Ice Storm, page 12
All of a sudden they weren’t outside any more, but shopping in the mall. Just hanging out. They saw a photo booth and decided to get their pictures taken. They were silly; everybody’s silly in a photo booth. They laughed some more. It felt so good. If only Sophie were here! If only she could talk to Soph, she would feel so much better.
Alice sat straight up. She was such an idiot. She could talk to Sophie – the shelter had phones! Assuming, of course, that Soph’s phone was working. It was worth a try. You had to wait in a long line to get your turn, but lots of people were making calls. Alice had put the phone out of her mind. Her cell was dead and Dad’s cell was dead, so she’d stopped thinking about it. Alice turned off the radio, got out of the sleeping bag and marched over to join the phone line. How could she have been so dense?
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“Allo, bonjour?”
“Bonjour, Sébastien. Can I talk to your papa?”
“Sure, Uncle Pete,” replied Sébastien seriously. He handed the phone over.
“Has she called yet?”
“No, Pierre,” replied Papa. “Not yet. Have you contacted the Red Cross?”
“Yes,” replied Pete wearily. “She was taken to a shelter downtown. But that shelter had to be moved, so they’re trying to find out where she went next. I thought I would check with you, just in case.”
“If she was taken by the Red Cross she will be fine, you know that, Pierre,” said Papa firmly. “Keep calling. Are you still on your cell?”
“I’m not leaving the Red Cross post until I find something out. They’re letting me charge my cell phone while I wait, so you can call me at that number.”
“D’accord. We’ll phone if she calls.”
Uncle Pete hung up. Papa gave a deep sigh. “Ma petite Alice,” he said quietly. “Where are you?”
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The lineup was ten miles long. At least. Now that Alice knew she was close to talking with Sophie, or Sébastien, or Tante Evie or Uncle Henri – anybody who loved her – she wanted it right now. She just couldn’t wait. Slowly, slowly, the line shortened. Finally it was her turn. Alice dialed the number she knew so well.
“Allo, bonjour?” came an anxious voice.
“Soph, is that you? It’s me, Alice!”
Alice could hear shrieking on the other end of the line. “Soph?”
Then it was Tante Evie. “Alice, Alice, are you all right?”
“Of course, Tante Evie. Well, sort of. I don’t want to be here at the shelter, I want to be with you!” Alice just blurted it out.
Then it was Uncle Henri. “Ma petite, where are you? Your dad is so worried!”
“I’m at Place Ville-Marie. I was at the Eaton Centre, but the ice kept falling and it was so scary. Uncle Henri, soldiers came to my house! They made me and Mrs. Hartley leave even though I didn’t want to because Dad wouldn’t be able to find me, but they made us because Mrs. Hartley was old and sick and hurt from where I pulled her out of her house after the tree fell on it!” Alice stopped to catch her breath. “You say my dad is worried – you’ve talked to him? Is he okay? I’ve been so worried too!”
Uncle Henri was so relieved he laughed out loud. “We have all been worried, ma petite, but everything is fine now, c’est vrai? I will call your dad and tell him where you are. Now here is Sophie. Please, talk to her before she explodes!”
Sophie grabbed the phone. “Alice, we were crazy with worry! When the bridges closed, we thought you were with your dad and he thought you were with us, so when he called we all just about went nuts!”
Just hearing Soph’s voice made Alice feel warm inside. “I have so much to tell you,” she said.
“Me too,” replied Sophie. “You have to get here to the farm. You have to, right away. Papa won’t let me talk any longer because he wants to call your dad. Come right now!”
Alice couldn’t talk any longer either, because the guy behind her in line was starting to tap his watch. It didn’t matter, Alice felt so good. Why hadn’t she thought of the phone before? And now she had something useful to do with her day. Alice handed the phone to the impatient man behind her and marched back down to the end of the line. She would stand in line for another turn to call Sophie. Then another, and another, until she could leave the shelter. Now, that was being productive.
It wasn’t so bad, waiting in line. Alice had never understood it when she heard about people waiting all night to get concert tickets and stuff but now she did. It was the goal that counted. It made the waiting almost pleasant, knowing that at the end you would get exactly what you wanted. And what she wanted was to talk to her family.
