Free 21 Days in October by Magali Favre Page B

of her children had been sick. When she returned, she had already been replaced by a younger girl. The foreman hadn’t even warned her. She had tried to negotiate another position, even one less well paid, but it was no use.
    Now, the roar of the machines scrambles his thoughts. Gaétan can’t get the woman’s expression out of his head. He would have liked to help her. He has a sudden desire to drop everything, to run away from this place where life seems to count for so little. He remembers Luc’s words: “
Cheap labour. All we are is cheap labour
.”
    A nagging question runs through his head. How many years will he spend in front of this machine? Thirty? Forty? He is sick to his stomach.
    Suddenly, his machine gets caught and a few of the threads snap. It’s a catastrophe. He pushes the red emergency button and the foreman comes running.
    â€œGoddammit… Better not let that happen too often, or believe me you won’t stay here long. It takes three hours to get that machine going again—that’s three hours’ production time lost.”
    Gaétan says nothing.
    â€œYou can get the hell out of here for today. In three hours, your shift’ll be over. But I’m holding a half-day on your paycheque.”
    Gaétan turns and bolts towards the stairs.
    â€œYou heartless bastards!” he yells behind him. Fortunately, his voice is covered by the noise of the machines.
    Gaétan finds himself outside under a starry sky. At this time of night, it is more than just cold. Neither the buses nor the metro are running. He will have to walk back across the entire city. Tonight is a night full of anger. Gaétan clenches his fists.

    He is now trudging down Sainte-Catherine. Usually so full of life and light, it is strangely deserted. Tomorrow is Halloween, and the store windows decorated with skeletons, ghosts, and witches end up giving off a gloomy feeling. There are hardly any cars; only a few taxis circulate, looking for the last stragglers after a night on the town.
    The boy arrives at the corner of the Main. It’s the only place in the whole city where snack bars are still open at this late hour. Boulevard Saint-Laurent, its real name, is the stomping grounds of prostitutes and other non-conformists of all types. Gaétan decides to go eat a hot dog at the Montréal Pool Room before going home. A woman beckons to him from the door of a nightclub. He quickens his pace.
    Once he has bolted down the hot dog, he continues walking, quickly crossing the area where his mother doesn’t like to see him hanging around. For her, the Red Light district is where the mafia made their fortune during American prohibition. And if she still supports Mayor Drapeau, it’s mainly for his crusade against these visible remnants of those dissolute days.
    Gaétan gradually leaves the lights on the Main for the dark and familiar streets of his neighbourhood in the East.
    Two vagrants are sleeping under an air vent outside of the Beaudry metro station. They are wrapped in old sleeping bags and surrounded by several empty liquor bottles, a symbol of their daily struggles.
    Gaétan has definitely seen his share of misery tonight.

    To avoid explaining the reason for his early return, he decides to spend the rest of the night at Luc’s. At the same time, he’ll check to see if the apartment is still empty.
    It’s garbage day, and the lane is overflowing with garbage cans. A rat, eagerly sniffing the contents of a ripped bag, scurries away as Gaétan approaches, only to return right after he passes.
    Exhausted, Gaétan climbs the stairs and enters the apartment. He walks through all the rooms; the apartment is empty. Nothing seems to have moved since his last visit. His legs have gone numb. Without thinking, he collapses on Luc’s bed and pulls the blankets around him. He falls asleep instantly.

    â€œGet up! Get up!”
    Gaétan is being shaken