The Peacock 685

 "What did happen today in the garden?" say I.

"Divine visitation.  Nothing else", says Francois.

We are clearly not ready to talk about it.  Right now we are supporting one another following a traumatic, though sublime encounter.

"Read some more?" says Carl.

"Let me", say I, trading Francois the chocolate chips for the diary.

"No chocolate for me?" says Carl with a pout.

"You prefer beer.  Remember?" says Francois, giggling.  "Oh, alright, Brother Carl, you can have some chocolate too."  He hands him the bag.

"October 8.  This looks very interesting."

I am surprised I actually remember this time what happened.  I simply was not expecting to run into him downtown, but there he was, standing in front of the Royal Bank building at Hastings and Granville.  This time he came over to me before the light could change and I could get away.  "Come with me", he said, and strangely and dumbly, I simply obeyed and walked with him as far as Richards Street.  We entered a vintage office building. where we boarded the elevator.  We came out to the top floor, and stepped into an elegantly appointed lobby, with a mezzanine above of other rooms.  It really looked more like the foyer of a grand old mansion, and I had this weird feeling of disorientation.  We walked together up an elegant curving grand staircase...

The Peacock 684

 "That tall blonde guy who abducted them to the house here, back in the sixties", say I.  "Who do you think he was?"

"You mean, what do I think he was?" says Carl querulously.

"You mean it isn't obvious?" says Francois.  The rather depleted bag of chocolate chips is resting on the left arm of the chair he is sitting in.  I suddenly crave more chocolate.  Quietly, almost blindly, I instinctively, without thinking, raise myself up from the chair and extend my right hand.

"What's the magic word?" says Carl.

"Gimme!" I reply, and laughing, Francois tosses me the bag of chocolate chips.

"Shouldn't we be drinking beer instead" says Carl, laughing.

"Shut up", I tell him while reaching my hand into the bag of chocolate chips.

"What about that guy we saw in the garden?" says Carl.

"That was no guy", says Francois quietly.

"But, you don't think", he says

"Not in the least.  Totally different everything.  You done with those chocolate chips yet?"

The Peacock 683

 "So this is an invasion?" say I.

"The long and short of it is", says Carl, "They are supposed to be here to help us."

"Whitey to the rescue", says François.  "And given their resume with the Third Reich, don't expect me to welcome them for a cup of tea.

"If they even exist", say I.

"And that", says Carl, "Is a big if."

"Carl", says François with a naughty little smile, "You have blonde hair and blue eyes...

"Don't even go there!" he says laughing.  "Besides, I'm too short."

"What about those guys we just heard about in the journal of Cosme?" say I.

"Curiouser and curiouser", says Carl.

"You don't think..." says Francois.

"No, I don't do conspiracy theories.  I am a journalist," says Carl, "But I'm not that kind of journalist...."

The Peacock 682

 Carl has his phone out and is doing a search.  "Yes, here it is", he says,  "Ready for this?  He begins to read.

Documents leaked by NSA whistleblower Edward Snowden conclusively prove that the United States has been ruled by a race of tall, white space aliens who also assisted the rise of Nazi Germany in the 1930s.

Now this:

Salla, who has a PhD in government from the University of Queensland in his native Australia, doesn't believe it. He figures the dentist trip is just a cover story. He believes Ike went to Edwards Air Force Base, where he met with two ETs with white hair, pale blue eyes and colorless lips.

And from our own Canada, from the lips of none other than a former defense minister:

Hellyer used to believe that there were between 2 and 12 different species of alien. Now, he says he's received reports that there might be as many as 80.

In case you feel you might have met one in your home town, some are tall ("Nordic blondes"), some are short ("Short Grays"), and some look like aliens in cartoons.

The Peacock 681

 "Next entry?" says Carl.

