Sudbury Saturday Night
In January, I was in the U of T Bookstore, picking up textbooks for the new semester. From the outside entrance, overblown with snowdrifts, the building was austere and unremarkable except for its size. But inside, marble staircases led up into a Great Hall awash in warm sunlight, with an ochre and gold ceiling flanked by decorated stone arches. It was a room that recalled a Venetian palazzo or the innermost chambers of Hogwarts. This particular bookstore always seemed a little bit magical to me, and over the years, I’d never gotten tired of its monumental architecture and endless flow of students and academic types. I was standing among the medical textbooks, admiring the ceiling when someone behind me said: “It used to be the old Reference Library.”
I turned. “Excuse me?”
It was a girl on one knee, rearranging the shelf display, wearing a slim blue dress and horn-rimmed glasses. Her hair was stylishly coiffed and she had a beauty mark on one cheek.
“This building,” she said, hefting a particularly thick textbook, “the Koffler Student Centre, it used to be the old Toronto Reference Library. It was built in 1909 in the Beaux Arts neoclassical style. The university acquired it in 1977.”
“The ceiling,” I said, “it’s like cake frosting.”
“Cake frosting?”
“Oh, that’s an architectural term.”
“Really?”
“It is. It means: in-the-manner-of the-icing-of-a-cake, particularly in the Duncan-Hines style of the late twentieth century.”
The girl took off her glasses, and pursed her lips. “Okay. I suppose I deserved that.”
“Are you an architecture student?”
“No. I just work here.” She stood and languidly smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. “Are you?”
“No. I just like cake.”
“I see.”
“Yep.”
“It’s just that every time you come in here, it seems you’re admiring the ceiling.” She glanced at the textbooks in my arms. “How are you finding med school?”
“Expensive.”
She extended her hand. “I’m Nadia, by the way.”
“Daniel.”
She tilted her head to one side. “You really don’t remember me at all, do you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“We’ve met before, two summers ago, at Sneaky Dee’s. I was with my girlfriend Sam. We played a game of pool? Your brother bought us drinks. We all took a cab together to that gay bar.”
“Fly.”
“That’s right. You left without saying good-bye.”
“Shit. I remember. Nadia, of course. Nadia. I am so sorry. That was rude of me. I was really drunk. That was not a good time for me.”
“I know. You’d just broken up with your boyfriend.”
“Who told you that?”
“Your brother.”
“Well, it’d been a few months.”
“Bad break-up?”
“Yes. No. I mean, just weird. The thing is, my best friend had also just moved away, and I was living on my own in this really sketchy neighbourhood, and, well, you know how it is.”
Nadia raised her eyebrows. “You tell me.”
“Well, it was a very distracted time of my life.”
“Distracted?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Nadia nodded.
I cleared my throat. I was not enjoying this conversation. “So do you work here?”
“Mm-hm.” She put her glasses back on and started shelving books again.
“You’ve seen me before?”
“Well, I’m usually working the register up front. I see a lot of people come and go. I’ve noticed you come in a few times.”
“But you are a student.”
“English major.”
“My grandma was a high school English teacher.”
“That’s nice.”
“She passed away a couple weeks ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“On Christmas Eve.”
Nadia put down her books. “Oh.”
I shrugged. “She was pretty old.”
“What was her name?”
“Her name?”
“She had a name.”
“Well, we just called her Grandma or Mémère. But her name was Josette.”
“And is your grandfather alive?”
“Yeah. His name’s Tom. Thomas Garneau.”
“Thomas and Josette. That sounds really nice. Were they a nice couple?”
“More than nice. They were amazing. They were extraordinary. They were so in love. They were married fifty-nine years.”
“That is amazing. Please pass my condolences on to your grandfather.”
“Thank you.” I drew a breath. “She was cremated.” I had no idea why I was still talking. It was like I was inside my body watching myself talking.
“Okay.”
“He plans to scatter her ashes up by the family cottage. We used to go there a lot, the whole family, when we were kids. It’s pretty run down now. We don’t use it too often anymore.”
“A lot of good memories there.”
