Rising Abruptly by Gisèle Villeneuve Read Free Book Online Page A

dad also spent months in all sorts of deserts, remember. In Africa. In Australia. In Asia.
    I know that.
    In their deserts, they could have died of thirst, like in adventure movies. They say when you’re that thirsty, your tongue swells up like a balloon.
    It’s worse dying of thirst if you’re in the middle of the ocean. Like when your ship sinks and you’re stuck in a lifeboat or hanging on to a piece of wreckage, like in war movies. That much water around you, and not being able to drink. What torture!
    I’m thirsty just thinking about it. Jeanne gets two bottles of Coke from the cooler.
    And what about sharks, Jeanne? There are always sharks.
    Rachel drinks and the fizz makes her burp. The girls launch into a burping contest. They burp and laugh until the game loses its appeal.
    Jeanne pushes the tip of her tongue into the neck of the bottle: My mom told me. It happened once.
    Sharks? They were attacked by sharks?
    Jeanne pulls her tongue out of the bottle: Not sharks. Their boat capsized in a storm. They were lucky. Everybody managed to swim to a small coral reef.
    Coral! It must be sharp. Did they cut their feet?
    Rachel?
    Yes?
    Would you. Would you prefer to know for sure your dad is dead or would you prefer not to know? I mean for real?
    I don’t know, Jeanne. When Mom explained he was declared dead, I cried, but I wasn’t really sad. I cried because I had to, otherwise Mom would have thought I didn’t love him. I cried, and the more I cried, the more I wanted to cry. I liked the tears. But I’m telling you, Jeanne. If Mom had died, I would have cried my eyes out for really really real. A really huge real sadness.
    Why so sad for Auntie Pearl and not for Uncle Albert?
    Because. Because I didn’t really know my father. He was away so much with Auntie Colette. Your mom. The brother and the sister of the big expeditions . Granny used to say that. So, when he came home, I felt bizarre around him.
    Bizarre?
    I don’t know. Like those salesmen who ring our doorbell. Imagine one of them moving in with us. And Mom was all excited, paying more attention to him than to me. It’s not that I was jealous, it’s just. She was different when he was around. I couldn’t wait for him to leave, even if it made Mom sad. And a little sharp with me for a while.
    So, you’re glad he’s dead?
    Rachel doesn’t answer. Some things are best left to live in silence. But now, she is dying to ask that taboo question, even though her mom made her promise never to talk about it . So, she takes a deep breath: Your father, Jeanne. You never knew him, right?
    You know I’m a bastard. And my mom never spoke about him. Maybe she didn’t know him.
    But. To have babies, the woman must know the man, right?
    Maybe it’s not necessary to know each other to make babies. Like when we buy penny candies at the corner store. We don’t really know Mrs. What’s-her-name. That doesn’t stop her from selling us licorice and jawbreakers.
    The cousins ponder this tricky question. After a while, Rachel breaks the silence: Colette was also declared dead. Why don’t you believe it?
    Jeanne stares at the large windows. Listens to the wind. Sees her mom’s fleeting face against the white night, a face that is becoming increasingly blurry since the last visit. So long ago. She answers her cousin, her voice barely above a murmur: It’s like Christmas, Rach. I’m looking forward to it for two months and, as the day gets closer, I become more and more excited. The most exciting moment is Christmas Eve at seven in the evening when we’re going to bed. It’s hard to fall asleep, but eventually, I do. Then at midnight, Auntie Pearl comes to wake us up. And the house is full of lights. And the Christmas tree and the presents. But an hour later, it’s over. After we’ve opened our presents, it’s not the same anymore. Even with the music and the candies and