For Sure (76 page)

“Sometimes. I suppose I tawt more about it at de start.”

Catherine had been wary about raising the question with Zed; she didn't want to start him thinking about something that might weigh on him unnecessarily. But Zed's reply was untroubled, and so Catherine added:

“I think about it, too, sometimes. Maybe I shouldn't.”

“'Tisn't possible not to tink about it.”

daddy

gazes outside

bites an apple, ponders

his son admires him, taste yourself

and see

“She's workin' . . .”

“How does you know, den?”

“By dis 'ere little light dat's blinkin'. When she's green, dat means she's ready. An' red means she's gone out.”

Chico waited, but nothing seemed to be happening.

“At school, she doesn't take dis long at all. You press on de button and she starts right away.”

Zed, too, thought the printer was taking a long time to get going.

“Could be on account of she's new, on account of dis 'ere's de first time we turn 'er on.”

Zed opened the accompanying instructions again, reread the steps, sighed. Chico worried that Zed might be getting ready to quit. Then suddenly, while both their noses were buried in the manual crammed with diagrams, numerals, and arrows, something started up, the printer gave a little shake, and several little lights — yellow and orange ones, along with the green and red — began to flash one after the other, until finally the word “
Prête
” appeared on the small, discrete screen.

“Hun! She's already in French. Dat's right nice.”

She reflected on the departure of the French for the New World in the seventeenth century. How could one not expect their language to undergo the countershocks of such a radical displacement? What are a few so-called abnormal language configurations in the face of an ocean's distance and 400 years of history on a different continent? Invert the language rather than reverse the crossing. Why should the Parisians in their finery, who love the sound of
s
words,
take precedence over the pioneers shot through with the beating of tam-tams? Why fret over a redundancy when the word itself contains two
d
s?

“I only asked 'er how she was; I wasn't askin' fer her blog.”

RCH, SKR, NOA, MNB, TKO, HEO, SEI, PSR, CRY, BWC, MDZ.A, NEM, AVL.

“I fails to see why we couldn't write
swĩ
ng
the way we actually pronounce it in French:
swigne
.”

“Which would lead to the verb
swigner
.
Je swigne, tu swignes, il
or
elle swigne, on swigne, nous swignons, vous swignez, ils
and
elles swignont
.”

“I fear that that might lead to confusion with “to heal” or
soigner
:
je swigne, je soigne
. . . You see the problem?”

“As far as I'm concerned, there's sufficient difference between the two. Especially since we pronounce
soigne
as
souègne
.”

“You may very well be right, my dear lady. And, in any case, let's admit it, no language is ever entirely safe from the occasional misunderstanding.”

“But would that apply, then, to all verbs containing
-
ing
? I'm thinking of
rĩng
,
strĩng
. . .”

“We ought to begin by deciding which English verbs we accept; then, we can discuss which conjugation
fits
.”

“
FÄ©t
! Der's one we ought to talk
ãbout
!”

“Personally, I'm afraid that if we admit
rigne
for
rĩng
, referring to either doorbells or other sorts of bells, before you know it, people will be saying things like ‘
j'ai rigné la dõorbell
.' I completely disapprove of opening the door to
dõorbell
.”

“Perhaps we might simply create a verb
drigne
for
drĩng
the doorbell, and reserve
rigne
for the boxing arena. What do you think?”

“And I suppose we'd accept, if the need arises, that people
strignent
their Christmas decorations as of December 10, as suggested by Energuide, and that they
strignent
themselves to show off on the beach?

“I believe you mean, that they
strigniont
themselves.”

“That doesn't solve the pronunciation of the
r
. Are they going to
strigner
themselves like the French, or
strĩgnér
themselves like the Americans?

Hans got back up, brushed off his trousers. The bus had skidded, knocking him down in the aisle. Luckily, the vehicle had not overturned, but had merely slid awkwardly onto the shoulder of the highway. No panic, no blood. Hans wondered if it might be a sign that he shouldn't be going to Moncton. But an accident can happen anywhere, after all. Whatever the case, he concluded that there would certainly be a few rough patches.

“Dad, wot does deportation mean?”

Terry was busy serving two customers at the same time.

“Eh, Dad?”

“Look, Dad's serving de ladies right now. I'll explain it to you later, OK?”

Étienne looked at the customers. Both had turned radiant smiles on him. Intimidated, the boy took refuge in Ludmilla's office.

Any sort of explanation is a kind of pilgrimage.

Marianne ran after the rolling carrot slice, caught up and picked it up, and popped it in her mouth.

“Wait, Marianne! Come 'ere, Dad's gonna show you sometin'.”

Marianne turned, not daring to clamp her jaws down completely.

“When sometin' to eat falls on de ground, it gets dirty, even doh it might not show, so we oughtn't to be eatin' it.”

Terry got down to Marianne's height to be sure she'd understand.

“De slice of carrot you picked up off de ground, well, 'twas probably a wee bit dirty, or could be it picked up some germs, so we'd best wash it before we eats it, or if 'twere too dirty, we'd be trowin' it in de garbage. Understand?”

Marianne took the slice dripping with saliva out of her mouth, and handed it to Terry, who went to rinse it off before giving it back.

“Alright den, now you can go ahead an' eat it.”

