For a long time I'd been toying with the idea of having the
_Maria-sama ga miteru_ girls run around in Montreal. When I
learned Oyuki Konno already had Team Marimite run around in Italy,
which is generally considered a far more glamorous place than Canada,
I took that as a sign that I really, truly ought to get to work on
something else, as the "Team Marimite do Montreal" thing was likely
to be a Really Bad Fanfic Idea.
Of course, then I heard that Yumi's thoughts on hearing of Toko's
Canadian vacation were: "How grand."
This is chapter one.
Comments welcome. I regret the yuri goodness won't begin until
chapter two, and (alas) it's not even Sei/Shimako yuri goodness.
It's worth the wait, I think. Either way, to get there you have to
go through here.
A disclaimer is in order. All the characters the reader will recognize
from _Marimite_ are obviously fictional, but most of the Montreal
landmarks named in this story are real. Ste. Marguerite Bourgeoys,
the first female saint from Canada (canonized by Pope John Paul II in
1982) was very real, as is Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours, the first
church in Montreal, founded by Ste. Marguerite on what is now rue
Saint-Paul in Vieux-Montréal. The religious order founded by Ste.
Marguerite, the Congrégation de Notre Dame de Montréal, continues
her ministry far beyond Canada's borders; in particular, the
Congrégation operates schools around the world, including at least one
in Japan. However, I've taken the Congrégation's name in vain for the
purposes of fiction, and in particular, no resemblance should be
inferred between Lillian Academy and any of the schools run by the
Congrégation de Notre Dame de Montréal in Japan or elsewhere in the
world.
Paul Corrigan
--
SI L'AMOUR DE MARIE
EN TON COEUR EST GRAVÉ
EN PASSANT NE T'OUBLIE
DE LUI DIRE UN AVE
This is the inscription over the door of Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours.
Just above the inscription is a Madonna and Child. What could a
student of Lillian Academy do, but salute Our Lady wherever she saw
her, not least when she had been specifically directed to do so? I put
my hands together, bowed my head and said a Hail Mary as I had
been taught.
--Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou
amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy
Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners...
I was distracted just then by the noise of the wooden doors being
unbarred. I looked up to see a young man, dressed in the costume of
a New French colonist of the 17th century, opening the door of the
sanctuary. He obviously guessed I was a tourist, because he greeted
me with:
--Bonjour, pèlerin.
--So. Shimako. What are you doing in Montreal?
Sei didn't ask me this until we were settled on the train from Pierre
Elliott Trudeau airport to downtown Montreal. I'd wanted to take
a taxi, but Sei said it was too far by taxi, and she'd had to get rid
of her car when she left Japan. She didn't even have a Quebec driver's
license, so she couldn't even rent a car. I suspect Yumi would have
been relieved. She didn't realize Sei didn't drive in Canada, so she'd
warned me if life I valued not to let Sei trick me into getting into
her car.
In the airport itself, all we'd really done is compliment each other on
how good we each looked. Sei did look good, clad in jeans, a denim
jacket and a white sweater. It occurred to me that was the outfit she'd
worn the day she left, just after the New Year; Yumi and I had gone to
see her off. "My Virgin Mary outfit," she'd joked. It was autumn now,
and adequate for the weather that day, though it must have been
hopelessly inadequate for midwinter in Quebec.
--Bah, I'm putting on weight, Sei said to me. Give me your hand
luggage...make myself useful...you want me to grab your backpack?
--No, I'm fine...don't be silly, you look fine, I replied.
--You're still growing, right?
--I'm pretty sure I am...why?
--Hm. Just thought you looked different.
--Different how?
--Oh I don't know...I was going to say, more beautiful than ever.
I'm sure I blushed. Sei smiled as she said it, to reassure me that of
course she didn't mean it, and of course she tells that to all the
girls, like Sei does. But she'd never said it to me, at least not quite
like that. That, and there was a light in her eyes when she looked at
me then, and hadn't gone away even now as she sat across from me
on the train.
--I thought I told you, I said. To see the universities in Montreal. I
wanted to study abroad. The Canadian universities are cheaper, and
it's easier to get a student visa. You were the one who told me all that,
when you said you were coming here.
--Oh, okay. Thought maybe you missed me or something, said Sei,
grinning.
--If I said I missed you, would you want me to come?
Instead of answering directly, she pointed out the window of the train.
The track followed a freeway, and we were just passing an industrial
estate. There were a couple of flagpoles out front; on one flew the
Canadian flag, while on another flew a flag with four white
fleurs-de-lys on a blue background.
--See the flags out front?
--Yes, I replied.
--You know what's on them, right?
--On the Canadian flag is the maple leaf. The other flag has fleurs-de-
lys...
--Yuri in Japanese. That's the Quebec flag. First time I saw it, I
thought, okay, any place that has yuri flowers on its flag has definite
possibilities.
While I was distracted, looking out the window, Sei suddenly took my
hands. I turned to look at her.
--You know, we could get married here. So if you want to stay here,
will you make an honest woman out of me...
--What?
Sei looked me in the eyes for a very long moment, with that light in
her eyes seeming to grow.
Then she started laughing out loud. I must have looked horrified. She
let go of my hands.
--Just kidding.
