(19) The Passage of Time, The Comportment of Space
Within a week his life had changed. An unexpected snowfall had smothered the landscape, slowing all activity to the pace of disruption. Having no work to go to, nor schedules to keep, Andrew settled into a respectable but numbing round of latte’s and newspapers, a lazy lunch taken at home, and some desultory internet surfing while he awaited Lara’s four pm arrival for her daily dose of yoga, all suffused with a distant yet palpable wariness, and an undeniable itch for the other shoe to drop. It never did.
Asha got the job at Tim’s, her first day passing without the half expected incident. The night before, on the phone, Andrew had smirked that the smart money was going down on sudden threats in the staff room, while Bridget had favoured swearing at one of the many doddery customers. Lita did, in fact, make good on her promise, showing up on the Thursday to join Lara and mentioning that her old friend Frieda had expressed an interest in joining them once she returned from Barbados.
The temperature settled around minus 8 during the days, ensuring that the snow would remain in its banks and mounds about town, looking rather pretty everyone had to admit. And just in time for Christmas too. Further falls made lake watching mesmerising, as the unique creations fell, one after the other into their watery grave. Andrew amused himself by reflecting on the transitory nature of life. Jordan suggested form was more appropriate. It was form that was transitory, not life. Convinced the latest episode of international intrigue was now over, he’d only called the once, and that had been about the wisest utterance of the exchange. A grateful and wealthy client was paying his way to one of the Greek islands, and he would be gone in about three days. Could Andrew possibly manage without him, he wondered. And what about the ghost? Andrew felt he was still resident, but so quiet and respectful as to be almost not there.
There but not there, mused Jordan, how very Zen.
The day of Jordan’s departure Andrew picked up the Star to see the story. Two colonels in the Canadian forces, newly returned from Afghanistan, had disappeared on some overnight trip to Quebec City. They’d checked into their hotel, been seen going out for dinner, and had never returned. A bar and restaurant check had revealed not very much. No-one recalled serving them. No taxi drivers remembered their faces. A transit driver had shown up at the police station swearing he’d seen them cross the road in front of him. Carelessly enough to cause him to honk. But what they were up to or where they were going he could not say. A follow up report the next day hinted at high level in-fighting in Afghanistan. But no, it had been affirmed, they had not been relieved of their duties. They were both on scheduled leaves. One columnist hinted no smoke without fire, another suggested supporting our troops, as they got picked off one by one with IED’s, was more important.
Just because there was nothing on the third day did not prove the news black-out theory, which Galen thought worthy of consideration, given NATO’s recent waffling and yet another fiery and outrageously brain dead speech from the bearded dwarf attending some high level confab in Malaysia. Ah, but that’s just coffee shop shindig, he tooted. All under the bridge when the markets open tomorrow. Tomorrow, when it came, revealed a surprising slip in the Canadian dollar against the US. One business guru suggested that the Bank of Canada might do well to drop its lending rate by a quarter point, as the much vaunted recovery was seemingly out of steam. Smugly comparing ourselves to the backs-against-the-wall Yanks no longer had much merit, even as back garden barbeque chat. Andrew thought that over as he exited his Toyota and hopped over a snow bank onto the cleared sidewalk, watching for ice as he aimed himself as his morning latte and croissant. But he was thinking like a bus driver whose meagre investments might be affected. Those days were gone so why didn’t he live as though that really were the case?
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