From Whence I Came

We're getting really close. There's not much to say about this chapter that won't spoil it, so I'm not going to say much at all. Keep an eye out for Andy in this one.

I hope you enjoy this installment! Drop me a line if you want. I'd be happy to hear from you.

If you're younger than 18 or find these kinds of stories offensive, please close up now and have a great day! If you are of legal age and are interested, by all means keep going. I'll be glad to have you along for the journey. Please donate to Nifty. This is a great resource for great stories and a useful outlet to authors like me and readers like you.

Crown Vic to a Parallel World: From Whence I Came The second installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips

45 An Abrupt Wake-Up and Some Loose Ends

As easily as sleep came to me, was as quickly as it abandoned me in the early morning. The excitement, apprehension, and worry were all fighting for space in my head when I opened my eyes. As I woke, I found that Shawn was on top of me again. I didn't mind. In fact, I loved the feeling of his body pressed to mine, but nature was calling to me in a loud voice, and I needed to answer it. I tried to wake my husband gently.

"Shawn..." I called softly and stroked his hair. "Shawn...it's time to wake up. Shawn...you have to get off me so I can go to the bathroom. Shawn...I'm going to wet the bed if you don't wake up." Shawn didn't stir. The soft calling and gentle hair stroking were getting me nowhere in spite of the fact that my husband was usually a light sleeper.

My situation was getting desperate, so I had to resort to extreme measures. I let my hands glide down Shawn's back until they found the two hemispheres of flesh that I loved. A grab and quick, firm squeeze got Shawn's eyes open in a hurry. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" He shouted as he snapped awake.

"Good morning, Shawn. I love having you on top of me, but if you don't get off right now, we're going to have to wash these sheets again."

Shawn rolled off me and buried his head in the covers. I scrambled up and charged the bathroom. A few minutes later I came back feeling much better. "Hey, the sun's almost up. It's time to rise." I called to the huddled lump under the covers.

He grumbled a complaint at me but didn't uncover his head. "I don't answer people who wake me up by grabbing my ass."

I tried to reason with Shawn. "I tried to wake you gently, but you wouldn't wake. I was having an emergency. Grabbing your ass was all I could think of besides shoving you off me. Would you have preferred that?"

Shawn flipped over, threw the sheets back, and fixed me with an angry glare. "I'll forgive you on one condition."

"What's that?"

"Shower sex."

"What about bed sex?" I asked with a wave to the mattress he sat on.

Shawn crossed his arms, shook his head, and pouted like a spoiled child. "No, I want shower sex."

I nodded to the big, mirrored dresser. "How about bedroom furniture sex?"

Shawn's crossed arms tightened around him into a self-hug. He shook his head again. "Shower sex, or no forgiveness."

I sighed and let my body sag like giving-in to him was a major concession. "Shower sex it is."

Shawn leapt out of bed and ran into the bathroom. The shower came on and ran for a split second before he called to me. "Come on...you can't have shower sex from in there."

I laughed to myself and shook my head. I didn't know what got into him, but I had a feeling it was going to be fun to find out.

A while later we were both satisfied and very clean. We dressed and went down for breakfast, much later than usual. A voice that didn't belong to the family greeted our ears as we descended the steps. Detective Mercer was sitting with Joe, Mary, and Bem. He was talking slowly and rapidly consuming the contents of a well-stocked breakfast plate.

"Morning, Tim." I said as we entered the dining room.

Detective Mercer looked up, fork in mid-air, nodded, took his bite, and spoke around a mouthful of food. "Shower sex, huh? You weren't shitting me the other day when you said you were married. Never pegged you playing for that team, Church, but to each his own."

"How did you know that?" Shawn and I asked, almost in unison.

Detective Mercer explained with no humor, like Holmes to Watson. He pointed his fork at us to identify the evidence. "You're both red in the face, maybe from hot water, probably from physical effort, most likely both. You both have long hair that won't dry all the way with just a towel. Both of your hair is still wet and wet the same amount. Lastly, you both have that `cat that ate the canary' look. I remember that look from college. I've seen it on a lot of couple's faces who were just banging it out and wondering if anyone knew they were doing it. It's possible you had a quickie and then took a very hot shower together, but that makes less sense."

