#2pigs

XXXX

Edward had unceremoniously kicked them out, most likely because Étienne, who had been trying to help in the frantic cleaning, had managed to drop the soap down the stairs causing them to turn into some sort of soapy waterslide, and Edward’s eyes wide, had said, “RIGHT! You and Calvin are going shopping for the things we will need, now.” Étienne could hardly look at Edward feeling like a fuck up once again, especially when he caught a glimpse of him towels in hand cleaning up the mess that Edward refused to even let him help with.

He had been trying to make up for the night before, where after an evening of TV where Étienne had felt the words between them widening into a chasm, stretching out across their only link, Calvin, who kept commenting upon the television shows, comfortably sitting between them, his words an endless patter filling the words that Étienne found himself swallowing, words which usually kept hidden so well wanting to spill out like too much rainwater from the barrel, where the small slips of before were opening up a dam of words that wanted to continue to spill until he was empty of them. As he lay in the guest bedroom alone, the words swirling around him a dark tidal force trying to pull him down back under the wall of silence, he found himself getting up, slipping on his sneakers (freshly bought from the shopping trip on Whyte), and creeping out into the night, entering the peaceful backyard, the stars dimly shining above him, the ground fresh and damp, the lingering smell of rain bringing the scent of leaves to the fore, surrounding him in a cocoon of nature. It was dark, but in the city never dark enough that one could not see where things were. He wandered over to the closed chicken coop, and opened it, entered and then closed the gate behind him, feeling ridiculous for this. No doubt the chickens were safely sleeping, dreaming of bugs and cheese.  Sitting on a conveniently placed log, he sat there, staring up at the stars, listening to the breeze in the cool night air, trying to let the words fly away, let him lay down and rest.

His contemplation had been ruined by the swarms of mosquitos descending upon him, and later as he lay in bed scratching and hating his life, he wondered why he had stayed so long. He should leave, book his flight and get out of there.

Which had been his full intention, but after a rather hasty breakfast followed by Edward informing them that they had to help clean the house up before the others arrived (not even explaining who was arriving), they had been roped into the roles, until Étienne managed to fuck up even cleaning. There hadn’t been time for him to even look up flights.

“Where are we going?”

“Shopping,” Calvin said unhelpfully as he backed the truck out.

“Why is your garage so large – there is literally room for two more trucks,” Étienne asked, his mind wandering.

“One.”

“One?”

“Yeah.” Calvin grunted as he finished backing out into the alley, and began to get them onto the proper path.

“Calvin, that fits two at least.”

“If you’re counting in the size of Ed’s tiny ass truck, honestly not sure why he keeps that ancient thing, pretty sure it’s 99 percent replacement parts by now,” Calvin laughed.

“You’re talking as if you know what truck goes there,” Étienne stated, looking at the other man curiously.

“Mmm yeah I do, it would be weird if I didn’t? Seeing as I helped design and build this place? Of course I would know what goes where,” came the amused response.

“Whose truck goes there then?”

“Mac’s of course,” Calvin said.

“Mac- oh right. Why does he have his own garage spot in your house?” Étienne asked, “Can’t he park out front?”

“Leave his baby out front where vandals could appear? You kidding me? That truck probably cost more than our house with how many upgrades and shit he did to it, sure it can probably climb a mountain no problem while fighting a bear simultaneously, but it’s still his baby and when he is in town he prefers to park it in the garage.”

“How could a truck fight a bear?”

“You clearly have not seen his truck, when you do you’ll understand.”

“Why would I be seeing his truck? I’m not going north to see him, I barely know him.”

“He’s coming to us,” came the casual comment.

“Coming to us?”

“Étienne, it’s August Long, he’s coming down with Caroline and we’re gonna have a BBQ and do some fun things-”

“Wait, doesn’t that mean I’m taking up space, I mean I’m in the guest room, you should have told me so I could leave, where will he and Caroline stay?”

“In his room, duh,” Calvin said as if it was super obvious, “His room is in the basement.”

“His room? Basement—ooooh is it that one with the really obnoxious bed?”

“Been snooping eh?” Calvin shot Étienne a sly smirk, “but yes, that’s his room.”

“What about Caroline?”

“What about her?”

“Where is she going to sleep?”

“Étienne, you do realize you do not own the house you have been sleeping in, and you are unnecessarily worrying about things Ed and I have covered, right? Anyways, she’s obviously sleeping with Mac.”

“Why?”

“Because they are together?”

“Wait what?”

“They’ve been together for a while, but I suppose, you just never knew and that’s fine, probably wasn’t a relevant topic of conversation at the time.”

