by Zac Funstein
Ellen appeared then with a man at her side someone that wasn’t immediately recognised.
‘This is Ruben C. Castille,’ Ellen had exclaimed. ‘A mason that works with your father’.
Ruben had insinuated into their routine making Douglas miserable whenever mentioned but then Castille seemed to drop out of guest-list as mysteriously as when his presence first appeared.
That was then now is now perhaps everything was left then as it was.
“A little knowledge goes a long way: when planning your route, take into account the times when you'll be passing through busy towns (avoid rush hours) plus where there are roadworks,” counselled Gagnon.
“I’ll try but you’re not saying anything I haven’t taken into consideration already. I know you’re trying to dissuade us from making this excursion but you must realise that I have been a somnambulist up until now-I need the sharp tug of discomfort to bring us out of the doldrums. Sure, other people suffer defeat. Other people undergo loneliness. But not us! No way hose.I can beat the odds. Isn't there something defensive that rises up in you at the suggestion that you cannot make life work out Gagnon?”
The adolescent always called him Gagnon not Saber if a little cross with him.
“Sure I can see how you need to sort this out on your own terms. See how you go treat this as a Divine Wake-Up-Call.”
The car maintenance tutor from the adult-ed college who was a family friend called Vachel Bérubé called almost upon Saber leaving-they must have passed each other. Mrs. Bérubé had just died which was mitigated by the fact that Clarimunda Bérubé was much older than her husband, but the comfort drawn was slight. A crime prevention initiative involving the invisible marking of personal property run in communities across the Yukon had been a success until Clarimunda found herself fatally allergic to the dye used. A foundation had now been set up warning of these chemicals-Clarimunda would not have died in vain.
Vachel became convinced that a career as a maintenance tutor was for him after an attack of the ague sent him home whilst at his then mechanical engineering course. On recovery, having resolved to become a teacher, the mending buff passed in a hard struggle with poverty in an earnest effort to secure an education in this discipline, studying for a short time in Chester, Ohio.
It was in this city of this training in an attempt to resurrect this experience that Mrs. Bérubé was met. Foolishly us with our medieval notions of professors professing away, surrounded by their students, all engaged in an effort to understand the world we live in then change it for the better- neglected fact that we are all too human as well.
“I am very grateful for the many times not only colleagues but also students have ministered to us when in terror or grief,” said Bérubé visibly moved. “I was always one of them-I never neglected my humble origin or how hard it is for some to learn. They are usually better than an amateur-no disrespect.”
The voyager gushed about her potential visit, suitably dampened by the mood evinced.
“The first thing to consider is 'is your car ready to go’? Breakdowns/accidents are often attributed to terrible car maintenance- there are plenty of garages service providers who will undertake all the car checks for you if you don't want to do it yourself.”
This was one of those who clearly believed concerns, apprehensions, plus coercions can be rationally addressed.
“Is there anyone that you recommend especially Vachel?”
“Ogier Lemelin was always my favourite. While the ascetic regime of an Italian seminarist from the Renaissance is of course alien - indeed sometimes alienating - I was impressed by his devotion/sincerity to the automobile engine. If anyone can get your De Tomaso Guara in perfect running order then….”
This was a little ancient surely-a vision of a rusting heap momentarily passed! The sports car the last project of the founder and owner Alejandro de Tomaso put into the market was damaged when purchased anyway.
The would be traveller said politely.
“Actually Vachel I have a Volvo.The De Tomaso Guarà is gone a while-must be a cube of scrap now. ”
“Whatever Ogier is the man who whatever your worries will put them to rest. If a Volvo, Toyota or Ford-the make is of no consequence. ”
As Vachel was about to leave the maintenance buff put the staff used to steady him aside then removing a book from a small, satchel said:
“Now that I'm studying philosophy, I'm reading plenty of nonfiction not very much as per fiction, but we're still doing the Fiction Fast, and we're still doing the Read-a-Thon, this year we’ve selected a book much shorter/ lighter than what we've read in years past, mostly because of the restriction for extracurricular reading being lifted.”
