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Crown Vic to a Parallel World: From Whence I Came The second installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips
25
The Longings of My Sister
I was up early again, before dawn. The wheels in my head started turning, so I gave up getting back to sleep. I jumped in the shower with the intention of making it a quick one, but I wound up lingering under the water while I replayed the night before in my mind.
The session had been amazing and intense. I was used to feeling the ebb and swell of Shawn's lust and passion as we made love, but what we'd shared during the previous night's session had been a next level experience. The feeling of sharing magic was different when it was between Shawn and me than it had been between Bem and me. With Bem, and even when Shawn was present with me and Bem, the feeling had been like an embrace where the two of us, or the three of us had melted together. The barriers between us blurred, but they hadn't disappeared.
With Shawn...I'd felt Shawn open himself to me. It was like I could feel his entire being, more of him than I'd ever felt before. I guessed, that because of the connection we already shared, an even deeper connection was possible when our magic mingled. I could feel my husband's everything...his hopes and dreams, his fears and hates, his memories and his plans. I couldn't focus on them. I couldn't read his mind, but I could sense the themes of his most secret and sacred thoughts and feelings. It was an intimacy that I hadn't been prepared for and it scared me.
I sensed that Shawn's essence, his soul maybe, prodded mine, asking to be let in. I'd fended him off, kept him out of my darkest places. I was afraid of what he might see if I let him into those. I hated to do it, but I didn't think that I had a choice.
Shawn had told me that he would help me with my troubles, but I wasn't ready to let him see the depth and breadth of the gangrenous wound in my soul. Shawn didn't seem to notice the closed door, and if he did, he didn't say anything about it.
The blocked off part of my psyche also didn't seem to impact the connection between us. Even when we separated, and Shawn settled against me to sleep, I still felt a deeper connection to him than I had previously. I felt very much like something between us had tuned-in to an even greater degree than it had before. I felt Shawn's emotions more clearly and was able to sense some of the context behind the feelings. I wondered if it would fade.
It had faded when I woke that morning. I assumed it had anyway. I never felt much from Shawn when he was asleep. Rarely, if he had a nightmare, his terror would interrupt my dreams or would rouse me from sleep. Something like that had happened when he'd dreamed about my father and my painting.
Frustratingly for me, the opposite was more often the case. Usually, some terrible memory that I thought I'd buried would horrify my sleep and wake us both. If it was bad enough, Shawn and I would both bolt up, gasping and sweating and shaking with anxiety and fear. We'd hold each other, each comforting and needing comfort from the shared nightmare. Besides those occurrences though, anytime Shawn was unconscious, I felt only his location and not his emotions.
I pondered that but got nowhere with my thoughts. I finished my shower, got dressed, and crept downstairs. As early as it still was, even after my dawdling shower, I didn't expect to find anyone up. I was mildly surprised to see signs of life in the kitchen. Someone had already put the coffee on.
I was reaching for the carafe to pour myself a cup when I heard some small noises from the sunroom. I listened hard and realized they were music, a tinkling piano and the soft percussion of brushes on a cymbal and a snare drum. I peered around the wall and saw Mary with her phone in the speaker dock. She stood in front of the controls, and as the song began, Mary closed her eyes and swayed in time to Nina Simone's `I Got It Bad, and That Ain't Good.'
I watched her and wondered if the tune was significant or just what came on first. I approached my sister to see what she was doing up that early. I accidentally announced myself when the wooden floor creaked under my weight. Mary snapped her eyes open like I'd caught her doing something wrong. "Oh, Church." She seemed to relax that it was me and not someone else. "Good morning."
"Dance Mary?" I asked and offered her my open arms.
Mary moved in, closer than I expected and rested her head on my chest. We held each other and did the `slow turn' around the sunroom. I watched us move in the reflections of the sliding door glass as we revolved our way passed. As I watched, I realized that Mary seemed different.
She was dressed for the day, but not like I'd seen her before. Her hair was down, and as she moved, her feet in rubber-soled canvas sneakers made blackboard eraser whispers on the polished floor. Her closeness, the fact that her hair was down, and the absent clacking of her low heels on the polished wooden floor all combined to make it feel like something had taken all the hardness out of Mary.
She and I danced until the first song ended, then we kept dancing. Mary didn't even pause when the streaming service selected Etta James' At Last' for the next tune. The orchestration swelled around Mary and I, and Miss James' great, big voice sang the yearning lyrics. Mary sang a soft accompaniment into my chest as we turned and swayed to the classic tune. The two women, one recorded and one dancing with me, sang every word until the final At Last,' when Mary separated from me. She stepped away and smoothed her hair as the orchestration swelled again before it faded to silence at the end of the tune.
Mary's manner changed, like someone had switched off her daydream by jerking the string on an old porcelain light fixture. She spun on her rubber heels and snatched her phone from the speaker dock before the first note of the next tune played. "Coffee?" She tossed the word over her shoulder as she strode into the kitchen.
