2058

"Hey, that's my line." "Show me the copyright, dear." "And you never said anything.." We have to wait before continuing the conversation because we first have to get across Chancellor Boulevard alive. Not too difficult, just two cars and a hideous, but aren't they all, SUV coming from the left, and this one has their blinding LED lights in full obnoxious glory, despite the bright spring day we should be enjoying. And the piece of work at the steering wheel is not about to stop for us no matter how much space he has, but now he is gone, and with him, the most odious thudding of a rap soundtrack that is raging through the dark tinted windows. Now we are on the grassy median, and the coast is clear as we find our way to the next trail, almost but not directly across from the one on the other side. "Where were you?" "I was in my room having a little nap when I heard you come in. I was going to come down and say hi, I did make it to the kitchen doorway. Neither you or Jim could see me, both your backs were turned, but there was the hundred bucks you extorted from him on the table and I heard everything, but thought it wise to return upstairs and wait things out a bit. Twenty minutes later, the doorbell was chiming, and when I heard that reptile's voice my blood started to freeze, but I simply sat on the top of the stairs, listening and then when Father Griffin was out of there I went back to my room. Oh, but I felt so proud of both of you, just as I do now, knowing how well I had taught you. And you were then just a seventeen year old church boy, but you handled him like a seasoned pro." "Father Griffin left me alone after that." "Only because a few days later, I arranged a little interview with him. We met in a coffee shop, where I told him about my own, shall we say, illustrious career on the pavement. I also told him that every single one of the rent boys that had serviced him, including Donny, Dale, and Patrick, were personal friends of mine, and I told Robert Griffin that if he ever bothered you again, then I would go public about his little indiscretions, and I mean really public..." I have just put a bright red salmonberry, a big one in my mouth, and the wine flavoured richness is filling my tongue. "I really don't know how to thank you, Kenny." "Think nothing of it, friend", he replies, clasping my shoulder with his hand, "Think nothing at all about it. Shall we make our way over to the West Canyon Trail?"

2057

"Nothing like a few years of sucking dicks for a living to put a girl off sex and men forever." "That was exactly Carl's experience after three years of working the canals as a teenage rentboy in Amsterdam", say I. We are taking a downhill trail, Spanish Trail I believe, towards Chancellor Boulevard. This is a delightful part of the forest, very deciduous with lots of tall alders. And so vibrantly green and fragrant. "I have really missed this place, " says Kenny. "You must have found even better places for hiking on the island." "There are a lot of trails along various parts of the Cowichan River that I spend time exploring, but this place has its own unique magic." The trail is finally opening onto the boulevard, which is flanked by forest, with very few cars. "I still remember that time when Jim summoned Father Griffin to the house to pick up the blackmail money you extorted from him." "Were you actually in the house at the time?" "Yep." "You were spying on us?" "In spades, baby, in spades..."

2056

"Father Griffin returned to Vancouver, and to St James, an apparently changed man.  We had a very emotional reconciliation at the altar rail in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, and eventually he became sort of my de facto spiritual director,  I was caring for the dying, then dad died..." "Yes, I remember when you told me on Facebook.  That was very hard news for me, because Jim was like my own brother." "Which would make you my de facto uncle.  hmm, we seem to have our share of de factos today."  It is a narrow entrance into a narrow forest trail, partly fenced off to prevent bicycles.  The trees are dense here, and the shade is refreshing.  "Anyway, Robert took a pastoral interest in me and could see that I was running on empty.  He was already involved with Carl's family and the operations of their mansion, which they had decided to turn into a retreat centre." "So you were recommended for a retreat...Hey, look, ripe salmonberries already and it's still May  Oh, these are delicious, here I've left you some."  and they are.  Our own answer to the raspberry, a bit milder, more watery, but I also remember picking bucketfuls, then bringing them home and Dad making them into one of the most exquisite jellies I had ever tasted. "So Carl fell in love with you there and now you two are living happily ever after." " Not quite." "Do you sleep together?" "Never." "Dude, he has eyes only for you.  I will help keep him at bay.". I am saying nor doing anything to encourage this.  "He asked me to marry him, a couple of weeks ago." "and..." "Said I'm not ready." "Do you love him?" "Well, yes and no." "but not like THAT!" and now we are both laughing. "He is very good looking", say I. "That he is. "but we are both off sex.  I would say that we are both asexual now. So what's the point?"

2055

As we are leaving the house through the front door I am mentioning to Kenny, "I don't know how to thank you for getting me out of here." "Think nothing of it darling.  Our cute little millionaire is quite the life support for codependency...Where did you say you found him?" "Remember Father Griffin?"  Kenny is taking the lead as he always used to on our walks together. "Oh my God.  Him?"  Then he says, "Wow has this neighbourhood ever changed.  Just look at all the brand new tacky mcmansions.  They are the architectural equivalent of extremely tacky over-the-top-drag."  And now he lets off a melodramatic shudder. "Well, not long after you disappeared, Father Griffin went through quite the dramatic conversion in Switzerland in none other than the Christian community that Carl's mom was in charge of." "what!  Are you serious?  How did he get there?" "Oh, British Airways or Lufthansa, I would imagine.  Maybe Air Canada." "Oh Christopher, you have lost none of your old wit." "He has his connections.  It is a terribly long and complicated story.  They first met here when Carl was eighteen and his sister thirteen and that was just after their old man was shot dead and they were on the run hitchhiking in case they would be next.  They were picked up by Robert's boyfriend, some rich banker, and spent several weeks in his big fancy house near Maple Ridge where he bought sex off of Carl in exchange for letting them both stay there.  Anyway, they managed to get out using blackmail, and with the money, got to the Dutch Consulate in Vancouver and they helped fly them back to Holland. Their mother moved them to Switzerland where she could keep a close eye on her rebel boy.  When Griffin showed up and won them over with his charm, Carl and Melissa threatened to out him to everybody, and then and there he truly fell to his knees at the foot of the cross." "So how does that connect you to Carl?"

2054

"Whenever you're near I hear a symphony", sing the Supremes from Carl's smartphone. "Did he just change his ring", says Kenny to me in a theatrical whisper. "Looks that way." "I knew this one's a lady.  I can still read 'em from ten kilometres." "From twenty", and now the others are snickering.  Carl has shoved his chair back a few feet for a little privacy.  I can tell it's his sister, absolutely no formalities or etiquette coming from Carl.  Just the facts, ma'am. "Christopher", whispers Kenny.  "Let's go walk in the woods." "That is an excellent idea." "Just you and me.  Like old times." "Got it.  After clean up." "You are not doing all the work around here, kiddo.  Let them do it." "Roger." "Oh, leave him out of it, darling", he camps, "It's just you and me." Carl has just turned off his phone and looks a little bit grim and serious. "You just changed your ringtone", says Francois. "I'm afraid I have.  That was Mel.  She is on her way to get Mom out of hospital, she is being discharged today." "Where is she going to stay?" asks Francois. "There's no room here, plus she needs bedding, so I have to get out of here and do some shopping.  Are you coming", and he is not looking at anyone else but me. "We're going for a walk in the forest", announces Kenny. "Oh."  and now the rivalries are beginning. "Erik", say I, "Why don't you go with Carl.  You have exquisite European taste." "I'm not driving out to Ikea." "You don't have to drive out to Ikea", says Francois a little bit impatiently. "Do you want to come with me", says Carl with a slight tincture of reluctance in his voice to my brother-in-law. "Okay". he replies with equal reluctance. "How about you guys", says Carl to Francois and Ethan, now as though trying not to plead. "Oh I don't see why not", he says.  "Ethan?" Ethan gives a slight nod, as though knowing and accepting that his options are limited...

2053

"So let us propose a toast", announces Francois, lifting up high his white coffee mug, "to Milly."  and we are all laughing, and Carl is laughing loudest. "Speech. speech!" I call. "Well, I certainly don't intend to be the only woman living here", camps Kenny who is now one hundred percent Harriet..  Yes, I have so missed his campy sass, and this is like pure water from a spring bubbling out of the hot desert sands.  Dad only tolerated Kenny as Harriet, and from time to time, especially in our last three years together with Kenny, would take me aside and brusquely mutter, "Please, let's not encourage any of this."  and I would meekly reply "any of what?" and Dad would just lift his hands in understated theatrical despair and murmur, "it's all in your hands, Lord."  and Kenny, fully possessed by the she imp Harriet, would come sashaying into the living room lisping something like, "Oh what two adorable handsome men you both are", and then squeal out a super girlish "Ooh!" Ethan reaches for a Peek Freen fruit creme and says, "this is going to be different."   But now, for the first time, he is smiling.  Beautifully and normally Ethan is smiling, one hundred percent random guy who rides a bike.  This is so refreshingly normal.

2052

Francois has just fastened the white page onto the fridge door under the fridge magnet and Kenny gushes, "My fridge magnet.  You still have it."  and he walks over to touch it, as though it is for him a holy icon. "I just put it up now", say I. " I was hoping you'd see it." No one seems ready to comment on the document that is written on that page, as though by silent consensus we are already agreeing to no longer talk about the Refuge, nor any of our experiences there, and I am frankly hoping that we do give it a rest, for a while anyway, as I am sure are also the others. "Is there enough room for everyone", wonders Erik. "Yep," says Carl, "Six chairs for six bums." "Oh speak for yourself, Mildred", camps Kenny. "Mildred", guffaws Carl in mock offense.  "Did I just hear you call me Mildred?" "It'll be Milly for short", says Francois with a sharp little giggle as he seats himself with his coffee refill. "Well. I never", says Carl, hands on his hips, then flicking his wrist like a stereotypal queen, then taking his place across from Francois. "Sure you never, girl." says Kenny in that wicked drag queen cackle of his, or hers, that I always used to love, "Sure you never". and he slides onto the chair next to Carl.   "It better not stick." "Now just move that butch ass of yours, Milly, cuz I am sitting next to you." "Too late, Carl", say I, taking myself a seat at the end of the table while Ethan and Erik both follow suit, "Or should I say...Milly..."

