Carter's War - 22. Chapter 22

There was a saying in Toronto, that there were two seasons: Hockey season and two months of bad skating. In a nation built upon the great Canadian game it was the religion that saw the great pilgrimage up the 401 every Saturday night to the Air Canada Centre arena that was the eventual Mecca of every red blooded Canadian. Tonight was a game night, and you just weren't a man if your pulse wasn't racing as you wound along the off ramp and the Air Canada Centre finally came into sight.

It had been a tense drive, so many cars packed in tight together, all heading for the same spot on that cold December night. And Will was glad of the heater in his Jeep; at least they were warm while they waited in no hurry sitting in gridlocked traffic.

He glanced out of his window at a man screaming at the traffic ahead of his car, swearing and offering profanities while his little boy sat looking scared in passenger seat. Will shook his head as he returned his gaze ahead of him. He had come to love Hockey night, and was more than glad to accept the tickets Brody had offered him, for him it was exciting. He couldn't imagine some of those fanatics terrified of missing a single minute of the game because they had forgotten to leave earlier to account for the traffic.

"Ever wonder what's going on?" Marc mused from beside him; the younger man absently traced a finger through the frosted condensation on the glass as he stared out of the window on his side.

"Where?" Will asked as he looked at his young companion.

"In other peoples lives." Marc said he looked sadly at another car where a young man and his girlfriend sat in stony silence. Each looked depressed, trapped. Going through the motions of a happy existence despite the fact that they fooled no one.

"It's natural to wonder about that I suppose." Will said as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, "Take this guy here," He motioned to the car ahead of them, a station wagon decked out with Leafs bumper stickers, and flying a Leafs flag from its antenna.

"What about him?" Marc asked following Will's gaze, "Looks like a big fan."

"Station wagon suggests he's a family man." Will observed, but he's alone in the car, "meaning he probably has a family, all daughters. This is his one escape, his way to be a man without being made to feel guilty for it."

"You can tell all of that from his car?" Marc asked as he turned, there was a newfound respect in his eyes.

"It's easy," Will reached down to turn off the radio that was hissing mildly from the interference of the power lines the car sat under. "Everything about a person tells you something about them."

Marc grinned as he pointed to another car, "What about them?"

Will glanced, "Business men, probably work colleagues on their way to the company box."

Marc nodded his eyes filled with wonder, "How do you know?"

"Car first off, it's a BMW. Impatient people drive BMW's that or rich men's wives." Will shook his head, "now look at the back window, and see the suit jacket hanging up there? Means some one that spends a lot of time in one and needs to keep it unwrinkled."

Marc thought about that for a moment, "Could just be a banker."

"Not in Toronto, and not driving BMW's," Will adjusted his seatbelt, "most bankers like to drive a car that makes them look economical. I wouldn't trust a banker driving a BMW, though a Banker driving a Mercedes I can see."

"Ah," Marc said as he went back to staring out of the window, "Why are you taking me out to a game?"

Will looked up in surprise, "I thought it would be fun..."

Marc shrugged, "No I don't mind, its just those tickets had to cost a lot and... I don't know... I can't..."

Will nodded, "Hey, look you don't have to come if you don't want to..."

Marc rolled his shoulders, "It's not that," he said after a pause, "It's just that I can't pay you back." He looked up at Will with deep eyes filled with regret.

Will sighed, looking off of the Parkway at the Air Canada Center, so much for the hockey game. "Let's do something else then."

"Like what?" Marc suddenly brightened.

"Hang on," Will ducked the jeep off of the Richmond Road exit and wound through the city streets till he arrived at the bottom end of Church Street. "Let's do something cheap," he craned his neck around and changed lanes, "and fun." The Jeep swung again, this time heading up Queen.

After they had passed under the overhead pedestrian way belonging to Ryerson University, Will started looking for a parking spot, finally they both stepped out of the vehicle into the middle of the vibrancy that was Church Street at night.

"You want to come down to the village?" Marc asked as he closed his door and took in the crisp evening air.

"Figured we might as well go somewhere where we wont get stared at." Will said as he stuck his hands in his pockets and started up the road.

Church Street had a history as old as Toronto was itself, Maple Leaf Garden's the historical home of Toronto's hockey sat like a beige gargoyle across the street from them as they waked up past the school and into the heart of what had been dubbed the Gay Village by Toronto residents. The Church and Wellsley area had a life within itself that nowhere else in the great city could boast. And people walked to and fro with an air of tolerance past Drag queens in glitter and gaudy dresses holding hands with their leather men boyfriends.

"You sure about this?" Marc asked a smile dancing across his face as he looked at Will who seemed to be experiencing the Village for the first time.

"I'm fine." Will said in a tone that said he was trying.

Marc grinned, "You didn't have to give up a hockey game to come here you know..."

"I know." Will replied relaxing, "Hey it's all good. Let's find some where to catch a bite to eat and..."

"On me." Marc insisted, suddenly grabbing Will's arm and dragging him down a flight of steps below street level into a cramped Pizzeria.

