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H al was waiting on the porch when his sister pulled in. He walked down the gravel drive to meet her and when he was close enough, snatched the keys. "We need bread and milk and all that." He opened the driver's door and climbed into the truck.

"You have enough money?"

Hal patted his pockets. "Right, right. Money. How much you got on you?"

"How are you going shopping without money?" Suzie extended a hand. "Give me the keys, Hal."

"Forget it, Suzie. It's okay."

"Come on, Hal."

He pulled the door closed, locked it before she reached him. Suzie slapped the window while Hal mouthed bye-bye. He waved. Suzie kept banging and eventually Hal lowered it a crack. "Calm down," he said. "You're going to give yourself an asthma attack."

"Hal, will you just." Suzie closed her eyes, took a breath. "Please get out of my truck."

Hal started the engine. He eased away from Suzie, backed down the lane. At the highway, he turned towards town.

The vinyl seat was still wet with Suzie's sweat and Hal tried to keep his back from it. He rolled down the window then adjusted the rearview mirror and looked at himself. He ran a hand through his hair, gave a grin to check his teeth. He should have showered and shaved before leaving.

After the first set of lights, the road added a lane and traffic thickened. Hal passed a pair of motels, a grocery store, a row of car dealerships. At a light near the mall, he found himself across from a knot of girls in short skirts clutching shopping bags. Hal eased the truck forward trying to get a better view, but then the light was green and he was moving again, driving fast in the early dusk of spring's first hot night. Springsteen was on the radio. Hal turned it up.

At Quickie Mart, Hal slowed to an ant's pace, peering inside to figure out who was working. The girl at the counter didn't look familiar. It wasn't Jean or the fat one. He parked, walked back to the Mart's big window and watched the girl on duty. She was bent over the counter, big behind waving at him through the glass. Hal pulled at his shirt. He'd started to sweat himself. He opened the door and the buzzer sounded.

"Suzie sent me over for smokes." The girl turned. "Marlboro Lights. Good old Virginia tobacco. You know Suzie and the heat. She's sitting in front of the AC already."

The girl bent to get the cigarettes. "Suzie Ransom?" she said.

"Course Suzie Ransom. Does the morning shifts. You must be new here. I'm Hal. Suzie's brother. Up from Florida." He extended a hand. "Came up for the funeral, and, you know." He shrugged.

"Oh, right. I was sorry to hear about your mother."

Hal nodded. "Thanks." He drummed his fingers on the counter. "You know what, make it two packs. I don't want to have to come back. Been running Suzie errands all day, I swear." Hal chuckled. The girl bent for another pack and her skirt spread tight against her backside.

"Anything else?"

"How late you working?"

The girl didn't answer that. She started ringing him up. The loose skin of her upper arms swung as she worked the cash register. "Hold on," Hal said. "They're for her. Put them on her tab. They're not mine." He backed off a few steps, right hand clamped on the two packs. "Take it off her pay cheque. That's what they normally do."

"Well that's not really allowed."

Hal gave a wave and turned. "You'll get used to it." He opened the door and the buzzer obscured whatever the girl said next.

Back in the truck, Hal balled up the cellophane from his cigarettes and dropped it out the window. He revved the engine, put it in gear. The truck lurched forward, clearing the car parked in front just as a boy on a bike rode past. Hal's bumper clipped the back wheel, and the kid went over his handlebars, hit the pavement and rolled. Hal slammed on the breaks, killed the engine. He was out of the truck in a snap. He stepped over the bike, took the kid by the arm and helped him up.

"Holy Jesus." Hal put a hand on the boy's shoulder, walked him to the curb.

"I'm okay," the kid said, but his body was trembling like he'd caught cold. Hal crouched, but the boy wouldn't look at him. He was bending his knees as though to make sure they still worked.

Hal looked around. Across the street, an elderly lady in a flower print dress stared. "Got a problem?" Hal shouted. The lady turned, gave her shopping cart a tug. An oncoming car slowed as the driver watched them. Hal turned back to the kid. "So you're okay and all?"

The kid nodded, eyes still on the cracked concrete beneath his feet. "Yup. Okay." A tear trickled down his cheek. In a voice thin and high, he said again that he was okay. He wiped the tear away.

"Look, no biggie. We should just be glad it wasn't worse. Riding like that could make you dog food." The boy didn't answer. Hal nudged him. For a couple of scrapes and a dented wheel, he was sure making a big deal of this. "You want a ride home or something? Where you live at?"

"Just stings," the kid said, and finally, he looked up at Hal. He had big eyes, brown and wide, liquid almost.

"You'll be okay in a few minutes, but you did a number on the bike." Hal tried to spin the rear wheel, but it was too warped to turn. "Listen, I got to go. You want a ride or not?" The kid didn't answer. He'd started to tremble again. "Where's home at?"

"Drummond." The kid pointed.

"You direct," Hal said. "I'll drive." He set the bike in the flatbed and walked to the other side of the truck where the front end still poked into the street. He got his smokes off the seat just before the kid slid inside.

