The Bonaventure Metro Station

It was a cold Tuesday morning, when I stepped into the Bonaventure metro station. It was just after 5am, the earliest they would allow us in, when I took my seat on the corner ledge. I internally beamed with joy for being the first one to arrive. I set up my blanket, placed a medium sized Tim Hortons cup to my right side, a short distance away and dropped a quarter in it; every one of us knew the importance of keeping at least one coin to start the day with. I always found it odd, but for some reason, people were more generous when they knew that other people were as well. Finally, I pulled out my black notebook and pen that a kind young woman had given me a few weeks back.

I put my game face on, immediately changing my facial expression from neutral to somber. The largest rush of people was usually between 7 and 8am, but somehow, I always got lucky with the 6am crowd. I opened my notebook to a new page, glanced quickly at the newspaper stand and wrote the date in the top left corner: January 23rd, 2019. I can’t believe that it’s already been three years. Just as I lifted my pen from the paper, I heard the familiar “ding” of a new coin hitting the other. I quickly looked up to see who so graciously gave me a token of survival; a middle aged man with glasses stood in front of me, whom I had come to recognize very well. Today, he wore a long black coat and shiny leather shoes, smiling brightly at me, he said “have a nice day, Liane”. As he hurried past to catch his train, I began to write a thorough description of him. Ever since I got the notebook, I had been keeping detailed accounts of all the people who contributed to my survival fund. There was a sense of comfort in recalling the very generous people who kept me fed and well hydrated. I often thought about what their lives were like and fantasized about someday repaying them for their generosity.

As the day went on and swarms of strangers walked to and fro, I started to feel the fatigue of trying to stay warm all night deep in my bones. The metro stations were great places to stay sheltered during the day, but it was a race to secure the last of the homeless shelter beds in the evenings. If you weren’t amongst the lucky ones, you would have to find a place to sleep outside. I didn’t mind it so much during the other seasons of the year, but winter in Montreal was brutal and it was a miracle to survive the night outside without getting frostbite. The sound of a couple coins hitting my cup startled me as a beautiful woman with pin straight, long brown hair, wearing a luxurious navy blue coat and tall beige boots walked passed me in a hurry. Seeing this beautifully put-together woman made me wonder when I had last washed my hair. Without knowing anything about her, I already envied her life. As the woman continued walking away, I jotted down every detail I could remember about her in my notebook.

After rush hour, a young man approached me with a takeout box in hand. Just by the odours, I knew that it was Indian food. Once the man set the box down next to me, I thanked him as he continued on his path. While I ate my meal, I thought back to the last family dinner at my parent’s house. I had downed a few shots of vodka before arriving so that I wouldn’t get a lecture about my drinking problem. More than two glasses of wine at dinner would usually win me a couple of judgemental glares. I remember excusing myself from the table to use the washroom and sneaking into my Mom’s wallet to take all the cash she had. Thinking back on it all with a clearer and sober mind, I knew what I had done was wrong.

I grabbed my cup and began emptying the coins into the small purse that I kept hidden under my clothes. As the coins transferred out of the cup and into my purse, I noticed a flashy object that definitely was not a coin. I took the shiny object from the cup and held it between my fingers. It was a spectacular ring. The metal was either silver or white gold with a diamond studded band and on top was a sizeable rectangular shaped diamond that gave off mirror-like flashes. I had never seen such a beautiful piece of jewellery in my life. My first thought was: this could easily be worth over 200 bottles of vodka, but I immediately dismissed that idea, tucking the ring into my purse for safekeeping. As my mind wandered through all the possible scenarios of what I could do with the money, I gathered my belongings and headed towards the nearest shelter to see if there was a bed available.

Upon arrival at the shelter, I was relieved when Marie told me there was an empty bed available. “Liane, I’m actually really happy to see you here because I have something for you”. She reached into her pocket and handed me a coin. I took it in my hand and analyzed the number 5 circled in the middle. She said “congratulations Liane. I’m proud of you for sticking to your sobriety”. I smiled proudly and thanked her for the support she had given me throughout those past five months. That evening, I dreamt of the ring, trading it in for a large sum of cash and using the money to get myself an apartment. In my dream, I was at my parent’s house for dinner and they had forgiven me for all my wrongdoings. They believed me when I told them that I had changed. The past was finally the past, we were together again. I never wanted to wake up from the dream.

On the morning of April 18th, I entered the Bonaventure station, placed my cup in it’s usual spot and opened my notebook to the page of January 23rd. Nearly three months had passed since I found the ring in my cup. By process of elimination, I had narrowed down my list to three possible women that could have dropped the ring into my cup. Although her face remained a mystery to me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it belonged to the woman in the navy blue coat. I reread the description of her for what felt like the millionth time: about mid-thirties, long brown hair, sophisticated. Deep down, I knew that she intrigued me because I wanted so badly to be her. I lifted my head from the notebook and began searching through the crowds of people once again for the mystery woman. Finding her had become my new obsession.

As the day came to a close, I felt exhausted. All that time dedicated to finding the woman in the hopes of returning the ring to her but nothing ever came of it, causing me to back-pedal mentally into old patterns. Lately, I was beginning to think more about drinking and I didn’t want to risk destroying my progress. This had to end. Tomorrow, I would finally go to the store to see what I could get for the ring. I needed to move on with my life.

The next day, I didn’t bother going to the Bonaventure station at all. Instead, I showered at the shelter, put on my best clothes and went straight to the mall. After evaluating the ring, the jewellery store owner looked at me in shock. “I can give you twenty thousand for it” he said. I tried my best to hide my own surprise so that he wouldn’t change his mind. I quickly agreed to take his offer. After filling out the check, he handed it to me and said “good luck. I hope he isn’t too heartbroken”. I smiled warmly at him and walked out of the store, as I wondered what he meant exactly.

I walked into the metro station, feeling both alive and slightly overwhelmed. I bypassed my usual spot and headed straight towards the ticket machine. As the incoming train approached, I tried to recall the last time I had actually taken the metro. I couldn’t remember. At least two to three years, I thought. Eleven stops later, I got off at De La Savane station just as I had many times before during my drunken years. After walking for 15 minutes, I took a deep breathe and looked up at my childhood home on Waterloo Road. I took out my pen and signed the back of the twenty thousand dollar check. I made my way to the front door, opened the mailbox and placed it inside. I briefly thought of knocking on the door to see if my parents were home, but I still wasn’t sure if they had forgiven me or not. As I walked away, I smiled inwardly at myself, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. I knew that the money would not make up for the years of pain that I’d put my family through, but I felt relief knowing I had at least paid them back.