October 9th, 1971

    It mustn't have been past two o'clock when I woke. Only the faintest amount of light was coming in through the blinds, which I was sure came from the streetlights outside. I was relieved to be awake and no longer dreaming; since we had gone to sleep I had been reliving my past. Scenes from the house Cameron had once dreamt of, heavily laced with tension and unease.
    I slowly got up from the bed and washed my face in the bathroom. I looked as tired as I felt, and spent a long moment watching myself in the mirror. I’d changed a lot since the days in that house, stifled by my father’s anger and the fear felt by my sister, me, and our mother.
    Not wanting to get too caught up in the remnants of the dream, I left the bathroom and sat in one of the chairs; I was glad that most of the hotels we stayed in had a desk and chairs at one end of the room. I watched Cameron as he slept. I had left the bathroom light on, but closed the door so it was only slightly ajar. The soft light bathed him in a warm glow and I resisted the sudden urge to crawl into bed with him and weep.
    Yesterday had been a day of travel; as the distance from Tucson to tonight’s lucky city, Lubbock, Texas, had taken nearly eleven hours. While we were on the bus, Cameron, sitting next to me, had spoken to Willie about the looming Canadian tour.

    “We’re flying to Vancouver on Wednesday. Geoff has set us up with a promoter there who’ll do most of the coordinating for those dates.”
    Willie nodded. “How many shows are we doing?” he asked.
    “Nine,” Cameron replied. “Six cities.”
    “You’re lucky it’s late October and not November,” I told them. “You’d be knee-deep in snow.”
    Willie grumbled something about insidious weather, though we both ignored him.
    “I’ve got the promoter’s name here,” Cameron told us as he fished a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Mark Bennett,” he announced, looking pleased at having found the paper.
    The name rang in my ears.
    “Mark, alright.” Willie shrugged. “Who’s he working for?”
    “Concert Dojo Enterprises.”

    I spent the rest of the drive into Texas feeling uneasy, and though I tried, I couldn’t quite word the qualm in my chest. Once we arrived at the hotel and had gone up to our room, Cameron was well aware of my state and asked what was on my mind.

    “I think I know the promoter,” I blurted in response. “I’m not sure, though.”
    Cameron pursed his lips in thought. “If you do know him, where from?”
    I sighed. “I had a friend in high school with that name,” I explained. “We were close. He used to call me Cutlass, because he was my accomplice when I stole a replica from a store.”
    Cameron chuckled. “Did you call him something, too?”
    “Other than an asshole?” I laughed. “I called him Suede. He wore suede pants at least four days a week. Anyway, he moved to Toronto the year before we were going to graduate. Ruined my prom plans,” I added scoffingly.
    “Were you dating?”
    “No, no. But I wasn’t going to go to prom alone, was I?”

