A freight train conductor, Jacob seriously considered a career change. Lonely, he considered a move from the town to the city, from Sioux Lookout to Toronto. He had been laid off following a decline in oil and coal shipments, which drastically reduced the volume of freight train traffic and the need for conductors with less seniority. So he decided to revisit some career aspirations he had as a teenager when the business world and job title of investment advisor had appealed to him.<\/p>\n
He took several courses through correspondence and video-conferencing from his home in northwestern Ontario as well as a licensing course, the Canadian Securities Course, which he studied mostly online. He had no choice but to travel to Toronto in Southern Ontario to write the final exam for professional certification, but he started to wonder if he was using the trip to his favorite city as a distraction\u2014an excuse for a vacation and venture that might land him in trouble. Worried that he might be led on a roundabout route of misspent time and money, he then reasoned that at age twenty-five the time had arrived for him to stop yearning, dreaming about careers and even women. He loved Toronto, though, and enjoyed leaving his hometown, so he took the train south to complete the course, expecting it might lead to better opportunities and a new career. However, he didn\u2019t cling to much hope, as opportunities didn\u2019t always abound.<\/p>\n
In Toronto, he studied for a week as he sunned, tanned, jogged along the shoreline at Woodbine Beach, and joined in beach volleyball at Ashbridges Bay. He swam in the chilly waters of Lake Ontario and then read and reread his texts; wrote notes; memorized salient facts, figures, and equations; and wrote more notes. Meanwhile, he admired the women in their swimsuits and bikinis. Several days later, he took the King Street streetcar to an office building in the financial district and wrote the exam. Then he went to the Burger Queen restaurant on Yonge Street across from the strip club. He drank his morning coffee and ate his muffin. His tastes were simple and he loved the plain coffee, hamburgers, muffins, soft ice cream at this affordable restaurant; they were the staples of his diet in the city.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile, he kept checking and rechecking the e-mail on the restaurant Wi-Fi to see if he passed the exam. He discovered an e-mail from a trainmaster in Winnipeg, asking him to bid for the position of engineer, since a few baby boomers in Sioux Lookout planned to retire soon. Finally, Jacob logged into his account with the financial institute; as he finished his coffee he discovered he passed the exam with plenty of margin to spare. He had actually given himself an extra few days in the city, expecting to fail, but he was pleasantly surprised by his success.<\/p>\n
When Jacob looked up from his coffee, he saw a young, pretty woman sitting on the stool in front of him. She had a remarkable figure and a pretty face, but she winced and contorted her face in pain. She wore no shoes, and he speculated she was homeless, sleeping in doorways, on park benches, and the streets. But she was pretty, with long hair; a chiseled, angular face; and lovely green eyes. He thought it was heartbreaking.<\/p>\n
The restaurant manager took issue with her. He told her that she had to leave since she hadn\u2019t ordered any food and that they couldn\u2019t serve her anyway because she wasn\u2019t wearing any shoes. Reassuring the manager, Jacob said he would look after her. He reached in his backpack and took out the pair of fine sandals, which he had just bought at a sporting goods store, and placed them on her feet. Then he asked her if she wanted anything to eat. She said she would have a glass of water, no ice, and a small serving of fries, if that wasn\u2019t a problem.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that all you want?\u201d he queried.<\/p>\n
She said yes, but she kept looking at the menu and his food. \u201cAre you sure? Do you want a double-hamburger, a burger with bacon and cheese?\u201d<\/p>\n
She was rather slender, but she looked famished, haggard, as if she had experienced war, which, he supposed, in a certain sense she had. She broke down and sobbed, and asked him for a bacon double-cheeseburger, a large poutine, and a strawberry milkshake. When Jacob said he was happy to help, she winced, and he realized he made the wrong choice of words and said he meant share. She looked relieved.<\/p>\n
He sat across from her, feeling privileged to sit across the table from a beautiful young woman, however dirty and downtrodden her appearance. He wanted to caress her face and stroke her hair. She looked simply beautiful. He asked her what had happened to her shoes. She said a drug dealer had chased her down and snatched them right off her feet; they were designer Nike sneakers that matched his shoe size. He chased her along Yonge Street downtown, intending to beat her because she owed him money and promised to pay an overdue debt earlier. That was how she cut her foot, on a broken piece of beer bottle glass. <\/p>\n
The wound looked as if the blood started to clot and a scab dried, but the gash was dirty, and he worried about an infection. At least now she had footwear, though. She looked contented and relaxed when she finished the meal. He then bought her a coffee and soft ice cream cone for dessert.<\/p>\n
