Latin America Again 3

 Today has also been rather interesting.  I went walking in a different direction, on Alonso's recommendation, and after an hour or so I found myself getting into a more prestigious neighbourhood with a big fancy schmancy malls.  Colombians love big fancy schmancy shopping malls.  Apparently its because the shopping mall is so American, and Colombians love America.

So, while walking around a bit, two ladies of a certain age approached to ask if I was okay.  Strange, but touching encounter, and I assured them that I am well, and just exploring the city on my second day in Medellín.  Very kind of them.  Then I was asking people for directions to the mall where Alonso and I went yesterday. A retired lady chimed in, and when I told her I was looking to buy an umbrella, this being rainy season, she took into this other big fancy schmancy shopping mall we were standing in front of, and gave me the full tour of the place, then brought me into a store that carried umbrellas, so I bought one, then I took her for coffee and we continued to chat for most of a good hour or so, all in Spanish.  She used to be a bookseller and now enjoys retirement in a big house in one of the richer neighbourhoods.  And she was constantly warning me to watch my back because of pick pockets and muggers and worse.

I understand and appreciate her concern, because this is a problem in Colombia.  But, even though I try to be vigilant, I don't worry about it.  I believe strongly that when we are motivated by selfless love, that that becomes our own protection, as I have already experienced many times over.  and my tendency, despite the risks is tosay hi to strangers, reach out, if someone is begging or selling something on the street, to help out as I am able, and to take tine with people.  Risky, perhaps, but no risk, no progress, along with the likelihood of remaining isolated and lonely..

But you know, these people here are Gold!!!!

Medellín is a very green city, lots of trees and flowering shrubs, even in rundown and dilapidated areas with cracked and broken pavement.

Now I am back home, swept the floor, had some lunch, worked on some projects,had a nap, worked some more on my projects did some art, had some dinner.  My friend is delayed at work.  I mentioned he is an Uber driver, and his clients sometimes treat him like a chauffer, so he is going to be a while yet.  And of course, when they want to stop in a restaurant or whatever, Alonso their driver is never invited but has to wait, which he doesn't seem to mind since it appears that some of them can really bore him to extinction.  But they could at least buy him coffee.

Latin America Again 2

 So here I am in Medellín.  It is strange how quickly I have become at home in my new surroundings.  Alonso, my host, is away a lot at work, which gives me a lot of time to walk and explore on my own, and later in the day spend time in the apartment to work on various projects.

And, some good news... this morning my confiscated luggage arrived at the apartment, everything intact, nothing missing or broken.  So much for Aeromexico or Aero Pendejo (you'll find pendejo in Urban Dictionary). And now I am wearing a clean shirt, plus deodorant, and I could even shave, finally. And Alonso has the gifts I brought him.

I imagine I could write a bit about Mexico City.  Still as bright, colourful, chaotic huge and unrestrained and crowded and mad as ever.  They now have double decker buses, red ones, like the ones in London.  Yep.  There has also been a proliferation of Starbucks cafés in the last seven years since my last visit in 2014, which is never a good sign.    And also, Chilangos (what the people in Mexico City call themselves ) have taken up jogging. Not an aficionado myself of that solitary antisocial and narcissistic sport, but I understand that people want to be fit and healthy during the pandemic, even if that's not necessarily going to help them.  Kind of like whistling in the dark, methinks.

I had forgotten how huge that city is, and how great the distances, and I could only fit in so much walking this time, since I was there for just a day and a half.  People generally are friendly and helpful, and I was sometimes, asking directions from as many as ten kind strangers in a row.  Plus an enjoyable chat with a waitress in a coffee shop in both Spanish and English, dinner at El Péndulo, which is a cafe and restaurant inside a huge bookstore.

The hotel is no hell.  Reasonably priced, but the guy at the front desk was quite unwelcoming, even the way he said "Welcome" and the security guard seemed to take his job a little too seriously, if you know what I mean.  But I did have a decent sleep, so what's there to complain about really.

Sunday, I hung out for three hours with my friend David who lives with his wife in a northern suburb.  We did lunch then went for a walk.  I already told you about my ride to the airport yesterday.

I seem to be having an interesting time in Medellín so far.  Yesterday, after grocery shopping, Alonso and I went home, then he went to work and I went down for a nap.  Then I did a walk in the surrounding neighbourhood for more than an hour to help orientate me to the area.

There is quite a poor and hardscrabble neighbourhood nearby where I went walking for quite a while.  Then, on my way back to the apartment I found a monarch butterfly on the sidewalk.  I bent down and reached out to the butterfly which crawled onto my finger (I am not making any of this up). he fell off my finger and fluttered back to the ground, so I reached over to him and he climbed back on my finger.  Then, this local guy, perhaps around forty or so, saw me with the butterfly and we got to chatting a bit in Spanish.  Then I offered him the butterfly, which he gladly accepted on his finger, and the butterfly seemed very willing to go with him.  I told him that it is a symbol of blessing.

The Peacock 268

"You can't be serious", says Robert, staring dumbfounded at Melissa.

"Douglas is going to be charged with assault and unlawful confinement.  It's about time he faces the music."

Robert turns to Carl, "And you are going to just let her do this?"

"She's right," says her brother. 

"Come on, let's go", Robert says to Douglas, who doesn't seem about to move.

"I am waiting."

Melissa says, "If you go now then there will be a police search and you'll both wind up in the can, and besides, they´re almost here."

"She's right", Douglas says.  I've run out of options."

Another car pulls up in the driveway, and another car.  Doors slam, there are footsteps.  A loud knock on the door.  Carl gets up to answer.  In come three RCMP. all white young men, rather handsome and athletic looking, followed by two young women in civilian clothes, social workers, probably. The youngest looking of the cops walks directly over to Franco8is and says gruffly, "Okay, let's go."

