For Sure (66 page)

“I figures ee wanted it dat way so's ee could be measurin' de reactions on boat sides o' de brain.”

?

“Where we've got to now, it sounds more like music. I suppose.”

“Are der a lot of folks takin' de test?”

“Der two-hundred fifty.”

“Dat's not a few.”

“I tinks I finally come to understand wot ee's tryin' to prove. Ee wants to figure out when a person starts havin' de same reaction to de same note, or series o' notes. Dey each has to come in every second day, six times.”

“Six times!”

“Only takes a half hour or so each time.”

“Are dey gettin' paid?”

“Two hundred dollars fer de whole ting. 'Tisn't all dat much, only ee had no trouble findin' people, students, folks on de dole . . . an' ordinary folk, half 'n half men 'n women.”

“Holy Jesus, ee's got dough!”

“Awh, ee's not lackin'. Ee's on some project wid Ottawa, de National Defense.”

“National Defence! Wot does dey 'ave to do wid it?”

“I doesn't know do I?”

. . .

“Well, actually, I does know a bit, only I's not supposed to be talkin' 'bout it.”

“Anyhow, looks like ee knows wot ee's about fer sure.”

“De udder day ee's after showin' me a couple o' de scans. 'Tis pretty interestin'.”

“I'd go, if ever ee needs one more.”

“I tinks ee's got all de folks ee needs fer now.”

“Figures . . . Only me wife's all over me back to find some work.”

It's about time I finished this book; computers are up to three billion colours.

Terry took Weisner Road for the return trip to Moncton.

“Well, bin a long time since I come troo 'ere. 'Twas all forest when I was a boy. I doesn't remember all dese houses.”

. . .

“See de bridge o'er der, an' de river? I always tawt dat's where Saint Christopher was workin'. Ee was me favorite saint. I still wears 'is medallion.”

Terry pulled the chain out from under his shirt and showed Étienne the smallest of the metal charms. Étienne glanced at it and then craned his neck to get a look at the bridge and river.

“I tawt ee was livin' in a wee cabin right alongside de bridge, so dat when a kid like me came along, ee'd be helpin' 'im across. Sometimes he only took you by de hand, but a lot o' de time, ee'd carry you across on up on 'is shoulders. Dat's wot I liked best.”

There were a great many things in this story that Étienne did not understand.

“Wot, was der no bridge den?”

“Sure der was, only we was always wadin' across all de same. Don't know why.”

“Der was no channel?”

Terry was happy to see that Étienne knew the geology of rivers.

“Der must 'ave been one, only he was a saint, don't ferget. Saints, well, dey can do a whole lot of tings de rest of us can't. Dat's how come dey's saints. Saint Christopher could be walkin' like der was no channel in de middle o' de river, an' he could swim widout runnin' short o' breath. Dat's wot dey calls miracles.”

Terry slowed down as came up on the bridge. In the rear-view mirror he saw his son looking for some sort of little cabin.

“Deez days, even de cabin's gone. Ee must've moved to some udder bridge.”

True or false: the character “I” in France Daigle's novel
For Sure
is an avatar of the author, that is, a representation of France Daigle.

“I was fond of Saint Bernadette, as well.”

. . .

“She 'ad a lovely family name. Soubirous. Right pretty, eh, Soubirous?”

Yes, Étienne, too, thought it was pretty.

“Well, Bernadette, de Blessed Virgin appeared to her one day while she's in de woods to gadder up a turn o' whits. Her family was so poor dey didn't even 'ave a log to burn to keep warm. Der was a wee river — o'er 'ere we'd be callin' it a stream, really — an' on de udder side was a grotto. Saint Bernadette was gadderin' up sticks on dis side of de stream when de Blessed Virgin appeared in de grotto on de udder side. A grotto's a right pretty ting. Like a wee alcove in de side of a rocky cliff.”

Terry kept glancing back at his son in the rear-view mirror while he spoke.

