Sun's long gone, but the air remembers the heat: heavy, sticky, hard on the lungs. Two kids on black and blue bikes, ball caps on sideways. Leaning against the wall in front of the A&W smoking cigarettes and staring at junkies as if memorizing the walk, the talk, the life ... for later ...
J shuffles by, bums a smoke, says his girlfriend's a bitch because she took his dope and sold his shoes for more when it was gone. His glasses are crooked and a month's worth of sleeping outside lingers in the air after he's gone. Used to be a mechanic, has a kid in Courtenay he pretends to visit when he's dope sick ...
... N is pulling her cart, her back is like a question mark and she wobbles back and forth like a dashboard puppy. Drunk. Pulls her gear through the front door: suitcase on a trolly, headscarf, torn dress, fuscia lipstick, leather shoes. She'll sit silently in a wathroom stall for at least 45 minutes before calling a Swiftsure taxi and climbing in it to take her ...
... Blonde woman, jean shorts, bikini top, ink scrolled delicately across her lower back. No shoes, packsack, tiny pink purse with make-up sticking out of the broken zipper. "Working." Say hello and she looks at me like she'd rather stick me than answer back. Avert eyes, kind of afraid: climbs into a pick-up truck with one of hundreds of faceless fucks who made her that way ...
... S limping away from G, who's shouting at him: "Fucking goof, I told you no middling, you piece of shit." G catches up, 1.5 feet taller, grabs S, slaps him: echo. S starts to cry, G pushes him down, walks away. S gets up, dusts off greasy jeans as if he's not been wearing them for two weeks, walks over. "Gotta quarter?" Hand it over, S says G's a pussy and offers to run to Co-op for me. "You'll hate yourself for ripping me off, S, so let's say no." He cries again for my mistrust but doesn't blame me. Whistles at a black Volkswagon, which slows down: he's laughing, gone ...
... Two girls, early 20s, jean skirt/lace skirt, tank top/t-shirt, flip-flops/plastic sandals: "Did you see Steve's face?" "No, what'd he say?" "He said she's a useless bitch, but I think he's fucking her." "Prick." "Who's playing at --"...
Here comes D, cheeks like pockets of death, hugs me then tells me to wash her off my clothes before I touch anything delicate. Hair fire engine red, lilac perfume, too many rings, finger tips black, cracked, broken. Used to give lectures at a recovery house and answer phones at a treatment centre you've probably heard of. Her teeth seem stuck together, smile frozen in place, as she asks questions about my life and doesn't listen for the answers. "Want a balloon?" I'm not sure how to answer so she says, "Oh. I thought I had a balloon." Looks around confused, embarassed, breaks a heel crossing the street ...
... Door opens, F falls out, pukes, wipes his mouth and asks if he can go back in for a tequila. I call him a taxi instead; he tells the driver to beat it. "I never come here, you know. I'm from Alberta." Pukes again. Came in three hours ago with a wad of cash, bought rounds for the house, more instant friends than hairs on his head. Now: sits down, pockets inside out and bare, alone in a doorway: friends on to someone new. S reappears, tries to fleece F for his cigarettes. I give S a look and he wanders off: F keeps his smokes ...
... Wide shouldered cowboy hat guy; frilly dress girl with squeaky voice. Walk up to the A&W drive-thru, shout orders at the orange and brown uniform behind the moveable plexi-glass. Car drives up, cowboy hat thumps on the hood. Girl giggles, grabs his balls and tells him she loves him. Guy abandons driver, who's about to get out and smash him. Cowboy hat and frilly dress shove tongues down each other's throats; orange and brown uniform waits patiently, brown bag and waxed cups in out-stretched hand ...
Break's over.
