Get a great job
Get a new litter box for Rex
Get steel cut oatmeal
Kingston turned out to be almost the opposite of Vancouver. Not in huge ways, but more in a lot of little ways. The landscape was different, with no mountains and barely any hills. And the trees looked extra short to me. Obviously the city was way smaller, but it also looked completely different with lots of old-fashioned brick and limestone houses straight out of the Upper Canada history books. And lucky Chloë, for less rent than we were paying for a three bedroom apartment on the west side of Vancouver, she got a narrow three bedroom brick house with a yard and everything. We lived downtown, so that’s where my job search was centered.
I’m a pretty friendly person, so chatting to complete strangers is something that comes easily to me. Or as my brother Glen puts it: “Telling strangers how they could improve their lives,” and it was true that I’ve been known to offer helpful suggestions. Anyway, my outgoing nature made my job search a little easier. I had to pitch myself to various employers, and I rapidly changed my goal from “a great job” to “a job.” However, in less than a week I was gainfully employed at two part-time jobs: days I was working at a little bakery-café downtown and nights I was waitressing at The Keg Steakhouse. It wasn’t a perfect situation, but given the many Queen’s students still in town and the fact that I’d be leaving at the end of the summer it was the best I could do. I could walk to both my jobs from Chloë’s house, which was very convenient. In fact, I could walk to pretty much everything around here. There were faraway malls, but we could easily get what we needed in town.
The Sunshine Café job was pretty sweet, the owner was this older guy, Manny, who just dropped in occasionally and the person who was really in charge was Elaine. Elaine was the head baker and even though I was hired to work the counter, she agreed to let me assist with the baking when it wasn’t busy. I think you could best describe Elaine as a cougar; she was a skinny divorcée with red hennaed hair who took frequent smoke breaks out back. She was always checking out the male customers from behind the cooling racks and delivering raspy comments on their varying degrees of attractiveness. She was enormously skilled in that she could speak in a way that I could hear her, but the guys couldn’t, which resulted in a lot of blushing and giggling on my part to mystified customers.
This morning, one of our regulars, a young businessman, came in for a black coffee and a bran muffin. I had him pegged as working at one of the nearby banks. After only a week, I knew his name was Peter and he wanted Becel and not butter with his muffin.
“Good morning, Peter. The usual?” I knew he was the type of guy to want the usual, I liked a routine too.”
“Oh, hi. Yes, please.” Peter was kind of shy, and had no clue what my name was.
“I’d like to rip that expensive silk tie off his neck and use it to tie him up to my big brass bed,” came the hiss from behind me. Peter was kind of attractive in an innocent, boyish way, which seemed to be what Elaine liked. I snorted, trying not to laugh.
“Did you say something?” he asked me, blinking from behind his wire-framed glasses.
“Gosh no, isn’t the weather just great today?” I improvised.
Peter turned and looked out the window at the gathering storm clouds and then nodded slowly. I handed him his change and he left quickly.
“Elaine, you’re getting me in deep doodoo here,” I called out to her, as she was busy cackling by the back sink. I turned back around and there was this young guy standing there.
“Hi, what can I get you?” I asked, giving him a big smile.
He smiled back at me as if we knew each other. “Hey, did you just start working here?”
“Yes, last week. You must come here all the time.”
He kept staring at me, but I was pretty sure I had never seen him before. Whatever, he wasn’t my type, so I tried to keep things moving, “So, what interests you this morning?”
He grinned even wider, “Oh, you mean food-wise?” Then he moved over to look at the display case.
“Hey Seeeñor, I would like to make your Mexican hat dance!” Elaine was using a fake Mexican accent now, making her racist as well as sexist. The guy looked a little Hispanic: he had dark hair, a goatee/moustache combination, and a tan, but he definitely sounded 100% Canadian. Unfortunately now I had started giggling, and once I start I find it really hard to stop and I could barely hold it together.
