It was Father\u2019s Day, and two men were fighting in the Dollarama parking lot. One had a shirt that said, \u201cWorld\u2019s Greatest Dad.\u201d I didn\u2019t know if that\u2019s what started the fight, but a shirt like that is a provocation, and that guy was getting the worst of it. He threw a few weak punches then went down. That should\u2019ve been the end, but the other guy kept swinging, pounding the smaller man\u2019s head into concrete.<\/p>\n
The last thing I wanted was to get involved, but the big man didn\u2019t look like he was going to stop.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey!\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked up, ready to hit me too if that\u2019s the kind of day it was going to be.<\/p>\n
\u201cFight\u2019s over. You won.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man snarled. He wanted more blood. I hadn\u2019t fought since I\u2019d gotten out, and I couldn’t be brawling with a stranger in public.<\/p>\n
\u201cCops\u2019ll be here soon,\u201d I said. \u201cJust go home.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man glanced around him, still hot and violent. If he came at me, I\u2019d probably just run like a frightened child. Then he seemed to get it, and he walked off.<\/p>\n
I was hoping the man on the ground would pop up just a little bruised and head for home. But he didn\u2019t rise.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked up vacantly and gurgled. Then he spat blood, but not all of it made it out of his mouth. I turned him on his side. The man groaned but didn\u2019t resist. He wasn\u2019t going to die. I could leave now.<\/p>\n
In those days, I always said thank you when I bought my morning coffee and helped old ladies get things off high shelves. At work when customers yelled, I nodded and tried to fix the problem. All that was good and smart. What I was doing here was good and stupid.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need a doctor?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
The man moaned again then spoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you\u2019re all right?\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes were swimming.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, man. Oh, man. Man.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stayed flat on the ground.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere\u2019s your car?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo car. I walked here.\u201d<\/p>\n
So he wasn\u2019t far from home. I just couldn’t keep from asking another stupid question.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need a ride?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah. Maybe. Yeah, you could do that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Not while he was still leaking blood. I took off my button-down and tore off the left arm to wrap around his head. It was my only good work shirt. The one I\u2019d have to wear later looked like plastic\u2014cheap and a little shiny.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019d that guy have against you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe set my house on fire.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe set your house on fire?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOn the wrong day. He was supposed to do it on a Sunday night. Instead, I come home Saturday night, the place is blazing. So, you know what I had to do?\u201d<\/p>\n
He took a moment to breathe, but there was a light in his eyes now\u2014a wronged man with a story to tell.<\/p>\n
\u201cHad to run to the hardware store, buy a smoke detector to put up on the wall. Ran to the store, got it. Almost left without batteries. But I got them, shoved them in. Ran home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to tell me this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI get home. The first firetruck pulled up. Yelling at me to stay back. But I run inside. Can\u2019t put the detector up on the wall. So I throw it into the kitchen. It\u2019s beeping. Smoke everywhere, fire in half the house.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReally man\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, no. Just listen. You got kids?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThree.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s too many.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maybe, but I wasn\u2019t allowed to see them. As a father, I thought I was pretty solid. I\u2019d listened to problems, played in the sandbox, made grilled cheese, never did anything wrong to them. Not directly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard a kid yelling for help in a burning building. That changes you. You think I\u2019m heroic? Do I look heroic?\u201d The man grinned. \u201cIt\u2019s okay\u2014you can say it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, you do not look heroic.\u201d<\/p>\n
But he was gaining strength as he spoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cKid is yelling. My girlfriend\u2019s daughter. She\u2019s supposed to be at the lake all weekend with her mom. I run upstairs, grab the kid, run out. Paramedics take her. Shove some mask over her face, pumping in oxygen. Turns out, my girlfriend did go to the lake with some other dude, but they left the girl in the house.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow old is the girl?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFour and a half then. But get this: the lady is mad at me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou set her house on fire.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, no. It was my house.\u201d The guy sat up just a bit. \u201cAnd she left the kid home by herself. How is she going to blame me for what happened? She almost got her kid killed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs the girl okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe goes to a lung specialist sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pulled himself up so that his back was level with the car behind him.<\/p>\n
\u201cInsurance didn\u2019t pay because the bastard fucked the job up. Arson. I did eighteen months and lost a house.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t supposed to be hanging out with felons. That was one of the big rules. The guy seemed much better now\u2014alert and self-sufficient. He could make his own way home.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s just a five minute drive,\u201d he said like he could read my mind.<\/p>\n
In the car, he was careful to put on his seatbelt. When he gave me directions, I realized it would take at least fifteen minutes to get there.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo why was that guy mad at you?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yeah. He still wants me to pay him. For burning down my house on the wrong day. And doing the job wrong, too. I know how to torch. I did five jobs out in BC for this guy\u2014connected guy. Four of the payouts went through without a hitch. You know why the one failed?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe guy\u2019s policy said he had smoke detectors up. He didn\u2019t. That wasn\u2019t my fault. That\u2019s insurance for you\u2014those guys are rats.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you burn down your own house?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t do your own house. You got to be out of town.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded and felt a little stupid. There was a Father\u2019s Day special at the pancake place up ahead, and I slowed down to read: \u201cDad eats half price.\u201d I wondered if you had to prove it. My kids were up in Sudbury. One time my ex sent me an email\u2014photos and scans of artwork they\u2019d done in school. I probably wrote back every day for a month, begging for more. Too much. She told me it had been a mistake and she wasn\u2019t sending me anything else.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho gave you the shirt?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
He looked down. He seemed to be trying to read upside down for a moment before he remembered what it said. He mouthed the words: world\u2019s greatest dad.<\/p>\n
\u201cI bought it myself. I ran upstairs in a burning house, carried my girl downstairs. You think that qualifies me as a good dad?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe it does.\u201d<\/p>\n
Before I knew it, I was telling him about my own situation.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know what you need to do,\u201d he said. \u201cYou need to go up there. Just drive up to Sudbury, tell them Daddy\u2019s home. Bring them a teddy bear, Starburst. You know what I\u2019m saying?\u201d<\/p>\n
I kept my eyes on the road and imagined the scene. It was perfect. It would work. This was a sensible, world-class father giving me sterling advice.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, can we stop somewhere?\u201d he asked. \u201cGet some candy?\u201d<\/p>\n
We\u2019d reached the residential section. Our best bet for candy was turning around and going back to Dollarama. I wasn\u2019t doing that.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust tell me which house it is.\u201d<\/p>\n
At the address he gave me, a dark-haired woman sat on a plastic chair in a small yard with a six-year-old on her lap.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, take him away. I don\u2019t want to see him,\u201d she said when the beaten man stepped out of my car.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy!\u201d the little girl called.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s not your father.\u201d<\/p>\n
The little girl struggled to get loose, but her mom held tight. The guy hobbled forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy, did you fall down?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah. Pretty silly.\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman talked to me through the rolled-down window.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want him here.\u201d Then to the girl. \u201cStop squirming, Natalie.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t start the car.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou hear me?\u201d she said. \u201cTake him away. I\u2019m calling police right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
She took out her phone and the girl broke free. Natalie didn\u2019t care about what her mother wanted or the bloodstained tee shirt; she went right into the little guy\u2019s arms.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy! Daddy!\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned the car around. It was going to be a long drive north.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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