Polar Vortex
Page 24
Just as the pounding in my head begins to subside and I am about to bang on the door, their bodies have shifted and I can see. And I see, I see. It is Alex. And. Kissing. Alex. Skye. Kissing. My Alex. Not like friends. They are kissing.
They are kissing.
I want to throw up. I hold my stomach and tiptoe down the stairs fast and run and stumble and run in the shadows of the foundation cypresses, past the house and to my car. It’s terribly cold. So nauseated. Prakash. I want to call him. Prakash. Wait, Prakash. Immediately, before he gets too far away.
* * *
I can’t, can I? I can’t call him anymore. I’m on my own. Alone.
* * *
I sit in the car, unable to figure out the steps, the logic of driving. As if I’ve never driven a car before. An hour, or is it a minute — maybe more, maybe less — passes. I don’t want to go back to our house. But I don’t know where to go. My hands won’t stop shaking, my teeth chattering now.
Oh my God, I forgot to fill the birdfeeders. That’s it, isn’t it? This one act of neglect. It’s the reason, it’s why this. An empty birdfeeder — a sign of neglect.
I need to get home right away, I need to go out and fill the birdfeeders. In the dark. Don’t waste time. All six feeders, suet and seeds. That’s it. That’s what I need to do. And then I’ll call Alex and tell her I refilled them and that I’ll always keep them filled. I can’t believe I didn’t take care of them earlier today. We’ll get a birdbath for the backyard. A heated birdbath, I’ll tell her. We can go to the wild-bird store in Brighton tomorrow morning. They’re open on Sundays. Yes, that’s what we’ll do. It’ll be a nice outing. Or wherever she wants to go. Whatever she wants to do. I promise. I really do. Whatever you want, Alex.
Alex, my love. Please.
Acknowledgements
* * *
Every day I am reminded of how fortunate I am to be able to live here, within the traditional territories of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy. I am thankful, also, to the land itself — that is, to the flora in its amazing variety, all the land, water and air animals, the rivers above ground and running underground, the big lake and all the smaller ones.
And to all the farmers who feed us in this area.
I am grateful to have around me a number of people who sustain me as I insist on this writing life, and on making art. In particular, as regards the writing of this novel, I’d like to express appreciation to Jane Howard, Shelagh Hurley, Pam Joliffe, and Deborah Root for friendship, for ongoing writing conversations, and for so generously urging me forward.
Thank you to Nandish Yajnik for his enduring support of my work, and for sharing with me stories of exile.
Thank you to Sue Hierlihy for astute editorial work on early drafts — a process that helped me “see” the shape of the novel as I worked, and to Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer for reading and offering valuable feedback.
I would like to acknowledge the Canada Council for the Arts for supporting the writing of this novel.
Thank you to David and Barbara, for so often renting me a table in the backroom of Lily’s Café for the price of a coffee and an excellent salad bowl.
I want to thank Samantha Haywood of Transatlantic Agency; my publishers Jay MillAr and Hazel Millar of Book*hug Press for their unwavering support of this book; copy editor Stuart Ross; my editor Meg Storey, whose philosophical, logical and lyrical mind made for a project larger than the book — which, in the end, is what is truly meaningful; and a special thank-you to book designer Ingrid Paulson for the beautiful cover creation, and her design work in general.
During the course of the writing, I was, as usual, tirelessly championed by my family — my father and siblings — and so, too, by Deborah Root, who encourages me daily to imagine I really do have something to say in my work. I can’t be more grateful to have her in my life.
Shani Mootoo was born in Ireland, grew up in Trinidad, and lives in Canada. She holds an MA in English from the University of Guelph, writes fiction and poetry, and is a visual artist whose work has been exhibited locally and internationally. Mootoo’s critically acclaimed novels include Moving Forward Sideways Like a Crab, Valmiki’s Daughter, He Drown She in the Sea, and Cereus Blooms at Night. She is a recipient of the K.M. Hunter Artist Award, a Chalmers Arts Fellowship, and the James Duggins Mid-Career Novelist Award from the Lambda Literary Awards. Her work has been long- and shortlisted for the Scotiabank Giller Prize, the International Dublin Literary Award, and the Booker Prize. She lives in Prince Edward County, Ontario.
Colophon
Manufactured as the first edition of Polar Vortex in the spring of 2020 by Book*hug Press
Edited for the press by Meg Storey
Copy edited by Stuart Ross
Type + design by Ingrid Paulson
Author photo by Ramesh Pooran
bookhugpress.ca