Authors: Anthony Bidulka
ered my eyes with my hands and wailed. I didn’t
rub, I knew that would only make it worse. I turned
on my tummy and blindly reached out for some
snow, bringing it to my eyes to wash away the
offending substance. As I did this I could hear the
footfalls of my pursuee leaving the scene, escap-
ing through a squeaky backyard gate. This time I
was in no condition to follow.
196 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
Having rolled myself into a protective ball
against one corner of the house, it took me a few
minutes to feel comfortable enough to attempt
opening my eyes. First the right one. It stung ever
so slightly. The snow had helped. Then the left.
Again, the sensation wasn’t pleasant but at least I
could see. Using the house for balance, I stood up
slowly on nearly steady legs, straightening myself
out and trying to get my bearings. I trudged back
to the street and looked around. My eyes were
tearing but I could see well enough to determine I
was about two or three blocks from home. I pulled
the collar of my coat as far above my icy ears as it
would reach, buried my hands in my pockets and
began the chilly trek home, my mind busily com-
posing a story to tell my mother about kids play-
ing pranks. After what she and I had just talked
about, I didn’t want her feeling afraid to be in my
home. But…should she?
Saturday morning arrived with a thudding
headache, a sore throat and itchy eyes, all results of
my Friday night escapade. As I lay in bed I could
hear the sounds and smell the aromas of cooking
and baking even though the kitchen was at the
other end of the house. There was no sign of either
dog; they knew which side their biscuit was but-
tered on. I remained in my room longer than I nor-
mally would, mostly because I wanted to wait until
the pink irritation and slight swelling around my
eyes disappeared. I didn’t want to worry my moth-
er. A cold compress did wonders. While I waited I
Anthony Bidulka — 197
tried reaching Darren Kirsch at his office. I didn’t
really know how he could help me with my peep-
ing Tom problem. All I knew was that I definitely
needed to talk about this with someone. Alas, he
was not there, likely spending weekend time with
his wife and brood. Next I called Kelly and Errall’s
number, hoping I’d finally catch Kelly at home. No
answer—again. Well, to heck with that.
We used my mother’s van because there was no
way the Mazda would have had room for the crew
I was hauling. Errall and Kelly live in a two-storey
house on Pembina Avenue. It’s built on a hillside
with a partial view of downtown and a rolling,
woodsy backyard. We pulled up just before 11
a.m: me, my mother (who knows Kelly from when
she and I went to Howell High together), Brutus
and Barbra. When I explained to Mom about
Kelly’s illness she, after a brief weep, had hopped
into action. We made our way up the driveway
towards the front door with my mom schlepping
along grocery bags brimming with medicine—
plastic Becel Margarine containers filled with
stews, creamed potatoes, cabbage rolls and bread-
ed cutlets suspended in congealing gravy. As we
rang the doorbell it dawned on me that what I
hadn’t thought to fully explain to my mother was
Errall. Had she made the leap from the existence
of gay men, her brother and son, to gay women?
The door was answered by a version of Errall I
rarely get to see. She looks like a different person
out of her hard-edged lawyer drag. Her dark hair
198 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
was pulled into two messy pigtails and a plain
white T-shirt was barely tucked into a pair of
threadbare, faded jeans. If asked, she’d insist she
feels more comfortable in her power suits, but this
more casual look softened the sharp edges of her
face and intensity of her blazingly blue eyes. Her
pale face looked out at us with surprise, but she
stepped aside and with a thin, bony hand clasping
a steaming mug of coffee, she motioned us to
come in.
“Mom, this is Errall, Errall, Mom,” I said
brightly once we were all indoors and staring at
each other in the small entranceway.
My mother looked at me with a look that said,
“I vasn’t expecting dis, vere you expecting dis?
Who ees dis girl?” Instead she said, “Very nice,
hello, Carol. Very nice.”
Errall gave me a look that said, “Are you outta
your fuckin’ mind?” But she said, “Hello, Mrs.
Quant. So nice to meet you. Won’t you come in?”
Errall led us to the kitchen, where most of the
activity in Errall and Kelly’s home usually takes
place. It’s a big, bright room with big, bright win-
dows that look out onto the backyard and lots of
chairs and stools to sit on.
“Can I take your coats?” Errall asked politely.
Again another, “Who dis?” look from my
mother.
We gave up our coats and, while Errall left to
put them away somewhere, we stood expectantly
in the kitchen, my mother using her X-ray vision to
see inside cupboards and under the sink.
Errall returned and served us coffee. When it
Anthony Bidulka — 199
came time to hand my mother her cup, she looked
down at the bags my mother still held tight.
“I bring for Kelly,” Mother explained.
Errall gave us her first sincere smile of the
visit. “Oh, how thoughtful, thank you. What is
it?”
Mom handed her the bags, which Errall almost
dropped due to the unexpected weight they car-
ried.
“Is Kelly home?” I asked. Hoped.
Errall shot me a look.
“I’ve been trying to call her for days. She never
answers, so I thought we’d just drop by. Mom has-
n’t seen Kelly in years, probably since high school,
and I know Kelly would like to see Brutus.”
“Of course,” Errall said, setting the bags on the
kitchen island. “I’ll go see if she’s up yet.” She
looked at my mother and explained, “She hasn’t
been feeling well lately.”
