Fight Night(19)

Secondly, I said. I looked closely at my notes. I smiled so Grandma wouldn’t worry. I appreciate this comparison of house arrest and confinement to Gord being in the womb, but may I ask you a question, Grandma? Of course, of course, said Grandma. Are you under house arrest? I asked. No, no, of course not, said Grandma. Because this is a letter, I said. Usually letters are true. Ah, said Grandma. Yes. You make a good point. They usually are. I think it’s okay to exaggerate a bit, I told Grandma, especially if there’s some truth to what you’re saying. Well, said Grandma, in a way I think I was comparing being under house arrest to the process of aging.

I stopped and looked hard at Grandma. She looked hard at me. I blinked a few times. Fair enough, I said. That’s justified. Grandma seemed really happy about that. But again, I said, always remember your reader. You don’t want to replace clarity with clever comparisons. Yes, said Grandma. She nodded. You are right. Thank you. Because, I said, further on you mention that you and the reader of the letter will emerge from your confinement at the same time. Mid-July. Yes, said Grandma. That’s right. But if your confinement is, as you explained, the process of aging, which you compare to being under house arrest, and it is also coming to an end in mid-July, then what exactly are you saying? That Gord will be born in mid-July and that you will stop aging in mid-July? Which means what exactly?

Grandma smiled at me. She put her hand on mine. Ah, she said. I see what you’re getting at. She got up from the table and came around to where I was sitting and put her arms around me. She patted my heart. No, Swiv, she said, I have no plans of dying in mid-July. Or anytime soon!

I hugged Grandma. I couldn’t let go. Finally I had to let go because I knew she needed to sit down and knock some things over and catch her breath. Well, I said, just to wrap things up. I was trying not to cry. How could an editor cry in Editorial Meeting? She passed me the box of Kleenex that was on the dining room table. I blew my nose. I coughed. I like the next sentence of your letter, Grandma. It is very, very long and you use the word shitting in it, but—

Grandma interrupted me. I need to remember my reader, she said. Who is a baby.

Yes, I said. Exactly. And lastly, I said, what does this expression mean, the one you said about the father. Pilgering weiter, said Grandma. Yeah, I said. What does that mean? What does it sound like to you? asked Grandma. I have no idea! I said. It isn’t even a real language! It is a real language, said Grandma. It’s just not very common! It’s not even written down, I said. It’s not real! Things don’t have to be written down to be real, said Grandma. It means wandering around from spot to spot. Taking things as they come. Do you notice that the first part of the word looks a bit like the word pilgrim?

Was Grandma trying to tell me something about you in her letter to Gord? All right, Grandma, I said. Excellent work. Like I said, you’ve made a tremendous start. I organized my papers and stood up from the table.

Is it time for Facts? said Grandma.

I looked at my cellphone. Yes! I said. Do you have one?

I do, said Grandma, it’s about crocodiles. Cool! I said. I lay across the hassock. I was tired of being an editor. Grandma told me that crocodiles have survived evolution and extinction and all that jazz because they have a characteristic that makes them almost indestructible which is the ability to enter a state similar to a living death. I lay very still and silently on the hassock. After a minute, Grandma said yes, exactly like that.

I leapt up. Surprise! I said. I’m alive.

Grandma said she was mighty grateful for that. She asked me if she’d ever mentioned her old friend Marcus to me. I don’t think so, I said, who’s he? Is he that guy who fell through the ice on his snowmobile? Marcus Aurelius, said Grandma. He really understood impermanence. I don’t want to understand impermanence, I told Grandma. I realize that, she said. But the thing is you are in the process of understanding impermanence, whether you want to be or not. We all are.

I got up to boil water for the conchigliettes. I can’t lie here forever! I said.

You know Buddhism? said Grandma. No, I don’t, I said.

It begins with that young princess living her sheltered life and seeing the four signs. She sees an old woman, she sees a sick woman, she sees a dead woman, she sees a holy woman and she realizes, Hey I’m going to get old, I’m going to get sick, and I’m going to die!

Buddhism is about a princess? I asked Grandma. Ball Game, Swiv! I ran to the door. I was so happy to be finished with our conversation. It was the twins Geoffrey and Gretchen from my class. Our teacher thinks we’re triplets because we all have the same tangled yellow hair and Nike swooshes under our eyes and torn clothing. The twins don’t fight, they’re not allowed to, but on the first day of school they said they liked my look and asked me if they could copy it. Our teacher said the blue under our eyes made it look like we were iron deficient. We all stood at the door smiling at each other. We had enough iron. Gretchen asked me if I could come out and play and I said yeah as long as Grandma would finish the conchigliettes. Ask her, said Geoffrey. He was whispering. I shouted at Grandma about the conchigliettes and she said yes, go play for heaven’s sake! As Bobby Sands, political prisoner of the British, said, Our revenge will be the laughter of our children!



Geoffrey and Gretchen knew this bank where we could get free doughnuts if we asked them about retirement planning. We went up to the teller and said we wanted to ask her about retirement planning. She said oh just get lost, the doughnuts are over there on that table. When we walked away she said god, I hate my life.