2005

It is lunchtime and here we are, both cars in Queen's Park, pulling up in front of the Queen Anne style Victorian doll's house. And it is lovely, the sky blue exterior with the white trim woodwork and fin de sicle curlicues all suggesting a festive summer sky. "You're new home, Glen", says Carl, forcing a smile, for all the stress we are under today. "It is beautiful", he replies with measured perfunctory indifference. Knowing far better than Glen, who has lived the most sheltered existence one could imagine, instead of lecturing him about how fortunate he is, given that many men of his age and lack of means are already sleeping under bridges and crowding homeless shelters, I dutifully hold my tongue. The house smells and looks freshly painted, and the small bits of furniture we found time to purchase do not do the place justice, leaving the rooms looking underfurnished, and all the walls white and starkly naked, but each bedroom imcluding the occasional rooms, seventeen in all, has a bed, and Melissa has had the forethought to bring enough bedding from the mansion to guarantee sweet dreams to everyone staying here tonight. She also took the time with her brother's help to empty the refrigerators, and soon we will be having lunch, our first meal in our, or should I say, in their new home, buffet style, natch, because we also are lacking a table and chairs.

2004

In my car we have besides the driver, me, Carl, Erik, and Glen. Behind us are following Melissa in her vehicle with Sheila, Michael her son, and Matthew. we have just bypassed the diner, and we are counting on a long drive given that traffic is already heavy. It is a preternaturally quiet drive, in this car, anyway. I have put on a classical cd, the Mozart Requiem and it appears to be to everyone's taste. Between Tron or Ethan last night, and the cops searching the house for bodies this morning, we are all, shall we say, lost for words. It is almost as though I am alone in the car, though still aware of this pressing burden of presence. We are past Abbotsford, and the Mission exit is now just behind us, but I don't reckon we are stopping till New Westminster, where I imagine the new house awaits at least some of the people in our two cars, all freshly painted and furnished like a big happy, if slightly creepy, Victorian era doll house...

2003

"But Kenny.. we were both there. Yesterday. Remember?" They seem to be taking their time finding their way to my car, which is okay. This cannot wait. "I was dreaming about that place last night. We were both there. And several friends of yours. But that was a dream" "You were also here with me last night, in a different mansion, and some of those few friends. Including Tron. But now this morning, you are not here, and no one remembers you, and Tron, who was Ethan, a random guy on his bike who spent last night here, but..." "Wait a minute...Tron? "Lives at the refuge, the big house you were in on that island, tall, dark hair, gold and green robes, fourth century christian martyr." "O my God Chris. We have to talk. Look, I can be in Vancouver today, I am staying with my friend Amaris at her parents' house in Richmond. We actually saw you guys in the Waves coffee shop on Broadway, or thought it was you, and we walked in, and you and I looked at each other, and we knew each other right away, but Amaris said it was too soon, so we left." "Come over to Dad's house this afternoon. Keep in touch in the meantime. I have to hang up now because I'm in the car and they're coming, I will be driving them back with me into town...I will call you as soon as we're there...

2002

The young cop appears to be introducing Carl to a short thin slightly bent elderly man. They are shaking hands. The real Cosme, I presume, and now Carl is bringing him over to me. "Christopher, I would like you to meet Cosme." The old man has thin greyish hair with whisps of faded auburn, an aquiline nose and a rugged, creased face that was once considered handsome. His dark eyes were likely once bright and fiery, but now seem dull and a little evasive. "How are you" is all he says in accented English, then, before I can reply, he returns to the young cop. "They are just about to bring out the dogs to search the house. No one here is under suspicision, so we are all clear to go." My phone is vibrating again. "I'm ready now, so if that's okay I can wait in my car." A text from Benjain Butterfield: "Chris, you clever sly dog you", another code expression of our friendship, "You blew my cover, Yes, it's your old friend Kenny, Kenny Liam McLauchlin, also known as Cassandra the old street tart, and Harriet, of course is always here with me. I am alive and well. I was fished out of the waters in a coma and cared for by loving strangers in a big house on one of the unknown Gulf islands. Long story, but they helped me connect with my mom here in Duncan, where I have lived under a new identity ever since. oh, we have so much catchng up to do."

2001

Breakfast is pretty basic this morning.  Toast, peanut butter, jam, cheese, cereal.  Erik and Carl are in the kitchen cleaning up while everyone else is getting their ducks together for the great evacuation today.  Here in the small reception room where no one can find me, next to the baby grand that Carol played so magnificently on till she broke down one morning weeping and sobbing.  Here in this comfy dark green velour chair facing the French doors, on my phone.  Facebook.  Benjamin Butterfield.  And here he is, no photo but just his big yellow B.  Texting:"in spades, baby.  In spades".  The French doors are open bringing in the cool sweet morning air and I suddenly am restless so I am back outside, on the small round porch, then down the four steps onto the grass, still glistening with the morning dew.  There are two cars pulling up in the driveway, and yes, the police have arrived...back in the kitchen, Carl announces, "Okay, we all have to step outside and identify ourselves to police".  As I file out with Eric and Melissa, my phone begins to vibrate.  Waiting for my turn to present to the young RCMP officer my personal i d, I pull out the phone and read the code words of my friendship with Kenny, "You really know how to set a girl's heart aflutter"...

2000

Carl alone is seated here with me, on the bench where the young Jesus just sat.  He smiles, as I seem to have just opened my eyes.  "I must have dozed off.  How long have you been here?" "Not very.  As I stepped out on the verandah I noticed Ethan leaving on his bike.  Didn't even say goodbye.  Not even a thankyou." "Some people." "What a piece of work." I am not going to mention anything.  Not that Jesus was just here, nor how they both disappeared together, and certainly not our brief naked encounter in the bathroom this morning.  I am not going to ask what really happened, because whatever did occur, and whatever I witnessed occurring are going to be similar but very different occurrences. "what really happened?" "What do you mean, what really happened" "You're not going to sit here and tell me that that guy really was a Roman soldier turned Christian martyr at the turn of the Fourth Century under Diocletian?" "Tron?" "Tron?  Where did you get that name?  Ethan." "You mean, we didn't meet him at the Refuge..." "Where?" "Kenny could confirm it, if you don't believe me." "Kenny?" "My old friend.  He lived with me and my father.  Years ago.  We read his journal. Remember? He is with us here, isn't he?" "In the spirit perhaps, but your friend Kenny has been dead the last twenty-five years..." "What?" "Chris", Carl has a very worried look on his face.  He moves to my bench and parks right next to me, his hand on my forearm..."Chris, it's okay..Come back to the house with me...we'll have breakfast...We have a long day ahead of us...". 

1999

Nobody is up yet, and through the enormous rambling mansion, my ears remain alert, because this silence is complete and actually louder to my ears than an outdoor rock concert.  I imagine Tron would be wanting me to guide him around, but he has taken the lead and obediently, like his devoted little shih tzu, I meekly follow.  As we descend the steps of the deserted verandah, I try to hurry to catch up with him, but remain lagging behind, as though I am forbidden to consider myself his equal.  And really, how could I possibly presume to be peer to a man, so entirely and enervatingly beautiful, who was born more than seventeen hundred years ago, if he is to be believed, a man who was crucified like our Lord, and now walks just ahead of me, immortal...  The tulips are still hanging on, but many have already dropped petals, and the irises, especially the golden and deep purples ones, are at their peak. "It is natural for you to be in love with me", he says, stopping so I can catch up to him. " I came into the bathroom while you were still in it, both of us naked, because this would help bond us together.  You are wondering how this could have happened, two homosexual men attracted to each other, without sex entering the picture." "Yes, I do actually, and I didn't know you are attracted to me." "After we die, that is to say. Christopher, Christ Bearer, after we die into life, eternal life, our sexual nature does not die with our bodies, but our sexuality is transformed, not as a vehicle for lust , but for divine service, for that was the original divine intention for us, and not, as many clerics mistakenly affirm for mere procreation of the species  And you, Christ Bearer, as one who knows himself to be asexual, are already ahead in your game...  I see not one, but two peacocks in the southern magnolia, which now is approaching full bloom of its huge cream coloured dinner plate flowers  A blue one on the left, a green one, such as the one I saw in the book and the vision with Tron at the Refuge, on the right.  They both appear quiet, stately and unaware of each other, though they appear to be regarding us intently.  On one of the three stone benches sits the young Jesus, his green eyes fixed lovingly upon us both.  We flank him on the opposing benches, for he is seated in the middle. "I see you have been in the loving care of my servant", he says, turning to me.  "Tron now must return to the Refuge.  He overstepped with you this morning, not with malice or selfish intent, but precipitously and now must return for a period of rest.  Even in eternity my servants must never be overtried, and for this reason, my friend, and my great love", and now his eyes are on Tron again, "I am returning you home.  You have served well and faithfully my servants here, but this morning you  began to speak of things to Christopher that he is still forbidden to know, and must wait some years before you can both return to the conversation." Jesus and Tron both rise up from their benches, he takes hold of both Tron's hands and kisses them on the palms and backs.  And now they are both gone.  They and the two peacocks...