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I secretly race cars at night

When one road diverges into two

Destined to meet back up

With drivers who are unaware of our competition.

 I secretly observe people in the morning

When my flight is delayed for two hours

No doubt from "technical problems"

Wondering what awaits them upon landing at their final destination

 I secretly take pictures at noon

When I am waiting in a crowd

For a bus whose routine is all but predictable

Of the people that always are

 I secretly walk to the beat at dusk

When my trek home is too long

To be endured without music

Listening to strangers that captivate me for minutes at a time

 I secretly dream at midnight

Sometimes regrettably at 2 am

When my mind keeps me awake

About futures I never knew I wanted

Script for Soundcloud file. [Quiet room]

 For an instance, consider two realities.

 [beeping sound that intensifies]

 Two realities just as likely as the other.

 [Bird sanctuary; birds noises]

 There’s a bench at Waterfront Park, in memory of Dr. Ronald J. Silvers. You can’t miss this one. It faces the beach of Okanagan Lake with signed graffiti tagged I Luv Destiny. We’ll start here. Sit down. Admire the view.

 In the summer, the pathway is busy and the beachfront littered with families and joggers and people out walking their dog. The water is a tad chilly, but the sand is warm —dig your toes into— warm and if you can avoid the crowds and the odour that tends to accompany every music festival, then bring a book.

 But in the winter, the spray off the water leaves the air chilled —walkers huddled together under dark coats with hats that hide the exposed skin of their necks. On this particular day, a balmy February 17th, the sky is a miserable shade of gray. Only cracks in the lining let in any warmth, most of it stolen by the wind. Ducks descend upon the water, dipping their heads below the surface for food while a lone seagulls scavenges the sand, freshly exposed from melted snow.

 I detest the winter months in Kelowna. I hop from one heated space to another, hurrying myself along, boots dragging along the sandy pavement. John on the other hand… he loves it. Likes the quiet. Always says it keeps the wusses away —the fair-weather fans of a city absent during the tougher months.

 [ambulance sounds]

 [bird sanctuary]

 Our house is not far from this park. When we were younger, we’d head out on clear mornings, breakfast rolls packed in a paper bag with a shared thermos of coffee between us, and do a loop of the trail before work. If the path was deserted, usually in the colder months, he’d step over the low-lying gates, past the ‘No Trespassing’ signs, and down to the water. Crouched with his corduroys just scraping over the dirt, he’d stack up rocks by the shore into little inuksuks.

 [hospital sounds]

 “We have a twenty five year old male who was found in Okanagan lake. He was walking across the rocks near the shore and fell into the water, hitting his head on the way down. He was found early morning by his girlfriend. He is extremely cold to all extremities. His temperature is 34.5 and blood pressure is 90 over 50. Heart rate is 45, respirate is at eleven, and oxygen is 96%. He is unresponsive with a sluggish pupil response and going into hypovolemic shock. We started a peripheral IV to his right arm. A number twenty gauge with normal saline running. He is covered in several warm blankets and he has a history of asthma.”

 [bird sanctuary]

 Stand up and turn to the left. We’re going to walk back in the direction of my house-

 [kitchen sounds… clock sounds…paper turning]

  -Follow the sound of my footsteps as they pick up, almost to a jog.

 [hospital footsteps ( 3:50 to ding at 3:28]

 We’re going to take the first left here down the gravel path. There’s a pair of benches at the very end —we’ll head there. Notice the gr owing sound of bird songs.

 [wedding sounds]

 And the ducks wading through the small inlet to the right.

 You can see the banks of West Kelowna just across the lake from here. When John and I first moved here, he worked on the West side for a logging company while I taught in town. I’d come home on weekdays and watch the bridge’s lift span rise for boats from the kitchen window.

 “Keep your eyes peeled for me,” he’d tell me during our mornings walks. He’d point across the water, his finger following the flow of commuters, and focus real hard like he could see every individual in the distance.  “Always keep me in your sights,” he would whisper.

 Now, sit down on Bob’s bench, facing the water.

 Spot the cars travelling down towards the new bridge. Can you see the people inside? The family of five traveling through on vacation. The dad with his three kids in the back of his grey crossover, going to swim practice. Two teenage girls with their N, making use of endless free-time, and the nursing student heading back to the hospital for another shift.

 [hospital recording: 21:36-21:20]

 What about the ambulance streaming past them?

 [beeping  sounds]

 [hospital sounds]

 [bird sounds]

 He’s stable right now

 [bird sounds]

 [hospital]

 Maybe you should head home or get something to eat.

 [clock ticking]

 [kart wheeling]

 Does he have any family we can contact?

 [bird sanctuary]

 John and I met in high school. We lived in Grand Cache, a small town in northern Alberta near the border of BC. Our mothers were close, working together at the same ad agency in town since before we were born.

 There wasn’t a whole lot of work up there besides oil. John’s dad would leave for weeks at a time with the others, heading east for work. Our families got to know the foreman of the site real well. He’d bring back some of the crew in the truck at the end of the month, with John’s dad usually passed out drunk in the cab. Eventually the work was too much for him and he moved south. John’s mother told him it was the weather, said his dad couldn’t handle the cold like they could. She found it ironic, considering how thick he could be.

 [other hospital sounds]

 What reality do we exist in?

 Turn around in your seat and spot the greying wooden boards of the zig zag bridge over that inlet. Do you see John standing against the rail? Is he there?

 As people, we only exist in one. We only experience the consequences of events once. We make choices and see how those around us decide to react. At this moment in time, there is only one stream of events that will ever take place, one timeline that will diverge and converge in on itself, a mingling of lives.

Person 1

We stand in heavy downpour. It thuds against my umbrella, bright blue, barely used with the label still firmly attached to the canvas, and drips down in front of our feet. The cold metal and plastic between our fingers digs into our skin like an icy, dull butter knife.

It’s almost a crime, you mutter, staring down at the small stream passing between our legs, downhill towards the parking lot.

We’ve been standing outside for almost ten minutes now.