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We tried to make the conversation sound normal. Our usual plethora of racist jokes, sarcastic remarks and good natured ribbing.
But our laughter was a tad overeager while our banter remained underwhelming. Pretty soon, the talk shifted to a distant gaze as newly graduated students strutted proudly by in their caps and gowns.
I had graduated a day earlier. I was driving back to New York City the next day, leaving Montreal, and perhaps Canada, for good. 4 years I had spent in this arctic tundra, and all I had to show for it was an 8” x 11” sheet of paper stating I was a Bachelor, a trail of failed love proving I was a bachelor and a burning hatred of Canada fueled further by Canada’s burning hatred of America.
He was staying here; he is Canadian after all, at least technically. But it’s only a temporary stay. A few more weeks here, then a jaunt across America. He also thinks America is the superior country. Maybe that’s why we became such close friends.
I finally broached the subject we had been sidestepping all day, all week, all summer, all year.
“I guess the dream
team is splitting up, hey.” (I even started talking in his Can-West accent)
“Word.” (He also borrowed from my linguistic habits)
“I’ll miss you, Teddy.”
We hugged in the most heterosexual way possible and I walked off.
Throughout the day, people streamed into my apartment, or I ran into people in the streets, or people called me up.
It was all the same: It was a fun X years. Stay in touch. We’ll definitely meet again.
It was all people I didn’t give a fuck about. People I had randomly met in parties but never got to know deeply. People who had some vague connection with me—like sitting next to me in a class or living next to me in rez—that gave them some ill conceived notion that I was close with them. Just the accumulated social crud that collects when you’re A-List popular in a D-List school.
Thus, the replies I dished out were all the same: Cool, cool, cool. Yea I guess Facebook, MSN or AIM. See you later. A show of being sad as I hugged them goodbye.
So I was more than happy when this charade
Teddy at Saki's
Now supporting communism...ended as nightfall set. I could finally go about saying goodbye to some real friends.
I set off towards Sake Bomb’s apartment with my parents. Along the way, both of them bitched about all the things I bitch about Montreal: it’s cold, people here are really lazy, nothing works, the city shuts down too early, etc. I quickly tuned out by nodding my head in agreement and pretty soon I found myself at Sake Bomb’s.
I introduced my parents to everyone, met a few other parents and pretty soon found myself in a familiar position at a Canadian party: entertaining a bunch of tipsy Asians with a drunk Teddy.
We recounted one of our drunken escapades and quickly had the Asians wide-eyed around us (“…and then, Gen got a call from my girlfriend…”) and as usual, we became the focal point of the party. Just around Act III, Scene II (Sparknotes: when a stumbling Drunk Gen is led by a significantly soberer Teddy to the East exit of Shinjuku station), with the audience at the edge of their seats, Miss K.O. made her appearance at the party.
I’ve never mentioned Miss KO, but that’s because I
Me and C-Benz
One of the few white people I enjoy talking to...and who I allow to sit on my lap... had met her just a week before this party.
I guess technically, I had met her at the beginning of the year, but it was a brief, fleeting hello/bye conversation that lasted roughly 2 minutes. When I re-met her a week ago, I talked to her for the better part of an hour at a house party.
5 days ago, we drank with a few common friends at a bar. We talked a bit more and became fast friends.
3 days ago, we had ended up in my house after walking around downtown and cuddled for an entire Friday night and the better part of Saturday in my small single bed.
2 days ago, we couldn’t meet but we stayed up talking over the phone and MSN until the wee hours of the morning.
A day ago, she had shown up to my graduation and presented me with a present and a letter. I resisted the urge to immediately open both as my parents suspiciously glanced at both of us, hoping to uncover a secret relationship.
Later that day, we met a few mutual friends at a bar, and when she went out for
Me and Kang 2.0
Who says Japan and Korea are mortal enemies? a smoke, I followed her out.
“Did you open my present? Or read my letter?”
“Sorry, my parents gave me no free time. And I wanted to open it privately.”
“Mmmhm.”
That was the extent of our conversation. She smoked her cigarette, leaning her head on my shoulder, and I leaned my head on her head. We both knew we only had a day together.
Later that night, I opened her present in the privacy of my bedroom. I opened the letter, neatly slitting the envelope. A short letter, it expressed extreme sadness we were parting ways.
She had been invading my thoughts ever since our cuddling session…and now, on my final night in Montreal, she was here at Sake Bomb’s party.
She didn’t immediately go my way…she chatted with a few people, introduced herself to a few others…but since me and Teddy were at the center of the party, it wasn’t long before she found herself among the crowd encircling us.
I continued as if nothing happened; I’ve told and retold stories with Teddy countless times so it’s almost second nature. I know exactly when to step in, what to say, when to let Teddy jump in—it’s like a well practiced dance routine…or rather, a well coordinated military assault because dance routines are decidedly gay and un-American.
But when she left the craziness of the party for the peace of the balcony, I quickly audibled a switch and handed the rest of the story over to Teddy. I went out and sat next to her on a window ledge on the balcony. I knew a few people were watching us through the window and talking about us and the rumor mills were no doubt abuzz. I didn't care.
“I read your letter. Thanks.”
“Mmmmhm.”
“I wrote you one too. Here.”
She pocketed the letter and leaned against me. I wrapped my hand around her shoulders. She fished for a cigarette and lit up.
I’m a young man of action and a loud-mouthed son of a bitch…my American side easily overtakes my Japanese side and I tend to swiftly disrupt the peace, stillness and reflection brought about by silence. But strangely, I felt calm. Maybe it was the knowledge there was nothing to say…we both knew how the other felt, but timing had screwed up everything. Or perhaps I was calm because of the secondhand smoke wafting into my lungs.
She finally broke the hush after an hour of silence. “I guess we should go back in, huh?”
I could tell she didn’t want to. It was just something that needed to be said. She wanted to desperately cling to the last few hours we could be together…but common sense was telling her it was futile.
I nodded. We had to go back to the party. Like her, I had realized it was pointless to squeeze a few more minutes out on this balcony. I was leaving. I had little intention of coming back. She was staying, she had little intention of leaving.
She stubbed her cigarette on the railing, tossed it over and turned to me.
She lightly smacked my cheek. “Come on. You’re Gen K-----, party animal, hilarious storyteller and crazy New Yorker. Put a smile on.”
I tried to smile. We stood, staring at each other, trying to find the right words to say. I was tongue-tied, her eyes were swimming.
I stepped forward and she sharply inhaled in anticipation.
I hugged her, quickly releasing so both she and I didn’t have time to say anything else…the trivial ”goodbye”, the redundant “I’m going to miss you”, the baseless “promise we’ll meet again”…or the one phrase we both instinctively knew we felt, but couldn’t say.
I left her there, eyes closed, waiting, walked the few feet to the balcony door and threw it open to a blast of music, laughter and loud frolicking.
“Who wants to hear about how I stole a fucking police car?”
A crowd of tipsy, cavorting college students clamored around me, a glass of whiskey was pushed towards me and hands thundered onto my back in encouragement.
Goodbye KO. Goodbye Montreal.
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c BENZ
non-member comment
Aww
Thanks for the culminating memories. Fly out with Ted sometime to Seattle... we'll paint the emerald city red.