“…but why does Mac have a permanent room in your house?”

“Eh, it’s his E-town crash pad, he lives up north obviously, and it was silly for him to have his own house down here, so me and Ed don’t mind him living with us every now and then, plus, he usually is so grateful he ends up buying groceries for the month or something, it works out. It’s nice having family close by too, y’know, catch up in between the gaps,” Calvin explained, “Sometimes get too busy working to enjoy the others’ company.”

“True…” Étienne thought of his family back home, his mind shifting to the rather strained relationship between him and Samuel, the awkward Christmas dinners, which he had only been showing up to recently because Élyse kept dragging him there. Dinners which when he had better company he liked to skip, but sometimes, when things were as they were, he did go to them with Edward, who oddly got along with Samuel. He could never figure it out, but after the first awkward meeting in the kitchen, when Samuel figured out that Edward actually could cook there had been some silent acceptance on his part. Those meetings had always occurred at Jacques’ place, who was the better older brother, who every now and then wanted the family near him, invited them over for Christmas, allowing them to bring a plus one. Samuel sometimes took someone, more often not. Étienne, hell, he could remember the reason for bringing Edward in the first place, it was because he had fucked up, he had forgotten about the gathering, had promised Edward that they could spend Christmas together and then panicking when Élyse reminded him that months before he had promised to actually show up at Jacques’ place.

However, when he had explained this to Edward, who had already shown up, hence Élyse reminding him, Edward simply shrugged and invited himself over. As if it was no big thing for him to go to some family gathering out east, saying he had meant to practice his French more anyway. It had been the late 80’s and after that… hell, how many had Edward ended up to? Jacques had even seemed to like him enough to encourage Étienne to invite him (he was not sure if Jacques wanted Edward or the Christmas Trifle that came with him), but it was later, after Edward had left him for Calvin, when Étienne had dragged himself to the event, that he realized how much of his life had included the other man. It was during one of those banal conversations dominated by Samuel, who glowed next to his new boyfriend, Frederic, a man who he had regretfully been successful in getting together with his brother (not that Samuel would ever view it in that way), where he had been giving jibes to how Étienne was alone that Christmas. It had started as small jibes, but over the course of Christmas Eve, and over after the Christmas dinner when they had met in the hallway alone, it had gotten more apparent that Samuel thought it rather pitiful that Étienne could not even rustle up a prostitute to keep him company on Christmas.

“Why do I need to bring someone?” he had finally snapped over wine, “Why do you even care? You don’t harass Élyse in this manner.”

Samuel had smirked in an irritating manner, “Élyse doesn’t care for that, we both know it, but you?”

“Me what?”

“Oh, well, I suppose you couldn’t even find someone who could tolerate you to come this year?”

“Fuck you,” he had hissed, stalking away, wondering why the hell his brother seemed to take delight in finding his failures and poking at them with a burning metal brand. He had regretted actually spending some time and thought on getting him a gift, vowing that next time he wouldn’t even bother.

How Calvin talked about family, he sensed that there weren’t the usual tensions, it was people who genuinely liked each other getting together, and somehow that made him feel uneasy. He could just imagine himself when the others arrived awkwardly sitting on the sideline forgotten, the person who did not fit in. He fit in easily in situations, while at the same time sliding through social situations untouched. Was this going to be one of those? He contemplated this as Calvin loaded him up with the reusable bags, and he followed him around the store, blindly gazing at the food. He was scrutinizing the bad French upon a bag of crisps when a voice called out Calvin’s name, a nice feminine voice. An overly friendly voice, and as he looked towards Calvin a very beautiful woman approached him, her smile wide, her red hair flowing around her. Other men in the vicinity had noticed her, and Étienne appreciated her curvaceous form and excellent style.

“Hey Veronica,” Calvin greeted her with a warm smile, “How are you?”

“Darling I’m fine, you haven’t called me back,” she pouted, her body language close and intimate, and if Étienne did not know any better, it was almost as if she was acting like she was his girlfriend. It was the nervous glance Calvin shot in his direction that did it. A soft fleeting glance that put Étienne on his guard, put him to look at the body language more critically.  Calvin was receptive to her touches, and as she straightened his collar as she talked to him, he watched as the man leant in slightly. It didn’t feel right, and when she left, after eliciting a promise from Calvin that yes he would phone her, Étienne was not sure what to ask. You fucking around on Edward there, Calvin? He knew this would be ironic coming from him, and hell, there wasn’t anything that said they were anything more than touchy feely friends.

