by Cyle James
“What do you want to do? If you want to leave we still can. Just because we reached out to Tsitusem doesn’t mean we need to go through with it. We can still leave this place and never look back. Or, did you want to go and meet the guy and see this through? I’m with you either way, I just need to know once and for all” he asked plainly as he watched her in the mirror. As far as he knew he meant it. Even if he didn’t want to leave he would for her.
Violet contemplated for a moment as she watched the water gently lap against the shore.
Perhaps it was years of experience with her husband that put them on the same wavelength or perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t want to feel like a failure for the rest of her life if she didn’t go through with it all. But regardless of the reason, she was having trouble with even picturing herself anywhere but on Bowen Island.
“Drive. We have a meeting to attend,” she choked out as she slumped lower in her seat to hide from her husband’s judging eyes.
Riley nodded as put the car into gear.
#
The Tylers arrived at the Artisan Pie Company at least half an hour before they were scheduled to meet their new connection. The streets were surprisingly bare for mid-day along the main street, which surprised them given that all of the hotels were supposedly filled up. As they waited they decided to pass the time in the car by making up back-stories for the passersby. It was a hobby that they had developed back when they were just dating. And frankly they could use the distraction.
“The guy in the black baseball cap and his daughter,” Riley pinpointed like a sergeant calling for the sniper to take the shot.
Violet cast her eyes over the portly man, thick bearded and clad in red flannel walking with his young blonde-haired daughter to the coffee shop on the corner.
“What makes you think that’s his daughter? What if that man is the fabled Lumberjack Psychopath? An unruly Canadian lost for decades in the wilderness. The only way that he’s kept himself sane, at least in his mind, is by kidnapping little girls to make stew out of,” Violet replied as a part of her turn.
“You’ve got many problems that need years of therapy”.
She laughed, “You love me for my problems”.
Riley just smiled as he tried to estimate the time in his head.
“If he isn’t in the restaurant already he will be soon. We should probably go inside and check it out,” he said as he opened his side door.
Violet hesitated for a moment.
Riley wasn’t sure whether she was still wanting to play the game or simply didn’t want to make the next move into the restaurant. But just before he was able to speak up she stepped out of the car with determination.
To anyone watching from afar, Violet seemed overly enthusiastic about the Pie Company’s food. She walked in with her head up high with long strides that conveyed a sense of feigned confidence.
Her husband could tell that she was poorly over-compensating for how uncomfortable she was with everything still. Oddly it was that which impressed him the most. He was impressed that she was so upset by what had happened the night before and yet she was trying to continue on in spite of it.
The Artisan Pie Company was a unique mix of both old and new world décor that seemed like a formally hip bar masking itself as a higher-end restaurant. The walls were plastered with liquored wood that was scuffed and faded. The windows were nicely stained glass which were then covered in actual stains that seemed to prevent sunlight from spilling in. The lamps that hung from the ceiling appeared to be made of brass and run on natural gases. In the center of the restaurant was a giant statue of a horse that seemed to be from a carnival carousel and through it a large metal rod that looked to be acting like a support beam for the roof. All of the tables and chairs were bright white and looked to have been stolen from a golf course’s bar patio, which completely clashed with the rest of the place’s style. There were a few large dark wooden tables about for eating, a jukebox in the corner by the sign for the bathrooms and a pool table that looked old enough to have existed before the bar ever did.
To the back of the restaurant was the fully stocked bar complete with stools and counter. It was the spot that seemed to be the most active. The working area was dimly lit, with a tangle of small Christmas lights strewn above the bar countertop and a few searchlights in the corners of the walls covered by thin yellow satin-line cloths that dulled the light and prevented it from blinding the customers. Strangely the management didn’t see the need for the customers to see their food or even let the workers see what they were doing.
The bartender was a portly native man in his 40’s and didn’t look the type to know the names of any of his customers. He certainly wasn’t the man to gripe to about the problems of your life over a tall can. There weren’t more than ten patrons in the bar, few of them doing more than slinking over their mugs of beer.
“Table for two?” asked a young girl no older than 18 at the front of the restaurant. She was pretty for her age, tall and lean but with the chubby cheeks she sported she was still clearly going through puberty. She was attired in a black and white uniform with the joint’s name emblazoned on the sides which made her look sort of like an advertisement on a telephone poll with posters plastered on it.
“Actually, we’ve got a reservation for three under the Tylers,” Violet spoke up.
It was just when the waitress began searching through a paper that she had on her lectern that Riley realized that they never did actually make the reservation.
“Sorry,” he started awkwardly, his hand suddenly in front of him without a place to go that didn’t feel entirely like the wrong choice, “We don’t have a reservation. We were supposed to and then never bothered to make it”.
Violet turned towards her husband and shot him an eyebrow.
