A Boy at the Edge of the World

by David Kingston Yeh

  “What did he do?”

  I was embarrassed already, having shared what I had. “You want details?”

  “Details would be nice. Ma always told us to get right up close to a painting and look at the individual brush strokes. Are you embarrassed?”

  “No, I’m not embarrassed.” We paused in front of a grocery store patio crowded with marigolds and giant sunflowers. “Okay. Well, he undressed me, slowly. He caressed every part of my body, with his lips and tongue. He was hard the whole time, but he didn’t rush. I was ready to come before his mouth even touched my cock.”

  “And then?”

  “We jerked each other off. After that, he had me lie down. He told me not to move and he gave me a massage, and eventually he got me off again. After I came that second time in his mouth, he didn’t swallow but he held it all and we kissed. We kissed for a long time like that. I’ll never forget that.”

  “Wow. So how long were you together?”

  “How long? It was just one night.”

  “Just the one night?”

  “One night. I never saw him again.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. It sounds like you connected in a special way. It sounds like he was an awesome lover. It sounds like you learned a lot from him. I need to be with someone who’s experienced, who knows what he likes.”

  “Okay.”

  “I need someone who can take charge.”

  “You like it when I take charge?”

  “Yeah, I do. I like it when someone knows what they want and then makes it happen.”

  “What about you? What do you want?”

  “I want to be your lover.”

  “You’re already that.”

  “I want to fall asleep in your arms, and I want to wake up in the morning naked next to you.”

  “We already do that.”

  “I want us to last a lifetime. I want to know we’re going to be together every single day until the day I die.”

  “David.”

  “What? You asked. You think I’m wanting too much? Or is it that that’s not what you want?”

  “David, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Isn’t it enough to know that we’re going to be there for each other when we wake up tomorrow?”

  “It’s enough, for now. But you asked me what I wanted. I told you the truth. Would you rather I didn’t? Look, when we get home, I want you to fuck me. Can we do that?”

  “Okay.”

  “And I want to be on my back, and I want us to kiss. I want to see your face while you’re inside of me.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I want you to fuck me slowly and as deep as you can. I want you to make it last, for a long time. Do you think you can do that?”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “You know, Daniel, you look like him.”

  “Who?”

  “Michelangelo’s David. Honestly, you do. I never realized it until now. You have his conviction.”

  “Conviction? Are you kidding me?”

  “Sometimes you act like the little guy, like a boy, but you’re not. You’re a king waiting to happen. And deep down, some part of you knows it. But you’re too humble to even think it, much less say it out loud. But you are just like him.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to scoff at him, but David’s sincerity stopped me. So I said nothing at all. When we got back to his loft, we took off our clothes and lay down in bed together, and after a while, I put on a condom and I did my best to make it last, just the way he asked, until it became awkward and almost painful for me. In the end, both his hands were grasping the back of my head, fingers knotted in my hair, when I felt his entire body tighten, jerk and spasm, and his orgasm spurting hotly against my chest, burning and shocking, while my tongue was in his mouth and while I was still moving inside of him, just the way he’d asked, and it was this final sensation between us that pushed me over the edge, past the point of no returning, and I was suddenly, involuntarily thrusting and thrusting as hard as I could, and I felt an indescribable release that broke me and seemed to go on forever in roiling, crashing waves, and I would’ve cried out except my mouth was locked to his, and we were together and we were lovers and we were one body, and it seemed to last a lifetime, just the way he’d asked.

  When I went back to Sudbury for the holidays that December, I got the biggest surprise. Grandma was sitting in her easy chair in the living room, covered in a quilt. “Grandma,” I blurted, “you’re home!” Liam, who had picked me up at the bus terminal, walked in behind me. “Oh, I forgot to mention,” he said, throwing his scarf over the coat rack, “Mémère’s out of the nursing home, at least for the weekend. The washing machine’s broken, and the upstairs toilet’s clogged again. I’ve put three bottles of Drano in there already. Use the downstairs toilet.” Grandpa poked his head out the kitchen, wearing an apron and reindeer antlers. The sleeves of his plaid shirt were rolled up and his big, callused hands were covered in flour. I could smell tourtières baking in the oven. “Salut, Daniel!” he beamed. He nodded towards the living room and winked. “Your mémère’s home.” He tossed me a beer bottle, which I caught one-handed, and disappeared back into the kitchen, humming to himself.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Liam was peering out the front door, whistling for Jackson who had dashed off somewhere. “They changed her meds.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Go say hi.”

  “Is she awake?”

  “Of course, she’s awake.”

  Someone had put on our old Elvis Gratton VHS. I was surprised the tape hadn’t completely fallen apart by now. I set the beer aside, took off my snow boots and walked into the living room. I knelt in front of Grandma and waited for her to notice me. A plate of gingerbread cookies and a mug of tea had been set next to her. Both looked untouched. Eventually, her eyes flickered in my direction. “Hi, Grandma.” I smiled broadly. “It’s me, Daniel.” I could tell she was trying to recall my face. “I’m Daniel, your grandson. It’s good to see you.” I rested one hand on her knee. She blinked a few times, then puckered her lips. I leaned forward so she could kiss me on the cheek. After that, she turned her attention back to the TV where Julien Poulin was struggling to extricate himself from a beach chair, his hairy fat bulging out of a skimpy bathing suit. Grandma craned her neck forward, squinting her eyes. I stood abruptly and backed away. “Liam, I don’t think she should be watching Elvis Gratton.”