--Sei! That's not funny!
Sei saw clearly I wasn't at all amused. I really wasn't happy to hear
Sei say all this to me the moment I'd gotten off the plane. She
sobered up, sat back in her seat, looking out the window away from
me, and told me:
--No, I guess not. I'm sorry.
Sei looked back at me. The light had dimmed.
--Did you get much sleep on the plane? she asked.
--A little. Not enough, I replied.
--I didn't get a wink. Tokyo to Detroit, Detroit to Montreal, not a
wink. Living hell. I wasn't in any state to do anything my first day
here either...you want to take a nap when we get home?
--That might be a good idea, I said. Now that I was seated on the
train, well away from the hustle and bustle of the airport, I began to
realize how tired I was. I wouldn't have snapped at Sei like that if
I'd been well rested.
--I have missed you, though, really, said Sei, with a tenderness in her
smile I'd rarely seen from her. I smiled back.
--Me too.
I took her hand this time, and squeezed it lightly before going on:
--Yumi misses you too.
--That a fact?
--She wanted to come with me, but her parents wouldn't let her.
--Oh yeah?...
Sei gently slipped her hand out of mine before going on:
--I'm surprised your dad let you come on your own.
--I'm not on my own. Not here anyway. I told father I'd be meeting
you in Montreal. And he has a friend in Vancouver, running a temple
near there. He was actually most worried about Toronto.
--Yeah. Lots of Japanese out there in Vancouver. I was going to try for
the PhD in Women's Studies at UBC when I'm done here...Where are
you going to stay in Toronto?
--I haven't decided yet. A hostel, maybe...
--So, what? Is he sure he wants to trust the notorious lesbian Sei Sato
with his innocent only daughter?
--He always has trusted you. When have you ever hurt me?
--Well, if you say so...
--It's the truth!
Sei seemed to think about that, then added:
--I still have Yumi's frog. You can tell her that.
In Narita, when we saw her off, Yumi had given Sei a stuffed toy frog
as a going-away present, or rather a coming-back present, because
the word _kaeru_ for "frog" sounds like the verb "to come back."
--How is Yumi, anyway?
--All right...she's Rosa Chinensis now, of course...
--Really...little Yumi Rosa Chinensis. Wow. Kind of hard to imagine...
--She misses you too.
--Yeah, well...
--More than ever probably. She doesn't have Sachiko any more either.
--Yeah, I guess so...Sachiko must have graduated this spring, right?
--She got married this spring.
--Already?
--The day after she graduated.
--Wow...that quick...they didn't mess around...I don't suppose she
invited Yumi or you?
--No. Actually...a few days before Sachiko and Rei graduated, I asked
Yumi if she wanted to go out after school, and she said no. It seems
Sachiko took her aside and begged her, "Please _don't_ come to my
wedding." It didn't surprise me. It was a farce. Everybody knows it.
She didn't want Yumi to see that, and I can't say I blame her...
--And that's why Yumi didn't want to go out?
--Yes and no...the way Yumi explained it, Sachiko had invited her over
to her parents' house that evening so she could "say goodbye to her
properly." Sachiko's words, not Yumi's or mine. I asked, "But isn't she
busy with the wedding?" Yumi had asked her the same thing, and
Sachiko had said something like, "Don't worry about that." The thing
was...
--Uh-huh?
--The next day when I saw Yumi, she had let her hair down. Her
ponytails were gone. I asked her why she had changed her hair. She
said something like, "Oh come on! They looked kind of childish
anyway! We're going to be seniors after Easter, right?" Then she
changed the subject.
I never brought it up again.
--Hm.
--A few days after that was graduation day. Yumi and Sachiko got
their photo taken together, and Sachiko said goodbye to us all. And
that was that. None of us has seen her since then.
--Not even Yumi?
--Not that I know of. I don't think so.
I had been looking down into my lap as I finished my story, and looked
up at Sei. Her expression and turned dark and pensive as she stared
behind me out the window.
I asked Sei then, trying to change the subject:
--So when are you coming back?
--What? To Japan?...Hm. Good question.
--You'll be home for the New Year at least, right?
--I might. If I can't think of a good reason to stay here.
--You don't want to?
Sei pulled a face.
--Not really, no.
--But why...?
--Don't I want to see my folks at New Year's? What's the point? My
mom and I never got along, and I hardly ever saw my dad even when
I was living at home, so it's no great loss not to see him now.
Her own words must have sounded harsh even to her, because she
smiled a bit apologetically and went on:
--You know, you're lucky, Shimako.
--Am I?
--You actually have a dad.
--Hm.
--You know, you and Yumi are welcome here any time you like.
--It's not the same.
--No, I guess not...I do miss Yumi, too. Real shame she couldn't come
as well. I feel bad...you'll have to get her a really good souvenir.
--I asked her. She laughed and said, "Bring me back a polar bear!"
--Oh yeah? What about Yoshino?
--A Montreal Expos cap. She loves Warren Cromartie...
--You're a bit late. They've moved to Washington DC.
--Oh. I see. I wouldn't have known...
--Tell you what--you can get Yoshino a Canadiens hockey sweater
instead. Actually, I'll buy you one to give to Yumi too...
--If you like...
