13
THEY LOVED LETTUCE MORE THAN CARROTS
Dear Mr. Richard Gere,
When we arrived at the Canadian border, we were made to wait in a queue and then stop our Ford Focus at the border patrol inspection booth. It looked like when you approach a bridge, only there was no gigantic metal structure connecting two pieces of land, nor was there any water—what I mean is that there were several lines of cars and little booths you had to drive through, only no toll to pay.
When we reached our booth, a mustache-wearing, tall man asked—in a deep, angry, gravelly voice—to see all of our passports.
Father McNamee handed them over, and the man looked at each for longer than seemed necessary, ducking down into Father’s window at times, checking to make sure our faces matched the pictures. Our Canadian inspector wore an official-looking uniform and seemed to be disgruntled.
Business or pleasure?” he said quickly, hardly even opening his mouth. The way his forehead wrinkled suggested there was definitely a wrong answer and he suspected that we would give it, which made me nervous.
Depends on how you look at it, really,” Father McNamee said.
Elizabeth was in the front passenger’s seat, staring out her window, hiding her face from the inspector.
What’s wrong with her?” the inspector said.
These sorts of things tend to make her uncomfortable, that’s all,” Father McNamee said.
Where you headed?”
Montreal and then Ottawa. Saint Joseph’s Oratory is the main attraction.”
Cat Parliament,” Max said from the backseat, managing to refrain from cursing. “Cat Fucking Parliament,” he whispered almost inaudibly, but with an intense look in his eye.
I used to be a priest,” Father McNamee quickly added, which made me think he’d heard Max curse and was trying to curry favor with the border patrol inspector, since many Canadians are Catholic, according to Father McNamee, anyway.
What is it you do for a living now?” Border Patrol said.
I’m retired,” Father McNamee said.
Priests can retire?”
Listen, I just need to take a quick trip into your good country. You could say it’s a pilgrimage of sorts. A very necessary one.”
The border patrolman looked at Father McNamee for a few seconds, pushing his lips together so hard, they began to turn white.
Father smiled back at him.
What about you, miss?” he said. “Miss? Can you turn and face me, please?”
What?” Elizabeth said without looking at the man.
What do you do for a living?”
I used to volunteer at the library.”
Now?”
Elizabeth remained quiet.
Backseat?” he said, pointing his nose at me.
Yes?” I said.
What do you two do for a living?”
I have always worked at the fucking movies,” Max said, and I could hear the anger in his voice. He sounded very anxious. I could tell he was on edge. “What the fuck, hey?”
No need for profanity, chief. Dial it down back there. You?”
I looked up and could feel the border patrolman looking at me from behind his mirrored sunglasses.
I used to take care of my mother,” I said, telling the truth.
That’s not a job,” he said. “Is it?”
It’s all I ever did.”
What do you do now?”
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I remained silent.
Not a real job between the four of you,” he finally said, and I could tell he hated us—that he thought we were all retards.
You are a retard! the little man in my stomach yelled.
What kind of a special crew do you have with you, Father?” the man asked.
A very special crew. The most special you can have! God’s special children here. I can assure you.”
The border patrolman’s forehead was all wrinkles.
Your mother’s your primary source of income, Chief Two?” he said, and then pointed at me.
It took me a second to realize I was Chief Two, but when I did, I said, “She was my mother.”
You don’t take care of her anymore?” he said. “What happened? Your mother fire you?”
She just died of brain cancer,” Father McNamee said. “And our trip is a bit of a memorial. You’re being a tad insensitive, aren’t you?”
The back of Father’s neck was red, and I could tell he was angry.
I could see Father’s eyes reflected in the man’s sunglasses; Father’s eyes were sucking again, like great whirlpools.
The patrolman tapped our passports on his palm a dozen or so times, like he was debating what to do with us.
Finally, he said, “Welcome to Canada,” and handed Father McNamee our passports.
Whew!” Father McNamee said as he rolled up his window and drove away. “I thought he was going to search us. And I have a half-dozen or so undeclared bottles of Jameson in the trunk!”
We drove for ten or so minutes in silence. I could tell that patrolman had made everyone feel extremely anxious. But we didn’t talk about it; we just stared out our windows.
What the fuck, eh?” Max said, finally breaking the tension, and then laughed at his own joke.
Elizabeth groaned.
When no one said anything, Max added, “We’re in fucking Canada, eh?”
Father McNamee laughed like he finally got the joke, and when I asked what was so funny, Father said people in Canada often end their sentences with the word eh?
That’s a stereotype that will offend the locals,” Elizabeth said.
What the fuck, eh?” Max said again in a funny voice and elbowed me.
I laughed, even though I knew Elizabeth didn’t want me to.
Then no one said anything for a long time.
I didn’t like that border patrolman,” I said to my reflection in the window.
No one said anything in response.