Georgia is filled with aches –
her left shoulder, her knees, and truth be told, her heart.
Her shoulder acts up more in
the winter – a mix of tightness, cold weather, and other monstrosities she is
sure. She is left-handed so she figures
that contributes to it all. Lifting up
her dead microwave and dumping it in the alley certainly didn’t help
things. Her knees she figures is just an
aging situation – creak, creak, creak.
She discovered the other day that she can no longer squat not that she
needs or wants to. But still, not being
able to squat is a thing.
Aging is not for the young,
her father was wont to say. Her mother
had taken a more practical approach – you either die or you get old, she often
said. True, Georgia thinks now.
True. She hobbles to the kitchen for
half of a cinnamon bun and brings it back into the living room. She turns on the TV. It is time for the news.
President Trump, says the
anchorwoman, has had his prison term reduced by two years and with time served,
he should be out before Christmas 2020.
“What?! thinks Georgia. She knew he’d wiggle out of it all
somehow.
Her heart actually hurt. Not the hurt of a heart attack, she doesn’t
think, but more the hurt of a deep and abiding sadness. There is no getting around it – Georgia
misses her mom, her sister, and even her niece.
And David, she misses David. The
last time she’d talked to him he was going to break up with John-John.
“I’m just not happy,” he told
Georgia over a muffin-doughnut at the Wacko World of Coffee on W. 4th. “I mean I love him but I don’t think I love
love him anymore, you know?”
Georgia did know. In 1987, she’d broken up with Ringo Eric
Matthew (Matthew was his last name, a fact that seemed to confuse almost
everyone) because in addition to his penchant for yodelling, something that had
once been endearing, she found herself liking him less and less. She loved him, the idea of him, had even
entertained marrying again and taking his last name, but realized that she was
more in love with love than in love with Ringo Eric Matthew. After she dumped him, he’d taken up diving to
deep depths of water without oxygen.
She’d gone to watch him once one summer afternoon out in the middle of
Locarno Beach. It was quite something to
see but it also had stressed her out.
Recently she had tried to find him on Facebook and sure enough there he
was, his profile picture showing a much older man with deep tan lines wearing a
wetsuit. His Facebook settings were
pretty tight but she was able to see pictures of him on a horse and with a
monkey. A month later she received a
friend request from him but quickly deleted it.
Georgia likes Etheline well
enough but ever since Etheline had taken up ping pong, she had hardly been
around. Georgia enjoyed her alone time
but somehow, it has been becoming a bit too much.
“In other news,” the
anchorwoman said, “President Pence has denied responsibility for a wall being
built between Winnipeg and Minot, North Dakota.”
Georgia stares at the TV. She realizes that she wants there to be a
wall separating Canada and the U.S. That
would be fine, she thinks. That would
suit me well.
She wonders if David might
like to move back in. It would be a bit
of a squeeze, sure, but he could have a bed in her closet or sleep in the
living room. She doesn’t know if
John-John will move out of their downtown apartment or David will. She feels herself begin to smile and feels a
bit lighter. She opens her laptop and
heads over to David’s page on Facebook.
She scrolls down.
“Anyone looking for a roommate?”
is his latest status. “Hit me up.”
La la la la la, Georgia
thinks. La la la!
She takes out her phone and
dials his cell.
“Hey, Georgia,” David
says. “How’s it going?”
“Hi, David. Hi, hi.
Hi. Hi. Look, I was just looking at your Facebook
page. Are you still looking to be a
roommate?”
“Kind of, yeah. I’ve looked at a few places but they’ve been
expensive. I need to move out before the
1st of next month.”
“Well, gee, David, would you
like to maybe move back in here? I mean
I have Etheline here but she is hardly ever here and it would be cheap for all
of us. And you know we can squish so
many more people in here!”
“Really?” says David. “But you
had told me that you were enjoying the quiet.
Something about never again with so many roommates.”
“Well, yeah, I did feel that
way for a while. But now I’m kind of, I
don’t know, lonely. You could sleep in
the living room or you could sleep in my closet like my niece did.”
“Oh, well. Let me think.
Well, maybe, yeah why not. I
don’t have much furniture really and your place is closer to my work.”
“Yes! Much closer to your doula office. And the SkyTrain so close too.”
“Hmmm. This might work out! I have kind of missed you too.”
“Great! I can’t imagine that Etheline will mind but I
will check. She’d love the cheaper rent
and as I say she’s not here very often.
I will ask her when she gets home tonight and get back to you.”
“Perfect, Georgia. And I promise I won’t use my saw after 10 pm
like I used to!”
“Well, okay then. That settles it I think.”
“Hurray!” says David.
“Hurrah!” says Georgia.
That evening, Etheline puts a
kibosh on the whole thing.
“I think it would be a bit too
squishy, Georgia.”
“Not really. You are never
here and David would probably be in my closet or else reading quietly out here. He takes quick showers and is quite neat
really. He’ll do our dishes usually.”
“Oh?” says Etheline, her
interest peaked.
“Yes, yes,” says Georgia, “And
he’ll do yoga with you too. He actually
likes that kind of a thing. He also
knows CPR.”
“Oh?” says Etheline.
Georgia is sensing that
Etheline is softening.
“He makes a mean trifle with
soy beans. It is really, really good.”
“Does he now?”
“He does now and in the
future. He is very generous food wise.
And I promise – we won’t feel squished at all.
I’ve lived in this basement suite with up to six people in the
past. Now that was squishy. David is quite compact. Look, how about we just try it out for a
month or two? He’d be paying some of the
rent so that would be so helpful, especially since your work has decreased and
your ping pong tournaments have been increasing so dramatically.”
“Yes, at my level of play
things do start to get a bit pricy tournament wise.”
“Exactly.”
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