2051

First, Francois appears in the kitchen doorway.  He is wearing socks now, apparently felt more decorous clothing his bare feet.  The socks are white, almost blinding neon white, which makes sense, given he bleaches all his whites when he does laundry.  Not even my father, or I, could bring ourselves to be so domestically fastidious, but this is Francois.  Neat, never a hair out of place, punctilious, correct, with a sense of humour and especially with truckloads of good common sense.  He is also wearing grey track pants, and a t- shirt, white, bleached blinding white which plays so beautifully against the deep maroon tones of his dark skin. "We are starting to feel abandoned", he says with a smile, and brandishing a white piece of paper in his right hand.  "Here are the reminders, all written down.  Is there a roll of scotch tape so I can stick it on the fridge door?  Oh wait, here's a fridge magnet.  How come I missed that?" He is also super sharp and observant.  I reply, "Only because only just now did I put it on there."  It is a rainbow with a brown cross superimposed on it, a gift from Kenny before he went missing a quarter century ago. "We're having refills...with cookies!...", says Carl, "Right here at the kitchen table." "I will have to go back for our mugs", says Francois. "Never mind", says Carl, "Our guests can do that", and he calls in a near holler, "Kenny.  Ethan.  bring all the mugs to the kitchen because we are going to resume at the table here." "Your wish is our command, oh Great White Dutch Sugar Daddy", replies Kenny, who soon comes in carrying three mugs, all dangling from his fingers, a sly little smile on his face, followed by a rather grim and solemn Ethan, carrying the other two one in each hand, with great care as if he is afraid he might drop the mugs on the floor and break them.

2050

"Did I just hear you calling?" says Carl, appearing in the kitchen doorway. And now Erik appears uncertain and a bit vulnerable as he stammers at Carl,  "Oh... I didn't mean...I hope..." And Carl, grinning broadly, approaches my brother-in-law, roughly rubs his wavy chestnut hair, and says to me, "Your brother-in-law really knows how to find his way into a Dutchman's heart", then gives him a short gentle hug from behind, and slides onto the chair next to him. "Wanna help us get the coffee and cookies out to the living room", say I. "Cookies?  Well, if it's all too heavy for you guys to carry unaided...Or, the other three can get their lazy butts in here and we'll have it in the kitchen." There is something in both their relaxed posture that suggests that Carl and Erik are now really beginning to accept each other.  In fact, Erik's sidelong glance at Carl also suggests that he might be a little bit attracted to him, and Carl doesn't really appear to notice or even care.  This is going to be one very interesting little household...

2049

The coffee pot has sputtered to its inevitable fateful conclusion.  A completely full pot of Costa Rican so black, strong and intense that I wonder if it would be safe to drink. Remembering how strong my brother-in-law used to prepare it while he shared our condo with Greta and me, I ask him, "Is there any left in the bag?" "Plenty for tomorrow morning." "If any of us can get to sleep tonight." "You always liked my coffee", he replies as we both return to the table.  It is still hard to get him to take teasing and that is just so very Nordic of him, but if he is going to coexist here with Carl and his Dutch kind of rough play then Erik is going to find himself on one hell of a learning curve.  But I also know this about Erik.  He is very very fragile.  Especially right now, especially after having to escape with his life from the clutches of his own sister, and that diabolical nephilim, Sven, and especially after almost getting siderailed into an unnecessarily long quarantine in the hotel just after he got off the plane.  And if he remembers anything else, it is going to remain vague and dreamlike.  We are going to have to tread carefully and especially Carl, who is now calling from the living room, "Hey do you guys need help with the coffee or are you having a conference in there?" "You can always get your Dutch ass in here and serve yourself, Carl", retorts Erik with an unexpectedly gleeful little snicker...and now I know he's going to be okay...

2048

While the coffee maker serenades us with its manic rhythmic gurgle, Erik pulls up a chair for himself at the kitchen table, and this is his way of saying please sit and join me because I need to talk, and Erik simply never says these things out loud.  Swedish or just Erik?  Likely six of one and a half dozen of the other. After casually wiping down the counter with the damp dish rag, my unique way of forestalling the inevitable, I move over to join him.  He has his sulky little boy pout on, perhaps slightly staged this time, as it usually is, and no, this time I am not walking into his little trap.  I know him too well. "So", say I, since there is no way he is going to initiate, "You want to know how long you can stay here." No reply except a very quiet drumming of the fingers of his left hand on the table. "Why did I come here?" "For your own safety.  You were in danger from your sister, and from Sven." "Who appears to be completely out of the way now.  What happened to him?" "You don't remember?" "I got a text from Greta telling me I am welcome home any time I want to return.  That Sven has mysteriously disappeared and suicide is suspected." I am not even going to try to jog my brother-in-law's memory, since he also saw Sven detained for time indefinite with Jesus at the Refuge, along with his twin Stella.  But here I go anyway. "He remained behind at the Refuge, remember?" Now his eyes appear to be really opening.  "I saw him in a dream last night, in a place full of golden light.  I am just now beginning to recall.  He said that he will never trouble me again." "Then that should be good enough.  Are you staying?" "Might as well.  Nothing left for me in Sweden."  He gets up to check the coffee. "As far as I'm concerned, Erik, here you have come home.  Now please stop worrying."  He doesn't reply while he jiggles the filter cone on the machine, his way of saying thank you and of making sure that he doesn't start to cry...

2047

"Looks like we have a full house", says Erik, rinsing the coffee pot in the sink before adding more water which he is now pouring into the machine.   "I still have to put in the coffee", say I with a snicker. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to rush in right ahead of you. "Oh Erik, you are going to make a perfect Canadian." "Why?" "The way you apologized just now." "Swedes apologize." "Neurotically.  Like us?" "No way, we just say excuse me and move on..  Speaking of which. How long is he going to be here?" "Ethan?  That could be anyone's guess." "I'm not sure if I'm prepared for his kind of intensity." "Tron is gone.  There shouldn't be much of a problem now." "Who?" And now I am certain that none of this is registering with my friend, and brother-in-law.  In fact, I now realise that I am going to have to be constantly going out of my way assuring and reassuring Erik that he is also loved, wanted and accepted...and needed here, since he has the likes of Kenny, Carl, and now Ethan, to compete with.  Thank God for Francois, our sane, detached and benign centre...

2046

And now I see him, vaguely, briefly, a flicker of light in the grey of our very human everyday, Tron, through the window, emerald and gold undulating in the breeze from atop his white horse, Ráfaga. walking away with our ancient martyr, our wondrous holy saint riding tall and noble on his graceful strong back away from this house, away from us and now he is gone.  Kenny, from Ethan's left, says to me, "I also see him, riding away."  The others appear oblivious, frozen in time, like random pieces of fruit suspended in one of those garish jello salads some of the old ladies used to bring to church luncheon.   But the others appear motionless, even Ethan, as I mention to Kenny, "It looks like this is going to just be our own little secret." Then Ethan looks up at me and says, "Our little secret.  I am not going to forget any of this." "Nor I ", says Carl. "Nor I" , says Francois. Erik is the last to fully return to himself.  He takes a studied sip of his coffee, double cream and no sugar, as he always used to drink it, returns his mug to the end table on his right and says, "Forget what?".  Nobody bats an eye.  Getting up, he says, "Okay if I make more coffee?" "Sure", say I, also getting up, "Here, let me give you a hand."

2045

"That makes him your incubus", says Erik. "My what?"  Ethan seems right now very alone, very vulnerable.  Childlike. Francois replies, "An incubus is a kind of demon that tries to inhabit you at night and have sex with you."  Then, very uncharacteristically, he puts his hand on Ethan's shoulder and adds, "That isn't it, either, is it." Ethan now is really struggling and his voice is cracked and tremulous as though he is trying to dam into oblivion many centuries of unwept tears. "Who are you, really, Ethan?"  interjects Carl, a tremor of impatience edging his voice.  "Or are you Adrian?  Tron.  Look, like the others here I also saw you as Tron, otherwise I would be keying 911 on my phone at this very minute." Ethan right now is staring into space, then his voice begins taking a deeper, more authoritative resonance as he says, "It was those nails, those great hideous iron spikes that were driven each one into my hands, and one through both my feet and I knew I was being bestowed an honour I had done nothing to earn.  And unlike our first bishop Peter, it was too late to implore them that they crucify me upside down, because I was not worthy to die for my Lord as He died for me."  And now the light seems to have passed from Ethan's face, and now he is seated there, just and only Ethan.  A visible shudder passes through his body.  He looks up at us, takes a slow sip of coffee, exhales deeply, then says in a low murmur, "He's gone." "Who is gone?" I ask. "Adrian", he whispers.  Francois' hand is still resting on his shoulder.  "He is gone.  He has left me..."

2044

"I remember that night so very well", says Kenny.  "I was seated on the other side of Mom.  I had just been baptized and received into the Roman Catholic Church  myself exactly one year before you were, Ethan.  I could tell it was a profound and hugely impactful experience for you, but you never told me anything further, but strangely, that night I had a dream of you and that boy with the golden hair and green eyes.  Of course, now I realize we were all in the Refuge, and that we have at times been virtually living there, but please, it is not for me to tell your tale, friend."   Now, all eyes are on Ethan, we have all forgotten our coffee which stands idly in our almost untouched mugs as we wait for him to continue speaking. "I at first thought I was having a dream.  The young Jesus was seated on my bed, for I had just woken up from a bad dream, and he sat there in front of me, smiling in my face.  And yes, Kenny, you were also there, with Kim and Tim, but they looked different and were dressed different, in the loose fitting robes and tunics of ancient Rome, and Tim suddenly seemed very young, and that was when Adrian approached me.  He came and stood right between Jesus and me, his eyes fixed upon me, warm, stern and loving eyes.  And then I realized I was seeing myself, but in a different form. He was a bit older, perhaps my age now with light pouring from his face and eyes, and was dressed resplendently in gold and emerald green robes.  He came closer to me, touched my shoulder with one hand, then took my hand in his, and suddenly..." Here, Ethan seems unable to continue, appears to be almost gasping for air.  He quickly reaches for his coffee, and takes a long, quick draught.   "May I continue, for you?" says Kenny. "Yes.  Please." "This is what I saw.  Tron absorbed Ethan into himself, and the two became one, one being, indivisible..."

2043

"But for me, this is all real, and for me this always stays real.   I cannot get away from it.  Unlike the rest of you, who all seem programmed to forget the Refuge. to forget Christ in his youthful resurrected form, to forget the glory and beauty of that sacred place. "But we still remember from time to time", say I, "and like you I have a schizotypal diagnosis, for what it is worth, which ain't a lot." "But we are not sick." "Of course we're not.  And we all have and share with you the lived experience of the Refuge, which now we have in writing, and soon to be posted on my own fridge door." "Our fridge door", retorts Carl. "Don't quibble", says Francois. His tone of voice betraying clandestine irritation. "When did you first realize your...your alternative identity", says Carl. "My true identity", says Ethan.  "Not long after I came to live with Kim, I began to attend church with her, and soon was baptised and confirmed.  I must have been fifteen by then.  Just when the priest placed in my hand the host on my first communion, suddenly I saw not him, but a strange and very beautiful boy, sixteen perhaps, dark golden hair, piercing green eyes and the kindest and most loving smile I have ever seen.  I didn't know it was Jesus.  He said to me almost in a sweet whisper, tonight, I will come to see you and then I will reveal all.  I returned to my pew, unsure of what the priest might have been thinking when he saw me standing there, remaining behind the others, slack jawed and wide eyed.  I sat down, flanked by both Kim, and your mom, Kenny, both laying their hands on my shoulders, because they could see I was crying..."

