Chapter 11

I woke up. I looked at the clock. 7:00 AM. I rolled over. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. After a while, it was obvious that wasn't going to work. I was awake. Might as well get up.

I put on my robe and went downstairs to the kitchen. I put some coffee on and went back upstairs. I performed my three esses: shit, shower and shave. Then I put on a sweater and some jeans. I went back downstairs.

The kitchen was full of the smell of fresh coffee. Shauna was sitting at the table. She was wearing a fluffy robe and slippers. She was trying to yawn and drink coffee at the same time. She looked cute and funny at the same time. I tried not to laugh. I got myself a cup of coffee and sat down across from her.

She said, "Did I have too much to drink last night? I mean, I've never had one of those cosmos before. Then I had wine with supper and brandy afterwards. That's a lot of booze for me."

"Why? Do you feel sick this morning?"

"No. Not sick exactly. Just sort of woolly."

"Don't worry about it. Dean Martin once said that he felt sorry for people who didn't drink because when they got up in the morning, that was as good as they were going to feel all day."

Shauna smiled. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Yeah. Maybe a little bit. You just look so goddamed cute."

"I sure don't feel cute. I feel blurry and sort of confused."

"Maybe some breakfast will help to allay that confusion. What'll you have?"

"Could I just have some whole-wheat toast and peanut butter? And maybe some fruit?"

"That sounds terrible, but I think I can dig up some bread, some Jiffy and a banana. While you're eating that. I'll make myself a real breakfast. Good old greasy ham and eggs."

I cooked my eggs and sat down at the table. Shauna was munching toast. She looked at my plate with something approaching disgust. She finished her toast, took a swig of coffee and looked at me.

"So, Pat, what's on the agenda for today?"

"I thought we'd go to the National Affairs office. I'll show you around the studio and see if I can get you situated in a decent working space."

"That sounds OK. I just need to get a shower and make myself presentable."

"You can present yourself to me any time."

Shauna looked up at me. Suddenly, she was very serious. "That's something else we need to talk about. Last night. I mean, what happened between us? What does it mean?"

I smiled. "You're asking double-barreled questions again. To answer both of those, last night was all about your trying to comfort me. You succeeded wonderfully. As to what it means, I'm not sure. I suspect that it might mean anything we want it to."

"What?"

"It could mean something or nothing. It certainly meant something to me."

Shauna stared at the table. She bit her lip and then said, "Am I becoming one of those women you talked about at lunch yesterday?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"It's just that... oh shit, I guess I wonder what you think of me that I'd..."

"That you'd sit with me, cuddle and even kiss a bit. And then we went to our separate beds. It all seems pretty innocent to me. It needn't ever happen again, if you don't want it to."

Shauna held her coffee cup in both hands. She stared into it. She said softly, "That's the problem. It all felt wonderful. You were so sweet and gentle. And sad."

"Then what's the problem?"

She bit her lip. "Oh God, I don't know. It's just that... I just met you this week, just a couple of days ago. Here we are living together. Well, in the same house. In your house. And necking in front of the fire. I guess the way I was raised that makes me a bit of a slut."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. I tried to stifle my laughter, but that only made it worse.

Shauna looked up at me. She looked miserable. At first. Then she cracked a smile. Soon she was laughing with me.

"I guess you don't think that makes me a slut, eh?"

"No, eh, I don't. It'll take a hell of a lot more than that. I actually don't think you're capable of it. You should never aspire to sluthood. You can't pass the exam."

Shauna smiled at me and stuck out her tongue. "Don't be too sure, buddy boy."

I laughed. "You're scaring the hell out of me. Go get yourself polished up and ready to go. We're supposed to be working, woman."

"Slave driver."

Shauna went upstairs. I could hear the sounds of her shower when I went through the hall to my office. I sat at the computer and began checking my e-mail. Amid the endless spam entreating me to get a better mortgage rate, increase the size of my penis and/or my breasts and give money to some man from Africa, there was a message from Tori.

It read, "Sorry, Patti-pooh. I was a bit short on the phone last night. I realized later how it must have sounded. I should have been more civilized. I appreciate that, while you're every bit as much a wolf as I am, you have these misguided Upper-Canadian instincts of propriety. I will come to Ottawa as soon as I can. Then, we'll talk face to face. Mano a mano. Etc."

Somehow this message didn't make me feel any more kindly toward Tori. I'd never been on the shitty end of her stick before. It wasn't very pleasant. I was beginning to see her the way that Moe did.

Tori's message reminded me of an old Bill Cosby routine. A physical education teacher asks, "Why is there air?" His answer: "To inflate basketballs, of course!"

Tori's version would be, "Why are there people?" And her answer to that question would be something like, "To provide Tori with amusement and/or gratification, of course!"

To carry the logical fallacy further, the statement "People exist for Tori's amusement. Pat is a person. Therefore, he exists for Tori's amusement" would be the resultant extension.

Soon Shauna came downstairs. She looked much refreshed, a bit pink and quite lovely. I refrained from sharing these observations with her.

