A Boring Wife Settles the Score by Marie-Renée Lavoie

Author:Marie-Renée Lavoie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Anansi Press Inc
Published: 2021-06-09T16:09:01+00:00

The greatest joys in life affect our moods like a new red shirt in a load of whites: they colour everything pink. When I ran into Kathleen, who mentioned that she’d told the principal about the potentially dangerous ball strap we were keeping in our classroom, I smiled and suggested she call the SPCA. Outside it began to pour, prompting an end to the day’s hostilities.

As for Devan, who’d let me have it when I suggested he do a puzzle to calm down — he was trying to slice open the bean bag with a Lego sword he’d made (the kid was clearly a genius) — I simply said, “Come get me when it breaks, okay?” He looked at his sword, scanned the room for someone else who might scold him, then dropped it and wandered over to the reading corner, where he stuck his nose in a pile of books. I said thank you to Éléonore when she pointed out my wrinkles (“What are all those lines?”), counted cards with Julia a dozen times (sixteen in total, I can confirm), and had a ridiculous conversation with Pavel, using my own invented language.

“What are you drawing, Pavel? Ah! It’s a house on fire . . .”

(Shaking his head No, no, no.)

“With flowers . . .”

(Noooo!)

“. . . with scribblydoos . . .”

(Amazement in his eyes. Yes!)

“And that’s a cow.”

(Noooo.)

“Oh excuse me, a permiflette.”

(Yes!)

“Eating a bloody craspiton.”

(Yes!)

“In a florinny trouk pitouka.”

(Yesss!)

Revelation! He didn’t speak because he couldn’t get the words out: their dull and dreary sounds were crippled by boredom as they tried to scale his vocal cords. My diagnosis as amateur shrink: lack of imagination.

And when I managed to secure five minutes to use the bathroom, I screamed, “I’m dooone!” at the top of my lungs after I’d finished peeing. Let them hear me all the way in Australia. I was laughing so hard by the time Linda came in to check on me, she didn’t believe me when I said I hadn’t smoked a thing.

I answered the phone with this same feverish energy, even though I didn’t recognize the number on the screen.

“Hello hello!”

“Yes, hello . . . am I speaking to Diane Delaunais?”

“Yes, this is she!”

“Hello. I’m here with Mr. Valois —”

“Jacques Valois?”

He hadn’t said, “I’m here with the body of Jacques Valois,” so there was no reason to panic.

“Yes. Mr. Valois has had an accident.”

The curtain fell, and the colourful swirls of my inner rainbow vanished on the spot.

“An accident?”

“A cycling accident.”

“Cycling?”

“Yes, a rather violent collision.”

“With a car?”

“No, actually, it was with, uh . . . some farm ma­chinery.”

“A tractor?”

“Uh . . . you could say that.”

“Where?”

“In Portneuf.”

“What was he doing in Portneuf?”

“Cycling.”

“Since when does he cycle? He’s never cycled before!”

Linda walked over, both hands over her heart, horrified. “Your children?” she mouthed. I shook my head no and closed my eyes. God, no, luckily not my children. She twirled her hand in the air to indicate that she would take over my class. “Take your time,” I read on her lips.

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