I loved it when Darcy came to visit. We never knew he was coming. He'd just show up, full of stories of what he'd been doing and with a bagful of gifts things that were cool, not useful. We'd make the most of his visit because he might stay a couple of weeks, but sometimes it would be just a day or two.
Darcy was the baby of my dad's family, the “afterthought,” according to my dad; “the miracle baby, the golden boy” according to my nana, when she was still alive. He was born when my dad was twelve and his other brothers and sisters were in their late teens. It was just as well that they were older because my granddad was killed the year after Darcy was born and Nana needed all the help she could get. Darcy said he'd had the greatest childhood, with a whole crew of young parents looking out for him.
Darcy was fourteen when I was born, but I didn't meet him until I was five. I can still remember the first time. My mom came to pick me up from kindergarten and there was someone sitting in the car. At first I thought it was Dad, but close up he looked like the movie-star version of my father. Darcy had the same build, but more muscular. They both had brown hair and blue eyes, but in Darcy the colors were more intense. I knew if he and Dad stood side by side, Dad would look washed-out and ordinary.
That visit set the tone for all the ones to come. Darcy spent hours playing with me and my Star Wars action figures, or having light saber duels. My mom positively glowed when he was around. He was full of compliments for her cooking and the way she was raising us. He would do all the little jobs around the house that she had been nagging my dad to do. Dad was the only one who didn't seem too happy. It's not that he was rude, just a little distant, when you'd expect him to be really glad and flattered that his kid brother had hitchhiked halfway across the country to see him. That first visit was one of the short ones. I woke up and Darcy was gone. I think I cried.
As I got older, I liked Darcy even more. Maybe because he was so much younger than my dad, I could talk to him more easily. He was full of advice cool advice, drawn from something that had happened to him. Boy had he done things: traveled the country as roadie for a band, worked at a ski resort where famous people went, hitchhiked all over the world, working only when he ran out of money.
My dad had never done anything just studied, got married, and had kids. He worked a dull job that he hated, and when he finally got home at night after battling the traffic, he was too tired to have much time for us.
If I had to sum it up, Darcy lived life, whereas Dad just existed.
When I turned seventeen, we hadn't seen Darcy for about two years. He always sent Ellie and me birthday cards, postmarked now from California. Occasionally, there was a postcard, too, with a scrawled note about living in Los Angeles.
“Maybe he's finally settling down,” Mom said, turning one of his cards over at the dinner table.
My dad's mouth twitched. “I doubt that, somehow. I'd be willing to bet we'll see him before the summer's out.” He didn't look pleased.
Dad was right.
About a month later, I came back from my summer job as a trainee camp counselor and there was a strange car parked in the driveway a gleaming, white convertible. I ran inside and there he was, Darcy Carroll, holding court on the deck, with a beer in one hand while he told a story to my mom, Ellie, and her friend, Alanna. They were so entranced, they didn't even see me. Alanna couldn't take her eyes off Darcy.
Darcy spotted me first and broke off midword, leaping from his chair and crushing me in this huge bear hug.
“Josh, my man! Just look at you.” Darcy stepped back and pretended to shade his eyes, as if seeing me was too much for him. I had grown nearly a foot since he last saw me, and the rampant zits had finally been subdued. “Where did this teen god come from and what did he do with my dorky little nephew?” It was corny, and if anyone else had said it, I'd have been embarrassed.
“Hey, Darcy,” I said. “You staying awhile?” I tried to do laid-back and casual.
“We'll see,” he said. “Been working in Hollywood, but I think I'm ready to break out on my own. Toronto's a cheap place to film, so I'm heading up there to get things going. I thought I'd look you guys up on the way.”
Alanna and Ellie just about wet themselves at the mention of Hollywood, and any hope of normal conversation was lost as they rattled off names of their favorite stars, wanting to know if Darcy had met them. I headed off to wash, thinking about how cool it would be to have Darcy hang out with me and my friends, maybe go down to the park and shoot hoops, or grab a pizza and a movie. They'd all heard me talk about him often enough, but no one had met him.
All through dinner, Darcy told stories of his life in California. He never actually said he knew movie stars, but their names kept coming up as having been at events he had attended. Ellie was beside herself and I knew that I would have to work fast to get Darcy alone before she hijacked him and invited over all her girly friends.
Mom was almost as excited as Ellie, but Dad kept asking Darcy exactly what projects he had worked on, what contacts he had up here. Darcy didn't blow him off, but he'd start answering and then mention the name of someone famous; Mom and Ellie would interrupt, wanting to know more, and Darcy would never get back to answering Dad.
