Thirteen Crucifixions 37

Maria knew the weather would be cold in Canada.  Worse than England.  Richard had assured her that Vancouver had a climate much like southern England.  She wouldn’t freeze.  She did not want her child to grow up in Nicaragua, where life would always be dangerous.  She had always hated the Sandinistas.  Now she hated the Contras as well.  They were going to Canada, which was like England without the history, but according to Richard, much better food.  Maria woke up briefly to look at her sleeping lover’s naked arm hanging like death over the edge of the bed.  She turned away and began to weep.

            Randall’s nose was no longer bleeding.  He was surprised that he was so hungry  He swallowed down his cheese burger and fries.  Never had he been hit by a woman before, nor for that matter, by a man.  He owed Carol an apology.  Even if she refused to see him it was the very least he could do.

            Pierre and Glen walked together under the vaulted expanse of the Burrard Bridge.

            Dwight, Margery and Carol watched together the eleven o’clock news.  Then they were going to watch “Diva” on the VCR.  Carol dug her greasy hand into the popcorn that Margery had generously laced with butter.  So what if it made her fat.  She didn’t want to go home.

           

            How long have you guys known each other?”

            “I adopted him when we were teenagers.”

            “You’re like family?”

            “We’re all we have, both of us.  My mother lives in Montreal, my father’s been dead since I was three.  Stephen has no one.”

            Bryan was drunk.  Alcohol and religion together sustained him.  Tonight everything stood out with a stark clarity.  He was going to get his revenge on Rochelle, formerly known as Donny, with tits as fake as the night was dark.  Donny had been Bryan’s world, Bryan’s universe.  Never had he exacted, nor expected from him any kind of sexual payment for his friendship.  It all ended two years ago when one night he savagely beat up Bryan, then returned to the street, where he earned enough money to pay for his surgery.  Bryan, suddenly had a terrible headache.

            “I was born in Peru”, Pierre said.  My last name is Valdez.  My father was a mining engineer who my mother married when he was a student in McGill.  My mother’s from Quebec.  He died in an avalanche.  He’d taken her back to Peru with him.  I was three at the time. So, we returned to Canada and settled out here with Mom’s new man.  I was sixteen when they split up.  She had a job to go to in Ottawa.  I didn’t feel like leaving, so I stayed.”

            “She let you?” Glen said.

            “She didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

            As soon as Derek Merkeley got home he stuck a cassette in the VCR and sat down in his favourite arm chair.  The scene on his t. v. screen opened with a large breasted young woman, naked but for a black leather thong, thigh-high black leather boots with spike heels and a black executioner’s mask, whipping a rippling muscled body builder, fully nude and fully prone on a pink satin counterpane.  He unzipped his pants and reached for the baby oil.  He hadn’t turned any lights on. He was suddenly thinking of Glen.  

           

            Marlene was curled up asleep on the sofa.  Her gray cat was curled up on top of her, where she rested purring.  The TV cast shades of blue flickering light across the living room.

           

            Carol was on the TV publicly mocking Derek Merkeley and Alice was horrified.  She was going to file a complaint with the CRTC.  She wondered how he must be taking this.  Almost she phoned him.  They would soon be parting.  As a young woman Alice had never guessed that breaking up with someone would become this easy, nor that, even in her fifties she would still have anyone to break up with.  She felt tired, and almost ready for sleep

            “You don’t live in the West End?”

            “I’ve been in East Van over five years.”

            “Isn’t that a scummy area?  Excuse me, but, you see, I never leave the West End.”

            “I like Commercial Drive.”

            “It isn’t dangerous?” Pierre said.

            “Not by a long shot”, Glen said.  “Beautiful old houses and lots of big trees.”

            “And plenty of dogs to pee on them.”

            Margery was feeling tired.  And irritable.  All day she’d been around people.  Too much melodrama, too much heightened emotion.  Tomorrow she would have to face Peter, in order to get the rest of her belongings.  She felt a twinge of regret for letting Carol have her room, if only for one night.  She felt selfish, and guilty. Carol had just entered into this precious solitude that Margery shared with Dwight.  She liked Carol.  She loved her.  Suddenly she was thinking of Glen.