“I think I’ll have a banana chocolate chip muffin,” he began, I was biting my lip, trying not to laugh, and he smiled broadly at me. “Is something funny?”
“Uh no, just high on life.” I said feebly, still giggling. “Um, did you want a coffee with that?”
“Actually a Diet Coke would be good.”
At 9:00 in the morning? Yikes. “Breakfast of champions,” I remarked.
“You know it,” he replied cryptically.
I handed him his change and he threw a loonie into the tip jar, which was generous. I thanked him and then he hesitated, like there was something else he wanted to say, but a small line was starting to form behind him.
“I’ll see you later,” he told me and then left. Mrs. Fitzgerald, another regular who was a sweet older lady, was up next. I think she was a bit lonely, as she always wanted to chat about her grandsons, who were apparently so handsome and smart and successful. I liked her, however I felt pretty sure she was exaggerating with a grandmother’s pride.
“Hello Mrs. Fitzgerald, how are you today?”
“Oh fine dear, how are you? Did I tell you that Liam is coming to visit next week?” She was happy to tell me all about this, and I was happy that Elaine couldn’t make any more comments right now, so I could get rid of the giggles.
Jake
I always went to this one café on my way to the gym, they had decent food and it wasn’t too busy. While waiting at the counter, I checked out the sweet ass of the girl back there and when she turned around it was the hot girl from Division Street last week! Close-up, she was even prettier: big brown eyes, a huge smile, and long dark hair she had pinned up. I already knew her body was smokin’.
Well, I had to make an effort for Andrew’s sake, right? Really, what I won’t do for my friends.
“Hi, did you just start working here?”
“Yes, last week actually.” She looked up at me and smiled some more, I was getting the vibe that she was into me. “You must come here all the time,” she added. She was wearing this tight white top under her apron and when she bent over to pull something from under the counter, the view was great.
“Yeah, I like it here.” And now I liked it even better.
“So, what interests you this morning?” she replied. Now I was sure she was into me, you don’t ask stuff like that unless you want to hear something personal back. Plus she kept giggling all the time, maybe she was nervous around me, or something, I got that a lot. I ordered a muffin and a Diet Coke.
“The breakfast of champions,” she commented as she got my order together so I guess she did know who I was. I paid her, and I was just trying to figure out how to get her name and number when I realized that there were a few people waiting behind me. I left, but at least I knew where to find her now.
8. Working It Out
The café was only open in the daytime, which meant I could work dinner shifts at The Keg on the same day. At the café we had two rushes, in the morning and then around lunch. There were five of us who worked the counter at various times, and everyone’s schedule moved around. I was the newest one, so I most often got the really early shift that began at 6:00 am. Waking up was brutal, but it was pleasant to walk through the downtown before most people were up. On the way, I had glimpses of Lake Ontario and seeing the water made me a little less homesick. Another job nobody liked was delivering orders, we didn’t do a ton of catering but Manny had a few special customers. While I was delivering a big lunch order I found my new gym.
Not surprisingly I’m pretty interested in food, s
o I have to be vigilant about not gaining back the weight. I did this by sticking to a regular gym schedule and walking everywhere. Now that I was in a new city, I needed to find a nearby gym. Chloë suggested I work out at the university but that was inconvenient enough that I was worried that I would start skipping my gym time. So one morning, when Elaine had me delivering an order of salads and healthy muffins to a gym nearby, I was hoping that this place might be a good fit for me.
The gym was a pretty low key one, not huge but fully equipped. I checked out the fees and they were kind of expensive. The owner/manager/head trainer was a guy named Brad, and I gave him my biggest smile and my sob story about being a poor student looking for a gym for the summer. That didn’t seem to move him, so I offered to come during the least busy times and then I told him the whole story about my losing weight and having to work hard at maintenance. Obviously I am without shame when it comes to achieving my goals. I left happily with a bargain membership limited only to afternoons before 5:00 on weekdays and weekend mornings. Maybe Matt was right and I was boring, but I found comfort in having a regular routine with work, the gym, and hanging out with Chloë. Not much of social life, but right now that was fine.
