Felix shovels his car out from the windrow thrown by the snowplow across the top of his laneway. Keep this up and you’ll rupture, he tells himself. You’re not twenty-five any more. You’re not even forty-five. Maybe you should stop playing at hermits, and sublet a rundown condo, and shuffle around town with a dog on a string like other old farts your age.
After a few ulcer-making moments when the car fails to start—he should get a block heater—Felix heads off to Fletcher Correctional. Sprites and goblins, here I come, he broadcasts silently to the inside of the car. Ready or not!
And he’s ready.
—
A month ago, in mid-December, Felix got an email from Estelle. She had some wonderful news for him, she said; she would like to convey it to him in person.
How about lunch, or maybe even dinner?
Felix opted for the lunch. Over the past three years, he’s confined himself to lunches where Estelle is concerned. He’s worried that dinner might become prolonged, and involve alcoholic drinks, and then get intense, either on Estelle’s part or on his. Yes, he’s a widower, but that doesn’t mean he’s available. It’s not that she’s unattractive—indeed, she has her stellar points—but he has a dependent child, and those duties come first. Though naturally he can’t tell Estelle about Miranda. He doesn’t want her to think he’s hallucinating.
They never have their lunches at the McDonald’s near Fletcher Correctional— too many off-duty staff from Fletcher go there, says Estelle, and the walls have ears, and she wouldn’t want people to start gossiping about them being an item.
Instead they’ve fixed on a more upmarket place in Wilmot, Estelle’s suggestion.
Zenith, it’s called. It goes in for seasonal cuteness. On the day of their lunch it
was the leadup to Christmas, so it had a bevy of elves in the window, busy with their decorating and toy production and their painting of frost flowers on cold windowpanes. Happily, it has a liquor license.
“Well!” said Estelle, sitting across from him in a corner booth. “You’ve certainly been stirring up some waves!” She was wearing a sparkly necklace Felix had never seen before: rhinestones, if he was not mistaken.
“I try to,” said Felix with the appropriate hint of self-deprecation. “Though it’s not me so much. As you know, the guys have been giving it their all.”
“I don’t know why I ever doubted,” said Estelle. “You’ve done wonders with them!”
“Oh, scarcely wonders,” said Felix, gazing down into his coffee cup. “But progress, yes; I think I could admit to that. It’s been a great help to have your support,” he added judiciously. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Estelle flushed at the compliment. He should be careful, he didn’t want to lead her on: that could be injurious for them both. “Well, your wave-making has had results! I was in Ottawa two weeks ago, for one of those committees I sit on, and I talked to some people, and you’ll never believe what I’ve pulled off for you,” she said a little breathlessly. “I think you’ll be pleased!”
She’d done him quite a few favors over the years, acting discreetly in the background. It was thanks to her influence that he’d been able to pay for the technical support he needed, and the supplies for making the costumes and props. She’d managed to free up a little extra budget money for the course; in addition, she’d smoothed his access to the Warden, which had made security matters easier for him. She wanted to please him, that was obvious. And he’d shown his pleasure; though, he hopes, not too much.
“What?” said Felix, stroking his whiskers, activating his eyebrows. “What clever thing have you done?” What clever, naughty thing? his tone implied.
“You’ll be receiving…” She paused, lowered her voice, almost whispering.
“You’ll be receiving a visit from a Minister! Even better: two Ministers! That almost never happens, two at once! Maybe even three!”
“Really?” he said. “Which Ministers might those be?”
“Justice, for one,” she said. “It’s his jurisdiction, and I emphasized to the Deputy Minister what strides you’ve been making with the—with your students!
It could be a model for a whole new approach, in correctional services!”
“Fantastic,” said Felix. “Well done! The Justice Minister! That would be Sal
O’Nally.” When Sal’s party had lost the provincial election he’d moved into federal politics, and dang if he didn’t get elected. With his experience and connections, and, it had to be said, his fundraising capabilities, he was soon in Cabinet once more, only this time at a higher level. Now he had a mini-kingdom.
“Correct,” said Estelle. “He was Heritage when they first got in, then he was over in International Affairs for a while, but he’s been moved into Justice now; they like to keep shuffling them around. He’s been doing that ‘tough on crime’ agenda kind of talking, but the mere fact that he’s coming here to see your, your —what you’ve been doing, at first-hand, shows he has a more open mind than some people give him credit for.”
“In that case I hope he’ll enjoy our humble thespian offering,” said Felix.
“And who’s the second Minister?” As if he didn’t know: he’d watched as Tony had followed the example set by Sal and had slid into federal politics, where the pickings were richer and the social gatherings more prestigious.
