out to sea; which had taken on water, split in half, sunk. Algoma could only watch her sisters for signs of what was to come for herself.
She was still awake when Gaetan stumbled into the house at 4:00 a.m. Blurry with sleep, she was no longer sure of her cards, what needed to be placed where, yet she kept playing. She was sure she was winning. She had to be.
Gaetan placed a hand on the top of her head and kissed her cheek. He smelled of smoke and gin and moved around the room like he was underwater or on the moon. Slow and heavy steps.
He stood at the counter and made himself a cheese slice and butter sandwich, a sure sign he’d had one too many drinks after closing.
“I bought you something,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry, it’s from a second-hand shop.” He could feel Algoma bristle at the thought of “new.” He cut his sandwich in four and shoved a piece into his mouth. Mid-chew, he placed a small silver flask on the kitchen table and stood back with his arms spread wide like a ring master’s. “Ta da!”
Algoma picked up the vessel and turned it around in her hands. “Barry,” she said, reading the name engraved into the flask.
“You’re a bartender’s wife,” Gaetan said, as if it were a call to the priesthood or military. “You should never have to pay for your own drinks.”
“I don’t go to bars,” Algoma said. “Just your bar.” She ran her thumb over the engraving. Had Barry been someone’s best man? Maybe he’d lost the position. Maybe he’d slept with the bride.
“Well, The Shop then,” Gaetan said.
“I don’t drink at work.”
“Fine,” he barked, annoyed by his ungrateful wife. “At home then.”
Gaetan shoved another sandwich quarter into his mouth and leaned back against the counter. Algoma shook her head and went into the living room. She got down on her hands and knees in front of the liquor cabinet and searched through the bottles, quickly finding what she was looking for. She sat back and poured gin into Barry and took a drink.
Gaetan laughed appreciatively. “See, there you go. That’s a good girl.”
Obediently, Algoma took another drink, and sighed. She raised her flask. “Here’s to Barry.”
Like most things in her life, Algoma’s husband was a hand-me-down, a cast-off from one of her sisters. One she’d happily taken.
Algoma was fifteen the first time she’d met Gaetan. Although money in a family of nine was tight, Richard and Ann scrimped and saved every year until they had enough to hire a landscaper to trim the trees. Landscaping and church were two of their priorities, and they preached both to their children. Every year, the trees were sculpted into two perfect orbs, as they had been for as long as anyone could remember. The annual pruning meant that despite their age, they were not very tall. The foliage, however, was incredibly dense, with near perfect coverage. At night, the trees looked like two planets caught in one another’s gravitational pull. The style of pruning was not unique to the Belangers, so it was easy to spot which families in town were going through hard times. The branches of their trees grew unchecked.
Not a landscaper by trade, Gaetan was known to take odd jobs around town. He had no fear of heights and came with his own equipment. Most importantly to Richard, Gaetan charged less than anyone else. He was young—eighteen—and trying to make a few dollars to get him out of Le Pin; however, there were days when he’d accept a case of beer in return for an afternoon’s work.
On his first day on the job, Gaetan arrived at the house and parked his red pick-up truck on the front lawn. Only equipped with a wooden ladder, a pair of pruning shears, and a small hatchet, he set about his work without letting anyone know he’d arrived. For three afternoons, he scrambled through the branches, which he pruned like a Lilliputian hairdresser, until the trees were perfectly shaped and Richard was
She was still awake when Gaetan stumbled into the house at 4:00 a.m. Blurry with sleep, she was no longer sure of her cards, what needed to be placed where, yet she kept playing. She was sure she was winning. She had to be.
Gaetan placed a hand on the top of her head and kissed her cheek. He smelled of smoke and gin and moved around the room like he was underwater or on the moon. Slow and heavy steps.
He stood at the counter and made himself a cheese slice and butter sandwich, a sure sign he’d had one too many drinks after closing.
“I bought you something,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry, it’s from a second-hand shop.” He could feel Algoma bristle at the thought of “new.” He cut his sandwich in four and shoved a piece into his mouth. Mid-chew, he placed a small silver flask on the kitchen table and stood back with his arms spread wide like a ring master’s. “Ta da!”
Algoma picked up the vessel and turned it around in her hands. “Barry,” she said, reading the name engraved into the flask.
“You’re a bartender’s wife,” Gaetan said, as if it were a call to the priesthood or military. “You should never have to pay for your own drinks.”
“I don’t go to bars,” Algoma said. “Just your bar.” She ran her thumb over the engraving. Had Barry been someone’s best man? Maybe he’d lost the position. Maybe he’d slept with the bride.
“Well, The Shop then,” Gaetan said.
“I don’t drink at work.”
“Fine,” he barked, annoyed by his ungrateful wife. “At home then.”
Gaetan shoved another sandwich quarter into his mouth and leaned back against the counter. Algoma shook her head and went into the living room. She got down on her hands and knees in front of the liquor cabinet and searched through the bottles, quickly finding what she was looking for. She sat back and poured gin into Barry and took a drink.
Gaetan laughed appreciatively. “See, there you go. That’s a good girl.”
Obediently, Algoma took another drink, and sighed. She raised her flask. “Here’s to Barry.”
Like most things in her life, Algoma’s husband was a hand-me-down, a cast-off from one of her sisters. One she’d happily taken.
Algoma was fifteen the first time she’d met Gaetan. Although money in a family of nine was tight, Richard and Ann scrimped and saved every year until they had enough to hire a landscaper to trim the trees. Landscaping and church were two of their priorities, and they preached both to their children. Every year, the trees were sculpted into two perfect orbs, as they had been for as long as anyone could remember. The annual pruning meant that despite their age, they were not very tall. The foliage, however, was incredibly dense, with near perfect coverage. At night, the trees looked like two planets caught in one another’s gravitational pull. The style of pruning was not unique to the Belangers, so it was easy to spot which families in town were going through hard times. The branches of their trees grew unchecked.
Not a landscaper by trade, Gaetan was known to take odd jobs around town. He had no fear of heights and came with his own equipment. Most importantly to Richard, Gaetan charged less than anyone else. He was young—eighteen—and trying to make a few dollars to get him out of Le Pin; however, there were days when he’d accept a case of beer in return for an afternoon’s work.
On his first day on the job, Gaetan arrived at the house and parked his red pick-up truck on the front lawn. Only equipped with a wooden ladder, a pair of pruning shears, and a small hatchet, he set about his work without letting anyone know he’d arrived. For three afternoons, he scrambled through the branches, which he pruned like a Lilliputian hairdresser, until the trees were perfectly shaped and Richard was
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