Sawyer Paul's Blog, page 62

How to talk about a book in 2015

I just received an advanced copy of a book. The author thought I might like it, and so the publisher sent it along. It's very possible that I will like it, but there's always the chance I might not. I'd like to write something about it, but I'm not entirely sure what the best approach would be these days.

Do I just write a single blog post with my thoughts, upon completing the book?

Do I write multiple posts talking about the book as I read it?

Do I try to pitch a review somewhere else, knowing that this book was probably sent to many places and lots of people will have thoughts about it shortly? (No NDA was listed. I'm fairly sure I can talk about it right now).

Do I just tweet about it? Live-tweet my reading, like it's a new show on Netflix? Would that be most effective?

I honestly have no idea. Is a series of negative tweets better than a somewhat positive review post? Is attention the most important thing? Praise? Poise? Social media has me very confused about what official entities want out of regular people.

A thought on "Octothorpe"

I'm slowly catching up on a backlog of podcast episodes I'd planned on listening to during the holidays, and one I particularly enjoyed was 99% Invisible's episode on the Octothorpe. The podcast correctly pinpoints the moment in which the octothorpe (or pound sign, this fella right #) became a hashtag.

The hashtag, as we know it, was born one day in 2007. An early Twitter user named Chris Messina...

The episode goes on to describe why the octothorpe is a perfect subject heading, tracing it all the way back to its inclusion on touch tone phones (and how it got that weird name). What's interesting is that I actually thought of the octothorpe as a subject line before it was considered a hashtag, and that's because I do the majority of my writing (including this piece) in a syntax called Markdown.

In a sentence, Markdown is simply a way of writing formatted text without any complicated HTML or relying on app-specific formatting (If you want more than one sentence, Brett Terpstra explains it better). With Markdown, the writer puts an asterics on each side of a word to create italics, hyperlinks words with square and round brackets, and defines headers with an octothorpe. And people have been doing this since 2004.

From the Markdown Basics page:

To create an atx-style header, you put 1-6 hash marks (#) at the beginning of the line — the number of hashes equals the resulting HTML header level.

So essentially, one octothorpe (sorry, pound sign. Whatever, I just really love octothorpe as a name) next to a word becomes an H1, two is H2, and so on. It is, in HTML terms, a subject marker. As this is a point of view on a niche workflow, I completely understand Roman Mars not including it (that's assuming he even considered it, or has heard of Markdown), and it took me a week after hearing the episode to put it together. Still, I think its usage in Markdown is another cool way the symbol has evolved over time.

Split up a text thread in InDesign

If for whatever reason you have a long text thread that you need to break up (so it'll no longer flow) but maintain its position on the page, there's a way to do it, albiet at a cost.

This is one of those nuclear-option moves in InDesign, and it's hidden deep in the scripts panel so you won't click it accidentally. The reason behind this is that it won't just seperate one area (so, say, pages 1-5 are still threaded, but 6 isn't). Every text box will become a standalone object.

Full credit goes to Michael Bud for these instructions:

Open your Scripts panel (Window> Utilities >Scripts)

Look down the folder tree until you find Split Story (Application > Samples > SplitStory.jsx)

Place your cursor in one frame of the linked story that you want to unlink
Double-click the script name in the panel.

InDesign will run the script and all the frames of the story will be “unlinked” without disturbing the layout of the content.

I would only recommend doing this if you either a) don't have a whole ton of text frames, or b) have the time to re-thread the ones you need threaded. It will also possibly destroy your bookmark structure, so careful with this one.

Weekly curated linked lists

Sonder, my weekly collection of links that left an impression, was influenced by Jessica Stanley. There are loads of daily link curations, but I don't know very many weekly ones, which I prefer mainly because they seem more considered. Of these, I would highly recommend:

Diana Moss' Mid-Weed Distraction

Tina Roth Eisenberg's Friday Link Pack

Chris Butler's Don't Think About the Future

Ana Kinsella's A Week's Clicks

and of course,

Jessica Stanley's Read Look Think.

Are there any you follow? I'd love to hear about more. I'll occassionally update this post with new additions as I find them.

No Chinook, Chapter 10

No Chinook is my first book, oriiginally published in 2008.

Read No Chinook on your ebook reader or cell phone:

Kindle
ePub & iBooks
PDF
Buy a print copy for $9.99

As I stood outside of Shawn’s place, I wondered just exactly how many people lived there. I didn’t know any of them. Maybe it was four or five, but it could have easily been twice that. The total number wasn’t important, however. The only thing that mattered right now was how many of them were inside right now. I wondered how many of them knew as much about Shawn as I did. It was a ludicrous idea, but I couldn’t help but feel that they were all probably going to hear what was about to happen.

I knocked. It took a minute, but then a girl answered the door. I recognized her, but it took a second of squinting to focus on the name. We said, “Alice,” at the same time. I was guessing and she was helping me out.

“Hi,” she said. “You were at that party.”

“Yeah. I remember you,” I said. “You were reading that Anne Sexton book.”

“Don’t remind me,” she said. I was still outside. “I failed the damn test. I really don’t know what you see in her.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “If it’s any consolation, people don’t know what I see in my girlfriends, either. Is Shawn here?”

She let me in. Alice was wearing pyjama bottoms and slippers. I don’t think I woke her up. Her black hair was done nicely in a ponytail, and her makeup was done. She held her tea mug close, as if she was gathering comfort from its warmth.

I thanked her and went upstairs. I couldn’t wait for him to come to me. Thankfully Alice didn’t stop me.

I knocked on his door. I didn’t hesitate like I used to. I was always a little unsure about knocking on Shawn’s door. I think it was the thrill of it, but that was gone now. He opened it, and he looked the same. I didn’t know what I expected to be different, but nothing was. His face was clean, he’d clearly tidied up his room this morning, and he was dressed sharply, as if I caught him on his way to work.

“Hi,” I said, sounding unrehearsed. He didn’t really know what to do, but right then I felt good that I’d come. For once, he wasn’t in control.

He tried to speak, but I put my hand on his cheek. My thumb pressed against his lips, and he shut them. I didn’t look at him with love because there was no love, but it was a look of affection he didn’t question or fight. He might have been confused or angry, or maybe he’d been dreaming about this moment, but it didn’t matter to me. I closed his door.

My other hand pressed down on his other cheek and I held his head in my hands. I looked at him in a way he’d never seen, and his surprise would have been more apparent had I not been slowly moving him toward his bed. His hands were on my forearms now, letting me guide him to the edge, until the back of his legs bumped up against the mattress and his knees buckled as he sat down. I let go of his face and let his hands touch mine, and for a moment I thought of leaving him like this.

“I want you to know something,” I said, taking off my jacket. I didn’t have anything to say to him, so I didn’t say anything. I just took the back of his neck with my right hand and pulled his head up. I was right above him, and if there were something to say, it would have been right then.

Instead, I lowered him onto his back and crawled on top. Shawn looked confused, perhaps waiting for when I’d speak. I was fine with his unease. Without it, I might not have been able to kiss him like I did.

There are fast and hard kisses, and kisses so wide and messy that one can’t help but get dirty, but when I kissed Shawn on his bed then, it was one of those kisses that was going to last for several minutes. It lasted long, but there wasn’t much movement. It was as simple as having my lips on his lips with the kind of pressure that didn’t suffocate but certainly left no room for negotiation.

His hands emphasized his confusion. They didn’t know where to go, and he was shifting from my shoulders to the sides of my ribs to my hair and back. I finally let go of this kiss and he gasped for air. I could have left him here and a point would have been made, but it wasn’t the one I was going for. Simply kissing him wasn’t going to be enough.

He was tugging at the bottom of my shirt, and I took it off, showing him that he was definitely going to get lucky. I kissed him again, shorter this time, but harder. I kissed his neck and he moaned. I hated his stubble and was happy whenever I’d catch him within a few hours of shaving. His face was smooth this afternoon. I could feel his feet rub up against mine. His hands were on my back and when I kissed him again it was as if he’d woken up and was finally ready to accept that I was in his life and wanting what was going to happen.

I’d made love to Shawn enough to know how he worked, and with that template I was comfortable taking over and doing everything right. I knew he liked to have his nipples licked while his pants came off. I knew that kissing the side of his stomach made him crazy. And I knew what he hated, too, like when I used to go for his cock before his boxer briefs were all the way off. These are small things that only a few people in the world knew, and I took my time with them. I savoured Shawn. I did not want this to end quickly. It took me nearly twenty minutes to get us both naked. 

Sex wasn’t work with Shawn. He liked things done slowly, and for the most part, so did I. Still, even at the pace he enjoyed, Shawn didn’t play it by ear. He had a formula for sex. I knew this from the beginning, when he did things in the exact same order three nights in a row. It was as if he’d been taught in adolescence that there was only one way to fuck. I used to entertain the thought that he had a different way of doing things with everyone that he had been with; that at the beginning of every new sexual relationship, he would map out a game plan and stick to it. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew that when Shawn took my finger in his mouth and massaged my inner thigh, then scooted down a bit so that pulling on my cock would be comfortable for his arm, that’s likely exactly what he did with Mark and everyone else he’d ever fucked.

For these reasons and others, Shawn never surprised me in bed. He got hard at the same time no matter what, and he always took pretty much the same amount of time to get off. This repetition never bothered me, though. It was a comfort to know that he was a sure deal, that in his routine I was just as much a focal point as he was, that everything happened in a way that felt natural and right, and that it would always end the same way.

He naturally went from stroking and sucking me to asking if I was ready. It was the first thing he’d said since I got here, and I knew it was more from habit than to actually say something about me being here. I turned over and put a pillow between my head and my hands, and Shawn found his way on top. Like he always did, he kissed the back of my neck as he moved his cock into me. He took it slow, taking the opportunity to move his hands around my back and around to my chest. I let out a few choice gasps, but for the most part, the two of us were either moaning or silent.

I didn’t think much while making love to Shawn, but what crept through were random thoughts of other times I’d made love. Flickers of memories of Kate, of Carly, and of a few one-night-stands in college flew in and out as Shawn thrust and moaned. I never really forgot about any of these experiences, and just about every time I had sex with him, they would appear. Shawn kissed my back and upped his pace a little. I reached back and gripped his thigh. I loved the feel of his legs.

It never takes Shawn long to come, but it doesn’t for me, either. Just from Shawn’s touch, I get close. I could feel it building since the moment he kissed me back, and I was on the verge when I could feel him start to buck. His right hand on my shoulder blade, and his left on my ass, holding me in place. My hands begin to dig into the mattress. It’s amazing, when he comes. It’s bested only by its consistency.

Trimmed, clean fingernails dug into my skin. I was right behind him.

We came pretty close together, and I collapsed under him. In the haze, I heard him cry out for a second, and it was nice. I tried to look back with my face in the sheets, but I only got a glimpse of his face. It was a great face.

