By Lucy

“The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters.”

– Antonio Gramsci

As always, I felt the plane slow for descent before the pilot announced it. I glanced out the window and noticed the marina whisk by, before we were suddenly over a mountain range. The Nor’Westers. We’d come from the south-west and were turning around.

We made another loop before the pilot was satisfied with how he had lined up with the runway, low over the city. A gentle bump and we were on the ground.

I texted Emily quickly: have landed.

Usually I don’t mind waiting in my seat for everyone else to pile off the plane, but since I had somehow ended up at the front of the plane, I hurried to grab my bag and disembark. We entered the same gate I had left from 6 months ago.

Thunder Bay Airport is small. As I went to the escalator, I saw Hanuman waiting at the bottom, so I waved. He waved back, smiling widely.

“Welcome home!” He said, giving me a quick hug. Emily was parked at the other end of the terminal, so we walked over. Deposited my bags into the trunk, Hanuman got into the backseat so I got in the front passenger.

“My baby!” I said, patting the dashboard. My heart squeezed at the thought of selling it.

At Emily’s place, I checked the trunk for my winter jacket, but it wasn’t there.

Even with the snow on the ground, I still wasn’t that cold, but maybe that’s because my body was humming with exhaustion. They took the bags upstairs to the apartment. I wasn’t sure what to expect – I half-expected to be on the couch – but they had cleaned out the spare room for me. An air mattress on a proper bed frame, made with blankets, a towel folded neatly at the foot.

“Now for a proper hug!” Hanuman said, folding me into a spine-cracking glomp. When Andrej had called me, he had asked me if there was a warm hug waiting for me at home, and Hanuman never disappoints.

I opted to go down for a nap again. When I rose 2 hours later, I showered off the grime of 3 days hard travel and changed it clean clothes.

Time to start putting my life back together.

Emily gave me the key for the apartment and both car keys back, although I was willing to bet they’d end up borrowing the car anyway. She explained a few things to me – like there’s a washing machine in the closet that hooks up to the shower – but I was still adjusting and only half-there.

I had to go grocery shopping, and I had to go to Jeremy’s – he had my Factor meals. I texted him if he would go shopping with me, but I didn’t get a reply before I decided I was pushing it too late.

Oh, for everything to be familiar and yet also strange! My eyes picked out familiar landmarks easily, but they were too close. Thunder Bay has always been small, but after climbing mountains for a good time, the city streets were too short, too level, too easy. A year ago an hour walk was pushing myself – now an hour walk was a slow day. After months of wrestling with the motorcycle, my car responded almost magically to my touch, gliding along like a dream.

Oh god, grocery shopping.

Superstore is bigger than even the biggest grocery store I went into in New Zealand. The ceiling higher, the lights brighter… why? I went down aisles twice, lost, trying to remember how Canadian stores are organized. I grabbed the bare minimum and fled as soon as possible.

Now to get to Jeremy’s place. Overstimulated, lost, trying to force my exhausted brain back to Canada when it was still on sunny beaches with palm trees. Why is there snow everywhere? I couldn’t look out the window and see the estate anymore. Where was I?

Jeremy lives on an unplowed side street. I couldn’t remember how to park in the snow, so I went down a different side street and parked at a school and told him I was there. I drove back to his place to pick him up in the middle of the road.

First, to stop at Emily’s place, to drop off my food.

The fridge is now more than half empty, which was more than I needed. I’m so used to living on half a shelf, and my Factor meals fit neatly anywhere. While I put away my groceries, Hanuman confused Jeremy with several rapid-fire word plays.

On the way to the Tilted Turret, Jeremy said my driving was fine, so my muscle memory was intact even if my brain was still reeling. My internal map of Thunder Bay was quickly coming back to me.

“Hanuman is really quick with those puns.”

“Yep. That’s how I describe him to people, dad jokes.” People had a lot of strong opinions about Hanuman from what they hear about him, but at the end of the day, he’s just an old man. He likes word plays and he puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us.