“How do you know her?” he casually asked as he sneakily put potato chips into the cart.

“Veronica?”

“Who else would I be asking about, Calvin? That random woman being abused by her toddler over there?”

“No need to be sassy; well, I met her at the bar and stuff,” Calvin evasively answered as he picked up the potato chips, “Really? BBQ?”

“What’s wrong with BBQ chips?”

“They’re gross.” Calvin put them back in the cart anyway, and then grabbed the poutine flavoured chips, looking Étienne directly in the eye the entire time.

Étienne broke the challenging stare, wanting to ask more about the woman, but as Calvin changed the topic of conversation entirely, he knew that it would be weird for him to enquire as to exactly Calvin’s relationship with her was.

XXXX

As they arrived back at the house, Étienne’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he noticed the once vacant spot in the garage had been literally consumed by the largest, ugliest (in his opinion) truck he had ever seen in his life. It was the size of a small cathedral, sprawling, lifted high, with four shiny chrome pipes framing the back window like an unholy pipe organ. The back window was tinted, and in the middle, where one would presume the icon of Mother Mary would have gone, had this truck actually been a cathedral, was a sticker that seemed at first to mostly be in hieroglyphics. After a moment of staring at them, he realized that it simply said, “I love Alberta oil”. The imagery was arresting, simplistic, easy to understand if one knew what the pumpjack in the oil drop meant. The truck was shiny and black, the body well maintained, and as his gaze travelled across it, he was interested by the stickers plastered across the bumper, as if it was displaying the scriptures of this person’s religion.

Their favourite involved various designs on the “Alberta Strong” theme, interspersed with: an Oilers sticker, “Warning: is there life after death? Touch my truck and find out!”, “Do you follow Jesus this closely?”, “Does this truck make my neck look red?”, and the final “I love my truck.”

“Why are there so many bumper stickers?” Étienne asked, looking to Calvin.

“…Look, a truck is part of a man’s identity, and this one likes to have it all out in the open,” Calvin attempted to explain as he opened the door to his truck, “I prefer mine with less stickers and more shiny.”

“Why are there literally four more wheels than necessary on this truck?”

“Because it carries heavy loads, it gets put to work a lot, it’s not just for show…”

“Why does Edward allow such a gas guzzler?”

“Actually, it’s been semi converted.”

“Semi – converted?”                                      

“Well, it got converted to one more eco friendly, doesn’t need so much diesel, has an option to run on electricity, but switches over because with all the driving it does electricity isn’t always an option.”

“Why is the exhaust pointing upwards?”

“Stacks, those are stacks, it’s truck fashion.”

“Truck… fashion?”

Calvin seemed more and more amused by Étienne’s questions, “Look, we can continue this while getting the groceries inside, alright?”

“I am not sure if I even want to… I feel like every answer you give me confuses me more.”

Helping Calvin carry groceries in, Étienne heard the voice before he saw the man.  It drifted out across the backyard in loud laughter, the words following, and as he looked up Étienne saw the man reclining in a chair on the patio, beer in hand, regaling Edward with his terrible joke. At his feet lay a very large dog, a husky-something mix, fast asleep.

“Why do chicken coops only have two doors?”

“Why?” Edward’s voice sounded amused, he was relaxing across from the man, obviously enjoying his company.

“Because if it had four it would be a sedan!”

The groans of Edward and Caroline drifted towards them, and Calvin let out a loud laugh, alerting the others that they had returned.

“Calvin!” Edward called out, “Took you long enough!”

“Sorry sorry, Étienne is a slow walker.”

“Excuse me?” Étienne scoffed, “I wasn’t the one staring at potato chip flavours as if it was a life and death matter here.”

“Look, gotta get flavours people actually like, no Mozzarella Marinara incidents, right?”

“I have no idea what you are even saying.”

“Lordee,” Mac laughed, “I remember, thinking it would be good to try those newfangled flavours only to get some disappointing slightly cheese taste…”

“Good lord,” Caroline added, “I tried to block that incident from my memory. Good job Calvin, once more bringing up topics one has no desire to remember.”

“Sorry sorry, let us actually deposit these bags in the kitchen, hm?”

“I’ll help,” Edward stood up, setting his drink on the table, and opened the door, allowing the men to pass into the house easily. As they entered into the cool house, Edward said quietly to Calvin, “They came earlier than I thought they would, I don’t have anything finished… I haven’t even dusted their bedroom.”

Setting the bags down on the table, Calvin said in amusement, “You dusted his room last week, I don’t think some dust monster is about to appear.”

