Oscar's Premonition

Prior to his departure for France, Oscar approaches me with a grave look upon his face. He tells me that he has matter of great importance to discuss.

We repair to my back deck with drink appropriate for the occasion.

***

Raising the glass to his lips with a trembling hand, he tells me about a dream he experienced during his afternoon nap.

In the dream, Oscar was on a tour of a vineyard. During the tour, he was fatally shot by a French man.

***

Now, I have been told that I am one of the world's great skeptics, a description I remain somewhat skeptical about. I see little substance in premonitions and other hocus pocus. But Oscar is wearing his serious face, the one he uses only sparingly.

I successfully swallow the guffaw that is rising in my throat. Unfortunately, I am unable to stifle a smirk. Oscar can detect a smirk from kilometres away.

***

He glares at me over his glass.

"You don't understand, Oscar says sternly. "My family is well-known throughout Cape Breton for its premonitions".

"My great aunt, alone, foresaw the deaths of each of her siblings. My uncle predicted the loss of my grandfather in 1997. And my second cousin even foretold the death of Charlton Heston.

***

I consider that Oscar's family tends to live until old age. His grandfather, I think, was ninety-one when he died. I also have a vague notion that Charlton Heston is still alive.

But Oscar is clearly distressed. So, I simply nod reverently.

***

"I just want you to promise that you'll be a mentor to my son, after I'm gone", he says in a hushed tone.

"You know....make sure he has exposure to great books, art and music....and political discourse....that kind of thing."

***

Oscar's son, Dorian, a waggish twelve-year-old, is a charming young lad. His primary interests right now include sports, sports and sports. And something called 'Sony Play Station'.

***

I tell Oscar that I will be honoured to take on such a role. I will do my best, I say, to positively influence the boy.

***

After Oscar departs, I have occasion to learn that at least one other Sack resident is aware of the premonition. This person was also asked to carry out a task after Oscar's impending death.

Little Doug, proficient in the installation of ceramic tile and other such materials, was asked to complete the tiling of a hallway in Oscar's basement.

***

This is a project that Oscar began in 2002. Interrupted by a telephone call after laying three tiles, he has yet to return to the task. Oscar claims that he keeps getting diverted.

***

Oscar returns home tomorrow. He was slated to return today, but Tropical Storm Ophelia has him diverted to Montreal for the night.

Obviously, he was not shot by a French man, although he did visit a vineyard. But that was on his itinerary, anyway.

***

On the phone from Montreal, he told me he was befriended by a local French man while in Marseilles. Oscar says they spent the evening drinking shots of some "obscure liqueur."

He made no mention of his premonition.

***

After the night in Marseilles, Oscar said he had one of the worst hangovers he had ever experienced.

"I thought I was going to die", he said.

***

Oscar also told me that Little Doug will be finishing the basement hallway for him next Saturday. On the telephone, I can only nod in silent reverence.

***