— So, what’s happening with Anne? asks Trish. Fiona’s two friends have met a few times, but failed to connect. Anne’s too serious for Trish, not artsy enough. As for Anne, Trish reminds her of her most needy patients. Still, they have a lively interest in each other’s lives, via Fiona. — She and Georges …
— I know I accepted your conditions, Luc, says Fiona angrily. I agreed not to tell Anne, but what choice did I have? I mean really? — Fee, do we have to talk about this now? I just want to relax and read the paper while the risotto* bakes. — Luc, I’m steaming. You put …
There’s a tap at the back screen. Fee turns from chopping up cauliflower for a curry* to see Anne standing outside, pale and frowning. — Anne, she says, rushing over to open the door, what’s up? You look upset. — I am upset, she says tersely. May I come in? — Of course, of course, …
Fiona slams through the back door. He’s such an asshole, she thinks. — Luc, she calls out, mustering her inner sweetness so she doesn’t sound as bitchy as she feels. — I’m home. Luc? — Be right down, babe, he calls from upstairs. She plunks her heavy courier bag on the table and rummages through …
— It’s so sweet to have you all to myself, says Fee. — It’s been ages, agrees Anne. I was tempted to go to the game with the guys — it’s not every day you get to hang out in a box. — It was really kind of you to invite Luc and Gavin. They …
— Hey, Georges, says Luc. Good to see you. — Ditto, says Georges, extending his hand. They shake quickly, cautious of this contact after so many months. They’ve exchanged a few emails since their blow out, but this is their first meeting face-to-face. Luc arranged it, of course, but Georges seemed willing enough. — Beer? …
Gavin stirs the beef stew* for the hundredth time. Where the heck are they? he wonders. How long does it take to pick Mom up at the airport? He glances at the starburst clock; it’s already been over an hour. Lame excuse leaving me at home to stir the stew. I know they just want …
— Hey, Georges, says Luc. Good to see you. — Ditto, says Georges, extending his hand. They shake quickly, cautious of this contact after so many months. They’ve exchanged a few emails since their blow out, but this is their first meeting face-to-face. Luc arranged it, of course, but Georges seemed willing enough. — Beer? …
Fiona double checks her pannier to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything. She smiles to herself: the first bike commute of the season after a winter of dreary buses. Getting back on her bike after a four-month hiatus still brings back her childhood feeling of freedom, of flying and fleeing her home, rattling down Renfrew …
— I hate English class, says Gavin, looking up from his laptop across the kitchen table. How am I supposed to know what this dopey story means? It’s just an old story. — Whatcha got there? asks Luc, putting down his New Yorker. — A good man is hard to find, by Flannery O’Connor. — …