Francois begins to read  

"Slow day in the store today, hardly anyone came in.  We are still running our sale on potted herbs, but only the basil seems to be going.  No one likes thyme anymore, so we could hardly say that thyme is running out.  You can tell by the quality of my puns, Harriet, that I had a crappy work day.  Well, not crappy, just slow.  Everything seems to be moving at the turgid speed of a constipated turd.  Both Jim and Chris are downstairs in the kitchen, getting supper ready  I offered to help, but they said they want to surprise me.  These two are both so kind.  I seem to have woken up this morning with three scratches on my leg, just below the right knee.  I have no idea how they might have got there.  I have not been walking among any brambles or thorns lately.  And there is no cat in the house, and these do look like cat scratches.

"Lindstrom, or Blondie?  Yeah, that's it, blame it on Blondie.  I think I am going to be rather obsessed with that strapping Nordic god for a while anyay.  Seriously, I don't even know if he's human.  I heard recently about this race of Nordic looking space aliens that are supposed to be staying here on earth and they are advising heads of government.  Who would have imagined?.  Time to loosen my tin foil hat before I start getting a migraine...

The Peacock 680

 Says Francois, "The next entry is October 15.  Want me to read it?"

"Go ahead", I reply.  I am aware that this is getting closer and closer to the date of Kenny's death, which would have occurred December 14.

"My first session with the psychiatrist.  He seems okay, around fifty, easy going, not a bad sense of humour.  I'm not sure about compassion and empathy, but he doesn't appear hard-hearted anyway.  We dwelled a bit on my childhood.  Nothing really unusual.  Lived with my mom and younger brother from age ten after she kicked dad out of the house, then I got into drugs at sixteen and left school early, only to land in a foster home, then back to hotel Mom and school again, but then back to drugs and before I knew it I was turning tricks dressed up as Cassandra.  He asked me questions about my masculine identity, then I told him to stop being an idiot, that I am both and neither.  So, then he tried to probe into my lack of male role modelling and I replied that if he continued to go there then he should go to hell and I will look for another therapist.  I told him about Lindstrom, just a little bit,about the night in Hotel Vancouver.  Next session he wants us to try hypnosis.  

The Peacock 679

 "Here, he continues", says Francois:

"I began to think there was something amiss when I heard another voice, as well as Chris and Jim.  I can't quite make out what they are saying, then I hear Jim, loud and rather angry, not at all like him, saying, look, I said he is'nt here, now please shove off!

I was seated at the kitchen table, waiting as they both came in.  Father and son both, looking grim and worried, sat down with me.  Jim just said, "some man was just out there in the driveway, asking about you.  He was a little bit demanding so I had to tell him to shove off.  Unfortunately I had to lie, I said you don't live here, but I trust that God will see my heart and forgive me this minor sin.  Kenny, I am afraid you might be in some kind of danger.  What can we do to help?"

"Did you have a good look at him", I asked.

"He was tall, wearing dark clothing but kept his distance, and it was hard to make out his features otherwise.  Seemed like a well educated sort, I would guess."

I'm not afraid of him, I said.

"There is no need to be brave", said Jim.

"Brave shmave, this guy is only a nuisance  He's really a pussy."

"Should we call police"

"Nothing they can do...

The Peacock 678

 "That appears to end the entry", says François.

"Can you read the next entry?" say I.

"It's more than two weeks later, early September, the eighth.  Ready?"

"I have been enjoying one more Sunday night of solitude in the house.  Chris and Jim are away at church as always, and I have been sprawled on the couch reading the weekend Globe and Mail, cover to cover.  I simply don't go anymore.  I can't go.  every time I am there, I get upset.  People try to be nice and polite and friendly, since I am the ward of their rector, and then as soon as they can legally get away with it, they're gone.  I give up.  They are not worth my trouble.  Jim and Chris both know what's going on  It really pains them, and on more than one occasion, Chris has admitted to me that even for him it's hard there.  Small wonder, all those privileged young white people, and even the Asians are white, and what do we do with such ignorant, stupid and privileged children, Harriet, except just walk away and pretend they don't exist, since they pretend that we don't exist.  Separate solitudes, you now.

They're late and I'm getting tired.  More than an hour late.  It's ten thirty already, and now I am getting worried.  Wait, I hear the car in the driveway.  Now two car doors slamming, and footsteps towards the house...