I admitted that Tim was right without actually saying so. "You must be a hell of a cop, Tim." I said as a compliment.

He shook his head and forked another bite of food into his mouth like he was shoveling coal into a boiler. "Nah, if I was really a good, dedicated cop, I would have refused your brother's offer of breakfast, said my piece, and left. I'm just well suited to my job."

Tim anticipated my next question and told me why he was there. "I stopped to let you know that ex-husband Ezekiel is safely put away for a while with no worries for Mary's divorce. The docs asked him a raft of questions and watched him for a full day and a night. He's `round the bend and no question. Mary was already moved out when he snapped his cap, so she won't have to testify at the commitment hearing. Everything is coming up roses...for everyone that isn't him."

Tim's breakfast and his explanation continued with more detail. "The church checked their books and found evidence of his embezzlement. Their insurance company will have to pay off on that one. Ezekiel never cashed the check you gave him, I already gave it to Joe, and we nailed the bookie to the wall when he stopped by the house with a thug to collect his money or break some bones. Everything is tied up very neatly."

The detective mopped his now-empty plate with a piece of toast, pushed it into his mouth, and rose to leave. "Nice seeing you all. Good luck. Church, walk me out."

I followed Tim out of the house without questioning why he wanted to see me. I figured he wanted to talk in private, but I couldn't imagine what about. We were in front of the house leaning on Tim's detective's cruiser, which was parked wrong way to the curb, when he announced his reason for calling me outside.

"Ezekiel said a lot of crazy stuff here and at the hospital. He raved about magic powers...healing, moving shit with your mind, flashes of white light that make things disappear, all completely crazy. Here's the odd thing, I could tell he believed every word. Maybe that's the true definition of crazy. Anyway, I don't think he's smart enough to have made it all up, and that bothers me. It bothers me enough that I do some research, and I do some more research, and do you know what I found?"

I was getting very nervous as Tim spoke, but I tried not to show it. I wondered how successful I was being. Tim seemed very observant, and I knew from the years I'd spent with Shawn, that even without the emotional link, I'd never make a poker player. "I'm sure you're going to tell me." I said.

Tim clapped his hands and let them drop to his sides in a dramatic gesture that illustrated nothing. "You don't exist, neither does your husband. Church Philips was declared legally dead just over two years ago. The license you're carrying is a fake. It's a good fake, but still a fake. The interesting thing about a forged identity is you can never go deep enough. Everyone has so many records of now-a-days, faking a person with all the trimmings is impossible."

"Your husband, that Shawn Summas or whatever his real name is, his identity is a work of art." Tim went on. "He's got paychecks, a credit history, tax returns, proof of residence...all bullshit. You know how I know? No convenience store purchases on his credit cards...not one...never. No one gets through life without stopping for coffee, a sandwich, pack of gum, smokes, something. Anyone who has no convenience store purchases isn't a person."

"Why, I ask myself." He continued. "What does it mean? I know you're Church Philips. I look at you and I see it. The fact that you look mid-thirties instead of forty-five is odd, but it's still you. So, I find myself wondering, what if that strange little man is telling the truth? Just because it's impossible, doesn't mean it's not true. So, why don't you tell me? I'm not a smart man, but I'm observant. Just between us, what's really going on?"

I had to think fast. I needed a story, and I needed one quick. My brain that had so readily cast Bem as an alcoholic Gulf War vet suffering from PTSD was coming up with a whole lot of nothing. All at once, I thought, `fuck it.' "OK, Tim, I'll tell you, but only because no one will believe you if you repeat it. I've been living on a parallel world, where magic is real, for the last six years. My husband and Bem are both from that world. We're here visiting Joe, but we'll be going back soon, tomorrow actually." I said in one long breathless statement.

"Show me." Tim challenged.

I stepped off the car and moved to the sidewalk. "Stop leaning on the car." I directed. Tim stood and joined me on the walk. I focused on the car, lifted it just enough to clear the curb, turned it one hundred and eighty degrees, and set it down, legally parked.

