by Kim Cayer
I shrugged. “This dumpster diving has me intrigued,” I said. Truth be known, I’d have shown up if she suggested clam digging or taking belly-dance lessons. I just wanted to get out of my car and DO SOMETHING. The only thing I did, other than work and search for safe places to sleep, was go to coffee shops to kill the boredom. I read the Toronto Sun and the Toronto Star daily and if perchance somebody left a National Post behind, that would be a highlight of my day.
“You’ll see why I’ve come to cherish Thursday nights,” Daphne beamed. “We’ll have a wee cup and then we’re off to dig for buried treasure!”
I quickly held up my cup of coffee. “I’m good,” I said.
She brought her small cup of tea to my table, which was a two-seater arrangement. Daphne frowned. There were no extra chairs for her personal baggage. There were also no bigger tables available. “Tis only a momentary setback.” She relaxed her pout. “Madeline, as a royal prince once declared, never pass up a bathroom. I suggest you use this one before we set out on our journey.”
“I’m good,” I said. Soon I was sure to progress to actual conversation.
“I insist,” she urged. “After we leave our barista, we’ll be reduced to begging restaurant hostesses to let us use their facilities…or the bushes in the playground.”
I had not used playground bushes but there were more than a few times where I’ve been denied access to urinals. Shopping at Goodwill for an accessory to my French-maid costume, I got the urge to pee but was denied access to their washroom. Leaving the store without the white lace headpiece, I made it to my car and simply put Plan B into effect. Open the driver’s door, open the rear door as well, give a good look around, peel down my pants and have at it. Though I still intensely disliked pissing in parking lots, after these few months, it was getting easier.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I gave in. As soon as I stood up, Daphne loaded my chair with a Metro bag. I saw it was filled to the brim with packages of fruit, all marked with a .99 cent sticker. Five blackened bananas, four withered apples, three gouged oranges. The total unappealing look of it all caused me to shudder.
“Quelle score already!” Daphne trilled. “Didn’t want to leave it in my cart for any dogs to be poking at. So what happens is I took a shortcut on my way over and caught the gentlemen at Metro throwing out their garbage. I didn’t even have to dig for this; they saw me and said I was welcome to anything I wanted. We’re going to get hungry tonight and…” she pointed both arms toward the bag like a badly-dressed Vanna White, “Voila! I brought snacks!”
I just meekly nodded, keeping my mouth closed in case I vomited into that Metro bag. I used the washroom out of courtesy to Daphne and then rejoined her. She was throwing back the last of her tea. I stood by the table as there was no room to sit, and noticed a bit of an odour around Daphne. Almost like she didn’t need to use the washroom anymore.
She stood up. “Now I’ll just be a moment. Sit down and please, keep an eye on my stuff.” She pointed at her cart outside. “That’s my life.”
She cling-clanged her way into the washroom. I was going to sit down but call me rude, politically incorrect, elitist, hoity-toity, but the bag lady had just sat there and there was a possibility of bag-lady cooties. If not that, the bad smell still stuck to that chair.
For the next ten minutes, I stood moronically beside the table until Daphne re-appeared. She gathered her Metro bag of fruit as well as another thing which looked like an old-time newspaper delivery bag. Though it looked heavy as hell, I didn’t offer to help.
Outside, she loaded the bags into her cart and moved it away from the wall. She pointed her already-bulging buggy north. Oh, great, I thought, we’re travelling with her shopping cart. I hadn’t anticipated that and it left me with an immediate rueful feeling; it would look like I was hanging out with a bag lady…maybe that I WAS a bag lady! Still, I just went with the flow.
“We’ll walk up Yonge Street.” Daphne plotted our course. “There are certain streets I like…we have to visit them. Others we can skip, or go back to them if we feel like it, but they usually don’t yield much.”
“Yield much like in what way?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine we would be walking away with a slightly used couch set.
“Oh, there’s so much thrown out that we could use!” she exclaimed. “Crumpets and croutons, dishes and diamonds!” Again my mind said just go with it.
