Blank Space

by Francis Gideon

  "Do you want anything for lunch?" Silas asked, peering over Curtis's cubicle again. "My treat?"

  Curtis crossed out the presentation date on his calendar and spotted the new date for the hardcore show at the end of the month. He glanced up to Silas and shook his head.

  "No, I have a few things to do here. Thanks, though."

  "No problem! Don't work too hard."

  With Silas finally gone, Curtis marked in the concert date and went back to his Facebook messages.

  Sure, he wrote to Adrian. A hotel. Sounds good.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "I have the perfect playlist for us," Adrian said as soon as he spotted Curtis. He bounced up from his seat at the cafe and pretty much lunged toward Curtis. He wrapped him in a hug, clapping him on the back. Curtis thought they both lingered a little long, but he couldn't feel sorry about it.

  "Do you now?"

  Curtis slid in booth where Adrian's coffee and a second cup—for Curtis most likely—remained. There was also a Tim Horton's bag, most likely filled with a ham and cheese sandwich (Adrian's long-time staple in college) and a box of Timbits. Perfect road food, already stored away. Curtis glanced down at his phone and gawked at how late he was. It was already half-past eleven, when he should have really been there at quarter to ten. Adrian seemed excited, though, energetic as ever as he took out the mix CD and slid it across their table.

  "Uh-huh. Check it out."

  "How did you ever find blank CDs? I thought they'd gone the way of VHS tapes."

  "I'm pretty sure I could find those too, if I was really looking."

  Curtis lifted an eyebrow as he stole a Timbit, while Adrian just shrugged. "Simone's mom probably has some. She has all our old VHS tapes too. Her house is an entire mausoleum filled with nostalgia. No wonder Kayla loves it there."

  Curtis snickered. Adrian had insisted they meet at the Tim Horton's around the corner from his townhouse, rather than at one another's places, since Adrian's was still strewn with boxes. He had made no mention of where they were moving to yet, but Curtis knew firsthand how much longer it seemed to take to load and organize boxes. Closing a real estate deal ate up hours, too, but since that was Simone's business and Adrian could read legal documents in his sleep, it probably wasn't stressing Adrian out.

  "Can I steal another?" Curtis asked, motioning towards the Timbits.

  Adrian's gaze was wide, open and insistent. "Of course! I got them for us. Want me to get you a sandwich too?"

  "No, it's okay. I should get my own."

  Adrian held up a hand and insisted, yet again, that he would rather treat Curtis. "Especially since I made you take your kids' seats from the back."

  Darcy had helped with that, so she could transfer them to her sister's car, and they could have a fun weekend together while Curtis was gone. Curtis was pretty sure he'd heard them talk about taking the kids to the beach, since it was getting to be T-shirt weather and that meant everyone in Toronto had to go to the beach to celebrate the end of winter. Curtis gave Adrian another smile of thanks, before he stole a powdered sugar donut. While Adrian was at the counter, Curtis took the thin CD case. Adrian had made a cover for the whole mix CD, too. Just a simple road image—a stock photo, most likely—with the text Ten Years Ago Highway on the front. When Curtis opened up the case, the mix was marked with a '15 in Sharpie to indicate the year. Just like all the other CDs in Adrian's car. Curtis hoped—and thought he saw—the giant CD booklet tucked into Adrian's backpack next to his spot in the booth.

  The track listing was written on the inside of the CD case. There were eighteen songs in total. As Curtis's eyes moved over each title, he heard a sample from each play in his mind.

  Curtis tapped his fingers against the plastic case. It was like a photo album, but not quite. Adrian had managed to grab all the songs—probably even more—that Curtis could think of which had brought them together. There was a song from the concert where they'd met (Fucked Up), one from the first show they had decided to attend together (Bouncing Souls), and another that had been playing during a night where they had spent most of the time lying on the trunk of their friend Dan's car, staring off into the sky and talking shit until morning (AFI). Then there was the song they had first made out to (Pansy Division) and a song from the album that had been playing the first time they had seen each other naked (Against Me!). Then there was right now, where some songs, like Radiohead's 'The Bends' or Pixies's 'Hey' had two meanings. These were the songs that pulled them together ten years ago, but also the ones that made them stay together right now. Curtis was relieved to see the Pixies on the album more than any other band. That was the group they always came back to.

