For Sure (33 page)

Étienne plunged his finger into the netting of the bag.

“Alright den, now press down on de potato. Is she soft?”

Étienne gave Terry a noncommittal shake of his head. He didn't know.

“Hold on a second.”

Terry tested the potato himself.

“Not bad. We don't want nuttin' growing on de spuds neider. You know, dose white stalks dat come up sometimes?”

Étienne nodded yes.

“Dose're called sprouts. See here, der's none. Dat's good.”

Terry motioned Étienne to touch the eye of a spud.

“See. Now dat's a potato eye. Dat's where de sprouts grow out of. Well, here der's none. Alright den, so dese're de ones we'll take.”

Length of thread, temporary knots and interstitches. The ideal length of thread is 45 centimetres. Temporary knots and interstitches to begin, fasten or finish a length of thread. Avoid spaces longer than 1.25 centimetres. On a frame, stitch from top to bottom. The frame and practice will ensure a uniform tautness of stitches. Various ways of holding on to lengths of thread of different colours.

Even though he expected to get her answering machine, Zed was happy to have a reason to call Élizabeth.

“Hello?”

“Élizabeth Thomas?”

“Yes . . .”

“It's Zed, de lofts. You came by de udder day . . .”

“Yes . . .”

“I fergot to ask you when you came . . . Well, der's different size lofts, an' I's wonderin' if you were lookin' fer sometin' big, or sometin' not so big . . .”

Zed hated the way he kept switching from the formal
vous
to the familiar
tu
when he addressed her.

“Oh, of course. Well, let me think . . . Are the small ones very small?”

“Dat depends, I suppose. Even de small ones' aren't all de same size.”

. . .

“I've got one of de smallest meself, an' I like it fine. Only, I live alone, so . . .”

. . .

“All depends how a body fixes it up, I suppose.”

“And the big ones?”

“On account of I tink der's one — a small one, mind you — dat could be comin' free afore too long. Most likely it'll be up fer rent at first. De boy wants to move out to Montréal, only ee's not too sure, not sure ee'll be stayin' over der. It's only my opinion, now, but I'd say de boy won't be comin' back dis way.”

“Yes, I see.”

“If you want to come by again, I could show you my own loft, just so's you can get an idea of de size. I can't be havin' you visit de fellow's on account of ee's not yet made up 'is mind, officially I mean.”

By now the informal
tu
had prevailed.

“Yes, okay. Can I come by today?”

“Dat'd be perfect, sure. I expect I'll be around all day.”

“Would this afternoon around three o'clock work?”

“Dat's just fine. I'll be in de office most likely.”

“Great. I'll see you later.”

“Alright, den. We'll see each udder dis afternoon.”

Prince Edward Island is number one in Canada when it comes to farming potatoes. More than 43,000 hectares of potatoes are planted there every year, compared to 31,000 in Manitoba, which is second. New Brunswick and Alberta share third place with approximately 24,000 hectares each, followed by Québec with 19,000 hectares, Ontario with 18,000 hectares, Saskatchewan with 5,000 hectares, British Columbia with less than 4,000 hectares, Nova Scotia with 2,000 hectares, and Newfoundland and Labrador with 255 hectares.

Over time, with a word here and there, Le Grand Étienne had raised it with Ludmilla, who eventually spoke to Terry.

“You understand, it would mean a great deal to him. He'd be honoured, as would I, naturally.”

Terry couldn't believe it: the great Zablonski and Ludmilla, godfather and godmother of his son!

“But we don't want Marianne to feel left out. Maybe it's too delicate . . .”

Terry was thinking how Marianne might take it; he wasn't sure.

“Unless you have other objections. It was just an idea, really; it may not suit you at all.”

Terry sought to reassure her.

“Naw, it's a right nice idea. I'm pretty sure Étienne would be wonderful proud himself. I'll talk it over wid Carmen soon as I get de chance. Only dis evening she's workin'. “

“Of course.”

Blissful Orange. Apples and oranges. Spanish oranges, Moroccan oranges. The House of Orange. Versailles Orangerie, Musée de l'Orangerie. “You can't eat an orange and then throw away the peel — a man is not a piece of fruit” — Arthur Miller. Halloween.