\u201cDude,\u201d she said, gasping, \u201cyou just hit the spot.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI did?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know how to treat a woman.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do? I thought I just knew what I liked. What\u2019s your name, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOlivia. Yours?\u201d<\/p>\n
He had no qualms about her hygiene and reached out to shake her hand, but her palm was soiled and her fingers darkened from dirt and grime. \u201cJacob,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Olivia looked at him as if she was genuinely surprised, as if she was apprising him. \u201cDo you want to sleep with me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jacob was suddenly excited and afraid. \u201cWhy do you ask me that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause that\u2019s what a lot of guys like about homeless chicks\u2014they\u2019re a dirt-cheap fuck.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d Jacob rose to leave the table and stool beside the widescreen television and the artificial fireplace. \u201cI think you misunderstood.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, don\u2019t go. What I meant to say was I want to sleep with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you don\u2019t owe me anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know. I just want to fuck you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She was candid, blunt-spoken, raw all around, maybe even a guttersnipe, but he believed she was the most beautiful girl he ever met, although he felt incredulous by how dirty and weathered she had become.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just thought I\u2019d share. I\u2019m a freight train conductor who makes too much money, and I just want to share.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI said: I just want to sleep with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCould you please keep your voice down?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy? Nobody\u2019s eavesdropping, nobody\u2019s listening.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jacob looked around the restaurant; it was a huge Burger Queen, which seated hundreds on two separate floors, but it was after midnight and the colorful tables, seats, and booths were nearly empty. Even the employees were preoccupied with cleaning, sweeping, wiping down tables, washing equipment, and scrubbing counters.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I sleep with you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you tired?\u201d Jacob asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d Olivia said, but she appeared weary and her eyes drooped.<\/p>\n
Jacob was staying at a student co-op apartment building that became a backpackers\u2019 hostel during the summer. He was actually embarrassed to invite Olivia to his room, since security at the lobby\u2019s front desk required guests show identification. He decided to take her to his room anyway, holding her hand as he led her behind the building to the back entrance. She huddled against him, and he wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulder as he escorted her down a dark back alley alongside the building and through a parkette frequented by prostitutes, drug dealers, and addicts. Then they slipped through the back door, a fire exit, which the students and residents kept open for easy access, walking quickly before they could be accosted by security. In his room, he filled the tub with warm water, gathered extra clean towels from a closet, and insisted she bathe. He cleaned and treated the wound on her foot with antiseptics, gauzes, and bandages from his first aid kit.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou travel with a first aid kit?\u201d she laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cDoesn\u2019t it make sense?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re risk averse,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wouldn\u2019t say so: somebody who wants to become a stockbroker when he\u2019s comfortable as a freight train conductor wouldn\u2019t exactly be risk averse. But that\u2019s an interesting phrase. Where did you hear it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom my parents. They\u2019re definitely risk averse.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy do you say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cListen, I just don\u2019t want to talk about my parents.\u201d She abruptly arose from the suds and bubbles floating in the bathtub. She was so quick to anger that Jacob realized he had touched a sensitive spot, and he apologized and caressed her calves. She reached across the crowded bathroom, took one of his disposable razors, and insisted he help her shave her legs as she reclined in the bathtub. Happy to see her relaxed and tranquil again, he honestly couldn\u2019t believe she was so dirty and unwashed, the grime and dirt that came off in the tub.<\/p>\n