The Tilted Turret was fun. I must admit, the first time I’d been with the Vagabond, I didn’t get the appeal. I think the appeal isn’t in two people having a nice night. It’s in a group of us, pumping quarters into a row of machines as we trash-talk each other and try to beat each other’s high-scores, before going back to our table to have a drink and another slice of pizza. We ordered too much food and a few drinks and caught up. Heidi and Kev are official now, to the surprise of no one. They are adorable together and I hope they last.

Around 7:30, the exhaustion hit me again, so we called it a night. Jeremy tried to offer me the leftover nachos, but tomorrow was keto time.

Man, I am torturing myself. Spent the last week jet-lagged, sleep-deprived, had a flu, and now I was about to subject myself to the keto flu. No rest for the wicked.

After I brushed my teeth, I stopped to admire myself in the mirror. My hair still retained some of the curl from New Zealand; maybe it was just the pipes at my old apartment that made my hair flat. The blonde highlights, the glow the tan lent me. Vis-a-vis my quote above, the old me is dying and the new me is breaking through. My face doesn’t look like my face anymore, and yet it looks more me than I have ever felt.

Sunday morning.

I slept well, sleeping in past 8, which is just as well. Just goes to show how much of sleep can be mental, although I’ve slept on actual mattresses less comfortable than this air mattress.

Made my usual breakfast of eggs and zucchini. Took stock of my bank account, which was bleak.

Obviously I wasn’t starting work tomorrow, but how long until I had work? Going keto was cutting myself at the knees. I could keep myself fed for next to nothing if I didn’t restrict my diet; buying bulk packets of Mr. Noodles, making copious use of 2Good2Go and filling in the gaps with the food bank and the soup kitchen, but none of that would cater to my keto diet.

Play Rimworld a bit, write a bit. I had to catch up on my blog, start streaming, and start working on the video game, and find work, and… and….

I feel wretched, now that I have a moment to. With all the travel, changing time zones, and running from one plane to another, I lost track of and eventually gave up trying to stay on top of my meds. Not to mention colds and flus usually override them anyways.

Brandon texted me. He lost power from the ice storm and had stayed up all night, bailing water out of his basement. I felt a clutch of guilt; if I had gotten the train to Barrie for the night, I could be helping him out. I texted Andrej; no reply. Tried calling and it went right to voicemail. The power outage map said he should have power, though….

At 2, I had a meeting with the ladies.

It had occurred to me that the first meeting with the Soroptimists would inevitably descend into everyone wanting to ask me about my trip, so I volunteered to do a little tea with anyone who wanted to hear about it. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but about half the club turned out, with tea and treats for days. I made myself a decaf coffee and grabbed some treats that were close to keto; cheese, finger sandwiches with lots of cream cheese, low carb fruit. We settled down into the cushions and Cindy asked me about my trip, but as I started getting into the details she yelled, “everyone quiet down, Lucy is telling her story!”

Oh, ok, this is a speech for the enlightenment of all, not a casual tea. I’m glad I made myself some notes and such. I stood up and chose a spot to stand so I could see everyone and made an attempt to address their questions moreso than talking about my trip. There was a few questions about travel and exotic, foreign New Zealand; “you hitchiked, did you feel safe?”. Cheryl interrupted me to ask hard questions, which she apologized for, but I appreciated it. An audience that is asking questions is an audience that is engaged and interested, and I wanted some perspective of how my ideas were being received. They did say the New Zealand conference was more grueling than the Eastern Canada conference, but by the same token, New Zealand’s clubs were more engaged and focused. We need some of that energy here.

The truth is, Soroptimists started out of the original Rotary club, back when it was ‘illegal’ for women to be involved with Rotary and a lot of those clubs had a women’s auxiliary. Now that Rotary does allow women, there is a question of if Soroptimists needs to exist, and before Trump and the rise of the manosphere I’d have argued we could safety fold together. But now, we are needed to spearhead the fight. We need to push back, we need to organize, we need to be heard.

I

Will

Not

Fade.

I will not surrender my rights, and I will never stop fighting.

