5.GONE
Craig and I used to be lovers. Somehow, that relationship never worked out. It was perpetually out of synch; there simply was no common track. He was zigging while I was zagging. It just was not in the stars, as some might put it.
We had known each other through work. We had jobs at the same non-profit organization developing campaigns and making a website and pamphlets. We were still students in our senior years, attending different colleges but studying the same subject: communications. The job was a good gig for undergrads. We were lucky in that respect.
Not long after graduating, we were both “single,” meaning without intimate partners, so we started hanging out. We used to have the best conversations on global capitalism, geo-politics, the media, inequality, corporate irresponsibility, and all kinds of meaty subjects. Craig gravitated further left then I did, but we felt free to be honest during out discussions and comfortable to disagree if we actually disagreed.
He was quite personable too. He would tell me anecdotes about his paternal grandparents with whom he spent a lot of time with as a youth up in Prince Rupert where they owned a fishing tackle and boat rental place. He loved his folks, and they seemed mostly pretty decent. He had a good rapport with his brother and sister, too.
Craig had a great sense of humour, actually. We so much had fun. We gradually gathered a few mutual friends around us, people from work and elsewhere who crossed paths with us one way or another. We could joke around and be silly. We only drank sometimes and moderately, and occasionally smoked weed. There was true chemistry, where our minds met and danced.
We had our favourite spots all around the Lower Mainland. Of course, there were the cafes and small local restaurants we loved from Point Grey to New Westminster where we used to sit for hours without ordering much. We would even buzz over to Squamish or up to Hope, sometimes throwing bikes in the back of his SUV or taking along a fishing line. There were a few select places that would feature live bands some of the time, and we became fans of a couple of them. We also used to belong to a fan club of a couple of varsity sports teams, lacrosse and volleyball. Both of us enjoying a little exercise, we used to get together for a racquetball or badminton game or go bowling. We would sometimes wander aimlessly for miles and miles along shoreline trails. Yeah, we had some truly great times together.
We mistook the kind of love we had for something else, I guess when nature caught up with us and each of us had been feeling lonely. One time, when he came over to my place on the north east side to crash after a late night out like he did from time to time, we found ourselves in a tight embrace. We stopped ourselves, though, for the time being.
By that time, we had been started taking trips around the province. We went in groups over to Tofino for whale watching, or up to Penticton for the sun or snow, depending on the season and the money situation. We had the most amazing time with our buddies at a dude ranch near 100 Mile House one September weekend. Then there was the three day run out to the Alberta Badlands with an overnight party at Banff in the middle of winter. That was memorable, and how could I ever forget the impromptu six-hour road trip to Mount St. Helen’s only to encounter a thick fog and make a decision to return. We stopped at Bellingham and crossed the border somewhere around five the next day. What a hoot!
Well, one time we were booked to go farther and fly to Puerta Vallarta, Mexico but our friends jammed out at the last minute—not sure why. We thought, “Damn it. Let’s go anyway!” That is exactly what we did. Sharing the same room, temptation met us and lured us in. One thing lead to another, as they say. Our bodies betrayed us. A fling had soon begun.
Like I said, it was a mistake so it did not last. What we had was not romance. It was deep down camaraderie. Too bad you cannot have both, generally speaking. (Is there anyone out there who does??)
What a danged shame. Craig was such a terrific guy, and pretty good looking. He was fit and close to my age. We knew each other’s families and they got along. Actually, my Mom sometimes used to ask me why we were not a couple. I just said that I did not know; we were great friends and good at being friends, so why risk a great thing? Sometimes I want to howl at the universe for all its incongruities. Why can there not be the perfect guy?—someone a woman can really talk to about anything, feel ready to share anything and who is also sexually desired and in tune?
I guess we were spending so much time with each other that we were not working on searching for appropriate new partners. Come to think of it, that was one subject we both avoided broaching when we were together as friends. That is asking for trouble!
Anyway, we realized it was not going to work after about six months and decided to throw in the towel. It was a little sad. We made a complete break for about three months, then started correspondence. Gradually, the old friendship was re-liberated. We remained friends ever since then—well, until that day. There had to be some changes, of course. We had to make the perimeters clear such as the number of hours a week we could spend together, and how late we could be up along together. We had to set up some rules, too, like what kind of places and activities were not suited to “buddies”. We regrouped and thus were fortunate enough to salvage the friendship while we began dating other people.
