Happy had a protocol for finding Daddi. Their apartment door could be reached by one of three stairwells of the two central elevators. If he were passed out in the elevators they’d find out about it fast, but the stairwells were less trafficked on Sunday evenings. Happy walked to the stairwell closest to their old apartment first. Daddi’s drunk muscle memory would probably lead him to that one. It was also the closest to access coming home from the mall. It worked even if he’d lost his keys. The ground floor access door was perpetually being propped open by dwellers unless the Super had done a round to close the doors again.
10 Garfella Drive was a 7-storey complex which made the stairwell searches quick enough. Daddi would often lie down in second floor stairwell to take a nap because they were sheltered, temperature controlled and close enough to be dragged home by a caring samaritan if needed.
Happy opened the steel door into the spiral of steps. A dim light hissed an electrical tone. There were rap lyrics written on a few of the landings. Happy’s favourite was on the fourth floor:
I wake up asking God love me please But in reality the only people who love me are thieves
It was written in permanent marker in good handwriting. Seeing rap lyrics etched in a wall gave them a new credibility to Happy.
Happy reached the second floor landing and Daddi wasn’t there.
He opened the propped exterior door all the way open. A green lawn stretched 10 metres before ending at the sidewalk and then road. It sloped slightly downhill and an ornamental boulder sat at the bottom just before the sidewalk. If he couldn’t make it inside, this boulder was Daddi’s back-up waypoint. If he stopped here it was because he was deterred by the slope of the hill and new he waa close enough people would assume he lived at 10 Garfella and narrow it down from there. The building was one third Punjabi residents, one third Assyrians, a good chunk of Gururatis and a small bouquet of everything else. Daddi was an Indian with rhe lighter skin and relatively taller build of a Punjabi. Gujuraris also didn’t drink. He would belong behind one of one third of the doors in the building and most of them all knew each other due to gossip.
Here, Happy had a fork in his protocol to consider. He could assume Daddi was still further along the route back from the mall, which would take him down a winding suburban lane of post-war detached bungalows to the main thoroughfare on which the rapid bus route ran. Across that was the mall, where the doors would soon be closing and security guards would be clearing out the riff-raff. Daddi could be passed out anywhere along that path, but Happy would end up farther from home than Mummi wanted her to go after sunset. Happy’s best friend, Ram, lived on that street too. His father had found Daddi a few times passed out on his lawn. Ram’s father was a Hindu teetotaller so they never hung together otherwise.
The other path would leading home around the perimeter of the building driven by a change on core assumption: Daddi hadn’t gone to the mall to drink, but instead to his second favoured spot; the creek.
Happy opted for the latter option and turned right to round the building to the back parking lot. The setting sun brought in a cool breeze. It would’ve been a relief if he were better dressed. Instead his sweat turned to shivers with no interregnum.
Happy eyes the visitor parking lane for any familiar civics and camrys. Sometimes Daddi richer friends would pull up with a trunk full of dollar beers takeout parathas. Mummi could see visitors parking from their old place and would send Happy down to guilt Daddi into coming home when he was out there. Happy usually had to come back upstairs alone. There was no activity in the parkers cars. Happy glanced up to the approximate location of their new balcony. It was much higher with a panoramic view of the entire lot. Mummi would love that.
Happy passed the closed off entrance to the subterranean parking lot. It had been closed for a couple of years due to the costs of maintaining it. The revolving immigrants in the building meant there was always someone moving out to make room for the previously newly arrived who’d scrounged enough to get their first hooptie. At night everything filled and a few cars ended up beached on the surrounding lawns like artefacts.
The parking lot hugged the building until it ended at the exit to the far stairwell and a clearing where a swingset sat in disuse. Happy remembered using it when they moved in, but it now sat rusting and stuck in time.
Past the edge of the clearing, the earth sloped steeply to become the bank of a ravine. During the dad truant kids would play down there, jumping from one aide to the other in short cuts. This is where Kiran Dhanoa and Dhanesh Patel had made out last year according to rumour.
