Deconstructing Dylan. Lesley Choyce

      We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and The Association for the Export of Canadian Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

      Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

       J. Kirk Howard, President

      Printed and bound in Canada.

      Printed on recycled paper.

       In Memory of Nigel Allison

      CHAPTER ONE

      It was April 16, 2014, the momentous day that Caroline Marks decided to break up with me. She opted for the full-volume, middle-of-the-cafeteria-at-noon hysteria version. She would one day be a movie actor, she had told me, and it was important for a good actor to be able to perform in an emotionally intense manner. That was what had attracted me to her at first. She was the most intense girl I had ever met. The first time I kissed her, she sucked the air right out of my lungs. I couldn’t breathe but wanted to die happily in her embrace.

      But that’s all over now. I had just bought her lunch — a chicken burger, french fries, and a yogurt. I myself was taking a chance on the so-called Chinese food. I had a lot of rice in my mouth when she decided to rip my head off with her insults. I was talking again about insects and she had heard one too many of my insightful rants about how female dragonflies decapitate and eat the head of the male dragonfly right after they mate.

      “Dylan, you are sixteen years old,” she suddenly yelped. “You are talking to me about bugs again. I can’t stand it. I really can’t. You are too freaking weird.”

      I liked her when she was angry. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth seemed so sexy. Her face got a little red but I liked that too. “I’ll shut up,” I said. “God, you are beautiful when you are like this.”

      “Don’t tell me I’m beautiful!” she screamed. I wanted to kiss her but people were watching now. Everyone was watching. They knew Caroline was a real performer, whatever the script. She was writing her own script this time. It was the scene where she dumps me and I end up feeling like a squashed dung beetle.

      She looked flabbergasted.

      “I’m sorry,” I said. I spent a good deal of time in our relationship apologizing for things. It usually worked. I played my part convincingly even if I didn’t mean it. In the end, she almost always kissed me so hard that I would get dizzy. But not this time.

      “If it’s not bugs, it’s you telling me about things that you say happened to you that couldn’t possibly have happened. I listen to your stories and then tell you it’s all in your head, but pretty soon there’s a new story. You’re like a little boy who can’t tell what’s real and what’s just your imagination.”

      “I’ll stop telling you those stories,” I said.

      “It’s too late. I’m counting to five and then we’re through. I want you out of my life.”

      “You don’t mean it.”

      “One.”

      “Look, I know I’m a little odd sometimes.”

      “Sometimes? Two.”

      “I’ll change.”

      “You’ve said that so many times before. But you don’t change. If I don’t break up with you I’ll never forgive myself. Three.”

      Right then I wanted to stop time. Freeze the sucker and try to figure something out. Caroline was a big part of my life even if she was high maintenance. She was trouble from day one, but I liked that about her too. I think there was some hormonal thing going on that affected her emotions. “Remember Lincoln Park?” I asked.

      “Lincoln Park is not going to work this time. Four.”

      I had only one digit left before my life would be in tatters.

      “Remember the sunset at Lawrencetown Beach?” I pleaded in desperation. That sunset had saved me before. It was my last, best hope.

      Her eyes softened suddenly and I was about to say something more. Teachers were walking our way. Caroline was making quite a scene.

      “Five.”

      I gulped. “I’ll try to act more normal,” I offered.

      Her face hardened and she looked angry again. The sun at Lawrencetown Beach had already set at that point, I guess. She looked at my plate of chicken chow mein and then flipped it ever so perfectly with her long fingers. The food fell into my lap. Then she stood up and headed for the door. She was aware that everyone was looking at her but she didn’t care. In fact, I think she liked it.

      Mr. Lownder was standing over me now, looking down. He was laughing. “Chinese was probably a bad decision today, Dylan,” he said. “I’d stick with the chicken burger and fries.” Then he walked away.

      I tried calling Caroline but she could tell from her call minder it was me, so she didn’t answer. I tried four more times and then I gave up. Before I fell asleep that night, I had a vision of being six years old in the back seat of an old car with two people sitting up front. The man was driving and the woman was reading an old-style magazine. I thought it was my parents but they were way too young. We were driving through some mountains. New England, maybe. The window was down and the air smelled sweet. The woman was singing a song out loud. “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” — the same song my own mother sings. I wondered who this younger version of her could be. I wondered why I had this memory.

      Suddenly a deer jumped out in front of the car. The man swerved off the road. I became terrified but the car skidded to a halt in the gravel alongside of the road. No one was hurt. But when the two of them turned around and looked at me, I was crying.

      And then it was over. I was alone in my bed but the pillow was soaked. I suddenly felt very alone. More alone than