  “Why not?” said Liam said, brushing the snow off Jackson and extricating him from his winter doggie jacket.

  “Well, look at her.”

  “What?”

  “Liam,” I exclaimed lowly, “look at her. I think she’s, you know.”

  “What?”

  “You know.”

  “What?”

  “You know. Masturbating.”

  “What?”

  “Look at her.”

  We both stared at Grandma sidelong. The section of quilt over her lap was moving up and down. She bit her lower lip and her eyes fluttered back in her head.

  “Whoa,” Liam said.

  “No kidding.”

  “Look, we’ve been trying to get her settled all day. Elvis Gratton’s the only thing that’s worked.”

  “Seriously. Elvis Gratton?”

  ”We brought her home yesterday and she was fine. But she woke up this morning and she was really disoriented. She was crying and shouting. Elvis Gratton calms her down. I’ve rewound that movie three times already.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Mémère loves her Elvis Gratton.”

  “Look, Liam, did you try The Golden Girls?”

  “Do we have it here?”

  “Shit.” I’d taken our DVD box-set of The Golden Girls with me when I moved to Toronto. “Shit.”

  “Daniel, just let her be. I don’t see what the big problem is.”

  “Liam, we can’t let her keep
doing that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? It’s indecent.”

  “Well, Daniel, until you pointed it out, I had no idea. Listen, she’ll stop on her own. She’ll probably fall asleep in a few minutes.”

  I had a sudden image of Grandpa and Liam strolling about the house stark naked, and realized Liam and I did not exactly share the same notions of what amounted to common decency. “Fine.” I raised and dropped my hands. “Fine.” Grandma abruptly hiccoughed and burst out laughing. I noticed she wasn’t wearing her dentures. In the kitchen, Grandpa was singing, “O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh, hey!” Jackson ventured into the living room and sniffed at Grandma, his tail wagging. When she reached out from under her quilt and patted his head, he started licking her hand. “Merry Christmas, Daniel,” Liam said. “It’s good to have you back.”

  That Christmas Eve, after Grandpa and Grandma had retired for the night, Karen tramped across the street and joined us for our traditional drink. I hadn’t seen her since I was up in Sudbury for Thanksgiving with the Miltons. Blonde Dawn had to work over the holidays and, despite my protests, Pat had made the decision to stay with her in Toronto. So it was just the three of us this year, lounging side-by-side on the living room couch, watching the blinking lights of the Christmas tree. Liam and Karen had smoked a joint earlier, and I’d polished off an entire bottle of Baileys on my own. Anne Murray was droning on, singing her seasonal favourites on the radio. No one bothered to get up to change the station. It actually wasn’t all that unpleasant. Liam and I had cleaned and tidied the house (we found Grandma’s dentures in the Christmas tree), split two cords of firewood, moved the broken washing machine out into the garage, and delivered a dozen of Grandpa’s tourtières and sugar pies to the staff and residents of the nursing home. The fridge was stocked, the turkey was defrosting, and the drive was shovelled. Out the window, I watched a cab pull up in front of the house. “Well what do you know,” Karen said. “If it isn’t the prodigal son.”

  I opened the front door before Pat could ring the bell. He had his camping backpack slung over one shoulder and was grinning ear to ear. “Surprise!” he hollered. “Merry Christmas!”

  All that Baileys had started to give me a headache. I said: “I thought you were spending Christmas in Toronto.”

  Pat dumped down his heavy pack. If he’d brought his dirty laundry home to wash, he was in for a disappointment. “It’s good to see you too, Dan,” he panted. When I said nothing, he shrugged. “Blonde Dawn convinced me to come home.”

  “Is that right?”

  “She insisted.”

  “Pat, you made me bring all your presents up.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that. I really hope Grandpa likes his new bowling ball. You know, I had it custom-drilled, monogrammed and everything. I really didn’t think I’d be seeing you guys.”

  “So what made you change your mind?”

  “Like I said, Blonde Dawn. She and a bunch of her EMS coworkers are spending Christmas together. Technically, she doesn’t actually even celebrate Christmas. You know her family’s Jewish, right?”

  “Yes, I did. Good for her.”

  “I also heard Grandma’s home.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Karen did. She texted me this morning.”

  “She is.”

  “So how’s she doing?”

  “Fine.”

  “Grandpa must be thrilled.”

  “He is.”

  Pat glanced past my shoulder. “You going to let me in, Dan?”

  “Pat, you should’ve come home.”

  “Dan, I am home.” He pulled off his toque and scratched his head. “Look, I’m home. Okay?”

  “It’s important.”

  “Okay. I know that.”

  “Yeah, well. Maybe you need to hear it face to face.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Do you, really?”

  “Dan, dude. It’s Christmas. I’m home.”

