Saving Superwoman

           

            As I was getting ready to go to the food bank to get a number on Wednesday morning, I heard Sundar, the superintendent, mopping the hallway. I hadn’t seen him in the building since the day a week and a half before when the exterminator was supposed to have come to treat my place for cockroaches. I went out to ask him what happened, because I hadn’t seen any trace of the white dust that I’d expected to see behind the stove, in the back of the cupboards, along the baseboards and under the kitchen radiator beside the garbage can. The conclusion I’d come to that day was that the exterminator had not dusted and had rather come to spray poison in my place but on seeing that my cats were still in the apartment, had done nothing. Sundar told me that the Orkin man did indeed dust my place, because he saw him do it. I argued that the cockroaches haven’t diminished at all since that day, but he said the technician told him that it would take two weeks to take effect. I shrugged and said, “Okay.”

            When I got to the food bank there was a small line-up, but it was already moving. There were about seven people ahead of me by the time I’d locked my bike and stepped in line. The tall, slim, talkative young man that I see at the food bank every Wednesday came up behind me and asked if this was the line-up for a number. I confirmed that it was. Then he stepped ahead because he recognized the woman in front of me and went to greet her. Then he turned to me and said, “I saved this woman’s life yesterday! This woman is Superwoman!” I thought that if she’s Superwoman, his saving her was pretty impressive. He didn’t exactly describe in detail the story of this rescue, but he said it happened downtown and he had seen her in need. He then backed up a bit in the driveway to demonstrate. He began pretend running and said, as he moved forward, “I was like ‘Here I come to save the day … linebacker!’” and then he threw up his arms in touchdown victory celebration. The woman in front of me stood there, serene and silent. The young man said, “Ya gotta have humour!” By this time there were four of us in line and the man in front, who I’ve seen around the neighbourhood since the first day I moved to my place almost nineteen years ago, agreed. He said, “There are too many people frowning! You see them when they are coming out of church!” The young man talked about how his parents are starting to invite him into their home again. He said that they recognize that he’s working hard and trying to improve himself. He added that this is what happens when one lets Jesus in.

            I got number 27 and went home for a while.

            I came back two hours later, after they’d started calling the numbers.

            Once I was inside and shopping, the first set of shelves where they tend to keep condiments, flour, mixes and chips, was almost empty. I took some crackers. I skipped the shelves with the pasta, rice and sauce because I have plenty of that at home. I took a box of generic Rice Crispies from the third set of shelves. In the cold section, Sue had two young helpers with her, who looked like siblings. The girl, who looked about twelve, gave me a litre of vanilla flavoured milk, while her little brother, looking at me hopefully, handed me a package of ham slices. I got from Sue a Quinoa Mediterranean Chicken Lean Cuisine, and moved on. The woman ahead of me picked a large bag of bagels from the bread section, but the woman minding the loaves that day told her it was too much. She opened up the bag and dumped out some of the bagels into a bin of buns before retying the bag and giving it to her. I asked for some raisin bread and she found me a loaf with nuts and raisins. The woman handing out the vegetables and fruit that day, gave off the vibe that she was the mother of the two children helping out in Sue’s section. She gave me a handful of Brussels sprouts.

            That night, I looked out my window and saw a poster-sized square of cardboard that had been cut from a larger box. On it was written a message in black marker, but I couldn’t read it because from my point of view it was upside down. I opened my window and stuck my head out into the night and looked down with a perspective un-obscured by my dirty rain stained panes. I was trying to mentally turn the message right side up in my head when the west wind came along and blew it away.