“Yeah. A lot. The truth is, I haven’t been up there since I was a kid. Liam, that’s our other brother, he keeps talking about how he’s going to fix it up one day and maybe move up there permanently to live. He calls it the Good Medicine Cabin.”
Nadia rested one hand on a shelf. “‘I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.’”
“That’s beautiful,” I said after a moment. “What is that?”
“It’s a famous quote by Thoreau, from Walden. Henry David Thoreau was someone in search of a state of grace.”
“A state of grace?”
“That’s right. You might say it’s what we’re all looking for.”
“Living deliberately.”
“Mm-hm.”
“The title of that book, can you write it down for me? Maybe I’ll get it for my brother.”
“Here, I’ll show you.” Nadia walked past me and I followed. She led me to the literary nonfiction section where it took her less than a minute to pull out a slim, green volume. “Here you go. For the price of a coffee and a slice of cake.”
“I’m shocked.”
“You can also buy it used if you like. Save yourself a dollar or two.”
“No. I can afford this. Walden; Or Life in the Woods. Thanks, I’ll take it.”
“So, can I buy you a slice of cake?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m on my lunch break in ten minutes.” She studied me calmly, resting one hand on her hip.
I wanted to let her know I was gay, but I realized she knew that already. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized this girl knew more about me than most people did. She was beautiful, confident and smart. “Um, sure. Okay,” I said. “Sure.”
Later that evening, over dinner at home, David asked me what was on my mind. “Why do you think anything’s on my mind?” I replied.
“Well, for starters, I just told you I’d jacked off in the cacciatore, and you thought that was nice.”
I stared at him with my mouth full of bread. “I did.” I chewed and swallowed. “Sorry. This really is delicious, by the way. Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” David reached over and wiped some sauce from my chin with his thumb. “So what is on your mind?”
“I met this girl.”
“Alright.”
“I mean, we’d met before. But today we went out for coffee. She bought me cake.”
“You love cake.”
“I know.”
“Okay.”
“Well, we had an good time.”
“Okay.”
“I felt like I was cheating on Karen.”
“Interesting.”
“Do you think I was cheating on Karen?”
“What sort of dumbass question is that?” David laughed. “Dude! C’mon. What do you think?”
“Well, it felt like I was.”
“Take it up with Karen. But no, for the record, you weren’t cheating on Karen. Did this girl give you a ring?”
“No.”
“Well, there you go.”
I stared at my plate. “I don’t have it anymore.”
“What?”
“Karen’s ring.”
“You lost it?”
“No.”
“I remember you used to wear it all the time.”
“I did.”
“So where is it?”
I poked at my cacciatore. “I gave it away?”
“You what?”
“I gave it to this guy.”
“A guy?”
“It’s not what it sounds like. It was this homeless person. He was this native guy, Cree. He really liked my ring.”
“The ring Karen gave you as a graduation present? The one she got custom-made for you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well. You must have had a good reason.”
“I did.”
“Alright. Did you tell Karen?”
“No. Not yet. I don’t think she’s noticed yet.”
“But she will.”
“Probably.”
“You better tell her before she notices.”
“I guess so.”
David got up and brought back two fresh beers from the fridge. “So you had a good time with this girl.”
“Her name’s Nadia. She invited me out on her lunch break. She’s slept with Pat.”
“What?”
“She’s had sex with Pat. It was just a thing.”
“Small world.”
“Well, I was with Pat the first time we all met. I think Nadia might’ve slept with him more than once. She didn’t go into details. But she did tell me she and her best friend got into a really bad fight over it. It almost ruined their friendship. Apparently Pat was sleeping with both of them at the same time.”
“Did he know they were best friends?”
“Yeah.”
David drank from his bottle. “Hmm.”
“Well, they made up, Nadia and her best friend. Now they both think Pat’s an asshole. Nadia says it’s people like Pat who give guys a bad name.”
“Okay. Can’t blame them.”
“It was an asshole thing to do.”
“Not cool.”
“She didn’t hold it over me though.”
“Glad to hear that.”