She'd left me flatfooted. My mouth gaped open as I stared at where she'd been. My body stood in the sunroom with my arms posed like she was still inside them. Someone could have placed a gold tag at my feet that read `dumbfounded,' and charged admission to see the living statue. I snapped myself out of the moment Mary had left me in and followed her to the kitchen. I was curious about what had happened. "Sure, black." I said to answer the question she'd lobbed at me like a grenade with the pin still in it.
Mary poured two mugs and handed one to me without looking to see where it went. She wordlessly added cream and sugar to her cup and stirred. I set my cup down. Mary leaned her back against the counter to blow on her coffee. "What's going on with you?" I asked.
"What do you mean?" She asked like everything was completely normal and my question made no sense.
"You know what I mean." I insisted. "Just a few days ago you worked yourself into a towering rage when you realized I was back and did it a second time when I introduced Shawn as my husband. The revelation that your husband wasted a large sum of money that wasn't his, something that I'm guessing has happened before, and a slap on the mouth from him and you're a different person. I'm thrilled, but I don't understand and that makes me nervous."
Mary tried to maintain her attitude that everything was somehow normal. "I'm a different person because I came to terms with you being gay?" She asked.
I leaned on the door jamb and crossed my arms over my chest. "I know you're smarter than this, Mary." I challenged my sister. "You're getting a divorce, you accepted Shawn and me, you spent the night having extra-marital sex, committing adultery by the church's definition, with a guy you've known less than a week. Something major shifted in your head. What is it?"
"Who said we had sex?" Mary demanded as some guilty color rose into her morning-pale cheeks.
I felt a grin stretch my face, and I rubbed it away with my palms. This new Mary was an unknown quantity. I didn't want to give her the impression that I was making fun of her. I waited until I had my face under control before I answered. "I say you did. I guess it's possible you two spent the night having a discussion about the cultural differences between Earth and Solum, except it's not...possible that is. That kind of night would have been possible had you invited Shawn to your room, but you didn't, you invited Bem. You had sex, probably a lot of it, and you enjoyed it."
Mary set her mug down and hiked herself up to sit on the counter. She didn't admit to anything, but she did try to explain herself. "I finally had to drop the act." She said and gathered her cup back into her hands. "I couldn't keep it up anymore. I'd been living a lie for so...so very long. I didn't have a choice though. I had to...had to live the lie."
"What lie?" I asked.
"I don't mean my faith. I mean the hate and hypocrisy wrapped in the word of God and the farce of my marriage. When I married Ezekiel, I thought he was who he appeared to be. That's why I married him. Marrying Ezekiel, it was like marrying into the Church. I thought that's what I wanted, what I needed to do. I was a fool. When I realized who he really was and how he hid behind the faith, that opened my eyes. I saw how the faith was used by so many people, bad people to do bad things. All my childhood hopes and notions came crashing down at once."
Mary glanced up at me with nervous little-girl eyes like she worried about how I would react to what she was about to say. "I already told you that last night wasn't my first adultery. The first time...that was after another of my husband's episodes. I'd caught him...again. He'd sworn the last time was the last time. He'd sworn no more gambling, no more whores. We'd prayed together over it, and he promised in the name of Jesus Christ that he'd seen the light. Then I caught him. I can't even say I found him out or anything as dramatic as that. The woman came to the house...for money."
Mary tossed her hair in a head shake of disgust and drank a sip of coffee. "He tried to pretend...told me she was from the Church. He said they worked together. He thought I was stupid enough to believe. I let him have his lie. I figured he would always be the same and...and when someone is like that...it's like taking an alcoholic's booze away. When they need it, they always figure out how to get it."
Mary tossed her hair again and looked to see how I was taking her story. Her face suddenly changed from disgust to shame. She tried to apologize for her analogy. "Church, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to...I wasn't comparing you to Ezekiel!"
I held my hand up to stop her words. "Skip it. No offense taken. Go on with your story."
Mary thanked me for not being angry and went on with what she'd been saying. "I learned to hate my husband and his ways. I didn't let him touch me for fear of catching something from one of his whores. I hated living like that...pretending to be happily married...pretending to try for children. Then, one day when I didn't think I could get any...any...any angrier, any lonelier, any more frustrated with life, that's when I met Diego."
"Diego?" I blurted without thinking.
Mary shook her head and spoke out loud to herself. "Why am I telling him this?" She went on with her story in spite of her question. "I didn't meet him. I already knew him. You could say that I noticed him. He delivered the water. We had a water cooler in the kitchen and Diego delivered the water bottles. He drove one of those trucks, you know, the blue ones that hold the big bottles of water. I was always his last stop of the day and he always flirted with me when he came to deliver the water."
"This one time, Ezekiel was away for the weekend, on an outreach visit to another parish. I knew what that meant by then. It meant he was spending the weekend with one if his whores. When Diego came to deliver the water, late that Friday afternoon, he flirted with me like he always did, and...and I decided to...and we did."
"Did?" I asked like an idiot.