My mother smiled and nodded. “Dat’s okay,
den. Ve come back, tomorrow mebbe?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Errall said. “Let me just go
see.” And with that Errall disappeared and in a
second we heard her clomping up the stairs.
I looked around, feeling a bit uncomfortable. I
don’t like showing up uninvited to anyone’s
house, but this was a special situation. Kelly need-
ed to get out of her funk. Perhaps seeing her dog
and having some of my mother’s cabbage rolls
would help. Barbra and Brutus were standing at
the back door, longingly staring out at the yard. I
let them out. Mom and I sipped coffee and waited.
When Kelly appeared, Errall at her back, I was
200 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
unexpectedly taken aback with emotion. I hadn’t
seen her in such a long time and, knowing what I
knew, I suddenly felt raw inside. Looking at the
two women I sensed a distance between Errall
and Kelly, not just a physical one, but an emotion-
al one that was just as easy to see.
Kelly and my mother hugged and my mother
immediately pulled her over to the island and
painstakingly went through the contents, one by
one, of each grocery bag, explaining how each was
made and why it was good for her. As they did
this I watched Kelly and I watched Errall watch-
ing Kelly. Kelly seemed thin, much of her stocky,
muscular build replaced by an undeniable frail-
ness. Her normally cutesy face, with the wide eyes
and mouth, was drawn and wan and her hair was
longer than I ever remember seeing it, the red a
faded version of its former self. Errall was observ-
ing the interaction between the two other women
closely, a thin, brittle smile on her lips.
“You seet down,” my mother ordered Kelly
after the bag inventory was done. “You seet and I
show your friend Carol how to keep dese foods
and how to feex dem goot, so dey be smahchneh.”
She almost pushed Kelly towards me while
motioning for Errall to join her at the island say-
ing, “Dees a goot stove?”
Errall looked horrified as she realized what
was happening and how helpless she was to stop
it. I felt sorry for her, but not that sorry and used
the opportunity to steer Kelly out of the kitchen
and into a nearby sitting room where we might
have some privacy.
Anthony Bidulka — 201
We sat in two armchairs at right angles to each
other. Kelly and I didn’t practise bullshit with one
another so I just came out with it. “Kells bells, you
don’t look so hot.”
“I know,” she said, twisting a finger in her hair,
a habit I didn’t remember her having. “I haven’t
been to get this mop cut for such a long time and
I’m not playing soccer this winter so I’m so outta
shape.”
“You should get out more. You and Errall are
coming to the tree trimming party at my place
tomorrow night, right, but how about just you and
me go out for a beer next week?”
“No beers for me,” she said.
“What are you talking about, no beers? You
give it up? The breweries will go bankrupt!” I
tried for levity.
“I’ve got to clean up my act, Russell.”
I didn’t get it. “What do you mean? The doctor
say that?”
“I have cancer, Russell. I’ve got to watch how I
treat my body.” The tone in her voice was unfamil-
iar to me.
“You
had
cancer, Kelly. It’s gone now.”
She turned to face me again. I’d be happy to
not remember the look in her eyes. “We don’t
know that for sure.”
We were quiet for a moment and then she said,
“You know, some doctors suggest cutting them
both off. Just in case. I didn’t let them. I just could-
n’t. The other breast is okay right now, but once
you’ve had cancer in one the chances of…”
“Okay, stop,” I told her. “You made a decision.
202 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
You made the right decision for you. And in all the
years I’ve known you, I’d say you make pretty
good ones. So we’re done. This is over. Each day
you’re going to get better and better and soon
everything will be just the way it was before.” I
knew I’d said the wrong thing as soon as it came
out of my mouth.
“Things will never be the way they were
before. I have only one breast left. I’ve had a dis-
ease in my body that wanted to kill me. I…I’ll
never be the same. Ever again. You don’t under-
stand! You’re just like Errall…and everyone
else…you don’t understand what it’s like.”
I nodded mutely.
“Sometimes…and I don’t say this to Errall…”
she said, her voice calmer, “but sometimes,
Russell, I think…I may not survive this. I think I’ll
look back at this as the beginning of the end. I
think I might die, Russell. No matter what the
doctors say and how much skin and tissue they
cut out of me, I think I might die.”
What can you say to that? I felt helpless. I felt
inadequate. I had absolutely no frame of reference
to use to even have a clue as to how she was feel-
ing. I’d never had cancer. I’d never had a part of
me cut off. I’d never lived with the fear that death
was hunting me. I wanted to let her know she
wasn’t alone and there were a lot of us who
believed in her survival. But what can you say?
“I love you” is what came out.
She mouthed the words, “I know.”
“Ve go now,” said a voice behind us.
We turned to see my mother standing there. I
Anthony Bidulka — 203
could hear Errall still in the kitchen, banging
around putting away the pots and pans my moth-
er had insisted on inspecting, and uttering a few
choice words barely beneath her breath.
“Yes,” I said, “we should go. We burst in on
you without an invitation.”
We collected our coats and as we said our
goodbyes my mother told Kelly, “Your goot friend
knows how to varm up all de food, so you eat.
Vhen you vant some…” and then she raised her
voice for Errall’s benefit, “…just call her and she
come over and cook eet for you, ya, Carol?”
“Mom, Errall lives here. With Kelly.”
She just smiled and said, “Oh, ya, uh-huh, goot
den. Very nice.”
Chapter 11
BACK AT HOME my mother prepared us a lunch of
roast beef, headcheese and pickled beets. After