“I mean, he’s my brother, right? But Pat, he’s like, he’s got this image of himself. He’s always been this golden boy. He always thinks he’s right. But sometimes I don’t think he realizes how he makes other people feel. I want to think that, because the alternative is, he does know how he makes people feel and he actually doesn’t care. And then that really makes him an asshole.”
“You’re brother’s a good guy. He’s just, well. He’s like a straight version of me.”
“Did you sleep around a lot?”
“I did.” David sat back. “I did. Until I met this one guy. A friend set us up. We met at a concert downtown. It was his birthday. He’d just turned twenty-one. He was tall, dark and handsome. He had this amazing smile. He had great teeth. He flosses every day, you know. He was sexy as hell. It was love at first sight, for me anyway. He’s going to be a doctor. I let him practice on me all the time. I’m going to marry him one day. He’s going to wear my ring. One day. Definitely. I’m going to make it happen.”
“David, you’re twenty-three years old. And you want to get married?”
“Not tomorrow. But one day.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He grabbed his crotch. “Because I can feel it here.” He rested a hand on his stomach, and on his chest. “And here, and here.” He touched his brow. “Then you can’t help but start thinking it here. You know what I mean? I also want us to be dads.”
“You and me, you know we’re just, we’re just kids playing at being adults, don’t you?”
After a moment, David put down his fork. “Is that how you feel abut this?”
“What?”
“This, Daniel.” He opened his arms. “Us.”
“I don’t know what to feel.”
“Why the fuck is it so hard for you to feel?”
“Because,” I exclaimed. “Because my life is fucked up.”
“Well I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but everyone’s life is fucked up. Everyone’s. You’re not that special. You don’t have some monopoly on fucked-upness. We’re all fucked up and we’re all doing the best we can. Your grandparents did it, Nadia and her friend are doing it, and you and I are doing it.”
“They were drinking, you know.”
“What?”
“My parents. My mom and dad, they’d been drinking. It was Saturday night, and they were coming back from a party. They rolled their car because they were drunk and they were driving. Then their car caught on fire. Thank god they didn’t hurt anyone.”
“How do you know that?”
“Grandma told me. I was twelve years old. I was just a kid. Why would she say that to me unless it was true? She told me and then she forgot she even told me. I think Grandpa must’ve told her. That’s how they died. And that’s the reason why Grandpa had to put Grandma in the nursing home. He couldn’t take care of her and us at the same time, not by himself. So he had to make a choice. So he put her in a fucking nursing home.”
“Do your brothers know?”
“No! I’ve never told them that. I’m never going to tell them that. You’re the only person I’ve told in my entire life. I haven’t even told Karen that. You can’t tell anyone, David. I am so, so angry at my parents, David, you have no idea.”
“Okay. Okay. Come here.” When I stood, he walked around the table and held me. He stroked my head, and he pressed his nose against my ear. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.” I was shaking and I was crying and I was so ashamed, but he kept saying it was okay, over and over again. After a while, I started to actually believe him. And the moment I did, I stopped crying, not all at once, but gradually. He kissed my neck, and my jaw, and the tears streaming down my cheeks. Then he stood back and held me by the shoulders. His eyes were locked to mine, but I didn’t want to look at him because I knew I was all red-faced and puffy. “It’s okay,” he whispered.
“Oh, shit,” I said breathlessly. I blew my nose in a napkin.
“You wanna sit down?”
I sat down on the couch. David sat next to me, one hand on my knee. I put my hand on top of his. I felt empty and hollow. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this way. Eventually, I drew a big breath and straightened. “Well, that was weird.”
“Don’t,” David said.
“What?”
“It’s okay.”
Then when he said that, I started crying again, the way rain might start again, after a thunderstorm lets up briefly. I cried this way for a while, curled up on the couch next to him. Then, feeling exhausted and completely spent, I lay down in his lap and fell asleep.