    The thoughts of my old friend hadn’t left my mind since, and I’d been stuck on a rollercoaster of memories. Most, but not all, were almost nice to think back on, like the time Mark and I had skipped class and spent the day in the woods near the train tracks. We’d felt the sting of a wooden ruler the next day, but those hours spent contemplating life in the presence of nature had been a cornerstone to me.
    Cameron stirred, apparently having heard my inner cry for the past. A small smile tugged at my lips as I watched him stretch, the sheets curling around his body as he slowly roused.
    “Did I wake you?”
    “No,” he replied, his voice slightly raspy. “What’s woken you?”
    “Dreams,” I murmured in reply.
    Cameron sat up and rose out of bed, a smile conveying concern on his face. I watched him closely as he approached and slid down into the chair beside me. “Bothersome?”
    I couldn’t hide the frown that crossed my features. “Aggravatingly so.”
    Cameron took my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly. “Anything in particular?”
    I shook my head, and let out a sigh. “It was all over the place,” I admitted slowly. “I was in a kitchen stacking plates and the air was so thick with dread. My mom called from her bedroom,” I told him. “That’s when I realized what year I was dreaming of. She was sick by then, and mostly stayed in bed, so I was fourteen or so.”
    I paused, but Cameron urged me to speak. “Tell me what happened next,” he whispered.
    “I started to head towards her bedroom but I heard a loud cracking sound. I turned back and saw the plates I’d been arranging had shattered. They were still on the counter, but in hundreds of shards and pieces. My mom called out again, but this time she said ‘Bertrand,’ and I could hear her fright.”
    “You’ve never told me your father’s name,” Cameron noted.
    “I haven’t?”
    He shook his head.
    “He doesn’t really deserve to be known, anyway,” I scoffed resentfully.
    “Either way,” Cameron said, putting his hand on my leg in reassurance, “your mother is at rest, now. Her name was Rosalie, wasn’t it?”
    I nodded. “It was.”
    “She’s at peace, Emily,” he said softly. “You should try to find some, too.”
    I likely would have taken offence to his comment, had it been uttered by anyone else. But I knew what Cameron meant with his words; he wanted me to be happy, and coming to terms with the past was one of the steps I had to take.
    “I hope she’s not the only one resting,” I mumbled. “Gran deserves that, too. Lil and me did a lot for her but she did so much more for us.”
    "I wish I could have met her," he told me softly. "You speak of her with such love."
    "She was wonderful," I replied earnestly. "I remember once when I wasn't older than ten, my dad had gone into a rage earlier and I couldn't fall asleep." My voice was quiet, barely a whisper. "Once I knew he'd fallen asleep, I told Liliane I was going to Gran's. She told me I couldn't, and I shouldn't, but I went anyway."
    "You did?" Cameron asked in restrained surprise.
    I chuckled despite myself, and seemed to sink deeper into the memory as I spoke. "The heat was stifling, even that close to midnight. I had a key to her house, so I let myself in when I got there. The walk had taken half an hour,” I explained. “Gran woke me up in the morning. She had gotten up to make her morning tea and saw me sleeping on her couch. A chesterfield, she used to call it. When she asked, I didn’t really tell her what had happened but she knew. She wasn’t stupid.”
    “Did you end up going back?”
    “My dad came by around midday and told me to come home with him. She didn’t let him in the door, and told him I’d be back when I was ready to leave. ‘Get off of my porch.’ I remember her saying that.”
    “I’m sure she would have done more if she could,” Cameron noted.
    “She did enough,” I answered. “I haven’t thought about that day in years, but that was when I realized I could stand up to people like him. That I should.”
    We stayed silent for a moment, though I smiled when Cameron spoke. “The burden of man is not only yours to bear, Emily.”
    “I know.” My tone matched his, quiet but laced with grief. “That’s enough mourning for one night,” I said with a barely-audible chuckle. “I’ve got time ahead of me to reminisce. But right now, it’s time to sleep.”


