Can't Go Home Again...

Or Nick goes back to Montreal

Today was have an exciting crossover with The Queer Notebook

Over there I’ve written about what it was like to go back to Montreal after a decade and a bit.

But the thing is, I’ve already been there in my head for almost a year…writing this story. In my novel-in-progress, Nick lives in Montreal. In fact, he lives in my old apartment (of course). So when I was there I couldn’t help but imagine after that story, what if he went back too…so this is the mini story that popped into my head.

I know you won’t know his story (or Bens, or Tim’s or even Adam’s…) but maybe this will intrige you a little…)

September 2023…Montreal. 

Nick was squished against the window in the back of the cab, when he realised where they were heading. He’d not asked exactly where the bar that Tim’s friend was playing at, in all honesty, he’d just been going along with it because everyone wanted to. His head was fuzzy this weekend. They were here as plus ones, or plus twos really. To both a talk Tim was giving at the McCord museum and to an alumni hockey event Dean was part of. Both were exciting things for people they loved, yet Nick couldn’t quite focus. They’d arrived late last night, to a hotel near Chinatown and thankfully, Mark had run out for takeout. Ben’s parents had gone to meet friends last night and today, while they had a slow day of shopping for Tim mostly, and hanging out in bookstores for the rest of them, followed by a touristy stroll to the old town. That had all been ok, as familiar as downtown was it could also be anywhere and Nick found himself being pulled along with the crowd, enjoying some window shopping. The old town too, was tourist central and not somewhere he and Ben ever really frequented when they lived here. It was kitsch and fun and Tim knew how to embrace tourist fun- moose hats and all. He’d told himself he was tired all day that’s why he was zoned out. He woke up now like cold water had been poured over him. Ben started next to him and he realised he’d squeezed his hand too tightly. 

They’d driven past a laundromat. And his chest felt tight. Because it was his laundromat. The one at the end of his street. He hadn’t even registered they’d been driving this way. In a flash, the School opposite his flat whizzed by, and he knew Ben saw too when he squeezed his hand. They couldn’t comment on it now, in the cab. And within two minutes, they were at the venue. Nick glanced at the GPS on the driver’s phone; Mont Royal and Rachel…they were less than two blocks from his place. As he got out the street was so familiar, the weird old dollar store, the real estate place, the take-out pizza place. He took a breath. He didn’t know the bar they were going to, but it was all a lot. While Tim paid the driver and they got out, Ben looped an arm over him. 

‘You ok?’ He murmured. 

‘Yeah fine.’ He lied. 

Ben didn’t believe him but gave him a squeeze. Nick had been retreating into himself all day as it was. He was probably not even aware of it, but he had a vacant look and barely spoke. But they’d kept busy and Nick had kept going. So Ben had let him. 

‘Right let’s see what terrible mid life crisis music Andy is creating.’ Tim declared, then frowned ‘you alright?’ he asked Nick. 

‘Yeah, fine, just tired. Be fine once I get a drink.’ He smiled, and Ben squeezed his shoulders and followed Tim bouncing in. Mark caught his arm. 

‘If you want to leave early.’ He said softly. 

Nick nodded his thanks, grateful for whatever unspoken understanding Mark had. Inside the bar was packed, whether just Friday night crowd or actual fans of Tim’s friend’s band. Either way, it was loud, but in that way, you could just zone out and let the noise wash over you. Andy’s band was good too, soft indie rock with sweet lyrics. During one sentimental piece, Tim reached over for Nick’s hand on the table and sat softly rubbing his thumb over his hand. Nick glanced over and smiled, watching Tim watch the music smiling. It was worth putting aside his stuff to see Tim happy. At the intermission, Tim was off chatting with his friend Mark and Ben went to the bar; at that point, it got too much. He found himself flashing back to the -admittedly rare- times he was in bars just like this when he lived here. This place, a small dark bar in the Plateau, was so here, so Montreal. So much the kind of place their friends and acquaintances would frequent. Despite everyone tonight being a decade older, he was back there if he squinted. And it was a lot. Suddenly he needed some air and hurried outside. There was the usual gaggle of smokers outside and that didn’t help. Neither did the view of the quiet street, dark stores, and another bar down the block lit up. It was all so familiar, so like home and yet not. He felt like he clicked back in and yet not. 

