For Sure (77 page)

“Can you ask de teacher if she's ever seen de bronze fly?”

“OK.”

And on another page of the same notebook: ALS, ALZ, ONC, SRD, PEI, BVX, NTC, and PZZ.

Daigle admitted, in the course of the interview, that she had to get up very early in the morning to try and understand Lacan, so as not to misrepresent his arguments.

“After 10 a.m., I was no longer sure I understood him, so it might be a good idea for readers to read those passages early in the morning, as well.”

The French expression “
treize à la douzaine
” or “thirteen to the dozen,” is translated in English as “a baker's dozen.” How not to imagine a baker, chubby, cheerful, and covered in flour, with a love for life and those around him, and unable to resist putting one more, rather than one less, in his dozen biscuits or bread rolls?

“Zed wants a dog.”

Chico said it without enthusiasm, as though he himself was indifferent.

“Wot about you, don't you want one as well?”

“Yes. Me as well.”

Étienne thought about it, then:

“I'd like one, too.”

Chico added:

“Well, 'tis more Zed dan me dat wants one.”

Étienne acquiesced, but there was something odd in that detail.

Balzac's
The Magic Skin
appears in the section entitled “The Fantastic and the Marvellous” of
La Bibliothèque idéale
.

You could hear it when Étienne returned from a day or two with Chico at Granny Gaudet's house in Dieppe. “
Tiroir
” or “drawer” became “
tirette
,” or “pull out” as in:

“Mum, de scissors aren't in de pull out.”

. . .

“
Dévisser
” or “unscrew” became “
désavisser
” or “unenscrew,” as in:

“Dad, can you unenscrew dis?”

. . .

“
Contrarié
” or “frustrated” became “
connetrairée
” or “crousty,” as in:

“Wot's de madder wid you, Marianne? Yer lookin' terrible crousty.”

. . .

And, undressing to take his bath, “
un fils décousu
” or “loose thread” became “
une défaisure
” or “ravel,” as in:

“Luh, Mum, I've a ravel in me sock.”

Even the word
hasard
has its origins in Arabic. The English
hazard
meaning both “danger” and “chance” comes later from the French.

Seated at the big three-sided table, with access to most of his various occupations, The Cripple was deep in thought. Before him, lay a sheet on which were written a few words in the form of a poem.

raisin dust

my computer washes up

the sevens tempt me

Antoinette, who had never seen her husband so perplexed, wanted to rescue him from his impasse:

“Ask Terry. He's the one who knows this stuff.”

Depth.

“I used to see Canada as a great big country where a fellow could roam. Nowadays, I sees it wid Caterpillar machinery everywhere an' holes all o'er de place.”

. . .

“'Tisn't wot's on dis earth dat counts any longer, 'tis wots underneat'.”

. . .

“An' before, I'd get terrible vexed wid de banks makin' all dat money. Now, I can't say I mind.”

. . .

“It's got so I's even readin' de stickers on car licences.”

. . .

“Speakin' o' cars, we ought to be takin' a ride down by Sisson Brook some time. Der's supposed to be a new tungsten an' moly mine openin' up down der.”

Before running to his mother, Étienne had quickly shoved both the drawing and the tube of toothpaste as far as possible under his bed.

“Do you have books from la Pléiade collection here?”

“We've a couple second hand. Unless you's lookin' fer dose by Charles Le Blanc on de old Chinese philosophers?”

“As a matter of fact, I'm looking for the second one, on the Confucian philosophers.”

“Yer in luck, we've got one left. An' she's signed, to boot.”

“Wicked! I'll take it.”

No mention of the death of the Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev the same day as Stalin, March 5, 1953, in Daigle's
1953: Chronicle of a Birth Foretold.

Without intending to, Carmen had planted the seeds of doubt in Terry's mind concerning the eventual sexual orientation of their children. And like any good forward-­looking father, especially in the case of Étienne, who was growing up at an alarming rate, Terry had begun to look for an opportunity to raise the subject of homosexuality with his son.

