by Edeet Ravel
I start the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow I need to get the social insurance number.
He told me his name, but I forget it.
The city is one big skating rink. I poured two bags of salt on the walkway this morning. All I need is for Mrs. Coleville to slip and say it’s my fault.
Yours forever,
Fern
Monday
February 11
Hi Xanoth,
I went down to the building on de Maisonneuve, but right at the desk they told me my guardian has to apply for me if I’m under 18.
Now I don’t know what to do. What if the guy won’t give me the job without a number?
I’m also really stressed about the garbage situation. People are still not following the rules. I’m running out of the black tape, so I called David and asked him for regular tape. An hour later his secretary came over and brought me a whole box filled with pencils, pens, tape, a stapler, a big pad of sticky notes, markers, a stack of paper and a box of white envelopes.
The secretary looked like a model. I wonder if David’s going out with her. He never mentions a wife or kids. And there was the way she said, “David told me you needed this.” I mean the way she said David, I had a feeling she’s more than his secretary.
That box of office stuff should have cheered me up, but it didn’t. I was too worried about the social insurance number. I made more signs, this time with exclamation marks, and I taped them all over the building again. Louise did the French ones.
I also taped a large sheet of paper and a dangling pencil on my door, and I wrote IF I AM NOT HOME LEAVE YOUR MESSAGE HERE AND I WILL ATTEND TO IT AS SOON AS I CAN.
If I get this job I’m going to be away most of the day and every evening except on Mondays. I really have to find a solution for Beauty.
Yours forever,
Fern
Tuesday
February 12
Hi Xanoth,
I can still work at the hotel. The owner, Karl, said he’ll apply for the number for me and he’ll say he’s my guardian. All I have to do is bring him my birth certificate.
I start tomorrow. With this job, every minute of my day will be filled. Morning: clean building, deal with Mrs. C. Afternoon: hotel. Evening: restaurant. Mondays: put sign on door that says GONE TO OTTAWA FOR THE DAY and pass out.
The good thing is that I think I’ll be able to save around $450 a week. That’s $1800 a month!
I asked Victor about catsitting. He said, “Sure, babe.” I could tell he liked that I asked him.
I said, “It’s really important not to let her out,” and he said, “I dig it.”
So I went out and got a basin at the one-dollar store and filled it with newspaper and cat litter and took it up to Victor with a bag of scraps.
I told Victor I’d clean the litter. All he has to do is keep Beauty at his place and not let her out. Even when he’s away, it’s better for her there. It’s bigger, and there’s a windowsill in the kitchen with a view of trees and grass and people going by.
Beauty was happy right away. Cats can tell if they’ll get along with someone. She began inspecting and sniffing and purring, as if she was saying, “Wow, finally I get to go somewhere.” Then she jumped on the cozy red blanket and began cleaning herself. Victor stroked her and made faces at her.
I really like Victor. If only I was a normal size and my hair wasn’t all stupid and stringy and I had Mom’s good features instead of her flat eyebrows and tiny eyelashes, which were fine on her but make me look like Chucky.
I don’t mind that Victor forgot about the meal he promised me. Looking after Beauty and being so cool about it is worth a thousand meals. If he’s sleeping or at the club when I get home from work, I’ll use my janitor’s key to get in. Victor doesn’t mind. He said, “I got no secrets from you, babe.”
Yours forever,
Fern
Wednesday
February 13
Hi Xanoth,
I started at the hotel today. I brought eggplant dip and pitas and fruit in my knapsack. Karl took me to the kitchen so I could put the dip in the fridge. I looked at all the goodies and wondered what Karl does with the leftovers. He can’t always sell exactly every muffin or piece of cake. I guess he takes the extra stuff home.
It was mostly a training day. Karl showed me how to do a room. Strip the bed, put on new sheets, collect garbage and towels, spray, wipe, clean toilet, put in new shampoo and soap and a glass, vacuum. If the shampoo or soap is half-used, I can take it home.
I did a trial room while Karl watched. He was impressed by how fast I was. He talks a lot, but not in an annoying way. Mostly he talked about his boyfriend François, who’s a lot younger than Karl and likes to stay out late on weekends. Karl gets jealous but he doesn’t like going out late. But then he wakes up at two in the morning and François isn’t there, and he goes to the club to look for him. And then he sees him dancing and he goes home and can’t fall asleep, so he ends up just as tired as if he’d gone out in the first place.
I was only half listening because I had to concentrate on not making mistakes. Karl doesn’t mind. He’s like a TV or radio show. It’s there if you want to watch or listen to it, but if your mind wanders it’s also OK.
There are two receptionists – one for the day and one at night. I won’t be meeting the night person, because he comes at eight. The day one is the guy with the purple punk hairdo. His name is Étienne. I like him.
The only other worker at Le Baudelaire is Sally, who does accounts and laundry. She’s the sort of person who could be 28 or 38, it’s hard to tell. She’s medium height, medium weight, medium looks, medium everything except for her personality, which is totally scary. Étienne pretended to tremble when she came into the lobby, and when she left he said, “All clear.” He’s really funny. He could be an actor. Maybe he really is an actor when he’s not being a receptionist. Maybe that’s why his hair doesn’t fit the rest of him. Maybe he’s in a play about punks.