The Peacock 677

 I don't know why, but for some reason my eyes have trouble focussing on the page, and the feeling of oppression weighs on me like a coat of mail.  My mouth is feeling suddenly dry.  "You guys, I just need to get a glass of water from the bathroom.  I for some reason have trouble focussing right now."

"Want one of us to read instead for a while?" says Francois.

"Yes, that would be helpful."  I get up and feel like I am trying not to stagger as I leave the room.  

The water is cold and refreshing.  I quaff two full glasses and carry back with me glass number three.

"Still want me to read?" says Francois, smiling warmly.

"Yes, could you please?" say I, resuming my place on the bed.  It no longer feels so bad in here, and I am feeling a bit tired, but I am struggling to stay awake.

"It's now over a week since our last encounter in the woods, and still no sign of Blondie.  Well, that's my name for this Lindstrom character.  It seems that provided I don't take him seriously he is not going to be a problem to me.  Funny, why didn't I think of this before.  Still, I seem to be going through each day feeling as though I am being watched and sometimes followed, and this kind of creepiness is rather hard to laugh off methinks.  I hear a knock on the door...

The Peacock 676

That cat sees something that we don't", says Carl.

"Is he always like this?" say I.

"From time to time, yes.  Not always."

The cat's tail begins to swing wildly back and forth.  He starts a plaintive, anguished yowling.  then, still yowling, he jumps onto the floor and runs out the door.

"Doesn't look good", says François.

"I wonder if reading these pages in Kenny's journal", say I, "I wonder if this has summoned forth something, something malevolent?

"Could be", says Carl.  "The air does feel strange in here.  Oppressive."

"I move that you keep reading, Christopher", says Francois.  "I think we need to get to the bottom of this."

"I concur", says Carl."

The Peacock 675

 "Well, he didn't show up in the store today.  This is strange.  I am expecting this guy, Lindstrom, or whoever he is, to show up here again.  I am almost looking forward to seeing him.  I am obsessed with Lindstrom.  I am in love with him.  Harriet, you are one sick woman.  This guy wants to do me harm, and whatever he tried to start back in the day when I was still working as Cassandra, he clearly wants to finish the work.  I want to know what he wants.  I don't know, but the other night, not last night but the night before when I was naked with him in the forest, there were other people there.  I am sure I saw people, but I can't furnish any details, they were like shadows or ghosts, and then to wake up with my head against a log and fully clothed again and cold and damp from sleeping out all night, and no sign of anything different or unusual.  Maybe this guy doesn't even exist, he is just a fantasy, a hallucination that I am projecting because I really need a man, but really I don't need a man.

I have been enjoying being celibate, not working, since for me, sex is always work and vice versa, and for helping me get out of that scene I have Jim to thank, and to thank him many times over..."

There is a loud meowing at the door.  Carl gets up and lets the orange cat in.  The cat explores the room sniffing in corners, and seems rather agitated.  He meows again, plaintively.  Carl picks him up, but the cat jumps from his arms onto the window sill, where he decides to stay for a while, sitting on his haunches and staring out the window, his tail twitching nervously at the tip...

The Peacock 674

 "Are they sure it was suicide", says Carl.

"We're skeptical.  There was evidence of a traumatic blow to the head, and they couldn't be one hundred percent persuaded that it wasn't just a natural impact blow from when he dove, or fell, from the bridge."

"Wasn't Lindstrom already out of the picture?" says Francois.

"That would be hard to say.  You see, Kenny, nor my dad, ever mentioned anything at all to me about Lindstrom.  For me, only on these pages does he have any existence.  I think we would want to read more of his diary, just to get an idea, but there are still quite a few pages left.  What do you think, should I keep reading, or do we want to leave it till next time."

"It's not even nine thirty yet", says Carl, glancing at the clock radio.  I say we keep reading."

"Agreed", says Francois.

"But what about the others?" say I.

"I'm sure they are getting by just fine without us.  Wait a minute, do I hear Carol on the piano?" says Carl.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"We can hear her fine from up here.  Read on, kid.."

