All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
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PJ
D'n'M Part 5
From Chapter 4:
Everything that happened over the next few days passed in a fog of numbness. It was as if Nico had completely shut down. He felt nothing as he was driven to a big house on the outskirts of the city. He heard nothing when he was told it was a home for orphaned children run by the Our Lady of Flowers Church -- yes the same church that had provided that T-shirt back in the day -- and that he would be staying there until longer-term arrangements could be made. He registered nothing when he was given his mum's fabric shoulder bag and told about the letters that had been found inside, one of which was already on its way to the city's Children's Services department. No, Nico felt nothing, not even as he stood beside his mum's grave at the pauper's funeral paid for by the church. And who knew how long it would be before that nothingness became a new somethingness or if, indeed, it ever would?
Chapter 5:
Saturday was looking like it was going to be a long, long day. It started early, with Milo awake and moving around the apartment way before their usual weekend morning wake up time. Usually they liked to pick up from wherever they'd left off from their Friday night bedroom R&R, either swapping over the top/bottom turn-taking from the night before or sometimes just enjoying a cosy cuddle followed by a mutually-satisfying sixty-nine. Milo, in particular, liked to get their weekend off to a leisurely lie-in culminating in an explosive climax. But not today. In truth he'd hardly slept (which meant that Dan hadn't either), having spent much of the night with Ms. Lamar's news going round and round in his head.
Head-wise, not much had changed for Milo since he was a teenager. He was still victim to the two endlessly bickering and competing sides, always trying to convince him of two, diametrically opposite courses of action and rarely managing to come to any sort of amicable compromise. However, not everything about this gruesome twosome had remained unchanged. The biggest difference from his high school years was that the two sides were no longer as sex-obsessed as they had been back then (although they still had their moments) but tended to get especially fired up over big stuff, like the sudden and unexpected existence of an unknown nephew, apparently in need of help. So that morning the dialogue between them went something like this:
Side #1: Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! (Even in his head he still tried to avoid using the F-word.) How could she do this? She's got a child? And she never told us? And now she expects us to take him in. Un-fucking-believable. (He didn't always succeed.)
Side #2: Kate's your sister and she needs your help. She's never reached out to you before so she must be in real trouble.
#1: Exactly, she's my sister, and she treated me like a lump of dog dirt on the bottom of her shoe. She told my mum about me being gay. She even backed her up when I got thrown out of my own home.
#2: Okay, that's true, but she was a screw-up herself back then and your mother knew exactly how to press all her buttons. Don't forget she was just a kid herself.
#1: Yeah, a kid who did everything she could to make my life a complete misery. She was my big sister, for fuck's sake. (Oh wow, this really is a bad day.) I should have been able to talk to her, to expect her to support me. Not knife me in the back.
#2: Fine. So Kate's a waste of space ...
#1: And the rest.
#2: Kate's a waste of space. But this isn't about her, it's about the boy, Domenico. He's the one who needs help. He's the reason that Kate's reaching out to you.
#1: Don't you believe it. She knows how caring you've always been. She's playing on that and using this kid to make you feel sorry for her. You can't trust a word she says, not after being gone and out of your life for nearly fifteen years.
#2: People can change a lot in fifteen years. She'll not be the same person now as she was then. I'm not.
#1: Okay, even if we accept that she's changed, turned into Mother Teresa ...
#2: Now you're just being stupid.
#1: Yeah, you got me there. But why you? How come she expects you to welcome this kid with open arms? Why not your mother? The two of them were always close. Or your dad, even. Wouldn't you expect her to look to her parents for help?
#2: I've been wondering about that. I've no idea if she's kept in touch with mum but I know that she was sending messages to dad until a year or two ago.
#1: Asking for money. She never once mentioned anything about a kid.
#2: Yes, asking for money. But at least that meant she wanted to keep contact. That she still thought of him as someone she could turn to.
#1: Exactly. So why not ask for his help now? Now when she says she needs way more help than just another bail out. If you ask me ...
#2: I didn't!
#1: If you ask me, something's off. You're being played.
#2: Maybe, but we don't know anything for certain and we won't, not until we get sight of the letter she's written.
#1: True. So where does that get us?
#2: Nowhere useful. All we can do is wait.
#1: Okay, so why not pass the time with a spot of early morning exercise? I bet D would be `UP' for it!
#2: `UP' for it? Really? What are you, twelve?
And so it would have gone on, hour after fruitless hour, round and round in ever-decreasing circles. It would have, but Dan stepped in determined to put a stop to Milo's endless internal debate. He knew it was going on, of course, he recognised the signs. M had told him years ago all about the two competing sides and how they often made decision-making a total nightmare and Dan had said that that must be why M could never decide between chicken and pepperoni and Milo said at least he knew that there was never an excuse for putting pineapple on a pizza and Dan had fired back with .....
Anyway, Dan knew all about the two halves and he knew that his poor, conflicted. lovely M would be a prisoner to them all day, especially with something as big as this Domenico bombshell. He also knew that it was up to him to do something to short-circuit the conversation before they were both driven mad. (That's him and Milo, not the two sides.)
