I asked Sei as we stepped into Beaudry station that evening:
--Is the club we're going to very far away?
--Not really. We're only going to Berri-UQÀM. I just remembered I need
to get you a metro card.
We walked down the steps to the turnstile, and Sei asked the attendant:
--Une carte de trois jours, s'il vous plaît.
--Seize dollars.
Sei passed him a bill, and the attendant passed her back a card which
she immediately handed to me, which read CARTE TOURISTIQUE.
--Guard that with your life. Show it to the attendant and they'll let
you through.
--I could have paid for that on my own, I protested (though I admit not
too forcefully).
--Pay me back when you're rich and famous.
Sei ran her pass through the reader and walked through, waiting for me
to show the pass to the attendant and walk through myself before she
stepped on the moving sidewalk.
--So...is Berri-UQÀM still in the Village?
--Not as such, why?
--I just thought we'd be going to a club you went to often.
--We are. I go to this club all the time...why? You thought I was taking
you to a lesbian club?
Sei was looking at me as if I'd lost my wits. Sei Sato had never made a
secret of her attraction to women. However, this was the first time I
had heard her breathe the word "lesbian," and now she spat the word as
if it were an obscenity.
--Why? You want to go to one? she went on. There's actually not that
many in the Village. There's one near Peel station I go to
sometimes...you want to go there, instead? I don't mind...
It was perfectly obvious that she did.
--No, it's all right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions
like that...
--No, it's fine, it's just...I figured that'd be the last place you'd
want me to take you. Coming?
So saying, Sei stepped on the moving sidewalk, and after a moment's
hesitation I stepped on myself, following her slowly down into the
station.
-
Les filles du lys de la montagne, chapter three -
A Maria-sama ga miteru (Marimite) fanfic by Paul Corrigan -
Marimite concept devised by Oyuki Konno --
-
I --
--Et pour boire, mam'zelle?
--Une Maudite. Do you know what you want, Shimako?
--I should probably have hot chocolate, I said.
Rue Saint-Denis was lined with old townhouses that had been converted
into any number of fashionable bars and cafés. Juliette et Chocolat,
which (Sei had assured me) sold the best French crêpes in Montreal and
the best hot chocolate in the civilized world as far as she knew, was in
the lower level of one of them.
There were two motifs to the décor. Chocolate, of course, was one of
them. Framed prints of vintage advertisements for chocolate hung on the
walls; beside our table was a poster showing a child peering into a
bird's nest containing a chocolate bar, the caption reading CHOCOLAT
NESTLÉ. The other, oddly enough, was roses; the menus had drawings of
red roses on the front cover, and on the wall behind the counter (just
above Sei's head, from my perspective) was a large lamp made of red
paper suggesting a large red rose.
Juliette et chocolat was obviously popular, metal tables and wicker
chairs occupied by groups of girlfriends as well as couples, some man
and woman, some two women. I couldn't help thinking it should have been
the Rosas Chinensis here instead of the Rosas Gigantea. Perhaps it was
somewhere like this that Toko had in mind for her date with Yumi. Sei
for her part had never been the sort to take her petite soeur out on
"dates." I admit her apparent determination to treat me like a princess
the whole time I was in Montreal was rather flattering.
--You don't have to have chocolate, said Sei. I'm having a beer. You
wanna order something stronger?
--I don't think I should, I replied.
--You're sure? You're eighteen, now, right? You're legal here.
--We don't drink in my family, I said, a bit too firmly.
--Oh. Right. No meat, then, either, I guess?
--No, thank you.
--Okay. Pour mon amie, une Végétarienne pis un noir mi-amer à
l'ancienne.
--Okay, said the waitress, writing down our orders. Une minute.
She went off to see about our food, and Sei said to me:
--You can take the girl away from the Buddha, but you can't take the
Buddha away from the girl.
--Is that bad?
--Not always.
The waitress brought Sei a glass and a bottle of beer, most of which Sei
poured into the glass and immediately drank down without stopping to
breathe.
--I ought to warn you, though, Sei went on, you might get pretty warm in
the club wearing that sweater.
Sei herself had changed her top before we left, exchanging her white
sweater for a black t-shirt so tight it seemed to be painted on her.
--I was afraid you would be cold, wearing that. This is the lightest top
I brought with me. And the nicest. Don't you like it?
--No, I do. Just saying. You don't have to wear so many clothes all the
time. It's cold in Canada, but they do have central heating. I guess you
wouldn't do this much at home, eh? Go clubbing, I mean.
--Is that all right?
--Well, yeah. I'd be more worried if you were partying every weekend.
What, you think I had time to go to clubs in my senior year? You are
indeed privileged, my dear, Sei added, winking, for tonight's "Train
Shimako for College" night.
It was not, I should add, as if I had never had the opportunity to go to
a club. Rei Hasekura had invited Yoshino Shimazu to a club near her
university for Yoshino's eighteenth birthday; Yoshino had invited me and
Yumi to come with her, but we had both turned her down (we both had a
mock exam the next day). When we asked her about it the day after, just
before the Yamiyurikai meeting, Yoshino claimed to have had quite a nice
time, though it would have been nothing short of heavenly (Yoshino
claimed) if Rei hadn't been visibly upset at the idea of Yoshino dancing
with any of the boys at the club.
--She wanted to spend time with you on your birthday. You didn't just
ignore her the whole night, I hope? I'd offered, perfectly sure Yoshino,
who was nothing if not jealous of Rei, wouldn't have done anything of
the kind.
--We could have spent time together at home! Yoshino replied. It wasn't
like I was going to leave with some guy I didn't even know. I'm not
stupid. I wanted to have fun on my birthday. Rei needs to loosen up. Is
she really going to treat me like I'm made of glass for the rest of my
life?
