‘The Two Oh Four Six’ by Dustin Moon

I lingered in Em’s driveway despite the late afternoon sun and stared across the hectic road at the three or four (maybe five?) boats that waded around the edge of the to-be-extended breakwater, the walkway cordoned off for construction. Still in geological survey stages. Nobody could answer how an extension to the breakwater was meant to stymie the increasing rise, but city council had dismissed any media questions. And everyone else? Too hot to care. The heat  seeped through my dress shirt, so I went inside.

Em bought the place at 2046 Dallas Road in late 2013 — a bargain then, though she didn’t know it — but didn’t transform it into a speakeasy-in-plain-sight until the pandemic forced the last gay bar in Victoria to shutter. The owners scuttled, and desperation inspired her: she beseeched the city to rezone her property, make it a pub of sorts. The place was already built for it. Designed in the early aughts as an uber-modern plaything for tasteless summer homeowners, the entire upper floor was a long, gaudy bar with a spacious sitting area in the corner and a decent though narrow balcony. The interior was hidden from the busy street by tilted, smoky windows that served a superlative ocean view.

But if you knew Dallas Road, then you knew it was a folly fight to begin with. The city denied Em’s request. That picturesque stretch of shoreline drive and opulent, wide-windowed houses, besmirched by a pub? (Much less a gay pub?) The nimbys protested her application with gumption.

Em shrugged it off. We all did. The idea was only sprung to accommodate the five of us, anyway, maybe the odd invitee. Now, of course, with health ordinances lifted, not just one but two new gay bars have grandly opened downtown. We still go to Em’s. She bartends, drinks with us, and at the end of each weekend we e-transfer her a share of the liquor and upkeep costs. We are too old for the real gay bar scene. We were too old before quarantine.