Running from Christmas

Luc, son of Roland and Marthe

“Not worth it. Don’t be rash. Your life is more important. Why not go home for the holidays? You’ll feel better once you’ve had a break.”

Gary meant well, but…

Home?

The word normally comforted his gut.

But Luc’s father had passed last February.

The idea of seeing long familiar streets, only hollowed his belly. Nothing would be the same.

He craved quiet. A chance to sink into solitude and heal. And not his just torn muscles. 

“I could use a rest,” Luc agreed, “but in a cabin by the lake.”

He was thinking of summers as a kid when my Dad used to take us out by Walton Lake. Though busy in summer, the Wild Daire Lodges ought to be deserted at Christmas. Which was what Luc wanted. He needed to get away. After being on tour most of the year, crowds and loud music haunted his dreams.

Dancing was an upside down life. Work started when everyone else finishes. Sleep was found as everyone else woke. And holidays? Everyone else’s time off was when entertainers are busiest. At least his injury gave him an excuse, as his heart and soul were as aching. Luc needed time to think, breathe and find his Zen. 

Flying into Moncton, Luc rented a jeep and started driving. He didn’t even stop for supplies. Once checked in, he’d know better what he needed. The petal beneath his foot felt glorious as he fled the cold concrete of civilization for surrounding snow covered forest. All he wanted was to breathe in fresh air and look at stars instead of streetlights. 

Wild Daire was perfect. The closest store was outside of the small town of Vebecasis, which was twenty-five minutes away. Snowflakes were falling and the lake was starting to freeze, and there was only wilderness for as far as he could see. Luc had never felt freer.

Travis would have hated it. Luc could have laughed, imagining his reaction. But why think of him? Dad died in February and Travis, complaining of his moping, left in March. Travis had little use for fathers, his having walked out, before Travis turned two. 

The old guy who checked Luc in must have thought him odd. Who’d go alone to a hunting camp at Christmas, especially as he wasn’t hunting? But Luc didn’t care. Feeling like in a Jonna Jinton film, he set suitcases inside, locked up and headed for Vebecasis. It was a beautiful drive along the Vebecasis River to the small town. Drifting snow melted on hitting the windshield.

Bells on the door jangled when Luc entered the small town Fresh Mart. Shaking snow from his hat and coat, he saw a row of plants by the window. There was a rack of seeds beside them. Sticking his hat under his arm, Luc rubbed warmth back into his fingers and looked around. It was a typical convenience store with lottery tickets under glass and chocolate behind the counter. There were newspapers and magazines by the door, and a paneled wall that likely hid cigarettes. 

Needing food, Luc took a cart and headed for the few isles. The muffins, bread, and deserts looked homemade.  And there was canned food, milk and a few produce items. But coffee? There were rings about bottom of a pot that looked to have been sitting all morning. In the isle there was only instant. Fanning himself to keep down rising panic, he stared horrified. Luc hadn’t even taken time to see if what sort of coffee machine was in the cabin. Roughing it was one thing, but could he survive three weeks without good expresso? 

A man in the next isle, wearing a red and black lumber jacket, stared at Luc with slit eyes. He wore a hunting cap, and Luc sensed hostility. Suddenly, he was too aware of the delicacy of his hands and clamped his fingers about a box.  

Tea! Tea would do.

 As much as Luc had wanted escape the city lights, there were reasons, (safety) why he’d first sought bigger cities. On tour with his people, he gotten used to feeling safe. And forgotten. Out here, he was on his own.  And felt it.

Putting tea in his cart, Luc broadened his shoulders, trying to make myself larger. More masculine. Just finish the groceries and get out of there. Glancing behind him at the cash, he saw the man exchange a glance with the cashier.

Before he’d cleaned the snow from his car, the lumber jacket man followed him out. Should he buy a gun? There had to be a Canadian Tire in Vebecasis. Not caring if he was being paranoid, he headed for town. 

It was ridiculous. What did he know of guns? Could he even get one without a permit? The clicking of his whippers no longer soothed.

Driving around Vebecasis he began to relax. Everything was different than he remembered, but familiar. Like every town, there was a Shopper’s, McDonald’s, and Tim Horton’s on the corner. Luc even saw a sign for his bank. And beside that Mel’s Tea Shop. That was where his Dad took them for hot chocolate after skiing. His mother didn’t ski, but would spend the afternoon shopping, writing, or something, and they’d all meet at the tea shop.