“I know…”

Edward had opened one of the bags and took out some dish soap. Étienne with some relief had set his bags down, not sure if he should help take things out and place them. He had a vague idea of where things went.

“C’mere,” Calvin was saying, as he leant over to Ed and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead, “Mac is gonna be fine, hell Caroline loves helping you in the kitchen, you need to unwind here, this is family, not some major life changing event where everything has to be perfect. Hell if the meat I am going to grill gets burnt to hell, Mac is going to think it’s the best thing ever.”

Making a wry face at Calvin, while shooting a slightly self-conscious look towards Étienne briefly, Edward said, “I know I know, you’re right,” he bustled about putting the items away, Calvin moving slowly, while Étienne awkwardly decided that he could put the milk in the fridge, he felt like some awkward third wheel on this conversation.

“Thank god Étienne was here for all this crap you sent us out for,” Calvin was saying, “I think my arms woulda broke.”

“You could always take two trips for the stuff,” Edward sensibly pointed out.

“But that would involve more walking,” Calvin pouted.

“So you are fine going to the gym to be in shape but an extra walk is about to kill you?” Edward teased as he folded up one of the reusable bags.

“Exactly!”

Rolling his eyes, Edward couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head at how ridiculous Calvin was being.

Feeling a little claustrophobic at this atmosphere, Étienne accidentally banged a cupboard where he had placed some new condiments, making the other two men jump.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not really being sorry, as he quickly walked out of the kitchen towards the patio. At the moment, hanging out with someone he barely knew seemed like a hell of a lot better deal than hanging out with love’s young dream. He was feeling conflicted, he was glad that whatever the past two days were about when he was alone with Edward had not affected his loving relationship with Mr. Perfect Boyfriend, but on the other hand, he had almost fooled himself into believing that maybe there was still something there, that perhaps with Edward inviting him to share a bed that perhaps he had for one moment missed him, but no, the entire time he had been yearning after his blond-haired buffoon.  Some part of him realized that he was being irrational about this, but somehow knowing he was being irrational made him even more pissed.

Caroline was laying on a lounger (where had that come from?), idly talking to Mac while she read a magazine; there was a comfortable atmosphere between them, and Étienne could tell that Calvin had not been shitting him about them being together. Even without touching, he could tell from the body language that they were an item, from the slight way Mac was turned towards her, to the brief glances she kept shooting him from over her mirrored sunglasses, her face shaded by the large brimmed straw hat upon her head. Her legs were crossed, her summer dress slightly caught up probably revealing more of her calves than intentional, her toes painted in a perfect pink.  It seemed almost laughable, the image of perfect femininity talking to a man more forearm than body, especially pronounced because his black t-shirt had the sleeves torn to show off his muscles. On his left bicep was an intricate watercolour style wild rose tattoo, framed by prairie grasses, the style of which changed into something more technical as the roots of the grass turned into pipes plunging into a dark black substance, which Étienne assumed meant to symbolize oil. His hair seemed to be a dirty blond, mostly hidden by a beaten up ballcap with a faded Newfoundland flag on it. Freckles lightly dusted his sunburnt face, one that he could tell easily smiled, but from the lines around his mouth and eyes also had seen a lot of worry. He had some stubble across his square chin, probably a day of no shaving.

“Say, come and joins us,” Mac had turned to give a welcoming gesture to Étienne, indicating the seat next to him.

Wondering why the hell this Northern Albertan man had a slight Newfie twang to his speech, Étienne sat beside him, glad that the patio sun umbrella had been set up to give blessed shade.

“I know we’ve been seein’ each other at the odd meetup, but I don’t think we have actually sat down to have a nadder, ye can call me Mac, and… I call you?”

“Étienne.”

“Geezus, there is no way I’m going to be pronouncing that correctly, I may know French, but those damn aspirated t’s always did me a harm.”

“It’s not aspirated.” Étienne said, feeling defensive.

“Hope you don’t mind if I call you Stevie?”

“Please don’t.”

“Hell, just Englishing your name a bit there, no need to be such a prickle, alright, even though you don’t seem the knitted unicorn tea cozy type, how about we compromise, eh Etsy?”

Étienne opened his mouth to protest this butchering of his name, only to be interrupted by Calvin appearing with a large metal tray with a cover on it.

“You really pulled through with the Taber corn and elk there, buddy!”

“’Course! Can’t show up empty handed, plus I’ve been day dreaming about you grillin’ it up all week, isn’t that right Sweet Pea?”

“He sure did,” she agreed setting her magazine down. “Is Ed still in the kitchen?”

“He’s getting the snacks together,” Calvin confirmed as he began to get the grill ready.