Afterwards, she looked even more beautiful standing as she hugged and kissed him, reaching for his belt. Before she could unbuckle it, he pushed her hand away. Her eyes watered, and he wiped the droplet that trickled down her face and gently kissed her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not a rejection. There\u2019s plenty of time for that later, if the need arises.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf the need arises? What are you talking about? These things are supposed to happen, like, spontaneously.\u201d She forced a laugh. \u201cSomebody sets a meal before you and you push it away.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jacob looked in her eyes. \u201cYou\u2019re a smart cookie, and I like you too much to take advantage of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not taking advantage of me. We\u2019re just two human beings doing what normal humans would do and should do in the same circumstances.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShould do?\u201d Jacob queried. \u201cOne of us seems more vulnerable, so that\u2019s debatable.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cVulnerable?\u201d she gasped. Her brow was raised and furrowed and she looked outraged. \u201cI live and fight on the streets. I\u2019ve scrounged and scavenged for my meals.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jacob set out some clothes for her and felt relieved by the distraction that they were both surprised at how well his jeans and T-shirts fit her.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need to beef up and put on weight, dude,\u201d Olivia said.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo do you,\u201d Jacob said, \u201cand you need to wear a bigger bra. You\u2019re bulging out of this skimpy thing.\u201d He discarded her undergarments to the laundry pile.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s the way the guys, and girls, like it,\u201d she laughed.<\/p>\n
He asked her if she felt better, refreshed. \u201cOne hundred per cent,\u201d she said, \u201cbut\u2019s it\u2019s not as if I prefer the grunge look.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jacob took the financial textbooks from his blankets and stacked them alongside the bed, and she reached to hug him.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan we take a walk?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cAt midnight?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, the nighttime is the right time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI actually like to hang out late myself,\u201d Olivia said, \u201cbut I\u2019m in the mood for romance.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo we\u2019ll take a midnight stroll through the heart of my favorite city.\u201d
\n<\/p>\n
Jacob and Olivia walked along Yonge Street, past the youth drop-in center, the video arcade and billiards parlor, the strip clubs, the record stores, fashion shops, electronics stores, caf\u00e9s, and restaurants with the sidewalk and street humming and buzzing with traffic, especially around Dundas Square and Eatons Centre. They boarded the nearly empty streetcar, dimly lit, at the Queen Street traffic intersection, amidst the virtually abandoned office towers, department stores, and the huge shopping mall downtown. They rode the all-night streetcar to Woodbine Park. In the rear seat of the double-length streetcar, a homeless man sang about old-time religion while two drunk college students, in the middle, argued about the best bars for live rock bands on Queen Street and the best nightclubs for dancing in the entertainment district. The streetcar windows were wide open, since it was hot and humid, the kind of night he loved, he explained to her.<\/p>\n
He said they had that much in common: they were both nighthawks. The late hours jived with his work, because he received calls to work as a conductor on the freight trains on the most ungodly days and unorthodox hours, especially memorable in winter during the middle of the night, at -35 degrees Celsius, not including the wind chill. Sometimes he even covered for conductors who wanted to spend quality time with their families. As Olivia snuggled next to him, he couldn\u2019t remember the last time he experienced the intimacy of a woman. At the beach, they strode along the broad expanse of the sandy beach and watched the moonrise across Lake Ontario. They walked along the boardwalk, chatting, and then strode along the sandy beach, holding hands as they gazed at the moon rising above the lake. The broad expanse of sand encompassing the big city beach was abandoned, but the setting he thought couldn\u2019t have been more romantic.<\/p>\n
She was adamant about making love on the shore. She insisted that he come inside her. He never thought about the possibility of sexually transmitted diseases or pregnancy, when, he realized later, these risks and potentialities should have been foremost among his concerns. Then they swam in the nude in the chilly waters of Lake Ontario and stretched out on the towel from his backpack. They chatted before they succumbed to drowsiness and napped on the beach, a broad expanse of dry sand that stretched for kilometers along the lake. As the sun rose like a huge fireball on the Scarborough horizon, the midsummer heat and humidity grew thick, muggy, and hazy, and he decided to take her back to his hostel room. He was caught escorting her through the fire exits that led to the back alley and parkette behind the co-op building, but the security guard allowed him to take her inside without her showing identification. They slept soundly on his bed until noon.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy don\u2019t we go out and buy you some new clothes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought you were leaving today.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll take the next train. I work for the company that owns the tracks the passenger trains use and I should be able to manage. They give me a big discount. They used to give my father, a railroader for life, free tickets because he possessed a pass that allowed unlimited rail travel.\u201d<\/p>\n
