2. SUBJECT: A DAY IN MY LIFE

to: cassandra.belford@baderu.com

from: weston.maguire@baderu.com

subject: A day in my life

sent: January 23, 2017 at 11:49pm

Hi Cassie,

My day? You got it.

5:00am: I hit snooze when my alarm went off, but I got up about two minutes later because I had to pee.

5:05 am: I brushed my teeth, put on deodorant, and shaved (my face, not my legs.)

5:20am: I made some eggs, but my roommates were still sleeping so I tried to be quiet. Then I dropped the pan on the kitchen tiles, so no luck there. I watched TV while I ate. I left my dishes in the sink.

6:00am: I walked to the SRC and listened to music. It's a playlist my sister put together for me. She's talented, musically speaking, and is always on my case to "expand my repertoire" so I listened to some of the jazzy moody music she compiled. The playlist was appropriate for the situation. It was dead cold and still dark out, so there weren't many people or cars around. It wasn't sad, but I thought that it was pretty lonely looking.

I was trying really hard to keep track of everything for you. I'm not trying to kiss ass here, it's just what I was doing. I even tried to come up with something interesting to think about, so I'd have a lot of good stuff to write later. But the truth is that I was thinking about how much I wanted to go back to bed and how much I hate cold mornings. Especially mornings where it feels so cold that it hurts behind my eyes.

The gym was warm though, and I immediately felt less like a sad jazz song when I got into the locker room. I changed my shoes, filled my water bottle, etc. and went to join Paul. Paul has been our goalie since Doug graduated. He's not as big as some of the other goalies I know, but he's quick, and that's more important than build.

I've always found Paul kinda funny. He's an unbelievably sharp player, really agile, but he comes across as slow and quiet outside the game. He talks like he's got all day, and he has a long face that matches his long and drawn out statements. He's always reminded me of a sloth. A lot of people think he's a stoner, or that he's maybe taken too many pucks to the head. But, I think he's just a chill guy.

Paul and I took turns spotting each other, talking about friends from the team and people we both know.

"I saw Liam over the break," Paul drawled out, his arms moving faster than his words as he lifted the weight above his head. "Kayla had the baby. It's a girl."

Liam and Kayla graduated in May. His numbers were inconsistent, but he's a good guy. His girlfriend Kayla got pregnant a couple of months before they graduated. Liam and I were never particularly close, but I wanted more details. It's weird to think that he's a dad.

"Do you know the baby's name?" I asked.

"Yeah." For a second, I thought that was all he would say, but he took another deep breath and kept talking. "Kayla named her Layla."

"Layla? As in Liam plus Kayla equals Layla? Seriously, doesn't that come across a little... I don't know, self-indulgent?"

Paul shrugged. "At least she isn't named after a fruit or something."

He had a point. I'd heard Kayla wanted to name her something weird.

We finished with a 3km run which felt good. I miss running outside though. Winter makes being near the lake unbearable, but it's really nice to run there when the weather is good.

7:30am: Paul stayed behind to meet with another teammate, but I had an 8:30 class, so I went to shower and get in a reading.

You remembered right about my height. I've been about 6'5 since 12th grade, so the showers in the gym don't quite reach the top of my head. I have to squat a little, so I can wash my hair. My dad is tall too. He's 6'1 now, but he used to be about my height.

7:45am: I put on a pair of jeans, a grey t-shirt I got from a half marathon I did last year, and a sweater I took from my roommate. I went to Watson Hall, the history building on Stuart Ave.

A lot of my friends hate their major, but the last four years at Bader has only made me like history more. I think of history like a soap opera. Or maybe Game of Thrones. It's a carefully constructed mess of characters, death, emotion, power, and sex.

I sat down on the floor outside of my class and read a book about the Bolsheviks and their role in the communist movement in Russia.

It's interesting stuff when you consider all the things that had to happen for Russia to turn out the way that it did. Vladimir Lenin, the face of the whole revolution, was a complicated person that some people love, but a lot of people hate. I guess it depends how you feel about communism.