It’s going to be really hard dealing with the garbage now that I have three jobs. I don’t want to have to wake up before 7:00 in the morning on Tuesdays and Fridays, so when I get home from the restaurant at 12:30 or 1:00 I have to drag a hundred bags to the front.
So my question is, why can’t the tenants PUT OUT THEIR GARBAGE IN FRONT TWICE A WEEK? The whole system doesn’t make sense. But I can’t change it without asking David, and I don’t want him to know I’m having trouble with anything.
Also, some people are STILL putting their garbage in small white plastic bags. I’m probably going to have to open one of them and look for envelopes so I can figure out who it is. I can give them some green bags for free if that’s a problem. I have lots.
Yours forever,
Fern
Thursday
February 14
Happy Valentine’s Day, Xanoth.
Yours forever,
Fern
Saturday
February 16
Hi Xanoth,
Sally told me to take whatever I want from the kitchen!!!
I said, “Karl told me I’m not allowed,” and she said, “Yeah, well he’s not the accountant, I am.” Sally seems to have as much power as Karl, even though she’s definitely an employee like me.
Her mood is the problem. The smallest thing sets her off. Like the table for folding laundry is wobbly. Or the coffee’s cold. Or there are only two cashews in the mixed nuts bag.
Since she said it was OK, today I helped myself to a small container of chocolate milk, a slice of cake, a poppy-seed cookie and some muffins. I was right. Karl takes home whatever doesn’t sell. So if I have an extra muffin all it means is that he’s taking home one less muffin. If he catches me, I’ll say Sally told me it was OK. But he won’t catch me, because you can hear if anyone’s coming down the stairs to the kitchen. And Sally does the inventory.
The food comes from a restaurant. It’s not the junk you get in a machine or at the dépanneur. The muffins are really goo
d, with big chunks of cranberries and pineapple. I won’t have to bake cakes anymore, if I can have muffins every day.
I’m also stocking up on soap and shampoo and conditioner. I can take anything that’s been opened.
Then there’s tips. I didn’t know that some guests leave tips for the housekeeper. Karl tries to pocket all the tips before I get to the rooms, but sometimes he’s busy when a guest leaves and I get to keep the money. There isn’t any system. It’s survival of the fastest.
I always wear the same thing, jeans and one of my VV shirts, but Étienne describes what I’m wearing as if it’s a fashion show. He always finds something to say, like “thrilling russet hues” and “regal collar” and “who can resist that dreamy crepuscular lavender.” Crepuscular means twilight.
Tea costs a nickel and coffee costs a quarter, in theory. No one really pays for it. Karl’s a coffee addict. I don’t know how people can drink coffee. It’s just weird bitterness. The booze and chocolates and bags of nuts are behind the front desk and Étienne looks after them. Yesterday he threw me a bag of roasted almonds when I came in and put his finger on his lips. They were divine. I never had roasted almonds before.
I don’t feel bad that we’re all sneaking things behind Karl’s back, especially since he steals my tips. On a full night Karl makes $1,680. Of course he has to pay us and for all the supplies, but it’s still pretty good. Besides, I always work an extra half hour at least, so that makes up for the snacks.
Karl’s really into keeping the place clean. Being clean is part of being a real hotel and “not a brothel.” The worst insult for him is if someone calls his hotel a brothel.
Sally said I can bring my laundry to do at the hotel. I’ve been washing my things in the bathtub, but it’s a problem finding space to hang them. Or finding spare energy. This way I can use the dryer. I’ll bring a bit at a time so I don’t have to carry a huge bag to the restaurant and so Karl doesn’t notice.
I need to open an account at the bank, now that I’m going to be getting payslips. It isn’t safe anyhow to leave a lot of cash in this apartment. It could get stolen or destroyed in a fire.
I wonder what a bank account is going to cost.
Yours forever,
Fern
Tuesday
February 19
Hi Xanoth,
Guess who I ran into today – Ricardo! On the metro. He said, “Fern, girl, is that you? What’s been happenin?”
I said, “I moved to a new place.”
He said, “You still at Sunnyview?” and I said, “No, I work now.”
He said, “I’m at LCC, it’s murder. You would not believe the homework.” Then he said, “That’s my stop,” but he didn’t get off.
I said, “Did you say that was your stop?” and he said, “Yeah, but I gotta get your address first.”
So he dug out a pen and wrote my address on the back of a notebook. I said, “How’s that girl from Wendy’s?” and he didn’t even know what I was talking about.
Right then it hit me, Xanoth. It hit me that I don’t have those feelings for him anymore. When he left me for the girl from Wendy’s I cried and cried, and I was sick with sadness all summer. And now here he was and I didn’t feel anything. He was just some guy I once knew.
He said, “I’ll drop by one of these days,” and I said right away, “I’m only in Monday evenings and that’s when I do my shopping.”
I don’t want him to come. We have nothing in common, and he’d probably be hoping for the stuff we used to do. The point being?
I guess I’m kind of mad at him too. If it wasn’t for him, maybe I wouldn’t have been so mean to Mom.
