The crooked beak of heaven

publier, archiver, sauvegarder, conserver, transmettre au public par telecommunication ou par Plnternet, prefer, distribuer et vendre des theses partout dans le monde, a des fins commerciales ou autres, sur support microforme, papier, electronique et/ou autres formats.L'auteur conserve la propriete du droit d'auteur et des droits moraux qui protege cette these.Ni la these ni des extraits substantiels de celle-ci ne doivent etre imprimes ou autrement reproduits sans son autorisation.In compliance with the Canadian Privacy Act some supporting forms may have been removed from this thesis.Conformement a la loi canadienne sur la protection de la vie privee, quelques formulaires secondaires ont ete enleves de cette these.While these forms may be included in the document page count, their removal does not represent any loss of content from the thesis.Bien que ces formulaires aient inclus dans la pagination, il n'y aura aucun contenu manquant.1+1 Canada 1 PROLOGUE My leg is balanced like a ballerina's on the "clean water" side of the concrete sink, my razor gliding over my calf, and the light from the bulb above casting too many shadows.Outside, beyond the balcony, I hear someone from below.I lift my leg to avoid the rough concrete, and go to the window.Sitting in the darkness under the banana tree is Enrique -small, wild-haired, Mexican/American rock star of this little town.He's staring up at me. "Want to go for a walk?" "Sure," I say, surprising myself.I smooth my skirt, take my keys, hurry the two flights downstairs, and fumble to unlock the iron-barred door beside which Momma Lya once perched in her wicker chair -before her sudden death -disapproving all the comings and goings of her rooming house.Enrique watches me from where he sits now -on the cement flowerpot.I can see his grin with its gap between his teeth.Under the moonlight, we walk the malecon as it stretches out over the water.The tip has been split off by an earthquake, which, many years ago, gave the whole town a good shake.Seawater invaded homes and stores.Fish swam down the streets.Locals thought it was the end of the world.The moon sits above the black water, interrupted by staccato white waves.Shadowy fishermen stand on the broken wall edges letting their long lines dangle while beside them, in the night, baskets of fish gasp for air, their mouths shaped like vowels. 2Enrique and I hold hands as if we are a real couple.From the end of the breakwater, we look back and I see, for the first time, it is just a town after all, a town as vulnerable to the shake of earth and rush of sea as any great love, and just as easily snuffed out.

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