We might never have learned the real reason why Rei had been so upset if
a hot-headed freshman from the Journalism Club had not barged into the
Yamiyurikai meeting room a few minutes later. She was not asking for
permission to publish the photos she had taken of Rosa Foetida letting
at least three men deep-kiss and fondle her on the dance floor of the
club; she simply wished to know if Rosa Foetida had any comment that she
could add to the article that she assured us was going in the
newspaper's next issue.
I wonder if the freshman was satisfied when Rosa Foetida was so
absolutely thunderstruck at the question as to be rendered mute on the
spot.
Rosa Chinensis, however, merely looked the photos over calmly, then
folded her hands and coldly asked the young reporter:
--May I ask, miss, what a freshman from Lillian Academy was doing in a
club for university students in the first place? Do you plan to explain
that in your article? And may I ask how else you are qualified to write
about adults?
Sei poured the rest of the beer into her glass, drank it in one gulp,
and showed me the label on the bottle, which depicted men paddling a
canoe in the middle of the air.
--Here we go. That's the magic canoe from the chasse-galerie story, she
said. They're flying over Montreal. This is the Basilique Notre-Dame
over here, and over here's the Oratoire St-Joseph. Excusez, une autre
Maudite?
--Bien sûr.
If the waitress, who was just then serving me my chocolate in a small
china pot usually used to serve tea, was surprised to see how quickly
Sei had drunk her beer, she did not let it show.
The chocolate itself was dark, not too sweet, very thick, and as Sei had
promised, easily the best I had ever tasted.
--So, said Sei, after taking a long swig of beer, how's Noriko? She
still helping out at Shoguji?
I should have expected Sei to ask about Noriko sooner or later, but I
hadn't expected it to be the first question out of her mouth. I put down
my chocolate, suddenly unable to look at her, saying nothing.
--Did I say something wrong? she asked.
--No...it's just...I started.
--Wait...on your arm. Is that the rosary I gave you?
I really ought to have known better than to leave the rosary on my arm.
As I'd lifted my arm to drink my chocolate, my sweater had ridden up my
arm a bit farther than I'd thought it would, revealing the rosary for
all to see.
--Yes, it is.
--I thought you gave my rosary to Noriko...
--I didn't.
--You didn't?
--She borrowed it. That's how she put it when she asked to be my soeur.
The other day she gave it back.
--What?
Sei put down her beer and looked at me, clearly in shock.
--She gave you back your rosary? Sweet Jesus, why? She doesn't want to
be Rosa Gigantea any more? Or did you guys have a fight?
--It wasn't like that...
--Oh for...
As if for punctuation Sei drained the rest of her beer. The waitress was
just then bringing us our crêpes.
--Une autre Maudite, said Sei.
--Oui...bien sûr. Un instant.
The waitress put down the crêpes in front of us and went to fetch Sei
another beer.
--Don't you think you're drinking too fast? I had to ask.
--No. Shimako, what's going on here? Is she angry at you about
something?
--It wasn't like that...She seemed almost happy...
--Votre Maudite, mam'zelle, said the waitress, who had come with Sei's
beer.
--Merci.
Sei poured out her third beer, drank a large swallow and went on:
--Happy about what? Someone flings your rosary in your face, they're
usually pretty damned unhappy...
--She didn't fling it in my face! Sei...you don't know Noriko the way I
do. She'd never do anything like that. She didn't make a fuss at all.
She didn't even want anybody else to know. You're the first person I've
told.
--Then what was the point of giving it back?
--Well...I'd told her I was going here to look at universities,
but...when she found out you were here, she took me aside and gave it
back to me. I didn't want to take it, but she insisted...If you don't
want it, she said, give it back to Sei Sato when you get to Montreal.
--What? Why? Shimako, I gave you that rosary. I don't want it back. You
can tell Noriko that too. If she doesn't want it, tell her to throw it
away if she's...
--I think...I think it was her way of saying I belonged with you.
--Belonged with me? What's that supposed to...
Sei trailed off, her eyes suddenly going wide. She took another sip of
beer before going on:
--Does she know about me?
--Yes. Yes, she does.
--Who told her? You?
--No. Toko Matsudaira.
--You could have, you know. I wouldn't actually have minded.
--I didn't think it mattered.
--Shimako, are you trying to tell me Noriko thought we were a couple?
--Yes. I think so.
--Shit.
--What?
--I said shit.
Sei took a long sip of her beer, as if for punctuation, before going on:
--What the hell gave her that idea? How often do we even see each other
any more? And even if we did...
Sei put down her beer, looked me in the eye, and added:
--She's got to know you're not like that. You told her that, right?
It was not an accusation. It was not even a question. Sei Sato, the one
person I was sure would have immediately figured out the truth, could
not even imagine that I could possibly have done what I did with Noriko
Nijo, what I was sure was written all over my face in a script Sei, of
all people, could easily read had she wanted to. She could not--no, she
would not see.
I hesitated for far too long.
--Right? said Sei.
--I told her we were never like that, but she didn't listen. There was
nothing I could do...
--You didn't have to take the rosary back. You should have said, no,
that's yours. You keep that...
--She's a lot like you, you know, I finally managed to say.
--How's that? said Sei. She likes hitting on cute girls?
--No, no...I mean she's her own person. Anything she does, it's because
she wants to do it. She has a horror of hierarchy too, even in the
Yamiyurikai. She never even calls me oneesama. I couldn't just force her
to take my rosary back, even if I'd wanted to...it wasn't that she
wasn't jealous of me, like Yumi used to be with Sachiko. You were never
possessive of me either. She knew I was fond of you. It's not as if I'd
forgotten you. She never held it against me before. She must have
thought she couldn't ever compare to you...that she wasn't really worthy
of me. She was really sweet about it, as if she had done something
wrong...
--So...what? You think she thinks you became soeurs because she reminded
you of me? That's what you're trying to say?
