Days Without Nights

As George stepped out onto the porch, he was hit by sharp beams of sunlight.

Having arrived late the day before, his eyes had not yet adjusted. When they left Toronto, it had been pouring rain for three weeks straight. The sky had been nothing but a dull grey mass. Now the sky above George was so bright and blue that it caused his vision to blur. For a moment everything was white, and then the silhouettes of the new world broke through. The north Atlantic Ocean unfolded like an eternity beyond the porch. The way enormous blocks of ice soaked in the sparkling water made it look like a giant fizzy drink. He spotted Eric and Yvette at a table and began walking. Yvette was wearing her usual Toronto Blue Jays beanie. Like a third eye, the little blue bird sat proudly in the middle of her forehead. Once it had almost resulted in them getting kicked out of the university bar, all because the bar owner, Tom, fancied the Boston Red Socks. The two had since mended their relationship. George suspected that the old American had taken a liking to Yvette and her long red locks. George rubbed his hands together, regretting the decision to leave his gloves in the room.

‘Morning,’ Eric greeted him with a slight smile. ‘What are you sitting out here for?’ George asked and sat down.

‘Nice to get some sun,’ Eric shrugged.

‘And the air is amazing.’ Yvette put on a pair of sunglasses and took a sip of her coffee.

George inhaled as the breeze flew by. The Greenlandic air invaded his nostrils and covered his senses like sedation. Yvette was right. It was amazing. Somehow it was sharp and crunchy while remaining soft and round. It felt wet on the skin and tasted like salt in the mouth.

‘Smells like Christmas’ Eric noted.

‘Sure does’ George shivered.

They decided to move inside, where they ordered breakfast and more coffee. Eric started explaining the program for the day. He was usually the one in charge of planning. Not necessarily because he enjoyed it, but because he couldn’t relax if anyone but him did it.

‘Around 11 o’clock the boat will pick us up. We’ll sail out west until we reach the glacier. This is where we’re conducting the first water test’.

A waitress collected their empty coffee cups.

‘Water test? Sounds interesting.’ she noted.

George helped her stack the cups before sending her a smile.

‘Very much so,’ he said.

‘You folks from America?’.

‘God no, Toronto. Sent out by the University,’ said Yvette.

‘So, you’re scholars’.

George sat up straight as she walked around him.

‘What kind of testing are you doing?’.

Eric cleared his throat.

‘We’re monitoring the concentration of Phytoplankton along with the salinity concentration of the water.’ The words rolled off his tongue as if he was reading from a script.

The waitress looked a bit overwhelmed.

‘Well good luck with that’.

After eating the last scraps of bacon and eggs, they went back to their rooms. The little hotel only had two floors. George had been lucky enough to get one of the upstairs rooms which looked over the water.

Fittingly named the Ice Fjord, it was the most majestic thing he had ever seen in his life. That morning it seemed idyllic and hypnotically calm, but last night several of the icebergs had calved. The sound the icebergs made when they released chunks of ice reminded George of a cow giving birth: intense and hollering. As if the constant flicker of sunlight slipping through the broken curtain hadn’t been enough. He might as well get used to it - the Arctic Circle this time of year was all day with no nights.

The hotel lobby had a fireplace. Around it stood cosy linen chairs and couches all equipped with sheepskins and blankets. Little wooden figures stood exhibited in a glass case.

George studied them curiously. One figure was of a hooded man wearing an anorak closely resembling the one he had just put on. Perhaps he should buy it before they went home, as a little gift of remembrance. His father had told him to enjoy every moment of the trip, even the tough days. One day all you have are memories. He unzipped his jacket. He couldn’t wait here for too long, otherwise, he would burn up. He suddenly noticed his sister sitting on one of the sandy sofas. Eric sat beside her. The two were engaged in conversation too low for him to hear. Alma fluttered her long lashes and leaned in closer as Eric showed her something on a map. A lock of her lengthy hair fell onto the map. Eric swiped it over her shoulder with one swift motion.

‘Good to see you’re awake, Alma’.

They looked a bit startled. Alma smiled at him.

‘I just had breakfast’.

‘Any plans today?’ George dropped down in the chair opposite them.

‘As I was telling Eric, I think I might just walk around town. Get to know the people’.

George nodded.

‘I suppose we’re gone for most of the day.’ He looked at Eric, whose strong jaw twitched.

‘We’re home before supper, I’d say’.

‘Probably, but don’t count on it.’ George looked at his sister.

‘We’ll try our best to be back by supper. So, you won’t eat alone.’ Eric pushed the hay-coloured hair back.

‘I think I’ll manage,’ Alma’s voice was soft and overbearing. Alma was doing a bachelor’s in anthropology. Her main thesis included research in the native community back home, but when she saw an opportunity to tag along on George’s research trip, she didn’t hesitate. She said it was an amazing opportunity to connect the indigenous ties between Greenland and Canada. Their father had agreed. All the memories he had been looking forward to making would now be polluted by his stubborn sister. Just because she didn’t know how to make her own.

by Liv-Andrea Banner

Revolutionary Smoke I

A Tan was lying against a fence with his pipe gripped between his teeth. One of the boys gave it a pull, at the same time giving him a kick. Another shouted: ‘You idiot, don’t you know a dead man when you see one?’

Ii

I opened the door and walked out with the pipe in my mouth. There were about thirty British soldiers outside. I acted without knowing, brought up the gun and fired. III

I got up on my stool and looked out through the prison window. I saw a warder puffing his pipe in his back garden, sitting in the sun.

Iv

He was unbribable as regards offering him money. But if I gave him a piece of plug tobacco and a clay pipe, he would let me do anything.

V

I saw Dev crossing a landing with a pipe in his mouth. ‘Now and again, I put an empty pipe in my mouth to pretend to myself I am smoking.’