2042

"That would have been fifteen years ago", says Kenny.  "I was already co-owner with your mom at the florist shop, and living with my mom in her condo.  Shall I add a little more here, before you proceed, I mean?" "Sure, go ahead", mumbles Ethan, whom I am beginning to see as just some introverted, inarticulate jock. "Tim, Kim's son, even though you associate him with Thaddai from the time of Diocletian, is really older than you, by quite a bit  Yet you identify them with each other and Thaddai would have been three or four years younger than you.  He was already around fifteen or so, when with his mom, he pulled ymefrom the beach to their boat to get me to hospital  in Victoria, which now makes him around forty.  You would have been but a little nappy pooper of two or three.  How can you explain the discrepancy.  And Kim, by the way, is soon to turn seventy" Ethan stammers, and mumbles a bit, then says, "I can't explain any of it." "Just as we cannot explain it either, given that everyone here has seen you in your glorified form, Adrian, martyred under Diocletian, and in the resurrected glory of Tron in the service of Christ. "It could be", says Francois" , that all of this is true, but you have had to make all sorts of assumptions in order to fill in the gaps." "That makes sense", says Carl. "But that is how I remember it", says Ethan, his eyes widening defensively. "And", adds Carl, "Anyone who has even just a little bit of wisdom knows just how reliable the human memory can be..."

2041

"My mother was a prostitute addicted to heroin in downtown Victoria.  She said my father was likely one of her regular clients, but could not or would not identify him.  Mom contracted AIDS, and when she passed away family services stepped in.  We actually had a decent apartment.  One of her regulars, possibly my father, was a man of means and made sure we were okay.  In fact, the interest he took in our wellbeing really suggests that he is my natural father, though I never saw him.  Mom was always very careful to keep me separate from her work.  School was a challenge because word got out that Mom was a hooker and dying from AIDS, and all this came out from a documentary on sex workers and AIDS she had participated in.  There was no mercy and they had to take me out of the school for my own safety.  Family Services had me in a few emergency overnights before Kim stepped in and became my foster mom. She was, and still is Catholic by the way, and soon I was attending church with her and her son Tim...

2040

"I would like to begin", says Kenny, stirring into his coffee the meticulously measured two teaspoons of sugar and huge dose of cream that I aways knew him to favour, and even on the cusp of sixty, he is stirring with musical tinkling vigour. Dad used to tease him that he was going to take a recording of him stirring his coffee then hand it over to the church organist so that he might use the tinkling melody for composing a new liturgical anthem, perhaps for the Feast of Pentecost. Of course he just might have said to Kenny that the relentless tinkle tinkle tinkle never failed to get on his nerves, but Dad was two kind for that as well as too timid and polite. But on occasion, we, father and son, would exchange in private our mildly amused and vaguely irritated glances, one or both of us would briefly chuckle or titter, nothing further said or done. "with telling everyone here about how you and I came to know each other. Are you okay with that, Ethan. I am not going to mention here your true history as an early church martyr, nor of your eternal identity and service to God, nor anything at all about the Refuge. The two dimensions have come together, things are beginning to get calm again, and we are stuck here now, right now, in the boring mundane here and now." "Proceed", is all he mutters, while testing an experimental sip of his black and bitter coffee. first of all", so that no one gets confused, Only in Ethan's eyes have Kim and Tim remained young. And Ethan himself was just a kid of thirteen when he came into foster care in their home. Would you like to continue from here, Ethan..."

2039

I am carrying the very full coffee pot in one hand and a porcelain jug full of cream in the other while Kenny handles the Japanese crane tray loaded with mugs, spoons and a bowl of sugar.  There is room for everything on the coffee table, and I am gratified to see that neither Francois nor Ethan have put their feet on the table, always forbidden while my father was alive and I am bound and determined to honour his memory by maintaining that tradition.  I am reminded of the one time I actually dared to rest my feet, wearing only socks, on that table.  I was twelve.  Dad came into the room with the deacon who was our dinner guest. He approached me calmly and silently, then stood over me with his arm raised in a karate chop that was about to punch down onto my ankles.  I never put my feet there again.  Not even while home alone, and never once since. "Ethan", says Kenny, sitting down next to him,  "It is time for us to talk, all of us present." "About...?" he asks numbly. "You." "And I am going to start.  Ready?" And now Ethan is nothing of Tron or Adrian, but a silent, nervous young man awaiting an anticipated and very unwelcome verdict.

2038

"Can I help?" says Kenny, appearing like a magic elf in the doorway. "Do you remember where we keep the mugs?" "Yes, right here over the sink."  Then, approaching me he says in a conspiratorial whisper, "We have to do something about Ethan" "What can we do about him?" "The thing is, he is totally bat shit." "bat shit how?" "Isn't it obvious?" "Just as I was going into the kitchen, he was Tron again, all gold and emerald resplendent." "He is also that, but there is a key difference between him and you and me." "Which is?" say I, adding to the coffee filtre generous scoops of dark Costa Rican. "He is the real goods.  Yes, he is more than seventeen hundred years old, a resurrected Christian martyr and for this reason he is unable to cope here.  He does not know the difference between the realities.  We have to do something about him before something really weird and dreadful happens." "Like running around naked?" "Or Worse.  Look", he says, placing the mugs on a tray with the lacquered design of a Japanese crane,  "If he gets caught again he could be put away on extended leave for a long long time, and then they'll totally destroy that beautiful person on medications.  We have to protect him from himself." "while we are having coffee we will talk about it." "But he will be present." "Nothing about him without him." "You really mean that." "I really mean that." "The years have turned you into a hardass." "in spades,baby, in spades." "Oh you do know how to set a girl's heart aflutter."  and now we are both laughing.

2037

"What is your new name", say I. "I thought it was Benjamin." "That was my Facebook handle for the bereavement group where you and I connected. For very complex legal reasons, it would have been disastrous to reveal to you my true identity at the time. But mom and Kim were incredible. Since she moved to Duncan after she divorced my father and after I was on my own, no one would be able to trace my true identity there, so I became her long lost nephew, Liam Hargreaves. But", he says wagging his finger with emphasis, "Here, and only here, will I be known as Kenny. So, anyway, Kim got me working and eventually let me in as co-owner of her florist shop, and, I think Ethan here can tell you the rest." "This is going to be rather complicated", says Ethan, thoughtfully rubbing his right knee with his left hand, "because while we are talking about this we are still straddling two distinct realms. Right now we are seated in the presence of Jesus in the reception room of the Refuge, while simultaneously finishing lunch and starting coffee here in the home of Christopher." "I will take that as a hint, " I reply, getting up from my chair. "I presume everyone here is having coffee?" And now I am entering the kitchen, absolutely refusing to dwell on the fact that just in the last minute or so, Ethan was transformed again before my very eyes as Tron or Adrian, resplendent in his emerald green and gold robes with a strange golden light beaming from his face, but now, as I check my shoulder again, he is just Ethan, this random bike dude dressed in shorts and T shirt.

2036

"So, what exactly did happen to you, Kenny?" asks Erik, young vulnerable ingenue that he is, even at the relatively ripe age of thirty-two. "My last memory was being followed by Sven Lindstrom onto the Lion's Gate Bridge late at night, and a heated argument about his presumed sovereignty over me, then he must have hit me in the face. I woke up in a hospital bed a couple of months later, but I had no id, I had already been declared dead, and that was when Kim came to my rescue. She said that she had, with her son, Tim, found me unconscious on the beach of the island of the refuge, and transported me to Victoria where I was hospitalized. All the doctors to this day are completely baffled that I could have survived, given that I had fallen into the water from the Lion's Gate Bridge forty-five miles away in December. After my head cleared enough to remember some details of my identity, she was able to reunite me with my mother, who was a close friend of hers. But I had to assume a new identity and a new name, and I know I still haven't revealed that to you, but there was a lot of work securing all the documentation necessary to get me started again. I still remember dreams of being in the Refuge with the young Jesus and the dreams just continued for years afterward, so I think it could be safely said that I was in both places at once."

2035

"How very catholic of you", quips Carl. "I think that is why we have ghosts", say I.  "They are souls in purgatory." "But I have always thought of Purgatory as being a whole tier of prison cells that no one can escape from till after they've done their time", says Carl rather snidely. "It isn't a place", Ethan paitiently enunciates, "It is a state of being.  and Christopher is right when he says this." "And how would you know, Chris", says Carl in that patronizing tone of his that just makes me sometimes want to punch his handsome Nordic face. "Quite simply because that's exactly where I was for a while", says Kenny, "when I was in a coma, straddling both worlds, and I appeared to him in a series of dreams." "Like when you revealed to me the location of your journal." "In spades, baby...in spades..."

2034

"You would be thinking of the Desert Fathers", says Carl. "I am indeed thinking of the  Desert Fathers", says Ethan. "Who were they?" asks Erik. "When Constantine the so-called Great made the Christian Faith the official religion of the Roman Empire", replies Ethan, "he also committed treason against Christ for which he is still in Purgatory.  "Christianity was no longer costly, it was both politically and socially correct and convenient.  The representatives and guardians of the Faith soon became arrogant, lazy and corrupt.  Declaring Jesus Christ as Lord was no longer a death sentence.  so that many saints fled from the corruption that was already festering in the church out into the wilderness where they lived alone or in small collectives seeking daily the face of the living God." "You believe in Purgatory", says Carl. "as do I ", says Kenny. "And I", echoes Francois.