"Okay..." Will said letting himself be led down to look at the greasy slices rotating beneath heat lamps. To any red blooded Englishman that in of itself would be the ultimate sacrilege, Pizza was prepared for you, it was cooked while you waited, not reheated. But Marc seemed happy, he placed an order and waited while the cook slid the two large slices into the oven to reheat.

Will rested against the wall as Marc came over to lean next to him, "Won't be long." He said with a smile as he stopped and flipped Will's hair out of his eyes, where it had fallen in the excitement.

The door jangled as it swung open to allow a couple into the pizzeria, an older man with a bubbly club kid, who wore his shirt just a little too tightly with the word "Biatch" sewn across it in sequins. The older man walked up to the counter to order as the club kid hung back.

"No anchovies!" the Club kid called out a reminder, as he looked over at Will and Marc, "I hate the things, if I wanted to eat fish I'd be straight."

Will balked, what?

The club kid continued unperturbed, "We're on our way to Remingtons..." he looked Will up and down appreciatively and turned to Marc, "Mmhmm betcha have to keep a leash on that one, how long have you two been together?"

Will blushed, and the older boyfriend flashed him a look of sympathy from the counter.

Marc grinned, "Not long."

Will's eyes widened slightly realizing that Marc was playing along.

"Oh yeah," the club kid said with a slight purr to his pronounced lisp, "He's cute, you two," his hand worked back and forth, "Make a sweet couple. If you two get married I want to be a bridesmaid."

Will turned a shade of green.

Marc could barely keep his laughter in check, "Oh I don't think he's ready for that. He's..." he winked.

The club kid took a step back the artificial grin on his face growing, "Oh, he's still closeted, isn't that cute. You'll break him out of that when you take him shopping." He accepted the Pizza slice that his boyfriend handed him and turned, "Well BYE!" he stated in an exaggerated gesture as if he were exiting a stage and they were gone.

"Shopping?" Will collected their slices from the counter, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Marc winced at the plain grey dress shirt and charcoal trousers under the company jacket, "Well it is a little..." he winced at the word, "Boring..."

"Boring?" Will worked the word around; Alicia would have a field day if she found out.

"Well," Marc said with a shrug, "It's just...very professional, like your coming from work..."

"I am coming from work." Will reminded him.

"Yeah, but even then its very..." he shrugged, "ever read the book 'the man in the grey flannel suit'?"

"Sloan Wilson," Will said as they walked back out onto Church Street in all its evening splendour.

"Yeah well you're the man in the grey cotton shirt." Marc bit into his pizza, sucking up the excess cheese that stretched out after his bite.

Will shook his head emphatically, "I'm not stuck in a rut..."

"You always play by the rules," Marc replied between mouthfuls as he dodged to the side to let a group of drag queens waltz past in their garish coloured dresses, "I mean I bet you don't even bluff at poker..."

"I don't," Will said his gaze following the brightly clad pseudo-women as they passed him.

"Exactly," Marc said hopping back up onto the sidewalk, "You don't bluff. So how do you know when someone else is bluffing?"

"This from a pool shark." Will said with a grin.

"Well think about it," he stopped outside a store front with a couple of tee shirts in the window, "Come on be daring, I bet you won't wear one of those." He pointed to a t-shirt with a rainbow stamped on it.

"I would." Will said firmly.

"Good cause I'm calling your bluff." Marc said as he pulled Will into the store.

Will again allowed himself to be led, fishing in his pocket for his wallet. He could have been at a Leaf's game, instead he was there... He shook his head as he followed Marc into the store.

When he emerged he had slipped the t-shirt on and had wrapped the offending shirt around his waist. He and Marc continued up the road, through the heart of gay culture. He felt the lifeblood flow around him and he relaxed, he was actually enjoying himself. Something about Marc did that to him, it made him want to simply relax and let life carry him along.

He looked at the young man who had finished his Pizza and was now searching the Thursday night crowds around him. He was constantly in motion; the energy seemed to crackle around him, charging everything with his excitement.

Will grinned as they crossed the road to a bar, both sitting down at a table in the window so that they could see the street below. The bar was trendy, of a style Will would associate with gay taste. It felt new... he couldn't quite explain it, he had been to straight bars but none of them had the same kind of upscale feel to them.

They sat quietly for a moment, before Will looked up at Marc, "So where are we now?"

Marc looked up from his rye and coke and grinned, "Church Street."

Will winced, "I asked for that one, I meant us..."

Marc's face fell slightly as he turned the drink in his hand, "there can't be an us." He said slowly.

"But there is an us." Will said after a moment setting his glass down and running a finger along his jaw line thoughtfully, "And that's what's bothering you."

"It's complicated," Marc met his eyes with his own, the sparkling green eyes that reflected his soul for just an instant, "I still have Libbet..."

Will nodded, "Yeah."

"And you're still not making that easy," Marc said, "I think...I think we should stop seeing each other."

Will sighed heavily, "You're probably right there."

Marc smiled despite the fact that his eyes were beginning to water, "Hey we still have tonight, lets make the most of it while we can."