Yet, time took its toll, of course. Our careers started taking precedent. Craig moved to Victoria where he worked as a government consultant. I landed a solid job at a nonprofit in Coquitlam, where I did not really want to live but could not afford to refuse the position, so I moved to the other side of it in the Fraser Valley. The house prices were attractive, at least. It was quite a different lifestyle there in Mission, but pleasant and interesting in its own way. My boyfriend at the time moved in with me. I was settling down.
I guess Craig got more serious while clinging to some aspects of his youthful self of his 20’s. I knew he had always been active on this and that important cause, either to do with environmentalism or the anti-war movement. He got more outspoken and was known for his anti-imperialist perspective, admired by the anarchists and social democrats alike. Among some determined and persistent activists on the Island, he produced literature for certain groups and even took part in organizing events. He was involved in “people’s actions” on open pit mining, the tar sands and climate change. I remember telling him one time, on the phone, I think, to be careful. If his political opponents did not like him enough, and thought he was a problem, they could harass him and make his life uncomfortable.
Craig quit the government consultancy at the behest of environmentalists. He accepted a job with a high profile environmental organization. He often was the spokesperson, and he wrote a lot.
I used to get updates regularly, but we met less and less often in person. When Carols and I visited Victoria or Nanaimo, we would usually manage to pay him a visit. He was with Jocelyn by then. When he went to the mainland and I could get some time, we used meet at some old haunt in the city. I remember that we went back to some locations of the Blenz café chain, like the one on Robson or the one in the South Granville area, or the one in Yaletown.
Apparently, Craig used to have rendez-vous with fellow activists at some such places where they would hang around plotting for hours. He’d be just wrapping up a meeting when I arrived, or someone would interrupt Craig and I, thus ending our conversation. It seemed he was really in the thick of things. His activity seemed to be intensifying around the time that the actions against the plans for building more pipelines were heating up, though he never communicated with me about that particular domain of activity. That topic and the tar sands was in the media almost daily, in those days. In fact, a community paper wrote a profile on Craig and his concerns. Was it…No, not you guys.
The last time I saw him, he had a meeting right here at this Yaletown Blenz café. That’s what he said. He asked me to meet him here at this specific spot ahead of some meeting with someone. No, he did not say who. He said that he had had an email message from one of his contacts in one of the groups. They were in the middle of planning an action, he explained, and there was some new propaganda to produce. I got here around ten after three, ten minutes late. He had arrived on time, right at three. He said someone was coming to see him at four, hinting that he would like me to leave by four. I said, “Okay.” We talked. We ordered coffees but did not drink them because neither of us drink coffee that late in the day. We just wanted to purchase our right to sit here so that’s what we did. He talked about his girlfriend, life on Vancouver Island, their new apartment, and so on and so on, without mentioning anything about his ongoing projects, I mean his activism stuff. I knew not to raise the subject myself. We had a tacit understanding that he would tell me what he wanted and it was up to him to bring up a hot topic in that vein. I left it alone.
“You don’t know why he had a meeting here that day? I mean, what the meeting was about? You don’t know what he was supposed to discuss with this-associate?”
“No, I really don’t.”
“Really?”
“Really. You know, I was just a bystander in these causes. I attended major rallies and protest pickets, signed petitions, forwarded emails and wrote letters in mass campaigns. I was never that involved. I acted in conscience and followed current events, talked with people in general, but I never played any significant part as an organizer. I think you already know that by now, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. But maybe he told you something, or suggested something?”
“No. I just knew his work at the time was about mining. He had gotten into a shareholder’s meeting recently, and written some letters on behalf of the group. There was a major campaign going involving this one corporation registered on the Vancouver stock exchange. I think you know all that. You researched that, right?”
“Yes. I did. I’m looking for details. The paper wants to review the story for the anniversary of Craig’s—that terrible day.”
“Well, you asked about our relationship, and I am happy to speak about that. I’m proud to talk about it publicly. You can quote that.”
“All right. Tell me more about the day he disappeared. Where exactly were you in the conversation? What exactly was happening in the conversation?”