In March, I met Charles at Mick E. Fynn’s, a sports bar just outside the Village, across from Maple Leaf Gardens. It was one of our old haunts and we sat at our favourite table close to the big screen TV. Sporting paraphernalia and neon beer signs decorated the walls. Charles had been something of a recluse lately, having started his dissertation. We hadn’t seen each other since dim sum back in October, and I was surprised at how fit he looked. Charles explained to me how, since the New Year, he and Megan had both been on a strict diet and exercise regimen. “You two seem to be getting pretty serious,” I said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, for one thing, you’ve been together how long?”
“Three years this month.”
“That’s a long time.”
Charles blinked owlishly. “Can I confide in you, Daniel?”
“Sure. Of course you can.”
“It hasn’t always been easy.”
“It never is.”
“For a period of time, I was starting to question whether or not Megan and I were even sexually compatible.”
“Oh?”
“She’s very fastidious.”
“Okay.”
“And controlling.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Oh, no, don’t be. We’ve worked it out. Things are better than ever. We’ve both been opening up, getting in touch with our needs.”
“Your needs?”
“Back in November, Daniel, we got ourselves a strap-on. After that, for Christmas, we went out shopping together for all sorts of toys.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“We’ve also been taking a tantric yoga class for lovers.”
“Seriously?”
“It has been quite the adventure, if I do say so myself. I’m wearing a butt plug right now.”
“What?”
“I’m wearing—”
“No, I heard you the first time.” I sat back. “Charles.” The waitress brought us another round and cleared our glasses. “Like, right now?”
Charles sipped from his Guinness and nodded, knuckling the foam from his lip.
“How does it feel?”
“Stimulating.”
“Like, how stimulating?”
Charles folded his large hands on the table. “Well, there is a pleasurable sensation of fullness. I can also place additional pressure on my prostate at any time, just by doing so.” Surreptitiously, he picked up the drinks menu, and shifted in his chair.
“Wow.”
Charles shifted again, setting down the menu, and regarded me expectantly.
“Wow. I mean, you’d never know.”
“That is the idea. Megan also likes the idea of me going about my whole day plugged.”
“When do you take it out?”
“When she tells me to take it out. I’ve grown accustomed to it now. Over time, it starts to become part of your lifestyle, something you just do, like putting shoes on before leaving the house.”
“Really?”
“It’s more discreet than, say, a collar, and more intimate. Sometimes she also has me wear her underwear.”
“Sometimes?”
Charles nodded.
“Right now?”
“I am. Megan’s a petite woman and I’m a large man, so it is somewhat uncomfortable. But between the plug and the woman’s lingerie, I’m aroused almost all the time. These last five months have been transformative for us.”
“Gee, Charles. I don’t know what to say. I’m happy for you guys. This sounds great.”
“It is great, Daniel. I’ve proposed to her.”
“What?”
“I asked Megan yesterday to marry me.”
Pool players in plaid shirts and torn jeans slapped each other on the back, and raised a toast. The Major League season was about to start, and the networks were showcasing home-run highlights from past games. “Charles,” I said, “holy shit, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.”
“She didn’t say yes.”
“What?”
Charles drew a shaky breath. “She didn’t say no, either. She said she needed time to think about it.”
“Okay. Okay, that happens. It’s a big decision. People need time to think about these kinds of things.”
“I was so sure she was going to say yes. She was giving every indication we were compatible partners.” Charles broad brow glistened. “Do you think I was premature in asking her?”
“Well, it has been three years.”
“I used to think,” Charles said, “the basis of sexual and romantic attraction could be adequately explained by evolutionary psychology and cognitive neuroscience.” He got up and started pacing. “What are human emotions but the measurable operations of brain chemicals: dopamine, oxytocin, adrenaline, vasopressin? Except now, I’m not so sure.” He made a pained expression and shook his head. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m starting to think there is something more.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Um, I should hope so. Charles, sit down.”
“Even talking about it,” Charles observed, “raises my heart rate.” He sat down, pulled out a pad of paper and started scribbling notes.
“Charles, what are you doing?”
“Systematic self-observation. This in invaluable data. I need to document this.”
“Charles, put that away. Stop. Charles.” Other patrons glanced in our direction. When he didn’t stop, I clamped my hand over his. “Charles, just put that down, okay? Stop being an academic, just for a second.”