The waitress tittered from behind her hand. She almost teasingly looked over her shoulder at the almost barren restaurant for a moment before directing her attention back to the duo.
“It’s fine. We’ve got room. Since nobody else has come in looking for a reservation that isn’t here, I’m assuming you’ll be awaiting another party?” inquired the girl.
“Yes, a young man,” he answered.
The girl grabbed two menus and led the couple into the eatery portion of the bar.
The waitress seated the couple near the back of the rather sparsely inhabited restaurant section. The only other person around them was a small Asian man eating a large bowl of soup on his lonesome.
“No wonder she had room for us,” Riley cracked as he opened up his menu.
Violet was already nose deep looking for what she wanted to order. Until they sat down she didn’t even realize that she was hungry. But once the idea of real food entered her mind, there was no turning back to granola and plastic wrapped sandwiches.
“Do you think he’s going to show on time?” Riley asked as he spotted the large Salvador Dali inspired clock pinned to the wall which gave their new friend approximately ten minutes to arrive.
“He’s travelling from Vancouver. If he’s late, it’s understandable. Besides, he’s doing us a favour, remember? Not the other way around,” she answered as she noted the few things to order that sounded good.
“I suppose. But he did seem pretty eager to discuss Sourmouth. I’m guessing that he wants to know what we know, so I hope that desire gets him here on time. I kind of want to get this stuff sorted as soon as possible”.
Violet’s mouth was practically watering at some of the descriptions of the food, Virginia Honey Ham with Mashed Sweet Potatoes, Smoked Turkey Breast with Oven Roasted Corn on the Cob, Canadian Bacon Sloppy Joes. Either she was starving or she was choosing to focus her mind on a happier topic.
“For a rat hole this place looks to have amazing food. How in the world is it not stacked with customers? What are you having to eat?” she asked, slightly raising her head from behind her menu.
It was the first time that Riley noticed how bloodshot his wife’s e
yes were. He wondered if his were the same. Either way he knew that she was exhausted and didn’t seem to want to dwell on the subject of Sourmouth if she could avoid it, even if only for ten minutes.
“I don’t know, hun; I haven’t really looked yet. Have you spotted anything worth getting?”
“Knowing you? Just get yourself some pie and don’t even bother with the human food. I assume that this place has to have some pretty good pie if it’s called the Pie Company”.
“You know me all too well,” he admitted as he flipped to the dessert section which seemed to be of equal length to the entrees.
“I was thinking. Tsitusem mentioned that this was his favourite place on the island, right? And he’s spent a lot of time here speaking to the locals to gather information. It would be logical that some of the regulars here might know him,” Violet thought aloud.
“You want to just start asking people whether or not they know him? What would that accomplish?”
“We don’t know anything about this man. It might be nice to know whether or not he’s a credible source of information,” she explained.
“He’s our only source of information”.
“That’s why this is so important. We are putting all of our sheep in this one basket and it might be a basket full of wolves”.
Riley leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his menu, “You’re finally losing it”.
Violet didn’t bother replying to her husband’s doubts as she rose from her seat. She stepped off towards the crowded bar on her own, leaving Riley to quietly scan the menu in embarrassment.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked as he wiped down a big glass with a dirty looking towel.
“I honestly don’t know what to get. I’m not from around these parts. Something Canadian?” Violet asked as she eyed the rows of alcohol behind the man.
The barman sucked the air in like he was running out of it, “Beer, spirits or wine?”
“What’s your suggestion?” she asked politely.
“...We don’t have wine,” he said deadpan.
At first Violet assumed he was making a joke after offering wine, but his straight-faced delivery made her think that he was either serious about it or would be a king at the poker table.
“Two beers will do,” she answered as he stepped away to grab them from a standing freezer.
Violet looked over across the bar and saw that her husband had gotten up and was now toying around with the music player, checking out the selection of records that sat in rows inside the glowing green glass.
The bartender returned to the counter and plopped down two brown beer bottles with red and white labels.
“$8.50,” he said in a way that almost sounded like he was annoyed to be making money.
Violet reached into her pants pocket and pulled out her wallet, fishing out a local ten dollar bill and motioning for him to keep the change.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked as she picked up both beers by their necks with one hand.
“’Pends on the question,” he answered as he leered at one of the other men sitting at the bar who was loudly sucking his beer through a straw.
“My husband and I are looking for a man,” she started.
“The men don’t typically go for that kinky shit ‘round these parts,” he interrupted as his eyes switched back towards her.
The man sucking his drink turned his attention to her as well, awkwardly eyeing her from her feet upwards before landing obnoxiously on her chest.
Violet’s head gave an involuntary twist as she turned away from the creepy staring, “What? No. I mean, we’re looking to speak to someone about local history. We were told that there was a man named Tsitusem that hangs around in here that might be able to help us out. I was wondering if you knew anything about him”.