We were approaching my parked car and I pretended I didn’t know good ol’ Suzi. Daphne startled me though when she gasped. “Oh, would you look at that car!” I glanced briefly, very non-interested. “Madeline, you can tell somebody lives in this car! I can see their clothes, I see their toothbrush, I see toilet paper…” Nodding furiously, still trying to act like I didn’t care, Daphne went on, “…lots of take-out food…yeah, it’s a woman, she lives in her car. But my, oh my,” as she pointed to Marilyn’s unpacked boa, “she does live in style, don’t you agree?”
“C’mon, Daphne!” I picked at the material at her elbow and tried to pull her along. “Let’s go! Crumpets and diamonds, remember?”
“Oh, yes, I’m dallying. Dillying and dallying,” she pronounced, as she began to walk along again. “Keep an eye out for a small mattress. My friend Leroy has made a lovely home out of U-Haul boxes, but he needs a mattress. I always find mattresses, but this needs to be small.”
Yay. Now I had an objective. Look for a used garbaged small mattress. I hoped I wasn’t also expected to touch it.
I walked along beside Daphne…well, actually trying to stay a few feet behind. To passing pedestrians, it seemed apparent though that I was Daphne’s associate. We were given a wide berth and sympathetic glances. How I wished I’d worn some kind of disguise. Here I had a car full of costumes and I was walking around looking fully like Maddy Magee.
Daphne was babbling from one subject to the next and since she didn’t seem to need any replies from me, I mainly kept silent. One moment she was talking about buying a pencil for her sister’s wedding anniversary gift, the next she was explaining how the tap water in Toronto is mainly shipped from Saskatchewan swamps. A small but clear thought bounced into my head – She needs a pill.
I just decided to, if not enjoy, at least tolerate the company I was keeping. The truth was, I missed my real girlfriends something fierce. The three pals I had that I could completely confide in. Melanie, who knew my every secret but this current one – the scandal of living in my car. Therese, my French-Canadian friend who could always lift my spirits. Priti, who loved to host parties, give away tickets to shows, knew the best places to vacation or shop or send your kid to camp.
On a lesser scale, but still missing them more than I thought possible, were the three moms I met at Shannon’s school every Tuesday and Thursday. Only thirty minutes of fast walking around the school’s track, but it was companionable. And the parents on Shannon’s baseball team – they were a lively bunch and I knew they must be wondering where I was these days.
Daphne would have to be my comrade-in-arms. There was no guarantee we’d be BFFs for life but with her, I didn’t have to explain my situation. We didn’t have to discuss Ben or Shannon’s awkward love life or the fact I was missing in action. I didn’t have to avoid Melanie’s intuitive questions or find a way to excuse myself from babysitting Therese’s bratty kids on her Thursday-night dates with her husband. I wasn’t looking for a new best friend; I just wanted some interaction with another adult.
“Would you looky-loo?” came a shrill, jarring me from my reverie. I looked over to where Daphne was pointing and saw nothing but a couple people putting out parts to a crib. They laid them out on the ground next to their garbage bins then turned to walk back into the house. Daphne and I stood there watching them; the man and I actually made eye contact.
After they walked into the house, I turned to Daphne. “OK, that was…uh…interesting? Shall we move on?”
“Wait for it…,” she whispered, quivering with anticipation. “You know what they’re going
to throw out next…”
“The baby?” I joked, but Daphne completely didn’t get it.
“The mattress!” she said gleefully.
“So we just stand around and wait ‘til they throw it out?” I queried. “If they’re even going to throw out a mattress…” We waited a couple minutes and then I said, “I say we move on. It feels like we’re stalking the place.”
Daphne’s eyes widened. “Watch your language! We wait five more minutes and see if they decide to part with the crib mattress.”
“And if they come out with it, do we just pounce on them?” I asked, again joking, again knowing Daphne wouldn’t respond.
“Oh, no no no no no,” my new friend declared. “No contact. Let them throw it away. It must obviously and absolutely be garbage before we can take it.” The front door to the house opened and the man came out alone this time, carrying the objective of our search tonight. A mattress for the crib, looking somewhat stained and definitely due for the trash. Again he passed me, giving me an odd glance. I looked directly ahead and didn’t say a word. He leaned the mattress up against a tree and almost bumped into Daphne, who had gotten into Ready Mode. As soon as he turned around to head back into his home, Daphne was grabbing for the mattress.
