I grew up in a little town in the middle of nowhere, really. Name of Pentecost. That’s not its real name and all, but it’ll do. Keeps things private, like. For everybody.
What to say about Pentecost? Well, one traffic light. It was real famous for that. One single traffic light, perched right there at the junction of Main and the highway. Not really a highway like your big highways, more like a little highway, just one or two lanes in each direction. Two lanes in town, one in the country. Guess the city fathers ‘spected more cars in town.
Nothing much ever really happened in Pentecost. Nothing really worth talking about, anyway. It was that kind of place, I guess. Main thing you gotta know about is the tannery. It was the main thing there. The only thing really. Biggest thing on the block. You could smell it for miles around. On a really stinky day, they say you could smell it all the way to Kalabassas, and sometimes all the way over in Gagetown even. I never been to Gagetown, but I been in Kalabassas once or twice with my Dad, and I never smelled it once over there.
My Dad worked at the tannery, since before I was born. Pretty much all the other Dads did, too. It was where pretty much the whole town worked. That, and all the little stores and such like as supplied the tannery. And supplied the people, I guess, now that I think about it. With shoes and greens and stationery and such like.
That was Pentecost, really. One traffic light, the tannery, two main roads and a secondary school. Grocery store. Little post office. Nothing much ever really happened there. But what more do you need, people said when I was growing up, between the tannery and them stores as supplied it?
I never really had an answer to that.
The tannery was owned by Mr. Thomasin. He was the boss. And he let you know it, too, right enough. Always red in the face from screaming, Mr. Thomasin was. Scared everybody silly, kids and adults alike, and that’s for sure. Shouting and hollering and cursing, too. Right in front of us. Taking the Lord’s name in vain, and all sorts of what else. Always shouting at someone.
We all went over from school to see the tannery. Miss Bonobo had us all over there, to see ‘how local industry worked’ she said. We was being shown around and all by this little man and Mr. Thomasin was there, too. He’d been all nice to us when we got there, great big smile and shook Miss Bonobo’s hand and everything. Smiling and shaking and shaking and smiling. Like he couldn’t figure out how to let go her hand and get out of the situation. Just kept right on smiling and looking at us all and smiling and shaking Miss Bonobo’s hand.
Finally, Miss Bonobo says, “Say ‘hello’ to the nice gentleman, children. Mr. Thomasin here owns the tannery.” So we all said, “Hello, Mr. Thomasin,” the way little kids do, and then Mr. Thomasin bends down to me and says, “And what’s your name, little girl?” So I told him, and he smiles at me and looks at me and smiles at me. Then he gave me a sucker, and says, “That’s a very pretty name.”
I think that’s the first anyone in the tannery knew of him not hollering.
Mr. Thomasin was still looking at me, and I heard Miss Bonobo say something about saying ‘thank you’ but it seemed like she was a long ways away. By the time Mr. Thomasin stood up, my Dad was standing there, too. I didn’t know where he came from but he must’ve been working, because he had his working clothes on and he says, kind’ve excited, “That’s my little girl, Mr. Thomasin. That’s my little girl.” And Mr. Thomasin looked at him some time and then looked at me and then looked back at him and said real slowly, “She’s a very pretty little girl.” And my Dad looked at Mr. Thomasin and said, “Yes, she is, sir. My pride and joy. She’s a very pretty little girl.” Something funny happened there between Mr. Thomasin and my Dad, they kept looking at each other kind’ve funny, but then Miss Bonobo said, “Children! Thank Mr. Thomasin for allowing us in to tour his tannery,” and we all said, “Thank you, Mr. Thomasin,” the way little kids do.
Miss Bonobo took us along with the little man and my Daddy went along with Mr. Thomasin. Pretty soon after that, we all heard Mr. Thomasin back at it, shouting curse words and calling for Mr. Alfred. I guess that was the little man’s name, because he said something to Miss Bonobo and went off in a hurry. We could still hear Mr. Thomasin shouting curse words. Imagine. Using that kind of language in front of children.
