The Icelandic Canadian - 01.09.2004, Qupperneq 33

Vol. 59 #1
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
31
foriegn country. He didn't register any-
thing that was happening around him until
Lisa excused herself from the table early,
saying that she was supposed to go driving
with Wes. I suppose that since whatever
Brian was imagining had something to do
with the car, her comment penetrated the
stupor of fantasy in which he had
immersed himself.
He immediately wanted to know pre-
cisely which car in the world she intended
to be driving in that night, to which she
responded, batting her Maybelline eyelash-
es at him, that she had already asked our
mother for the car. Brian's previously regal
eyes began to resemble those of an enraged
bull, and my mother and father immediate-
ly looked at each other. I could see that
there had been a lack of communication.
My two eldest siblings were now
squaring off in the kitchen, Lisa already
holding the phone, and Brian threatening
bloody murder if she were to call Wes and
say she would be right over. My parents
leaped into the fray between them and
attempted to defuse a rapidly escalating sit-
uation. Tammi and I watched them, and
then looked at each other. At that point,
neither of us was looking forward to ado-
lescence.
My parents had made a grave error in
separately giving permission to use the car
to both Brian and Lisa for the same night,
but in the end the car was awarded to Brian
because he had asked for it first. Lisa would
have to inquire as to whether Wes would
be able to borrow a vehicle from his par-
ents. I have always been amazed at the vol-
ume of fluid contained in my sister's tear
ducts—the supply seemed limitless—and
as she now employed them to deal with this
situation, one might have wondered
whether Wes's parents were heartless fas-
cists who would torture him for daring to
ask to use the car. However, her tears were
to no avail, as my parents were becoming
rather foul-tempered themselves at having
made a mistake and then having to deal
with my two older, more mature siblings
and their tantrums.
Brian continued getting himself ready
for his big night. Lisa left to go driving with
Wes, whose parents had not in fact boiled
him alive for needing the car, as her earlier
display of emotion had hinted at. A while
later, Brian departed, fitted out with a shirt
with buttons and dress shoes, which hadn't
seen use since Christmas. After the door
closed, the rest of us breathed a heartfelt
sigh of relief. My mother had barely begun
an impromptu monologue on the values of
patience and keeping one's temper when
Brian exploded through the door, once
again letting the minus twenty-five-degree
air in. My mother stopped in mid-diatribe,
and we all turned to look at him. He stared
speechlessly at us as if someone had just
proven to him that he was an obscure
species of frog. My mother was the first to
speak to him.
"What's the matter?" she said.
"The car's been unplugged!" he said,
"It won't start!"
This was the first of the many incidents
in an escalating civil war in our previously
quiet household.
The second major incident occurred
after the whole family had gone out one
evening to visit my mother's parents in
Winnipeg, except Tammi, who was at Girl
Guides. She would be dropped off by one
of her friends' parents, and would be able
to let herself in with the key which we kept
hidden outside the house. It was my grand-
father's birthday, and after a few hours we
returned home, only to find Tammi wait-
ing on the doorstep in the freezing cold.
Apparently, Lisa had forgotten to tell her
that she had found a new hiding-place for
the key. Luckily, Tammi had not been
there long.