Chapter 16: Chapter 16 – HOLIDAYS

“So, Camilo, how’s work going?”

I snapped out of my blank staring out of the car window. We were taking the 401 expressway out of Toronto and I was watching the city slowly shrink into the distance.

“Ah, it’s alright,” I answered my uncle, trying to think back to what I’d been doing at work lately. Absolutely nothing of interest had happened: I’d practically started blanking out my shifts. “I’m glad I was able to get Christmas off.”

“That should be a given!” he grumbled, gesturing with a hand on the wheel. “I can’t believe the way these companies take advantage of you young people. No benefits, no time off.”

“Well, I’m happy to have work at all,” I pointed out. “Besides, I’m eligible for benefits starting next year.”

“They won’t even give students benefits where I work,” Eli complained, wedged into the backseat beside me. Between the two of us and our bags, it was shaping up to be a cramped four-hour drive. “I could work there for all four years I’m in school and they still wouldn’t give me anything.”

“See, I’m still doing way better than Eli,” I said. Eli kicked my shin.

Soon after, my uncle turned on the radio and we settled in for the long drive. My gaze was drawn back to the city disappearing behind us. It was happening: I was leaving.

I was starting to get nervous.

Was it really so simple? We had basically left the city already and were heading into Scarborough, suburbs and factories scrolling past. Was there an outer limit to the Grey City’s power? As soon as I got too far away from it, would it be able to vanish me from the inside of a moving car and bring me right back?

And if I was able to get out for good…

I hadn’t even let myself think about that yet. The possibility had always been there, floating just out of reach. If I really could just get up and leave Toronto whenever I wanted, there was nothing stopping me.

I wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with the Leviathan, or constant brushes with death, or being chased by giant spiders and hellish cat-monsters. I could just scrape the bottom of my bank account, move somewhere else, and escape. Huang clearly found it easier to handle things without me around.

We were moving further from the city, but maybe this still counted as a part of Toronto. I doubted the Grey City cared about the municipal boundaries of the city. I tapped my foot and waited for something weird to happen.

An hour into our journey, the city was far behind us and I hadn’t felt a single trace of anything strange. I pushed out my spatial sense to try and identify anything that hadn’t been immediately obvious. My sense felt weak: the feedback faded and range reduced.

As I turned and projected it out the window, I barely received any feedback at all. Even my powers were fading the further I went. If we could really just leave whenever we wanted, why the hell were we still hanging around Toronto!?

Things may have been awkward between me and Huang, but hell, all our problems could be over. I pulled out my phone. Hey, all is well so far. Spatial sense starting to stop working. I think we can just leave whenever we want!

He didn’t respond for a few more minutes, but eventually my phone buzzed. I don’t believe that.

I’m past Scarborough already. I don’t think it can reach me this far out. You have to get out of the city as soon as you can.

We can’t jump to conclusions, Huang texted back. Besides, I told you before… I can’t help but feel it’s important for me to stay. Have fun.

I stared at the phone, dumbfounded. I was offering him a way out of that death trap, and he didn’t even want to try it?

I thought back to Huang’s experience of the Grey City, which was very different than mine. I couldn’t really imagine what it was like when he transformed into the Gargoyle, because he didn’t have insane instincts overwhelming him like I did. For him, it would just be… what? He had the ability to turn into a powerful creature, fighting off enormous monsters. He could fly and everything. Maybe for him, it wasn’t really a bad thing—maybe he actually kinf of liked it.

Maybe it had been a mistake to trust this guy at all.

I shook my head and let the subject drop, leaning back in my seat to try and doze.

There were no problems, and my spatial sense disappeared entirely by the time we were a couple hours out of Toronto. I was already planning what to do after Christmas. Eli wouldn’t be happy if I just moved out all of a sudden, but… I’d find some way to make him understand. Maybe I’d go back to Ottawa. That might be a bit tough on me, but I’d be sure to find an apartment somewhere far from where I grew up to avoid any issues.

The drive went by surprisingly fast, much faster than it usually felt. Soon we were driving into Ottawa and I was hit by a wave of nostalgia. The streets, the buildings, the signage… there’s something about your city. It always knows you.

“I’m so ready to stretch my legs,” Eli groaned, shifting uncomfortably.

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“No kicking,” his mom snapped from the passenger seat. My uncle chuckled.

“Is it this street, Camilo, or the next?” he asked as we entered a familiar intersection.

“It’s the next.”

