Tales from the Bottom of My Sole

by David Kingston Yeh

  “Actually,” I said, “I’m only nine-point-five kilos heavier than he is.”

  He gave me a sidelong glance and flashed a crooked smile. “Funny guy. Eyes up.”

  Back home that evening, we agreed the experience had definitely been worth the trip.

  “Yeah, I think you and I could really get into this,” David said, scrubbing a casserole dish. “Arthur said if we wanted to buy our own gear, he could get us a discount. I think we should at least get our own shoes. And he said if we ever wanted to try outdoor climbing, he could take us.”

  I was only half-listening, leaning against our kitchen counter, admiring the way David’s jeans hugged his butt.

  “Did you know,” I said, “behind every great climber there’s a great belayer?”

  David set the casserole dish into the rack and dried his hands. “Is that right?”

  “Oh definitely. Although, a good belayer these days is hard to come by.”

  “I see. Well.” David turned to face me. He flipped his dish towel over his shoulder. “Let’s do a partner check then.” He wrapped his fists around my belt buckle. “Are we all tied in?”

  “I’m just doing a previz,” I said, “on where my hands are going to go.”

  “The trick is to keep your grip relaxed and your body close.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. So, you ready to do some top-roping?”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “How about some jugging?”

  “How about some boinking?”

  “Sure, but only after a nice soft catch.”

  “What if I want a nice hard catch?”

  “Well, then I’ll give you something harder.”

  “Bring it.”

  “I will.”

  And we did.

  Early that spring, Karen and I were surprised to receive wedding invitations from our old friends, Melissa and Mike. We’d met them during our first year in Toronto, after moving into a house in Palmerston-Little Italy. After a Canadian Tire shopping spree, Karen and I had just finished hauling everything up the narrow stairwell, including a gigantic potted palm. A few minutes later, a tall blonde in cut-off jeans and abalone-rimmed glasses knocked on our open door.

  “It’s the welcome wagon, woohoo,” she said, handing off a basket. “Bienvenue, neighbours! Now, you’ll want to pair that Havarti with this Pinot Blanc, it’s from our favourite vineyard out by Niagara-on-the-Lake. Maybe smoke up a bit first. Here, I rolled a joint for you both, I hope that’s okay. Michael and I don’t really partake, hardly at all anymore. If you do smoke, just please keep the windows open. Mind you, that Dypsis lutescens of yours will help clean the air. Now, my therapist recommended this organic fertilizer to me. I swear, she keeps ten dozen plants in her office, it’s a veritable boreal forest in there, you can practically spot David Suzuki lurking behind the couch. Those are gluten-free peanut butter chocolate swirl, by the way. You’re not allergic, are you? I can just imagine Michael coming home and me telling him: ‘Michael, honey, you know that student couple who moved in downstairs? Well they just dropped dead from anaphylactic shock because I fed them the cookies you baked this morning.’ Oh, my name’s Melissa by the way. Michael and I, we’re your neighbours upstairs.”

  Two years later, Mellissa and Mike moved to North York and had a second baby. After that, Mike quit his job to become a stay-at-home dad. Their wedding would take place downtown, at an event space called The Burroughes. When I asked Melissa via Facebook why they’d decided to get married at this point in their lives, she said: “Well, Benjamin’s old enough now to be our ring bearer. Michael’s always wanted to get married. Me, I’ll have just finished breastfeeding Klara (thank god!), and frankly it’s a great excuse to get drunk.” After I congratulated Mike, he promptly replied with a cheerful thumbs-up emoji.

  When I told Karen she and Liam were welcome to stay at our place, she told me she wasn’t going to be coming with Liam, but she had another date.

  “Daniel, I told you, Liam and I aren’t together anymore. We’re really close, but that’s it. We’re both okay with it. And even if we were still together, I doubt I’d be able to convince him to come all the way to Toronto for some hipster wedding.”

  “Melissa and Mike aren’t hipsters.”

  “Sure they are.”

