It was that simple for her. Having made her decision, Elodie was immediately committed to it. Now, when she watches the news and it’s reported that the Yes side is gaining momentum, she feels anxious. She wants Nancy to come home for good.
“How are you?” Nancy asks her as they set off for the rally. “Anything new?”
Elodie doesn’t mention what’s been going on with the Duplessis orphans. There haven’t been any significant wins or positive developments, so why bother? Old habits. The only other news she has is about Nancy’s father, Dennis. His return to Elodie’s life was so fleeting and surreal she still sometimes questions whether it really happened. They talked for more than an hour that day, sitting across from each other in that booth, until she could see that his pain and discomfort were becoming unbearable. When it was time for him to leave, they hugged goodbye as though they’d known each other their whole lives—and in some ways they have—and then he left. They didn’t exchange numbers or pretend they would ever see each other again.
As much as she hates keeping this secret from Nancy, she doesn’t have the heart to tell her that her father survived Vietnam but only has a few months left to live. It seems less cruel to say nothing.
“Tell me what’s new with you,” Elodie says, looping her arm in Nancy’s, the way she does with Véronique.
“I’m still working at Sears, and I’ve been taking English classes in Shediac.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“No, Bouctouche is too small.”
“They still have boys, though.”
“None I like. Anyway, I’m not looking for a boyfriend. Your generation is so codependent.”
“What’s that?”
“The way you all think a woman needs a man to be okay.”
“I don’t have a man. I never did.”
“So why do you care if I have one?”
“Because I want you to have someone to take care of you. It’s easier.”
“That makes no sense,” Nancy says. “It’s old-fashioned.”
“Look at your grandparents. Maggie and Gabriel were so happy together. They were best friends, and they took care of each other. That’s what I want for you.”
“Why didn’t you want it for yourself?”
“I didn’t know how to be in a relationship,” Elodie admits.
Nancy stops and turns to face her. “Well, you do now,” she says. “And you’re good at it.”
Elodie touches her daughter’s cheek, but Nancy—not one to linger in sentimentality—turns around and says, “Can you unzip my bag? I made a sign for the rally.”
Elodie unzips the backpack and pulls out a small sign on white cardboard. It says NEW BRUNSWICK LOVES QUEBEC!
Nancy holds it above her head as they join the crowd, which is slowly forming a parade in the middle of the street en route to Place du Canada. The morning sun is bright white, glinting off the downtown high-rises. The air is mild except for a gusting wind—a reminder that winter is on the horizon. They quickly find themselves swept up in a throng of patriots, waving their No banners and homemade signs. UNITED WE STAND, DIVIDED WE GET OUR BUTTS KICKED. MY CANADA INCLUDES QUEBEC. VOTE NO SO WE DON’T BECOME THE 51ST STATE! TORONTO LOVES QUEBEC! PLEASE DON’T GO!
Elodie reaches for Nancy’s hand, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. She hates big crowds. She’s already feeling unsettled. People are chanting as they approach Place du Canada. “Ca-na-da! Ca-na-da! Ca-na-da!” A man walking beside them has a red maple leaf painted on his cheek; he’s pumping his fist in the air as he chants. All around them, VOTE NO stickers are plastered across foreheads; some people are wrapped in red-and-white Canadian flags, others in Quebec’s blue-and-white fleurs-de-lis. An airplane passes overhead, trailing a banner that says STRONG, PROUD & FREE in French and English.
Elodie is starting to feel emotional. “I never knew people cared this much.”
When they reach their meeting place at the statue of John A. Macdonald, the square is absolutely mobbed. People are perched on the statues of Macdonald and Laurier like pigeons, hoping for a better view. A massive Canadian flag is surfing its way over the crowd, which is probably in the tens of thousands by now. Everyone is belting out the national anthem in French, loud and proud.
Elodie spots Stephanie standing on the monument above the crowd, waving a maple leaf and a fleur-de-lis flag. James and Maggie are waving them over, two dots in a sea of red and blue flags.