Sitting up, she slipped on her sandals, “I should go help him out then.”

“Me and Stevie here are gonna take Patches for a walk while you’re making the food,” Mac announced standing up, Patches sadly shifting off his feet. Signalling to Étienne to stand up, Étienne did so, somehow hypnotized, shifting as the other man slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him down off the patio. Behind them, he could hear Patches give a soft wuff and lumber down behind them, “Can’t be interfering in the kitchen with the lil darlin’s in there, hell last time I tried to help, Caroline nearly hit me with a wooden spoon.”

“Nearly?”

“I ducked, of course,” Mac cracked a smile at Étienne while propelling him out the front gate, waiting a moment to let Patches pass through and shutting it, “Plus with Brisy setting up the grill, figured might as well get to know ya better.”

“Oh?” Étienne responded faintly, not even sure who Brisy was, but guessing he meant Calvin. He was not sure how he was getting pulled into this situation, or why Mac was calling him Stevie.

“Cigarette?” Mac offered.

“Yes please,” Étienne responded, glad that at least one vice was being allowed to get through this long weekend.

Taking two cigarettes out, Mac lit them, and then handed one to Étienne, then took a long drag on his.

“Can’t smoke there,” he explained, “Chuck tries hard to quit, I catch him cheatin’ sometimes, but I don’t rat him out. Brisebois is too squirrely about it, and ever since Caroline quit back in the early aughts, well mainly since we been seein’s each other, she keeps badgering me to quit, but eh,” he took another drag, “man’s gotta be allowed some vices, eh?”

Étienne nodded, not sure how to respond to this verbal assault, just grateful to have someone who actually enjoyed smoking, “So… why are you calling them…?”

“Oh, right, nicknames,” Mac smiled, “Brisebois is just Calvin’s middle name, he was an annoying lil fucker back in the day, and to spite him I called him that, and years later it sort of stuck as his nickname… and Chuck for Edward? Just one of those older nicknames y’know?”

Étienne gave a vague nod, sort of understanding, and took another puff of his cigarette.

Mac apparently had figured he had explained enough, as he abruptly switched topic, “So tell me… Are you one of those queers?”

Étienne was not sure how to respond to this sudden question, so he said, “Yes? Well, I like everyone?”

“This includes women?”

“And men, and… whoever else is a human?” Étienne added slightly defensively, not liking this line of interrogation.

“Finally,” he broke out into a smile, “Hell, I know Calvin likes the ladies, but he’s so moony over Eddy over there he’s not even half a bisexual, if you know what I mean. I’m fine with the queers, well obviously just sometimes I just want to admire a woman and not be considered a minority.”

“Does Caroline not admire women?” Étienne asked amused.

“Pretty certain she does, not sure if she wants to be doin’ the lil ol’ in ‘n’ out if you knows what I mean, but we aren’t sittin’ around admiring a fine piece of ass together, usually if I notice she slaps me on the arm, and I smiles at her knowing she’s right about it.”

“About what?” Étienne asked feeling himself drawn to this man despite the rough edges, there was something about him, at first impressions or rumours off-putting like sand paper on one’s skin, but once you got past the bluster and bluff, you could see the hardworking man, the one who spent his days doing the hard labour to bring the results.

“She’s the best damn thing that happened to me in the past three years and I better not be taking her for granted, that’s what,” he bluntly said, “She’s a hell of a lot better company than the paid ladies I used to consort with, and the men who I hung out with but y’know not in that way, just the men who talked about sex all the time but never did anything.”

“Are you saying she’s your first real relationship?”

“If you mean romantic long term, yes,” Mac shrugged, “I’m not that good with ladies, my skills are lacking, but I think they are improving.”

“Tell me, how the hell did you land a catch like Caroline?”

Mac gave Étienne a sheepish smile, “Hell, this is embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? I’m even more intrigued,” they had paused in their walk to watch Patches gambol over to a tree and lift a leg.

“Well, y’see three years back, she had come up to help me set up house again, my house got smoked out, there was some fire damage, figured hell, rebuild the damn thing, and once it was built up real nice, I gotta move back in there, so she volunteered to help out, being a nice gal and all… and she discovered that I really am the worst of bachelors.”

“The worst? How so? Are you burning water as well?” Étienne asked with amusement.

“Almost, she nearly had a heart attack when she learnt even though I has the washer and dryer I don’t know how to function them, I just gots m’self a maid, and she informed me that I could be saving myself 2k a month if I could figure out how to do this shit m’self.”

