For Sure (21 page)

“Like, wid dem tartan designs in Scotland, does you know if dey has to follow every, wot you call golden ratio afore dey're chosen official tartan of de clan?”

Memoirs come in about halfway down the ladder of interest we can extrapolate from the titles of
La Bibliothèque idéale
. There are approximately 30 titles beginning with the word
memoirs
.
10

Carmen walked round the van again, holding Étienne by the hand. At one point, the boy pulled away to go over and kick the front tire the way he'd seen Terry do it. Carmen observed how quickly males establish a kind of authority over machines.
“
Where've you been, Bergère, where've you been? Where've you been, Bergère, where've you been? . . .
”

Terry sang softly as he circled the van with Marianne in his arms.

“
I've been in the stable
. . .”

Meanwhile, seated behind the wheel of a muddy Grand Cherokee, with a cellphone to his ear, the owner of the van for sale was talking and looking through a stack of documents he kept unfolding, turning over, and refolding.

It would not be wrong to say that the characters in literary fiction are the avatars of their authors, that is, at once, their representations, their metamorphoses and their misfortunes.

The possibility considered, early on, to write one fragment for each of the six faces of 1,728 cubes. In the end, the book would have contained 10,368 fragments, or six times the number in this version. Monstrous project. No desire whatsoever to mount such a monster.

“Essentially, we eat vegetables at one of three stages of their development.”

Sporting the panama hat Ludmilla had bought him for the occasion, Étienne Zablonski was explaining the rudiments of a vegetable garden to the other three, who were zigzagging with him behind the lofts building, between the children's playground and the train tracks.

“First, there's the vegetative stage, which includes the leaves and the tender roots, like lettuce, radishes, carrots and turnips.”

Zablonski wondered if his approach might not be too professorial. But since they had decided on a vegetable garden designed
à la française
, he was obliged to offer at least some explanation.

“Other vegetables, we eat at the reproductive stage. Those are the ones whose flowers we eat before they pollenate and produce seeds: broccoli, cauliflower, and artichoke, for example.”

At this point Zablonski had a moment of doubt regarding the inclusion of the artichoke in the French vegetable garden. Which is understandable, because France was starting to be a long time ago by now.

“And finally there are those we eat at the post reproductive stage; in other words, vegetables whose fruits we consume. Tomatoes for example, and all the flesh that covers seeds.”

“Hun!”

This initial reaction from his audience reassured Zablonski, who was beginning to worry that his assistants might not be interested in such details.

“Obviously, the vegetables we eat at the vegetative stage will be harvested long before those whose fruits we eat.”

. . .

“Logically, we can plant and harvest those we eat at the vegetative stage several times — lettuce, for example — during a single cycle of the stage that produces fruit, like tomatos, squash, etc. . . . So it would be
handier
— as we say in these parts — to plant the lettuce with easy access, compared to the carrots, for example. That's the sort of useful detail to keep in mind when we decide where to place the planks.”

“Hun!”

Lisa-M. was thrilled to learn so much basic knowledge in such a short time. Zed, for his part, knew exactly where to find the boards they would need. And rather than try to continue talking while the passenger train to Halifax clattered by, Zablonski accepted a cigarette from Antoinette.

As for the personal “journal,” much preferred to literary or other kinds of “journals”, if it lacks the charisma of stories and correspondences, it comes in a close second, ahead of memoirs. Forty or so titles of
La Bibliothèque idéale
begin with the word
j
ournal
. To brush up against history while telling one's own experience.

When the caboose had filed past, Le Grand Étienne picked up his lecture:

“Vegetables don't all require the same conditions to flourish. In general, those we eat at the first stage like cool weather and a bit of sun. Too much heat will exhaust them.”

. . .

“This is true for spinach, for example. We plant it in the spring and again after the dog days of summer.”

Antoinette nodded.

“Finally, the basic principle of the garden is to always have something to pick, always fresh vegetables. In France, this means all year round. But here in Canada, we'll obviously have to adapt.”

“It'll take a whole lot o' work to get someting to grow in dis 'ere ground.”

The three others turned to Antoinette, who was scraping the heel of her boot against the hard, rocky soil, a movement that did little more than raise a bit of dust. Zed had anticipated the difficulty:

“I snatched up a pick in a garage sale last week. We can bust up de ground wid it.”

The Cripple's wife was undaunted:

“Well, der's notin' like eatin' radishes an' beats an' peas you been watchin' grow up from nuttin' outside yer own kitchen window. Even doh, wid dese 'ere, I'll be lookin' at dem from me livin'-room window.”

But the most surprising inference drawn from an analysis of the titles of
La Bibliothèque idéale
is the following: the number of titles beginning with the words
poem
,
poetry
, and
poetic
is equal to the number of titles beginning with the words
war
and
battle
.

“So, den it's de colour you don't fancy?”

Terry was already convinced this was the perfect vehicle — and for a good price! — for their family, but he didn't want to force Carmen into liking the van. At the same time he was vaguely aware that his effort to be nice could be interpreted as a kind of manipulation. But Carmen didn't seem to notice:

“She doesn't look too old to you? No shine or anythin' . . .”

