Free Just Fine by France Daigle, Robert Majzels

spoke again. “Not too many people today.”
    â€œAugust 15 was yesterday.” Terry checked his watch. It was barely nine o’clock and already the site had been cleaned and cleared of the main installations from the previous day’s celebrations of Acadia’s national day. Though a dozen or so Acadian flags continued to flap in the wind.
    â€œI mean for river cruises.”
    â€œPeople aren’t used yet to coming when the tide is up.”
    â€œOh.” The young woman studied the site, the greenspaces and flowerbeds, the little concession stands and information panels. “Is it really Irving did all this, then?”
    â€œThe park, you mean? Pretty much, yeah.”
    â€œWhat’s the idea?”
    Terry didn’t think the girl really expected a reply. “Did you want to take the tour?”
    â€œDon’t know. It is kind of a nice day.”
    â€œThe next cruise leaves in half an hour. You’ll have to sign up over there in the little booth.”
    The young woman turned to look at the deserted booth. “Is there no one else?”
    â€œAll depends. There’s some that buy their tickets early and then take a stroll in the streets of Le Coude, have a coffee or something, while they’re waiting.”
    â€œOh.” The young woman looked at the river. She didn’t seem in any hurry to make up her mind.
    Terry waited a bit before telling her, as politely as possible, “They don’t really like you hanging around on this part of the pier.”
    â€œOh?”

XII
    I KNEW I HAD TOdecolonize myself, to free myself, but I had no idea where to start. I felt enormous and divided, like Africa: weakened, invaded, badly coordinated, primitive, and paradoxical. I didn’t even know what to be anymore, what exactly to want. It had become almost impossible to take a step in any direction. Even the streets of my neighbourhood had become alien and menacing, somehow unreal. I got in the habit of going everywhere by car, even to the corner store. Even so, I avoided certain streets during rush hour for fear of being immobilized in traffic and I never dared to leave town alone. I knew my limits. In spite of this though, I managed to live and appear normal. That was perhaps what was most troubling.
    *
    Three other people approached the Beausoleil-Broussard a few minutes before its departure. Terry was relieved. He hadn’t been looking forward to doing the entire tour alone with this young woman who had already asked him his name, his age, and his opinion on the book he was reading.
    â€œSo what’s your name, then?”
    His name was sewn on the front of his shirt, but she was too far away to read it. He felt embarrassed somehow about telling her his name. “Terry.”
    â€œTerry what?”
    â€œThibodeau.”
    â€œOh.”
    Silence. The pause was critical. It put Terry at ease and made him feel like continuing the conversation. “How about you, then? What’s your name?”
    â€œCarmen.”
    â€œCarmen what?”
    â€œDesprés.”
    â€œAnd where’re you from?”
    â€œGrande-Digue.”
    â€œI thought they was all Bourgeois in Grande-Digue.”
    â€œThey’re a good number. The Després come from Cocagne, really. My father moved to Grande-Digue to get away from his family.”
    The ironic reply made Terry laugh. Cocagne was only a few kilometres from Grande-Digue.
    There was another pause before she continued, “What’s that you’re reading, then?”
    â€œOh, it’s just a book.” Normally Terry would have left it at that but today his reply seemed too brief and not particularly bright. He tried to lengthen it a bit. “It’s about the number twelve, all the ways that number exists.”
    â€œAnd do you like it?”
    â€œIt’s okay.”
    Another brief silence. Carmen eyed the expanse of water before her. “How old are you,