The Bloody Doors Off

It’d been on his mind since the cold weather set in. Living in a partially below-ground basement meant the heat wouldn’t keep in, not like his last apartment, where he was surrounded on all sides like a furnace. And now he needed to pay for gas as well, a cost he wanted to keep minimized. He had space heaters but the landlord asked (nay, almost insisted) they not be used as it would increase the cost of electricity. (“Like the washer/dryer that ran above my head nearly 24/7 until the previous tenants finally moved out?” he sneer under his breath. “Or the dishwasher the couple on the top floor get to enjoy?”)

And then the ice storm hit. No electricity. Surprisingly, the gas heater in the living room still worked — the pilot light hadn’t gone out therefore didn’t need electricity to power it. But he couldn’t sleep without his CPAP and the couch was uncomfortable. A restless sleep was had, buried under a duvet and blankets and cats.

Then came the polar vortex (he wondered why scientists lacked imagination in some things, yet were so fanciful in others? Thunder snow? Awesome description. But really, it sounded like polar bears in a hurricane. Did they just watch Sharknado, perhaps?) And his winter jacket was useless until the zipper was repaired.

He had a gift card from Sears, given to him at Christmas from his father. The wheels turned. Should he try and get the zipper fixed and forgo getting a new coat (which would require extra funds from his limited bank account)? Or… he looked down at his bathrobe. Thin it was, good for warmer weather where modesty was required (oh how he missed walking around naked in his apartment). No, what he needed, absolutely above everything else, was a heavy robe.

He made a plan. First, he went to a recommended dry cleaners to see if they could fix the zipper. Then the psychiatrist, and finally to Sears with the gift card, in the Eaton Centre, where they were closing the store in February. He could find a massive deal. So it was decided that, after his psychiatrist appointment in North York, he would venture downtown and peruse what remained on the rack. But as he bundled up against the wind, heading west to Leslie Station, he saw it. The eastbound Sheppard Avenue bus, that would take him to Don Mills and Fairview Mall. Where another Sears store existed. “What the hell,” he thought as he ran to (and caught!) the ride. “I’ll see what they have there first, check the price and compare with the downtown store.”

And so he did, and that’s where he saw it. Burgundy it was, thick and luxurious. A tiny pattern all about, and the lapels! Oh, he knew instantly this was the one he wanted. And it was the only of its kind at Fairview Mall. There were others, and slightly cheaper, and more importantly, furry. He wasn’t a fan of the fur. He wanted the one that suggested velvet, the kind worn at the Playboy Club in Chicago back in the 1960s. He remarked on the price ($50 minus 30%!); why it would easily be covered by the card and allow him something else, perhaps warm socks…

Armed with this information, he pushed back to the Sheppard subway line and then to the Yonge, down to the Sears store he’d known so well, and a store offering even better discounts.

Only.

There were no bathrobes to be found. At all. Not even furry ones.

By then it was pushing 7:30pm, and he was tired and grumpy. And when he was H.A.L.T.ing, it was not a good idea to continue. So he went home, and thought of the bathrobe.

The next day was not welcome for man nor beast. -40C with the wind chill they said. Don’t go out unless you absolutely must, they intoned. But the man was restless. First, his winter jacket may be ready. Second, what if someone else had the same idea and had purchased the robe of his dreams? And so, with two long-sleeved shirts, two pair of socks, two pair of gloves (and a partridge in a pear tree) he set off to get his jacket. The app on his phone timed the bus perfectly. A little too perfectly. It zoomed past him as he walked out from behind the house. Yes, another bus would be by in 8 minutes, but he could be frozen in the spot by then. The man ran with conviction, his voice screaming out “Hold that bus!” and lo, the driver actually waited for him. Minutes later he retrieved his jacket (all working now!) and even caught the same bus back home.

He jumped inside, emptied the lighter jacket and bundled again with his happy winter coat. Once more he was out to the bus (again the same driver! it was a sign!) and to the station. He took the Don Mills bus this time up to Fairview Mall and straight to the second floor of Sears.

There was no Playboy Mansion robe.

Not in plain sight.

It was hiding. Waiting. ‘It’s about time you got here’, it seemed to say. ‘I’ve been waiting’.

And so, after waiting an interminable amount of time behind an older couple who couldn’t grasp that they couldn’t get 40% off the purse because they didn’t have their Sears card with them (“But we ordered it over the phone last week!”) and refused to accept the 30% discount, the man finally made his purchase (along with thick socks). And still had $13 left on the gift card.

And now, snuggled in the robe, from neck to toes, he relaxes on the couch. Content.