A Boy at the Edge of the World

by David Kingston Yeh

  “This is just the beginning, you know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Marcus. You don’t know him. He has to be the centre of attention. The guy’s got the hugest ego.”

  “Dude, so does your brother. Look, Marcus is just helping out. Blonde Dawn will keep them both in place. She doesn’t put up with any bullshit.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “You have a hard time trusting people, don’t you?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m in love.” David straddled me from behind. “And Blonde Dawn’s in love. And Karen’s in love. We’re all in love. We’re all head over heels in love with the Garneau boys. And you three boys love each other.”

  I tried to get up, but he wouldn’t let me go. I rolled my eyes. “This,” I muttered, “is such a chick-flick moment.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “I’m fucking right.”

  David pushed me over and yanked down my underwear. “How about I fuck this?”

  “Fuck off!” I laughed, despite myself.

  “Oh I’ll fuck, alright.” David was suddenly wrestling me on the bed. “Anytime, mister, anywhere. Bring it!”

  “Is that a dare?”

  “That’s a double-dog-do-it-up-the-derriere-dare!”

  “Anytime, anywhere?” I eventually let him pin me on my back. “The rooftop!” I gasped.

  “What?”

  “Let’s do it on the rooftop.”

  “Right now? In broad daylight?”

  “Right now.”

  “Who’s fucking who?”

  “We’ll flip a coin, on the rooftop.”

  That morning, when we flipped the coin, the golden loonie caught the sunlight and fell glittering over the edge, like pirate treasure lost to the endless, swelling sea. After that, we had no choice but to take turns fucking each other on the rooftop while the pigeons watched. We wore sunglasses and baseball caps pulled down low over our faces. We used half a dozen condoms, and half a bottle of lube. Afterwards, we shared a cigarette and a bottle of soda, and strolled around in the buff in our sneakers admiring the view. We waved at people in the streets below, and they waved back at us. I thought of Grandpa and Liam hanging out naked in Sudbury together. For the first time, it didn’t seem like such a perverse thing to do. It was kind of liberating in fact. A passenger jet passed overhead, and we waved at it. The next time I saw Liam, I figured I owed him an apology. This summer, I’d convince him to come down to Toronto. He needed a change of scenery. Spring was in the air, the cherry trees in High Park were in full blossom, kids were riding their bikes, the dog parks were crowded, and I was having some of the best sex I’d ever had in my life. I felt like I was in love. It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. But it was beautiful. For the first time in the longest time, I felt like I had the golden apple in my grasp.

  For Pride Weekend that June, David and I threw a rooftop party. When Karen and I had lived in Little Italy, our apartment was too small for parties, but our loft in Kensington was the perfect size. Technically, we weren’t even allowed on the rooftop, but Rick our building manager was a metalhead who also managed Graffiti’s Bar & Grill down on Baldwin Street, and as long as we kept the noise to a decent level, no one complained. Rick had a permanently dishevelled and pissed-off look about him (like he’d just spat out a swig of bad milk), but David assured me he was a decent guy.

  We had about thirty people over, including a few of our neighbours, and I got to meet a number of David’s work friends from his bike shop. Rod lent us a neon pink inflatable kiddies’ swimming pool which we set up on two-by-fours. We brought up my giant palm, and blew up two dozen beach balls which we’d bought in a dollar-store in Chinatown. It was a hot and muggy day, and guests spent the afternoon dipping in and out of the pool and lounging in lawn chairs. We’d asked people to bring their favourite classic cassette tapes which we played on an old boombox. Eventually, Pat and Blonde Dawn arrived and set up a keg in our kitchen. We spent half an hour trying to figure out how to tap the thing before David called in Rick who showed us how to do it in less than a minute. After that, we all shared a cheer. When we invited him to join us, he informed us in a monotone that his new Japanese love doll had arrived in the mail and he was taking it for a test run, but that he might drop by that evening. I spotted Rick later fixing a broken fence in the back laneway and came to the conclusion he’d been joking.

