Vancouver

We get back from across the Pacific late in the afternoon. We have to hurry and get a move on. The wipers have to struggle to cut the film of dust and dried sea spray that’s collected since we were here. We get to the dock just in time to catch the last Port Townsend – Keystone Ferry. It’s fortunate that it’s not too crowded at this time of day ‘cause I didn’t get a chance to make a reservation. I put a small bag of stuff together to pass the time with (you want to toss your book in here? “Sure, thanks. What else’re you bringing?” Just little stuff, I’ll know better as we get further into the story. “And what’re we doing out on the water again? More marine life?” If I said ‘no’, would it be a big disappointment? “Well, I don’t want these to get stuck in a rut, but maybe a little disappointed.” Ah, I see, maybe I can work something out…), and we lock the rest of our stuff in the car and head to the upper decks.
We manage to find an open booth on the port side windows where we can each sit and stretch out sideways across the seats. We’ve got a few minutes before we cast off, and we spend them quietly sitting and resting…
“So, got anything good in the bag?”
Got some cards, want to play ‘Go Fish’? (There’s a marine life appearance for you. “Yeah, a lame one that doesn’t count.” I know, I’m just having a little fun…)
“Yeah, that’s about the most mentally challenging game I’m up for.”
I’m tired too – big travel day.
The ferry heads out, and the water’s pretty choppy – the cabin movement adds a pressure to my forehead that makes concentration difficult, even for ‘Go Fish’. A waitress comes by: I’m hungry, but I don’t dare eat – the smell and sight of the food at the other tables brings a knotted feeling to my stomach. Maybe we’ll just get a couple of soft pretzels and a ginger ale to split (Ginger ale’s okay right? I don’t think it’s conducive to stones: it’s not brown anyway. “It’s not my favorite, but it seems like a good idea at this moment.” Okay then, a large ginger ale). My forehead’s sweating now, and it’s feeling really warm in here. Come on, and let’s find a place to sit outside.
The evening wind coming off the water is brisk and cold. I take my hat off and let it blow through my hair to try and numb the headache and slow down the spinning. We find a bench that faces the port/west side and look out over the water as it flashes reflections of the descending sun. The intercom announces something that we can’t quite make out about something to see, then a few hundred yards out we spot the dolphins swimming by and occasionally surfacing and puffing out a spray. (“Okay, that one counts. Seems a little superfluous though.” Yeah, not sure that’ll make it past the edit. “You edit these things? How could anyone tell?” I’m in the process of vetting an editor now, or I will be, just as soon as I ask her if she’s interested.) Focusing out in the distance is not settling me out like it’s supposed to. “When is this ride supposed to be over?” You too, eh? Well, there’s supposed to be a shiatsu point on your wrist near your ulna – here, I’ll show you. “Ow!” Still sore? I’ll hold less tightly. Maybe if we just space out: I’ve got a second pair of headphones, we could just try to survive the rest of the way with our eyes closed letting the breeze keep our heads cool, listening to some acoustic rock and classical guitar, passing the ginger ale back and forth, pretending not to notice each other burping (“Nice.” What? Tell me it doesn’t help with the head pressure. “Okay, but you’re sitting leeward.” Of course, of course.). Sitting calmly settles us down enough to get the rest of the way across, and we head back down to be ready to drive when it’s our turn to disembark. I get us off the ferry, but then pull into a parking space near the waiting area. “What’s up?” I don’t think I’m ready to drive, I’m still having trouble opening my eyes up and focusing – maybe we can find a place to stay here and go the rest of the way tomorrow. “I’m feeling okay, I’ll drive.” Okay, we’ve got about 2 hours left to drive if you’re up to it. “I feel alright now (You were doing a let of burping. “Maybe I’ll drive on, and you can stay here” Sor-ry, sheesh.), and this way we’ll have some decent driving for a change.” If I could get the uncomfortable and tired look off my face, I’d scowl and pretend to be hurt by that remark. “Yeah, whatev’s, you don’t scare me.” (“You won’t fall asleep though will you?” Well, I’d rather not. Why? “I wouldn’t want this dream to end – in case you started something else. Why wouldn’t you want to, Mr. “rather not”? ‘Cause I wouldn’t want to miss something you might say.) I’ll endeavor to be an able second in command ‘Captain’ – I’ll try to keep an eye on the directions, adjust the climate controls, fish out CD’s for you… We need to end up on Granville Island – I’ve already made the reservations for us. I’ve still got pressure in my temples and a dull absence above my forehead. I slide the seat back, pull my cap tight over my head, and wrap myself up, tucking my hands in to my sweatshirt pocket.
