The Peacock 413

 I was so disgusted with all of them, since obviously I wasn't getting anywhere with any of them, that I simply gave up.  I told them they were all hopeless and too dense to figure anything out that I was trying to say.  Except for maybe one of them.  He is the deacon, younger guy, and he didn't say anything, but I could tell by his look that he was at least a little bit receptive to what I had to tell them.  I was going to just take the bus home, but Jim insisted on leaving early so he could drive me home.  We didn't talk much on the way, but when we got home, we both waited in the car till he just said, Kenny, I know how hard this must be for you.  I'm so sorry.  I just don't know what else to say.  He was really struggling with his words and he seemed even to  be struggling not to cry.  We went inside, and didn't talk anymore about it.

I'm going back.  They are not going to that easily shut me out, keep me away.  It is my church too, not just for smug middle class professionals. Jesus came for everybody and Jesus died for everybody.  Even for drag queens.  Even for ho's.  I haven't said anything yet to Jim, but I have every intention of fighting those bastards and to go on fighting them.  They are not going to shut me up.  They can't get me to leave that easily.

The Peacock 412

 "I left not one single stone unturned when I told them what a bunch of pathetic losers they all are.  Oh, I don't mean social losers, nor professional losers, nor losers in the game of life.  They have all done marvellously well at everything and they are also lovely middle class Christians to boot.  And of course I was very careful to tell them so.  But then I went up one side of them and down the other about how hopelessly out of touch they all are with anyone who doesn't reflect their lovely smug middle class values.  Then I told them about life on the street.  And I took great care to not portray any of us who have to suck dick for a living as broken down losers.  I talked with pride about Tamara, and about all my other sister hookers and I told them some things about some of the boys and girls as well.  Sure, a lot of them came from really shitty situations and lives but I also told them how much pride they had, how full of strength and life they are, of how honest they are, of how much we take care of each other on the street.  Then I went on to tell them about my stint in university, and of the book I am thinking of writing as I get ready to go back to school.

I'm not sure that any of them really got it or had a clue what I was talking about.  And I told them that as well, that they are so blinded and stuck in their bourgeois middle class thinking, heads firmly planted inside their white asses, and yes, Harriet, those are the exact words that I used, and then one of them, an accountant, she just totally lost it and told me, how dare I insult them like that, and I shot back, how dare the rest of you insult my intelligence with their stupid middle class pity...

The Peacock 411

 July 15.  "We finally did it.  We finally did it.  On my insistence, Jim invited me for a meeting with the parish council.  Boy, did that place ever go up in flames.  And I'm still not finished with that pack of lying hypocrites.  I told them everything, I spared not a single detail and I didn't pull punches, and I feel so good about myself, I feel so good about what just happened, and only you and I Harriet, know where the bodies are buried.

"I first told them, that unlike their common perception of street ho's, I came from a decent family.  No child abuse, no dirty uncle to diddle me, no nasty divorce.  Dad worked in finance and Mom taught elementary school.  I told them that I dropped out of university because I ran out of money.  Mom and dad offered help.  I was proud so I turned them down.  I had other employment opportunities, but I chose hooking, and I chose to dress up and be Cassandra.  Can I justify what I did?  No.  I am brutally ashamed of it now.  But it looked interesting, fun, edgy, and I have always been a risk taker.  Plus, all those hot men, and a few trolls as well.  And getting paid for it."

"So, why did I quit?  I told them that I just didn't want to do it anymore.  Not because I was broken, but because I was fed up.  And I had found God.  They didn't seem to get it, and then I really lit into them..."

The Peacock 410

"Was there ever an actual showdown?" Carl asks.

"Oh never.  Those were Anglicans, remember.  Never anything so vulgar and direct as an actual confrontation, people being emotionally honest, each speaking their truth, each being heard or complaining about not being heard.  None of that very un-Anglican kind of direct, honest, call a spade a spade sort of nonsense."

"Read another entry.  Want some more chocolate?"

"Nope.  Had my fill."  I look at the next page, scan it, then look again.  "Oh my God.  Oh my God!" and I can't stop my voice from rising.

"What is it?"

"Dad did allude to this.  Only once, briefly, one or two words at dinner.  And Kenny refused to talk about it.  What a revelation."

"So, are you going to keep me in suspense, or are you going to actually read it to me", says Carl.

"Here it is...."

The Peacock 409

 "What is your take on all this?" Carl asks.

"That was a difficult time.  For all of us.  I was aware of what was being said but I didn't agree with any of it.  I might have been just fifteen back then, but I already had a mind of my own, and no one was going to do my thinking for me.  Plus, I liked Kenny, enormously.  Actually, I loved him, and I wasn't about to be persuaded by any of the clergy or others at church, regardless of their position or influence.  And Dad was also completely with Kenny.  But it still was difficult at times', and it even got ugly for a while.  Especially when the same priest, Reverend Roberts, the rector, took me aside the next Sunday, and tried to have a little talk with me.  It didn't go very well.  He hemmed and hawed a lot, and didn't seem to be able to  get to the point.  

"What was he saying?" Carl says.

"He wanted to know if I would like someone, other than Dad, to talk to.  An older man who could be around to do things with, like, go on hikes, or to sports events, or bowling or whatever.  So, I told him thanks but no thanks, because I already had Kenny and Dad, and didn't see why I would need anyone else to do things with.  Then he asked me about Kenny, just how things are getting along, as he said.  So I replied that Kenny is my best friend, then I asked if I could leave, because I was really starting to lose my patience.  Now, looking back, I don't really blame him.  He was pretty old, English, old school, and really quite dense and obtuse and impossible to reach.  Like almost all Anglican priests of his generation..."

The Peacock 408

 July 8

"Decent day at work.  Not very busy, but summers are usually slow in the florist business with everyone having their own gardens in bloom.  It's a cute little shop on West Tenth, just a short bus ride from home.  I seem to have already gathered quite a following of loyal regulars, like this lady Camille who comes in sometimes just to say hi.  She would be my mother's age, a recent widow.  I like her because she is just so completely unadorned.  I don't think she's ever dyed her now almost white hair in her life and she wears it proudly, like a helmet of platinum  Neither does she wear make up, but always nicely done up, often in flower print summer dresses.  I guess she's lonely.  Well, so am I.

Still no progress since my blow up yesterday at the church followed by my little encore with Jim at supper.  But right now, there is something truly insidious starting to happen.  Jim sat me down in his office after dinner to fill me in.  He has been advised by the rector to try to find for me other accommodations.  Chris, you know.  They are now all terrified that this ex drag queen homosexual ex hooker is going to somehow taint and corrupt his darling teenage boy.  Ha!  As if!

He has already reassured me that he is not going to cave.  He even has asked me if I will appear with him before the church counsel, since now he thinks they really need to hear my story and from my own lips.

I don't like any of this.  And now I am finding myself feeling wary of everyone, including Jim and even of Chris, since I really don't know now if he is going to end up turning on me...

The Peacock 407

 I accept the bag from Carl and pour into my hand about a dozen or so chocolate chips which I dutifully pop into my mouth, since now the thrill is almost gone.  It is now quite dark outside and I can hear the hooting of a great horned owl in the murky distance.  I am turning a couple of pages in Kenny's diary.

"Hey, listen to this", I say to Carl.

July 7.  Today we had our big showdown.  I took the rector of St. John's aside in the coffee room just after the service and I fully came out to him.  Jim has respected my privacy long enough, and while I fully appreciate his discretion and kindness, enough is enough.  I have to tell those righteous idiots my full story, and tell them I did.  Well, to the big priest anyway.  I sat him down at a table still unoccupied, and I told him everything.  My sexual orientation, my career as a hooker, my life in drag. I did not hold one single punch.  So he gives me this rather blank but thoughtful look, then after some hesitation, says that there should be counselling available for me.  Counselling for what, I asked him.  He said, counselling to help you come to terms with your sexual preference and also to help you affirm your masculinity.  That was when I let him have it.  I said there is nothing wrong with my sexual attraction to men, and there is certainly nothing wrong with my sense of gender.  He again turned on me that dumb blank kind of look and said, well, I'm sorry then, but there is nothing further I can do to help you.  But I am not looking for your help, I said to him, almost shouting.  Then what did you come to me for anyway, he wanted to know.  And with that bit of stupidity, I simply got up and walked away in disgust.  Jim says I should be patient and try to accept that not everyone is going to agree with me.  I told Jim to go to hell.  At dinner I apologized...

The Peacock 406

 "Yes", say I, "I think you are right about Kenny.  Like Cassandra his drag alter ego, he had a prophetic voice.  He was certainly way ahead of his time about global warming.  He even sat Dad and I down one Sunday after church in the morning to tell us all his fears and concerns, that the global mean temperature was rising way too fast and that within thirty years we would already be getting hit by catastrophic climate change.  Dad merely indulged him, and this really infuriated me."

"Your dad didn´t take Kenny seriously, did he."

"Dad thought of Kenny as being damaged goods, and that was the way he saw him.  He was such a kind man, so full of God's love, but in some ways so stubbornly blind about people.  To him Kenny was a gay man with emotional problems and an ex drag queen sex worker who would never do well in life.  He didn't seem capable of seeing the real person beyond the cloud of pity that tended to obstruct his vision."

"That is a very interesting way of putting it.  Thank you.  More chips?"

"Maybe a bit later."

"Oh, come on baby, you must you must..."

The Peacock 402

 "Did you guys have that conversation?"

"Yes, we did, actually.  During supper, and probably the same day he wrote that."

"How did it go?"

"That was the first time that we actually came close to having an all out fight.  And the only time.  Thank God."

"What happened?"

"It was two against one."

"Which two?"

"Kenny and I against Dad.  it was actually sort of pathetic."

"Did he write it up?"

"Let me have a look", say I, and "Here it is.  The same day, written after dinner."

"I am so upset and disgusted with Jim.  Disappointed, actually.  And so proud of Chris.  But what an ugly scene at dinner.  I simply asked Jim why do we sing the national anthem at church.  He lamely replied that it is an expression of gratitude and thanksgiving for all the bounty and freedom that God has given us in this country.  So, I told him about Tamara, who was my closest street sister.  Tamara was native, Haida, and had to work as a ho to simply survive.  She didn't otherwise fit the popular stereotypes for native ho's.  She didn't drink, didn't do drugs, but she needed to survive, and actually had the noble idea of hooking her way through university.  And she did it successfully, landing her a degree in social work and soon after the full surgery..."

The Peacock 405

 "She grew up on Haida Gwaii.  I like that name.  White folk still call them the Queen Charlotte Islands, but really, Harriet, who the hell was Queen Charlotte anyway,, and who really cares?  Pretty name, we suppose, but Queen Charlotte, if she ever existed, probably never set foot there, much less could ever find it on the map.  Haida Gwaii is Tamara's name for it, and that's good enough for me.  She was still a frightened and confused little gay boy, and his parents were fundamentalist Christians, so she had to get the hell out.  Feeling more like a girl than a boy she started to cross dress.  I don´t know how she got into university, I think that was her ticket out of her horrible family, so she was in UBC just after I had to drop out.  Smart girl.  Incredibly compassionate, and one hard little bitch that wouldn't back down from a fight.  Quite small, almost scrawny, but petite and beautiful.  Anyone would have to look good and hard to see that she was a tranny.  She got there on a scholarship, but it wasn't enough to keep her alive and she was already owing on her student loan, so she turned to hooking.  Bloody good at it.  Bloody good at everything.  And so anyway, I told Jim all about Tamara and the impact of white colonialism on her life, the life of her people, and of natives living everywhere in this damn fake country.  

And I told him one secret the church is still guarding under lock and key.  The native residential schools, which Tamara's parents were survivors of, and how it wrecked their lives, the abuse they suffered there from the priests and nuns, and no one wants to talk or even know about it.  One day, I told Jim, that word would get out, this would go completely public and then watch the shit hit the fan..."

"And" says Carl, "Now the word is out about the native residential schools, and yes, the shit is hitting the fan, and is going to go on hitting that fan for generations to come.  Kenny had a prophetic voice. By the way, Chris, remember his drag name, Cassandra?  Do you know what that means?" 

"Tell me", say I handing back to him the bag of chocolate chips.

"Cassandra was a princess of Troy.  The god Apollo had the hots for her and gave her the gift of prophecy, but even if he was a Greek god, she was not about to put out for him, so he punished her by declaring that no one hearing her prophecies would believe a single word.  So, when they were receiving the Trojan horse full of Greek warriors ready to sack, rape and burn Troy to the ground, Cassandra warned them and warned them and warned them again, but because of Apollo's curse, no one would believe her.  And then look what happened..."

The Peacock 403

 "So you were involved in the young people's group in your church?" says Carl

"Even though I was just fifteen, I somehow landed on the leadership committee.  I guess being the priest's kid had a lot to do with it."

"What would churches ever do without committees", says Carl, laughing, "How would they ever cope!"

"Point taken", say I.  "Hey, give me some chocolate chips, already!  You greedy pig!"

Carl, still laughing says, "Okay what's the magic word?"

"Now!"

"Your wish is my command", he says, handing over the bag with theatrical flourish.

"Here is his entry for Canada Day, July 1.

"Today is Canada Day, and I don't feel like celebrating. Funny thing, my studies in environmental sciences tell me that we basically stole the land from the Indians, then totally raped it with mining, industry and urbanization, so really, what is there to celebrate.  The other day in church everyone stood to sing O Canada.  I stood and sang too but really don't know what I was singing about.  I knew a lot of Indian hookers, a lot of them in drag, and really, Harriet, they wouldn't be standing out on the corner had they not been driven there by white imperialist Canada.  I don't get what singing the national anthem would have to do with Christian worship, since god and country are really separate deals.  But I haven't yet had this conversation with Jim.  I think I'll bring it up at supper tonight...

The Peacock 402

"This one's from the next day, June 30".

"He appears to be on a roll here", Carl says, holding the bag of chocolate chips on his lap as though I will only be able to pry it from his cold dead fingers.  "Did he ever tell you any of this stuff?"

"He never went into that kind of detail with me. I knew he was having a hard time with everyone, and I basically knew why, but reading this is for me a revelation."

Carl reaches his hand into the bag and pulls out a small handful of chocolate chips and just tosses them like popcorn into his mouth.

"Jim and Chris are both at a youth meeting at the church tonight, which gives me the house to myself.  Doesn't happen too often.  They invited me along, but I said no way, I am not putting myself on display for those nice idiots.  Well, I didn't say that to them, but I think they have the idea now.  The thing is, I am seriously thinking of taking Cassandra back out of the closet for service next Sunday.  That's right, Harriet.  I'll go to church in full high drag, sequins and feather boa included.  Oh but won't I be just a vision of loveliness.  Nothing worth watching on TV tonight, so instead I am reading a murder mystery that Jim left lying around the house, as he often does with paperback novels.  And now I hear the car in the driveway so I better finish up here and pack this in, since I don't want them to know that I am writing about them.  I suppose I could stop attending church altogether, if I didn't actually get something out of being there, and I do.  There is a lovely sense of peace in those services.  If only I could somehow get around the people there...

The Peacock 401

 "I was just talking to Jim, and he seems to actually get it.  He says I don't have to go out with everyone after church  In fact, I don't even have to go to church.  He is especially clear about this.  He told me, Kenny, you don't owe us.  You are not obligated.  Well, of course I'm not obligated.  Gee, how long did it take us to figure that out?  But then he told me something I simply cannot swallow right now.  He said that they need me at church.  More than I need them.  

Need me for what? I asked him.

So he said that they need me at church because I...am...different.  Uh huh!  So, what else is new.  So, he told me that everyone at that church is middle class and privileged.  They don't have a clue about people outside of their privilege.  So, that's why I'm there?  To educate those lovely middle class people?  What does he want me to do, give seminars?  Dressed up in full high drag as Cassandra and then what should I do, provide tutorials on how to suck a cock?  With illustrated guides?

A freak show.  That's what he wants me to be there.  A freak show, a bit of entertainment for those lovely bored and boring rich folk.  Make up and fashion tips for the ladies.

Or I could tell them how poor and miserable and hurting I am from my life in the gutter.  All in sequins of course.  With my favourite feather boa.  Pink, naturally.

He wants me to educate them?  Compassion porn. pity porn.  Put myself on display and then watch them all feel sorry for me and oh so horrified about how badly I messed up, and glorify God for restoring my life to wholeness.

I really want to just throw up right now.

To Jim, I said no. No way.  No fucking way.  I'm not telling them nothing.  they don't deserve it...

The Peacock 400

"You actually were pretty funny", say I, reaching for the bag of chocolate chips which Carl passes to me.

"Still , it wasn't very responsible of me.  And I really appreciate the way Aaron took charge."

"He's pretty good, isn't he?

"You know, he works in the mental health field?"

"I heard him mention something about that.  Anyway, he's pretty good with difficult people.  By the way, Carl", say I while yet more little lumps of bitter sweet chocolate delight slowly merge into my tongue, "What do you make of his claim that he is really writing us in a novel that he is working on?"

"With that guy", says Carl, receiving back from me the bag and now popping some chocolate chips into his own mouth, "You never know what to expect.  He could be bullshitting.  Or maybe not.  But didn't you also have a glimpse into his apartment, I mean while we were in the diner?"

"I honestly don't know what to make of that.  But I apparently was able to describe his place accurately, at least to his satisfaction.  But I also seem to have that proclivity."

"I would call it a gift",says Carl.

"Yeah, I suppose.  Whatever..."  and knowing full well that I could say more, instead I am picking up Kenny's journal again, because really, I want to keep reading, and this is a subject I really don't want to delve into right now...

The Peacock 399

 "I can certainly appreciate Kenny's predicament with people at the church", says Carl.  "Mom often had people over to the house in Amsterdam, various folks from the community, back in the day when I was working the streets as a paid boy.  Various visitors always wanted to know too much about what I was up to, and how could I possibly tell them that the lovely Christian young son of their exalted leader was really passing his time picking up extra bucks by sucking dicks for money to pay for his little crack habit.  I was also still attending church, but talk about keeping a low profile.  It must have been absolute hell for your friend in the church."

"By the way, Carl, tell me something, please."

"What would you like to know?"

"Why did you get drunk today?"

He simply says nothing, at first, his head bowed low, and I can tell that he must be feeling right now the most acute embarrassment.  Then he looks up with the most sheepish, most shit-eating smile I could ever imagine.  I suddenly feel overwhelmed by pity and tenderness and I simply want to go over and put my arms around him.  But for now, I'm staying put.

"You know", he says, "I think I have an idea of what happened.  When I prayed over you this morning for deliverance, and the Holy Spirit was very much at work between us...Well, it was too much for me.  You see, Christopher, I have some spiritual gifts, but...but I'm afraid that I still lack the maturity to be able to properly steward those gifts.  Our prayer together put me in such a high and exalted state that I tried to make myself feel normal and grounded again by getting drunk... I'm terribly sorry about what happened...

The Peacock 398

 "In fact, I just sat there, as always, dumb, silent and frozen.  They are nice people.  They are lovely people.  But they are not my people.  This happens every time I am in church, and then we go out together after to the same White Spot restaurant, and I know that I'm welcome only because I am Christopher's friend, and he is the son of the minister, so they have to include me, being such good Christians and all.  I don't know how many of them, if anyone, has guessed anything at all about my past.  And both Christopher and Jim have remained faithfully silent.  But neither have I been sufficiently engaged by anyone here to feel that I owe them any sort of explanation or justification for my existence.  I am simply the mystery man. Silent Kenny, who knows, or tries to know when and how to smile appropriately, or laugh just the right way at just the right kinds of jokes, and that becomes my pass for being allowed to sit quiet, dumb and stupid in their exalted presence. 

"The fact of the matter is, I always start out these Sunday night socials in a good mood, inspired from the service, the sermon and the singing and the worship, and then I think, what great, lovely and interesting friends am I going to make tonight, only to find myself gasping for air halfway through our coffees and dessert, and by the time we are ready to leave I either want to run outside screaming, or collapse in a corner in a ball of one huddled and weeping mess.

"They are all nice, lovely people.  And two of them seemed to want to engage with me.  A young woman, Diane and her boyfriend, Ted.  They are nice, good-looking, both of them.  She is starting her internship as a physician and he is graduating in social work.  Yes, that's what I need.  A doctor and a social worker to take care of me.  Well, I think they suspect that I might be a bit troubled, or at least that I have a troubled past, and they probably want to know more, see if they can help.  But if I tell anyone anything about my background as a drag queen hooker, then they will feel sorry for me, make themselves all supportive and caring, and who knows, but maybe Ted could even get a little bit excited, and then it's time to move on again Harriet!

The Peacock 397

 "Did you bring the chocolate chips?" I ask.

"I wouldn't think of leaving them behind", says Carl, brandishing a club pack of semi sweet chocolate chips.  We are back in my room, again.  I was waiting for about fifteen minutes, and just as I was getting desperate with impatience and emotions of abandonment, there he was, knocking gently on my door.  I am again reclining on my bed, or rather, the bed I am borrowing from Carl.who is leaning back in the armchair by the window.  It is now getting dark, and Kenny's journal is resting like a sleeping cat on my lap.  He passes me the bag, and I select just a small handful, and I lean back in a cloud of gathering ecstasy as the bittersweet magic is slowly absorbed into my tongue.

"Ready to read?" asks Carl.

"Oh, that's right.  Sorry."

"No worries, man.  I could see you were caught up in a rapture of chocolate."

I flip through the pages.  Here is an entry for June 29.

"How many drag queens does it take to change a lightbulb?  Four, one to change the lightbulb and three to say "Oh darling, that's marvellous!

"How many drag queens does it take to change a lightbulb?  Four, one to change the lightbulb, and three to say I could have done that SO much better!

"How many drag queens does it take to change a lightbulb?  Three.  One to change the lightbulb and two to say, Bitch, you're in my light!"

Three good, decent lightbulb jokes about drag queens, and all of them remaining stuck inside my mouth.  Well, they weren't that funny, I suppose, and they do repeat negative stereotypes, but come on, Harriet! There we were, all gathered 'round the restaurant table following the evening church service. And some of them spouting off the lamest knock knock and lightbulb jokes that ever annoyed the human ear, and I know three perfectly decent, if lame, and family appropriate lightbulb jokes about drag queens and I didn't have the balls to tell not even one...."

The Peacock 396

 Who was it, anyway?" says Aaron.

"I never had a look at him, I'm afraid", says Melissa.  "We simply heard a strange voice in the house, some guy with a European accent, I think Spanish or Italian, maybe Portuguese,  talking quite angrily with our dad.  I went downstairs to see who it was, but then he was gone.  I asked Dad who was here and he simply said no one and went off to the bathroom."

"Nothing more?" Carol asks, who has not put anything new in her mouth in the last five minutes.

"Nothing", says Carl.

"And that was the same day your father...passed away?"

"Shot himself is more like it", says Melissa.

"But even that we're uncertain of", says Carl, "Given some of the unusual circumstances around his death."

"Well, if the rest of you don't mind", says Carol, yawning prodigiously and just barely covering her mouth with her hand, "I think I am going to make it an early night this evening.  Rather a lot of intrigue and mystery to digest in just a single day, one would imagine."   And she hoists herself up and begins to leave the room.

"Good night, Carol", says Carl.  "Sleep tight."

"And the rest of you, as well", she says, walking towards the grand staircase.

Carl turns to me, and says quietly, "Can we read some more of Kenny's journal?

"I don't see why not..."

The Peacock 395

 "Did you receive visitors?" Carol wants to know.

"Never". Carl says.  "I think the isolation really got to him.  He had a girlfriend, but I don't think he ever received her here, he always went away to see her."

"I met your father's girlfriend.  She was a friend of my dad's", says Aaron.

"What was she like?" Carol says.

"Oh, decidedly normal, I would say.  She was back then around fifty years old,  Your dad met her at AA, and like your dad she was often falling off the wagon,.

"What was her name?" Carl asks.

"You never met her?"

"She never came here", Melissa says.  "Dad rarely even mentioned her.  Don't forget, he almost never talked to us."

""Her name was Sophia.  She was an artist and had a studio in the cabin where she lived in Robert's Creek.  She did become rather fond of my dad and was often over for a coffee and a chat."

"Otherwise", Carl says, "He was pretty isolated."

"Only once", says Melissa, "Did we ever see a visitor here during those days, and that was the same day he died..."

The Peacock 394

 That is not an unusual sensation here", says Carl.  "What's it like for you this time around?"

"No need to go there", Aaron replies, winking, and of course we know exactly what he is insinuating  That right now, he is probably sitting in front of his laptop somewhere writing this all down recording it like an interdimensional fly on the wall.  And of course it isn't time to reveal any of this to any of the others.  Right now we all already have plenty of weird to have to reckon with.  

But I still can't get over my curiosity so, since he is seated right next to me, I ask him,  "Where are you right now?"

"Colombia."

"Colombia!"

"Sh, not in front of the children!"

"Where in Colombia?"

"Medellín.  I am staying with my friend there right now.

"Hey, no whispering in class", Carl says.

"Sorry, teach'", says Aaron with a conspiratorial grin.  "And anyway, we were talking about your father."

"Yes, our father."  Carl reaches for one of the few remaining cookies on the plate in front of him, then hesitates, then changes his mind and grabs it anyway and in two bites it is now heading towards his digestive track.

"Yes, Dad could be a charmer alright, as long as they weren't his own family." 

"But even if he was our dad, there was something decidedly creepy about him", says Melissa.  "And he really seemed to be bunkering down here, as though trying to repel some enemy, seen or unseen..."

The Peacock 393

"The thing about our father", Carl says, "Is that he didn't communicate. I mean, he would give orders, or reprimands, and nothing else.  We didn't otherwise know the man."

"He just accepted that he was our caretaker", says Melissa.  "We didn't even try to talk with him about anything else.  He just was never interested.  And there was of course his drinking.  That was when we really knew to stay away from him.  He could get very ugly."

"He was never actually violent", Carl says.  "But he could get verbally abusive.  The thing is, spending all that time alone here in this huge house must have done a real number on our dad's mental health.  Plus the general weirdness of the place.  It isn't any wonder why Mom divorced him.  He was simply impossible. "  On all levels you could think of."

"That is odd", says Aaron.  "I actually found your dad to be quite engaging. But  he also got rather strange once we returned here to the mansion,.  I think I already mentioned that once I spent a couple of nights in this place."

"What was that like for  you"" says Carl.

"Intense.  Your dad looked like he was going to start drinking, so I retired and went up to bed.  I didn't have a good night.  In fact, I only slept off and on and I kept having the feeling that someone was trying to get into my room..."

The Peacock 392

 "I'm done", says Jesús.

"Agreed", says Aaron.

"That is just amazing", says Maureen.

"Bizarre, I would say", says Jennifer.

"How did you come across that?" says Sarah, lightly rubbing her right nostril with her forefinger.

"I found it here in my bedroom when I was just a kid", says Carl.  "Since it's all written in Spanish, I assumed that one day we would be able to translate it."

"Did your father happen to know anything about its existence?", says Carol, stuffing yet another cookie in her mouth.  I am beginning to wonder if I can see a little bit of excess weight forming around her middle.

"I never told him about it."

"Why not?" she says, her tone just a little bit imperious.

"You never knew our father", Melissa says.

"No, I suppose I did not", Carol says.

"Well", Carl says.  "Neither did we."

"What kind of man was your father,,, anyway?" I ask.

"I met him a couple of times" says Aaron.

"Yes, you told us.  He knew your dad, you were telling us", says Carl.

"But I should imagine", says Carol, "That for all the time you spent with him here alone together in the wilderness", that surely you must have communicated with him."

"You really didn't know our dad", Melissa says,, and Carl merely is just sitting there, his face expressionless and blank...

The Peacock 391

 Nobody spoke, not even a word from Lydia, who was usually pretty loquacious.  We all kind of stumbled inside the house, then had a lunch together in the breakfast room, just tuna sandwiches and potato salad.   Nobody ever spoke of our guide.  It was as though we had been robbed of the words and we could only remember silently the sublime visitation.  Though we never mentioned it among ourselves, I would have sworn that the person who brought Rhona, then Ted by abduction, was exactly the same person in a white robe who guided us back to the house.  But they were not.  The first one was decidedly diabolical.  This more recent messenger could only have come from heaven.

For several days, we all lived together in virtual silence. It was neither solemn, nor sombre.  In fact, no one seemed able to stop smiling. This was a joyful encounter, our first real taste of joy since coming to this godforsaken place.

So, we were supposed to stay here until we received the appointed visitor.  At that time we didn't have a clue who it might be.  We didn't even know who was the rightful owner of this house.  We did find it odd that even though no one paid the electricity or heating bills, there seemed to be always power and heat.  We didn't know at the time that everything was already being taken care of, nor by whom.  But eventually that was sure to change,  It would have to change.  We could not go on living this way, in this suspended state of magical realism where all the laws of reason seemed every day to be getting turned on their head...

The Peacock 390

 He looked at us, smiled, but said nothing, and we were suddenly under his power.  No one could speak.  We simply stared stupidly at him, and really, never had we seen someone so completely radiant and beautiful.  Not even Lydia could stand up to him.  He took the lead and we followed him.  It seemed that we were walking for hours, but it really was only for about thirty minutes or so.  He led and we followed. The forest was quiet.  No birds sang.  Everything was as still and quiet as the interior of a mausoleum.  

What I most recall is how present everything became.  Not just the trees, but every branch, every leaf, every evergreen needle took on a life and identity of it's own.  No one spoke.  We later admitted that we couldn't speak, not even if we wanted to.  Our minds had become completely blank as we followed this strange and angelic being.  

I began to know where we were.  We were being led back to the mansion.  He walked with us as far as the garden.  Then he spoke:

"I am not who you believe me to be.  The person who brought both of you here was another being of another substance and a different spirit.  Even Satan can become for those in his thrall an angel of light.  Heed him not.  Remain in this house until you receive the appointed visitor, then you must leave..."

The Peacock 389

21 June, 2021.  Today we went back to the cabin, spending the past week dithering and putting it off.  We didn't want to, and actually Theo and Lydia got into rather a hated debate about it.  Theo wanted to leave well enough alone, but Lydia has never been one to leave anything alone.  Just the tone and strength of her voice was enough to persuade him.  She can be truly a frightening woman when she wants to be.  No wonder Philip couldn't break her.  In fact, she has become our de facto leader.  Even to me the word of Lydia is law.  Even walking for one hour to get to the cabin she took the lead and we all followed her obediently, like little children walking behind their kindergarten teacher.

We somehow lost our way to the cabin.  We still don't know how it happened.  Instead of taking us to the clearing, we began to penetrate more deeply into the forest. Rhona expressed surprise that the trail appeared to be so well maintained, because we couldn't imagine anyone being present to cut the underbrush.  Also to our surprise, no one seemed scared, frustrated or nervous about being lost.  We simply penetrated even deeper into the forest.  

I don´t know who first became aware of this, but soon it became clear that we had company.  It was a tall young man, dressed in a white robe.  He had blue eyes and blonde hair, and Theo and Rhona both recognized the man who had tricked and abducted them to the mansion...

The Peacock 388

 Jesús looks up and says, "There is a bit more on this page.  Want me to read?"

Nobody answers.  We have all been so absorbed into this bizarre account that I don't think that anyone is ready to speak nor knows really what to say.

"Men in black?" Carol says suddenly, hazarding a guess.

"He doesn´t say what that guy was wearing", Aaron says, but your guess would be as good as mine.

I want to know about the cabin", says Carl.

"Me too", says Melissa.

"That's understandable", I reply.  "Your father."

That is just so bizarre", Sarah says.  "It also reminds us a bit of..."

"Yes", says Maureen.  "Our Colombian."

"Don't worry, Jesús", Says Jenn energetically, "We mean the other Colombian."

"No problem", he says with a weary smile.

The Peacock 387

 That was when Theo began to openly disclose his own experience of abduction.  It appeared to be the same handsome Nordic-Teutonic type, saying virtually nothing for two weeks, then basically strong-arming him into a car driven by an accomplice, and somehow being drugged, then waking up in one of the many bedrooms in this big fancy house.  Then, Mr. Good looking Swede, Norwegian, Dane or German or visitor from outer space comes in without knocking.  Announces that the leader, Philip will see him shortly, and then vanishes as though he  was only an illusion and nothing but an illusion.

For some reason, we are the only ones here who had the presence of mind to not be broken by them.  Each in our own way, we resisted.  Rhona, by diving right in and taking full control of the controller.  Theo by simply being so dense and thickly shelled that nothing seemed to penetrate him.  And Lydia and I, on the strength of our love for each other, and our absolute dogged refusal to let anyone take from us our freedom or our autonomy.

The Peacock 386

 "One night at closing time, we were all sitting around at the table as always.  There he was, seated next to his doorman friend, as usual.  Saying nothing, just staring ahead like he was watching a boring movie.  Then, as we were all getting ready to leave, I got to the door and was about to head for my car.  So, he approaches me with his friend and says, Come with us.  I said, huh?. and the next thing I knew, I was in the backseat of a car that the doorman was driving and Mister Blue Eyes was in the front seat with him.  It was totally dark and I imagined we were heading out in the country.  I must have passed out again, because the next thing I knew I was waking up on top of a bed in a room where I didn't have a clue where I was.  Mister Blue Eyes came in, without knocking, sat on a chair and told me that this is where I would serve the elders and that in a few minutes the leader would be seeing me.  Then, he disappeared.  I mean, he didn't just leave, he vanished, like he was never there.  Next thing I knew, Philip came in and told me that I was going to be working for them from now on. "

Theo had a similar story, except he was a university student all set to attend class in one of the lecture halls, and the same guy with blue eyes and blonde hair, ended up sitting next to him.  For two weeks.  Every day... 

The Peacock 385

 For two weeks he came almost every night.  He would sit through all my performances, but didn't seem to be that fixed on me, you know, not the way a lot of those pathetic hungry dogs would just sit and drool like hound dogs staring in a butcher shop window.  No, he wasn't like that at all.  He almost seemed to appreciate my dancing from a purely aesthetic perspective, if you catch my drift.

I did find at times both those glaring search light eyes of his upon me, but more like he was assessing me, evaluating, judging and criticizing my every move, every contour of my body.  It got really uncomfortable for me and I only wished he would turn into one of the hungry dogs and just salivate in silence.

He was always around for closing time.  He appeared to be friends with the doorman.  He didn't talk much, and I don't think I heard him laugh or saw him smile not even once at any of the jokes that would go flying round the table. and those jokes and one-liners were hilarious.

The Peacock 384

 One night at the club, I was just getting ready for a performance when this guy caught my eye.  There was something about him.  I was seated at a table way in the back where no one could see me, and his eyes were right on me.  I felt, you could say, naked under his glare.  I don't mean that he was undressing me with his eyes.  It wasn't like that at all.  But his eyes were very penetrating.  That they were also pale blue and shone like two headlights on a foggy night, of course, could only add to the impact.

After the show, we were just closing for the night.  It must have been around three am.  All of us staff and some of our friends were all sharing a big table, like we usually did to just relax, unwind, talk about the night, tell jokes and get maybe just a little bit drunk together.  And there he was.  At our table.  He appeared to be a friend of a friend of the owner.  He was also gorgeous, in a Germán SS sort of way, if you catch my drift.  You know, high cheekbones, blonde, square jawed and almost scary handsome.  You could say I was pretty taken by him.

We exchanged a few words.  He told me I danced beautifully and wondered if I had had any professional training. Truth is, yes, I studied ballet for five years in Seattle.  He didn't say a lot else, and then left early.  Then, just after he got up to leave, he took hold of my hand, stared me in the eye, then deftly kissed my hand and left.

"He was back the next night...

The Peacock 383

 For Rhona this became her moment of confession.  Here are her words as well as I can remember them, she really wanted to tell us everything. She was sick of living with secrets.  So, we sat in one of the reception rooms the following evening, sharing a bottle of wine, and she simply blurted out:

"I have wasted one entire year of my life with those idiots.  They were all concealment, lies, secrecy. no one could say anything without censure.  We were Philip's slaves and everyone treated him like God.  I got in the same as everyone else.  I was a dancer in a bar in downtown Vancouver.  Not exactly a stripper, but still often went down to pasties and g-string.  But it was a more sophisticated establishment, not quite under the legal radar.  In fact, we were sort of a booze can, or you could say we were in a kind of legal grey zone.  But I needed the money, I was in Canada courtesy of my boyfriend, Mark, from Seattle.  He was one of the first draft resisters, and just barely escaped getting shipped to Vietnam.

"Everything went sideways between us. He basically found someone else, and before I knew it I was alone and broke. So, I was sitting in this bar one rainy November afternoon, and this guy approached me and asked me if I wanted to try dancing.

It didn't seem too bad.  The patrons were usually couples, often professional or well heeled businessmen.  It was , for a semi booze can, quite a class act....