that one out. I think it’s the ooh-la-la factor. It’s not chic right now to be buying perfume from a black man.”
“Are you saying they fired you for being black?”
“No. Not at all. They fired me for being out of fashion. Or maybe for not being Indian or Arabic. All the chi-chi jobs are going to Indians these days. It’s the accent. The Rosedale ladies love it. I’m Yesterday’s Girl.”
Dan pondered this. “You’ll get another job. You’re not too old. Just be glad this isn’t happening a decade from now.” He tried to sound convincing, but he knew it was the verbal equivalent of a pat on the back, the way he talked to Ked sometimes. Cookies and milk would have been more of a comfort. “Why not take a vacation? Get away for a couple of months. You’ve got money.”
“Thanks, but I wasn’t planning on going anywhere just now.”
“You’ll be more relaxed and in the mood to look for a job when you get back.”
“I’ll also be older. I’m in an industry where youth succeeds far more than a relaxed attitude.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change of career,” Dan said, trying to sound hopeful. “There’s always government.” In his mind’s eye he saw corridors thronged by men and women clutching briefs as they scurried about in search of political patronage — a helping hand, a meaningful pat on the back. The perks of civil servitude.
“I always said I’d kill myself before becoming a civil servant.”
“Well, then? What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got a nice gas stove here. I could stick my head in it.”
Dan heard the sounds of clanking pots on the chrome range in Donny’s well-appointed Jarvis Street condo.
“Maybe you’re right,” Donny continued. “I need to get out of the city. I’m currently looking from my prestigious penthouse window down over the panorama of our beloved Commonwealth of Gay. And it doesn’t add up to very much right at this moment. When did the world become so … colourless?”
“You and my assistant should get together.”
“I thought your assistant was a girl.”
“Never mind.” Dan cast around for something positive to say. “Look — you’ll find a new job. Maybe a better one. This will pass.”
“And this too shall pass.”
Dan thought of Trevor and his island. “You could always cash it all in and go live in the country where it’s green and smells at least halfway clean.”
Donny snorted. “And where would I cruise on a Saturday night?”
In the past twenty minutes the room had eased from late afternoon to an early twilight. A silvery light slipped through the partially opened kitchen door. Dan struggled for something to say. “Look, do you want me to come over?”
“No. Thank you.” There was a long pause. Then, “Would you miss me if I died?” Donny said, his tone casual, as if he’d asked Dan to pick up a pack of cigarettes from the corner store.
“What a question!” Dan said.
“I’m serious. Can you answer it?”
“Of course I can. And, yes, I would miss you a great deal. Probably until the day I die. Don’t do this to me!”
“I’m all right, really. I was just wondering.”
Dan heard more cooking noises. “Of course I’d miss you. For one thing, I’d have no one to laugh with over those sentimental old movies we watch after your fabulous dinners.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Donny said. “I was never sure if you realized we were supposed to be laughing at them. Anyway, I’m okay. I didn’t mean to alarm you. If it’s all right with you, I’m going to get on with my Nasi Goreng. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The answer machine yielded its final message. Dan listened twice to be sure he got the gist of it while anger twisted its tendrils around him like a strangling vine. Kendra’s voice cut through the stillness of the house as Dan imagined Ked’s future lying shattered on the tile floor like the glittering pieces of some rare Etruscan vase. This was what came from not choosing your friends wisely.
He was about to call Kendra back when he heard the hollow thud of footsteps on the outside stairs followed by a key in the lock. Ked stepped in looking gloomy, but with a rebellious glint in his eyes. He put his backpack down and glanced warily at his father.
Dan said, “I got a call from your mother.…”
“Yeah, and she didn’t believe me either,” Ked began.
Outside, a streetcar sizzled along the rails. Dan paused to take stock of the situation. “Let’s not start there,” he said. “I never said I don’t believe you. I haven’t even heard your side of things.”
Ked slumped against the wall.
“Talk to me, Ked.”
“Okay — I was listening to an iPod in the schoolyard….”
“Whose iPod?”
“Ephraim’s.”
“The kid I see you with sometimes after practice?”
Ked nodded without meeting his father’s gaze. “Anyway, when the police came….”
“How did the police get involved?”
“I don’t know, they just … someone called them, all right? I don’t know!”
His son was working himself up. Whatever he’d been through at school had taken its toll. “Take a breath,” Dan said. “And just tell me what happened.”
“They said they were going to charge me with possession of stolen property.”
“The police said this?”
Ked nodded.
“And where was Ephraim?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? You had his iPod.” Dan heard his voice getting louder. If Ked persisted in giving these two-second answers, he might explode. It could only disintegrate from here. He felt broken glass underfoot.
Ked’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I don’t know where Ephraim was. He loaned me his iPod and then he left.”
“And you had it when the police got there?”
Ked nodded. “Look, why would I have stolen property when you buy me anything I want? I already have an iPod and a Game Boy and a million other things, so why would you even think I would steal? Have some faith, Dad.”
Dan looked at his son slouching against the wall. He was torn between comforting him