"I'll be a son of a bitch." Tim said in a low, but very normal voice. His face remained placid, no wide eyes or visible shock of any kind. It was either the best `poker face' ever, or the cop had seen so much, that nothing phased him. "What about the healing, is that true to?"

"Yeah, but that's Shawn's specialty. I can't do that."

"And the white light?"

I picked an empty soda can out of the gutter, hovered it at waist height, and vaporized it with a burst of white magic. Luckily, it was a bright morning so the flash didn't announce itself like it would have at night.

Tim nodded, satisfied. "I knew something was up. Everything that little weasel says is true, isn't it?"

"Most of it." I admitted.

"This parallel world, is it good there?"

I shrugged as I didn't want to oversell it. "It's just different, but it's Shawn's home, so now it's my home."

"Awe, that's sweet," Tim mocked, "it's also really, really gay. All the same to me. Good luck Church Philips or whoever you are now. I gotta get back to work." He clapped his hands again and walked around the car to get in. The starter ground, the V-8 engine caught and rumbled to life, Tim waved, and was gone.

I watched him go and went back in the house. Joe asked why Tim had called me outside.

"He knows that Shawn and my IDs are fake. He also knows Zeke is telling the truth in most of his ravings." I explained.

"WHAT?" Mary blurted her concern. "What's he going to do?"

"Nothing, he doesn't care. He wanted to know the truth, so I told him. I think he sees Zeke as the `bad guy' and he's glad Zeke can't cause any more problems for a while. How that happened doesn't matter to Tim."

"I hope you're right." Joe said with his typical Doubting Thomas tone.

I tried to put the time frame in perspective for everyone. "We've got a little less than twenty-four hours left in this world before we kiss it goodbye. We'll be fine for that long."

That piece of news settled on everyone differently. Bem grabbed Mary's hand, Mary kissed Bem, Joe stared at nothing, Shawn felt relieved, and I realized we were down to counting hours instead of days.

I left everyone to their thoughts and went to the kitchen for breakfast. I grabbed three vegan breakfast burritos from the freezer, two for me and one for Shawn, and set them in the toaster oven to heat. I also dumped out the dregs from the coffee maker and set about making a fresh pot. Out of the edge of my vision, I saw Bem and Mary go downstairs to the family room, presumably to check on the twins and figure out how to occupy them for the day. Andy wasn't around, so I assumed he was in his room. Shawn came in the kitchen with me to microwave tea.

Joe came in with a clenched look on his face. I hoped he hadn't picked that moment to apologize to Shawn as I didn't think it would be right for him to do it in front of me. The `right thing' as I saw it would be for Joe to try to make amends in private. It turned out that his overdue apology was the furthest thing from his mind. "I'm worried." He said for an opener.

"About?" I asked.

"I'm worried about Andy."

The coffee maker sputtered to indicate it had finished dripping hot water over coffee grounds and that meant I could sneak the carafe out of the base without making a mess. I turned away from my brother and filled my mug. When I turned back to Joe, he was waiting with a look on his face that wasn't quite a scowl but was far from a smile. I guessed that he was miffed that I'd made him wait for my attention. "I'm worried about Andy." He repeated.

"You said that, Joe." I prompted. "OK, I'll bite. What are you worried about?"

"I'm worried about Andy's power. Mary's woke up and she hasn't spent much time with you. You and Andy have been paling around since you got here. Is it possible he doesn't have any magic? Won't that be tough on him in the other world? I know you said gay is easier, but are people judged for their magic?"

Well, shit!' I thought. Twenty-three-and-a-half more hours and this conversation would have been much easier. So much for that. Better come clean.' I took a deep breath and braced for a bad reaction to what I was about to say. "Andy's an empath."

"He's a WHAT?" Joe shouted. "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

"Shhhh...you want everyone to hear you yelling?" I scolded. "His power activated the morning after his birthday. The same day Mary's did. We didn't want to tell you until we got to Solum. Well, when I say `we', I actually mean him and Shawn..."

