Read Online Five Roses by Alice Zorn - Free Book Online Page B

skirts. The black suede jacket with the pansy embroidered on the pocket. A metal hanger bent from the weight of a dozen pairs of jeans Claire would never wear again. Fara had punched the clothes into bags, arms rigid, face wet. Shoved the bags down the maw of a charity bin.
    She made a face now. “His father’s lucky you’re doing it.”
    â€œ Am I doing it? Have we decided to buy the house?” His wide-eyed trusting and trustworthy look. Ready to lead or follow. She had only to give him the sign.
    Seven years ago she’d been trudging through snowdrifts down a sidewalk behind a man who leaped up the steps of the apartment building where she was headed. Through the glass she saw him batting snow off his sleeves and shoulders.
    She opened the door, shook snow off her tam, eyeing him sidelong as she stomped her boots. “Ever seen such a snow?” What a silly thing to say.
    â€œCrazy night to go out,” he agreed. As if a snowstorm ever kept a Montrealer home.
    Fara had crossed her fingers inside her mittens, hoping he was coming to Tom and Karin’s party. She liked his boyish face, broad cheekbones, and lively eyes. He was taller than she was, too. She had nothing against short men, but it didn’t feel as sexy when a man had to lift his head to kiss her.
    When she began to climb the stairs and he followed, she asked, “Are you following me?”
    â€œYou’re following me. I’m being polite and letting you go ahead.”
    Both stopped before the door with the music and laughter. Fara blushed that her wish had come true so easily. Hold on! she told herself. Just because he’d arrived at the party alone didn’t mean he was single.
    When he tugged off his brown toque, she asked, “Is that a helmet liner?”
    â€œIt only cost two bucks. I didn’t know it was a helmet liner.”
    â€œI think it is.”
    â€œHow can you tell?” He turned it inside out and squinted at the washing instructions.
    â€œA helmet .” She clamped a hand on her head. “Like soldiers wear. Inside, it’s got a liner. You can buy them at the army surplus store.”
    â€œAh!” He smiled. “I thought you meant a designer name — like Hugo Boss.” And affecting a British accent, “Excuse me, is that perchance a Helmut Liner?”
    Another point in his favour. A man who could laugh at himself.
    They walked into the crush of bodies and noise where separate friends hailed them. From across the room Fara tracked him. She wasn’t sure but she thought he did the same. No one seemed to claim him. They circled closer.
    Et voilà , here they were, seven years later, married and about to buy a house.
    â€œAnd you’re sure you’re sure?” Frédéric asked. “Because you weren’t so keen on the idea of a house, and now this one, with a suicide …”
    â€œI like the house. I think I’m okay about the suicide. I should be, right? It’s been seventeen years.”

Rose
    Rose didn’t have to start work at the hospital until two. In the morning she took the subway to St-Henri and walked past the discount stores, the pizza-slice and roti shops, the beer trucks unloading boxes. She turned down the wide street where a factory with a smokestack had been refurbished as condos. The brick had been cleaned but still looked old. The high, gleaming windows mirrored the sky. She had to take great steps over the converging and criss-crossing rails of the train tracks. Before Kenny explained that they curved north to skirt the mountain and south to the rail yards and downtown, she saw only a puzzle of parallel lines narrowing in the distance.
    The first morning she unlocked the door by herself, she hung back. The dark room wafted with ghostly movement. Shadows hulked. She told herself it was only garbage. Planks and metal junk. She darted across the room to jerk aside the canvas curtain. Out the tic-tac-toe window