Mary nodded to me, a nod that spoke volumes. "He had a short sleeve uniform shirt that his arms would strain through when he carried the water in, one of those heavy bottles on each shoulder. He did it to show off." Mary smiled a sweet, thoughtful smile like one would smile at the antics of a child. "Of course, he did it to show off."
"He never wore an undershirt...nothing under the uniform and he only buttoned it half-way up his brown chest. He wore these short-shorts over his brown legs...legs thick with black hair. He had a gold crucifix on a chain that twinkled in his curly black chest hair. He had these beautiful dark eyes and thick lashes and this thick, curly black hair. His smile...his smile was so sultry. I figured, if Ezekiel could, then so could I."
I got the gist of where the story was going and hinted at my guess to remind Mary that I was paying attention. "Turnabout is fair play." I commented.
Some high color rose in Mary's cheeks, and she agreed with a nod my way. "He...he always stood so close to me when he had me sign for the water. He always stood so close...close enough for me to feel his heat. He looked at me with those dark, sultry eyes. Last stop of the day again, Miss Mary.' He said to me as I scribbled on his pad. Lots of time now.'"
"I found myself agreeing with him. Lot's of time.' I said. In my mind I prayed. I prayed, Dear Jesus, forgive me for what I am about to do.' I prayed and I gave myself over to the sin. I closed the distance between us and kissed his mouth. He kissed me back and smiled at me...the dear, sweet man. Are you sure, Miss Mary?' He asked me like I still had a choice after that soft kiss. I nodded to him. Yes, Diego.' I said. `I want you to take me.' He took me. He took me right in the kitchen, then again on the living room rug."
"I'd never had sex like that. I'd never had casual, rough-and-tumble sex for pleasure. Diego...the first time, he didn't even finish. Usually," Mary glanced up at me and met my eyes with hers, "you know Ezekiel...know how selfish he is. You could probably guess what sex with him was like."
I nodded to my sister. "All about him." I guessed.
Mary nodded back. "Exactly. But with Diego, that first time, he...it was all about me. He was gentle and sweet and concerned for my pleasure. Diego...he spoke sweet Spanish words and made sure I was satisfied...twice. After that, after that I would have...I might have...anyway," Mary shook her head and collected herself from the fantasy of `might have,' "after the first time in the kitchen, he carried me to the living room. He lifted me up in his strong arms and laid me out on the carpet. That second time was about him. The second time was rougher, faster. I felt him start to climax and he tried to withdraw. I had this impulse...I think it was inspiration from God, I held him, Diego I mean, not God, I held him inside with my legs and he finished."
Mary grinned a wistful grin at the memory. "Poor Diego. He was so scared. I lied to him...told him I was on birth control. I prayed again...prayed a desperate prayer in my mind. I prayed and I sinned. I lied...became part of the lie that I would live from that moment on. I gave in to the lie I'd already been living. In my mind I cried out to the Lord, `give me children! Please...Christ, almighty God, give me a child to love. Let there be some love in my life, dear Jesus, please.' I prayed to God, and I lied to Diego. He...Diego, he calmed down and even held me for a while until he said he had to take his truck back for the night. He was a sweet and gentle man."
Mary stopped talking and looked at me with her nervous little-girl eyes again. I guessed she was concerned that I would judge her for her story. I felt another grin stretching my face and didn't bother to hide it. Mary challenged the grin. "WHAT?" She demanded.
"Good for you, Mary." I praised her.
She chuckled a lilting little chuckle and drank another sip of her coffee. "It was good for me, and the Lord answered my prayer. Out of that sin, out of that desperate, pathetic sin, I got my girls. When I realized that I was pregnant, I worried about what to say to Diego, but I never saw him again. One day a different man came with the water. I asked him, and he told me Diego had died in a wreck. I was devastated."
"I took solace though. I thanked the Lord for the gift both he and Diego gave me. I thanked God for leading that man into my path before he took him from this Earth. I decided to embrace the lie that I'd told Diego that day. I wanted to keep my girls. I wanted to raise them as my own and give them the dignity of being born in wedlock and a place in the Church."
Mary paused for a breath, then went on less enthusiastically. "To do that, I had to pretend they belonged to my husband. I had to...I had to sleep with my husband once more. I had to whore myself to that man to keep the children that God gave me. I did it, but after that, never again. After that one time, Ezekiel stuck to his whores, and I took care of my girls. I lived the lie. I lived the life of the pious, god-fearing, church-going wife of the deacon. I didn't have a choice." Mary said like she was trying to convince herself as much as she wanted to convince me.
"Then, you came back. God brought you back to me, just when I needed you the most. You came back and told your story of another world where magic is real, and people are free of judgement. It was that same day my husband struck me. When Ezekiel slapped me, it was the breaking point. That slap was like getting permission to be myself. It was like getting permission to be the woman I always wanted to be, but never could. That slap released me from the lie."
"That's it?" I asked. I wanted to believe Mary's story, but I didn't see how I could. It was too easy. "After all those years of pretending, a slap in the face changed you this much?"