  "So what do you think?" Adrian asked, setting down a sandwich for Curtis. "Did I do an okay job mixing up the tracks?"

  "Yes. Definitely."

  "It's hard. You know—I wanted to put on entire albums rather than just boil it down to one song."

  "I totally understand. But I see the albums you've put on here, and they work."

  As Curtis closed the CD case, he noticed that the back also had an image Adrian had taped on. This time, it was a different stock photo of a night-time sky. He couldn't tell what constellation it was, but Curtis hoped it was Capricorn.

  "Thank you again. This is all…so great. I can't wait to listen to it."

  "It's a long drive and it may be even longer if we get side-tracked by any of the spots I want to show you."

  "Oh?" Curtis said, unwrapping his sandwich. He found turkey club with a hint of Dijon mustard–this had been his staple food from when he was in class. He almost had to pause before biting in and remember where he really was.

  "Yeah. I was thinking of mostly taking you around Waterloo University and maybe a couple comic shops I haven't visited in such a long time. We should probably also check in at the hotel before we go to the venue. Is that okay?"

  Curtis still paused each time the word hotel was mentioned. Darcy kept talking about it carelessly, as if it was nothing at all. And really, Curtis had to remind himself that it really was nothing. Just two guys going to a show and having a nostalgia filled mini-vacation before going back to their normal lives.

  "The hotel first is fine. Everything else you have planned sounds good, too. Hey—should we eat in the car?" Curtis looked down at his phone, illuminating the time again. "Sorry I was so late. Lacey..."

  "Hey," Adrian said, batting his hand in the air. "It doesn't matter. You're here now, and we have time. Let's eat our lunch before we head out, okay?"

  "Sure." Curtis's eyes moved back to his sandwich.

  He and Adrian took a couple more bites in silence, before Adrian chuckled. "Besides, I always figured lateness just made me realize how much more I wanted something. I'm excited, Curtis. Thanks... Thanks for coming with me."

  "No problem."

  *~*~*

  Waterloo and Kitchener were the same city, more or less, according to Adrian. As they drove, he talked animatedly about the place's history, and how it used to be called New Berlin before the First World War. When the town council realized the connotations a place name like that could have, they split the city in two and give it new names.

  "It's funny, because my parents always lived in Kitchener, but I went to school in Waterloo. Each place was minutes from one other by car. But every time I went out, I had to cross this arbitrary boundary with a different area and postal code. It was funny, more than anything. And apt when I really think about it. I guess I've always been used to being in two places at once."

  "Neat," Curtis said, unsure of what else he really could say. "It's good to have you as my tour guide."

  "Just kick me if I'm boring you. Or turn up the music again. The history buff in me loves this kind of stuff, but it's not everyone else's thing."

  "No, I don't mind. Really."

  They pulled into the hotel a little later than they both anticipated. With the stop to get gas, and a few pit stops along the way, they were already running low on time. The sho
w started at about eight, but Adrian wanted to get there sooner.

  "To scope out the crowd, you know, and hopefully not feel like we're the oldest ones there."

  "We won't be."

  Adrian rolled his eyes. "You look pretty young. But I'm a geezer."

  "Shut up," Curtis said. He nudged him slightly, but kept his eyes on the road. Curtis was only two years younger than Adrian, but the height difference between them—four inches, give or take—always made Curtis feel as if he was younger. Adrian used to tease him about it when they were in school, but not so much recently. I guess it really is like we're going back in time.

  Each time they finished, Adrian pressed play again and listened to it all the way through (with occasional stops at his favourite songs, of course). He didn't ask Curtis, but Curtis really didn't mind. It was a good mix, allowing him to live vicariously until they finally pulled into the hotel's lot.

