Hey Nostradamus! By Douglas Coupland

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or his voice. I oughtn't be telling you that, because it means that I'll forget your face and voice someday, too. (But don't take it that way.) I'm in a Kinko's writing this. I haven't said that yet. It's downtown and open twenty-four hours. It's maybe onea.m. and I'm the only customer here on this side of the store. Two other people - homesick German tourists, I'm guessing - are across the room trying to send a fax. I think heaven must be a little bit like this place - everybody with a purpose, in a beautiful clean environment. They even have those wonderful new full-spectrum lights that make you look like you've just returned from a stroll in an Irish mist. Why am I here? I'm here because I still don't have a computer, and I'm here writing this because today I got a call from the RCMP out in Chilliwack. They called to say that they'd found your "highly weathered" flannel shirt, and in its pocket, your Scotiabank debit card. It was tangled in some bulrushes in a swamp beside a forest out there, found by some kids shooting BB guns. I asked the RCMP if they were going to organize a manhunt, and while they didn't laugh aloud, they made it clear that one was not being planned. How dare they. All they gave me was a map. And so I'm typing this letter out. I'm going to print it and make a thousand copies, and come sunrise I'm going to go out to that swamp and its surrounding forest and I'm going to tack these letters onto the trees there with a pack of brightly colored tacks I saw up by the front desk when I registered to use this machine. I know that kind of forest so well, and at this time of year, too: spiderwebs vacant, their builders snug inside cocoons; sumac and vine maples turned yellow and red, smelling like chilled candy. The hemlocks and firs and cedars, evergreen but also everdark. The way sounds turn into shadows, and how easy it is to stay hidden forever should that be your wish. You're the Sasquatch now, searching for someone to take away your loneliness, dying as you live with your sense of failed communion with others. You're hidden but you're there, Jason. And I clearly remember from when I was growing up, the Sasquatch was never without hope, even if all he had to be hopeful about was bumping into me one day. But isn't that something? You might ask me whether I still believe in God; I do - and maybe not even in the best sense of the word "believe." In the end, it might boil down to some sort of insurance equation to the effect that it's three percent easier to believe than not to believe. Is that cynical? I hope not. I may sell insurance, but I grieve, I accept. I rebel. I submit. And then I repeat the cycle. I doubt I can ever believe with the purity of heart your Cheryl once had. Cheryl. We never once spoke about her. We never even spoke, period. I never told you that her mother phoned me about eight years ago - I'm listed in the book - and she said that until that day she'd always believed you were involved in the shootings, but then, "It's the funniest thing. I was making coffee this morning, I went to put an extra apple in Lloyd's attachécase, because the apples are so good this time of year, and inside his case, between two folders was a paperback about the massacre, and it was open to the page with Jason's photo - I hadn't seen that image in years. I don't know why, but I finally realized Jason was innocent." Stupid, stupid woman, but a woman whose daughter was lost in the worst imaginable way. As you were never a father, you can never imagine what it is to lose your child. That's not a challenge -how grotesque if it were. It's a simple statement of fact. Page 136
But I haven't lost you, my son. No no no. And you will find one of these letters. I know you will. You never missed a trick of mine, so why stop now? And when you do find this letter, you know what? Something extraordinary will happen. It will be like a reverse solar eclipse - the sun will start shining down in the middle of night, imagine that! - and when I see this sunlight it will be my signal to go running out into the streets, and I'll shout over and over, "Awake! Awake! The son of mine who once was lost has now been found!" I'll pound on every door in the city, and my cry will ring true: "Awake! Everyone listen, there has been a miracle - my son who once was dead is now alive. Rejoice! All of you! Rejoice! You must! My son is coming home!" A Note on the Author <strong>Douglas</strong> <strong>Coupland</strong> is the author of the novels Generation X, Miss Wyoming, and most recently All Families Are Psychotic, among others, as well as the nonfiction works Polaroids from the Dead, City of Glass, and Souvenir of Canada. He grew up and lives in Vancouver. Page 137
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Hey Nostradamus! By Douglas Couplan
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house was quiet - not even a clock
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I said, "Let's talk about it at hom
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Dear God, Remove the blood from the
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My family didn't know what to make
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Dear God, What's hardest here is th
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The important thing is that we were
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only indicate Your absence - that f
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outfits must have made us look all
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And I did have questions and uneasy
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late into the game, I think." "What
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didn't hurt, the shooting, and I di
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someone who spends her days deliver
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ecame ghosts. The only thing that c
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It's a bit later again, still here
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on a locker's ventilation slits. "L
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turned around to me and said, "You
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their badge. Another cop looked at
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myself reflected in the one remaini
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* * * Like anyone, I've seen those
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I sat down, while Mom gave Joyce a
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Mom said, "Didn't you hear me?" Dad
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"Stick a potato in it. Your job, by
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"Barb?" "Go now. Because I'll break
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the water, and here I am now in my
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My main memories of those two weeks
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Just don't screw your life up the w
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was in. What came over me? It was n
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I changed the subject. "How long ar
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In the third week after the massacr
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don't, and they all work so hard -
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Alive! friends look forward to the
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But I was going to say that when it
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"Tell me." "He said, 'Who are we to
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"I've heard of that. More for me, t
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I dropped the rock onto a nearby bo
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But I hadn't killed Yorgo. I stoppe
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* * * I'm in a Denny's in North Van
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"No. Just you." I was confused. I h
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have a carry-on bag? So that some c
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I was going to motion to the elevat
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Saturday afternoon 4:00 I met Jason
Page 85 and 86: Barb's commuting down the coast, an
Page 87 and 88: "Heather, how many people are in th
Page 89 and 90: Okay, Barb's housekeeper will be in
Page 91 and 92: Oh, Heather, you knew it wouldn't b
Page 93 and 94: "I'm driving." "So?" I didn't argue
Page 95 and 96: kitchen table where I picked at the
Page 97 and 98: "Wait. Hold on a minute. When you g
Page 99 and 100: It was becoming windy, and our voic
Page 101 and 102: Oh. So, um - what are you up to lat
Page 103 and 104: "Why did he say, 'Oh, I say'?" "Bec
Page 105 and 106: first disappeared, but which I've s
Page 107 and 108: What has happened to me? I've gone
Page 109 and 110: In my peripheral vision I'm also no
Page 111 and 112: sweater and readying my purse. "Oh,
Page 113 and 114: morning jobs, and he clocked out ea
Page 115 and 116: Tuesday afternoon 3:00 I was eating
Page 117 and 118: "No, I'm not." And he wasn't. Reg h
Page 119 and 120: "Five thousand dollars." "I figured
Page 121 and 122: existence. This is when I felt the
Page 123 and 124: "How could Allison have known such
Page 125 and 126: Okay then, what did happen? I follo
Page 127 and 128: Five years ago, before I met Jason,
Page 129 and 130: Allison didn't like this. "Oh, real
Page 131 and 132: I was appalled. "How could you use
Page 133 and 134: eating an egg salad sandwich, when
Page 135: We were in the Keg at the foot of L
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Hey Nostradamus! By Douglas Coupland

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