The Answer to Everything (6 page)

Gosh, this is strange. It’s making me remember a time before hate. I don’t feel it, but I can remember it. I need to sleep now. Maybe I’ll finish this later.

Keith

To whom it may concern,

When I was fourteen, I forgot to let the dog back in when I came home for lunch. I let him out but he didn’t come back in time, then I had to leave for school and I didn’t think about it when I left. I guess I figured he was still inside or I forgot about him being out. I didn’t think about it is the point. After school I went down to our spot by the drain, but it was so cold none of my friends were there. Then Dave showed up and said everyone was probably at McDonald’s, so we went over and hung around until we got kicked out for not buying enough. When I went home, Harley was at the door, shivering real bad. They said it was minus thirty that day with the wind chill. Harley had snow chunked up all over his face. I took him in and got the snow off and tried to warm him up, but I couldn’t get him to quit shaking. I made a bath and thought that was working, but it didn’t. After I got him out and dried him off, he passed out. He was still breathing but he was passed right out. Then I couldn’t wake him up and a few minutes later he passed away.

It was my fault but I never told no one. When my mom got home from work, I said I found him that way after school. She said he was real old and don’t feel bad. But it’s hard not
to feel bad when your mom is crying all night for a week for her best dog. And when you keep picturing his face so happy to see you, even when he’s shivering so bad and not blaming you at all for what you done. Or when you think of him passed away on the bathmat all the time. And you see how small he was with his fur all wet. Even twenty years later you dream about it. Every couple of weeks or so. And practically every time you get out of the shower you can’t help thinking about it. And you know God never forgave you for that sin and has pretty much been punishing you with stuff ever since. That’s my confession.

Anne-Marie

Hey there,

I just wanted to say I think your signs are so true and they’ve been a pleasure to read! I didn’t notice the website at first. I just thought someone really neat and thoughtful was sharing some beautiful messages with the world. And so I was really pleased when I finally noticed it on the board at Alternative Grounds. Who are you? Are you around Roncesvalles?

I don’t really have anything in particular to share. I’m just a spiritual person who is looking for guidance and knowledge on the road to illumination. I am interested in finding my spiritual path, no matter what that is or which way it leads. I’ve been reading a lot about Wicca and paganism, which seem to be very inclusive and gentle. I respect all people’s right to believe what they believe, but I’m not into organized religions. I’m interested in Gaia, certain Sufi traditions, holistic health and healing. I love nature, and I’m committed to ecology and living my life without leaving a huge footprint on the world, except in the caring sense! I would love to know more about your organization. You can email me at [email protected]. I have a small knitting business. I sell hand-dyed yarn and knitted goods. I use only organic
wool, cotton and hemp, and 100 percent natural dyes, like beet juice, turmeric and rosehips. I would like to steer my son onto the right path with me. He’s a teenage boy who is also in need of guidance. Cheers!

Ibrahim

Dear Answer to Everything,

My wife is have trouble conceiving. Can you give advice? Reply me immediately? [email protected]

Drew

Hello,

I’ve been kind of depressed lately. My job sucks and I don’t have a girlfriend. I have a club I go to when I can afford it and when they let guys in alone, but it’s not the same and it’s pretty expensive. It’s not working girls at the club, by the way. It’s real people who want to get together. It’s all controlled and very clean. But it’s only once a month that they let men in without a partner. I’m saving up to get a condo and a proper girlfriend, but my job is terrible and the real estate keeps going up and it seems like I’ll never get out of this place, which I hate.

