Free As a Thief in the Night by Chuck Crabbe Page B

with it. But at least I could trust her—all the damage tenants can do—because she would take care of the vines. She knows the vines. He's snoring out there on the couch. I like sleeping alone anyway. Does he have a blanket? A grown man...And if that makes me a bad wife, so be it. Peace comes with acceptance. Apathy, too... Too much to think about while I'm feeling this angry... My legs tighten up; they're still pretty strong. I thought about smacking him as I walked past. I won't sleep unless I settle down. Sleep comes harder and harder as I get older. I need more rest but get less. Forgot to make lunches; what's in the fridge? Another thing to do in the morning... It gets dark so early now. There used to be more snow when I was a girl. I watched it fall from my bedroom window, Moira tracing flowers in the frost on the pane. Certain memories stay with you even though they didn't seem to be important when they happened. I must have been younger than Ezra is now—maybe the same age as Layne. Too much to think about so late: let go; let go. Walk past him without saying anything; that's the only thing to do, really. It's not so bad. It's a cold world out there. But I'm in here, safe and warm under my covers and clean sheets. Tomorrow will take care of itself. And the icy flowers she'd etched in the frost....
     
    Two weeks later it was decided. They would move to Windsor that summer. She would miss her house and her vines, but Gord would take some vacation time and they would be back for vintage each year. The rest she thought she could live with.
    The winter had hung heavy on the morning she'd told Layne and Ezra. The boys had lain in Ezra's bed listening to the radio and talking until they'd fallen asleep, but now, as the weak winter sunrise began to define the room, she woke them gently and explained what had been decided.  
    Of course the news that Elsie brought that morning was only words; what it would mean was lost in the veil of what was to come. This was especially true for Ezra, who shared Olyvia's lack of contact with reality. For them, reality had to strike before they had any understanding of its consequences. And it was not until that rather violent moment of recognition that they at last realized how badly they had underestimated the situation that they had, Quixote-like, drifted into. For Ezra the year went on much as it had. For Layne, things were as Elsie had thought: water off a duck's back.
     
    He could tell what kind of reaction she'd had to the principal's call by the speed at which the car turned the corner, and when the old Beaumont pulled into the school parking lot and came to a jerking stop, the rusted door swung open and he saw Elsie mouth a profanity as she stepped directly into a muddy puddle of water, and then storm up to the school's front doors. Ezra got up quickly from the office bench to try to divert her, or at least to slow her down. He was afraid she would cause a scene, something she was certainly known to do from time to time.
    Seeing the rising bruises all over his face, she gasped. "Who did that to you?" she demanded, the anger in her voice still restrained but obviously building.
    "Elsie, it's okay! Please!" he pleaded and tried to block her progress.
    "No, it is definitely not okay!" She held his face in her hands to examine it. Looking him over, she quickly dismissed the possibility of serious injury, then sidestepped the obstacle of his body, flung open the glass doors, and began to search for someone on which to focus her maternal vengeance.
    No, it was explained to her, it had not been solely the other boy's fault. She looked at Ezra for confirmation of what she was being told. He nodded silently, looked down at his lap, and played a game with his fingers to avoid looking up. The principal explained calmly that it was the school board's policy to suspend any student involved in a fight, regardless of where the blame might lay.
    They drove home quietly. Ezra looked out the