  “Hipsters don’t live in the suburbs.”

  “In Toronto, Daniel, they don’t live north of Bloor Street, but there are always exceptions.”

  “Really?”

  “Didn’t Melissa just get promoted at the CBC?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And is Mike still rockin’ that beard of his?” I had to agree that was the case. “Weren’t they the ones who introduced us to the Brickworks and to that organic co-op?”

  “Sure.”

  “And,” Karen said, “they vote NDP.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I rest my case.”

  It was our monthly Sunday-evening-ice-cream-Skype-date, and we’d decided on President’s Choice Red Velvet Cake. Karen had to drive all the way into Sudbury from Manitoulin Island to acquire hers at the Superstore, but the trip had been worth it. After the first three spoonfuls, we both agreed there could be more cake chunks, but we weren’t complaining.

  “I didn’t mean hipster in a bad way,” Karen said, poking at the inside of her tub, “I admire them a lot. In fact, I’m really flattered they even thought of inviting us. I mean, how long has it been? All I’m saying is that this wedding is going to be exactly the kind of thing that Liam hates. You should know that.”

  I did know that. Liam’s idea of a good time was ultralight backpacking in the deep bush and spit-roasting bullfrogs. As far as he was concerned, Survivorman’s Les Stroud was the greatest Canadian who ever lived.

  “So who,” I asked, “are you bringing?”

  “Someone I’ve been seeing for a few months. His name’s Bob.”

  “A few months? Why haven’t you mentioned him?”

  “I’m mentioning him now.”

  “Bob.”

  “Don’t make fun of him.”

  I rearranged the pillows on my couch and lay back. “I’m not making fun of him.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Karen, how can I be making fun of him? I don’t even know the guy.”

  “That’s exactly right.”

  “Right.”

  “But you don’t approve.”

  Passing by with his ironing board, David leaned over my shoulder and waved. “Hey Karen.”

  “Hey David.”

  He helped himself to a spoonful of Red Velvet. “Daniel, you need any shirts ironed?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Mmm, not bad. So what’s the score on this one?”

  “Three-point-five,” we replied in unison.

  David kissed my laptop’s camera and walked away. I pulled out a napkin and wiped the ice cream from the screen.

  “C’mon, Karen,” I said. “You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. If you see something in this guy, well, then, then that’s something. You’re my best friend. I’m really happy for you, okay? I’m looking forward to meeting him. Bob.”

  Secretly, of course, I was already harbouring a deep-seated resentment toward Bob, if not outright antipathy. I’d always hoped Karen and Liam would get back together. I’d lost track of the number of times they’d broken up over the years. Karen was in love with Liam, probably ever since high school. But Liam wasn’t easy to get along with at the best of times. Antidepressants had helped somewhat but they didn’t change his basic nature. It was unfair to expect Karen to put up with him just so I could call her my sister-in-law.

  “You think Liam and I should get back together again, don’t you?” Karen said.

  “I never said that.”

  “He’s been doing a lot better lately.”

  “I agree.”

  “Bob’s nice.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “He’s stable.” Karen’s face loomed on my compu
ter screen. “Did I mention he’s stable?”

  “So, what does he do?”

  Karen sat back cross-legged in her swivel chair. “He runs a tackle shop in Little Current. And sometimes charters out fishing tours.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” I said, licking my spoon.

  “He’s thirty-seven, separated, and has two kids.”

  I blinked. “Okay.”

  “He’s missing one eye, and half of two fingers on his right hand.”

  “Really?”

  “Ice fishing accident, when he was twelve.”

  “Okay.”

  “He’s really looking forward to coming to Toronto. He says he hasn’t visited since he was in high school.”

  “Okay.”

  “He just needs to find a babysitter.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? Daniel, is that all you can say?”

  I shrugged, at a loss for words. “Look, okay.”

  Karen sighed, and scraped the bottom of her ice cream tub. “I just really hope,” she said, “it’s an open bar at this wedding.”

