36
With the storm raging outside, I hardly noticed Max walk in the cabin, a container of spaghetti in his hands. Despite his jacket and boots, Max was soaked. Water dripped from his hair and nose.
'Holy hell!' he said, shaking off the rain like a dog.
'Welcome back!' I responded.
'Thanks, it's crazy out there.'
'Pretty cozy in here, though.' I said. 'Thanks again for letting me stay.'
'No problem. Here—' Max handed me the container of spaghetti and a plastic fork. "I brought you dinner. Hope you like meat-sauce.'
'I'd eat anything. Thanks dude.'
I took the container and fork, and dug in. I'd forgotten how hungry I was. Boy, did that spaghetti hit the spot.
'What're you reading?' he asked.
'It's, uh, The Grand Adventure of Dmitri Waltz.' I said, saucy noodles falling from my face. 'Heard of it?'
'Didn't we read that in Grade 9?'
'Yupp,' I responded.
'Such a boring book. Never finished it.'
'Yeah' I laughed. 'I thought so too. But I tried reading it again outside school, and it's actually pretty good.'
'Whatever you say, boss. I'm gonna take a shower. Anyway, what's your plan?'
'I hadn't thought that far ahead. Can we talk about it after your shower?' I asked. 'I'll think of something.'
'Sounds good man,' Max said. He changed out of his wet clothes, and walked into the bathroom.
What was my plan? I closed the book and considered my options. I didn't have many. It was late and pouring. When would I leave for the treasure? I was here on borrowed time. The longer I stayed with Max, the more likely I'd get found out. Worse, in the meantime, Bella might find the treasure. The storm showed little sign of letting up. Could I go alone? That would be awfully dangerous.
Max returned from the shower in his pajamas.
'Look, we're matching,' I said, pointing to the PJs I borrowed from Max and was now wearing.
'I guess so,' he laughed. 'Look, I don't want to rush you, but I also don't want to get in trouble. How long are you thinking of staying? You can sleep here tonight, but in the morning you gotta figure something out.'
'No problem, I'll leave first thing tomorrow.' I had quickly formed a plan, but it needed careful execution. 'Any idea what to do the rest of the night?'
'I dunno' he said. 'Wanna play cards?'
'Yeah, let's do it. Texas Hold'em?'
'Sounds great,' Max said. 'Like when we were kids.'
We made a table by placing a square board of wood on top of the garbage can, just like we used to do as campers. The rain continued to pour. The windows were splattered with mud. As Max dealt, I thought what a full circle this trip had become. I had changed so much since being a kid at camp. I biked across a province, for heaven's sake. Yet here I was, playing the same game we played years ago, at the same kind of table as years ago, and maybe I wasn't such a different person from years ago, after all.
I looked at my cards. They were trash.
'I raise 25 cents,' Max said. We weren't playing for money—it's just how we called the poker chips.
'Not this hand,' I tossed my cards away.
'Maybe next?' Max smiled, taking my cards and shuffling. 'Wanna hear a joke?'
'Sure, Max.'
'How do you know a Frenchman's been in your bedroom?' He asked.
'I dunno, how?'
'His underwear's there, but your dog is missing.' Max answered.
I tried to look offended, but we used to tell far worse ones when we were kids.
'You still curious why I biked all the way here, Max?' I asked, as he dealt the next hand.
'Yeah,' he said, looking at his cards. 'I raise 25 cents.'
I looked at my cards. Still nuthin.
'I fold,' I said. 'Well, Max. This sounds kind of crazy, but hear me out, okay? Did you know there's buried treasure, just a couple kilometers from here?'
'You mean the Iroquois gold Bella Tessio found?' He asked, dealing a third hand.
'Exactly!' I said, 'but not quite.' The new cards hadn't helped me.
'I raise 50 cents,' Max said.
I folded.
'Listen, Max. Bella found the gold in these big wooden boxes, with a carving in the middle. I found a box just like that on Snake Island, the summer I got kicked out. I meant to explore it, but I never got the chance. No one ever goes up to Snake Island. I bet the treasure's still buried there. We could get it, Max. Come with me. I'll give you a quarter of whatever we find. That could be worth millions, Max.'
'Snake Island? I dunno, man. I could get in a lot of trouble. It's not Camp property. It's off limits. The last person to go was you, and you got kicked out for it . . . Even if I wanted to go, I couldn't. I still need to drive the laundry to town. I'm already a day late because of you.'
'Think of the money, Max!' I replied. 'Do you have any idea the value of that gold? They've found millions of dollars' worth. Besides, we won't get caught. In fact, your laundry van would be the perfect way to get that treasure out of here.'
'Isn't that stealing?'
'No, Snake Island isn't owned by anybody.' I said. 'It's a free for all, Max. Whatever we find, we keep.'
'I dunno, Lawrence. What'd Ema and the guys think?'
'They, uh, thought it was a great idea. They just had to leave for, um, personal reasons.'
'Let me think about it,' Max said. 'Snake island—sheesh. Dangerous place.'
'Take or leave it. I couldn't care. Let's play some cards, huh?'
Max dealt another hand, and then another and then another. After a half hour or so, Max had me covered by quite a bit. I just wasn't getting the cards. Wait and the cards would come, I reflected. The poker gods reward patience.
'What're you doing after high school, Max?' I asked.
'I'm going to Sardinia.' Sardinia was our local vocational school. A reputable one, to be sure, but something I considered beneath me. I would sell hamburgers before going to Sardinia.
'Oh, congrats man.' I said. 'For what program?'
'Advertisement and design.' Max had been drawing all his life. He made these corny little comic books. They were drawn well. Not very appealing intellectually. But drawn well.
'What do you want to do with that?' I asked.
'I dunno, maybe draw shit for companies. What is this, an interrogation?' He laughed. 'Any idea what you're gonna do after high school?'
'I dunno yet. I'm thinking of writing a book.'
'You're not going to university?' He asked.
'Nah.'
'That's cool, man' he said, with a grin. It seemed that Max, the kid not quite clever enough to hang around, was pleased to be coming out ahead for once. 'What's the book about?'
'Well,' I said, a bigger grin on my face, 'I'm not quite sure yet.'
'Hm,' Max said.
'But it'll be a coming-of-age story—a story about growing up. I love those kinds of books.' I continued. 'But in a lot of them, the main character has some kind of special talent. And seems destined for something cool. My book's gonna be about a guy who doesn't really have a special talent. A guy who wants to do something cool, but doesn't feel all that destined to do it. A guy who persists anyway. A guy who maybe even fails in the end, but deals with it, so that he can still be happy, and not just pretending, but really, truly happy.'
'Neat, man.' Max said. 'That's neat.'
'Thanks, it's just an idea. Do you want to do anything cool?'
'I'd love to make comic books,' Max said. 'But I know that'll probably never happen. I'm happy just drawing whatever.'
'That's a good way of looking at it, dude.' I said. I couldn't really judge if Max was good enough to create comic books. His drawings looked cool, for sure. But I didn't know how complex they were. Like, I knew he wasn't a white belt, but was he a black belt? I had a hard time seeing Max selling comics. He just wasn't that bright. He drew a lot. But did he have the ambition?
The sky was dark, but the storm was unrelenting. Rain battered the windowpanes and pelted the tin roof. I was tired, barely able to keep my eyes open. The day was long and I was pooped.
Max dealt another hand. I looked at my cards—diddley squat.
'All in,' I said, pushing what little chips I had into the middle of the table. It was a bluff, but one that I didn't mind him calling.
'I call,' Max said, granting my wish. He flipped over a pair of queens. I was beat.
He dealt the flop, turn and river. Nothing helped. He swept my chips into his pile.
'Good game,' he said, shaking my hand. 'I'm gonna smoke a cigarette. Want one?'
'Nah, man. I'm exhausted,' I said. 'Mind if I go to bed?'
'Nope. Here're some sheets. There's an extra mattress under my bedframe.' He pointed across the room.
'Thanks man,' I said, walking to set up my bed. 'Don't forget, we have a big day of treasure hunting tomorrow.'
'Yeah,' he said laughing as he lit his cigarette. 'We'll see.'
Once my bed was assembled, I lay on my stomach, opened my book, and read a few more pages. Dmitri had arrived in New York. Here's a taste:
The moment we landed, I was sent, bags in hand, to customs. There, an immigrations officer renamed me Dmitri Waltz—Waltzisnky was too challenging, I suppose—handed me a temporary visa, and sent me on my merry way. Before I could bring my book to any publisher, I had to provide myself the basics: food and shelter. That meant meeting with Mr. Ziegfeld, the man who planned to hire me as a magician. I had his address in hand, and, as I was out of money, I walked there. By the time I arrived, bags still in hand, I must have looked an awful mess. Indeed, in many ways, I was one.
I hoped not to meet Mr. Ziegfeld the day I arrived; thankfully, that was the case. The girl at the front desk of Mr. Ziegfeld's office arranged it all for me as soon as I walked in the door. She brought me to a nearby apartment, fed me a cold lunch and allotted me spending money for the week. I was one of several Europeans coming to work for Mr. Ziegfeld; they were expecting me, not individually, but as part of that herd. The apartment was small, and I shared it with three others, but, all in all, my aims of the day were accomplished.
Once the girl left, I bathed and napped. I would not meet Mr. Ziegfeld until the following week. I had a manuscript in want of a publisher, and half a manuscript in want of a writer. I settled into bed, an upper bunk, stuffed my ears with toilet paper so as to give myself privacy, a habit I had formed on the ship, and I continued writing. I had no friends; no business opportunities; and I was far too tired to explore New York. What else was I to do?
***
When I woke the next day, the storm continued to rage. But I couldn't care less. I was too close to the treasure. It was even hard to believe. I mean, the trip seamed endless, like the journey was the only real thing, the treasure some distant fiction. But today, I would really, truly find it.
I looked at the clock. It was 5:30 am. Max was sound asleep. I was too excited to wait for him to wake. I rolled out of bed and walked to Max's.
'Max?' I shook his shoulder gently. 'Max?'
He grunted and rolled to me. 'What?'
'Let's go.'
'No,'
'Come on, Max. Let's go.'
'I'm trying to sleep!' He rolled away from me.
Well, that was that, I guess. His loss.
I left the cabin and walked to the beach. I planned to borrow a canoe and paddle to Snake Island. I wondered how I would haul the treasure back home. I supposed I would figure it out, like I always did.
Standing at that beach, rain falling, I remembered all the times I had spent there. Shooting it with Chris and Matty like the world was no bigger than our little circle. Getting kicked out. And everything in between. It wasn't that long ago. But today, I would leave that beach the old Lawrence and return a new one. An adventurer. A man of dignity and wealth. I walked to the canoe rack, pulled down a canoe, and dragged it to the river. Before I even dipped a toe in the water, the rain had soaked me. I took off my shirt and threw it in the canoe. I was cold. But the summer air was warm enough that I didn't freeze.