“What is her address in Parkdale?”
“What? Why do you—”
“Why don’t we pay your elderly mother a visit?”
You opened your mouth, but you knew not what to say. I tugged on your jacket sleeve, pulling you away from the exchange.
“Both of you pansy n_ _ _ _rs get out of my face and off the street.”
You think I didn’t notice but I did. And I do not judge you for that, Evan. The Boot barely had to raise his voice. He stated each word nonchalantly as if he were teaching two dogs to sit. I watched you, unable to form the words in your mouth. You couldn’t even step forward in protest. You just rocked slightly on the soles of your winter boots unable to bridge the gap between your self-image as a respectable citizen and the image of a disobedient Black man, which you had avoided all your life. We made our way back to my apartment, and you spent the rest of the day staring blankly at the wall in my bedroom.
What went on in your mind that day, Evan? What helped you continue to pretend along with me? How did we continue our disbelief?
We didn’t believe we were in danger when the so-called peacekeeping cops began their rounds along each street to ensure people were not gathering for another demonstration. In every house, shelves were being knocked over; televisions, computers and phone screens were being shattered. Cupboards were left empty. We didn’t believe we were in danger when the cops came into our apartment. Two cops were patting us down aggressively when another white man came in. His laced black boots were shiny enough that I could see the silhouette of my body, face flat against the kitchen wall, on its surface. Instead of riot gear, he wore a black bomber jacket with a heavy-duty zipper. Even as he barked orders to the cops, he was slick. Graceful.
“Where is their circuit breaker box?”
“In the stairwell, sir.”
“Good. Cut off their power.”
Sedgewick fell out of Fanny’s arms and began yapping to protect us.
“Sedgewick, come here!” Fanny cried.
The Boot kicked Sedgewick into a corner where he whimpered and shook.
The Boot slowly paced along the line of us, our hands on the wall, four queens fearing for our lives. You and I looked at each other, our cheeks flat against the wallpaper. What were you saying to me in your head that day, Evan? Our pressed palms were only an inch apart. If I could turn back time and touch your pinky with mine, I would.
“Where are your cellphones?” Before we could choke out our answer, another cop returned from the bedrooms with all four of our cellphones, placed them on the ground before him. He stomped them into LEGO pieces. With every stomp of his foot, I could feel this version of myself, this version of me, who once took selfies, who once posted statuses, who once promoted my drag shows online, who once had proof of my existence, shatter onto the floor under his boot. Photos. Stomp. Passwords. Stomp. Profiles. Stomp. Text messages. Stomp. Phone numbers. My phone. A phone to call someone. To call Nadine. To call someone. Anyone. I have no phone.
We didn’t believe we were in danger when the curfew then became a restriction on leaving the house at all.
“To buy food,” I said to a Boot when he asked me why Nolan and I were visiting No Frills on Parliament Street.
“You don’t have money,” he said confidently as he pointed to a long lineup near a bank ATM where none of the Others could access their funds. Nolan showed him the handful of loonies and toonies that you, Nolan, Fanny and I had scavenged for in every nook and cranny of the apartment. Enough to buy a loaf of bread, some peanut butter and a package of beef jerky was the plan. Anything that didn’t need refrigeration or heating. The Boot slapped Nolan’s palm with the tip of his gun and the change fell to the ground, rolling in perfect starburst lines from his feet.
“See? I told you, faggot. You don’t have money. Move along.”
Nolan moved to reach out for the change, but the gun blocked him. “I said move along.” Nolan’s jaw tightened in humiliation. We walked away from the cop, past two other cops tasing an Asian man off his bicycle, and I counted my blessings. My stomach grumbled on the walk home.
Nolan stopped at the sight of a large garbage bin and kicked a burned muffin tin still covered in overcooked crust. He picked up the tin, stared at it for a moment, then picked off some of the crust and ate it. He offered the tin to me and I joined in the feast. We paused. We both looked around in a brief moment of shame, then dug in deeper to a pile of plastic bags left beside the bin full of other people’s trash. We returned to you all with two unfinished water bottles, a half-eaten hot dog and a bag full of cherry pits with meat still hanging on one side of each seed.
Yet again that night, in the freezing cold and deafening quiet, all four of us gathered under several blankets and coats and tried to sleep. We lay widthwise on Nolan’s bed so that all of us could fit. I tried to make rings with my breath in the air. Fanny shifted constantly. Nolan suggested we sing songs together. We felt too weak to join in. You snored softly. We fought over who got to hold Sedgewick, since his tiny body held so much heat and petting him made us all less anxious about the things to come.
“Do you remember that ice storm that happened back in 2013?” said Fanny. We groaned, we shivered. “I remember breaking up with some loser who refused to wear condoms. I sent him and his dirty dick out into the slippery glass of the night and I locked the door. Felt good to let him slide and fumble his way home.” We laughed quietly.
Sedgewick was in my lap. I placed my hands on his warm fur and could hear his tummy grumbling. That’s when I felt the words finally come to my mouth. In my hunger, in Sedgewick’s hunger, I finally believed what Nadine had said.
“My loves . . .” I felt the void of silence. I measured the silence’s width, length and depth. I measured the words I was going to place in that void, unsure if they would fit.
“What is it, Kay?” Nolan said impatiently while tucking the edges of a blanket under his feet. Your soft snoring stopped and you came to.
I told them about our encounter with Nadine. What Nadine’s father knew. 72 Homewood. This person named Liv. I told them that at some point you and I were going to run and hide. I told them they needed to come with us or they wouldn’t be safe. We were in real danger, and we could be in danger for a very long time.
“No.” Nolan suddenly left the bed, and the blankets became two degrees cooler.
“What do you mean?” I asked. The remaining three humans and dog all shuffled together again to conserve body heat. Nolan shivered towards his closet door.
“I mean ‘no.’ No I will not hide. I will not hide. I will not hide. I will not hide.” He said it so many times it almost became a song.
“Nolan, please—” Fanny cried.
“NO! I have been told to hide my entire life. I. Will. Not. Hide.” He opened his closet door and began rummaging through his things.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing, Kay? I’m going out.”
“Don’t be a fool, Nolan.” Fanny held the top edge of the blanket under her chin in two fists. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.” Sedgewick whimpered under the covers in protest of the conflict between us.
“You know who’s the fool, Fanny? You, for keeping a dog in here, when we don’t have the means to feed it and we can’t even walk the damn dog in the night! Who the hell lets a dog shit and piss in the corner of a house?”