‘That’s not amusing, Ray.’
“After she told me about her mother, I looked at the girl from the Philippines, and I said, ‘That’s not amusing, Ray.’ We both started to laugh and then we started to cry. It was very odd but it was very nice too. I felt like I had known her for ever so long.”
That was the last day of the convention.
The next night at supper Dorothy seemed lost. She had nothing to tell them. As they were eating dessert, she suddenly said, “I had to sell jewelry to come here.”
They all stopped eating.
“I sold a diamond ring and two gold bracelets,” she said. “They were my grandmother’s.”
No one said anything. But she didn’t look at all embarrassed.
“I’m not much for jewelry,” she said. “I kept it in a box at the top of my cupboard. I never wore any of it. I hadn’t even looked at it for years. So when I heard about the convention I thought, I am going to turn those things into money .”
Stephanie nodded approvingly.
She had a week left before she had to go home.
Dave asked what she wanted to do.
“Niagara Falls?” he asked.
She shook her head. No.
An hour later she came downstairs and said, “I want to see a REAL Mountie.”
Dave assumed a real Mountie meant a Mountie in red. The only place Dave could think of finding a Mountie in red was on Parliament Hill.
They left late on Saturday afternoon—Stephanie stunning her parents by announcing her willingness to come with them. It was the first family trip she had offered to be part of for over a year.
They left so late that Dave gave up on the idea of getting to Ottawa before dark.
They checked into a set of cabins on Lower Rideau Lake.
“If we get an early start,” said Dave, “we can still have a full day.”
The cabins were built in the thirties—white clapboard with a small screened porch, built in a semi-circle under a stand of pines.
Dave bought three beers from the woman in the office. They ordered pizza from the only pizzeria in the phone book. There was an above-ground swimming pool under the trees. Dave dragged three wooden Adirondack chairs over to the pool and they sat there, Morley, Dorothy and Dave, and drank their beers while the kids swam.
They ate their pizza outside. A rusty pickup truck with a dumpy camper on the back bounced up to the cabin beside Dorothy’s. The driver jockeyed the truck around the pines—he was pulling a boat in a trailer, a large indoor cruiser. When he parked, he climbed out of his cab and stretched.
He was wearing a plaid work shirt and blue jeans so dusty they were turning brown. He hadn’t shaved for a few days. His cheeks were sunburnt, weathered. He smiled pleasantly and said, “Bonjour,” as he walked by them on his way to the motel office.
The sky was blue and gray and purple and orange—the light soft and dimming. The green neon No Vacancy sign flipped on. Dave looked at the sign and at the cars buzzing by on the highway. He felt relaxed and peaceful.
If it wasn’t for the mosquitoes, it would have been perfect. The mosquitoes had come when they were eating the pizza.
“ This is Canada,” said Dave to Dorothy as he slapped at his neck. “Now you know what we’re all about.”
They went into Dave and Morley’s room and watched a movie on television. Then they went to bed.
“We’ll start early,” said Dave. Again.
Dorothy had a cabin to herself. She lay on her bed and stared at the water stains on the unpainted wooden ceiling. One of them reminded her of the Queen Mother. She began to organize the boards on the ceiling into groups of five, using her fingers to keep track. Then into groups of three. It was hard to concentrate. There was a rip in the screen in her bedroom window and her cabin was full of mosquitoes. She had never heard anything like it—the drilling buzz of the bugs as they dove around her head. She had to stop counting every few seconds and brush at her face.
At midnight she got out of bed and put on the red
“After she told me about her mother, I looked at the girl from the Philippines, and I said, ‘That’s not amusing, Ray.’ We both started to laugh and then we started to cry. It was very odd but it was very nice too. I felt like I had known her for ever so long.”
That was the last day of the convention.
The next night at supper Dorothy seemed lost. She had nothing to tell them. As they were eating dessert, she suddenly said, “I had to sell jewelry to come here.”
They all stopped eating.
“I sold a diamond ring and two gold bracelets,” she said. “They were my grandmother’s.”
No one said anything. But she didn’t look at all embarrassed.
“I’m not much for jewelry,” she said. “I kept it in a box at the top of my cupboard. I never wore any of it. I hadn’t even looked at it for years. So when I heard about the convention I thought, I am going to turn those things into money .”
Stephanie nodded approvingly.
She had a week left before she had to go home.
Dave asked what she wanted to do.
“Niagara Falls?” he asked.
She shook her head. No.
An hour later she came downstairs and said, “I want to see a REAL Mountie.”
Dave assumed a real Mountie meant a Mountie in red. The only place Dave could think of finding a Mountie in red was on Parliament Hill.
They left late on Saturday afternoon—Stephanie stunning her parents by announcing her willingness to come with them. It was the first family trip she had offered to be part of for over a year.
They left so late that Dave gave up on the idea of getting to Ottawa before dark.
They checked into a set of cabins on Lower Rideau Lake.
“If we get an early start,” said Dave, “we can still have a full day.”
The cabins were built in the thirties—white clapboard with a small screened porch, built in a semi-circle under a stand of pines.
Dave bought three beers from the woman in the office. They ordered pizza from the only pizzeria in the phone book. There was an above-ground swimming pool under the trees. Dave dragged three wooden Adirondack chairs over to the pool and they sat there, Morley, Dorothy and Dave, and drank their beers while the kids swam.
They ate their pizza outside. A rusty pickup truck with a dumpy camper on the back bounced up to the cabin beside Dorothy’s. The driver jockeyed the truck around the pines—he was pulling a boat in a trailer, a large indoor cruiser. When he parked, he climbed out of his cab and stretched.
He was wearing a plaid work shirt and blue jeans so dusty they were turning brown. He hadn’t shaved for a few days. His cheeks were sunburnt, weathered. He smiled pleasantly and said, “Bonjour,” as he walked by them on his way to the motel office.
The sky was blue and gray and purple and orange—the light soft and dimming. The green neon No Vacancy sign flipped on. Dave looked at the sign and at the cars buzzing by on the highway. He felt relaxed and peaceful.
If it wasn’t for the mosquitoes, it would have been perfect. The mosquitoes had come when they were eating the pizza.
“ This is Canada,” said Dave to Dorothy as he slapped at his neck. “Now you know what we’re all about.”
They went into Dave and Morley’s room and watched a movie on television. Then they went to bed.
“We’ll start early,” said Dave. Again.
Dorothy had a cabin to herself. She lay on her bed and stared at the water stains on the unpainted wooden ceiling. One of them reminded her of the Queen Mother. She began to organize the boards on the ceiling into groups of five, using her fingers to keep track. Then into groups of three. It was hard to concentrate. There was a rip in the screen in her bedroom window and her cabin was full of mosquitoes. She had never heard anything like it—the drilling buzz of the bugs as they dove around her head. She had to stop counting every few seconds and brush at her face.
At midnight she got out of bed and put on the red
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