Charles stared at me. “This is what they mean by ‘lovesick,’ isn’t it?”
“Is that how you feel? Then I suppose so.”
“I can recall every detail,” he said, “of the very first time I laid eyes on her: her red mittens, the snow on the collar of her jacket, her clumpy, poorly applied mascara. I can even remember the perfume she was wearing. It was a quantum moment.”
“You’re in love with Megan. You’ve fallen in love with her.”
“I have. We both deduced that after the first night we spent together.”
“And is she in love with you?”
“She told me she was. She told me she loved me.”
“Then that’s wonderful.”
“Then why didn’t she say yes?”
“Well. These things take time.”
Charles sat back in his chair. “The subtleties of human courtship,” he said, “can be so confusing.” He rummaged out a ring box from his jacket pocket and opened it. “I wondered if it was too small or too big. It was an impulse purchase.” He mopped his brow with a trembling hand. “Do you think it’s big enough?”
Before I could answer, Charles fumbled and dropped the box. He knelt, picked it up off the floor and held it out. The diamond was enormous. I stared at it in shock.
“Yes. Yes, definitely.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Passing our table, our waitress stopped in her tracks, open-mouthed. The pool players also stared in our direction. All around us, conversation had ground to a halt. “Oh my god,” the waitress said, clutching her tray. “Oh. My. God.”
“Wait,” I began.
One pool player raised his pint. “Awesome.”
The rest of the bar patrons around us followed suit. On the big screen TV, and on all the monitors over the bar, fans in their stands rose cheering to their feet. The bartender just shook his head and continued stacking glasses. Strangers came up to congratulate us. Drinks were on the house the rest of the night.
In April, Pat and Blonde Dawn invited David and me to the Lunacy Cabaret, a monthly fundraiser thrown by Zero Gravity Circus out in the downtown east-end close to Little India. Bobby Lam played in the house band and was able to get us free tickets. The event was vulgar, bawdy, and brilliant. There was clowning and sketch comedy, juggling, song-and-dance routines, and a belly-dance-hulahoop-spinning act that was nothing short of astonishing. A tiny, muscular Asian guy performed aerial silks right over our heads. Even the obviously under-rehearsed numbers were entertaining. Many of the drunken audience members were dressed up in costumes themselves. Drink tickets were cheap and the raucous house was packed.
After the show, the audience cleared the metal folding chairs, and a dance party ensued. The cabaret took place in the main training space, with mirrors and circus paraphernalia adorning the walls. David and Pat vanished backstage with Bobby, leaving me on the crowded dance floor with Blonde Dawn. Soon we were both pogoing exuberantly hand-in-hand. I asked her about her tattoos and she explained them to me. Each one had its own story. She pulled off her blouse (she was wearing a black sports bra underneath) to show me the ones on her torso. Then Pat shouted across the room and tossed her a top hat (I had no idea where he got it), which she caught and put on at a jaunty angle without missing a beat.
A crash resounded across the room. Some unshaven guy in a tutu had stumbled into one of the heavy wall mirrors. There was broken glass everywhere and blood streaming down his forearm. Blonde Dawn and I pushed through the crowd, helped him up and sat him in a chair. A drag queen in a flamenco dress called 911. One of the bartenders found a towel and we elevated his arm and put pressure on the wound. Tutu Guy kept declaring his love for Blonde Dawn, eliciting laughter from his friends. To her credit, she remained professional, efficient and calm. Someone found a first aid kit, and she dressed his wound. When the paramedics finally arrived and escorted Tutu Guy away, he blew her kisses and people cheered.
Long after midnight, the four of us strolled down the block arm in arm, and stopped for a slice at Pizza Pizza. A skinny teenager with bad acne served us, and we settled ourselves into a booth just inside the entrance. “Hey, Dan,” Blonde Dawn said, “you were good tonight.”
“You were great. I was just your sous-chef.”
“You both were amazing,” Pat effused. “And you were the bomb.”
“You two were like superheroes,” David said. “You saved that guy’s life.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“It was a little risky,” Blonde Dawn said. “We’d been drinking, there was a lot of blood, and we went in without gloves.”
