The Fiddler Is a Good Woman. Geoff Berner

You’re coming with me.”

      I was like holy shit. This is some serious trouble we’ve got ourselves into here. And DD obviously was thinking the same. She kind of gulped and meekly climbed down out of the van. I’ve rarely, if ever, seen her look so much at a loss.

      The security guard took a look in the van, which was a mess of wrappers and magazines and musical equipment and shit, plus little Wyatt sleeping behind me in his car seat strapped into the first bench, and the rest of the band with their electrician-taped glasses and jean jackets with punk-band logos in felt pen and crumpled hats, lacking every kind of personal hygiene habit known to man. Anyway, the guard did a visual sweep of the van, raised her eyebrows when she saw the baby, then grabbed DD and walked her back into the store, carrying the baguette and the giant wheel of cheese. We didn’t say shit. We just watched her go.

      About twenty minutes goes by, and we’re starting to wonder what the fuck we should do. Tom is like, “Well, looks like we’re gonna be fuckin’ buskin’ for bail money in downtown Thunder Bay.”

      But then DD comes waltzing out, carrying the cheese and the bread, plus a giant, four-litre jug of milk, a pack of forty size-2 Huggies, a huge deli tray of cut vegetables, and God knows what else. You can’t see much of her face with all the shit she’s carrying, but she’s got a lit smoke in her mouth that’s sending up a cheerful cloud. The butch security lady is just watching from the doorway with her arms folded, no discernible expression on her face.

      I’m like, “What the fuck, DD?”

      She exhales smoke and says, “I’m banned for life from Safeway.”

      As we’re merging onto the highway, I have to ask, “What did you do?” DD says nothing.

      “Did you do her?” I just ask to be mischievous. She turns and raises her eyebrows, smirking.

      “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

      I think she probably just cried at her. But you could never be sure with DD.

      Miruna Molnar

      Her Home, Galiano Island, B.C., 2016

      I have a theory about DD that, no matter what, she’ll always be a runaway at heart.

      I had never been to Galiano, but I’d been to Salt Spring Island, and I was really into, you know, being in nature and the water and the trees and everything. And I was fully in love with her, body and soul. Sometimes I would think she was the wisest, most magical person, but even at the start there were inklings that something was a bit off, missing … the wiring was funny. But when you’re in love, any inklings tend to go by the wayside. My heart was pounding, my hands were clammy. I was so nervous when I got off the ferry, I hardly noticed the Douglas firs, the eagles, all of that, except as being … being a part of my feelings of excitement for new life, new love. It was as wonderful then as it became awful later.

      She came to meet me on her motorcycle. I’d never ridden a motorcycle before. She gave me her patented heart-melting look of happiness, and said, “You’re here! Yippee!” and that made me feel a sudden warmth — it made me somewhat nervous and afraid, but also, really good. Then she had a thought. “Oh dear, I only have the one helmet. I should’ve borrowed another one to pick you up with.” But she didn’t seem that upset that she had to go without one and let the wind blow through her mohawk. I remember her hair was completely buzzed to the skin on either side. I put on the helmet, she helped me climb on behind her, and I put my arms around her and leaned in. It truly was a delicious, sweet feeling as we started to rumble away.

      Right then I heard her say, “Oh shit — cops.” I looked to the left and saw the Mountie in his cruiser off on a side road start to move. I could see that he saw us, and DD saw that, too, so she shouted, “Hold on tight!” and she gunned the motor. We took off so fast you wouldn’t believe it. Motorcycles seem to be able to get going fast, faster than a car, if you see what I’m talking about. They accelerate. So we accelerated out of there on this suddenly howling, moaning, beast of a machine, and I had to use all the strength in my body to hold onto her in a panic and she just whizzed us over that undulating island road. At first I was completely blown out on the sensory overload of speeding on a motorcycle for the first time in my life. When I had a minute to get used to that, I thought, Wow, this person is really exciting! But then after another minute or so it crossed my mind, Umm, what are we doing? Running away from the cops? Isn’t this an island? Is there something I don’t know? Maybe we’re going to hide in the woods or something? But after a few more minutes we pulled up in front of her little rented house, which was going to be our little rented house, and we dismounted, and I didn’t say anything because I really wasn’t sure what to say.

      She brought me in and offered me tea, and as the kettle was beginning to boil, sure enough, the cop pulled into the driveway, because he knew DD, of course, like everyone else on the island. I said, “Uh, the police are here.” She kind of sighed and said, “Oh, boy. I’m not sure what I was thinking there.” And she walked out to have a chat with Mike the cop.

      So, that was an inkling there, where for no reason except an instinct to run away from authority or something, she kind of switched into flight mode and did this bizarre high-speed chase to nowhere.