The Peacock 1024

 This is where Kenny and I used to go hiking together.  He had a way of making the forest come to life, scientifically and aesthetically.  He knew all the secrets of the plants, the bushes, the mosses and ferns, the complex web of fungi networking among and between the tree roots, its own peculiar worldwide web.  Two men are walking ahead of me with their golden retriever dog.  I am simply not in the mood for people and I am happy to stop and examine this clump of deer ferns on the ground as they move further ahead of me.  I am not worried about being left behind  For me there is no behind, no ahead, no up, no down, I know this place well, this union of dimensions.  When I was in hospital, my last two days, I came into this awareness, and then I knew I was going to be well....

The Peacock 1023

 This feels like a liberation.  I have wandered, all alone, across the university campus, and have found my way to the coffee shop tucked away in a neighbourhood of townhouses.  It's run and staffed by a Korean family, and they are connected to a Korean evangelical church that rents space in the local Anglican parish.  It is always quiet here and the patio has only one lone occupant, a young woman, likely student, engrossed in her smartphone.  A hummingbird visits the potted petunias of one of the hanging flower pots overhead, probing each  electric magenta flower with hungry precision and curious greed.  I have decided to ignore my phone for now, though it is lurking in my pocket, like a sinister imp always on the ready to emerge from the dark and make trouble.  I decided to carry with me the Doris Lessing novel and give it another go.  The Four Gated City.  I am still at the beginning and making slow progress because this is an incredibly dense novel.  Not boring.  Dense.  So this Martha woman has recently turned thirty and is on her own in postwar London where she is freebooting around and having adventures.  Right now she is in a restaurant with a couple of middle class twits who are there to keep an eye on her, and she suspects maybe more than an eye.  But she is telling them all about how completely divorced from reality they are...this is going to be interesting.  It's a nice day and I can't sit still much longer,.  I have drained the last bitter drops of my Americano and now I am on my way to the forest nearby...

The Peacock 1022

 "You must be in quarantine now", says Carl.

"It isn't too bad, though it still kind of sucks.  I also might have it.  I'm still waiting for the results."

"Haven't they been pretty lax in your country about covid?"

"Please, let's not talk about that."

"How do you like your hotel room?" say I , while signalling with my finger running across my lips to Carl that he had better shut up for a while.

"It isn't too bad.  It's big enough to move around, so I can do exercises okay.  The bed looks nice and there's a couple of comfy chairs, plus a desk and big TV screen.  Could do worse.  But I am going to have to live in here nonstop for the next fourteen days, and that is a bit daunting."

"Do you think it would be a good time for research."

"It's always a good time for research.  But what I would like is books.  Nothing academic.  A trashy detective novel would help."

"Can't you get books online?" says Carl, disobeying my orders to stay quiet.

"My eyes get tired from the screen.  Paper and ink is good."

Say I, "My father left me a huge library, all numerically and alphabetically organized and there is s generous fiction section.  How about I bring you a few books tomorrow"

"Oh, Christopher, that would be super."

"Send me the name and address of your hotel.  Do you want to talk, more this evening, around seven maybe?"

"That would be super..."

The Peacock 1021

 My mother was pregnant with me when she came here as a refugee from Rwanda during the genocide.  My father died in the genocide.  Years later, at the monastery, as a freshly minted priest, I was hearing confessions from a Hutu gentleman who killed my father.  He was not repenting for murdering my father, but wanted absolution for helping torch the Catholic church where my father with one hundred other Tutsis had sought refuge.  I told this gentleman that I could not give him absolution, that he must return at once to Rwanda and make his confession to a Tutsi Catholic priest.  Then I told him to get out and given that it was my father that he murdered, that if I ever saw him again I would kill him.  One thing led to anther, Carl rescued me from the monastery, and now I am here with Carl and Christopher.  Have you met Carl?"

"No, I  haven't." says Eric.

"Hey Carl", calls Francois.  "Come and meet Erik."

