Flight of Aquavit (19 page)

easy manner, I guessed Marc Driediger was pop-

ular with his students. “So when did you next see

James?”

“Actually, I haven’t seen him since.” Marc held

up his left hand and thrust forward a chubby ring

finger with a simple gold band on it. He grinned,

setting his whiskers so close to his nose they must

have tickled him. “I don’t think Allan would

approve. But I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind,

just for old times’ sake.” Then he added, almost as

an afterthought, “If you see him, pass him a

hello.”

I left the campus wondering if I’d just wasted

my time. The theory that James Kraft was some

evil-monger playing havoc with Daniel’s life now

seemed full of holes. But then again, Marc

Driediger hadn’t seen James in a while. A lot could

change in two years.

148 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

I used the 25th Street Bridge to cross the river and

headed towards Colourful Mary’s. Daniel had

agreed to meet me at Mary’s for a late lunch. We

had a number of things to discuss. Although most

of the midday diners had departed, I chose a table

half-hidden behind a grove of overgrown philo-

dendrons in case Daniel was uncomfortable being

seen in Saskatoon’s only publicly admitted, gay-

owned and run restaurant.

Mary and Marushka had obviously spent some

time decorating the place in honour of the season.

The walls were covered in giant, plaster replicas

of every candy imaginable and the windows were

latticed with strips of faux licorice. The ceiling

was now slabs of fake brown wafers covered in

fake icing and fake candy sprinkles. It was what

I’d expect the inside of a gingerbread house to

look like.

Daniel was right on time, walking in only sec-

onds after I was settled. He hung up his coat and

scarf on a coat rack near the door. As he walked

through the restaurant, six eyes belonging to two

twentysomething trendy boys and one very obvi-

ous drag queen were sticking to him like glue.

Was I imagining it or was he sticking out his chest

and sucking in his tummy?

He settled himself, resplendent in a dashing

grey suit, on a chair opposite mine. His hair seemed

a little wavier than I remembered it last and I won-

dered if he was wearing a different pair of glasses.

These were silver rimmed. They matched his silver

belt buckle and silver watch. I was sure his other

glasses were gold rimmed. Hmmm.

Anthony Bidulka — 149

“I haven’t been here in months. I’m glad you

suggested it. What are the specials?” he asked

exuberantly, his cheeks still flushed red from the

outside chill.

I looked up at him, surprised by his ease.

Colourful Mary’s was a top-notch restaurant fre-

quented by all types. I don’t know why I expected

him to have never been there before. Oh wait—

maybe it was because someone with even a trace

of sexual ambiguity might stay away from a gay-

owned diner?

Just then Mary showed up with a smile that

contrasted beautifully with her dark skin. She

gave me a quick shoulder rub and sharp-eyed my

companion. “So hons, can I get you something to

drink?”

“Could I get a chai latte?” Daniel asked.

“Absolutely, dear, how about you, Russell?”

She gave me a look that said, “So who’s the guy?”

“Coffee please. Any specials today?”

“Marushka will be hurt if you don’t try the

meatballs in ketchup sauce—I’m not supposed to

call it that, but that’s what she uses as the base—

and I’m pretty sure there are two bowls of the blob

soup left.”

“Blob soup? Ketchup sauce?”

Mary crossed her eyes at us for effect. “I know

there’s some Ukrainian name for all of it, but it’s

unpronounceable for someone whose last name

doesn’t end in ski, ka or chuk, but experience has

taught me that the more unpronounceable it is, the

better it tastes.”

Daniel gave her a winning smile. “Bring it on.”

150 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

“Sure,” I agreed. “But do I get to request how

many blobs I want in my soup?”

“When it comes to food in this restaurant,”

Mary said as she headed away, “the only one with

any decision-making power is Marushka.” I

doubted this. Mary is half First Nations Cree, half

Irish and Marushka is Ukrainian—a feisty pairing

to say the least.

“I’m glad you suggested this meeting, Russell,

there’s something I have to ask you…and I’m not

quite sure how to do it. It’s about tonight.”

I was glad Daniel seemed to be over stewing

about the guy in the blue car, but I didn’t want him

changing his mind about my attending his office

Christmas party. “I’m still invited, aren’t I?”

“Well sure. It’s just that…I’ve been thinking

about this…and, well I hate to ask you this.”

“Just ask. We’ll deal with it once it’s on the

table.”

“I want you to bring a date,” he blurted out.

“A date?”

“A woman.”

Mr. Liberal who sauntered into a gay restaurant

and thought nothing of posturing for the boys and

boy-girls was back to showing his true colours. “I

don’t think I understand.” I did but I wanted him

to spell it out. I didn’t care how uncomfortable he

was with it.

“Russell, it’s just that…it’s my workplace and

it’s Christmastime and people don’t go to

Christmas parties alone and you’re too attractive to

be single at your age and I just think it would raise

less attention if you showed up with a woman and

Anthony Bidulka — 151

then no one would think anything weird about

why I know you and so I was thinking last night

that you could just…” He took a breath, “Just for

one night…”

I let him blabber on for thirty seconds more

before finally putting an end to it. I didn’t have the

time right then to decide whether I was insulted,

irritated or simply indifferent to his suggestion.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He seemed surprised.

“Okay.” I could give in on this one.

He moved his hand closer to mine, such that I

thought he was about to touch it but he didn’t. He

looked at me closely and said, “Thank you.” I

nodded.

“I may have found SunLover,” I told him.