He urged her to wash and helped clean and bandage the gash on her foot again as he sat on the toilet seat and she lay in the bathtub. He admired her femininity until she snapped her fingers at him and ordered him awake from his trance. Then they had coffee at the Burger Queen restaurant, and afterwards he followed her around the Eaton\u2019s Centre, covering her expenses with his credit card, carrying her shopping bags. He was reminded why he didn\u2019t like clothes shopping and preferred thrift shops, where clothes were cheaper and he could afford to make mistakes in terms of style and sizes. She bought a few more shopping bags of brand-new clothes, and he took her to a movie before they returned to the hostel.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want you living on the street and sleeping in the park.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Jacob worried over an image of Olivia lounging in pool halls and video game arcades and sleeping in doorways, on park benches, and the streets. He told her he would pay for two months rent on this room, until the end of the summer, at which point she could decide if she wanted to return to high school or college or find a job. She replied matter of factly she wasn\u2019t looking for a father figure or a sugar daddy. <\/p>\n
\u201cHow about somebody who loves you and cares about you?\u201d<\/p>\n
She started to sob and clung to him, which made it difficult for him to pack his backpack and duffle bag and leave. She rode the subway train with him to Union Station, and she walked with him through the tunnels and passageways. He bought her coffee and ice cream from the caf\u00e9 and parlor in the concourse between the subway station and the train terminal. She even waited with him in the lounge until his train departed. He gave her his Sioux Lookout telephone number and address, but they both understood it was goodbye, probably forever.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Nine months later, after training to operate freight trains, he stayed at home waiting impatiently, playing video games, and reading books. He answered the telephone and the voice sounded familiar; he wasn\u2019t sure but played along.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m awaiting the results of an accident investigation. My train collided with a minivan at a railroad crossing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour train collided with a van?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe guy was depressed, I guess. He was a trapper and commercial fisherman from the Lac Seul reservation. He deliberately drove his van onto the railroad intersection close to the residential school. He waited in the driver\u2019s seat for my locomotive to broadside his vehicle. The accident investigation is trying to determine if I blasted my freight train horn enough times, but I don\u2019t see what difference it would make.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s the guy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jacob logged off the desktop computer. \u201cI don\u2019t believe he wanted to live, and he didn\u2019t survive. How could a guy in a minivan expect to survive a collision with a freight train travelling at full speed?\u201d<\/p>\n
Olivia sighed and took a deep breath. \u201cI just had your baby.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWait a second. Is this who I think it is?\u201d he asked, in shock. The memory came through strong and vivid, and he remembered Olivia. <\/p>\n
\u201cAren\u2019t you going to come and see him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course, I\u2019ll be on the next train.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat? You told me the train alone takes over a day.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt does indeed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan\u2019t you take the plane?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019ll be expensive,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just had your baby\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOur baby,\u201d Jacob said, although he couldn\u2019t help wonder why she didn\u2019t have an abortion.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you\u2019re worried about money?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll be on the next plane. I\u2019ll take Bearskin\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBearskin?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026the local airline, and take a connecting flight from Thunder Bay. I should be there by sunset.\u201d She hung up the telephone and, when he called back on his caller identification, he asked, \u201cWell, how\u2019s the baby, for heaven\u2019s sake\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s \u2026\u201d She sucked in a big breath of air\u2014audible over the static of the telephone line and the background noises of intercoms, sirens, and city traffic that filtered through the hospital\u2014and added, \u201c\u2026 I\u2019ll tell you what: you come down to Toronto and find out yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
