For Sure (18 page)

“So der's dis woman, she was havin' hard, hard times all de time. Eatin' de putty outta de windows, like we says. Den, tings got turned around, don't know why, de wind like changed direction, anyway, tings was goin' fine. An' dey only got better an' better, an' better 'n dat, until all of a sudden
slammm
! De bucket on a back-hoe up an' falls on 'er head, an' she drops dead right der on de spot. Her karma just couldn't take tings goin' so good.”

Lalangue
or lalanguage,
parlêtre
or language-being,
motérialisme
or materiawordism,
jalouissance
or jealouissance are some examples of neologisms invented by Lacan to illustrate the degree to which language is rooted in the unconscious. Because Lacan considered language as we know and use it to be too general and too logical. Or as we might hear it today, “top general” and “top logical,” because the unconscious is not intimidated by linguistic boundaries.

“It's nice of you to have taken on landscaping our vegetable garden . . .”

Le grand Étienne looked up at Ludmilla, who was grinning broadly.

“But never fear, Zed, Lisa-M., and Antoinette will lend a hand.”

Zablonski had been on a bender. He was a sorry sight. The aroma of the coffee Ludmilla was pouring for him and the prospect of working with Lisa M. breathed a bit of life back into the artist's otherwise dulled brain and aching temples.

“Did I do anything else I should know about?”

Ludmilla pretended to think.

“No, aside from promising Étienne you'd take him fishing.”

“The kid was there?”

“No, but you went and woke him to up to say good night.”

“Oh no!”

Ludmilla spread strawberry jam on Grand Étienne's toast, to his astonishment.

“I must really look bad for you to start buttering my toast . . .”

Ludmilla agreed, and sat down. Étienne sensed there was more.

“And?”

“Well, he seemed quite pleased.”

Le Grand Étienne nodded.

“And the garden?”

“Ah, as far as the garden goes, darling, you'll just have to roll up your sleeves!”

Blissful yellow. Canary yellow, sulphur yellow, straw yellow. Piss yellow. Yellowish. Yellow as a quince, as a lemon. Yellow pages. Yellow jersey. Yellow emperor. Yellow dwarf. Yellow River. Yellow belly. Yellow with age. Yellow journalism.

Terry and Carmen could tell that Étienne was making an effort to go on. Their hearts sank to see him so dispirited at the end of the first week of shooting. They decided to dedicate the entire weekend to the children, so that the latter would embark on their second week satisfied and in good humour. They pulled out all the stops, from french fries at the restaurant, bubble gum, the whole family ensconced in the sofa cushions to watch the cartoons, bread for the ducks, up to and including Terry singing Ferré singing Aragon. Everyone had a great time, so that by supper time on Sunday, things were going swell:

“Étienne, how'd you like to come downstairs and do a wee bit o' work wid your dad? I've got boxes o' books to unpack, an' papers to mail . . .”

Étienne was more than willing. It was an honour for him to work with his dad.

Materials, final inventory: tapestry needles (blunt points and long eyes, ranging from 13 to 26, 13 being the thickest and 26 the finest), milliner needles (extra long and fine, long or darning needles), beading needles, fine wool needles, chenille needles and curved needles. Needle threader, bodkin, sewing scissors and embroidery scissors. Embroidery hoop, scroll frames and tightening frames of various sizes. Steam iron. Heat resistant long glass-headed pins. One-metre bias tape and sewing ruler, thimble, setsquare, fabric markers, magnifying glasses, masking tape or glueless, self-­clinging tape (can also be glued), and woven tape (can be sewn). Clear plastic grid, tracing paper, graph paper, colour crayons, and colour chart.

“Does you work out all dem math problems, an' dat?”

“You mean de equations, or de real exam questions?”

“De equations.”

“Yah. Dose, I tries me best to solve dem.”

this cloud in the sky

seawater climbs up and up

this cloud on your cheek

Perfect tripartite equation based on the number 12:

12 × 12 × 12 = 144 × 12 = 1,728

(1 + 2) × (1 + 2) × (1 + 2) = {(1 + 4) + 4} × (1 + 2)
= 1 + 7 + 2 + 8

3 × 3 × 3 = {(5) + 4} × 3 = {(1 + 7) + 2} + 8

(3 × 3) × 3 = 9 × 3 ={(8) + 2} + 8

9 × 3 = 27 = 10 + 8

27 = (2 + 7) = (1 + 0) + 8

(2 + 7) = 9 = 1 + 8

9 = 9 = 9

Oh, the endless and hopeless manipulations required to pierce by hand the plastic wrapper of a compact disc. As though musical works would go stale on contact with the air, when in fact the opposite is true: music needs air to be deployed and to flourish.

Étienne had shelved all the books his father had indicated. Delighted with the result, Terry was about to entrust him with another task:

“Dad, do I have to go over der an' play again tomorrow?”

Before Terry could come up with a response, the child added:

“I'd radder stay 'ere an' work wid you.”

Terry slipped his foot in the door barely ajar:

“You enjoy workin' don't ya? An' you do a fine job, too . . .”

A moment passed.

“You know, goin' anudder week on dat movie's a bit like workin', too.”

Étienne did not follow.

“You an' Marianne, yer gettin' paid to do it. An' dat money'll come in mighty handy fer our whole family. Dat kind o' money's nuttin' to sneeze at.”

