After Sylvia by Alan Cumyn Page A

ever seen her. She wore a purple velvet dress that might as well have been a bed sheet, it was so floppy.
    â€œI remember when Eleanor was a baby,” Lorraine said, helping herself to more mashed potatoes. “She wouldn’t sit still for anyone, and at Christmas dinner I had to march up and down the hallway singing nursery rhymes while all my guests served themselves.”
    Owen looked from the belly of Lorraine to Eleanor’s blushing face, from the face to the belly, and the belly to the face. It was just like looking at the snow on the trees until the trees had turned into the haunted house. Right before his eyes Lorraine and her fat belly turned into something else.
    Something else indeed.
    Finally Owen began to laugh. The more he looked, the funnier it got, until he was sobbing up against Leonard and clutching to keep his head above the table.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” Margaret asked, but Owen couldn’t say it. His eyes were full of tears.
    He writhed and wriggled at people’s feet like some animal possessed by a giddy fever. And the more he fought, the harder it was to gain control. His body became a shuddering mass of gasping laughter. Leonard, too, succumbed, and Sadie, and it spread through the room until Owen wondered if the table would be overturned.
    â€œWhh..hh..at are we... l.ll…llaughing about?” Margaret sputtered, but Owen couldn’t trust himself to speak. Lorne had collapsed on the sofa and Andy and Eleanor were puddled together by the television set and even Lorraine was clutching herself and leaning against the doorframe as if she might fall over.
    â€œIt’s...it’s...nothing,” Owen said finally. And through the teary slits of his eyes
he watched his aunt Lorraine holding herself — herself and her secret baby — and felt as if the whole world was jiggling in their joy.

Calendars
    MICHAEL Baylor came back from Christmas holidays looking nervous. At a Junior Achievers meeting in front of the class he announced that everyone had to sell calendars to raise money for the trip to Japan. The calendars came from Michael Baylor’s father’s company and showed different classic tractors from years gone by January featured a delicate 1940 John Deere Model H painted green and yel­low. A girl in a straw hat and clothing unsuitable for farm work sat on the metal driver s seat trying to look comfortable. February was a 1929 McCormick-Deering perched like a bull on a hill, the front wheels spread wide and dark body sil­houetted in the sun. March was a yellow 1939 Farmall A with bright red wheels.
    Michael Baylor said that if they sold the calendars for five dollars each, then only four dollars would go to his father to cover his costs and that would leave one dollar per calendar for Japan. “If we all pledge to sell a hundred calendars,” Michael Baylor said, “then we would raise two thousand six hundred dollars for the trip.” He also said that his rather was president of the Good Neighbors Club, and they would donate fifty cents for every dollar raised on the calendar sale. He made a quick calculation and then announced a final fundraising figure that seemed so large, Owen thought they would be able to go around the world several times on it.
    The class was silent for a while. Finally Dan Ruck said he didn’t even
know
a hundred people.
    â€œYou don’t have to know them to sell them calendars!” Michael Baylor said. “Just go door to door. It won’t be hard. These calendars will sell themselves. In fact, you don’t need to limit the sale to one per household. These are collectors’ items and some people will want to buy several.”
    Miss Glendon said she wanted to get on with her lesson. “Why don’t you call a vote, Michael, to see if people agree to sell these calendars?”
    â€œWe
have
to sell them,” Michael Baylor said, “if we want to get to Japan!” He