He took down her room number and the hospital name and address on University Avenue, hospital row, as he remembered the broad boulevard that led to Queen\u2019s Park. He checked his e-mail and discovered a message for him to report back to work after the long weekend. Then he drove his compact car to the municipal airport, where he took the next flight to Thunder Bay and a connecting commuter flight to Toronto. As the sun set behind the expressway\u2014beyond the industrial parks, factories, and breweries alongside Highway 401\u2014he rode the express bus from the airport to a hotel a block away from the hospital. Unable to resist the thought he was not a man singularly suited to this role, he carried a bundle of flowers and chocolates. He wondered why she didn\u2019t simply get an abortion and figured he\u2019d have to ad lib and improvise in the most amateurish fashion. When he arrived at the hospital, he looked around at her private hospital room: the high-end portable stereo, the luxury handbag, the designer clothes, the gifts. He was amazed at how beautiful she looked with the baby. As he cuddled and bounced the baby he wept, and when he asked her what she was naming the baby, she said, \u201cJacob.\u201d Then she silenced him, stopped him dead in his tracks, as she made the revelation she never wanted to see him again. The whole while he tried to appear positive, but he must have looked stunned.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want my parents to see me with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou told me you ran away from home, your parents were alcoholics, and you never wanted to see them again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re also smokers, and it drives me crazy, but they\u2019re my parents.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy parents are doctors, specialists, entrepreneurs, and they\u2019ll flip out if they see you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re doctors?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, doctors, professionals.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen they should understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, they don\u2019t; they\u2019re demanding and intolerant, they\u2019re upper-middle-class bigots\u2014no they\u2019re upper-class bigots. Anyway, I realize that what happened last summer: I was slumming. I dropped out of my first year at the U of T, where I took biochemistry, at their insistence because they want me to be a doctor. Now I\u2019m at York University, studying women\u2019s studies, and they worry because they believe it\u2019s a useless major. I just tell them I\u2019m prepping for law school, bringing up my GPA, and it shuts them up. If they see me with you, they will freak. You\u2019re much older than me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry, but I didn\u2019t exactly hold a gun to your head.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I held the gun to your head.\u201d She touched his cheek with the back of her hand\u2014she wouldn\u2019t even kiss him, he noted. \u201cBut that was my mistake, and I\u2019m sorry, but I thought you should see your baby. My parents think you\u2019re a nineteen-year-old high school dropout; I couldn\u2019t tell the truth because I was afraid they\u2019d disown me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou weren\u2019t worried about your parents disowning you then.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I\u2019ve had a baby and now I see the light.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do they feel about the baby?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDelighted, ecstatic because I\u2019m their only progeny, their only child, and now they have the boy they never had, the boy they always wanted, more than any girl, especially more than me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou shouldn\u2019t talk that way.\u201d Her words gave him a start but he felt relieved. He couldn\u2019t nurture any doubts the baby was his because his facial features were so similar to his own\u2014the sharp nose, the brown eyes, the bone structure of his brow\u2014and he wasn\u2019t exactly an indifferent observer, who might benefit from doubt. Looking at Olivia and back at Jacob junior, he smiled; he noticed what she no doubt observed: the uncanny resemblance. Sobbing, she realized she had no choice but to call him when she looked at the baby and realized he looked so much like him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened to your dream of moving to the city and becoming a stockbroker?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe trainmaster insisted I work as an engineer and now I earn more than a hundred thousand a year. I suppose I\u2019m comfortable where I am, even though I\u2019m not thrilled when it comes to braking a three-kilometer long train downhill.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes widened. \u201cSo you study to become a stockbroker, then you change your mind overnight?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, then I met you and you showed me the true meaning of life.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a copout. That doesn\u2019t stop you from fulfilling your aspirations; in fact, I think that\u2019s even a better reason to follow them. Just don\u2019t blame me, or the baby, for abandoning your dreams.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I\u2019m sorry, I was just joking. Those plans, those aspirations, are on hiatus.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then she wrote down her contact information on a hospital memo pad and said she\u2019d tried to keep in touch, but that they had to be careful.<\/p>\n