There the conversation dropped, and Sei looked out the window again,
presently muttering, more to herself than to me, something like:
--Viarge de bug...
--What?
--I said--
Sei stopped herself, apparently thinking better of it. She took a deep
breath.
--She took it that hard, eh? Sachiko marrying, I mean.
--She tried not to let it show, but still... I dare say so. She's a bit
better now she has Toko, but...
--Toko Matsudaira?
--Yes...
Sei looked a little puzzled.
--So what? You chopped liver or...
--No, no, that's not it...Toko's her petite soeur now, I said.
--Huh...weren't they cousins or something? Toko and Sachiko...
--I think so. Second cousins...
--Maybe Toko reminds her of Sachiko. Ever think of that?
--Not as such. Sachiko was always very mature. Toko isn't nearly
mature
enough.
Sei laughed as I said that.
--Oh yeah?
--They're quite a pair to watch, I added. Yumi teases Toko mercilessly.
I think you've been a bad influence on Rosa Chinensis.
--Glad to hear it!
I believed her. Sei was visibly relieved, her dark expression from
before dissipating at last.
--Actually, Sei added, that reminds me...did Yumi tell you what exams
she's taking?
--She's not sure yet. Yumi's grades are only average. She says she
might
just go to Lillian...
Sei pulled a face.
--Oh God, no...
--Why shouldn't she? I asked. You did.
--And ran out screaming after less than a year...look, I only went to
Lillian U because I bombed the TOEFL the first time around, so I took a
couple of semesters out to study English and try again, and enrol at
McGill after Christmas. The English lit was a way to force myself to
learn to read English properly. Not to mention I was practically
teaching myself. Seriously--you can tell Yumi this as well--I wasn't
learning anything at Lillian U. It's a finishing school for rich princesses.
Don't go there if you have any ambition in life. Yoko and Eriko never
gave the place a second thought...
--You know, Sei, it's not as if you were ever in want.
Sei, realizing what she'd said, backed off a bit:
--I guess. Though give my dad this, he's a self-made man...
--Hm.
--Something you got to realize, Sei said. Lillian's not the real world.
That soeur stuff especially--that was just a game. I never took it
seriously and neither should you. At some point you have to grow up
and leave all that behind. Trust me, you'll feel a lot better when you
do. You can't live in the past. You've got to get away from all that,
and the sooner the better. You couldn't pay me to go back to Lillian
Academy for five minutes. Why the hell should I go back to Japan on
the New Year? I've come home! I used to dream about living
somewhere like this... When I said we could get married, I wasn't
kidding. I mean, I was kidding about actually wanting to marry
you...but we could. In a few years we'll probably have a gay man as
premier. You'd never hear of that anywhere else...
--You like it?
--Uh, yeah. That obvious, huh?
Sei laughed as she said that, but a bit too quickly she sobered and
added:
--Just saying it's not for everyone.
--What's wrong? Should I not come?
--No, no. Why would I mind? This is a great city, you'll love it here.
I'll help you if you want, what the hell. It's not like I don't want
you around. I like you a lot, Shimako, I always have. It's just...
you'll have to make your own life for yourself. Of course, I'm sure
you will. I was actually a little worried about that. Don't come here
just for your old grande soeur, for God's sake. I'm not worth crossing
an ocean for...
--Don't worry, please, I said at last. I know you mean well, but that
really isn't the reason.
--Actually, you know what? added Sei. You still haven't told me why
you want to come here.
--I might ask the same question. You were studying English and
American Literature at Lillian. Why would you go to Canada to study
that?
--I wouldn't. At McGill I'm in Women's Studies, which is what I really
wanted to do in the first place. Lots of feminists write in French,
Beauvoir, Kristeva, Irigaray...so whatever looks interesting in French
I try to read for the practice. Look at it this way. Where else in the
world am I going to be able to learn English and French at once?
--I suppose.
--Actually, Shimako?
--Yes?
--Is he really okay with this? Your dad I mean.
Now I was the one smiling apologetically, saying:
--I've told you about my father, haven't I? About how I told him I
wanted to go to a convent when I was twelve, so he sent me to Lillian
just like that. I suppose I am spoiled rotten...
--I mean...you're his only daughter. I thought he'd want you to stay
home and marry someone so you all could keep the temple going...
Lillian's one thing, but McGill might as well be the moon for all...
--I found it odd too. I asked him permission to go, and he said, of
course, without hesitating. What did he tell me? He'd always thought I
was looking for something, and if it wasn't at Lillian I'd found it,
well...he told me, if one is serious about finding the Way--he meant of
Buddhism--it's a small price to pay to have to walk all the way to
India to bring it back home...
I couldn't help noticing a billboard on the side of the nearby freeway,
with a picture of an old French Canadian man who looked like a priest
and the slogan: IL ÉTAIT UN FOI.
--Or cross the Atlantic Ocean, I added.
--The Atlantic? Don't you mean the Pacific?
--No...I'm sorry, I'm not making too much sense...Mother Superior
had me and Yumi and Yoshino in her office. I don't remember what,
some Yamiyurikai business. Somebody must have told her I was going
to Canada, because she asked me about it after she'd dismissed the
others. In catechism they told us about Ste. Marguerite Bourgeoys and
the Congregation of Notre Dame, who founded Lillian. Do you
remember?