2033

"Did they mention the refuge?" "Nothing at all.  It is as if nothing happened to them.  Once returned they simply returned to their old familiar selves, hyper witty, campy,bitchy  and borderline queeny." "We need to talk to them", say I. "We are going to have to let them both go", says Ethan, "But it would be better to let them both stay in the condo, for the time being anyway." "You say that, because..." says Carl. "They are not prepared to let go of each other, which, if they are to move forward in discipleship, they are both going to have to consider and face." "But they are married", says Carl, "what God has joined..." "Same sex marriage, while not in itself sinful, is not the same as between a man and a woman", says Ethan. "How can you say that?", I reply, hearing faint rebuke in my tone, but I am also afraid that he might be hitting on an uncomfortable truth. "Gay marriage works well as harm reduction.  In fact, it would be suicidal for them to even think of separating before committing themselves to sobriety, and even then, they would still need each other in order to stay faithful to the program.  But for real, true, and costly discipleship, it is better for two men or two women to embrace celibacy.  I cannot explain why this is, and as much as I believe it, even our lord himself has cautioned me against being strict and judgmental, so I am also willing to shelve the matter.  But they should stay part of us because they are part of us, even if they are auxiliaries.  For Thaddai and I it was rather different, as Jesus has been prone to remind me at times.  He was my slave, and also my sex slave so I had to set him free, and that completely ended all carnality between us.  But there is also a quality of commitment that has to come before marriage or the spouse if our commitment to Christ is going to mean anything at all..."

The Peacock 1932

"How much time do you actually spend there?" says Carl.  "At the refuge." "That is the hardest part to explain to you guys", says Kenny.  "That place, and our lord, are completely out of time...or out of time as we know time.  I don't think I'm making myself very clear, but, apart from a period after I was thrown from the Lion's Gate Bridge, I have always been in Duncan.  My first memory was with some woman named Kim who apparently already knew me.  We were seated in a coffee shop in Duncan and drawing up plans for going into business together selling flowers and plants.  I already had my mother's condo I was living in, and did not have a clue how I got there.  Just after we bought the business together, I asked Kim what she knew, and she confirmed that she was  third party cosigning with me for the condo with my mom, but beyond that wasn't saying anything.  Nothing at all.  She simply said she couldn't tell me anything and ordered me to never ask her again.  But that's when the dreams all started, the first dreams I had since the dreams I was having while in a coma, trying to instruct you, Chris, about my journal." "Those were dreams about being in the refuge?"  I ask. "That is correct, only Carl and Erik were also in the dream along with Amaris and a whole whack of other people,  Then at five this morning Amaris is on the phone with me to say she was at the front door of my building and that we had to get started..."

2031

"Just listen to you two", says Francois deadpan, rolling his eyes. "Our imperturbable straight man",quips Carl. "And don't you forget it ". he replies. "With everyone kind of scattered", say I, "I'm wondering how we are going to organize meetings and get togethers and suchlike, especially with the future of the mansion being up for grabs." "There is that", says Carl. "Any word on the body search?" says Francois. "They said they'll call me at the end of the day." "where are George and Jeffrey going to fit in with the changes", say I. "I'm not altogether comfortable about their being in your condo downtown", says Carl.  "They are both alcoholics and all the candy in the world lies there at their fingertips." "They're leaving", says Francois. "Oh really?" "We talked about it yesterday.  They, or George, said they do not feel ready for the kind of sustained commitment that is required.  Plus, they are both dragging their butts about AA and recovery." "That is so sad", says Carl, "Sad, and so very frustrating..."

2031

"Butterfly Effect", I reply, stupefied. "So where does this leave us now", says the ever pragmatic, almost always unflappable Francois. "It's gonna be one day at a time", says Carl. "What exactly are going to be your plans here with us, Kenny?" say I. "for me, I have come home.  I do plan to keep my mother's condo in Duncan, as a place to retreat to when things get a little intense, and yes, things will always be getting a little intense here, and so Christopher, you will always be welcome to join me for the retreat. I am afraid I cannot extend the generosity to the rest of you since, for the simple reason, I hardly know any of you.  Chris and I are family." "Here, we are all family", says Carl, "but of course we are going to respect and uphold your boundary.  In the meantime, nobody has to worry about going hungry or homeless." "Dutch sugar daddy to the rescue", quips Kenny. "In spades, baby, in spades", is my reply. "Oh you do know how to set a girl's heart aflutter..."

2030

"Chuck told us about his three encounters with you there at the beach, then the night he slept here."  says Kenny "In your recent acquaintance", says Ethan, "He did not tell you about the Russian nuclear physicist courting his friendship, nor about his plans to take Chuck with him to Moscow to effectively train as an agent.  While you guys were  all labouring for him helping take care of street homeless people, he was also set to return, and get you, Christopher, connected in this ring of international espionage.  Then through Carl, you would both gain access to some documents that Carl's father had squirrelled away in an attic room in the mansion, all of them containing names and contact information that would have funnelled back all the required information for creating a new and improved bomb that Putin would discharge on the rest of the world for opposing his plans for annexing Ukraine, and that would be the end of everything."

2029

"Wait.  Wou know him!" "Very well", says Ethan.  "We were very close in the shelter of our Lord." "He did tell us that he spent some fifteen years at the Refuge..." "To where he has been returned.  He was about to embark on some plans with some  of you here that would have resulted not only in disaster, but would have triggered a global cataclysm." "How could that be?" says Carl, clearly troubled. "It all began with your relations with Chuck", says Kenny, "not long after I was presumed dead.  You were in deep mourning for me, then in the summer you wandered down to Wreck Beach where he was camping." "How did you know this", say I. "Right now", says Ethan, "We are in full recall of the Refuge, all of this, and someone should start recording all this before the fog sets in again, because we might end up collectively forgetting everything for a long time to come." "Ready when you are", says Francois, his laptop poised over his knees like a launching pad...

2028

"Wait a minute." Here in my wallet is Nicole's business card for Interchurch Ministries. "Hello?" she says. "Hi Nicole, it's Christopher Jones calling, you met me with Chuck last week and then you and I chatted together. " "Oh, the designated driver. Hi What can I do for you?" And her voice does indicate a very broad smile, half gleeful and half sardonic. "I am trying to get in touch with Chuck, but can't find his number anywhere. I was wondering if you could get hold of him for me?" "I was just going to call you and ask you the very same thing. We have totally lost contact with him. I can't find his number, his email, his twitter, his facebook, nothing. No one has seen or heard of him. It is as if he has disappeared entirely off the surface of the earth, or has never even existed." "That is really peculiar." "Wait, he did say something about returning to Australia..." "But how could all his contact info be suddenly obliterated from our records?" "That is peculiar. Hey Cris, I'm at Baked right now and some customers have just come in. Can I call you back in a bit?" "Yes, please do." "Any luck", says Carl. "Nicole says he has disappeared completely, and also his contact information." "You will not be hearing from him again", says Ethan...

2027

"You mean, all the rest of you here are going to have to learn to live as ordinary, but eccentric and rather strange, queer men in the here and now of 2021", mutters Francois glibly from his place on the couch.  And his dear little smile tells us the rest. "Oh, you hetero normies", scoffs Carl goodnaturedly. "Well, being the only person of colour here, surely I need something to my credit", he says smiling. "I'm not touching that", says Kenny, now laughing.  I have so missed Kenny's ready and easy laughter.  It is so good having him back. "So, Ethan,"  say I, "Welcome to our home.  "but we still need to discuss your plans while you are here, as well as our plans and vision as a community." "Shouldn't that be the plan?"  That we are a community", he replies. "We have been thrown together rather quickly, but we need to draft out a constitution." "That would be news to my ears", says Carl.  "For instance...?" "How are we going to support ourselves?" "By the largess of your own Daddy Carl", he replies. "But that is also the problem", says Francois.  "We can't just live idly at the expense of a sugar daddy." "Chuck", say I. "What about him?" "We haven't heard from him since last week." "Is his offer still relevant?" wonders Carl. "This is something I have to find out", say I, grabbing my phone from the table.  To my dismay, here I am, searching and searching my phone.  His number is not there."I cannot find his number.  Does anyone else have it?" "Not on my phone", says Carl. "Nor mine", wonders Francois. "Wait a minute", say I, rummaging through my wallet, "There happen to be a couple of other phone numbers on his card that he gave me, plus email and website.  "Wait, I found it.  Hey, this is strange.  His name and cell number aren't printed here.  Just Interchurch Urban Ministries, but here is their number. "  I hit a voicemail greeting, simply a robotic please leave your name, number and the time that you called, plus the sound of a beep, "hello Chuck, this is Christopher Jones.  I was wondering if you could give me a call please..." 

2026

Ethan is looking rather intense and frustrated right now, his folded fists resting in his lap while his tapping foot and restless leg say everything else. "I sometimes actually believe them", he is saying.  "Often.  that these really are just delusions, that I really am sick..."  and now looking up at us, his face twisted in distaste,..."and I will probably have to go back on meds..." "Except for one little detail, Ethan", says Kenny, "We just saw you, only just a moment ago, standing towering in our midst in the shimmering green and golden robes of Tron.  But now we have to learn to live as ordinary, but eccentric and rather strange, queer men in the here and now of 2021  For me not at all difficult because for years I lived in and out of drag as Cassandra, and still must coexist with Harriet, my female alter ego... "That must have been hard", says Erik. "Darling", says Kenny, now channelling Harriet, "it is amazing what a girl can get used to when she has to...

2024

"So, where does this leave us now?" say I, after returning Ethan's plate to the kitchen where I finished the washing up.  Carl and Erik were too distracted by his coming to finish the job right, and the counter still needed a good wiping. "Somewhere on Alison Road, UBC", quips Kenny. "Kenny", says Francois, "Would you like your old bedroom back?" "Then where are you going to sleep?" "Erik and I will both be occupying the den and the office.  They already have nice sofa beds and bedding and stuff." "No, I can sleep down here.  In a way I prefer it.  I don't want to time travel while living here again." "What are you going to do about your florist shop in Duncan?" says Erik  "Kim is going to be only Kim and not Thera so she can manage things in the meantime.  Her Thera self is back at the refuge with our lord. and with Thaddai", says Ethan...

2025

"Ethan", continues Kenny. "It is time to stop pretending, dear.  Kim was your foster mom. She took you in when you were thirteen, then she legally adopted you.  Thaddai is really Tim, her son by her second marriage, which also came to an end. " "They were my friends in Damascus," "Time to forget Damascus, and the Refuge, not Jesus, he is always with us.  But we have to stop living in other realms and start living again in the here and now, because now that is all we have." "But this isn't all that we are." "Of course not.  But if you don't want to end up a blithering mess of wasted genetic material languishing on meds in a locked ward again then you are going to have to live the lie with the rest of us.  We can no longer have it both ways." "I am Tron.  Also Adrian, formerly of ancient Armenia, then Necodemia, then Damascus and finally Jerusalem where I was martyred."  And now he is indeed Tron, standing and a gleaming glory of emerald and golden robes towering in our midst.  And yes, we are all seeing him now in his glorified form, but the glory now is diminishing, and again standing there, in T shirt and shorts, Ethan, random bike dude, foster child and mental patient.  He resumes his seat. "It doesn't have to be either or", says Kenny.  "It is also both and, Ethan.  But we have to live where we are." 