The meeting ended suddenly. Cindy called it because my voice was starting to obviously give out, and it was apparently a signal to pack up and head out. I thought it might become more of a proper tea, sitting down and talking amongst ourselves, but no. I packed up a plate of treats out of politeness. At leas I could feed them to Hanuman and Emily.

I do feel slightly facetious. About half my sentences start with “in New Zealand” and I wince every time I do it. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? It was my life for the last six months and I feel like I have been violently transplanted into a different world.

Hanuman and Emily were playing Stardew Valley on the couch when I got in. They appreciated the plate of little cakes. Emily notes that when I am not paying attention, such as when I have headphones in – I’ve been camping out at the dinner table since I have no desk in the room I sleep in – I tend to miss her addressing me but I always hear Hanuman say my name. Which is curious. Physically speaking, I should hear her voice first because women hear higher notes easier. Or do I hear Hanuman more easily because he was my friend first?

I was surprised when I checked my email and noticed one from Duff. He lost my number, and he was in Dryden. Why?

I called him, “So much for working in Winnipeg this spring.”

“Hey sis. God, it feels like forever since I heard your voice.”

Awkward pause.

“Hey, um, so yeah, they called me to Dryden. What’s your UBC number and is your working-at-heights up to date? They’re making me foreman and you’re number one on my list.”

Bittersweet. On one hand, this was good. Dryden is more money than Thunder Bay, plus if I get pre-shut with Duff, I have the luxury of spending more time actually learning to build instead of just chaining gear. On the other hand, I was hoping to actually spend some time in town. I had appointments to reorganize, and technically, all these wonderful friends I had I had only really made about a month or so before I left, so I hadn’t spent a lot of time with them in person. But, money first.

We talked for a bit. He complained that the liquor stores had pulled all the bourbon off the shelves, cuz it’s all American. He also mentioned Crown is made near Winnipeg, so I guess a tour of the Crown Royal distillery is in order when I go visit him in Manitoba.

As we talked, an icy cold feeling was crawling around the back of my mind. They called Duff first and not me? I guess he’s a journeyman and I’m not, but still… if Duff is there already, so is you-know-who…

Actually, that’s a good thing. Cuz it means I’m not likely to run into him around town, and I knew he was going to be in Dryden anyway.

It was a rough night. Keto was dehydrating me and I woke up with leg spasms.

Monday morning; first, to the union hall. Top up my dues, check on my training, grab my new beanie. I got there before they opened properly and chatted to the clerks while the computers booted up.

Then to Shoppers to grab some electrolyte supplements.

I had made plans to go for coffee with Chris. I prefer Bay Village as they are the only place in town (that I know of) that makes bulletproof coffee, which is designed for keto. It does amuse me that before I left Chris was just my skipper, but through us emailing back and forth something else has developed. Friendship? Mentorship?

I ordered my coffee, spotted him and shook his hand. “Wow, you look the same!” He observed.

That’s because I am the same. What has changed was your perception of me… from a small girl who was confusingly good at sailing, to the many layers of Lucy, some still unrevealed. But I’m still just me; slim build, blonde-ish hair, pretty blue eyes.

We talked for about an hour. I expected some more pointed questions about my plans, but he mostly seemed to want to hear about my trip.

Talking to me seems to have changed Chris in turn, the sort of change you only notice in comparison. He was known as the skipper who took any rookie, because he was more about having a good time than winning the race. His work with Rotary was rote and familiar. Now, by his own admission, I have shaken some of his perceptions, which I am glad for. I like to think of people like me and the Vagabond as changemakers, people who shake things up with our restless energy… waking sleepers from their stupor. Challenging their notions. That is our true gift to the world. Chris has decided to work more towards a consistent crew and trying to do better in the rankings, which I do lament the loss of the laissez-faire boat, but it’s not like there’s a crowd of people hanging out at the crew bench waiting for a chance.

Before he calls the meeting, he places his hand on the table, as if to slide a piece of paper across. “I’m going to send you the application for Rotary by email. The meeting is tomorrow, but there’s no rush… there’s always another meeting if you haven’t made up your mind.”

Do many people decline? Rotary does not seem to be suffering for membership like Soroptimists are.