“Remember now, you’re not going to fall asleep and leave me alone now are you?”
No ma’am, Captain ma’am.
Do you still have that World Café CD set in here? If you do, put that in first.
I find it, and put it in as we’re off heading north on U.S. 5, looking for the Canadian 99. An easy song catches us each with our guard down for a minute or two, and we’re each tentatively singing along. We’re listening carefully to match each other without being too noticeable, neither of us daring to look at each other or acknowledge we’re doing it. The song ends, and I shift in the seat and sneak a look at you: you’re smiling a little (I can tell), opening up into a big smile as you glance over and I catch your eye – cool.
“Play that one again, won’t you?”
I will if you sing along again… I wonder whatever happened to Semisonic anyway?
The rest of the drive goes by fast (we revisit some other favorites on CD), but ends none too soon. When we pull in, you rub your eyes and forehead while you lean/stretch forward on the wheel. Check-in is a breeze, and you go up ahead while I go back out to get the bags. When I get to the room the lights are all out, but the curtains are pulled back from the open window, letting in the moonlight and air. You’ve fallen asleep in your clothes on top of the covers (“I only lay down for a minute to reat my eyes – how long did it take you to get up there?” I dunno, maybe five minutes, tops. “Well, I must’ve been more tired than I thought.” Yeah, I know, I’m glad you drove though, thanks.) I put our things in the drawers and closet as quietly as I can in the moonlight. The I set up the bathroom and put the bags away. The carpet feels good – good to get my shoes and socks off and be somewhere relatively stationary. I brush my teeth and wash my face with a warm washcloth, letting it press into my eyelids.
You haven’t twitched, not even when I stubbed my toe on the leg of the bed. I gently work your shoes and socks off. I manage to pull the covers out from under you and tuck you in. Lastly, I remember the washcloth. I re-warm it and kneel beside the bed to wipe your face. You hum/purr once or twice, and when I’m done you roll over, pulling the covers up tight. Your hair smells nice – how do you do that?
I’ve been up for too long now, and I’m too tired to sleep. I pull the armchair over to the window and sit with my feet propped up and wondering what the lights are out on the water…
I’m awakened in the dark by you pulling at the sleeve of my shirt…
“Come on now, you snore too much sitting up.”
Huh? Oh, sorry, how embarrassing.
“I’m just kidding, but you’ll be sorry if you sleep in the chair all night. Lie down on that side over there.”
I’ve got too many pillows here, you want some?
“The one with the drool on it I was using to hug.”
Well, that one’s all yours then.
“Could I put my hand on your shoulder?”