--Something like that.
--And there was absolutely nothing you could do or say to change her
mind?
--No. She began our relationship, she ended it. I'm sorry. I should have
been more assertive, shouldn't I?
--Cheer up. It's not your fault, okay?
Sei was smiling at me almost maternally now.
--Eat your crepe before it gets cold, all right? We're supposed to be
having fun here, eh? Her loss, anyway...
--Do you find that strange? I asked Sei, as I started to eat.
--What?
--It could be true. She did remind me a lot of you. I must be attracted
to that kind of person...
Now it was Sei's smile that faded. She picked up her glass and took
another sip of beer, the look in her eyes contemplative, faraway, a
little sad.
--No, I don't find it strange at all.
--Sei?
--Hm?
--What was the reason you picked me as your soeur?
By way of response Sei leaned in really close until I could smell the
beer on her breath, and whispered in my ear:
--'Cause I like your face...
--You're drunk!
Sei laughed out loud at my obvious irritation.
--Good. That means I'm ready for the club. How's your food?
--Fine, I said. Sei, I'm asking a serious question...
Sei drained her beer and went on, more seriously, playing with the glass
as she did so:
--That's what oneesama said to me. When she asked me to be her soeur, I
mean. I was like, fine, whatever...
--And that's why she made you her soeur?
--Why, did she need a better reason? She liked me for some reason. I can
think of worse reasons than that, like--I don't know. Trying to get out
of the school play, or because her grande soeur told her to, like
Sachiko. Maybe I like people like you. That's not a crime, eh? You're
thinking about it too hard, Shimako. I liked you. I didn't need a reason
to like having you around, did I? I'll have another for the road.
Serveuse? Une autre Maudite pis un verre d'eau. Shimako, you want
anything else?
--No, I'm fine.
--Vous êtes sûre, mam'zelle? asked the waitress. Ça serait votre
quatrième...
--Ouais, chus sûre, Sei answered, a little gruffly. C'est correct?
--Oui, bien sûr.
The waitress did not try to argue further, but did look apprehensive as
she went off to fetch another bottle of beer.
--Do you normally drink this much, Sei? I asked.
--It's a special occasion. And it makes me hungry for my supper.
Mmm...crêpe.
Sei had hardly touched her crêpe while we had been talking; now, though,
she dove into it, polishing it off at breakneck speed.
--Anyway, Sei went on, in between bites, I don't know why people liked
my face. I never did.
--Why not?
--People were always thinking my father was white. I mean, I do look
like my dad, but he's Japanese. Of course, grandma raised him on her
own. For all I know my granddad really was a Marine. I don't know, and
it's not like she's telling. That's why dad's a self-made man. Wasn't
high class enough for anyone to do him any favours...Anyway, it was a
real pain in the ass. I hated it. Of course, then I come to Canada, and
I tell actual white people that, like Madeleine, and they're like, you
look Asian to me...I dunno. Guess I should chalk it down to training.
--For being a foreigner?
--Among other things. Fitting in isn't something I'm good at.
I had in fact always liked Sei Sato's face: her light-coloured hair, her
round, grey eyes. I had not been the only one, least of all at Lillian
Academy. Her exotic good looks were a perfect contrast to that of the
classically Japanese beauty of the daughters of good families who were
so common at Lillian, like Yoko Mizuno or Sachiko Ogasawara-
or, when I thought of it, Noriko Nijo. Nobody at Lillian would ever have
mistaken Noriko for anything but Japanese.
Sei finally finished her crêpe, and picked up her water glass to take a
drink of water.
--Don't you fit in here?
--Hm? What you mean? said Sei, looking up.
--I mean...here you're with people who are like you, right?
Sei gave me a withering look, and replied rather dryly:
--Miss Shimako, what we have here is a failure to communicate. I didn't
say I moved out here because I thought Canada was lesbian la-la land,
did I? If I wanted to hang out with lesbians I could have done it in
Japan. Not like I didn't know where to find them, down in Shinjuku.
Hell, I didn't even have to go there. I knew where they were at Lillian
U. I didn't hang out with you because I thought you were a lesbian,
right? Listen. In Canada I don't get treated like some freak of nature.
Which is great. I can go days, weeks sometimes, without people reminding
me I'm a lesbian. Without even having to think about it. I can just be
me. Shimako, this may come as a shock, but the fact is I don't hang out
with lesbians very much. That club I told you about? I haven't been
there in months.
--You're right. I'm sorry...
--No need to be sorry, it's just...if you really want to know, I don't
even like a lot of lesbians. I'm even thinking of switching majors.
--From Women's Studies? Why?
--It's like--have you ever spent time with some of these people? They
spend every day of their lives thinking about how they're lesbians and
how great the world will be when they can stop men from fucking it
up...oh, and if you have a moment to yourself that you don't spent
fighting for women's issues you're not really a lesbian...That's it!
They remind me of the nuns. You know how people say the nuns are all
closeted lesbians? I'm beginning to think it's the other way around. You
know? It's like a cult or something. That's the sort of thing I was
trying to get away from...I don't want to be a member of the lesbian
club. I'm not a joiner, never was...
--Neither is Noriko, I said.
--Hm? What makes you say that? Sei asked.
--I was just thinking of Noriko just now. Toko Matsudaira drives her
crazy, trying to get her to join clubs and be her friend...
--Oh yeah, Sei replied, laughing. Yoko used to want me to do that
too...I feel for the kid...
--You really are very much alike, you know. You'd like her...
--Yeah, well...
Sei took another sip of water and went on:
--Anyway, most of my friends in Montreal are gay guys, actually. I feel
a lot more comfortable around them. Don't take themselves nearly as
seriously, that's for sure. They have much more fun. All those clubs
along rue Sainte-Catherine in the Village? Almost all of them are gay
clubs. I can relax, have a beer, not worry about the guys in there
trying to pick me up. Safest place for a woman on God's green earth.