‘It’s gotta be weird eh?’ Mark’s voice made him start, then flop against the wall. He nodded. 

‘I did my Masters in Calgary. For no particular reason and every reason that year was a lot…I’ve only been back once and it was weird.’ He shrugged ‘A lot happened to you in this city.’ 

Nick nodded. ‘I lived just down there.’ He gestured, then shrugged. ‘Didn’t realise until we drove past. This bar is like…every bar I got dragged to…and it’s just…’

‘A lot.’ Mark offered, then opened his arms. Nick accepted the hug, not caring if it looked weird, hugging outside a bar. Mark squeezed him tight. ‘You good?’ He asked, pulling back; Nick nodded.

 Mark hesitated a moment, leaned down, and kissed him lightly, then smiled softly. They were still figuring out this stuff, especially in public, but outside a bar on a Friday night in the Plateau, nobody was going to bat an eye. Nick smiled and leaned up, kissing him again, lingering a second grateful for the support. 

He was impressed they all lasted until midnight. He relaxed after a few drinks, and the band was good. He even let himself get caught up in socialising, letting Tim and Ben do the bulk of the talking, but getting into an interesting conversation with the drummer, who it turned out did a lot of theatre work. Eventually, they piled into another cab and back to the hotel. Tim was chatting animatedly in a mix of Korean and French to the cab driver- because of course; he’d found one of Montreal’s only Korean-speaking cab drivers- Mark was occasionally dragged into it, while Nick stared out the window. As they rounded the street again, the laundromat lit up like it was Christmas, and Ben nudged him. 

‘We can come up here tomorrow.’ He said softly. 

Nick glanced over and nodded, reaching for his hand.  

‘Thanks.’ 

The next morning was a slow start, turned out none of them had the stamina for being out after midnight. Ben had explained to Mark while they ran to Tim Horton’s for coffee and breakfast what they were going to do, and he’d agreed with Ben’s plan. So at 10, Nick and Ben hopped on the Metro. He’d let Nick lead how they did it, though he guessed correctly that he wanted to walk from the Metro. Tim had 10.30 am meeting with the museum ahead of his talk, and Mark was tagging along to read in a coffee shop nearby, so they had the morning. They walked to the Metro in silence and got off at Sherbrooke. Ben got a wave of nostalgia at the orange mural at the exit, something he’d passed so many times without looking at it. Even upstairs the little patisserie that seemed so out of place, and forever out of time too, for a Metro station, was still apparently going strong. 

‘Can’t believe it’s still there.’ He mused. Nick hummed in agreement. He’d never once bought anything there either. 

They walked a few short blocks to the park. Those blocks were typical of this end of town- three-story houses converted into apartments, small yards in front in some cases. At this point, some were decorated for Halloween too, and they pointed at the cute ones on the way. They entered the park from Sherbrooke's side, passing the weird row of four giant flags that seemed to serve no purpose. In the park, Ben reached for Nick’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He glanced up and smiled at him. 

‘My bike route.’ He mused as they walked down the path toward the water. He’d had a bike much of his time here until it got stolen just after he moved in with Ben’s family. At that point, it was too far to bike to campus so he gave up. But when he lived here he biked until the snow came. Always cutting through the park on the way home. Along this path and up, the route they took now. Pausing at the top to look over at where the fountain should be, but where now there was a partially drained mucky lake of mud and stone ready for winter and freezing for skating. 

‘Not the most attractive time of year.’ He mused. 

Ben steered them to a bench for a moment, overlooking the muddy pond. Nick shuffled close and put his head on Ben’s shoulder. He let his husband sit there working through whatever he needed to. 

‘Didn’t think it would be weird. It’s not like we haven’t been back.’ 

Ben reached over for his hand and entwined their fingers. 

‘Been a hell of a year though. And look when we came back before it was just to my parent’s house, maybe a hockey game and to the malls…this hits different.’

‘Alright Gen - Z’ Nick laughed sitting up. ‘Does though.’ He glanced down at their hands and smiled. ‘This does too though. Ten years ago we wouldn’t have sat in a park holding hands.’ He glanced around, it was really quiet anyway. But it was true, while they never hid neither of them had the confidence to be so public in displays of affection back then. 

