The First Part of Chapter 16: Belinda Wonders

The last Saturday in November was cold, but snowless in Toronto; November always tended to be dry, and any snow that fell during the night was gone by midmorning, and any snow that fell during the day was gone the next. Belinda had been engaging in her favourite activity, shopping, while she was visiting Toronto, when she met her mother in the Eaton Centre at the pre-arranged time of three o’clock on that Saturday. She had purchased several lovely blouses, two miniskirts, knee-high leather boots, and a blazer. The knee-highs were close fitting and showed off her legs by way of silhouette, but given the extremely snowy Canadian climate, particularly in her home city, they had their practical uses, considering the snowstorms regularly and reliably delivered knee-deep snow every winter, multiple times. She had done some Christmas shopping for her mother, brother and sister. She already had gifts picked out for the women in her family, but her brother was, as usual, much more difficult to buy presents for; he liked to purchase his own clothing, and preferred tools or electronics for gifts; she thought that he believed that their presence in his home imparted an air or masculinity, and this attitude was reflected in the other choices he made, such as his lawnmower, backyard, and car. Belinda’s mother, Suzanne, a permanently tanned woman with bleached blonde hair, had also been shopping, and had a Le Chateau bag with a blouse to prove it.

“Belinda, it’s so nice to see you. How are things in the Cold City?”

“Very cold indeed, and snowy, in both cases more so than here. We received three feet of snow this past week!” Exclaimed Belinda, exaggerating the precipitation somewhat.

“Thank goodness I live here rather than there. How are the friends?”

“It’s very interesting. There’s this sob story going on with one of my friend’s friends that I had to tell you in person. Her name is Clarissa, and she’s pregnant. Anyways, her husband died just after Thanksgiving, and there was a big stink about people feeling somehow responsible for his death. I don’t find much to that story, because he died of a heart attack; you know what heart attacks are, they happen when the carotid arteries become clogged with fat. I don’t see anyone else being responsible for his death except himself.”

“What did you say his name was?”

“James. So, the two people around whom speculation was swirling are Clarissa and his former boss, Maurice. They said that Clarissa was somehow responsible because she should have known about his heart condition and not knowing was the result of a breakdown in communication which would have eventually resulted in a failed marriage. There are fingers being pointed at Maurice because he laid James off when he could just as easily have waited a week or so. But I still say James is responsible for his own death; he should have watched what he was putting in his body anyway. And the theory about either Clarissa or Maurice being responsible, even in part, would necessarily involved each knowing about the actions of the other. And Clarissa’s so sad, and I saw her with some man at the cinema; the man didn’t look too happy to see me, though.

“What’s your take on politics? I know there’s a budget coming in the next two weeks, but I always find the gossip much more interesting.” Belinda was, as usual, comically misinformed, surprisingly so for such a gossip; first of all, the country was in an election campaign; secondly, what Meach had promised for that specified date was a minor spending announcement, not a budget; thirdly, budgets come in January or February.

“So do I. Apparently there’s this big exposé about Meach’s home life. His wife was not a happy camper; I got all this from the Star, you know. Apparently, she thinks she’s being treated like a trophy wife, and I mean, she is quite pretty, so there may be some truth to that matter. She also says the man she married had changed. He was once appreciative of a good concert, but, you know, ‘parliament changed him.’ He has a decided indifference towards the arts, in the same way that Cathaline shows a marked indifference toward him. I heard one of my academic friends, her name is Nambaya, describe him as a cultural philistine, which didn’t sound good, judging from the tone of voice she used when she was saying it. Let’s not forget that they’re both cheating,”

“Yes, I heard something of that, too. I also heard from one of my friends, you know, that she was going off into the forest with some actor during the summer. Arlene, one of my friends who knew somebody in the Privy Council Office, said that what little was being revealed of cabinet meetings were essentially a joke: it was all horse-trading, and the Prime Minister’s people were treating the whole affair as if everyone was an enemy, to the detriment of discussions and development of a coordinated set of policies. Their programs sound nice and all, but I find the guys a bit…off-putting, you know?”

“Yes, but it may be an elaborate distraction from the policies that really matter. I hear they are going through cutbacks. What do you think of that? They host a circus just long enough for their program to get through so they can avoid any journalistic scrutiny.”

“So, how’s work?”

“Rather slow at the moment; there aren’t that many home renovations going on right now, and not many people want to remodel their kitchens. That’s why I had to take a pay cut, and it’s not just Home Depot either; Rona is also enduring tough times in these times. Stiffing the worker seems to be the zeitgeist at the moment,” Replied Suzanne.

They passed by a store window, and Suzanne looked in. The store was devoted to ceramics, and she was a fan of the decorative dishes and plates; every table at her home had at least one such bowl, and there was a wall at her home hung with decorative plates of all sizes, each one depicting an adorable scene filled with big-eyed, cute creatures gambolling, or children doing the same. Belinda returned home on the Sunday, and was promptly worried about Clarissa; she thought her mood was more than just the result of James’s death; it could also be something seasonal, and Belinda hoped that was the extent of it.

Early in December, Belinda saw the first major snowfall of the season; unlike the small ones that delivered less than fifteen centimetres, of which in that city at least nobody took much notice, this particular storm delivered over a foot; it caused her bother first of all because she had no salt this year at the behest of her neighbours who convinced her not to buy any, and she had neglected to put her snow shovel some place where it would not be buried; she had instead placed it in a wind shadow, which meant that the storm's winds sculpted a snow drift, burying it up to the handle, meaning she had to trudge through snow reaching halfway up to her knees, and almost to her waist in the drift, to retrieve it. The only good thing about that day was that her work was quiet, with only ten people there; many others had decided to stay home.

Previous Next