“De Blessed Virgin's de chief of all de saints.”

“Granny says she's de mudder of de little Jesus.”

“Dat too.”

. . .

“Saint Bernadette was doin' all she could to help out her poor family, an' de Blessed Virgin appeared to 'er to encourage 'er an' to tell 'er a secret.”

. . .

“'Er little brudders was wid 'er, only dey was playin' an' not payin' attention.”

Étienne could understand that.

“Only, on account of 'twas a secret, Saint Bernadette weren't supposed to tell a living soul wot de Blessed Virgin 'ad told 'er.”

. . .

“Well, folks startin' sayin' de little Soubirous girl was out of 'er mind, an' dat she'd not seen de Blessed Virgin at all, only she'd made it all up.”

Étienne could understand that, too.

Examination question for Religion and Psychology course (SCRE 3732): devise a critical comparison between the miracles performed by Jesus and those by Mozart. Clue: Mozart performed his when he was in dire straits and had no other recourse.

“Der was Saint Thomas, as well. Ee didn't believe nuttin' anybody said. Ee 'ad to be seein' an' hearin' it wid 'is own eyes an' ears.”

. . .

“When dey's tellin' us dat in school, I tawt dat was de reason we was always washin' our ears. So we could be hearin' Jesus.”

Étienne didn't quite see the link, but he decided to withhold judgment.

“You knows 'ow Jesus died, eh? Nailed on de cross?”

“Well sure, Dad.”

“An' den after, ee rose from de dead?”

. . .

“Well, Saint Thomas, ee didn't want to believe dat Jesus was really risen from de dead. Ee had to put his finger in de hole dat de nail'd made in Jesus' hand to be certain.”

Étienne tried to imagine the size of the hole a cross's nail would make.

“Dat's why, ever since, when a fellow doesn't believe sometin', we says ee's like Saint Thomas.”

“But wot was 'is miracle?”

Terry had to think.

“Hmm . . . Good question. I doesn't know wot Saint Thomas done aside from not believin' any old ting folks was sayin'. You'd best ask Granny.”

Other possible titles:
Write Dat, The Great Loop, Nuances, The Bronze Fly, Almost Something, Almost Something (Covered by Ocean), Small Involuntary Movements, e black i red
.

“Den der's de times dey'll bite on anyting at all. 'Tis magical. Yer askin' yerself wot's goin' on, dey just keeps on bitin'.

“Hun!”

“Dose times, dey'll go after anytin' you puts on de line. Don't make de slightest difference wot fly yer usin'.”

“Hun . . .”

“Times like dat, when you catches one, an' you cuts 'is 'ead off, it'll be full o' blood. Dat's on account of de frenzy. We calls dat miracle fishin'.”

“Han!”

Carmen doesn't like when mirrors break. Nor does she care for shards of broken mirror. She experiences a kind of dislocation, maybe because each fragment continues to reflect anyway. Not that she believes in bad luck. The difference between something we fear — a superstition — and something we don't like.

“Den der's Saint Louis. Hasn't bin all dat long since I found out dat Saint Louis was a king o' France. Ee's de fellow 'ad de idea to create de Sorbonne, de most important university in France. You know, like de Université de Moncton?”

Étienne was beginning to grow weary of the lives of the saints.

“'Twas Saint Boniface dat decided Louis Nine ought to be a saint. Der was so terrible many fellows named Louis in dose days, dey had to give 'em numbers.”

Terry could see that his son had lost interest.

“You know Winnie-de-Pooh? 'Twas a soldier from Winnipeg invented 'im.”

Étienne's curiosity was piqued.

“Winnipeg, dat's a city almost smack in de middle o' Canada. An' right next door is Saint-Boniface. Seems, even today, der's lots o' French people livin' in Saint-Boniface.”

From its Germanic origins, the
w
entered into the French language from the north and the east, more specifically from Picardy, Wallonia, and Lorraine.

