An hour later, Parker found me helping Marwa packing away cutlery, dirty plates and wine glasses. While a few guests had left, even more had arrived and the party was in full swing. Furniture had been pushed back and a dozen people were dancing. Others were clustered doing lines of coke. People stumbled in and out of the bathroom in twos and threes. Parker found me to say good-bye. He was going to accompany Michelle DuBarry home. “Daniel, thank you,” he said. “Thank you thank you thank you. You are the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“You think this might make it into your memoirs?”
Parker rolled his eyes, laughing, and wagged a finger at me. “No. 39, you are a good man.”
“Happy New Year, Parker,” I said, and gave him a hug.
I hadn’t seen Charles and Megan in some time. I eventually found them making out in the bedroom on the pile of coats. “We’re leaving, Daniel,” Charles said.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“No, I mean we’re leaving.”
“We’ve been trying to leave for twenty minutes,” Megan said, fixing her hair and buttoning her blouse. She wiped the lipstick from Charles’ mouth. “It’s an urgent matter. Can’t wait. Tell Marwa thanks for us, okay?”
“Marwa?” I recognized the sweaty look on both their faces. “Okay, be safe. You want me to call you a cab?”
“We already have.” Charles grabbed my face and kissed me. “I love you, man.” Megan did the same. “Oh, and say bye to Marcus, will you. Bye!”
I found Marcus on the rooftop, with a large number of the remaining guests, setting off fireworks. Roman candles and bottle rockets whistled and burst overhead. Gold crackling crosettes illuminated everyone’s upturned face. A hand slipped into mine. “Thanks,” Marwa said, “for all your help tonight. You’re really sweet.”
“You’re welcome.” Showers of sparks fountained across the sky. Our breath formed frosty clouds. Someone handed out sparklers. “Charles and Megan just left,” I said. “They told me to tell you thanks.”
“Charles and Megan? Was that the big guy with the funny haircut and that girl with the red lipstick?”
“That’s them.”
“Oh, they were such a cute couple. Is he her sub?”
“What?”
“Is Charles her sub?”
“I don’t even known what that means.”
“They’re in a dom/sub relationship, aren’t they?”
“Oh, um. I don’t think so.”
“Really? I’m surprised.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Oh, just something about their energies. I can read people’s energies, you know. If they’re not, they should be.” Marwa squeezed my hand. “They’ll figure it out. How do you know Charles and Megan?”
“Charles and I used to date. Megan’s my best friend’s best friend. Well, second best friend.”
“And where’s your best friend?”
“Karen? Not here. She’s with my brother Liam. They’ve been an item since high school. Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Interesting.”
Now people were lighting sparklers and flinging them off the rooftop. “This keeps up, someone’s going to call the cops.”
“Lighten up, Daniel. It’s New Year’s. No one’s going to call the cops. You want to smoke a joint?”
“I can’t. It makes me sick.”
“Coke? E? K? Shrooms?”
“What are you, a dealer?”
Marwa smiled up at me and nodded. “Mm-hm.”
“Oh. Um, no thanks. Marcus doesn’t do drugs.”
“I wasn’t asking if Marcus wanted drugs. I was asking if you did. It’s on the house, anything you want. He has me cater all his parties. You can trust me.”
“I trust you.”
“How about a beer, can I get you one of those?”
“Okay.”
I followed Marwa back downstairs, careful to grip the railing. The fire escape was slick with ice. “He does, you know,” she said over her shoulder.
“What?”
“Marcus. He does do drugs. Or he used to. He went through rehab a couple years ago.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Don’t tell him I told you.”
Back inside, someone had lit candles, lots of them. Pillows were strewn across the floor and people were making out. Boys with girls. Girls with girls. Boys with boys. DJ Fang had taken his shirt off, the sweat glistening on his torso under the hot theatre lights. Most of the remaining guests dancing were also topless.
“And he’s okay with all of this?”