"No, there's more," Mary admitted, "Bem did the rest. When he took me upstairs to pack a bag the night you came to check on me; I still didn't want to leave with you. I kept arguing with him instead of getting my things together. I guess he had enough. He crowded me against the wall. He trapped me there and leaned on his arms, one on either side of me. His breath was hot on my face and his expression was so intense, I couldn't look away. I was afraid of him."
Mary's eyes grew shallow as she remembered the moment between her and Bem. She narrated what happened. "He said, `your God isn't here to protect you from your husband, but your brother is, and you're going to let him.' It wasn't a question or even a command. He said it like a statement of fact. He kept me there and stared into my eyes until I nodded, then he let me go and we packed up. I've thought about that constantly, about why he did that." Mary trailed off and stared into her coffee.
I felt like Mary had left me flatfooted again. She'd stopped on a cliffhanger and my curiosity was killing me. I wanted to know if she'd drawn any conclusions, but she seemed to have no intention of going any further with her story. "What did you figure out?" I asked in the hopes that she'd get to something I could understand.
Mary raised her eyes to mine for the first time since the discussion started. "Two things. The first was that Bem was wrong. My God was there to protect me from my husband. He was there in the body of my brother."
I tried to shake my head at Mary's assertion, but she refused to allow me to object. She went right on talking. "The second thing is that Bem loves you. He cares about you so much that he wouldn't let me hurt you by refusing to go with you. That made me wonder why I didn't care as much as he did. He made me wonder why I hated you for leaving and for coming back...and...and for being gay. He held me up to myself and I didn't like what I saw, so I decided not to be that way anymore."
I dismissed Mary's conclusions about Bem and his `love' for me with a wave of my hand and retrieved my coffee cup from the counter. I took a sip to test the temperature, then had a deep drink of the over-extracted brew. Mary hadn't used enough coffee to make the coffee. I wondered if she'd be mad at me if I remade the pot in front of her. "I don't know that he loves me, not the way you mean it. We're friends and he's attracted to me. I don't really understand that either, except I know he has a thing for big men."
As I said it, as I deprecated the love of my friend, I wondered why I did it. Deep down, I knew that Bem loved me. Not only had he said it, more than once, but the moment I'd shared with him on the yard swing the previous morning, when our very souls opened to each other, I knew how he felt about me. `Why?' I asked myself, then I remembered. It was the familiar specter of self-loathing. Even with all the time I'd spent with Shawn and Bem, I still regularly questioned their feelings for me. I was ashamed of myself for doing it, ashamed of doubting the people who I should trust the most. I didn't know how to stop though. I didn't know how to fix it.
Mary seemed to see through my doubt. She shook her head at my words. "If that's all it was, he wouldn't have bothered. He cares about you deeply. He cares as much as I should have. I haven't felt that intensely about anyone except my girls, not ever. When I realized that, it made me sad. I should have someone to care about, a close friend, or a lover I'm actually in love with. I think Bem showed me that I was alone for a long time and that I didn't have to be. I think God brought us together just like he brought you back to me."
The way Mary spoke about being alone, it reminded me of Bem's confession the morning before. He'd said, `I wish I wasn't so fucking lonely.' I wondered if he'd recognized it in Mary, recognized a kindred spirit because he felt that way himself. That made more sense to me than Mary's claim of divine intervention.
I almost questioned Mary's assertion of God bringing us together,' but I decided not to. I didn't see the point. Mary had already steamrolled over one of my objections to the idea of divine intervention,' so I didn't think raising another would get me anywhere. She would believe what she wanted to believe, no matter what I said. I shrugged at my sister because I didn't know what else to do, then I drank some more of the bitter coffee. I swallowed and spat out an innocuous comment. "I'm impressed that he was able to do all that with a stare down and a sentence, but I'm glad. You seem happier this way."
"I am happier. I feel very alive this morning." Mary agreed and looked away again.
"Ah." I replied.
"What does that mean?" Mary jerked her head around to turn hot, angry eyes on me.
I laughed at my sister. I was no longer willing to suppress the glee I felt that she'd enjoyed herself. "He's incredible, isn't he?" I prompted.
Mary flushed red and stared into her coffee cup. "Oh my, yes. `Incredible' doesn't start to describe it. When he held me and turned those bright blue eyes to mine, it was like he looked into my soul and knew just what it needed."
I agreed with her. "I know exactly what you mean."
"And that voice of his," Mary went on describing Bem, "where did he get that voice? Where does it come from? It's so BIG. When he talks to me...when we were...together, that big, deep voice of his...it makes the bones move in my body."
Bem's outsized baritone was one of the things I loved about him. The implied masculinity of his furry body, coupled with that deep voice...I mentally agreed with Mary. When he said sexy things to me, that voice of his could command all of my attention. I didn't want to admit those things to Mary, so I tried to keep my comments innocuous. "He has quite a voice." I agreed blandly.
Mary nodded then flicked her eyes at me. She stared, then looked away like she couldn't decide where she should look. She put her wandering attention on her coffee. She scooted around a little on the counter, suddenly antsy. Words tumbled out of her. "Is this not OK, or creepy or awkward or uncomfortable? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked him. I don't know how I feel about this. Maybe I made a mistake..." Her words got faster as she spoke and as her anxiety increased.
