TRAFFIC, GUNS, & REASONS

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I finally decided to accept my son’s invitation to supper. He lives on the other side of the city, and I usually beg off just because of the driving involved. However, both his and his Japanese wife’s income tax statements were still at my office, so I succumbed to his coaxing. Besides, Yoshiko had called me late in the afternoon to tell me she was preparing her tofu dish that I enjoy so much; when she added there would also be shrimp and scallops. I was hooked!

My son arrived home from work around 8 PM. We savored Yo’s delicious cooking while keeping one eye on the Wing’s hockey game and, as always, chatted up a storm. I’m not sure why the subject came up, but I was telling Bow, my son, how one of his uncles, a huge man and a rough ‘n tough guy in his younger days, had been brought up short by a much smaller man. It happened before Bow was born.

It was at a traffic light in Montreal. We were coming back from the hospital where my adolescent brother-in-law lay in a deep coma following a horrible accident. The doctors had warned us that things were not looking good, so the atmosphere in the car was tense, each immersed in his own thoughts. When the driver in front of us didn’t move with the green light, Uncle pounded on the horn. The response was a skinny arm shooting out the driver’s window with the universal ‘bird’ sign.

We huddled there, watching with apprehension as Uncle, swearing vehemently, jumped out and stalked towards the offending vehicle. He roughly pulled open that driver’s door, reached in, and hauled him out by a fistful of shirt, then slammed him up against the car. We were unable to hear the exchange, but suddenly Uncle, both arms in the air, backed away from his victim then, ever so slowly, came and slid behind the wheel. The smaller man stood where he was and stared, his hands hidden by his coat, only getting back into his own vehicle when he saw Uncle sitting down.

“The little F*cker’s got a gun!” Uncle said softly. “He stuck a pistol in my stomach!”

We sat there in shocked silence as the light changed from red to green again…and once more, and the driver in front of us didn’t move. When other cars behind us began to honk without stop, he noisily changed gears and spun away in a show of defiance, muffler roaring and tires squealing. Uncle was seething, muttering obscenities as we finally were able to continue on our way. The rest of us didn’t utter a word.

In those days there were still toll booths on the auto route. When we pulled up to the first one, a huge black limousine rolled up to the booth beside us. Glancing at it, my then-husband (and Bow’s father) broke our silence.

“Careful, Uncle”, he warned. “It won’t be a pistol here – it will be a machine gun!” His quip effectively cleared the air. Even Uncle had to laugh at that one.

It was late when I left my son’s house to go home. Maybe because of the dark…I’m at a loss to explain…but somehow I took a wrong turn and was forced to take an alternate route through the city. When I reached the right exit, it was closed for construction. This, of course, resulted in traffic being jammed. As I inched my way forward, the radio advised that the highway I was planning to use was also shut down for repairs. Exasperated, I took the first street available heading north, wanting to get to the highway I knew WOULD be open.

It was uncanny. The street I was on dead-ended right in front of the hospital where my brother-in-law (RIP) had been so long ago. I was taking the very same way, stopping at the very same light, where Uncle’s confrontation had happened; a road I have never needed to use since that period.

What had just happened? Why did events lead to me ending up there? Did my telling the story incite my long deceased brother-in-law, a boy I cared for deeply, to give me a little nudge of ‘Remember me?’?

There is a reason; I just haven’t discovered what it is yet. In the meantime, I’m recalling the wonderful, warm moments spent with a boy who has rarely entered my thoughts lately, and it makes me SMILE.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.