When I was working out at the gym after my early bakery shift, I noticed this guy staring at me. He looked vaguely familiar and I realized it was Mexi-guy from the café yesterday. He seemed okay then, but now I saw that he was the kind of guy I can’t stand at the gym, one who spends more time talking to people than working out. Plus he didn’t look that fit, he had no definition in his arms and his whole body looked a little Gumby-esque. He smiled at me, but I turned my back to him and started doing a set of barbell squats. Without squats and lunges, my butt could easily expand exponentially.
After the weights, I like to do a quick cardio cool down and then stretch. I love stretching after a workout, because it hurts and feels good at the same time. I was on the mat, doing some hamstring stretches with my legs spread, and when I lifted my head, Mexi-guy was still checking me out. Totally gross, I go to the gym to work out and not to pick up guys! I took off right away, showered, got ready, and as I left the gym I did a wide circuit to avoid talking to him. I had to be nice to people at work, but not on my own time.
I went back to the café and got a tea and a big glass of water and sat out on the patio to enjoy the warm May sunshine and relax for a few minutes. I didn’t have to work tonight, so Chloë and I had planned a nice dinner and some crafting projects. I was wondering if I needed to pick up any groceries before I went home, and I pulled out my red Moleskin to make a list. We were going to barbecue tomorrow, and I wanted to marinate the steak overnight. Thinking of steaks reminded me of Matt, as they were his favourite food, and I used to prepare them for him in my special rosemary, garlic and red wine vinegar marinade. I wondered what he and Shawntelle were doing right now, besides each other. I had deactivated all my social media for the summer so I didn’t have to see how many attractive new girls Matt was friending or Shawntell’s selfies of her boobs and duck-lips. I always got mad when I thought about Matt; at first I was upset at him because of what he did to me, but recently I figured out I was actually mad at myself. How could I have not had a clue that we were in trouble? I had been an idiot to trust a guy so naively and I was never, ever going to do that again. That was if I ever felt like dating again, which didn’t seem likely anytime soon.
“So, come here often?”
I looked up and it was Mexi-guy again. He was grinning confidently and slipped into the seat beside me on the patio. He had just gotten a snack and seemed ready to settle in for a long chat. Too bad Elaine was off or she could have taken care of him and his sombrero.
I sighed, this was the end to my relaxing time. And boy, had he picked the wrong time to approach me! I was in an anti-man mood.
“What answer will make you leave me alone?” I asked crabbily. I didn’t have to be polite to strange guys when I was off the clock.
“I guess if you say yes to us going out later, maybe that would do it. I’d have to go home and shower and get all prettied up.”
“That might take a while,” I suggested and drank my water. His post-workout hair looked sweaty and messy, and fell uncombed over his forehead. I hated beards, even goatees like his. His eyes were brown, and he had a small scar on his eyebrow. The only attractive thing about him was his smile. He was definitely not cute and so not my type.
“Oh ouch, she bites,” he retorted, chuckling. Nothing seemed to deter him, he definitely had an overload of confidence.
“Plus, do you really need a shower, after all you hardly broke a sweat in there.”
“Double ouch!” Then he dealt me what he obviously thought was a charming smile. “Are you going somewhere special now?”
“What do you mean?” I asked him.
“I don’t know, you’re all dressed up. Looks pretty.”
I was wearing a fitted black sundress with tiny multi-coloured polka dots, which was actually pretty standard for me in the summertime.
“Thanks,” I said politely. I couldn’t return the compliment as he was wearing gym shorts and an old t-shirt. A total slob.
“So, you just moved here?”
“Yeah, for the summer… but how did you know that?”
“I saw you get off the bus.”
Okay, that was creepy. “It’s kind of a small place here, if you already know all about me.” Actually that was something I had already noticed about Kingston, I seemed to run into the same people over and over. Small town life was kind of a fishbowl.
“I don’t, I don’t know your name for example.”