"Mary," I barked her name to get her attention, "it's a little weird, but it's fine. On Solum, this would be perfectly normal. Bem is a free agent. He asked me what he should do last night. I told him that you were both adults and you could do what you pleased. I'm happy you had fun. I think you needed some fun."
My sister calmed as quickly as she'd gotten agitated. "I'm glad you see it that way. It was fun and he's such a sweet guy, so loving and protective...and passionate." Something struck her mind and her flush deepened. "I hope we didn't make too much noise."
"You made far too much noise." Joe complained through a sleepy scowl from his spot in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. He'd surprised us both. Mary and I had been too absorbed in our conversation to hear him coming downstairs. "This is my house, and I don't see why I'm the only one around here who's not having sex." Joe griped as his scowl deepened. "Church is having enough for all of us, now you're getting into it by borrowing from his harem. I'm in my little bed all alone."
Bem appeared behind Joe. He'd come stealthily downstairs in the middle of Joe's mini rant and stood behind my brother with a mischievous look on his face. As Joe finished his griping, he tapped his cane on the floor for emphasis. Bem treated that as his cue and wrapped his arms around Joe. Joe was probably stronger than Bem, but the position he was in, gave him no leverage to free himself. Bem's arms pinned Joe's at his sides. Bem levered his arms and raised himself on his toes to grind his crotch into Joe's ass. He hissed as close to Joe's ear as his shorter height would allow. "I'm up for it if you are, Stud."
Bem released Joe and jumped out of arm or cane reach. Mary and I roared with laughter, just as Bem did from the safety of the living room. Joe turned crimson and scowled. Andy came down the stairs. He squeezed into the kitchen, passed his mortified father, and moved to stand near me. I assumed he'd been drawn by the laughter. He looked around but was unable to get the joke without an explanation that none of us were willing to provide. "What's going on? What's wrong with Dad? Did Bem do something to him?"
I ruffled my nephew's already-tousled hair. "You're amazingly perceptive, Andy. Bem did something, but out of respect for your father I won't tell you what he did...until later." I stage whispered the last two words.
Joe grumbled and crossed the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. "I'm stunned that the celibate straight man is the one who is embarrassed here. Someone get breakfast started. I'm hungry." His mug filled, Joe bullied passed me into the dining room and took his spot at the table.
"Come on, Joe." I called to his back. "When the pure absurdity of all this hits you, you won't be able to stop laughing either."
Bem went into the kitchen as Joe left it and greeted Mary by kissing her hand. He helped her off the counter and they shared a quiet word. I pretended that I wasn't watching their exchange while I got the eggs from the fridge and set a frying pan on the stove. I was getting ready to light the burner when Mary stopped me. "Uhm, Church. I thought maybe Bem and I could cook this morning."
"Mary agreed to help sharpen my skills." Bem said as he moved to stand next to my sister. His arm slid around her waist, and his hand found its way into the far pocket of her jeans.
"Oh, that's how it is." I said with a nod at Mary's pocket.
"Is it OK?" Bem asked quickly. A little panic showed at the edge of his voice.
"Sure. If you two are happy, I'm happy. Long ago somebody taught me to share, maybe I need a refresher course." I said and purposely didn't clarify if I meant sharing the kitchen or sharing Bem.
I turned my steps toward the dining room but paused at the coffee maker to make a decision. I wanted more coffee, but I didn't want more of the swill that Mary had made. I'd almost decided to remake the pot when I saw Mary and Bem having a tender discussion about cooking breakfast. I decided not to risk spoiling their moment by insulting my sister by remaking her coffee in front of her. I poured myself more of what was there and carried my mug into the dining room.
I sat where I could watch Bem and Mary work. They moved smoothly together and always knew where the other was. Bem chopped while Mary fried. They hardly spoke, but they didn't seem to have to. When Mary was ready for something, she touched Bem gently, on his shoulder or the back of his neck and he turned to her. Bem did the same, but it was more often Mary's lower back or the side of a hip.
They looked good together, the `problem solver' and the religious fanatic. No couple could have been more different, but the two of them fit very well into that domestic vignette. Their cooking routine was almost as coordinated as when they'd danced the night before.
I didn't know if I was witnessing the start of a relationship or the aftermath of a one-night stand. Either way, it was nice to see two people who had been miserable just days before, get to enjoy some happiness, even for a little while.
I did have a small qualm about Bem's energy level. I was thrilled to see my friend back to normal but was somewhat disturbed about a nagging thought. The thought that kept bothering me was the idea that Bem's recovery was largely due to the magic I'd both passively and actively shared with him. That bothered me because I felt that I'd provided the energy he'd used to fuck my sister. It made me feel a little weird. I tried to keep my imagination from expanding on that idea, but it was difficult.