At night, it became the place older men consumed things not fit enough to be done in the parking lot. There was pheem and doda and cocaine. They could lay their heads down on the weedy incline and sleep off their stupor free from nagging wives.
Happy looked down into its depths. The edges sloped 10 metres down until they met the shallow ravine a metre wide. The waters came up to mid-height on the most torrential rain days. The summer heat had dried the ground into dirt that gave traction to Happy as he stepped downwards. He found a clear spot that he could look from, but it was dark enough that he couldn’t see further down and to the left under some trees that we Daddi’s usual spot. As he stepped once again he held onto some shooting reeds for more leverage. He stepped again, pulled harder on the reeds. They didn’t hold his weight and came up out from the roots. Happy tipped forwards. His weight legs doubled forward and he landed on his knees, skinning them both and skidding to a halt. Happy hissed in pain. He was lucky though, his weakness had stopped him from plummeting into the ravine headfirst. He used his hands to push and fall back on his ass so he could review the damage. They were red and chalked from where the skin had came off, with spots of blood puddling up. He wiped the first off him, sending another jolt of pain up his body. Looking around, the ground was peppered with tossed beer cans, decaying beer cases and fast food refuse. He listened for sounds of nature, water flowing or creatures, but didn’t hear anything. Even though it was a dangerous dump, Happy thought it not a bad deal to sit there further instead of returning to the lonely chaos upstairs. He understood Daddi a little better after that realization.
After a moment, he got up. He brushed the rest of his legs off at the top of the ridge and started thinking through the rest of his plan. The building had two other stairwells for Daddi to lie in, but he realized he’d forgotten his keys updates. He decided it wasn’t too much of a waste to go back so he could rinse himself off with sink water before continuing. Hopefully that would give Daddi enough time to return and he could be saved from more searching. If he was unlucky Mummi would insist on coming with him this time.
He kept turning around the building to the front side. The clearing with the rusting swingset opened up into the front yard. It was larger than most and held enough ground to throw up another building. There were two sizable hills of well moved grass with an old tree at the top of one. Happy remembered playing soccer with Minder on the flat spots around the hills when he was younger. He followed a dirt path worn down by all the previous walkers to the driveway loop and the glass lobby doors beyond that.
Happy walked into the lobby and looked towards the uselss buzzer panel. Since Happy had just moved in, he didn’t event know he new buzzer code for 504. The last thing he wanted to do was buzz 504 and see Jagpreet again. He leaned against the glass and hoped for a kind neighbour to let him in.
A minute later, he heard the rear door from the parking lot open and started knocking on the glass before the entrant was in view to increase the odds of being let in. An Indian man in a black evening suit came into view. Behind him quickly came three women in Indian evening wear, one older and two the age of her daughters.
It was Sweety and her family.
Knocking had had the reverse effect on the rest of the family. They’d decided not to investigate the source with their eyes. Sweety, however, started walking over as soon as she looked across at him.
“It’s Happy,” she said throw the glass. The rest looked around. Uncle had black circles under his eyes, remnants of his bout in thee hospital with bum kidneys. Happy pressed his open palms and fingertips together and lifted his hands to his heart, the nonverbal greeting of the Sikhs:
Sat Sri Akal.
Uncle returned in kind, with no smile but a softening of the face. He looked Happy up and down as Sweety turned the latch on the security door. She wore an emerald salwaar kameez with a lighter green scarf. She wore old tennis shoes on her feet, likely swapping out post-party due to blisters. They seemed to have just come home from a Sunday evening banquet hall party, like many of the other richer families did. Her brown eyes sat upon plump cheek apples tied together by a warm smile.
She looked him up and down with curiosity. He remembered that he was wearing his home rags and was bleeding slightly from the knees. Suddenly his face went flush. This was the first time he’d seen her since middle school graduation and he looked like a bum. His body hair had grown in weird places over summer. He now sported tufts of reserve fur on the backs of his shoulders. He was a freak.