When they’re all together, James hoists Nancy up onto the monument so she can have a better view of the rally. Nancy and Stephanie coolly acknowledge each other.
“Can you believe this turnout?” Maggie asks her, attempting an embrace. “There must be fifty thousand people here.”
The hug is a little too long and tight for Elodie’s comfort. She has trouble looking Maggie in the eyes. There’s an awkwardness between them that didn’t used to be there, at least not since the early days.
“I’ve never seen an Anglophone waving a Quebec flag before,” Elodie says, turning to James.
“And you never will again,” he responds, taking a picture of someone wearing a T-shirt with the slogan ON T’AIME QUEBEC. He’s got the camera around his neck and a tape recorder in his hand.
“You’re here as a reporter?” Elodie asks him.
“And as a No supporter.”
“I guess Véronique isn’t here?”
James laughs out loud at the question. “No, she’s not. She’s as far away as she could get.”
“I hope you guys will be okay regardless of how it turns out.”
“Of course we will,” he says. “It’s just politics.”
It seems like it’s much more than just politics to Véronique, but Elodie doesn’t say so. “What happened with your story about her father and the October Crisis?” she asks. “I looked for it on the anniversary of Laporte’s murder.”
“My editor decided to hold it,” James says. “He didn’t think the timing was right with the referendum looming. He felt it would be too divisive. It’ll run some time in November.”
He takes a few more pictures of the expanding crowd, scribbles some notes on a small pad. He turns to a guy in a Vancouver Canucks sweatshirt. “Why did you come today?” he asks, in perfect English.
“I had to,” the guy says, choking up. “I love Canada. I love Quebec. I just needed to be here. If we can convince just one Quebecker that we care about this province, it’ll be worth it.”
The crush of people is starting to make Elodie claustrophobic. The RCMP officers are setting up metal railings near the stage. A woman is already giving a speech up there. “Our French and English duality,” she blusters from the podium, “is what makes Canadians so special and so different from our dynamic neighbor, the United States of America! This duality is why we want to stay together!”
The crowd is going wild. Elodie glances up at Nancy, who’s on her tiptoes on the statue of John A. Macdonald, cheering louder than anyone else. Elodie loves her spirit. She’s always had it, this unwavering exuberance for life. Elodie did right by her, shielding her from her past. Maybe she gets some of it from Dennis, too, the same kind of loyalty and patriotism that leads a young man to enlist in an unwinnable war.
A couple of guys carrying flags from Yellowknife jostle past, accidentally shoving Elodie into the people in front of her. They apologize and shake her hand, and when she mutters something back to them in French, they say, “We love Quebec! We love you!”
Elodie is not faring well in the mob, though. She wants to escape, can’t take her eyes off the empty streets just beyond the square. She doesn’t want to disappoint Nancy. Leaving early to be by herself is exactly the sort of thing she hates to do, but her heart is galloping, her throat starting to constrict.
“You okay?” James asks her, just as the prime minister takes the stage.
“I think I’m going to head home.”
“Chrétien is about to give his speech. This is such a historic day, El—”
&n
bsp; She ignores him and reaches for Nancy’s ankle. Nancy looks down at her from her perch on the statue. “I’m going to go,” Elodie calls up to her. “I’ll meet you at home later, okay?”
“You’re leaving now? Why?”
“Too many people,” she says. “You can tell me about it when you get home.”
Nancy nods, understanding, but Elodie doesn’t miss the shadow of disappointment across her face.
As Elodie pushes her way through the crowd, she can hear the prime minister rousing the people: “Quebec is our home, but Canada is our country!”
The crowd starts to thin out at Mountain Street, so she turns and flees the downtown core. She decides to walk home. The weather is holding up and she’s starting to calm down, breathe easier. The fresh air feels good on her face, in her bones. She inhales deeply, enjoying the breeze. She just wants to feel like herself again.
