The Second Part of Chapter 27: New Light

On May first, Christine and her now-fiancé, Zachary, organised a community garage sale, which was advertised as a way for various households to get rid of unwanted stuff. Zachary, an accountant, was keeping careful records of exactly who had contributed what, the price on the item, and the price it had been sold for; it was a very careful and detailed operation, considering that at least fifteen households had contributed clothing, old furniture, a few books, assorted knick-knacks, and various other pieces of junk.

Laura watched Clarissa as she solemnly laid the baby slippers on the table. “I won’t need these,” said she.

“Why not? Surely you can try again,” said Laura.

“Not for awhile; everything seems…to have fallen apart.”

Laura watched a single tear trickle down Clarissa’s cheek.

“Please, Clarissa, don’t say these things. How about we go out to see a comedy show, or a play?”

Clarissa responded, stammering. “Maybe.”

“I hear there’s a show on next week. Heck, I need an excuse to dress up. So do you.”

“Mmm.”

“I’ve seen you slowly degenerate. You looked positively glowing at the wedding, but after he died, it seemed to have fallen apart”

“Well, of course. What did I do to deserve it?”

“Nothing, same as anyone.”

“I met a guy last night. He seems nice,”

Eunice, who was getting rid of an old coffeemaker, interjected, “At a bar, you mean?”

“Yes, at a bar. It was a rather pleasant night, and we talked about all sorts of things: interest rates, our credit ratings, the Bank of Canada’s monetary policy, and of course, Employment Insurance, not to mention trade negotiations.”

“Sounds like a fascinating conversation,” said Eunice, who could have thought of a number of more interesting things to talk about.

“Then we got right down to business, if you know what I mean.” Clarissa then gestured to the baby slippers, which were of blue wool, and had a decorative ribbon.

“I hope these baby slippers have a happier life. They will be 50 cents. Say, do you know what happened to Belinda? I don’t know anything, and I’ve just been telling people stories; I told your mother something made-up, I can’t remember what it was,”

“I hope they’re nice stories, but no, I don’t know, I can’t help you,” said Laura.

Laura wondered why Clarissa would be getting rid of the baby slippers. Had she given up on having kids? They were decent slippers, and could be for either a boy or a girl; they were sufficiently unisexual.

Eunice told Clarissa about Belinda, and then asked, “Are you planning on trying to have children again? I hear there’s someone you met at a bar; are there any prospects there?”

“I’m hopeful, but I think that getting rid of these slippers would help me to get over the whole experience of losing the baby. I really need to move on; I have had too much death over the past year.”

“I understand,” said Eunice. She saw that Clarissa had also chosen to get rid of a number of picture frames. Some were small, while others were larger and ornate, the largest being the size of David’s flat-screen LCD television, which gave his living room the air of a theatre; she counted twelve frames in all.

Ten minutes later, a couple named Carolyn and Thomas picked the baby slippers up. Thomas had just moved from Toronto, where he had been fired from his job at CityTV, and was looking to start over with his wife.

“How I wish that were me,” Said Clarissa, motioning to the couple.

Eunice said, “I hope it will be, some day.”

“I hope I wasn’t too much trouble for you; you cared for me so much, even in my darkest days. Well, thank you, Eunice,”

“Don’t mention it; I just didn’t want to see a friend sad.”

“How are you doing otherwise?” It was a general question, but Eunice knew she meant her pregnancy.

“I’m due in July; we’re planning a baby shower in June. There’ll be cake, lots of food, and I’m inviting all sorts of people and family. You’re invited too, if you want to come,”

“Sure,”

Clarissa walked home, and Christine watched her. She then turned her attention to a seven-year old interested in a book.

“You’re interested in the Hardy Boys? It’s a very good series.”

“Yes ma’am. I’d like it. Here’s 50 cents.”

“Thank you,”

There was suddenly a loud crash, and then the sound of screaming was audible. Eunice dropped the book she was handling (a well-thumbed copy of Morley Callaghan’s Our Lady of the Snows), and almost instinctively ran to the edge of the driveway, where she looked down the street. Her eyes widened in shock when the scene confronted her. Clarissa was lying on her side in the middle of the road, with her legs at an awkward angle. She looked around, and was able to see a van with a cracked windshield speeding down the road.

“Clarissa!” screamed Eunice.

Laura’s hand went immediately to her cell phone and she dialled 9-1-1. What monster could have done this? She thought, in fear of Clarissa’s life. She swiftly looked down the street, and saw a blue car with a cracked windshield. Everything was happening so quickly; the emergency respondent at the other end of the line was talking to her, and she saw the monster in the car quickly speeding away, too fast for her to read the license plate. This is an injustice, she thought.

“Ma’am this may be an injustice, but please calm down.”

“Sorry. Some man in a blue car drove into my friend, Clarissa.”

“Did you get a license plate?”

“No. He drove away. Look for a blue car with a cracked windshield.”

“And Clarissa?”

“Clarissa seems to have a broken arm, at least, and she’s bleeding from her mouth.”

“There will be an ambulance over right away,”

“Thank you very much.”


Henry was talking on his cell phone:

“Well, could you email me those files?” he asked Cora, with whom he was working on a project.

Then it happened. She hit the windshield. She was a tall, pretty woman, crossing the street, and it seemed to Henry, as she screamed, to be three months pregnant. She slid off the windshield and left a large crack. Henry thought in horror, what will happen to me? He swore.

“Henry?” Cora’s voice sounded scratchy on the phone.

“Did something happen?”

“It’s… nothing,”

“Really?”