“Already, no more tootpaste? Wot's goin' on in dis house? Are ya all eatin' it or wot?”

Marianne started laughing. Terry continued:

“I sure hope not, mind ya. It's not good to be swallyin' tootpaste.”

“On account of?”

More and more, Étienne wanted to know the why of things.

“On account of it's no good fer us.”

“But we puts it in our mouths . . .”

Terry understood the paradox that Étienne had grasped, especially since children were already being repeatedly warned about not putting things in their mouths.

“It's not bad for yer mout', only for yer stomach.”

“Wot does it do, den?”

“Don't know fer sure, dey only tell us not to swally it.”

. . .

“Yer stomach's made to swally food. Tootpaste, well, ya can't call dat food, now can ya?”

“Toot-pays, toot-pays . . .”

Marianne loved to sing her little tunes.

“It's not so bad if we swally a wee bit now an' den. I mean, when yer after brushin' yer teet', hard not to. Even if we rinses out our mout' an' all.”

. . .

Judging by Étienne's silence, Terry suspected that the boy had not been paying a lot of attention to rinsing after brushing.

“Eh? Dat's why we rinse our mout' when we're done brushin', instead of just swallyin' it all.”

Terry followed this advice with a demonstration, took a mouthful of water, sloshed it all around in his mouth and spit it out.

“An' der she goes, dat's how.”

Étienne nodded, and proceeded to brush his teeth, to rinse and spit exactly as his father had done.

“Hurrah! Dat's de way!”

Marianne's apprenticeship would take a little longer. She brushed in all directions, and she had not realized that one should spit down rather than straight ahead, but the basic idea had been grasped.

“Dat's good, Marianne. Yer gettin' der . . .”

To confess then: since the beginning of time, the numeral 7 has, in a million different ways, symbolized plenitude, perfection, totality. What's more, the 7 is more universally symbolic in this sense than the numeral 12. There it is. I've said it. Those who are curious can consult
The Penguin Dictionary of Symbols
by Chevalier and Gheerbrant to learn how the 7 is omnipresent in almost all cultures in the world (the Chinese culture not so much).

“Imagine dat, can ya? Zablonski, Étienne's godfawder?”

Carmen also found it touching, even a little bit exhilarating, that Étienne Zablonski and Ludmilla would offer themselves as godfather and mother of her and Terry's son.

“An' wot about Marianne, den? Are ya tinkin' she might be boddered?”

“We only have to find her a godfawder and mudder of her own.”

“Are you tinkin' of someone in particular, den?”

“Far as I'm concerned, I wouldn't mind Zed bein' her godfawder. Godmudder, I don't know. Josse maybe?”

“Ya, Zed fer sure.”

. . .

“Would it have to be a real baptism d'ya tink? De whole religious hulabaloo?”

Neither of them were jumping for joy at the prospect.

“Why not have a wee ceremony right 'ere? Have a bit of a soiree to make it official . . .”

The idea appealed to both of them as simple and sensible.

“Geez, it's like excitin'! When're we gonna tell 'em then?”

Terry sensed that Carmen would not be able to restrain herself for long.

Since an acknowledged error has a chance of being forgiven, and every day's a new day, this book will continue to adhere to its original premise, which is not totally unfounded.

“Étienne, Marianne, come 'ere a minute!”

The two children arrived bursting with energy, almost overexcited, poking and tickling one another. Carmen wondered if this might not be the best time to raise what was a more or less serious matter.

“Sit yerselves down now, we want to explain sometin' to ya.”

Étienne tickled Marianne one last time and the two children calmed down. Carmen nodded at Terry to begin.

“Carmen an' me, we tink it'd be a proper ting fer you boat to have a godfawder an' godmudder.”

Immediatly Étienne leapt with joy:

“Yaay!”

Marianne, too, rejoiced, but without really knowing why. Mainly for her benefit, Terry added:

“A godfawder or godmudder is someone who cares for you in a special way.”

Étienne nodded. Marianne clearly needed more.

“Well, like, from time to time, a godfawder or godmudder can take you some place special, or invite you over to der place. Sometimes, say you've a problem, der always der to help you out, or give you a present, when it's yer birthday. Tings like dat.”

