Free A Fine Passage by France Daigle

by my need to hold fast. But hold fast to what? In the name of what? I believe I might have thought about giving the wheel that fatal twist, but I also believe I was afraid I’d end up surviving and paralyzed. I wanted to clear my head, put some music on. I looked for Barencourt’s
Orphaned Notes
. The cassette wasn’t in its usual place. The truck was bearing down.
    If I had my life to live over again, although . . .
    â€œWell, weren’t you the brainy-sounding one, then.”
    â€œI had to think up something to say, didn’t I? I never thought I knew so many artists.”
    Carmen had been amused by Terry’s observations on Acadian art.
    â€œNo, truly. It sounded swell. Sometimes you really impress me.”
    The man who’d shown no sign of reading returns from the washroom, sits, watches the countryside file past.
    â€œIt’s my first time in Lyons.”
    They had decided to rent a car in Lyons and follow the river down to the Mediterranean. No one could say how long it would take. Certainly days, perhaps weeks.
    Hans is busy photocopying the cover of the jigsaw puzzle’s box. It takes him several tries before he’s satisfied that he’s captured the colours as accurately as possible and the dimensions he wants. He pays the clerk, walks a few blocks, enters a supermarket, buys a box of clear plastic bags, the strong ones used for storing frozen foods.
    Back in his room, Hans breaks the puzzle apart and pours the pieces into one of the bags. He is glad he bought the large size. He presses the zip-lock — he enjoys that sensation — then slips the bag, zip-lock end first, into a second identical bag, a precaution in case the first bag breaks open, allowing some pieces to escape. Satisfied with the result, and with the malleability of the package — the original puzzle box would have taken up too much room — he now cuts off the white edges of the best of the photocopies of the painting, slips it between the two layers of plastic, and seals the second bag. He takes a few moments to handle the reinforced package, which produces a pleasing sound. Finally, he tidies up and takes his suitcase out of the cupboard. He places the puzzle in the bottom and the rest of his things on top. In no time at all, though he has not hurried, his packing is done. Hans scribbles a few words on a piece of paper, which he leaves, along with some bills, on the table now cleared of the puzzle. He picks up his things, exits and locks the door of the room, deposits the key in a place previously designated by the owner — you can’t be too careful — and leaves the house.
    â€œSome people toss their own bottle in the ocean. They send it out, and then one day it comes back to them. And it becomes their salvation.”
    At first, Claudia didn’t understand what the pope-rabbi meant, especially since his pronouncement seemed to rise up like a pyramid in the midst of silence. She took the time to think before replying.
    â€œYou mean like Little Thumb in the fairy tale?”
    â€œYes, a little. But it’s less thought out, much more innocent. Little Thumb knew what he was doing, didn’t he?”
    â€œYes, I think so.”
    The pope-rabbi thought awhile.
    â€œNo, I wouldn’t say that people do it on purpose, or that they even hold out much hope. But they do have some sort of idea in mind.”
    The pope-rabbi didn’t seem to expect any reply.
    â€œThe earth spins on its axis; we tend to forget that. Perhaps it too ends up catching up to itself, meeting up with itself.”
    Claudia certainly had nothing to add to that.
    â€œThe fact that I meet you again in this plane, for example. What pure chance, don’t you think? But then, what is chance?”
    Coming out of the Lyons train station exit, Carmen pauses in front of the makeshift stand of a bearded man selling jewellery.
    â€œThey sure are pretty.”
    â€œMust be awful