‘Can I hold your hand while we walk you home?’ Ben asked. Deliberate in his choice of words

Nick nodded. ‘That’d be good.’ 

Again, physical affection, not just publicly, was a weird negotiated thing. But also touching in times of emotional stress was too, so Nick appreciated his husband knew when to ask. He gave his hand a little squeeze as they walked across the park. A man walking a fluffy dachshund smiled at them as he passed and Ben waved at the dog. Taking in the baseball diamond and boules grounds they wove across the last bit of the park towards the road. 

It felt like his brain clicked into a decade ago as they walked the familiar route. Crossing the road he felt a slight knot form in his stomach. Everything was very real suddenly, something that existed only in foggy memories was back. He smiled remembering the terrible hairdressers that were inexplicably still there, who gave him a terrible haircut once. And the two pet stores within a block of each other somehow survive. There was now a hipster cafe on one corner. 

‘Fancy,’ Ben commented with a smile. 

‘Maybe in ten more years it’ll be trendy up here.’ Nick joked. 

A block later, Nick halted too quickly at the corner. He didn’t know why a supermarket did this to him, but he was hit with a wave of nostalgia mixed with almost sadness. Ben squeezed his hand. 

‘Want to go in?’ He asked. 

Nick nodded. For some reason, he wanted to, had to. Inside it was exactly the same, and had been the same since approximately the late 80s. He rounded to the right, past the smell of rotisserie chicken, and paused in front of the meat. Blinking at a rack of beef cuts garnished with pepper. 

‘Why so specifically does this remind me of here?’ He mumbled. 

‘You didn’t know how to cook.’ Ben joked. 

They walked to the back wall, and Ben stopped and grinned. 

‘Milk-Gate.’ He joked. 

Nick laughed. They’d had an epic row once, probably the biggest they’d ever had, which started here over milk. 

‘I was right.’ He pouted. It might have been a decade, but he was still adamant. 

Ben rolled his eyes. They rounded the snacks aisle, and Ben picked up a packet of gummy candy and chocolate-covered nuts. Things they added to their basket often. Nick nodded, and they went to the checkout. Ben smiled, watching Nick converse in French with the cashier, knowing it had been a huge fear of his when he first moved here. Some things did change, he reasoned. Nick had always actually spoken better French than him. 

‘Merci bonne journée!’ Nick called and handed Ben the snacks. He paused, taking a couple of nuts, and Nick snapped pictures of the supermarket. He shrugged. ‘Can’t help think I won’t be back.’ 

Ben nodded; maybe that was it. They certainly had less and less reason to come back here, especially in recent years. They walked the rest of the block silently, a woman wheeling her shopping cart ahead of them. He felt himself hoping she turned another way; this felt like something they didn’t need an audience for. 

As they crossed the road, Nick glanced to his right out of habit, not for traffic but to look at the bridge. He’d always loved the dramatic view there; he smiled and glanced at Ben, who smiled back. They walked the block length, ticking off numbers in his head, 4050, 4065, 4080. His stomach was a weird knot of anticipation, just at apartment numbers. He glanced over again instinctively, to the school on the left, which had seemingly had a bit of a facelift, a fancy sign replacing the previous entrance. But the orange and yellow patchwork of the 70s design also remained. He glanced back at the number, 4081. He stopped 4087. He felt Ben take his hand again. 

It had never been much to look at. Another three-story apartment building, with rickety stairs leading up to his, the middle apartment. Same stairs, same grey-blue paint job. Same front door. Aside from the fact it looked like someone was renovating the apartment on the ground floor, nothing had changed. He let out a breath. He was sort of relieved. If everything had changed, if it were renovated, somehow that would have been harder.

‘Looks the same.’ Ben mused. 

‘Yeah.’ He said, ‘I mean I guess Mrs Jones moved out though. Maybe she moved to Ottawa with her kids.’ He hoped so anyway; she’d always been nice. It did look the same- the messy garden in front of Mrs. Jones’ place. The upstairs flat he was sure, was just a front for either a brothel or crack den. And his, in the middle. The window with the same half-pulled cream shade, the door, same number, same cracked paint. Everything on either side is the same. In a decade it felt like a time capsule. 