--I remember the comic books about her they used to sell in the
school bookstore in Lillian Elementary about her, yeah. I think I still
have one in my room at home--my parent's house, I mean. How
Marguerite was called by Mary to do God's work, crossed the Atlantic a
zillion times, converted the Indians and built the first school in
Montreal with her bare hands...or some darn thing, I don't remember
all the specifics...but yeah, sure, I remember the basic gist. So?
--Anyway, Mother Superior told me that the first church Ste.
Marguerite Bourgeoys had founded was still there in Montreal. Notre-
Dame-de-Bon-Secours. She'd always wanted to make the pilgrimage
herself, but she never found the time or opportunity, and she isn't well
enough now to do it, so she asked me to go in her place. She asked
me to bring her back a rosary from the church.
--And that's why you want to come to Montreal? To find God?
Sei suddenly burst out laughing, as if that was the funniest thing
she'd ever heard. I wasn't amused at all.
--Excuse me, why do you think that's funny?
--Oh man...do you have a lot to learn about this place! Look outside.
You think I live in a wooden fort in the wilderness like Marguerite?
--Don't talk rot! Of course not! It just seemed to me...
--No, no! I didn't actually think so, it's just...
Once Sei had composed herself, she went on:
--Let me tell you a story. Every year on June 24 they have the
Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day parade in downtown Montreal. It used to be
for the feast of Saint John the Baptist--he's the patron saint of
Quebec, or something--but now it's basically Quebec Day. La Fête
nationale du Québec. The parade this year was on rue Notre-Dame, in
the old city. I wanted to see it, so I arrived at eleven to get a seat on
the steps of the Notre-Dame Basilica, because the parade was to start
at noon. Well, it didn't start at noon, and finally I got bored and said,
you know what? I've never been inside Notre-Dame Basilica. What the
hell, I'll go in and have a look. Then I remembered it was the feast of
the patron saint of Quebec, so I thought, I just hope there isn't mass,
because then I won't be able to go in. Then what am I going to do? So
I go up to the door, and there's a lady at a desk inside. I say, "Can I
visit the church? Are they having mass right now?" And she said,
"There's no mass today." I said, "Why not? It's St-Jean right?" She
said "Yes, it is, but the priest isn't here." "Where is he?" I asked. "He
has the day off," she told me. "He's in his cottage in the Laurentians!"
Sei started laughing again, though not so loudly, and added:
--And even I was thinking, Wow! If Mother Superior'd been there the
priest'd have his head handed to him!
--I take it Canadians aren't very religious then?
--Hell no. Not any more, anyway. This town's full of churches. They
have one of the biggest churches in the world here, Oratoire Saint-
Joseph on Mont-Royal. It's empty. They all are. Nobody goes to mass
here but pensioners and Third World immigrants. I still can't believe I
had to pay four dollars just to go into the Basilica. That's how few
people go to mass on a Sunday. So I don't know what Mother Superior
told you, but if you're expecting everyone to be praying to Ste.
Marguerite every day before breakfast, you're in for a real shock.
Suits me just fine, by the way. More bullshit I never want to be
bothered with again...
I bit my tongue. I had never liked it when Sei mocked religion, any
religion. Part of it, I suppose, was my own upbringing, but not all. It
was as if Sei was trying to deceive me, or herself. I knew about Shiori
Kubo. I supposed it must have been her spirituality that had drawn Sei
to Shiori, her virtue--not to say her innocence. I knew it was Yumi's
goodheartedness and innocence that Sei had always loved.
--Actually, said Sei, sobering up, you should be able to see the
Oratoire about now. See the mountain up ahead? That's Mont-Royal.
Sei indicated out the window. I looked out to see the mountain,
covered in trees just now turning to their autumn colours. Clearly
visible on the slope was the Oratoire's green patina dome. That was
my first sight of Montreal.
---
At the end of the train line we got out, and Sei led me through the
gate and towards a corridor of glass, at last bringing me to the
entrance to Lucien-L'Allier station. I looked around the cavernous
station, a work of clean brown brick, as we went down two separate
escalators that were so long as to seem never-ending.
--Pretty cool, huh? said Sei. Every station's a little different.
They've prettied up the metro with modern art and stuff...pretty cool.
I'll show you more when we come to it.
At last we made it to the turnstile, where Sei showed a card to the
attendant at the ticket booth, and passed him some coins, indicating
me.
--Est avec moé, elle. Une adulte.
--Ouan.
The attendant let us through the turnstile, and I followed Sei
downstairs to the track. Across from us a black sign with white
lettering announced where we were: LUCIEN-L'ALLIER. An orange sign
above us read DIRECTION HENRI-BOURASSA.
--Where are we going exactly? I asked.
--My place, near Beaudry station. This train doesn't go right there.
We'll have to change trains at Berri-UQÀM, so don't get too comfy.
'Course, the seats are plastic, so that's not easy. They built the
metro in the Sixties. It shows. I guess it was supposed to look
futuristic, but it's a Sixties sort of futuristic, like something
out of Star Trek.
--Is that bad?
--No. I like it. Retro is good.
--Hm.
--I'm not boring you, am I?
--No, not at all, I replied.
