The Summer Is Ended and We Are Not Yet Saved Read Free

boat. Besides which, small dogs seemed smarter. Cleaner. Martin imagined that there was a whole apartment down inside of each boat, with a kitchen and a bathroom. With windows looking out under the water from the bedrooms, so that he could stand in his dark room and watch the fish swim by at night. Peaceful.
    “Martin?”
    He jumped and turned to find his mother standing in the doorway.
    “Martin, honey, are you okay? Are you having nightmares again?” she said.
    He smiled and stepped away from the window.
    “No, I’m just looking at the boats,” he said. “Do people ever live on boats?”
    But his mother didn’t seem to hear him. Her smile was gone, and she was serious in the way she could only get when she was drinking.
    “You don’t have to be scared,” she said. “Especially not in your own house. You know that, don’t you?”
    “I know,” Martin said. He was still holding the dust cloth in his hand. He placed it on the dresser.
    “I would do anything to protect you, Martin,” she said. “I would kill someone to protect you. So don’t you worry.” She reached out and pulled her son into a hug, and he hugged her back. “It’s way past your bedtime,” she said.
    “I would protect you, too,” Martin said.
    “I know you would. I tell you what. If anyone ever hurts me, I’ll tell you. And you tell me if anyone hurts you, okay? We aren’t allowed to have secrets from each other.” She squeezed his arm. “Even if he says he’s a friend of mine. You tell me,” she said.
    “I promise,” he told her.
    “Where did you go?” someone yelled from the hallway. The door opened and it was his mother’s friend, Carol, with her hair all fancy and curly.
    “We kicked him out,” Carol said. “Who the fuck does he think he is, treating you like that? I’ve half a mind to slap the smile right off his head.” She had glitter on her face, and a glass of white wine in her hand. “Oh, oh sorry!” she said, noticing Martin. “Hi Martin!”
    He waved at her politely.
    “I promise,” he said to his mother, and she squeezed him.
    “Good.” She said. “Now, I should get back to the party. Give me a kiss.”
    He kissed her on the cheek, and then she was gone, closing the door behind her.
    Martin waited awhile, and then turned the knob slowly and quietly, pulling the door open so he could hear. Out in the kitchen, everyone was laughing again and glasses were clinking.
    After a while, Martin snuck back down the hallway to peek into the kitchen. Up on the table, his mother cleared her throat to quiet the room. When that didn’t work, she stomped her boot. Martin pulled back from the doorway instinctively, like the loud noise had exposed him. But nobody was looking. Everyone’s eyes were on his mother, and their voices quieted down. She gave a small curtsy. She took a drink from the bottle of wine, an empty glass in her other hand, then she raised both over the whole room.
    “To the Royal fucking Bank of Canada,” she said, “and their kindhearted vat-grown employees, for being so understanding of the plight of a young single mother. God bless their tiny little hearts and may none of them be out sick or on vacation when I go down there to burn their building to the ground.”
    Everyone laughed. She was like a rock star up on stage in front of her fans. She was wearing a white t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. Across the front there was a black drawing of a crow, clinging to a branch that ran around to her back, out of sight. It was one of her favourite t-shirts. The tail end of her snake tattoo came winding down along the skin of her arm from her shoulder.
    “No wait!” she said. “This is a celebration. Fuck the banks. I got the job! I am gonna help make people feel sick to their stomachs! I’m contributing to society! Little kids hiding behind couches, that will be my legacy! Turn the music up,” his mother yelled. “Turn it up!” She stomped her boot on the table. “Let’s see how those shit