Reproduction by Ian Williams

Author:Ian Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2019-01-21T16:00:00+00:00

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Oliver intended to open the garage and drive his truck straight through into the barbershop, into Army, and pin him against the wall.

His only daughter. Right under his nose. By this boy who just wanted to take, take, take. He still didn’t have his guitar. Where was his guitar?

The hair Hendrix had scattered was blowing down the street like mini tumbleweed from a Western.

No one was in the garage.

Oliver banged on the house door. He had a key, not on him, but it didn’t cross his mind to retrieve it. He had a different idea. He ran upstairs. He strode to the black door and undid the deadbolt. The other side was locked.

Army! Oliver called. He punched the door four times. Army!

He threw his shoulder into the door.

Open this door! Oliver rammed the door a second time and it exploded with the sick sound of wood cracking.

He snapped his head around, searching the hallway for Army. Then he went straight for Army’s room, the nasty, sweaty, bleachy smell of teenage boys. Bed unmade as well, mattress indented with groin weight, underwear on the floor.

I need you to identify yourself immediately, you hear me, Oliver said. His voice sounded like a monitored alarm system.

I heard you, I heard you, man, Army’s voice came from the bathroom.

Where else would the horny little bastard be?

The toilet flushed.

I just in here taking a dump and minding my business and you’re waking the dead. The faucet opened. Damn, Mr. O. The faucet closed. Can a brother have a second to himself?

When Army emerged from the bathroom shirtless, drying his hands on his boxers, Oliver was occupying the entire doorway, standing on his hind legs like a bear.

Put on some clothes, Oliver said. He couldn’t look at the boy’s skin.

I’m all right.

Oliver went into Army’s room, picked up a white T-shirt from the floor and threw it at Army in the hallway. Put on some clothes. I don’t know if people dance around naked where you’re from but—

I was born here, Mr. O. That’s some offensive KKK—

I said, Put on some clothes!

Fine. Chill. Army stretched the shirt over his head. You don’t have to go busting down doors and stuff before a brother can get a little Froot Loops in his system. Don’t you have a key to your own house?

I want an explanation.

About?

About? Oliver opened his eyes wide. About? You’re going to ask me about?

Army started walking down the stairs toward the kitchen.

I’m talking to you, Oliver said.

Yeah.

Don’t yeah me. Oliver barrelled down the stairs into Army and the boy lost his footing and slipped down two steps before rebalancing.

What’s your problem? Army asked.

Boy, who do you think you’re talking to?

Listen, Mr. O. I ain’t given you nothing but respect all the—

I want an explanation, Oliver raised his voice and enunciated. What were you doing with my daughter all summer?

Army paused in the living room.

Heather told you I was doing something with her?

Yeah, she told me, you bastard, you son of a bitch.

And you sure she was talking about me cause I, I, I, no sir, not me.

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