Point being if I'm going to hang out with anybody, it'd better be with
people I actually like...
--Like me?
Sei looked at me a moment, seeming to consider before smiling and
replying:
--Yeah, like you.
She suddenly laughed and added:
--Maybe I'll switch to your department instead. We can take all the same
classes...
--You really don't have to, I said laughing a little nervously. I wasn't
sure if she meant it or not.
--That reminds me, Sei went on, what do you want to major in? I was
thinking it had to be something environmental...
--What? I said. Like biology? I really don't know...my math grades
aren't that good. I hadn't really thought about it that carefully...
--You always liked plants, right?
--Oh, I don't know, Sei...that was always more a hobby. Collecting
gingko nuts and things...I couldn't make a living off that!
--Just saying...it might as well be something you like, eh? You'll
probably being doing something with it for the rest of your
life...something you're devoted to, you know? If you hate it, why
bother?
Devotion. Sei made it sound like a vocation. Were the lesbians closeted
nuns, as she'd said? Perhaps it was she, not I, who would have made an
excellent sister.
--I suppose I'm asking...said Sei, putting down her water glass.
--Yes?
--Shimako...what do you want to do with your life?
--I'm sorry?
--You used to want to be a nun...but you don't any more. What do you
want to do?
--I'm not sure I know...why? What do you want to do with your life?
Sei seemed just as ill-prepared as me for the question, finally
answering with a chuckle:
--Not Women's Studies that's for sure.
--Sei?
--Hm?
--I was just thinking...maybe we could go to the Village and see your
friends? I wouldn't mind meeting some of them...
--Hm? To a gay club, you mean?...I dunno. I suppose...
The idea did not seem to horrify Sei, as the idea of taking me to a
lesbian club had done, but for all that she did not seem enthusiastic.
--You don't want to do that?
--Well...let me put it this way...we'd probably be the only women there.
They'll notice you and me, and they know me. If Madeleine thinks we're a
couple, you bet your life they will. You sure you want that kind of
attention? I mean, they're okay guys, most of them, but...it might be a
bit awkward, okay? Straight club, we don't have to worry about people
getting the wrong idea.
With that Sei finished her water, suddenly grinned and added:
--Besides, if you want me to corrupt you, we'll have to take it a step
at a time, eh? Serveuse! La facture!
-
II --
--This all you got?
The bouncer, a heavyset white man not much older than Sei, did not
bother addressing me in French as I gave him my passport.
--Yes, I said.
After looking at it a little longer than was probably necessary, he
handed it back to me and said:
--All right, you're fine.
I had been glad of my sweater while standing in line for half an hour
just to get in the door of Club Rose Latulippe, though Sei, as we had
stood out in the cold, had assured me that the queue to get in was quite
short compared to what one might see on Saturday night. "In winter, no
less," she'd added. We'd passed the time in line swapping lighter
anecdotes about our lives since we'd seen each other last; when the
conversation dropped, I watched the other clubbers behind me in line,
the women (I noticed) dressed not much more under their jackets than
Sei, some even less, shivering even in what Sei assured me wasn't that
cold an autumn night.
Through the door of the club was a staircase leading down into the
basement. It wasn't until we had checked our coats at the cloakroom at
the bottom of the stairs and gone through the door to the main dance
hall that I realized that Sei had been right; the first thing I noticed
on entering was the heat, the work of human exertion as much as anything
else. Then again, I was glad at that point just to be inside.
The bar was just a few steps inside the door, a very modern affair, all
black-paneled wood and glass. Sei stopped there to order a Red Bull and
vodka for herself and (after another token attempt to get me to take
something stronger) a glass of water for me, before leading me to the
dance floor. The décor there was, for the most part, just as modern as
the bar, a few black leather sofas and glass tables for those sitting
out any given number, mirrors on the side walls. The back wall, just
behind the disk jockey, was what struck me, taken up as it was entirely
by a picture--a reproduction of a painting, perhaps--of a peasant woman
not so much dancing with as swooning in the arms of a dark, handsome,
well-dressed man at a long-ago country dance.
Tonight's dance was in full swing, and with the DJ playing music at full
blast Sei had to almost shout in my ear to tell me:
--That's Rose Latulippe. The girl who danced with the devil.
Sei led me to one of the couches, where we both sat for a few minutes,
drinking our drinks and watching the dancers. The lighting in the club
was rather dim, the lights on the dance floor dominated by reds and
oranges, giving the whole place, I had to admit, an infernal air. It
must have been partly deliberate, but I still felt intimidated, and I
was rather grateful not to be dragged immediately onto the dance floor
by Sei.
For all that, I had expected Sei to be eager to hit the dance floor
quickly. As it was, she sat beside me a long time in silence, sipping
her drink, watching the dancers, not looking at me. She was not so much
withdrawn as hesitant, looking as if trying to gather up courage.
--Aren't you going to go dance? I said (or rather shouted in Sei's ear)
at last.
--What? Without you?
--I'm not much of a dancer. Go ahead. I'll watch.
--Oh come on, Shimako! I brought you here so we could have fun, not so
you could watch me have fun with a bunch of other people.
--What's wrong? Don't you see anybody here you like?
I had said that to tease her, but Sei looked at me as she said that, an
apprehensive look suddenly in her eyes. She put down her drink and
replied:
--I'm going to the washroom. Watch my drink, eh?
I was about to offer to go with her, but suddenly thought better of it
and watched her stand up and walk towards the sign TOILETTES at the
corner of the floor and disappear into the adjacent corridor.
I couldn't help but guess that what was making her apprehensive was me.