I was still wrestling around with that when Shawn came down the steps, dressed and ready for the day. He passed through the kitchen to get coffee on his way to the dining room. I felt a tingle of lust from him when our eyes met and that pleased me. Usually when Shawn and I had a particularly gratifying session, his lust would spike the next time we were together. As I'd felt the lust, I congratulated myself.
I got up so Shawn could sit where I had been. Shawn carried his coffee around the table and met me at the chair with a needy, full-tongue, good morning kiss and a butt squeeze. He started to move away from me, then he lunged back to surprise me with a flat lick of his tongue over my lips. Shawn growled in his throat and sat down with his coffee.
I resumed my role as the living statue of dumbfounded while Shawn wished a grinning `good morning' to a scowling Joe and a shocked Andy. Shawn noticed that he'd stunned me and came to my rescue. He took my hand and drew me down into the chair next to him. I licked my lips to taste my husband's mouth again and tried to remember why I'd switched seats. A partial view of Bem through the open doorway between the kitchen and dining room, as he presented Mary with some finely chopped ingredients for her frying pan, reminded me.
I pointed Shawn's gaze into the kitchen and sat back to watch his reaction. It only took a minute of observation for Shawn to turn wide surprised eyes my way. He tried to whisper, but I shushed him. I didn't want to risk being overheard and there would be plenty of time to talk when everyone went their separate ways for the day.
We waited patiently and quietly until the meal was ready to serve. Mary might not have been as good at coffee as I was, but she was better at breakfast. My technique was to make individual meals for everyone like a short order cook in a diner. In contrast, Mary cooked quantities of fried and scrambled eggs, scrapple, and home fries, and put everything on serving dishes in the oven. Once all the food was ready, she plated it according to taste and served it up. Mary assembled the plates and Bem delivered.
Bem got the twins situated with their food then brought the next plate for Joe. "Here you go, Stud." He whispered directly in Joe's ear and followed the words with a quick jab of his tongue. Joe jerked like he'd been zapped by a cattle prod and made a grab for Bem. Bem was far too fast for him and was well out of arm's reach before my brother even made his lunge.
I almost spit coffee across the table. In my effort not to, I managed to swallow wrong, and wound up choking instead of laughing. While I was gasping, I spared a glance to my nieces and saw that the lewd joke had gone over their young heads. I was glad for that. I was also glad that Andy had gotten to see Bem tease Joe this time. The boy laughed harder than any of us.
"I am NOT AMUSED!" Joe shouted and grabbed for a napkin to wipe his ear.
"Lighten up Joe!" Mary called from the kitchen.
"Yeah, Joe," I added when I stopped choking, "besides, when in Rome and all."
"Rome?" Bem asked. He'd been on his way into the kitchen when the strange phrase caught his attention. He stopped in the doorway between the kitchen and dining rooms to clarify. "I thought this place was called Maple Shade."
I looked at my friend to see if he was serious with his question. He seemed to be, but I suspected Bem was hiding a joke somewhere. I tried to explain without too much detail. "It's another saying. `When in Rome, do as the Romans do.'"
Bem inclined his head at me. Confusion twisted his face. "What do Romans do?" He asked.
I tried again to explain. "It's not what Romans do or don't do. The saying means that when you're with Romans, you should do what they do. See?"
Bem shook his head. "No. How can I do what Romans do, if I don't know what they do?"
"No...you see..." I started to say when Joe interrupted.
"We should have sex!" Joe blurted to Bem.
I scanned the table to gauge everyone's reaction at what Joe had practically shouted at Bem. Andy's eyes threatened to pop out of his head, Shawn looked Joe's way with an amused smirk on his face, the twins ate their breakfasts, and Bem grinned. The grin that stretched Bem's face was amused and lecherous. "Sure, when?"
Joe flushed red with embarrassment. I knew that Joe didn't want to have sex with Bem and I knew that he'd never say something like that under normal circumstances. I assumed he'd reacted out of frustration and blasted out what was in his head. That was very much out of character for Joe the Attorney. He attempted some damage control and tried to walk back the statement he'd made. "No...I mean, Church thinks we should. That's what he meant by the saying."
Bem leaned his shoulder on the door jamb and faced Joe to focus on the discussion. "Is that what Romans do?" Bem asked my brother.
"NO!" Joe barked and rubbed his face with both hands like I do when I'm frustrated or overwhelmed. I wondered where that mannerism came from. I wondered if it came from the same place as the neck rubs. Joe dropped his hands and tried to explain what he'd meant. "You," Joe pointed at Bem, "and Church, and Mary, and Shawn have...engaged. Not as a group of course, but individually and in a few combinations."
Joe stared at Bem and waited. Bem nodded his agreement to Joe's premise. Joe went on to try to make his point. "So, you all have that in common. You are a community of sorts, with the custom of engaging. See?"
Bem nodded again.
"Rome was also a community, peopled by Romans, and the Romans had customs."
Bem opened his mouth to interject but Joe was too fast for him. Joe raised his voice and talked over Bem. "It doesn't matter what their customs were." Bem closed his mouth, and Joe lowered his voice to a normal level. "The saying implies that people who visit the community of Rome, or any community, should do as the community does while they are there."