The Peacock 673

 "Not in front of the child?" says Carl, smiling.

"Something like that.  Thing is, they both seemed to have their own adult friendship between them, Dad and Kenny, and I was the kid.  I always felt a little bit shut out from both of them."

"I would imagine", says Francois, "that they were protecting you.  They wanted to be sure that you weren't hit by any secondary trauma, because your friend Kenny was going through one bizarre and freaky kind of hell."  He reaches his hand into the bag and pulls out a small fistful of chocolate chips that he pops into his mouth, then continues, "I'm a bit envious, actually.  Mom never withheld any secrets from me.  To her we were not mother and son, but I was her  built in confidant, or agony aunt.  We were completely enmeshed, and that was not really a good thing for me to grow up with.

"I guess it's only normal that I would feel a bit cheated.  But,yes, Francois, I think you're right."

"Did you and your father ever talk about Kenny?"

"Not till after he died.  Kenny's suicide really brought Dad and I close together, closer than we had ever  been..

The Peacock 672

 I pick up Kenny's diary again, while the bitter sweet delight of chocolate melts slowly on my tongue.  I don't feel quite ready to read, not just because my mouth is a bit full, but also because I really want this moment to enjoy the chocolate, and only the chocolate.  Plus, I'm afraid of what I am going to find out.  Still, I turn to the next page, and begin to read:

  I don't know what to tell Jim, and Christopher is not going to know any of this.  It is just too fucking freaky, Harriet, and I really need to start getting my shit in order again.  I can't have this handsome Nordic guy, Lindstrom, stalking me everywhere.  Yeah, of course he's hot, the most gorgeous man I've ever seen, naked and clothed, and that makes it even creepier.  But now it seems the tide has turned, and now he seems afraid of me, so maybe I won't be hearing from him for a while anyway.  Is he even human?  What is he, anyway?  Well, now I remember that first night with him, when I  was still working as Cassandra, my last night as Cassandra, but all I remember after that was stepping into his car, then waking up the next morning in the Hotel Vancouver, wearing some other dude's clothing.  And of course, the manager told me his name, and I managed to slip by him, if his name really is Lindstrom.  But I need to remember everything that happened, but it's still nowhere in my head.  I wonder if I should see someone who practices hypnosis, and yes, I think I know what to do, because Jim has already recommended to me an excellent psychiatrist who specializes in recovering forgotten trauma...

"Did you know any of this?" Carl asks me.

"Nothing.  But I do remember maybe that same day or so Kenny meeting privately with Dad in his office.  No one ever told me what it was about.."

The Peacock 671

 "You don't imagine", says Francois, "That you and Greta could be referring to the same Lindstrom?"

"I doubt it", say I.

"Well", says Carl, "you never know, eh?"

"Especially when you would prefer not to find out", say I.

"How do you feel about all this, so far?" says Carl.

"This is all very intense and rather confusing."

"Well", says Carl, "Let's imagine, anyway, that they could be the same person.  I mean the Lindstrom who was stalking Kenny, and the Lindstrom that your ex-wife mentioned that one time on the phone."

"That", says Francois, "Would be truly chilling."

"There must be more in his diary that could shed light on this", says Carl.  "Do you feel up to reading some more?"

"First, chocolate", say I, reaching my hand to Carl as he passes me the  bag of chocolate chips.  "More chocolate...Lots of chocolate...Lots and lots of chocolate", as I dig into the bag and shovel chips into my mouth, like a condemned alcoholic grasping for his final draught of whisky....

The Peacock 670

 "I don't know if this could help", say I, "but she thought she was alone in the apartment, and so she was talking in English, but when she turned around and saw me, she immediately switched to Swedish."

"She didn't want you to know what she was talking about", says François, "and she was your wife?"

"In a manner of speaking, I would imagine."

"What do you remember?" says Carl.

"'I am nowhere near solving the problem of Lindstrom, and Christopher hasn't given me so much as the remotest clue' she said, and she did sound a bit emotional and angry.  Strange for Greta, because she was always very cool and rational.  About everything.  A total scientist."