“What happened? Are you looking for your dad?” Sweety said.
Of course she new why he was outside looking like this.
“Yeah we moved today and he’s not back from returning some stuff,” Happy said.
“You’re moving out? Where are you going?” Sweety said.
""We’re moving to a new apartment on a higher floor,” Happy said. He hoped the change in altitude could be conflated with a rise in their station.
“Oh, why would you do all that?” Sweety said with skepticism in her voice while her family chatted amongst themselves.
""We got a much nicer place and I’ve got my own room now,” Happy said.
The elevator chimed open and the Sweety’s dad held the door open for her sister and mother.
“That sounds great,” Sweety said as she started walking towards the elevator while still locking eyes with Happy. Her gaze pulled Happy with her and compelled him to step forward in line.
“Yeah, it is,” Happy said.
Sweety stepped over the breach and took over holding the elevator open.
“I’ll take the stairs,” Happy said.
The central stairwell smelled like piss. Sweety was cute in middle school but now she was a smokeshow. She was the kind of girl he deserved. Maybe if he did well in high school their parents would chat at graduation and match them together for an arranged marriage. Happy was kidding himself. Sweety’s dad could pick any guy in the country for her.
Happy reached the door for 504. The steel-toe boot was gone and the door was only propped open slightly now by the deadbolt. He pushed it open with a creak. The smell of cooking flour filled his nose and the heat from the kitchen stove was noticeable. It was position right where the foyer met the kitchen.
“Yeah?” Mummi said. From the intonation, it meant explain yourself and worked as a greeting if it was Happy or Daddi who’d just come home.
“It’s me Mummi,” Happy said.
“Close the door and put on the latch. I want him to explain himself now,” Mummi said.
Happy complied.
She was in the kitchen. The ash black tava was on a burner of the electric stovetop. On the other front burner was a elevated grill. Mummi pulled a ball of dough from a nearby tin and slapped it back and forth in her hands until it flattened into a round disc. Flour particles flew away into the hot air as she did it. Then she slapped the disc down onto the tava and let the hear cook it. The grill hosted a roti further along in it’s cooking process and it puffed into a baloon from the hot air off the stove. Mummi pressed it flat with a metal spatula and then slid the spatula underneath to place it in a metal plate with the other cooked ones.
“The mall’s closed now so he’ll be on the way. Have some dinner beta. There’s fresh roti here and somedahi in the fridge,” Mummi said.
Happy probably wouldn’t be able to find boondi for the dahi. Boondi was fried mini flour balls that added a crunch to the yougurt.
“Did you bring the crackers?” Happy said.
Mummi pointed at a cupboard from which Happy pulled out the saltines. He found the tangy mayonnaise in the fridge and sat down at the chair to have his comfort meal. Mummi had been able to get the TV plugged in. It sat precariously on two plastic milk crates flipped upside down. The analog TV had five channels and was tuned to the one with 24 hour news. Happy flipped it to the public broadcasting channel where the Naked Archaeologist was unearthing new aterfacts in old Jersusalem. After a day of labour he was was ready to learn something useful. Jersulam was an important city that intersected with three major world religions. The Christians, Jews and Muslims all lay some claim to it. 4,000 kilometres away, other Muslims were locked in another triad with Hindus and Siks. Happy’s Sikhs were like the Christians in Jerusalem, undermanned between two tides.
Without looking down at his plate, he dumped out half a dozen crackers from their plastic sleeve. He held one cracker and laid on a thick smear of the mayonnaise before placing another cracker on top of it to create a sandwich. He put the creation to his lips and bit it in half. He closed his eyes as he chewed and imagined he was eating a burger like the ones he saw in the TV commercials. He conjured the flavours of the crispy bacon, sweet tomato and chewy bun. The tangy spice of this particular brand of mayo made it more conducive to imaging the flavour complexity.
