Marco's Way

I’ve just put the little one who’s not that little but still small comparatively, to bed and I’m grabbing this moment to say hello. It’s the first chance I’ve had. I’m exhausted! It’s true what they say about parenting being the hardest job. I know it’s only been one day but it’s one of mine. It started off with Fagette making the best breakfast ever; your choice of eggs, bacon with maple syrup, chevre, foie gras, fresh figs, mimosa’s, caviar, the Sunday New York Times even though it was Thursday in Toronto. We ate in the living room which I would never have done before with the old rug. It was liberating. In the middle of breakfast, the doorbell rang and it was my friend Marco. He hadn’t dropped by in the morning for ages. It felt like old times. “Marco” I said, “ You haven’t dropped by in the morning like this in ages. What’s up?” He looked at me for a long time, like someone had ripped out his faculties and replaced them briefly with a case of pop and then restored them but with the memory of what had happened fully intact.
“Buddy”, he said, “ I have bad news.”
“Fagette, throw another cake on the griddle.”
“Aye aye monsieur.”
“Marco what is it? Is it your health because your health is all we have. Without our health we’re Russians.”
“Buddy your words are deep and I hear them believe me but this is more important than my health. It’s about your health.”
“Fagette, make Uncle Buddy another Mimosa and your Aunt Marco one too and don’t skimp on the vodka.”
“There’s no vodka in a Mimosa.”
“Just do as I say.”
She scampered off gratefully.
“Now what’s this about my health?” I asked.
“Oh. You don’t look good.” He replied.
“That’s it? That’s all you got?”
“Okay, you look like shit.”
“What?”
“You’ve been looking a little rough lately.” He said. “Everyone’s been talking.”
“That’s crazy. I’ve been away. I haven’t gone out in months.”
“We’ve noticed.”
Fagette came into the room with the drinks.
“Fagette honey, the adults need to talk..”
She slunk out of the room like an obedient dog. That might be a problem. I went to take a big swig of my drink. and Marco put his hand on my glass. “Perhaps Fagette’s right. Vodka doesn’t go in a mimosa.” I pulled it towards me but he held fast. “But the champagne is okay though right?” I asked.” “Of course” he said ” It’s a mimosa. It’s not orange juice. Just remember, nothing hard till after dark.. I just want you to keep those blonde looks of yours so that people can enjoy them for longer that’s all. This isn’t an intervention. It’s just me Marco talking to you Buddy and all that history and all that implies. No need to turn this into World War 11.” He was right. World War 1 was awful. We didn't need another one. I agreed to his terms and called Fagette back in the room but she had disappeared.
Later after Marco left I went looking for her and found her in her room reading the manual for my new phone. She promised me she would help with the call screening function. I hated to disturb her when she seemed so happy but I wanted to make sure she was okay with what she had heard. I sat down on the stool by the bed and asked her if she understood everything that was going on and and she said, “Rita is my mother.” I nodded and then I asked her if she liked Marco and she said she didn’t know yet because she couldn’t get the picture of him pooping on the carpet out of her head. I really must tell her the truth. Besides it’s moot already because the reason for the lie was because of my fear of what Uday might do but my fears were for naught. They've become inseparable. In fact I just tucked her in and she was brushing him. I reminded him that my bed was still open and he looked at me like I was a Nazi doctor come to take his nuts. Oh yeah, already did that.

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