In a panic, Henry ended the call and turned off the phone. Surely I will be charged with careless driving. I might go to jail. He stepped on the gas, and drove in an effort to get away from the scene and dissociate himself from his deeds.


Cora thought that it seemed rather strange; he does not normally act that way. He’s usually much more focussed; he normally knows what he’s doing when he’s being unreasonable; his voice sounded positively strained. With these thoughts, Cora picked up the phone, and called Henry back.

“Henry, are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes, I’m sure,”

“You don’t sound so good.”

“Listen, could you call me back? I’m driving right now.”

“Sure. And get some sleep, you put in far too much time last night.”

“Goodbye,”

Well, that’s that, thought Cora. Or is it? She thought something was up. His voice simply sounded too strained for something not to be up; what if he did something on the road? Should I call someone?

Not wanting to be bothered further with these troublesome thoughts, she turned back to her work. She would surely find out soon enough about Henry.

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The First Part of Chapter 27: New Light

Ken was at O’Shaughnessy’s pub downtown on that Friday night chatting with his friends, Kevin and Steve; all of them were drinking. Ken was having a Grand Marnier, Kevin a Bacardi Breezer, and Steve was having a beer. That was when he saw her; she was very pretty.

“You’re checking her out, I see,” commented Kevin. “I know her; her name is Clarissa. Do you want me to introduce you?”

Kevin also knew about the miscarriage; word gets around, after all, but he thought it would be better to spare Ken the sorry details of her recent life.

“How is she?”

“She’s lonely, maybe you should hook up.”

Ken walked over, attempting to be as confident as he could.

“Good evening,” said he.

“Uh, good evening,” replied Clarissa. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Ken.”

“I’m Clarissa,”

“My friend over there says he knows you. He says you’re single,”

Clarissa smiled. “That’s true; he knows me well, apparently. Oh, it’s Kevin!”

“I’m single too, you know,”

“I’m interested,” said Clarissa, who to Ken sounded seductive.

“I work for the bank of Canada; you know, forecasting inflation and that sort of thing. I personally think it’s a waste of time; you remember that old adage about forecasting being at best a waste of time and at worst a sin?”

“What do you forecast for tonight?”

“Optimistically, us hooking up?”

“You’re a very good forecaster; it may not be such a waste of time. You know what, let’s stop beating about the bush and get back to my place. I have a nice house just a fifteen minute walk away.”

“Congratulations, Cupid,”

“Thanks, Steve,”

Kevin watched Ken and Clarissa sit down at a table together, chatting animatedly. I think this is going to be a success, he thought.

“You’re smiling,”

“Oh I’m just thinking of some disreputable woman who seems to take a fancy to me; every time I see her, she seems to be drunk. Not that I would want to see her that often; she happens to be a neighbour, and she tries quite routinely to flirt with me, and could never seem to pick up that I’m gay. She always thought she had some sort of chance; I guess that’s what you get with vacuous women. Just last week, she approached me and told me all about a cute dress she purchased, like I care, and it was definitely not pretty: it showed too much skin, and she does not have a particularly nice body. Too much hangs out, you know. It didn’t help that it already had a wine stain on it.”

“That sort of reminds me of my neighbour; she’s not exactly agreeable herself, and she isn’t all that savoury, though she seems to do well for herself; she put an addition on her house last September, and now it’s one of the nicest houses in the city; she always seems to buy the very best things for her children, and I can’t stand them running around the neighbourhood, riding their motorised dirt bikes around the gully out back. She doesn’t seem to like me, either; she’ll pick on absolutely anything, such as me hanging my laundry out to dry, the way my lawn is landscaped, and my lifestyle, which I simply can’t understand, and just seemingly anything she can think of.”

“Need I know her name?”

“Juliana, but there are probably lots of people with that name in Sudbury.”

Ken and Clarissa walked out of the bar, hand in hand. Clarissa had only had a shot of Frangelico, and Ken had finished a beer. They were giggling as they walked down the downtown street, which at eleven at night was busy, this being the bar and nightclub district, and the night being rather warm for the time of year: ten degrees.

Ken moved very smoothly, thought Steve. They look nice together. This wasn’t the first time Kevin had done this, either; he didn’t try, but he was a skilled matchmaker; it was Kevin, after all, who had helped Ken find his first wife, Viola, and he suspected him of pulling the strings with a few other people: he had introduced their friend Marie to a man named John, and there were others, but he was rather tipsy, and his memory came and went when he was drinking. This is not to say that he always played Cupid; he also got in the game himself, as he was presently dating a man named Luc.

Kevin did not think it worthwhile to mention her name, although he knew her perfectly well; she was Belinda, and in his opinion, she had talked too much, and was getting far too nosy for her own good. If she only paid as much attention to her garden, where the crocuses would have just finished and be replaced by other flowers if she had them, as she paid to her neighbours in an effort to pick up any scrap of information, then maybe more people would like her; she would also have a better front garden, which right now was a small bare patch of earth. He did not like the way she had carelessly put her recycling on the kerb, leaving copies of People and similar magazines to blow around in the strong spring gusts; that had made quite a mess of the street, and unlike last fall’s leaves, it was offensively bright and gaudy. He did not know that the real reason was that Belinda had moved to her mother’s house, which was why she had been neglecting the front garden. Belinda had in fact been very careful to keep it quiet, which ran counter to her personality; the embarrassment of losing her job and whittling away her savings was too much for her, and only in May did Kevin realise that Belinda would be gone. Kevin thought, after four drinks, that he had spent long enough in the bar, and bade his friends good night. While walking brusquely home, he saw Ken and Clarissa, both tipsy, making their way to Clarissa’s house.

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