    The venue seemed like it would stand up to the abuse I knew tonight would deal out, despite it being nothing more than a glorified auditorium. A band out of Albuquerque would open the night at seven o’clock with a set lasting around forty minutes and by eight, Amoeba would be shaking the walls.
    It had just passed five o’clock when I overheard a conversation between Dale and Colin.
    “Where the fuck did these accents come from, anyway?” Dale scoffed.
    Colin replied with mildly-restrained sarcasm. “Have you been unaware of regional accents all this time?”
    “I’m not a tool, Colin,” he snapped, though I could tell he was joking. “But they all sound like they’ve got potatoes in their mouths.” Dale straightened his back and put on an air of sophistication, only to speak in a horrible imitation of a Southern accent. “Look at me, I’m from Texas and I want a steak!”
    Colin chuckled, but I called out over the low rumble of laughter. “And you’re a limey bastard who should be careful who he mocks!”
    Though my comment had spurred the laughter, it seemed that Dale’s imitation had caught on. Everyone threw their voice into it, and soon even I was laughing at the array of badly-mimicked accents.
    “Autumn would cry laughing if she was here,” Colin said through his own laughter.
    I nodded, but saw a frown flash onto Willie’s features. “She’s got a contagious laugh,” I said in agreement.
    “She does,” Willie replied quietly.
    I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him correctly, but Colin’s sideways glance made me think I did. I turned towards Cameron so I could jokingly mock Willie without speaking, though when I saw his face it was clear he’d just realized something.
    “What is it?” I asked, knowing by the look on his face it was important.
    “I’ve forgotten to call the promoter,” he explained. “There’s a few things I needed to ask him.”
    “I’ll come along.”
    We had walked into the hallway at the far end of the room when Cameron spoke next. “I have to admit I’m more than a little interested to find out if he’s the Mark you think he is.”
    “Me too,” I admitted. “Could go either way, though. He’s certainly not the only guy named Mark Bennett.”
    I followed Cameron into a nicely-furnished office at the end of the hallway. I sat in one of the chairs and watched as he took a paper out of his pocket and dialed. He gave me a sweet smile, but soon began to speak into the handset.
    “Hello, is this Mark Bennett?” he asked. “It’s Cameron Thom, from Amoeba.” A short pause as he listened. “I’m glad I reached you, Mark. I’ve just a few questions, if you have the time,” he added.
    Even though I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the line, I quickly began to feel nervous. If it really was the Mark I knew, what would I even say once we arrived in Vancouver in four days? The thoughts spun wildly; I only dispelled them when I stood and joined Cameron beside the desk.
    “Where is he from?” I asked quietly.
    Cameron nodded in acknowledgement and replied to Mark. “That’ll work perfectly,” he said thankfully. “You’ve done wonders for us, Mark.” A pause, then, “You seem to know the area well. Have you always lived there, if I may ask?”
    I moved closer to Cameron so I could hear Mark’s response.
    “I’ve been here about eight years,” he replied. “I used to live out east, actually. I spent a few years in Toronto, and Montreal before that.”
    I nodded triumphantly. “It’s him,” I whispered.
    I was overcome with excitement at the prospect of reuniting with an old friend in a few days’ time, and hadn’t heard Cameron until he said my name. I looked at him and saw he was holding out the phone with a cautious look on his face.
    I nodded and took it from him, taking a breath before I spoke into the handset. “How’s it going, Suede? Long time no speak.”
    I could almost see the surprise on Mark’s face as I waited for his reply.
    “I haven’t been called that in many years,” he mumbled. “Who’s this?”
    “I’m hurt, Mark,” I said in an exaggerated tone. “And they say a sailor never forgets his first cutlass…”
    Mark laughed before speaking. “This cannot be Emily.”
    “Who else could it be?” I chuckled.
    “Holy shit. I thought I’d lost my mind!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing in Texas?”
    I chuckled and a smile spread across my face. “It’s quite a long story,” I told him. “I’ll be happy to tell you about it on Wednesday.”
    “Hold on,” Mark sputtered, “you’re travelling with Amoeba? You mustn’t have changed much, Emily!” Mark’s laugh rang in my ears and I smiled wider. “Still a woman of mystery after all these years.”
    Cameron caught my attention then, with a gesture of his hands and a mouthed question, “Shall I go?”
    I shook my head and shrugged. “Up to you,” I told him quietly, before returning to the phone call. “It’s been far too long,” I replied in agreement.
    “At least twelve, thirteen years?” he wondered aloud. “We moved not too long after you moved in with Kathleen. How is she, and your sister?”
    I kept my eyes on Cameron, sitting in a chair tapping his fingers on his thigh as if it were keys, as I answered Mark. “Liliane’s doing well, she’s still living in our old area. Gran passed away last year,” I added reluctantly.
    “Shit, I’m sorry, Emily. Give my condolences to your sister, too.”
    I assured Mark that I would, since she would be attending the last two shows on the tour, both in Montreal.
    “Speaking of the tour,” he pressed, “the Vancouver shows are nearly two weeks after you fly here. What are the plans for the time in between?”
    I glanced at Cameron, but he was engrossed in what I assumed was a melody in his mind. “I think the plan was to do some sightseeing,” I answered. “Go up to Whistler, maybe Jasper too,” I added. “Why?”
    “I may have something better for you.” His tone made me suspicious, but knowing Mark, I knew it wouldn’t be too devious. “Can you give me a call tomorrow, or will you be busy?”
    “We’ll be leaving for San Antonio around three. One o’clock your time,” I informed him.
    Mark hummed, then spoke. “Call me before you leave and I’ll have news by then. I have to let you go, I’ve got someone coming in for a meeting,” he added hastily.
    “Oh, don’t worry,” I assured him. “I’ll ring you tomorrow. Bye, Mark.”
    “Talk soon, Cutlass,” he replied cheerily.
    I hung up and turned to Cameron, who was standing close by with a curious look on his face.
    “And?” he asked. “What’s his news?”
    I shrugged. “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”