CHAPTER 31

The ferry chugs toward Horseshoe Bay. We all stand at the railing because — I don't know — it's prettier out here than down on the lower deck with all the cars. I hope Ruby’s settling in at home. It’ll be fun to have her around this summer.

Green waves slap against the hull, and distant snow-topped mountains point rudely at the sky. The sun is on our right side. That’s starboard, right? The hill in front of us is steep and forested. A sailboat glides beside us. Someone’s winding a winch to put up another sail. They wave. The ferry gives a toot-toot back. Friendly. I check out the Canadian flag flapping from the sailboat’s stern. Red-and-white stripes. Maple leaf.

Brrr. The memory gives me a bit of a gulp. I look around for Buddy. But here’s the thing. I’m not scared of seeing him. I know who he is. I know his name. I know he’s on my side.

The hill in front of us isn’t a forest anymore. We’re close enough to see individual trees. Huh. Is there a joke there? Can’t see the trees for the forest?

No.

“You sure?”

Yes.

“Who are you talking to?” Mom asks anxiously.

“No one. Myself.”

I can practically see her biting her tongue not to say anything.

Here’s Horseshoe Bay. Sailboats, ferry dock, line of cars waiting to get on. Time to head downstairs. My adventure on Vancouver Island is over. Bye, Niall and Noodle. Bye, Kenes. Bye, Jamie and whatever your girlfriend’s name is. Bye, Doc Sharon and Nurse Shamar.

What is Jamie’s girlfriend’s name? Ruby’s roommate. Come on! I can see her face. Oh well.

Mom’s car is on deck three. We’re on two. Ruby settles behind the steering wheel and takes a deep breath. Actually, there’s more to it than that. Ruby takes a breath deep enough to bury an elephant. I could run around the block during her inhale. If breathing were an Olympic event, Ruby could represent Canada. Learn to breathe says the sign on the yoga van ahead of us. Ruby has learned.

We take Highway 99 toward downtown. I practise breathing like Ruby sitting in the front seat while she steers through afternoon traffic.

Hwooooooooo in and then hold. And then haaaaaaaa out. And then again, hwooooooooo and hold, and haaaaaaaaa.

Ruby bursts out laughing.

“What are you doing, Gussie?”

“Breathing.”

“Oh. I thought you were doing your big bad wolf impression. I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blooowww your house down.”

She laughs some more. Families are the worst, am I right? If you want to get laughed at, all you have to do is go home. But this is Ruby, so I don’t feel too bad. Kind of like having an angel laugh at you. Which reminds me.

“Angela!” I say out loud.

“Who?”

“Jamie’s girlfriend. Your roommate. I was trying to remember her name.”

I wonder about that. “If breathing is part of yoga, and yoga is about mindfulness and focus, like Doc Sharon says, then maybe yoga breathing helped me remember Angela’s name.”

Ruby is smiling again. We’re edging onto the Lions Gate Bridge, along with about twenty other lanes of traffic. Can we fit? The same way you fit a football team in a car — slowly.

“Okay, Gussie. Put one hand on your stomach,” says Ruby. “Just under your ribs. Now breathe in through your nose so that your stomach pushes against your hand. And hold the air in.”

I try that. My hand moves a bit.

Ruby looks over. (Don’t worry about us getting in an accident. Traffic on this bridge moves like the minute hand on a school clock.)

“Good,” she says. “Now make your lips like you’re going to whistle, and breathe out slowly. Use your hand to push against your stomach so all the air comes out. Take your time.”

I do this.

“Really good!” says Ruby. “Now try another one. Slowly.”

That’s how we move along the bridge. Slowly. I do another breath. And another. Ruby gives me a thumbs-up. I check my memory. The roommate girlfriend is named Angela. Nurse Shamar wants me to say hi to Ruby. Maybe yoga breathing works. What else am I supposed to remember? Home address — check. Password for my phone and computer — check. Not that I care about privacy. So a giant corporation knows I have forty-nine dollars in the bank and I like cartoons; so what? Wait, I got distracted. Do I remember everything I used to? What about my earliest memories?

Climbing out of a stroller — check.

Playing with Ruby on the carpet — check.

Eating a donut and getting cream filling all over my hands — check.

Airplane coming in to land — wait a minute!

Airplane? What airplane? I’ve never flown anywhere. How can I have a memory of flying? Arminder showed me a video of him in an airplane pointing out the window. Is that what I’m remembering?

We’re on Georgia Street near Denman. Ruby has her turn signal on.

“How’s the yoga breathing going?” she asks.

“It’s working too well. I have memories that aren’t even mine!”

“What?”

“And Shamar says hi.”

Ruby turns right onto Denman.