"What are you talking about?" Joe interrupted in a harsh and unnecessary whisper. "What's an empath? How did this happen?"

Shawn took over the explanation. "He can sense the emotions people are feeling and read their thoughts around that emotion. His power seems to be more passive than yours. You compel people to tell the truth. Andy reads thoughts and feelings. He'll likely be able to influence them with training."

"AND NO ONE TOLD ME THIS BECAUSE?" Joe demanded.

I erected a shield around the kitchen to seal us and our shouting away from the rest of the house. I pointed in Joe's face. "BECAUSE OF THAT FUCKING ATTITUDE! WHEN SHOULD WE HAVE MENTIONED IT? MAYBE WHEN YOU WERE GIVING ME YOUR BULLSHIT ABOUT TEACHING YOUR KID TO BE GAY! YOU THINK THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN AN OPPORTUNE MOMENT, YOU ASSHOLE?"

Shawn shoved his way between me and Joe. He faced me. "Enough!" He hissed. "It's enough, you two. No more."

As if to signal the end of the round, the toaster oven dinged that our breakfast was ready. I stepped away from Shawn and Joe, got plates, put the burritos on them, grabbed my coffee mug and stormed from the kitchen. The shield that I'd erected dropped when I walked through it. I was headed outside but stopped half-way to the sliding doors to toss words, like hand grenades, through the wall opening into the kitchen. I took my hand from my coffee and left it hover in the air as I pointed at Joe. "No more of this bullshit." I growled. "For just one goddamned day I'm not going to have it. Get me?"

Joe nodded like his head was mounted on a rusty hinge. He was pissed at me, but I didn't care. I stormed from the house as my coffee followed beside me. Once outside, I paced the yard and muttered obscenities while I ate the tasteless breakfast with savage hunger. I gulped my coffee to wash it down and set the plate and mug on the yard swing so I could keep pacing.

I wanted to choke the shit out of Joe...again. I was tired of being angry and hurt all the god-damned time. I found myself seriously considering the ramifications of leaving Joe behind. I monologued out loud to myself. "How the fuck is it possible that he's the one that's the problem? I thought sure it'd be Mary. Nope. A slap in the face from her prick husband and a fucking from Bem and she's sunshine and lollypops. I wonder if I could get Bem to fuck Joe. I doubt it would have the same effect. Never know...chocolate ice cream and all."

I was still grumbling and pacing when the sliding door opened, and someone stepped out. I didn't give them my attention until they'd called me several times. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?" I demanded and rounded on the person who'd interrupted my hate-filled pacing.

"Uncle Church..." Andy squeaked and shrank away from my rage.

I rocked on my heels and took a few breaths to calm down. I lowered my voice to a normal level and addressed the boy again. "Sorry...I'm sorry...what is it, Andy?" I looked to my nephew to see what he wanted and noticed he was wearing his pride pin on his shirt pocket again. I wondered if that meant something.

"Dad wants to see you. He said he wants to have a family meeting. He sent me out to get you."

I heard what Andy said but the fact that he'd gotten his pin back held more interest for me than his words had. "What's with the pin?" I asked and pointed at the boy's puffed-out chest. As I pointed, I realized he was standing a little like he was at military attention, chest out and shoulders back.

Andy looked down at his own chest and pulled out the fabric that held the pin, like he needed to emphasize it to me. "Dad gave it back to me, just a minute ago. He said he was sorry for taking it and he wanted me to have it back. He said if pride is a sin, then he must be a sinner because he's proud of me."

I couldn't believe my ears. "I'll be a son of a bitch." I said to myself more than I said it to Andy.

"Uncle Church?" Andy asked.

I didn't say anything to the boy. I didn't know what to say. I hoped that the pin meant that Joe was softening. I hoped it meant that he had accepted his son's sexuality. I hoped it meant many things, but I'd had those hopes before and they'd been dashed just as quickly. I used my natural cynicism to beat down my rising hopes and set aside the presence of the pin as a kind of an aberration. I replayed what Andy had said in my mind and tried to address that statement.

