Anslem

Chapter 2

Page 11

By: Toffer Wayne

Layne- When I think of my youth, I always picture Niagara-on-the-Lake; with its peach orchards, wineries, and bourgeoisie tourist impressionism. I didn't live there - we weren't rich enough - but in my heart it was my home. Instead we lived next door in St. Catharine's or "St. Kitts", a working class blue-collar town, whose only accomplishment was successfully building, then losing, four General Motors plants. When I was 14 I would routinely ride my bike to NOTL to experience the white collar culture ... the flood of tourists on the Queen Street ... and look in awe at the mansions that bound the farms. From those earliest days my heart was captivated, and would always remain so.

Layne- It was amongst this milieu that I met her. It was 1997 and I was 18. My father, Ronan, had offered to pay for the insurance and registration for a used sedan, if only I could find $7000 to pay half the purchase price. In my teenage panic I knew this was my main task for the summer, if I ever hoped to get laid or kiss a girl. When one day I noticed an ad for a Shaw Festival usher within the Weekly Standard, I jumped at the chance, and was lucky enough to be hired. The job was in NOTL and I couldn't have been happier.

Layne- On my first day I decided to park across town and walk to work, about 2 kilometres. It was a beautiful summer day, with the smell of flowers and blossoms in the air. On my left lay the Niagara river, with its deep blue waters emptying into Lake Ontario. I stood and stared, for a moment at Fort Niagara across the divide, and reflected on the distance between all of us. It was then that a girl cut across my view, right in front of me on roller blades. She saw my stare, and kept eye contact, as she pivoted on one foot, with a backward crossover - a pavement ballerina. She couldn't be more than 14 or 15, with honey blonde hair in a pony tail, piercing blue eyes, and tight spandex shorts and sports bra top. She drifted gently backwards as we kept eye contact, under the bows of ancient trees that lined the boulevard. Finally she came to a stop, about a dozen paces from me, and smiled the most wicked smile I had ever seen; however, she disappeared as quickly as she came ... her fit frame skating away into the subdivision.

Layne- And with that it should have ended, a casual encounter of no significance ... but I couldn't stop thinking about her. For the rest of that day at my new job I thought back on this mysterious young blonde that had almost run me over. Who was she? Did she live in Niagara or was she a tourist? She must be a tourist - best to put her out of my mind. But I couldn't .. there was something in that encounter that stuck in my mind, like a mental dagger.