Love, Lust 'n Geology (1ST DRAFT)

Chapter 31: Brrring!

This chapter is dedicated to itsshowtime98, who's amongst the earliest readers of this novel, (that I'm aware of, anyway ;-).

I thank u sincerely for sticking with it & for ur support & encouraging PM's :-)!

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Chapter 31: Brrring!

Tom deposited a cooler onto the sand, about thirty feet away from water's edge. It contained beer and (alcoholic) citrus coolers (drinks) which he'd discovered Samina had a weakness for. She'd never consumed as much alcohol as she had since arriving in Ignace! She wondered what the food pyramid in Canada's Food Guide would look like if it was altered to reflect what northern Ontarians actually consumed, as opposed to what they ought to. Alcohol might well form the base!

In TO, her drinking, which was occasional at best, was mainly confined to her outings with her friends or fellow students. Had it been up to her mother, alcohol would never have entered their house, and still didn't for the most part. But every so often, when her parents were entertaining their few white Canadian friends – primarily her father's colleagues – he would jovially arrive home with a bottle of wine, generally a 1.5 litre one. (From time to time, he'd go out on a limb and pick up a 2 litre jug!) Her mother would inevitably frown and question the size of the bottle, to which her father would sweetly reply that she didn't wish to be an ungracious hostess, did she? What if – and it really was too much to contemplate, at least for an Indian! – the wine ran out and her guests were left wanting more? He would further emphasize the shocking nature of such a possibility by gesturing in the manner Indians are wont to do, by turning his hands out – after putting the wine bottle down, of course – as if to say, what, just what, would matters – if not the entire world? – come to then?

Samina never failed to be amused by such exchanges, recognizing that her father, in his usual, mischievous manner, was playing on yet another fear that Indians possessed, namely a shortage of food or drink at their parties – well, those Indians who could afford to worry about such things, anyway! A significant number – almost a quarter – weren't in a position to feed themselves, so could hardly be expected to feed others, or otherwise take an interest in others' stomachs, their own being of such overriding concern.

After such parties, her mother, who was fashioned in the 'early to bed, early to rise' mold, would, after putting away the food, promptly retire. Samina and her father, however, were night birds. Their motto, which they actively strove to uphold on a daily basis – at least whenever circumstances allowed – was: 'Late to bed, late to rise!' Luckily they were both in academia!

She and her father would ferret out the leftover wine – her mother generally made an (unsuccessful) attempt to hide it – and then sit and chat, sipping a glass, (or two), of wine together. Sometimes, especially if a 2 litre bottle was involved, they would end up a little under the influence. Prolonged philosophical discussions would ensue. While Samina doubted that her father learned much from her, aside from a little science, there was no end to what she had learned and continued to, from him. Indeed, she owed her entire way of thinking to him! She loved her mother with all her heart but recognized that it was she and her father who were kindred spirits.

Tom spread out a blanket and held out his hand for his guitar; she'd carried it from the truck for him. Placing it down on the blanket, he sat, cross-legged, beside it. Opening up the cooler, he asked Samina what she'd like to drink. She opted for a Mike's Hard Lime. Handing it to her, he pulled out a Rickard's for himself. She lowered herself onto the blanket and sat facing Tom, her back to the lake. He asked if she wanted him to shift positions so that she could see the lake. She smiled and shook her head. And then she mumbled, a mite flirtatiously, but also shyly, "I'm happy looking at you."