The Third Part of Chapter 24: Bleak Month

Seth spent Friday night, the second one in February, as he sometimes did, at a bar downtown; he seldom did this, but sometimes he found he needed a drink to relieve the monotony of work. On this particular night, he went alone, which meant he would not be drinking anything; he had a principle of not drinking unless he was with friends. He relaxed that rule, however, and purchased a corona beer with lime, which was prominently advertised on the opposite wall. He then noticed an oddity for a bar: an apparently pregnant woman, whom he assumed and hoped, was not there for the drinks. She was holding what looked like a gin and tonic, but he hoped it would be something less harmful, like soda water with a lime. She sat down at a table, and read the drinks menu, not really planning to get anything other than water and maybe a sprite. Seth, thinking she was lonely––she looked unhappy, sat down beside her.

“Well, hello. You look out of place. Is a bar really a good place for a pregnant woman? And I hope that’s not alcohol,”

“Oh, it’s Perrier and lime. Why do people automatically assume I’m pregnant? I might just be fat, you know.”

“A lot of men can tell the difference, and anyways, fat’s a peripheral issue. It’s overblown in society. It’s all in the eyes, really.” Clarissa made no comment about the assumed pregnancy, but bit her lip and instead focussed on the last part of his comment.

“Really? How are my eyes?”

“I think you look rather pretty.”

“Thank you. My husband would say that, before he died,”

Clarissa’s eyes were glistening with tears being held back. The man noticed.

“Oh dear,”

“It’s all right; I’m just another woman, anyways. I’ve received rather much pity, lately, due to, well, things.”

“I would think so, if you spend your Fridays in bars. What’s your name?”

“Clarissa,”

“Seth,”

“So, why are you in a bar?”

“I’m no longer pregnant. I had a miscarriage,”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,”

“Don’t worry about feeling sorry for me; I received plenty of that from my parents and in-laws,” Clarissa asked, changing the subject, “What do you think of the president?”

This is an obvious attempt to draw attention away from your dead husband, thought Seth. It’s probably a good idea.

“He puts me to mind of the saying about Julius Caesar––he came, he saw, he conquered. In all aspects of life, I mean. He’s an enormous character. I heard rumours about how he slept with scads of women before finding his wife, who he’s currently cheating on,”

“I couldn’t believe that story when it broke out! I mean, some men, they don’t give one whit to his wife. The worst part is, he has a four-year-old, and I’ve heard rumours of another pregnancy with his secretary.”

“That harlot?”

“Not so much harlot as airhead.”

“It’s a funny show, American politics; at least we get to watch it as a spectator sport. It puts me to mind of what was said by that person on CNN, you know, Rich something-or-other: ‘Politics these days are flashy, splashy, and trashy.’”

“His campaign was quite funny. Who would’ve thought that he could promise to strengthen the ties that bind America to the world, and promise to protect jobs in manufacturing at home? He endorses globalisation and protectionism in the same breath! I’m surprised he got away with it.”

“The debates weren’t that impressive; ‘are tax cuts your only answer to everything?’ said one. ‘Are subsidies your panacea?’ said the other,”

“I hope he ‘wends his way on the incredible American journey of progress’, whatever that means,”

“That’s not to say we’re all that different from them. We bicker constantly, and there’s a real mismatch between rhetoric and action.” This rang especially true; Meach, while making noises about respecting the democratic process, had been reticent about relinquishing power, and only handed the reins of office over to Cameron Duff at the end of the month.

“Indeed; ‘building Canada’ turned out to mean building an airport for Winnipeg that’s not really in Winnipeg, and widening a few roads. What the hell is that?”

“To me, building Canada would mean building on human capital. I was expecting to see university expansion and more funding when I heard that phrase, but I have never seen someone so eager to curtail research budgets,”

Seth thought that she was very interesting.

“What do you think of Cameron Duff? He seems a rather interesting character; just think of his life story: once an economist with the Conference Board of Canada, independent and essentially a dark horse and a contrarian voice throughout his period in Parliament until ten years ago, and then he stood as the primary antagonist of Meach and the other party leaders, who are trying to portray him as the universal nemesis, and representative of all that is devious, with alleged cloak-and-dagger strategies on Duff’s part; I don’t buy that, however, and neither did many other people.”

“Oh yeah, if there were any cloak-and-dagger conspiracy, we would have known about it already. That was a very leaky election campaign, thanks to journalists being very good at bugging conference rooms; I now know all sorts of things where I think I was better off in the dark, so to speak.”

“I find Duff as sort of a man of principles; he said that he didn’t want to make any particularly flashy promises that he couldn’t pay for, yet he had no problem making all the flashy promises that he could pay for. By the way, how would they bug a conference room?”

“It’s a simple matter of cleverly hiding a digital recorder in the room, pressing record, and retrieving it later. He had no problem mocking the system, occasionally light-heartedly, at other times passionately, but there’s no question that he’s a first-rate political actor; he has never been one to tip his cards. It’s another thing about him that he likes to play all roles that can be ascribed to a person: villain, hero, anti-hero, jackass, ladies’ man, and neutral observer after the fashion of Oberon.

“At least he can’t be accused of being a ruthless womaniser or a mollycoddler; that describes Meach. I was none too pleased with him redecorating his cottage with public funds, like quite a lot of my friends. They have to work very hard for that money.”

“The Prime Minister works very hard for the money he gets as well, and as neither of us have ever been Prime Minister, I don’t think we should talk about the stresses he may or may not be experiencing on the job.”

Seth was taken aback by this perhaps nobly disinterested opinion, and tried to change the subject. “So, why are you here? You’re obviously still in mourning,”

“I kind of want to forget about my husband. I’ve had enough of crying for so long. I’m really just here to play the field.”

“And a bar was the best place to do it,”

“Well, sure; one only goes to nightclubs in groups, at parks you’d be taking
a pot shot, book clubs are usually only for women, and all of my neighbours are married. Hence, the bar was my best bet; I find people are a lot looser here, and I don’t mind being the so-called designated driver,”

Seth thought, my, this is at once disturbing and a turn-on.

As happened often to people, that had been more than a thought. “Pardon?”

Clarissa asked, “Uh, so, were you planning on taking me home?”

“Um…sure. I’m single too, after all.”

As it turned out, they did not go to Seth’s house, which was on the east side of the river, and then a further two kilometres; they went to Clarissa’s house instead, which was a highly manageable fifteen minute walk, and thus very friendly to a moderately drunk Seth and a sober Clarissa, who was clinging tightly to his arm, out of fear of the dark and criminals, but also in an effort to keep warm, and in a desire for companionship. When Seth entered her house, he had the impression of a nice, though slightly neglected interior; he noted the wilted potted plants and the carpet that needed vacuuming. The two headed upstairs, Seth inebriated, Clarissa simply tired, but both of them excited, and they went to the bedroom, which Seth noted had several photos on the wall of a slightly pudgy man who was shorter in stature than Clarissa, as was evidenced by the photo of the two of them standing on a beach together. This man, he assumed, must have been her deceased husband.

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