Louise and The Men of Transit

First Ride

Louise stepped out onto the outdoor bus bay at Broadview station, still patting herself to make sure she was alive, her breathing not yet even despite her meditation efforts. She'd survived the harrowing wait for the subway at Yonge station where bodies crushed from wall to the very edge of the yellow safety band and where the same bodies moved her to the edge then onto the arriving eastbound train to crush her inside the silver-sided car. Just before the train had arrived, she'd heard gasps, felt fear frisson through the crowd, heard, "I've got him," "Help him up!" "Quick. The train is coming!" More gasps then a cheer drowned by the entering train.

Louise shook her head free of the repeating memory. "Look where you are, Louise," she said out loud. She did. Louise's hand halted in mid-pat as she took in the multiple lines of people. Lines that extended to the far end of the bus bay. Lines that ended just ahead to her left. Lines that snaked across the concrete from behind her on her right. She'd learnt not to stop right in front of exits and entrances but to move towards a wall or pillar first. Here at Broadview, there seemed nowhere to stand out of the way. Buses roared in and roared out; new streetcars whined in and old streetcars click-clacked out. The lines didn't diminish. They snugged up against the stairwell walls, against the pillars and benches. Louise began to think maybe this wasn't a good idea to go home via Yonge-Bloor station to get on to the King streetcar at Broadview.

Before leaving for work that morning, Louise had studied her wall map while Marcia had purred and rubbed her ankles at rotating angles. She'd thought getting on at the end of the streetcar line would mean room to manoeuvre and a chance for her to experience the TTC's aboveground system in comfort. Not so comfortable, she thought, but she had given up boarding the King streetcar on the way to work in the morning for a good reason, she recalled as with a shaking hand she smoothed her hair's wave back behind her left ear. Instead, like this morning, she'd called a taxi to drive her to the King subway station. There, she'd pinned her nametag on and taken the train up to Davisville. In all these weeks, no one had spoken to her except for that one man, until she'd turned herself into a blonde.

Louise twisted her lips up to the right then the left as she contemplated the scene in front of her. Why had she decided this was the route to take? She'd been so confident this morning in her apartment. She'd turned away from her map to leave, excited about her new route, and had fallen over her furry rock-like cat that had suddenly grown and pushed against her shins. Her hands landing hard on the coffee table, as her ankles twisted themselves together, saved her. This was turning out to be a dangerous day, Louise thought ruefully as she rotated her still sore wrists.

The lines shifted pushing Louise to the side, back toward the bus bay doors. She sagged against the glass wall of the station and dragged her smartphone out of her tight left-hand pocket. She'd bought tapered pants at the end of her first full day as a blonde, but they'd unaccountably had short pockets. She'd had to go to her local dry cleaners to have proper pockets sewn in. Still, it was a snug fit for her phone. She suddenly longed for her sturdy navy pants with their generous front pockets and hidden inside pocket. She never used the latter, but she'd always liked the idea of it. Her feet hurt inside her patent-leather black lace-up shoes. She'd spent a paycheque on new clothes that fit her new hair. Then another paycheque on getting makeup lessons. She'd spent hours in her bathroom learning to apply it. Her wakeup time was now one and a half hours earlier than normal. Her new skin, her new routine invigorated her every morning.

Louise yawned; her bones ached inside her tight skin. Louise flicked her phone on and searched the Starbucks Canada app for the closest location. With relief, she saw it was just around the corner. She'd wait there.

Two hours later, Louise was back standing in the same spot, pleasantly caffeinated, looking out over the virtually empty bay as straggling customers climbed into a streetcar at the head of a line of streetcars. Her hands no longer shook. She was once again a confident member of the Customer Convenience Team Vision. CCTV, and those were Flexity Outlook LRVs, she cheerfully reminded herself. Not streetcars.