"Yeah, I'll be right there", he says from the living room.  Carl pulls up a chair on my left.

"You would be Erik", he says, leaning towards the screen.

"Yes", sys Erik, his eyes widening, then narrowing.  "You're...Carl?"  And I can already tell this is not going to go very well...

1020

 Francois continues, "Basically, with a lot of support from unexpected places I got through university rather quickly and enrolled in theological training at  seminary here in British Columbia that also is the location of a Benedictine monastery.  I was ordained when I was twenty-three, since they fast tracked my training, given how short supplied they are for priests in the Roman Catholic Church.  So, I was put immediately to work while living with the brothers at the monastery.  I lasted less than two years, was rescued by Carl and stayed in his house with the community there, then things went sideways.  Anyway, I decided I'd had enough, so I just bailed.

"Were you born in Canada?" says Erik.

"You are asking me this because I am black."

"No.  Because you seem to speak English with an accent.  French, I would say?"

"Um..." and I can tell that François is working really hard at being patient right now..."I was born in Quebec where French is the official language, if that helps at all."

"Oh, yes, sorry", says Erik. "I completely forgot."

And I can tell that Francois is tactfully refusing to reply:  of course you forgot...sure you did.

The Peacock 1019

 "Is that your Swedish friend?" says Francois coming into the kitchen for something to drink.

"Erik, would you like to meet Francois?" say I

"Sure, put him on."

Francois pulls up a chair next to me. "Hello, Erik, I am Francois.  How are you?"

"I've been better.  I just arrived."

"From Sweden?"

"That's right."  neither of my friends appear to know what to say to each other  next.

"Christopher", says Francois, "Would you like a glass of orange juice with me?"

"Sure", say I, and he gets up and goes to the fridge, pours juice into two tall tumblers, then brings them to the table.  To my surprise, he is sitting down again next to me.

"What brings you to Canada?" he says to Erik.

"I enrolled in the PHD program at UBC.

"What's your field of study?"

"Social work.  I am going to write a paper comparing the treatment and integration of immigrant communities with indigenous people in different countries, and I have opted to compare the Canadian experiments of multiculturalism and reconciliation with First Nations to the experiences of ethnic minorities and the indigenous Sami of Sweden."

"That is going to be a very long thesis", says Francois.

"I would say so.  How about you?  Are you a student?"

"Until yesterday I was a Roman Catholic priest."

"Until yesterday."

"I could tell you a bit right now about my CV if you and Christopher don't feel like I'm butting in."

"I'm okay", say I.  "how about you, Erik, are you up to it?"

"Sure..."

The Peacock 1018

 On the first ring Erik picks up.  His face shows tired and pale against a very pale blue hotel room wall.  He looks clearly upset.  But now he is smiling.  Yes, he does love me.

"Christopher" he chimes, almost musically.  "How incredibly good to see you."

"How are you?"

"I got here anyway.  Christ it is so good to see you."

"And you as well.  Where are you staying?"

"I don't even know the name of the hotel.  It doesn't seem that far from the airport."

"how much is this going to cost you?"

"More than I could budget for.  It could set me back at least three thousand Canadian."

"how are you paying for it?"

"I put it all on my Visa."

"You realize that I won't be charging you rent when you're here with us.  You'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"The house is all paid for, and Carl has agreed to take care of the property taxes."

"Carl.  Is that your rich Dutch friend?"  He seems a bit terse and uncomfortable.

"Francois is also here."

"I'm sure you'll both get on famously.  And I think you will hit it off with Francois."

"So there's three of you?

"So, here's the plan.  After your quarantine you will be going with us and Carl's mom and two friends of hers to the mansion in the mountains.  Unless you want to stay alone here at the house for a week or two, but I think you really won't want to be alone after your time in the hotel.   I need to square off a couple of things, get my car back and we'll be back here at my father's house in as couple of days."

"It's going to be that simple?"

"Maybe not..."