A Witness to Life (Ashland, 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

once interviewed for a job that I did not get. At number 46, the Canada Life Building towers upward. It, too, has a place in my memory. Inside are the offices of Hearn & Lamont, Barristers, Solicitors and Notaries, in room 47, where I also have been turned down for clerical work.
    In the street, amidst the other single carts, a horse-drawn streetcar—"Toronto Street Railway Company" emblazoned on its side—heads sedately westward, on a line that will eventually take it just south of the lunatic asylum, which, in spite of Ma's direst fears, is still standing. And above the clopping of horse hooves rumbles the sound of an open two-seater "Northern" auto. Other heads turn to stare. Seated high, a man and a woman smile proudly, squinting into the setting sun.
    From my inner jacket pocket I take a Havana Eden Perfecto, one of my treats to myself, and stop outside the elegant new King Edward Hotel while I light it. Perhaps, I think, smiling, Jock and I will be able to afford a celebratory drink here soon, when we acquire our new accommodations.
    Puffing it into life, I watch a young woman stop by the double-sided water trough opposite me by the curb, dip the cup on the chain into the basin facing us, and, tipping her head back, drink. In the weakening sunlight, my eyes are drawn to the sensual line of her throat, the way her fingers splay away from the metal vessel at her lips. And as I listen to her footsteps fade away, fasten my gaze on the slimness of her ankle as she disappears, I know that there is something else that I need and must have, something that I am missing profoundly.
     
    Rounding the comer onto Yonge I head north, thinking I will walk the four blocks to Queen, then catch the streetcar home. At 97 Yonge, I stop at Chas. Rogers & Sons, Co. (Ltd.), Furniture & Upholstery, and read the sign in the window:
     
    LOWEST PRICES FOR CASH
    BEDROOM SUITES
    BRASS BEDSTEADS
    PALOR SUITES
    MANTELS & GRATES
    DINNING SUITES
    TILES & FIRE IRONS
    SPRINGS & MATTRESSES
    HALL STANDS
    ETC.
     
    I will need furniture if I have my own place, I think, suffused with a sudden influx of realism. The thought bothers me, but it cannot fully penetrate the glow of the ale still coursing through my veins. Subdued only slightly, I shrug the thought off, move on.
    Two doors north of Adelaide, at number 113, I halt once more, this time outside the windows of Samuel Corrigan, Merchant Tailor (established twenty-five years). Clothes are a weakness of mine, a small vanity. They are a major reason why I cannot pay "lowest prices for cash" for even a spring and mattress from Chas. Rogers & Sons. Having never needed furniture before, I have never developed a curiosity about it, have no sense of its worth. I have lived for myself, have always been good to myself, always tried to dress and groom like a gentleman.
    The sign is perfectly stenciled:
     
    DIRECT IMPORTER OF SELECT WOOLENS
    SCOTCH TWEED SUITINGS
    $15, $16, $18, & $20 up
     
    The temptation for something smart, something with which to celebrate my new independence, grows delicately in my brain, as it has so often before. I have never needed much of an excuse.
    But Samuel Corrigan, Merchant Tailor, is closed.
    Simpson's, I think. Simpson's or Eaton's. Large department stores. They'll be open Friday evening. And Simpson's, for whom Mike still works, delivering goods to all parts of the city, is closer, less than two blocks north.
    Pulling the brim of my hat down, I set off.
    At Richmond Street, I enter Simpson's comer doors, wander onto its wooden floor, feeling small beneath the high ceilings, beneath the weight of the six stories atop me. The escalator, the flat-step moving staircase, rolls noisily upward in the distance. Once inside, I take my hat off, still unsure what it is that I want, and stand staring down long, brightly lit aisles, hypnotized as always by the baskets holding customers' change and receipts clicking along overhead on trolley wires.
    Business is modest. A lady stands to my