The First Part of Chapter 28: Restored

When Clarissa woke up, she found herself in a hospital bed. “What happened?”

“It was a car crash,”

“I was in a car?”

“No; a car crashed into you,”

“What bastard did this?” Clarissa asked, shouting.

“They didn’t catch him; he drove off. I agree with your assessment of him.”

Clarissa did not notice the implicit demonization of men, even though it was, in fact, a man who had crashed into her. This was why she had never purchased a car; it was the fear of being in an accident, and the fear of being held responsible in some way. There were also economic rationales for shunning the car; they were expensive, and since most of the cost is fixed, she knew she would always view the initial expenses of insurance and the vehicle itself as sunk costs, and thus not consider those when making a decision whether to drive. Being an educated person herself, she was also aware of the environmental costs of cars. Her lifestyle had no need for a car either; she had lived in an apartment near a major transport hub, and James’s house had nearly every imaginable amenity nearby. It was thus deeply unjust that a car struck her, and it was a heinous, senseless crime, made no better that the driver had no intent to hurt anyone. She wondered if it would have unfolded differently had James been alive; she would not have intended to rid herself of the baby slippers or his pictures, which were now in the recycle bin; thus, the only reason for her coming to the garage sale would have been to purchase. Perhaps James would have pushed her out of the way? She hoped this latest misfortune would be the last to strike her in a tumultuous fall and winter; she wanted a quiet life, perhaps boring, but she would do well by that; wasn’t that the reason she had come to Ottawa? Wasn’t that the reason everybody came to Canada? No doubt, a quiet order had its appeal, due to its connections with a stereotypical image of a nuclear family, which unfortunately only existed in people’s minds, for when was this ideal of a quiet life ever reached? Certainly, if everyone’s life were like that, the world would not advance, and progress would not occur, and therein lay the quandary of that ambition; perhaps a storied life was the ideal? There were more questions than answers, but Clarissa found solace in the thought of her new boyfriend.

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

“I’m just in a bit of pain, but I’m sure I’ll survive,”


Once Margaret heard of the car crash, she moved as quickly as she could and made the long drive to the hospital where Clarissa was staying. She needed a full day off work to make the daylong round trip; she needed to leave at six in the morning in order to spend a couple of hours with her daughter and be back home in time for a late dinner. She found the long drive calmed her somewhat; it was sort of like meditation: all she had to do was to concentrate on the road ahead, and to banish all other concerns from her mind. Clarissa seems to have had a rough time since she married that man, she thought. The only bright spot, if it could be called that, was that she had a nice house. It wasn’t as if it was a hard burden for her to bear; she had an ample income. The burden of young widowhood, on the other hand, was much harder to bear, and Margaret had felt deeply sympathetic for her daughter, and quietly cursed herself for not doing anything. What foul fortunes have befallen my baby over this past year! She muttered to herself as she drove along the highway.

She had passed east of Peterborough, and was journeying through a sparsely inhabited section of the province; she had always found this particular stretch of road boring, because firstly, the only town of any size was Perth, and that was at least two hours away from where she was. Additionally, Highway 7 did not follow any rivers at this point, and the vegetation, which had not come into flower here, was monotonous and presented the bare stone of the shield. All the while, as she drove, her mind was on Clarissa, even as she guided the car along the tight curves of the highway that avoided the surrounding rocky, pine-clad hills. The monotony of the trip made her tired, she needed some refreshment by the time she reached Perth, and even there, there was still about an hour to go. She made a pit stop at Tim’s, and coffee in hand, continued driving.

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