Together in the Clouds

Chapter 4

The sidewalks and parks along the lakefront are crowded with people. There are people pushing strollers and rollerblading, people licking ice cream cones and taking photos and people bunched up in chaotic groups clogging the way and making it hard for others to pass. Lise and I slip through the crowds unnoticed until we're standing on the very edge of the lake. Or rather, we're above the lake on a cement pier and the waves slap the wall below our feet. Even though the air lacks the saltiness of the ocean, seeing the boats bobbing on the waves and the sunlight glinting off the water makes me feel happy.

"Check it out. There ARE a lot of boats down here," Lise says.

It's true, the harbour is busy with traffic: sailboats and motorboats, a couple of seadoos and even a passenger ferry. I sit down on the side of the pier and let my feet dangle over the side. Lise does the same and for a few moments we watch the boats criss-crossing in front of us. She pulls the box of donuts from her daypack and offers it to me first. I pick out another jelly-filled. There are two donuts left. She takes one and hands one to Tuff, who accepts it gratefully.

"What's your boat look like?"

I study the boats in front of us and in the distance, then shake my head.

"It's not like any of these. C'mon. I bet we can find one further along."

I get up and tug at Tuff's lead. Lise lifts herself to a stand and follows. We cross over a metal bridge spanning a small basin of water. I lean against the railing and point to a sail boat a couple of docks away.

"It's that size but a different shape. Our cockpit is larger and we have a bimini cover."

Lise laughs. "I have no idea what you just said but it sounds like a sick boat."

"It's an older model but Dad keeps it ship shape. We've redone the upholstery and Mom replaced two of the portholes with her stained glass."

A motor boat putters under the bridge and we watch it move below our feet then out into the lake.

"What's on the inside?"

"There're forward and aft cabins for sleeping. Mine's the forward one. There's a small galley as you come down the stairs. And a head off to the right."

"Hold up, Captain Harbor. Can you use regular people terms?"

"Sorry. There's a little bedroom at the front of the boat. That's mine. Dad has the bedroom at the back under the cockpit – the place you steer from. When you first come down the ladder from the cockpit there's a little kitchen – the galley – and a washroom – the head – and then there's an area to sit just past the galley, with couches and a table."

Lise whistles her appreciation. "Sounds fan-cee. And this here boat you're talking about, it's on its way to Toronto, right this very minute?"

"Yep. Right this very minute," I say, even though for the first time something feels wrong.

"Your boat got a name on the back like these ones?"

"We call it Stars."

"Pretty," Lise says. "Maybe I can have a ride when it arrives?"

"Sure. We can go for a sail and maybe moor overnight by the island or something?"

Lise and I walk further along the lakefront, dodging tourists who are too busy looking around to notice us slipping between them like salmon going upstream. I've only known her a few hours but already it feels much longer. When we pass by a hotdog cart, Tuff raises his nose in the air and stops.

"I'm with Tuff. I could really go for some street meat," Lise says. "Too bad the guy I know works up at Yonge Dundas Square."

We stand downwind from the hot dog cart and my stomach votes with Lise and Tuff. It's been awhile since I've eaten a thick greasy hot dog. I think about the stash of bills tucked in the secret pocket of my jeans but I leave them hidden. Dad said it was for emergencies and I doubt a hot dog craving would count. But Lise has another plan and starts rummaging in a nearby garbage can. She pulls out a coffee cup and wipes it clean with the tail of her shirt.

"Two hours tops and we're feasting on street meat."

She sits down on the edge of the sidewalk and crosses her legs. Then she digs a few coins from her pocket and places them in the cup in front of her. When she's settled, she pats the cement beside her. The invitation makes me feel nauseous but I hide my shock. Or at least I think I do.

"Don't worry," she says when I don't move. "I got this. You go look around for a bit. But can you leave me Tuff?"

"Tuff?"

"Oh, sure. Tuff will make this go a lot faster."

I hand the leash to Lise and tell Tuff to stay. Then I walk away, looking back every few steps to see that Tuff is watching me but not protesting. I stand at a distance but Lise motions for me to keep going. So I walk a little further and sit down on a bench to watch.

I'm no expert on panhandling, but even I can see that Lise is good at it. She smiles and thanks people when they drop coins in her cup and sits as if she's invisible when people look away. Somehow she can become whatever people want to see.

It's the children who stop to meet Tuff. They approach cautiously, squealing about how cute he is, but then kneel down and shower him with attention. And once the children are busy asking Lise what his name is and how old he is, the parents, trapped in an awkward situation, dig into their pockets. They look uneasy when they drop change into the cup and they do it as quietly as possible so their children might not realize what's really happening. No parent wants to explain that the dog is homeless, nevermind the girl. When there's a gap in the foot traffic, Lise peers into the cup. The rest of the time she treats it like isn't even there, like it's another stranger sitting on the sidewalk. Only once do we make eye contact and then she shoots me a thumbs up so quickly I'm not even sure it really happened.