I'm worried this is all about to explode on me. That's what I get for my sudden pathological need for truth-telling. The truth will set you free? Uh, more like the truth will ensnare you in its diabolical trap and slowly crush you.
Ow, my fucking head...
I don't know if it's meth withdrawal or all this supposedly healthy food Neea's been feeding me but I feel like hell today.
I check the boxes next to "Healthy Lunch" and "Drink Glass of Water" on the checklist Neea has posted for me on the fridge. Already checked for today are: "Good Night's Sleep", "Healthy Breakfast" and another "Drink Glass of Water". I leave unchecked a third "Drink Glass of Water", the two "Exercises" and "Reading," as well as "Healthy Dinner" and "Doing Something Creative". Neea and I will go for another walk, which will be one "Exercise" and I'll do some yoga stretches or something later for the other one. For something creative I'll just draw some stick figure mayhem in my notebook.
So yeah, I finally christened the notebook Neea bought me. For days I would stare at the first page trying to think of something brilliant to put there but nothing came. I'm not brilliant at the best of times, and lately isn't the best of times. Anyway, it was the stick people who came to the rescue. Page one ended up being a big swimming pool and waterslide with stick kiddies having all sorts of gruesome fun. Now I'm multiple pages into it and, while there are a few sort of cryptic and weird journal entries, it's mostly stick folks and their shenanigans.
And now my parents are coming to Victoria. It's only the second time since they brought me here I don't know how many months ago when they got me set up at Yvonne's place ready for university life. They were proud as punch back then but I expect it'll be a different story this time.
Do I tell Dad that he was right, that I should have lived in residence? Things would probably be very different now if I hadn't been so insistent on living off-campus so I could avoid having to try and fit in with what I figured would be an incredibly irritating assortment of first-years. Am I too cynical and smug for my own good? Whatever. I made my choices.
Today is what I would rate an average day in my recovery ordeal: generally feeling crappy, achy, irritable and depressed, interspersed with moments of feeling even worse. At least I've avoided one of my awful spirals into misery and anger, those emotional core-meltdowns that I can't seem to stop once they start. I know even at the time that whoever's on the receiving endâgenerally Neeaâdoesn't deserve my wrath, but I can't always control it.
They were supposed to come to town today, but Pat decided it was more important for them to have Thanksgiving dinner with my brother Kev and his family than to come here and, as far as they know, save me from drug addiction and potential Finnish-lady kidnapping. And, really, it makes perfect sense when you understand my mother's priorities. Kev comes first, obviously, then Kev's wife, Danielle, Danielle's entire family, followed by Kev's old hockey coach, Kev's business partner, Blake, and pretty much anyone Kev has ever met. After that comes Dan, first-born but of the three siblings, a distant second in value.
You'd think I'd come after Dan, but in reality it's probably more like: Gran and Gramp Guerin, Aunt Yvonne and Uncle Paul, Mrs. Thorwald next door, the doctor, the dentist, Gary who works on the car, a few more I haven't thought of, then, on a good day, me.
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One of the two servers for the catering company was a girl named Rebecca and she was quite hot, so Teddy was initially okay with the catered meal for Thanksgiving Dinner. Gabby was there too, of course, and looked amazing, but she was with a male friend named Sam. Teddy was annoyed by Sam's presence, but still, he was in a pretty good mood.
Seated according to Cassie's arrangement, they were boy-girl-boy-girl around the abundantly decorated table. To Teddy's right was Cassie and next to her, sitting at the head of the table, was Alan. To Alan's right was Gabby, then Sam, followed by Alan's business partner Sheila. Sheila's husband Devin sat at the other end of the table and then to Teddy's left was Cassie's old friend Bella.
Bella was in her late-fifties and had short, spiky hair coloured a surprising shade of burgundy highlighted with pale-yellow tips. Bella was a real estate agent and had helped Cassie buy and sell a few properties over the years, including the one they were in. She spoke with a husky voice and had a booming laugh.
Alan got the conversation going by saying how glad he was to have Teddy there with them.
"He's a busy young man now," Alan said. "He's just starting out his college career at Songhees, studying a bunch of things I don't understand, aren't you Ted?"
"Yeah," said Teddy.
"What kinds of things?" Gabby asked.
"Mostly Earth Sciences plus some math..." Teddy trailed off, assuming no one really wanted the details of his college course selections.
"What do you want to do?" Gabby asked.
"Not completely sure yet. GIS maybe, or seismology."
"That's earthquakes, right?" asked Bella.
"Good thing to get into," said Devin. "We're overdue for the Big One, aren't we?"
"Um, statistically I guess you could say that," said Teddy. "If you mean the Cascadia Subduction Zone, then yeah, we're well into the window of when another event could occur."