“You do move fast, Russell, I have to tell you.

How did you do it?”

“Gays.r.us. Except the fellow I’ve met is going

under the nickname Sunny. There’s a good chance

SunLover could be using a different nickname, so

I’ve been keeping an eye on anyone in the chat

room who has any of the same attributes as the

man you met at Bare Ass Beach.”

“Okay. So now what?”

“Now we meet him and see if it’s the same

guy.”

“We?”

“Uh-huh. You’re the only one who can identify

him, Daniel. I can’t do this without you.”

“I…I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t know

if I can face him again. Especially if he turns out to

be Loverboy.”

152 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

I thought about this for a moment. “You may

not have to. All I need you to do is identify him. I

can do the rest.”

“How can we do that?”

“Just leave that up to me.”

“Here we go, hons,” Mary said as she deliv-

ered two bowls the size of woks filled to the brim

with a yellowish broth. Throughout the liquid

bobbed several blobs of a doughy consistency and

in various sizes and shapes. It smelled amazingly

good.

We thanked Mary and I caught a glimpse of

Marushka’s dewy red face as it peeked through

the diamond shaped glass in the door to the

kitchen. I winked and she smiled, reminding me

of one of those fairies…Merriweather was

it?…from
Snow White
or was it
Sleeping Beauty
?

“Mmm,” Daniel made noises of appreciation.

“My taste buds have just climaxed.”

I took my first bite. It was like the best chicken

noodle soup I’d ever tasted but without the chick-

en and with all the noodles balled together into

blobs. “Of course Sunny and SunLover may not be

the same person,” I said.

Daniel nodded mid-slurp. Good. I wanted him

a bit distracted while I brought up Plan B.

“I’ll keep watch in gays.r.us, but we’ll have to

do more. We obviously can’t go back to the scene

of the liaison in the middle of winter, hoping to

spot him there, so we have to come up with some

other way to find him.”

“Oh?” Daniel sensed a possible change in his

fate and stopped eating.

Anthony Bidulka — 153

“He’s a gay man. We have to go where gay

men go.”

Daniel’s lips tightened and his eyes narrowed.

“There’s that dreaded ‘we’ word again. Like

where?”

“Right here for instance—Colourful Mary’s.

Gay people frequent this restaurant. There’s a

chance he might show up here.”

“Oh, okay, I can do that.”

“And bars.”

“Bars?”

“Gay bars.”

He swallowed hard (no soup this time), his

resolve quickly weakening. “Gay bars?”

“Hot dance spots. Gay men like to dance.”

“Dance?” He seemed to be turning into a sim-

pering fool in front of my very eyes.

“There are certain stores gay men frequent.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And cruising spots.”

“Cruising?”

“Where guys pick up guys for sex.”

“I can’t do that!” he spit out along with a tiny

bit of blob.

I frowned. “You already have. Twice at least.”

This was unnecessarily mean, but maybe uncon-

sciously I was getting him back for the “bring a

date” thing.

“Russell, I am not about to start hanging out in

discos and dance halls and dark alleys!”

Discos? Dance halls? What decade was he liv-

ing in? Dark alleys? Well…okay, I’d give him that

one.

154 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

“Besides, it’s too much! How can we possibly

cover all that ground and expect to find one man?

The chances of our being at the same place at the

same time as SunLover is infinitesimal!”

I rocked my head from side to side. “If we were

living in Vancouver or Toronto or even Calgary,

I’d have to agree with you, but in Saskatoon I’d

say our chances are much better than infinitesi-

mal. And besides, it’s the only option we have.”

“I can’t do it, Russell, I can’t go to those places.

Suppose someone saw me going in or coming

out?”

“Coming out?”

“Stop it, Russell, I’m being serious.”

“So am I. You hired me to find these guys and

that’s what I’m trying to do. But I can’t do it with-

out your help.”

“No. I hired you to find Loverboy! And you

did. James Kraft is Loverboy. Why don’t we focus

on him? I know it’s him! We don’t have to go lurk-

ing about in parking lots and bars to find

SunLover! Let’s go after James Kraft!”

“James Kraft is in New York.”

That stopped him short. “What?”

“I just found out last night. James Kraft is liv-

ing in New York City.”

Daniel was quiet for a moment, contemplating

this new information. Finally he said, “That does-

n’t mean he can’t be Loverboy, does it?”

I had to agree. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Then go get him!” he said, slapping a palm

against the tabletop and trying, unsuccessfully, to

restrain his voice.

Anthony Bidulka — 155

Mary gave us a glance from where she was

chatting up a table of adoring baby lesbians, but

other than her, no one seemed to be paying us

much attention. “Daniel, calm down. Think about

this rationally. You’re only focusing on James

Kraft because he’s the easy target and because you

don’t want to step foot into a gay bar!”

“Yeah, so what? So what’s wrong with that?

And sometimes, Russell, and I know this from my

work, just because an answer is easy, doesn’t

mean it’s not the right one.”

“How were the blobs, boys?” Not a question

you hear every day. Mary was back with two

plates covered with meatballs in a creamy red

sauce and a hunk of heavy looking brown bread.

She exchanged the soup bowls for the meatball

plates and left without further interruption. She

knows when to leave her patrons alone.

“Daniel,” I said, lowering my voice a few

notches below the last time I’d used it, “I agree

with you. And we may have to go after James

Kraft in New York. But there are some steps we

can take right here at home that are more obvi-