Mummi wrapped with the roti cooking and went to lay down on the half-trunk bed behind him. Between the dining table and bed Mummi had laid down Daddi’s thin mattress while he’d been out. She lay on one side, her belly poking our from her raggy kameez, making it hard for her to get comfortable. he hadn’t switched to her night clothes yet as she would always wait until Daddi showed. She watched the TV too, making no comment.
“Mummi, Minder said he’ll help me put my computer desk together,” Happy said.
“Your dad is going to help you. Don’t talk while you eat,” Mummi said.
When Happy was full, he got up and walked to the balcony. The door was hung outwards with one of Mummi’s drawstrings tying the handle to the edge railing. The cool breeze from earlier had graduated to gusts that tests the strength of Mummi’s knots. There were two shopping carts outside, filled with empty buckets, PVC piping and a gas can - things that could be stored there with only a wash required to put them into use. Happy looked out at the view, it was more of a panorama than his previous second floor outlooking the canopy of the tree at the front of the closed off parking lot entrance. Happy was correct in that the entirety of the parking lot was in view, as well as the key desire paths up from the ravine. On the other side, the ravine rose to meet true tree lined suburbs where the more established residents of Rexdale lived. Many of the houses hosted a dozen residents from extended families all coming across the ocean with a tapestry of visas including point system winners, family reunifications and refugee claimants. Any way to gain a toehold in the land of peace.
The far-off view was on the wrong side to see downtown Toronto. Happy suddenly felt jealous of the folks on the other side who could boast of looking out at the CN Tower, the world’s tallest building. In it’s shadow were the big businesses and suits that the suburbs worked to serve. That side was the real Toronto. On Happy’s side, in the distance were the towers of the Kipling strip and their black residents that Happy’s parents had moved from years earlier to live in the relative safety of their Indian comrades. Squinting, further north was the new city ventures of Brampton where successful immigrants went to. It had been a couple of decades since Happy’s invading Indians had displaced the white Italians to Woodbridge. They also boasted the citie’s largest amusement park who’s fireworks Happy could now probably take a peek at from here, he hoped. On the Northwest was Brampton, the new home Indian’s had begun to build as they began their own flight from Rexdale. Happy wondered how many Indians would be left in a year. It would only be the poorest of them.
Inside, Mummi had turned the TV back to the news. A bomb explosion in a fruit market in Kashmir had killed six people. Happy had seen Kashmir’s dotted blob when he’d rented an atlas from the library over the summer. It was too big for his backpack so he’d walked the 20 minutes home with it in his hands.
Happy raised his arms and the cool breeze tickled his armpit hairs. Happy looked at them closely. They were a lighter brown than the ones on his chin.
There was a loud knock at the door. Happy hesitated in coming inside.
“Look who’s decided to come home,” Mummi said.
Daddi had probably forgotten his keys.
Happy shuffled inside, bumping his toe into a box poking out from the dining table. Mummi was struggling to sit upright in bed.
“I’ll get it,” Happy said.
Mummi still kept moving upwards and had just gotten to her feet when Happy was in the kitchen. Happy paused just shy of the door, not letting himself cast a shadow on the peephole. Daddi would’ve started shouting at them by now.
There was another loud knock.
“Police, open the door please,” a voice said.
“Shit,” Happy said.
“What do they want?” Mummi said, now only a few paces behind her.
Happy brushed away any potential cracker crumbs around his mouth and moved to the door. He pinched the end of the chain lock and had difficulty steadying his hand to get it out of it’s placement. He finally dropped it to swing to a stop while he opened the deadbolt and opened the door a foot wide. A gloved had gently but firmly pushed it further open. Two uniformed cops stood holding Daddi from either arm. He had dabs of dried blood on his face from a clotting cut on his wrinkled forehead. When he saw Happy and Mummi he smiled and started murmuring to himself.
“You asshole, getting brought home by the police again,” Mummi said.