2023

"that just doesn't square...at all", says Erik. "Have you always lived in the same place?" "In a farm house near Cobble Hill." "And surely you have neighbours." "We have a few." "And surely some of them have noticed that a middle aged woman and two young men staying the same as they were twenty-five years ago...must be a little bit...odd?" "They don't know", says Ethan. "They don't know...what? "That our being nearby also affects their own perceptions of time and space.  Everyone there is in a state of collective unknowing." "How could that be?" "That was then, but now that the two dimensions have converged, both Thera and Thaddai ar back at the Refuge, as permanent guests, and I alone have been given dispensation to dwell here among you." "Ethan", says Kenny. "Sometime very soon, you and I are going to have to have a little talk.

2022

"Wait a minute", says Carl, evidently doing mental math calculations, "How many years ago was that again?" "Twenty-five." "Were you even born yet", he says to Ethan. "I was much the same as I am now.  As were both Thaddai and Thera, or Kim.  Thaddai is now known as Duncan, after the town where we are living..." "And you are now off your meds." "I am speaking the truth", says Ethan, calmly and without any drama in his voice. Kenny has rather a strange look on his face right now, but he is not saying anything. Yes, i remember that look very well, pure unfliltered distaste, when he knows he has just been handed a plaetter of bullshit and is still wondering who to dump it all over. "Curiouser  and curiouser", say I. "What exactly was the name of those pills again", says Francois drily, "You know, the ones that Mother gave you..." "Suddenly Kenny glares at Tron and says, "Ethan, you did not even show up at our doorstep till just fifteen yeas ago when you were a scrawny little thirteen year old." Ethan bows his head quietly, not quite ready to dignify him with an answer...

2021

"Are you still taking meds?" say I. "My mom helped me go off them, the mental health team tried to get a court order to get me back on them, but except for my so-called delusions, the court psychiatrists found me to be coping very well within the accepted boundaries for things." "Does your mother know where you are?" says Carl, trying to use humour to dull the ache of jealousy. "Kim knows everything about us, including the Refuge, where she has also visited", says Kenny. "Kim", says Tron, "is also Thaddai's mother, Thera, and yes, Thaddai also lives with her in Duncan, and works part time in the florist shop." "The family that deludes together colludes together", quips Kenny, laughing. "But you guys also saved my life. You were the ones who fished me out of the water and brought me to our Lord for healing

2020

"There would be more room in the house in New West", says Carl in the subdued rigid tone that can be best understood as fluent jealous boyfriend, even though we are not boyfriends.   "I am supposed to be here", says Ethan. "Orders?" says Kenny. "Exactly so.  Orders. "Welcome", says Francois, getting up and extending his hand to Ethan, who stands up and enfolds him in an affectionate bearhug. "Where have you been living previously?" asks Erik, always the practical Swede. "Apart from the dream sequences of being in that mansion, and my sense of really being an early Christian martyr, I was forced to live with my mother by court order." "Court order?" say I.  "What were you doing" "I was living in a shared house with other students, but started going around naked.  I would tie my keys and wallet around my neck, then get on my bike and ride to school...I also wore my helmet...in my birthday suit." "Whatever for?" says Carl. "i was often reliving the trauma of being crucified, of hanging naked for total public exposure.  Somehow, it helped me feel close to God, and then I landed in a locked room at the Eric Martin institute.  I was diagnosed with schizoaffective and schizotypal disorder, put on meds and ordered to live with Mom...

2019

He seems visibly shaken as he pours over again the document, then appears to be reading and studying it again.  Then he picks up the pen and signs both pages "That was Jesus who greeted us in the garden.", say I to Ethan. "And he returned me to the Refuge with him.  We talked together.  He said that I should not continue the theme with you that we were discussing together this morning, and then he told me I was free to return, but also warned me that I would forget again.  I always forget." "We always forget", says Kenny.  "I live in my mother's condo in Duncan, and you deliver flowers for my florist business.  I would give you a raise, but you should know that I have just retired.  However, I could put in a good word for you to Kim." "i'm going to be living here, if that's okay with you guys", he says, gesturing to his backpack.  "Is there room?" "We have two nice bedrooms available in the basement", I reply.  "I will show them to you after lunch and you can pick either one..."

2018

Ethan has just removed his bike helmet, which he is resting on his left knee and he is carefully studying Kenny's hand drafted document.  Carl has just placed before him on the coffee table a plate loaded with Costco potato salad, buttered sourdough bread, cheese and tomato slices and large black olives from a tin.  "Thanks", he says without looking up. He further studies the document, then looks perplexed, "Could you explain this to me please?" "Does nothing here ring familiar to you, Ethan", says Kenny. "Kenny!" he says suddenly, turning to look at my old friend. "So you do remember me." "I was working in your florist shop...in Duncan...Remember?  I was doing bike deliveries. "And you spent the night with us in Carl's mansion near Chilliwack." "That I did." I have just sat down on Ethan's right.  "Do you remember none of the story you were telling us?" "Before I started working for Kenny two years ago, I was studying ancient church history at Malaspina College.  So I was telling you about what it was like under the persecutions of Diocletian." "What else do you remember", says Carl, pulling up a chair from the dining room table. "We were eating chocolate chips and drinking milk like a bunch of kids.  It was lots of fun." "The next morning, you came into the bathroom while I was stepping out of the shower", say I.  "We were both naked." His handsome olive toned face is reddening and he mumbles, "Sorry." "Nothing to be at all sorry about.  We both comported ourselves like chaste Christian gentlemen." And Ethan sputters, "Yeah, dammit", and now we are all laughing. "And then, after we were both dressed, we went onto the grounds through the gardens, to a southern magnolia tree in early bloom.  There were two peacocks, a blue and a green one, and there was a beautiful teenage boy waiting for us, and then you two went off together..." Ethan's eyes are widening, and yes he is now remembering.  "Oh my God", he says, dropping his fork on the plate..."Oh my God!"

2017

"Ethan", say I, simultaneously shocked, delighted and irritated, "How did you find us here?" "I saw your car pass me when I arrived in New Westminster, so I thought of following you.  I almost went in to visit you in the big old mansion in Queen's Park, but there were too many people around so I rode away, but when I came back your car was just leaving, so I continued to follow. "Would you like to come in for lunch?  We are still eating and there's lots of food."  And I am remembering my own father's tradition of hospitality which, despite my own selfish and solitary nature, I am bound and determined to uphold, if only to honour his memory while living in his house. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble." "No trouble at all.  And please take off your shoes, if you don't mind.  Thanks, you can just leave them over here." "François, this is Ethan, who spent the night with us in the mansion.  He was so taken by our hospitality he decided to follow us all the way here on his bike." "I remember you", says Francois.  "From the Refuge.  Your name is Tron." "Ethan", he says politely. "Come sit with me here on the couch.  Christopher will bring you some lunch, won't you please, Christopher?" "Oh, you don't have to ask. "  Francois is showing him the document he has just drafted out and which we have all signed...

2015

"Second point:  There is a tendency of losing time, but not in a linear or Newtonian sense, as we understand time.  One can pass days there and not one second has passed in the real world, or vice versa, or it can match perfectly our concept of linear time.  Christopher Jones, our friend, is like an open portal between the dimensions, and his memory can be uneven, but still consistent.  Others who have been there are more apt to fall into temporary or long term amnesia.  He is also vulnerable to being slapped with a bogus mental health diagnosis because of his wonderful spiritual gift." Kenny pauses, to gently shovel some potato salad in his mouth.   "MMMM"...he says, chewing thoughtfully..."Good ol' Costco..." "Third point...People such as me, or Amaris, formerly Letitia, have lived at the Refuge long term, but often forget, or process the experience as a series of dreams, plus, our time spent in so-called real life often seems uninterrupted or unimpeded by the experience.  And we also have personages there such as angels, holy ministers, and Christian martyrs from almost two thousand years ago, such as Tron, who can easily appear here in the real world as ordinary human beings, sometimes losing their own memory of the refuge or their true identity."  And now we are signing it again.

2016

"Does this seem to cover everything?" says Kenny, receiving back from Francois the signed document. "I think that should work for now", say I. "So that if there is any doubt over the veracity of these recollections should they occur, especially when we all have succumbed to collective amnesia", says Kenny, "then we can refer back to this document."  And now I am reminded of another side to Kenny I seem to have forgotten, but respect and admire: he was always very efficient and very thorough.  He said he had to  become that way from the very process and constant hard work of living in and out of drag as Cassandra. "I have just finished eating", says Francois, "So while Carl and Erik...hint, hint...are cleaning up and doing the dishes, I can transcribe this onto my laptop and send everyone copies, including our friends who are absent.  And given how stubborn we can all be when we can't remember, I also recommend that we post the handwritten original in a highly visible place, perhaps the fridge door." and now there are three loud knocks on the front door and I am about to choke on the slice of vintage cheddar I have just put in my mouth, because I have heard that same knock oh very recently.  Carl gets up to open the door, and into my father's living room steps none other than Tron, or Ethan, random bike dude...

