On a dry Vancouver evening, a woman in a red catsuit danced a jig under the awning of the Emergency entrance to St. Paul’s Hospital.

The woman in the red catsuit jigged until her granddaughter was born the next morning at 2:46 am in the delivery room on the third floor. Her granddaughter wailed and the woman in the red catsuit howled in response.

Inside the emergency ward, patients and doctors covered their ears. A nurse went outside and stood in front of the woman in the red catsuit. The nurse screamed, “Stop!” into the woman in the red catsuit’s face. The howling continued and more jigging commenced.

“Your mother is disturbing the doctors and patients,” said the nurse to the son-in-law of the woman in the red catsuit. He threw down the delivery room phone then leapt two stairs at a time down to the emergency ward. He clapped his hand over the mouth of the woman in the red catsuit.

“Danielle wants to introduce you to your new granddaughter,” he said.

The woman in the red catsuit pulled her mouth from his hand. “Don’t lie,” she said. “One in, one out.”

The son-in-law shrugged and went inside. Back upstairs, he told his wife that her mother was crazy and he would never understand her culture. His wife bowed her head over her newborn and whispered a word from her mother’s culture meaning ‘goodbye and welcome’.

The woman in the red catsuit walked to the stone church on the corner of Burrard and Nelson. On the lawn, she dug a hole that was big enough for one woman in a catsuit. She climbed into the hole as rain began to fall. The body of the woman in the red catsuit dissolved into the rain which then soaked the earth.

The red catsuit in the hole was found later that day by a priest when he ventured outside to cut daffodils for his desk bouquet.