The slim volume was thrust in her direction on the cover it said: ‘The Storm's Nobody or Abyss of Healer. By Pascal Bler’.
The would be traveller returned sensing it was precious but Bérubé insisted:
“Take this I want you to have it-let it be your guide whilst away.”
“This is your recommendation to take with us to Prince George-that is very kind.”
“Sure if you’re loneliness gets too much just reach in the glove compartment ignore the oil change receipts/ operation manuals, find a random page of this instead.”
As this was said if any doubt had existed this was the correct choice was at last dispelled. This unusual mechanic with an interest in classic literature had unwittingly crystallized something.
“For most of us a mix of conditioning, love plus common sense prevails, but Bler has written with all the pomp, the dignity, plus self-satisfaction of a martyr of how these can be tossed away like dirty socks-even a journey such as yours.”
“Experiences are grasped through apprehension for you by the size of it Vachel.”
Perhaps it was the prospect of reaching into the glove-compartment in the dark that made her say this.
The callow-youth took in Vachel’s actual socks which were very dull. It sounded like the old Virginian war when new socks, blankets, shirts were thrown to be trampled on because they got too heavy.
“There are few things in which we deceive ourselves more than in the esteem we profess to entertain, it is an arrogance perhaps to try. A principal danger to us these days, it seems is the tendency to try to nail everything down. Perhaps it is truly an expression of what we refer to when we say ‘human nature’. We have a whole culture of people who are spending their lives trying to ‘image’ their way through life. I don't want you to be faked out by what they are driving, how good they look, how much they have, or how they are dressed.”
“The main aim according to Bler is to allow those you meet to tell their story not force them to accept your version.”
“That’s it-Bler has the attitude we should all adopt,”
After Bérubé had gone taking in the online cosmetics, toiletries, plus small electric items such as shavers /hairdryers seemed to preoccupy G. ‘Activated at the touch of a button, the shaver top lifts to enable running air to flush out stubborn waste around the cutters,’ the blurb promised. The beauty equipment, which included the shaver asked you to simply write on an envelope why you wanted the prize-the most witty answers would win a free set. The tender-yeared scribbled - ‘a shaver is the last thing in the bathroom a man neglects because it's a lot more expensive than the fluoride-abrasive-powder or cleaning- floss. I did not like the Philips Norelco Model: because the irritations did not give the smooth hugging closeness of a Remington shaver,’ then in dissatisfied fashion screwed this up throwing it aside casually-believing the blurbs creators true gender would be recognised immediately. Besides the competition didn’t state what model should be referred to-it could so easily be one of the other makes.
The blooming ones boyfriend of the moment Alihan Sheripov sent her a text. Alihan had a history of getting into violent fights at school as well as self-destructive behavior. Not only had Alihan been physically abused in the past, but had watched often as his mother was being beaten by her bo
yfriend-whoever it happened to be at that moment. Mrs. Sheripov seemed to attract violent men. Once dismissed from his childcare center for hitting, biting, plus having a ‘demonic appearance’ Sheripov’s messages were usually brief but this was quite involved.
Love you babe just letting you know so you don’t let this slip by gorgeous. It was replied
I love you so much babe your the only one I adore-I mean that- I pray you know that sweety I am your baby girl- always will be.
This must have got lost in the ether or confused with someone else because Alihan replied:
Did you get my message baby? I love you more than you know.
I miss you so much baby i wish i was with you that is all i want at this moment.
I am so upset without you here.
Can you please text us please baby i love you so much.
I love you too baby- always will.
Eventually after these the reply came:
You mean everything to us- i really mean that sincerely I love-I am your girl forever.
This was the last txt ever sent.
“You seem as if you have seen a spook,” said the window-cleaner Bellamy Lacroix who called always it seemed just as everyone else was finishing. Vachel had just left-everyone anticipated devoting themselves to packing for the great excursion.