“What are you guys saying? You did the right thing!”
Blonde Dawn studied me soberly. “Would you do it again, Dan?”
“Yeah,” I said, “of course, I would.”
Pat crammed the last of his pizza into his mouth. “Well, shit, man, there you go. You both deserve medals.”
“We did make a good team, didn’t we?”
“You betcha.”
Blonde Dawn and I high-fived each other. Someone rapped on the front window. It was Marcus Wittenbrink Jr. surrounded by an entourage of revellers. He waved and touched the brim of his top hat. When Pat waved back, Marcus conferred briefly with his companions and entered the restaurant. Tonight, he was wearing a burgundy velvet frock coat and sporting a silver-headed cane. He’d waxed his moustache into Salvador Dali-inspired points that would’ve looked ridiculous on anyone else. On Marcus, they just looked incredibly sexy. He doffed his hat and bowed with a flourish. “Madam, I believe I have something that belongs to you.” Dramatically, he produced a single glinting, golden hair. “This,” he declared, holding it up, “is yours, is it not?”
Blonde Dawn wiped her mouth on a napkin. “That was your hat I was wearing.”
“Guys, this is Marcus the Marvellous,” Pat announced. “Marcus the Marvellous, this is Blonde Dawn and my brother Dan. You’ve met David.”
“You,” I asked, “were at the Cabaret tonight?”
“I was. How did you enjoy the show?”
“It was good. Here, I’ll take that.” I leaned across the table and snatched back the hair.
Pat glanced back and forth between us. “You two know each other?”
Marcus struck a tragic pose. “Once, Daniel and I, we were lovers.”
“No shit.” Pat’s jaw dropped. “Shut the front door! You and my brother?”
“Alas, he broke up with me on Valentine’s Day.”
“Seriously.” Pat regarded me accusingly. “Dude.”
I cleared my throat. “How’s Fang and that other boyfriend of yours?”
“Fang, Joseph and I are no longer together,” Marcus replied. “I am a free agent, as they say. David here tells me you two are living together now?”
“That’s right.”
He squeezed David’s shoulder and whispered in his ear: “Is he treating you well?”
“No complaints here,” David said.
“Well, congratulations then.” Marcus straightened and adjusted his cravat. “And congratulations on saving a man’s life tonight. Blonde Dawn, your actions were extraordinary.”
Blonde Dawn bowed her head. “Why, thank you, sir.”
Pat beamed. “She’s a paramedic.”
Marcus’ face lit up. “Then that is serendipity. You were heroic, madam, both you and our Daniel. This world of ours needs more heroes. I’m glad you enjoyed the show. David, if you and your friends change your mind, you know where to find us. Goodnight, gentlemen.” He put his hat back on and left.
“Marcus the Marvellous?” David said.
“He’s in character tonight,” Pat said.
“He’s a character alright,” I muttered.
“Is that guy for real?”
“Dan, you broke up with him on Valentine’s Day?”
I sighed. “Pat, fuck off. Blonde Dawn, yes, he’s for real. Here.” I handed her the strand of hair.
Blonde Dawn made a face. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“It’s yours.”
“It’s a hair.”
“Well it’s your hair. I didn’t want him to have it.”
“Just in case,” Pat said, wiggling his fingers. He flared his eyes and twirled an imaginary moustache.
“Pat, like I said, fuck off.”
“Captain Heartbreaker, sir.” Pat saluted. “Fucking off, sir!”
“Pat, what part of ‘fuck off’ don’t you understand?”
“Boys,” Blonde Dawn said, “stand down. Or I’ll have to put you down, both of you.”
Pat barked like a dog and licked her cheek. When she turned around and smacked him, he grabbed her face and kissed her. David and I watched them making out for half a minute before we got up and went outside to share a smoke. By then, their hands were up beneath each other’s shirts. Behind the counter, the pizza guy held out his phone and took their picture.
“That was hot,” David said.
“That’s my brother.”
“I know. I’ve kissed your brother. He’s a good kisser.” He lit a cigarette.