Francois stares up at him, not moving, confused, frightened and obviously indignant.

"You heard me, dark guy, get moving."

"What the fuck do you guys think you're doing!" shouts Melissa...

The Peacock 267

 Douglas's feet are bare.  And dirty.  The toenails are rather like a gargoyle´s talons.  I only notice this just now.  His head is meekly bowed before Robert Griffin, who has been lecturing him for the last ten minutes.  Like scolding a naughty child. Douglas doesn't reply, but appears deeply ashamed. Father Griffin himself would be around seventy now, tall and straight, slim, and his hair is becoming rather white these days.  His voice is calm, quiet, and his tone authoritative.   I am annoyed that he so far hasn't acknowledged me.  He hasn't said hi to anyone, just sweeping right inside the house like a corrections officer out to do his duty.

Robert has finished his soft-spoken tirade.  Then Carl says,  "Hey Robert, it's also lovely to see you."

Father Griffin looks at my new friend, and is clearly blushing.  "Oh, I'm so awfully sorry," he says.  "That was horribly rude of me.  But we haven't much time to visit, I'm afraid, Douglas and I have to get going back to Vancouver."

"That shouldn't be necessary", Says Melissa.

We all look her way, rather dumbfounded.

"But Melissa", says Robert, "We have a long drive ahead of us."

"Police are coming for Doug.  You have time to stick around, I'm sure."

"I do beg your pardon?" he says, clearly discombobulated.

"I just got a text from them.  They'll be here in less than five minutes..."

Latin America Again 1

 This is so far a journey of interesting twists and turns.  I just arrived in Medellin last night, late, from Mexico City.  Quite a frustrating flight altogether.  From my hotel in Mexico City, I took a cab to the airport yesterday, believing that if I left at 3:00 I should make it for my flight at 6:45 with plenty of time for something to eat in the airport.  It was raining hard that afternoon, and this was making traffic difficult.  My cab driver arrived twenty minutes late.  And we spent more than an hour and a half in a traffic jam on a route that should have taken just over thirty minutes.  Fortunately we got on well and had a really great conversation in Spanish. He is twenty-eight, married with two children, ages eight and two  his wife stays at home to look after the kids so it appears that he is the sole breadwinner.  

I thought I was going to miss my flight, but there was already a huge line up that took another hour till I could check in, then had less than ten minutes to make it to my flight.  Fortunately, take-off was delayed, so there was still plenty of time.  The flight was uneventful, and I arrived in Medellin at just past 11:30.  Then I waited at the baggage claim.  Where I waited...and waited...and waited.....

All those lovely suitcases, backpacks, sports bags, and someone to claim each one of them as they headed off into the rainy Medellín night to get on with the rest of their lives.  And I stood, waiting, and waiting...

Soon there were  no suitcases, backpacks or sports bags left, and the conveyer belt ground to a halt, as empty and desolate as a Martian landscape. 

I made some inquiries.  It turned out that my luggage (one large sports bag), was detained in Mexico for examination.  I thought at first that it must have been the bomb that I was trying to smuggle onboard, or maybe it was the big bag of heroin.  Perhaps they didn't like the idea of a live hand grenade sitting oh so quietly in the hold of a passenger plane almost forty thousand feet in the air.

Of course, I wasn't carrying any of those items, and only the most innocent things, such as clothing, toiletries, a couple of mugs I was bringing my host as a gift, an extra pair of shoes. and nothing else, really.  Fortunately I had in my carry on luggage a few extra changes of socks and underwear, all the money I have brought with me, things to read, my laptop, and art supplies.  So it isn't a total loss.

To further complicate things, Alonso, who I am staying with, was waiting for me in the parking lot, and, as many of you already know, I do not have a cell phone, so I wasn't able to call him (and even with such inconveniences, I still refuse to get a smartphone because I do not want to enslave myself to big tech.)

Fortunately, the man helping me with my baggage claim phoned him for me a couple times to let him know what was happening.  I was of course really upset, and was forgetting a lot of my Spanish, sometimes complicating communications.

Then, I couldn't find Alonso, and it was raining furiously, so I wandered all over the place.  He was nowhere in sight.

I discovered a room with an open door, and someone inside. I went in.  It was a security guard, and he phoned Alonso for me, then showed me exactly where I should go to meet him.  So, we found each other, then stopped in an all night supermarket where I could buy a toothbrush.

My luggage should be delivered here to the apartment some time today. I am severely underslept from the stress.  But Alonso is treating me like royalty.  He has given me his bedroom, and he is sleeping in another part of the apartment.  

This morning we went out to the mall to do some grocery shopping, then I waited for him for an hour at a table in the mall, doing art, while he was in the gym.  Now I'm back in the apartment and my host has gone off to work. 

Its going to be okay...

The Peacock 266

 Hale! Hale! The gang´s all here! I want to shout out, at least to help lighten the atmosphere.  Someone, likely Carl and Melissa have arranged the chairs and sofas in a circle.  Douglas occupies an armchair.  Flanking him are Carl on his right and Melissa on his left.  Then I see Jesús, Carol, Aaron, Francois, the two brothers from the community next door, George and Jeff, and three women, one of whom I saw yesterday working in the garden.  Douglas is still playing Moses, staring blankly up into space, as though waiting for the hand of God to smite all of us present, his foes.   The women seem to all represent different decades of life, one in her thirties, who is also the gardener, one in her forties and the third in her fifties.  They are quietly chatting among themselves, one cracks a joke and now they are all giggling like private schoolgirls.  They are all casually dressed, jeans or slacks, T shirts, an orange blouse in the case of the elder.  George and Jeff are still wearing blue jeans and white T shirts.  Their habit, I would suppose.

