“I don’t even know if he’s coming back. I doubt it, to be honest. I don’t know if I would in his situation.”
Donny sat back. “I knew you’d fuck it up,” he said at last, exhaling with a finality that matched his words.
“Hey!” Prabin interjected. “That is not called for.”
Donny looked at his partner. “It is called for. I’ve known Dan for twenty years and he has managed to screw up every good relationship he’s gotten into. Not that there’ve been that many good ones, so in that sense it’s even more of a shame.”
“Well, thanks for getting that out in the open,” Dan said. “And just what would you suggest?”
“What would I suggest?” Donny stared him down. “Getting in touch with Nick might be a good start.”
“I’ve tried. His voicemail is full of my messages. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Then go over there and wrestle him down until he listens.”
“I hardly need to tell you that’s not the sort of tactic to take with Nick.”
“And you think leaving town after being told not to by the police is a better one?”
“Nick won’t know. Anyway, there’s no sense in staying if he’s not going to talk to me. I promised Ked I would be at his graduation, so I’m going.”
“On a false passport.”
“Not a passport. Just false ID.”
“I’m sure that must be some sort of federal offence.”
“Only if they catch me.”
Donny shook his head. “That’s not even remotely funny and you know it.”
“How are you going to pay for things while you’re away?” Prabin asked Dan. “Won’t they track you down with your credit cards?” He turned to Donny. “We should lend him one of ours.”
“No need, but thanks,” Dan said. “I’m using cash. The cash Peter Hansen paid me to find his husband.”
Donny sighed loudly. “Of course you are. And that makes us feel so much better to know that.” He stubbed out his cigarette in a little flurry of sparks. “So, what is it you are asking us to do in order to aid and abet your decision to ignore a police order?”
“I want you to be my eyes and ears while I’m away. Plus I need you to look after Ralph.”
“You want us to be dog sitters?”
“I can’t very well ask Nick to do it.”
“What shall we do if the police storm our condo and torture us into admitting your whereabouts? Do you expect us to jump off the balcony to elude capture?”
“That would be a bit drastic. Can’t you just deny all knowledge of me?”
“By the time you come back, we may be doing just that.”
“I won’t blame you for it. Oh, yeah. There’s one other thing.” He placed Simon’s cellphone on the table. “Can you get this to Lester? Ask him to download the contents for safekeeping. Once he’s done that, tell him to try to override the password and unlock it if he can.”
“Should I ask why?”
“Probably not.”
Donny picked up the phone and hefted it as he considered the request. “I take it this is important or we wouldn’t be doing this?”
“Not just important,” Dan said. “It’s crucial to the political future of the country.”
“Grand. Thanks for leaving it in our hands.”
Twenty-Six
Leaving It All Behind
The Rockies reached up, luminous in the pre-dawn light, the last great gasp of nature before the continent fell away into the ocean. It was a glorious sight. At least James G. Moab thought so.
The woman next to him was awake after having snored away the last three hours. She turned to him now, speaking as though to a kindly friend. Lonely, perhaps, or disoriented with that just-awake befuddlement common to people who sleep in public places. Moab kept his face turned to the window, even though his rational mind knew she wouldn’t recognize him from Adam.
He’d had the same qualm at the airport every time someone had clocked his presence, but of course they were simply registering a striking man with grey eyes and a scar, rather than someone about to make an illegal and unauthorized exit from the city. Relief washed over him as the plane taxied along the runway, tilting up to the skies, the thud of the wheel casing snapping into place beneath them.
A steward came by to collect the remains of a breakfast so unmemorable it was forgotten before it was finished. Free to roam, Dan staggered to the back of the plane and checked himself in the bathroom mirror. He caught the face of a stranger, desperate and wary, and knew what a wanted man felt like.
In the airport, his son greeted him with such force he thought they might both capsize.
“Dad!”
His hair was long, his beard full, like a twenty-first-century beatnik. Dan stood back to take stock of the changes. For now, it was enough that they were together. He would take his time to explain the events of the past seventy-two hours, beginning with the death of Simon Bradley, followed by the raid on his office, then segueing gently over to the rather difficult issue of his physical confrontation with Nick — best not to call it a fight — and the likelihood that their relationship was over. The thought made him heartsick. It was the closest he’d come to accepting the relationship’s demise, which in his mind was what it was now approaching.
He thought all of this while watching the joy flooding his son’s face on his arrival. Dan smiled and hugged him back. Yes, better to leave the telling till later. Mixed messages were never good things.
It was definitely a students’ flat, Dan thought as Ked showed him around the spartan space. All the minimal comforts of home with few of the luxuries. In the sitting room, a candle stub squatted atop a wine bottle, the wax halted in a confusion of colours where it dripped onto a battered coffee table. An avocado pit sprouted in a pot on a window ledge, while framed leftist protest posters hung on the walls. Mislaid memories for Dan, irony for a twenty-something. Ked was cooking chili for lunch. More student chic. Dan still remembered being a student and having to do without, though he couldn’t imagine doing it now.
