Another Nothing Day
Eyes open. At least as far as the eye crud will allow. Move arm. Up from my hips, along the heavy blanket, to my face to rub the crud away. A dreamless night, well, of course I dreamt it’s just that I didn’t remember any. I roll over and check the clock. 5:33 blares into my eyes. Too early for a walk, too early for anything. It will take a good month to reset my biological clock. Stupid daylight savings. I roll back over the other way to get out. The blanket feels like a tonne on my sleepy arms. Why did I ever bother to get a queen-size bed? I heave the blanket off and fetch my slippers from under the bed. Better be quiet, I think to myself, as I walk past David’s room and down the stairs.
Weekend, and a long weekend at that. I wonder if David had invited some of his friends over. Maybe he invited that Cantonese boy, a good listener though hard of hearing sometimes. David doesn’t listen much, can’t speak much either. It probably is my fault with my slurry speech and bad dentures. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why the Cantonese boy doesn’t get any of my jokes. No, he said he had grandparents that spoke with a village accent. They can’t be worse than me.
Leftovers for breakfast, I beep up some rice and meat in the microwave. It is still dark outside and the moon is clear. I finish quickly and put the plates in the sink. I’ll wash them later when I come back, if I do them now I’ll only wake up David. I check the fridge; maybe I will stop by Produce City to pick up some broccoli. I wonder if they are open this early. I pull my cane out from the wave next to he staircase and put on a trench coat over my sleeping clothes and then some socks and a hat. The cold never bothers me.
The sudden change in temperature sends shivers through my whole body. Every walk starts with this same feeling. I take a deep breath to draw it all in. I hear that it is in the morning that the trees release all the oxygen they had made during the evening. The streetlights are still on. I pause to look at them. Strange how something so ordinary now used to make me silent in awe. When I first came to Canada from China, it was a miracle to a village boy like me, who lived an hour’s drive away from the nearest city, that enough electricity existed to power these long strings of lights.
I walk by my neighbours’ house. I half expect their two dogs to come out and start barking, but they are apparently asleep. Like the rest of the block.
I arrive home a good hour after sunrise. Produce City wasn’t open so I’ll need to go back later this evening. David is still asleep, not affected by daylight savings. I sit down on my chair in the living room and take off my hat. This is the only room that I was allowed to decorate. It is plain, simple, and efficient. Just like the westerners. Enough seats for five, a coffee table and a wide screen TV with satellite. I turn on the TV and press play for the VCR on the remote. It’s some episodes of “Super” that I had recorded and haven’t finish watching. I lean back and watch the Chinese celebrities play weird games for prizes.
David came downstairs during the game of telephone with Chinese proverbs and a line of people of different nationalities. He hasn’t invited anyone over. Instead, he will just be ‘hanging out’ somewhere. Why don’t you get a job, I ask, or do Kendo with me again? He would, he says, but he doesn’t have that much time. And he would do Kendo again except he was afraid he’d hurt me. He wishes, I think silently, I can still fight well enough. The celebrities had a real hard time trying to guess what the Swedish woman was saying.
Fine, I wave him off while reminding him to watch the traffic and not to jaywalk. He knows, he knows. Will he be back for dinner? No he will not. Fine, dinner for one then. Maybe I should get a dog. I can hear my neighbors’ pets barking at David as he walks by. Nine years and you would think they’d learn to recognize certain people. I look at the dishes in the sink from the morning. Might as well wash all of them together after dinner.
Instant noodles for lunch and more rice for dinner. That reminds me, I still need to go get some broccoli. I dress up again and walk out of the house for the second time of the day. (Make sure the door is locked) The dogs aren’t there to bark at me again. It must be dinnertime for them as well. I walk past the BC Liquor store and several other stores that line Cambie. So many people. Young and old, Chinese and not. Yet, I don’t know any of them. It is just a sea of faces that splashes me now and then as I wade through them. I don’t know the name of every drop of water.
Produce City is hiring. Maybe David can get a job here. He can work the early shift so that the store can open earlier. Maybe we’ll walk to the store together every Saturday or Sunday morning. I will have to remember to tell that. The store is a nice place, full of nice people. Some of the workers even recognize me, but I don’t know them. Still, it is nice to be remembered.
The streets are starting to empty out. As I walk, I started to make my plans for tomorrow. Maybe I’ll take the bus to Chinatown, walk around until about five and come home to make dinner. I still have those dishes to wash. I decided to take the shortcut through the alley. It’s already dark and I want to get home before David does. I notice two men standing by the back door of a store smoking. The store must not be a good one; the back door is pretty dirty.
“Hey,” one of the men says. It must have not been directed at me. I do not know him.
“I’m talking to you old man,” more gibberish. Maybe one day everyone in the world will speak the same language, but I doubt I will be alive when that happens.
“Hey buddy! He said he was talking to you,” the other man. He put his hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off. The man shows me his knife.
“Hey, we’re friendly! We just want to see your wallet for some,” He pauses to search for a word, “ID.” He grins and I can smell his breath, which is bad, but not as bad as the state of his teeth. He has a knife too. I can see it even though he tries to hide it from me. The man pushes me. I swing my cane around and hit him solidly under the left eye. His left. The other man jabs his knife at me slowly. I use the hook of my cane to bring the knife down and step on his hand. I can still fight well enough.
Someone must have heard the noise. One of the backdoors open and a fat Italian man steps out. He yells at the two men as they run away. One of them took my broccoli.
“Are you ok?” asks the fat man.
“Thank you, thank you,” I say in my best English, “Ok, bye-bye.”
I walk out of the alley quickly. I’ll get some more broccoli tomorrow. Right now, I have to concentrate on getting home early. David gets worried if he is home before I am. He doesn’t say anything about it but I can see it in his eyes. If I can get home first, I’ll be there to reply when he asks if anyone was home. He’ll ask what I did today and I’ll tell him “mostly nothing” and listen to him tell me of his day. I close my eyes; I can picture him with his friends enjoying themselves, doing whatever with their nearly infinite time. Afterwards, maybe he’ll listen long enough for me to tell him about the job at Produce City. Maybe, in the future he’ll come back home with stories of work.
I walk quickly pass my neighbours’ house. I strain my ears but can not hear anything. The dogs are still not out.
-FIN-
Notes: Did you read it all? Good for you then! The main character in this story was originally based on one of my friend's dad who is pretty old. But as I later found out, his life was nothing like the way I wrote it here, which is good in a way. This is a good reminder that the stuff I write for this page is basically all fictional so don't go up to me at school and say something like "I feel your pain" ^_^