The little one ran off, and Terry went back to slicing carrots, adding for the benefit of Étienne, who was cutting the tails off string beans on the table:

“If de ting dat falls on de ground is dry, you could just blow on it, and den eat it, only Marianne's too small to make de difference, so I's just tellin' you.”

Étienne acquiesced, proud that his father recognized in him a greater degree of judgment than in his little sister, who was almost still a baby. At the same time, he regretted the unblemished square of Chicklet's gum he'd spotted that very morning on the ground in the parking lot of the convenience store.

MIDDAYCATION:
n. — 2005; from
midday
and
medication
♦
1. medicine to be taken with midday meal.
“I'm going to prescribe a middaycation for you.”
(Daigle) 2. laughable, useless medicine (FIG.)
“It's nothing, he forgot his middaycation.”
(Daigle)

Zed pressed on the accelerator and made a quick left turn, rapidly cutting across the two lanes of the avenue where traffic was usually constant and fast.

“I hates to do dat, only dey almost doesn't give us a choice.”

Once they were in the parking lot of the clinic:

“It may take some time . . .”

“There's no rush. Anyhow, I've got a book.”

Without being one of those people of whom we say they've always got their nose in a book, Catherine usually carried a book in her handbag. Always a book; never a magazine. Magazines can't hold Catherine's attention; they make her feel like a chicken running around with its head cut off. Whereas books take her by the hand and lead her down paths across open fields.

“Is dat de book Terry was wantin' you to read?”

“No, I finished that one.”

“Already? Was it good, den?”

Catherine was rarely categorical about books.

“There were some good bits, only I think Terry liked it more than I did.”

Nor was she the type to get lost in interminable discussions of her books.

“I've never been a big fan of legends.”

French that flows naturally. Without embellishments, but without serious blunders either. Subtle, polished accents. You emerge refreshed, as from a playful, sun-filled wave. Fervour? Fantasy?

Étienne had been astonished to learn that a person could simply be expelled from their home.

“That's not nice, eh Dad?”

Terry, who had naturally simplified the history of the Deportation a bit, was happy to see that Étienne had grasped the essential.

“No, 'tisn't nice, fer sure. 'Tis even mean.”

“How come de police didn't stop them doing that?”

“Well, in a way, dose dat did dat, dey was de police demselves.”

Étienne had never imagined the police could be cruel.

“They were fearsome police?”

“Hey, boy! Fearsome police. Dat's well said. I like dat.”

“Granny Gaudet says dat word. She says 'er cat's fearsome.”

Étienne seemed to enjoy saying the word.

“Dat's good, dat's a fine word. Yes, dey were fearsome police.”

Étienne had deduced from his father's explanations that even he, Terry, would have been powerless in the face of the British soldiers.

“Mum wouldn't 'ave been afeard.”

The phrase made Terry smile.

“Awh, no? Well, maybe not. Wot does you tink she'd 'ave done, den?”

Étienne thought about it:

“She'd 'ave put poison in de pizza an' she'd 'ave fed it to de police an' after supper de polices would've all died.”

Terry noted the recurrence of his son's predilection for poisoning.

“An' me, I'd be hidin' in de closet wid Marianne an' after Mum would've come to fetch us.”

As a father, Terry didn't like being kept out of the dramas that might have struck their little family.

“An me, where would I 'ave bin, den? Wot would I be doin'?”

Étienne began by shrugging, then finally:

“You'd 'ave put the suitcases in the car. The suitcases an' a whole lot o' potatoes, so we'd 'ave sometin' to eat.”

Dequoi
, sometin'.
Desfois
, der's times dat.
Commensque
, 'ow're.

“Wot's de difference betwixt a straight shooter an' a straight arrow. Ask me, der de same.”

“Straight shooter tells you straight wot's wot. He doesn't miss de mark.”

“Well don't a straight arrow do de same?”

“Only if yer an Indian. Udderwise straight shooter's a lot quicker.”

looks at

her crackled bowl

broken yet not broken

lifts her eyes asks for permission

to eat

“Over there's a whole lot of trucks, eh Mum?”

Carmen had explained to Étienne that, on the road, it was always best to stop in restaurants frequented by truckers, because they knew the good places to eat.

“See the thickness of the cream on the lemon pie? Now, that proves that we're in a real truckers' restaurant.”

The boy had concluded that truckers were clearly people with a great deal of power.

message in a bottle

worn smooth by the sea and time

words within like wine

asleep, almost forgotten

this floating passage that breathes

“I've got it! I knew there was sometin'! A camera! I'd like to be takin' a whole lot of beautiful pictures of you an' our family.”

Étienne gave the impression he approved and, as though satisfied with the outcome, asked no further questions.

Political malapropism: the bull is in their court.

“Have you ever seen the bronze fly?”

Chico shrugged, as if to say he'd seen a great many flies, but whether among all those flies, he'd seen that particular one, well. . .

“My grandad, says you have to please the bronze fly.”

Chico thought about it before replying:

“An' 'ow does we do dat, den?”

Étienne shrugged in turn.

“Wot does bronze mean?”

Chico explained everything he knew about bronze.

“Dat's an Olympic medal. 'Tis de tird medal, only dey gives it first. Dat's wot de teacher said.”

Étienne was not in the habit of questioning what the teacher said.