            “So, Marlene says you’ll be working at the Pitstop.”

            “I start training tomorrow.”

            “Glen, that would be super.”

            He felt touched, embarrassed, and deeply warmed by Pierre’s naked display of affection.   He wasn’t used to this and he struggled to lower his customary guard. 

            Doris finally got into bed.  She felt too excited to sleep.  She felt a longing, a yearning she could not name.  Perhaps it was grief over Sam?  She couldn’t begin to understand this process of bereavement—feeling simultaneously abandoned and liberated.  Had she loved her husband?  Foolish question.  No, but had she, had she really, truly, sincerely loved Sam Goldberg?  Long ago, yes.  And then?  A most difficult man to be married to, certainly.  But weren’t they all?  And no children, by his decree, no children.  Twice she had been pregnant.  The first ended in miscarriage.  Sam knew nothing about it, and she concealed from him her grief.  The second time, her doctor did it for her.  She still felt guilty.  She couldn’t stop thinking of Glen.

            This could go on all night and into tomorrow if Glen didn’t put a stop to it.  At some point he would have to say good night to Pierre and go home.  He wasn’t sure exactly how to do this.  He was thoroughly enjoying him.  But Glen was tired.  He had no plans for staying out late.  He was going to go over to Granville Street and get on the next bus.  Pierre asked, “Want to go to Burst Arteries with me?  Stephen’s there and I think he’d like to see you.”

            Stephen nursed his drink—a rum and coke.  The place was just starting to fill up.  He was bored.  He couldn’t even get interested in the gay pornographic action on the big screen behind him.  He was thinking of Glen.

            It had been years since Glen last stepped inside a gay bar.  He wasn’t sure about this one, nor what kind of plans Pierre might have for him.  He felt beguiled and intrigued.  He felt warning, as though the dead raven was speaking to him—“No.  Don’t.  Avoid.  Leave.  Go home.”  He knew what he ought to do and didn’t do it.  From the window of Denny’s Randall was trying to wave them in.

            Dwight hadn’t said anything to Margery about his seeing a psychiatrist.  No one knew.  Likewise the conditions and circumstances of his divorce.  He wasn’t intentionally secretive, but these were things that no one needed to know.  He put away the Scrabble board.  Carol had gone back to bed. Margery was just bedding down on the couch.  He was thinking of Glen.

            Randall seemed a little more composed than earlier in the evening.  They ordered coffee.  Sitting with him and Pierre both, he felt somehow disloyal to them, for he had consented to the claims they were each making on him.  Randall stared, intrigued, at Pierre’s hand as he squeezed cream into his coffee then slowly, methodically stirred.

            Maria lay awake, she had turned away from Jose who snored softly from his side of the bed.  Mariana was quiet.  She had not absorbed her father’s death.  Yet she knew, surely must know.  “Papa no nos vuelve”, she said to her daughter.  “You’re daddy isn’t coming back.”  Mariana simply stared at her mother with Richard’s big blue eyes.  “Por que te lloras, Mama?”  She said as she saw her mother weeping.  “Why are you crying, Mommy?”

            Randall said he was going with Glen and Pierre to Burst Arteries.  He didn’t care if it was gay.  People are people.

Marlene slept and dreamed that she was sitting in an ice cream parlour, eating an enormous hot fudge sundae.  On his rare visits, when they were children her father would take Glen and her for hot fudge sundaes.

            There didn’t seem much to talk about.  They paid their bill—Randall insisted on treating—and left the restaurant.  Even though it wasn’t cold, the air still had a bitter edge.

            Carol lay awake in the dark.  She always slept poorly in a strange bed, and could only see Richard’s body parts scattered across the mountains of Nicaragua.

            Glen could still back out.  He knew this.  He walked between Randall and Pierre.  He could still bolt off to Granville Street and wait there for the next bus.

            Bryan explained to the cashier that he was buying the tampons for his wife, who was in no shape for leaving the apartment.  She smiled knowingly as she handed him change for the cheaper Life-Brand tampons.

            Rochelle, with the enormous silicone breasts pulled up a stool next to Tanya. “Darling, you look dee-vine tonight, who’s cock have YOU been sucking?”

            Glen was almost poised to tell them both about the dead raven whose wing feather he carried in his nap-sack.

            Derek reached for another video.  He willed only to have Carol at the earliest convenience.  It was over between him and Alice.

            Suddenly, Glen realized, he had lost that sense of blessing that had earlier overwhelmed him.  He wanted it back.

            Randall felt restless, agitated and a bit irritable.  Perhaps he should leave these two men and return to the Y, which was just a block behind them.

            Sirens were sounding, more and louder and more strident than usual.  He did not like what was in the air.  Glen badly wanted his blessing back.

            Pierre felt truly blessed.  Like trophies won in a war, he escorted these two handsome men on the sidewalk.

            They waited for the light to change.  Three punk rockers with mohawks walked past them, ignoring the red light.  Glen felt a pang of envy.  Randall excused himself and returned to the Y.

            Bryan didn’t know why he’d bought the entire bag of tampons, when he would only be needing one.  Unfortunately, like cigarettes, they were never sold individually.

            With Randall gone, Glen felt it would be inexcusable if he backed out now.

            Pierre didn’t much mind that Randall had left, so long as Glen stayed with him.

            Stephen really couldn’t stand Rochelle. Like everyone else he tolerated her.  Like everyone else he was truly frightened of her.  He wished he’d stayed home.     

            “There’s no line-up yet”, Pierre said.  Glen couldn’t conceive of standing in line for a place like Burst Arteries.

            Bryan was sure that was Glen McIntyre he saw going into Burst Arteries.  And who was that young man with him?

            The throbbing dance music was grabbing Glen hypnotically.  “Boom! Boom! Boom! Let’s go up to my room—”

            “Rochelle, you look totally scrumptious tonight”, Stephen said.  “And I just love your nails, they’re so Lily Munster!”

            Pierre had no illusions about Glen.  He didn’t want him as a lover.  Still, he knew they would be in each other’s lives for an awfully long time.

            Bryan wasn’t absolutely certain, but he did know that Donny—or Rochelle, was often seen here.  He sidestepped the dance floor and started climbing the stairs.

            Pierre led Glen up the stairs.

            On Rochelle’s insistence Stephen squeezed one of her breasts.  It was hard, like a honey dew melon.  “Oh! What two handsome men!” she purred as Glen and Pierre appeared.

            Glen tried to ignore the gay porno on the screen.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Rochelle’s magnificent breasts.

            Bryan paused to look at the action on the big screen. He was sure he knew one of the actors.

            “They’re REAL!” Rochelle growled as she shoved her breasts into Glen’s face.

            “Be nice to him, Rochelle”, Stephen said, “We want to bring him home undamaged.”

            Bryan reached into his coat pocket, produced a tampon.

            Rochelle looked up, and a look of distaste mingled with muted horror warped her carefully made up face.

            “Rochelle!” Bryan crooned, “Or should I say Donny.”

            Glen was shocked to see Bryan here.

            Pierre watched, bemused as this funny-looking bald man approached Rochelle holding what looked like a tea bag dangling from his fingers.

            Bryan dangled the tampon in Rochelle’s face.

            Stephen felt only terror.

            “What the fuck do you want!” Rochelle roared at Bryan.

            His heart, he was certain, had never beat so fast or so hard.  He dangled the tampon in her face, as though he were teasing a cat.  “A life-time supply for you dear.”

            “You fucking asshole!” Rochelle reared up like a killer rottweiller and punched Bryan hard in the face.  Then she got him in the stomach, threw him on the floor then proceeded to kick him in the head.  He had already lost consciousness when they pulled her off of him.  He was bleeding from the mouth and from the ears.  Glen, Stephen and Pierre looked on horrified and helpless as the police came to take Rochelle and the paramedics arrived for Bryan.  They left the bar, quickly and returned all three of them to Stephen and Pierre’s apartment.  They all knew that they would need to stay together for the night.