  "What do you think: drop stuff off, then dinner in the restaurant below?"

  Curtis nodded. "Sounds good."

  With their bags in their room, and another quick pit stop, Adrian led the way again to the restaurant downstairs. Adrian was pretty much spearheading this endeavour, but Curtis was definitely okay with that. These were Adrian's roots, where he came from, and where he still felt like he belonged in some way. From their seat by the window of the restaurant, Adrian kept pointing out places where he had been and who he had been with when he was there.

  "That place—just down that small side street—is where I used to dye my hair."

  "You had dyed hair?" Curtis asked, gawking over his spaghetti. "How did I never know this?"

  "Because I tried to grow out of it by the time I decided to be a lawyer. But in high school, I figured it would be easier to have blue hair."

  "Why?"

  "Kids were going to beat me up anyway. May as well have some fun."

  Curtis nodded along, adding a few of his own stories, but he didn't encourage too many walks down high school's memory lane. It was never a good time for anyone. Curtis wasn't beaten up in the same way Adrian had been, but he had been pretty much invisible. It was how he had gotten away with what little fooling around with guys he had done back then.

  "Now here," Adrian motioned, pulling up a particular park on his phone when he couldn't find it on the street. "Here is where I first kissed a guy. Man. I haven't thought about that in such a long time. You know how your mind gets wired to where you live? Like your route home, where your bed is in your house, so you can just move through it with your eyes closed?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "That's what being here is like for me. I haven't come back in so long...and now everything's just rushing to the surface. Sorry if I'm talking too much right now. I kind of can't help it."

  "It's fine—really. I'm enjoying the stories." Curtis noticed Adrian's hands shake slightly as he cut his steak up. He worried his lip for a moment, before asking, "Do you think you'd ever move back?"

  "Hmm?"

  "To Waterloo. Or Kitchener. Do you think you'd ever come back? Especially now with Simone..."

  Adrian took a deep breath, considering this, but soon shook his head. "No. I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Well. As much as I like the place, as much as I remember it, I would be stuck, you know? This place may be where I discovered all these odd things about myself. It may be the beginning of something, but it's not where I actually explored them. I was so, so young when I was here in my undergrad. I barely did anything. Toronto... that's where all the good things happened. That's where I finally got to explore stuff."

  Curtis nodded. He had been in undergrad when he and Adrian had met. He had started his degree a few years later than most kids, since he had taken time off to work in so he could afford school in the first place. He would never go back to his hometown where his mother still lived. He couldn't help feel behind Adrian in some way. For so long, Curtis had looked at their experience fooling around together as synonymous. They had both been discovering parts about themselves and having fun while doing it. But Adrian had now revealed this whole secret history as the kid with blue hair who used to read comics alone and not do anything on Saturday nights. He had discovered himself in Waterloo and Kitchener, but bloomed in Toronto. When had Curtis done all that? His time with Adrian had been stilted, he realized. Adrian had done what he wanted—but Curtis had constantly said no to experiences he was afraid of, when he really meant yes. Curtis realized with a sudden, heavy feeling in his stomach that he had been the one to blow Adrian off, just before Adrian had offered to take him to this city. He had blown Adrian off because he had been too scared to meet this person—the talkative, reminiscing Adrian in front of him now.

  And loved, Curtis corrected himself. I thought I loved him then, but no, I love him now.

  "You ready to go?" Adrian asked.

  Curtis glanced down at his meal. He hadn't touched most of his pasta in the past few minutes. His stomach tensed, and he knew he didn't want to try and finish it all before the show.

  "Sure," Curtis said. "Just let me wrap this up and I'll be good to go back."

