Grave Concern by Judith Millar Page A

anymore.
    Molly : He’s an old-fashioned guy.
    Kate : I’ve never heard you actually say that before. And it’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say “guy.”
    Molly : Really? Well. But old-fashioned — that was obvious, Kate, surely.
    Kate : Yeah, I guess. I never thought of it in so many words. He was just, well, Dad . He was older than you … quite a bit.
    Molly : Nine years. But that wasn’t it. It had nothing to do with his age. It’s just the way it … he … was.
    Kate : But then you got all proper yourself, as time went along. You’d stop him from telling his stupid, off-colour jokes. Remember?
    Molly : (sighs) I know, dear, I know. How did it happen? I have no idea. Maybe I just got tired. Hardly recognized myself anymore.
    Kate : Yeah, speaking of that. Who were you, when you were young? Before I knew you. What were you like back then?
    Molly : Oh, I don’t know. Much the same, I guess.
    Kate : But you just said …
    Molly : Oh, Kate, don’t confuse me with details. It’s cold down here. Depressing — you can’t imagine. Nothing new ever happens. I’m going back to sleep now. Shouldn’t you be getting on?
    Kate : Mom, don’t go!
    Molly:
    Kate: Mom!

    In the profound darkness of the cabin, they lay on in silence, each warming the other just enough. At some point, J.P. shuddered, grew still and then heavy. That was a serious shiver, thought Kate.
    â€œAre you all right?” she said.
    Silence. Perhaps he hadn’t heard.
    â€œAre you all — ”
    â€œYeah,” J.P. said, his voice rumbling against her head.
    â€œI just remembered something,” she said.
    No response.
    â€œThe Legion poster contest, for Remembrance Day. Didn’t you win or something?”
    â€œHonourable mention.”
    â€œI remember seeing it in the paper. It was fantastic.”
    â€œThey forced us to do something in art.”
    â€œWhat did you win?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œYou know, for getting honourable mention.”
    â€œDon’t remember. Nothing, I guess.”
    His voice was a deep hum in her temple, vibrating through his neck.
    â€œWasn’t there some controversy?”
    â€œMmmm.”
    â€œHow come?”
    â€œI put the guy in a Nazi hat.”
    â€œOh yeah, now I remember. It was just a huge face, right? Like really mad, full of rage. That was so cool.”
    J.P. said nothing.
    â€œSo how come it didn’t win? It was great.”
    â€œWho knows? They wanted poppies and stuff.”
    â€œIt was by far the best, I thought, anyways.”
    A shrug.
    â€œThey printed it in the paper. That was neat.”
    â€œYeah, well, it’s not the New York Times .”
    â€œHow did you get the idea?”
    â€œFor the face?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œIt’s just my brother, Guy. When he gets mad, he looks exactly like that.”
    A tiny door inside Kate unlocked. She moved a bit, to ease an ache in her lower back. The change felt good, and she squirmed again. J.P. neither resisted nor asked what she was doing, but sort of went along for the ride. A liveliness in Kate’s abdomen now moved deep into pelvis and thighs. She squirmed some more, and J.P. responded again, without a word. Fully clothed on the freezing plank bed, the army coat for a sheet, they continued a slow gyration, posing questions, venturing answers with their hips. The dance grew larger than the dancers, augmenting its reach and scope beyond them both. Kate forgot all but the exquisite vortex down which she now dove.

    Nicholas’s dad drove like a maniac, for all the difference it would make. It just might, he reassured Nick’s terrified mother, if Nick had taken on water. As in got water in the lungs. J.P. just hunkered down in the back seat against the door, staring out the window, silent as death.
    The hospital kept Nicholas overnight for observation, but discharged him the next morning with a