The adolescent often told him her plans no less now than before. It was a universal principle that some peripheral artisan such as this had a better take than those seemingly better endowed like teachers, priests or social-workers.
No one knew behind all Bellamy’s responses lurked a chronic panic, which tainted-- or marred -- his apprehension of reality. Prescription barbiturates were taken but they dulled rather than gave complete relief. As a new deadener came on the market they were taken then discarded as being too weak.
“Nothing like that Bellamy not even remotely.”
There was the sound then of a light aircraft nearby.
Recently a similar noisy municipal aircraft that had disturbed the entire Schreiber clan had prompted a complaint to the nearby airfield. It was flying in that part of the heavens known as the Orion Nebula, marking the sword in the constellation of Orion always deemed a negative omen. The person in charge of dealing with such complaints called however to relate that that small plane was probably part of law enforcement monitoring an apprehension from the air in the event of a pursuit. They reassured that such was now finished so unlikely to occur again. At first they couldn’t understand Douglas’s e-mail written as it was in extravagant verse, unrestrained by rhyme/ meter, subject to startling exclamations even made-up sentences; this, was met with considerable apprehension from the literary community how much more so a public relations department.
Having packed everything it was decided to see a movie at her local mall as a last goodbye until her survivalist excursion was over. It was not known when her next encounter with civilization would be so a brief encounter with its pleasures was not deemed an indulgence. Thibaut Der-Wei Wang who assisted on such features as ‘The Boxer Dude’ plus the ‘Gritty Party’, had a motion picture ‘Laura A. Schumann’ that critics were calling ‘better than a poke with a sharp stick’, whilst some uncharitably call ‘lacklustre’. After examining all the posters on offer this was duly attended being deemed to best on offer. To say that the one leaving associated (or perhaps projected herself) upon Laura was an understatement. Maybe it was the actress Karlotta Blanchard who played Laura that was liked. They were vaguely similar in appearance but not so you’d notice-there seemed to be a similar fashion only those in their late teens recognised. ‘It had all the gravitas of a childs balloon commercial,’ someone moaned, but it did well at the box-office. The audience squirmed around until they were in comfortable positions. In the grasp of a brilliant director, this dull story of seemingly unbearable tragedy was transformed into a suspenseful/ touching moral-tale about family, love, heaven plus living.
Laura was a self-centred person who when not painting nudes was still encouraging draft dodging of the Vietnam war. Together with her boyfriend Eliot Panetier they ran a day-care centre. Fighting the wicked plus helping the poor motivated them.
When the jejeune got home her fathers old school-pal Ogier Lemelin was there. His service van was recognized in the forecourt with the symbol of Mars engraved upon a steel pentagon. The last a van like this had been seen it had been the prison variety parked in the forecourt of a shopping precinct with the shopkeepers Fabiano Blud/ Daniek Boge (charged with embezzlement) peering out through the van's barred window. G had watched them as they had been driven away.
Lemelin was wearing his service uniform with the penchant for textured synthetic fabrics, often featuring some geometric design. His master bedroom suite was shaped like a pentagon it was rumoured, with a vestibule leading to changing rooms, bathrooms plus a library all with this unique shape.
But if this was just a rumour or true no one knew.
They had clearly been going over her adventure in some depth mostly with a view to safety however changed tack upon her arrival.
Glad still very much in character (that is still believing herself to be Laura) listened respectfully to Ogier. With a sneer that must have impressed even the great sneerer himself, the DIY car-maintenance buff seized the moral high-ground.
“The minimum, legal tread depth for tyres is what you should be careful about though most motoring organisations recommend maintaining an even greater tread depth. Worn tyres give a higher chance of planing, affect the handling of the car make your stopping distance much longer-they are very deadly.”
