It’s quiet. It’s 9:00. The automatic sliding doors open and close, open and close as tired passengers float in and silently sit. I’m in the ferry terminal waiting room. Taking the time to write and think about the events of the last twenty-four hours. Where’s the ferry? I thought I would miss it, or it would be really close anyway. Two hours prior, breaking off a conversation with Mike, Damian’s dad, “I really have to go. I have to catch a ferry“. I’m a ferry person. Mike would understand, and if he didn’t, it didn’t matter anyway. I needed to catch the ferry. It was the last of the night. Missing a ferry is like watching your home float away without you. And I didn’t want to be stranded or homeless tonight. Still, I couldn’t completely shake the homeless feeling today, walking around with my toothbrush and an extra pair of underwear in my pocket.
I take a sip of my cafe mocha I got from the coffee shop across the street a few minutes ago. The purchase, really an excuse to waste time. The sweetness of the chocolate hitting first, before the bitterness of the coffee settles in. I savour the first sip. Gulp the second. I had to run for the bus earlier, happy to catch it, transferring effortlessly to the skytrain, delivered downtown in minutes. Without a watch I worried a bit about the time, finally asking someone at the bus stop. Looking up, a second later and noticing a large clock on a tower, towering. It was 8:00, I was cutting it close. If the bus came now, I might make it. The big arm of the tower clock creeps forward, six minutes pass. Finally, a bus. I note as I board the absence of the word EXPRESS. But it does indicate a destination - Horseshoe Bay. I board crossing my fingers that I would arrive in time. Nervous as we weave slowly through a seemingly endless tangle of affluent neighbourhoods in West Vancouver. I was sitting near the front. I overheard the driver say he was early, that it was 8:43. How close were we to Horseshoe Bay? I couldn’t tell. We rounded another corner, and through the trees I saw Horseshoe Bay shining in the distance. Lights from the tiny community glittering smudges reflected off the water. I bought my ticket. What? 9:35 sailing?! That seemed like forever far away. I was tired, I wanted to be home. I thought the ferry was at 9:00, I hadn’t even bothered to check before leaving Damian’s house.
The last twenty-four hours had been busy. Ferry, bus, skytrain, bus. A night out, a concert. A night away, a bed in a room, in a house of memories. The next day, driving. Vancouver-New West-Richmond-Vancouver-New West-Vancouver. Shopping, lunch with Mom. Bus, skytrain, bus, ferry – in reverse.
It’s Damian’s birthday today, and so Damian, Happy Birthday. I’m happy I got to see you for a few minutes. I hope you had a good day, ‘cause I think you deserve it. And also, I’m happy we’re friends and that we never have to talk about pedicures or jewellery – except for maybe the occasional conversation about watches. And that’s all I have to say, because the rest doesn’t seem to fit well into words right now.
I’m on the ferry now as we rumble across the straight in darkness. The tea water in my mug shuddering as we bounce on along the surface of the ocean towards home. It’s only been a day but I miss my David, my Leuk and Mins too of course. Vancouver, a welcome break from the doldrum of Nanaimo, but I look forward to home.
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