After their first discussion about replacing their car, Carmen had started to think that Terry wasn't entirely wrong, that it would probably be wiser to buy a used vehicle. But not being quite ready to say so openly, she beat a bit around the bush:

“Inside's not so bad. It's not torn up or anythin'.”

Terry tried to keep from pushing too hard:

“Sure an' we'll have to get her inspected proper. Find out if she's bin driven too hard, or if she was in a crash . . . or if der's parts need replacin', stuff like dat.”

He turned to his son:

“Well, den? What do you think?”*

In the scattered unwinding of this novel, I forgot to mention that Lisa-M., who first appeared in
Life's Little Difficulties
, had sinced moved into a loft with Pomme, who has become Zablonski's self-proclaimed impresario, not that Le Grand Étienne was looking for one, but he is amused and surprised by Pomme's tortuous and gently treacherous artistic theories.

Freud believed in the possibility of coincidence in the external world, but not in the psyche.

Étienne tried his luck:

“Me an' Uncle Étienne could paint it.”

“Yi yi!”

Marianne fully supported her big brother's idea, but Étienne could not return the favour:

“Naw, Marianne, yer too little. An' you 'aven't taken de class.”

Astonished by this refusal, Marianne turned to her mother, who welcomed her into her arms, while addressing Étienne:

“'Tisn't so easy to paint a car. It's not like a drawing or painting a wall . . .”

But Étienne was confident:

“Won't be hard fer Uncle Étienne.”

Terry, too, tried to reason with his son:

“Folks have to go to college to learn how to paint cars. It's sometin' a fellow's got to study fer. Not to mention, you need all kinds of special equipment to do it.”

Étienne, not daring to pursue the issue, pulled on a long stalk of grass beside him.

“Still, you can say what colour you'd like to paint 'er . . .”

Unmoved by Terry's offer, Étienne remained silent.

“Toittle!”

This from Marianne, leaping back into the fray.

“Turtle?!”

Terry chuckled as he repeated his daughter's choice of colour. But, in her innermost being, Carmen hoped the little one wasn't picking up Étienne's strange habit of constantly inventing names for colours.

“How 'bout you, den, Étienne, what colour would you paint 'er?”

The boy did not want to lose this second chance:

“Alizarin.”

Nothing is more necessary, from time to time, than to find oneself face to face with someone absolutely out of the ordinary.

“Ludmilla, have I ever said I would have liked to have a child?”

“No.”

Not to always have an explanation in reserve.

The owner of the van closed his cellphone, put his papers aside and joined the young family.

“Well, den? Does she suit you?”

“Yeeesss!”

Marianne's enthusiastic response made everyone laugh, which encouraged Étienne to take advantage of the relaxed atmosphere to pronounce himself as well:

“We want to paint it!”

The owner smiled:

“I've some spray paint back home I'll trow in if yer buyin'.”

With a nod toward the children, Terry inferred that they could be a handful, so he'd take a raincheck on the paint.

“I can unnerstand . . .”

Étienne turned to Carmen and whispered:

“What's spray paint, Mum?”

“It's paint you
pchhhhhtt
. . .”

“Awh! De Reo Sol can!”

SLANGOTHERAPIST:
n. — 2005; from
slang
and therapy
♦
Specialist in slangotherapy.

SLANGOTHERAPY:
n. — 2005 1. Treatment of mental problems via re-education in linguistic deviance. 2. SPECIALT secondary treatment of neuroses and psychoses of alienation.
“Gone are the days when grammaturgs denigrated slangotherapy”
(Daigle).

The owner gave them the keys to the van so they could take it out for a test drive. Carmen had no trouble installing Marianne's car seat.

“Well, I suppose you might say dat's a fine start . . .”

Terry took the highway to Shediac. The occasional tug he gave the wheel just to check out the wheel alignment eventually prompted a reaction from Étienne:

“Wot you doin' dat fer, Dad?”

“I wants to be sure de steering wheel turns alright.”

He pressed down on the gas pedal. The van accelerated slightly.

“She's not exactly yer Ferrari, but we weren't expectin' dat neider, was we?”

Carmen thought the front of the cab was well designed:

“It's comfortable, I got to say.”

Once burned twice shy, she twisted the rear-view mirror in every direction to be sure it was well anchored.

Terry panicked:

“Wot'r ya doin'?!”

Carmen suddenly realized that Terry was in the passing lane, looking for a chance to get back in the right and out of the way of a fast car riding his tail.

“Oops.”

Other facts emerging from an analysis of the first words in the titles listed in
La Bibliothèque idéale
: the word
grandeur
appears more frequently than the word
heights
;
book
and
adventure
are neck and neck, as are
love
and
essay
; the word
child
is more common than
parent
, and the word
girl
appears more often than the word
son
.

“Dad! Yer drivin' awful fast! We're gonna wind up in de
ditch!”