‘My Boris . . .’
‘Golubchik . . .’
Then some more kisses, more and more.
‘Calm down, Julie!’
Scratch! Michel struck a match and quickly lit some candles, putting out the fire that Julie had started. With the glow of light, my mum stepped back from my dad. Julie got to her feet, adjusting her skirt. And Boris – he had a foolish smile on his face. Alex came over to me.
‘I’m sure he’s fucked her.’
I really don’t like to talk about stuff like that. It was a weird situation. The ice storm had caught up with us again. Fortunately, my dad took control of things.
‘Right, what do we do now?’
‘Just when the party was getting going. What a shame!’
‘Alexis, don’t let your newly regained happiness blind you to the fact that there are others in the city who are less fortunate . . .’
‘Sorry, Simon.’
‘We’re really lucky to be able to have a party while others are having a terrible time of it.’
Everyone felt guilty.
‘The old people’s home!’
It was Julie who thought of it first.
‘Can you imagine them all by themselves in their rooms, alone in the dark, without television?’
‘It won’t last, Hydro-Québec will have it all up and running in no time.’
‘Don’t be so sure, Simon!’
My mum was all huddled up. She was already cold. I wasn’t worried about her – far from it. If she got deep-frozen it would help her think more clearly. Up until now the sky had helped everyone else, so it was time to finish the job by taking care of me. I hoped Hydro-Québec wouldn’t screw up my plan. Sometimes it’s hard to stop thinking about yourself.
‘Why don’t we go and help them?’
‘Who?’
‘The old folks!’
‘That’s a great idea, Alexis. It’s important to think about others.’
‘Great. Let’s get going!’
‘Alexis, I meant the idea, your inner path. Let’s not get carried away. There’s no rush.’
We heard the siren of a fire engine in the street. Then another, and another.
‘I’m going!’
‘Me too!’
It seemed strange to hear my dad wanting to get back in the action.
‘Davai!’
‘Boris, let’s stay together!’
‘Anne, you stay with the kids!’
My dad headed towards the door without another word and my mum just laughed. Julie, Boris and Michel followed him. Simon didn’t seem as motivated as the others; he just stood there. There was sweat on his brow. Alexis shook him.
‘Hey, come on, we need you!’
‘I don’t mind listening to other people’s misery, but I can’t stand seeing it.’
My mum seized her chance.
‘Simon, that’s perfectly understandable. Let me leave the kids with you.’
Simon didn’t protest and he immediately sat down. My mum rushed out into the corridor. Alexis gave Simon a comforting hug, and we could hear Julie shouting in the distance.
‘Boris, your fish!’
There was a heavy silence. Alex and I got up and went to see what was happening. Everyone was looking at Boris: he was trembling. Julie gave him an imploring gaze. He raised his chin, as proud as only a Russian can be.
‘We Quebeckers stick together!’
IT’S ALL THANKS TO A NATURAL DISASTER!
The streets were cordoned off all around the old people’s home, which was lit only by car headlamps and the revolving lights of the police cars. Two yellow school buses were waiting, their engines running. Firefighters, policemen, ambulance drivers and Red Cross volunteers were helping the old people to evacuate the premises, one by one.
In every society a hierarchy is formed. When a group goes into action they need a leader, either self-proclaimed or elected by his fellows. Martin strode ahead, with Alexis on his right. Anne, Boris, Michel and Julie followed, in no particular order.
Just off to one side was Staff Sergeant Couillard, in charge of the evacuation. Without a moment’s hesitation, Martin planted himself in front of him.
‘I’m family! What can we do to help?’
‘What do you mean, family?’
Martin lowered his voice.
‘I teach at the police academy.’
‘I see. Were you out in the field for long?’
‘Five, six years.’
Staff Sergeant Couillard could not help but throw him a scornful little look. It was obvious. In the police, those who can, do; those who no longer can, teach. Martin was caught off guard, and he surveyed his troops, who suddenly looked doubtful. A voice bellowed from the patrol car’s loudspeaker.