They had a standing gag in the Schreiber family-who were very much against government directives-there is only one never changing rule: all news publication must obey the dictates of the Propaganda Department. There was probably statistic that was making road-traffic safety jittery so they were coming down hard on tyre depth. This would have been found unconstitutional if passed anyway Douglas underlied if they got scared, you cannot dictate from the federal government to the states in this manner.
Dread didn't dictate the mood regarding this—it was a sense of resignation plus total helplessness, as if being sucked into a space-vortex of bureaucracy where the the hapless daughter would remain forever. Many got stuck in dull routine jobs pushing bits of paper around like this-they made her life a misery with inconsequentialities like tyre-depth. This virtually universal dislike of bureaucracy; this taunting of bureaucrats gave satisfaction to a lot of people,
“I have checked them but if it makes everyone happier I’ll check them again by all means if you’ll chill out-they’re fairly new so I don’t anticipate much trouble. This smacks of ‘elitism’, if you’ll pardon us for saying so-the paternalist attempt by some to dictate to others what they ought to want.”
“It's another reason I so prefer the culture of science to that of our mendacious government administration. We are only trying to help don’t bawl us out-where have you been anyway dear sweet daughter of mine?”
“I went to see ‘Laura A. Schumann’.”
“The well mannered popular sensation who buried her friends back in 'nam-who (more into the bargain) looked good doing it-yeh I’ve seen that-it’s a good picture.”
Lemelin stepped in.
“I liked it where the nurse took pity on Eliot then agreed to write a letter for Panetier as the near-dead dictated the last edict from a dying soldier to his family. What should have been a risky theatrical conceit is turned into an effective device for commenting on the action.”
Douglas tried to bring matters to a culmination.
“Cinematic enjoyment aside. I resent the implication that I am being dictatorial-there's only a few who get the chance to do exactly what they want to do-before silly exigencies like the humble tyre get in the way- they'd better grab it ‘n run before responsibilities tie 'em up in knots/ circumstances dictate-even yourself.”
Suddenly, they heard a loudspeaker ordering a dilapidated truck on the street to pull over
-they were sure it was the TV but a glance through the net-curtains told them it was somewhere outside.It seemed to be a warning somehow for the drivers papers were being checked thoroughly. Maybe it was some terrorists-but that didn’t seem to ring true-there hadn’t been any of those for a while.
Lemelin interjected again.
“Your father isn’t giving a masterpiece of shameless rhetoric or inversion of legal oratory. It’s just your welfare that is in question here-that is one very dangerous piece of highway. We don’t enjoy coming down hard it is necessary for your safety. Most States come up with a list of what are the dangerous roads, the most dangerous but mostly it is accidents not psychos. You must have seen the sign with the toll like the sign in ‘Twin Peaks’.”
Sometimes the youngster was this total counterpoint to Emmanuelle Benoit, who was this incredibly worldly, articulate, wealthy, beautiful girl who lived in Nova Scotia who visited the neighbours on account of being the niece of Lucas Carvalho Oliveira who lived nearby.
The one soon to depart wished herself into being Emmanuelle sometimes-someone sans any difficulties who was always happy. For G a hero is someone who starts every every morning always happy. A person who could be angry, but tries their level- best to be always smiling, Despite the trouble they always goes through each day, they try being the greatest they can-but Emmanuelle was in this state because of sheer greed-more importantly of knowing this would be fulfilled. Though everyone said that Emmanuelle had problems like anyone else-like Reza Emmanuelle who was unfaithful repeatedly.
“I know you have my best interests at core, but I wish you would leave us alone that’s all.”
The 'self-righteous' label might seem unkind, but there was a touch of truth in the 'frenetic' tag everyone must agree.
The harangued teenager wondered where this side of Lemelin had been seen before then it dawned. There had been many retired generals appearing in frenetic fashion on a live debate … Apart from the ethical questions involved in appearance during a time of war offering an ‘inside’ view of the supposedly culpable administration of the military, what was striking is the empty nature of these controversies rehashed ad nauseam. Ogier was like one of the generals.
