Debris by Kevin Hardcastle Page B

know.”
    Â 
    Â 
    I picked Claire up from her house. She had her hair teased out and let down and wore jeans and a girl’s golf shirt. Little make-up to colour her pale cheeks, faintest eye-shadow. She hustled out to the truck and tried to put her jacket on as she went. When she got in she kissed me long and tasted like wine and bubblegum.
    Aunt Colette had roast chicken and potatoes ready in the oven when we got there. I led Claire in through the side door where the yard-bound mutt licked at her hand. Colette peeked over from the stove when we came in. Red-haired and tall with thick, strong arms. Slippered feet on the linoleum.
    â€œCharlie, you are late,” she said.
    â€œSorry Aunt Col.”
    She studied the both of us. Took a long look at Claire. She smiled and cocked a thumb toward the sitting room.
    â€œAnimals are in back,” she said, eyes on Claire yet. “Honey. You can stay here with me.”
    Claire took to all of them like nothing. She talked to Aunt Colette about what it was like in the high schools now and she talked to Ronnie about her older sister, Karen. Ronnie said Karen probably wouldn’t remember him but Claire said she did. She talked to her last week. The sister lived out west now. Ronnie nodded solemn but he got a charge out of the whole thing. Pestered Claire throughout the meal. Pa said little until he was done eating. He waited for us all to finish and took all the plates to the kitchen. Came back with a good bottle of whiskey and set it by the wine on the table. Pa poured a glass and slid it down to Ronnie. Then he leaned in toward Claire.
    â€œThis here Irish wine is better than the girly stuff sittin’ there,” he said. “Don’t know if you got the taste for it.”
    â€œI could have a small one,” Claire said.
    Pa poured the glass quarter-full without looking at it. Claire took it and Colette squinted her eyes at the girl, looked down at her placemat for a second. Pa sent me a half-glass and poured his glass full to the brim.
    â€œTo Claire,” he said, raising the thing thimble-like between his thumb and forefinger. “May her luck with men improve by the day.”
    Ronnie busted out laughing until I backhanded him at the shoulder. We all drank. Claire downed the stuff in one slow gulp and set the glass down. Not a twitch or shudder. Pa smiled a little.
    â€œWhat’s your dad do for a livin’, Claire?” he said.
    â€œHe works at the TRW . Runs the floor for the morning shift.”
    Dad nodded.
    â€œWhat’d he say when you told him you were comin’ out for dinner?”
    â€œTry to be back by midnight.”
    â€œYous aren’t from here, originally?” he said.
    Claire shifted, ran her hair back behind her ear.
    â€œMoved here when I was ten. Dad is from Rochester and my mom’s from Niagara Falls.”
    My Pa poured himself another whiskey. Tipped another small one into Claire’s glass. He winked at her.
    â€œShe’s a good’un, son,” he said.
    Â 
    Â 
    Claire helped Aunt Colette with the dishes for a few minutes until Col told her to grab me and get along. I got up from the couch and gave Ronnie the finger. He tried to swat it out of the air. Pa sat heavy in an armchair and he saluted lazily at me as I went. Barely did he look up. We left the house and my aunt watched us by the lamplight at the side door. Claire kept looking back and waving. My aunt held a hand up.
    The truck rumbled heavy on snowed-over ruts in the forest lane. Pine branches whapped along the edges of the windshield and brushed the length of the truck. Out we came into a clearing, the ground under two feet of snow. Nothing there but the hoof prints of a wayward deer, twinned rabbit tracks. I pulled up crooked on a shieldrock plateau that fell five feet to frozen water. To the right stood a set of falls that spilled yet and broke thin-formed slates of ice over and over. There was a six-pack of