"She just said Lindstrom", says Carl.  "No first name or anything."

"Nothing else."

"Then he probably wasn't a relative."

"I did ask her about him when she got off the phone.  But she ignored me and went out..."

The Peacock 669

 "That must have been the same day that Kenny came back to live with us again", say I.   He actually was wearing those same clothes when he came to the house that evening with Dad.  He seemed confused and disoriented, said he couldn't remember anything from the previous couple of days, that no, he hadn't been drinking or using drugs, so we just let it go and didn't question him."

"Can you tell by the date of the entry?" says Carl.

"No, because he was just remembering it as if for the first time."

"How absolutely bizarre", says François.  "His name was Lindstrom?"  

"Very common name in Sweden," says Carl.

"Greta, my ex-wife, had relatives named Lindstrom.  She only mentioned them once.

"Did she have any family by that name living in Canada?" asks Francois.

"I only heard her mention the name once, while on the phone with a relative in Sweden, an uncle, I think."

"Do you remember any details?" says Carl.

"Pass me some chocolate and give me a minute to think..."

The Peacock 668

 But I still don't remember what happened back then.  Not exactly.  Just that I woke up alone in a hotel room. It was actually a nice place, none other than our own famous Hotel Vancouver.  I lay on top of the bed, which itself didn't appear to have been slept in  and I was fully clothed, but not in my womens' apparel, but in a white T shirt and blue jeans, and I was also wearing socks and there was a pair of sneakers by the side of the bed.  My dress, nor my high heels, were anywhere to be seen.  Then it dawned on me...I was not wearing my clothes, someone had exchanged my dress and heels for this boy's attire that didn't belong to me.  And my head was hurting rather badly.

There was a knock on the door.  "Yes", I shouted, my voice unusually hoarse.  Again there was a knocking on the door, it pushed open, and a young man dressed in a suit and tie came in.  He said he was the assistant manager, and said that a complimentary breakfast would be served for me in the restaurant downstairs.  And that Mr. Lindstrom would be waiting for me.  "Mr. Lindstrom?" I asked, but the young man left and closed the door behind him.  I was in no mood to have breakfast with any Mr. Lindstrom, and had already decided that I was simply going to leave.  On the way out, I did pass by the restaurant, which was in an open lobby lounge.  There he was, seated at a table further in.  He did not appear to see me, and he wasn't going to see me.  I went home...

The Peacock 667

 "All I could do was laugh, but suddenly an imp, not really Harriet, took me over, and I went following after him.  "Hey handsome, I shouted from behind, now it's my turn to stalk you. He quickened his pace, but I was determined not to lose him.  I was out for revenge, but I was rather like a dog chasing a car with this one.  Whatever would I do with him once I caught him.  He started jogging, and so I began to run.  He was a bit faster than me, and I almost lost him a couple of times, plus, it was already beginning to get dark, and I didn't think it would be prudent to spend yet another night in that forest, so, I took a side trail and returned home.

Only now am I coming to remember where I first saw this guy.  It was a few years ago, I was hooking on the street downtown one night, near all the other trannies.  We did try to look out for each other as much as possible, and had actually formed a pretty tight little community.  That was when a big black BMW pulled up in front of me, driven by some random guy, and there was my Mr Studly Psycho riding in the back.  "get in", he said, pushing the back door open.  Of course I obeyed...

The Peacock 666

 "I closed the shop and went home feeling elated, victorious.  I had stood up to this psycho and scared him off.  And he still expected me to return for another naked romp in the forest.  Such nerve!  But then, while having supper with Jim and Christopher, I felt suddenly vulnerable again  Harriet had departed, and I was already making plans to go off to the woods where I would meet the incredibly gorgeous psycho on the Sword Fern Trail.  But I already knew then, as I do now, the day after, that sex and lust had nothing to do with it.  Yes, the most gorgeous man, clothed and naked, I had ever seen, but who the fuck was he?  