In the distance, she can still hear the echo of the prime minister’s promises: “We will make the changes that are needed so that Canada can move into the twenty-first century united from sea to sea!”
27
“How was your propaganda rally?”
James spins around to find Véronique standing in the doorway of their bedroom. She cut her hair the other day. It’s shorter now, falls just below her ears in a bob. Her roots have grown out, too, so her hair is more natural than usual—soft brown, slightly wavy. She wears no makeup, no jewelry other than a small diamond in her nose. Her beauty still startles him when she walks into a room.
“Shit, I didn’t even hear you,” he says. “I’m just filing my story about the rally.”
“How was it?”
“Pretty incredible,” he says, breaking into a grin. “You should have come with me. It was pretty memorable. It might even have swayed you to see all the support from across the country—”
“It’s too little too late,” she says. “If the Yes side wasn’t ahead in the polls, there wouldn’t have been a rally today.”
“It’s basically tied in the polls.”
“Canadians don’t give a shit about Quebec, James. The real message of today was Don’t leave us because we love Canada exactly the way it is. It’s not because they love Quebec.”
“Does it matter, V?” he says. “They came, they showed their support, and it was pretty amazing. I’m a cynical guy, especially when it comes to politics, but I was moved today. A lot of people were. You just had the feeling you were witnessing something really momentous, history-making.”
“That’s touching.”
“What did you do today?” he asks her, not in the mood to fight.
“Louis and I were campaigning at the colleges all day.”
“Campaigning?”
“Talking to students. What should I call it?”
“You’re spending a lot of time with him.”
“Please don’t do that,” she says.
“What?”
“Be the jealous boyfriend. He’s a friend. And he’s downstairs, so let’s not do this.”
“Louis is here?”
“Yes. Would you like to meet him?”
James’s high from today’s rally is rapidly fading. In spite of what he keeps telling everyone—it’s just politics, we’re fine—his relationship with Véronique has become strained in the last couple of weeks.
“Let me just send this in,” he says. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
Véronique turns and leaves the room. He sends the rally piece to Damian, aware that his mood has crumbled. He was looking forward to hanging out with Véronique tonight, renting a movie and ordering food, just the two of them. Now he’s got to make small talk with her separatist friend.
Downstairs, Louis and Véronique are sitting at either end of the couch, facing each other. Louis is smoking; she’s laughing. Right away, James is irritated. They never smoke in the apartment. Véronique has given Louis an empty Coke can from their recycling bin to use as an ashtray.
Louis gets up as James comes into the room and extends his hand. They shake. James manages a smile but makes a point of glaring at the cigarette perched on the lip of the Coke can.
“Good to meet you,” Louis says.
James nods and sits down in the armchair closest to Véronique, sizing up Louis. He’s a kid, like Véronique; still very much into grunge, with long dirty hair and a torn plaid shirt open to reveal a black Soundgarden T-shirt. Crooked teeth, yellow fingertips, acne scars along his cheekbones. He’s not ugly, though, and James has to wonder if Véronique could fall for a guy like Louis. He’s her age, with a similar background and a common purpose.
“Véronique mentioned you were at the rally today.”
“I was covering it for work,” James says, not sure why he feels the need to pretend he wouldn’t have gone otherwise. He would have.
“We had our own rally of two,” Louis says, smiling privately at Véronique. They both laugh.
“Oh, yeah?” James says, tensing. “I thought you were at the college campuses today.”
“We were, but we went for a little bike ride in the East End.”
“We were riding around with the fleur-de-lis,” she elaborates.
James imagines them on a bicycle together, her arms around his waist, flying their Quebec flag.
“A reporter from La Presse took our picture.”
“It’ll probably be in the paper tomorrow,” she adds, finishing Louis’s thought.
“We called it a Yes rally of two,” Louis says, grinning. “And we didn’t take any money from the federal government to show our support either.”
“You do realize the federal government has a stake in this referendum,” James says.