To someone like Sei I suppose it would sound like a proposition, one
that, for all her teasing, she didn't dare accept. I couldn't help but
remember when she had met me in the Rose Mansion after my date with
Shizuka Kanina. I had fallen sobbing into her lap, and as she soothed me
she had offered to give me a kiss herself, or whatever else I pleased.
Another of her teases.
But what might have happened if I had said yes?
Mostly out of curiosity I took a sip of Sei's drink. It tasted like a
mix of liquid gelatine and cough medicine, of no appeal to me at all,
and I put the glass down and watched the people dance frantically, some
in groups to amuse each other, some alone to impress the others, some in
couples to seduce each other. I couldn't help but notice one couple, who
were already not so much dancing as making love on the dance floor,
embracing and deep kissing.
--Please tell me this isn't you, Yoshino...
The photographer had reluctantly left the meeting room, clearly not
pleased to be outwitted by Rosa Chinensis, muttering darkly about
censorship. When we were satisfied she was out of earshot Yumi pushed
the photos towards Yoshino, a concerned look on her face.
--So what if it was? Yoshino asked.
--Yoshino, please. Don't worry about the paper. I'll talk to Tsutako.
Don't worry about anything. I just want to know...
--Why? What's to know? I met some hot guys and got kisses out of them?
So what? Am I supposed to be satisfied with pretending to be in love
with some other girl forever like you?
I expected Yumi to get angry at that remark, but instead she was silent
a moment, before answering, a little sadly:
--Yoshino, I don't know about you, but I wasn't pretending. Neither was
Sachiko. Shall I tell you how I know that?
Toko, who was seated next to Yumi, turned towards her in surprise.
Yoshino's eyes went wide in shock. She suddenly turned towards me where
I sat, Noriko standing beside me, moving at Yoshino's gaze ever so
slightly nearer.
--Oh my God. It's true. I'm the only normal person in this room, aren't
I?
--Oneesama?
Yoshino jumped at the sound, turning back to see Nana Arima, Rosa
Foetida en bouton, just inside the door, arriving just in time for the
meeting. Yumi quickly turned the photos over.
--How much of that did you hear? Yumi asked.
--Oneesama, is something wrong?
--No, no, nothing's wrong, said Yoshino. You know what? Today would be a
great day for some Rosa Foetida quality time. Just you and me.
--But I thought we had a meeting right now...started Nana.
--Sure we do! Us two have a meeting! Let's go, 'kay?
Yoshino walked over to Nana and took her hand, turning back before she
dragged Nana down the corridor to declare:
--Here's a headline for the paper! "Yellow Rose Revolution! Final
Battle!"
C'est l'gros fun noir chez Joe Picard Une veillée comme on en voit peu
Ça sonne a la porte, onze heures moins quart C'est un étranger, beau
comme un dieu
--Wanna dance?
It was a man's voice in my ear. I turned to see who it was. A young man,
about Sei's age, wearing a t-shirt saying MONTREAL. A tourist himself,
presumably. By his expression he must have liked what he saw.
--Well...
--She's with me.
The man looked up behind me.
--What?
--I said she's with me.
I turned around to see Sei behind me, just in time to see her glaring
dangerously at the man before looking down, grinning and grabbing my
hand.
--I love this one. Come on, let's dance.
The DJ apparently had decided it was time for a change; he had been
playing rock songs in English when we had arrived, much of it augmented
by an electronic beat, but now he had put on a song in French that
sounded like a rock version of a folk song. Before I knew what was
happening Sei was dragging me onto the dance floor, leaving the young
man alone on the couch, mouthing a curse under his breath before rising
and walking towards the bar.
--I told you I can't dance, I said. It wasn't quite true, but I would
have looked quite odd doing a traditional fan dance here.
--Neither can I.
I felt myself very clumsy at first, doing my best to copy Sei's
gyrations, pumping her arms and shaking her hips, grinning devilishly,
making as if she were having the time of her life. She must have been
being modest; her dancing attracted a lot of attention, impressing women
and men, some of whom she favoured with a brief dance, but never for
long before returning her attention to me.
Being with Sei, though, brought me attention of my own. At one point a
man stepped in front of me, dancing aggressively; being unsure what to
do I was going to dance with him out of politeness, but Sei suddenly cut
between us, dancing just as aggressively in front of him, her grin
turning nasty, as if to say, You want her, do you? Well, you'll have to
go through me.
Pis quand Jésus danse c'est l'bout de tout Il transpire même de l'eau
bénite De peur d'en recevoir une goutte Le démon décide de prendre la
fuite
The man quickly backed off. He could see Sei was determined to defend me
from all comers.
At length I excused myself so I could go to the bathroom. I tried to ask
her to come with me, but it was impossible to talk over the din; she
guessed what I wanted, and mouthed, Go on. As I left the dance floor I
turned back to look. Even the pretense of a smile had vanished, and now
Sei's dancing became even more frenzied, as if she did not dare to stop,
or could not stop, perhaps possessed.
--
--Crazy bitch!
The first thing I heard as we emerged from the club was a young woman
screaming at another, who was just then running across rue Saint-Denis
to a car, having apparently not brought a jacket.
I myself was glad to be back in the cool air of the street. Sei had
stayed on the dance floor until they had closed, fuelled by Red Bulls
and vodka. That, of course, meant I had had little chance to rest
myself.
--Perhaps we should take the metro back? I suggested.
--Can't. It's...what? Three a.m.?...Metro shuts down at one...oops!
Sei stumbled near the top of the stairs, grabbing the banister just in
time.
--Maybe we should get a taxi then...are you all right?
--I'm fine! I'm fine!...Just need some air...it's not that far
anyway...I feel like a walk. Clear my head, you know?...Don't worry,
I've walked home in worse state than this. I remember where I live at
least. Rue Sainte-Catherine pis rue Panet. I'm good. Darn. Evening ends
when I'm just getting started...