“You are actually paying someone 2k a month to clean ‘your house? When can I start?” Étienne joked, “I at least know how to do laundry, food service not included.”

Mac scoffed, “Hells, I don’t need ya now, b’y, I gots me a Caroline. So she decided to train me up, so I knows how to do the laundry now, but with setting up my house, and teaching me the basics of living – y’see I spend most of my time in Camp, where things are a lot nicer and catered now than before where it was a tent and a pit in the ground, anyways, diverting, after about a month in my house, hell I thought she was just there for the weekend, she was helping me get my files all sorted, and she stared at my spendin’ lookin’ at me like I was a lunatic—and she informed me that I needed a woman in my life, and I says, I have many women in my life – to which she responded the prostitutes and strippers didn’t count, a bit harsh y’know these ladies work hard for their monies no need to be disrespectin’, so I seys to her, where the hells am I gonna find a woman that ain’t a stripper or who ain’t married, other than goin’ down to the city, and she seys, hell what about me.”

“That… sounds… romantic?” Étienne hazarded as he focused upon the dog once wandering up ahead of them trying to hide his smile; for some reason the beginning of the relationship seemed almost too pure for words.  

“Well, romantic enough for me,” Mac shrugged, “Count m’self luck everyday I wake up next to her.”

“So… aren’t you afraid of her leaving you?” Étienne asked.

“She’d be sensible to,” Mac sagely replied, “But she seems to be genuinely sweet on me, so I’ll take what I can get while I can.”

“While you can?” Étienne felt like there was more not being said and he was right.

“Y’see I takes it that I may not be the same man now as I will be in 2050, my best bet is I end up like Dawson City, a mere memory but remainin’ y’know? With the oil running out no one will have a reason to stays with me. Ed says I should diversify, but it’s easy for him to say, he’s one of the remainers, I’m just one of those one industry places, flourish and then bam, dead as a duck, so I figures, live it up while I can, while I’m flush. Parts of the reason why I have a place here, no reason to have my own house in this city, my home is up north and always will be, but it’s always good to have a place to escapes to now and then. Hell, part of the reason I gave up being a city-”

“You’re not a city?” Étienne interrupted, genuinely surprised.

“Gave that up back in 1995, I am officially a population centre in Wood Buffalo.”

“Still confused.”

Flicking some ashes onto the sidewalk, Mac shrugged, “Means even when they leave I’ll still be alive, I’m the one with the hospital. Those around in my area, even if separate by distances, will still have a reason to come to me when the oil runs out… well, I hope.”

“This does not help me, what do you mean, what is a Wood Buffalo.”

“Alright, so, view it as a club, I got together with some other hamlets in the area, and instead of each of us having our own mayor, we just have the one, makes it easier for developments if we’re all on the same page. Sort of like a club, still our own identity, but working together with the same governance.”

“Sort of getting it…” Étienne puffed on his cigarette, brow crinkled in thought as he slowly sorted through the explanation, “So you find more benefit not being a city?”

“Hell not all of us can be a cultural capital like you with fancy historic buildings,” Mac laughed, “Your fate is set in stone, mine is in that black sand, here today, possibly gone tomorrow. Hence working with Brisy in developing green technology, even when the oil is gone, gives me a better chance of survival… otherwise… there is nothing for people to stay for up north. At least with you, you have a diverse enough economy that when, say, the bullshit industry goes south you can relax on some cheese, eh?”

“Bullshit industry?”

Mac shrugged, “Pick one.”

“Say, let’s get rid of the mafia,” Étienne joked.

“Ahh right, doesn’t Montreal’s cogs turn on old country corruption and tradition? That would be stripping away half your identity there, bud, might need to reconsider that.”

“To hell with that part of my identity,” Étienne spat on the ground to emphasize his dislike of corruption, “It’s done nothing but make life harder for my populace.”

“I know,” Mac shrugged, “The minute I got money the gangs showed up too, making a killing on my people by killing them with drugs, but you can’t control their decisions, just live at their whims. Hence, work hard play hard. Speaking of which, you have quite the reputation.”

“Oh?” Étienne responded a little guardedly, not sure which aspect of his reputation was about to be brought up.

“Mmhm, heard it straight from the horse’s mouth, well, Chucks mouth…”

“Which was?”

“You are even worse at cooking than I am!” Mac laughed, “He was telling me some of the disasters, trying to make me feel better when I wasn’t feelin’ so hot a few years back, I was glumly laying on his couch feeling like some sorta cripple, and I had managed to burn the toast beyond recognition, so he just sat there regaling me with all the fuckups you did, really cheered me up.”