“You’re a funny guy,” Marwa said. She handed me a cold beer from a silver tub filled with half-melted ice. She wiped her hand on my chest. Swaying her hips, she untied her blouse and pulled it off over her head. Her bra was frosty white. A crystal jewel nestled in her navel. She placed a pink pill on her tongue. “Here.” She held up another pill. “Stay with me.” An image of a red BMW pulling away flashed through my mind. I opened my mouth and let her place it between my teeth. She took a sip from my beer and handed it back. I also took a sip and swallowed. “There you go. Now that wasn’t complicated at all, was it? Happy New Year, Daniel the Doorman.”
“Happy New Year. Marwa the Meatball Queen.”
“I like that,” she murmured. “I really like that.”
“I made that up myself.”
“You’re funny. I can see why he likes you.”
“Who?”
“Marcus. He really likes you. I’ve met all his boyfriends. We go back years, Marcus and me.”
“You’re from Burlington?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. Everyone in Toronto is from somewhere. Burlington hosts Canada’s largest ribfest, did you know? Actually, there’s Millcroft, South Burlington and Lakeshore. Marcus and I grew up in Millcroft. Us Millcrofters along with Orchard kids are sheltered cunts and assholes shat out by rich people, although we’ll take on any pussy from Oakville.”
“Okay.”
“Am I boring you? You want an Egyptian meatball? I am the Meatball Queen, I’ll have you know.”
“No. No thanks, and no, you’re not boring me. I was just. I was just thinking. Marcus, he never talks about his exes.”
“Who does? Who wants to hear that?”
“What were they like?”
“Marcus’ boyfriends?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, not like you. You know he dated his semiotics professor once?”
“You mean that old guy who was here?”
“Mm-hm. Oh, now that’s going to get me in trouble. Don’t tell Marcus I told you. Although, the truth is ...”
“What?”
“This is really going to get me in trouble.”
“What?”
Marwa leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, the last time I looked, four, no, five of his exes were here, I think? That’s not counting Professor Dumbledore.”
“What, tonight? Here?”
“Marcus stays friends with all of his old boyfriends.”
“Okay. He never mentioned this. Which ones were they? Are any of them still here? What is it?”
Marwa was biting her lower lip, staring up at me with her big Sally Bowles eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. That’s why I cook and bake. When I cook and bake, I don’t get into trouble. I should stick to cooking and baking.”
“You’re not in trouble.”
“You’re not one of those jealous types, are you? Marcus can’t stand jealous types. A lot of his boyfriends couldn’t handle the attention he gets.”
“I have no problem with the attention he gets, Marwa.”
“I am in trouble.”
“No, you’re not in trouble. I’m good. Really. Honestly. Here, cheers.” I grabbed an open bottle of whiskey on the counter. “Happy New Year.” I took a swig.
“Slow down there, Daniel. That pill I gave you is pretty strong.”
; “I’m happy, okay?”
“Okay. I can see that.” She took the bottle from my hand and set it aside. “You’re sweet.”
“So are you.”
“You want to dance?”
“Definitely.”
I was still dancing when Marcus found me an hour later. “I see you’ve been consorting with Marwa.” He nuzzled my neck. Then I took his face between my sweaty hands and kissed him. He smelled so good, like Egyptian meatballs, patchouli and sulphur. I couldn’t stop smelling him. Amanda had taken over DJ duties from Fang. “I’m sorry,” Marcus said, “I haven’t been more attentive.”
“That’s okay.” I couldn’t stop dancing while I was smelling him. “This is an amazing party.”
“Thank you.” He was the only person on the crowded dance floor with his shirt still on. “You’re one of a kind, Daniel Garneau.”
“People loved that spoken word piece you did. They loved it. They just loved it. I loved it. It was great.”
“Thank you.”
“It was amazing. Marwa tells me you used to date Fang.”
“I did.”
“He’s really cute.”
“He is.”
“You should introduce us.”
Marcus glanced at Fang across the room. He regarded me sidelong. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure.”