  Chapter Sixteen

  This was what Curtis loved about music. This was what he had been waiting for. As soon as the doors opened on The Hive, he could feel the heavy sway of the crowd pulling him forward. People pushed and swayed against strangers as they headed towards the front. Adrian was by Curtis's side, close at hand, but they couldn't talk anymore. No more ceaseless chatter about memories or nostalgia. No more waxing poetic. Those emotions always happened after something was done. In a moment at a show, you didn't think anymore. You just became part of the bodies that were next to you—sometimes complete strangers, sometimes people you knew for years who often acted like strangers—it didn't matter. You were next to someone; you were a heartbeat like their heartbeat. You knew one another, as close as you could know anyone else, because you liked the same music and at this point in time, you were in the same place. Even if the band came on, and you knew none of the words. There were a million ways you could spend your Saturday night, and instead of doing any of them, you were here. They were here. That was all that mattered.

  The first band came on and Curtis's ears rang. Everything was so loud, he could feel the vibrations through the stage and floor. The crowd shifted, moving from one side of the room to the next like a huge, crashing wave. The opening band said something about how happy they were to be here. Curtis couldn't really make anything out over the screech of feedback and the roar of a guitar. But people cheered. He saw their logo—a fist with two thumbs—and their name Sandwich Fist underneath. Then the music really began. A sudden kick to his thigh threw him forward. Curtis laughed—laughed louder than he thought possible—before he crashed into the person in front of him, a guy with short black hair, indistinct. Before anything could be said again, he was pushed back towards the mob. This was a mosh pit now, and he was inside of it.

  Curtis forgot who he was. He forgot the bullshit with Adrian, the way they were dancing around one another, and how it made him twist up in knots again and again and again. He was just a body, and so he just moved. There was just sound, just guitar, just songs, and he was part of it. He sang along, yelled along, and he forgot everything.

  When the opening band finished, Adrian tugged on Curtis's hand.

  "You okay?" he mouthed. Curtis could barely hear the words.

  "Yeah," Curtis said. "Fucking fantastic."

  Adrian grinned. Sweat pooled on forehead and collected in his black hair. He ran his fingers through his mane, then the sweat coiffed his hair together in makeshift spikes. He looked ridiculous, but it made Curtis's stomach pang with familiarity. Adrian was no longer wearing a jean jacket or the sunglasses he had been wearing in the car, just a black shirt—not even a band T-shirt—which clung to his body in all the right ways. He glanced at Curtis, in his old Audioslave shirt with the holes in the armpit. Curtis could feel the holes getting bigger, his shirt becoming more threadbare as all
these people slammed into him. The distinct pungent odour of sweat and pot filtered above the crowd. The tuning of instruments sounded in his ear and made them ring. Dead time between bands was always the worst. People became agitated and disgruntled.

  Adrian moved closer to him. He didn't say anything, but his lingering presence was clear. And Curtis started to think too much again. He heard wolf whistles around him as a woman stepped on stage in leopard tights with a short skirt, gathering some of the cords and tuning a guitar. Soon. Thank God the band's going to come on soon.

  "I didn't know there was a woman in the band," Adrian said. "Or maybe I just forgot."

  Curtis snickered. Of course Adrian would forget there was a woman in the band. Outside of queercore, it was hard to be a woman in these environments. The wolf whistles were the tamest—but still annoying—forms of harassment. Curtis noticed how Adrian paid no attention to her whatsoever, but instead watched as a guy came on stage to help her set up the guitars. Adrian's eyes focused on the band guy's face, then down to his body, and lingered over his ass as he bent down to restring some amp wires. Curtis felt a pang of jealousy move through him and fade away. He nudged Adrian, but didn't get a chance to say anything before the rest of the band finally took centre stage.

  "We are The Brutal Youth and welcome to The Hive. I hope you enjoy our first song 'Stay Honest.'"

  The pushing and pulling started again, and Curtis felt free. Thrashing around in a pit, especially when he was younger, was always a front. A way to exorcise the demons from his body, demons he hadn't even realized had been there half the time. It's that blank space; the ma that Silas talked about. The hollow centre between two points. There was always a space between the Curtis that everyone knew and the Curtis he really was; between his old life and new life; between one path and the other—there was always going to be a space that had to be filled with something for the emptiness to not take over. Usually, Curtis filled it with music. With movement. With a sea of bodies he could disappeared into and feel okay for a while.