Born Weird by Andrew Kaufman Read Free Book Online Page A

Nicola held the door handle tighter. She found this thrilling. It was the first time she’d seen him behind the wheel. Besnard hadbeen driving a cab for four months, learning the ropes of his father’s business, the Grace Taxi Service, which he was set to inherit. As they approached College Street, Nicola felt another contraction starting and the car went faster.
    The traffic light was yellow. The taxi increased its speed, again—Nicola tightened her grip. The light turned red. She closed her eyes. They sped forwards. She heard a metallic crunch and the back end of the taxi jumped to the left. But they didn’t stop.
    Nicola opened her eyes and saw Besnard correcting the skid. He slowed down. He looked in the rear-view mirror. Once he’d seen that the damage to the red Ford Falcon was minimal, he sped up again. Thirty seconds later he stopped in front of Mount Sinai Hospital. He turned off the meter.
    “Seven dollars and twenty-five cents!” he said, “Unheard of!”
    “You could have killed us!”
    “But I didn’t.”
    “That’s true,” Nicola said. She wanted to be angry but what she really felt was protected. That he would break so many laws to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible boded well, she felt. The delivery, although stunningly painful, was without complications and Besnard Richard Weird Jr. came into the world six hours later.
    The following morning, Grandmother Weird arrived at 9:45 a.m., fifteen minutes before visiting hours began. Shewas about to turn fifty-four. Her son was only twenty-two. His bride a mere nineteen. As she took the infant into her arms, a sense of maternal responsibility swelled up inside her such as she had never felt before—not even with Besnard. It was at this exact moment that the child’s parents began to relate the details of their adventurous trip to the hospital.
    “And then he just kept going!” Nicola said.
    “It wasn’t really that big. Not even a crash. A literal fender-bender. But still …” Besnard said.
    “He went right to the hospital! He didn’t even stop!”
    “Seven dollars and twenty-five cents on the meter. A record!”
    As Grandmother Weird listened, her heart began beating faster. She held her grandson tighter. She wanted to cover his ears. She could not believe that his parents were mythologizing a moment of such irresponsibility and recklessness. She felt in her heart, her giant oversized heart, that this precious new Weird needed to be protected. She did not believe that his parents could do it. She knew that she wouldn’t be around forever. Grandmother Weird concluded that this task would have to fall to him. Her desire for her grandchild to possess this power, the ability to keep safe, was so strong that it took shape within her. And then it tumbled out of her, and into him.
    All of the Weird children had inklings that Richard possessed this ability. They suspected that in some significantway they fell under the umbrella of it as well. But they had no definitive proof until December 26, 1993, shortly before 4 p.m. The house on Palmerston Boulevard was filled with relatives, and after getting underfoot one time too many, the five of them were shoved into snowsuits and ski jackets, and into the backyard.
    At the back of the yard there was an especially high snowbank, created by snow that had slid off the steep roof of the coach house. It was in this snowbank that the Weird siblings began to dig a tunnel. Abba and Kent worked from the south side. Lucy and Angie tunnelled from the north. Richard supervised from the outside, making sure that the two ends would meet up.
    This was the winter that Besnard had started heating the coach house in an effort to preserve the Maserati. But the heat fled through the uninsulated roof as fast as the small heater pushed it out. The coach house remained cold. All Besnard had succeeded in creating was a row of long, pointy icicles, which hung directly over their tunnel. The afternoon had turned