"You already sound like a scientist," said Devin. "Saying things like 'an event could occur' instead of saying 'we're completely screwed!'"
"On that cheerful note," said Sam, changing the subject to talk about a movie he'd seen earlier in the week.
It seemed like Sam had never met any of this group before besides Gabby but he was completely at ease. As he talked about the movie, though, Teddy felt like he was pouring on the charm in a way that seemed a little fake. Teddy also thought he was trying too hard with his tight white jeans and the scarf he wore all evening. If they were actually a couple, Gabby could do a lot better than this guy, Teddy thought.
The other server was named Greg. He was a lot older than Rebeccaâprobably into his fortiesâand though he did everything efficiently it seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. He announced without much enthusiasm that the first wine would be an Okanagan Valley pinot gris from Monkey Puzzle Vineyards.
"Nine degrees Celsius?" Alan asked.
"Yes indeed," said Greg, continuing around the table pouring a modest amount of the perfectly chilled wine into the narrower of the two large wine glasses in front of each guest.
"Serving this one a little above refrigerator temperature really helps bring out the character," Alan informed them. "Watch for notes of honeysuckle and poached pear."
"Keep going," rasped Bella as Greg was about to stop filling her glass. "Save yourself a trip!" Her laugh made Greg flinch but he managed not to spill any of the wine.
"Getting the pear," said Sam, head tilted back and a frown of concentration on his face. "Definitely."
Teddy was drinking iced tea with lemon. He was still nearly a year from legal drinking age. Rebecca asked Teddy if he'd care for wine.
"He's only seventeen," said Alan. "You okay with iced tea, Ted, or do you want to try the wine? We have some nice ones coming. Maybe a little taste of each? No one will tell!"
"I'm eighteen, Dad," said Teddy, then muttered "Um, sure. I'll have some wine please."
Trying the little splash he'd been given Teddy decided he preferred his iced tea, but he wasn't about to share that fact with the others.
Now Rebecca and Greg placed small plates in front of the guests, each with an identical arrangement of oddly-shaped, colourful little things at their centre.
"Cassie, this amuse bouche is exquisite!" said Sam, trying his, as if Cassie herself had been slaving in the kitchen for hours rather than Chef Kirsto who was actually the one putting these little wonders together. He and his wife Mila had done the food for Alan and Cassie's wedding and they'd catered for them a few times a year ever since.
Teddy had never heard of an amuse bouche but his high school French told him that this little tidbit was meant to amuse his mouth. It was, Greg had explained, a scoop of chilled foie gras in a cone of pecan and morel wafer with a drizzle of warm port wine and cranberry reduction. On Teddy's plate it looked like someone had murdered a tiny ice cream cone.
Rufolo the dog had found his way onto Cassie's lap and was enjoying some of the foie gras. He turned his attention to Teddy's portion, but Teddy blocked him with his hand. Teddy nudged the bite-sized goose liver ice cream cone onto the special little amuse bouche spoon, scooping up some of the sauce with it, and raised it carefully to his mouth. The flavours and textures were definitely interesting but Teddy refrained from joining the chorus of happy groans around the table. Instead he wondered how much each of those little bites cost. And wasn't foie gras cruel? After caviar it was pretty much the snobbiest food in the world. Why couldn't they just have had a turkey dinner like everyone else? Rufolo was staring up at him.
The small plates were cleared and the next course was brought out and Teddy's attention had turned fully away from the pretentious food toward Rebecca. She wore a simple white short-sleeved, buttoned top, a short black skirt, black leggings and shiny black shoes. Her straight dark brown hair was tied back in a loose bun and she looked sexy in a very professional way. He liked the way she moved too, deftly slipping things onto the table or off without disturbing the guests. She seemed self-assured and she was obviously good at her job.
Probably working for Chef Kirsto to pay her way through school, Teddy thought. Studying... medicine? No, literature maybe, or art history. He smiled at her whenever she looked at him and she smiled back.
Beside him Cassie was carefully wiping the pepper crust off a piece of peppered elk carpaccio so she could feed some more nibbles to the eager Rufolo.
"Teddy's getting to be quite the cook," Alan said as everyone was enjoying their carpaccio. "Aren't you Ted?"
All eyes turned to Teddy, who had no idea what his father was talking about. "Oh, uh, not really," he said. "I make a couple things I guess."
"He's just being modest!" said Cassie.
"What do you like to cook?" asked Gabby.
Teddy noticed Rebecca looking over.
"I dunno. Soup?" he said, shrugging.
God that sounded stupid, he thought. Soup.
