Gabrielle Taylor's "Cockluck"
March 29, 2002
By the time Bertram got home that night a thick and lively stench hung over his entire lot. It seemed to loll openmouthed from the back house and multiply against the hedge like waves on a rocky beach. He took his shirt off and wrapped it around his face; the smell of his fading deodorant and armpit and other people's beer was better than that from the house. He clumped over and banged on the door, muffledly yelling, "hey! HEY!"
The door pushed open and stopped against a heap of trash exploded from garbage bags that were no longer tidily against the wall. He could feel the stink leaching into his skin.
"Wake up!" He reached in, grabbed two intact bags, and hauled them to the curb. He came back and yelled "WAKE UP!" and took two more bags. He pushed over the wheeled garbage bin and started shovelling trash into it. The smell was thick as smoke. He was sure the house was empty but he kept calling until he had a heap of trash at the curb nearly as high as he was, and he knew it would sit there for two more days.
He walked up to the Mac's Milk at Bank street and bought a yellow battery powered flashlight and kept the bill for Judith. The kitchen, he saw, still had some trash left, leaning against a recessed closed door, probably a closet or a pantry. As he picked his way carefully in he saw a round furry lump curled up on the floor. A cat? A rat. A dead rat. Gorged until it expired contentedly in its sleep and ripe as a peach.
"For fuck's sake," Bertram snapped. He rolled the carcass along the floor with his shovel and then flicked it mightily out, to sail the full length of the driveway and thump onto the trash. He thundered back to his own apartment and grabbed his bicycle and sped back downtown to Cockluck. He scrawled an eviction notice on bar stationery and took a lock-and-key doorknob set from his office. He'd bought them at 80% off from a bankrupt locksmith but he'd bloody well bill Judith full price. Within a half hour he'd changed the lock by moonlight and tacked up his eviction notice.
He was about to go to bed when he saw Kelly wandering up the driveway. She was wearing a man's dirty white shirt with a ruffled front, like a cheap tuxedo shirt, plaid flannel boxer shorts, black socks and thick black shoes. She grunted at Bertram, went to the door, tried to open it, then tore down the notice and brought it into the light.
"What the hell's this about then?" she said, as though she'd been punched a few times and was too winded to get mad about it.
"You haven't paid your rent and the place is unhealthily dirty. I found a dead rat."
"This notice says it hasn't been paid in multi months, man. I've been... man, I've been paying my rent to Bruno like until this month man, and that's cause he said Judith said it was okay to be kinda late, because Bruno's like touring with our art and he's gonna come back with a lot of money. I just need like another week and Bruno'll be back with the money."
"Judith hasn't been paid in months."
"Man, I told you I've been giving Bruno the money. Bruno's on the lease and he handles all that stuff with Judith. We have like an arrangement."
Bertram leaned forward. "I don't know how to say it any more clearly. You owe Judith several months rent money. I was hired to retrieve that money. So in a way, you owe me several months rent money. I don't care if you have an arrangement with Leonard Cohen to talk to the Buddha. Judith wants her money."
"But like, what about my stuff?!"
Bertram shrugged. "Get a lawyer. But first, I'd say talk to your friend Bruno."
"He's not my friend, man, he's my AGEnt. I'm an ARTist. All my art supplies and portfolios and like my OEUVre are like LOCKed up there!"
"Then," Bertram said, "I'd say you're temporarily unemployed."
"... Can I... can I at least get like a change of clothes? Please? These are all the clothes I've got."
"Common problem around here... yeah, okay. But I'm coming in with you and I'm approving anything you take out."
"Thanks, man."
"But before I let you do that, you have to tell me where Bruno is with the money."
"Hey, no problem with that at all. I'm sure there's just some mistake here. I've been paying Bruno. Kristin has been too. You call him and you can straight this whole thing."
"Where is Kristin?"
"She was paying Bruno though I know that. We go way back known her a long time and she always paid her way."
"Yes, but where?"
"She has a job but she said maybe she might get a job in Kingston with her cousin Van. But she wasn't feeling very good lately so I thought she went to stay with her Ma. She had a flu for a couple of days. I don't have her Ma's number."
"But you do know where Bruno is."
"Oh for sure. Here's his card he gave me with the dates for where he's going to be and how to call him. In case he got any important mail you know?" She fished out a scrap of paper and thrust it into Bertram's hands.
Bertram read it and said, "Montreal's nice this time of year." He put the paper in his pocket.