He leaned into Ben, who let him, then pulled him slightly by the hand towards the steps. Nick got it and nodded. He sat and bumped his knees against Ben’s. Then shivered against the slight chill. Ben put an arm over him. 

‘Everything changed in this apartment.’ Nick said. ‘Or in one case on the steps.’ He felt Ben chuckle against him. 

‘If stairs could talk.’ Ben said, ‘Actually if your neighbours could that night.’ 

‘What our very PG-rated asexual awkward first kiss? Yes that was one to note.’ Nick teased. 

‘It was though.’ Ben said seriously, ‘It was perfect.’ 

Nick locked eyes with him and nodded. Hesitated, leaned in, and kissed him lightly at first but then deeper. He smiled into it, then pulled back, looking at the floor. 

‘What?’ Ben nudged him. 

‘You sat here with me after we kissed. I like that I always think of this place that way.’ He pushed himself up and looked at the building again. ‘I don’t know…everything happened here didn’t it? I started over in a new city, a total mess- I mean when am I not.’ 

‘You’re my sad messy fool.’ Ben teased. ‘But I think this is the place you went through it all, and came out the other side.’ He squeezed his shoulders. ‘It’s where something important ended, and something else began.’ 

Nick nodded. Ben always managed to say it right. He stood up and looked at the door again. Somehow that, more than anything else, was engrained in his mind. 

 ‘I fell in love here. I lost my dad here.’ He looked down at Ben. ‘The man I love picked me up off the floor, time and time again here.’ 

‘We also ate cake off that floor.’ Ben joked but pushed himself up. ‘I fell in love there too.’ Nick threw him a glance, and Ben glanced at the door again and shrugged. ‘When I think of falling in love with you, I see this place. I see the horrible orange kitchen, I see your old TV that didn’t work properly, I see the trunk coffee table…I see the pumpkins I bought you we kept out all year. I see you sat at the tiny kitchen table head buried in books or your laptop. Nicholas, this apartment is you. That’s why it’s…something…’ of course, he was in tears now. He wiped at his face. 

Nick reached for his hand, gently grazing his fingers. ‘I never knew…it was that important to you.’ 

Ben shrugged. ‘Silly…but it’s you this place.’ 

Nick nodded, hot tears spilling over again. He let them run unchecked while he looked at the building again. 

‘I know none of it’s real. It’s all just air and memories. I know dad wasn’t here the last time I spoke to him, or mum when she told me. But I was. So it feels like it happened here. All this time I’ve felt stupid for that.’ He took a breath, steadying himself. ‘If I could do it again Benji?’ He looked up, and Ben frowned down. ‘I’d wake you up when the phone rang and tell you, and let you comfort me or whatever people do. I’d do it…right.’ He wiped his face and frowned as Ben laughed at him. Then kissed him. 

‘No you wouldn’t.’ He said, ‘Because that’s not you. My little Bear had to figure it all out in his head first, or at least try. You had to go through that day, just like you had to drop cake on the floor of that apartment or throw pans…or finally let yourself cry, or ask for a hug. There’s nothing wrong with it. There’s nothing wrong with you.’ 

That set Nick off further, and Ben pulled him in. He was softly snuffling, which turned into small sobs. 

‘I’m so broken Ben. What’s wrong with me?’ 

Ben pulled him close; this had been bubbling for a while. Not connected to this but not unconnected, since he’d been physically well, all the stuff in Nick’s head had started looming larger. They hadn’t talked about it properly, not with Tim to look after, but as he got stronger, he could sense Nick falling apart. He pulled back. 

‘You’re not broken. And if you are? We’ll find ways to patch you up ok?’ 

Nick let himself burrow into Ben for a moment. He looked over his shoulder to see an older lady walking past. She raised her hand. 

‘Ca ira ma Cherie.’ she smiled, stopped, and dug in a handbag holding out a packet of tissues. 

Nick detangled himself and accepted. 

‘Je vivais ici.’ He explained. 

‘Beaucoup de souvenirs.’ She smiled as he wiped his eyes. 

‘Oui, oui.’ He confirmed. 

‘Bon souvenirs aussi.’ She winked at Ben, who laughed. 

‘Oui, d’accord. Nous avons de notre premier ici.’ Ben gestured. 

‘Ben!’ Nick laughed. So did the lady. 