Admittedly I might have been more enthusiastic if I'd had more sleep,
but Sei was clearly relishing the role of tour guide, and I hadn't the
heart to tell her to stop.
--It's just...you make it sound like the city's living in the past, I
added. I thought you said living in the past was bad...
Sei chuckled.
--"Very well, I contradict myself." Whitman.
On the walls of the station were several advertisements, and I
read them while we waited. Two in particular on the other side of the
track caught my eye, one reading:
FAITES-LE À L'ÉGLISE!
and another:
97% LE PENSENT. 3% LE FONT.
Sei noticed me reading them. She chuckled.
--I love those ads. "Do it in church!"
--Um...do what exactly?
--Relax. It's a joke. The ad's for cellphones. Hm. Actually, using your
cell in church really would be rude, wouldn't it?
A rumbling noise started coming from our left.
--There's our train, said Sei.
---
It actually took a couple of seconds more before the blue metro train
arrived in the station. The train wasn't terribly crowded, and we
easily found two empty seats. As we pulled out a recorded female
voice announced the next station in French, in a tone both clear
enough even for me to understand and somehow oddly comforting.
--Prochaine station, Bonaventure.
--But no, Sei went on, I love the metro. One weekend I had nothing to
do and I was short on cash, so I couldn't afford to do anything that
cost money, so I decided to see if I couldn't stop and look around each
and every station on the metro in a single day. I had my pass, so it
didn't cost me a cent. Spent the whole day there.
Sei stopped there and looked at me for a long moment, and smiled
sheepishly.
--Call me crazy.
--Station Bonaventure.
--You're crazy, I said, smiling back, giggling.
Sei couldn't help giggling too.
--Prochaine station, Square-Victoria.
When she was done she went on:
--Square-Victoria's got a real Métropolitain sign outside the station,
like they have out front of the Paris metro stations. I should show it
to you...
--If you like, I said.
--Actually, Sei said, how long are you in town? Three days?
--Four, counting today. My flight to Toronto's on Sunday night.
--We should figure out where you want to go. You said you wanted to
look at universities...English ones or French?
--English. I have enough English to pass the TOEFL, but French...I
don't think I have much chance with the French universities...
--Station Square-Victoria.
--Okay. That leaves McGill and Concordia. And honestly, Concordia's
not worth crossing an ocean for. What the hell. I'll show you McGill.
McGill we can get out of the way in an afternoon. I mentioned Star
Trek just now. Wait until I show you the William Shatner student
union...
--Really?
--Really. He graduated from McGill.
--Well!
--Prochaine station, Place-d'Armes.
--The rest of the time...what _am_ I gonna do with you until Sunday,
eh?...We just had the Thanksgiving holiday here. Just in time to see
the leaves turn. You still like that sort of thing, right? If you like
we can go up Mont-Royal, or Parc Jean-Drapeau. Maybe the Jardin
botanique, too. I can show you the Olympic Stadium...
--Actually, I wouldn't mind seeing a few of the churches in town, I
said.
Sei pulled a face.
--Is that all right? I asked.
--Not my thing, is all. But I guess you're under orders from Mother
Superior...
--I wouldn't say that. But all the same...
--Station Place d'Armes.
--Hm. Well, there's the Oratoire Saint-Joseph...actually, the Basilique
Notre-Dame is here at Place d'Armes. There and Chinatown. We can
go there too if you like...
--What about Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours?
--Oh, that? That's in the old city. At Champ-de-Mars. You'll just die
if I don't take you there, won't you?
Sei was starting to get on my nerves again.
--I was actually looking forward to it, yes. Why don't you want me to
go?
--Prochaine station, Champ-de-Mars.
--It just...it reminds me too much of Lillian. Okay? Anyway, I hardly
ever go to Vieux-Montréal. It's a tourist trap even during the summer,
sort of place you go so you can pretend you're in Paris. Anyway, you
got here pretty late in the year, so a lot of the stuff there's closed
for the winter already. Bon-Secours has a museum, but I don't know if
it's closed for the winter or...
--I've never been in Paris. My year we went to Italy. Look, it's worth a
try, right? If you really don't want to go, I can go on my own...
--Station Champ-de-Mars.
The doors opened. I had just about had it with Sei. I stood up, with
half a mind to step off the train right then and there. Sei must have
thought I really was going to run off, because she rose as well.
--Okay, okay! I'm sorry...actually, we could go to Marché Bonsecours,
and you could go to the church if you want...how's that sound?
To try to stop me from running off, I thought, Sei had grabbed my
hand.
The doors closed again. She didn't let it go.
--Prochaine station, Berri-UQÀM.
Sei was looking me in the eye, an imploring look in her own eyes that
I'd never seen before. Almost panic. She gripped my hand tightly, as if
she was afraid I'd disappear if she let me go.
--Just don't run away on me like that. Okay?
--I'm sorry, I said.
And I was. Sei slowly let go of my hand.
--What's Marché Bonsecours? I asked
--The old market near the church. It's all converted into fancy
boutiques.
--How fancy?
--Really fancy. Trust me, you can't afford a darned thing in there.
--Good! That's the best kind!
--How materialistic of you.
For some reason, that struck me as terribly funny, funnier than it was
probably intended to be. I burst out laughing.