Carol says, "I don't suppose that Father Griffin would be on his way."

I just got a text from him", Melissa says.  "He should be here in about three minutes."  

Francois appears hyper alert, and taking great care not to focus on Doug.  From time to time Aaron, seated next to him, tries to distract him with random comments.

"Aren't we having a stretch of lovely weather, though", says Carol.

"Beautiful", says Aaron.  It's been like summer since we arrived here."

"There should be rain on the horizon", says the woman in her forties.  The gardens could use it, that's for sure."

Outside a car is running, then the motor stops.  A car opens and slams.  There are footsteps. The doorbell is ringing...  

The Peacock 265

 I have almost arrived at the house and Moses is still following me, carrying his long stick like it was a sacred staff. I am feeling truly spooked and creeped by this, but now rescue is in sight.  Here is Carl, standing by the front door on the top step,

"Good morning, Douglas" he says, "please join us for coffee in the small reception room.

I hear no answer from Moses, but he follows me in through the front door and Carl is leading us to the room.  It is early for morning coffee, not yet being nine.

"Good morning, Douglas", says Melissa standing in the reception hall.  "Wouldn't you like to dress in something more appropriate?"  

Douglas, for that appears to be his name, elbows past me, not even a word of excuse me, preceding me into the reception room.  He has been walking with a bit of a stoop, as though not wanting to see what's around him.

"Come and join us, Chris?" says Carl, lightly touching my shoulder.

"Shouldn't this be something private?" I ask, rather dreading and wanting to avoid what I sense to be coming.

"We might need witnesses.  Robert should also be here any minute."

"Father Griffin?"

"The same.  And he must also face the music..."

The Peacock 264

 He suggests to me Charlton Heston playing Moses, but sort of Halloweén style.  He appears to be robed in a white bedsheet, and his scraggly longish and thinning grey hair makes him appear older than Aaron, not to mention the beard.   There is a long pole or stick resting next to him against the bench.  His head is bowed, as though in silent prayer or contemplation, or perhaps he is just having a snooze.  He suddenly looks up at me, eyes curious, but rather flinty and unyielding.

"Hi", I say, standing there rather awkwardly.  He doesn't answer.  "I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?"

The stare turns into a glare, and I am feeling truly menaced, as though the life and strength are slowly being sapped out of me and being pooled uselessly on the ground at my feet.

"I´m sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you", say I, walking away.

"What do you want?" he says suddenly, rather between a growl and a bark.

"I was hoping to see the peacock, to catch a glimpse."

This has just simply blurted out of me and now he stares fixedly at me, as though I have just uttered something very profane and very forbidden.

"I am sorry, I really didn't mean to disturb you", I say, now backing away.  I really want to get as far from this man s possible.

"Who are you?" he says, almost roaring.

"I'm just a guest here of Carl and Melissa.  Sorry to have bothered you.  Bye."

I have already arrived at the tulip beds and something tells me to turn around.  The Charlton Heston Moses appears to be following me back to the house.  I pick up my pace, hoping to lose him...

The Peacock 263

 There is no one out watering the flower beds this morning and I am glad for this.  I have no interest in having another confrontation with Jeff, or whatever his name is.  The people from the community seem curiously absent this morning, and I wonder if they all know they are about to lose their leader.  There is a kind of tension and sadness in the air today. A foreboding.  Something is about to happen.  I know this.  I can feel it.  And when I feel this way, I am almost never wrong.  But there is comfort in walking among the tulips, then the irises, and the azaleas.  I am continually amazed and impressed that such great care is being taken of this place.  What a hive of eccentricity.  I never would have imagined such a place.  it is still a bit chilly this morning, so I am glad to be wearing a sweatshirt.  Of course I know where I am going.  I haven't yet heard the peacock and I am going to see if I can flush him out.  I wonder what Kenny would make of this place?

So Father Griffin is coming.  This is going to be most interesting, I'm sure.  This is the path that Carl and I finished together the day before yesterday.  So, we cut a path together.  That would be a favourable omen for any new friendship.  It is hard to believe we have only known each other for three days.  More like three years, now, but in these kinds of circumstances close and very tight friendships take form very quickly, but they also almost as often die and every bit as fast.  I do hope Carl and I can go on being friends.  This is so intense.  Last night I actually tucked him into bed then kissed him,  Well, just on the forehead, so not too romantic.  But we really seem to be becoming more like brothers.  Such a beautiful man. 

There are the two stone benches, just up ahead, and to my surprise, there is someone sitting on one  of them. an older man, in his sixties maybe, hunched over.  And he is wearing a white robe!

The Peacock 262

 The breakfast is a hit.  Cheese omelette with whole wheat toast, an array of spreads and preserves: here is strawberry jam, blackcurrant jam, redcurrant jelly , grape jelly, ginger marmalade, apricot jam, rosehip jam, blackberry jelly, raspberry jam, boysenberry jam, and pear jam and crabapple jelly.  We have also natural peanut butter, almond butter and cashew butter, all resplendent in little porcelain dishes trimmed with gold and tiny red roses.  And there are more croissants.  Melissa's been baking again, and of course good wholesome artery clogging ordinary yellow butter.  And more fruit, prepared by Carl, pineapple, melon, papaya, mango and banana practically overflowing the white and blue and gold trim bowl barely containing it, and a smaller, matching bowl full of vanilla yogurt. 

Everyone is present: Carol, Jesús, Aaron, Francois, Melissa and Carl.  There is something special about participating in making breakfast.  Carol is stirring cream and sugar into what must be her third or fourth cup of coffee.

"You never drink tea in the mornings?" Melissa asks her.

"Oh God no, I would never wake up then",she says.

"Not very British", remarks Carl.