They took the first corner and the next. Hal was trying to get headed where the boy had pointed. At the second stop sign, he lit up. He thought of offering a cigarette, but the kid couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve. No point in giving him one if he didn't really want it. Hal rested his elbow on the window, blew a stream of smoke across the steering wheel. "You ever think of getting a helmet? They might look stupid, but all the kids wear them. It's probably even the law."

"I know."

Hal was at an intersection. "You going to tell me where to go?"

The kid pointed.

"How far?" Hal said.

The boy shrugged. "Further down." Hal watched him a moment before making the turn. He had freckles, wide constellations across both cheeks. His mouth hung open in a strange way, and he didn't seem to say much. It occurred to Hal the kid might be a little retarded. "You don't talk a whole lot. Cat got your tongue?"

"I guess," the kid said, then in the next breath he said, "Are you religious?" He pointed to the statue of the Virgin Mary glued to the dash.

Hal pulled the statue off, tossed it on the floor. "Like that when I bought the truck." He flicked his cigarette butt out the window.

"Are you Indian?"

"Indian?" Hal said. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

The kid shrugged.

"I'm not Indian. I'm Polish. Italian. Whatever." He glanced over. "If you're talking about the hella tan, it's just a lot of time at the beach. I live in Florida. The Sunshine State. Man, the chicks in Florida. I mean, you would not believe the chickitas." He slapped the steering wheel, leaned a little closer. "Bikini is formal dress in Fort Lauderdale, if you know what I'm saying."

The boy was staring straight ahead. His mouth was still hanging open. "My cousin's Indian," he said.

"What d'you mean your cousin's Indian?" Hal waited. No answer. "Wouldn't that make you Indian?"

"My uncle's Indian but my aunt isn't."

"Right. Okay. It's like by marriage."

At the next light, Hal noticed the girl driving next to them. She looked his way a moment. Hal tried to catch her eye, but she pulled ahead and turned. "That mean your cousin can get me cheap smokes?"

"It's not by marriage," the kid said. "You can't be Indian by marriage. You're born Indian or-"

"-All right, all right. Enough about the Indian thing. Jesus." Hal hung his arm out the window, drummed on the door panel. "Where do we turn?"

"Mackenzie."

"Okay. Mackenzie."

"It's back there."

"Back?" Hal hit the breaks. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"Forgot."

"You're supposed to tell me where we're going. I live in Florida, remember. Jesus. How far back?"

"By the gas station."

Hal waited for a break in the traffic, pulled a U-turn. He couldn't remember any gas stations. "No yackking," he said. "Just tell me when to turn." It was almost eight o'clock. It was time to get on with the night. "I got business to take care of. I mean, Jesus Christ, I'm a busy man. I got business tonight, you know."

"What kind of business?"

"My own business."

"Like a store?"

"Would you just focus please? It's time to focus."

"My dad's going into business."

After about a mile, they passed a PetroCan then a Shell. Hal glanced over. The kid shook his head. "Maybe you could tell my dad about doing business?"

"Me?" Hal said. The boy nodded. "Your dad wants to know about business? About how to make money?"

He nodded again.

"All right," he said. "Find something that's been done already and do it better. That's basically it. Find an idea and steal it. Copying is how you make money. Plus you go where the money is. And it isn't up here in Asswipe, Ontario, believe me."

"Here," the kid said. It was a narrow side street, no trees, just squat houses in tight rows. A couple of street lights bathed the road ahead. "Drummond's at the end."

Hal parked in front of the boy's place. It was a low concrete affair. The lights from the house lay white squares across a patchy, faded lawn. The kid didn't move to get out. "So what's your name anyways?" Hal said.

"Shawn."

Hal extended his hand. "Good to meet you, Shawn. How do you like the door to door service?"

"Good," the kid said, but he still didn't move to get out.

"Well, you leaving or you moving in?"

"What sort of business are you doing tonight?"

"Business? It's just an expression. I got things to do. I'm not like a travelling salesman or something."

"Oh."

"I actually came up for my mother's funeral. I was just here for that and now I'm back down to the Sunshine State."

"Oh, okay."

"Kid, you don't just say 'Oh, okay'. That's not what you say when someone reports that his mother died. You say 'my condolences' or 'I'm sorry to hear that'."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Shawn said.

"Forget it. No big deal. If you believe her, she went straight to heaven on account of going to church every Sunday."

Hal's finger rolled the radio dial one way then the other. "Cancer's an awful way to go," he said. "Don't ever smoke."

Above them, the light was slipping from the sky. Beyond the trees they could see the diffused pink of the setting sun. "One day I was down in sunny Florida then my sister phoned and next day I was up here. Got on the first flight."

"So how did you get the truck here?"

Hal shifted in his seat, pushed back against the springs like he needed more space. "Bought it just for while I'm up actually. I'll maybe give it to my sister when I leave. She hasn't got two pennies to rub together." Hal looked out at the little bungalow, its drawn curtains and the soft light beyond. "Me, I got a drop top caddy. Use it to cruise the chicks on Ocean Drive. I like the good life. Penthouse suite on Miami Beach. Good food. Lots of girls. In America, you got to be rich to be anyone."

"Oh."

"Don't even know why I came, really. We weren't particularly close. Plus she died before I arrived. And she left everything to my sister and the church."