2014

Amaris is suddenly gone, perhaps disappeared, but Kenny right now is seated alone on the couch. "Where did she go?" "Who." "Your friend from the Refuge. Amaris." "She wasn't here" "What?" I am silently appealing. first to Erik, now to Carl. "Did...Did Kenny come here alone?" "I have been with you since yesterday", he says, a slight perplexed smile adorning his lips. "I am afraid he is telling the truth"; says Carl. Erik?" "I think you should let me explain a thing or two", says Kenny. "Both versions are correct. I was here with you guys since we ran into you yesterday in the café, and I only just arrived here ten minutes ago." "But"...and now the words are failing me. This is happening again. "And your friend?" "I imagine she's still in Richmond. Chris...it's okay, you are a portal between the two dimensions that have just come together. It is all true. But right now you are with us... All I can do right now is sit back, quiet, stil, and breathe, slowly, rhythmically, deepy, slowly, rhythmicaly, deeply, slowly, rhythmically , deeply. This is all too much, this has all gone way beyond too much. Alice in Wonderland, anyone. And now I am singing out loud, "One pill makes you bigger, and one pill makes you small; and the ones that mother gave you don't do anything at all..."and now my voice rises in operatic flourish, chanelling the young grace Slick..."Go ask Alice....when she's ten feet tall..." Carl is clapping. "I didn't know you could sing like that, Chris...Have you had voice training?" "What I am supposed to do with all this", and now my voice rises to a near scream..."What am I supposed to do.." Kenny places his hand on my shoulder, and his touch is calming. "Chris, Jesus sent me to be with you to help you with this transition. Even though our two dimensions have come together they have unleashed a cosmic storm, and we are to wait for things to get calm again. One thing I would like to propose to all of us, and this under the mandate of our young Lord"...He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a note pad and a pen..."while we are all remembering now what happened, I am going to write it all down and we are all going to sign it. Whenever anyone of us slips into amnesia or falters into the other side, we can simply review this document together. Is it a deal?" We are eating buffet style in the living room, and Kenny has shoved his plate of food aside on the coffee table in order to focus on note taking.  "Okay, he says, to begin with, "The Refuge is a real place that exists outside of real time as we know it.  We have all been there.  It occupies the top of a small mountain on an uncharted Gulf island that now is suddenly on the map, with a tiny populated village.  Even though we have all been there, in the company of Jesus as a youth of sixteen or so in appearance only, and his parents, Joseph and Mary, who appear very aged but also strong and robust.  We also have to accept the possibility that with the merging of the dimensions, the Refuge may or may not be visible or traceable to the mortal eye....everyone here, Chris, Carl, Francois, and Erik...will you agree to add your signature...I see everyone is nodding...Okay, put down your forks and get busy..."  He passes the notepad to me with a pen.  I sign it, then pass it to Francois, who does the same, and passes it to Erik, then to Carl, all signing the document, then Carl returns it to Kenny...

2011

A loud confident knock sounds on the front door, and I have just sprung from out of the kitchen to answer it, almost knocking down Carl who was just getting up to do the same. And here they are, Kenny, with Amaris standing on his left. He is smiling broadly as they proceed their way in before I can say anything. "You sly old dog you", he says, slipping off his shoes by the door, Amaris following suit. "You didn't give me the address because you knew if it wasn't really me we would be lost." "And you didn't need to wait to be asked to take off your shoes", as we enter the living room, and he already knows his way around. Before claiming a spot on the couch next to Amaris, Kenny chimes, "You haven't done one single thing to change this place. It is exactly as I remember it." Then, glancing around, he notes, "Except for that landscape painting, the small one by the window." "Dad, just a year before he died, was giving a lot of support to Leonora Vandervene. "She was married to, what's his name, Cornelius, or Larry." "You do have a gdood memory. Larry passed away and..." "Yes, I remember, Leonora was an artist and that does look like her work. Beautiful..."

2008

"I suppose I could get some food together", says Francois, as he presses send, then shuts his laptop. "I can do it", say I. "What have we got?" "There's a ton of Costco potato salad in the fridge", says Francois, swinging his legs down to the floor. "We don't shop at Costco." "Chelsea does, she came over this morning to get her cat and to dump the potato salad on us because she bought too much." "Easy to do at Costco", says Erik. "Kenny and Amaris are coming for lunch by the way." "who?" says Carl. "My old friend. He lived here." "He's dead." "Carl, you already saw him alive last night. Remember?" "I already told you we didn't see him. Right, Erik?" "We did see him", he says. "Now I remember. With Ethan." "Oh my God", says Carl, his eyes widenng dramatically, "You're right..."

2009

Following Francois into the kitchen, I say, "Francois, you remember meeting Kenny yesterday, right?" "Kenny?" "At the Refuge." "Where?" He is rummaging in the fridge, first taking out the huge container of potato salad which he drops onto the counter. "You don't remember?" And now my friend is standing leaning against the counter with his fingertips pressed to his forehead, as though enduring intense pain. "i can't talk about this right now", he says, returning now to the fridge. "Well, they're on their way over for lunch, right now, and should be arriving any minute." "Who?" "Kenny...and Amaris. The woman we also met there." "How do you know it's really him", says Francois, fixing widened and scared eyes on me. "Quite simple. When I texted him this morning, I did not give him the address. He lived here with us for five years. It it's really him, they will both find their way here without any help from me." "Christopher", hollers Carl from the living room. "Come out here. Right now!" "I'm helping Francois with lunch." "It can wait. Get out here. I want to talk to you." "Not in that tone you don't." "This is important!" Francois gestures with his head that I should go. "You bellowed?" say I standing and facing Carl from the dining room. "Sit down, please". He is pointing at the couch. "And I'm sorry for yelling. Please." "What." "I remember everything now." "Me too", says Erik. "About Kenny?" "He was with us, all the time. He came out to the house with us. And then I forgot, and he disappeared." He looks up at me, Erik too, obviously tormented. "What exactly has been going on?" "Kenny sent me a text today, saying that he wasn't there, that he and Amaris did see us in the coffee shop yesterday, but didn't go in. But they'll be here in a minute, and then, maybe something will be explained." "This has all gone way beyond creepy", says Carl. "I couldn't agree more". affirms Erik.

2007

It has been a long drive, and Francois is alone in my father's house, horizontal on the couch, as always, propped up by cushions and writing on his laptop. "You're back", is all he says, just glancing up, then resuming his typing. "Wow, how's that for a welcome", says Carl, with grim humorous good will. Without looking up, he mutters, "Did I forget to wag my tail?" "Oh, you cat people", says Carl, letting himself drop onto the other half of the sofa, just missing Francois' bare feet as he pulls them out in the nick of time. "Always a flatterer." Erik and I have each taken an armchair. "Are you the only one here?" say I. "Until two minutes ago, yes, I would say so." "What are you working on?" asks Erik. "A letter to my mother who is finally recovered from covid. Her husband is still struggling but seems to be rallying. What about your mom, Carl?" "She is about to be discharged from hospital. I imagine she will be staying in New West, there is more room plus Melissa is a lot better with her than I am." "And, Jason and Lazarus?" "They went over to Maureen's this morning. They will be staying with the girls... and George and Jeffrey are hoping to lease the condo from you longterm" "We've already agreed", say I. "There is a text on my phone from Kenny: "Amaris and I have just left Richmond. May I presume we are invited for lunch?"

2006

There were limits to what we could pack and carry from the mansion, but as we are all filing in and out of the house with boxes, and unpacking everything, there is a collective sense of resignation over having to make do. Everyone did strip their own bed and bagged and carried with them their own bedding. Carl had gone online to order and purchase the seventeen mattresses and boxsprings, all single, and the last ones were delivered yesterday, presumably while we were doing other thngs, but he did clandestinely explain to me that he had already hired and mobilized various other helpers connected with the ones who painted the house. And now Jeff Bezos is just a little bit richer thanks to my friend's resourcefulness. But we have to leave the others, Melissa, Sheila, Glen, Michael and Matthew, to do their own settling in. Maureen has already agreed to lend two of her spare bedrooms to Jason and Lazarus, and George and Jeffrey refuse to leave my condo downtown, which is fine with me, leaving more room in my father's house for the rest of us. I am back behind the steering wheel of my car, as Carl and Erik both join me, and now we are on our way back to my father's house....

2005

It is lunchtime and here we are, both cars in Queen's Park, pulling up in front of the Queen Anne style Victorian doll's house. And it is lovely, the sky blue exterior with the white trim woodwork and fin de sicle curlicues all suggesting a festive summer sky. "You're new home, Glen", says Carl, forcing a smile, for all the stress we are under today. "It is beautiful", he replies with measured perfunctory indifference. Knowing far better than Glen, who has lived the most sheltered existence one could imagine, instead of lecturing him about how fortunate he is, given that many men of his age and lack of means are already sleeping under bridges and crowding homeless shelters, I dutifully hold my tongue. The house smells and looks freshly painted, and the small bits of furniture we found time to purchase do not do the place justice, leaving the rooms looking underfurnished, and all the walls white and starkly naked, but each bedroom imcluding the occasional rooms, seventeen in all, has a bed, and Melissa has had the forethought to bring enough bedding from the mansion to guarantee sweet dreams to everyone staying here tonight. She also took the time with her brother's help to empty the refrigerators, and soon we will be having lunch, our first meal in our, or should I say, in their new home, buffet style, natch, because we also are lacking a table and chairs.

2004

In my car we have besides the driver, me, Carl, Erik, and Glen. Behind us are following Melissa in her vehicle with Sheila, Michael her son, and Matthew. we have just bypassed the diner, and we are counting on a long drive given that traffic is already heavy. It is a preternaturally quiet drive, in this car, anyway. I have put on a classical cd, the Mozart Requiem and it appears to be to everyone's taste. Between Tron or Ethan last night, and the cops searching the house for bodies this morning, we are all, shall we say, lost for words. It is almost as though I am alone in the car, though still aware of this pressing burden of presence. We are past Abbotsford, and the Mission exit is now just behind us, but I don't reckon we are stopping till New Westminster, where I imagine the new house awaits at least some of the people in our two cars, all freshly painted and furnished like a big happy, if slightly creepy, Victorian era doll house...

2003

"But Kenny.. we were both there. Yesterday. Remember?" They seem to be taking their time finding their way to my car, which is okay. This cannot wait. "I was dreaming about that place last night. We were both there. And several friends of yours. But that was a dream" "You were also here with me last night, in a different mansion, and some of those few friends. Including Tron. But now this morning, you are not here, and no one remembers you, and Tron, who was Ethan, a random guy on his bike who spent last night here, but..." "Wait a minute...Tron? "Lives at the refuge, the big house you were in on that island, tall, dark hair, gold and green robes, fourth century christian martyr." "O my God Chris. We have to talk. Look, I can be in Vancouver today, I am staying with my friend Amaris at her parents' house in Richmond. We actually saw you guys in the Waves coffee shop on Broadway, or thought it was you, and we walked in, and you and I looked at each other, and we knew each other right away, but Amaris said it was too soon, so we left." "Come over to Dad's house this afternoon. Keep in touch in the meantime. I have to hang up now because I'm in the car and they're coming, I will be driving them back with me into town...I will call you as soon as we're there...

