Day 13: 23,058 Words and our travelers arrive at the Romance Inn...

 Today Josh, James, Gordon, and Maeve arrived at the Romance Inn: 

It was a destination well known to both James and Josh. And Danae. The producers of the ten year Donnie’s River reunion show had hosted a retreat there for the director, cast members, and writers. Their host, Isla Martin, a local Bed and Breakfast proprietor, had created an itinerary of fun Niagara-on-the-Lake activities, interspersed with intense facilitated talking sessions and trust exercises, intended to reconnect the cast members, some of whom had held on to petty grievances for years. James and Josh were both relieved to learn that the cast members from the College Years, which they had nicknamed “The Irrelevant Years” would be left behind for the retreat and the reunion show. They both agreed that some things, like ‘the College Years’ were best left behind.

I also took the opportunity to include a description of Gordon's academic nemesis, whom I think you will recognize.

“Yes, it would be familiar to you, Maeve- your mother has that one Trish Romance print that she hangs up every Christmas.” She did indeed have one Tricia Romance painting, though the saccharine sweetness of Romance’s art was very much at odds with her artistic preferences. But there was something about Christmas that brought out the softer side of Danae. When pressed as to why she was in possession of the piece, she would only reply: “family heirloom,” which oddly, was also her response when pressed about her signed Dwayne ‘the Rock’ Johnson photograph that hung in a place of honour above her mantel.

“Ha!” Maeve responded, smiling. “Exactly so. White Christmas!”

“Yes, that’s it,” Josh responded, smiling in return.

“Interesting,” Gordon said, drawing out the word pedantically. “It just so happens that this place has personal meaning for me, as well. Once, the Department of Social and Political Thought at York University held a retreat here… intended to address the tension present in the department between me and my… academic nemesis.” Gordon’s face darkened at the memory, which did not seem to be a pleasant one. “This… fraud studied at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics before coming to the department. It isn’t even accredited!” He added incredulously, as though its lack of accreditation was the most unbelievable thing about the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics. Josh shuddered.

“That’s terrible,” James replied, with real sympathy.

“I know!” Gordon shrieked, lost in the memory. “He was known to have put a five dollar bill inside the library’s copy of his dissertation, and would go back periodically to check if any of the anticipated throngs of readers had found it.”

“And did they?” James asked, curious.

“Of course not!” Gordon replied haughtily. “Nobody has read his dissertation! Nor did the anticipated throng of readers flock to the ten year retrospective of it he published himself on the ten year anniversary of his dissertation! The man was a pompous ass!”

“So what happened at the retreat?” Josh asked, really not wanting an answer.

“Well, during the introduction he described himself as a Black lesbian, which wasn’t a great start, since he is a cis-white guy.” They all cringed.

“That’s horrible,” Josh replied. He truly could not imagine how offputting that must have been for everyone.

“It devolved from there.” Gordon finished, seeming to not want to discuss the incident any further. Josh could relate. He patted Gordon on the shoulder sympathetically.

“It’s okay, buddy. Some things are best left behind.”

“Thank you, Josh.” Gordon replied, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He shook himself, ridding himself of the memory and was once again back in top postmodern private detective form.

“This is actually quite telling,” he said, “It has personal meaning for each of us- a near memory for you,” he said, nodding in Maeve’s direction. “A bad memory for me, and judging by the gormless smiles the two of you had on your faces moments ago, I suspect pleasant memories. We are in the right place. The Romance Inn will lead us deeper into our journey toward liminality- in fact, in many ways we have already entered the liminal space- we are on the outskirts now. So pay attention! Things are about to get weird.”