I do feel like I’m being asked to sign a contract in blood, the seriousness of it all. It is a heavy thing, to be told by a very moral man that I seem to hold myself to a high standard. I’m so used to skulking in the shadows that I am afraid of the light.

I go back home with all my paperwork. Duff texts me. “Probably won’t be here ’til April 14th”

Finally. They’ve been dragging their feet on giving me an answer. The truth is that most scaffolders, if you tell them you’ve got work for them in two weeks, will decline and start looking for a job now (coke ain’t cheap). But I’m in no rush, beyond being broke. Two weeks gives me some time to acclimate and get my head on straight.

Margaret texted me. She decided to move out of her place, packed up her bags and her cat and hopped on a plane back to small-town Ontario. Guess that explains why she was so cagey and eager to get a hotel last week! She still wants to live in Vancouver, though.

I pulled the trigger on Paul giving me my PC back. Of course, I have no desk, but Hanuman and Emily suggest I just pile up some boxes and lay a plastic shelf across them, cuz it only needs to fit and support the weight of my screens. Paul comes by and we chat for a bit. He lost one of my cables, the annoying one that I finally had to buy last year, HDMI to Display Port.

Still, I’m starting to get back to normalcy.

My computer takes a while to boot up. 6 months of updates applying themselves.

It’s hard to decide what to do. My original plan was to go back to my rented room at some point, but I can’t see a reason to… so long as I am not annoying Emily. I’m not sharing a bathroom with ten people, I have more than half a shelf of space in the fridge, laundry is free – Emily doesn’t pay for utilities – and there’s even a living room for entertaining. I opted to wait a little while longer to make sure this is actually working for everyone before mentioning it.

K texted me that he wanted to hang out; he had my winter coat, naturally. I went over to his place and grabbed my stuff, which included my sewing machine and Instant Pot, and then we went over to Chapple’s and went on a walk. He seemed really depressed at first, but I eventually managed to thaw him out and he told me about an escapade he had in February. He wanted me to stay and talk longer, but since he had told me it wouldn’t be a long hangout, I hadn’t brought any food with me, so I declined and went home.

I research Rotary more… some of the questions on the application are vague. Email back and forth with Chris. I like Rotary’s “4-Ways Test”. It reminds me of the questions you get asked at the end of Majora… it’s entirely possible the creator was inspired by them.

1. Is it the TRUTH?
2. Is it FAIR to all concerned?
3. Will it build GOODWILL and BETTER FRIENDSHIPS?
4. Will it be BENEFICIAL to all concerned?

I also like the mental exercise of where they intersect. What if something is fair but isn’t true? Or can something ever be fair if it isn’t entirely the truth? What if it’s true but it’s not beneficial? (I suppose the answer is don’t do it then).

Tuesday, April 1st. Cue April Fools’ Day shenanigans. This was my favourite:

The first notification of the day I got was that my gift to Jeremy was deposited, followed by his grateful reception of it. Later on in the day, I went over to his place to grab my Factor box and we sat around chatting for a couple of hours. I am conscious of the fact that I am intruding into Emily and Hanuman’s life… probably too conscious, self conscious for no reason. They invited me, after all. But I still feel an urge to try and vacate the apartment on a regular basis, so they have some alone time.

Andrej finally messaged me back; he did lose power, whatever the power outage map said. But he was fine, as is Rosemary. Lots of trees down in his area. I seemed to have threaded the needle between two severe storm systems; we haven’t had an ice storm like this since ’98. Yes, Porter rebooked me, but if I had booked my return even a day later, I wouldn’t have been able to get home because I wouldn’t have been able to get to Toronto or Ottawa. It’s still raining in southern Ontario. A lightening strike hit the Orillia sewage treatment plant as well; yes, we get snow-thunder!