"What's the meeting about?" I asked. The presence of Andy's pin and Joe's apology to his son hadn't canceled the anger I felt for my brother and his repeated waffling between acceptance and lunacy. I was worried that Joe was about to announce he wasn't coming to Solum with us. The way I felt at that moment, I might have been relieved, except I knew the right thing for him to do was to come with us. I was still his older brother and I wanted what was best for him even though I wanted to strangle him just then.

Andy shook his head. "He wouldn't say."

I set a hand on the boy's shoulder to and waited until he met my eyes with his. What I had to say demanded his full attention. "Do you remember what we talked about the other morning at breakfast?"

Andy nodded without speaking.

"Are you still OK with not taking sides if me and your dad have a...uh...a disagreement?"

Andy nodded again.

I crouched down so my face was even with his. "If I ask you to walk away, will you?"

"Why would you want me to go away?" He asked.

"There may be things I have to say that I don't want you to hear. Will you do as I ask if it comes to that?"

I could tell my question made the boy uneasy, but he committed to behaving like an adult, or maybe more like an adult than the adults in the house. "Sure, Uncle Church."

"OK, let's go in and face the music."

Andy and I entered the house to find the dining room already set for the meeting that Joe requested. Joe was at the head of the table like always, Mary sat to his right with Bem one down from her, Shawn sat opposite Bem. That left the seat to Joe's left vacant and the one at the foot of the table vacant. Andy pulled the chair out at the foot of the table and sat. I stood at the corner of the table between Andy and Shawn and crossed my arms over my chest.

I glanced down, realized my arms were crossed, and uncrossed them. I found I didn't know what to do with my arms once they were at my sides, so I stuffed my hands in my pockets. My left hand automatically closed around my watch as I waited for Joe to start the meeting.

Joe motioned to the chair at his left. "Please sit."

I refused. "I'll stand."

"I'd like you to sit." Joe insisted.

I resisted. "I prefer to stand."

"Why do you always have to be difficult?" Joe's best exasperated voice asked me.

I instinctively dragged my hands from my pockets and crossed my arms over my chest again. "Look in the mirror lately, kettle?" I asked to refer to the old adage about the pot calling the kettle black.

"And always a smart remark." Joe pressed.

"Look in the mirror lately, kettle?" I asked again.

Bem broke into the discussion with a question that was directed at Mary but that we all heard. "Why does Church keep calling Joe a kettle? Is that an insult here?"

Mary shook her head and took Bem's hand. "Not now." She whispered.

"But..." Bem pressed.

Joe derailed himself to answer Bem's question. "It's another saying." Joe explained. "It's from the phrase, `that's like the pot calling the kettle black.' In the old days, kitchen implements were made from cast iron and were always black. In those same days, calling someone black could be interpreted as an insult. Therefore, for the pot, which would have been black, to call the kettle black, would have been for the pot to accuse the kettle of a characteristic that the pot shared with the kettle. See?"

Bem nodded his understanding. "Oh," he said, "so, when Church calls you a kettle, he means that you're difficult and you make smart remarks."

Joe's pedantic expression soured over Bem's clarification. "That's his opinion." Joe snapped.

Mary tugged on Bem's hand. "Bem, please." She pleaded with my friend.

Bem leaned into Mary and fell silent. I grinned impudently at Joe's mild anger that was directed toward Bem instead of me. I also made a mental note to thank Bem for being himself. That thought caught me by surprise and I had to turn it over in my head. `Bem being himself. Huh...I wonder.' An idea started to percolate in my brain, but it didn't get a chance to come all the way to the surface before Joe interrupted it.

My brother turned his sour scowl toward me. "Well?" Joe demanded.

"Well, what?" I demanded back.

Shawn reached up from his spot at the table and touched my elbow. "Church."

The sound of his voice as it said my name and the look of mild frustration on his face were enough to stop me from continuing to make an ass of myself. I dropped my arms to my sides and sat down next to Joe.