‘Boss? Boss? You there, boss? Boss? Are you there?’
Exasperated, Staff Sergeant Couillard turned from the car door he’d been leaning on and picked up the radio in his car.
‘Yeah sure, I’m here, where else do you want me to be? Talk!’
‘We’re in the shit here, boss, it’s taking fifteen minutes to get even one resident out. They cry and cling to the bars on their beds, they all want to take their knick-knacks with them . . . We need reinforcements.’
‘Do what you can. We don’t have any reinforcements, it’s a mess everywhere! Think about the big picture before you start complaining!’
‘But boss, at this rate, it will take days!’
‘Let me analyse the situation. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thanks, boss!’
Staff Sergeant Couillard didn’t look far. He eyed Martin from head to toe, sizing him up.
‘How do you think you’ll manage with those casts?’
‘I’m in charge of my team and their contribution!’
The sergeant then turned to evaluate the team. Instinctively, Julie, Boris, Michel, Anne and Alexis stood to attention. This discouraged him more than anything.
‘Damned ice! It’s really only because I’m in the shit here. Okay, fine. You can help. I just need to check one thing.’
The chief moved closer to Martin.
‘Blow!’
Martin didn’t blow very hard, but it was enough for an experienced nose. Martin’s troops thought this was hysterical, and began blowing on each other.
‘Not one of you behind the wheel, you hear?’
‘We hear!’
‘You can take the fifth floor.’
When Martin turned around, Anne gave a shiver. His expression had changed. It was nothing to do with the alcohol; it was a look she had known in another life. She had thought it was lost forever, but now there it was again. It hadn’t vanished, it had just faded away, and now in the middle of the ice storm it had begun to shine again.
‘Anne, Julie, Michel, Alexis, Boris: above all you need to act, but before you act, you think! Got that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, who?’
‘Yes, Martin!’
‘Michel, Alexis and Boris, you’re in charge of carrying people. That’s the part that needs muscles. Anne and Julie, you’ll take care of the belongings, the wellbeing and the morale of the people we’re evacuating. That’s the part that needs brains. Any recalcitrant cases and you deal with them, talk to them, while the men take the folks who are ready out to the buses. I want at least one person out of there every five minutes. We have to act quickly, but we have to use our heads, too. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Martin!’
‘Follow me!’
Staff Sergeant Couillard watched as the strange little troupe headed into the building. Puzzled, he rubbed his cap, then picked up his radio again.
‘What are you doing up there, for it to take you fifteen minutes to get one person out? What did they teach you over at the police academy? Do I have to explain everything?’
‘Go on, one more time!’
‘Monsieur Archambault, other people are waiting their turn.’
‘I haven’t laughed this much in fifteen years.�
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‘Okay, okay, but this is the last time. Show some solidarity, Monsieur Archambault.’
‘I promise to show some solidarity . . . afterwards.’
Alexis spun the wheelchair over the ice. The beaming octogenarian was in no hurry, recovering from his fit of giggles. But elderly people are not necessarily kind-hearted towards each other, and promises of solidarity can quickly be forgotten.
‘Don’t do it with old Tremblay. He’s always bugging us in the cafeteria.’
When Monsieur Archambault was finally lifted onto the yellow bus, already full of people, he was greeted with a round of applause. Followed by a heated debate.
‘I’ll bet that the next ones out will be the Gagné twins. Two bucks at three to one! Who’ll wager?’
‘I’m in!’
‘Archambault! Stop betting all your money, otherwise there’ll be nothing left for your heirs.’
A new peal of laughter rippled through the bus. From the windows, thirty or so pensioners with smiling faces waited for the next one to come out. After a minute or so Julie and Anne appeared, leading two perfectly identical seventy-year-old gentlemen by the arm.
‘Those twins have a way with pretty women, now, don’t they.’
‘You owe me two bucks.’