“You’re… welcome?” Étienne was torn between bemused and embarrassed. Perhaps a little surprised, that instead of his loose morals being brought up it was some innocent topic about something everyone should know, but only those who actually paid him any damn attention knew.

“Eh well, with how he speaks about you, figured you can’t be that bad, even if we do disagree on how to fuel an economy,” he paused to stub the cigarette out under his shoe, and looked directly at Étienne, “so even if we may disagree as to the runnings of things, think we could make a try and be friends?”

“You make it sound like this will be a long-term commitment,” Étienne joked, charmed at how forthright Mac was being.

“Well, if we do it right, it will be,” Mac winked, “Hell, we should be getting back, my stomach is rumbling, the meat must be cooked.”

“How do you know if it’s cooked?” Étienne asked curiously.

Slowly, as if by magic, Mac lifted his wrist, revealing an expensive, but slightly battered, watch, “I kept my eye on the time, well, honestly, easy enough to track it by the sun, but watches are nice too.”

Turning down the block, Étienne realized that they were not retracing their previous route. “Isn’t this the wrong way?”

“No, it turns down there, and we gets back a different way, retracing steps not quite my thing, do that too much at work,” Mac made a face, “when I can, I try to avoid repetition.”

“I can understand that,” Étienne said, as he enjoyed the shade of the trees along the boulevard. The older neighbourhoods were some of his favourite, they had enough time to feel more settled, to have trees larger than a sapling to provide a canopy in the heat of the summer. Patches ahead of them rambled on, stopping now and then to sniff at something, before bounding back for a pet, and then forward again. “How long have you had Patches?”

“He’s about seven, a rescue,” Mac shrugged, “Best to give a chance to the life already livin’ than buying one not yet made eh?”

It took a moment for Étienne to process what he meant, and he nodded, “That works.”

“Plus he’s a great dog, even if sometimes he gets into a spot of trouble, can’t have a better best friend honestly, do you have a pet?”

“I have a stray cat I feed sometimes,” Étienne shrugged, “I don’t think that counts.”

“Careful there, if you give a stray too much attention they adopt you,” Mac teased as he turned down the back alley.

“I would like to see it try,” Étienne responded with some amusement, the scent of the food being cooked on the BBQ floating up to them. Without a word their pace quickened, as if in some sort of silent agreement they had decided that the faster they returned to the house the better.

“So, do you like the house?”

“Yes, it’s quite energy efficient,” Étienne absently responded.

“Yeah, it was sort of what inspired Caroline to get me and Brisebois to start up the business, sort of our kickoff project, and boy, Chuck was a terrible client, really bossed us about what he wanted concerning his little nest there,” Mac lifted the latch on the back gate, and opened it, allowing Patches to enter first, and then Étienne before he followed.

Patches bounded up towards the hens, which had been briefly napping in the shade, giving a booming bark. Étienne panicked, the dog was ten times larger than the hens, what if he ate them? Mary-Anne let out a squawk and ran away, which only inspired Patches to chase after her, snapping playfully. Not comprehending that no one was running to her defence, Étienne jumped into action, quickly rushing forward and scooping Mary-Anne out of harm’s way, only to have her frantically flap her wings in his face, and then out of his grip, drifting to the ground next to Henrietta. Patches thinking that Étienne was joining in the game barked joyfully, tail wagging like mad, before turning back to the chickens, barking at them.

Out from the far corner, like a freight train, Esther arrived to defend her distressed mates, giving a loud threatening growl. Patches’ ears flattened down, and he lowered his head, and sunk down onto his front paws, allowing Esther to give him a smart peck on the nose, and scold him into silence.

Confused, Étienne looked at the scene, with Henrietta and Mary-Anne acting as if nothing had happened as they primly pecked on the ground, then back to Esther, satisfied with her scolding, who turned her evil eye upon him.

“Wha-?” he turned towards Mac, who was failing to suppress his laughter, and then to the people on the patio, Calvin, spatula in hand, a wide grin on his face, and Edward, who had been setting out the condiments, face screwed up in silent laughter, and then, he finally looked at the source of the loudest source of laughter- Caroline, hands holding a lidded dish, laughing fit to burst.

Managing to get some speech out, between some guffaws, Mac finally said, “Patches ain’t got shit on Esther, she’s the boss and everyone knows it.” This was all he managed to get out, as he gave Étienne a hearty backslap, before proceeding towards the patio.

Feeling extremely embarrassed, Étienne took a step forward, only to be met with a loud squawk. Looking down, he realized Esther had moved in front of him, and was flapping her wings, giving him a look. Confused, he looked up towards Edward, probably the only one who could interpret what she wanted.