Joe stood up as I sat, and I almost bounced back up on my feet. Joe had used an old trick to command the conversation by placing himself at an advantage of height. My regular standing height made that difficult for most people unless they could get me to sit down, which is what Joe had just done. Shawn must have sensed my impulse because he grabbed my arm to keep me in my chair. Joe rubbed his neck like I do and got ready to speak. The way he held himself made me think we were in for a long speech.

"A great deal has happened since my brother walked back into my life two weeks ago. Much of it has been good. The fact that he's alive and in good health is good. The fact that he's happily married is good. He and his friend Bem were able to help my sister put an end to a toxic relationship with her husband."

"Ex-husband." Mary corrected sharply.

"Ex-husband when the paperwork is finalized." Joe clarified in typical lawyer fashion before he continued with what he had to say. "She also discovered new love with Bem, here. That's good. She also discovered magic power. That's amazing. My son has also benefitted from his uncle coming to visit. He is no longer hiding his sexuality from us, and I'm told his magic has also awakened. I might observe that he doesn't seem to be smoking anymore. I suspect his uncle's influence there, and I'm glad for it."

Andy stared at his father. I assumed that he thought he was getting away with smoking. Joe apparently knew but chose not to say anything for his own reasons. The fact that he hadn't taken issue with Andy's bad habit before was out of character for Joe, but it told me that maybe he wasn't as rigid as I thought he was.

Joe kept talking so I filed that information away for later. "For myself, I now have magic power, I can get around better than I could before, and I'm no longer suffering from a terminal illness. Instead of a year to live, if I believe the stories I was told, I have as much as two centuries ahead of me, maybe more. So many unexpected blessings have come from Church's arrival, it's hard to believe they're real, but they are."

"And what have I done to make myself worthy of these blessings? Was I humble or grateful or even joyful? No. I was judgmental and disapproving and an ingrate. I want to apologize to all of you, but especially to my brother and his husband. I was wrong and I'm sorry. If you'll still have me, I want to formally request you take me with you tomorrow morning. I want to be part of your lives. I want a chance to be happy with you, all of you."

"And before you say anything," Joe talked over the objection I planned to raise, "I know this apology doesn't wipe out all the wrong I did to the people at this table. I know I'll have to work to earn your respect and forgiveness, but I hope you will see this as a start."

Joe finished talking and looked around the table for reactions. I wanted to believe him, but I didn't. Not yet. His apology to all of us was a big step, but not as big as if he would have done it individually, the way I'd wanted him to. I waited. I didn't want to be the first to speak, so I held my tongue and waited. Bem stood from his spot at the table and offered his hand to Joe. "Let him without sin cast the first stone." Bem said.

I laughed. "That's good, Bem. Good for you." That particular reference, from The Book of John, meant that Bem had continued his Bible study. The Book of John, as I remembered, was toward the beginning of the New Testament, but was still pretty far along in The Bible. It also seemed appropriate that Bem would reference the tale of a woman caught committing adultery.

The story as I remembered it, was about some officials who brought an adulteress before Jesus and wanted to stone her to death. Jesus told the officials that the woman could be stoned if one without sin would cast the first stone. Everyone left and no one remained to stone the woman. Bem may not have realized it, but the moral of that story cut both ways. He took it as a lesson that he had to forgive Joe. It also meant that Joe couldn't condemn any of us for what he perceived as our sins. Bem grinned sheepishly at my praise. "That Bible is a quotable book, especially the new part."

I stood to shake Joe's hand. "I can be gracious to." I shook his hand and held it to pull Joe close to me. I whispered in his face. "What I said yesterday still goes. You have to prove it."

Joe nodded at me and leaned away as I released his hand.

Everyone was all smiles and kindness at Joe's apology. `It's a start.' I mentally shrugged and tried not to think about how much more I believed that Joe owed everyone present.

Joe prompted me to review the plan for the next morning with the group. "Good idea." I agreed. "We need to leave here at quarter to four tomorrow, that's leave, not get in the car." I parroted Joe's instructions for leaving for anywhere on time. "Plan to be in the car for about two hours. We'll have to stop at the church on the way out of town. Father Miller is planning to bless us before we leave. After that, it's over the Betsy Ross and 95 south to the Girard Point. We'll have to cross it on the upper deck, make a U-turn on Broad Street and come back on the lower deck. Shawn will activate the catalyst that will take us to the other world once we're on the lower deck."