Maybe he should have told Mom he was coming. It seemed cruel not to have.

But.

Signalling, Luc pulled into the drive-thru. Tim Hortons seemed to be the best coffee.

Cruel or not, he wasn’t ready to face her. Not on his own. Without Travis’s support, she’d likely try to set him up with some fat lady next door.

***

Marthe, widow of Roland and mother of Luc

Like every morning, Marthe finished her rosary and set her beads back in their case. They were the same words she’d been saying since Roland got sick, whether anyone listened or not. 

Holy Mary, Mother of God

Pray for us sinners

Now and at the hour of our death.

Faith is believing. That if not well in this world, at least Roland was safe in the next. 

But this was going to be a hard Christmas. Marthe understood Luc had to work. 

Sometimes she regretted ever letting him study gymnastics. 

Luc had loved the lessons. Tumbling and vaulting. Flipping through the air as though flying. And she’d been so proud. It was amazing what he could do. They say gymnastics has nothing to do with it. Marthe had never thought anything, but staring at his picture, his arms wide in happy ‘ta da’ after landing, she wondered.

Roland seemed to have known. At least he was less surprised. 

Marthe knew she’d handled it badly. Mothers are supposed to know their children. But homosexuality was nothing that she’d imagined. She didn’t even believe it.

Luc was still in high school. Still a boy. How could he make such a decision?  When he sat them down, instead of accepting and telling him she’d love him no matter what, Marthe refused to believe. What was he sixteen? Seventeen? How could he know he was gay! 

“Do you even have a boyfriend?” she’d objected. In her mind, it didn’t make sense. How could he be gay without a boyfriend? Wasn’t homosexuality relationship based?  How could he have same-sex-attraction, without person he was attracted to? 

Roland had to pull her from the room to calm down. And Marthe was baffled by his calmness. Weren’t men supposed to be terrified of their son’s being gay? But Roland acted as though not even surprised. Like he already knew. 

Straightening Luc’s picture, Marthe wondered if he’d ever forgave her. 

***

After a night of sleeping in the cabin under a field of stars, Luc felt different. It was still dark when he woke, and quiet. The only sound was eerie forest magic as the wind creaked through the trees.

Walking down to the lake, Luc couldn’t help wonder what he was doing there.

As a teen, he’d longed to escape, dreaming of the life he was now living. Through some magic of fate, he made money dancing. Even with tiring nights, having to appease divas, and painful pulled muscles, how many people were so fulfilled?

Ice formed where the current was mild. In videos, Jonna bathed in such rivers, but Luc felt chilled looking at how it glistened like crystals. 

Back in the cabin, he boiled water, but didn’t feel like tea. When travelling, cafés were always steps away, so having to drive for thirty minutes for the closest brew? What had he been thinking? Still what else had he to do? Deciding to head for town, Luc unplugged the kettle.

After he getting his coffee, there was still a lot of day left, but the sun was out.  It was a good day for driving. Luc decided to head toward Hampton, but had no specific plan. Hampton was cool, why shouldn’t he visit? If he changed his mind, he could always turn the jeep around.

By the time he reached Hampton, he needed a bathroom, so stopped at Tim’s, and then had to get another coffee. It was vicious cycle. 

At the nearby Cedar Hill Park there was a monument to human rights activist John Peter Humphrey so Luc walked the trails there for a while. He was so close, it seemed wrong not to stop. The St. Alphonsus Cemetery was just across the Oxbow River.

Parking behind the church, he wandered down. It looked different and bigger, but he was only there for the burial, last spring. On finding his father’s marker, Luc saw a woman knelt there. A flower bouquet lay beside her. She looked to be talking to the dark stone.

“Mom?”

Marthe looked up disbelieving. She thought Luc had to work. Did he so hate her that he’d not even told her he was visiting? Tears blinding, she looked back at Roland’s grave, and said, “I thought you had to work.”

Luc took too large a slurp of his coffee burning his tongue. “Got off for good behaviour,” he joked.

Marthe made a choking sound and Luc realized she was crying. Going to her, he helped her off the cold ground. “Oh Mom. I wasn’t sure I was ready to see you.”

That made it worse. Marthe cried harder.

Setting down his coffee, Luc wrapped his arms around her. “I am glad to see you, Mom,” he said.