  The Burroughes turned out to be a century-old refurbished furniture warehouse: stripped hardwood floors, exposed venting, brick and concrete, spacious enough for the hundred or so guests. The building even boasted its own old-fashioned freight elevator with a wooden grate sliding door. Karen wore the pearl-drop necklace with matching earrings I’d gotten for her graduation three years ago. Bob turned out to be a big guy, bigger even than Liam, built like an enforcer, sun-weathered and scarred, with a patch over one eye. He wore a classic, perfectly-tailored, vintage suit. When I shook his deformed, callused hand, it was all I could do not to call him “sir.” The conversation moved to family and he pulled out pictures of his daughters, seven and nine, photographs he kept in a thick, grease-stained wallet. (The older girl was all decked out in hockey gear.) After that, I could see what Karen saw in him.

  “So,” Karen said just before the ceremony, following me into the men’s washroom and locking the door behind us, “what do you think?”

  “He seems like a nice guy.”

  “He is, Daniel. He’s a little nervous being here.”

  “Him, nervous? Seriously.”

  “This is the first time he’s ever been away from his kids overnight.”

  “Oh, right. Where are they now?”

  “With one of his neighbours. Be nice to him, okay? He’s a little rough around the edges, but he really is the sweetest guy.”

  “Rough around the edges? He looks like he just stepped out of a GQ fashion shoot.”

  “He does look good, doesn’t he? Would you believe that’s his grandfather’s suit? We found it in his attic. I got it dry-cleaned and retailored for him.”

  “That eye-patch thingy of his is pretty cool. Very Pirates of the Caribbean.”

  “Daniel.” Karen poked me in the chest. “You promised.”

  “I did.”

  “You wouldn’t joke if you knew what happened.”

  “You said ice fishing.”

  “That was his fingers.”

  “Right. So, how’d he lose his eye?”

  “I’ll let him tell you that story.”

  “Well, he seems like a gentleman.”

  Karen, who almost never wore make-up, carefully folded a tissue and dabbed at her mascara.

  “He is a gentleman, and he’s an amazing dad. You should see him with those two girls. They’re really amazing kids. He also makes me laugh like nobody can. Daniel, I know it’s only been a few months but, I dunno. It’s crazy, but I think I really like him.”

  “You really like him?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Okay. Okay, Karen Fobister, let’s make this happen. You alright?”

  “How do I look?”

  “You look beautiful. You look perfect. C’mon, c’mere.” I gave her a hug. “You’ve got this. Look, this guy came here all the way down from Manitoulin just for you. He didn’t have to come, right? But he’s here now, with you. And he really likes you.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty obvious. And, he’s a Habs fan. That’s gotta count for something.”

  Someone rapped loudly on the door. It was David warning us the guests were already seated. We hurried back and had barely taken our places when the processional music was cued.

  Because we were in the last row, we were the first to witness the wedding party enter in pairs and trios, grooving and boogying to what I later learned was a popular Raffi tune. After the initial shock, the guests cheered and laughed. Cameras flashed, and people started clapping along. Melissa appeared last, clutching her wedding dress, dancing down the aisle hand-in-hand with her four-year-old son Benjamin who was sporting a miniature tuxedo and fauxhawk. Up at the front, Mike stood beaming, surrounded by family, looking like the happiest man alive.

  The ceremony itself was brief, almost perfunctory. The officiant was a pepper-haired woman with a zesty Jamaican accent who quoted Kahlil Gibran and Dr. Seuss in a stentorian voice full of humour. Benjamin offered up the rings while his baby sister watched, wide-eyed and drooling, from the front row. The wedding couple kissed and hugged and the whole business was over.

  Later that night, after the reception and speeches, David and I found ourselves on the rooftop admiring the view of the city. Parker Kapoor always professed May as his favourite month, and tonight I felt why, filling my lungs with the moist spring air. Toronto was a lake fed by countless waterways, cataracts and springs, with convoluted banks, rapids and shadowy pools. Constellations of light shifted and spiralled, near and afar, buoyed by the rumble of streetcars, the sounds of conversations and laughter, the thumping bass of the live band below. Someone stepped up between us, one hand in his pocket, a Pabst Blue Ribbon in the other.