We arrived, pulling into the driveway of a small semi-detached home. I’d pulled into this same driveway a hundred times before, and everything looked almost identical to the last time I’d been here. Looked like my mom had taken in most of the potted plants this year instead of forgetting and letting them get eaten by the snow and ice. The rough, brown brick of the house, the dead vines, and even the old, red car in the driveway were as familiar as the back of my hand.

Eli was out of the car as soon as it stopped moving, complaining and stretching his legs. I exited more slowly, taking my bag with me.

Inside, a dog was barking, and I could hear someone fiddling with the locks. We hauled all our stuff out of the car and approached the door, weighed down by bags, boxes, and colourful gifts.

Esther opened the door the moment we approached. My enduring memory of her was a 13-year old with messy bangs and round, nerdy glasses, but now she was… what, 20, 21 years old? I kept forgetting about the pixie cut and the pink hipster frames. She looked pretty much the same as the last time I’d seen her about a year ago, except maybe her fashion sense had changed a little—floral blouse instead of a bright hoodie.

She grinned at me. “Hey! Killer eye bags, bro. Is that for me?” she immediately zoned in on the present I had balanced on my shoulder. “I’ll take that, thanks.”

I had to laugh. “You’ve really got a one-track mind.”

“Nah, I’m joking! I missed you!” She pushed past all the bags I was holding for a hug, nearly knocking me over. For some reason, I was actually getting kind of teary-eyed.

“Eli! Tía, Tío!” I was swiftly forgotten and moved past as she went to greet the other arrivals. I chuckled and readjusted my bags, heading deeper into the house. The barking I’d heard outside became much louder and a small, scraggly mutt appeared in the hallway, losing its damn mind.

“Out the way,” I grunted at it. It continued to bark frantically, though its wagging tail suggested it found the whole situation pretty funny. “Come on, I don’t have all day. No, stay back.”

Continuing to bark at me, it had started to jump up at my legs, trying to knock me over. I unsuccessfully attempted to nudge it aside with my knee.

“Hey! Rascal! Leave my other son alone,” said my mom, appearing from around the corner to scoop the dog into her arms. I had to hide a smirk at that, considering that she had been highly reluctant to adopt a dog two short years ago.

“Camilo!” she said, and embraced me with one arm, wiggling dog held at bay with the other. “It’s so good to finally have you here for Christmas. I’m glad the roads were not too icy.”

“No, they were fine,” I said.

“And you’ve been well, feeling all right?” she asked, peering into my eyes. My mom was a short, stout woman with dark wavy hair, currently pinned up on top of her head. She was looking well herself, no dark circles under her eyes like I had once been used to seeing.

“Yeah, just fine,” I lied to her face.

She smiled and pointed down the hall. “You can put your things in your old room. The presents are going in the living room. Your father stepped out to buy some food, he’ll be back soon.”

“Got it,” I said, sidling through the hallway with all of my things. The house was already filling with noise: the greetings and chatter, the closing and opening of doors, the dog barking and whining. This had turned into such a nice place once I’d left.

I guess I don’t have anyone but myself to blame for the bad time I’d had growing up, but it wasn’t exactly my fault either. Things had just happened a certain way and I hadn’t been equipped to deal with it. Being back at home always brought the memories back.

There were pictures hung on the walls that showed a happy childhood, and I found myself looking over the well-dusted frames as I headed over to my old room. My mom had been born in Canada, and my dad had come over from Spain as a young man. They’d met each other and travelled for a bit, and pictures of them smiling as a young couple were framed by backdrops of distant cities, seashores, and rocky cliffs.

I was born when they returned to Toronto, and they decided to stay there to raise their family. I was a chubby, vacant-looking kid in all the photos; in one or two, the photographer had caught a wide-eyed smile.

Then Esther appeared in photos, and at the same time, the city really started to get busy and expensive. I grew up when things were tight, but we got by. There was a period, starting about when I went to middle school, where it got worse. There were only two pictures on the wall from then, mine and Esther’s graduation pictures from elementary school. My dad had been unemployed for a while, my mom trying to support us on what little she could get together.

The pictures of me pretty much petered out after I hit fourteen, and I knew exactly why. It wasn’t a time anyone in this family really wanted to remember. I chewed on my lip and kept going.

I opened the door to my room and saw a neat imitation of the place I used to live as a kid. The posters were gone and every surface was neat; the walls were a different colour and the blue bedspread was perfectly made. I placed all of my stuff on the floor and brought the presents back out into the living room.

An electric fireplace was pleasantly warming the area. I placed my gifts under the tree with the others and smiled, shaking off the memories that had been resurfacing. Holidays were something to look forward to and enjoy in this family, especially now: I was going to get everything I could out of this.

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