"OH!" Bem nodded as understanding lit his face. "Rome is here and Church, and Shawn, and Mary are the Romans."
"Right." Joe agreed with a sigh of relief that he'd been understood.
"When?" Bem asked.
"When what?" Joe asked in response.
"When do you want to become a Roman?"
"I DON'T!" Joe shouted at Bem.
Bem raised his hands as if to say, `I give up,' with a physical gesture instead of words. Andy roared with guffaws of hysterical laughter at the sight of his staid father getting propositioned by horny Bem. I chuckled at the situation and enjoyed Andy's amusement. Joe scowled at all of us, but his nasty looks couldn't make us stifle our enjoyment. Even Shawn laughed.
Bem returned to the kitchen for more breakfast plates. He got a kiss from Mary and two loaded plates, one each for Andy and Shawn. The laughter settled and Joe's scowl relaxed as Bem served them up. He made one more trip to the kitchen. The last time Bem returned with an extra-heavily loaded plate for me. "To get your strength back." Bem whispered in my ear as he set the plate down.
Bem moved to his seat and waited for Mary. Mary entered the dining room with plates for she and Bem, and she sat with him to eat.
We ate and made small talk for a while until Andy spoke up near the end of the meal. "What's everyone doing today?"
I answered first. "I need to go to South Street to pick up the CDs I bought on Saturday, nothing beyond that."
Joe went next, his tone still sour. "I need to fill in the forms for the draw on Shawn's investments. I'll need his signature. If you trust me not to rob you, Shawn, you can just sign the blank form and I'll do the rest."
"Sure, I'll sign it." Shawn agreed. "I don't have anything planned. I guess I'll go get CDs with this guy." He leaned over and bumped his shoulder into my side.
"Can I come with you, Uncle Church?" Andy asked.
"Sure." I agreed. "If it's OK with your dad."
Joe waved his permission and Andy ran off to get ready.
"Bem?" I asked.
"Mary and I are going to take Hannah and Leah to the park this morning so they can play before it gets too hot. Then, if we can borrow Joe's car, we're all going out for lunch."
"Fine, take the car." Joe grumbled miserably. He tossed his silverware into the middle of his plate and sat back in a childish huff. "The cripple will just sit here alone all day."
I asked a question to head off Joe's pissy mood. "How long will it take you to complete the form for the draw?"
"About an hour." He grumbled some more.
"Do you have to deliver it?"
"FAX!" Joe snapped.
"Fine, fill in your form and fax it. This house is going through food like no one's business. Someone has to do a big shopping. Shawn and I will run to the Zenith. When we get back, your form will be filled out and you'll be cleaned up and ready to go to Philly with us. You're getting around pretty well and should be fine for a trip to the city. If you get tired while we're out, I'll tie a string to your toe and float you along like a parade balloon."
Joe grumbled a little more but started filling in the form. Shawn and I cleared the table, cleaned up the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, started it, and left for the Zenith.
Bem pulled me aside before I got through the door. "Can I have some money? I want to pay for lunch and maybe buy some treats for the girls."
I peeled off something north of two hundred bucks and handed it over. "That should be plenty. Mary will be impressed that you were prepared to pay. My sister is a bigger believer in traditional gender roles than she'd like to admit. If the server is decent, tip them twenty percent but no more. My sister likes generous people but hates extravagance."
"Thanks, Church." Bem smiled and stroked my cheek with a caring hand as he stuffed the bills in his pocket with the other.
Shawn came over, and he and I headed outside toward the car.
"What's happening?" Shawn demanded when we were in the Town Car and away.
"I assume you mean Mary and Bem and not Joe and Bem." I said as a sort of joke that fell on its face. Getting away from Mary and Bem made me think more about their interactions. I was worried and found myself gripping the wheel like I was trying to tear it from the steering column. "I don't have a clue. Mary said that Bem said something to her the night Zeke slapped her that made her think about things. This is more than that. It's obvious she's falling for him. I think he's falling for her at the same time. I'm thrilled, but I'm terrified. There's only one way for this to go well and about a million ways for it to end in disaster."
I shook my head at the windshield and steered us onto Main Street from Coles Avenue. "I don't know what Bem did to her last night, but I hardly recognize the screaming lunatic we met in Joe's living room less than a week ago. She danced with me this morning and sang along. She told Joe to lighten up. I feel like Rod Serling should be sitting in the back of this car smoking an unfiltered cigarette."
Shawn got the `Twilight Zone' reference immediately and nodded his agreement. "Did you notice how good they look together? How about the way they already communicate without speaking? It's like they've known each other for years."
"I can't wrap my brain around it." I shook my head like I was trying to arrange the facts by physically jostling them.
Shawn tried to approach the subject from a different direction. The one he picked raised my anxiety over the situation to an even higher level than I already felt. "I know it's way too soon to even consider this, but do you think Bem would make a good dad? He's approaching the right age."
"A GOOD DAD?" I demanded with too much volume in my voice. I'd taken my eyes from the road and looked directly at Shawn to ask my follow-up question. "A dad for who?"