Sure enough, no one asked to hear more about his mastery of everyone's favourite liquid meal. The conversation shifted to Alan's latest creation and Rebecca disappeared into the kitchen. Soon Alan started flattering Gabby on the "incredible work" she'd been doing with him in the studio.
"She's a wonder," he said. "I'll have a great idea and before I even get the words out she's doing it. She's completely in sync with me. I can't tell you how valuable that is to an artist."
Gabby smiled back at Alan. "Well, I just have to stand there, Alan. You do all the hard work."
She was being gracious, but she did make a pretty good point, thought Teddy. How hard was it to take off your clothes and pose while someone painted you? Alan, however, continued to pour it on.
"No, you have a gift! Believe me, it's rare to find a model with your talent."
Teddy glanced over at Cassie but she didn't seem to be bothered in the least by Alan lavishing attention on Gabby.
"It's because she's an artist herself," said Sam, beaming at Gabby. "She's going to be a star."
"She already is," said Alan, beaming even harder.
Oh god, thought Teddy. This was weird.
The awkward silence was broken by Sheila, leaning over to wipe some port wine reduction from Devin's lapel with her napkin and saying, "When will we be able to share this masterpiece with the world?"
"Two weeks," Alan said firmly.
"Can't wait!" said Devin.
"And what comes next?" Bella asked, speaking directly into the wine glass she was sipping from.
Alan brought his hands together, fingertips touching and said, "I always have a couple of ideas."
Teddy saw his father's eyes track Rebecca as she crossed the room with another load of plates.
Huh? Rebecca now?
As the dinner went on Teddy felt himself drawn deeper and deeper into a vortex of embarrassment. He watched as his father, with his wife right beside him, flirted shamelessly with Gabby and Rebecca, two young women whose combined ages were well short of Alan's.
The main course came out with an introduction by Greg: tender duck breast with apricot glaze, truffled potato purée and pan-roasted brussels sprouts with lardons, which, Teddy discovered, was basically bacon. Teddy ate most of it but barely tasted anything, longing for the meal to end so he could slip away from the table to his room. The ferry ride back to Victoria tomorrow morning could not come soon enough.
When dinner was finally done and the dessert plates were cleared, Alan proposed a toast to Chef Kirsto and his team. Kirsto came out and, along with Greg and Rebecca, took a bow and drank a glass of wine. Alan grinned then said "Coffee anyone? Tea?... Weed?"
Everyone laughed. "Weed!" roared Bella, and they all laughed some more.
"Seriously?" said Sam.
"Rebecca," Alan said. "Sweetheart, there is an antique wooden box to the left of the espresso machine. Would you mind bringing it here?"
Rebecca looked over at Chef Kirsto, who nodded. Teddy had no idea what was happening, but sweetheart Rebecca quickly returned with the wooden box. Teddy had probably seen this box on the kitchen counter a hundred times but had never once stopped to wonder what was in it. Alan opened it and carefully took out three square metal boxes, some rolling papers and a gold Zippo lighter.
"I think my son might be in shock," said Alan, chuckling. "Your old man isn't as uncool as you think, Ted!"
Teddy just stared. Kirsto excused himself, saying he had clean-up to do.
"What's everyone feel like?" Alan asked the guests "We have a beautiful sativa, a pretty amazing indica and a really great hybrid that's sativa-dominant but, for me, really hits the mark."
Teddy didn't need recreational drugs to make his head spin. That was already happening. He had assumed that habitual wine abuse and an over-fondness for pretty young women were his father's only vices. This weed thing came out of nowhere. Sativa-dominant? The fuck?
"What's the hybrid?" asked Devin, perking up for the first time all evening.
"Pearl of Wisdom. It comes from this brilliant grower up near Pemberton. I've been going to him for years. Since before it was legal!"
Alan chuckles at this admission of his criminal past, then, beginning to expertly roll a thick Pearl of Wisdom joint, continues. "This is so good you'll want to write a poem about it, Devin!"
Sheila snorted. This was apparently some sort of inside joke. Devin didn't laugh.
Teddy was verging on panic. The last thing he wanted to see was his father smoking weed. When Rebecca brought herbal tea from the kitchen for Gabby and Sam, Teddy stared pitifully in her direction as if she could help.
Throw me a lifeline, Rebecca. I'm drowning!
She just smiled.
"Kirsto!" Alan was now yelling toward the kitchen. "We blazin' yo!"
That was all Teddy could take. He got up from the table claiming to have a headache and left the dining room. He strode quickly down the long hall to his room, shut the door behind him and flopped onto his bed. He put in his earbuds, got out his phone and cued up a noisy post-metal track, cranking the volume enough to drown out every possible sound that might get through from the dining room.
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â D.B.