“Does dat mean dey could end up knowin' fer sure wot combinations of notes folks'll automatically like? Like dey could be makin' guaranteed hits?”

“I sure hope not.”

“An' why not? Musicwise, 'twould get rid of all dose bad songs . . .”

“One person's bad song isn't necessarily bad to anudder.”

“You doesn't tink der's songs dat everyone would agree are bad?”

“Don't know. Good question, doh. Dat's why I tinks 'twould be nice to be knowin' how music's affectin' us fer real.”

“You doesn't mind de job so much as you did at de start, sounds like.”

“Well, I've only got a couple of weeks to go . . .”

“An' wot'll you be doin' after dat?”

“Payin' me own coffee in de mornin's I expect.”

The Ideal Library of the Social Sciences
also selected the sociological study
Travailler pour être heureux?
(Working to Be Happy?), edited by Christian Baudelot and Michel Gollac, which concludes that happiness at work is mainly the experience of those at the hierarchical summit, and that work is valorized mostly by those who don't have any.

The door of Didot Books opened, and shut.

“Huberte Gautreau! How're ya gettin' on?”

Terry liked Huberte. He liked that she had strong opinions, and yet was capable of having a bit of fun.

“Fine! An' you folks?”

“Not a bit bad!”

Terry was not fond of this expression, which he found outdated, but there it was.

“I was passin' by, an' I thought I'd drop in an' see if de book I ordered's come in.”

Huberte saw no hint of anything that might suggest the bookstore was failing.

“Came in yesterday afternoon. I was all set to call you dis mornin'!”

Huberte took her gloves off, glanced at the book Terry handed her.

“Dat's it exactly.”

And as she unbuttoned the collar of her coat:

“You know wot, I tink I'll pick out a novel as well, just to reward meself fer readin' dis 'ere brick.”

Terry felt generous. It was his way of showing his support for this customer's various causes.

“Don't be shy. I'll even give ya a discount!”

Huberte hadn't expected as much, but she appreciated the thought. However, very quickly the offer gave her reason to pause:

“I hope the tings I bin hearin' aren't true . . .”

Terry gave her a questioning look.

‘‘. . . dat you're goin' to be closin'?”

“Us? De bookstore? Closing?”

Terry had no idea where such a rumour could have come from.

“Der's never bin de slightest danger. In fact, tings 'ave never bin better. We's startin' to make a bit o' profit fer our pains!”

“Dat's wot I tawt . . . only you never know, do you? Sometimes things seem to be goin' well and, from one day to the next,
poof
! — it all goes up in smoke.”

“I knows it. Only dat's not de way tings are 'round 'ere. We've more an' more people comin' in an' buyin'. 'Tis as doh folks are gettin' less afeard o' books.”

On her way home, Huberte Gautreau thought about the fear of books, and found the idea almost funny.

Josse, on the other hand, would never think of taking down her Christmas decorations until the Epiphany, more commonly known as Twelfth Night. She believes that those who don't do Christmas all the way are risking a year of bad luck.

“'Tis true dose panic buttons're loud. Doesn't surprise me ee jumped with fright.”

Carmen savoured Terry's use of the phrase “jumped with fright” in French, like a candy he had tongued into her mouth as they kissed.

“The thing is he didn't really jump. It was more like the alarm hit him in the hips. His body more like . . .
curved
.”

As she said the word
curved
in English, Carmen drew a graceful S in the air with the flat of her hand. Terry figured there was probably no other way to express that in French.

“In any case, let's just say dat, in a way, I saw how ee might turn out to be gay, as well. His reaction was like effeminate.”

Terry thought Carmen was jumping to conclusions:

“Just because a fellow shows a bit of a feminine swing once or twice doesn't mean ee's gay. 'Tisn't dat simple, now is it.”

Carmen considered this.

“That's true. Most likely not.”

Satisfied, Terry was silent for a moment. Then he asked:

“
Courbé
, isn't dat how you'd say ‘curved' in French?”