Fiction: Before Dawn

Winters in Montreal are especially cruel. The sun rises at 7:30 in the morning, and sets at 4:00 in the afternoon, leaving everything in snow-shrouded darkness thereafter. It was on such a winter morning that Jesse’s alarm went off, the only light coming from his glowing phone. He blinked a few times, and then slowly sat up in bed. Next to him, was the sleeping form of his wife. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, careful not to wake her, before stumbling over to his daughters’ room, and doing the same, but with the intention of waking them.

“Come on girls, it’s time for hockey!” he whispered loudly. Their phones were also blaring next to their bunk bed, but they remained stubbornly in their beds. Jesse turned off their alarms and turned on the lights, whispering at them until they were sitting up, and then heading to the kitchen. There, he turned on the coffee machine, and put bagels into the toaster, before hurrying to the door. Jesse puts on boots, gloves, and his jacket, letting out a deep sigh.

“Shit,” he mutters, looking outside, and trudges into the ankle-high snow.

He starts the car, shovels a path to the car, and then opens the car door to take out the snow brush. He brushes the snow off the car before continuing to clear the snow behind the car. He’s lucky to have such a short driveway, and only one too, he thinks, and he is done in twenty minutes. He clip-clops back into the house, to see his daughters eating bagels and drinking milk. He smiles.

“Daddy, we buttered yours too,” Nina says, indicating his portion with a turn of a mouth filled with bagel. Ella then hands him his travel mug filled with coffee.

“Thanks girls,” says Jesse, tousling her hair, then Nina’s after her.

He stuffs the bagel between his teeth, grabs the coffee, and walked back out into the cold, the girls following suit. It was a slow drive to the arena, where they had an hour and a half of hockey practice four times a week. The roads were already plowed, and the snow had stopped coming down, but it was best to take it slow, especially with the precious cargo in the back. They arrived at the arena just before five, and Jesse wished them a good practice before continuing home in the darkness.

Celine was waiting for him when he got home, hands around a cup of coffee. When she saw him, she gently massaged her forehead, and he relaxed his brows, realizing that the crease on his forehead had been deepening. She smiled.

“Good morning, Grumpy,” she said.

“Good morning,” he smiled, “You know what I was thinking? Perhaps the girls are getting too old for a bunk bed.”

“But are you going to give up your office so they can have their own rooms?” said Celine.

Jesse tilted his head, then saw that Celine was joking. This was a frequent point of discussion, but both of them realized that what they needed was a bigger house. They could do with several more rooms: a guest room for Hank when he visited, an office for Celine on the days when she worked from home, and a guest room for other visitors.

“How was the work dinner yesterday?” asked Jesse.

“Good, good,” said Celine as she moved to pour herself more coffee, “It was funny actually. One of the directors asked me if I was happy.”

“Well, what did you say?”

“Of course I told him yes. What else was I supposed to say?”

“Are you not happy?”

“I am! Are you?”

“I’ve never been happier,” said Jesse, rising to give Celine her second kiss of the day “two wonderful daughters, a grown son, and a beautiful wife.”

“Don’t touch me,” said Celine laughing, and squirming away.

“Oh, I’m not allowed to touch my wife now? Come here now,” said Jesse, chasing Celine.

They find themselves in bed as Jesse’s alarm goes off for a second time that morning.

“It’s time to send the girls to school,” said Celine, nudging Jesse.

“They’re always late,” came the reply, “five minutes more.”

“This is why the maternal instinct is so much more hardwired than the paternal one. Look at you, still in bed, while your daughters are out in the cold.”

“Right. And as a mother, you’d never stay here in the warmth to let someone else drive them to practice, would you? Ow, stop that!”

Jesse jumped out of bed as Celine bit his back, and started putting his clothes on again, before running out the door.

“Drive safely!” yelled Celine at his retreating figure. She slowly stood up and got into the shower. Wednesdays were always tough: morning hockey practice and then the evening call with Japan. Everyone assured her she’d get more sleep as the kids got older, but they didn’t have morning hockey practices in Paris. Aside from the winters, Montreal was nice. Everyone spoke French, there was good food, and despite housing prices, everything was quite affordable. Unfortunately, it was winter six months of the year.

She stared at herself in the foggy mirror, and saw herself staring back at her. A middle-aged woman with a well-lived life, surely with some stories to tell. Yet she didn’t look tired, despite the early hour, and perhaps her eyes appeared kinder than they did when she was younger. She dried her hair, put on her office clothes and office makeup, and made her way down to the door just as Jesse pulled into the driveway.

The first light was now present in the sky, streetlamps still doing the heavy lifting. She never thought that she’d become one of those lifeless, car-dependent Americans, but life was a series of compromises. Jesse wanted to be closer to Hank, and she wanted to be somewhere French-speaking so she could continue working. So here they found themselves. Better than Belgium anyways.

Jesse came through the door, and she reached for the keys. He pulled back at the last second, and leaned in for a kiss. Celine rolled her eyes at him, and gave him a peck on the cheek before snatching them out of his hand and going through the door, in one swift motion.

“Don’t slip!” yelled Jesse.

“I won’t.”

As Celine backs out of the driveway, she revels in this Wednesday morning, these hours that are unconsumed by work or the banalities of life. She puts in her earbuds as she prepares to listen in on the European investor’s call. Before leaving, she looks ahead one last time, and sees Jesse waving to her from the door. She smiles and waves back. All was well.