“I’d been telling him that my partner and I, that’s Carlos, had been talking about tying the knot, making it permanent. That is, I told Craig that I was thinking of getting married and starting to have kids within a couple of years. He was really pleased for me. Such an incredible guy! We got into that topic, and lost track of the time. ‘Oops,’ he said, ‘Time to shift gears. Sorry. Gotta carry on, now.’ I noticed that no-one had arrived and remarked on that. He answered that the arrangement was for him to be in the parking lot at four, and that the meeting would take place privately in a vehicle. Apparently, there was some suspicion about being observed inside these corporate owned chain restaurants, so their arrangements for secret meetings were changing.”
“Secret, you said?”
“Yes. Well, I knew that they—he and his associates—wanted to be discrete. There was monitoring by the police and, so they thought, the corporations or at least their friends or ‘agents’.”
“Agents?”
“I suppose he meant people acting for or on behalf of the companies.” I take a couple of breaths. This is all so painful and emotional. It is hard to talk. “So we broke off our conversation. I said I’d just go and wash my hands in the washroom. He said he needed to go to the toilet, so we got up with our stuff and walked toward the cans together. You can see, right over there, that the washrooms are clearly marked and that the ladies’ are right across from the gents’ up that little hallway. I just gave my hands a quick scrub and tried to dry them for a few seconds under the drier. I couldn’t have been in there for more than two mintues, if that long. It should have taken him a bit more time to pee, wash and leave. I should have seen him in the café around the same time or a half-minute or so later, but I never saw him again.”
I can’t speak. “Here. Let me get you more water.” My head is bowed and I am shaking a bit. I take the water gratefully. At least the dryness of my mouth is remedied for the moment.
It has been three years less a week since I last saw Craig. Nobody has seen him since. It turns out that I was the last person to see him. The activist he was supposed to meet here that day waited but never saw Craig. He was reported missing by his family and co-workers three days later. No trace of him has ever been found. There was no further activity by him on any system—phones, email accounts, bank cards and all that. Nothing. No witnesses reported seeing him after that. His girlfriend says she has never seen him since they parted earlier that day and he took the ferry as a foot passenger for Tsawwassen. He was just gone.
“We hear you’ve been asked to speak at the tribute next week. I you going ahead with that?”
“Wh—Yes. His family’s asked me to speak, me and a few others.”
“The authorities still suspect you.”
“I’m not a suspect. I am a person of interest. So is that guy he was supposed to meet here in the parking lot, plus a couple of others who saw him that day. His girlfriend is said to be implicated in the disappearance.”
“I did not say you were A suspect. I said they suspected you. They have interrogated you a lot, over and over. That woman too, as well as that activist. You know his girlfriend quite well, I suppose?”
“Not that well. We’ve gotten to know each other better because—because of this situation.”
“Do you think she knows anything?”
“I doubt it. Why wouldn’t they run off together, he actually wanted to find a new life? Anyway, she constantly and consistently denies it. She seems to be just as distraught as his family, and I, about him not being around anymore.”
“Police say it’s common that individuals wish to leave it all behind, and some manage to make arrangements to do it successfully.”
“Yes, I know, but it seems out of character. Craig was no coward. Anyway, the police have been lame. They go on about how it is not a crime for someone to want to get away and escape, to change their course of life. They dragged their heels for so long. Now the case is going cold.”
“What are you going to say at the tribute?”
“I’ll say it there and then.”
“Can’t you give us a bit of a preview?”
“I can repeat that he was a wonderful person, and a seriously committed to improving society. He wanted social justice—that is more fairness and less social and economic inequality in general. In particular, he was concerned about safeguarding the environment and using natural resources conservatively and in sustainable ways. Those are honourable positions. It is a credit to him that he stood for those aims. He was a role model to us who are inactive. He fought hard for others. He did not have to.” I feel the tears well up uncontrollably as they always do when I defend Craig.
The tribute is a grand affair, relatively speaking. A hall on the East Side is used and it is packed with some 500 people. Representatives of mining corporations turn up as well as police officers, reporters and gawkers. The corporations announce they are raising their award for information on the whereabouts of Craig, and are paying the salary of the private detective team that the family originally hired two years ago.
Little progress transpired after that. Leads lead to dead ends. There are no updates still. Craig is just gone
END