"And so drowns another cliché", Carol says, "In one strong piping hot brew of Java." She takes a long sensuous draft from her cup.  

"Hear hear!" Says Aaron, taking a generous gulp from his cup.

"What, are we in parliament", says Carol, smiling.

"We're in the bloody House of Lords", says Carl with his fake Cockney.

And this time, Carol is laughing.

The Peacock 261

 "You are the guest master here", says Melissa.  "We are not supposed to get too close to the guests.  Remember the boundaries?"

"Fuck the boundaries.  And who says I'm the guest master, anyway?"

"Father Griffin."

"And what gives him the right?"

"He has pastoral authority over this place.  Right?"

"That is utter horseshit, Mel, and you know it as well as I do."

"But we already agreed.  When we drafted out the constitution.  Remember?"

"And I am revoking the constitution."

"On whose authority?"  She hasn't stopped buttering the toast.

"Whose name is the deed to this house in, Mel?" Carl is dropping cheese slices over the egg mixture.

"What are you talking about?"

"You seem to forget that Mom signed the house over to me last year.  So, in a way, this is my roof you are living under, and my word from now on is going to be law."

"After breakfast, we can both talk with Father Griffin about this.  He's coming in from Vancouver."

"What's the occasion?"

 "He is taking Douglas off our hands..."

260

 There are eggs to be broken, lots of them, and beaten, and folded into a gigantic skillet full of smouldering hot butter.  Carl is slicing the cheese and Melisa is preparing toast.

"So what did you guys get up to last night" she says, not turning to look at either of us.

Carl says, stifling laughter, "We spent the whole night fucking each other's brains out."

"Ha-ha!" says Melissa.  "I almost forgot to laugh.  What did you get up to?"

"Chris was reading to me from the diary of his friend, Kenny."

"Kenny?"

"He was a friend of my father's and I", say I.

"And of course there's a story there."

"There is" says Carl, reaching for another block of cheddar.

"So where did you sleep last night?" she asks her brother.

 "In one of the spare rooms in the guest wing in the attic."

"Why didn't you come to your own bedroom?"

"It was late, and we'd been up talking till midnight and I was too tired to budge, so I went to sleep there instead.  Why?  Is there a problem?"

The Peacock 259

 "I badly have to pee", says Carl, throwing off the bedcovers and standing up.  His body is indeed splendid,, the dark blue jockey shorts clinging innocently to his loins.  But somehow the thrill is gone. it is morning, not night.  It is no longer dark and the early sun floods the window, and Carl is now simply ordinary. An ordinary man-boy who is everyone's friend.  Witty and embarrassingly blunt in his very lightly accented English.  A child of wealth and privilege yes, but one who has seen so much and has been already greatly humbled, yet somehow never crushed.  This is a slightly smaller room.  The walls are a pale sunny yellow.  It is brighter than my room.  But I still like my room, which really belongs to Carl.  It is now seven.  We are going to be late for breakfast, not that it's going to matter.  But when they see Carl and me enter the breakfast room together, who only knows what they might assume.  I do not have special claims on this man, who really I have only known less than three days, but is like a lovely affectionate brother.

He is back from the bathroom, slips into his jeans, his dark red T shirt, then pulls on his socks and shoes.

"Ready?" he says standing up.  He leads me out of the bedroom into the hall then down the stairs.  I am suddenly ravenously hungry.  "Of course, Mel is not going to be pleased that I left her to make breakfast unassisted.  Prepare for a silent scene."

Melissa is seated at table with the guests, they are all drinking coffee, but there is no food.

"We are not going to assume what you two young men got up to last night", his sister pronounces unsmiling.  "But there are eggs to be broken  Get cracking."  And obediently, the guest master and I both file into the kitchen, ready to fulfil our penance...

The Peacock 258

 

 

Carl says, "How would you compare them, Stella and Kenny?"

"They were like night and day, from your description of Stella, anyway.  Kenny had a very open heart and really loved other people.  Even when he was lost in the middle of his addictions and the sex trade.  It seems to me that Stella was capable only of loving Stella."

"I didn't think that she was capable of love. I don't think she was capable of loving.  From the sounds of things she didn't have that great a life growing up."

"Neither did Kenny."

"I wasn't exactly apologizing for her, I suppose.  She did seem to be a complete narcissist."

"Do you think she was happy?"

"Stella was happy when Stella was in full charge and in full control of everything and everyone.  If that control was even remotely threatened, there would be hell to pay."

"Like the way she saw you off when your mom came over."

"And for Stella, once trust was broken, it was goodbye forever.  To this day I don't know if she's even still alive.

"And Kenny, unfortunately, is no longer with us..."

Nothing new in my inbox.  Cripes, it´s already quarter to seven.  I just had time for a quick shower  Went naked again from bathroom to bedroom.  No one around to see me, not Francois, not even Carl.  I don't care, and I know that Carl wouldn't care.  I would like to see him naked.  I bet he is just like Michelangelo's David, including little penis and weirdly sculpted pubic hair.  Circumcised?  But who only knows.  Or cares.  I slept surprisingly well, for just a little more than six hours, but I have to get down for breakfast.  I find it interesting that there are no locks on the bedroom doors.  I guess we really are expected to trust one another, but I really don't know, especially about the brothers George and Jeff.  Or is his name really Edward.  And this Doug guy, their purported leader.  He sounds dangerous actually.  I understand they are going to throw him out of here.  I hope Francois also presses charges.  He sounds like a monster, especially after Aaron's various accounts.  

Carl's borrowed bedroom is almost at the other end of the corridor, and this is a long corridor.  I count five rooms on each side, ten, including mine  This house is enormous.  Carl's door is closed, and I wonder if he's awake yet.  Of course I'm going to check.  I don't want him to miss breakfast.  Three knocks should do it.  No answer.  Three more knocks.  Nothing.  Okay, three good loud knocks.  I hear something.

"Yeah?"  It is Carl's voice.  But who else would it be, but with all the weird surprises and sucker punches since I arrived here three days ago, I never know what to expect.  

"It's me, Chris, are you coming down for breakfast?"

"Good morning, Chris.  Come in."

I slowly, shyly open the door.  Carl is slightly upright in bed, propped by an elbow.

"Sorry to disturb you."

"No worries at all, man.  Shall we go down for breakfast?"  He is smiling.  I have never known anyone so consistently, so chronically cheerful.

When he sees me trying to leave he says,"No, stay, I'll just get dressed.  We can go down together.  Sit down a minute.  There's no hurry..."

The Peacock 360

 An email from Erik:

"Hi Christopher.  I have finished the last of my classes and now I am getting ready to come see you.  I have been thinking about our conversation on Skype yesterday, and I think you could be right.  About the racism, I mean.  This is something so hard for many Swedes to face.  We like to portray ourselves as the vanguard of progressive values in Europe and I don't think a lot of us really know what hypocrites we are.  Curiously, I got a text from Mehmet shortly after our conversation, and he was complaining bitterly about the way he gets treated every day.  And there is no obvious racism like they have in America, but it is there I'm sure.  Subtle.  And I am also guilty.  What makes us really bad is, here we all support and endorse Black Lives Matter over there, but only because we really believe we are better than the rest of you.  Anyway, that's all I'll bother you with for now.  It is 8 am, and I only just woke up a few minutes ago and really need to take a shower.  Talk soon  Saturday, Skype, right?"

hug

Erik

How nice and strange to get a text hug from my former brother-in-law and just at bedtime.  I wonder if he will come out here to see me.  I might stay here for quite a while if I can and just maybe let him have the apartment.  But I do want to stay with him.  

So funny, tucking Carl in bed like he's a little kid.  And he is a little kid.  A big happy child.  Very beautiful man, but I can't say I desire him .  Too much like a child  Too much like a brother.  I think I have fallen in love with him.

It is so quiet now, and I have to get to sleep.  I only wish he would tuck me into bed.  Maybe tomorrow night I'll ask him to...

The Peacock 256

 "Here's the next entry in his diary", I say, trying to hold both our attention because it is getting late and we are both tired. 

"March 21.  Spring equinox.  It has been raining off and on, but that hasn't stopped me from going in the woods.  I don't always bring Christopher with me.  He is busy with school, of course, but sometimes I just need to get away by myself.  It is incredibly beautiful here with the awakening spring, the awakening earth.  The flowers adorn like magenta and yellow stars the branches of the salmonberry, and other buds are swelling and turning green.  Ferns everywhere, sword ferns, deerferns, on the trunks of maple trees the licorice ferns.  The aboriginal people used to steam them with salmon in pits dug in the earth.  I am surprised they never caught on with the white settlers.  Salmonberries too, which are so delicious.  I like them better than raspberries, almost as much as blackberries.  I have tasted them, licorice ferns I mean, and they are delicious and yes they taste rather like licorice. I picked some and brought them home yesterday and steamed them for dinner.  Jim didn't seem to know what to make of them, but seemed to be most willing to choke them back out of sheer good manners.  Christopher likes them and has asked if he could come out with me to pick some more.  In a couple of days, yes.  Don't get me wrong.  I love being with him.  I consider him my closest friend.  He is my brother.  But here, in the forest, alone, I am complete.  I don't think of Kenny or Harriet or Cassandra, I don't think of high heels or peeing while standing, there is nothing masculine or feminine, male or female  I feel whole out here, and totally connected and totally absorbed in the glorious wholeness of this forest.  Here I lose me, and here is where I am found.  I simply never want to leave this place."

"That hardly sounds like a transvestite sex worker", says Carl.

"The forest always seemed to transform Kenny", and then I catch myself in a yawn.

"You and me both", says Carl.  "What time is it?"

"Almost twelve."

Carl pulls off his shirt, then his socks and his blue jeans, revealing a body like Michelangelo's David.  I try not to look, but I have to  He is truly beautiful. He is wearing navy blue jockey shorts,  but I take care to not look any further.  He pulls back the bedspread and blanket, then crawls in.

"I'm too bagged to move so I'm sleeping here tonight", he says.  Then he looks up at me with the look of an appealing little child.  "Tuck me in?"

I know his gesture and intention are totally innocent.  I can only comply.  I walk over slowly, adjust the bedclothes around him, and kiss him gently on the forehead as he smiles sleepily and closes his eyes.

"Good night, brother" he murmurs.

"Good night. Carl", I reply quietly, as I leave the room and close gently the door behind me.  I have forgotten Kenny's journal, but I can always get it in the morning...

The Peacock 254

 "Now, of course, Ahmed and I did have a gentleman's agreement.  He wouldn't betray me to Mom if I didn't betray him.  This created a kind of a nervous bond between us.  He didn't go into a lot of detail about what he did with Stella.  She did that instead.  In fact, whether I wanted to hear it or not (and sometimes I did, I found her tremendously entertaining) Stella would go into florid detail about each and everyone of her tricks.  How they looked naked, the size of their penis, how much noise they made when they came, How much they whimpered while she was spanking them, whether or not she might consider doing any of them for free (she did like a few of them).  Not once did I mention to her that Ahmed was my stepfather.  I found her so frightening, formidable and terrifying, that that became my single weapon, my single bulwark against her.  But I couldn't get free from her.  I was in her thrall.  I was one of Jupiter's moons.

"I confessed openly to Ahmed about my drugs and forays into prostitution.  It was really because of his kind and patient listening that I felt supported by him to get out of it.  I think we were giving each other peer support, in a way  Really, I think in the last six months, I only continued to  hang out at Stella's in order to continue my friendship with my stepfather.  At home, we almost never spoke to each other.  No one suspected anything.  But I even in a way came to love him."

"And that's why she banished you", I say.

"One does not make a fool of the Queen of the Universe and not expect consequences.  More chocolate chips?"

The Peacock 253

 "I didn´t say anything to Stella at first.  You see, I was afraid that knowing I was there would prevent him  returning, and I did not want to get blamed, and Stella was one to easily and with great ´pleasure hurl blame.  God, some of the tirades I had to listen to as she was ready to excoriate everyone in the universe, and especially God, for all her problems, everyone except for Stella herself, Because Stella was perfect, who often was the one to be  blamed.  Always looking for a scapegoat, always seeking a target for her bullets and darts.

"But he came back.  Every week for his little spanky-wanky, as Stella called it.  She really had a lot of contempt for him, but seemed to also have a kind of professional fondness for Ahmed. Mind you, Stella had contempt for everybody, and even I had to always remember what an honour it was being befriended by her.  Always dancing on eggshells with her.  

"She was an absolute narcissist.  Aaron refers to someone like that as the planet Jupiter and we are all the moons revolving around her.  Well, I was one of Jupiter's moons.  One day, as Ahmed was skulking towards the front door, I invited him to tarry for coffee.  He reluctantly agreed.  We began to do this regularly.  Stella still didn't know anything, but seemed rather pleased that I had taken to entertaining one of her prized regulars.  She didn't seem to realize that we were actually plotting against her..."

The Peacock 252

 "But then you took up sex work again with Robert's partner", I say to Carl.

"That was pure survival.  I completely loathed what I was doing, I completely loathed Dave for putting me up to it, and myself I loathed more than anyone for feeling so helpless and backed in a corner.  I really no longer had the stomach for it.  But there was Melissa to consider.  I really did it entirely for her."

"Tell me more about your stepfather."

"They'd only been married for two years.  We didn't see much of him, and he always seemed to want to avoid us, so Melissa and I nicknamed him the Ghost. You know, we weren't even invited to the wedding.  She married him in Switzerland, then told us in a letter about it.  To cut her a bit of slack, we were out here at the time with our dad.  He was really a nebbish, and seemed to have a very narrow and constricted view of his  religious faith.  

"The first time I saw him at Stella's, he didn't even seem to know who I was.  In fact, only after three visits did it finally dawn on him that I was his stepson.  He was just on his way out, and I was at the kitchen table trying to piece together a Rubik's Cube.  So, Stella calls me asking me to get her guest a glass of water.  So, I brought him the water, and he was just waiting by the door, and I said, 'Hi Ahmed.' And he replied, 'am I supposed to know you?' and I simply replied, 'Well, I am your stepson', and then he nearly choked on his water..."

The Peacock 251

 "There were, of course, a few awkward moments.  Mom refused to accept Stella's extended hand, so I just simply said, that she could expect me home whenever.  Then Father Said came skulking into the room, he took one look at my mother, then tried to retreat, but Stella was not going to let him get away with it.  She simply, between a growl and a purr, said to him, 'Ahmed, you don't want a scandal.  Right?'  So, he humbly walked over to my mother and followed her out the door.  And then Stella turned to me and said, 'Carl, it's time to say goodbye.'"

"What was the story with the priest and your Mom?"

"He was her second husband.  My stepfather."

"And he knew you were there?"

"For quite a long time.  We had some interesting chats.  And really, in those last six months, I completely gave up drugs and hooking, both.  I just no longer had the stomach for it."

"I never saw Stella again.  I did return home later that evening.  Ahmed was locked away in his study.  Mom and I agreed that Melissa and I would be leaving the Netherlands a week early to stay here with our dad.  And you already know what happened shortly after..."

the Peacock 250

 "So", says I, "What were the first words to come popping out of her mouth?"

"'Do you happen to know where you are right now, young man?'" Only she said it in Dutch."

"And how did you reply".

"'Yeah, I'm at Stella's.  Come in and meet her.'  I said it in English, by the way, because the other benefit of hanging out with her was total English immersion."

"'I will do no such thing, young man.  You are coming home with me.  Right now.'  She always called me young man if she was particularly wroth with me.  So, I answered, 'yeah, you and which army.  I turned eighteen last week so legally I am no longer a child and no longer under your authority.'  So she said, 'we'll see about that.'  Then out comes Stella, all decked out in a black leather bustier, but cut away around the nipples, leaving nothing to the imagination, black stockings and high leather boots, with stiletto heels, natch.  They did call her Stella Stiletto.  

"'And who is that?' My mom yelled, so I turned to Stella and said, 'Hey Stella, this is my mom, Astrid, and please forgive her rudeness, she is not used to hookers, I'm afraid.'

"'I happen to be looking for Father Said', my mother said.  Said Stella, 'he will be out presently, I believe he is still putting his pants on.  And by the way", extending her hand, she said, "my name is Stella...'"

249

 "And who were they?" I ask.

"Figure it out, Sherlock.  Here's a clue.  The mayor was one of them.  And of course Stella was the second who knew."

"And you would be the third one who knew."

"Brilliant deduction, my good man!"

"But what happened after?  Why did you no longer see Stella?"

"Oh, but yes there is a story there, kiddo, is there ever a story there!"  he reaches for the bag again and pulls out some more chocolate chips.  "Want some more?"

"Oh, I don't see why not", and I reach my hand for the bag, pull out a small fistful and pop some of the strong, semi sweet chocolate onto my waiting tongue.

"It just so happened that Mom was back from Switzerland, then one day, I caught her of all places, standing at the front door to Stella's apartment.  She had followed her priest there.  And you should have seen the look on her face when I opened the door for her..."

The Peacock 248

 "What would you like to know?"

"Are you still in contact with her?"

"I don't even know if she's still alive.  I haven't seen her in at least twenty years."

"Is there a story there?" I ask.

"You love asking that question", Carl says, still smiling.

"Glad to see that you can take it as well as dish it out.  So tell me."

"Stella was already living with AIDS when she first took me under her wing.  But she managed to keep herself healthy for quite a while, and I think she might have lucked into some of the new anti-retro virals they were already producing.  She still worked, but very carefully.

"Were you living with her?"

"Almost.  I said she became like my mom, so I had a key to her place.  I also helped screen some of her tricks, and when she was pulling, I would hang out as security."

"What was that like?"

"Pretty boring.  All her regulars were pretty high ranking citizens, and had I yielded to temptation I could have had quite a few pages pf scandal and ruined not a few reputations.  She specialized in  domination.  And only three poeple knew that the mayor enjoyed being tied up and spanked..."

The Peacock 247

 "How so?" I ask.

"First of all", he says, "I'm a guy, or a male of the species.  I have a dick,  "I can pee standing up.  And I am never going to get pregnant.  And chances are, Chris, that neither will you.  I am completely bored, by the way, with all the postmodernist hoopla about gender identity and binary versus non binary and other rhetorical horseshit.  It's really just that I don't happen to care.  I am a binary male, not cis, since I like guys a bit better than girls, but do not call me them, their or they.  There is only one of me present.  He, his and him will do just fine.  But, however..." and here Carl pauses to offer a slow, sly and mischievous grin..."I am more than just a man.  Just as you, Christopher, are more than just a man, just as Carol and Melissa  (and really my little sister has more testerone in her little pinky finger than I have in both my balls), are more than just women, and just like Stella was more than just a man or a woman and likewise your friend, Kenny.  

"Aaron and I have had some rather interesting dialogues around this theme and we both seem to take away a similar experience.  We understand and experience persons as being not simply their assigned gender, but something other.  Something of the spirit, mysterious and very very powerful.  And that is how I experience others, Christopher, and that is how I experience you, Christopher."

"What? As eunuchs?"

"No, I mean something other than gender."

I'm not sure if I comprehend what he is getting at, but I am letting this go for now.  He reaches in the bag for more chocolate chips, then hands it to me.

"Read me a bit more from Kenny's diary", he says.

"Okay, but first tell me a bit more about Stella."

The Peacock 246

 "So then", say I, "Who was the real person underneath the fabrication, Stella?"

"To this day, I don't know. But I still could know that person.  But this seems to be a gift that I have with people.  I seem to have always been able to see and meet the person behind the mask, or the costume, or the disguise, if you will."

"Is there a story there?"  And now we are both laughing.

"I think it's because I love people.  Father Griffin once told me that I seem to be one of the few people in his experience who really has the gift of unconditional love."

"That is a very high compliment.  Do you believe it?"

"I don't know", says Carl.  "But when I see people, when I meet someone for the first time, I often seem to have an awareness of them, an understanding that has nothing really to do, or not much anyway, with the person that they want me to see.  And then I just accept them where they are, because I almost always see in them some kind of beauty."

"So", say I, "Did you see Stella as a man?"

"I didn't see or perceive any sense of gender in her.  But she is no different really from anyone else that way..." 

The Peacock 245

 "Does that sound anything like Stella?" I ask Carl.

"Now that I have had a few years to think and reflect, I would have to say that Stella was really her version of Cassandra.  But unlike Kenny, Stella chose to inhabit her."

"I think that's a line that Kenny was afraid to cross."

"It probably would have been too costly for him."

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't want to lose himself in his own invented idea of himself, or herself, maybe."

"And Stella?"

"She just didn't give a fuck.  About anybody.  To her, she was Stella, and had absolutely no concern what other people would think.  But she was also profoundly lonely, and that was the price she had to pay.  Which I think is also why she adopted me for those three years I was a rent boy in Amsterdam.  I mean, she had friends, lots of them, but they were more like acquaintances, or, shall we say, an entourage.  She did have quite a loyal following.  But at the end of the day, or night, she would be sitting alone with me, either at her kitchen table or in the coffee shop.  Several times she would tell me that I was really her only true friend.  That I alone seemed to know her and accept her as herself."

"As Stella?"

"No.  Stella was a fabrication.  Her own fabrication, maybe, but still just and only that, a fabrication..."

The Peacock 244

 January 31, 1992.  We got everything done in just four days and now we have a wider dining room entrance.  Jim says I'm a good worker, and I did work pretty hard.  Then, when we were done, I made brownies.  They love my baking, both of them.  My two men!  I would just like to put on a dress, some lovely soft panties and nylons, and make up, but then I would have to get a wig because my hair is definitely starting to thin on top.  But I don't want a wig.  And I don't want to fake being a woman, because every time I try to dress up in a way that will bring Harriet to the surface I just turn into Cassandra, who at best is a semi-convincing fake.

It's such a fucking annoyance that when I am dressed like Kenny, Harriet is just screaming to come out and disco, but then when I dress up, I'm not Harriet but her evil twin Cassandra.  And then Kenny starts nagging and whining like a spoilt toddler who didn't get his cookie.  You can't please any of them.  I haven't really said any of this to anyone.  I don't know how they would take it, plus they already have me on lithium for controlling my mood swings.  Do I really need them to diagnose me with some other mental health malady.  

Besides.  I am Harriet.  Just as I am Kenny.  But I am not Cassandra, so probably better to just accept the body that God has already put me in, even if it doesn't always seem like an ideal fit.  But really, is there such a thing in life?  As an ideal fit, I mean.  I could simply just have an ideal fit right now, so I am going to sign off and walk around outside under the stars for a few minutes.  I'll see if Chris wants to join me, if it isn't too late...

The Peacock 243

 "This weekend, Jim wants me to help him do some renos in the dining room, nothing fancy, he just wants to widen the doorway.  I say, why not.  He seems to think it will help make me more masculine.  But what he doesn't know is that I have always enjoyed pounding nails, every bit as much as I enjoy making chocolate brownies and eating them.

Funny, how so many different people have asked me if I want to change my gender, but I am not going there.  I am Kenny and Harriet both, sometimes even at the same time.  Not Kenny OR Harriet.  Kenny AND Harriet.  Truth is, I know people who have gone through the full surgery, well, one anyway.  Dinah is her name now.  She basically hooked in order to save up the money for the surgery.  Now she's a travel agent living in Victoria with her husband and two adopted sons.  I only saw her once after the surgery.  She looked okay, not quite flawless, and like with so many changes, there will always remain those few rough edges that will betray you as the male you were born as, no matter what you do to hide them.  But I would say she is definitely a woman now. 

Me, I won't even get my tits done.  I don't want any alterations.  I don't want to lose Kenny, who is not necessarily me, but part of me?  But which part?

I really don't understand gender.  I don't think anyone does, really...

242

 "Kenny never went that far."

"Was Kenny a trans?" asks Carl.

"You mean a..."

"Was Kenny transexual?"

"I still don't know the answer to that one", say I, suddenly wondering just where this conversation might be going.  "How about Stella?"

"We have to remember that that was back during the nineties and we still didn't have much of a vocabulary for that sort of thing.  But I think today her answer would still be the same.  She would simply say, "I am Stella.  but let's have another page from Kenny's diary, shall we?"

"January 19, 1992.  This is my first entry since Boxing Day.  I don't think I can make writing in this thing a daily discipline but I could still give it a try, I guess.  My, how quickly one settles into a domestic routine.  I haven't found a job yet, but I am looking.  Trouble is, I don't know what to do.  Everybody wants experience, and I haven't had a lot of experience outside of servicing men.  I do have all kinds of transferrable skills, especially in pr.  But tell a legitimate employer that you learned everything while sucking cocks for a living and they are sure to lose your resume.  Fast. John has told me such, not to sweat it too much and that he might also know someone who might want to hire me.  It's part time work in a florist shop.  I have had some experience there, not a lot, and it was a long time ago, but right now, Harriet, it's beggars can't be choosers.  And I do want to be a good role model for Christopher, because he's just fifteen, and I don't want to taint him with any of my previous life.  The kid is such an innocent, and around me, an innocent he will remain..."

The Peacock 241

 "Stella was British.  She was from London and had become established in Amsterdam working first as a cosmetician", says Carl, now almost completely horizontal on the bed.  

"Now, wait a minute", say I, "What did you call her a minute ago?"

"Chick with a dick."

"So, she was really a man."

"She had a penis, probably still has it." Carl is right now smirking quite broadly.

"So she was, or he was, really a man."

"We had that conversation a few times, Stella and I.  She just said, call me Stella.  That's who I am, nothing more, nothing less.

"So she identified as a woman?"

"She merely identified as Stella."

"Sounds like a remarkable...um...person."

"One of the most."

"So how did she end up having a, you know..."

"A willy?  That came first.  The boobs were add-ons..."

The Peacock 240

 "I knew someone like that", says Carl.   "In Amsterdam.  Her name was Stella.  Semi tans."

"You mean..." I say

"Chick with a dick.  She worked in the Red Light District."

"How did you meet her?"

"How many guesses should I give you?"

"Oh, that's right", say I, feeling suddenly embarrassed and rather stupid. 

Carl must see my face reddening, so he says, "Hey I don't worry about it."

"Were you..."

"No, she just took me under her wing.  Became like my street mom or big sister.  She was already in her thirties when I first started plying my trade.  I would have been just sixteen.  Mom was usually away in Switzerland, leaving me in charge of the house and Melissa, and little did she know.  Dad by this time was here on his own so I had a lot of time on my hands, plus I already rather liked smoking crack and wanted to buy as much as I could.  Plus, all those men.  Paying me for being pretty."

"Stella took one look at me, it must have been my third night standing on the corner  She walked over to me and said, 'Do your parents know where you are?'  I answered, 'Maybe ask me if they should care.'  She answered, well why wouldn't they if they're your parents.  I don't think I had an answer for her, but suddenly she asked me if I'd eaten today, and truthfully, I said no, so she said, come with me, and took me to a local café and bought me dinner.  That was the beginning of a very beautiful friendship..."

 

The Peacock 239

 And it would also weaken me.  and I am not going to make myself weak, not to any of those people.  only John and Christopher have that privilege.  But I trust John and Christopher.  they don't judge me.  But to survive my life as a street ho, dressed up as Cassandra, and trying to pass off as a woman for the joy of sucking and playing with all those magnificent straight guy dicks.  And the whole risk of being discovered, and no matter how good, how authentic, how flawless I was as Cassandra, there were always those little giveaways, and that's what got me beat up more than just a couple of times.

I love danger.  Or I did love it.  Now, not so much. and I'm already in my thirties.  The bloom has left the rose.  Time to do something legit.  But I cannot live as just Kenny.  Not without Harriet, who is also me.  Which is why I never thought of changing my gender.  I like having a dick.  I also like being a girl.  I like being both.  And maybe neither?

John has more than once assumed that I no longer want to live a lie, so that is why I have put Cassandra behind me.  And in a way, he's right.  Cassandra is a lie.  But Harriet isn't.  Harriet is the real goods, and she and Kenny have to coexist.  But my packaging is male.  I have to respect that.  Even if the rest of me is something rather different....