‘Ah jejune amor.’ The lady teased. ‘Vous êtes un bon couple. Bon chance.’ 

‘Merci madame. Bonne journée, merci.’ Nick held out the tissue, she waved them back. 

‘Le souvans.’ She nodded at him. He nodded and smiled, then looked back at Ben. 

‘I need to look inside.’ He declared and glanced around the street to check nobody was there. He ran up the steps and peered in the window. It was home but not. The place was half renovated. Walls were knocked down, and everything was empty. The shape of it was the same. But it wasn’t his any more. He laughed. 

‘Hey Ben! There’s a kitchen island!’ 

Ben made a face of judgment. Nick snapped a picture of the door and, with one touch to the frame, scrambled down the steps feeling the oh-so-familiar bumps in the wrought iron on his fingers. 

‘I’m done.’ He said and held out a hand to Ben. 

They walked in silence another block, letting it settle in. On the next corner, the little cafe they sat outside often pulled him up again. 

‘You wanna stop?’ Ben asked. 

Nick shook his head. They plodded on. Ben said hello to a dog they passed; they pointed out Halloween decorations, good and bad. It felt normal. He wasn’t naive to think this had solved whatever fallout was going on in his head, whatever else was ‘wrong’ with him. But he felt something settle in him as they walked. 

Turning onto Mont-Royal, they stopped at looked at pumpkins outside a produce store. Nick holding them up with joy. He stopped to look at maple candy, which he was still drawn to like a child, and Ben disappeared, reappearing with a paper bag. He offered it. Nick peered inside. A tiny pumpkin. 

‘Pumpkin!’ He exclaimed. They ended up with several a year because Ben knew it brought him joy. He reached for his husband’s hand. ‘Thank you husband.’ He said softly, ‘For gourds and putting up with me.’ 

‘Always.’ Ben said softly, then gestured at the Second Cup down the block ‘Coffee?’ 

Nick nodded and followed Ben in. The place had been renovated into hipster central since he was last here. But he didn’t have time to take that in before he realised who was waiting at the table in the corner; Tim and Mark. Nick sagged a little, then threw Ben a look, and he shrugged. Then he was being swallowed up in a fierce Tim-hug. 

‘Didn’t think we’d let you do that alone?’ 

Nick clung to him a bit. 

‘I’m a bit broken.’ He whispered. 

‘We’ll look after you.’ Tim replied. 

They settled into the corner table again, coffees in front of them, Mark and Tim chatting away about the morning, getting ready for the lecture tonight. Nick felt himself zone out. Then he was crying again. This time it was Tim gently taking his hand. 

‘I cried here.’ He said ‘this coffee shop. A lot. Before Ben, just when things were hard and I felt like I was failing at life. I’m always feeling like I’m failing at life.’ He tried to joke, but it got swallowed up. ‘I sat and cried over work I couldn’t do, or things I fucked up. Because I had nobody to talk to, before Ben was Ben…and I didn’t want to bother him.’ He sniffed, ‘I cried here after Dad died because Sunday came on my iPod, and I didn’t skip in time so I just sat and cried into my laptop not caring who saw. I cried here when Ben and I had a stupid fight and I thought he’d leave me.’ He hesitated ‘I cried here the day before I moved out of that apartment because I was scared I’d mess up living with Ben’s family and I’d have nobody.’ 

Tim squeezed his hand. ‘You know what’s different?’  Nick shook his head ‘All those times you were alone. Now look at you.’ 

Nick nodded and squeezed Tim’s hand looking over at the other two. They were right, it did feel different, having people to cry to. 

‘Enough of me being dramatic.’ He said, ‘The rest of today is about your talk.’ 

‘Well first it’s about lunch.’ Tim declared. Then made a face. ‘I may be feeling a little in need of serious carbs.’

‘You are too old for that much whiskey.’ Mark teased, then made a face. ‘So am I.’ 

‘Bagels?’ Ben said hopefully. 

‘All the bagels.’ Tim confirmed. 

Later that afternoon, with Tim suitably filled with bagels and a fair amount of coffee, you wouldn’t know he had spent the morning hangover as hell. He was flitting around the room in the McCord museum, welcoming people. Nick caught Mark smiling. 

