My sister Wookie moved to Toronto to join The National Ballet. She arrived with a small suitcase in hand, leaving the bulk of her belongings back in Ottawa at Mom and Dad's.
I felt bad that my hermetic tendencies kept her from meeting new people, but I knew she'd get all serious and start hanging out with dance people soon enough. We spent days on end in my basement bachelor, playing poker and running to the Queen Convenience to satisfy cravings. I'd wear my lumberjack coat, long johns, and moccasins.
"At least put some pants on,”she'd say.
"It's Parkdale,” I told her. “You could be naked and no one would notice.”
We'd always buy an assortment of gummies for her and chips for myself.
Close quarters—my apartment—brought us back fifteen years.
“Remember the alligators?” I asked her.
“Yes. Then you tried to bribe me with money.”