Dan's battle plan opened with M's favourite breakfast -- Cheerios (other breakfast cereals are available), raspberry pancakes and chocolate milk (and to think that M always accused Dan of being a child when it came to food!) -- followed by a long, exhausting (and therefore mind-numbing) cycle ride along the river and then up into the hills south of the town, with an even longer, lingering shower before an order-in dinner (either Thai or Chinese, M's choice), finishing off with an early night and lots and lots of sex. Perfect. If all that didn't shut those blasted voices up Dan really didn't know what would.
Of course, his masterly plan was based on the belief (more of a hope if he was being honest with himself) that the letter from the authorities in Buenos Aires wouldn't be arriving on a Saturday which meant that tomorrow, on Sunday, they could go over to see his parents and get their take on the whole unexpected nephew scenario. Then, armed with whatever advice Helen and Roger came up with, they'd be in a better place to deal with the letter, whatever its contents, when it arrived on Monday. All in all, Dan was very pleased with himself as he set about preparing stage 1 -- breakfast.
It was the pancakes that gave the game away. Cheerios were just, well, Cheerios so presented no reason to arouse M's suspicions. Even the chocolate milk didn't ring any alarm bells because it had always been one of D's favourites too. But the home-made raspberry pancakes had those bells clanging like a church steeple on a wedding day. Milo took in the piled-high plate and then looked Dan straight in the eye.
"What's going on? It's not my birthday or our anniversary."
"Can't a guy treat his handsome husband to his favourite breakfast?" Dan had trouble keeping a straight face.
"He can and it's very sweet and very typical of him, but ..."
"No buts, at least, not until bedtime," Dan interrupted with a silly, leery grin on his face, hoping to head M off at the pass before he could come up with any reason not to follow D's cunning diversion for the day. "We both know that, very likely, there's something pretty big coming our way sometime soon and I think it'll be good for you ...," Milo's eyebrows shot up, "Good for us to try to put that out of our minds, both of them in your case, and simply enjoy the day. There'll be time enough to face up to whatever is in that letter once we absolutely have to, but until then let's just chill."
Milo nodded and, as he walked round to the other side of the kitchen table to join Dan he was thinking what a kind, thoughtful, wonderful man he'd fallen in love with back when they were both thirteen years old. He still didn't fully understand about Dan not being gay but he'd more or less accepted it, safe in the conviction that D loved him absolutely and unconditionally. He knew, too, that the feeling was 100% mutual and always would be. Yes, he may have thought all this as he moved the short distance round the table but he didn't actually say any of it. Instead he pulled D to his feet and wrapped him in a huge, heartfelt hug.
"Promise me you'll never leave me," he whispered.
"I would," gasped Dan, "If I could breathe."
Milo immediately burst out laughing and loosened his grip without letting go of Dan completely. Then he suddenly realised something.
"You know what, D?" Dan looked puzzled and shook his head. "I haven't thought about Kate or her boy for at least five minutes. And do you know why?" Dan shook his head again. "It's all down to you and your brilliant plan. So, if home-made raspberry pancakes can shock those stupid voices into silence, I can't wait to know what else you've got planned." And with a final, "So let's get to it, my wonderful man," he kissed Dan full on the lips, unhugged him and went back to his breakfast.
It was well into the morning when the message came through. The weather was clear and bright, perfect for riding along the river trail. They'd been cycling for a little more than an hour and had not long turned onto the track which would lead them up into the hills when Milo's phone buzzed. Up until that point Dan's plan had worked perfectly, with M's `voices' silent and only fleeting backward-looking thoughts about Kate and how she'd treated him in the months before betraying him to their mother and the dreadful fallout that had followed. Most of his thinking, though, had been about his dad. Gerry de Beer was still in recovery from the heart attack that he'd suffered no more than a couple of months before and had only recently returned to work in the office, much against Milo's wishes. He argued that it had been the stresses of overseeing the strategic management of the business plus the day-to-day running of it that had made his dad ill but Gerry had insisted that, now, it was having to keep away from the office that was putting him in danger of another stay in the hospital. The argument had dragged on and had threatened to open a serious rift between the two of them until Dan intervened and helped negotiate a compromise which saw him spending less time in the field and more in the office, alongside the hiring of a general business manager who would report daily to Gerry. No-one was 100% happy with this arrangement but it was one they'd all agreed to run with, at least in the short term. But it couldn't be denied that Gerry was still far from fully recovered and Milo feared for his father when he heard of the existence of a previously-unknown grandson. This was the thought that was at the front of his mind as he answered the call.