Shawn laid on me for a minute or two, catching his breath and allowing his quickened heartbeat to sync with my own. After that, he fell to my side and we held each other and slowly kissed. It was as it had always been; as if it just might be something that would never end. Making love to Shawn felt like something I could see myself doing for a living.

He asked what I was thinking in his tiny whisper.

I said, “I feel like smoking.”

“I feel like this is perfect,” he replied.

“Why?”

“Because you came back. You’re here and this is all going to be okay.”

He sounded like a hopeless romantic, and it was a little sad to think that I might have said the same thing not too long ago. 

“It is, is it?” I asked, not really meaning it to be a question.

“For a while there I was afraid, because it seemed like you’d got over me and I had lost you to Kate, but that’s all over now and you’re here.”

“You think I’m here because Kate dumped me?”

“No, I’m sure you’re not, Scotty,” he said. “But Kate was just a reason for you to get away from me for a little while to think things through. Even if you don’t see it now, you’ll figure it out eventually. You were mad at me, but you got over it and you’re back.”

“I see.”

“And you know that I left Mark. I mean, Kate must have mentioned.”

“Sure,” I said. I didn’t want to get into how I actually found out.

“Am I missing something?”

I sat up and started looking around for my clothes.

He said, “I’m not really sure what I said just now. Weren’t we okay? I was okay.”

I didn’t answer him.

“Scott, I don’t get it. One minute you’re all over me, and it’s great, but the next you’re bolting for the door? Talk to me.”

I found my jeans, but Shawn grabbed my arm, so I had to look at him.

I said, “You don’t get it, and I don’t want to waste my time telling you.” I shrugged his grip off of me and put my jeans on. Sensing that this argument might leave his room, Shawn found his as well.

“So, what? That’s it? You’re leaving? This doesn’t make any sense, Scott.” 

“Shawn, I’d like this to have a little silent dignity about it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nevermind,” I said. I began to walk, but he grabbed me again. I turned back to face with with a look of impatience. 

He asked, “Can you at least explain to me what I don’t get here? Because I thought I had everything figured out.”

“Jesus, Shawn. You’re as smart as you are and you still want me to spell it out?”

His face told me that he did.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll tell you what you’re missing. Yeah, I was pissed off when I gave you that ultimatum and you stayed silent. But really, I was just kind of confused as to why you wouldn’t pick me given all those pretty lines you used to feed me, but also because of what you said to Kate about us. Shawn, I’ve never been your boyfriend. I don’t get why you’d say that.”

“It was wishful thinking,” he said. “It was me fast-forwarding to now when you and I got back together.”

“There is no us, Shawn,” I said. I sighed, but this was true. “There never was.”

“What was that, then? What was coming to my place and making love? Tell me what that was.”

I put on my shirt. It felt crumpled, but warm. “It was what I needed.”

“It was what I needed too. I need you, Scott.”

“No,” I said, “You really don’t.”

“I love you.”

Even though he’d said it over the phone, I was still surprised. It stopped me and made me sit on his bed and look him dead in his pretty brown eyes. Here in this moment I felt I could do anything in the world.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” I said. “I’m not saying that it isn’t a really sweet notion, and I’m not saying that I never wanted to be with you. I really did for a long time, and for most of that time I believed it could actually happen.”

“It can. It can happen now.”

“Fuck, Shawn. Just shut up, will you?” My head jerked. Before this moment, Shawn had never outright asked me to be with him. I can’t say it wasn’t flattering, and I can’t say I didn’t consider it.

“Shawn,” I held my ground, clenched my fists. This was harder thank I thought it would be. I took a breath, and I remembered that poem. My favourite.

“Shawn, let’s face it. I’ve been momentary.”

“What?”

I said, “This wasn’t an experiment.”

“I know that. Maybe it started that way but...”

I said, “I give you back your heart.”

“What?”

“Just let me say this, okay?”

He didn’t know what to do, or what I was doing, so I kept going. I sat down next to him. I said, “I give you permission. Shawn, listen. You loved Mark. You had this thing with me, and maybe it was a sort-of love, but it doesn’t matter. You loved him. He’s the sum of yourself and your dream.”

“Scott, all I wanted was...” I wouldn’t let him get a word in.

“He’s solid, Shawn. The fact is, I really don’t know how solid I am. I’ve got to figure that out, and I really can’t see myself figuring anything out if I’m with you.”

Shawn sat silent, finally getting what had been brewing inside me this whole time.

“I came over here tonight to try to get over you, because I’ve never been good at getting over anyone. I mean, I still think about that girl from high school I told you about. I don’t know if this’ll work, but it’s the best thing I could think of.”

Shawn was either holding back tears or fists. Neither would have surprised me at this point.

“Look, Shawn, I know this is hard right now. But I think you really loved Mark, and maybe you were looking at me as some kind of escape from commitment or being an adult, I don’t know. But Mark really loves you and...”

“How do you know?”

“What?”

“How do you know that Mark really loves me?”

“Can’t I just know?” I really wanted to hit him.

“It’s not like I don’t miss him,” Shawn said, and I let him keep going. “Parts of me wish that I’d never done it. I mean, yeah, there was something really strong there, and that’s what made me go quiet before. But after you left, I realized how much I couldn’t accept losing you, and if there was any chance of getting you back, well, that’s what I’d do.”

I began to close up. I said, “But what you’d realize Shawn, is that ultimately you would have grown tired of me and moved on. I was this idea in your head that isn’t really me, and that’s because you and I never got each other on my terms. I am lots of what you don’t know, Shawn.”

Flecks of Shawn got that. I could tell because I could see right through him.

“As for me,” I said, knowing what I wanted to finish. “I am watercolour.”

I hugged Shawn, and in the middle of this embrace I whispered in his ear, “I wash off.”

Shawn didn’t cry. He didn’t cry because he never did, and I never expected him to. In the end, we all become who we are, who we’ve been, and who we rarely say we want to be. Shawn, in all his handsome, selfish, and satisfying ways, whispered in my ear that he doesn’t want me to ever get over him. “Please,” he said, as if I were holding something tangible that belonged to him.

“That’s selfish of you,” I said, comforted by his one quality that would always likely be more charming than not. “But it’s all right. I probably won’t.”

I kissed him, not with thunder but with all the implications of goodbye I knew how to express, wrapped up in a hug and a kiss. I cried a little, but I tried not to let him notice.

He didn’t try to stop me as I left his room. I inched down the stairs, put my boots back on, and left his giant house.

It was just as freezing outside as it had been since the end of the Chinook, but it was the first time all winter that I’d really felt the chill. I didn’t feel happy, relieved, or even tired. I just felt cold.

I realized, and I realized, and I realized. In the end, I found that most of my epiphanies led to nothing. Much like my spectrum, each realization became less meaningful every time a new one came around. I thought that it might be nice to go a little while before I begin learning new things about myself again.

That’s why I walked the same route to the LRT as I always did after seeing Shawn. It occurred to me that I should find another route to set my mind off course, that I could erase sections of memory that always held me when I walked this street. I thought that if I found a path I’d never taken, I’d be able to clear my head of Shawn, Kate, Carly, Mark, everyone. Maybe if I travelled somewhere new. Maybe if I met some new people. Maybe if I reinvented myself somehow.

But I didn’t, because the path I took no longer signified anything. I kept straight down the same path I had taken every other time. I climbed the same steel staircase that seemed to lead straight up to the clear, wide Calgary sky.

No Chinook, Chapter 9

No Chinook is my first book, oriiginally published in 2008.

Read No Chinook on your ebook reader or cell phone:

Kindle
ePub & iBooks
PDF
Buy a print copy for $9.99

When I woke up in my own bed the next day, it didn’t feel like home. I missed Kate’s body; her slow breathing when she slept, her arm draped across my chest, her leg weighing down on mine. I missed her sheets, her ceiling, her bed. Walking around my apartment felt like purgatory. I’d been out so long I barely registered that my fridge was empty and all my clothes were dirty and my fish was dead.

Considering what happened the night before, I slept remarkably well. It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep alone or that I didn’t want to run down every street I could to look for Kate and Ray. It’s that I knew exactly what was and wasn’t hopeless. There were exactly two things that could have happened. Ray showed up drunk and looking to end his bereavement, or he showed up in and at his best. Kate either left so that she could formally reject him without the public drama, or they got back together. I wasn’t an idiot. It’s not like my mind hadn’t been on Shawn for most of the week. God knows how much she thought of Ray. It was hopeless to try to stop it. It wasn’t hopeless, however, to crash and dream.

Even though I could think about the two of them reconciling, and even though that seemed like the clearest reality, it still hurt just about all over. I still had her nail marks on my back, and I still had her voice in my head. When I poured my coffee, I could hear her voice, telling me to make it stronger. When I cooked my breakfast, she would suggest burning the bacon just a little more. I hated it. I wanted her to be beside me, tugging on my shoulder, leaning on the counter, kissing my cheek and grazing the back of my ass with her thigh. I wanted her there, at my place, telling me that she found my pictures fascinating and my bed snug. I wanted her to be with me, but she wasn’t, and more than likely, she never had been.

I sat back down on my bed and I cried into my hands. It was pathetic, but it’s the truth. I didn’t have to wonder how she could do this to me because it all came way too easily. She called me and said she needed me because I was fresh in her life, unaware of her recent drama. It had all been coincidence before that point, but she knew I wouldn’t reject her. 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Kate had copied something I’d seen back in high school almost to the letter. Josh Randle had dumped Amanda Winters a few times before she shaved her head, and during one of their breaks, we all saw her going around with Matthew Sharpton pretty much the next day. They were inseparable for about a week, and then she got back together with Josh as if nothing had ever happened. I remembered Amanda telling us that Matthew was like a week of beautiful weather in the middle of a deadly winter. We all wondered why she didn’t stay with the nice guy, but wondering never got any of us anywhere. People do what they do. They love who they love. Reason, as I’ve heard hundreds and hundreds of times, has just about nothing to do with it.

What this did was remind me of the night Kate threw her bracelet in the lake, and how unoriginal I found her sense of revenge and drama. I felt I’d lived through far more than Kate, and she was just now catching up to feeling things I’d experienced years before. And at that moment, finally, my spectrum crumbled. The last week’s worth of events had cracked the seams and tattered the edges of my theories, but sitting on my bed in my filthy, empty apartment confirmed its destruction.

Kate was probably the most interesting person I’d ever spent that much time with, but there was absolutely no pattern that defined her. And now that she’d vanished with her ex-boyfriend, there’s really no accounting for any kind of pattern. 

People are happy when things are good. They’re unhappy when it’s shit. Sometimes, they do something about it. Sometimes they go back to the asshole that caused all their problems to begin with. Their position in life has nothing to do with anything. It was unfair, but it was irrefutable.

