Down Sterling Road by Adrian Michael Kelly

Author:Adrian Michael Kelly [Kelly, Adrian Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC019000
Publisher: Coach House Books
Published: 2005-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Smells like lilacs at Neily’s house. Lilacs and leather, from all the old books he has everywhere in shelves that go the whole way up to the ceiling. But even though Neily gave Dad a break on the fees for the divorce and got him into running and all, Jacob’s not sure how they stayed friends. They always argue about Tories and trade unions. Listen to me, Waldengarden, if you’d worked a real fucken day in your life you’d ach. And if Dad gets into Neily’s cognac he sometimes has night hisses about him – English prick, you. But still tells Jacob If you’re no going to be a doctor, son, then law’s a pretty close second, and either way – he taps his temple – that man’ll help you develop your mind.

Neily’s house is upstairs and his office is downstairs and when his secretaries are gone but Neily’s lawyering down in Cobourg or someplace, Jacob pokes round. Runs his fingers over the fancy gold writing on the sign – Cornelius Allan Waldengarden, Barrister, Solicitor, Notary Public – breathes in the smell of the burgundy leather chair, the huge big desk. Reads bits of books but just the normal ones made out of paper. And he plinks the piano in Neily’s living room. Changes channels with his flicker. When Neily’s home he shows Jacob art books about Miró and Magritte, Delacroix and Dali. Neily saw some of the real paintings in Paris because he goes there all the time. And his new dog’s name is Evelyn but when Jacob asks Isn’t that a girl’s name, Neily says It’s after Evelyn Waugh, the novelist – he was a man. In the mornings they all go for jogs through the park – no hills, no intervals, just enough to keep Jacob primed and ready.

And it’s the best time for the park. Green. And the temperature – just right. Neily’s in pretty good shape except he has a playboy lifestyle and huffs a bit, but Jacob doesn’t even feel winded. The fartlek, the intervals, the hills – they worked. Jacob knows he’s ready. He knows that he’s fast. When he wants to be. But it’s the wanting. How much someone like Spielman or Billy Mutton wants not just to win but to beat other people bad.

Jacob, Jacob, says Neily, I’m telling you right now, big boy, there’s no way you can lose. And he barbecues up a whole half chicken with his homemade sauce. Sprays water, hiss, on the grill and holds up his wineglass and says You’ll be basking in the sun and sucking on chicken bones with a medal around your neck while everyone else is still competing. It’ll be a great day.

And, the night before Brighton, when he’s lying in the comfy big bed and Evelyn’s down at his feet, Jacob believes Neily sort of. Sees himself winning, sitting back, sun in his face, and Dad will pass his EMCA. Get on full-time. Benefits. A plan. They could buy any books they wanted and maybe Dad’d finally be able to visit Scotland and take Jacob with him.

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