Chapter Four Fate
The irony was, I wasn’t even looking for him when it happened.
I was on my way out of the Sheppard–Yonge station.
It was full of people, but I was so far inside my head I didn’t notice anything until something got through to me.
Like a commercial jingle you hear a couple times and then it’s stuck in your head.
Only it wasn’t a jingle. It was footsteps: a specific, uneven rhythm of footsteps.
And I woke up in the middle of the station and whipped my head around.
And there he was, walking away from me toward the buses.
His hair was shorter, and he had his back to me, but I knew.
I shouted as loud as I could, “Eddie!”
He stopped walking, turned, and looked at me. And I ran across the concourse to him. He waited for me.
I didn’t know what to say. I was out of breath, though I hadn’t run far. I felt relieved. He was okay. Then I felt all kinds of emotional—overwhelming affection, fear he’d disappear again—I didn’t know what to do with myself.
His hair was darker than I remembered, almost brown. He wore ripped jeans and a spring jacket, not a winter coat, and he looked tired.
“I, um,” I said. “How’s it going?”
Real articulate, Porter.
“Okay,” he said. “You?”
“Yeah.” Just standing here trying to sound cool.
A lady with a rolling suitcase was heading straight toward us, and I touched his arm so he’d move to let her pass. I looked into his eyes. I was an inch taller than he was, and we were standing pretty close, and I realized I was still touching him, so I let him go.
“Uh, yeah,” I said. “Are you on your way to somewhere?”
“Just home.”
“Right. Do you...want to grab a coffee?” Which, I didn’t even drink coffee, and did I just ask him out?
“Sure,” he said. “Where do you want to go?”
He said yes!
“There’s a Timmies down the block.” If I’d had time to think, I would have picked somewhere special for our first...whatever this was.
I led the way. The station was too crowded for us to walk beside each other, and outside, there were too many people on the sidewalk. I kept looking back to check I hadn’t lost him again.
There was no line inside the Tim Hortons. I ordered a blueberry bagel with cream cheese and a milk. Then he ordered a hot chocolate and a BLT, and before he could get his wallet out, I told the lady behind the counter, “I’m paying for his too.” Because it was a date, right? I’d asked him out.
“You don’t need to,” he said.
“I want to. Okay?”
He didn’t seem offended, so I knew he was going to let me.
When the food was ready, I picked an empty table away from the front doors and the windows and the other customers because I wanted to say what I had to say in private—or as private as we could be here.
I took my toque off, and of course, my hair was sticking up everywhere, which I didn’t normally care about because I didn’t usually take my toque off till I got home.
So I tried to fix my hair without being obvious.
He’d started eating and didn’t seem to notice.
“So, how’ve you been?” I said. “Sorry—I asked you already. I...yeah. Trish left the lab. I don’t know where she is.”
“Neither do I,” he said casually and sipped his hot chocolate.
“What did you say?” Because I couldn’t believe what I’d heard.
“We broke up,” he said.
“Was it because of what I said to you?”
“It had nothing to do with that,” he said.
I watched him eat his sandwich, wipe his fingers clean on his napkin, and take a sip of his hot chocolate. My mouth might have been hanging open.
“What?” he said.
“Eddie, I’ve been looking for you ever since Trish left the lab.
I was okay not seeing you if I could ask her how you were, but then she left, and I had no idea.
I went to your place, but you’d moved out.
The person there didn’t know where you were.
You’re not on social media. I don’t know what your movies were called.
” I was blathering. “I couldn’t find you. ”
“Well,” he said, balling his napkin up in his hand, “here I am.”
“Where are you living now?”
“Shelter.” He said it like being homeless was no big deal.
“Shit.”
He shrugged. “It’s just till I find somewhere else.”
“I’ve got a couch you can crash on—till you find a place. It’s not the Park Hyatt, but it’s better than a shelter.” I didn’t hesitate. No way was I letting him go back to a shelter.
“What are you saying exactly?” he said.
“I’m saying I couldn’t sleep at night thinking about you staying there.”
“What are you really offering me, Craig?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“The last time we talked, I asked you a question, and you said you couldn’t answer because you had a girlfriend. You remember?”
“I remember,” he said. He said it seriously, like it mattered to him too.
“Do you have a girlfriend now? A boyfriend?”
“No and no. Are you single?”
“Well, yeah. I haven’t looked at anyone that way since the day I met you. I don’t think I ever will again.”
I’d never even admitted that to myself. But I’d said it out loud, to him.
He blinked. “Nothing like dropping something heavy like that onto the table.” He didn’t sound disgusted or angry. Just surprised.
“Would you put me out of my misery, Eddie? Please? If you’re not interested, say it, and I’ll leave you alone.”
“What are you asking me for? A one-night stand?”
“No. I want to spend time with you and not just for one night. I want to talk to you. I want to know where you went to high school, what your favorite color is, and what song you play when you’re sad to cheer yourself up.
I want to be with you. And I want to know you’re safe and nothing bad’s going to happen to you. Okay?”
I’d never been so honest with anyone in my life.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay what?”
“Let’s go to your place.”
Understand what happened to me right then. What he’d said knocked the wind out of me.
“Like, now?” I said, and I started to panic.
“Finish your bagel first.”
I hadn’t touched my bagel. I’d been too distracted.
“You’re not gonna change your mind in the next five minutes are you?”
“No. Maybe in the next ten.” He smiled with half of his mouth.
Was he kidding? Was he flirting with me?
I picked up the bagel and crammed the whole thing into my mouth.
There was a lot of it. It was the biggest bagel I’d ever eaten, and the cream cheese made it sticky, and it clogged my mouth, and I started gagging, so I drank my milk, but there was so much bagel it wouldn’t go down.
Then I was out of milk, and he handed me the rest of his hot chocolate, and I drank it, and I was chewing for what felt like ten minutes, which was how long he said he was willing to wait.
I finally swallowed the last of it and slammed the cup on the table like I’d won a drinking game.
“Wow. I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Let’s go,” he said.