  By sundown, only about a dozen people were left and we’d moved the party indoors. Everyone pooled their loose change, and someone ran down the block and brought back Indian take-out. Samosas, Tandoori chicken and naan for everyone. Rick dropped by and had a drink and shared a joint. He and Pat got to talking, and Rick said he’d look into Three Dog Run playing at Graffiti’s. When I asked Rick about the hot water tank, he regarded me sourly and said he’d also look into it. After that, he left for work, and by midnight everyone was gone. “It’s Pride Weekend,” David said, emptying ashtrays and picking up plastic cups and greasy napkins. “People have other parties to go to.” It was also sweltering in the loft, even with all the windows opened and three fans going. Pat and Blonde Dawn had returned the keg. Half the food was uneaten and we piled the leftovers in the fridge. One of Pat’s friends had puked all over our bed, and no matter how much I Febrezed it, the smell of vomit, beer and curry wouldn’t come out. I hauled two garbage bags to the dumpster out back; rats scurried away from me in the dark. When I returned, I found David hunched over his laptop with a weird look on his face. “What is it?” I asked.

  “Oh boy.”

  “What?” I wiped the sweat from my brow with the bottom of my tank top.

  He lowered his screen. “Ok. I need to show you something. But Daniel.”

  “What?”

  “Just stay calm.”

  “What is it?”

  “You have to promise not to freak out.”

  “That doesn’t help.”

  “Just promise. Look, it’s all good. It’s really not a big deal. It’s actually kinda funny.”

  “David.”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay. Fine. I promise.” I folded my arms and breathed through my nose the way Liam had taught me once. I was a yogi master, a prince of Shambhala, an enlightened sadhu above the petty concerns of humankind.

  David didn’t look convinced, but he knew he wasn’t going to get any further with me. “So, earlier tonight,” he said, “Rick takes me aside and tells me about this home-made video. He said his bartender had shown it to him. It’d been going around on the Internet.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well, he thought we ought to know about it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Check it out.” David opened his laptop, pressed a few keys and turned it towards me. “The guy had recognized Rick’s building.”

  For the longest time, I simply stared at the screen. Eventually, I said: “Are we in trouble?”

  “Well, he told us not to do it again.”

  It was footage of David and me, grainy and shot from another rooftop. Every few minutes, the handheld camera would pull out and pan across the cityscape before coming back to us. Someone had scored the video with a Michael Bublé cover. The morning sun in the sky cast lens flares over our heads. I’d never seen myself from this angle before, and realized I didn’t actually look half so bad. The camera tracked us as we strolled around in the sunshine waving to people in the streets below, at birds flying high, and the CN Tower beyond. Towards the end, the camera zoomed in slowly on the two of us kissing. I remembered that kiss. It had been a great kiss. The video had more than a few hits. It had gone viral.

  “You can’t make out our faces at all,” David said.

  “I can see that.”

  “Look, anybody can climb up the fire escape and get to that roof.”

  I simply sighed.

  “You okay?”

  “Do I have a choice?”


  “It’s actually kinda hot, don’t you think?”

  The truth was, it was more than hot. Now I understood why some people recorded themselves. I could tell David was trying his best not to laugh. I didn’t know what to say. All I could think was that, with this one single video, I’d attracted a larger audience than Marcus Wittenbrink Jr. ever had in his entire career.

  And the feeling was triumphant.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Rockin’ in the Free World

  That July, Three Dog Run threw a fundraiser to finance their first EP. They performed on a makeshift stage outside the Ward’s Island Association Club House by the Island Café where the staff served up ginger mojitos, microbrews and home-cooked meals. Local, long-haired children played soccer nearby beneath the trees. David and I spent that afternoon serving up hotdogs for a toonie. A roster of artists had come together for the day-long event. Toronto was in the middle of a heat wave, and it had been a stifling, overcast day. But as twilight settled, patio lights were lit and the crowd grew more festive. Ward’s Island was a ten minute ferry ride from the city’s harbourfront, and both David and I had put out an open call on Facebook, inviting everyone we knew. Across Lake Ontario, the CN Tower and Toronto skyscrapers glittered, reflected in the dark waters. Karen and Liam were due to arrive on the next boat and I waited for them at the ferry dock, within sight of the Island Café.

