On the laptop screen, she leaned back, arms wrapped around herself.
“Labour Day,” she said, “my aunt hosted this barbecue. It went really late and Bob needed to take the girls home, but I was having a good time, and wanted to stay. Liam said he’d drive me home, or we all figured I could just sleep over in my cousin’s bunk bed. I’ve done that lots of times.”
“Okay.”
“Liam, he’s in a really good place. He was smiling a lot, even laughing. Did you know he’s off his meds now? He hasn’t had a drink in almost a year. It was a really hot night, and we were hanging out on the dock. We decided we’d go for a swim in the pond. Then, I dunno.” Karen shook her head. “One thing just led to another.”
“So, what now?”
“Now, I don’t know who the father is.”
“Whoa.” I sat back. “Karen.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Shit.”
“I am so totally not ready for this.”
“Maybe you should talk to a counsellor.”
“I’ve talked with my aunt. Now I’m talking to you.”
“So, you’re not going to tell Bob or Liam?”
“What do you think?”
“I think, Karen, you should do whatever’s best for you.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“Karen, all I’m saying is, I’ll support you, whatever you decide, okay?”
“Daniel, you might be an uncle. Have you thought about that?”
I had thought about that. It was the very first thought that entered my mind. But I was also thinking there was no way Liam was ready to be a dad. He could barely take care of himself.
“That’s not,” I said, “what this is about.”
“I hate this. This is such a fucking soap opera.” Karen pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening. I mean, what was I thinking? I moved back to Manitoulin so my life would be simpler.”
“We’ll get through this.”
“I hate living with secrets.”
‘We all live with secrets, Karen.”
“Daniel, I can’t have this baby. I can’t. I’m going to make an appointment in Sudbury. I have to.”
“Are you sure?”
Karen nodded.
“I’ll come with you then.”
“Did I mention, Liam wants to get back together? He says he misses me.”
“And how do you feel about him?”
“I just want to move on with my life, y’know?”
“And how are you and Bob?”
“Bob and I are really good. He treats me amazing. He’s a fantastic cook. Sky helps him out in the kitchen. Zephyr and I have been going on walks with Gracie. We talk about boys and clothes and stuff. And Sky, well she just loves music and art. She drew me this picture of the four of us.” Karen shook her head. “And we all looked so happy. We are happy. Liam knows that. He knew that! Bob and I were doing great. Oh, shit, why am I even blaming Liam? I just wish he’d find someone else.”
“You and Liam have been together since high school.”
“Since grade school, Daniel. Since I gave him that baby deer skull. Do you remember that?”
“Up in our tree house.”
“Yeah. And it’s never worked, right? It’s never worked out between Liam and me. Sometimes I’d think things are so good between us. Then he just lets go, like something short circuits inside him, and I watch him falling away, like he’s sinking into this bottomless black lake. And I can’t follow him, and there’s nothing in the world I can do about it. Sometimes it’s just for a few days, but other times it’d be for months. I can’t deal with that anymore, I can’t. Remember when my dad died and Liam took off to Vancouver?”
“Yeah.”
“I tried to convince myself that was okay. But it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry that happened.”
“I’ve always been the one taking care of him. I’ve always been the one adjusting my life to fit his. I can’t do it anymore.”
“You said he’s different now.”
“Yeah, for now. But for how long? If Liam really has changed, then that’s wonderful. That’s fucking miraculous. And I’m happy for him. But I’ve moved on.”
“With Bob?”
“With me, Daniel. My life needs to be about me. Anne’s all grown up now. She’s finished her first year at OCAD. She’s doing great. This is my chance now to make a life of my own.”
“And you are, Karen.”
“But can I tell you something? And this is the crazy part. Sometimes when I look at Bob’s daughters, when I’m helping with their breakfast or giving them a lift to school, I wonder if I could be their mom. And I can see it, y’know? I can see myself doing it. I could be a stepmom. I’ve been sleeping over a lot. They’ve gotten used to me. Bob, he hasn’t asked me to move in yet, but I know he’s going to.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I dunno. I see his girls every day. Bob’s got them enrolled in my afterschool program.”
“How is work going for you?”
“Work? Amazing. I love it. The Ojibwe Cultural Foundation just got this big grant. They’ve asked me to curate the upcoming winter exhibit. They’ve put me in charge of the whole thing. You’d be proud of me.”
“I am proud of you, Karen. I’ve always been proud of you.”
“Even now?”
“Hey, this is me you’re talking to.”
“You’ll come with me, right?”
“Of course. I already said I would.”
“Please don’t tell David.”
“I won’t.”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“You’re in med school. You’re sworn to these kind of things.”
“Karen Fobister, I’m not your doctor. I’m your best friend. I love you. We’ll do this, we’ll get through this together.”
“You and me?”
“You and me.”
“Buddies in Bad Times Theatre is on the traditional lands of the Mississaugas of the New Credit First Nation, the Haudenosaunee, the Anishnaabe and the Wendat. We acknowledge them and any other Nations who care for the land as the past, present and future caretakers of this land, traditional territory named Tkaronto, ‘Where The Trees Meet The Water’; ‘The Gathering Place.’ We do not support colonial forces that undermine, distort or erase the vital role of Indigenous people in our world.”
David and I sat in the back row at the final performance of Marcus’s play. Its three-week run had been extended an extra three shows. It was the artistic director himself who spoke tonight, offering up the land acknowledgement, and thanks to various funders. When he reminded everyone of the closing night party afterwards, half the audience started whooping and hollering. As the house faded to black, David nudged me and pointed. Professor Frederic and his wife Rebecca were sitting just a few rows below us.
Thirty seconds later, five screens gently glowed, framing the back of an empty stage. A single piano note sounded. A close-up image of an embryo appeared on the centre screen. “A human face,” Marcus’s voice said, “becomes recognizable at eight weeks gestation.”
A hundred minutes later, the show was over. The audience surged to its feet. The lights came back on and Marcus reappeared to whistles and renewed applause. On this occasion, he summoned his director, and then his entire production team up on stage. They clasped hands, forming a rough line-up, and bowed in unison. When a stagehand presented him with a bouquet of roses, he looked genuinely surprised. This moment, I thought to myself, was forever, quintessentially Marcus. When he blew a kiss to someone in the first row, I felt a pang of jealously.
“That,” David shouted in my ear, “was incredible.”
Later, in the adjoining Cabaret space at the post-show party, I searched the crowd for Charles who’d said he and Megan would meet us. Instead, I spotted Marwa behind the bar filling up an ice bucket.
“
Daniel!” She waved me over. “Patricia, this is my friend Daniel, he’s in med school. Daniel, this is Patricia.” The bartender, an older, tough-looking blonde in a leather vest and black bracers nodded in my direction, methodically assembling a tray of shooters.
“Patricia used to be a welder,” Marwa said as I followed her to the food table. “Now she plays in a rock band called Crackpuppy. Is your musician brother still in that band of his?”
“Three Dog Run? Yeah, they just got back from Burning Man last month. But Pat, he’s kind of gone missing.”
“Missing?”
“Yeah, well, after Burning Man he emailed to say he was heading into the desert. And now no one’s heard from him.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Two weeks. His girlfriend’s pissed.”
“Are you worried?”
“Yeah, kinda. I mean, I’m used to it. It’s my brother Pat. But yeah, a bit. Look, we can talk about this later. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“You can help me carry in the cake.”
Someone tousled my hair. “Yo, Dan-the-Man,” Trevor Fang said striding past. Jonathan, following behind in a red dress and heels, smiled and waved.
Marwa had her assistants Youssef and Brody setting out platters and trays of foods, all three wearing pink and purple T-shirts featuring an exploding cherry logo.
“Normally I’d be sticking to baking these days,” Marwa said, as I followed her outside to the loading dock. “But Marcus really wanted me to cater my old menu. The Ta’meya is Youssef’s mom’s recipe. I also made my garlic yoghurt cucumber salad, which is one of his favourites. I know he loves that. I’m not charging him for the cake. That’s compliments of Cherry Bomb Bakery.” When she opened the back of her van, I stepped back in shock.
“Do you think,” she said, “I made it too big?”
“Well, I mean. Go big or go home, right?”
“Exactly.” The cake was in the shape of a gigantic yellow smiley face resting on a square sheet of plywood lined with tin foil. It had been one of the central images in Marcus’s play.
“Maybe,” I said, “we should get someone to help us?”
“We can do this. C’mon.”
Together, we slid the cake out of the van. For someone so small, Marwa was strong. “So, where’s your boyfriend?” she asked, as we manoeuvred our way back into the building.
“Um. I dunno. He went to the washroom earlier. Excuse us, coming through. So, did you make your Egyptian meatballs tonight?”
“Is the Pope Catholic? I am the Meatball Queen, I’ll have you know. In case you’ve forgotten.”
“No. Definitely haven’t.”
Finally, we reached the table where Youssef and Brody had cleared a spot for us.
“There,” Marwa said, “now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Thanks for your help.” Standing on her tiptoes, she planted a kiss by my ear. “Let me know if you need anything.”
By now the Cabaret space was filling up shoulder-to-shoulder. I couldn’t find David anywhere. Just as I was heading down to the washrooms, I spotted him coming up the stairwell with Rebecca and Frederic.
“Daniel.” Rebecca beamed, taking my hands in hers. She looked radiant in a black-and-white paisley dress with accents of silver jewellery. “It’s so good to see you again. David has been telling us all about his summer in Sicily. You must have missed him terribly.”
“Um.” I glanced at David. “Yeah, I did.”
Frederic clapped me on the shoulder. “You two boys are looking well.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“They’re young, Frederic,” Rebecca said. “Youth always looks well.”
“Very true, dear.”
“Although I admit,” she said, “I did especially enjoy their formal attire last Valentine’s Day.”
Frederic squeezed my arm. “Darling, you just preferred them without any undergarments on.”
“Did you know,” Rebecca said, “there were a number of Popes in the Vatican who considered nudity in artwork indecorous? They went so far as to have genitalia painted over and statuary covered with bronze fig leaves. Can you imagine that? Not women’s breasts, mind you. Those remained exposed.”
“In the Middle Ages,” David said, “the damned were portrayed naked, and only the saved were given clothes.”
“Did you know,” I said, clearing my throat, “the classical Greeks considered big penises unattractive? They were equated with being animalistic or decrepit or uncivilized.”
David and the others stared. Rebecca released my hands. “Well,” she said momentarily. “If that is the case, I suppose I must be married to quite the old and vulgar man-beast.”
“I suppose so,” Frederic said, eyebrows raised. The two regarded each other soberly, before bursting into laughter.
I spotted Charles coming in and excused myself. “Hey,” I called out, “nice haircut.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” Charles stood with his arms at his side, sporting a neatly trimmed goatee. “Megan discovered this new barber shop for me.”
I grabbed his arm and led him past the box office, back outside through the pink doors. I didn’t know why Frederic and Rebecca made me so nervous. David had said it was because they weren’t much older than what my own parents would be if they were still alive. We stood by the railing overlooking the Alexander Street Parkette.
“It’s called Blood and Bandages,” Charles said, “out in Little Portugal. I was a little uncertain about the taxi-dermy-themed decor. But they do an excellent job. My own head is somewhat square and thus challenging for most stylists. They also sell their own hair pastes and pomades.”
“Charles, I always thought you got your haircuts in Chinatown.”
“I did. This is new for me. Megan says it’s all part of a lifestyle makeover. I do feel more attractive now that I’ve started to pay more attention to my personal grooming. Except I’ve discovered my feet are extremely sensitive, and pedicures are not something I’m able to tolerate.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Mind you, this has led to some quite invigorating tickle torture sessions with Megan.”
“Really? Where is Megan?”
“Parking the car. How was the show?”
I leaned against the brick wall. The show had, in fact, given me a hard-on. The show had made me laugh so hard I cried. The show had made me want to rush on stage, fall to my knees and hold Marcus as he wept wailing. The show had made me want to shout from rooftops my love for this mad, mad, mad world. Marcus had found the right words and they were simple. I drew a breath, my hands in my pockets. “It was sold out. There was a standing ovation at the end.”
Charles nodded. “That was to be expected.”
“I’m guessing most of his friends are here tonight.”
“Did everyone participate in the sing-a-long?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Across the parkette, I could see Megan approaching in a tight-fitting, tasselled dress. “So, Charles, how are you and Megan doing?”
“Very well. Thank you for asking. Our recent misunderstanding over the Duchess has brought us much closer. There is some news I wanted to share with you.”
“Daniel!” Megan called out, stumbling in her red heels before scurrying up the ramp to the entrance. “Charles and I, we have an announcement. You’ll never guess.”
“You’ve set a wedding date?”
“What? No.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“Oh my god, no. Not at all. Why would you say that? No! In fact, we’re going to get a vasectomy. Charles saw his doctor, and we’ve set a date in a couple weeks.”
“Oh.” I was taken aback. “I thought ... I thought you wanted to raise a family together.”
“We do,” Charles said, “eventually. Just not now.”
“It’s a reversible vasectomy,” Megan said. “There’s no snippety-snip. They just go down there and put in these tiny little clamps. We’ll still use protection when we’re play
ing with others. You can’t be too careful about those nasty STIs. But Charles and I wanted to be more intimate. It’s not the same wearing condoms all the time.”
“I get it.”
“Do you and David still use condoms?”
“Uh, no. We stopped a while ago.”
“You’re lucky. Same-sex couples never have to worry about birth control. But are you still having sex with other people?”
“Who says we were ever having sex with other people?”
“Oh, I just don’t assume people in relationships ever are monogamous,” Megan said. “Not anymore. I mean, these days, really, monogamy, it’s like, oh, poopsie, how did you put it?”
“Anachronistic,” Charles said.
“That’s right. Agonistic. What he said. But if you and David really are exclusive, that’s wonderful too.” Megan gripped my arm. “I mean, if it works for you, all the more power to you.”
“I remember,” spoke a gravelly voice, “when we used to do Dungeons at Buddies years ago.” We all turned our heads. It was the bartender Patricia, perched on the railing finishing a smoke, wearing dark sunglasses. “The truth is, you kids are pretty tame these days.” She glanced over at us. “Now Wittenbrink, he’s a crazy shepherd of rebellion.” She took a final drag off her cigarette before butting it out. “It’s people like him who’re gonna change the fucking world.”
David stuck his head out the front door. “Hey, there you guys are. Marcus just showed up. He’s going to cut the cake. C’mon, you’re going to miss the toast.”
We followed David back inside. But when I held the door open for Patricia, she just shook her head. Her body language said it all: Been there, done that. I wondered what a woman like that might’ve seen or accomplished in her lifetime. To someone like her, we were all still just kids.
I hurried after the others, wondering just how much growing up I had left to do.
CHAPTER TEN
Superman is Dead
My brother Pat was missing.
None of his band members or any of his Facebook friends knew where he might be. Carolina Sanchez had parted ways with him in Roswell. Eventually, Blonde Dawn and I filed a report with state troopers in New Mexico but they didn’t seem too concerned. They told us kids like that go “missing” all the time, only to turn up a few days later in some Mexican bordello or broke, hitching a ride into Vegas. I was furious at their attitude, but Blonde Dawn kept the cooler head. “Look, Dan, what more do you expect them to do? Launch a manhunt into the Chihuahuan Desert? They said they’d put out an APB and keep us updated. He’s going to turn up. It’s Pat. He’s resourceful.”
Tales from the Bottom of My Sole Page 16