“How so?” Louis asks. “Canada has nothing to do with our referendum. The private businesses outside Quebec that subsidized the rally are in violation of the international right of people to self-determination.”
“The entire referendum is about Canada,” James says. “The word Canada is literally in the referendum question on the ballot.”
“Canadians should have no right to interfere in our decision about separation.”
“How would you feel if the rest of Canada held a referendum about whether to kick Quebec out of the confederation?” James asks him. “And then they told Quebeckers that they had no say in the vote because it didn’t involve them?”
“I’d be thrilled if Canada wanted to kick us out of the confederation.”
“You’re missing the point.” Asshole.
“Look,” Louis says. “Your government has been speeding up the citizenship process for immigrants in order to increase No votes, and it also paid for today’s love-in, which is against the referendum law’s spending limits.”
“My government? We still have the same government.”
“Not for much longer,” Louis says. “The No side blew a ten-point lead and is now seven points behind the Yes side. Wake up, brother.”
“I’m starving,” Véronique interrupts. “Should I order a pizza?”
James is fuming but doesn’t want to let on. Doesn’t want to come off as jealous or petty. Louis is smart, and that bothers him. It doesn’t help that he feels old around the two of them, like he’s the only grown-up in the room. “I’m going to head over to St. Laurent and grab a beer,” he says, getting to his feet. “I’ve been looking forward to one all day.”
“Should we all go?” Véronique says.
“No, no. You guys order pizza and hang out here,” he says, a little too nonchalant to be credible. “I won’t be late.”
He doesn’t give her time to argue. He hopes he’s coming off indifferent, but inside he’s raging. He can’t stand that arrogant imbecile spouting off about international law. Riding a bicycle with his girlfriend and laughing with her at their stupid inside jokes. Smoking in his apartment.
“Later, man,” Louis says.
James walks over to Bifteck, stewing. First thing he does is order a snakebite—a shot of whiskey with lime—and a pitcher of beer to
chase it. It’s still early and the bar is completely empty. James heads to the back room to shoot some pool by himself. He sets up the balls, breaks. He goes on a run, wishing Véronique were here. Regretting how he handled himself with Louis. He behaved exactly the way he knows she would hate him to behave—argumentative and contentious, huffing off by himself like a martyr.
Maybe they’re laughing about it right now, smoking and sharing a pizza. Why didn’t he see this coming? The minute she started hanging around Louis—delivering signs, “campaigning”—he should have been on his guard. Véronique is beautiful; there’s no way Louis isn’t attracted to her. He’s probably in love with her, biding his time until she dumps her middle-aged, federalist boyfriend.
Oh, how Léo would welcome Louis into the family! What more could he ask for in a son-in-law? Surely this has to have crossed Véronique’s mind. It’s what happened to his mother. Maggie loved Gabriel, but she married her first husband, Roland, to please her father. Her father was the reason she never told Gabriel she was pregnant with Elodie. It wasn’t about being poor; it was always about her father’s approval. Why should Véronique be any different?
He can hear his own father’s words as he leans over the pool table and takes his final shot, sinking the black ball in the corner pocket. Whatever you do, don’t let her get away. I let your mother go because I was too proud and self-righteous, and I almost didn’t get her back.
Proud and self-righteous, those were Gabriel’s words, uttered hundreds of times over the course of James’s life, always in reference to how close he came to losing Maggie. He always said it was only when he finally set aside his enormous ego and showed up on her doorstep, begging her to take him back, that he made things right.
James orders another snakebite, downs it at the bar, and then returns to the back room to set up another game of solitary pool. He’s already feeling a little drunk and sorry for himself. Wondering what Véronique and Louis are doing back at his goddamn apartment.
“You winning?”
He turns around and there she is. His heart speeds up a bit, but he doesn’t want her to know how happy he is to see her. Proud and self-righteous. He can hear Gabriel’s voice in his head.
The Forgotten Daughter Page 24