“Was Rocco okay?”
“Yeah. His head was bleeding, but he was conscious. He and the cook tackled Jake but he didn’t seem to care. He fought them for more pizza. He must have eaten two pies.” Her voice caught. “He had a heart attack.” Grief twisted her features, her eyes bleak as they met mine. “It was over so fast.”
“What was he in treatment for?”
She closed her eyes, the answer dragged out of her in a rushed breath. “Food addiction.”
I drove Harjit home, making her promise that she would call the number for counseling that the police had given her. I also checked in on Christina, who was doing better because Naomi was doing better. I got it; Naomi was her Leo. Neither of them were up to visitors yet but she did want to see me at some point.
I vowed to make more of an effort with friendships. Or have them at all.
I texted Rohan an address and the words “Meet me?” He texted back his agreement and I gunned my car west.
I parked my car at the lot on top of Queen Elizabeth Park, nicknamed Little Mountain by Vancouverites, and commandeered a wooden bench on the covered boardwalk that curved around the giant fountain. I stretched out my bare legs, letting the sunshine soak away the despondency of this mission.
Kids shrieked with laughter as they dodged and splashed in the dozens of jets spouting water in varying heights.
“Got Drio a ticket for tonight after the drop.” Rohan sat down beside me.
I nodded, my attention on a little girl, maybe two or three, naked and dancing like a fiend through the plumes of water.
“Was that you?” he asked.
“I wasn’t that young when they redid the park and put this fountain in, so no nudity for me. No, wait, I lie. But that was much later and it was a dare.”
“Leo?”
“Good guess.” The little girl jumped up and down in the fountain, her laughter shaking her plump belly. I smiled. “Ari and I had many the water fight here.” I stood up, my hand extended. “Come on. I need to be in a happy place right now. I’ll tell you what I learned there.”
The glass and steel dome of the Bloedel Conservatory rose up from behind the fountain like a perky nipple. We jogged down the short flight of stairs by the large Canadian flag waving in the breeze, and around to the front of the building, hit with the warm, moist air piping out of the dome.
“Did you ever have a Snoopy Sno Cone Machine?” I said.
“That thing used to frustrate the fuck out of me. It took half an hour of serious grinding to get a fraction of an inch of ice, but those snow cones looked so cool on TV.”
“I know. All that effort for basically nothing and you’d be deaf at the end of it.” I nodded at the food truck selling artisan shaved ice parked by the front doors. “They’re charging a fortune. We should start a handmade shaved ice truck, but use those things to make them. Tap into the nostalgia factor.”
“Sell the interminable wait as half the attraction,” Rohan said, holding the door for me.
“World domination through ice. And making people smile on a regular basis. That would be a nice change.”
The world transformed from a sunny Canadian day to a tropical bubble, the humid air fragrant with rich earth and tropical flowers.
“Rough time with the incident?”
I nodded and paid our admission and we stepped through the turnstile onto the path marked with one-way directional arrows.
Rohan craned his neck up to the tree canopy brushing the condensation-streaked glass panels. “Whoa.”
The flagstone path wove past leafy ferns jutting out of rock beds and Birds of Paradise plants splashing red at our feet, leading us to the small wooden post and rope bridge. Rushing water from a tiny falls splashed into a pool on our right, while on our left was another pond where fat koi swam lazily in ripples of sunlight, framed by spikes of bamboo.
Blue and red parrots cuddled on a branch next to giant fronds of plantain banana plants that made me feel like I was in A Bug’s Life.
“You have a destination?” Rohan said, sidestepping the tourists reading instructional notices about the ecosystem.
“This way.”
Tiny white hummingbirds swooped and darted by my head, cawing out to the plump orange fuzzball birds flapping past, cheeping. A brilliant blue and gold parrot carving away at a hunk of wood eyed us suspiciously.
“Did you have a favorite place as a kid?” I asked.
“My mom’s studio.” Rohan ducked to avoid a blur of brown feathers careening at him. “I fell asleep more times than I could count listening to her and her recording engineer bickering at the soundboard.”
I led him to a carved wooden gazebo. We sank onto the bench waiting for a family taking selfies to pass by, soaking in the hum of generators, chatter, and twittering escalating in volume from the doves and finches darting overhead.
Once we had some privacy, I told him about Jake. “The thing that triggers Sweet Tooth? I think it’s an addictive personality. Take Naomi, for example. In college she was into extreme sports. Now she’s a workaholic. When she had her episode she was acting a lot like she did when she was younger: dangerous stunts, not giving a damn about her own safety, going all full tilt. Jake’s compulsive behavior was around food. The drug sparked a serious loss of control in both of them in ways that were fundamental to issues they were already dealing with.”
“Christina doesn’t have that type of personality?”
“No. We’ve been lucky that it didn’t adversely affect more people.” Two tiny yellow birds with orange faces frolicked in a rock pool by our feet. “That looks fun,” I said.
“Do you ever wish you were oblivious to all this?” he asked.
“Allowed to frolic my way through life?”
“Something like that.”
I pulled him to his feet. “No. I did that, remember? Ultimately, I’d rather be the one slaying monsters than the one not knowing to look under the bed.”
He smiled like my answer pleased him.
Passing cacti and some plant dripping with fuzzy pink pods, we stopped at the final wooden perch before the exit. I made him say goodbye to Charlotte, the flame-colored parrot with the electric blue neck plumage, inhaled one last breath of the tropics, and headed outside to the hazy panorama of the city spread out before us, over the pine, fir, and cypress trees stretching out to the edge of the park.
We peeked over the bridge at the top of a tall waterfall, ridged with paths leading down to the manicured gardens below. Neatly landscaped flower beds in a riot of colors were interspersed with a lazy stream and stepping stones. A bevy of brides jostled for the best photo op for their wedding party.
Passing the fountain once more on our way back to our cars, I spread my arms wide, turning my face to the mist. Rohan swung me up in his arms.
“Rohan Liam Mitra, don’t you dare.” I tightened my hold on him. “If I go down, you’re coming with me.”