LITMIR.BIZ

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The rumours just kept getting worse. I didn’t get all the details, just assumed it was one of those adult things you weren’t supposed to know about.” His face was lost in thought for a moment. “There was something else — I barely remember it now, though it made a huge impact on me at the time. Not long after Uncle Craig disappeared — or maybe it was just before he left home the first time, I can’t recall — all his horses died.”

      “His horses?”

      “He kept horses. Six of them. They all died one night. They’d been poisoned, I think. I remember Thom wept. He loved those horses.”

      Dan recalled the photograph of Thom astride a large black horse on the mantle in the Adolphustown house.

      Trevor looked up. “Now that you’ve reached a dead end, will you be leaving soon?”

      Dan smiled. “Am I crowding you out already?”

      “Not at all!” Trevor brought Dan’s fingers to his lips. “Believe me, I’d love to keep you here forever.”

      “Except what would I do for a living?”

      Trevor smiled. “I’ve already got that one figured. I’ve got a neighbour who’d kill to have your skills available for hire. She brought her husband over to see the shed you built. I could feel the envy burning a hole in my wood. In fact, there’s probably not a person on the island who doesn’t need something handy done. You could make a killing here.”

      Dan looked over at the window, the darkness pressing in against the glass. The other day he’d realized how easy it would be to disappear here. To vanish from your previous life and start over again. It would be that simple. No one but the trees to know of your defection from the real world. Though what could be more real than this, he couldn’t say. “I can’t say I haven’t considered it,” he admitted.

      “I don’t want you to leave thinking I don’t desperately want you to stay. But you’re not ready. I can see the signs. To some people living here is a retreat; to others it’s a prison. It’s very different when you’re here for an extended period of time.”

      The darkness outside the windows reflected in Trevor’s eyes, those eyes that had moved away from the disasters of the past and looked forward to a more hopeful future. Dan scarcely dared think he could have any part of it.

      Nineteen

      My iPod, Your iPod

      Dan set his bags on the hallway tiles. Late afternoon shadows emerged from the corners. There was no Ralph peering at him from the kitchen, tail wagging expectantly, and presumably no Ked, which meant he was either at practice or still at his mother’s. One day Dan would have this place all to himself, with Ked grown and living on his own, the dog wherever the dog ended up — either with Ked or out in some greater greener pasture that held a place of awe in animal lore.

      His answer machine yielded three messages. The first wasn’t entirely unexpected, the next two were. He hit play and his cousin Leyla’s distinctive bleat filled the room, as though she was there with him and not four hundred kilometres north and two decades back in time. Here was the girl who had been almost like a sister to him, the girl whose “impressive” breasts were the subject of schoolyard lore, which he recalled now with amusement. Her voice took him a long way back.

      He listened carefully to the message then dialled her number and played catch-up for a few minutes. Then she got around to the subject of her mother’s latest test results — they hadn’t been favourable. Dan felt a pang of guilt; it had been more than three years since his last visit. He’d sent birthday greetings, Christmas presents, anything to bridge the gap between trips, but there’d always been some excuse keeping him away. He hated to think they might believe they were no longer important to him.

      “God, Leyla, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

      “Three months — that’s what the doctor said.” She was matter-of-fact about it, though Dan had no doubt she loved the mother she was about to lose, if not sooner then later. She paused. “She was hoping ta see ya, Dan. Can ya come up?”

      “I’ll come up.”

      “Better make it quick, eh?”

      “What about you, Leyla? You need anything?”

      “No. I’m all right. Kurt pays the child support on time. One thing he’s been good for, at least. He’s stayed out of jail the last couple years, but we’re through. Last time I marry a guy because he’s got a nice motorcycle, know what I mean?”

      “At least he never hit you.”

      “No, he never did or I mighta left him sooner. Too bad, eh? Wanted to hit him myself a few times, though.” She laughed.

      “I’m just back from a trip out west. Let me check in with work to see whether they can spare me this weekend. I’ll give you a call.”

      “It’d be good to see you, Danny. Well, you know what I mean — despite the circumstances.”

      The second message was from Donny. He’d been fired from Holt Renfrew after fifteen years. He sounded shell-shocked. While Dan saw Donny as something of a Zen master who could maintain his equanimity in the middle of a war zone, he could tell his friend was having a hard time with this one.

      Donny was in the midst of cooking when he answered on the second ring. “I was wondering why you hadn’t bothered to return my calls,” he said sulkily. “Anyway, I’m already over it. I’m not even angry any more. I think.”

      “So they just fired you? They just said get out?”

      “More or less. I wasn’t escorted to the front door, but there weren’t any flowers either.”

      “But why?”

      “I’ve been trying to sort that one out. I think it’s the ooh-la-la factor. It’s not chic right now to be buying perfume from a black man.”

      “Are you saying they fired you for being black?”

      “No. Not at all. They fired me for being out of fashion. Or maybe for not being Indian or Arabic. All the chi-chi jobs are going to Indians these days. It’s the accent. The Rosedale ladies love it. I’m Yesterday’s Girl.”

      Dan pondered this. “You’ll get another job. You’re not too old. Just be glad this isn’t happening a decade from now.” He tried to sound convincing, but he knew it was the verbal equivalent of a pat on the back, the way he talked to Ked sometimes. Cookies and milk would have been more of a comfort. “Why not take a vacation? Get away for a couple of months. You’ve got money.”

      “Thanks, but I wasn’t planning on going anywhere just now.”

      “You’ll be more relaxed and in the mood to look for a job when you get back.”

      “I’ll also be older. I’m in an industry where youth succeeds far more than a relaxed attitude.”

      “Maybe it’s time for a change of career,” Dan said, trying to sound hopeful. “There’s always government.” In his mind’s eye he saw corridors thronged by men and women clutching briefs as they scurried about in search of political patronage — a helping hand, a meaningful pat on the back. The perks of civil servitude.

      “I always said I’d kill myself before becoming a civil servant.”

      “Well, then? What are you going to do?”

      “I’ve got a nice gas stove here. I could stick my head in it.”

      Dan heard the sounds of clanking pots on the chrome range in Donny’s well-appointed Jarvis Street condo.

      “Maybe you’re right,” Donny continued. “I need to get out of the city. I’m currently looking from my prestigious penthouse window down over the panorama of our beloved Commonwealth of Gay. And it doesn’t add up to very much right at this moment. When did the world become so … colourless?”

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