Ked hesitatingly introduced him to his absent roommate’s quarters. A duvet had been thrown over the lumpy bed, a pile of laundry pushed beneath it with a stray shirt sleeve sticking out.
“This is Charlie’s room,” Ked said. “He’s kind of a slob, but he did his best to hide the mess. Fresh linen, at least.”
“No worries. I never question a free bed.”
Dan looked over to the window sill where a healthy-looking cannabis plant was in bloom.
“Charlie’s,” Ked said with a shrug. “His name’s Sidney. The plant, I mean. Charlie wanted to hide him in the closet, but I said you were constitutionally against hiding things in closets.”
Dan laughed. “I guess I can share the room with a pot plant named Sidney for a few days.”
“I’ll leave you to unpack. Lunch should be ready in five.”
Dan unzipped his suitcase and hung his jacket alongside a smattering of T’s and jeans in the closet Sidney had been bound for before Ked’s reprieve. He glanced over the bookcase. Charlie seemed poised somewhere between a Marvel superhero fan and an aficionado of pornography. His DVD collection displayed titles proudly: The Graduate: Sex Education of a Sophomore. Dan smiled wryly. You’ll know a man by his books and his DVDs, he mused, and wondered if Charlie hid them in the closet with Sidney when his mother came to visit.
Ked was in the kitchen stirring the chili when Dan entered.
“So, the ceremony’s on Sunday,” he said. “We have to wear the cap and gown thing and all that, but nobody really minds. We’re looking at it like it’s some sort of costume drama — well, costume comedy — so it’ll be fun.” He looked over and caught his father’s expression. “Everything okay? I’ve been babbling non-stop since you got here.”
“It’s okay,” Dan chimed in. “
Just a bit … jet-lagged.”
“If it’s about Trevor, you don’t have to worry. He won’t insist on seeing you.”
“Of course I’ll see him.”
He thought of Trevor’s gentle features, his curly brown hair. Narcissus crossed with a Botticelli angel. Apart from a genuine affection, they had shared a taste for horror films and for staying home on Saturday nights instead of going out on the town. But, ultimately, Dan’s choice of profession and Trevor’s nerves had separated them, sending Trevor scuttling back to his corner of the world.
“Mom will be here tomorrow,” Ked announced, interrupting his reveries.
Dan looked over with a blank expression.
“You better tell me,” Ked said. “I can see something’s up.”
“I guess I better begin at the beginning.”
Dan went over the events of the past few weeks, beginning with the search for Tony Moran and ending with Nick’s departure. When he was done he sat back. Ked nodded.
“I could tell something was wrong. You should have told me it wasn’t a good time for you to visit.”
“This isn’t just a visit. This is your graduation.”
“Still. I don’t like to think you’ve done something illegal just to be here for me.”
“It’s a grey area. We’ll worry about it when the time comes. My lawyer says this will all blow over very quickly.”
“I hope so.”
Everything was going to be okay, Dan reminded himself. And even if it wasn’t, there was no use worrying about it.
“I’m also here for me. I’m proud of you. You’re my greatest achievement, don’t forget that, either. That’s why I’ve tried to give you everything I didn’t have.”
“Ouch! Heavy. What if I don’t want it?”
“I’m not talking about material things. I’m talking about love, security. A feeling that life is worth living without having to wonder why for even one single day.”
“If you have any doubts, then I want you to know I have all those things. Because of you, Dad. And Mom. That’s why I was able to come here to study. It was hard, but leaving home was one of the best things I’ve done. There’s a whole world of grown-upness here. Though …”
“Though?” Dan prompted.
“I guess … at least at first … I thought you were pushing me away when you told me I should come to B.C. Not being from a traditional family, I always felt I had to be near you and Mom for us to be together. Now I see it’s not like that. I can roam and still be loved. I’m cool with it.”
“It’s been hard for us, too,” Dan said. “I miss you not being there. Maybe more than I’ve ever missed anybody. But I’m proud of you for not returning home before you finished your degree just to make me feel better. I hope you understand that.”
His son nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. Now — tell me about Trevor.”
Twenty-Seven
Retreat
From the top deck of the ferry, Dan watched the shore approach. Rain battered the waters of the strait with invisible hands, then disappeared again. The waves sparkled, a dazzling road of fairy lights, while the sun played hide and seek with the clouds.
Dan thought of Trevor’s chalet-style cottage, the up-thrust roof that resembled a ski slope. If you tried a slalom off it, though, you’d come crashing down into the red cedars surrounding it. He recalled the excitement he’d felt coming to see Trevor for the very first time all those years ago. “My Mayne Island hermit,” he’d called him.
Dan waited impatiently for the ship to berth alongside the piles before heading down the stairs. Trevor was there to meet him, waving and smiling. He looked good from afar. Up close, he looked even better. Still lean and muscular. It seemed as though no time had passed since their last encounter, a long night spent disentangling the reins of their relationship before they parted.