Three lines later, Alice had told Sophie about Mrs. Hartley and the tree and the pills and the muffins. Sophie had told Alice about the generator and the Mennonites and the sugar bush and Sébastien’s chart. Next call, Alice was going to talk about the Lotto-Douche. But just as she reached the head of the line, Alice stopped in her tracks when she heard a familiar voice. She whirled around.
“Daddy!” she cried, running to the entrance and throwing herself into his arms. They held on to each other as if they never wanted to let go.
“I was so worried,” Dad whispered into her hair. “I couldn’t find you!”
“Oh, Daddy, I’ve been just fine. You didn’t have to worry about me,” replied Alice. “But what about you? I was worried too! Are you okay? Did you get my note?”
“What note?” said Dad as they found a couple of chairs. “There wasn’t a note. All this time I thought you were at the farm, having fun with Sophie. And I finally got to a live phone last night and called to talk to you because I missed you, and that’s when I found out you weren’t there. I just about went mad and raced home and there was no note. Alice, that’s our rule! Our special rule so we never lose each other!”
Alice hugged her Dad as tight as she could. She had never doubted that he loved her, but she’d never been so sure as she was today.
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” said Alice. “I did leave a note. I know that’s our rule. Didn’t you find it?”
That’s when Dad had to tell about the vandals. No tv, no computer. No note. Alice was sad, but not as much as she thought she’d be. Saskia had lost her whole house. Mrs. Hartley lost her roof. Sophie lost her cows. Alice felt saddest for her house, left abandoned so anything could happen to it, as if nobody cared. That was assuming a house had feelings, which was utterly ridiculous. But Alice couldn’t shake the thought.
“You’re safe and that’s all that matters. And I’m taking you to the farm myself – so I’ll know for sure you’re there, safe and sound!”
To the farm, hurray! “Right now? Should I get my stuff?” Of all the things that she’d thought might happen today, going to the farm had not been on the list.
“Sorry, Princess, not yet,” replied Dad. Alice frowned. “The bridges are still closed. As a matter of fact, they’re asking for volunteers to knock the ice off the bridges so that traffic can start to move. I’m volunteering. Then I’m coming straight here to take you to the farm.”
Alice was quiet. “Is it dangerous?” she asked in a small voice.
“No more dangerous than anything else, Princess. Who will take care of you if I get reckless on a bridge?” Dad laughed. Alice didn’t. “I’ll be careful, I promise.” More promises, thought Alice.
She hated to see her dad go, but he was determined to get the job done and come back for her. After another tight hug, he was off. Alice went to take her place at the end of the phone line. She had to tell Sophie their plans.
Day Eight
Monday, January 12, 1998
“What’s the hurry, girl?”
Alice stopped short. She’d wanted to say goodbye to Mrs. Hartley, but now she wondered. Could she leave her? Should she?
“My dad’s ready to go. He’s taking me to my cousins’ farm.”
“About time, too,” huffed Mrs. Hartley. “Leaving his own daughter to fend for herself in an emergency. Hmmph. He needs to take better care of you.”
“He takes care of me just fine,” Alice shot back indignantly. “We take care of each other. And it’s a good thing he didn’t take me away before, because you’d still be stuck under a tree!”
Mrs. Hartley grinned, which looked a little evil since she didn’t have her false teeth in. “That’s the spirit, girl. Fight back!”
Alice was confused. Mrs. Hartley was like two different people in one wrinkled bag of skin. Sometimes she was nice and sometimes she went back to being the Tickle Lady, nails or no nails.
“Mrs. Hartley, I want you to come with me. Aunt Evie can look after you, and I know she wouldn’t mind. They don’t have power, but they’ve got a wood stove to keep us warm and cook food and stuff. Nobody would steal your medicine there. It would be way better than this place.”
Mrs. Hartley gave Alice a hard look. “You’ve done enough looking after me, girl,” she said brusquely. “I don’t like to be beholden. Go on, go to your cousins. I’m fine here, don’t you worry about me.” Mrs. Hartley rolled over on her side. She didn’t say goodbye.