  My old neighbours Mike and Melissa had driven down from North York and spent the day on the Islands. Mike looked a little bit sunburnt and windblown, but otherwise great. Fatherhood seemed to suit him. He walked apart from the crowds with Benjamin in his arms, rubbing his back. “Benny’s got a tummy ache,” Melissa explained, sporting a sunhat the size of a small umbrella. “Too much ice cream. He’ll be less fussy once we get him to bed.” She leaned on my shoulder and pulled off her flats. “Oh my god, my feet are killing me. I should’ve worn my cross trainers, what was I thinking?” She rummaged in a side-pouch of Benjamin’s stroller and pulled out a Band-Aid. “Michael,” she shouted, “how’s he doing?” Mike, who was pointing out ducks at the water’s edge, raised his arm and gave a thumbs-up signal. “We’ve got Benny in daycare for now,” Melissa said, bandaging one toe, “but it’s costing a fortune. Michael’s going to quit his job and stay home full-time. He knows his way around the kitchen and laundry room better than I ever did. Me, I’ve got a dozen restaurants and drycleaners on speed dial in my phone. I’m pregnant again, did I mention that? God, I miss my wine spritzers. But I love being pregnant, you have no idea. Just look what it does to my boobs. I’ve got more college boys checking me out now than when I was in college. Oh, and the girls, they just adore Michael when he’s out with Benny. What a DILF. Honestly, nothing is sexier than a man with a baby. You know, when we first got pregnant, he was such a mess. But it was his idea to plan for this second. I always knew he had it in him. Daniel, you’d make a great dad. Would you and David ever want kids?”

  “Kids?” The question took me completely off guard. “No,” I stammered, “no, I’m still in school. To be honest, it’s not something we’ve ever discussed. I didn’t know the two of you were expecting again. Congratulations.” The ferry pulled up to the dock and the passengers disembarked. I spotted Karen and Liam and hurried forward to greet them. While Mike and Melissa introduced Benjamin to Karen, I gave Liam a high five and a hug. “Hey, look at you. Welcome back to Toronto. When did you two get into town?”

  “A few hours ago,” Liam said, scanning the grounds. He wore a plain white T-shirt and baggy, cut-off jeans. He’d also gotten a haircut, trimmed his beard and cleaned beneath his nails. He actually looked like someone who might’ve grown up in civilization.

  Jackson leaned against his leg and whined. I knelt and rubbed him behind the ears. “Hey there, big guy.” He licked my face. “Is he going to be okay,” I asked, “with all this noise and people around?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Karen said. “And Jackson will be too.” She winked at Liam who managed a smile.

  Melissa folded and hefted Benny’s stroller. “Suburbia calls. We’re off. Say bye-bye, Benny.” Benjamin stared at us with his big blue eyes. Mike waved his chubby hand. “Bye-bye.” Mike lifted him onto his shoulders as they boarded the ferry. When I called out, “It was great seeing you guys,” it was Benjamin who gave a thumbs-up sign.

  After that, I walked Karen and Liam up the path to the Island Café. Liam kept Jackson on a short leash in the crowd. Other dogs roamed freely underfoot. They’d both brought small packs and sleeping rolls. “Pat and Blonde Dawn offered their place,” Karen explained, “but we’re going to camp out on the beach. It’s going to be a full Buck Moon tonight.”

  “Here, on the Islands? Is that legal?”

  “No. But people do it all the time.” Karen poked me in the butt. “I’ve got a few spots in mind. Don’t worry about us.”

  On the outdoor stage, beneath the strings of patio lights, a five-piece jug band was playing enthusiastically, banging away on a banjo, a washtub bass and other home-made instruments. “So where’s Pat?” Liam asked.

  “He’s around, somewhere. Three Dog Run opened this afternoon. They’ll be the closing act tonight. Can I get you a drink? Lemonade, cider?”

  “How about a beer?”

  I glanced at Karen. “You sure about that?”

  “I can have a drink, Daniel,” Liam said.

  “Okay. Okay, no problem. You two go find Pat. I’ll get us three beers.”

  Stars began to appear from behind the pink-purple clouds. Someone lit tiki torches at the crossroads to the paved pathways. At the bar, I bumped into Parker wearing a Hawaiian shirt and his Ray-Bans. “Parker,” I said, “isn’t it a little dark for sunglasses?”