“Don’t get weird on me please. There’s already been enough weirdness tonight.”
“So, Marcus is single again.”
I crushed a pop can under my heel, and kicked it across the street. “David, you even just saying that is weird. And why didn’t you tell me Marcus was there tonight?”
“I just bumped into him backstage. Pat actually was the one who introduced me.”
“How the fuck does he know Pat?”
“I dunno. I think they might’ve just met? It happens. Look, Marcus and I talked for maybe two minutes. Then you got busy doing your good Samaritan thing. I was going to mention it.”
“Well, why didn’t he come up and say hi to me?”
“Daniel, I think you’ve been pretty clear with him about wanting some space.”
“Then why do I sometimes think the guy’s stalking me?”
“Fuck, whoa, Daniel, that is so paranoid. The guy’s friends with half the circus crowd. He lives just a few blocks from here. We’re the ones on his turf. And for the record, he did just come up and say hi. I thought he was pretty decent about it. I’m not sure what more you want from him.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
David leaned against a lamppost. “I am right.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“You want to fuck him, don’t you?”
“What?” I exclaimed. “Who? Marcus?”
“Yeah, Marcus.”
“I never said that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“David, don’t even go there.” I paced up and down the sidewalk.
“Okay. I’m just saying.”
“Saying what?”
“That you want to fuck him.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s pretty obvious.”
“What?”
“You’re not denying it, are you?”
“David, he’s my ex. It’s over.”
“Yeah, it’s over. But it’s pretty obvious you’re like still carrying a torch for this guy. Look, don’t worry. I’m not jealous. Would you rather I was jealous? If you feel threatened by him because you think I feel threatened by him, then don’t. But I will tell you something.”
“What?”
“Earlier tonight, he invited all of us back to his place. He told me to tell you Marwa would be there. Who’s Marwa?”
“Some girl. What’d you say?”
“I said we had plans, but we’d take a rain check.”
“Why’d you say that?”
“I said that, Daniel, because we haven’t hung out with Pat and Blonde Dawn in like months. I want to spend some quality time together, just the four of us. Because family comes first. Is that okay?”
I nodded.
“Are you okay?”
“Sure.”
David took one last drag and flicked the butt out into the street. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah.”
Blonde Dawn and Pat came out of the restaurant. Pat lit a cigarette, and draped himself over our shoulders. “Ready to rock ‘n’ roll, boyzengurls?”
“That pizza guy in there took your picture,” I said.
“No he didn’t.”
“Yeah, he did.”
“No he didn’t.”
“Yeah,” I insisted. “He did.”
“No, Dan. See, here’s where you’re wrong. Pizza Guy was video-recording us.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “Oh. Then, hey, that’s okay then. You really don’t mind having your make-out session plastered all over YouTube tomorrow morning?”
Pat looked at Blonde Dawn. “Is that okay?”
Blonde Dawn plucked the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Let the little cheese-faced fucker jack off all he wants to us.” Her hair was all messed up, and she adjusted one bra strap. “I really don’t mind.”
“Alrighty then.” Pat kissed David and me both on the cheeks. “We’ve got a bottle of mezcal at home with our names on it. You gentlemen get the cab, we’ve got the rest covered.”
David hailed a cab and we all went back to Pat and Blonde Dawn’s place where we stayed up half the night. The three of them smoked up, and we danced for a bit. Then we arm-wrestled and I beat everyone (although Liam could always beat me). Then Pat pulled out his karaoke machine and we all sang The Barenaked Ladies’ greatest hits at the top of our lungs (except for The Old Apartment, which I insisted on singing solo). After that, David and I crashed in their guest room (which was really my old bedroom). I woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee and bacon, and David passed out on the floor next to me. When I shuffled out of the bedroom, Pat was in his underwear, wearing a pink, fur-trimmed bathrobe, draining grease into a mason jar. Blonde Dawn was in the washroom blow-drying her hair. There was buttered toast, Danishes, scrambled eggs and orange juice on the table. I had a killer hangover. But in the end, it had all been worth it. After all, like David said, family comes first.