There’s no answer, ‘cause it’s too late, I’m already out. Still, when the fingers close around my arm I scoot within easier reach. You shift to prop your forearm up on my arm, and I let out a long exhale with the hint of a laugh in it, that goes unheard since you’ve dropped off too…

Habit snatches me from sleep a little before 5, but I’m not in any hurry to get up. I lie in the dark listening to your breathing and try to match mine to it. Yours quickens and you shift a bit as you start to drift into a dream. I try to force myself to sleep to meet you there, but can’t manage it. I check my watch and see 5:05, next check it’s 5:08, then 5:12, 5:15, 5:20 before I decide it’s no use. If I don’t get up now, my fidgeting around’s likely to wake you. So, I roll out, grab my small pack of things and helmet and sneak off…

I’m back in the lobby by 8:30 – forced back by rain. There’s free coffee in the lobby to warm my hands with at least. It’s not the best brew in the world, but still much better’n mine. I ask the operator to switch on the message light on our room phone and leave a message at the desk for you. The concierge finds a towel and a copy of the paper for me, and stashes my helmet and gloves behind the desk (Nice guy, I didn’t even have to ask, he just offered. “You know, a lot of people are like that away from the East.” We’ll have to make sure we factor that in when we choose where we go. “Are you saying these aren’t as carefully planned as I thought?” Um, no, uh, every last detail is carefully tuned and selected, uh,… “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”) I get myself as dried off as I can and find a comfy chair in the lobby to sit and do the crossword in. (“You didn’t mention the concierge giving you a pen.” Oh, I always have a pen. “You set me up for that one.” Yeah, thanks for the straight line. “Anything to help, you know.”)
You find me with my mouth open (“Catching flies?”) and the puzzle half-done lying in my lap. My hair’s all spiking up (Forgot to bring my cap with me), and after running your fingers over it a few times I start to stir.
“Hey, if you’re going to leave me alone could you at least leave me a note so I know what’s going on?”
I did. I left a message at the desk to come down and get me when you were all ready for the day.
“Well, I woke up in an empty room at around 8, got dressed and went out to get some coffee.”
8?! There’s no way I could’ve anticipated that.
“Yeah, well I’m a little off schedule with the travel, and got a little more restful sleep than usual.”
Maybe you’re becoming a Morning Person?
“Not likely, I’ll leave that to you – what’d you do this morning: not riding without a helmet were you?”
No, I’ve got it stashed at the desk – I took a great ride around Stanley Park. Two big loops with a detour each time for a smaller loop around Beaver Lake. The first loop was great, flat and fast, with beautiful scenery. The second loop started the same way, but then the rain started when I was at the furthest point.
“Yeah, you look a little washed out – you weren’t able to hold off the rain?”
I never use my powers for purely selfish reasons.
“Okay,…wi-erd.”
Let me just run up to get clean and changed…
“…and shaved…”
…and shaved, and we can head out and see what Vancouver’s got.
“Wait a minute, I’ve got something for you.” You lean in and hover over me in the chair, looking into my eyes, and pause,… before pulling a cup of coffee and a paper bag out from behind your back. “Here, French roast and two plain donuts – and when I say plain, I only mean there’s nothing on them, they’re really good.”
You’re the best.
“I know.”
I’ll be back in minutes.
Uncurling from the chair takes a few moments – seems my legs left some of their get-up-and-go out in the rain this morning – but then I’ve grabbed my breakfast from you and am rushing off to the room.

Coming out of the bathroom and I’m completely transformed. Clean, shaven, fresh clothes, energetic. You’re sitting at the desk looking at brochures.
“I don’t suppose there’s any reason for me to bother looking right? Since you’ve already got a plan?”
I’m always open to suggestions, but let’s agree to this first: I’ll toss out the Mount Whistler bike trail brochure if you leave aside the Hidden Ranch horseback riding one, for today at least. Let me get my shoes on, and we’ll go downtown, see how funky Vancouver can be.
“You don’t want to just hang around here? There’s a lot of cool and artsy stuff?”
Yeah, I definitely want to go to the glassblower, but I thought we’d start further out and end up back around here tonight so we could crash whenever we’re ready.
“Alright, I want to make sure we go by the kid’s bazaar, maybe see if I can see anything new or cool.”
You got it. You ready for another boat ride? You look at me with disbelief after yesterday’s experience.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Just a short one, water taxi across the bay.
“Fine.”