After washing the dishes, without saying anything to anyone, I slipped off to the woods.  I felt strangely driven.  It was a bit cooler that evening, and overcast, promising rain.  I entered the forest from the university campus, and soon found the Sword fern Trail.  He didn't say where on the trail, and it is a very long trail, so I just walked, hoping to simply enjoy the forest regardless of what happened.  I actually wanted to see him, and was trying to keep Harriet locked in the closet.  Harriet was having none of it.  I know now that, whoever Harriet is, among other things, she is my protector.  Every time I have ignored her, especially while working the street, it would be to my peril.  But then she took me over with almost militaristic force, and suddenly I was prancing and skipping and strutting like a top model on a Paris catwalk, and there he was, sitting on a rock, and I threw out my arms and shrieked in my queeniest shrill, "oh hi you great big handsome studly of a man you, and I skipped over and wrapped my arms around his neck.  He quickly stood up, pushed me away with such force that I nearly fell backward, then walked quickly away from me, without looking back.

The Peacock 665

 "For a while, he just stood there, like a property owner who has just purchased a new house, and now wants to stand inside and simply take it all in.

"Hello", I said to him from behind the counter.   He didn't answer.

Again, I said, "Hello."  He didn't even seem to know I was there.

"Hello, may I help you with something?"

He approached me slowly, then came right to the counter, just inches in front of me, staring at me with the most incredibly blue eyes I have ever seen, like the eyes of a Siamese cat.

""Do you know who I am?" he said, his voice soft, low and gentle, with an undertone rather between a growl and a purr.

Then suddenly, I was struck by the whole absurdity of the situation, then I burst out laughing.  "how the fuck should I know!" I almost shouted, between peals of laughter.  "Or care?  Now are you here to buy something or do you just want to make my day interesting again?"

"I will see you this evening at eight.  Sword Fern Trail", he said quietly.

"Not tonight, darling, I have a headache", and at that moment, I knew that Harriet had taken over in me and would manage the situation just ducky.

He looked at me, suddenly a bit dumbfounded.  "We are having a sale on spider plants, by the way", I said.  He turned around, and walked out.

The Peacock 664

 "It's amazing what a daily dose of good chocolate can do for one", says Carl.  "Your friend, did he enjoy chocolate."

"You mean Kenny", say I, with slight exasperation.

"Yes him too", says Carl.  "Kenny", he says giggling.  "Sorry.  Silly me."

"Kenny loved chocolate.  Almost every day he would bring home a couple of bars of the good stuff and share it with us.  Usually Lindt.  

"Dark chocolate'?" says Francois, who still appears light and joyful, if tired.

"All varieties."  Carl passes me the bag of chocolate chips, then after I fill my mouth again I pass them back, and now Francois is digging in again.  I pick up Kenny's diary, and read the next entry

"He came looking for me at work.  It's three days since I spent that night with him and whoever else in the forest.  What does he want?  But he simply walked in, and stood there and looked around like he owned the place.

The Peacock 663

 I stuff some of the bittersweet delight into my mouth, and allow the chocolate to slowly melt on my tongue.  "Nothing like chocolate to help make our night, eh?"

"So", says Carl, "What was going on?"

"That was exactly what I was asking Kenny.  He didn't appear to have an answer for me, and I am not one to try to force confidences.",

"You said that just like a Victorian novelist" . says Carl.  "Or Edwardian.  Perhaps post-Edwardian?"  "

"Evelyn Waugh", says Francois.  "Or maybe Aldous Huxley."

"I would say more like Virginia Woolf", says Carl.

"An amazing writer", say I."

"And a notorious anti-Semite", says Carl.  "But back to your friend", and here I begin to notice that generally, he prefers to call Kenny my friend, than say his name.  I wonder why?

"Your guess is as good as mine", say I.  "But he began to disappear frequently."

"Read some more" says Carl.

"Yes, please", says Francois.  "This chocolate is delicious."  then he adds, "Was Virginia Woolf really an anti-Semite."

"She was probably just grumpy", says Carl.  "They didn't have decent chocolate in those days.  Who knows, if she had a daily fix of this exquisite stuff, she might never have drowned herself in the Thames."