What it came down to was perspective. Even though I couldn’t picture Kate right now, I could only imagine that she was happy with whatever choice she’d made. Shawn could be anywhere, and he was probably happy. 

My phone rang in the living room. It had to be work. I hadn’t even bothered calling in sick. I banged my shoulder against the door on the way out and looked at the phone. I saw Shawn’s number, and for the first time in over a week, I felt I could pick up and talk to this man. 

It wasn’t that I needed or even wanted him. It was that he couldn’t touch me in the state I was in. The one advantage to being freshly heartbroken is the shell surrounding one’s vulnerability.

“We’ve got to get together and talk,” he said, in that way he used to when he wanted to make it seem pleading but really knew I would give in eventually.

“I don’t know, Shawn,” I said. “I really don’t see any reason to see you. I mean, if you want to talk about things like closure and acceptance, then, well, I’m really not that guy. I’m not going to get over this no matter how much closure you create. No matter what happens, I’ll probably think about what happened between us and talk about it to new friends and girlfriends and boyfriends until they’re really damn sick of it.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked. It dawned on me that I hadn’t really been like that with Shawn. I hadn’t been neurotic in the way I was with other people. I hadn’t been as open, either. I was always putting on my best when he was around, and it was as if my fantasies happened in parallel relationships off in other regions of the universe.

This needed to be illuminated. There was something about the brunt descent into sadness that brought the release of truth. “I guess you never really got to see the part of me that does that,” I said. “I really don’t get over things. It doesn’t matter if they were good or bad. If I love someone, even if it’s ridiculous, it stays with me. That probably makes you happy, knowing that I’ll still be talking about you years after you’ve forgotten about me.”

“Who said anything about forgetting you?” he asked, which was sweet, but empty to me in the present circumstances.

“Whatever, Shawn. It’s not like any of this is important anymore.”

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, even though I could tell he wasn’t actually asking me at all. “Right, of course. Kate.”

“What about Kate?” I asked. “She has nothing to do with you and me.”

“Yeah, she does,” he said. “She has just about everything to do with it.”

“How?”

“Do you know where she is right now?”

“What?”

“Well, she’s not with you, right?” he asked like he already knew. “So where is she?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “And why do I have a feeling that I didn’t need to tell you that?”

“What I’m saying here,” Shawn said, his voice firmer than usual, “You need to listen to.”

“What is it, Shawn?” I asked, remarkably smarmy. “You know where she is? Well, I know where she is. She’s with Ray. Am I right? Did they get back together? Did she fucking use me, Shawn? I figured it out. It took me exactly two seconds to piece it together. I’m not going to get hit with this drama. I’m not in suspense, and I’m not having fun. I’m fucking heartbroken. But that’s how it goes. Fuck the spectrum, you know? It was just naïve and childish justifications for my shit life. That’s it. That’s all it was for me, and that’s all I was for her, and that’s all I was for you, and I’m pretty fucking sick of it all and I’d like to be left alone.”

Shawn cleared his throat. I could hear him sitting down. I could hear the motion in his breath. He asked, “Are you done?”

“Are you going to make things worse?” I asked. “Because if what you have to say just makes things worse, then I don’t want to hear it. I think I’ve got things pretty fucking wrapped up here, and it makes a nice succinct little story to tell at the bars in Europe to strangers with backpacks, and I don’t want any more.” I don’t know what it is about telling someone off, but I felt fifteen feet tall. “So will it make it worse?”

Over the phone, miles away, wind, water, and a hundred thousand people between us, Shawn said, “I love you.”

“Well shit,” I said, and dropped the phone. I dropped the phone, and didn’t pick it up until I could take a few breaths and lean my head against the nearest of my boring, white walls. I heard him saying “Are you still there?” because there was no noise between us.

With my hand I clenched the phone so hard it felt like it could break in my hand. I said, shivering, wanting to slam my head through the wall, “Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Good,” he said.

“You know, Shawn,” I began. “There were so many times I wanted to hear you say that. Really, I’m serious; there were times I wanted nothing more. But even then, even those dark nights on your patio when you held me, even those mornings in your sheets, those days in the park and at the movies, you were never really with me. But what I really wanted was to escape everyone else’s cheap declarations of love.”

I thought of my last week with Kate.

Then, I thought, I’m finally seeing Shawn as a man. He wasn’t a cute boy for me anymore. He wasn’t something I wanted to hold. He was a man, and that kind of proclamation deserved attention, if only from my own epiphanies. I didn’t know what it meant, that I’d switched his station in my mind. I didn’t know why he was suddenly a “man.” But he was, and I wondered if maybe that meant I was over it. 

I said, “I wanted you to be mine, you idiot. I wanted nothing mucking up that great thing we had, for it to be that perfect kind of love. My greatest regret about all of this is that I probably loved you, too. But it really doesn’t matter now because there’s no going back to that nice idea of love with you. You’ve ruined that, and that’s all there is.”

I hung up the phone. It was probably the most dramatic thing I’d ever done to someone else.

For the next few minutes, I had trouble doing anything but soaking in the air around me. I felt paralyzed to the point where breathing drained energy. I couldn’t quite see more than a few feet ahead of me, and I focused on nothing. My mind was in a blanket of euphoria and I felt textures not altogether known to me. I felt way too solid, as if there weren’t actually moving parts inside of me. It was completely different from every other feeling I’d ever had. And after a few minutes, I got up and left my apartment to get some fresh air.

It was overcast, and I could feel it in my chest. Maybe it’s just Calgary with its messed up weather, but it’s always affected my mood. As I walked around fairly aimlessly, the low ceiling limited my thoughts of Kate and Shawn. I like to think that at some point, I would have found all of this to be pretty horrible. This feeling of responsibility washed down on me, bringing with it both the gravity of what I’d done and levied some greater control. It was my fault that Shawn ever had any sort of emotional conflict with Mark. It was my fault Kate didn’t fall hard on her own ass when Ray walked out with someone else. And it was my fault for believing their stories so blindly. I never really knew about Mark or Ray, but I went along with it anyway because of what I wanted.

Still, my spectrum was destroyed, and something new needed to take its place. What was left was a sky of opportunity, a blank page torn from a blank book. I finally understood that it wasn’t about what we get to have in life, or how happy we can be, or any of those fucked-up inhibitions people use as excuses for why they don’t think they’ll ever hook up with the people they have pathetic crushes on. It wasn’t about any of that anymore, because the last three weeks I bagged a hot art teacher who had a perfectly good boyfriend, and had amazing sex with a gorgeous blonde that even knew my lame past. 

None of this made me feel good, really. But it kept me from feeling bad, and that would have to be enough for now.

Good memories of Shawn and me flashed through my mind, and I liked that I could still focus on the fact that there were moments of happiness between us. For the most part, Kate’s brief foray into my life had been unbelievable, but I couldn’t help focusing on how well I’d performed. I made them both laugh and think and feel safe and satisfied. In so many ways here, I felt like I was coming out of this situation feeling better about who I was.

I sat down on a half-melted pile of snow at the corner of a stranger’s driveway and pulled out my phone and called Shawn, feeling better about everything.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out as quicky as he could. “I’m so glad you called back.”

“Shawn,” I began. “It’s fine. It’s all okay now.”

“Why?” he said, not sounding sure of anything. “I mean, what’s happened?”

I was calm. “Nothing, really. Listen, what are you doing this afternoon?”

He was suspicious, but hopeful. 

He said, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I laughed. “I just told you, everything’s fine now.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Shawn, my ass is getting numb from sitting on this pile of snow in front of a house I’ve never seen before. I would like to come over to your place, but if you don’t want me to I’m sure I could go find somewhere to bury myself for the evening.”

“Is it that you don’t want to be alone right now?”

Shawn didn’t get it, but that was fine. It was no longer his job to get anything about me. I said, “Sure, lets go with that.”

I got on the subway and listened to Kate’s voice in my head. My eyes were open this wide now because of Kate. I was feeling something powerful that I could not explain. Perhaps it was the feeling Carly had on her bike, leaving town. Perhaps it was the feeling of the dog left on the edge of town. I didn’t know exactly what form of freedom it entailed, but I knew I was at least in the right country.

I wondered if it was possible that I was going through the five stages of grief, and that I was planted in denial. At first I discounted it. I was ridiculous for analyzing myself as being in denial when I felt so clear, but the more I thought about it, the more I figured this might be the case. I hurt in so many places, but it had nothing to do with regret or bereavement. 

The thing was, I may have felt that I had been in love with Scott and Kate at different times, but I had never really been in love with either. I wasn’t lying to Shawn over the phone, but I certainly didn’t love him entirely. There wasn’t any moment where I was completely aware of what was happening. And while there was obviously a period where I thought I could trust Kate, that period of time wasn’t terribly long. It simply wasn’t long enough to warrant any sort of unexpected trust.

While the train sped by black walls and lamps, I looked at nothing and knew that I was probably over-thinking everything, just like I always did. Still, it was the process of seeing every angle and getting every idea that brought me to this strange place. Any self-respecting neurotic would be pissed at both of my lovers, but I sat here only disappointed in who these people turned out to be.

I climbed the stairs of the subway and felt my phone vibrate. While I was underground, Kate had tried to call. There was a message.

“Scott, I need to talk to you. I know it sounds stupid and I sound stupid and you probably won’t like it, but please, call me back when you get this so we can get together and talk, okay?”

She must not have been expecting me to have pieced everything together so quickly. I leaned up against a brick wall and called her. It was freezing, but I didn’t think the call would last very long.

“Hi,” I said, as cold as I could.

She sounded embarrassed already, as if she’d run over my dog. “Hi Scott. I have something to tell you.”

“I already know,” I said. “A guy at your party told me.”

Silence, then, “I guess that’s why you left, huh?”

“What good would staying have done?”

“I guess you’re right,” she said. “Scott, I’m so, so sorry.”

“So you’re back with him? He’s moved back in?”

“It’s...” she paused, searching for the right way to break it to me gently. “It’s going slowly. But I love him. I know that makes me sound weak. Look, most of the time I do a pretty good job of staying tough, but I love him.”

“I get it,” I said. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“You were amazing though, Scott. Please don’t take this as anything against you.”

“Kate, I’m not mad.”

She sounded bewildered. “No offence Scott, but I don’t really see how you wouldn’t be.”

I said, “I guess because I never figured it would work out to anything real anyway, you know? Knowing that you’re totally fine ditching me without an explanation just certified it. It’s not about me being in your league or anything like that. I just never saw us together. Frankly, I was never really all there, either.” I paused, deciding for once to let guilt dig in further than it had to. “I mean, I didn’t leave you at a party with your ex boyfriends’ ex boyfriend, but it’s not like I didn’t think about Shawn.”

“I know,” she said. “I could tell when you were. And when I brought him up, it was like I caught you or something.”