I slipped an arm under hers as we started walking down rue Saint-Denis,
holding her up as we slipped through the revelers as the bars and clubs
disgorged, waiting for taxis, smoking cigarettes, shouting. At the
corner of rue Saint Denis and boulevard de Maisonneuve, a young woman
was crying hysterically, obviously drunk herself. She had a couple of
male companions, talking to her calmly, obviously trying to console her,
but she pushed them away, screaming what even I could tell was an
obscenity.
I did not actually mind walking. I am used to walking in the countryside
around Shoguji, and a walk is never as tiring when one has a companion.
However, now Sei had stopped dancing, the energy had gone out of her. We
had only just turned onto rue Sainte-Catherine when Sei said:
--Actually, Shimako? I need to sit down for a bit.
--You sure you're all right?
--'Course I'm all right! Our Lady's watching me!
Sei slipped out of my grasp and gestured dramatically upward.
We were standing in front of Chapelle Notre-Dame-de-Lourdes. Above us
was, indeed, a metal-plated statue of Our Lady, overlooking the street
from the roof of the church, wearing the starry crown of the Queen of
Heaven. I couldn't help but notice the plaque beside the church door as
well:
VOUS QUI PASSEZ GENS DE HAUT SAVOIR OU GENS DE LA RUE GENS QUI
CONTEMPLEZ DIEU OU GENS QUI L'AVEZ OUBLIÉ ENTREZ DANS CETTE MAISON DU
PÈRE PROSTERNEZ-VOUS DEVANT LUI ADOREZ SON FILS INCARNÉ ET RAPPELEZ-VOUS
QUE LE MAÎTRE D'ŒUVRE C'EST L'ESPRIT DU PÈRE ET DU FILS
I said the last phrases aloud:
--Et avant de quitter, regardez tout simplement Mère Marie.
--Before you go, look upon Mother Mary. Yes kids, said Sei, sitting on
the church steps, Our Lady is watching all her Son's children, those who
contemplate God and those who've forgotten him, even those who've
deliberately tried to forget him in the beautiful province of Queerbec.
Nation of Queerbec. Whatever they're calling it these days. Go ahead,
look, I've seen her before. I just want to sit down.
I, however, had never seen Our Lady quite like this. She looked very
different from the Virgin Mary I had known at Lillian, whose arms were
clasped in prayer to her Son. The arms of Our Lady of Lourdes were
outstretched as if to bless passers-by, or to invite them into her
embrace.
Maria-sama no kokoro sore wa aozora watashitachi wo tsutsumu hiroi
aozora
Sei, while I had been looking at Our Lady, had gone from sitting to
almost lying across the steps, starting to sing herself drunkenly to
sleep.
--Mmm...worse places to pass out I suppose, than under Our Lady's
gaze...
--Sei, no! I said. You can't sleep there, come on!
It had been cloudy all evening, and as if to underscore my point, it
began to drizzle at that precise moment.
--Ah shit, said Sei. Guess not. Help me up?
I offered her a hand and pulled her upright, and we continued to walk
along the street towards the Village, trying not to pay any mind to the
drizzle. As we crossed rue Berri Sei muttered:
--She watches, but she doesn't actually help you out much, eh?
--She doesn't just hand you things, I replied. That's not how it works.
--How does it work, then?
--Spare some change?
Outside the door of Archambault at the corner of rue Berri a beggar
clearly took us for tourists, holding out his hand.
--On a pas d'argent, said Sei in French, walking past, not looking at
him.
--Crisse de bullshit! shouted the beggar. Vous-autres êtes pleins!
Pleins!
There were cafés, bars and clubs on this side of rue Sainte-Catherine as
well, the Studio and the Circus. They too had just closed, with
revellers in various stages of inebriation emerging, couples and groups
trying to shelter from the drizzle under awnings while waiting for a
free taxi to arrive, the drizzle seeming to have drained their energy as
much as was Sei's. Past them rue Sainte-Catherine grew less savoury;
facing each other were a Theâtre Olympia and a Video Adulte Wega. Was
the Village the safest place for a woman on earth, as Sei had said? The
glare of the street lights and the drizzle making the street look that
much more forbidding. I pulled Sei a little closer to me.
Sei suddenly screamed, out of nowhere:
--OSCAR!
I jumped with fright, turning to Sei to see what she was talking about.
She grinned back at me and pointed just ahead of us.
--Over there.
Sure enough, just beyond the adult DVD shop was a Banque Laurentienne,
whose ATM was apparently dubbed OSCAR.
--Sorry, couldn't resist. You ever read that comic Rose of Versailles?
--No, I replied, a little curtly.
--About a girl in 18th century France whose father calls her Oscar and
raises her as a boy. I read it in Japan, and then I come to Canada and I
see Oscar all over Montreal. I find that pretty damn funny...
--Avez-vous de l'argent pour quelque chose à manger?
I turned to look. A girl was sitting outside a restaurant called La
Belle Province at the corner of rue Saint-Timothée, begging. She
couldn't have been more than sixteen. She wore a thick coat with a hood
that looked more appropriate for winter. Beside her was what was
probably once a book-bag, now carrying her meager possessions. She had
scrawled in cardboard a sign reading
N'IMPORTE QUOI AIDE--MERCI
Sei looked at her for a long moment before finally asking her:
--Ah bon? Si tu veux que'qu'chose à manger, je l'acheterai pour toé chez
La Belle Province...
--J'suis capable de l'acheter moé-même...
--J'donne pas de l'argent aux gens dans la rue. Tu veux-tu que'qu'chose
à manger, ou non?
--Oui...okay.
Then Sei turned to me and asked:
--Do you want something to eat?
--Not really. Do you?
--Nah. She wants something to eat. I figured what the heck. It won't
take long. Mam'zelle, she said to the girl, motioning her to follow us,
suis-nous.