“He’s new, he just got appointed,” said Estelle. “He has a background in the theatre himself! You must know him. Anthony Price. Didn’t he work with you years ago, over at the Makeshiweg Festival?” She must have been rummaging around in Anthony’s Wikipedia entry.
“Oh, that Anthony Price!” said Felix. “Yes, he did work with me once. He was very efficient. My right-hand man.” Couldn’t she hear his loud heartbeat, the rushing sound in his ears? He could scarcely believe his luck. His enemies, both of them! They’d be right there in Fletcher! The one place in the world where, with judicious timing, he might be able to wield more power than they could. “It’ll be like a family reunion,” he said.
“Oh yes, it will, won’t it?” said Estelle. “To tell you the truth, there’ve been some questions about continuing your program, what with the budget cuts, and…Various of my colleagues, some of the other advisers—well, they don’t entirely see the point, despite the wonderful…They think prisons should only be used for…But this is my baby, I take a personal interest, as you know. So I pushed hard, and the Ministers agreed to at least take a look; and, after all, what you’ve been doing has generated a lot of positive buzz!”
“Positive buzz,” said Felix. “ ‘Where the bee sucks, there suck I.’ That’s better than sticking your foot in a hornet’s nest, I suppose.” His little joke. Now that Estelle had given him this opening, he intended to cram his foot into that hornet’s nest as far as it would go. Then there would be a buzz, all right.
Estelle laughed, with a tiny gasp. “Oh! Yes. We’re so lucky they’ll be coming
to see what an amazing…I told the Deputies it’s a really wonderful example of discipline cross-fertilization, showing the way the arts can be used as a therapeutic and educational tool, in a very creative and unexpected way! I think they’ll both want to at least consider building on that. Both of the Ministers.
They’ll want a photo op,” she added. “With the whole group of…Even the, I mean…”
“The actors,” said Felix. He refused to call them inmates, he refused to call them prisoners, not while they were in his theatre troupe. Of course, he thought: a photo op, always the main purpose of any ministerial visit.
“Yes indeed. With the actors,” Estelle smiled. “They’ll want that.”
“And do they know that I’m the director?” he asked. This was important. “I mean, me? My real name?”
“Well, they know what’s on the course description. You’re Mr. Duke there.
I’ve always kept our little secret, as promised.” She twinkles.
“Thank you for that,” said Felix. “I know I can depend on you. Best to keep the spotlight on the actors themselves. When are they coming? The Ministers?” he asked.
“At the end of the course, on that day you show the play on video to everyone on the closed-circuit TVs. March 13 this year, isn’t it? I thought that would be the best time for them to see the finished results. They’ll meet with the, with the prison…with the actors, it’ll be almost like a real opening night, with, you know, dignitaries…” Two spots of color appeared in her cheeks. She was excited about this achievement of hers. She clearly needed a word of praise, so Felix delivered one.
“You’re such a star,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Estelle smiled. “You’re more than welcome,” she said. “I’m happy to be able to contribute. It’s such a worthwhile…Anything I can do to facilitate…You know I’d pull out all the stops to keep this going.” She leaned forward, almost touched his wrist, thought better of it. “And what’s your Shakespeare pick for this year?” she asked. “Don’t I remember you were planning a Henry V? With the longbows, and…The wonderful speech just before the, such a stirring…”
“I was thinking of that, it’s true,” said Felix. “But I’ve changed my mind.” In fact, he’d just changed it. He’s been chewing over his revenge for twelve years —it’s been in the background, a constant undercurrent like an ache. Though he’s been tracking Tony and Sal on the Net, they’ve always been out of his reach. But now they’ll be entering his space, his sphere. How to grasp them, how to enclose
them, how to ambush them? Suddenly revenge is so close he can actually taste it.
It tastes like steak, rare. Oh, to watch their two faces! Oh, to twist the wire! He wants to see pain. “We’re doing The Tempest,” he said.
“Oh,” said Estelle, dismayed. He knew what she was thinking: Way too gay.
“They’ve managed so well with the more warlike themes! Do you think the, the actors will relate to…? All that magic, and spirits, and fairies, and…Your Julius Ceasar was so direct!”
“Oh, the actors will relate to it, all right,” said Felix. “It’s about prisons.”
“Really? I never thought…maybe you’re right.”
“Also,” said Felix, “it’s on a universal theme.” What he had in mind was vengeance—that was certainly universal. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him about the theme: vengeance was so negative, was what she’d say. A bad example.
Especially bad, considering the captive audience.
She had other worries. “But do you think our two Ministers will…We wouldn’t want to raise any more doubts about the…Perhaps if you could choose something less…” She twisted her hands anxiously.
“They’ll relate to it as well,” said Felix. “The Ministers. Both of them.
Guaranteed.”
