Free Girls Fall Down by Maggie Helwig Page A

thought. In Kensington Market, a white limousine crept silently along the narrow street like a dog tracking a scent, gliding up to a house with darkened windows, a world of illegal need.
    At Spadina, the police rolled up their yellow tape, the white powder pronounced harmless though of uncertain identity, icing sugar from a spilled box of doughnuts according to one report, though this could not be confirmed. The city’s sadness left untreated.
    Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to leave a bar because it was closing. It had started snowing again while they were inside, and the clusters of young people coming out of the clubs up and down the street were obscured by the white blur.
    â€˜So where are you living, anyway?’
    â€˜Danforth and Pape,’ said Susie, pulling her red hat down over her ears.
    â€˜Yikes. That’s a long way to go this time of night. You should’ve told me, I wouldn’t have kept you out so late.’
    â€˜It’s okay. There’s buses.’
    â€˜You don’t want to get a taxi?’
    â€˜I’ll walk up to College with you. I’m fine with the College streetcar.’
    The snow surrounded them, sealing them in a soft enclosure, so that anyone more than an arm’s length away was part of a separate world, the traffic hushed and smooth.
    â€˜It’s not that I didn’t think about you, Alex,’ Susie said, her voice low. ‘All this time. I did. I hope you believe that.’
    They stopped at College and Spadina, where he had to turn west, and stood on the concrete island where the streetcar would arrive, shifting from foot to foot. There was an edge of danger in the air, as if anything, absolutely anything, could happen next. He bent down so their faces were close together, his hand hovering near her shoulder – she was a tiny woman, really, though most of the time she made you think that she was taller somehow. He felt a rush of heat in his chest, a memory of desire nearly as strong as desire itself, the girl with candy-coloured hair who stood on a stool and wrote on the walls of his darkroom with a black marker,
Watch Out, The World’s Behind You
.
    â€˜Call me,’ he said.
    â€˜I will.’ She pushed back a bit of her hair, this new glossy mahogany, almost natural. ‘I’ll call tomorrow.’
    â€˜Goodnight, Susie-Sue.’
    She smiled. ‘I always used to know you were really wasted, when you called me that.’
    â€˜I’m fairly sober right now.’
    â€˜I know.’
    There was no good way to leave, but he saw the light turn green and moved quickly, walking almost backwards and waving. ‘I’ll talk to you.’
    â€˜Yes. Goodnight, Alex.’ Then he reached the sidewalk at the south side of College and the lights of the streetcar were arriving from the west, and he turned away, his hands in his coat pockets.
    He had reached his house and was putting his key in the door when the red-haired man scuffled up the sidewalk towards him. ‘Excuse me? I hate to trouble you, sir, but I’m being held hostage by terrorists, would you happen to have any spare change, sir?’
    â€˜Yeah, I must have something.’ He rummaged in his pockets for change and found a two-dollar coin.
    â€˜Thank you very much, sir. I wouldn’t ask, only I’m being … ’
    â€˜Yes. It’s all right. How are you doing?’
    â€˜Oh, I’m doing okay, sir. I could be much worse. But I think maybe there was a breakdown in the system a while ago. Like a malfunction, if you know what I mean.’
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Yeah, because it was a while ago, I know that, but normally the cleaning systems should prevent that kind of thing. I think the government’s working on it, though.’
    â€˜I expect they are, in their way.’ ‘Because you don’t want that kind of malfunction if you can avoid it.’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜But I’ll