“I’m not forgiving you Kate,” I said, getting back to the short and the sweet. “It’s not going to be like that. We’re never going to be friends, and I don’t really want to ever see you again.”

“Scott,” she tried to say something, but I just kept going as if I’d rehearsed it.

“I’m not sorry I met you Kate, and I’m not sorry I met you again. I’m not sorry I went dancing with you and paid attention to the kind of beer you liked. I’m not sorry for giving up a whole week of my life so that you could try to get over a guy you’d just get back together with anyway. I’m not sorry I made you laugh and that we had fantastic sex and that I cooked you just about everything I know how to make. I’m not sorry about any of that, but really Kate, but I’m not sorry that it’s done, either.”

“Scott, I’m sorry,” she said, and I could tell she meant it because I could hear her voice quiver. “In so many ways you’re better than he is. I wish I could tell you all the reasons.”

“There aren’t any reasons, Kate. At least, there aren’t any reasons that matter. You made your choice, and that’s fine.”

“It’s that final, huh?”

“Yeah, it is,” I said, feeling like I’d just stuck myself in a state of denial. “Goodbye.”

“Wait,” she insisted. “I want to tell you my job.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because,” she said. “Because it means something to me to tell you.”

I wanted so badly to have the courage to say no, because doing that would show her that I would really be able to move on. But I knew I would never really be able to anyway, and what could be more temporarily final than fixing in this last little puzzle-piece?

“Sure,” I said, “Tell me.”

Kate told me what she did for a living. In my head, her image changed, parts of it becoming cemented. The words she said held incredible weight, but I had no cargo ship to hold it all. Some of it fell. Some of it crushed me. Some of it helped.

“I’m still sorry,” she said. “But that’s the best I can do to make you understand.”

“Kate, I want you to listen to me.” I thought of it all, and what it really was. “I’m not mad at you. There are worse things to be than a vacation from the storm.”

She didn’t really comprehend that, but it was okay. Just like her, after a while, everything I said I was saying for my own sake. She said goodbye, and I didn’t expect to ever hear from her until we met again.

Read chapter 10

No Chinook, Chapter 8

No Chinook is my first book, oriiginally published in 2008.

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I met Mark for the second time at a party I didn’t want to attend. It had been a few months since I moved to Calgary, one city jump from a small suburban town a few hours away where my parents lived—the same town Kate was from. I spent most of my time this past week cooking, fucking, and beginning something that might turn into love someday. I wasn’t completely sure about that yet, but I was happy being in a relationship that wasn’t riddled with lies. It was everything I’d ever wanted. Kate had organized this party at her place, and there he was, all dressed up and ready.

I hadn’t yet spotted Shawn, but knew he had to be around somewhere. He had called Kate the night before to make sure I would not be here, or maybe to make sure I would. Mark must have come along. I was perfectly happy to be drinking in the kitchen with Kate’s friend Stephen, listening to him go on about his ex-girlfriend, but in the back of my mind, I knew that tonight something would happen between Shawn and myself. Whatever it was, I just hoped it that it would be for the best.

“The biggest problem with Stacy,” Stephen continued. He had been talking about his ex-girlfriend since the moment he saw me. “Was that she took me to the point where I had become so used to her high-maintenance issues that I began to miss the constant attention. I’d lie awake some nights wishing she’d call just so I could hear her bitch about her stupid job.”

Since I’d spotted Mark in the crowd, I had only been paying lip service to Stephen. I nodded in agreement, but kept minimally involved. Mark was talking to some girl, but I was too far away to hear him. It was fitting. Mark had always been on my mind first. I had always seen him first. But even if he did notice me, it wouldn’t mean anything. My name and my face meant nothing to him. For all I know, he’d seen me a hundred times more than I’d seen him, but it didn’t matter. We had no context between us; I disliked him for reasons I’d probably never have the chance to discuss with him. 

Stephen continued, “I tried to go out with this girl Marlene, because she was really easy going and that’s what I used to like. But Stacy ruined everything, man. She changed me. I couldn’t handle how relaxed Marlene was, because I’d fallen in love with a smotherer. That’s all I wanted. Marlene didn’t call me for three days, and I dumped her. It was probably the most pathetic thing I’d ever done.”

I realized I hadn’t been listening. “What?” I asked, hoping he would clarify.

It didn’t faze him. “She was a telemarketer. I was always telling her to find a new job, but she never did. I mean, she hates it, but she stuck with it for some reason. I don’t know. Maybe she thought she deserved it, like it was where she belonged in life.”

“Yeah,” I said, keeping one finger on the pulse of this conversation, which was just enough for Stephen to keep going. The rest of me zoned in on Mark. I noticed his wrinkled jeans and half-ironed dress shirt. He was trying to look easy, but he’d put effort into it. His shoes were squeaky clean and white, as if he’d brought them in a backpack and put them on when he came inside.

Stephen said, “There are people who move, man, and there are people who don’t. And there’s nothing wrong with being either one, but you can’t bring the two together, because motion will always come between them.”

“Motion,” I repeated as if in agreement, realizing that paying complete attention to Stephen would likely result in a headache.

Stephen took a swig of his beer and asked me if anyone had ever changed me. It was a simple enough drunk question, but I think I surprised him.

I thought about Carly. “To tell you the truth, I think everyone I’ve ever been with has changed what I want in some way.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Well, what about your last girl?”

“My last girl?” I wanted to talk about Kate, but the current situation prohibited it. I didn’t want to bring up Shawn either, just in case he was right behind me. “Her name was Carly. She really ran me through exactly what you’re talking about.”

“She smothered you too?”

“Not really. More like she knew exactly the kind of guy she liked and I did my best to fit the mold. Eventually, I just didn’t fit her anymore and she left.”

Stephen put his hand on my shoulder. “I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes you want to be that dominant alpha-male who makes the decisions, but when it comes down to it, that’s just not who we are, you know?”

“So who are we?” I asked, realizing this particular brand of drunken talk had probably reached whatever depth it was going to.

Stephen, however, looked focused on what he was trying to say. “We’re like buildings torn apart by winds and storms. Women, they’re the wind, man. They come along and they blow by us and rip us from the foundations.”

Roughly half of his rant had been slurred past the point of recognition, so I said, “Motion eventually tears us apart, eh?”

Stephen shouted, “Fucking right man! That’s what I’m saying. Why don’t I get to be in control? Why can’t I be the storm, huh? Why do I have to be stuck waiting for someone to blow me down? That’s not how it’s supposed to work!” The people around us were giving him room, doing their best to be entertained by the spectacle. Stephen continued, “I’m so sick of letting other people control my life! Fuck you Stacy! Fuck you!” He pointed at all of us, and then we could all see him shut down. It was quite the sight, watching Stephen slowly crumble into himself.

I put my hand on his shoulder like he had done to me and I said, “Yeah man, fuck her.”

“Whatever,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. She’s gone and there’s no bringing them back once they’re gone. Not with guys like us. We just don’t have it in us to make them want to come back.”

I liked Stephen. He wasn’t afraid to show exactly what he felt, even if it was brash and came out around total strangers. Still, I didn’t want anything he’d just said to ever be right.

I took Stephen outside to get some air, and when he waved me off, I came back and was caught by Kate.

“Hey you!” she said, being flirtatious but not obvious. “I came to check up on you. How’s the night?”

Kate had done her hair up a little prettier than normal. She had curls coming out of her ponytail, and she was wearing a black dress and boots. This was probably the sexiest I’d ever seen her dressed.

“Can’t complain so far,” I said, “I just hope it stays its course.”

I felt the same about her now as I had when I’d first seen her at Shawn’s party. She kind of danced when she walked and she talked with her arms outstretched. And just like the last time, she wasn’t really paying any attention to me. She said, “That’s great, honey. If you need me, I’ll be around somewhere, okay?”

“You all right?” I asked, spinning her around to face me.

She put her hands on my face and said, “What a stupid question.”

I let her go, and I turned around and bumped right into Mark. He spilled part of his beer on the floor.

“It’s okay,” he exclaimed. “It’s only a little.” He tried to rub out the tiny spot with his shoes, and smiled at me with an idiotic toothy grin that told me that he wasn’t being himself.

In this moment, I couldn’t imagine that Shawn would have trouble choosing which one of us to love.

“There,” he said. “Nothing but spic.”

I hadn’t noticed this before because of the distance and people between us, but Mark appeared to be in bad shape. It wasn’t just his clothes. He had obviously drunk too much; he seemed to have tear tracks on his face and dark circles under his eyes. He backed up a bit to really look at me. “Do I know you? Have we met?”

I said, “Not really.”

“I swear I’ve seen you before,” he said, holding on tight to his beer with one hand and his hair with the other, as if this would help him from falling over.

I tried to escape, “I’m sorry, I’ve got someone to get a drink for.”

I tried to escape, “I’m sorry, I’ve got someone to get a drink for.”

“Did we go out that one time?” He asked. I stopped myself and counted to ten in my head.

“No,” I said, “We definitely did not go out that one time.”

He grabbed my shoulder, “I’m sorry. Really, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. I was just...”

I said, “I get it.”

“Oh good,” he said, “I didn’t want it to come out like I was hitting on you or something.”

Suddenly, I wondered just how flirtatious Kate seemed when I met her at that party. Had she been hitting on me when she was with Ray?

I told Mark, “Trust me, I wasn’t thinking anything like that.”

“Well,” he said, “My mistake. I guess I’ll just keep looking around.”

“Looking around for what?” I asked him, genuinely curious. Was he looking for Shawn? Did he know Kate too? Everybody seemed to.

“Can I ask you something?”

“It’s a free country,” I said. I did not want to be caught having a heart to heart with Mark. This is just about the last awkward situation I was willing to encounter in my lifetime.

“Have you ever had your heart broken?”

“What?” I needed to leave this hallway. I didn’t want to know that anything had happened. For once in my life, I much preferred to be blind to the truth.

“You know,” he said. “Where you love somebody with everything you’ve got, and they take what you’ve built together and just smash it? Has that ever happened to you?”

He didn’t have to tell me anything more. I could picture everything that happened just by looking at his face. Something remarkable had occurred in the few days I’d been gone from my previous life. It was more than I wanted to hear. 

“My boyfriend,” he said. “He told me last weekend that he’s been seeing this other guy for, like, months now. He said he couldn’t live with lying to me all the time anymore. Can you believe that?”

I didn’t want to know any of this because I was fine with Mark being the stupid asshole that drove a minivan. This image sat well with me. But the moment he began speaking about Shawn, I knew I’d begin to think of Mark as a human being with feelings that could be bruised. These few words he’d just been saying transformed him from a dangerous, unwelcome roadblock to a defenseless kitten. 

“Come on,” I said, taking his beer. “Let’s get out of here. I think we both need some air.”