Yours forever,
Fern
Sunday
February 24
Hi Xanoth,
My life has become insane.
The restaurant job is a lot more tiring now, especially if it’s a busy night. My boss is really Amir, not Mr. and Mrs. Taza, because if he complains about me I’ll get fired. And lately I’ve been so tired I’ve been making a lot of mistakes. Yesterday I broke a plate and I set the microwave wrong and I forgot to boil water for tea.
The problem is that I’m making some of the food now. Before I was only heating food up and washing dishes, but now I sometimes have to make the falafel and shawarma and organize food on a plate.
I barely have time to shower, what with all the metro rides and then doing the building in the morning and the stupid garbage twice a week.
I’m still worried about Mrs. Coleville. The other tenants leave messages on the door now and then, like the German student asking if I have oil for the hinges.
But with her it’s ten times a day, complaining in her fake British accent about some tomato juice that spilled all over the stairs or the floor creaking or cold air coming in through the windows or her faucet leaking or her sliding closet door falling off. Some things I can’t do anything about, like the floor creaking. I can’t exactly install wall-to-wall carpets in her place. But I’m supposed to know how to fix a leaking tap or a closet door.
So I called Jeff. He wasn’t too friendly, I guess because I didn’t give him what he wanted last time. I told him that this time we’ll have a chance to get to know each other better.
I don’t have a choice. I can’t lose this place. I’m really scared Mrs. Coleville is going to call David and tell him I’m never here. When she leaves a message it isn’t just once. She keeps calling and repeating the same message over and over. She’s furious that she has to wait until the next day to talk to me in person. I’ve tried calling her from work, but it only makes things worse. She starts interrogating me about why I’m not in the building. At least the noise problem from the apartment next to her seems to have been solved.
I’ve lost quite a lot of weight. I’m wearing my lowest jeans and they’re a bit loose on me, even with one of Mom’s belts. It’s from all the running around. I’m also eating less because I’m not in charge of my food now. For breakfast I have leftovers from the restaurant and fruit or carrots from the Somerled store. On Mondays I sleep all day and in the evening I go to Somerled for more fruit and vegetables or to Provigo to get litter.
One of these days I’ll go to Value Village to look for new jeans. I’d go to a vestiaire, but they don’t have a big enough choice, and I’d end up with something dorky from dorkland. I’ll try to go on the 50% off day, but the only day I really have time is on Monday. Unless I get to the hotel for 12:30 and leave at 3:30. Then I can take the metro to Namur (4:20), buy the jeans (5:20) and then go to the restaurant. That could work.
Yours forever,
Fern
Monday
February 25
Hi Xanoth,
I got my first payslip on Friday. It was a lot less than I expected. There’s all sorts of deductions, like unemployment insurance and taxes. I forgot about taxes.
Anyhow, today I finally went to the bank with the payslip and the rest of my money.
Karl said the bank doesn’t charge if you’re putting money in. They only charge you for taking it out. He told me to go to Scotiabank because they don’t have as many charges and they don’t try to screw you.
It’s way more complicated than I thought. I had to see a bank advisor to open an account. The bank advisor was a young guy with a crew cut. I told him I’d only be putting money in, not taking it out. He said there were a lot of options, but the one I liked best was where you put in the same amount at regular intervals. If it’s locked in, which means I can’t take it out, then it’s higher interest. The interest is pretty low these days though, so that was disappointing.
He said if I lock my money until I’m 65 I get a tax deduction, but I told him I’ll need the money in around fifteen years.
So in the end I decided I’d put in $650 every two weeks, because you’re not allowed to put less than what you decide on. I need some breathing space, in case the hotel closes suddenly, or the restaurant. I’ll keep back-up money in my hiding place.
&
nbsp; I called Value Village and asked when they were having another 50% off day, but they said not for awhile, because they just had one last week. Darn!
Yours forever,
Fern
Tuesday
February 26
Hi Xanoth,
Jeff came over this morning to fix Mrs. Coleville’s tap and door. He found something called a washer in the toolbox and he showed me how to put it in. There’s different washers for different types of faucets.
Then he put the door back on the sliding thing, but he said it wasn’t too steady because the little wheel is loose.
Mrs. Coleville looked at Jeff like he has bubonic plague. She probably scrubbed wherever he touched as soon as we were gone.
Before Jeff left, he came to my room and we sat on the bed. Luckily he was satisfied with the minimum, which I must say I didn’t mind. Also he stroked my hair, which was nice. He’s OK. Not my type, but he’s an OK guy.
I was late for work because of all this, but if anyone would understand that I got held up by sex it’s Karl.
Yours forever,
Fern
Thursday
February 28
Hi Xanoth,
You won’t believe what happened. I was doing the garbage as usual, dragging the bags to the front with the wind blowing on my face, when suddenly this ambulance pulls up in front of the building, along with three police cars. They were there for the mousy woman. Someone beat her up so bad she almost died. She just managed to call 911 before passing out.
Probably the criminal walked right by me, and I didn’t notice because I was hauling bags and cursing. He could have beat me up too, or even killed me.