“Pick her up,” Edward advised, “she wants to be snuggled.”

“Hell no,” Étienne responded, “Don’t you remember when-”

Impatient, Esther pecked at his foot and let out another squawk. With a sigh, he bent down and awkwardly picked her up.

“Hold her closer to your chest,” came the instructions, which Étienne followed.

Preening for a moment, Esther settled against his chest and closed her eyes, Étienne awkwardly stood there, until Ed informed him that he was allowed to walk and hold a chicken at the same time. Slowly he shuffled forward, and slowly up the stairs, every now and then shooting Edward a “help me” look. Wiping his hands on his apron, Edward smiled, and shook his head, “She’s yours now, Étienne, you’re going to have to hold her till she is satisfied.”

“But I want to eat food!” Étienne exclaimed, as he slowly sat in one of the chairs.

“Hmmm that is an issue,” Edward said in a playful tone, looking towards Calvin, “Do you think our guest deserves some food?”

Crinkling is brow as if in thought, Calvin said, “Well….”

“Hell, just feed him, Eddy,” Caroline suggested as she opened up the butter dish, “It’s your chicken.”

“I- what-” Edward begun in confusion, looking at her.

“What she means is,” Mac patiently mansplained, “If Étienne has to pet Esther there, you gotta feed him.”

“Yeah,” Caroline nodded.

“Corn is ready,” Calvin announced, placing them onto a plate.

Mac and Caroline helped themselves, and after a moment, Edward put the corn holders onto the corn, and added the butter, before sitting next to Étienne.

“This is really good corn from Taber, it’s known to be sweet and this is the best time to eat it, fresh from the farm,” Edward was explaining, as he held it out in front of Étienne’s face, apparently deciding that he did in fact need to feed him.

Leaning forward, Étienne took a bite of the corn, butter dripping down his chin as the sweet grain opened up in a flavourful burst in his mouth, he wanted another bite. Unfortunately, Esther had perked up to the corn nearby, and as he went to take another bite, her head appeared in view, scaring Edward, who accidentally dropped the corn onto the ground, which was leapt upon by Esther in a triumphant gesture, who quickly began to gobble it up.

A moment was taken, as they processed the scene, and then, giving a snort, Ed gave Étienne a rueful look, and carefully joked, “Taber-nac, eh?”

“Oh my god,” Étienne snorted, and began to laugh, “That’s terrible.”

“I know I know, but it means I can eat now,” Edward stood up, “You should wash your hands, petting chickens is not always the cleanest.”

“Yes sir,” Étienne said as he stood up, “So long as you guys save me some of that delicious corn.”

“And elk,” Mac added between a mouthful of corn.

“And elk,” Étienne said as he went into the house to wash up.

When he came outside again, he was met with the unpleasant visage of the neighbour that tried to kill him before chatting to Calvin over the fence.

As he settled down with a full plate, he caught drifts of the conversation, deciding that it was better not to engage.

“You serious? You said this started at three!” Edith’s voice penetrated the yard, and Étienne looked to see her rounding onto the patio, pie in hand, looking irritated.

“Sorry, they showed up early,” Edward apologized.

“You better have saved me some corn, otherwise none of y’all are going to get my Flapper pie.”

“Corn has been saved,” Calvin reassured, turning away from his conversation with the neighbour, which seemed to have ended anyway.

Setting the pie onto the table, Edith grabbed herself a plate and stood pointedly next to Calvin, who filled it up, and sat down across from Étienne.

“You could have texted me,” she was still complaining to Edward, “You always do this, just assume I just know the change in plans.”

“Sorry,” Edward apologized again, “I figured you were coming here soon anyway-“

“Warm elk isn’t as good as freshly cooked elk,” she scolded.

Étienne looked over to Calvin, who was powering down the grill, as he came to join them and poured all the toppings possible onto his elk, scooping the cheesey mashed potatoes onto his plate, and digging in.

“Edith, is that a new tattoo on your sleeve?” Caroline’s voice interrupted the scolding, and Edith was having a favourable response to this, allowing the tension to easily dissipate. Instead of being on the sidelines, Étienne found himself drawn into the conversation, discussing favourite tattoo artists with the two women, and getting into a heated argument with Edith over which artist had the best lacing technique.

It was a surprise when his fork hit empty plate, when suddenly the Flapper pie was being served out, the conversations once more changing and turning in the comfortable atmosphere, Edward deep in talk with Mac, about something Étienne had no clue about, but it seemed business related.