Excerpt
Some of the others at school referred to Nick as Horse, but only
when he wasn’t around to hear them.
Nick was saying that he intended to marry Cocoa, but that she
was an American. Before he could sponsor her for citizenship he had
to prove his ability to support a dependent. Day jobs at the Labour
Exchange didn’t bring in enough, and there wasn’t much demand
elsewhere for high school dropouts like us.
– Immigration says I have to have some savings. No bank account,
no wedding.
– Bureaucrats! I commiserated.
– Bureau-what?
– Motherfuckers, Nick.
There was a record snowfall that November. We weren’t getting out
much at the Labour Exchange and my friend was concerned about
how little he’d been able to save. We were waiting for the call one
afternoon, Nick whittling a whale, when the idea came to him:
McDuff Snow Removal Inc. He figured to fatten his bank account
shovelling walks.
– What’s with the Inc.?
– Sounds good. Official-like.
– I’m impressed. Need a partner?
We started knocking on doors along my street that same night.
Neighbours felt sorry for us and tipped generously. Those who recognized
Nick from the sports pages, or who knew our families, were
an easy sell. You can always count on folks to get soft-headed at
Christmas.
But there were hundreds of homes in Renfrew Heights; most people
didn’t know us.We were strangers pounding on their doors, solicitors
with snow shovels. But even they paid their frostbitten help well. One
housewife emptied her purse and said she’d give us more if we came
back in a day or two. Another lady gave us $10 and a Christmas cake
wrapped in tinfoil. Some old guy matched that amount and tossed in
winter gloves for the both of us. He made them himself in a basement
workshop.
We had a late dinner at my house, Campbell’s Vegetable Soup
Supreme, with plenty of crackers and tea. Mom dried our new gloves
over the furnace.