Alice sighed and picked up her stuff. That was one weird old lady. The craziest part was that Alice was actually starting to like her. She headed off to find Rachel. They’d promised to exchange phone numbers to stay in touch, assuming anybody ever had phone service again. Then Alice was ready.
“Is the car downstairs?” she asked her Dad as they rode down the elevator.
“No,” replied Dad. “We’re taking this.” Alice started to laugh. Parked outside on St. Catherine Street was Dad’s big hydro truck. “Now that’s transportation!” she laughed.
“It’s the safest thing,” said Dad. “I’ve arranged to work in the Triangle of Darkness for the next couple of days. That’s why I’m allowed to take the truck down there.”
“What’s the Triangle of Darkness?” asked Alice curiously.
“It’s the area around the farm. It’s like a war zone down there, Princess. And I’m afraid they won’t get power back for weeks.”
Driving across the bridge to the South Shore was like traveling from darkness into light. It sure didn’t look like a “Triangle of Darkness” to Alice, at least not in the daytime. The other side of the bridge was like a fairyland. Every house, every tree, every pole, every mailbox and every car was coated in ice. The sun sparkled on the ice, making the whole world intensely beautiful, full of diamonds and crystals. Strange ice sculptures sat in people’s yards. Alice and Dad made a game of guessing what was under them. That one was a bicycle, that one a birdbath.
But under the shimmering ice also lay the twisted and shattered corpses of homes, animals and the power grid. It was a cruel fairyland.
Alice had to remind herself that the sparkling ice was killing people. It was killing animals and making people sick. It was closing schools and burning down houses. How could it do that when it was so very beautiful? Alice felt very confused, and not just about the ice storm.
“Dad, I’ve been thinking,” she began.
“That sounds serious,” teased Dad.
Alice nodded solemnly. “It is.”
Dad took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready. Lay it on me, Princess.”
“I don’t want to skate competitively any more.”
The words dropped like stones into a pond. They were heavy. Alice could see that Dad was thinking about how their lives would change if she didn’t compete any more. After all, every single thing they did was organized around her skating.
Finally Dad said something. “But you have so much talent. Do you really want to throw it away?”
“No, I love skating more than anything,” said Alice quietly.
“Well, now I’m confused.” Dad sounded a little frustrated. “Do you want to skate or don’t you?”
“I want to skate. I don’t want to compete,” replied Alice. “I know you’re my biggest fan, Dad, but even you have to admit that I’m a lousy competitor. I get so upset before I go on that I throw up. Then I fall apart. I mop the ice on almost every jump, jumps I’ve done a million times in practice. You know what’s it’s like!”
Dad said nothing.
Alice was getting revved up. “And I’m so tired of all the tv announcers talking about my ‘potential’ and how I’m not living up to it. About how my ‘career’ is such a disappointment. I’m twelve, Dad, I’m too young to have a career!” Mrs. Hartley’s words echoed in Alice’s head.
Dad still said nothing.
“And what I really, really hate is that I don’t have any friends. I don’t have time to make any. And even if I had some, I don’t have time to do anything with them. I can’t go to their house after school or join the track team with them. I can’t go to the mall and hang out. By the time I get home from practice, it’s too late to even call anybody. Daddy,” pleaded Alice. “I want to have some friends!”
Dad lifted his eyebrows. “One of the reasons your mom and I put you in skating was so that you wouldn’t have time to hang out,” he said mildly.
“Well, it’s not like I want to make a career of that either. It would just be nice to do it sometimes.”
Dad was quiet for a whole lot of kilometres. Finally he sighed. “So you want to quit?”
“No, not really,” replied Alice. “I thought I did at first. Competitive figure skating is kind of all or nothing. But then I was talking to Mrs. Hartley and she said that when you’re twelve, nothing is all or nothing. Everything is possible. So I started to think about how I could skate some of the time, just not compete.”
“And what did you figure out?”