I took him outside and tried to sort out the particulars so that nobody would see us together. It was an hour away from new snow; I could smell it. I said, “So, what, you were trying to pick up in there?”

“Well,” he said, sniffling, “I called my friend up yesterday. I didn’t tell her what happened, but I told her that I needed a distraction for a while, so she invited me to her party.”

“That was you?” I asked out loud, fitting another puzzle piece together.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” I said. I had no idea that he knew Kate, but wasn’t spectacularly surprised. “What happened?”

“Do you mind walking me to the subway?” he asked. “The fresh air’s killed my buzz, and it’s a dead room in there.”

“Sure,” I said. “It’s this way. Just don’t pull the moves on me.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said. “You’re nice.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Mark told me about Shawn. He started from the beginning, giving it some much-welcomed context. Shawn and Mark were together for two years until the cheating began, if you could call it that. He didn’t know anything about this other guy—only that Shawn had some pretty deep feelings for him that he couldn’t get over. Apparently they’d had some kind of falling out recently, and that had cut Shawn to the point where he couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. I knew all this already, but my version seemed skewed. Small pieces of me felt bad about hurting this guy. A very specific part of my gut began to feel terrible for coming inbetween two perfectly happy people.

“Shawn and I just fit, you know?” Mark stumbled a lot, but knew what he was trying to say. “I could be honest with him. I told him things about me I’d never told anyone before. God, we were together for so long. What did I do wrong? I must have done something. People cheat for a reason, right?”

“I suppose,” I said, feeling like a spy before an inevitable revelation of identity.

“Have you ever been cheated on?” he asked.

Just like with Stephen, I had to think back to Carly. “Yeah, once.”

“Why did he do it?”

“She,” I corrected him. “I wasn’t exciting enough for her, I think.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” he tried to reassure me. I felt awful. Mark seemed like a perfectly good guy, and it was clear that I was a shit who’d failed to consider the whole arrangement. At some point, I must have thought about Mark and what he could have been feeling. I felt terrible for dismissing him so quickly.

He told me that things weren’t settled with the two of them, and it wouldn’t be right to end it abruptly without letting the feelings settle. It made me feel pity towards Mark, though. I pictured him incapable of handling the end of a relationship, falling apart in his shitty apartment. I couldn’t  help but see Mark as a powerful figure in Shawn’s life, and how important it was to him to make sure things stayed straight, as it were.

Shawn was in love with me, but he didn’t want that kind of black mark on him without at least making some sort of attempt at atonement. He wanted to do it right, because he respected Mark, and while I half-hated the bastard, I admired Mark for being worthy of that kind of respect.

“Mark,” I said calmly. “I want you to listen to me.”

“Huh?” he asked. He looked like a lost puppy.

“You’re going to be fine, okay?” I always wanted someone to come out of nowhere and tell me these things. I thought, maybe I’d listen to me this time. “You’re going to meet some great guy and forget all about this Shawn character, okay?”

“But...” I don’t know if he was trying to interrupt because he didn’t want to hear it or if he had more to reveal. But I’d heard enough and needed to finish this.

“No buts,” I said, cutting him off. “I know he was great, and for a while it seemed like he might be the one, but it’s over. Things got fucked up and it’s probably just best to wipe the slate clean and start over.”

He said, slowly, “Look, I know you’re trying to help me, and this is really nice, but I can’t really believe any of that right now.”

“Fuck, I know that much,” I said. I was mostly talking to myself anyways. “But it’s still nice to hear, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he said. “Wait, how do you know my name? I never told you.”

I said, inches away from confessing, “Does the name Scott Clarkson mean anything to you?”

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. Should it?”

I shook my head. There was no point in even telling the whole truth at this point, because the truth didn’t matter so much as the story. I’d met Mark under sad circumstances, and revealing my role in his misery at this point would only make it worse. I felt bad enough about being the invisible cancer marring his happiness. Nothing would become clear tonight concerning the two of us.

“We’re here,” I said. “You’ll be okay getting home?”

“I don’t know what I was doing at that party,” he muttered. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“You were looking for the same thing we all look for at those parties.”

“Happiness?”

I remembered what Kate had said. “No,” I replied. “Happiness has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m getting too old for this,” he said.

I shook his hand and watched him take the stairs. I said to myself, “Me too.”

On the way back, I envisioned the scene Mark had just described, where Shawn broke the news. It must have happened after the night at the club, after he called me three dozen times and for whatever reason referred to me as his boyfriend to Kate. Or did it happen before the club? I had seen him that afternoon. I had asked him to choose between Mark and myself. I had stormed out. Had Mark come over soon after? Had they fought about it? Did Mark see me leave? Did Shawn actually confess everything? Did he tell Mark that he wanted to be with me?

For Shawn to refer to me as his boyfriend, he must have chosen me. He must have cockily assumed that I’d still want to be with him at that point, but that’s irrelevant. Kate knew both Shawn and Mark, so Shawn would have told her about the break up—though maybe skimmed a few details—and Kate felt jealous. 

That’s why she wanted me all to herself for the week. She figured if Shawn saw me, he’d tell me about the break up and convince me to be with him. She wanted me to herself, so she didn’t tell me. It was all making sense.

But I was happy Kate lied to me. I don’t care what that makes me sound like. If it had been a week earlier, I don’t know which one of them I would have chosen. Now, there was no question. Kate had dug her claws into me, and their grip was strong enough to hold me. I felt like I’d do anything for her. This may not have been the healthiest of decisions, and I’m not sure if it was motivated by love or just crazy lust, but I was stuck with her until she retracted.

Stephen wasn’t on the porch when I got back. He must have found his way inside again. I hoped nobody gave him anything else to drink.

I weaved through the halls, unable to find any of the few people I knew. I checked the living room, the kitchen, and the backyard. I climbed the stairs, and finally found Stephen leaning against the railing, breathing steady.

“Hey man,” he said.

“Hey, have you seen Kate?” I asked.

“A little while ago,” he said, “But then she left.”

“Left?” I asked. “Left to go where?”

“I don’t know, dude. I just heard about it, but someone told me that Ray showed up and they left together.”

For a moment, I wanted to throw Stephen down the stairs. Instead, I ran out into the street, and nearly got run over by a van. Snow was falling. The street was dark and empty. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I couldn’t save her from anything even if she wanted to be saved.

I looked at the house. I’d spent seven straight days in that house. But at that moment, it was the last place I wanted to be. It was filled with strangers I could no longer introduce myself to. I couldn’t say I was Kate’s boyfriend because everyone probably saw her leave with Ray. I couldn’t say I was anyone’s friend, because I wasn’t. I knew Shawn, only I didn’t. I knew Mark, only he didn’t know me. And Mark was gone. And Shawn was gone. 

I was alone, and the only move I had left was to run as fast as I could all the way home.

Read chapter 9

No Chinook, Chapter 6

No Chinook is my first book, oriiginally published in 2008.

Read No Chinook on your ebook reader or cell phone:

Kindle
ePub & iBooks
PDF
Buy a print copy for $9.99

 

“Can you get me a beer?” Kate asked. I could barely hear her. With all the people around us, and the electro blaring out from every angle, I had to wonder why people bothered to open their mouths. But people were yelling all around us. Conversations seemed to swell in every direction, indecipherable because of the noise, but not far enough to be ignored. Kate drank Kokanee before, so I figured she’d like that again.

“I can’t believe you remembered!” she said when I got back from the bar. She swigged and clinked me. “Thanks, man!”

After we’d got back to her place, had sex and were laying there, cuddling, she said she wanted to dance. This came out of nowhere, but I went along with it. She got dressed in a low cut t-shirt, black jeans, slip-on black shoes, and off we went. She said she loved this place, how busy it was.

“What kind of music do you like?” she asked as we drove.

“Oh,” I said, lying. “nothing really specific. I like whatever.”

“Good,” she said. “This place specializes in whatever.”

Kate had dragged me out onto the dance floor, her beer playing the part of the naked mermaid on the front of ships. I followed Kate following her drink.

“You’re really good,” I think she said, after a few songs.

“Thanks,” I mouthed, but she wasn’t paying attention to my lips. There was no use actually saying anything with the blanket of volume around us. “You’re beautiful,” I mouthed.

She smiled, but I’m not sure she understood. Her hair was down again and she flung it in every direction. She danced with a freedom I never really thought she had to show. Whatever it was she was doing, it gave us some room.

In no time, we were both sweating. We were at a club that was a flea-market during the day, so the walls had signs advertising used clothing and bargains. Strobe lights and foggy smoke were above us, and we danced surrounded with people wearing an assortment of dress shirts and other club gear, hammered, high, or both, yelling and moving with the music. 

“Are you all right?” Kate might have said. She noticed me looking around, looking uncomfortable. I didn’t come out to clubs that often, especially the underground converted warehouses like this one. “Who are you looking for? I’m right here!”

“What?” I yelled.

“I’m right here!” she screamed, and finally I heard her voice. I don’t really know why I was looking around. I guess I was just taking it in, but her insistency forced me to kiss her. It’s not like I needed an excuse at this point, but some things she did prompted me to kiss her more than others. We kept dancing. It was all there was to do.

My phone kept ringing. It rang just about all night. I let it ring because I wanted Shawn to know that I knew he was calling. I didn’t want him to think I left the phone at home or had turned it off for the night. Every now and then I’d open it up, let him hear a second of music, and then hang up. Kate never seemed particularly interested as to why I was doing this. Mostly her eyes were closed or focused on her beer or on my chest.

She pulled my shirt and drew me in closer as we danced. Her crotch rubbed up against my leg. No eye contact. As the phone vibrated in my pocket, she cupped it and smiled.

“Don’t get it,” she said. She said this in my ear so loud it hurt. She could have whispered. 

I couldn’t have known what Kate was generally like after sex, but I figured that if she stayed awake, all she’d want to do was have more sex. Her hands dangled from my neck and she stared right at me, but even then I knew she wasn’t looking at me as a person; there was no intimacy there. Even then, I knew deep down that I was only her means to some end. But wrapped in that moment, she made feel like I had a place. The objectification was nice, actually, because at least it was honest.

Shawn had used me. Before I’d finally figured it out, I thought it was love. It wasn’t love, this thing between Kate and me. It was carnal, and that was fine.

Way back in high school, the first thing Carly told me to do was to shut up so that she could kiss me. She knew it was lame, but it still worked. I shut up. This was before I quit smoking; we were smoking outside the school and I mentioned something about wanting to burn the entire place down. I was just shooting the shit out there, but I imagined exactly how I’d do it. Halfway through it she told me to shut up, and that was the beginning of me and her. The entire week after that, all we did was make out under a tree near the parking lot where she kept her bike.

