They Call Me Red
……
3 June 2013
I had left work and was heading for my bus stop. In his usual spot, in front of Starbucks was Craig. I handed him a Subway card. He asked, “Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s half past six, Craig.”
“Oh, I thought it was a lot later. Thanks for the card, by the way.”
I walked further along the sidewalk and saw Bearded Bruce. He said, “I saw you coming, so I pulled out a piece of cardboard. Would you like to sit for a few minutes?”
“Sure, Bruce, I’m in no rush. It’s a beautiful evening for sitting outside.”
“I hate summer. It means I have to work three times as long for the same money. I started at six this morning — I just get up, shower, brush my teeth and out the door. I worked three different spots today. Here it is thirteen hours later. I made forty dollars. In the winter I would have made that in three hours. Then, of course, I spent twenty-two dollars at Tim Horton’s for food, so that leaves me with eighteen, less the six-pack I bought.
“Do you know why I do this? Because I can get everything I need. In winter, if I need mitts, someone gives me mitts. If I need a sleeping bag, someone will come along with a sleeping bag. If I need a backpack, I’ll find a backpack. There aren’t too many days that I haven’t eaten. Now I have an apartment I don’t need to worry about sleeping outside.
“I was hoping you’d come along because I’ve got a bit of a conundrum. Inuk and I; we’re not so good right now. She’s in hospital. I love that woman, more than I’ve ever loved anybody in my life, I’d crawl over broken glass just to be near her, but she vexes me. The last time she was in hospital I visited her every night for three weeks. That takes a lot of time out of my day. When she got out she stayed at my place for two nights then took off. I didn’t see her for two weeks. Then one morning she appears in my spot like nothing’s happened. I’ve always told her that if she ever heeded anything to give me a call. Well, Chuck came over yesterday. He said, ‘Inuk called. She wants you to visit her in the hospital.’ I gave my word, so I have to go. I’ve just got two rules; follow them and we’ll never have any problems: don’t lie to me and don’t steal from me.
“Sure I lie to people on the street, and to the government, but to my friends, I never lie, never steal. You can count on that.
“Anyway, like I said, I have this conundrum. Do I visit her or not? If I go there I’ll have to act all nice as if everything is alright between us, but it’s not. What I want to say is how pissed off I am about her disappearing, like she did. She doesn’t deal well with confrontation. Me, I like to get things off my chest, then I’m done. We can be friends again. So, right now I’m just killing time, trying to decide what to do.”
Craig walked towards us. “Dennis, I hope this doesn’t offend you.” He shouted at Craig, “Have you eaten?”
I said, “I already gave him a card.”
Craig said, “Hi, I’m just going to go to Subway, then buy a few beer and head for the river. Will I see you later? I won’t be here tomorrow.”
“It’s okay, you go on your way. I’m leaving soon. Are you sure you’re going to eat?”
“Yeah, but will I see you tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, if you see me, you see me.”
Another man approached from the opposite direction. Bruce said, “Hey man. I haven’t seen you for a long time.”
“Yeah, I’ve been away. You’re looking good.”
“I’ve put on a few pounds due to good eating if that’s what you mean. I’ve cut back on the booze.”
“Well, this is me on drugs.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, I’m hungry.”
“Take this Subway card and get something to eat. Don’t try to sell it to get more drugs.”
“Okay Bruce, I appreciate that. I’m going to go there right now.”
The man left. Bruce said, “I’ve known him for a long time. He’s part Inuit, part native. He’s also schizophrenic. He hears voices. He spends every cent he has smoking crack. I’ve been there, that’s how I got into dealing, but I’m off it now. I still smoke weed. I can’t understand why I can go across the street, buy a bottle of scotch, drink it and act totally obnoxious, yet if I’m caught with less than thirty grams of weed, that’s only going to make me happy, I can be fined $1000 or 6 months in jail or both.
“I hope you don’t mind that I gave your card away, It’s just that I hate to see somebody worse off than I am… if I can help them.”
“I understand, Bruce.”
“Now, I know that Joy prefers Subway cards to Tim Horton’s; but they’re not as good. I’ll tell you why. For two Tim Horton’s cards and eighty-six cents, I can buy a can of their coffee. I’ve been doing without my coffee lately. For one card and twenty-six cents, I can buy their hash browns, a sausage, egg and cheese on an English muffin, with a tall glass of milk. Besides that Subway is run by a bunch of ignorant immigrants. I can say that because I’m an immigrant.