“Alright.” Marcus rested a hand on my shoulder. “Walk with me.”
He led me over to Fang who was sucking on a slice of lime while mixing himself a drink. “Hey Fang, you’ve met my boyfriend, Daniel.”
“Yeah, man, we met earlier. Happy New Year, Danthe-Man.”
“Daniel thinks you’re cute.”
“Alright. Tell him I think he’s pretty rockin’ too.”
“Fang think’s your cute too.”
“Well, tell him I think he’s fucking hot.”
“My boyfriend here thinks you’re fucking hot.”
Fang smiled and held out a wedge of lime, bopping to the music. When I bit into it, the juices ran down my chin and his hairy wrist. He ate the rest of the slice and threw the peel into the sink. “Tell him,” he said, licking his fingers, “he should take off his pants.”
“Fang wants you to take off your pants.”
I realized to my amazement I was the only person left in the loft, apart from Marcus, who was still wearing pants. I unbuckled my belt and pulled off my pants. Marcus folded it for me and set it on top of the microwave.
“Tell him,” I said. “Tell him I’ve never danced in my underwear before. Wow.”
“Daniel wants you to know he’s never danced in his underwear before. Wow.”
Fang laughed, showing dimples like Karen’s. When he exchanged glances with Marcus, I looked down and discovered to my horror I had an enormous, unmistakable erection. My embarrassment ended when Marcus knelt in front of me, pulled down my underwear and took me into his mouth. The three of us were behind the kitchen island separating us from the rest of the loft. But it was still pretty obvious what was going on to anyone who might look our way. Fang leaned in and started kissing me. He wasn’t gentle. He kept biting my lips. I held him by the back of his head and pressed his mouth hard against mine. After a minute, I realized Marcus was alternating between Fang and me. This was a whole lot better than the Three Amigas. If anyone on the dance floor noticed, they just kept dancing. When Marcus took both of us into his mouth, I felt dizzy and for a second felt like I was going to pass out.
“Daniel, you okay?” It was Marwa, leaning on the opposite side of the island. She had her bra off and I noticed both her nipples were pierced with studs that matched the jewel in her navel.
“Yeah,” I gasped. “I’m okay.”
“You want some water?”
“No,” I grimaced.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Marwa,” Fang said, “fuck off.”
Marwa gave Fang the finger, smiled benignly and strolled away. At least she was still wearing her panties.
“Holy shit,” I said, my eyes rolling back. After another minute, Marcus stood and gestured with his head. He walked away towards the bedroom without a backward glance. Fang and I both pulled off of our underwear and followed. I couldn’t help but think Parker Kapoor had missed out. Marwa was making out now with Amanda the DJ. The whole room was turning, in fact, into one Bacchanalian orgy. I wondered if this was what the Toronto Star meant by “quintessentially Canadian.”
I didn’t think so.
Two days later, I called Parker and had him come over to my apartment. When he arrived, I told him, in bits and pieces, everything that had happened. “OMG, Daniel,” said Parker, “there is no such thing as TMI, JFYI. Here.” He handed me a steaming bowl of Mr. Noodles. I was huddled on my couch wrapped in a blanket. “You look awful.” Parker stared at me. “How do you feel?”
I closed my eyes. “Like shit.” I concentrated on picking up the spoon. “Like I’ve been run over by a posse of dykes-on-bikes and tarred and feathered from the insideout.”
“Oooh, throw in a marching band and there’s a Marcus show in there somewhere.”
“He’s already done the tar-and-feather thing.”
“Has he?” Parker folded his hands on his knees. “Why am I not surprised? Eat your noodles.”
I sipped on the broth. I had no appetite whatsoever. Karen had left a message saying she’d be staying an extra few days in Sudbury. There’d been no word or sign of Pat. I’d called Parker because I couldn’t stand being alone in the apartment anymore. “I think I overdid it.”
Parker pursed his lips. He could’ve said a lot of things in that moment, but what he did say was simply: “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, Daniel.”