After dinner, Darcy looked at me and asked, “Driving yet, Josh?”
I gave Dad the evil eye. “Yeah, but I never get the car.”
“Wanna go for a drive in my new car, show me the hot spots?”
It was all I could do not to pump my fist in the air. Ellie whined that she wanted to come, too, but Mom stared her into silence.
“Just remember that you won't be covered by Darcy's insurance, Josh. You're a passenger got it?” Why was my dad always such weasel?
Darcy hadn't visited us here in Dundas before. We drove down the main street not that there's much going on after seven o'clock at night and saw only a couple of kids skateboarding in the square near the art gallery.
“This is it, Josh?” I couldn't see Darcy's face, but his voice told me that he wasn't exactly impressed…. “Surely, there must be more going on for teenagers?”
What could I tell him? No car, no social life. Since Dad let me drive so rarely, I was dependent on my friends to get where anything was happening. Then it hit me. There'd been rumors all week about a bush party, Friday somewhere on the escarpment.
“Cool!” Darcy said, when I told him. “I remember some amazing beach parties out in Kitsilano when I was about your age. Are you going?”
“I'd like to….”
“But old Doug the Dull won't approve?” Darcy was smiling and I smiled back. “Why tell him? Why can't you and I hang out with some of your buds? We've got wheels, right?”
It was easy. When we got back from the drive, this whole story just tripped off Darcy's tongue. We'd stopped for ice cream and run into one of my friends. Darcy pretended not to remember who, and I jumped in with the name of my most reliable friend, Aaron, the one Dad approved of most. Aaron had invited us over to his place on Friday night so Darcy could meet his older sister, who lives in Toronto. Dad bought it.
I was surprised by how juiced Darcy was about this whole bush party thing. Whenever we were alone, he kept telling me stories of things he'd got up to at those beach parties, like the time he and his friend picked up these girls who had a jeep and how they drove it wildly down the beach, scattering the partygoers and being chased by a whole bunch of cop cars. Come Friday night, he was antsy, hardly sitting still through dinner. He rushed me out, telling Mom and Dad that he wanted to go pick up some snacks to take to Aaron's with us. “Liquid snacks,” he said, as soon as we got in the car. “I want to hit the liquor store before it closes at nine.”
By the time we peeled out of the parking lot, we were supplied: a keg of beer, cartons of coolers, and a couple of bottles of bourbon. Darcy had tried to use a credit card, which for some reason wouldn't work, so he ended up paying cash. Luckily, I had some of my counselor wages with me, as he didn't have quite enough.
Darcy handed me the brown-paper bag with the bourbon as soon as we got into the car. “Take a swig,” he said, “then pass it to me.”
“Nah, I don't like the taste.” I passed him back the opened bottle and he took a long pull.
“Don't tell me you're a prude like your old man, who doesn't drink?” His tone was light, but there was a hard glitter to his eyes.
“Beer,” I mumbled, “I just don't like spirits.” I thought how Dad would never touch a drop of alcohol, and the look on his face when he'd told me that their dad had been killed in a hit-and-run by a drunk driver.
We were out of Dundas now, heading up the escarpment. I'd got rough directions from one of my friends, but once we turned onto this dirt track, we became part of a convoy of cars loaded with people heading to the party. A bonfire was already blazing and the cars were parked at one end of the field. Woods bordered the field on one side, but, other than that, there were just more fields, with not a building in sight. Perfect!
Darcy was a huge hit. It didn't hurt that he was handing out drinks like Halloween candy. Most of the kids were from school, or hockey, and I introduced him to everyone. Soon, he had a whole group around him and he was telling them the stories that had so impressed Mom, Ellie, and Alanna, only now he was swigging bourbon instead of beer. I was only half listening, but the stories were a little different heavier on stars he knew rather than ones he'd only seen. Nothing wrong with enhancing a story a little to make a good impression. I hung out on the edge of the group with my friend Connor and his girlfriend, Heather.
Heather is hot. She's had all of us lusting after her for months, but Connor was the one who was brave enough to ask her out. Fair enough, though it still drove me crazy being near her. But Connor's my best buddy and I'd never do anything to ruin that. Even if he and Heather ever broke up, I don't think I'd ask her out because it would be disloyal.
Connor and I knocked back a beer and got talking about the hockey tryouts next week. Neither of us noticed at first that Heather had edged closer to Darcy. By the time we did, she was at his side, eyes fixed on him, a shy smile on her face. I could tell he was flattered because he started to focus on her.
