Time flowed slowly like the river water, anguish and concern, vague anticipation of something he won’t like to face, thoughts into which he delved and which dived deep inside him in his viscera that was in an active mode. He lay down on the grass, stretched himself, felt one with the earth, he smelled its fragrance: pure, simple, devoted, gracious, benevolent earth always giving and providing. He felt a sudden unexpected fullness, something made him feel content, this very moment, something was around him, protecting him, saying to him, don’t be concern, what is to be revealed let it come to show itself and when that happens, notice it, write it in your essence and think, consider what you might be able to do with it or about it.
With that thought his pulse calmed down and his whole body felt a lot more relaxed. He got up and drove back home slowly. The rest of the afternoon he spent in his room until his father came from work. Their house was situated on the west side of Columbia Street, just fifteen minute walk to the CP Rail yard where his dad worked. As they had their supper sharp at 6:00 o’clock like any other evening his father looked at him and that was when Anton informed him that he was hired as a caretaker at the Residential School.
Anton’s mind stopped at the words, what they go through and putting it together with what his father told him the night before he felt certain emotion towards these Indian boys and girls; his eyes darkened, his heart started galloping like a wild horse, he stopped eating his cheesecake and staring in Molly’s eyes he said,
“I wonder what is hidden in the walls of that beautiful looking building which gives the visitor who walks inside the impression they are in a mausoleum”
The sixty something man sitting next to him turned towards Anton and concurred: “horrible things have occurred in that School, you aren’t the first one who feels that disappointment and anxiety”
“How do you know?” Anton asked.
“I know the old man, the caretaker Dylan, we’ve lived under the same roof for a long time; we talk, you know, sometimes, after a few drinks the tongue becomes loose.”
“You know Dylan Kelly? What a coincidence. He’s retiring soon and I’m supposed to replace him.”
“What have you heard, Simon?” Molly asked the man next to Anton.
“You don’t have to hear these things; let us call them horrible and leave it at that. What could you do about it anyway? Who could ever do anything?”
Molly let her eyes dive deep in Anton’s eyes and they both felt it was somehow an agreement between the two, an understanding of some short, they both felt it was something they had to do. Perhaps they were those who could do something about the horrible things that take place in the Kamloops Indian Residential School. Molly knew a lot of people, from truck drivers to loggers and members of the local Indian Band. Perhaps she and Anton could truly do something. Anton reflected on Molly’s glance and accepted the challenge; yes, perhaps they could do something.
Manolis Aligizakis 