--I think Yumi's been a bad influence on you, Sei added, laughing too.
--Has she?
We both started giggling again, until we heard:
--Station Berri-UQÀM.
--That's our stop, said Sei. Come on.
---
Sei and I got out of the train, and I followed her to the escalator
downstairs. Just in front of us, as we stepped off, was yet another
escalator going down, obviously to another metro line; a yellow sign
over the escalator read LONGUEUIL-UNIVERSITÉ-DE-SHERBROOKE.
Sei walked over to the new escalator and hunched down a bit just
before it, indicating that I should do likewise. When I did I saw
the passageway to the next train, over which were hung several
paintings which looked like nothing so much as random blobs of
colour. Directly over the passageway was a slightly faded grey sign
with a logo of stick figures standing in a circle, and the slogan
RECREATION--SCIENCE--CULTURE
BIENVENUE À TERRE DES HOMMES
WELCOME TO MAN AND HIS WORLD
--What did I tell you about that art? said Sei. Really Sixties...
--What is Man and His World?
--Oh, you mean Expo? Yeah. It was an exhibition in 1967. Really,
really big deal. They built the metro for all the people who came for it.
That train goes to Parc Jean-Drapeau, where they held it. They still got
a few of the buildings from the Expo at the park. I can show them to
you, maybe. Biosphere...the casino...you're eighteen now, right?
--I'll pass on the casino, thank you.
--Oh, you're no fun any more.
Sei had the good sense to laugh as she said that, before going on:
--But yeah, so after the Expo I guess they kept the sign, so you'd
think it was still going on. Maybe they are living in the past. Or in
denial.
--Shouldn't we go down the escalator?
--No, we want the green line. It's this way.
We stood up and walked onto the green line platform. Berri-UQÀM
wasn't nearly as large as Lucien-L'Allier, but for all that its roof was
easily higher than that of Lillian's chapel. Above the tunnel where the
trains emerged was an enormous sainted-glass picture of what I
thought were two men and a woman, though the painting was more
than a little abstract, making it hard to tell their genders, much less
who they might be. It reminded me of the sort of painting one might
find behind an altar in a modern church. Perhaps it was the Holy
Family.
We stood together by the wall of the platform; standing was more
likely
to keep me from dozing than sitting, even if there had been any spare
seats on the platform. I decided to ask Sei if she knew who the people
were in the painting, to make conversation and keep myself awake.
--I'm not sure...I think the woman's Jeanne Mance and one of the
guys is Lord Maisonneuve. Don't know the other guy's name. Founders
of the city, basically.
I noticed a green sign reading DIRECTION HONORÉ-BEAUGRAND.
--Who is Honoré Beaugrand?
--Folklorist. Collected folktales all over French Canada. Like the
chasse-galerie.
Sei looked at me just then, and added:
--You know that story, right? They told it to us at Lillian Elementary.
--I didn't go to Lillian for elementary. I never got to hear it.
--Point.
Sei leaned against the wall, shutting her eyes, as if trying to
remember the details of the story. Suddenly her eyes flicked open, her
face drained of all expression.
--The chasse-galerie are a group of men who have sold their souls to
the devil. Often they are lumberjacks, working hundreds of miles from
civilization, spending the New Year in northern camps far from their
villages and the ones they love. The devil comes to offer them a deal.
He will make it possible for them to go home to their loved ones for
New Year's Eve and be back at camp by morning, by allowing them to
fly home in an enchanted canoe. There are two conditions which the
men must meet; if they do not, the devil will take their souls.
Condition one: during their flight, under no circumstances must their
canoe touch a church. Condition two: no matter what they do, none of
the men in the canoe must utter the name of God.
Then she looked back at me.
--Those conditions weren't as easy as they sound. Because the church
was the tallest building in your typical village, so you would have had
to fly pretty high to fly halfway across Quebec and not touch a church
steeple. That and lumberjacks swear like sailors, and it's pretty hard
to swear in Canadian French without blaspheming. All their cuss words
are the names of holy objects, tabernacle, host, chalice and so on, or
people, like Christ or the Virgin Mary, so if you're really pissed
about something you wind up saying something like...
Suddenly she drew a deep breath and appeared to break into a fury,
yelling at the top of her voice so everybody in the station could hear:
--Osti de maudit de tabar-NAK de CHRIST de saint-sacra-MENT...
Sei started kicking and screaming at the wall for good measure. People
started to stare at her. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry or beg
her to stop.
--...de BATÊME de CÂLISSE de CIBOIRE de sainte-VIARGE!
Sei suddenly stopped as quickly as she'd begun, and grinned at me.
--Awake yet?
I started laughing nervously, while all the people who'd been staring
at us immediately began to pretend they hadn't noticed a thing. Sei
started to laugh too.
--I learned how to do that pretty quick! she added.
Once we were done laughing, though, I had to ask:
--And?
--And what?
--Does the devil get the souls of the lumberjacks?
Just then our train arrived and pulled up to the platform.
--Depends on the lumberjacks, said Sei.
We stepped into the train and found our seats as the train slowly
pulled out and under the stained-glass towards Honoré-Beaugrand.
---
--Station Beaudry.