“I get to see a lot of pretty girls in Hollywood, but most of them are fake, not like the pretty girls here.” She lapped it up. He handed her the bourbon bottle and I was surprised to see her drink from it. She tipped it back and only a few drops came out. Darcy produced the other bottle and started on that, but it seemed that Heather was holding it more often than he was.
Other hockey players from our team came up and we started trash-talking, jumping all over each other's chances of making the team again. We only stopped laughing when Connor said, “Where's Heather gone?”
Most of the action now seemed to be down around the bonfire. I looked around, but couldn't see Heather. I couldn't see Darcy either. Connor and I split up and began to search, calling out their names even though people looked at us as if we were idiots.
I was getting a bad feeling. I wondered if we should be looking in the woods, when Connor ran up to me, panting, his face flushed red. “Someone said that she went off with your bastard uncle!” His eyes were wild and his fists were clenched like he wanted to hit me.
“Why?”
Connor shoved me. “Why do you think? He was making eyes at her all night. Giving her bourbon like it was going out of fashion. Hell, Heather never drinks.”
“They're probably just talking somewhere, that's all. Darcy loves an audience.” My words sounded empty and the bad feeling was getting stronger. It was hard to meet Connor's eye.
“Yeah, right!” Without saying anything more, Connor headed towards the parked cars. Miserably, I followed after him.
The empty space where the white convertible had been seemed to glow in the moonlight. Connor grabbed my T-shirt and yanked me towards his mother's van. “Where would he go? Where would he take her?”
I shrugged, helplessly. I had no idea.
Connor's face was grim as we drove down the dirt track that led to the main road. I tried to come up with some scenario as to why Darcy might have taken off with Heather.
“Don't.” Connor's voice gave no room to argue. “I know he's always been your hero and all that, but he's a jerk.”
Protests sprang to my lips, but didn't come out as Connor barreled on, “He's a name-dropping asshole who needs to impress kids half his age. He's worse than an asshole he's creepy, too. Heather's just turned sixteen, for God's sake. Don't tell me he doesn't know that! He plies her with booze and now he's off somewhere doing who knows what to her.”
“Stop!” I yelled. I'd seen a flash of white parked in a clearing to the side. I pointed.
Connor slammed on the brakes, fighting the wheel as the van bucked and slowed. He threw it into reverse, backed up, and roared to a stop behind the convertible. In the dim light, we could make out two figures entwined in the front seats.
Leaving the engine running, Connor leapt out of the van and pulled open the convertible's passenger door. Heather half slid out, slurring, “Hello, Connor,” before passing out.
Connor staggered slightly, lifted her up, and carefully carried her over to the van, where he strapped her in. He snagged a blanket from the backseat and used it to wedge her head against the window.
Darcy was walking towards me, hands outstretched, words tumbling out. “She said she was tired, Josh, that she wanted to go home. I looked for you, but I couldn't see you. Helen said she wanted to go right then.”
“Heather,” I said. “Her name is Heather.”
“Whatever. I couldn't turn her down. She'd had too much to drink. You know what it's like with these girls.” He winked at me and I wanted to throw up. “Then she asked me to pull over because she felt sick. Next thing I know, she's all over me.” He gave me a crooked little grin, the boyish one that Mom likes so much. “What's a guy to do?”
I didn't have to answer because Connor came roaring past me, fists flying. Darcy was bigger, but he was not a match for Connor's rage. In the end, knocked down, Darcy cowered on the ground, trying to protect his face.
“Asshole!” Connor spat on the ground right by where Darcy lay, before he walked to the van and drove off.
Eventually, Darcy staggered to his feet. His lip was cut and one eye was swelling. When he began to talk, I cut him off, “Are you okay to drive?” I reached into my jeans' pocket for my cell phone. “Or shall I call Dad?”
“No, don't do that. I'll drive.”
He kept trying to talk to me on the ride home, but I turned my face to the window.
Dad was sitting on the deck, but ran to us when he saw the state Darcy was in. “What on earth has happened?”
Darcy launched into a story about how he'd tripped over a rock in Aaron's garden. He winked at me and said, “I went head over heels, didn't I, Josh?”
“No,” I said, “you didn't.”
As I told my dad what had happened, the words came in a hot rush, like vomit. Dad put his arm around my shoulders, keeping his eyes on Darcy. “Call Connor,” he said. “Make sure he got Heather home safely. Then head on up to bed.”
When I woke up the next morning, Darcy had gone. This time I didn't cry.