"Why the Girard Point Bridge?" Joe asked.

"Because there aren't any tunnels nearby. I assume you don't want to get up early enough to drive to Baltimore to be there by quarter to five in the morning." I explained without explaining anything. I was baiting Joe a little to see if he would accept my words as given or if he would push the issue in front of the whole group. He didn't take the bait to my complete surprise.

Instead, Joe offered some sensible advice. "I assume we should load the car today."

I agreed with my brother. "Yes, whatever everyone is taking, let's get it stowed today so we can make sure everything fits."

"Any other concerns?" Joe asked me.

"Everyone should eat breakfast, but I don't want to get delayed cooking and cleaning up, so protein bars would be best. Think, `grab and go.' Oh, and there won't be any rest stops until we get to The Hall, so plan ahead. That's it."

Once we covered all the required topics, the meeting broke up and the group went its separate ways.

I found myself in Andy's room between the meeting and lunch. He was adamant about taking the designer labels he'd acquired at the beginning of our visit. He also wanted Shawn, Bem, and I to take the clothes he'd picked for us. I admit, I kind of wanted to. We all looked great. That day, I was wearing a salmon pink athletic cut t-shirt, warm grey shorts, and white sneakers. The clothes showed off my fit body and gave me presence. The problem wasn't how good or not good the clothes looked. It was an issue of space and usefulness.

"I'm sorry, Andy." I apologized to the grief-stricken boy as I leaned on the wall just inside his door and looked into the room while he stood by his desk. "Even if we had the space, what would we do with them on Solum? People don't dress this way there."

"But..." Andy objected and trailed off. He frowned and his eyes darted everywhere with the effort to come up with an argument that would convince me. I heard a door open and close in the hallway and felt Shawn come out of our room. Andy called out to him as he passed the open room door. Shawn walked in. Andy gave Shawn a quick explanation of what we were talking about and turned Shawn to face me. "You want Shawn to leave this outfit here?" He asked me.

I took a hard look at my husband. He wore an aqua-blue buttoned-down short-sleeve shirt that clung to his rippling torso and a pair of khaki-colored stretch jeans that showed off every bulging muscle in his impressive legs. Andy made Shawn turn his back to me for extra effect. His about-face treated me to the sight of Shawn's full, round ass that was testing both the limits of the fabric and the limits of my self-control.

Shawn must have felt my lust spike and he turned to face me in spite of Andy trying to hold him still. "You fight dirty, kid." I said to my nephew with the full knowledge that I was going to give into his begging. "You're definitely my brother's son." I stopped talking to rub my face and think. I remembered the trunk rack that I hadn't had removed from the Vic and it gave me an idea. "Tell you what, you find a trunk, or a footlocker, or a plastic tote that will fit on the trunk rack of the Vic, and all the space inside that container belongs to you."

I thought that would be enough to appease Andy, but it wasn't. His frown remained. "But your suits will take up too much room." He complained.

I rubbed my face again and felt like I was talking to Joe. He'd taught his son well. "We'll wear the damn suits!" I said to my palms and dropped my hands. I hoped when I saw Andy's face again, the frown would be gone. It was, but he still wasn't satisfied. I could tell his mental wheels were turning, grinding out space solutions to his problem.

Shawn was the one that was able to make the boy smile. "We could wear another outfit under the suits," he suggested, "and we won't take the fatigues home with us. That'll make more room."

Andy leapt into the air in ecstatic celebration. "THANK YOU, SHAWN!" He shouted and grabbed Shawn in a surprise hug. I laughed at the simplicity of the solution and was happy at least one conflict was easily solved. Andy asked for, and I granted, access to our room so he could select and pack the clothes he wanted to take with us, as well as to lay out our double outfits for the next morning.