On the bus, a new round of applause greeted the arrival of the Gagné brothers. And the singing began:
‘Oh they’re just like us, joining us here on the bus.’
In the general cheer, no one had noticed Boris gingerly assisting an old lady to the door of the bus. She clung to his neck and hugged him for a long while, while Anne and Julie looked on, clearly moved.
‘Will you come and visit us, Boris?’
‘We’re neighbours! I’ll stop by with my girlfriend.’
‘You have a girlfriend?’
‘Yes, a life partner.’
Julie collapsed into Anne’s arms. Boris helped the old lady up the steps onto the bus. Martin came out of the building and went over to Staff Sergeant Couillard, who was sprawled against his patrol car: the entire fifth floor had been cleared, whereas Couillard’s own men had only evacuated half of the second floor.
‘Mission accomplished!’
‘I know, I know . . .’
‘What shall we do now?’
‘What would you do in my place?’
‘I’d ask me to clear the fourth floor.’
‘That’s it . . . That’s it . . . Clear the fourth floor.’
With a snap of his fingers Martin rounded up his troops. Just as he was about to go to the rescue of the fourth floor the staff sergeant sidled up to him so no one else could hear.
‘How did you do it? We haven’t even done half a floor.’
‘Downplay it, explain, act positive, organise! And then . . . act!’
‘Oh right, I remember now, it was in the course . . . But tell me, how do you do it, how do you get that esprit de corps into your team?’
Martin looked at the cast on his arm – his watch, that is.
‘Staff Sergeant, I’m sorry, but I have a whole floor to clear and I don’t want to get to bed too late. We can talk about it some other time if you like?’
‘Sorry. Do what you need to do. I won’t bother you.’
Martin turned round to count his team to make sure everyone was there. Anne suddenly realised that she would have liked to have been more than just a number; she would so have liked to be number one, the only one following her man into this new adventure.
‘He’s quite a man, your husband,’ said Julie.
‘I don’t know what’s happening to me.’
‘I feel the same, but whatever it is, I’m embracing it with open arms.’
‘How long have you known Boris?’
‘Three days, since the start of this stupid ice storm. Well, I say stupid, but if it weren’t for the ice storm I wouldn’t have got to know him. That’s what’s crazy. Basically, I’ve got a natural disaster to thank!’
Anne looked at Julie for a long time before raising her eyes to the sky. Then looked down at the ground covered in ice. Finally she turned to Martin: ramrod straight like a policeman, he was bravely leading his team of ad hoc rescue workers into their next mission. She fell in, looping her arm round Julie’s elbow, and put her head on her new friend’s shoulder.
‘You’re right, Julie, my love. It’s all thanks to a natural disaster.’
Friday, 9 January 1998
‘The situation is reaching crisis point. In five days up to a hundred millimetres of ice have fallen in the “black triangle” between Saint-Hyacinthe, Saint-Jean-sur-le-Richelieu and Granby. In Montérégie, up to eighty millimetres of ice have fallen. While Montreal has not had to deal with such a heavy ice fall, the situation remains critical this morning, since four out of the five power lines supplying Montreal are out of service. Once again, on this “black Friday”, we are nearing a total blackout for the entire city . . .’
‘As if by some miracle, the freezing rain stopped at the end of the afternoon . . .’
I DIDN’T PUT ANY MORE LOGS ON THE FIRE
I always wake up at night because I have to go for a wee.
When I opened my eyes, at first I didn’t know where I was. I was in the sitting room in my own house, but I had fallen asleep on the sofa at Simon and Michel’s place. I was on a mattress, my parents’. There was an orange light flickering, coming from the fireplace. There was whispering. I looked up. My dad was drying his casts above the flames, my mum was sitting next to him. I closed my eyes again, but not my ears. At last they were talking about me.
‘He asked some strange questions when you weren’t here.’
‘What sort of questions?’
‘How did we first meet? He asked me that the day you left.’
‘Do you remember how we met?’
‘I think so.’
‘The way you felt, and why you liked me?’
‘Three days ago I didn’t really remember. But I admit, you refreshed my memory tonight.’
‘I thought about it a lot at the cottage. About how you forget things or don’t see them any more, about how you change. I wanted to find those insignificant little things that made us want to live together, that made us love each other. I thought that if everything had to come to an end, I had to remember what had brought us together in the first place, rather than make lists of everything that had started keeping us apart.’
‘Do you realise that if it weren’t for this ice you wouldn’t even be thinking like that right now?’
‘It’s because we’ve temporarily lost our routine, and all our bad habits, the ones that keep you from seeing, that make you passive. After a while you have to try to remember who you were. I tell you, being cold refreshed my memory.’
The virtues of being deep-frozen!
‘One night he burst into tears and told me he thought it was his fault.’
‘What did you say to him?’
‘That it wasn’t his fault at all, of course. That it was a thing between adults.’
‘I’m not even sure any more.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He was presented with a fait accompli – no one asked him his opinion. It can’t be easy, not for a little fellow who’s only eleven.’
At last they were beginning to get it. But my dad, who’d been deep-frozen for longer, was still way ahead of my mum.
‘It’s as if we jumped on the separation solution right away, because it’s the easiest, it’s what everyone does, and you never stop to wonder if you’ve really tried everything.’
‘This is too emotional for me. Three days ago I thought you’d be walking out of here with that armchair stuck to your bottom, because you never seemed to get out of it. You come back with both arms in a cast. All you can think of is joking around. Then you manage to evacuate a hundred old people, and the staff sergeant wanted you to explain the rescue operation to the press, rather than do it himself. And now you’re telling me things I never thought I’d ever
hear you say, let alone think. I need some sleep. I need to think . . .’
I slipped my hand out from under the sheet. It was cold. The situation was improving, but I hadn’t asked the sky to stop yet. The ice had to finish the job at our place, too. It might be selfish of me, but I though that we needed the help at our place more than anywhere. I was happy for Alex, but I wanted to be happy, too. I decided not to go for a wee. I held it in and thought as hard as I could about the three of us. I must have fallen asleep really fast.
At ten o’clock the light in the hallway woke me up. It was still cold. I was worried – the power had come back on so quickly. Why did they have to reconnect my building when there were millions of other people who had no power? Hydro-Québec were determined to give me a hard time.
My dad must have been very tired because he was snoring really loudly. I got up slowly. I waited before I looked at him; I was afraid he’d be alone. I took a deep breath and turned my head. I wish I’d had my video camera. Mum and Dad were holding each other so close, as if they were one person. They were cold.
I didn’t put any more logs on the fire.
IS THERE ANYTHING MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN LOVE?
‘Nineteen!’
‘And at the other end?’
‘Nineteen!’
‘Julie! Wait for the thermometer to settle.’
Julie, in a red nightie, raised her eyes to the ceiling. She did not think of protesting, not even for a second. She dipped the thermometer into the other end of the aquarium. Across from her Boris was whistling, light-hearted, and Brutus was sitting on his lap. She had heard her fair share of men whistling after lovemaking, but this sweet melody didn’t sound like the others. At the height of ecstasy, Boris had moaned:
‘Ya lyublyu tebya . . .’
Four times she had heard that cry from the heart, which needed no dictionary. She too had moaned, with the sublime feelings that had run through her:
‘I love you! I love you! I love you!’
The two cats had always considered the sofa their territory – and an ideal springboard to the aquarium – but now they beat a hasty retreat when Brutus delivered a vicious swipe to the larger of the two. Julie smiled. Ever since he had grown attached to Boris, Brutus had been gaining in self-confidence, and would not tolerate either of his fellows going anywhere near the aquarium. Julie thought very hard about love. With the thermometer in the water, she recalled what her mother had said, the mother whom she had left when she was so young. Sometimes you need to let time do its work before you can understand what your parents were trying to teach you.
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