  “Hey, Mike,” I said. “How’re you doing?”

  Mike regarded us calmly, clear-eyed. He was a short, matter-of-fact kind of guy, the kind who partnered well in science lab, or was a good sport at the end of an evening’s poker game; the kind of guy who’d actually stop and have an intelligent conversation with those people carrying clipboards on street corners.

  “Good,” he said. “Really good.”

  “This is my boyfriend David.”

  “Hey, thanks for coming.”

  “Thanks for the invite,” David said. “This is one awesome wedding. That speech your father-in-law gave was hilarious. It was like a whole stand-up routine.”

  “Yeah, he’s great.”

  “Congratulations, by the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You shaved off your beard,” I said.

  “Yeah.” Mike looked mildly surprised. “I suppose I did.”

  “You look good.”

  “Thanks. Melissa loves it. I hadn’t planned it. I was just trimming it this morning, then one thing led to another. I guess I wanted my kids to see my face, y’know? It actually took a minute before Benjamin recognized me.”

  “Yeah, I saw that video Melissa posted. It was super cute.”

  “You and Karen were living downstairs when we got pregnant the first time. You helped me carry Benjamin’s crib upstairs.”

  “That’s right! It was the same weekend we hosted that dinner party, the six of us with Charles and Megan.”

  “That was the night they met, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  Mike squinted at me. “And now they’re engaged?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Wow, good for them. A lot of good memories in that old house.”

  “You ever miss living downtown?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “You two,” I said, “were at that address a while.”

  “Seven years, including our first year with Benjamin.”

  “So how is family life?”

  “You mean, what’s it like raising two kids out in the burbs?” Mike folded his arms. “Truth?” A cool breeze rustled the huge bouquets of chrysanthemums set about the terrace. “I lov
e it. I really, absolutely love it. It’s like it’s something I was always meant to do, y’know? I baked banana bread with Benjamin the other day. I’m teaching him yoga. He helps me change Klara’s diapers. The three of us go biking together. I just started this blog for stay-at-home daddies. I’ve got almost a hundred readers already. My in-laws live ten minutes away. Melissa loves her work and she’s making really good money. It’s great.”

  “Well, here’s to fatherhood,” David said.

  “Here’s to family,” I said.

  “Cheers,” Mike said. He emptied his beer and studied the label. “I don’t know why I ever started drinking this stuff. I think we just wanted to be hipster, y’know.” He laughed. “Well. I better go back in. My mom-in-law wants a dance. Thanks again for coming.”

  As Mike departed, a small crowd spilled onto the rooftop, four couples along with a half-dozen children. One last final look at the Toronto skyline before bedtime, that was the deal. Mike high-fived one of the dads who had a toddler passed out over one shoulder.

  David and I drifted to the other side of the terrace. “Lot of kids here tonight,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Daniel, have you thought about having kids?”

  “Me? I’m still in school, I can’t think about that. I mean, I dunno. Mike makes it look easy. But it’s not easy. It’s a helluva job.”

  David retrieved a plastic squirrel from his pocket. “This was fun. Show me yours again?”

  I showed him mine, a little raccoon with my name handwritten on its side with a Sharpie. Toy animals had been used as place markers at all the tables. “You think Benjamin had anything to do with planning this wedding?”

  “Ya gotta wonder.”

  “There you guys are,” Karen called out, crossing the rooftop. Bob’s bowtie and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and Karen was barefoot with her shoes in one hand. “I think we’re going to head back to the hotel. We’re pretty tired and we’ve got an early start.”

  Karen didn’t look tired, but she did look pretty cozy with Bob, one arm wrapped around his waist.

  “You two driving back home tomorrow?” David asked.