I could tell you more about him, but I figure if you wanted to know about Lenin, you'd be paying him to write this email. Tough luck if he was your first choice, Cass---he's dead. And preserved in formaldehyde like Sleeping fucking Beauty.

I finished my reading and I took some notes until class started, and then I thought about the banana that I forgot on my kitchen counter. I was getting hungry again.

8:43am: I'm writing all of this from my class. It's a three-hour seminar, and the prof is going on and on about the reading. It looks like I'm typing notes, you know, really paying attention and documenting the discussion. They don't know that I'm writing to you.

The class is small. There are 17 of us sitting around a huge table. Some of these people I know from other classes or around campus.

One girl, Katie, is sitting across from me. She used to hook up with a friend of mine. Maybe 'friend' isn't the right word. He's just some guy I know.

Anyway, Katie and this guy, Ryan, would get really drunk and have sex whenever he was in the mood, but he would also sleep with a couple other girls, too. Katie's cute. She's outgoing, and she always gives me really excited greetings that I can't reciprocate. When she's with Ryan, she's different. She still talks constantly, but she isn't as smiley and expressive. Ryan is really quiet and uninterested by most things, and I think that makes her nervous. Or maybe insecure. I don't know, but it sorta sucks to see someone shrink like that. She's smiling right now though, which is weird considering the topic of today's seminar.

2:30pm: I'm back. I went home after my second class finished at 2:30 and took a nap. My ex-girlfriend hated it when I napped, but I think writing to you is more work than I did all of last semester. It wore me out.

5:00pm: I work at The Village Grocer, mostly in the back carrying heavy things. But I get to listen to music when I'm not around the trucks or lifts, so it isn't such a bad job.

I don't know any of the other guys who work here. A lot of them have face tattoos and wear flip flops in the winter, whereas I look like the human equivalent of a golden retriever---at least that's what my sister says.

Anyway, I tend to keep to myself at work. I was there from 5pm-10pm, when most of the other guys go home to be with their families.

The only remotely interesting thing that happened was finding a dead rat underneath the back shelf. I can be squeamish about stuff like that, but I also couldn't go back to hauling produce knowing it was there. I used some big pieces of cardboard to gather his remains and took him outside. I found a tree that looked like a good spot to rest and used the toe of my  boot to dig him a grave, which was hard because of the frost. I let the body slide off the cardboard and into the hole.

Rest in Peace Stuart Little.

It was dark out, and the store was closed, so there was nobody around to participate in the procession.

11:00pm: I got home late and then reheated some perogies. Fucking delicious. My friend Lena's mom makes them, and she always gives me a tupperware after the holidays. They're so good that I sometimes fantasize about marrying Lena for the steady supply of perogies from Mrs. Melnyk.

Unfortunately, Lena is gay and in love with her girlfriend. She says that eve if she liked guys, she'd be uninterested in me (she likes to repeat this. Often.) I'll tell you more about her some other time.

What do you know, I'm just about finished my first email to you.

I hope that this is helpful, but I'm worried it wasn't what you were expecting. Did I do it right? I think it's pretty good actually, but it could be totally wrong---I've never written a book before. I've read a few, though.

It's so cool you're going to be a published writer. Wrong or not, I liked writing this a lot more than I thought I would.

Tell me what you think, yeah?

Thanks,

Weston

. . .

Texts sent January 24, 2017 at 5:10pm:

Cassie Belford: You'll be happy to know that the hockey player seems to have been the right choice for my character research.

Simon Idzik: I just don't see why it had to be a hockey player.

Simon Idzik: You should have chosen a squash player. Or a figure skater.

Cassie Belford: If you'd read the other responses I got, you wouldn't be arguing with me.

Cassie Belford: He's actually a really good writer. He's got some syntax problems, but he's got a lot of character.

Simon Idzik: Just be careful, okay?

Cassie Belford: Simon.

Cassie Belford: This was your idea. It ended up being the perfect solution.

Cassie Belford: Relax.

Simon Idzik: Yeah, okay. I'll see you after class.

Cassie Belford: Unrelated, but we have to stop shopping at the Village Grocer. They've got some rodent related issues I'd rather not bring home.