We got into the car and drove to the somewhat makeshift CBC Ottawa TV studios. I've never understood why, in Canada's capital city, the CBC had offices in unused parts of a hotel and its studios in makeshift office spaces. Hell, CBC Regina had better facilities, not to mention Montreal, Toronto, Vancouver, etc. Well, the National Affairs offices and studio were better than most of the CBC digs in Ottawa. They were even reasonably spacious and well-equipped.

Since we weren't in production, there were only a few people around. I introduced Shauna to some of the people she'd be working with, a couple of editors and production assistants. Then I showed her to the office I had in mind for her. It was small but well-situated with a window and a nice view. She was pleased.

Then I said, "It's time that you see where the magic happens. Let's go to the studio."

I led the way. We went in the door, and I turned on the light. Shauna gasped.

"But it's not... On TV, it looks like you're in the Parliament buildings. This isn't -- well it isn't what I thought. I just don't know. It's kind of..."

"Tawdry?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

"But it looks OK on air, right?"

"Yeah."

"On the TV screen, this painted set looks like the stones of the Parliament buildings. And these silly pictures look like portraits of former prime ministers. Right?"

"Well, I guess. On TV, anyway."

"Shauna, welcome to show business. We're masters of illusion. Not of lies, I should hasten to add. TV can tell the truth, but it's a different sort of truth than you were taught in Sunday school. This set is designed to give the show a certain credibility. Every day, I'm interviewing some of the most powerful people in this country, as well as leaders of other countries. We place them in a visual atmosphere that makes the experience more believable. Knowing this shouldn't detract from what's said on the show. What's said should be just as important to you as it was before you saw this set."

Shauna was quiet for few moments. Then she said, "Well, it's just that... I always thought that you were in the parliament buildings and..."

I finished her thought, "Now you find out it's all a fake."

"Not a fake. Not that exactly. Just that..."

"It's not what you expected or what you thought you were seeing."

"Yeah."

"Shauna, leave your presuppositions at the studio door. You're part of the show now. It's like joining the carnival and finding out that the bearded woman isn't and the strongman looks like a wimp without his padded suit. Except that we're more like Ray Bradbury's Illustrated Man. We have the world tattooed on our ass. We tell the tale by bending over and flexing our butt cheeks. Everyone else thinks they're seeing the real thing. In reality, the prime minister exists only on my left cheek. About here." I pointed to a spot near my asshole.

Shauna looked shocked for a moment. Then she began to giggle. Soon, she was doubled over, laughing uncontrollably.

I yelled to a nonexistent stage crew, "Can we have a bucket of cold water here? We've got a woman in hysterics."

That made Shauna laugh even more. I went to the water cooler. I filled a cup and threatened her with it. She played along with me, seeming terrified of a few ounces of water.

I heard a voice behind me. "Oh, Pat. It's you."

I turned around. Tim Lorrimer was standing in the doorway of the studio. Shauna looked at him and turned a bright red.

"Tim, I'm so glad that you're here. This is Shauna Cake. She'll be designing our new website. Shauna, this is Tim Lorrimer, our senior editor and the man who makes National Affairs happen. Tim, Shauna's going to be working as part of our unit. She'll need access to our files and archives. Can you show them to her?"

Tim smiled and shook the hand of an embarrassed Shauna. Then he put his hands on his hips with an exaggerated feminine gesture and shook his head. "Well, girlfriend, I'll show you around, but you've got a hell of a job ahead of you. This show has been on the air a long time. We've gone through beaucoup formats. Our old stuff is on film. Then we have Betacam and open reel video tape. The most recent stuff is either on digital video cassette or on the drives of our servers. It's a mess. Happy hunting."

"Tim, could you also help me in getting Shauna situated? She's going to need an office and stuff."

"Well, that's not really my area, but I think I know what's available. Let's have a look."

As I knew, Tim was exactly the right person to ask. He knew everything that was going on in the National Affairs unit. He confirmed that the corner office I'd shown Shauna earlier was available and would be desirable in several ways, being centrally located in the unit. He located an unused computer for her to use right away. Then he put through a memo to our unit manager requesting a new machine for Shauna, as well as more livable office furnishings and a nameplate for her door. There was also a memo to our IT unit asking for immediate LAN access for Shauna. Suddenly, it seemed official: Shauna was a member of the National Affairs unit.

I took Shauna to Wilfrid's for lunch. As usual, it was full of government types, lobbyists and hangers-on. I talked to a few of them, waved to some and ignored the rest. I resolved that we'd have a pleasant lunch in spite of them. Shauna was back to her bubbly self, talking about all the stuff she'd seen and about a few plans she had for the website.

On the drive back to the house, Shauna put her hand on my arm and smiled at me. "Thanks, Pat. Thanks for making me so welcome. And Tim seems wonderful."

I took her hand in mine. "He is. Tim is the sort of guy who'll always try to help you, no matter how busy he is with his own work or what's going on in his life. And God knows he's been through tough times. His partner died of AIDS last year."