“Oh, the planets aligned today for this fortunate stroke of good luck,” she said, hugging the mattress close to her. “And with more luck, Leroy will appreciate this gift so much, he will invite me into his new home and into his bed for a passionate night of reckless abandon.”
I guess this was girl-talk with my new friend. The thought of two homeless people making out on a baby’s mattress in a big U-Haul box, however, made me grimace. Daphne caught my look as she brought the mattress to her cart.
“People got needs, you know,” she reprimanded me. “And Leroy is a prince living a pauper’s existence. Inside his house, there’s no dirt floor. Leroy put a TARP down!” Daphne announced this like he had laid the finest Italian marble in his home. “Now help me get this mattress in my cart.”
Easier said than done. Even though the mattress was small, it stood three feet above the cart and almost looked like a thick sail. We had to move bags of assorted goods around to make the mattress fit. Everything seemed to have a sticky feel to it and I craved a hand washing. Even a shot of hand sanitizer.
“So we got lucky, huh?” I sad. “Guess we can call it quits then?”
“Oh, we’ve only started,” Daphne replied ominously. “We still need to find, shall we say, the bread and butter of our search.”
“You mean the diamonds and stuff?”
“No, more like the bread and butter,” Daphne reconfirmed. “Food is always our main objective. Fruits and vegetables, buns and rolls, those can keep in my cart for days. But Thursdays…you’ll grow to love Thursdays, I assure you…for that’s the night we dine like kings.”
Assuming that all of this dining meant from food that came from garbage cans did nothing to whet my appetite. “Oh, I’m not hungry,” I said. “Not one bit.”
Again Daphne blazed me with a harsh look. “Hungry or not, you eat on Thursday nights. Right now, we are going through the alley behind a row of fancy-pants restaurants. In two hours, we will make another pass. Prepare for oysters eclair, squid marinara, duck eggs on foie gras…”
“Geez, all stuff I had for lunch today,” I joked, to nobody’s laughter. “Well, we’ll see, Daphne. This is all kind of new, you know…”
A muffled sound caused Daphne to tense like a hunting hound. “You hear that? That’s soft garbage being thrown out! Come on!”
A man in a white busboy outfit was just going inside the back door of Le Brasserie Restaurant. Daphne, pushing the cart ahead of her as if they were all part of the same body, hightailed it to the garbage dumpster. Opening the lid, she reached in and pulled out a white bag. Steam was still rising from it. She quickly opened it.
She ripped off a popular phrase. “Now this is what I’m talking about!” I marvelled at how she could be so oddly eloquent one moment and so weirdly hip the next. Daphne carried the bag over to me and I took a peek inside. There was a pan-load of baked macaroni and cheese, surrounded by egg shells, potato peelings and the ends of zucchinis, eggplants and cabbages.
“Yeah, I see, the chef forgot about his mac and cheese,” I felt compelled to say. “Look how bad the bottom is burnt. No wonder they threw it out.”
“So what if the bottom is burnt?” Daphne retorted, pulling out a handful. “Oohh, it’s still hot! The top is still good, see?” She took a bite. “Oh, it’s delicious, you must try it! This is the best restaurant in town, I swear. They use only the finest of ingredients. Take a bite, taste the incredible cheese they’ve used!”
She talked a good game and I was sorely tempted because I was starting to feel quite hungry, but the residue from the egg shells worried me. Doesn’t eating raw egg lead to something? “Oh, damn, it looks so good, but I have to pass. I’m…I’m lactose intolerant. Cheese can kill me.”
Daphne softened. “Oh, not to fear. Next door is a classy Chinese-food place. We’ll find you some nice noodles.”
If that’s your thing, then it was a good night for garbage picking. By the end of the alley, the cart was almost overflowing with food. “One more dumpster and then let’s take some time to pig out,” Daphne suggested. “You’ve watched me enough; now it’s your turn to dive.”
“I say we skip this one,” I said. “You have enough to feed an army.”