"Was she Catholic?" Shawn pointed at the little statue now lying on the floor.

"Now I'm just kicking around, waiting for what to do next. They might not even let me back across the border."

"What about the penthouse and your Caddy?"

"What is this, twenty questions, for Christ sakes?"

A toddler had waddled onto the porch. A large woman followed, hair in curlers, cigarette in hand. She folded her arms and stood watching. Hal waved. He got out, walked around and lowered the tailgate.

"What's going on here?" The woman's voice was as big as her belly. It was a voice honed by years of yelling at kids.

"This your boy?" Hal said. "Ran into me over by Quickie Mart. He's okay. Only scrapes. Nothing to worry about. Got to start wearing a helmet though."

The woman ambled down to the sidewalk, haunches moving her dress with each step. Hal set the bike on the ground. He could feel the woman's gaze crawling across him. She set a hand on Shawn's head. "Not watching where you're going, Junior?" She didn't look at the kid as she spoke. She was still watching Hal. "Huh? You not looking where you're going?" Shawn mumbled something.

Hal slammed the tail gate and walked around to the driver's side. Back on the sidewalk, the woman cuffed Shawn hard enough to turn his head around. "Don't get in a car with a stranger. Men like that." She flicked ash towards the truck but didn't continue. Hal waved, turned the key. The engine coughed once, twice then died. "And you." The woman peered at Hal through the windscreen. "I got your licence plate, Mister." Hal waved, turned the key with his other hand. The engine caught. He revved it and pulled out.

***

Hal found his way back onto Simpson, followed a trickle of traffic north towards the highway, past the mall and the liquor store. For a while he just drove, not even sure where he was in the tangle of growth north of town. New roads, new developments, new strip malls and warehouses, four lane roads, box stores, parking lots. Hal smoked another cigarette. By nine o'clock, he found himself heading west on 17. He killed the lights as he pulled into his sister's place, cut the engine and cruised up her lane in silence.

The moment the door banged closed, Suzie asked what kind of milk he'd bought. "I told you I'm broke," Hal said. "We've been over this already."

"You just drove around wasting my gas?"

Hal collapsed into the arm chair, kicked it back, pulled out a cigarette. "You got enough gas up your ass you don't need to worry."

"Whose smokes?" Suzie said.

"Yours."

"Mine?"

"Yours and mine." He tossed what was left of the pack onto the coffee table. It slid halfway across.

"You didn't take them from the Mart?"

"No, I didn't take them. You can't just take cigarettes."

"You didn't do that thing where you tell them to bill me?" Hal didn't answer. "You son of a bitch. I'm going to lose my job."

"No you won't."

"I will. Frank finds out, I'm toast." She ran both hands through her hair. "You got to take them back. Right now."

"I can't. The pack's half gone."

"Buy another."

"You go buy another." Hal lit up, blew smoke towards the ceiling. "What are you watching?"

Suzie threw the remote at him. It hit the arm chair. She threw a pillow and then a plastic tray. Hal sheltered himself with his arms. "Suzie, for Christ sake."

"I'll lose my job. Frank said that last time."

"Calm down. You'll give yourself an asthma attack." He took the other pack from his shirt pocket. "Take this."

"Another? You took two?" She pointed at the door. "Get out." Hal laughed. He covered his mouth. "I'm sorry, okay? All right?"

"Out."

"At least wait until this show's over."

"You better listen," Suzie said. She walked to the corner. She picked up a hockey stick. "Two months you been sitting on your ass." Hal turned to face the TV. It was America's Funniest Home Videos. A cat had just fallen into a bath tub.

Suzie hit the arm chair. It shuddered. She hit it again and again. She swung until she was wheezing and coughing.

Hal raised a hand. "If you actually hit me, I'll hit you back."

Suzie didn't let up though. The vibrations came through with each connection. And then one swing fell short, caught Hal in the shoulder. An arrow of pain shot into his chest. His fingers went numb. He doubled over, right hand instinctively cradling his arm.

"Oh my God." She dropped the hockey stick. "I'm sorry, Harold. I didn't mean it."

Hal managed to stand, began walking.

"You don't have to go, Hal. It's okay."

Hal kept walking though. At the doorway, he lifted his arm, rotated it a little, slowly exploring the pain, then he headed down the steps and into the night. Behind him the door banged shut.

Up above Hal, the sky glittered, a tight blanket woven thick with stars. He felt his pockets. The keys were still there. He set a hand on the warm hood of the truck. The dog star was bright in the sky and low to the south. He could hop in the truck and follow that star all the way to Florida. Hal moved around to the driver's side, opened the door. The statute of the Virgin Mary still lay on the floor. With his good arm, he pulled himself into the cab and picked it up. It was made of balsa. He could have snapped it in two if he'd wanted.

Hal lay across the bench seat, his head against the armrest. He propped the statue on his chest. It rose and fell with his breathing but remained upright. He could feel the keys digging into his thigh, but Hal knew he'd go no further. He swallowed, licked his lips. "I," he said but nothing else came. He took a deep breath. Directing his attention to the little statue, his mind struggled for what came next.