“That’s true,” I responded. If it was up to me, he never would since I was not interested, either in him or anyone else.
There was a brief silence, then he tried again. “I’m just here for the summer too.”
“Really? Are you a student too?”
He stretched and smiled, “No, I’m a professional hockey player.”
I laughed merrily. “That’s funny. What do you really do?”
He gave me a questioning look. “I. Play. Hockey. For the Los Angeles Kings.”
I laughed again, “Sure, pull the other leg.”
He looked down at my legs, like he was considering it. I moved my knees out of his reach. He looked back up at my face, but his smile didn’t seem quite as confident.
“Sounds tempting, but why are you laughing?”
“Well, because you can’t be an NHL player.”
“Why not?”
“Because hockey players are all cut and fit and they work hard at the gym. And they don’t drink Diet Coke and eat crap.” I looked at his cinnamon roll, man there had to be 600 calories in that. It looked delicious and I wanted one too. I turned my head away and drank my unsweetened green tea.
For the first time, he stopped smiling and looked a little miffed. “I guess you don’t follow hockey then.”
“Well I do, kind of. I know something about hockey. But I’m not from around here, I’m from Vancouver so I only know some of the Canucks players. Plus my brothers play hockey, so I have been to hockey games. Too many.”
“Did you watch the playoffs?”
“Yup.” It was hard to miss, between Bianca’s fanaticism and the million TV’s at work.
“First round, Kings and Canucks?”
“Yup.”
“So anything you remember from that series?”
“Well, we won the series, but our defencemen kept getting injured. And um, the Kings had a really good power play, they kept scoring on us.”
“Good, good,” he spoke as if he was coaching a little kid, “And one of the points on that power play was a defenceman named Jake Cookson.”
“Oh yeah, I vaguely remember that name, I think my brother had him in a playoff pool or something.” I could remember Glen talking about him, so he must have been good.
“I’m Jake Cookson.”
Was he? I had no idea what Jake Cookson looked like. “Really?
Prove it.” I challenged him. Anybody could say they were a famous hockey player, but a chubby guy like this was b.s.ing for sure.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said, pulling out his wallet. He showed me his driver’s license that read Jake Cookson and had his photo. I was surprised to see we were almost the same age, because he looked way older than me. Still it was hard for me to recognize a hockey player unless he was in full uniform and walking down the sidewalk in skate guards.
“Maybe you’re just a guy with the same name as a famous hockey player, who uses that to impress girls.”
He pretended to bang his head on the table. Then he stopped and looked at me. “Would my being a famous hockey player impress you?”
“No,” I declared firmly.
“Then why even bother.” He sighed. “I actually drive a zamboni.”
“That I believe,” I told him. He looked like a hoser, with his messy long hair and the scruffy beard-like thing on his face. I could imagine him hanging out at the rink in a plaid shirt and a tuque.
“Great! So would you like to go out tonight? Maybe we can catch a movie.”
“Nope, I have a lot of sewing to do. Thank you though.” I finished up my tea and got up to leave.
“Wait, can I get your number? I don’t even know your name….” he pleaded.
“It’s probably better that way,” I told him and walked away.
9. Hearts and Crafts
“Have you ever heard of a player named Jake Cookson?” I asked Chloë when we were having dinner that night. I had whipped up a little pasta dish with garlic, cherry tomatoes, arugula and canned Italian tuna while Chloë made one of her epic salads. We were eating out in the backyard where there was a tiny patio. Man, living in a real house with friends was something I could totally get used to.
“A player, like a guy who does a lot of girls?” she wondered.
“No, no, I meant a hockey player.”
Chloë shook her head, then nodded instead. “Wait, it’s funny because there’s this guy at the school, Andrew. He’s been dropping by the office and chatting. He mentioned that his buddy is in the NHL or something. I’m pretty sure it was that same name. I was thinking about the etymology of the name… Anglo Saxon, meaning the son of the cook.”
How The Cookie Crumbles Page 4