I feel like crap and I am constantly ravenous. It takes a while to adjust to keto. A lot of the urge to eat is tied to burning carbs, so the first few days is like the hunger for air, gnawing at your stomach. I had anticipated this and was eating my way through all my extra Factor meals with abandon. As I got better and better from my jetlag, lack of sleep and flu, I would be stronger and the hunger would fade. I tried doing some exercises in the living room, but my infected coccyx prevented me doing proper sit-ups. I’m also having constant nosebleeds, probably from the cold and the dry air, but maybe not. Maybe I should see a doctor.

I started unpacking and putting stuff away. Sort through the pile of mail Hanuman has been collecting from my old place. I find a small uncashed cheque. Cool!

Speaking of money…

I decided the best option was to apply for OW. Cuz we don’t call it welfare anymore, we call it “Ontario Works!”. It hasn’t changed from giving you 900 dollars since the first and only time I applied for it, a decade ago, just a reminder to all the jerks reading this who want to start ringing their hands about welfare queens. But 900 dollars is enough for me. The application is entirely online now, a slick website, which is nice.

The application broke, I found out later, a “known issue” that seems almost designed to confuse you and make you think it was submitted when it wasn’t. I ended up calling in Friday for clarity and submitting a second application, which did go through.

Wednesday. Liberation day! Do you feel liberated yet? Brandon is despairing – Trump keep shearing thousands off his stocks and retirement funds – but I laughed and laughed. It’s such a dark, wicked kind of schadenfreude, but I can’t resist. Reap what you sow, the harvest has come due for the fat cats in America and they aren’t enjoying it.

To be honest, I’ve been laughing at and about Americans for years and years. My dislike of the US started in 2008, sheltered as I was. My teacher in grade 8 had us watch the inauguration of Barrack Obama. “Why?” I questioned. We’re not American, who cares what the American president is?

“It’s historic,” Was the reply, “The first black president.”

The first black president? Why? Why isn’t he the third or fifth or tenth? It’s 2008 and you seriously never thought a black man could make a good president? Why? What happened to “all men are created equal”? This wasn’t history in the making, it was a travesty, making a triumph out of a failure. There should have been a black president much, much earlier. But then, I suppose poor Jagmeet Singh will never be prime minister just because he wears a turban on his head, and for no other reason.

We were due for a severe storm, but it hadn’t materialized by noon, so I went shopping again. I needed a couple of things from the store and a new HDMI to Display Port cable, money problems be damned. I went to Wally Mart to grab everything in one trip, but Wally Mart doesn’t really have an electronics section anymore. Everyone just orders cables online. I went across the road to Best Buy but couldn’t find the cable and finally had to ask a sales rep, who had to ask her super in turn, at which point it turns out they had five and someone pocketed them all. Probably to resell on FB Marketplace or something. He found an HDMI adaptor, which is fine. I just want both my screens up. I got back home and realized I had forgotten eggs.

With Jeremy’s help I got OBS up and running, so at least I can stream now.

At 4 I had to head down for a dentists appointment. The snow storm had finally made an appearance and the roads were a mess, but fortunately it’s not far.

What was more disruptive was when I got there and remembered they cut off my benefits, so I had to pay 200$ out of pocket for my cleaning. The ground is rapidly shrinking under my feet. It also doesn’t help that my electric toothbrush seems well and truly dead. Pretty sure that thing was older than me, but another 100 or 200$ to buy a new one at some point. Didn’t I have 4K a month ago?

I run across the road to the wholesaler to grab some eggs. I walked past the bologna logs and grabbed one of those too. Newfie steaks, my dad called them. Eli likes them too, that’s why the Vagabond calls them Indian steaks. Yay, racist nicknames. I wonder what happened to Eli? It’s 7 months now since I heard from him. I wonder if I’ll see him at shutdown. Probably not.

When I get home, I fry myself some bologna right away. Hanuman says his dad loved fried bologna as well and now he can’t stand the stuff. Him and Emily watch a Charlie Hunnam movie into the evening. I’m glad that Charlie has stopped trying to do anything other than his native Geordie accent, cuz he just can’t. Just be a pretty face, Charlie! (I’m kidding, of course. He’s a good actor but he can’t affect an accent to save his life)

I decide to stream. Some people have clearly missed me and jump into my chat right away, which is nice. I also got raided and had a bunch of new viewers.