The first thing Shawn did was kiss me, too. I met Shawn in this bar I wasn’t even supposed to be at. It was late and I was going home, but I didn’t have any change for the subway. I ducked into this bar to break a twenty, and Shawn came up and ordered a few beers. “And one more for this guy,” he said, and before I could refuse, he kissed me on the cheek in his joking, frat-boy imitation, and before I knew it, I was sitting beside him and three other guys, arguing about art I’d never see.

But Kate was different, because the first thing Kate did was show interest in my writing. Even that slight interest made mountains of difference. She wouldn’t kiss me for almost six years. I knew it was no coincidence that she was the one I thought of the most.

None of my friends called it pathetic outright, but I knew they thought my constant moaning about Kate early in college couldn’t be anything else. I remember one of them saying “Scott, trust me. For every guy, there is a girl that got away. The details might be different, but overall it’s always the same story: guy likes girl; girl probably doesn’t like guy; guy eventually gets rejected by girl and bitches about it to his buddies while getting wasted.”

Now, I could say that they were wrong about this one incident in my life. Kate was right in front of me. She’d kissed me a hundred times in the last two days. The past was just empty context. I was in a world only I knew, but I could share it with her. I could open up to Kate. I could be honest. I could be loved. Also, she’d slept with me, twice.

She grabbed my hair and bit my lower lip, half-laughing and half-snarled. Her hands were on my hands, my ass, my back, my chest. Her nails were sharp. Of course people stared. I think I was bleeding, but the phone kept ringing. 

She didn’t stop until she noticed the mark on my arm.

“What the hell is that?” she yelled. I tried to shrug it off, but she grabbed my arm and led me to the entranceway where the music was quieter.

“That,” she said, pointing to the burned mark. “That wasn’t there this morning. What happened?”

“I, um,” I muttered, both wondering why I hadn’t thought of a cover-up and why she hadn’t noticed it when we were naked earlier. “It was an accident.”

“Really,” she said, not questioning so much as interrogating.

“It’s a cigarette burn,” I said.

“You don’t smoke.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t burn myself with a cigarette.”

“You did this to yourself?” she asked, equally worried and visibly re-evaluating who she’d hooked up with for the evening.

“Yeah, well,” I said. “There weren’t any chairs to throw into a wall.”

She took a second to process my explanation, and get her own idea of what it might mean. Then she reached into my pocket and stole my phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What do you think?” she said. “I’m checking to see what your ex-girlfriend’s name is.”

I tried to grab the phone from her. I told her, “There’s no girl.”

“Look, I get it. I never asked if you were seeing somebody. I didn’t think you might be going through the same thing as I was. Hey, maybe that makes all of this easier, you know? We’ve got something really big in common, if that’s the case. I just want to know.”

I stopped lunging for my phone, because I’d just realized she understood something I was only now grasping. What had brought us together was our common heartbreak. It was shitty things leading to good things, and the reinforcement of my spectrum was enough for me to let her flip open my phone and look around for my missed call list.

I could tell by her confused look that the list required some explanation. I said, “Shawn, right?”

“Yeah, but why? What does he want? And why weren’t you answering?”

I began to head outside, and Kate followed. I knew if this situation got any closer to the truth, we should move the proceedings outdoors. “I think he’s mad at me,” I said, trying not to give too much away. “I stormed out of his place today. We had a fight.”

“Oh my god,” she said. “Are you hurt?”

Kate followed me. We got to the door and felt the cold night air. I said, “No, nobody hit anyone.”

“Then how was it a fight?”

“We just yelled.”

“But you’re guys. Don’t guys hit each other when they fight?”

“Not all guys,” I said.

“Well, you should answer it and get it over with,” she said. “You know, be a man about it or something.”

“I don’t want to be a man about it,” I said. “I really can’t talk to him right now. Or ever.”

Kate laughed. “I had no idea you were this melodramatic.”

My roommates in college might have been wrong about every guy having a girl that gets away, but they were right about most other things. Once, Jesse, the only one of them I really liked, told me a story of when he was a kid. He was walking along on the CN railway tracks, about half a mile away from his house.. He was maybe 8 or whatever. These trains come through all the time, and Jesse always got out of the way long before the train came close. Only there was this one time when he felt something completely different. It was the same sort of day as any other, and he didn’t really feel any differently, but for whatever reason, he didn’t move. 

Some thought rippled through his brain that was much heavier than the average 8-year-old should be thinking: what’s really going to happen to me if I don’t get out of the way? And even at 8, he knew there was nobody around that could really tell him what it would be like to die, or what it would be like afterwards. He knew it would hurt, surely, but it was the after that was the biggest mystery. 

He still got out of the way long before any real sense of danger set in. And really, he only stayed on the tracks a few seconds longer than normal, and it still took the train a good five minutes to hit the spot where he had been standing. Still, none of that made his childhood moment of great philosophical transcendence any less terrifying. He was absolutely right. It’s possible to know what it would feel like to be hit by the train, but what followed was anybody’s guess. That’s why, when I saw in her eyes that she’d put two and two together and began to dial Shawn’s number on my phone, I headed outside to her car. I sort of had an idea of how she would initially react to the news of my little affair, but had absolutely no idea what would happen after.

“Hi Shawn, it’s Kate,” she began. “Why have you been harassing Scott all night?”

I quickly asked for her keys, and she tossed them to me. I got in, and I could see her inching towards the driver’s side. I was about to open the door, but then I saw her hand pause in front of the window. At that moment, Kate knew everything, and it had stopped her in her tracks.

This would be my bar story, to be told with slight variances every time I drank with new friends. Drinking with people meant meeting other people, which meant leaving the house, which meant being okay enough to stop crying and get on with life. This imaginary string of events gave me the most comfort. The rest came from knowing that I’d done relatively little wrong. It’s not likely that either Kate or Shawn would be telling their hypothetical future bar friends about how manipulative or abusive I was, and how happy they were now that I was gone. Even though I was the other man in one relationship and the rebound in the other, I figured that I’d played both parts well enough to dispel any blame.

The funny thing is, the image of all of us in the future made me realize that I was just as willing and knowledgeable as Shawn in what we were doing. I mean, he never did actually leave Mark, did he? It really was just as much my fault that I landed in this situation. If Kate slid into the driver’s seat in a few minutes and told me that she never wants to see me again, it would be my fault. It would be my fault because I wanted to be with Shawn and didn’t tell her, and because I really had no right to be with her in the first place. We belonged on opposite ends of the spectrum, and that’s exactly where we’d return. Her car felt warm even with the engine off. I saw her shadow through the back window, pacing.

I wasn’t innocent. Sure, I’d tell people I was completely victimized; but even as it all unfolded, I knew I was to blame. Without me, Shawn would probably be happy with Mark, and Kate would be doing something other than having rebound sex. Maybe she’d be going after Ray. Maybe she’d grab his new girlfriend by the roots of her hair and break her back against a wall. Kate was the strongest woman I’d ever met. She could have carried this car home on her back if she got angry enough to do it. I couldn’t imagine her having the sort of sex she was having with me without a certain amount of rage. I could hear feet crunching on the snow outside, behind me. Her reflection in the rear window gave away nothing.

She hung up the phone and walked to the driver’s side of the car. The door creaked open and slammed shut. There were goose bumps on her arms. She cracked her neck to one side. Still, there was no way I was speaking first.

“All right,” she said. “I guess I lost my own bet.”

“What?” In this moment, one word at a time was all I could manage. I know I wanted to explain everything to her before she had a chance to speak, but at the same time knew there was never a chance I had that sort of strength.

“Last night, when I kissed you, I thought that I had it figured out. I mean, sure, I’d been dumped, and yeah that fucking hurt, but I guess I always knew he had it in him to do something like that. Ray was just the kind of character where cheating was part of the package. I should have seen it coming, dating a guy like that, living with him. It didn’t matter to him; he could cheat on you and leave just like that. You still don’t see it coming and it still breaks your heart, but in hindsight, it makes sense. You know what I mean?”

Of course I knew what she meant.

“Anyways,” she said. “When I kissed you, I thought I knew you; I mean, in a way, I’ve known you for years, right? I never stopped to wonder if you’d changed. I just kind of took you at face value.”

I could see the whole thing coming. She wasn’t good at the long speeches. She wanted to call me a big fucking asshole and tell me to find my own ride home. She would have said the same thing back in high school.

“But people do change,” she said, “People do grow up and beyond what anyone might think they could turn out to be, right?”

I’d caught my breath, and remembered where I stood in my own big mess. “So what are you trying to say, Kate?”

She coughed, and started the car. She only turned on the heat, and I could immediately feel it on my toes. “I wish you had been honest with me, Scott.”

She sounded hurt, but it felt like I’d known what to say to this for years. “I’m sorry, Kate. But I’ve been a little windswept here. In the last day or so, you’ve completely blown my entire world apart. It’s easy for other things to lose their importance, you know? It’s easy not to mention something.”

“Oh, like your fucking boyfriend?” she said, blowing the fuse I hoped I would never see ignited. “How does that particular piece of information become completely lost in the course of one day? Huh? Explain that one to me, please!”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Shawn is not my boyfriend.”

“Sure, he isn’t now,” she said. “Not after you stormed out on him today and did what we did last night and tonight and oh, my God, I can’t believe you. You son of a bitch!”

She was screaming, but neither of us moved from our seats. We both knew there was so much more to say, and both of us knew that something had to be resolved. Shawn was lying to more people than I thought.

“Okay, fine, here’s some truth,” I said. “I am not Shawn’s boyfriend. I never have been. This guy Mark is Shawn’s boyfriend. Yes, I’ve been seeing Shawn, and it’s been happening for quite a while now and I thought he and I were really close. But that’s the thing. It was all sort of in my head, you know? He was just fucking using me, and today when I went over to his place, I pretty much made him choose between Mark and me, and he picked Mark. Do you know why I did that?” 

She shook her head.

I said, “Last night, I got caught up in the moment in a way I haven’t in a long, long time. You made me feel like Shawn had never made me feel. And you know what that is? It’s the knowledge that there is nothing beyond the surface. You didn’t sleep with me for any alternate reasons, you know? I know exactly what last night was and I’m fine with that because it was honest. That’s why I went straight to Shawn’s. I wanted everything to be as honest as possible.”

She relaxed, allowing her body to rest on the seat. “Is that everything?” she asked. “Is this you being as honest as possible?”

“I’m being honest, but I’m not even close to giving it my all. You know, for a while I even thought I was in love with him. Not lately – I’d been doubting the entire situation for some time, but it is like you said, right? Even if you do see something bad coming, you still convince yourself so deeply that everything will end up exactly as you’ve pictured it, and you believe it. Then it hits you that the one you think you love doesn’t love you back, is really just using you for whatever he needs at the time, and when it comes down to choosing who he really wants to be with, it’s the easiest decision in the world.” I flopped back in the seat, unable to find the energy to look at her reaction.

“I’m floored,” she said. “I really am. There’s absolutely no way I could’ve known you were this fucked up.”