The Peacock 662

 "I remember that so clearly", say I.  It was mid August, and I was just trying to plan my day off.  Strangely, I was unable to sleep in, and had woken very early feeling that something was very amiss."

"What did he tell you?" says Carl.

"Very little.  Just that he woke up in the middle of the forest and couldn't remember anything else  And that he had a terrible headache.  I poured him some coffee, and we just sat there at the table, not saying a lot, just making inconsequential chitchat.  

"Did he say anything about the man who was following him?" says Francois.

"Absolutely nothing."  At that moment, Carl reaches in the bottom drawer of the desk and pulls out the club pack of semi sweet chocolate chips.  From a top drawer he pulls out a scissors, which he uses to cut open the bag.  After scooping out a handful, he passes the bag to Francois, who later passes it to me.

"I should also mention this wasn't too long before he died, just a few months..."

The Peacock 661

 He stood still while I walked towards him staring intently at me.  I wondered if he was going to hit me.  Then, I stopped, standing less than two feet from him, already inside his personal space.  He didn't budge, but kept looking at me, and quickly my resolve dissolved and instead of challenging him, instead of demanding to know who the hell he was and why he was following me, I simply stammered and mumbled something incomprehensible.  I was completely in his power.  He gestured with his head that I follow him, then turned around and I walked just a little behind him for about half an hour.  We turned into a clearing in the forest.  By then the sun had almost set.  We came out into a small clear circle. surrounded by logs arranged like benches.  He commanded me to start taking my clothes off, and as I did, so did he, until we stood facing each other naked.  We did not approach or touch each other.  I remember the superb gleaming musculature of what I would have to call the most perfect naked male body I had ever laid eyes on, then someone was approaching, I think more than one person...

"I woke up lying on the grass in the middle of the clearing, just at sunrise.  I was fully clothed.  I had absolutely no memory of what had transpired, not since taking my clothes off.  I felt disoriented, and cold, and my head was hurting like hell.  When I came home, Christopher had just gotten up, and was seated at the kitchen table waiting for the coffee to be made...

The Peacock 660

 I have just reached for Kenny's diary, and pause before opening.  This thing has a certain power, it is almost like a living thing, and frankly, I have become afraid of it  With effort, I flip through the pages , then I begin to read:

"He was following me again today, that handsome well dressed guy that won't talk to me.  This time in the forest of Pacific Spirit Park, of all places.  The thing is, how does he know where to find me?  But find  me he does, and again, it's the same thing.  I was walking on a quiet trail, no one seemed to be around then this slightly creepy feeling started to come over me.  I turned around, and there he was, at a distance.  But I still recognized him.  I thought for a minute, then decided to let it go  and just keep walking.  So, I walked on for another five or ten minutes, then turned around again.  He was closer.  I sped up, hoping I would lose him, but he had also quickened his pace.  Anyway, he seems like a faster walker than me, a lot faster.  It was like last week when he was following me in Stanley Park.  I slowed my pace, deliberately, to see if he would catch up with me, but he also slowed down.  Finally I stopped and glared at him.  He must have been about forty feet away.  He didn't move.  Then I decided again to approach him....

The Peacock 659

 "How do you know all this?" says Carl.

"Francois blinks and quietly resumes eating, then, while food is still in his mouth, he says, "I really don't know.  Look, I think I heard several things being spoken to me today in the garden, and this just popped into my head somehow.  Anyway, what do you gentlemen propose we do after dinner?  Should we go downstairs and join the others, or play by ourselves up here in the attic?"

"I move that we stay up here", say I.

"Agreed", says Carl.  "There is something here that feels unfinished.  What do you think, Chris?"

"I think you're right."

"Should we have another look at your friend's journal?"

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

"Are there any chocolate chips left?"

"There's still a full bag in the bottom desk drawer.  Waiting to be plundered..."

