I covered the front while Ted and Miriam went off separately to find their own lunches. I noticed that one of the boxes beside Ted’s desk had been moved to the other side of the shop. Had she gone through that whole box already?

I spent a few moments wondering why she hadn’t been grabbed up by some company rather than working temp jobs. Maybe she just preferred having different tasks every so often.

The rest of the day went by quietly, mostly caught up in my book. I still felt a bit guilty about killing time and getting paid for it. Around five Ted hollered down the hall that he was closing up and for me to go home. I stuffed everything in my backpack and said goodbye on the way out.

I cut through the mall, which was the fastest way to the bus stop, but I was ambushed.

In the walkway just inside the door I found Canary, very agitated, being calmed down by Stan Wojcik. Canary was alternately waving his arms and hugging himself, while Stan talked quietly to him. They both noticed me at the same time. Canary seemed to draw into himself, shrinking, perhaps embarrassed at being caught so upset.

“Uh, hello, Tom. Canary was a little unsettled by something he saw and he called me. I was about to take him home.”

“Oh, okay. Anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve got it.”

“People need to know,” Canary exclaimed suddenly. “Warn them.”

Stan made calming noises and put one hand on Canary’s arm. Canary pulled away. “No,” he said firmly, “they need to know.”

I was curious now. I hadn’t had a lot of interaction with Canary. He struck me as being a bit twitchy and withdrawn, but not crazy. This was different. He was having a hard time controlling himself. I tried to work my way into his epicenter but again found myself unable to do so.

“Maybe if we sit for a bit, he’ll feel better,” I suggested hopefully.

“I guess,” Stan said, “I suppose that sitting still wouldn’t be a bad thing.” He proposed that to Canary and pointed to a nearby bench. Canary shot me a look that I couldn’t read.

When he and Stan were seated, he did seem to have collected himself a little. With no warning, Canary turned to me and said, “He did it to you, too. Why aren’t you angry?”

That was perhaps the most complete sentence I’d ever heard Canary speak. I didn’t know how to respond.

I finally said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Him! Him!”

I was even more lost. I must have looked the part, because Stan made a decision. He cleared his throat and started to explain.

“Canary called me earlier, in a panic. It took a while before I could make sense of it. He was doing some errand here and got a flash. No, that’s not right. Rather he recognized someone, someone we’d thought had disappeared.”

He stopped talking, thinking about how much to tell me.

Finally, he decided to go all in. “You recall me telling you about the lab that got closed down, and the scientist who ran it?”

I nodded.

“Canary recognized Beckham. Ron Beckham. He saw him here.”

“Here? At the mall?”

Canary bobbed his head up and down.

“Are you sure? Could it have been someone who just looked like him?”

He shook his head vigorously, back and forth.

“Beckham has a unique scar just under his left ear,” Stan told me, “apparently a chemical burn from someplace he worked. Hard to miss and not something the average person would have.”

“You said he’d disappeared, that he hadn’t published anything since.”

“That’s right. He dropped out of sight, and never published anything after that under his name. We have no idea where he’s been or what he’s been doing or why he decided to come back here. And I didn’t see him, by the way, he was gone by the time I got here. But Canary knew him from his time in the lab. He and Beckham used to chat sometimes -- they both liked fishing and would sometimes spend a few minutes talking fishing gear.”

“Did Beckham see Canary?”

“He doesn’t think so. Canary was off to the side when Beckham passed, and Beckham didn’t turn his head.”

“Was Beckham with anyone?”

“I don’t know. Canary, was Beckham with anyone, did you see?”

“Alone. Alone.”

“I wonder what he was doing here,” I said. “At the mall, I mean. Also here in Cleveland.” Stan shrugged.

Canary seemed to be more docile now, calmer.

Another thought came up. “I’d think he’d be persona non grata here after the debacle with the lab. Not just from the people he secretly medicated, but also from all the folks who lost their jobs suddenly. If I were him, I’d want to stay far away from Cleveland, from Ohio. It’d have to be a pretty strong reason to get me to come back here.”

“You’re right,” said Stan. “I can’t imagine what it could be, and there’s not enough information to speculate.”

I looked at Canary. “You did well to have spotted him, and also to have kept him from spotting you. Maybe he won’t show up again. But if he does, call Stan right away. And keep out of sight.”