  “I’m trying,” Parker whispered, “to look casual.” He leaned stiffly against the white railing, sipping on a Shirley Temple. “Do I look casual?”

  “No, Parker, you look ridiculous.” I took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. “What are you doing?”

  Parker’s eyes swivelled in his head. “Behind me, five o’clock, is he still there?”

  “Is who still there?”

  “C.B. in a Tilley hat.”

  C.B. was our code for “Cute Boy.” I glanced past Parker and spotted a strawberry-blonde boy with a frecklefaced girl in a denim dress. “I see him. He’s looking our way.” I waved and smiled.

  “Daniel Garneau,” Parker exclaimed without moving his lips, “what are you doing?”

  “I’m being friendly. So should you. Oh, here comes his friend.” The girl stepped up to the bar between us and retrieved a napkin. She spat out her gum and tucked it into a pocket of her skirt. “Hi,” she said shyly to Parker.

  “Hello.”

  “My cousin Kyle and I were just noticing your shirt. We think it’s really nice.”

  “Thank you.”

  I leaned in. “My friend Parker here thinks your cousin is really nice too. Parker, why don’t you go say hi to cousin Kyle.” I gathered up my three beers. “Cheers.” I walked away without looking back.

  I found Karen, Liam, David and Blonde Dawn by a picnic table close to the stage. Pat, who was jamming with the jug band, on a kazoo, waved at us, stomping his feet. Some children and adults were dancing together, while most people were sitting in disorderly rows of plastic lawn chairs. “Hey, David,” I said, “this is my brother Liam.”

  “We’ve met. Cheers, everyone.”

  Pat leapt off the stage, dodged through the audience and gave Liam a crushing bear hug, lifting him off the ground. “Hey little brother, welcome to the Islands! Glad you could make it.” He grabbed the cup from my hand and drank thirstily. “Thanks for coming out. Wow!” he gasped. “This is amazing. You guys are the best.”

  “Here’s to your EP.”

  “Here’s to the Garneau boys,” Karen said. “Hold on, let me get a shot of the three of you.”

  “Hey yo, Saxophone Man,” Pat shouted, “get a picture of the six of us!” Bobby L
am, who happened to be passing by, juggled the handful of phones thrust at him, and the next minute was spent posing for photos and trying our best to keep Jackson in the frame. After that, Pat jumped back onto the stage with my beer. “Here.” David handed me his cup. “I’ll get us another.”

  “Thanks.”

  Charles texted saying he and Megan were about to board the next ferry. When I met them at the dock, Megan showed off the engagement ring on her hand. “He proposed again,” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Like, I mean just now on the ferry, Daniel, and I don’t know, I don’t know what came over me, but this time I just said yes. I said it. I said yes.”

  I grinned at Charles. “Dude.”

  Charles stared back at me, his big eyes watering. He raised his hands and let them fall again. “She said yes.”

  “Wow.” I opened my arms and hugged them both. “Guys, congratulations.”

  “Where’s Karen?” Megan said. “Is she here yet? I have to tell her.”

  A familiar voice spoke behind me. “Hey there, Daniel the Doorman.”

  I turned to find myself face to face with Marwa. “Guys, look,” I said, “Karen’s here. She’s up by the stage. She’ll be thrilled to see you both. I’ll catch up with you.” Charles and Megan set off towards the Island Café. This evening, Marwa’s gleaming curls were the colour of cherry cola, and she wore a strapless, white sundress that showed off her cleavage and perfect tan. “Well,” I said, “if it isn’t the Meatball Queen.”

  Marwa twirled and smiled coyly. “The one and only.”

  “Marwa, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you.”

  “Were you on that last ferry? I didn’t see you.”

  “No. We walked in from Centre Island. I came with Marcus. He’s getting drinks.”

  “I see.”

  “How have you been?”

  “Alright.”

  “So, Daniel, do I get a hug or what?”

  “Marwa, of course.” When I squeezed her, she felt fuzzy and warm like a peach. I was surprised how much I’d actually missed her. The last time I saw Marwa, Marcus was being carted away in an ambulance, over a year-anda-half ago. “Wow, you smell amazing.”