‘Looks like his old self.’ He mused, ‘it’s nice.’ 

Nick nodded. ‘Maybe we’re all getting there.’ 

‘Come on boys! We got seats in the front!’ Dean’s over-enthusiasm and calling Mark ‘boys’ too was endearing as ever. And they dutifully followed, Tim having slightly exaggerated Maggie’s need for a wheelchair space to ensure seating in the front for them- and they now took up the whole front row. A few minutes later, Tim bounded onto the stage, his suit matching the deep purple headscarf he was wearing. Nick glanced over at Mark, who was beaming at him and saw Ben reach for his hand for a moment. 

‘Friends, potential future enemies! Thank you for having me.’ Tim beamed. ‘I’m here today to talk about Queer theatre culture of the 1970s with you, in as part of the series- the beautifully Queer -series that accompanies the new exhibition. It is also a suitably gay honour to be the opening one of these talks, and of course to avail you of free wine as you open the exhibition.’ There was laughter. ‘But in all seriousness, let us begin with a very queer journey into theatre in the era of big hair…’ 

Tim was off on a rollercoaster of fascinating insight into the theatre of the 70s, from circus to cabaret to musicals. They’d all heard bits of it- Nick had even helped with some of the research- but nobody delivered it quite like Tim. They applauded at the end, and Ben asked the question he’d been carefully instructed to by Tim. Followed by a variety of interesting and niche ones. As they wrapped up Tim continued. 

‘So as I’m the first of these talks, it’s also my pleasure to introduce, and open the exhibition. This collection is called ‘Queer Lives,’ and it’s one of my favourite things- real people, real history and their stories. The museum have collated images from people of all ages, from a variety of cities in Canada, and asked them to add their stories. They are a beautiful rainbow tapestry of our community. And some that are very dear to my heart.’ He looked down at the front row. ‘My family is here today, I mean I sort of made them come.’ More laughter. ‘I hope they won’t be too offended when they find that I got asked if I wanted to be part of this, and so by default, they got included too.’ 

Nick looked at Mark, who shrugged in an ‘of course kind of way. 

‘Anyway.’ Tim continued, ‘That and one other story here is very dear to me. I hope you find something to move you too.’ 

Nick frowned as Tim got down, but he just smiled and sat next to Mark, who kissed him in congratulations and then sat to listen to the rest of the speeches. Then he was whisked off by a bunch of well-wishers while they loitered. 

‘Ok I’m back but stay put one second.’ Tim was there and bounding off. 

‘I swear I gave him too much coffee…’ Mark rolled his eyes. 

‘So he’s what put a picture of you in Mark?’ Dean asked; the rest of the exhibit from here, they could see were photos, accompanied by audio, letters, and information. 

‘He swore me to secrecy.’ Mark said, ‘Sorry.’ 

‘I think we’re about to find out.’ Maggie’s smiled with a nod. 

They all turned, and Nick shook his head. Not even in disbelief. 

‘Mum?’

‘Nicky.’ She smiled. ‘Guess I felt like a little train ride.’ 

‘This is you.’ He said to Tim, who shrugged. 

‘I may have done some…engineering.’ He shrugged. ‘Also with the placement of our picture.’ 

‘Do we get to know what it is?’ Mark asked. 

Tim grinned his insufferable grin and jerked his head. Some of the images were displayed on free-standing podiums, and he directed them to one in the far corner of the room and gestured theatrically. 

’Tah-Dah!’ He grinned. 

‘Timothy!’ Mark exclaimed, laughing. 

‘It was the only full family one!’ Tim laughed. 

Nick shook his head. The picture was of all of them- literally all of them, him, Ben, Mark, Dean, Maggie, his mum, and the twins, and of course, it was at a hockey game. Nick and Dean’s kids had been in a weekend championship over in Hamilton, and everyone had made the trip. The picture, taken by one of the moms, was of them all over a hot chocolate and cake break. All in hoodies and jerseys and hats, looking freezing. But chaotically happy. It was actually quite lovely. Nick glanced over at the accompanying note. It was the card Tim had given him that night. 

‘Congrats Nick, your team won! I might not understand hockey but I understand a good thing. And you’re a good thing for your kids. You’re a good thing for me. This old gay fool didn’t think he’d be cheering for hockey at 52 for many reasons. But I’m glad to cheer for you. The Adler-Bakers are my team now. Love you. Tim.’ 

