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My Bday
Halfway between a NYC mean mug and an Asian smileI was scheduled in Montreal for 4 nights, 4 days.
After nearly collapsing in Montreal’s bus terminal from exhaustion, I was dragged by Miss K.O. into the Metro, we got off at Peel Station and then we headed up to her house.
And by up, I mean up. One of the most annoying facets of Montreal (save for French-Canadians and a general lack of infrastructure throughout the city), is that the whole metropolis is centered around a goddamn hill. No, correction, a fucking mountain.
I lived 18 years in Manhattan, which is flatter than bra-less Asian tits. Tokyo is flatter than a white girl’s ass after driving cross-country. Pittsburgh has some dips and valleys, but is relatively steady like your mother’s second husband. Montreal? It’s like the heartbeat monitor right before a fucker ODed off speed and coke with a chaser of Red Bull. Kids don’t even sled in this city because parents are afraid their children might break the sound barrier. Drunks tie 40’s to their hands. Strollers have rear-wheel anti-lock brake pads.
I stopped and paused at Sherbrooke Street as I looked up at the cliff ahead of me. I had slept three 1-hour naps
Closeup of the cake
Yes, Miss KO has a sense of humor just like me in airplanes and buses to augment 72 straight hours of work. Montreal (as mentioned many times) fucking sucks. And now this mountain. Oh, and the cost of Greyhound/airfare.
I frowned. Why was I doing this to myself?
I rotated my head left to her inquisitive face, a solid wall of snow and wind dividing us. “It’s green, Gen…”
I sighed and smiled. “Let’s go.”
And that’s why I struggled with two bags up a fucking mountain getting smashed in the face by a wall of Montreal winter.
After two agonizing long blocks we finally got to her apartment. Perhaps if I were more awake, I would’ve felt amazing from the trek this shining knight took through a foot of snow and sleet to reach the castle to sweep the princess off her feet. But I was exhausted, so I collapsed into a chair at her table, slowly devouring a bowl of pasta she placed in front of me.
She sat outside, less than half a foot away through an open door, smoking. There was nothing much to talk about. I was exhausted and eating. She was smoking and staring vacantly ahead. The
Assembled Asians
My 50 cousins actually wind howling on her side would’ve made any conversation loud and forced anyway.
Our whole relationship had been built on silence. Every single touching moment had been silent. Sitting together, her head rested on my shoulder, silent. There wasn’t anything to talk about. That was the image burned into my mind from May.
I finished the pasta and stood up. She looked up.
“Could I pass out somewhere before dinner?”
She nodded and pointed to her bedroom.
I changed into gym shorts and a t-shirt and walked back to where I could still see her, now standing on the balcony. Arms folded on the railing, looking out…occasionally lifting her right arm and taking a drag.
She suddenly noticed me and turned her head. I waved goodnight. She smiled behind curls of smoke and waved back.
I woke up warm, comfortable, a sweet smell enveloping me. I was bundled in her covers, the smell of her surrounding me. I was still insanely tired…why did I awake?
I peeked out of the covers with lidded eyes.
She sat on the edge of the bed, a bemused smile on her face. She
stopped tapping me.
I pulled back under the safety of the covers and barely heard her muffled voice. “Get ready in like ten minutes.”
I sighed, sat up and shook my head awake. I was still tired as fuck. I rose, languidly, changed into something presentable and threw a fitted on to correct my bed hair. I walked into the living room.
She was already in her jacket, one of those black ones with the fur trim. From deep within the shadows of the hood I heard her voice. “Ready?”
We walked out, then down the hill, heading West. I asked her where the restaurant was, she told me. She fished for a cigarette, I told her she would get cancer. She smiled.
We reached the restaurant and I walked in. “Hey Gen!” Oh. A surprise party.
A bunch of my friends. The Princess, the Matchmaker, K-Bomb, a bunch of others that I was close with but never mentioned in this blog. People I hadn’t met in close to a year. A lifetime ago.
But I never lose my cool. I detached myself from Miss KO and took a seat at the middle
of the table. “’Sup motherfuckers!”
Not only was it my homecoming to Montreal, it was my birthday and Miss KO had arranged a cake and all the works to go with this surprise party. In the midst of taking bites of the cake, I couldn’t help glance down at her, 4 or 5 seats away, at the edge of the table.
It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me. The first real birthday party anyone had thrown for me, save for my twelfth birthday when my parents scraped enough cash for me, my brother and two friends to see a movie.
I wanted to tell her thanks, but she already knew I meant it, saying it would be redundant. Plus she was too far away…and there were people around me I had to entertain.
“Let’s drink more!”
Dinner disappeared into shots at a bar and then it was time for everyone to wobble their way home.
Me and Miss KO weaved our way back to her place, the trek uphill mitigated by our revelry. Perhaps we talked, perhaps we shouted, perhaps we sang…but we walked, side by side,
as two friends would walk.
We flowed into her apartment, our drunkness slowly fading into tiredness after the long walk through the harsh cold. She showered while I changed into pajamas and shivered under her covers. Fighting sleep, I waited as she crept into the room, slid under the covers and we both paused.
From within the darkness, her voice floated across, “Goodnight Gen.”
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