--Okay, said Sei. Get your stuff, and I'll show you Jacob's Ladder.
Jacob's Ladder? I thought. The doors of the metro opened, and I
grabbed my backpack and followed Sei on to the platform. The doors
shut behind us and the metro went on its way. As it pulled out I
thought I heard a chord being played.
--What's that tune? I asked.
--What, you mean when the metro pulls out? Just the noise of the
machinery on the train, said Sei. It sounds like music, though, yeah.
Pretty cool, eh?...Okay. This way.
--What do you mean by Jacob's Ladder? I asked, following Sei into a
passage marked with a sign reading SORTIE.
--That's what I call it. That, or the Stairway to Heaven. You can call
it what you like.
--Is it another piece of art?
--Not exactly, no.
I climbed the short flight of steps after Sei and looked to my right.
What Sei had called "Jacob's ladder" wasn't a ladder, of course, or
even a stairway as such. Leading from the platform of Beaudry station
to the turnstile far above was a long grey tunnel containing a long
moving sidewalk, of the sort one sees in airports. Several people,
some walking, some standing, were taking the sidewalk up and down.
An old woman in a veil--an Arab, I guessed--caught my eye as she let
the left-hand moving sidewalk slowly lead her down to the platform
just before she stepped off. A couple of well-groomed young men, who
had gotten out just ahead of us, stepped onto the right-hand sidewalk
and began walking up. I hesitated a moment.
--After you, said Sei. I'll catch you if you faint from exhaustion.
She was behind me, so I wasn't sure whether she was joking or not. It
took a little while to get to the top, long enough that when I got to
the top I was no longer paying attention and almost did trip.
Fortunately I regained my footing, and on reaching the top I walked
through the turnstile and up another short flight of walked through the
door of the station, which was marked RUE STE-CATHERINE.
The first thing I noticed on the opposite side of the street was a
liquor store, apparently called SAQ du Village.
--Check ben ça! said Sei from behind me.
I turned around to see Sei dramatically gesturing toward the door to
Beaudry station, which I now saw had pillars in rainbow colours just
above the door. It was then that I realized what "village" I was in.
--See that? First time I saw that, I thought, welcome to heaven!
---
We didn't have that much farther to walk. Sei lived in a modest
townhouse on rue Panet, a couple of blocks from the station. I couldn't
help but notice a skyscraper at the far end of the street, with a logo
on it I'd never seen before. As we walked up to her door Sei saw me
looking at it.
--Radio-Canada building. TV station.
Sei let herself in the front door. Once in the hall I could smell
something cooking.
--Madeleine, chus revenue! T'es-tu là?
--Ouais, j'arrive.
After a minute or so ("My landlady's old, she's kind of slow; don't
worry, she's coming," said Sei), Sei's landlady came into the hall.
--Salut, Sei. C'est-tu ta blonde, elle?
--J't'ai dis, est pas ma blonde! Est une amie, juste. Shimako, this is
Madeleine Cadieux, my landlady.
Madeleine Cadieux was a plump French Canadian woman--I never
asked her
her age, but I suppose she was in her sixties. She smiled at me and
offered her hand, which I accepted, bowing slightly as I did.
--Je suis heureuse de faire votre reconnaissance, I said in my
carefully practiced French. Je me présente: Shimako Todo.
It must have sounded rehearsed, because she laughed and replied:
--Fais-toé-z-en pas, j'te mangerai pas! Moé, c'est Madeleine. Entre,
entre, assis-toé...Shimako, n'est-ce-pas? J'vais faire des hot-dogs
pour dîner, tu veux-tu que'qu'chose à manger...?
I knew she had to be speaking French, but I had never learned to
speak it all that well, and Mme. Cadieux spoke so quickly, and her
Canadian accent was so thick, that she was all but incomprehensible.
Sei took pity on me.
--À parle pas français, elle.
--Do you speak English? said Mme. Cadieux.
--Yes...I speak a little...a bit...
--Do you want some lunch? I am making hot-dogs...
--No...thank you...I want...to sleep...I said as best I could, making a
"pillow" out of my hands and resting my head on it.
--Laisse-la tranquille, said Sei, à vient d'arriver à Dorval du Japon,
à n'a pas dormi...y la faut une sièste en haut, juste.
--Ah bon...pis toé, Sei, tu veux-tu...
--Donne-moé une minute, Madeleine, j'arrive.
--OK...bon dodo, Shimako!
---
Sei led me upstairs to her room.
--Smart move. That's why I've been putting on weight, Sei said. She
keeps making me eat. I've had to learn to blow her off. Were you
actually hungry though?
--No...I did nothing on the plane but eat...
--Figures...Okay, you'll be in here. You're the guest, you need a bed.
I'll be on the couch in the living room.
--Will you be all right?
--It's a comfy couch, so yeah.
Sei led me into her room and put my hand luggage in a corner. I took
off my backpack and looked around the room. Across from a double
bed--Sei's, obviously--was a cheap combination wardrobe, mirror and
dresser, with Sei's makeup sitting on the dresser beside some older
perfumes and makeups that might easily have been there for thirty or
forty years.
Sei had put Yumi's frog sitting flush with the mirror.
On one wall was a picture of Our Lady, as well as another picture of
the man I had seen on the billboard on the train from the airport.