“Yeah, well, same to you.”

We both sat there for a minute, just breathing the hot air. I couldn’t see out of the windows. The fog was layered with more fog. If there were cops around, it was a miracle we weren’t busted for hot boxing or fucking.

Other than Shawn’s strange definition of our relationship, I really did think I had everything figured out. “I want you to say yes to something,” she said, calmly. “And I want you to say yes to it before you hear what it is.”

“Yes.” I didn’t know what I was doing, but her car was warm and this hadn’t ended up being an altogether horrible experience.

“And you can’t go back on it,” she sat up in her seat, “I mean, you could, but it would be really fucking lame of you.”

“Yes, I said.”

“I want you to stay with me for a week,” she said. It felt like an anticlimax. For a second I thought she’d want all of us to fuck or something in order to get it out of our systems.

“Of course,” I said. “That’s no problem.”

“And I don’t want you to see Shawn during that time.”

“I don’t want to see him again, ever,” I said.

“That’s very sweet, Scott,” she said, taking out her compact to apply some lipstick. “But we both know you will. Still, I think you can go a week.”

“It’s really no problem.”

“Actually,” she added. “I don’t want you to see anybody this week. I mean, go to work and do all the things you need to do. Just consider my home your home. Don’t go home. Don’t go to things you can cancel. Get out of your book club or whatever.”

“I’m not part of a book club,” I sneered. “What if I had a dog?”

“Do you have a dog?”

“I have a goldfish.”

She took a long breath and let it out. “I want you to let it die, Scott. I want your goldfish to die because you were too busy fucking me.”

I was never particularly high on the damn thing anyway. “It’s just a goldfish,” I said.

“So that’s a yes?” she asked.

“For the seventh time.”

Kate turned on the radio. More dance music. I kept agreeing with her, thinking how this was all going to work out. This would be the beginning of something I’d wanted longer than anything else. Somewhere, mostly in places where the idea of my spectrum rang loudest, I knew that in no uncertain terms I had allowed myself to be happy.

Read chapter 7

No Chinook, Chapter 5

No Chinook is my first book, oriiginally published in 2008.

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I had learnt I’d been accepted to the University of Calgary almost a month before I told Carly. I’d have to move, and in that, I saw the collapse of our relationship. For not one moment did I understand why Carly was with me to begin with; I’d figured it was proximity luck. To put myself at any distance would challenge Carly to sacrifice something, and she was not the type to do so for other people. Anyways, she found the letter, stashed underneath some papers, and was the first to congratulate me. Carly knew it was the best thing that could ever happen to me, and there was no way that I should think of anything other than attending. She said not to worry about her. She said she’d be fine.

For the first hundred feet past Shawn’s front door, I thought he might be following me. I didn’t look back because I would feel weak, but after three blocks I couldn’t stop myself. Behind me was an empty sidewalk with lazy shovel marks.

It was after I started walking again that I began to cry. Eventually, I got on the LRT and broke down. The last time I’d done this, I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again, but I was never any good at New Years’ resolutions. I was pretty pathetic when it came down to it. There, in the spaces between thinking about how much of a bastard he was, I imagined all the times the magic had gone out of my life. There were so many momentous deflations, though I’d always attributed them to my spectrum. As long as I could punch a life experience into one end of the dial, I could fragment and control it. It happened for a reason, and things would even out. Even in my sad little state of bawling my eyes out on public transit, I knew that what had just happened made all the sense in the world.

I missed my stop and decided to keep going. I got off on 17th street and found a corner store. I had nothing to do at home but cry into a pillow, so I decided to go buy some cigarettes instead.

The place looked like it had been broken into three times in the last week, but then again most mom and pop places in Calgary looked like this since they’d stuck a 7-11 on every other corner.

“Can I get some cigarettes?” I sounded so fucking lame. It had been a while since I’d done this. I’d forgotten what kind I liked.

The small old woman across the counter just smiled like a grandmother who’d just caught her granddaughter stealing a dollar from her purse. I figured she’d inadvertently embarrass me by asking which brand I’d prefer, but instead she simply reached behind her and grabbed a small red and white pack labelled extra, extra light.

I gave her a ten, and she gave me my change and said “hank you” in the sweetest tone. Then I asked for a lighter, and she almost laughed.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” she said. “And don’t say ‘it’s for a friend’, because I can tell it’s for you.”

“Yeah,” I said, “First time.” It was half true, anyway.

This old lady opened the pack, and put one in her mouth. “Do what I’m doing,” she said through her teeth. I grabbed one and held it in my lips. “Hold the lighter like this,” she said. “So that you don’t burn yourself.”

We both had tiny blue lighters and I imitated her as best as I could, but I dropped the smoke. It landed on the glass counter. I was glad there weren’t any junior high kids watching this.

“You’re really no good at this,” she said. “Maybe you should try quitting.”

“Nah,” I said, smirking for the first time since this morning with the muffins. “I’m being bullied at school and if I smoke, people will think I’m cool.”

“I’ve been there,” she said. She couldn’t have been less than sixty. “So just make sure you practice at home. And don’t let your parents catch you.”

After a second of wondering just how serious the other was, I thanked her and walked around to the side of the building. I leaned against the fake plastic siding, and re-lit the smoke I’d dropped at the store. For a moment, I looked at the end of the cigarette, trying to see some truth. I focused so hard on the small flicks of bright red because I thought I’d see some image of Shawn as he should be, or a glimpse into Kate’s mystery, or Carly being less of an uncontrollable fireball, or me being someday capable of getting through a situation without crying on the subway. I concentrated so hard on every hope I had and made a series of stupid wishes.

I thought about kids from school with scars on their forearms, and how stupid it seemed back then. I thought it was a cry for attention. Maybe it was, but I wished so much to be away from my thoughts that I pulled back my sleeve, turned the cigarette upside down, and cringed as the tip came into contact with the back of my bare forearm. I collapsed and sat against the store wall, wallowing in my self-inflicted pain. I was not made for this sort of abuse. The spot I had stabbed was a lesion of burned flesh, a stabbing reminder that I’d learned nothing.

The burn hurt longer than I thought it would, but it did the job. The only thing I could think of at the time was how empty I felt, how drained of power. I came to the conclusion that I really was weaker than most people. As I saw the last speck of red drop off the burn, I knew I had spent too long on one end of the spectrum, and it was time to cross over.

If I wallowed a little while longer, it might guarantee a level of happiness later that I might not otherwise achieve. Something had to happen to even all this out. I knew I couldn’t feel like this forever, because all misery had to be paid off. 

My phone rang. I thought it might be Shawn, but it wasn’t.

As soon as I answered and heard Kate’s voice, half the pain went away. But I wasn’t really sure at that point what took its place.

“I got off work early,” she began, sounding like she was walking down the same street whose wall I was backed up against.

“Where are you?” I asked. I almost asked ‘who is this,’ but I didn’t think she’d appreciate it.

“I’m just coming from work. I couldn’t wait to call you.”

After what happened today, it felt really good to hear that someone couldn’t wait to call me.

“Do you want me to meet you at your house?” I asked.

“No, I’ll pick you up. I’m driving,” she said, sounding great. “So the question is, where are you?”

“I’m on seventeenth,” I said. “Just outside of the LRT there.”

“That’s scarily close to where I’m at,” she said. “What are you doing there?”

“I missed my stop,” I said. “I was going to get back on, but you called.”

“Good thing I did,” she said. “I’ll be there in like, three seconds.”

She hung up. I wondered what to do with the smokes. I saw a guy coming toward me with a cigarette in his hand and I tried to give them to him, but he waved me off without even looking. A second guy did the same. They must have thought I was homeless. My hair was a wreck. My jacket was dirty. I threw the pack of smokes in the trash. I didn’t smoke, and maybe with Kate I would have no reason to use them for any other misguided purpose.

As soon as I hung up, the burn began to hurt again, so I tried to keep my mind on Kate and all the unanswered questions surrounding her. Kate pulled up and smiled as I got in. Then she kissed me and we drove off. She looked refreshed, whereas I could still feel all my new wounds. 

She didn’t immediately notice the raw circle on my forearm because I hid it from her.

“You want to go out somewhere? I know a few places,” she said. I didn’t know if that meant food, dancing, or something sinister.

Read chapter 6

No Chinook Chapter 4

No Chinook is my first book, oriiginally published in 2008.

Read No Chinook on your ebook reader or cell phone:

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This one night in July, back when I was with Carly, she drove twenty minutes west, outside of town on the Trans-Canada. She killed the power on her bike and we snuck into a wheat field. We had to walk sideways through the first section because the lanes were so thin, but when we got to a clearing in between lanes: she motioned me to lie down. I’d ask all these questions, bullshit teenager questions about life and the universe. She had answers to all of them. 

To Carly, the sky was a prison door, keeping us all in. We were all here because at some point in time, each and every one of us had done something wrong somewhere else. Like in Dante’s hell, she’d say, some of us suffered more than others, but we all hurt in some way. The point of life, according to Carly, was to snatch the moments that didn’t hurt and hold on to them no matter what the cost. To her, the stars were always teasing.

Carly would fill my head with all these negative ideas about the world and then light some wheat on fire. We would both stare silently into the crimson flames until she said, “See? Suffering. Even a kiss can hurt. Even sex can be deadly. Even paying your taxes can sponsor terrorism. All the great and wonderful feelings we’re promised in this world can hurt us more than a shark or gun or tsunami.” Even then, I knew these were messy philosophies, and if left unchecked would result in a bitter collapse of truth and beauty. I wondered if she said all that stuff so that kissing her would be the only thing that brought me any real joy.

Carly drifted off in a fog as I came back to the present. It was the next morning, and there was dried blood on my lips. I was in a bed I’d only met the night before. The sheets on top of me were purple, making it hard to figure out exactly where the bruises were. I had a cramp in my left leg. My chest felt collapsed. My wrists felt as if I’d written six novels. Even the roots of my hair hurt. As I opened my eyes, I winced. My wide-open eyes triggered each of these individual pains instantly.

Kate must have been downstairs or gone. It took me a minute to sit up, and a few more to get my pants on. I took the stairs one at a time, down to the living room with the busted chair and the yearbook on the table, through the narrow hallway to the kitchen, where I found Kate reading an old issue of Maxim.

“I got muffins,” she said, smiling but not getting up. On the table, there was a box from the coffee shop. I reached in and grabbed something resembling a blueberry muffin, sitting down on the other chair.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Better,” she said, as if her confidence had a voice of its own. And, as if her ego had its own voice, she asked, “How are you feeling?”

“It was the least I could do,” I said. “I mean, I think this makes me a pretty good friend. I haven’t held your hair while you puked after a keg party or anything.”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve never done a keg stand.” I laughed, but she was dead serious on this keg stand issue. She put her magazine down and bent over, her elbows touching her knees. “Don’t write this off as a bullet in the line of duty, punk. You wanted it just as much as I needed it.”