"Watch the road," Shawn begged. I turned back to the windshield with some difficulty, and Shawn continued. "You're nieces. Remember them? If Mary and Bem get together, Bem would be their stepfather."
"Oh, Jesus FUCK, Shawn...I don't know. I mean, sure, I guess. I mean, especially if he's the right age and all, a FUCKING HUNDRED! I hope you realize how bizarre that sounds to someone from Earth." My mind felt like it could only absorb so much insanity at once and the conversation that Shawn and I were having was testing the limits.
I drove us the rest of the way to the Zenith and thought about what kind of dad Bem would make. My answer was ready when I parked the car in the store lot. "Andy seems to love him, those two get along like they're the same age. He gets along with the twins. I noticed last night that he can tell them apart. He's one up on me there. I never can. He's also fiercely loyal and protective of anyone he cares about. I think he would make a great dad. Of course, if he's thinking about having any kids with Mary, he's got to move fast. It may already be too late."
"Why, how could it be too late?"
"Mary is forty-two. She's on the young end of menopause." I explained and noticed that my hands were still white knuckled on the wheel. I pried them off it and rubbed them together to flex the tension out of them. "Every woman is different, some go through it later than others, some earlier. I don't know where she stands. I don't even know that she'd want more kids. This is academic anyway. All we can do is keep an eye on it and be ready to pick up the pieces if it explodes."
Shawn didn't seem to understand what I was worried about. "If Mary and Bem want a child, or children, they can have them."
I didn't know why he was so certain, but I took it for granted that he knew what he was talking about. He was the doctor after all. I hopped out of the car to get into the store. I needed something else in my mind that wasn't my sister and my friend. Shopping was as good a thing as any.
Shawn stopped me at the shopping cart corral. "About last night," he said with his hand on mine, "I felt so much of you. Did you feel more of me?"
"I think I felt all of you." I admitted. "It was like I could see inside you."
"That's what I felt about you...except...there was something, something I don't think I could reach."
I got nervous about the direction the conversation was headed. I asked Shawn what he meant to buy myself some time to figure out how to deflect.
"I don't know how to describe it." Shawn said after some thought. "The experience was so unique, I don't think I have the words."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "You had the words last night." I said and smirked at my inventiveness. I was pleased that my brain had come up with a creative way to redirect the discussion.
"What words?"
I filled my lungs and shouted at the early morning parking lot. "YES, YES, YES, OH fuck YES!" I muted myself for the expletive, but the rest of the words I shouted at full volume.
Shawn grinned at me. He enjoyed my silliness as much as I did. His grin also meant that my redirection had worked. Shawn pointed a teasing finger at me. "Silly ass." He accused. "Besides, as I recall, those were your words."
Shawn's grin became a self-satisfied smile as he let a little smugness telegraph itself across our link. He wasn't wrong. The words had been mine and I had shouted them in a fit of pleasure as he'd pounded an orgasm out of me. That didn't mean that I was going to let him get away with being smug about it.
Shawn turned to walk toward the store. I stood with the cart and watched him go. The outfit he wore that day showed off his body to advantage. He had on a pair of short, tight, white shorts with a grey web belt and a close fitting, tucked-in, sky-blue polo shirt. I admired the way the clothes fit his body, and I let my lust loose. I watched Shawn stagger as the first wave slammed into him. "Church!" He scolded me without turning around.
I beat my lust down with a mental mallet and caught up to Shawn with my cart. "You OK?" I asked my husband as he worked on getting his own emotions under control.
"I am now." He said and straightened up.
I put my arm around him and pulled him against me for a quick squeeze. "Thanks for the praise. It was really incredible. I'm glad it was just us."
"Me to." Shawn agreed and we made our way into the store.
Shawn and I did one lap of the whole store to get meal ideas. After some brainstorming, we decided to get ingredients for a big taco spread. We loaded the cart with all kinds of food, including more breakfast items and some lunch options. I also decided to make pancakes the next morning as a change of pace, so we also got a bunch of fruit to add to the batter.
We took our time in the store for a couple reasons. I wanted to give my brother plenty of time to take care of the paperwork he needed to do and to get ready for the day. It felt like Joe and I had a breakthrough on the way back from Zeke's the night before, and I wanted to continue that trend. I worried that getting back too early would make Joe feel like we were waiting on him. That would stress him, and I didn't want him stressed. I assumed that a stressed Joe would be a pissy Joe, and I wasn't interested in that.
The other reason I didn't mind dawdling around the store was that I enjoyed the shopping trip. The luxury of wandering the aisles of a supermarket provided meal ideas that scrolling through the touch menu on the Culinarian didn't. It reminded me of foods I'd forgotten. I added indulgence after indulgence to the cart, to the point where it looked like I was shopping for a glutton's last meal. I had a small qualm about it, until I realized we were feeding eight people and no amount of extravagance or restraint would make much difference when stacked against all those appetites.
It took us two-full-hours to get the shopping done and return to Joe's. When we did, my brother was ready and waiting to head to the city.