Étienne felt that this description corresponded more or less to his expectations. Marianne, for whom this was all new, was beginning to see the value of the idea. Carmen, for her part, impressed with the simplicity with which Terry was presenting the affair, allowed him to continue:

“Well, den, wot do you tink?”

“Yeeess! I want it!”

Marianne imitated her brother.

“Yeeess!

Blissful pink. Pink pom-poms, pom-pom pink. Candy pink, pink candy. Pale pink, misty pink, baby pink. Red rose, white rose, yellow rose. Rosehip tea, pale pinkish yellow. Pink flamingo, pink shrimp, pink radish. Rose tinged white. Rose jam. Rosewater. Shocking pink. When things are not so rosy, life is no bed of roses. Pink wave, salmon pink. Rosewood sweater. Pink phone. Pink male. Everything's coming up roses. See the world through rose-coloured glasses.

That evening, Terry was helping Marianne put on her pyjamas:

“I'm sure Josse would be tickled to be yer godmudder.”

Marianne shook her head no.

“Auntie Louise, as well. Auntie Louise'd be right proud to be yer godmudder.”

Again, Marianne shook her head no.

“I know! Antoinette! You know how she's all de time sayin' she'd like to gobble you up! Dat means she loves you a whole bunch.”

Terry pretended to eat Marianne's belly, which made her laugh as always, but in the end she also rejected this last suggestion.

“Really, I tink all de folks dat knows you would want to be yer godmudder!”

Marianne shook her head again.

“Alright den, when youse tawt of somebody you let us know, okay?”

Marianne nodded yes. Then, as though she wanted to move on to something else, she fetched Pickles, her choice of stuffed toy to take to bed that night.

SPIRAVALANCH:
n. — 2005/2013. 1. Violent crisis resulting from an escalation of incidents operating in a chain reaction. “Nothing was going right, he feared a spiravalanche.” (Daigle/Majzels) 2. TEXTILE Splash pattern. “She never drew those spiravalanche patterned drapes from behind the panels that concealed them.” (Daigle/Majzels).

“Tonight I'll be tellin' you de troo story of de deer called Zoo of Magnetic Hill. For a whole lot o' years, de government had been promisin' to widen de highway between Moncton an' Frederiction, so dat finally dey really had to do it, an' from dat day forward, life fer all de deer of New Brunswick was forever changed. On account of, do you want to know? On account of dem dat was building de highway went an' put up a wing fence on bot' sides o' de road to keep de animals from causin' accidents. Now, all de animals like to cross de highway from time to time, only when a big creature like a deer — a moose is a whole lot worse! — or a bear! Grrrrr . . . — wot was I sayin'? Aw yeah . . . — when one o' dem big creatures like a deer or a moose or a bear comes across an' right out in front of a car, well, dat can cause one terrible serious accident. Well, while dat road's gettin' built, instead of doin' like his dad an' readin' the signs to find out wot's goin' on around 'im, dat Zoo deer goes strollin' along eatin' grass and twigs in de ditch down de middle of de road, on account of ee likes de taste of salt an' dat ditch is full of de old salt from last winter. So, one time, when ee's done eatin' his supper, Zoo deer decides to take a wee bit of a walk to help wid 'is digestion an' to take in de air before ee goes back into de woods. Well, dat's when ee sees de fence. At first, Zoo didn't tink nothin' of it, ee just walked along in de trees between de two strips of highway, lookin' fer a break to get back off de road. So, der ee goes, ee's walkin' an' walkin' an' walkin' an walkin', all day long an' all night, on account of de fence just keeps on an' on an on'. Day time, ee had to be real careful, on account of der's places de trees thin out an' den it's de open field, an' dat's when anybody could spot 'im. Zoo was no different from any udder deer: ee didn't much like folks to see 'im. Only time ee didn't mind bein' seen was in de early mornin' and at supper time, in udder words, when ee's eatin'. So, sometimes, ee hides out all day in a small thicket o' trees, just waitin' till it's dark to cross over de field and keep goin' on 'is way. An' dat's how Zoo deer ended up goin' all de way up to Moncton, where some zookeepers from de Magnetic Hill Zoo caught 'im wid a big fishin' net. De moral o' dis 'ere story? Even doh yer not supposed to do it, der's times it can come in handy knowin' how to climb over a fence.