Lake on the Mountain. Jeffrey Round

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СКАЧАТЬ clock crept around to eleven. The numbers swam in his field of vision. It was going to be a long, slow morning. Dan rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t hit forty yet, and genetics said it was only going to get worse. Maybe he should stop while he was ahead. Take up a kinder, gentler career. Whatever that might be.

      Bob had left Dan enough money to finish university, but Dan balked when it came time to choose. He’d wanted a career that sounded impressive and might be helpful to others. But what was that? Bob had listened thoughtfully while Dan ran through the possibilities: doctor, lawyer, maybe even a minister. But, as Bob pointed out, Dan got faint at the sight of blood, hated debates, and didn’t believe in the existence of anything that could vaguely be construed as God-like. That seemed to cancel out his hopes in those areas.

      “Go for the money,” Bob advised, “but make sure it’s something you enjoy. Forty years is a long time to do something you don’t like.”

      Bob tried to steer him toward a vocation where he had aptitude as well as interest, but this proved elusive. Dan had mechanical skills, but the usual choices — plumbing and engineering — held little appeal. And while he had a love of cultural things, music in particular, he had no real artistic inclinations. What Dan knew and seemed to grasp instinctively was other human beings — how they interacted, what motivated and intrigued them. Human resources could always use good people, Bob argued, but discouraged Dan from a career that would cement him in the business world. He was too bright and restless to get bogged down in the corporate mentality.

      At the time, it made sense for Dan to attend the University of Toronto and stay with Bob. But then Bob died and his nieces and nephews sold the house. His future uncertain, Dan enrolled in a smattering of courses, hoping to ferret out his interests and potential skill sets shotgun style. He excelled in psychology and sociology but found the disciplines too wide-ranging to hold his attention for long. If he’d been asked what interested him most, he would have narrowed it down to the well-being of other people, but that hardly sounded like a career.

      In his second year, he chose a path with the impressive sounding label of Social-Cultural Anthropology, and then got sidetracked briefly by paleontology, thinking he might find himself tracking skeletons in the deserts of Africa. But the dream was more glamorous than the reality — the bone business was already overrun with various social misfits and wannabes who ended up running safari operations for tourists. In the meantime, university failed to stimulate him. He found the academic world labyrinthine, astounded to learn his fellow students might spend years pursuing such abstruse matters as the history of various disciplines without ever tackling the actual subjects.

      Ultimately, he didn’t take well to studying — possibly because Bob was no longer around to impress or because he’d just lost his home a second time. The centre of his universe hadn’t held once again, and it showed. His course advisor summed it up when she told him he had a piercing but restless mind, striking a similar chord to what Bob had said. His papers showed brilliance, but he folded on the exams. She hoped he’d do better.

      He might have, but something sidetracked him first. Whatever else those two years had given Dan, they’d brought the realization that university wasn’t for him. They’d also given him Kedrick.

      Five

      Kedrick

      Whitney Hall, Dan’s residence in second year, housed an interesting collection of humanity. He made friends with the staff, who quickly sensed his orphan status. One in particular, a talkative night porter, painted from midnight to dawn then packed up his artist’s gear and went home. But from ten p.m. to midnight, the artist held court. He’d established a cult appeal among the student body, having known celebrities and worked briefly as a bodyguard for an English movie star.

      Among his coterie was a young Syrian named Arman, who had a habit of wearing as little as possible around the residence. In deep winter, Arman stalked the halls like a restless lion, dressed in sleeveless T-shirts and loose-fitting sweatpants. The porter’s room was small, and Dan often found himself crowded in next to this silky-skinned Arab. One evening, bored or tired, Arman leaned his head on Dan’s shoulder. Dan flinched.

      Arman turned a cool gaze on him. “Afraid of being touched?” he asked, with his superior-sounding English accent and comically raised eyebrows.

      “N-no,” Dan stammered and felt his face flush.

      “G-good,” said Arman, and laid his arm across the back of Dan’s neck.

      Dan sat, paralyzed with self-consciousness, as the group dissected European political views in light of the Gulf War. Now and again someone would look up at the pair, with disappointment or envy, Dan wasn’t sure. After that, Dan attended the talks as much on the chance of seeing Arman’s honey-coloured skin and deep-set eyes as to hear the artist talk. Arman gave spirited debate on any subject under discussion, mesmerizing them with his accent and clear voice, receiving as much attention as the porter.

      At midnight, the painter made it clear his studio time had arrived. The group broke up reluctantly, lingering in the hall to protract the discussions, this taste of the larger world. If neither of them had an early class, Arman might return to Dan’s room, where the conversation resumed with Arman sprawled across Dan’s bed in his scanty attire. Dan secretly hoped something would throw them together, but if Arman harboured any desire for his new friend, he never showed it. He seemed content being admired from the far side of the room. For Dan, to have Arman’s exclusive company nightly had been enough at first.

      On weekends the residence emptied, the students going home or out of town. Dan stayed behind, having no place to visit and no invitations to take up. One Saturday, Arman arrived at his door with a slighter version of himself. He introduced his sister, Kendra, who was studying fashion at another institution. They were off to Chinatown for a bit of shopping and invited him to join. Dan hadn’t known Arman had a sister, let alone family in Toronto. He got the feeling she was a black sheep of sorts, which Arman later confirmed with various off-hand remarks letting Dan know he was ashamed of Kendra’s whole-hearted embrace of North American life.

      Like her brother, Kendra was keen-spirited and attractive. She made a habit of teasing Arman and quickly transferred that to Dan. That same day, over coffee, Dan asked her out, perhaps hoping to impress Arman or maybe to make him jealous — he wasn’t sure.

      They began to date. Dan didn’t fall in love with her and he was sure she wasn’t in love with him, but he was drawn to something behind the velvety eyes that looked purple in the right light. The first time they kissed — on the subway steps outside the Royal Ontario Museum — he imagined for a moment it was Arman he held in his arms and wondered if that was why he was attracted to her. Perhaps that was when he made up his mind to find out. If he couldn’t have Arman directly, maybe he could have him through Kendra.

      One evening, after too many pints at a local pub, he brought Kendra to his bedroom and, with her guidance, experienced the first and only heterosexual event of his adult life. Then she disappeared.

      Arman was vague when Dan inquired: his sister was busy, she’d been out of town, and no, he hadn’t seen her. As far as Dan could tell, Arman had no idea what had occurred between them. He continued to join Dan for their nightly “UN Conferences,” as they jokingly referred to them. Dan wasn’t sure how Arman would react if he knew how far his relations with Kendra had gone. When it came to family matters, Arman was surprisingly conservative. While he tolerated Dan’s interest in Kendra, he made light of it — the question of a future for them would never be in the picture.

      After another week, Dan began to wonder if he’d done something to offend her. Finally she called. She was fine but couldn’t see him, claiming an agonizing schedule. He pressured her, bewildered СКАЧАТЬ