2002

The young cop appears to be introducing Carl to a short thin slightly bent elderly man. They are shaking hands. The real Cosme, I presume, and now Carl is bringing him over to me. "Christopher, I would like you to meet Cosme." The old man has thin greyish hair with whisps of faded auburn, an aquiline nose and a rugged, creased face that was once considered handsome. His dark eyes were likely once bright and fiery, but now seem dull and a little evasive. "How are you" is all he says in accented English, then, before I can reply, he returns to the young cop. "They are just about to bring out the dogs to search the house. No one here is under suspicision, so we are all clear to go." My phone is vibrating again. "I'm ready now, so if that's okay I can wait in my car." A text from Benjain Butterfield: "Chris, you clever sly dog you", another code expression of our friendship, "You blew my cover, Yes, it's your old friend Kenny, Kenny Liam McLauchlin, also known as Cassandra the old street tart, and Harriet, of course is always here with me. I am alive and well. I was fished out of the waters in a coma and cared for by loving strangers in a big house on one of the unknown Gulf islands. Long story, but they helped me connect with my mom here in Duncan, where I have lived under a new identity ever since. oh, we have so much catchng up to do."

2001

Breakfast is pretty basic this morning.  Toast, peanut butter, jam, cheese, cereal.  Erik and Carl are in the kitchen cleaning up while everyone else is getting their ducks together for the great evacuation today.  Here in the small reception room where no one can find me, next to the baby grand that Carol played so magnificently on till she broke down one morning weeping and sobbing.  Here in this comfy dark green velour chair facing the French doors, on my phone.  Facebook.  Benjamin Butterfield.  And here he is, no photo but just his big yellow B.  Texting:"in spades, baby.  In spades".  The French doors are open bringing in the cool sweet morning air and I suddenly am restless so I am back outside, on the small round porch, then down the four steps onto the grass, still glistening with the morning dew.  There are two cars pulling up in the driveway, and yes, the police have arrived...back in the kitchen, Carl announces, "Okay, we all have to step outside and identify ourselves to police".  As I file out with Eric and Melissa, my phone begins to vibrate.  Waiting for my turn to present to the young RCMP officer my personal i d, I pull out the phone and read the code words of my friendship with Kenny, "You really know how to set a girl's heart aflutter"...

2000

Carl alone is seated here with me, on the bench where the young Jesus just sat.  He smiles, as I seem to have just opened my eyes.  "I must have dozed off.  How long have you been here?" "Not very.  As I stepped out on the verandah I noticed Ethan leaving on his bike.  Didn't even say goodbye.  Not even a thankyou." "Some people." "What a piece of work." I am not going to mention anything.  Not that Jesus was just here, nor how they both disappeared together, and certainly not our brief naked encounter in the bathroom this morning.  I am not going to ask what really happened, because whatever did occur, and whatever I witnessed occurring are going to be similar but very different occurrences. "what really happened?" "What do you mean, what really happened" "You're not going to sit here and tell me that that guy really was a Roman soldier turned Christian martyr at the turn of the Fourth Century under Diocletian?" "Tron?" "Tron?  Where did you get that name?  Ethan." "You mean, we didn't meet him at the Refuge..." "Where?" "Kenny could confirm it, if you don't believe me." "Kenny?" "My old friend.  He lived with me and my father.  Years ago.  We read his journal. Remember? He is with us here, isn't he?" "In the spirit perhaps, but your friend Kenny has been dead the last twenty-five years..." "What?" "Chris", Carl has a very worried look on his face.  He moves to my bench and parks right next to me, his hand on my forearm..."Chris, it's okay..Come back to the house with me...we'll have breakfast...We have a long day ahead of us...". 

1999

Nobody is up yet, and through the enormous rambling mansion, my ears remain alert, because this silence is complete and actually louder to my ears than an outdoor rock concert.  I imagine Tron would be wanting me to guide him around, but he has taken the lead and obediently, like his devoted little shih tzu, I meekly follow.  As we descend the steps of the deserted verandah, I try to hurry to catch up with him, but remain lagging behind, as though I am forbidden to consider myself his equal.  And really, how could I possibly presume to be peer to a man, so entirely and enervatingly beautiful, who was born more than seventeen hundred years ago, if he is to be believed, a man who was crucified like our Lord, and now walks just ahead of me, immortal...  The tulips are still hanging on, but many have already dropped petals, and the irises, especially the golden and deep purples ones, are at their peak. "It is natural for you to be in love with me", he says, stopping so I can catch up to him. " I came into the bathroom while you were still in it, both of us naked, because this would help bond us together.  You are wondering how this could have happened, two homosexual men attracted to each other, without sex entering the picture." "Yes, I do actually, and I didn't know you are attracted to me." "After we die, that is to say. Christopher, Christ Bearer, after we die into life, eternal life, our sexual nature does not die with our bodies, but our sexuality is transformed, not as a vehicle for lust , but for divine service, for that was the original divine intention for us, and not, as many clerics mistakenly affirm for mere procreation of the species  And you, Christ Bearer, as one who knows himself to be asexual, are already ahead in your game...  I see not one, but two peacocks in the southern magnolia, which now is approaching full bloom of its huge cream coloured dinner plate flowers  A blue one on the left, a green one, such as the one I saw in the book and the vision with Tron at the Refuge, on the right.  They both appear quiet, stately and unaware of each other, though they appear to be regarding us intently.  On one of the three stone benches sits the young Jesus, his green eyes fixed lovingly upon us both.  We flank him on the opposing benches, for he is seated in the middle. "I see you have been in the loving care of my servant", he says, turning to me.  "Tron now must return to the Refuge.  He overstepped with you this morning, not with malice or selfish intent, but precipitously and now must return for a period of rest.  Even in eternity my servants must never be overtried, and for this reason, my friend, and my great love", and now his eyes are on Tron again, "I am returning you home.  You have served well and faithfully my servants here, but this morning you  began to speak of things to Christopher that he is still forbidden to know, and must wait some years before you can both return to the conversation." Jesus and Tron both rise up from their benches, he takes hold of both Tron's hands and kisses them on the palms and backs.  And now they are both gone.  They and the two peacocks...

1997

Tron is dressed as Ethan.  I am tempted, but dare not ask about his robes.  "Come in and sit down while I get my ducks together"  He comes in, closing the door behind him, which  I find a little bit uncomfortable.  As he sits down in an armchair, I ask, "How did you sleep last night?"  I wonder about commenting, if jokingly about us two being naked together in the bathroom, but think better of it." "Sleep for me", he says calmly, "is always a vigil.  I have been commissioned to watch over various places and situations simultaneously, and that becomes the focus at night, but in the form of restorative sleep.  It is what you people call dreams, but are really recollections of visits and visitations of which your memory is always going to remain at best sketchy.  Now that I am free from the bonds and limitations of mortality, I have a true and sweeping panoramic view and experience of those realms." My shoes are on, and everything is in order.  "Ready when you are."

1995

"And Thaddai kept his mouth shut."  I am feeling suddenly cheeky and empowered. "He knew the consequences", replies Tron as he steps into the shower.  somehow it doesn't feel inappropriate to linger here while he is in the shower.  Slowly I finish towelling myself dry, then reach for the toothbrush and toothpaste that Carl was thoughtful enough to provide me with.  Indeed, they always make sure the bathrooms stay well stocked.  Tron is also fast in the shower.  The water has been turned off and while I am starting to shave he is standing next to me, towelling himself dry.  This is all beginning to feel a little bit absurd.   "There are toiletries in the drawer here, Ethan", say I, holding it open, "with everything you need, including..."   and I whip it out of the drawer..."Deodorant." "Thanks.  Don't leave your room yet after you get dressed, I want us to take another walk together before breakfast..." A text from Francois: "How's it going so far. have they found any bodies?" "I write, "just got up and showered and now Tron wants to take a walk with me before breakfast." "Tron?" "Remember from the refuge, tall, very handsome, wearing gold and green robes." "What is he doing there?" "Long story. We should be home this afternoon sometime and then we can tell you everything. what's going on where you are?" "We all spent the evening huddled together debriefing. We seem to be recalling things sporadically, like we were all having the same collective dream. You guys?" "Same. Hey, you know the house in New West is ready for occupancy." "Are you trying to get rid of me?" "On the contrary, I was hoping you would stay with me." "Your wish is my command..." Then he adds a bright yellow smiley face. I respond with a thumb up, and now Tron or Ethan or Adrian is knocking on my door. I know it is him, it is the same quiet measured and authoritative three knocks I heard twenty minutes ago on the bathroom door... "

1994

"And Thaddai kept his mouth shut."  I am feeling suddenly cheeky and empowered. "He knew the consequences", replies Tron as he steps into the shower.  Somehow it doesn't feel inappropriate to linger here while he is in the shower.  Slowly I finish towelling myself dry, then reach for the toothbrush and toothpaste that Carl was thoughtful enough to provide me with.  Indeed, they always make sure the bathrooms stay well stocked.  Tron is also fast in the shower.  The water has been turned off and while I am starting to shave he is standing next to me, towelling himself dry.  This is all beginning to feel a little bit absurd.   "There are toiletries in the drawer here, Ethan", say I, holding it open, "with everything you need, including..."   and I whip it out of the drawer..."Deodorant." "Thanks.  Don't leave your room yet after you get dressed, I want us to take another walk together before breakfast..."

1994

First one up, first to the bathroom.  I am tempted to linger in the shower but the warm wet solitude must wait for another day... Someone else will be needing to come in, and likely right now even.  I am just towelling my head dry when there are three knocks on the door. Before I can say anything, the door opens.  It is Ethan, tall, naked and dazzlingly gorgeous.  instead of covering myself, because I simply refuse to do knee jerk modesty, I am smiling, he smiles back, comes in without so much as closing the door, and begins to pee, in the toilet, of course.  He sounds like a mighty waterfall, and his dimensions are very generous and curiously he is also circumcised.  Above the roar of his torrent he says, "Did you sleep well?" "Without dreams", say I, feeling suddenly very casual and very comfortable, naked in a small bathroom with a naked demigod. "You are wondering if I am Jewish?" says he, noticing that my eyes are on his dick, which he shakes dry while flushing the toilet.  Then he selects three squares of toilet paper with which he wipes clean the rim of the toilet.  "In a word, yes, my parents were descendents of refugees from Jerusalem when the city was destroyed in the year Seventy.  because I never lived in the barracks, though I visited frequently, no one ever saw me undressed, so I was safe from trouble..."