“Great, they don’t speak any English either,” the cop on the left said. He stood a foot over Daddi with ginger hair and a matching soul patch. Happy tried not to make eye contact with either and looked Daddi’s unfocussed eyes instead.
“I do,” Happy said.
The cop’s expession flattened. The one on the right bailed him out.
“Is this your father?”
“Yes sir,” Happy said.
“Then it might’ve been you who put his address in his wallet. It has the wrong apartment on it but they sent us here when they saw him. A good idea anyway,” The cop on the right pinched Happy’s cribsheet between two fingers as he loosed his grip on Daddi. Happy has also gotten Mummi to safety pin a similar sheet to the inside of his paint pocket as a failsafe. Daddi moved his arm around slighly, testing his freedom. He was wearing his union jacket, untucked button shirt, brown slacks and Happy’s old sneakers. He smelled of rye and zarda, Indian smokeless tobacco.
“Happy, ask them where he was,” Mummi said.
Happy didn’t like lingering with the cops there, but he did as asked.
“He was stumbling around behind the mall when we drove past,” the ginger cop said. “I think he was lost. He must’ve fallen before we found him. He’s not in the system but if we find him again and are tight on time he’ll go in the drunk tank.”
Daddi stumbled into the apartment and Happy made way for his momentum to taken him into the kitchen. He grabbed at the countertop microwave for balance and it slid further back until it wedged against the wall. Daddi pushed off of it and continued his tumble into the living room.
“Thank you,” Mummi said in her best English before waddling off after Daddi.
“It won’t happen again officers,” Happy said, moving forward to let her pass.
“Yeah OK,” the ginger cop said as they started walking away.
Happy closed the door.
“You donkey, getting drunk with your idiot friends,” Mummi yelled from the living room.
Happy shuffled his feet at he approached them. Daddi had kicked his shoes off and fallen onto the the maid mattress belly first, lying on top of the sheets with his clothes on. He would piss in them if Happy didn’t something.
Happy leaned down to turn him over, still murmurring and smiling to himself, The speckle of jarda was visible on his teeth when he opend his mouth.
“You bitch, I should’ve divorced you,” Daddi said.
A foul but familiar odour made Happy hold his breath when he was near it. He undid Daddi’s belt and pulled his pants off like a toddler. Thankfully his drawstring boxers were tied tight around the waist and stayed on. His legs were thin with workman’s muscle hanging loosely behind his thights. Happy undid the buttons on his shirt that was two sizes too big and exposed the white lion’s mane of chest hair underneath. The white hair on his earlobes matched it.
“Oh yeah? I should’ve let them take you to jail tonight and see where that got you,” Mummi said as he found her way to the chair to sit and catch her breath from the yelling.
Happy pinched off his skunky socks with two fingers and threw them underneath a chair. On his head was a baseball cap one of his Guatemalan colleagues had gifted him. Beneath that was a white skull cap they handed out at his factory. He wore it as a stopgap so no one saw his bald head in public. He kept the sides unshaved so his male pattern mullet supported the illusion.
Happy stepped away and tossed the clothes onto a box nearby.
“My parents told me to divorce you and remarry. I should have listened to them,” Daddi said.
Mummi went to respond and Happy cupped his hand onto her mouth to stop her. He got a word in as she tried to remove it.
“Mummi, please stop fighting. It’s the first day of school tomorrow,” Happy said.
She got her mouth free.
“Hanh beta, I made your bed. Go sleep,” Mummi said, and then she turned her attention back to Daddi. “Your dad was a drunk, just like you. Eat your roti you bastard.”
Happy left them to argue and opened his room door. He closed it firmly behind him. With only a non-load bearing wall seperating them he could still hear the mumble of yelling. His bed was the double bed they’d used to have in their room at the old place. It was covered with a bluish patterned fitted sheet and a couple of flat pillows sewn into pillowcases fashioned out of old shirts. It was too hot for the woolen punjabi blanket Mumimi’d given him for on top.
Happy lied down on his belly and closed his eyes.