“Well, den? Was de party alright?”

“Yes! We played kick-the-can an' hide'n-go-seek!”

“Wow! We played dat as well, when I's a boy . . .”

“I kicked de can twice!”

“Twice! You musta bin pretty clever hidin', eh?”

“Yes, an' I was runnin' fast.”

His mouth stained with orangeade, Étienne began to rummage through his bag of surprises.

“Was der a lot o' people?”

The boy nodded while he reached down to the bottom of his bag.

“Was der girls der, or mostly boys?”

“Der was a whole lot of folks, and uncles an' aunties.”

Terry continued to probe for an opening:

“An' girl cousins?”

Étienne didn't know. Terry looked for another way in:

“Wot've you got in yer bag, den?”

Étienne pulled out candy, a mini-car and a skipping rope.

“A skippin' rope! In my day, 'twas de girls wot played wid skipping ropes.”

Étienne registered the remark as information, and began to unwrap a giant pink bubble gum:

“Kick-de-can's de best kind of game.”

“Yes, I liked it as well . . .”

To obtain a straight edge, line up the paper to a full line (metric measurements) or a dotted line (American measurement). Place the paper to be cut against the ruler at the top of the tray and against the paper guide to the left. To cut an oblique of 30, 45, or 60 degrees, place the paper along the corresponding diagonals. Paper cutting requires caution: do not place your fingers too close to the blade while you are doing precision cutting. If the blade creases the paper instead of cutting it, tighten the screw at the head of the pivot rod located under the carriage. Beware! Do not put your fingers past the finger guard. Keep the handle down and the blade latch locked when the guillotine paper cutter is not in use, or when transporting. Do not grease the blade. Do not remove the blade guard. Do not put your hand or fingers under the blade to hold the paper cutter when transporting. Keep away from children. The 10-year limited warranty does not cover a product damaged by misuse or overuse.

Terry stopped in front of the veteran to buy some plastic poppies. He explained to Étienne:

“This man 'ere was in de war. See 'is medals? Dat's on account of ee was brave an' ee fought fer us.”

Proud that a young man would take the time to explain such a thing to a child, the veteran, wanting to do his part, pinned the poppy on Étienne's jacket himself.

“There! Now you'll be a little soldier for us old-timers.”

Étienne couldn't see how the poppy made of him a soldier, and didn't think to say thank you. Terry reminded him:

“Aren't you gonna say thank you?”

“Thank you.”

“Yer welcome. That's a right fine jacket you've got. Is it fer yer baseball team?”

Étienne had not chosen the jacket he was wearing. Carmen had pulled it out of the cupboard one day and he'd simply put it on without protesting.

. . .

“Ee's not in a mood fer talkin' today . . .”

Terry was about to agree with the veteran when Étienne's tongue suddenly loosened:

“War wid real guns?”

“Real, fer sure!”

“On account of?”

“On account of? Because 'twas necessary. Der was some bad people an' we had to be rid o' dem. War's not nice, only we had to defend our freedom.”

Étienne retained the word
freedom
, and asked no further questions.

True or false: Diamonds like the cold.

Terry had the feeling the day would never end. Nevertheless, he launched into the story of Pépée.

“Dis 'ere story happened in France in de days of de hippies. I already told you 'bout de hippies, do you remember?”

Étienne drew his hand out from under his pillow and flashed the peace sign, which made Terry laugh.

“Exactly! So, der was dis couple — dey were a fellow and 'is wife — who was strollin' along when, all of sudden out o' de blue, dey come upon a man who had dese wee monkeys, like five or six wee monkeys playin' togedder, an' seems dey was a pretty sight to see, an' comical as well. When de woman saw dem, well, right off she wants one. Well, seems de man, ee didn't really care for dem. Only de woman, 'twas like she couldn't go on livin' if she didn't 'ave one o' dose little monkeys. So, in de end, de man says alright, on account of he loved 'is wife an' all . . .”