As an afterthought, I sweetened the pot for Andy. "You know, as soon as we get back, we're going to need clothes for everyone. I think it will be a great opportunity for you to meet Rubi, my...uh...tailor, I guess. I think you and her would make great partners. What do you think?"

"I think you're the best, Uncle Church!" Andy grabbed me in a copy of the hug he'd just lavished on Shawn. I rumpled his hair, and he ran off to select our traveling outfits.

Since I was already on a roll, I sought out the rest of the group and examined their respective carry-ons. Most of them I was able to load right away, which was good, because I didn't want to waste the time in the morning. Luckily everyone took my previous advice on packing conservatively. That effort took me up to lunch time.

Lunch was leftovers as we tried to clean out the fridge as much as possible. I asked Joe about the perishables. He said Father Miller was planning to take all the food to the rectory for their use, and then to come over to empty the cabinets of all the other groceries, a little at a time. All we needed to do was clear away anything that would go bad in a day or two and wash all the dishes and containers.

"What about the sheets and towels and stuff?" I asked.

"Father Miller has a cleaning service scheduled to go through the house next week for a deep clean and to take care of all that." He explained.

"Perfect." I said and was glad for my brother's thorough nature. Joe usually thought of everything, and this was no different.

Shawn and I ate lunch with the group because almost everyone was easting vegan baked ziti without knowing it was vegan. My plan to hide any off flavors with heavily seasoned tomato sauce had worked. After lunch, Mary and Bem took on kitchen clean up duty. They'd planned to leave just enough food for dinner but were clearing away everything else. Joe made a slow tour of the house to compile a list of where things were and how things worked to leave for Father Miller. He also gathered all the owner's manuals for the appliances and put them in one place for easy reference.

Shawn and I took the Vic out for a shakedown cruise. I also topped up the gas tank and checked all the fluids. The old girl ran like a dream from idle all the way up to when I buried the speed-o-meter on route 73. Shawn got a little nervous as I weaved in and out of traffic on the two-lanes of the northbound side of the highway, but I was having too much fun to worry about it.

Driving on Solum is a very conservative experience. Weaving and speeding aren't tolerated, and even if they were, the cars don't have enough power to be any fun. It took a long time and a massive amount of self-control for me to adjust. As I was on Earth for the last time, I wanted to enjoy one more shot at aggressive, high-speed, New Jersey style driving. I blasted up and down the road twice and as a cherry on top of the sundae, I launched the Vic into a jug handle with far too much speed. The front tires screeched in protest as the weight of the heavy engine forced them to slide unwillingly over the coarse asphalt surface. After that, I settled down to a sedate thirty through town and back to Joe's.

"I wish you wouldn't do that." Shawn joined the tires in a protest of my driving style.

"I haven't driven like that since we met in front of Big Nick's bar, and we were running from Cy and Vulp and their cousins. Let me have a little fun."

Shawn didn't share my idea of fun. "I don't want to be killed on Earth." He objected.

I tried to put things in perspective for him, but I doubted I'd be successful. "Shawn, we're surrounded by over four thousand pounds of heavy metal in one of the largest full-frame American cars built since 1979. There's very little on the road today we could go up against that could cause enough damage to injure us, let alone kill us."

"That's a wonderful thought." Shawn said to the windshield. "Let's not test that theory. Besides, you just got this car back all fixed and brand new. You don't want to risk hurting the Vic, do you?"

Shawn's consideration of the Vic was a nice touch. I thought it was an excellent try. He wasn't seeing it from her point of view though. "You're not considering the Vic's feelings." I explained. "She knows that once we're home, she'll be put back in long term storage, maybe for good. Doesn't she deserve to stretch her legs one last time? Where's your empathy for inanimate objects?"

Shawn patted his pockets like he was looking for something. "I must've left it in my other pants." He muttered with rare sarcasm as we pulled up to the stop light in the center of town.

"Oh yeah? Maybe I should double check." I reached over and tried to grope him while he pushed me away. We fought and laughed until the sound of a horn told me the light was green and we were holding up traffic.

I kept my hands to myself the rest of the way back to Joe's.