Daphne shook her head. “By this time tomorrow, half this food will be inedible. This is the best dumpster on the block. We’re not skipping it. Open the lid.”
At this point, I was completely ready to walk away. I really didn’t owe this friendship much more and didn’t think I would be seeing Daphne again. Yet I went through with her suggestion. I opened the lid to the dumpster and then recoiled at the stench.
Daphne rushed forward. “YES!” she declared triumphantly. “The aroma of wellbeing and good health. Now that’s the smell you seek!”
“Are you serious?” I finally got mad. “That smells like something died in there…twice!” It was all I could do not to hurl violently; I could feel my stomach muscles contracting. I willed it down and hunched over, drawing deep breaths.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Daphne chided me. She stepped closer and took a deep whiff. “Definitely bananas…always bananas here. Why do they buy so many when they throw so many out?” She inhaled again. “Something new…what is that? Smells exotic, like passionfruit, maybe pomegranate…”
“But what else?” I played the spoilsport. “Used Kleenex? Floor sweepings?”
Daphne gave me an innocent look. “You just wipe it off, dearie. Now let’s see what else our grocer has left for us.” She stepped back. “Go ahead, your turn.”
What possessed me? I dragged a milk carton over and, holding my breath, I simply reached in and started pulling out bags. Before I ran out of air, I had a dozen garbage bags sitting on the ground. I leapt off the crate and took a deep hit of oxygen.
My fellow scavenger praised me. “Good job. Now let’s see what there is, quickly, before an employee catches us.”
I didn’t like this air of danger; no way would I have participated had I known we could get in trouble. I ripped open the bags and was disgusted at what presented itself. Besides the almost-rotted fruits and vegetables, there were an old pair of runners, a broken mirror, unrecycled newspapers, sanitary pads, even a mousetrap complete with a dead varmint. I backed away in horror.
Daphne, on the other hand, was a complete professional. With quick hands, she sorted through the bags. Beside her, she made a growing pile of food – wizened apples, flexible carrots, potatoes with Medusa-like tendrils growing from them. She glanced up. “You can see what bags I’ve gone through already. Tie them up and throw them back in the dumpster.”
Obviously she was the boss. I did a very slipshod job of tying the bags up and returning them to the reeking bin. With the last bag shipped off, I turned and
saw Daphne putting her disgusting treasure into a BabiesRUs shopping bag. She was beaming.
“We did well tonight, my Miss Maddy!” she said. “Of course we’ll share it, even-steven.”
I was about to put up an argument when voices were heard coming from the back door of the grocery. One guy was laughing while another guy was yelling to open the door, this fucker was heavy. Daphne’s happy smile had suddenly turned upside down.
“Don’t run, we’ll look guilty,” she whispered. “Just walk away normally, like we’re just strolling the alley.”
Off we went, just as the back door opened. Daphne pushing her cart like the bag lady she was, me doing a fast walk, trying to look like I belonged in this back alley. The men didn’t speak to us and I didn’t turn to look at what the “fucker” was that was so heavy.
As we got onto the street, Daphne commanded me to turn right. “There’s a school half a block way. Their entrance is hidden from the street. We can eat on the steps.”
Oh goody. After this scare, now I get to look forward to e-coli. With a full realization that I wanted to bring this evening to an end, I still found myself tagging along. We made our way to the Stephen Leacock School and settled on the cool steps of its entrance. Daphne started digging through the food we’d picked up from the restaurant dumpsters.
“This is from the French place!” she murmured. “Look! Fancy pork medallions, covered in some kind of Hollandaise sauce!” She tasted one. “Hhmm, I don’t think I’d order this if I was paying for it.” She dug out another piece of meat. “Oh, my, steak! Cooked medium-rare, just the way I like it, and just a few—”
I interrupted her. “Daphne, no! There’s a bite taken from it!”
“—bites taken from it,” Daphne finished her sentence. She pushed the bag over to me. “Dig in.”
Lying never came so easily. “Wish I could, but that’s meat. I’m strictly vegetarian.” She reached over and grabbed the Chinese-food offerings. I shook my head. “Don’t know what’s in there…can’t take a chance.”