I couldn't find it in my heart to object. We found a table inside, and I
offered to wait while Sei bought the food.
--Que c'est que tu veux? Sei asked her.
--Hum...une poutine, s'il vous plaît, said the girl.
--Je te trouverai une grosse.
Sei went to get in line along with others in need of comfort food after
a long night, and I sat across from the girl.
--Tu parles-tu français, toé itou? she asked me.
Sei had been speaking to me in Japanese. I had to reply, "Non;" the girl
looked unhappy at that answer, and fell silent. She did look hungry,
tired, and unwashed. What had become of her that had forced her to beg
on the streets of Montreal, while I spent my days in a garden of
maidens, I was left to merely guess.
At length Sei came back with a Styrofoam bowl of what looked like French
fries with melted cheese on top, which she put down before the girl
before asking her:
--Alors, que c'est qui t'est arrivé?
The girl, in between wolfish bites of the poutine, animatedly told Sei
her story, now and again indicating her leg. Perhaps it had been
injured, but I could only guess, understanding next to nothing of what
she was saying. I contented myself with watching Sei's expression as she
listened, occasionally replying with big-sisterly advice, I presumed
from her tone, as she so often had at Lillian. She seemed to be offering
help, too, but the girl shook her head to refuse. At length, the girl
finished eating and we left, Sei waving to her, saying:
--Garde-toé bien, hein?
--You know, Sei, you haven't changed all that much, I said.
--What you mean?
--You like taking care of people.
--Yeah, right, said Sei. I did as much for Goronta as I did for that
girl just now. I'm not taking too good a care of you, am I? Making you
drag my ass home in the rain. Is Goronta still hanging around Lillian
High?
It had in fact stopped drizzling just then; we quickly walked past a
vacant lot and into the Village proper, passing a bookstore called
Renaud-Bray across the street ("My second home," said Sei--she still
loved books too) before starting to enter the heart of the Village. The
revelers from the gay clubs had started to move on, the sidewalks had
thinned. Perhaps I was the one taking care of Sei, but I didn't mind.
Having her there was enough to make me feel safer as we walked by clubs
and shuttered shops with names at turns absurd and threatening: Sauna GI
Joe, Priape, Aigle Noire.
--You didn't have to help her.
--Shouldn't I have? You used to complain when I'd feed Goronta.
--No, it's all right...I just wondered why her...
--And not the guy at Archambault...? I told you, he's a pro. She looked
like she actually needed food. Said she was from Amos--town way up
north--ran off to Montreal, couldn't find a job, friends finally threw
her out...Some guy tried to attack her the other night...hear it all the
time. Isn't the first time I've helped someone out. Tried to offer to
buy her a bus ticket home. Station's not far from here. I've done that
too. But she was like, no way.
--What's so horrible in Amos she'd rather sleep on the street in
Montreal than go home?
--Damn if I know. She wouldn't tell me. I can guess, though. Felt bad.
Sei suddenly laughed, a little bitterly, adding:
--All right, you win. I thought she was cute.
--What? I said, looking up at her.
--What? You think if she'd been an ugly old guy I'd have been in such a
hurry to help her? You know, I don't know how you and Yumi ran off with
the idea I'm a nice person.
It occurred to me the girl in fact had been quite pretty, or at any rate
had been once and could be again with aid of little more than somewhere
to bathe and decent food to eat. Sei Sato, heaven knew, knew a pretty
girl when she saw one. But it had not been lust I had seen in Sei's
expression. A sense of noblesse oblige, perhaps, that made her happy to
help, or rather upset when she did not. A prince's need to save a damsel
in distress. That's what upset her about me helping her home. The
princess isn't supposed to save the prince.
--Horny lesbian with a bad attitude, that's me. I'm not a nice person at
all.
Sei's expression had turned suddenly dark again. She did not say it as
if to fish for compliments. "A lesbian with a bad attitude"--that was
her frank self-assessment. I could not simply say that she couldn't mean
it, because she obviously did. I could not even tell her she was wrong,
for it was not just the brighter side of Sei's personality that I had
seen. I had seen that darker side in Noriko too; the mirror image of the
tenderness and complete devotion to me, to the point that she seemed
able to effortlessly forgive me for leaving her forever to run into the
arms of another (as far as she knew), was her temper, even violence,
against those she thought had slighted me.
But then, why the devotion? What did Sei see in me?
Just another damsel? No; she had not looked at the girl as she did me,
or even Yumi. But Sei seemed to want to keep our relations just as
superficial. Why go to such lengths to keep the ones she loved at arm's
length? Crossing an ocean?
--You were always kind to me, I said at last.
--No I wasn't. What, you're going to tell me I was always there for you,
or some crap like that? You wanted a soeur like that, you wanted Yoko.
She was always there for me, whether I wanted her there or not, trying
to be my friend and solve all my problems or some damn thing like that,
like with Sachiko. I figured, who needs that bullshit? I left you alone.
I liked you the way you were. Oneesama never tried to run my life
either...
We walked past the SAQ du Village, under the rainbow flag and Quebec
flag (the yuri flag, even I couldn't help but think of it as now). I
noticed for the first time that someone had painted a cartoon character
that looked like a hero from a science fiction animation on the mural.
It must have reminded Sei of Oscar, because she went on:
--Hell, even Lady Oscar wouldn't do that. There's a bit where Oscar's
taking a coach through Paris, and this girl stops the coach and asks her
to buy her for one night. Oscar just laughs and gives her a gold coin
and tells her not to do that again...sorry, I'm babbling...
--No, it's okay...
--Way too good to be true. Fact is, if the girl'd have been ugly Oscar
wouldn't have done that...that's what I thought when I read it.
--Oh yes?