Being on a boat again brings back a few flashback moments from yesterday, but no real symptoms. In a few minutes, we’re disembarking at the Aquatic Center and catching a cab to the main drag: Robsonstrasse (well, just Robson Street now). We start at the west end of Robson and just wander east window shopping – pulling each other into whatever store grabs our fancy. There’s a lot of high-end look-but-don’t-buy shops here, but it’s fun to put on that we’re in command and that money is no object. The art glass/jewelry shop is awesome and very tempting. It’s too early here to let our resolve not to spend be weakened – here, come across the street to Grand Maple Gifts and let’s get you a travel mug, okay? Now we’ll have something and we won’t need to buy anything else. I lose sight of you for awhile while I’m picking one out. Where’d you go?
“Never you mind, you’ll find out by the end.”
I’ve got to go into Legerdemain just to see what a name like that’s supposed to mean in a shop. In Escents, we try to guess from the scent what the aromatherapy effect is supposed to be – without much success: maybe their mislabeled. The overall effect of about 15 minutes in the shop is to leave us a bit overwhelmed, and we’re glad to get back out into the ‘fresh’ air of the street. CinCin smells good and gets us thinking about lunch.
“Italian okay? We could sit upstairs on the terrace?”
Italian’s always good, but let’s try to sit in a restaurant that’s got a terrace on the north side of the street so we can look out over the inlet.
“There was also that French place on the north side of the last block…”
Um, yeah, I’m sure that’s good and all, but I don’t really like many French specialties, just like you and the German ones.
“Whew, I was afraid you’d take me up on the French thing.”
I know, it was sweet of you to offer: movies, wine, pastry, some poetry, that’s where we should draw the line and leave lunch on the other side of it. Settebello looks good, has a terrace, and faces the right way, but let’s go another block or two up this side and come back on that side – that’ll ensure a good appetite.
The Hologram Store is a bit of a disappointment – maybe in another 10 years it’ll be cooler. Likewise Thunder Music looked like it’d have more cool indie stuff than it did. Silver Gallery has a lot of great looking and graceful and attractive things that matched you style, but (“No, wait, not ‘but’, can’t we just imagine we could afford just this one piece? I really like it.” You know, it’s really you, and it pains me to say no, but here’s the deal – you help me polish up the next book and when it does well I’ll bring you back and let you pick out whatever. “Book? Why not a movie deal? The we’d really have some cash. But here’s the true deal – I’ll help you polish it up anyway and I don’t need the jewelry: we’ll find something else to spend the money on.” Besides, you’ve already got a travel mug. “Right, and I’ve already got a travel mug.”)
If you’re hungry now, there’s a Hooters right up there.
“Har, har, hardy, har har, come on across the street.”
One more stop at Butterflies and Bugs (more for the butterflies really), then we’re back at Settebello just in time for a table to open up on the terrace in the sun. Lunch is perfect: delicious but not heavy, and we finish up (you gonna eat the rest of that? “Yes, but I’d offer you a taste of it if you thought to offer sharing yours.” But of course, sorry, what would you like? “Is that any good?” Yeah, take a bite. “And here, you should try this.” Mmm, I like that.) satisfied without being stuffed and sleepy. Our timing is good too – when we get out we only have a 10 minute wait for the bus to Grouse Mountain.
The bus ride offers some great views of the city, and you get to see Stanley Park as we go through the center of it (“I’m still a little upset that you went without me.” I promise, we’ll stop here on the way back today.). At the foot of Grouse Mountain we buy a tram ticket and coffee to enjoy while we wait.
“So tell me more about this book.”
Well, the thing is, there’s not much to it yet, but I do have pens and notebooks, and I think I’ve found an editor/contributor. If any actual words start to appear, I’ll share ‘em with you.
“So you’re planning on buying me silver with fool’s gold?”