Étienne gazed up at his father with a look of helplessness. Terry bent down to talk man-to-man:

“We were tinkin' we'd use dat money to take a trip, or maybe rent a cottage come summertime, some place we could build bonfires on de beach an' roast hot dogs an' marshmallows, look up at de stars . . . maybe even sleep outside, if we've a mind to.”

Unsure just how much one ought to tell a child, Terry decided to be completely honest:

“So, no, youse don't have to go down der tomorrow, nor de whole week if you don't feel like it, only it'd be a big help to us if you did.”

Étienne could see his father was talking seriously, and he understood what he was saying. After a moment, he threw his arms around Terry's neck:

“OK, Dad, I'll go.”

Terry hugged him.

“You're a wonderful fine boy.”

. . .

. . .

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, son.”

Terry was stunned: could things be that simple?

Examination for History II (HIST 3725): Numerology allows us to approach the events of 1755, including the deportation of the Acadians, the Lisbon earthquake, and the founding of Paoli's Corsican Republic, from one of two perspectives: from the 9, derived from the sum of the numbers 1, 7, 5, and 5, or from the zero, product of the same signs. The 9 represents both an end and a beginning, in other words the completion of a cycle and its transposition onto a new plane; the zero, on the other hand, indicates above all an interval, with or without value, according to its position. For only the zero's placement can give it value. Based on the above mentioned historical events, argue whether or not there is good cause to redefine the role of dates in our study of history.

“Would you call it illegal, den, to sell cigarettes made wid tobacco from a can? Like wid tobacco de taxes already been paid on.”

“Can't see why 'twould be. Anyway, if yer talkin' 'bout de
Doucettes
, people oughts to look at dat more like it's artisenal, which it is, by de way.”

In our era, paternity still retains much of the Christian concept as it existed in the Middle Ages. In the image of Joseph's role in the Holy Family, the father watches tenderly over his progeny and takes care to transmit not only a name and a resemblance, but also an education and a heritage. However, because the ecclesiastic discourse of the Middle Ages assigned more value to a spiritual paternity than to a carnal one — a Christian is first of all a son of God — there emerged the role of Godfather, a spiritual father designated at the moment of baptism and charged with transmitting his virtues to the child.

When Terry and Étienne came back upstairs from the bookstore, Carmen sensed that something had changed. Étienne remained cheerful throughout bath time, going so far as to bend to the whims of his sister, who kept asking for the little pink ducks that she was tossing out of the tub onto the floor.

“Mum, tomorrow I'm gonna wear my Zorro costume, OK?”

Carmen refrained from correcting Étienne's “gonna” for fear of upsetting his happy disposition.

“That's a right fine idea!”

Later, when she went to tuck him in for the night:

“Mum, does you like working?”

Carmen considered the question seriously.

“Yes, I suppose I do like it. Sometimes I get worn out and tired, but I like to do it fer us, fer our family.”

The answer could not have been more appropriate. Étienne threw his arms around his mother's neck.

“I love you, Mum.”

“I love you too, my little man.”

Before it brcame the international symbol of American-style capitalism, Wall Street was the narrow street on which grew the sycamore, or false-plane tree, around which breeders would gather to trade cattle.

Carmen and Terry were watching TV snuggled up together:

“'Twas a wonderful weekend, don't you tink?”

“For sure! That was a right smart idea you had for us to spend all that time with the kids.”

. . .

“Did you say sometin' to Étienne downstairs? He was askin' if he could wear his Zorro outfit tomorrow.”

“G'wan! Really?”

Étienne did not like the Zorro costume; he'd never wanted to wear it until now.

“I was only explainin' to him dat 'twould bring in a few dollars if he did de film, an' dat would give us a bit of a shove to make a trip or rent a cottage come summer, or sometin' of de sort.”

“G'wan! You said that!”

From her reaction, Terry couldn't tell if Carmen was impressed or thought he was completely incompetent. He tried to attenuate what he'd said:

“Well, I told 'im he didn't have to go on wid de movie, only 'twould help us out if he did.”

. . .

“Wah? Should I not have told 'im?”

“Don't know, really. I don't always know wot we can or can't be saying to a child.”

“I wasn't sure meself. Den afterwards, I tot, wot de hell, might as well be tellin' him de way tings are fer real.”

Carmen thought that was a reasonable approach, all things considered. Terry added:

“I'm tinkin' 'twas OK to tell 'im straight dat way. Gives the b'y a focus. Ee doesn't like just playin' all de time. Anyhow, you knows wot ee's like: isn't like 'im to be doin' sometin' only on account of some body tells 'im to.”

“Now, I see it. That must be why he was askin' me if I liked workin'.”

“An' what did you answer?”

“That sometimes it wears me out, but I like doin' it fer the family.”

“Right proper! You couldn't have said it better.”

. . .

“Now, if he can just last troo de week . . .”

Starting from three lists chosen more or less at random — the list of colours on pourpre.com, the list of authors included in
La Bibliothèque idéale
and the list of titles in that same volume — one discovers that certain letters appear more often than others at the beginning of words. In French, this is the case for
c, m, p, b, s,
and
a
.
C
dominates the field with 12 percent of the words included in this study.
M
is second with 9 percent. These proportions contrast sharply with the
l, g,
and
d
, for example, all of which place amongst the average with a score of 4 or 5 percent.

Theoretically, the fragment 72.12 represents the 864th of 1,728 fragments in this novel: