653

 Glen and Sheila are setting the big table.  "Just in time", says Sheila.

"Carl", comes the sharp voice of Melissa, "Come in here, we need your help here."  We go into the kitchen where Melissa has just taken a couple of huge casserole containers out of the oven.

"Smells good in here", say I.  Sarah is about to pour a huge vat of freshly steamed broccoli into a couple of serving bowls.  Carol is tossing the salad, and Michael is slicing bread.

"What did you make?" says Carl, picking up a couple of oven mitts.

"Scalloped potatoes with tofu and Asiago", says Michael.

Melissa says, without really even glancing at him, "What happened to you guys.  You look like you just saw an angel."

"Very perspicacious of you, little sister", says Carl.

"Where's Francois?"

"He went up to his room", says Carl.  "he's tired, and so are we.  We just saw an angel."  He is smiling...

The Peacock 652

 We return, silent, to the house.  There is nothing to be said.  Francois does have a much lighter step, and neither I nor Carl seem to know what to do.  There is nothing left to be said.  The irises give way to the tulips and their colours seem more luminescent than before, despite the filtred light.  As we arrive at the house, we pause and sit in chairs on the verandah, as though needing time to prepare for the others.  We are still quiet, then Francois, who has been staring out at the garden, as Carl and I, says suddenly, "I won't be here for dinner.  I think I need to rest."

As he gets up to leave, Carl says, "We understand, Francois.  Can I bring you up something to eat.  You will be hungry."

"Okay", he says, glancing back.

"You're in the room next to mine, right", say I.

"Why don't you both come up with the food when you're done, and we can carry on the fellowship..."

The Peacock 651

 Carl and I both appear to be stuck where we are, as though being held in place, as Francois slowly approaches the shining being.  Then he stops, just less than a metre in front of him.  They appear to be communicating, and Francois remains very still and silent.  The stranger suddenly fades from view, but there is still a lingering luminescence that is slowly fading away.  The peacock is still perched on the branch, his iridescent blue neck still capturing some of the heavenly light, and now the peacock is also nowhere to be seen.  Francois turns towards us, his face caught in a rapt, beatific smile, his face shining from the residual refulgence.  

"How are you?" says Carl, as he returns to us.

He is silent at first, and enfolds us both in a strong and warm embrace, holding us close to him for a moment, then gently releasing us.  He continues to stare at us, smiling.

"It's all good", he says in a whisper,

"Did the angel speak to you", I ask.

"Yes, and it's all good.  All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

"Julian of Norwich", say I.

"Who was he?" says Carl.

"She", say I, "Was a medieval English mystic."

"He spoke to her those words", says Francois, still smiling.

"Um", say I, "She lived more than seven hundred years ago."

"So she did", says Francois.  "So she did."

"

The Peacock 650

 "So we do have a peacock on the grounds", says Carl.  "Any questions from the audience?"

"How did he get here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine.  Unless we just had a collective hallucination.  Here, anything is possible."

"The big bird saved us from getting lost", says Francois, "I say there is something very mysterious at work on this property."

"I concur" says Carl, "Especially from what we have heard so far of Cosme's diary."

"Should we believe him?" says Francois."

"I don't see why not?" says Carl.  "Or ar least we could believe that that was what he saw?"

"Could he have been hallucinating?" say I.

"They might have all been using drugs", says Carl.  "LSD was getting very popular back in the sixties.

"Drugs or no drugs", says Francois, "I still think we should take those writings seriously.

We have arrived at the two benches, and then Carl gasps in shock.  "Look at this will you?"

And right there, next to the magnolia, where the peacock has just flown up onto the lower branch, directly underneath, there is a kind of gleaming.  The light is coming from the white robe of a tall and beautiful young man staring at us intently....

The Peacock 649

We have already walked at least another ten minutes and this trail does not seem about to end, plus it is beginning to rain again.  To Carl I say, "Are you sure we're not lost?".

"This trail cannot go on forever and we have not left the grounds.  I say we keep going", he says.  "But sometimes I forget just how long some of these trails are."

"Look at that ", says Francois, pointing ahead.

"What.  What do you see?" says Carl.

Then I see it too, walking just a few metres ahead.  A peacock.

"Do you see him", say I, "Do we all see him?"  I have been so worried that I have been hallucinating.

"Yes, that is a peacock", says Carl, "And I say we follow him."

The large bird turns off the trail onto a very obscure looking path that we otherwise would have missed.  he slows, as though waiting for us to catch up, then begins to run ahead.  We are all getting wet from the leaves and branches, but a trail it is.  The bird slows till we catch up, then races on ahead.  The rain seems to be letting up again as we come out onto a clearing, and there it is.  The southern magnolia, still sporting only one partially unfurled flower.  We will soon be home for dinner.

 

The Peacock 648

 "What time is it now?" say I

"Almost six", says Carl, glancing at his watch.

"How far are we from the house?"

"We should be back in less than ten minutes."

"Where are we now?" says Francois, and I can tell he is feeling uneasy.

"We are not lost", says Carl.  "I've walked here before.  Let's go."

"What are your future plans?" I ask Francois.

"Well, I have left the priesthood."

"No way" says Carl.

"I just broke the seal of the confessional.  That is unpardonable.  And if I disclose it to another priest, I am thoroughly cooked as to having any future at all in the church.   We'd might as well say that it's over, and let me find something else to do."

"Any ideas?"

"I have had extensive training in clinical psychology, plus, while in college, I worked part time in a mental health boarding home, and they gave me a good reference.  I am returning to Montreal this Christmas, and will probably stay there..."

The Peacock 647

 "And your mother saw it all happen?" say I.

"Mom was actually late in fleeing to the church, and then she saw it surrounded, so she hid in some bushes.  It was one of the Canadian peacekeeping soldiers that got hold of her and almost bodily dragged her to his jeep, where he took her to General Dallaire.  I must have been twelve when she started talking to me about it.  I think she must have figured that this would be important in helping to form me as a young man.  I only wanted her to shut up and never mention it again, but over and over for the next couple of years, sometimes that was all she could talk about.  I turned into her confessor, her psychiatrist, her fucking counsellor.  No mother should ever inflict that kind of burden on her little boy, and that is exactly what she did to me.  We never did have a normal mother and son relationship.  We were, what they call, enmeshed.  I was her friend and confidant.  And in a way her protector.  She would often break down crying while talking about my father, but I let her do it.  She needed this, and she needed me to be with her while it was happening.  I spent some time seeing a therapist, and we concluded together that despite the toxicity of our arrangements, that that was still the best of all outcomes."

"How is she now?" says Carl.

"Happy.  So fucking happy", says Francois.  "I have never seen her so happy before.  Jun was just what she needed.  She smiles now, tells jokes, awfully funny jokes, laughs a lot.  Finally..."

The Peacock 646

 But the best is still to come.  This person did not come to me to confess and be absolved for burning and hacking to death the innocent.  He wanted to be absolved for burning down a church.  To him, that was the most grievous possible sin.  When I asked him, with difficulty, and do you not want to be forgiven for the Tutsis you had butchered.  He replied, oh but that was during the war, and I was simply carrying out orders, and besides, we really wanted our country back.  I bluntly told him that there can be no absolution until he thoroughly and with great lamentation and remorse confessed his crime against humanity, and then I ordered him to leave the church and the monastery, to return to Rwanda and hand himself over to the authorities, and to the church, and then to make his confession to a Tutsi priest.  And then I said, by the way sir I happen to be Tutsi.  And one of those men you murdered happened to be my father.  And then I said, get out of here now, because if you are still here when I step out of this booth, or if I ever see you anywhere on the grounds of this church or monastery, I will personally kill you myself...

He was never seen again, and then I had a complete nervous breakdown.  My superiors treated me like shit, as is their tendency to anyone showing weakness, and that is when I phoned you, Carl, to please come and rescue me...

The Peacock 645

 This is why I had to leave the monastery.  We were hearing confessions.  I was approached by a gentleman, somewhere in his fifties, dressed in a suit, African, but I could tell right away which class of African.  He was a Hutu.  Of course, he couldn't see me because of the screen in the confession booth, but I could see him.   I had never known this man before, but instinctively, I froze.  I knew I was not going to like what I was about to hear.  He said that he had sinned so grievously and so horrendously that he didn't know if he could ever be forgiven.  I tried to reassure him that to God there is no sin so dreadful, nor any sinner so abject, that with true and genuine repentance and penance cannot be forgiven.  

"As he began to speak, I found myself drifting into kind of a personal dead zone, and I knew even then that I was in the process of being traumatized.  Still I heard, and still remember, every single word that he said.  He said how he had been involved in the genocidal slaughters of my people in June 1994, that he had participated in many stabbings, hackings and shootings.  Then he told me about a church that was harbouring over one hundred Tutsis who had run there for refuge.  He told me how he had brought with him a jerry can of gasoline, and poured and sprinkled it around the church, while some of his thugs waited at the doors and windows with knives and machetes at the ready.  He told me the name of the church, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, that it was white and made of wood, and I suddenly recited to him the exact location of this church, the street corner, the park across the street, because Mom had told me this story over and over and many many times over again.  

"The gentleman asked me how I knew the place.  I simply told him to please continue with his confession.  This is where it gets really interesting.  As the church was already being covered by flames, some people were trying to escape through the doors.  That gentlemen said he was there, with his machete, along with his buddies, hacking to death every poor soul that tried to break free.  One of the people he killed was my father...

The Peacock 644

 The sunlight has disappeared again behind a new bank of cloud, and it appears it is going to rain again.  We have been walking for over an hour, but we are moving back towards the house, and likely will be in time for dinner.  We have been mostly quiet since Francois' confession.  Carl and I are, of course, gobsmacked  We don't know even how to begin to respond to the convoluted nightmare he has just shared with us.  But he has come out okay, and I am going to take care not to cheapen his journey by making such a glib assertation to my new friend.

"Have you been back to Rwanda?" says Carl., 

"I was born in Canada", Francois says quietly.

"Conceived in Rwanda."

"That would be correct.  No, I don't want to go there, at least not yet.  Not ready to face those ghosts."  Then he turns around to face us both and says, "I am about to do something very sinful and very horrible."

"What do you mean by that?" says Carl, incredulous.

"I am going to break the seal of the confessional.  There is a secret I no longer want to carry alone..."

The Peacock 643

 "Are you still in contact with the Gagnon's" ask I

"No, only with Etienne, who texts me from time to time.  From Emma, nothing, nor do I expect to hear from her again.  Nor do I want to. Madam Gagnon is in failing health and they have put the house up for sale."

Francois, understandably, appears grim and solemn, and I wonder if it might be time to change the subject, or at least to shut up altogether. Carl appears not to have that sense of mercy.

"Francois", he says, "Do you think that maybe Emma's behaviour towards you, and there is no way that I am trying to justify or rationalize it, but could this be her way of coping with the death of her father?."

"What she did was monstrous.  I still haven't forgiven her  Now, please, can we talk about something else?"

"Please, let us know if we can help you in any way", says Carl.

"Yes.  Thank you.  You are both very kind to hear me.  But, please, let's not talk about it further, not today anyway.  and please, let's not say anything to anyone else.  I don't want the others to know."

"You have my word, Francois", say I.

"Mine too", says Carl.

The Peacock 642

 "Mom married a Korean gentleman, who was also one of her most regular and longstanding house cleaning clients.  His name is Jun.  When he was a child his entire family escaped from North Korea.  They were smuggled into China and from there put on a boat to the Philippines, from where shortly afterward they made it to Canada.  Their common experience of displacement seemed to help bond them together.  Mom went to live with him in his house and I stayed in the condo while attending college.  Later I moved out here to the Seminary of Christ the King nearby, where I was also ordained."

"What is your mother's name?" asks Carl.

"Rosemarie."

"You must miss her."

"I do, actually, but I have been out to visit a couple of times.  Remember my account of the cop and the donuts?  I was visiting Mom and Jun, they live in a so-so middle class neighbourhood, but still too nice looking for a young black guy to walk on the sidewalk.

"That really totally sucks", say I.

"You get used to it.  Whether you want to or not.  But you have to learn to laugh it off.  It's either that or stay locked inside your home for the rest of your life..."

The Peacock 641

 They were waiting for me at a table when I arrived, Emma and a priest.  I wasn't sure how to respond.  I sat down with them, and Emma said almost nothing  She could hardly look at me.  The priest began to talk.  He said that he was Madam Boudreau's confessor, and that she still hadn't the courage to speak to me, and had agreed that he would speak on her behalf.  He said that Madam Boudreau had found herself "with child" as a result of our "connections."  He said that shortly afterward, in an act of desperation, she had committed mortal sin by having the child  aborted.  She was going to end her life with pills, then instead, in a moment of repentant and redemptive insight, went to see him, her priest instead, and confessed and wanted to be received again in a spirit of full penitence by Holy Mother Church.  I kid you not, that was the terminology he was using.  She was given absolution, but as a form of penance would have to face me and confess everything.  She was also to write me a check of a substantial sum of money, for all the labours that had been inflicted by her family on my mother in exchange for my education.  Fortunately the elder Monsieur Gagnon had recently passed away from a heart attack, and Madam Gagnon was more than willing to collaborate, so the sum was beyond generous."

"How much did she give you?" asks Carl.

"I am not allowed to disclose the sum", says Francois, a little bit peevish.  "It was one of the stipulations in the agreement I had to sign.  The other stipulation was that I was not to inform my mother, but to tell her the money was a scholarship I had just been granted."

"Then what happened?" I ask.

"Mom and I bought a condo together, and then she married her boyfriend..."

The Peacock 640

 That was when Emma became the wild card.  I was just about to enter university, and Etienne was away oversees, training Afghans' in fighting off the Taliban.  She began inviting me for dinner.  Both her privileged kids, son and daughter, were away in boarding school, and she was feeling very lonely in that great big house of theirs.  The dinners were pleasant enough, but then she began inviting me to spend the night.  I had time off before starting classes, was just about to turn eighteen, so I thought, might as well.  Then it got really ugly.  She started coming into the guestroom when I was sleeping, and would lie down next to me on the bed.  Then she started giving me massages, and finally, would pull me onto her.  Now this was a woman already in her forties, and I was a teenager.  She wasn't bad looking, but not really my type, but I felt that because of the power imbalance that I would have to comply and obey her.  We had sex twice, then when I said I wanted this to stop, she threatened to have me charged with raping her, since of course no one was going to accept the word of a little black boy over a wealthy white woman. 

To my relief, and puzzlement, that was the last time I stayed with her.  She was supposed to have me over again a week later.  I did not get a call, and I was not about to call her.  Another week passed, then another.  At first I thought Etienne was home on leave, but that wasn't the case.  And anyway, I felt so guilty about betraying him with his wife, since he was in many ways the closest thing I had to a father, I simply didn't want to have to face him.  A full month passed.  Then another month.  Etienne came home for Thanksgiving, spent a week, then returned to Afghanistan.  Miraculously, I was able to avoid him.  

Then, from Emma I received a text, and she told me to meet her in the Starbucks on the campus where I was studying, since I was now taking classes...

The Peacock 639

 Madame Gagnon, we were never on a first name basis, actually was rather kind, if detached.  I am sure now that she would have done a lot more for us, and welcomed us into the family were it not for her husband, who really wanted us as far out of sight as possible.  In fact, it is pretty certain that putting us up in their mansion all those years was indeed Madam's idea and her husband only went reluctantly along with it.  He was a corporation head, made a stinking fortune in gold mines, rather like your great grandfather, Carl with the silver mines in Sumatra.  He was also on a first name basis with the current prime minister's father, the elder Trudeau.  They were already in their sixties when I was a kid, so I always knew them as being ancient.  Their daughter moved out shortly after I was born, when she married Etienne, who actually took a strong paternal interest in me, and sometimes invited Mom and me over for dinner.  I also think that he must have advocated a lot for me, and it was through his influence that I got into university, later seminary, but there was still the sticking point of my mother, who in a kind of bribery exchange, agreed to do free housework for our hosts in exchange for my tuition.  I actually had trouble with her version of the story, and the student newspaper at the college where I did my first two years before entering seminary,  decided there was a story there, and soon all of Montreal, and by extension, Canada, knew about the nasty racist pure laine Quebecois couple of wealth and privilege keeping Mom in slavery so I could become  priest...

The Peacock 638

 "They were racist?" says Carl.

"They didn't seem to know they were, but yes, they were racist.  We were never actually badly treated, but we always felt like outsiders, like mascots or pets, but never really part of the household.  We seemed to help them feel good about themselves.  And it was a huge house we lived in, not quite as big as this place, but approaching the scale.  They gave us a couple of rooms in the attic, which are much like the attic rooms here, small, sloped walls and ceilings, and incredibly hot in the summer.  They had several vacant rooms, huge and beautifully appointed, on the second floor, but that is not where they wanted us.  There was also a kitchenette and a bathroom up there, not in the greatest condition, but functionable, so there was no expectation that we would come downstairs to hang out in the living room, watch TV together, or, worse, share meals together.  In fact, we were never once invited to share Christmas, Easter or Thanksgiving with them.  They wanted those celebrations to be done with family only.  But they were generous with gifts, and we were still welcome Christmas morning for breakfast and gift opening.  But that was it.

But they were materially generous.  They fully funded my daycare while Mom went out to work cleaning homes and offices.  And once a week, Saturday mornings, Madame Gagnon would invite us down to their kitchen for coffee and snacks and to do a regular check-in with us.  Otherwise, we remained distinct solitudes.

The Peacock 637

 "They had a daughter.  Emma.  She was older than me, already married.  Her husband was older, a military officer, in the army, but also involved with the peacekeepers..  It was through him, actually, that Mom and I were rescued from the charnel house that was Rwanda.  Etienne was a personal friend of General Romeo Dallaire, the famous Canadian peacekeeper in Rwanda who wrote that amazing book about his experiences and suffered from extreme PTSD from the horrors that he saw.  He handed her over to Etienne who flew her back with him to Montreal.  He was already engaged to marry Emma, who was still in her early twenties.  I think there was at least a fifteen year difference of age between them. 

"The Gagnon's were very faithful  Catholics, already a very rare breed in Quebec, with a very robust social conscience.  They were also friends of Jean Vanier, the founder of the L'Arche communities for people with mental handicaps.  They very gladly took my mother in, and basically supported her as she raised me.  They became the only family that we had.  And even if I said there was nothing kind about them, that had more to do with later developments, but really towards us they were extraordinarily generous, even despite their sometimes evident discomfort that we were black...

The Peacock 636

 "How long did you stay with them?" ask I.

"Till I entered seminary.  Okay, they weren't all bad.  They did bankroll my education, and that was kind, even if it was assumed that my mother had to work it all off for me to continue."

"Surely they paid her". Carl said.

"They gave her free room and board, but no salary.  The fact is, Mom felt so extraordinarily grateful, so indebted to the Gagnon's, that there was almost nothing she wouldn't do for them.  And the official line was, in exchange for her faithful and loyal services, they would pay for my university and preparation for the priesthood.  It was blackmail, but the balance of power was shared equally.  Plus, there was their daughter."

"They had a daughter?" says Carl, who seems just a little bit too delighted about where this conversation could be going...

The Peacock 635

 The only reasonable, the only courteous, the only realistic response, is that both of us, Carl and I, keep our mouths shut.  I will focus on the tepid sunlight, now beginning to filtre through the clouds, faint touches of silver and gold on the surrounding leaves.  Francois walks tall and silent, a little ahead of us. Everything he does, expresses, postures, is infused with elegance.  Does he even guess how gifted he is.  

"You were born in Montreal?" Carl asks suddenly, hesitantly.

"We were sponsored by a local family  They are white Quebecois, who trace their ancestry in la belle province back over three centuries.  Their name is Gagnon.  We lived with them."

"That must have been very kind of them", says Carl.

"Nothing at all kind about those people", he retorts.  "Mother was their servant, their grateful slave, rather, and by extension, so was I."

"But they rescued you", says Carl.

"Okay, they weren't particularly cruel.  And Mom said afterward that she really wanted to help, enjoyed helping, because she felt so burdenned by a debt of gratitude.  And they exploited her to the max...."

The Peacock 634

 What are you thinking?" asks Carl.

"Rwanda.", says Francois.  "I cannot see how that massacre on steroids, that genocide, could ever possibly find redemption.  Almost one million of my people, the Tutsis, slaughtered like cattle."

"It´s a miracle your parents escaped", say I.

"My mother escaped.  I was already in her womb.  My father was killed in a church where he sought refuge with others.  It was surrounded by Hutus and burned, and no one survived.  I can scarcely think of the horrible death."

"But God spared you and your mother", says Carl.

"And no one else.  Of course, I'm going to ask why.  And please, don't bore me with nonsense about there being a special reason or purpose in my life.  Every life has reason.  Every life has purpose.  Not mine any more or any less than my father, or any of the hundred people that were butchered and cooked to death with him..." 

The Peacock 633

 The rain has reduced to a light drizzle, and there are little glimmerings, like tiny candles in the sky.  The tulips are in their glory, and now the irises are beginning to keep pace.   We pass the southern magnolia, saying nothing to each other, and proceed together, as though of one mind, as though led by an invisible guardian, towards the gate in the fence.  The air is cool, moist, and incredibly pure and heavy with fragrance.  The drizzle has stopped, and we spontaneously furl and lower our umbrellas.  I wonder if, by caprice, Carl is going to go ahead and lead us into forbidden territory, where I erroneously ventured yesterday and found the cabin in the field, but he takes the other trail, the one that winds around throughout the property, like an undisciplined labyrinth.  We are going to be walking for quite a while.

"What do you make of Aaron's story?" say I to no one in particular.

"I want to know what the serpent represents?" says Francois.

"I would imagine", says Carl, "Satan and his redemption."

"But how can the devil possibly be redeemed?" says Francois.

"It's not theology", says Carl.  "More a parable."

"Anything can be redeemed", say I.

"Are you sure?", says Francois...

The Peacock 632

 I have not notice those umbrellas before.  There are perhaps a half dozen of them standing in the big ceramic urn, perfectly enveloped in themselves as though they have never before been opened.  Carl picks three from the urn and hands us each one.  And then I notice that they are all the same, and as we step outside in the cool wet and fragrant air, each umbrella opens up into a rainbow splendour.  They are lovely and eye-catching.

"Where did you buy these?" I ask.

"Walmart", says Francois cynically.

"That is exactly where I bought the umbrellas", says Carl.

"What!  No way!" say I.

"They were on sale.  Got 'em for five bucks each"

"Yeah", says I, "As if you really need to save money."

"Hey!  I'm Dutch, ain't I?"

The Peacock 631

Carl clearly has crossed a line with Melissa that will never soon be forgotten or forgiven. I am sick of all the intensity and simply crave solitude, fresh air and movement.  Carl has followed me out of the room where the others are still sitting.

"Going out?" he says.  "There are umbrellas in the stand by the door.  Want some company?"

"Sure" I say, lying, but he is after all my host and new best friend.

Francois is following close behind and Carl says, "Come join us for a walk Francois", and liking it or not the three of us are on our way outside together.

The Peacock 630

 "I never told anyone", Melissa says flatly, "But when I was getting ready to leave Claus, and found myself pregnant, well, it wasn't a miscarriage."

"Does Mom know?"

"She is not going to find out. "

"Yes, we know what she's like."

"How very sad", says Carol, "That you cannot tell her, Melissa.   But I do understand, there are things that we all have to keep from our mothers."

"I imagine she is not pro choice", says Michael.

"Some of her views, a lot of our mother's views", says Carl, "Are pretty backward.  I blame it on her variety of Christianity.  She still doesn't believe that there is such a thing as homosexuality."

"And", says Melissa, "She fervently believes that the Jews have every right to kick the Palestinians out of their country."

"Maybe you should tell her", says Carl.

"Fuck off, Carl", she retorts, quietly....

The Peacock 629

 "Honestly, Michael, this is completely inappropriate and we are not going to discuss it further", she says rather sharply.  "It would be like telling you all about my abortions."

"Mom!"

"Fear not, little son, you were spared."

"But, did you...did you?"

"That is for me to know and for you to never find out."

Aaron says", I will never forget one night, I must have been in my early thirties, when at eleven one nght, my mother phoned me, and only to tell me that she was pro-choice and how fervently she believed that women should have the right to abortion.  I didn't argue with her, in fact, I hadn't really made up my mind about it, and really I had more pressing matters to take care of, but I can tell you that after our thirty minute conversation I felt decidedly shaken and creeped out.

"Speaking of which" says Carl, still with that scary smile on his face, "Is everyone here pro-choice?"

"Not me", says Glen.  "Every baby should have the right to life."

"I agree with Glen", says Francois, "As a Catholic."

"And as Catholics", says George, "Jeff and I are both strongly pro-choice.""

"Us too", says Sarah, "And Jenn and Maureen and I have already talked about it, so I can speak for the three of us."

"Am I the only person here", says Melissa, "Who has had an abortion?"

"Mel?" says Carl, completely surprised...

The Peacock 628

 "Is everyone familiar with the story?" says Carl.

"The sphinx was finally defeated by Oedipus",  says Aaron.  "He was returning to his ancestral city, since he had been abandoned to die by his mother and raised by strangers  The sphinx asked him this riddle, What has four legs in the morning, two legs at midday and three legs in the evening.  No one could answer the riddle, and she would attack, rip to shreds or eat every last one who didn't get the riddle.  But Oedipus knew the answer  He said it is man, who crawls on four legs as a baby, walks on two legs as an adult, and walks on three legs, with a cane as an old man.  The sphinx threw herself to her death and Oedipus entered the city".

"Where", says Michael, "He murdered his father, then married his mother."

"And I am that sphinx?" says Sheila.

"Well", says Matthew, "I have always found you mysterious or enigmatic, as if you were always posing a riddle for us that we could not answer."

"Of course, there is also the Oedipal complex, framed by Sigmund Freud", says Carl, evidently wanting to stir the pot, yet again.

"And we are not going there", says Sheila

"A bit close to the bone, Mommy?" says Michael.

The Peacock 627

 "Or, why didn't you tell us"

"I didn't say you weren't welcome, did I?" says Sheila to her son.

"My mother, the Sphinx."

"And don't you forget it."

"So which sphinx would you be referring to?" says Carl.

"There are more than one?" says Sheila.

"Oh, there are many", Aaron replies, "But principally, I think that most of us think either the Great Sphinx of Cheops in Egypt, or the Sphinx that guarded the gates of the ancient Greek City of Thebes."

"Yes, I think I read about that one somewhere.  Greek mythology, yes?" says Sheila.

"That was the same sphinx that would tell a riddle to every visitor to the city, and if they got it wrong, she would pounce on them and devour them."

"Great tourism PR, don't you think?" says George with a chuckle...

"I think my mom could be either or both", Says Michael.

"From my loving son", says Sheila dryly...

The Peacock 626

 "Oh, yes, dear Michael, you were inevitable.  And that was still back in the day before we had gay marriage, and we still had to be secretive about everything, or get ostracized, or beaten up, or even killed.  Let's see, Mikey, you came along just shy of 1980 or so, and we did have kind of a workable arrangement going for ourselves."

"More or less, I would have to say", says Sheila,  "But I did find the both of you quite frustrating, and at times downright infuriating."

"Mother Peanut Gallery", says Michael, rolling his eyes.

"Were we that bad, Sheila?" says Matthew.

"Oh, if only", she replies.  "Around me, anyway, you were both always on your best behaviour.  I described you to my friend Madge, as two excessively well trained lapdogs"

"Mother!" says Michael, groaning.  "Anyway, Mom, it might have been because, maybe we didn't feel accepted by you, so of course we were just going to try all the harder."

"Well, I accepted you.  Why couldn't you both figure it out...?"

The Peacock 625

 Vancouver, while not a safe haven, was less dangerous to queers than small town Ontario, at least in the West End.  You still had to watch your back, and did not dare come out to anyone, but except for homophobes that would come in from time to time to cause trouble, we encountered safety in numbers.  I started visiting the bars and was also looking for employment.  I actually even thought of hustling, or selling my body in the short term, but then I met Barney at a pub, the Castle.  He would have been sixty at the time, rather more than my twenty-four years of youth, but we strangely hit it off.  Barney was English, and had immigrated to Canada post war, for employment opportunities and somehow ended up in the antique business.  Even though he was old, I found him strangely beguiling, and even downright sexy, so that after he plied me with a few highballs I went back with him to his lovely penthouse apartment.  When he found out I was struggling between jobs (I had just been fired from a waitering position), he invited me to work with him in his store. Barney was, himself, quite a piece of work.  He had a special flair for sequins and gold lamé, kind of like an even kitschier Liberace, and he pulled it off because he didn't seem to take any of it, or himself, very seriously.  In fact, I have never known in my life anyone so funny and prone to having fun as Barney.  I became his business partner, then twelve years later, Barney was felled by a heart attack, he left me everything and then..."

"And then just months later, I came along", says Michael..

The Peacock 624

 "It was cold out, and he was wearing a balaclava, so I had no idea who it was, and without saying anything he punched me in the stomach, then in the head.  When I came to, Diane was gone.  A couple of guys were there to help me, and soon came the ambulance.  I needed stitches for my jaw and also had some internal bleeding, so they kept me in hospital for a couple days under observation.  Diane was gone, disappeared.  Her dead body was found three weeks later.  She had been raped, then bludgeoned to death.  They never found out who did it, but I already knew.  Then came the death threats, little notes slipped under my door, or in my coat pocket, and finally a verbal warning from a friend of Rob and Jim's, Trevor, who simply warned me to get out before it's my turn.  

"So, in the spring of 1966, I discontinued my studies, and caught the first train from Hamilton to Vancouver.  I knew no one there, but it was far enough away from Hamilton and Toronto was way too close to be a safe option.  I already knew about the West End, and after a couple of nights in a hotel downtown, I moved into a rooming house on Barclay Street, and soon sniffed my way into the more or less welcoming and safe queer community...