Étienne smiled, as though he already had a vast experience in love.

“So den dey hauled one o' de little monkeys home wid dem. At de start, ee was cute an' comical an' everytin' was fine. Only de monkey, ee started growin' and getting' big, an' den ee wasn't a wee little monkey anymore at all! Ee turned out to be a shockin' big, tall monkey, an' terrible strong as well. Well, de woman in particular, but de man a wee bit too, livin' wid de monkey all dat time, dey got used to 'im, same as if he were a cat or a dog. An' you knows 'ow easy 'tis to spoil a creature you loves . . . So de big, tall monkey became terrible spoiled, an' wrangle-gangle: ee's climbin' over everytin', jumpin' an' doin' flips anytime an' anyplace ee felt de urge. An' wid his hands almost like ours, ee's grabbin' hold o' tings and pullin' dem off, or ee drags 'is arm off de tablecloth an' brings de whole supper down on de floor . . . all tings like dat.”

The situation as Étienne imagined it made him laugh, but at the same time he knew this story wasn't going to be all rosy.

“Well den, dat monkey got to be a terrible misery. Ee was wantin' der attention all de time, an' doin' anytin' to get it. Especially when de couple was havin' guests over. Fer instance, radder dan shakin' der hand like yer supposed to, ee'd grab hold of de visitor's hand an' give it an awful twist. An' ee'd drash de chair out from under dem, ee'd eat right out o' der plate, slobber all o'er dem, walk on de table, climb de lamps, trow tings, wotever you can tink of, dat monkey was doin' it.”

Étienne was beginning to look stressed.

“An' it kept on like dat fer years. Let's say five or six years. De fellow kept on sayin' dey ought to be getting' rid o' dat monkey, only de wife wouldn't hear of it, or else it got to be de reverse, I doesn't recall fer certain. Whichever, one ting's fer sure, der got to be some terrible bickerin' in dat house. Most likely dey had udder reasons to be bickerin', only Pépée wasn't helpin, dat's fer sure. Oh, dat's true, I 'aven't told you de monkey's name yet, 'ave I? Pépée. Wid an extra
e
on de end. Dat's wot dey called 'im, on account of de monkey was a female monkey, actually.”

Étienne nodded, understanding.

“Well den, Pépée got so crazy dat nobody was wantin' to visit wid dose folks. De whole house was a reeraw. Pépée was even takin' apart de roof, so dat sometimes 'twas rainin' in de house. I suppose de roofs in dat country're easier to take apart dan dey are 'round 'ere, only I can't say fer a fact. Anyhow, it only goes to show how strong Pépée was.”

Again Étienne nodded.

“By den, de man was pretty much fed up wid all o' Pépée's mess. Sometimes he was out walkin', he didn't want to be comin' 'ome, imagine dat! Some folks was even sayin' dat ee was startin' to tink 'is wife was as daft as de monkey. One time, ee stayed away fer two whole weeks, on account of ee couldn't stand it no longer.”

“Where did ee go, den?”

“Well, same place you or I'd go. A friend's place. 'Is best pal's. Right?”

Étienne smiled. Terry continued:

“De wife was phonin' an' cryin' fer 'im to come on home, only ee didn't want to, did ee. So, to make 'im come home, she told 'im dat if ee didn't come 'ome, she's gonna murder Pépée.”

!

“Ask me, she ought to 'ave said de opposite: dat she'd kill Pépée if he was agreein' to come home. Well, like I's sayin', she was startin' to get a wee bit rimmed 'erself by den, I figure. Anyhow, de fellow didn't believe 'er, an' ee didn't go back 'ome. So de wife, she asked de neighbour to come over an' kill Pépée, an' a couple udder creatures while der at it, a pig an' a dog, I tink. On account of dey had udder animals as well.”