The Peacock 658

 Now we have all paused between mouthfuls, as if we have something rather more substantial to feed on and inwardly digest than the delicious food on our plates.  Francois has returned to his silent revery, letting his food grow cold on the arm of the chair he is sitting in.  I pick at my salad, a bit of red pepper here, and now a black olive, and then a green olive.  Altogether delicious.  This is one of the most substantial salads I have ever eaten.  There is cheese, black beans, tofu, broccoli, tomatoes, beautifully coloured cherry tomatoes, what looks like artichoke hearts.

"There's something else", says Francois, snapping me out of my pleasant little food revery.

There is something new about his tone and appearance that completely summons our attention.

"It is true what Adam said today about this place being under a curse.  The nurse who will be visiting tomorrow to give the covid injections is a relative of yours, Carl.  You must begin to engage with her at once.  She holds the key to breaking the curse.  And you are also wise to be concerned about your mother.  She will have plans for this house that you are going to find incompatible with the direction that God is leading you in.  Unfortunately you are going to have to stand up to both her and your sister, but we are also going to support you, isn't that right , brother Christopher."

Before I have a chance to agree or disagree, Francois continues, "By the way, who owns the house, just you?"

"Just me.  Melissa has to tow my line here."

"And so will your mother.  But stand up against her, stand up to them both."

The Peacock 656

 "What happened?" say I.

"Yes,  good question", says Francois between mouthfuls of salad.  "What did you guys see?"

"I saw a person, male; I think", say I, "But it was hard to tell."

"More of an androgynous being", says Carl.

"Yes", say I, "Angelic, wearing what appeared to be a white robe, and shining."

"Luminescent."

"You both saw a person?" says Francois.

"Appeared human," say I, "But shining. Angelic."

"He didn't have wings?", says Francois, grinning mischievously.

"No, he did not have wings", says Carl with mock impatience.

"So", says François", you both, Christopher and Carl, saw an angelic being."

"Yes", says Carl.  "Isn't that what you saw?"

"No."

"Did you see anything", say I.

"Light.  I saw light, and felt drawn to it."

"But you were spoken to", says Carl, as though wanting reassurance.

"I heard some words, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

"And nothing else?" says Carl.

Francois pauses, putting his half full plate aside, as though trying to recapture something.  "Yes, something else...You can never get far from me.  I am with you always..."

The Peacock 655

 "Maybe we should have eaten with the others", say I, "They might think we're avoiding them."

"Or forming our own little religious cult", says Carl.

"Please", says Francois, from the comfy armchair, "We had enough of those fun and games with dear Douglas at the helm."

"I am stretched out on the bed with my plate of dinner on my lap, and propped up by a couple of pillows.  Carl occupies the chair by the desk.

"These potatoes are just dandy", says Carl.  "The magic of Mel."

"Your sister is one marvellous cook", says Francois.  "Did she train as a chef?"

"In Zurich.  Taught by the best."

"Boy, I'll say", say I.  I turn to Francois, "Anyway, this seems like a good time to debrief from what happened.  But, what happened, anyway?"

Again he is wearing a beatific smile.  "You tell me."

"Are you okay?" says Carl."

"Never felt better", says François.  "Never felt better in my life..."

The Peacock 654

 "Carl". says Melissa sharply, and getting right in his face.  "What happened?"

"Chill, little sister", he says laughing.  "We saw an angel and he spoke to Francois, who is upstairs resting.  And quite frankly, Chris and I are also needing quiet time, so pray hold us excused.  We three are dining together upstairs."

Together, Carl and I portion out the food onto three large dinner plates, including the chocolate cheesecake squares that Melissa has just made, for dessert, and three tall glasses of juice.  Carl puts everything on a large serving tray which he carries with him and now we are climbing the grand staircase.

"You know, Chris, sometimes these stairs remind me of the Grand Staircase on the Titanic."

"I hope that isn't a metaphor."

"Same here."

At Francois' door, I knock softly.  Again I knock, louder.  There is no answer.  I push open the door.  He is lying on top of his bed, snoring softly.

"Dinner is served", announces Carl in a loud, cheery singsong voice.

Francois opens his eyes and smiles.  "Perhaps we could dine in Christopher's room", he says.  "The desk is larger and there is more room..