  I’d wanted to spend the holidays with my boyfriend, but I’d left him to come back home. Still, I didn’t have David’s name tattooed over my heart. I’d never even said I loved him. Hell, I wasn’t even ready to move in with him.

  “Daniel.” Liam and Karen were poised behind me. “You going to let Pat in or what?”

  I opened the door wide and stood aside. Pat hauled his bag into the house and gave Jackson, who had bounded up, a smothering hug. He got up and wrapped his arms around Liam and Karen. “Merry Christmas! How’s life on Manitoulin?”

  “Rockin’,” Karen said.

  “How’s your little sis?”

  “Anne, she’s fine. She just got her navel pierced.”

  “Sweet. Whoa, I see you guys got the tree up. Looking sugar crispy.”

  “Yup,” Liam said.

  “And Grandpa’s been baking?”

  “Yup.”

  “Smells great in here. Dan, it’s good to see you.” He opened his arms. “Merry Christmas?”

  I wanted to give Pat a hug. Another part of me just wanted to smack him across the back of the head. After a few seconds, the former impulse won out. “Merry Christmas, Pat.” Reluctantly, I took him in my arms and, to my own surprise, found myself squeezing him as hard as I could. For the first time in years, the family was back together again under one roof. “Welcome home.”

  On New Year’s Eve, David and I stayed in, opened a bottle of Prosecco and cooked a meal together. David’s loft was twice the size of my place with a far better view. More importantly, his entire building had central heating. The radiator in my hole of an apartment was touch and go at best. Close to midnight, we climbed the fire escape to David’s rooftop, where we could see across Kensington Market and Chinatown all the way to the lake. The CN Tower and downtown skyscrapers were glinting, dark shadows, like giant angels haloed in stars, gathered and watching over us. The night was bitterly cold and we clung to each other, bundled up in our mittens and jackets. At the stroke of midnight, fireworks glittered over City Hall and seconds later we could hear their faint popping and crackling. Random voices shouted in the streets below. David and I kissed. “Happy New Year, mister,” he said. “I love you.”

  Back inside, we gave each other our Christmas presents. I’d bought David a pair of ice skates; he’d gotten me a pair of Maple Leafs tickets. We both loved our gifts. While he opened a second bottle of Prosecco, David remarked: “By the way, I found this when I was over at your place.” He held out a crumpled envelope.

  I stared at it in my hands for a couple seconds before I recognized what it was. “David, what the hell?”

  “I was just checking in on your apartment like you’d asked me to.”

  “Yeah, and you just happened to go through my garbage?”

  “You always mix everything up, Daniel. I keep saying you should have an organics bin and a recycling bin. I was just separating your garbage.”

  “I didn’t ask my boyfriend to separate my fucking garbage. I asked him to water my plants.”

  “Alright, Daniel. I apologize, okay? If that pisses you off, I really, sincerely apologize.”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “Then don’t treat me like I did something wrong. I wasn’t snooping. You know I wasn’t. It’s just that. Well, that’s him, isn’t it?”

  Reluctantly, I drew the card from its stained envelope. It was an invitation, cream-coloured and embossed in silver. I’d received it in the mail days before Christmas, just as I was leaving for Sudbury. I remembered shoving it back in its envelope and throwing it in the garbage. Maybe if I wasn’t rushing out the door, I might’ve taken the time to reply. But I hadn’t.

  “Daniel, honestly, the only reason I looked twice at it is because my name’s on it too.”

  It was true. The envelope was addressed to both Daniel Garneau and David Gallucci. I opened the card. It was an invitation to a New Year’s Eve party from Marcus Wittenbrink Jr. I wondered how Marcus had found out my new address, and how he knew ab
out David.

  “You know we broke up on New Year’s Eve.”

  David’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you said you broke up on Valentine’s Day.”

  “We did.” I sighed. “But it all started on New Year’s Eve.” I’d never explained the details of our break-up, and David had never asked.

  “Shit. Look, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I get it.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

  “I’ve really fucked up tonight, haven’t I?”

  “No, no you haven’t.”

  “Here, I’ll take that.” David took the card. “Let me get rid of it.”

  “Wait,” I exclaimed. “Wait. David, what were you thinking? I mean, why’d you even bring that back here anyway?”

  “Daniel, it’s just that this Marcus guy, I dunno. It’s obvious he still wants to be in your life. And sometimes, well sometimes, you talk like you still have feelings for him. And, I was just thinking. Maybe we should go to this party, you and me. Just to figure things out. Just so we can figure things out together. I’d like to meet him.”

  I was stunned. Any other person might’ve felt threatened by someone like Marcus. But David felt the opposite. I stood up. I didn’t know what to say.

  David rested his hands on my shoulders at arm’s length. “You know I love you, right? You know that, don’t you?” I nodded. “I’m in love with you, Daniel. I want us to work this through. We’re just starting out. I don’t want any ghosts.”

  “Ghosts?”

  “My ma, sometimes she talks to my pa, and her other husbands. It’s not cute. It’s fucking weird. Sometimes, she argues with them, sometimes all three of them at once.”

  “For real?”