“I went there, a few days ago, with my own card. I’d filled it up the day before with twenty dollars. I gave it to the guy, he put it through the machine and he said, “It shows that you only have one cent on this card.” I said, “That’s impossible, I just filled it up last night.” I wasn’t going to argue with this lout, so I went a couple of blocks to another Subway. I asked, “Can you tell me how much money is on this card?” The guy checked and said, “Twenty dollars.” Needless to say, I don’t go to the place down the street anymore.
“The cards are a good idea because it encourages people to eat, and that’s a good thing; but they can take those same cards to Shark and he’ll give them five dollars — even trade.”
I said, “I don’t mind what people do with them. I want them to have the opportunity to eat if they’re hungry, but I don’t want to force anything on them. It’s their choice.”
“So, I still have this conundrum with Inuk. I know I’m just putting it off, maybe until it’s too late to go. I’ll have another beer and think about it.
“I’ve been to twenty-three different countries, so far Canada is the one I prefer. With the charge of dealing on my record I can’t get a passport for seven years, but one day I’d like to visit Peru, because of the history, or China.
“In Canada, there are far fewer fights. Where I grew up, near Glasgow, we’d go to the pub; not to drink, but to fight. You’ve heard the Elton John song, Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting. That was us. I’m not afraid of anybody. I was brought up by an alcoholic dad who was six-foot-four, weighed two hundred and sixty pounds. There’s nobody who could give a beating like he could.
“The schoolyards were just as bad. There was always one group against another, Catholics against Protestants, city kids against country kids, it didn’t matter. I kept, for the most part, to myself. I hate bullies. I saw this one bully beating a smaller kid, so I stepped in. The bully went to the hospital for three days. I was charged with assault and could have gone down for it, but my mom stood up for me, and the step-mom, of the bully, stood up for me. That was a welcome surprise. Anyway, instead of reform school, I was sent to an old folks’ home. I loved it there. This was the seventies. I was a pseudo hippy. The men would have all these war stories from the Second World War, the Korean War. I was reading about the Vietnam War, so we would have these intense discussions.
“That was a good place for me. I still had my school work to do. I remember my auntie. If she saw I was daydreaming — I did that a lot — she’d knock me on the side of the skull with her fist. That really hurt. She’d say, ‘Wake up Brucie, pay attention!’ When it came to writing my exams I got really good marks. If I ever started daydreaming I’d think of that sharp knock on the skull.
“My mom was in a wheelchair. I was born at home with two midwives. I weighed thirteen pounds seven ounces and was a ‘blue baby’.
“I’m used to being around wheelchairs. There was this one guy around here who’d drive around in one of those motorized chairs. He’d bump into people, swear at them. I said to him, ‘Get out of that wheelchair and I’ll beat the shit out of you.’ I guess nobody had ever talked to him like that before. When he came back he gave me ten bucks.
“I’d love to go to China. Do you know that they were writing in the third century BC? Their original alphabet was based on the tracks of birds. That was before we’d even defined the concept of God that we believe, or don’t believe in, now. We were still running around, living in caves. They were building the Great Wall of China. Hundreds of thousands, if not up to a million, workers died building the Qin wall. Every third son had to work on it for free. He still had his chores to do in the fields, but during the day he’d be shaping and placing stones for that wall. Do you know how long it is? Five thousand, five hundred miles. It’s one of the largest man-made structures in the world.”
“Why was the Great Wall built?”
“To keep out the Manchus, the Mongols and other warlike tribes from the north. Some Chinese guy, thinking he’d be rewarded with a high rank, led them through a secret passageway. As soon as they were on the other side of the wall they slit his throat and took over the country.”
Somebody rode by on a bicycle. Bruce yelled, “Hello Asshole!”
“Was that Curt?” I asked.
“Yeah, but ever since Weasel died I call him an asshole. It’s because of something he said to me. He knew that Weasel and I were close friends. When I told him that he had died he said, ‘Good riddance!’ I never liked the guy anyway. I’m not going to his funeral.
“I’d be a lot better off if I didn’t like people, or rather love them. I’ve had four close friends die this past year, five if you count Weasel’s dog Bear. Every time it tears away a piece of my heart. Inuk nearly died during her last time in hospital. The infection is back. She could die without me even seeing her. I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.”
We caught the bus together and Bruce did get off at the stop for the East General Hospital.
…
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