I didn’t know how to answer her, so I just tore some muffin off and chewed. The thing was, I was always conflicted when it came to the right way to go. It didn’t know whether to accept this recent stroke of luck and go with the girl I had pined over for a few weeks at the end of high school, or to see it as some kind of a sick test.

Sex changes things in ways it always shouldn’t. Last night, I felt so much longing for Shawn; he was never out of my head until Kate kissed me. This morning, all I could think about was this woman reading a boys’ magazine and eating cheap muffins in her pink housecoat and ponytail.

“You’ve finally got a ponytail,” I said. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you with one since high school. You remember back when that’s all you did with your hair?”

“Please don’t remind me,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “And don’t change the subject.”

“What were we talking about?”

“Let’s get this out in the open right away,” she said, kissing me quickly. We both tasted like blueberries. “I didn’t want you to leave today without me talking to you about this.”

“About what, Kate? Last night? I understand the whole thing. You don’t have to spell it out for me.”

“Not last night,” she said. “Tonight. I want you to stay tonight, too.”

This was the moment when it all changed between Kate and me. More importantly, though, it changed how I had to think about Shawn. Having re-met Kate, reminisced with her about our lives, consoled her failed relationship, and even having sex with her hadn’t change the course, really. In my head, I had cheated on Shawn with Kate, but all that it had done was make us even. I had still felt I belonged to him. But now I wasn’t so sure.

“Yeah,” I said, “I’ll be here tonight.”

Kate smiled and stood up. “I’ve got to run,” she said, “But I couldn’t go until I was sure.”

“Work?” I said.

“Something like that,” and she kissed me again.

“I don’t have an extra key,” she said, suggesting that I should leave with her. In a moment, I was standing on her doorstep kissing her goodbye, wishing her a good day, and watching her drive off. She offered me a ride to the LRT, but I told her I liked taking the long way.

I thought about finding a way around Shawn’s place. I really had nothing to do today other than start the newest column, but I didn’t want to see him. I could simply walk north a block and turn back at the main street where the LRT was. Going south would be just as easy. But, as I walked towards his place, I neglected to turn. I didn’t avoid his street. I was no longer just the guy Shawn was seeing. I was the guy who was seeing a girl living near Shawn. It was all in my mind, but as Kate said, why not?

Whatever I had been worrying about vanished the second I noticed that Mark’s stupid van wasn’t in the driveway. As soon as I was close enough to see its absence, I felt happier. Even after thinking through so many scenarios last night, I still had no practical idea as to how the confrontation would happen. But maybe it wouldn’t happen at all, now that I was sort of with someone else. Maybe it would be fine.

In fact, no cars were in the driveway, which was strange for a house full of people in this city. Sometimes it seemed like everyone had one. I couldn’t tell if there were any lights on, so it was possible that nothing would come from knocking. Still, I knew I had to. I had to be honest with Shawn if there was any chance of it working. I knew, as I had known since Carly, that it was always best not to make the same mistake twice in the same night. It took about a dozen knocks before Shawn came to the door. We hugged and I came in. He was wearing his blue robe; it made him look posh, even though he hadn’t shaved in a few days and had bed-head. He was still sexy in a gruff way, and I followed him into his bedroom and plopped onto his bed.

“Good morning,” he said, kissing me and touching my hair. “No gel today?” I shook my head. “Well, aren’t we daring? I thought I told you that you always needed something in your hair?”

“You know, I’m not about to obey everything everyone tells me,” I said, trying my best to sound defiant.

“Sure,” he said, “Whatever you say. Still, your hair is a mess without something governing up there.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “And compared to yours? Can you really say anything?”

“The difference is that you’ve been out of the house and I haven’t. I’ve had no audience to make up for.”

“Like the guy walking his dogs down the road over there?”

he kissed me to get me to shut up. I rolled onto him and began kissing his neck when he pushed me off and said, “Shit. Shit! I forgot to call the model.”

“What model?”

“The guy who was supposed to come into the class today. It was cancelled, but I never called him.”

“Is he cute?”

As he rummaged through his clothes on the floor in search of his phone, he said, “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“If he his, maybe I’ll sit in on it,” I said. “Or sit on it.”

“Don’t be cute,” he said. “This is serious. If I don’t call him at least a few hours before the class, he’s going to be pissed, and we need him.” Shawn jumped up as he found the phone, dialling. I plopped down on his bed and waited.

“Hey, Damien? Yeah, sorry man. Fumigating. Yes. They’ve got to do it every now and then. Low ceilings, yes, exactly. Can you make it in next week though? Same time?”

It’s not like Shawn’s bed was ever really made, but it seemed to be more and more unmade after Mark every time I came over. The sheets felt rough and dirty, and none of the filth was mine to take credit for. 

“Great. You’re my favourite guy, Damien. You know it. Thanks,” Shawn said, hanging up and tossing the phone back into the pile of clothes. He came back to the bed and kissed my nose. “So,” he said. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Well, it’s a really funny story, actually,” I began, but right then Shawn’s phone rang and he excused himself to the other side of the room to talk business with someone wanting to do something complicated and long-winded with a tuba.

Shawn usually wasn’t this busy around me, but then again, when I’m around the lights are off and the moon is out. I didn’t usually see him like this, with a phone glued to his ear, checking off errands. 

In a few minutes he came back and said, “Sorry, that should be it for a while, anyway.”

“It’s no problem,” I said, “I like seeing you work.”

“You like seeing me work on you,” he said, looking around, noticing how dirty the place was, and deciding that instead of sitting with me he should tidy up a little.

“That too,” I said.

“What were you saying before? About why you were close to my place?”

He was only half-focusing on me, concentrating on cleaning.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “Are you expecting company? I can come back some other time.”

“No, just, I guess I feel like I need something to do, right now.”

“You were with him last night,” I said, playing with the bed sheet. He threw some clothes into the hamper halfway across the room, and tried not to look too guilty.

“Is that why you came?” he asked. “I told you before. You can’t push me.”

“No, that’s not it.” Maybe half of it was to do some fighting, even though I had a smaller box of ammunition than before. I was stupid, I knew it, and it had to be best to drop everything and not press on. “I’m sorry, I guess I just get jealous. Forget it.”

“I can’t forget it,” he said, sitting next to me and touching my shoulder. “I have to deal with this every time I see either of you, and it hurts. It hurts because I don’t know what to do. I thought I did, but I don’t. I’m sorry.”

He had never told me this before. I thought of collapsing, ripping off all my fingernails, exsanguinating. I put serious thought into how deep the glass would tear into my skin if I were to lunge at the second-story window. I had made horrible mistakes in life, and all of them had to do with trusting my own assumptions. They were never right.

Had he ever told me he preferred me? Had he told me he was leaving Mark? Had he told me anything I could use as a factual basis to our future? I wanted my eyeballs ripped from my sockets to prevent me having to see him in this moment of uncertainty. Having him right in front of me, inches from my nose, made uncertainty much more inescapable, and much more painful.

I used to think that all of my rage stayed inside, bubbling up to reach a point when I could not take anything else. I used to think I was one of those people who was like a giant black pot above an ancient fireplace, cooking stew. That stew was everything I harboured inside, feeling I was unable to communicate like a mature adult. I pictured an old hag there, stirring the stewing hatred until she lost control and it boiled over, covering the creaking wooden floors with a sticky mess that would take her all night to rub clean.

And while this was true to an extent, I knew my stew pot wasn’t full. I had taken my entire relationship with Shawn in stride and never once showed a lack of trust in his word. Someone else had filled it once before, back in high school before I met Kate, and I could feel there was still plenty of room in me for understanding and compassion and understanding. That’s why, when I began to scream and shout and run around Shawn’s room, offering an ultimatum I never really considered giving, I realized I was not the kind of person that had a giant black pot inside them.

“I can’t believe you don’t know yet,” I said, pacing in a fit. “How long have I been here, in your room? How many times have we been together, huh? How many times have we fucking made love, you asshole?”

“Calm down,” he said, getting up and trying to hold me. I was having none of it. I continued to point and pace and wreck myself.

“Fuck, man. In my head I’ve been with you for months, and now you just lay it out there casually that you don’t have a clue what you’re doing? Like I knew what you were doing? I didn’t know for five minutes what you were doing! You were with Mark, then I came along, and you liked me better, right? If you hadn’t liked me better, there was no fucking reason for you to waste your time with me. I thought you hadn’t broken up with Mark yet because you lack fucking confidence or timing or strength or someone else to do it or what the fuck ever. I could never figure that out, before, but I guess now I know, right? You haven’t broken up with him yet because you just don’t want to. Is that about right?”

“It’s not that simple,” he said.

“Isn’t it?” I asked. “I realize this whole thing is complicated. But my question is easy. Unless you really do know nothing at all, but then all those fucking brilliant things that come out of you are just recycled pieces of garbage you get from lectures. Is that how it is?”

“No, not exactly,” he said, tugging at my shirt. “Let me explain.”

“No,” I screamed, shrugging him off. “I’m really getting sick of your bullshit explanations, Shawn. So I’m going to say something I should have made clear at the beginning. I really fucking like you, and I thought we could work, but there is this one thing about you I just can’t stand. And you know who that is.”

He paused, and then, as dramatically as he could, said, “I know who that is.”

“Good,” I said. “Then you know what I want.”

I hadn’t come to do this, but there it was, anyway. The culmination of my frustrations with this stupid boy.

Shawn stopped trying to hold me and sat down to think. He did this sometimes, when something heavy hit him like a truck. He would just shut down and withdraw for a while. It was something I really liked about him, because I knew he was really listening and would take as long as he needed to figure something out. He wouldn’t ever give me the brush-off with anything this serious.

At that moment I felt terrible, knowing that I was putting this lover of mine in a difficult position, but it was absolutely the right thing to do. Facing the problem head-on, as fast as I could get it together enough to do so, always beat the idea of just letting things continue on as they were. Being with Kate the night before had given me a freedom I hadn’t felt in forever, and with that came the strength to do the obvious and the righteous.

I looked at my shoes and my hair fell over my eyes, and no amount of sighing or shifting seemed to hasten the process. Shawn just sat there, almost motionless, for what seemed like forever. I went back and forth wondering if he was spinning bullshit or fighting the truth. But the truth was simple, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t it be?

Finally, I had to interrupt. “This should be an easy answer.”

“Well,” he muttered. “It isn’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” I screamed, not a foot away from him. “What kind of fucked up math are you figuring out? You’ve already made your decision, haven’t you? Didn’t you make it that first night we kissed?”

“I thought I did,” he said flatly, and I looked at him with the kind of vulnerability I don’t believe I ever felt possible. 

He said, “But now, I don’t know.”

This is when I stormed out. There was nothing else to do in that room.

Read chapter 5