Finnie Walsh by Steven Galloway

Author:Steven Galloway [Galloway, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-39866-6
Publisher: Knopf Canada
Published: 2010-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

In the middle of 1987, my father finished reading every National Geographic ever printed and was reduced from a pace of three issues a week to one a month. At first he enjoyed the extra free time, but then he began to get restless. My mother and Louise and I grew nervous; unlike Sarah, we remembered the week he had spent saving us from the garage. We knew it was only a matter of time before he found something else to occupy his time. The possibilities were frightening.

His only friend, Pal, was not the most stable influence we could have hoped for. His prosthetic arms had been disappearing fairly steadily over the years and at that point I believe he had gone through over 20 arms. We didn’t know whether he lost the arms or whether they were stolen; to be honest, I don’t think Pal knew either. What possible use would anyone else have for them? There was just no motive.

I thought that perhaps Pal was losing them on purpose, but Louise didn’t think so; if he didn’t want them, then why did he keep getting more? Sarah thought that maybe they were running away on their own, like the dish and the spoon, off to find their true loves, a sort of prosthetic-limb Romeo and Juliet. My mother didn’t know what to think. My father supported a wide array of theories, some completely bizarre, but he always believed Pal when he said he was sure he hadn’t just misplaced a claw. Not even one of the 20 arms had been recovered.

The range of hobbies available to a one-armed man is somewhat limited. Generally speaking, my father was drawn to cerebral activities rather than physical ones. He did not work well in groups and, with the exception of Mr. Palagopolis, did not seem to enjoy the company of other people. He hadn’t always been this way; before the accident he was a very sociable man, with many friends and interests. After he lost his arm, however, my father became reclusive. His exile was self-imposed, for reasons known only to him. It became more noticeable with each passing year.

Strangely enough, the more my father shuttered himself away, the more Louise ventured out. It was as if there was something in our house, something very precious and very valuable, that the two of them were responsible for guarding. Apparently they took shifts; Louise’s shift had lasted for the first decade or so of her life and it was time now for my father to take over the task.

At the age of 17, Louise was making the most of her newfound freedom. What she had lacked in popularity and social poise when she was younger she made up for as a teen. She was in grade 12, her last year of high school, and she was one of the most well-liked and romantically pursued girls in school. Whereas before she had been completely incapable of conversation, she was now well respected and frequently sought after for advice.

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