Halfway through the stream, I get a phone call. It’s Jeremy’s mother. Her and his dad live in Dryden and he works at the mill. She’s ok with me staying at her place, although did I know it’s ten minutes out of town? Yes, yes. Ten minutes, phsaw, as long as it’s cheaper than a hotel, who cares? And it is. She gave me a better deal than I could have hoped for. She also mentioned that Jeremy told her I do Keto and started talking about picking up groceries for me. Woah, that’s ok, thanks! I was more startled than anything that he remembered what it was called, nevermind telling his mother.

Sweet. Now all I need is a phone call telling me I’ve got work.

I didn’t do a lot Thursday. More streaming, some cooking. Changed the address for my Factor boxes from Thunder Bay to Dryden.

Emily has been working on sourdough starters. I dismissed the idea of sourdough; as if I am home enough to feed a starter, and I don’t eat a lot of bread. Emily opened my eyes, however. You can make pancakes and english muffins with sourdough. Maybe it would be worth it after all. I remembered the yogurt button on my Instant Pot and it got me thinking… I could make my own yogurt, then I’m not throwing out plastic tubs every week. And I could flavour and sweeten it however I want!

It is nice being here. Her and Hanuman use glass jars and try to refill or make things without plastic, which is one of my goals as well.

Friday I was starting to feel a lot better. I was through the keto flu and hitting the point where keto keeps you feeling full longer. I finally started my work on Jeremy’s game. It took me about 3 hours to make a snowmobile, and most of the first hour was spent yelling “what did Blender change this button too!”. That being said, once I managed to get to grip with the new controls, they actually are more user friendly, and I flew through the modelling.

It was supposed to be warm, so I went out for another walk with K. He seems to be doing much better now that I am back in town and dragging him out to socialize.

“Why is renting from Emily and Hanuman an option? Wasn’t she moving this summer?” He mused aloud.

“She’s changed her mind. She says she might be here another year or two.”

“Why?”

Click.

Cuz she doesn’t want to leave Hanuman. It was so simple and obvious once someone had pointed it out.

I went back home with a heavy heart and talked to Hanuman about it.

The thought crossed my mind, painfully.

At what point will you force her to leave, for her own good?

Like the Vagabond claiming he broke up with me so I would go to New Zealand. “Setting me free”.

Another painful heart squeeze.

It’s not the same. For one, Hanuman is clearly encouraging Emily to pursue her happiness, whether or not it includes him, while the Vagabond was only focused on the fact that he didn’t want me to leave and inventing reasons after the fact. And I was never at risk of not leaving. There were very few ways he could have convinced me to stay.

And yet…

Is there truly any “break their heart to save them”? Or is it always selfishly choosing their options for them? Like how I held on to Rich until there was no way he could go back to his abusive ex.

That’s not the same thing…

No. And, I suppose, I never told Rich the reason I fell out of love with him… I didn’t mention it here. I barely admitted it to myself for a long, long time…

One of my best friends has become a blade that I am gripping. Every touch, every kiss, every laugh that drifts in from the living room as they play Stardew Valley, tinged with pure love, is a lash across my heart. What could have been and is no longer. But I am not jealous, insomuch as I wouldn’t wish them to stop for me. It’s my cross to bear. All I can do is keep the ghost of pain from my eyes so it doesn’t taint their happiness.

He’s going to be at Dryden, waiting for me. As he does every year. I always wonder if he’ll tell them they can’t hire me, but he doesn’t.

I suppose he’s waiting for me, too.

I’m in a Mother Monster mood. This surprises people, but I’ve always loved Lady Gaga. I get her. This song is so versatile in its lyrics and you can interpret it a lot of ways. For me, it’s usually about how you get “nice guy syndrome”. Men who do things like buy you dinner and open doors for you and then expect you to date them because they “earned it”. Lately, though, I get the interpretation that life has ups and downs and sometimes it’s gotta rain. I feel like I’ve been running a hundred miles a day for a while and I’ve got miles to go, but this is progress, so I’m ok with it.

I’d rather crash than slow down.