--Apparently this is Mme. Cadieux's old room--Madeleine's mother, I
mean, said Sei. This is her mother's house. She moved back in to look
after her mother before she died, and stayed here after she died. Oh
yeah--guy on the wall's Frère André, guy who built the Oratoire.
Apparently he was a faith healer. Madeleine tells me to pray to him
whenever I feel sick. 'Course, I never do...
--Isn't she married? I asked.
--Madeleine, you mean? Nah. She was, but the husband left her years
ago, for...I dunno...some good-looking bimbo, was more or less what
she told me. What'd she call her? Belle mais épaisse. Pretty but dumb.
When Madeleine's father died her mother made her husband's pension
go further by renting out Madeleine's old room. Now Madeleine makes
her alimony go further by renting out her mother's old room.
--You know a lot about her, I said.
--She told me. She'll tell all her business to anyone who'll listen.
She's an old woman, she's lonely, her friends are starting to die off.
Hardly ever goes out any more except to go grocery shopping and go
to funerals, or mass. Says she's got a brother, but he's in Toronto and
never visits or even calls, even at Christmas. She has kids with the
husband, but they're no help either. I think she needs the company as
much as the money. Fine by me. Small price to pay for free French
lessons and dirt-cheap rent in the Village.
--I thought you spoke French.
--Not really. Not like her. There's really no good way to learn, except
to live here for a while. All the French I learned, when I had to learn
to speak it for real, I learned from her. That, and TV.
--I see.
--We get on pretty well, actually. When I asked if it was all right for
you to stay over, she said, "So, I'm going to meet your Japanese
blonde, finally?" I said, "There aren't any blondes in Japan," then she
laughed and said she meant my girlfriend. That's what she was asking
me when you came in. "Is this girl your girlfriend?"
--There's really nobody else?
--Hm?
--You're not seeing anybody right now?
Sei pulled a face.
--I don't like French Canadian girls. They're ugly.
She must have decided that by itself that would be a very lame
excuse,
because she went on:
--Anyway, not like I could really stay here if I did. She told me
upfront, you pick someone up at a bar and you try bringing her here,
out you go. You're actually the first visitor I've had here. Just now
she was joking, I think, but it actually took a while to convince her
you were just a friend from school.
--I see.
--Not that I blame her really. She's rented to too many assholes who'd
bring a new boy home every night, or try to. Truth is she doesn't like
gay people very much.
--Does she know about you? I had to ask.
--Yeah. She figured it out pretty quick.
--But then, why...?
--Because I behave. Helps I'm a girl, I guess. She tells me I'm the
best lodger she's ever had. Of course that's usually after she makes
some crack about les crisses de tapettes--the goddamn faggots--
making
it too expensive to live around here, causing trouble and running the
place into the ground, then she'll realize she's talking to me and say,
"Oh dear, I don't mean you, Sei!"
--You don't take it personally?
--No, I don't take it personally. After she's done with the gays she'll
start in on the Muslims, who take everybody's jobs and won't speak
French...Look, she's good people really. She's old. Old people don't
like things to change. She was living here long before this
neighbourhood became the Village. Besides, she never gets out any
more. All she does is eat and watch TV. No family, no friends. What
else is she going to talk about?
Sei said that very firmly; I wasn't sure whether it was so much to
underline the truth of what she'd said, or just to declare the subject
closed.
--Sorry to talk your ear off like that, she went on. It's eleven-
thirty. When do you want me to give you a shake?
--Hm. I don't know...four o'clock, maybe?
--Okay. You sleep. If you want anything, I'll be downstairs trying to
read Atwood and not eat too many hot dogs, and thinking where to
take you for supper. Nice thing about this town is you won't go
hungry. Trust me, there's more to eat on rue Saint-Denis than hot
dogs. Sweet dreams...
Sei walked out of the room and shut the door. I lay down on the bed,
not bothering to undress or even pull the covers over me. So Sei was
alone. Of course I had had no idea what Sei's life was like in Canada.
Then again, Sei had never talked much about herself even in the old
days at Lillian. She had only told me and Yumi about Shiori Kubo
because everybody knew about Sei and Shiori, so there was no point
in keeping it a secret from us.
Just then I realized where I had seen that light in her eyes before.
I'd seen it, sometimes, when she was teasing Yumi.
Did Sei really think I had become beautiful?
For that matter, did Sei really believe she was in heaven? It occurred
to me that Sei must be terribly lonely. She had no other Japanese
people to talk to as far as I knew. I was the first to visit her here.
Sei must have been overjoyed to see me. I had to wonder whether
just now Sei had really been talking about Madeleine or about herself.
I slept more lightly than I thought I would; whether it was excitement
or the side effects of the coffee I'd drunk on the plane I don't know.
I dreamt I was back on the moving sidewalk, moving up towards the
light of the street. Just then, on the left sidewalk, I saw Sachiko pass
by me, in her old Lillian school uniform, a defeated look on her face. I
looked behind me to find Sei, but she wasn't behind me after all. I
turned back to where Sachiko had been, but she had disappeared into
the dark of the station below. Coming slowly down the sidewalk was
Yumi following Sachiko down into the dark. Just behind her was Sei.
TSUZUKU
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