A fool is involved, that much is sure, here’s the tram now…
Yet another conveyance playing with my nervous system – as the car heads up the mountain there are spectacular views of the park, and the city, and the inlet, and the bay, but the altitude causes my hands and feet to tingle as the blood rushes out of them, and my palms to sweat, and me to shift around in my anxiety. You get me to hold up Snowman to get some pics of him enjoying the view (He’s quite the daredevil – if I leaned up against the window like that I’d turn pale white,,, wait a minute, he is pale white.)
At the top of the mountain we alternate between taking in the vistas below us and watching the birds above. You point out a peregrine as it soars overhead. There’s another one. That screech with the vibrato at the end sounds like a red-tailed hawk, but I don’t see… there it is. And there’s another further down. In the bird house up here, Sauron the golden eagle jumps up to the front of his enclosure to get a better look at us. He turns his head to regard us silently, keeping his secrets to himself…
Back down in Stanley Park, the afternoon is running out. We pause to get a map and our bearings at the pavilion, then head west through the garden. We go up to the Beaver Lake, which is pretty crowded now, so we turn off the lake trail to make our way to Ferguson Point and catch a light dinner at Sequoia Grill at the Teahouse. After dinner, a bit more walking past the beach and along the seawall as the sun sets over the bay. Once we get out of the park, we catch a cab back to Granville Island. You’re totally in charge now that we’re within easy walking distance back to the hotel (“How’d I end up totally in charge?” Well, I’ve been up all day now, and it’s starting to wear me down and I’m getting tired. “Well, you better not be too tired, ‘cause I’m interested in a lot of this.” That’s cool – I’ve got plenty of energy to follow, just not enough to lead. “Well, maybe next time you won’t take off early and leave me alone.” Maybe next time, I’ll wake you up. “Just remember there’re consequences either way.” I’m mindful that they’re pleasant in both cases – lead on Mein Kapitan! “You might want to stick to English when you’re tired – just a friendly suggestion.”).
As the shops start to close, I influence us toward the Granville Island Brewery (“What happened to my being totally in charge? It hardly lasted one paragraph.” What? you want to just go back to the hotel? “No, but I think you mistake who influenced whom.” It’s just you’re so subtle it’s hard to recognize. In any case, we find ourselves at the Brewery, both thinking it was our idea.). We set Snowman up with a pint for a final photo-op, then have a few drinks ourselves. The city looks great lit up at night. The beers are pretty good too.
“I’m just about all in, do you mind if we head back?”
No, it’s cool, I’m ready to quit too. I was wondering though, what was it that you bought?
“Still too soon to say, it’ll be better if you let it surprise you.”
I’m all out of Canadian money – you manage the walk back?
“My legs are tired…”
Come on then, jump up.
“There’s no way…”
What do you overestimate your size or underestimate me?
“I’m too tired to fight it, let’s go.”
You put both arms around my neck when I kneel down, and my legs are less tired than I thought when I come back up with you piggy-back (“Come on now, that’s absurd.” No it’s not, it’s ridiculous, but if you could suspend the self-judgement and let yourself have fun with it you might even laugh about it. Tomorrow we’ll chalk it up to the beers and you can make fun of me about it. “You shouldn’t expect me to try to embarrass you about it – but promise you won’t drop me.” Promise.) We get within a block of the hotel, and you say in my ear, “You can let me down now ‘Clyde’.” Once I put you down it’s, “Last one back to the room has to go out and get breakfast tomorrow!” and you take off running.
That’s totally unfair! You come carry me for a while, then we can race!
You stop, turn back and call, “You know that’s not how it works – you’d ‘let’ me win anyway.”
Okay, you win, I’ll get breakfast tomorrow, just come back and walk the rest of the way with me.
You meet me halfway, with both hands behind your back. “Pick one.”
I pick your left hand, which you hold out, turn over and open.
Is that for me?
“Yeah, it’s what I got while you were buying the travel cup. Do you like it?”
Very much. Thank you.
The rest of the way back to the hotel we walk with you holding my right arm and I holding a carved wooden bear in my left hand…