Philip Santos was on a bus, on his way to Toronto, to go househunting before his final move there in the fall. He had made arrangements with his friend Steven to stay on his couch for a few nights, and during the days he'd look at apartments. It was a good plan, but when he texted Steven to ask when and where he wanted to meet, there was no reply.
When the bus finally pulled in, Philip sat and waited at the bus station. Still no reply to his text. He had tried messaging Steven both on the phone and on Facebook, but still, nothing. Finally, it was time to admit that, for whatever reason, Steven had let him down. So he went onto Facebook and made a post, throwing himself on the mercy of his group of friends, hurrying before his phone battery died.
"Anyone in Toronto have a couch I could crash on tonight? My previous arrangements have fallen through."
Within minutes, there were a few people suggesting he just find an all-night Tim Horton's and stay up all night, which wasn't very helpful. Wouldn't do much good if the turned up to the apartment showing unshaved and unwashed and looking like he hadn't slept. Landlords wouldn't think too highly of that.
A few people posting "Yikes! Hope you find something!" Well meaning, but also unhelpful. And someone suggested he find a cheap motel or hostel, which was something he had thought of was hoping to avoid. He was already missing a week's work on this trip, and buses were more expensive than they used to be. But it was definitely an option, if a last resort. And then his phone died.
He was getting hungry. He lugged his suitcase out of the terminal and looked around outside. He didn't know this neighbourhood, or know where anything was, but there was a little Vietnamese place on the corner that looked okay. Maybe they'd let him charge his phone, too.
He found a table with an empty outlet and slid the suitcase under his chair and plugged in his phone. He ordered a bowl of pho at the counter and sat down to wait for it, wondering what he would do after this. Eventually the pho arrived and it was pretty good. When he was finished, he decided to try to turn his phone back on. It should have charged enough by now. Maybe there had been a new development on Facebook.
He'd gotten a text while the phone was charging.
"Are you still looking for a place to sleep tonight? I have a guest bedroom."
It was from Margot Blumstein.
Margot had probably been his very first crush. When Philip was about twelve, his best friend in the world was Gary Blumstein, a kid roughly his own age. Philip had had trouble fitting in at the new school after his parents moved out to the country. Being half-Philipino and half-Chinese, he was the first non-white kid the school had ever had, but Gary wasn't weird about it or anything and they quickly became friends. Margot was Gary's sister, about seven years older than him and Philip. She'd always been nice to him. He remembered the day she went off to college. He'd given her a goodbye card, he remembered.
He'd more or less lost contact with the Blumstein family after he and Gary went to different high schools. Sure, he was Facebook friends with Gary and Margot, but hadn't seen either of them in person in years. He remembered hearing that she had gotten married at some point and then divorced.
He looked up directions to her address on Google Maps, and then wrote it down on his receipt just in case his phone died again, and headed out.
It was a longish walk, especially with the suitcase, but he finally arrived at her house on Euclid Avenue. For a moment, he couldn't believe she lived here. Beautiful old brick houses everywhere, and far more greenery than he was used to. He knew her house had to be divided up into multiple units, but still, this was a beautiful place, and probably way out of his own price range. She must be making some good income. He went to knock on the door.
As the door swung open, Philip's age-old crush on her came roaring back into his mind. She was as gorgeous as ever. Maybe not in a movie star way, he knew. She'd always been content with unfashionable haircuts that made her look older than she was, and her tendency to wear glasses that looked like they belonged on a Gary Larson character's face didn't help matters. Her nose was big and somewhat crooked, but in a cute Jennifer Grey kind of way. And the smile she gave when she saw him lit up all her imperfections and turned them into virtues.
Before anyone could say a word, she pulled him in for a hug. "Philip Santos! It's been such a long time! How are you?"
"I'm great," he said, returning the hug. She smelled like lilac and lavender, and he could feel her heavy, but perky, breasts pressed up against him. "Thank you so much for giving me a place to stay."
"Oh, it's my pleasure," she said. "Come on in. And let me take your suitcase." Before he could protest and say it was fine, she took it from him. For a moment, her fingers brushed against his, and the softness of the contact so shocked him that he would have dropped the suitcase altogether if she hadn't already gotten a grip on it. He wondered if she'd noticed. As she walked back in, he stole a glance at her bum. Margot had always had wide hips and a large, beautiful bottom, he thought. There was something sexy in how unsexual she seemed, and it made him feel daring just to contemplate it.
He stepped inside her house. She lead him up a flight of stairs through the common area, to her own door. He noticed her key fob was a little Betty Boop face. Inside her door, they stepped into a plushly decorated living room, almost overwhelmingly pink. There was a baby-pink couch and armchair facing the TV, pink-and-white gingham curtains, and a thick pink carpet. She had a poster of
The Little Mermaid
on the wall over the couch and a collection of what looked like animation cells on one wall, mostly from old Disney and Don Bluth movies, and a big white bookcase full of movies. He noticed, right away, a lot of Disney stuff, mostly in those anniversary re-release editions.
She lead him to the guest bedroom now. It was much soberer in design, with a pale blue wallpaper, wooden single-size bed frame, white bedspread. A wooden desk, with a framed picture of a sailboat and a chipped china mug full of pens. She placed his suitcase down on the bed and sat down next to it, and patted the spot on her other side, signalling him to sit beside her.
"It's so great to see you!" she said.
Philip sat beside her, uncomfortably aware of the proximity of her body. "You too," he said. "What's new?"
She looked troubled for a moment. He realized the divorce hadn't been all that long ago, and was afraid he had struck a sore spot. "Not much," she said. "Work, mostly. Things are going pretty well, I guess." He could tell that things weren't going well on all fronts, but thought it would be better not to pry.
"What do you do, again?"
"I'm a psychotherapist. Working at a drop-in clinic right now, but looking at opening my own practice in a year or two."
"I was wondering how you could afford a place like this." He gestured around.
"It's not cheap. How about you? What's brought you down to Toronto?" She didn't pronounce the second 't'. She'd been here long enough, gone native.
"Househunting, at the moment. Starting grad school at U of T in the fall. I'm in civil engineering."
"That's a good field," she said. "Are you still dating what's-her-name? Sarah?"
Philip was a little startled. "How did you know about her? That was long after you went to university."
"I saw it on your Facebook wall. I think I 'liked' it. I remember thinking, good for her. I always knew he'd make a girl very happy one day."
He was flattered. "Well, we broke up earlier this year," he said.
A bit of Margot's sadness seemed to return. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know how that is."
"It's okay," he said. "We were never really right for each other."
She patted his knee. "These things come and go. The important thing is not to get bitter over it, and it looks like you're doing pretty well on that. Listen, you look really hot right now."
"What?" This was sudden.