As expected it was from Veronica Lamar. She was calling, she said, from the town centre offices of the children's services department where an electronic version of the letter written by his sister had been received. Milo immediately pulled up and Dan stopped right behind him. Milo put the phone on speaker so they could both hear what Ms. Lamar had to say and from the general tone of her voice it was clear that she wasn't impressed with having to go into work on a Saturday and was hoping to speed things along as much as possible. In answer to a question from Milo she began by explaining that it was because of data protection protocols that the letter could only be viewed at the department and not simply forwarded to Milo's phone or tablet. With that explanation reluctantly accepted it didn't take long for them to agree that Milo and Dan should get to the office as quickly as possible, even if that meant arriving tired and sweaty from their ride. As far as Ms. Lamar was concerned that was preferable to having to wait around while the two men went home to shower and change. She had better things to do with her weekend off. She also knew she had some unpleasant news for Milo and didn't want to keep it from him for any longer than was absolutely necessary.
As they cycled back towards town and the reading of Kate's letter all of Milo's thoughts were focused on what the next few hours might bring. Yes, there was the completely blind-siding revelation of Domenico's existence, but what about Kate? Why, after all these years, had she suddenly decided to make contact and, as half his mind had asked earlier that morning, why with him and not with one of their parents?
"Dead? When? How?" Of all the possible scenarios that Milo had imagined, Kate's death had not been included.
"The precise details are somewhat hazy," replied Ms. Lamar in her predictably detached and professional manner. "There appears to be something of a communication disconnect between the hospital where she died and the city authorities."
They were sitting in a small, private room off the main office. Milo and Dan sat side by side on the narrow two-seat sofa with Ms. Lamar opposite on a hard wooden office chair.
She continued. "There is also the added complication of a charitable organisation called ..." She paused to look down at her tablet. "Called Our Lady of Flowers. Precisely how that is involved in the overall picture we have yet to determine." She stopped, seeming to have no more to say, a fact that Dan found exasperating.
"But you must know more than you're saying. You can start by telling us what was the cause of Kate's ...?" He hesitated to complete the sentence. He was only too well aware that his beloved Milo seemed to have completely collapsed in on himself on hearing the news of Kate's death. Dan took his man's hand and gripped it hard. It was obvious from the direct, almost brutal, nature of her reply that Ms. Lamar did not at all care for Dan's tone of voice.
"It appears to have been a combination of pneumonia, dehydration and malnutrition resulting from long-term drug misuse and dependency."
Milo's shoulders slumped even more as he put his head in his hands.
"I really am very sorry for your loss Mr. de Beer-Reed." It was impossible to tell from the expression on her face whether Ms. Lamar's condolences were genuine or simply what was expected of a municipal official. Dan was sure that it was the latter. "Once we have any more definitive information you can be assured that the department will pass it on to you straight away."
"And does he know about Milo and Milo's father? About his family?" Dan knew he'd have to do all the detective work and ask all the necessary questions. There was no way that Milo was in any fit state.
"The short answer to that question is that we don't know." Dan was about to demand to know why she didn't know the answer to such a basic and obvious question when Ms. Lamar continued. "Our understanding is that, since his mother died, Domenico has barely spoken."
"Barely spoken?"
"No, hardly a word."
"Then how do you know that this boy has anything to do with us? This whole thing could be a total scam. You're putting us, putting Milo, through all this pain, and on no real evidence at all." Dan was outraged. How could this obviously heartless petty local official dare to put his poor, poor Milo through an ordeal like this with absolutely no reason or evidence.
"If I could just ask you, Mr. de Beer-Reed, to be patient I'll be happy to explain why it is that we here at Children's Services are quite convinced that there is no scam or trickery involved. And moreover, I can assure you that no-one here in the department would ever dream of putting you or any other family through such an ordeal unless we were totally convinced of the complete voracity of the information we have received." This was said in a manner that was designed to assert her authority and control of the situation. She had had lots of practice over the years and it rarely let her down. This was no exception.
"Please," was Dan's subdued response. He knew when to give in.
"When she was admitted to the hospital in Buenos Aires your, erm ..." She faltered and seemed uncharacteristically unsure how to proceed. "Your sister-in-law was found to have in her possession a shoulder bag of some sort. It was, as I understand it, rather old and shabby but she would allow no-one to take it from her while she was still alive."
In the pause that followed Milo's near-silent weeping could just about be heard over the ticking of the clock on the wall. Dan took back one of M's hands and gripped it even tighter than before, desperate to get this whole nightmare of a meeting over with so he could get Milo home, home and safe.
"However, once she had passed away the contents of the bag were examined and that is how the link between the deceased and yourselves was established."
Milo looked up. "How, exactly? Just what was in the bag to link a dead woman to me?" Milo's voice was surprisingly strong given that he seemed close to breaking down completely.
"Well, apart from the letter to yourself that you will soon be seeing, assuming you feel able to do so today?" There was a note of almost considerate-seeming enquiry here. `Very out of character,' thought Dan. Milo nodded.
"Apart from the letter there was also your sister's passport, along with her own and Domenico's birth certificates. Although the boy's certificate does not provide details of the identity of his father the bag did also contain a legal statement, signed by a notary public, confirming his status as having dual nationality due to his mother having citizenship of this country. I'm afraid I don't have any particular knowledge of the Argentine legal system but I have been assured by our people here that everything is correct and above board. You can be one hundred percent confident that Domenico is, indeed, your nephew. Now, if you're ready, would you like to read your sister's letter?"
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