\u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, you don\u2019t understand. My mother was the chief physician at a Toronto hospital. She\u2019s a professor at the university medical school and owns a genetics testing laboratory that makes plenty of money. My father is having some kind of midlife crisis and wants to take a break from his cardiology practice to run for city council next year.\u201d
\n<\/p>\n
The spacious private hospital room with the luxurious clothes, a television with a DVD player, a CD player, the smartphone, luxury fashion accessories, and luxury runners, suddenly made more sense to him. \u201cI do understand\u2014better.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you have to go now before they come back.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jacob wandered disconsolately over to the hospital cafeteria and gift shop, and then went shopping downtown and bought gifts for her and the baby: stuffed toys, a couple of books, chocolates, perfumes, and a Blue Jays jersey and baseball cap. He called her in the hospital room, but when she finally answered the telephone she complained she was busy with little Jacob. When he tried to visit her and the baby in the maternity ward again, he was turned away by a stocky security guard, stationed outside the door of her private room, who consulted a clipboard, and said he wasn\u2019t on the list of permitted visitors. <\/p>\n
Her parents, dressed in a tuxedo and nightdress, appeared as if they were going out for a night at the opera, the symphony orchestra, or live theater. Sipping Starbucks coffee in takeout cups, they stood and chatted with a nurse, a physician, and another security guard outside the nursing station. He realized that was probably exactly what transpired: they were expecting to attend the opera or musical theater and their plans for a night on the town were rudely interrupted after their daughter went into labor and gave birth to their baby. When her parents noticed him standing awkwardly in the hallway, they, looking uncomfortable, glared and scowled at him. Their facial expressions told him he was not invited, not welcome to their daughter\u2019s private hospital room, even if he was the father of their newborn grandchild, the son of their only daughter, who was living literally a drug addict on the streets. He reminded himself he was there to see Olivia and his son, Jacob, but he wasn\u2019t interested in creating a scene. Then an armed, uniformed police officer strode down the corridor from the opposite end of the hospital and chatted with Olivia\u2019s parents. As he glanced over at her, he made a few notes in his black notepad book and then spoke into the radio handset clipped on his shoulder. When the police officer started to stride briskly towards him, he interpreted his movements as a warning wisely worth heeding. He realized he had outlived his usefulness and the tepid welcome. <\/p>\n
He supposed he was just a sperm donor to Olivia and her parents, who wished he would remain anonymous or a nonentity. Uninterested in what this police officer might say, he quickly strolled down the clean, polished, antiseptic corridor. He skipped the elevator and hurried down the fire exits stairwells until he merged with the cool evening of a back street off University Avenue in downtown.<\/p>\n
He returned home on the next transcontinental passenger train out west to Sioux Lookout. Upon arrival, he learned the trainmaster told him the railroad company completed the accident investigation and thought his conduct was exemplary. Then, as he continued to work as a freight train engineer for the railroad and gained more experience, he awaited her call, especially around the time of their baby\u2019s birthday, but weeks and months passed. The freight trains continued to run at an increasing rate through his hometown, just as the passenger train schedule was cut, just as he gained more experience as an engineer and piloted freights filled with automobiles, grain, potash, oil, coal, and every conceivable type of cargo along the railroad across Northwestern Ontario. Still, he continued to expect and anticipate hearing from Olivia, but her call never came.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Shoeless<\/b>
\nA freight train conductor, Jacob seriously considered a career change. Lonely, he considered a move from the town to the city, from Sioux Lookout to Toronto. He had been laid off following a decline in oil and coal shipments, which drastically reduced the volume of freight train traffic and the need for conductors with less seniority. So he decided to revisit some career aspirations he had as a teenager when the business world and job title of investment advisor had appealed to him.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":2135,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-82","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/82","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=82"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/82\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2136,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/82\/revisions\/2136"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2135"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=82"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=82"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue22\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=82"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}