--Thing was...I read it because, well...it was then I began to realize I
wasn't quite right, so...I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with me.
I heard about it from Rei Hasekura of all people. This great romantic
classic. I asked could I borrow it, and she's like, yeah, okay,
whatever. And I wind up laughing at it. Come on, this chick's too good
to be true. Her dad's raising her to be a boy from day one, she's got to
be twice as fucked up as me. And she's not even like me! The day before
she dies at the Bastille she finally consummates her one true love. With
the servant-boy she grew up with. Rosalie I could have handled, but
André? She'd be like his brother or something...I learned only one
useful thing from Lady Oscar.
--What was that?
--That romance novels suck, Sei snickered.
We had reached rue Panet, the Radio-Canada building before us like a
homing beacon at the other end of the street, its logo looking to me now
like a chrysanthemum.
--See, what did I tell you? We're almost home.
Sei gestured towards the Radio-Canada building, crying out mock-
dramatically:
--Encore...un peu...et la Bastille...va tomber...Continuez!
Obviously we must have walked past it before, but it was only now that I
took a good look at the small park that had been built at the
intersection, trees planted, benches erected and a memorial built, metal
poles on which had been tied ribbons of every colour, a metal plaque
telling all who passed in whose memory it had been erected:
À LA MÉMOIRE DES PERSONNES MORTES DU SIDA AU QUÉBEC
--Oh shit, said Sei suddenly. Shimako, I don't feel so good.
Sei ran to a trash-can in the park and began to retch.
I approached her from behind and slowly rubbed her back, fixing my eye
on the wall in front of us on which somebody had scrawled
VIVE LE QUÉBEC LIBRE
The house was in darkness. Madeleine clearly had long since gone to bed.
It took several moments of fumbling before Sei was able to get her house
key in the door. I helped her out of her wet jacket once we were inside.
--Lie down for me, I told her, once we got to the living room. Where are
your water glasses?
--I don't want water, she said. I'm not dying. I do this all the time.
--Drink until you throw up?
--Well, I haven't actually puked in a while...
--Where are your glasses? I said, helping Sei onto the couch.
--Over the sink.
So Sei lay down on the couch, and I went into the kitchen to find a
water glass and filled it from the tap. I offered it to Sei, who
accepted it, making room on the couch so as to invite me to sit with
her.
--Thanks, Shimako, said Sei. You're a sweetheart.
Sei quickly drained it, and I took it from her and put it on one of the
arms of the couch before sitting down.
--God, I'm a pretty crappy host, eh? she said.
--Don't be silly. I had a very nice time.
--It's just...I was supposed to be taking care of you tonight, and
you're the one winding up taking care of me...
In the glare of the street lights Sei's drawn, exhausted face had seemed
harsh, twisted even. Now, in the half-light from the kitchen is seemed
softer, her beauty ephemeral, like an exotic flower uprooted from the
earth and put in a pot somewhere by a thoughtless human, left to die of
neglect.
--Don't worry about it, really, I said, taking her hand to sooth her.
--Shimako?
--Yes, Sei?
--You still haven't told me. What do you want to do with your life?
I had not been prepared for that question. I hesitated long enough that
Sei finally added:
--That you got to come here to do it, I mean. You still haven't told me
that. I still don't understand...I mean...I was the one who didn't fit
in. I don't even fit in here. You want to know why I liked you? You
actually seemed sort of normal. Happy, even.
--What did you think I was going to do?
--What, the truth? I always thought you'd make someone an excellent
wife.
--A wife?
--Yeah...living some place with a nice guy...taking care of a house with
a beautiful flower garden...lots and lots of kids...you know, normal
happily-ever-after stuff. Stuff that normal girls do when they grow up.
Maybe it's just 'cause I'm never likely to do any of that. I dunno...I
just thought you'd be good at that. Better than I'd ever be.
Sei reached up to brush a stray hair out of my eyes, very furtively, as
if barely daring, to do anything more.
--You're gentle...You're kind...you're drop-dead gorgeous.
--Sei, that's the alcohol talking. You don't mean that.
--No really! You ever look at yourself in the mirror? What straight guy
wouldn't want you? He'd be the luckiest man on earth...Relax, okay?...I
know you're not like me. I don't want you to be like me. It's really
overrated. You're okay the way you are, Shimako. You're okay.
The light in Sei's eyes that I had seen on the train had returned to her
eyes, more brightly than before, for all that not burning but peaceful,
warm and still. I had never seen her so at peace, so still, as now,
smiling at me and looking up at me into my eyes. Just having me here
seemed to comfort her. As for me, sitting by her, being quiet and
gentle, as we had so rarely had the chance to do, brought out a
contentment and stillness in me I had never felt before.
A calm.
--Though...
Sei shut her eyes, chuckling quietly to herself.
--Yes? I said.
--You don't have to go yet, if you don't want...
I did not want to leave. I sat with her a few minutes more, waiting
until I was sure she was asleep, before I let go of Sei's hand and
brought the glass into the kitchen to wash it, turning out the light
behind me as I went to the bathroom to wash.
In bed the first thing I did was to say a decade of the Rosary, but it
did no good. All I could think of was the sight of that beautiful face
as she fell asleep. When I am in such a mood there are only a few ways I
know of put such thoughts out of my mind so I can sleep. Only one is
completely effective.
I imagined I was back in the Rose Mansion after my date with Shizuka, my
head in Sei's lap as she soothed me. She offered to give me a kiss
herself, or whatever else I pleased. Another of her teases.
In my daydreams, at least, I had no fear. I did not hesitate for a
moment, rising to meet her gaze, looking deeply into her eyes and
kissing her, embracing her tightly, letting myself go completely, as I
had done with Noriko, as I had always longed to do with Sei.
Back to Les filles du lys de montagne Index - Back to Maria-sama ga Miteru Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction