Tales from the Bottom of My Sole

by David Kingston Yeh

  “Marwa, you don’t seem like the kind of girl who’d ever wait for some prince to come.”

  “Oh.” Marwa laughed. “I’m not, not anymore. Fuck that shit.” She butted out her cigarette. “Marcus would say to me: ‘Dee, you’re royalty, you’re magnificent. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.’ He helped me turn my life around. I owe him my life. There came this moment when I really didn’t love myself anymore, you know? When I lost sight of everything that was good and beautiful. I’d hide behind this badass goth persona, but really I was dying inside, every day. Marcus saved me. I don’t expect you to understand. You have a loving family. I never had that. My parents were divorced alcoholics, I had no one.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “You asked me once if Marcus was my best friend. I said no, because he’s more than that to me. He’s my family. We’ve been each other’s family.”

  “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “For a while, Daniel, I hated you. You really hurt him when you broke up. I know people break up all the time. I know that. But you walked out on him on Valentine’s Day. Marcus is sensitive. He still loves you. I remember offering to throw a brick through your window or something. But he made me swear to forgive you. It’s important to Marcus he stays friends with all his lovers. You’re his family too. He’d never say that, but it’s the truth. Please don’t tell him I’ve told you all this. I mean it. But Marcus, he’s trying really hard.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure what shocked me more: Marcus’s feelings toward me, or Marwa’s protectiveness of him. Maybe if Marcus had shown some hurt, some upset of any kind, I would’ve stayed to work it through. But it was his aloofness I couldn’t stand. I wanted to speak in my own defense, but there was no recrimination in Marwa’s tone.

  “You know those guys,” Marwa said, “who’d call me a mutt, and woof at me in high school?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, Marcus and I, we got our revenge. The Maleficent formed this plan. These assholes were all on the football team, see. So just before this big game, we filled their equipment bags up with dog shit. I mean, a lot of dog shit. We’d spent days collecting it. It was spectacular. They figured out who it was, of course, and a week later came after us. But Marcus was ready. He’d cashed in a savings bond and gotten his hands on photos of a couple of them at a college party. Someone had taken pics of them sucking off frat boys. That’s what you had to do, apparently, if you wanted to get in with some fraternities: something horrible like getting down on your knees and putting anther boy’s cock in your mouth. These assholes were still seniors in high school, but I guess if you’re that ambitious. Straight guys will do some really strange things to feel connected with each other. After that, well. They left me and Marcus alone. No one ever called me Marwa the Mutt again.”

  By this point, the party was in full swing. There were people on the rooftop calling down to us. I spotted Pat’s green hair. “Hey Dan!” he shouted. “C’mon up here, we’re doing body shots!”

  “Your brother’s cute,” Marwa said.

  I started to say: “He’s an idiot,” but caught myself. Pat was an idiot, but he’d always accepted and loved me no matter what. I observed the green saplings growing along the edge of the parking lot. “He’s a popular guy.”

  “If you want to head back to the party,” Marwa said, lighting another cigarette, “I’m okay out here on my own.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t have to be all chivalrous and keep me company.”

  I sat in silence while Marwa enjoyed her second smoke. Blocks away, a police siren wailed. After a moment, I asked: “So, what happened to those guys?”

  “The ones from the football team? I have no idea. I haven’t thought about them in ages.”

  The siren grew louder. Abruptly, we saw the flashing lights of the cruiser speeding past. Seconds later it dimmed and vanished back into the darkness of the city.

  “In Toronto,” I said, “I bumped into an old bully once, from Sudbury. I hadn’t seen him in years. He’d changed, a lot. He was a lot happier, a lot nicer. He actually apologized to me. I wasn’t expecting that. It really affected me. I dunno. I was glad for him.”

  “You were glad for him?”

  “Back then, everyone knew his dad was a real hardass. His parents put him through hell. He described to me how, his whole life, it was like he had this gigantic bear trap clamped around his chest. Then one day, he’d had enough, and he just pried it off. It took all his strength, but he did it. It was really scary and painful, and there was a lot of blood. For a while, he didn’t know if he could survive it. But soon after that, he said, everything got better. That weight off his chest changed everything. He could finally breathe for the first time in his life.”

  “When people are feeling trapped, they cope in all sorts of ways.”

  “Sure.”

  “Most people live their whole lives wearing their bear traps. They get used to it.”

  “Oh? What’s your bear trap?”

  Marwa held up her cigarette. “These. Devil sticks, that’s what Marcus calls them. I smoke like a fiend, I know. But I’m not sure how I’d live without them.”

  “Here.” I got up. “Give that to me.” I took her cigarette and butted it out.

  After that, we went back upstairs arm in arm. Three Dog Run was between sets, and the band was throwing back flaming sambuca shots with Marcus’s tech crew. I found David and Gee in Marcus’s bedroom sitting side by side, bent over a laptop in Gee’s lap. I poked my head in the door. “Hey guys.”

  “Daniel,” David called out. “Come here. You have to take a look at this.”

  The room was familiar and dark, lit only by a single spotlight on a disco ball in the corner. Feist played on a tiny CD player. I sat next to Gee and peered at the glowing screen. They were looking at photographs, fantastical images of bizarre, half-human figures: a mermaid stranded on a stony beach, a snake in a floral garden, a winged maiden clutching a broken bottle in a neon-lit alleyway.

  “You’d think these were photoshopped,” David said, “but they’re not. It’s all body paint and prosthetics.”

  I looked at Gee. “This is your work?”

  He nodded. “It’s how I met Marcus. He asked me to be his makeup artist for Philophobia.”

  I studied an image of a young black man with horns and goat’s legs, golden eyes red-rimmed, his torso covered in bruises, hands tied, bent over the tailgate of a pickup truck in a field.

  “I can see,” I said, “why Marcus would want to work with you.”

  “I asked Gee if we could model for him,” David said.

  “Really?” I said. All of the figures in the photos were at least partially nude.

  “I’d be happy to do it,” Gee said quietly.

  “You said you wanted to do something more compositional,” David said, sipping from his wine glass, “involving multiple figures in tableau.”

  “I did. But I’m not making any money off these. I can’t pay anyone.”

  “Are you kidding?” David leaned into him. “People should be paying you.”

  Gee’s face was precise and narrow, with large, thoughtful eyes. “I’ve done a few commissions. I get a lot of calls around Halloween.” This close, I noticed a small scar bisecting his left eyebrow, and on the upper cleft of his lip.

  “Too bad you won’t be around this fall,” David said.

  “Oh, I’m not going on tour with Marcus,” Gee said. “I can’t afford to take the time off work.”

  “What do you do?” I asked.

  “You mean what’s my real job? I work at Loblaws. I’m a produce manager. It pays the rent. I’m the person they hire to squeeze the cantaloupes.”

  “Well. Like you said, it pays the rent.”

  “Did you know,” Gee said, “the old scientific name for banana was Musa sapientum, which meant ‘fruit of the wise men’?”

  “Did you know,” I said, “the word for a
vocado comes from the Aztec word for ‘testicle’?”

  Gee regarded me sidelong like I was some serious sideshow freak. “Awesome.”

  “Superheroes,” David said.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Then you can do us up like superheroes,” David said, “for Halloween. We’ll pay you. Whaddya say?”

  “I don’t do superheroes.”

  “You don’t do superheroes?”

  “I’ve been asked to paint people like superheroes,” Gee said. “But I prefer to do my own creations. I’ll body-paint you both for Halloween, but I get to do whatever I want. That way, you don’t have to pay me. Can I show you something?” He searched through his files and opened a photo album titled, “Marcus ROM.”

  An antlered figure in a leafy thong stood alone centre stage. Beneath a narrow spotlight, the contours of his torso and limbs stood out in sharp relief.

  I stared at the image. “That’s me.”

  “It is.”

  “Holy shit.” David squinted. “That’s you?”

  “I was an animistic spirit.”

  “I thought you were a forest god.”

  “That’s my mask you’re wearing,” Gee said. “I handmade all the masks for that show.”

  “Did we meet?”

  “No. That December I was in Turkey visiting my family.”

  Gee scrolled through the rest of the production shots.

  “These,” David said, “are from that fundraiser for the Royal Ontario Museum, isn’t that right? That multimedia show Marcus was commissioned to create.”

  “That’s right.” I recognized a few of the photos from Marcus’s own website. “Gee, you don’t work in theatre professionally?”

  “I’d like to. Right now, mainly, it’s still just my hobby.”

  “I remember your masks. They were all auctioned off later that evening. They were really popular. They raised a lot of money. You’re really talented.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I know someone who’s a professional makeup artist,” David said. “I could introduce you.”

  “Sure, that’d be cool.”

  “Whoa.” David pointed. “Daniel, are you showing your bare ass there?”

  A wide shot captured twelve actors on stage. Gee centred and enlarged the image of me, slowly zooming in on my naked butt. “Gee!” I shoved him.

  “Clench those cheeks,” David said, laughing.

  Marcus and I had only been dating three months when he convinced me to be in his show. “Just hit your marks and strike a pose,” he said, “that’s all you have to do. You’ll be wearing a mask, no one will even recognize you.”

  Before then, I’d never done theatre in my life. What on earth had I been thinking? I couldn’t possibly have been in my right mind. But of course, I knew where my mind was back then. It was no mystery what had overcome me: I’d been drunk on Marcus.

  Gee paused on a close-up image of me crouched on a boulder reaching for the stars. The Feist CD came to an end. The disco ball glimmered.

  “That,” David said, “is spectacular.”

  Gee nodded. “The lighting designer did a good job.”

  “That’s my boyfriend.”

  “Technically,” Gee said, “Daniel was Marcus’s boyfriend when these were taken.”

  David and I exchanged glances. Gee looked up at us both. His Adam’s apple rose and fell. “Sorry.”

  David squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Look, can you send these to us, the ones with Daniel in them?”

  “Um, legally, I’m not supposed to distribute these. But, well, sure. Just the pictures of you, right?”

  His face was earnest, his long fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Yeah,” I said. “Just the pictures of me. Thanks for letting me wear your mask.”

  “You look really good in it.”

  “Daniel,” David said, “I’d let you fuck me wearing that mask.”

  “David,” I said, “we already fuck.”

  “True. But I’ve never been fucked by a forest god before.”

  For the next minute, Gee hunched over his laptop assembling select photos into one folder. David stroked my cheek with his knuckles and put his thumb in my mouth. After that, he rested his hand on the back of Gee’s neck and emptied his wine glass.

  I pressed my nose against Gee’s head. His hair smelled clean, like ginger mint. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I hope we’re not getting you into any trouble.”

  “I don’t mind,” Gee said, “getting into trouble.” I caught a glimpse of his computer’s wallpaper, a mosaic of a naked youth being carried skyward in the talons of a gigantic eagle. He closed his laptop lid.

  “I’m glad,” David said. “Daniel, what do you think? Do you mind getting into trouble?”

  “No, I don’t mind,” I said. I’d lost track of the amount of times I’d had sex in Marcus’s bed. I wondered if he still kept his lube, condoms and toys in a box in the bottom drawer of the nightstand to the left. The first time I’d ever had a threesome was with Marcus and Fang in this bedroom, up against the dresser, next to the Alex Colville print of a shirtless man and a gun. We’d left stains on the wall.

  I traced the edge of Gee’s ear with my lips, and then with the tip of my tongue. Hesitantly, his hand moved to rest on top of mine.

  “Is this okay?” David asked.

  Gee nodded. After a moment, he turned his head and kissed David, open-mouthed. The bedroom door was wide open, anyone could walk into the room.

  I straightened. “We should go,” I said. “David, let’s go.”

  David’s eyebrows rose.

  I took Gee’s laptop and set it aside. He made no motion to conceal the unmistakable erection inside his pants.

  “And you,” I said, “are coming home with us.”

  When I woke up the next morning, Gee was already gone. My fingertips and the tangled sheets smelled musky. The faintest hint of ginger and mint lingered on the pillow case. I also detected the familiar odour of dried semen. The tacky residue of lube remained on my hands and between my legs.

  “I saw him out,” David mumbled against the back of my neck. “He left twenty minutes ago.”

  I was surprised. Usually I wasn’t such a sound sleeper. “Was he okay?” I asked.

  “He was fine.” David draped an arm across my chest. “He just has to work today. I told him he could shower here, but he needed to go home.”

  After last night, I’d asked Gee to stay, and the three of us had fallen asleep together.

  “Are you okay?” David asked.

  “Me? Yeah.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure.”

  Hairy Houdini jumped up onto the bed, padded across our legs, and climbed onto my chest. Meow, meowr. She head-butted me in the face. Mreowr. Translation: Feed me, amuse me, serve me. I reached out and rubbed her belly. Parker was visiting family in Brampton, and we were watching Houdini for a week.

  “Do you think,” I asked, “he had a good time?”

  My phone on the nightstand buzzed. It was a text from Gee: Thanks for last night, I had a good time. You’re really nice guys. I’m glad we met. Let me know if you ever want to hang out. XO Gee.

  I showed David the text. “‘Nice guys,’” David said. “That’s us. Do you think we’re ‘nice guys’?”

  I rolled onto my side to face him. Houdini meowed and jumped away. “I think so.”

  “‘Nice guys.’” David smiled sleepily. “I can live with that.”

  I remembered last night watching David and Gee kissing in bed as I stroked Gee’s chest and the taut muscles of his stomach. Gee’s body was lean and hard, silky to the touch. I massaged the inside of his thighs, the warm mound of his perineum. When I pulled back his foreskin, the head of his penis glistened with precum.

  Earlier that night, during our cab ride home, Gee had directed the driver along a shorter route. Before we left the party, he’d ins
isted on saying goodbye to at least a dozen people. While David and I waited for him, Marwa and Marcus met us at the door.

  “I heard you boys were leaving,” Marcus said. Down the hall, Three Dog Run was back on stage and people were dancing and having a good time.

  “Can you tell Pat we said goodbye?”

  “Of course.” Marcus held out the Verve Clicquot cork. He’d cut a deep slit in it and inserted a loonie. “This is for you.”

  “Thanks.” I gave him a hug. “Best wishes with your tour. Break a leg.”

  “Good luck in your last year of medical school.”

  “Gee mentioned,” Marwa said, “you might model for him this fall?”

  “Hopefully,” David said.

  “You must send pictures,” Marcus said.

  Gee arrived carrying a battered briefcase and backpack. Marwa clasped his arm. “Gee, sweetie, if you ever need someone a little more curvy than these two boys, I’d be happy to have you body-paint me again.” She twirled and struck a pose.

  “I’d love to,” Gee said.

  “It looks like I’m going to be missing all the fun,” Marcus said.

  “Marwa,” Gee said, “dinner was fabulous, as usual. Thanks for hosting, both of you. Marcus, you’ll call if you need anything?”

  Marcus nodded.

  Gee gestured toward David and me. “Um. We’re sharing a cab.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Marcus said.

  “Be good, boys,” Marwa said.

  Then I figured they both knew David and I were taking Gee home with us. I searched Marcus’s face as he wrapped his arms around Gee and hugged him from behind. “This one’s special.” He winked at me. “Take good care of him.”

  “We will,” David said.

  We rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence. Gee wasn’t Marcus’s boyfriend. David and I could sleep with anyone we wanted. In my jacket pocket, I clenched the cork Marcus had given me, feeling the hard edges of the golden coin bite into my palm. The sex columnist Sasha Von Bon Bon had been among the guests tonight, as well as the Cree painter Kent Monkman. (Rumour had it he and Marcus had dated a number of months earlier this year.) If Marcus surrounded himself with his beloved, chosen family, it was also an incestuous one. In addition to Fang and Jonathan, I’d also spotted Joseph the dancer. He’d seemed cozy with Marcus, sitting in his lap for much of the evening, laughing a little too loudly, looking gaunt, his makeup not quite concealing the dark circles under his eyes. The last time I saw Joseph, he’d been performing in drag as the nurse in Marcus’s burlesque number. I wouldn’t have been surprised if those two were lovers again.