1993

I am back in my old room, which is Carl's old room.  Alone at last.  How I have been needing and craving solitude and soon everyone or almost everyone will be moving into that Victorian era house in New Westminster leaving me still not quite alone but with Carl, Erik, and, yes, Kenny.  those three most important people in my life.  And I want to run away from all of them because I have just gone totally Garbo on the world and I really want them all to leave me alone. I want to be alone, but now I have to sleep and solitude, to be properly enjoyed, is wasted on sleep, especially because for me, having synesthesia, sleep means dreams and more dreams, and still more dreams, all of them involving other people... I check my phone.  It is 6:36 am, and that peacock is crying again, likely from the southern magnolia tree.  I just slept seven hours uninterrupted, no dreams, this is a first, and right now I have to piss like a racehorse.

1992

Carl slumps, a dead weight, back into his chair.  And now we are feeling a collective exhaustion.  Words have failed us.  And we all know, even though no one has said as much, that we are never going to be the same again, not after this, but the words somehow are finding their way out of my mouth: "we are never going to be the same again, not after this." "Do you think he's for real?" wonders Carl. "How could he not be real", says Kenny, and now he is remembering again.  "Yes, it is clear again.  I saw a lot of Tron during my twenty-five years in and out of the Refuge.  Next to our Lord himself, one of the most beautiful and authentic beings I have ever encountered." "Did he ever refer to those experiences he just recounted?" asks Erik. "Often...Yes... Often." "So now what do we do?" asks Carl. "we return what is left of the milk to the fridge and wash the glasses, and then go to bed", say I. "Oh Chris", he says fondly, "Do you know who you really are?  You are our Common Sense Guru." "Thanks.  I think...I'm sure I've been called worse things by nicer people:" "Oh, you're such a flatterer." Says Kenny, "You never were one to mince words Chris.  That is what I've always admired about you...

1991

I have to get some sleep", says Ethan, yawning. "i'll show you to your room", says Carl getting up.  To the rest of us he says, "You guys, there are plenty of vacant rooms on this floor with beds all made up.  Christopher, could you help them please?" Once they are out of the room, Kenny turns to me and whispers, "Did you see what I just saw?" "I saw it too", says Erik,   "the green and gold robes.  That was the same person or being we saw at the refuge." We are all just completely lost for words.  We just stare stupidly into space, daring not to say anything further.  Then, reaching for the jug of milk, I say demurely, "More milk, anyone?" Erik reaches for the chocolate chips..  "You're not finished yet?" wonders Kenny, with a huge emphasis on the word yet."I guess so long as chocolate doesn't keep us up all night." "You guys ready to turn in" say I. "We should wait for Carl to come back", says Erik...

1990

We are speechless, breathless, and gobsmacked.  and now the presence that is emanating from this young man, this young man who is in reality more than seventeen hundred years old, confirms that we are not being regaled by some random bike dude we picked up along the way, but a minister and representative straight from the holy of holies.  Tron is radiant, his amber eyes flashing with divine fire and again his shorts and T-shirt are transformed before my very eyes into an emerald green tunic partly shrouded by a robe of shining gold.  The Nikes he was wearing replaced by the most elegant golden sandals I have ever seen  We are all silent.  he is smiling, then, as he opens his mouth to speak, once again, we are in the company of Ethan, random bike dude, dependent tonight on our hospitality, out here in the toolies.

1989

We were arrested at the Damascus Gate of the great city.  Claudius, my companion in the barracks in Nicomedia knew me immediately and had me in chains.  On my pleading they released Thaddai, claiming he knew nothing of this, and miraculously they let him go.  He returned immediately to the refuge where his mother and sister were sheltering.  I was given no trial, for them I was already a deserter, traitor, and worse, a Christian, I was already tried, indicted and convicted.  There was a cross waiting for me.  They stripped me of all my clothing, because not even our Lord Jesus Christ was spared the humiliation of hanging fully naked before the world. And there they nailed me, there I hung, bleeding, much as our Saviour bled for us, but unlike our Saviour, I was consoled throughout by the divine presence. God would never again forsake God that the ultimate darkness should never again shroud the earth. Yes, the pain, yes the humiliation, the agony as I felt my body breaking all around me. And yes, as I could feel the moment approaching, the crows gathered round me to begin their despicable feast.  But that was it.  It was over.  And yet, it was only the beginning.  While the fowls of the air banqueted on my corpse, I was already being received into the place of light and love and life undying...

1988

At daybreak we reached Neapolis, the nearest town to Aelia Capitolina. We knew not to enter the city, and had been told of a small farm nearby that would give us refuge. We were well received by a family of believers. The grandparents, their son and daughter-in-law and three small children. They were concerned about our destination, knowing it would be perilous, and they gave us the information of a safe house near the centre of the city. In a hidden storage room for grain we slept artfully concealed by blankets between bushels of barley. We knew we were coming to our journey's end, when anything could happen. Exhausted, we all slept through the afternoon and into the following dawn. When they gave us breakfast, our elder hosts begged that the two women stay behind with them as Thaddai and I went forth, knowing how perilous the trip would be to two women, especially given the Roman soldiers' lascivious reputation for brutally violating vulnerable women...

1987

There was a very sketchy sidepath just to the right, that went down the hill and around in a route that would be hidden from the Roman soldiers.  We took that route, and met with good fortune, for there was a rock face with a small cave at the bottom, it was more of a crevice but we could still just fit inside.  There we waited.  And waited.  It was already dusk, but we knew we must wait till nightfall.  We had hoped that travel by day would be without incident, but now we were stuck, but just for a while.  I needed badly to urinate, so I was the first to step out and find a private spot.  There would be just enough remnant light to see us safely up to the main path again.  We climbed back up, and there was no one, nor firelight or torch.  We continued walking.  Thaddai stepped in fresh horse dung, and we knew the soldiers had passed that way.  We would be safe for several hours...

1985

Thera had kept the old clothes of her late husband, Antares.  Dionysus wore them as a disguise, for without his magisterial toga, no one would know him.  Then, Thaddai and I escorted him to the home of the archbishop, and left him there to be baptised that same day.  We never again heard of him, but the Bishop did tell us there was a ship leaving immediately for Iberia that he happened to board in Tyre.  Of course we were more than a little relieved to have him out of the way, even if that meant a significant loss of income, but soon our wares found other markets, and then the storm hit.  The persecutions and purgings had spread from the military to ordinary civilians such as ourselves.  The deacon, Melena's husband was taken to prison and tortured to death.  We took her in with the baby, but knew we were not going to be safe anywhere.  The soldiers were already conducting searches from house to house, extirpating the faithful and carrying them to prison, torture and often certain death.  Knowing how perilous would be an overland to Jerusalem, or Aelia Capitolina, we were going to ride together, I, Thaddai, his mother, his sister and the baby, to Tyre, from where we could board a ship to Capernaum.  An angel had appeared to us all that same morning and commanded us to return to the site of Our Lord's execution and there await our transport into Glory...

1984

"It's like we're a bunch of eight year olds at summer camp", muses Kenny, receiving the glass of milk Carl has just poured him. "I regret to say we don't have anything stronger", says Carl. To Tron, or Ethan, Kenny says, "Back in the days of the Roman Empire, how did you ever cope without chocolate? He replies, "We had dates, and figs, and pomegranates, and such wine finer than any that ever flowed from the hills." "What is it about milk and chocolate?" says Erik.  "They seem to perfectly balance each other." "Sorry we don't have anything stronger," says Carl to Tron. "The chocolate does taste idyllic", he says. Carl says, "Apparently milk chocolate has the same fat to sugar ratio as human breast milk.  Ain't that a riot!  We're all crying Mommy, like we all want a tit or maybe something else to suck on, and then just like little sweetie we fall into a food coma for our little nappy." "Something else to suck on", cackles Kenny. "Donuts have the same ratio," says Erik. "Homer Simpson effect", screeches Kenny in a peal of drag queen laughter.  "Doooouuuuggghhhhnut!" Tron is clearing his throat quite audibly and says "May I get on with my tale?" "Yes, please", says Carl,  "You have to forgive my ADHD.  At the end of a long day it sometimes gets a bit out of control", he says with a nervous giggle. Tron resumes, "On his third visit, Dionysus, the governor, came carrying a large bag of money and another bag full of his personal items.  He handed the money to Thera and said, "This is for the care of my child that your daughter has given birth to.  I have left the palace, I have resigned my  post and now I must find a safe harbour for soon they will be searching for me.  Then, looking intently on all of us he whispered, "what must I do to be saved?"

1983

"That must have been very disconcerting", says Carl, putting aside on top of the desk the half-depleted bag of chocolate chips.  "Oh, I'm sorry", he says, "Does anyone want any more?" "Not I, said the pig", says Kenny. "Oh speak for yourself", say I.   "Yes dear, you really know how to set a girl's heart aflutter." "In spades, baby, in spades."  Now that I have Kenny back, alive and well, after twenty-five years of his presumed death by drowning, I am lapping up like a thirsty dog every single opportunity to return to our old selves together, our old coded and campy banter of friends forever.  "What I would really like right now is a tall glass of cold milk." "I actually brought up a four litre jug.  It should be in the bar fridge in the snack bar up here." "I can get it", say I, rising from my chair.  "Where is it by the way?" "You'll need help carrying glasses", says Carl, getting up to join me. "I didn't know we have a snack bar up here." "I'm sorry. we should have kept it stocked during the retreat", says Carl, taking the lead in the hallway, " But we wanted as much communal participation from you guys as possible",  It is in the room behind the mysterious closed door right next to Carl's old bedroom, the same room I was staying in. And there it is, a small fridge, an upper shelf with a microwave, and cupboards, and a small tiki bar with black stools.  There is also a couch, two comfy chairs, a wooden coffee table and a couple of vintage standing lamps.  I have to struggle with a small prickle of resentment that Carl never told me about this room. "What do you think of our guest's tale, so far?"  say I, opening the fridge and pulling out the milk. "I thought after so much chocolate we would be needing it", says Carl." "What is it about milk and chocolate, anyway, say I, because they really do go together." "I dunno.  How old are we?" Remembering my friend's controlled ADHD, I say, "Now back on topic, please." "Yes, of course", he agrees, pulling from one of the upper cupboards four smoked gently curved glass tumblers.  They are tall, and would hold twelve ounces." "How do you like these beauties", says Carl, gently setting them on a tray that he has just pulled out from the bar. "Very elegant.  Now, what do you think of Tron's account." Carl pauses, both hands on top of the bar as though to steady himself.  "Early church history live.  Otherwise...", he pauses as though for dramatic effect, "Had it not been for everything that has happened to us over the last twenty-four hours or so, I would say our friend needs something much stronger to drink than milk."  We are proceeding back into the hall.."but there is no way that any of this could be made up.  No way at all..."