“Local history...Tsitusem” the man said rhetorically as he leaned his head back to think, “I can’t say I know anything about those”.
“Nothing at all? You’ve never heard of that name? Or have any interesting stories to tell?” she asked surprised, knowing full well he was just trying to get rid of her.
“I just said I didn’t, didn’t I? Unless you’re buying another drink, I suggest you go back to your pervert husband,” he said irritated.
Without bothering to say goodbye she retreated with the drinks back towards her partner. Riley was still toying around with the jukebox when his wife approached with the beers.
“They have a pretty good selection of Billie Holiday here. I kinda want to smash the glass and take the records home with us,” he said grinning wildly as she handed him his drink.
“I’d like to not end up in jail, thank you. I’m sure that Canadian jails are much nicer than ones in Mexico, but I don’t want to be the one to find out,” she said before taking a sip of her beer.
Riley turned away from the machine to his wife, “You find out anything interesting?”
Violet shook her head in defeat.
“You didn’t find out anything? He doesn’t know the guy or wouldn’t tell you?” Riley asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered plainly without further explanation, her eyes widening as she drank.
Riley cleared his throat, “What did you and the barman talk about then?”
Violet shrugged, “Kinky shit?”
“Don’t even want to know...” he said with a laugh as he walked back towards their table.
It wasn’t a few minutes of looking through their menus in silence before they got who they were waiting for.
“Hello there,” said a voice from above that neither Tyler was properly prepared for.
Standing flanked by the waitress stood a young native man, slight in stature, well dressed in a dark blue two piece suit and a grey dress shirt. Attention couldn’t help but be drawn to the small brown folder in this hand as the shine on his silver watch nearby caught the eye like a strobe light. His face was completely shaven and slim to the cheeks which emphasized his already extremely high cheekbones. His hair was perfectly cropped to the last follicle, slicked back with incredibly expensive gel. Even only visually the Tylers could tell that Tsitusem was the metrosexual type who was very appearance-oriented and looked like he was prepared for a photo shoot rather than a casual lunch.
“I would guess that you’re ‘Tee-sit-uh-sem’?” Violet tried to sound out as she stood and shook the man’s hand.
He cleared his throat to try and suppress a chuckle, clearly amused by her attempt.
“You may call me Too-sem” he enunciated, “It is much easier to pronounce”.
The student took a seat opposite the couple and began to spread out his papers on the tabletop as if he was at his desk at home.
“I’m Riley, this is my wife Violet”.
“It is a pleasure to meet you both. I hope that Iam not late to our meeting”.
Violet grinned, “You’re right on time, which I imagine you are already well aware of with that dazzling watch of yours”.
Tusem nodded admittedly, “I was merely attempting small talk. People are incredibly impatient at the best of times. In my experience, even if youare early, if the other persons are earlier than you they are often silent in their resentment that you kept them waiting. I find that drawing attention to the fact that you are exactly there when expected negates what they perceive as their right to be upset”.
“You’ve put a lot of thought to that,” Riley said as he tried to read some of the papers that lay upside down in front of him.
“Mr. Tyler, I put a lot of thought into everything”.
The young waitress stepped up to their table, eyeing the collection of documents.
“Can I get you guys anything to eat or are you just here using our tables?” she asked with a well-mannered grin.
Violet couldn’t tell if that was the girl was actually trying to act passive-aggressive or if it was purely her attempt at humour.
“I’ll take a green tea, the spicy spaghetti and meatball
s with a side of Sour Cherry & Swiss Apple pie,” Tusem ordered without even needing to look at a menu; a fluency that comes from ordering the same thing time and time again.
Riley’s eyes bugged out wide as he was put on the spot, without any real idea of what he wanted.
“Do you need a suggestion?” asked the young student as he reordered a few of his papers on the table.
“It couldn’t hurt. I’m not sure if I want real hot food or if I just want to be a pig and eat only desserts,” he explained sheepishly.
Tusem nodded, “If it is desserts you want the Key Lime & Coconut and the Peanut Butter & Jam pies are sublime here, second only to the cherry & apple combo if I say so myself. The hot stuff is serviceable if you’re drunk, but you don’t call yourself the Pie Company for the burgers”.
“That’s what I said,” Violet mentioned as she closed her own menu.
Riley made a hand motion that was supposed to convey his acceptance of the order, but the waitress didn’t seem to understand the gesture.
“I’ll take what he said,” Riley clarified.
“And you, Miss?” the waitress asked Violet.
“I’ll take the Canadian Bacon Sloppy Joes. I might as well go as local as I can while I’m here”.
The young girl nodded with a smile and walked off towards the kitchen.
Tsitusem cleared his throat politely to draw attention, “Now that we have done what is needed to appease our appetites, might we work on appeasing my curiosity?”
“Where to begin?” Riley asked rhetorically as he leaned forward, pulling at one of the pages with his index finger.