The Garneau Block by Todd Babiak Read Free Book Online

someone this morning.”
    â€œWho?”
    Abby swivelled on her toes and stood in front of some locally woven baskets. “I don’t know. The mayor or someone.”
    â€œWhy would the mayor know anything about that?”
    â€œThey’re all plugged in, these Conservatives.”
    â€œThe mayor’s a Conservative?”
    Abby flipped through some art deco posters advertising Banff, Jasper, and Lake Louise. “I wish we could go back in time. Wasn’t it so much better then, Shirl? Wasn’t the air so much cleaner, people smarter?”
    â€œMy parents were exploited. My grandparents paid a head tax.”
    â€œAll the forests. All the virgin land. The noble First Nations peoples, fashioning pemmican.”
    Shirley shook the newspaper and wished Abby could go back in time sixty or 160 years and leave her alone.
    â€œYou know, you should diversify your media.” Abby picked up and examined one of the Lake Louise posters. “If you rely only on the corporate propaganda, you won’t get the truth.”
    Shirley sighed. “What truth?”
    â€œHey, does anyone know who put up those flyers yet?”
    â€œI heard it was you and I heard it was me. So, no. Maybe it’s an invitation to a Satanic sex ritual.”
    â€œYou think? I wouldn’t mind giving it a shake.” Abby cleared a strip of hair that had fallen in front of her face and placed it behind her ear. As much as Shirley loved her old friend, she coveted the softness of Abby’s still-brown hair and it came between them like an ugly secret. “So darling, what are you doing tonight?”
    â€œThere’s a pre-season Oilers game.”
    â€œHockey, hockey, hockey,” said Abby.
    â€œSatan, Satan, Satan,” said Shirley.
    â€œAt the university there’s a fundraiser and workshop to oppose logging and coal mining on the eastern slope of the Rockies. I’m talking slide show, some music, a silent auction, activist seminars, organic wine. If you change your mind about hockey.”
    For the past few years, Shirley had sensed a distinct hollowness in hockey. Would the salary cap restore passion and soul tothe game? Would there be enough left over for her? “All right.”
    â€œAll right what?”
    â€œI’ll come to the whatever-it-is tonight.”
    Abby placed her hands together in yogic prayer, closed her eyes, and exhaled through her nose. Shirley sensed she had made an error.

 
    11
    life after oil
    D avid Weiss had intended to walk straight into Starbucks and order two caramel mochaccinos. He wanted to be prompt so Abby wouldn’t change her mind.
    For years, Abby had refused to buy hot beverages at chain stores because they never sold fair trade organic coffee and because they squeezed locally owned cafés out of business. One afternoon during the Fringe Festival David had bought his wife a caramel mochaccino at Starbucks. She reluctantly took a sip, and something in her was transformed. The taste of a superior product had finally overpowered her absurd guilt and frankly dangerous notion of liberal duty.
    At that moment, during a sunny dusk waiting in line for a play in the Masonic Hall, with a nearby clown smoking a cigarette, David loved Abby so much he would have married her all over again. In the weeks since then, she would only drinkStarbucks if David made the purchase. And it always had to be a specialty coffee unavailable at the Sugarbowl, their local.
    David and Garith were waiting to cross Calgary Trail when Barry Strongman stepped out of Second Cup. “Hey, I was just using the crapper. What is up , Garith?”
    Barry Strongman plopped in his usual chair outside Second Cup, with his street magazines and his coffee. He called Garith up on his lap and Garith obeyed. So did David, in his way, sitting in the opposite chair.
    â€œWere you going somewheres or–? Don’t wanna interrupt. But you are retired.”
    â€œI am, I