I live in a room in a house at Jarvis and Gerrard. I have my own fridge and hotplate, and I bought a small chest freezer to save money on bulk purchases, which was a good idea, since it’s already paid for itself twice over. I have to share a bathroom, though. And the people here are pigs. Total depressing pigs. If I didn’t clean the sink, it would never get cleaned. Seriously. I did an experiment once to see if anyone else would clean it if I stopped doing it. No. Of course not. I finally broke down and cleaned it after three weeks. I couldn’t stomach it anymore. You should see the hair slime I have to pull out of the drain every couple of months. Disgusting. I asked the girls
not to comb their hair over the sink, but they still do it, even though they claim they don’t. I pull the evidence out of the drain every six weeks, so I know they do it. They won’t even flush properly. You have to flush the toilet two or three times sometimes because the plumbing is bad, but they don’t wait to do it. They’re too selfish to wait for the tank to fill up. It’s sickening. Depressing. The worst one isn’t even the crazy alky or the working girls. It’s the Ryerson student. Griffin something or other. Ironic. The guy who’s taking journalism lessons and comes from some upper-class household. The working girls flush more than he does. Not only doesn’t he flush properly, he buzz-cuts his hair in there and covers the whole place in tiny black hairs, which he doesn’t clean up properly and which end up in my room, stuck to my socks and whatnot. The super doesn’t care. He barely speaks English. I have to do the cleaning, and I have neck and shoulder pain, which is getting worse all the time. I’ll be so glad when I can get out of this place. Which is who knows when, given the rising real estate market. The more I save, the higher it gets. I can’t catch up. I work for Blood Services, at the call centre. I’m not selling anything but people still get peeved when you call them. Plus my employers can’t seem to get it straight who to call. Half the time I’m supposed to call someone to tell them about a blood drive because it says they haven’t given blood for over a year and they’re like, “Piss off, dude, I gave blood last week, get your records straight.” So it’s depressing. My mom thinks I should move back to Brampton, where I could get a nice condo for a lot less, but I don’t want to. For one thing, my mom’s there. Ha ha. I love her and all, but she’s a plus-size lady and not mobile and
I’d basically be her personal slave if I went back. Also it would be even harder to find a proper girlfriend or job in Brampton. And there are no clubs like the club I occasionally go to. I’d rather not go to the club but sometimes I break down. I love Jesus Christ and I hope your signs are about Him. I think they are. I’d like to come for a meeting sometime. Please let me know if you ever have any. Sometimes I go to the Jarvis Street Baptist Church, because it’s close. But I’m not a Baptist. I tried to go to St. Luke’s but it’s screwed up. It says United on the sign, but there’s always a different congregation in there. And usually not English. Filipino or whatnot. I think they just rent it out to different foreigners, which is fine but doesn’t work for me. Anyway, let me know if there are any meetings. I’ve been feeling kind of depressed lately, so it would be good.

Ibrahim

Dear Answer to Everything,

We are doing all things you say. Thank you. Thank you for putting her predicament to the top of group prayer agenda. You are very kind. I would make a donation. Advise please where to send? [email protected]

Heather

I guess part of me wants to talk about this, but not to anybody I know. And part of me thinks that seeing your sign the other day was an omen. It was on the post at the end of my street and must have just been taped there, since we had rain all morning. I went out about an hour after the storm and there it was. Perfectly dry. Since it was the first time I’d left the house in over a year, it felt like it had been put there for me. And so I’ve decided to continue on. Or at least try.

I’ll start when things were good, when I got pregnant again and we were so happy. I had been pregnant before, twice before, but it hadn’t worked out. Both times I had miscarried in the tenth week or thereabouts, so when we made it to week sixteen that third time, we finally let ourselves get excited again. Paul really wanted a son. And I really wanted a daughter. I guess that was the first sign of trouble, but we didn’t know it. We used to joke about it. Paul would talk about all the things he was going to do with his fine boy—make a rink out back for hockey, go snowmobiling on the trails, build stuff in the workshop. And I’d sass back with all the things I was going to do with my sweet girl—make a playhouse in the yard and decorate it, have tea parties with homemade squares and cakes, design clothes for
her Barbies. I used to sew quite a bit. I made all the drapes in our house, and lots of pretty doll clothes for my nieces. Paul was sure we were going to have a boy. He wanted to paint the nursery blue, but I wouldn’t let him. He said blue was good for a girl too. But I said no, we were keeping it white until the baby was born because I wanted pink if it was a girl. Then the five-month ultrasound was coming up. We agreed that we still didn’t want to know and asked the technician not to tell us. But after, Paul was acting all cocky and smug. He wouldn’t stop smiling. And he played the drums on the steering wheel all the way home, I remember that, the sound of his wedding ring tapping the wheel and him singing to the radio, which he never did. It was that song “Good Day Sunshine.”