“Well,” Alice took a deep breath, “I was thinking I could coach.” She hurried to explain. “Not like a real pro or anything, but like a helper. I could work with the little kids on Saturday afternoon. Teach them how much fun skating can be. And teach them right, so they get good edges and control, so they build their strength up properly, like I was taught. That way I could still skate, sort of, but only on Saturday afternoons. And...” Alice took a deep breath. “If Mr. Osborne says I can, I’m going to ask him if I can keep doing one freeskate a week. Just for exercise, of course. Just so I don’t forget.”
Dad went quiet again. It didn’t really matter what he said now. She’d told him, and that was the main thing. And it felt good. Really good. Alice waited.
A few more kilometres went by. Dad looked at Alice sideways for a second.
“Princess, you’ve told me what you don’t like about skating. I need to know what you do like about it.”
That was easy. “I love how fast I can go and I love the power I feel in my legs when I do back crosscuts. I love the solid feeling you get when you land a jump and you’re perfectly centered. I love to skate when nobody’s watching, when I’m doing it just for me.
“And I love it because Mom loved it.”
Dad nodded his head. “I thought as much,” he said softly.
They were nearing Saint-Hyacinthe. Alice recognized the farms on the outskirts. Dead animals were piled in fields. Alice couldn’t help but catch her breath. Her dad was looking at the twisted hydro pylons along the highway. The landscape wasn’t pretty any more. Maybe Sébastien’s loup-garou had come to town, waged war and transformed the South Shore into a battlefield.
“Alice, we’re nearly there. You don’t have to skate if you don’t want. So don’t worry. But you’ve given me a lot to think about, so can we finish the talk later?”
Alice nodded. “Of course, Dad, there’s other stuff to think about right now, I know that. But Dad?” Dad glanced over at her. “Thanks for listening. We don’t have to decide anything right now, but I feel a lot better now that you know.”
Dad smiled at her. “We’re a team, Princess.”
Alice gave a small smile. “You don’t have to call me Princess any more, Daddy.”
Dad raised his eyebrows. “I thought you liked it,” he said. “When you were little you kept looking for your crown.”
Alice’s smile turned into a grin. “So you made me one out of tinfoil! I remember. But Daddy,” said Alice earnestly, “I’m not little any more.”
Dad looked sideways at her. “So, you’re all grown up now?”
“Well, mostly.”
Dad snorted. “We’ll see about that.”
Dad turned into the lane that led to the farm. Alice looked around, wide-eyed. The little shelter Uncle Henri had built for the kids at the school bus stop was crushed to kindling. The lovely poplar trees that lined the lane were bent so low you could see over them, opening up the landscape. Alice could see for miles, she could even see the silos from the road. Dad rounded a corner and the house came into view.
Alice loved the house. Uncle Henri’s grandfather had built it himself. It was white clapboard with forest green shutters. It looked like it had weathered the storm just fine except for all the icicles hanging from the roof, and there was a comforting trail of smoke coming from the stovepipe over the kitchen. But it looked empty.
Dad parked the car. He and Alice slipped and slid over the icy drive and pushed open the kitchen door. “Anybody home?” yelled Alice. “We’re here!”
There was no answer. Alice went to the mudroom and found her hook. She had a hook and a set of barn clothes of her very own. She was very proud of them. It meant she belonged.
“They’re probably in the milking parlour,” said Alice. “I’ve got my own clothes, but Dad, here are some of Uncle Henri’s. You can borrow them. He won’t mind.” They pulled on the barn clothes and headed out the back door. The noise was terrible as they got closer to the barn. “That doesn’t sound good,” said Alice in a worried tone. “The cows aren’t supposed to be bawling like that!”
“Alice! Alice!” Sophie came running out of the barn. “You made it!”
Alice hugged her. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “I’ve never heard that noise before!”
“It wasn’t, but it is now,” said Sophie. “We just got a generator from the army. The cows are desperate. Come on, we can’t stop. We have to help. Hurry!” Sophie grabbed Alice’s hand and pulled her towards the barn. Dad followed behind. The grown-ups exchanged smiles and waves but they couldn’t stop working. The cows needed them. Alice helped Sophie hose down the cows and clean the teats, and Dad did his best to help Sébastien with the water pump and the alley scraper. Luckily Dad wasn’t too worried about getting ordered around by a nine-year-old, because Sébastien just couldn’t help himself.
