Fish Change Direction in Cold Weather Read Online Free PDF Page B

then go and smooch on
public benches. From that point on Alexis’s condition deteriorated.
    ‘All fags! Bleedin’ Jews!’
    So music had ditched him, too. But with a child to support, you have to eat. He began painting; not pictures, but walls and windows, then ceilings, too. Everyone agreed he was
a good worker. But too often he would forget to turn up, or he would quarrel with his co-workers, who couldn’t stand listening to him any more.
    ‘They’re all fags, those carpenters! Fucking plumbers! Bloody Jews!’
    It always took him a few days to get the feel of a new construction site. It was better for him to work on his own. Alexis was a drinker, of course. Not a chronic alcoholic, but at night
he’d drink as many beers as he needed to get to sleep. The number varied.
    When you’ve only got one person to love, and that person loves you, however badly, you love them back. Alex loved his dad. And he wondered why he’d been given this life. He knew his
future was all plotted out. The educational director at school had said as much:
You’ll come to a bad end, you will!
    Alex hadn’t protested. He behaved the way all children do. It’s not what parents say that matters, but the example they give. Looking at Alexis, no one could believe that his son had
a happy fate in store.
    ‘Night, Dad!’
    ‘Are you going to bed already?’
    ‘Got school tomorrow.’
    ‘Already?’
    ‘Yeah, Dad, it’s the fifth of January, we go back to school.’
    ‘You’re too serious for your age.’
    Alex wasn’t serious at all. He fought with everyone. The shopkeeper at the corner shop didn’t want to see him there any more, because he nicked things. Alex lied to his dad. He faked
his signature. He copied his tests off his best friend. He never told his dad when there were parent–teacher meetings. And anyway, his dad was beyond caring about any of that. All he looked
forward to was falling asleep on the sofa. First he snored, then he mumbled a song, always the same refrain.
    ‘
Bébé . . . Je t’ai, toi, bébé . . .
’
    Alex pulled a blanket over Alexis.
    ‘
Bébé . . . Je t’ai, toi, bébé . . .
’
    Alex never tired of hearing those gentle words. He often stayed next to his sleeping dad until late at night. It was so rare for him to hear anything about love.
    ‘
Bébé . . . Je t’ai, toi, bébé . . .
’

Monday, 5 January 1998
    ‘The forecast was for ten to fifteen millimetres of freezing rain, but we’ve got nearly double that amount: twenty-five millimetres in Montreal, thirty over
the Laurentides and twenty in Montérégie. The weight of the ice has been affecting power lines, cables have started to break, and there have been reports of power cuts . .
.’

YOUR PROBLEMS CAN’T BE THAT BAD
     
     
     
    The alarm clock rang. I woke up with a start. I must not have been sleeping very soundly. For at least five seconds I felt really good. I stretched, and then it all came back.
Happiness vanished. I got up and went over to the window and pulled open the curtain. The ground was shiny. Was that ice? I looked again. It was ice! I looked up and the sky was grey and ice was
falling! Was this what the sky had done for me?
    I ran into the kitchen, full of hope. My mum and dad were finishing their breakfast, staring into their mugs. When they raised their heads and saw me, I understood instantly that nothing had
changed.
    ‘Your father will be leaving today.’
    I filled my cereal bowl and sat down across from them. But this morning I didn’t feel like keeping silent in front of them, only to go and cry afterwards.
    ‘I thought it was Dad who was supposed to stay here.’
    I kept my tone cold, as if I didn’t care. My mum, who knows me, spoke gently.
    ‘The friend whose apartment I’m moving into was supposed to move into another place, but the renovations—’
    ‘I know. They’re not finished and that’s why Dad is going to the cottage.’
    They looked at each other. My mum made a face, my dad