We were getting to the last bit of our tour and passing pretty close to Mr. Thomasin’s office. You could hear him in there, from a long ways away, angry at somebody. I couldn’t figure out how this man who had been so nice to me and smiling at Miss Bonobo and everything could be so angry all the time. Miss Bonobo was smiling an awful lot just then. Seemed like the closer we got to that office, the more Miss Bonobo smiled and smiled.
Adults are funny that way, I guess.
As we got up to Mr. Thomasin’s door I saw it was open so I stopped and looked in. Mr. Thomasin was on the phone. I guess it was the person on the other end of the phone who was making him so angry. At least right then. Mr. Thomasin saw me, said something into the phone and then put the phone down. He came out from around his desk looking at me, then said “hello” and called me by my name. I said “hello” and walked into the room.
Mr. Thomasin asked me if I wanted to see some of the things on his desk, see how the plant worked and what he did in this big office. He had another sucker in his hand, and he wasn’t shouting or cursing or anything, and I said okay. Mr. Thomasin picked me up and sat down at the desk, putting me on the desk in front of him. He just sat me right down on top of some papers and things, and started showing me the telephone. It was one of those phones that have a bunch of light-up buttons on it and he let me push a bunch of them.
His hands were really big. He smelled like soap and pine needles and leather. Which was funny ‘cause most of the people at the tannery smelled really bad, like tanning. I know it’s not a very nice thing to say, and my Dad always says if you don’t have anything nice to say about someone then don’t say anything at all, but it’s true. Most of the people at the tannery smelled really bad. Even my Dad, before he takes a shower. But not Mr. Thomasin. Mr. Thomsain smelled really good.
I don’t really know what happened to the rest of my class, but just as I was thinking about Mr. Thomasin smelling good, Miss Bonobo and another woman I’d never seen before opened the door, and Miss Bonobo said, “Oh, thank god! I’d thought we’d lost you.” Mr. Thomasin said, “Goodbye,” and called me by my name again. Miss Bonobo took my hand and led me out of the room. I said, “Goodbye, Mr. Thomasin. Thank you for the sucker.” I heard him saying to the other woman that he’d like to speak to my father now. That’s just what he said. Father. No one ever calls my Dad ‘father’.
I guess adults are funny like that.
At the dinner table that night, my Dad was kind’ve quiet. It felt like he was looking at me all the time, but when I looked at him, he’d pretend he wasn’t. He’d look at his food, or at the salt cellar or at the tv or whatever. I told him all about the bus trip that got us to the tannery that day, and about how Jimmy Redmond was picking his nose on the bus and eating it, and how Miss Bonobo’s skirt blew up around her waist when we all got off the bus back at school, and about how the principal Mr. Penobscotch walked into a lamp-post right then, too. That’s not really his name, his name’s really Penobscott but we all call him Penobscotch. Even my Dad calls him that.
Then my Dad said he had some good news, that he was being made a foreman at work. He’d be making a lot more money, he’d be working a regular shift with weekends off, he’d be able to see me a lot more and now he’d be able to pay for my ballet lessons. Things were going to be a lot better now. For both of us. And he said Mr. Thomasin wanted me to visit him at the tannery again. Mr. Thomasin wanted to finish showing me how his office worked, with the big phone with all the buttons and everything.
My Dad didn’t look so well. I thought maybe that’s why he’d only been playing with his dinner, ‘cause he looked really sick, actually. Like he was going to be sick with his dinner, but he kept repeating that this was good news, that things would be better now, for both of us, that this was good news, that things were looking better.
So I said, “Will I get another sucker from Mr. Thomasin?” and my Dad looked at me long, and then said, “Yeah, I expect so.”
That was Pentecost. It was that kind of place. Nothing ever really happened there. Nothing really worth talking about, anyway.
Third Place (tied)
Hart House Literary Contest