‘Well that’s just lovely.’ Dean commented.

’Sweet.’ Maggie added. 

‘Sneaky.’ Mark added. 

‘Oh you don’t know.’ Tim said, but then looked serious. ‘Nicky?’ 

He held out a hand, and Nick frowned, took it, and saw Tim glance at his mum. He knew before Tim led him to the other side of the podium and promptly, of course, burst into tears when he saw. 

It was his dad. And David, and his mum, and Nick, in his stupid red dungarees. Holding a green windmill. 

‘If I didn’t love you so much I’d kill you for that.’ Nick managed laugh-sobbing. Tim gently held him up while he cried, and his mum appeared at his side, taking his arm too. Ben behind him kissed his cheek while Dean and Maggie stood nearby, and they all took a moment to look. 

He’d always loved this picture. The four of them at the beach, in winter, of course. But it was a beautiful winter’s day by some miracle, and they were all happy and smiling Nick was looking up between his dad and David, and his mum looked so happy. He stepped forward to read the note from his dad to David. One of the hundreds he’d read. 

‘David, I got you this terrible fridge magnet today. You need a souvenir from the beach! And we know you love a tacky fridge magnet. 

It was good, wasn’t it? Our day out. Nicky loves the beach. He probably won’t remember today, but we will. Family days out. Andi loved it too.

Love you.

A x

p.s those were not real donuts. Come to Canada. I’ll show you real donuts. 

Nick sniffed and wiped his eyes, and looked at his mum. 

‘I do remember.’ He said, ‘I remember the donuts. And the wind. And the windmill David bought me.’ 

She nodded, and he went to her and hugged her. Then went to Tim. 

‘You.’ He said, still crying. Tim held him tight, then let him go. He looked around. His whole family- the family on the other side of the podium were gathered, looking at the picture of his dad and David. Ben was crying, Mark’s arm around him. Dean and Maggie were looking at it fondly while Maggie reached an arm out to his mum. And Tim was wrapped around him. 

‘They’d love it.’ Nick said, glancing at his mum, who nodded. ‘He’d love that his friend did it for him.’ Nick added. Tim wiped his eyes and leaned over, kissing Nick’s cheek. 

‘I’m glad.’ 

They stayed while looking quietly before they disbanded to take in the exhibition. Nick naturally found himself back there a while later. Ben shortly appeared at his side and took his hand. 

‘This exhibition runs for a year you know.’ He said, ‘So maybe you have reason to come back here for a while.’ 

Nick smiled over at him and nodded. 

‘Not quite goodbye yet.’ 

Ben shook his head. 

‘See you soon Dad, David.’ He said to the picture. 

A while later, they were in the Tim Horton’s across the street stocking up on donuts and coffee before the hockey game that night - that, of course, Dean was able to get his mum a ticket for by ‘calling a guy’. They sat eating and drinking in the noisy cafe, and Nick laughed and wiped his eyes. 

‘Fuck’s sake.’ He said, ‘Again?’ 

Ben laughed and kissed his cheek. ‘Again.’ 

Nick wiped his eyes. ‘You know, I came here for a coffee after my first meeting with my advisor. It didn’t go well. I cried into my coffee, which they put sugar in and I was too shy or British to complain about.’ 

‘Ah the double double.’ Ben smiled. 

‘That’s what he said.’ Tim winked. 

Nick laughed. ‘So I sat in that window and cried into my lunch and thought about going home.’ 

‘Is there anywhere in Montreal you haven’t cried?’ Ben teased. 

‘Nope.’ Nick smiled. ‘But that day, I went to the library. And this other grad student I recognised from the horrible welcome event asked if he could share my table.’ 

Ben grinned. ‘I recognised you too.’ 

‘Aww they’re such a romcom.’ Tim teased. ‘Right enough emotion, I need manly men hitting each other with sticks, can we hockey?’ 

‘I knew I liked you Tim.’ Dean smiled. 

They made their way out and towards the Metro; Nick glanced back as they walked to McGill campus and the mountain behind, and he felt Ben squeeze his hand. 

‘I guess I’m not done with here yet then.’ He smiled. ‘I’m glad.’