I hadn’t slept at all the night of New Year’s Eve. Come morning, the small group of us remaining took two cabs across town to an after-hours called Comfort Zone where we continued to party into the next day. The Zone was a claustrophobic cave, barely illuminated and packed with sweaty bodies from all walks of life: ginos with their bleached-blonde girlfriends, glowstick-twirling club kids, middle-aged men in suits. By evening, I finally made the decision to go home. The venue hadn’t thinned out at all, but I was done. At the Zone, I’d lost my shirt and left wearing only my winter jacket. Back home, I fell asleep huddled in the shower. I woke up, dried off and crawled naked into bed. Marwa texted to see if I’d gotten home okay, and I let her know I was going to sleep. I woke up the next day feeling as though the inside of my mouth and head had been carved out like a watermelon and filled with sawdust. That was when I called Parker.
“Thanks for coming over, Parker.”
“Well, I had planned to go shopping today.” He pulled his chair closer. “All the good sales happen after the New Year, you know. Every year I stroll along Bloor Street in my Burberry scarf with a venti Caramel Brûlé Latte and a Danish, and feel just like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
“And here you are.”
“Daniel Garneau, listen to me.” He rested his hands on mine. “There is no place in this world I’d rather be. I’m glad you called.”
“Thanks.”
“Besides, shopping alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You should come out again, Daniel. We had a fun time together.”
“Maybe.”
“Is it okay,” he asked, “if I make myself a tea? Do you want one?” I shook my head. “Finish up. You’ll feel better after you eat.” I did feel better after I ate. A lot better. But I was also starting to worry about Pat. A text came through on my phone. Parker handed me a steaming mug of Earl Grey. “Who was that?”
“It’s my brother Pat.”
“He’s alive.”
“He’s in Montreal.”
“I thought he was on the Toronto Islands.”
“He was. Now he’s in Montreal.”
“Is he okay?”
I nodded and tossed my phone aside. I lay back down again. “How was your night, Parker? You left with that drag queen.”<
br />
“I had the most wonderful time. I saw Michelle DuBarry back home. A lady of her quality should not travel unaccompanied. Daniel, she is the most extraordinary human being I have ever met in my entire life. We have a luncheon-date coming up.”
“You sound like a groupie.”
“She is a living legend, Daniel. She’s Toronto’s oldest drag queen. She was born in 1931. At the rate she’s going, she’ll probably live to be a hundred.”
“I’ll be happy if I get through to next week.”
“Well, Miss DuBarry told me her motto’s always been: ‘If you’re going through hell, just keep going.’”
“I have a T-shirt that says that.”
“Very apropos. Has your boyfriend called?”
“No.”
“Isn’t that a little odd?”
“Well, I haven’t called Marcus either, have I?”
“Is everything okay between the two of you?”
“As far as I can tell. He was acting kind of funny at Comfort Zone. I think he fell off the wagon.”
“What do you mean?”
“He kept going to the washroom with Fang. Then he was acting all sketchy, like he owned the place. I dunno. When I told him I wanted to leave, all he asked was whether or not I had cab money.”
“You should call him, Daniel.”
“I don’t want to.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m embarrassed. I did a shitload of drugs. I had sex in front of a dozen people I barely know. This isn’t the first time, right? What if someone took a picture? What if this gets all over Facebook? Parker, I’m planning to be a doctor. What if five or ten years from now some photo turns up on the Internet? My career is ruined. I’m fucked, this is so fucked!” I whipped a pillow across the room. Parker flinched. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This isn’t me. This is so not me. I’m not into open relationships. I really, really don’t like this. I’m scared.”
“Look, Daniel, it’s going to be okay. These things happen. You’ll feel better about it tomorrow. And then next week you’ll feel a whole lot better about it.”
“You think?”
“I promise.”
I massaged my temples with the heels of my hands. “Okay. Okay.” I sighed. “Alright.”
“Alright?”
“Alright.”
A Boy at the Edge of the World Page 11