excerpt
that if the vessel sunk in the Atlantic, an ability to stay afloat would
only delay the inevitable. He acquired skills in the navy that didn’t
transfer easily to a civilian economy. Which is why, when the
slaughter was over, he went to work for the first company offering
employment, a meat plant on the Vancouver waterfront.
He worked in a freezer, sorting animal carcasses. The cold caused
his face to flush as though he was suffering from permanent discomfiture.
People sometimes wondered if he’d recently returned from
California or Hawaii. My father enjoyed being mistaken for someone
wealthy enough to afford such a holiday. From the neck down
he was eggshell white.
Weekends my dad hung out at the Hastings Park Racetrack. In
the off-season he made wagers through a bookie, mumbling peculiar
equations into the phone, pretending to talk union or hockey
whenever my mother roamed within earshot. He would visit a barbershop
downtown to settle his accounts. It was his modus operandi.
One Sunday, in an attempt to sabotage this unsanctioned liaison,
my mother hid the car keys. Dad hadn’t been paying her enough
attention, a common lament. The family Plymouth sat forlornly at
the curb while they revisited schisms pre-dating my birth. When
Dad reached for the coin jar in the cupboard, having decided to
catch a bus, he discovered it empty — her modus operandi.
– I’m going, my father vowed. You can’t stop me.
– Then start walking, buster, our mother returned.
And so he did, she following like an obstinate virus.
From our house in the Project a brisk stroll downtown took about
two hours. Myfather later revealed that he’d hoped to lose her in the
crowds of Chinatown, but that his height — over six feet, toe to
crown— prevented a getaway.
– I was like a noodle in a rice bowl, he said.
– Why don’t you tell everybody where you’re going, big shot? my
mother reportedly exclaimed over tables stacked high with bok
choy, ducking between the hapless torsos of barbecued poultry. Tell
’em why you’re sneaking off!
She paced outside the barbershop until my father completed his
business. I can see him chuckling nervously as he tries explaining
her behaviour to the congress of punters. Hear from behind an arc of
steaming lather, What’s with the dame?
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Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 