Rising Abruptly by Gisèle Villeneuve Read Free Book Online

tears the cellophane wrapper off a Twinkie, the ringing of a phone shatters the silence. Fills the space with roaring outrage. Caught in the act of stealing, breaking and entering, vandalism, the cousins jump off their chairs in a panic, screeching like back-alley tomcats in the night.
    Jeanne shouts above the insistent tumult: Where’s the damn phone?
    Don’t answer. It can’t be for us. If we answer, they’ll know we broke in. We didn’t steal anything. But. We’ll still go to jail.
    Jeanne is as helpless to deal with the situation as Rachel, until she has a brilliant idea: What if it’s your mom? She knows we came to Mount Royal to slide.
    She does? I don’t remember telling her.
    Since we’re not home yet and it’s late and it’s snowing like in the days of New France, she would phone the lodge, right?
    Don’t answer, Jeanne! It can’t be Mom. Don’t answer!
    The phone goes on ringing, urgent, menacing, accusing. Jail! Jail! Jail!
    We must answer.
    No!
    If we don’t, it would be like refusing help while drowning.
    We are not drowning.
    I found it.
    Jeanne, no!
    Hello? At first, her voice, so unsure, produces no more than a high-pitch mew, until it brightens into relief: Auntie Pearl! I knew it was you. It’s your mom, Rach. See? I was right. Yes, yes, Auntie. This is Jeanne speaking.
    Rachel moves closer to the phone, putting her hand over the mouthpiece: Tell Mom everything’s fine. Don’t say anything about. And she touches her bandaged head.
    Jeanne nods, indicates to Rachel to keep quiet for a moment, then speaks into the mouthpiece: We’re both okay, Auntie Pearl. But we had to break a window to get in. It was a matter of life or death… You’re sure they’ll understand?… There’s no electricity, but we found candles and we made hamburgers on the gas stove… Of course, we were careful. You taught us well… No, it’s still warm in here. When will you be able to come and get us?… Oh, yes? All night?… She’s here. Your mom wants to talk to you.
    Hi, Mom! Rachel is somewhat disappointed to detect no hysteria in her mom’s voice, only a minor worry put to rest: Yes, Mom, we’ll be careful. Do you think they’ll make us pay for the hamburgers?… We also ate some cakes. Little ones… What about the broken glass? It’s a big window… And my toboggan. I’ll tell you later… No, nothing… Don’t worry, Mommy. We’ll keep warm. See you tomorrow. Bye.
    Rachel joins Jeanne at their table piled with ketchup-smeared paper napkins and cellophane wrappers.
    Mom says a lot of the streets are closed because of the snow. There are power failures all over Montréal. Even on the south shore. They won’t be able to fetch us until tomorrow.
    The accomplices burst out laughing. Then they allow silence to measure for them the full scope of the event.
    After a while, Jeanne speaks, her voice husky: We’re lucky to have the lodge. Your dad and my mom didn’t have such luck.
    Rachel’s voice is quiet: When we were lost in the snow and I was getting really cold, I was thinking about them. I was playing the game. We were searching for them and we rescued them.
    I was playing the game too. I wonder if it’s easier to freeze to death. Or to drown. Or to die in a boiling jungle.
    Albert and Colette could have died a thousand different ways, like in stories.
    This is not a story, Rachel.
    No.
    Jeanne creases the cellophane. She rolls it into a tight ball and, as soon as she lets go of it, it puffs up. She pursues, her voice hoarse: When my mom came back from her endless expeditions and we spent a few weeks together, she was always telling me stories about the jungle.
    In the jungle, Jeanne, there are tigers. Colette and Albert could have been attacked and devoured by a big tiger. It must be scary being eaten by a tiger.
    It would hurt like crazy. My mom and your