They hugged one another and stood back to assess. Like women, Dan thought, gay men will always compare. Compliments rained down. You look terrific … Great to see you again … I’ve been looking forward to this. All true. None of it truly necessary to put in words, though the intuitive, unspoken bonds between them had lessened over time.
They waited for the stream of cars and pedestrians to pass, islanders returning from the mainland satisfied once again there was nothing in the big world — that other world — that they were missing. Then Trevor took Dan’s bag with that oh-so-familiar smile, hoisting it onto his shoulders, and they began the half-mile hike to his part of the magical isle.
The fire crackled. Night was approaching, misting the chalet’s windows. Dan recalled how it always seemed to be misting whenever he was there, and how he’d been amazed to discover the island’s trees had a permanent coating of moss, a gossamer wrap.
They’d been speaking of the past, dissecting old emotions, treading on dangerous territory. Trevor brought out a chilled bottle, poured two glasses, and handed one to Dan. They touched rims and sipped. Dan checked the label: a 2004 Viognier. The same vintage Trevor had served on his first visit. Was this going in the wrong direction?
Instinctively, he put on the brakes.
“Ked felt I should see you.”
Trevor smiled. “Ah, it’s duty, then.”
Dan was embarrassed. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I wanted to see you. I just wouldn’t have had the audacity to presume if he hadn’t suggested it.”
“You know we’ve kept in touch since he moved here?”
“Yes, he told me.”
“I hope it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable.” Trevor lifted his glass, the firelight dancing in his eyes.
“Not at all. I was thrilled that he stayed connected with you. After all, he has no family here.” He paused. “No other family, I should say. He still thinks of you that way. And I’m glad.”
“Me too. If things had turned out differently …” Trevor’s words died out. “Well, let’s just say there would have been a child like Ked in the picture for me.”
“If you’d found the right partner, you mean?”
“I thought of doing it on my own, hiring a surrogate and all that. But it seemed too much for one person to do all alone out here.”
Dan smiled.
“What?” Trevor asked. “Oh. I guess that’s pretty much what you did, isn’t it?”
“If I’d known then what it meant, I might have had pause, but I had no choice. Ked was on the way and someone had to look after him.”
“Well, you’ve certainly brought him up right, Daniel. He’s a beautiful boy, inside and out. You couldn’t have had a better kid.”
“Thanks, I agree. There were some difficult times, of course.”
“No regrets, I hope?”
“None.”
They lifted glasses and clinked again.
Dan looked out the window to the rocky walls of Pender Island across the strait. The conversation died. He was suddenly aware of the tranquility, the pervasive silence. From somewhere in the distance came a loon’s quavering cry.
“I think I was destined to be a monk,” Trevor said, as if reading his mind.
“It’s a beautiful monastery you’ve got here.”
“None better. As long as this monk is allowed his wine rations, I’ll be fine.”
For a second, Dan felt he could give it all up for this sense of peace that surpassed understanding. It was, in fact, sublime, though he knew it wasn’t meant for him.
The conversation revived. Trevor gave Dan a rundown of his work, how he’d geared it toward the outdoors, designing landscapes for a college in Vancouver. Dan caught him up on mutual friends in Toronto. There was so much they no longer knew about one another. Eventually their words brought them back to their time together.
“I always felt you were trying to rescue me,” Trevor said. “I think it was your sense of duty. Y
ou’d save anyone who asked you for help.”
“Is that what I do?”
“It was when we were together. But you never let me help you in return. I wanted to, but I never knew how. Instead, I worried about you.”
“You might be right.”
“Forgive my saying so, but I don’t think you ever learned to trust. You demanded it from others without giving it in return. For me, it was natural. I come from a loving family. I don’t spend my life searching for trust in others and fearing it won’t be there when I need it.”
“And you think that’s what I do?”
“Well.” Trevor smiled gently. “I don’t pretend to know everything about you after all these years, but it always struck me that you saw yourself as someone born to be alone.”
Dan felt the unwelcome sting of recognition. He tried to recall if he’d ever taken anyone fully into his confidence, or if there was ever a time when he’d felt completely free of loneliness.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Trevor said. “Nobody ever gave my life as much depth and meaning as you did. It was great, but you made it so hard to love you back. It was like you were afraid to need anybody.”
Dan looked out the window where the wind was gently blowing the trees back and forth. What’s the point in needing somebody? he wondered. They all left in the end. His father to drink himself to death, Nick to protect his job, Trevor because of his fears. Even Ked left, going off to school: There’s a whole world of grown-upness here.
“What’s the point? Everyone leaves eventually.” He caught the look on Trevor’s face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay. I did leave you, after all.”
“I always felt I let you down.”
“Not at all. You’re a born rescuer. And you convinced yourself that you needed to save me. Because that’s your job.” He waited a moment. “What about you? Don’t you deserve saving?”
“Me? I don’t need saving.”
“We all need saving. Even you, Dan.”
The God Game Page 21
