Welcome to Chapter 5. While I received several wonderful emails from readers, no one mentioned the scrapple our heroes had for breakfast. Interesting. I figured at least one person would ask what it was, or share their love for, or their revulsion of that particular breakfast meat. Oh well, I suppose it doesn't matter. I hope you enjoy this chapter!!
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Crown Vic to a Parallel World: From Whence I Came The second installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips
5
Catching Up with an Unbeliever
Joe glanced at his son, who looked up with a strained expression. They seemed to share a moment of sadness, then Joe sighed the sigh of the beaten man, and shrank in his chair. "Andy," he suggested, "why not go get cleaned up? No reason for you to hear all this again."
"OK Dad." Andy's voice cracked when he said the two-word sentence. I guessed there was a lot of emotion pent up in the boy's mind. He went upstairs without another word.
Joe watched the spot where his son had stood until we heard a room door close on the second floor. "It's hard on him." Joe brought his attention back to us. He leaned forward; his thumb rubbed the smooth surface of the vinyl tablecloth like he was working out a spot.
"I have ALS, Lou Gehrig's disease. I've had it for two years. It's destroying the neurons that control my muscles. Pretty soon I won't be able to walk at all. I'll have to go to assisted living where I'll probably have just one more year before it kills me, or I become a living corpse. The only reason I'm still in this house is Andy helps me with everything. I was hoping to make it until he was eighteen. Then I could leave him the house and whatever is left of my estate directly. Now I'll have to tie it up in a trust. I'm afraid of his mother coming back, or some other unscrupulous person, and trying to take his inheritance from him. Mary agreed to look after him, but they don't get along and I...I really hate to leave him alone."
Shawn was in full `Doctor Shawn' mode before I had a chance to ask. I could see the wheels in his head spinning, his precise mind bent on working out the solution to the problem. Even his posture changed, from relaxed to ramrod straight to reflect his mental efforts. Shawn crossed his left forearm over his middle, gripped his right side with his left hand, rested his right elbow on his left wrist, and cupped the right side of his face with his right hand. When he was ready to speak, Shawn used the right hand to gesture in the air, but only as far as his elbow.
Shawn's clinical voice addressed my brother. "I read about a similar disease in a medical history book. It was eliminated a long time ago. There wasn't much information about treatment. Joe, would you let me examine you?"
"Will you let him look at you?" I asked Joe. "I'm warning you, it's both the least and the most invasive exam you've ever had."
Joe didn't hesitate. "Go ahead. I've never been examined by a magic doctor before. Where do you want me and how do you want me? I'll try anything."
"You're fine sitting there." Shawn had me slide the chair back so he could get between Joe and the table. He explained the process to Joe, held Joe's head, and pressed their foreheads together.
Suddenly I had a terrible thought. "Wait!" I shouted. Shawn pulled back. "He's my brother." I warned. "Go easy, we don't want a repeat of what happened with my addiction removal."
"I already thought of that." Shawn tilted his head my way. "I'll be careful."
"OK, sorry. I should have known you always think of everything."
Shawn leaned into Joe and made the connection. The exam took a long time, a long time for one of Shawn's exams, ten minutes or so. When he disconnected, he made a `whew' noise and rubbed his temples with his fingers. He gave his report directly to Joe. "Your body is attacking your nerves and destroying them, or it was. I put a stop to it. You won't get any worse, but it will take more experience in this field than I have in order to restore what's lost. You need a neurologist. I'm just a general practitioner."
Joe stared, he seemed stricken. He found his voice after a couple false starts. "First of all, that was the weirdest experience of my life. I almost feel violated. Actually, I do feel violated. I've had sex that was less intimate than what you just did. I could feel you inside me, like you were touching things deep in my body. Did you really speak to my mind?"
"Yes, that's how it works." Shawn explained as he resumed his former posture and clinical tone. "For an Earth physician to do that level of examination, he'd have to dissect you. Then the results of the exam wouldn't matter...not to you anyway."
Shawn's words seemed to flow around Joe without penetrating his mind. "Did you say you stopped it?" My brother asked. "Just like that, you stopped the disease. I won't get worse than I am now? I'm not going to die?"
"Correct. You won't get worse. You'll probably get a little better, but I can't do any more than I just did. I don't have the knowledge."
"Can you prove it?" Joe challenged, like he challenges everyone and everything. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but how do I know that wasn't some kind of trick? Hypnosis maybe."
I shook my head but didn't speak. Despite Joe's admission that he believed my story and my magic, Joe believed only as much as he could feel. My brother was the only man I ever knew who compartmentalized his belief. He'd flown around the room through the force of my magic, so to him, my power must be real and at least that part of my story true.
Shawn's magic was not tangible, therefore not provable, therefore potentially a lie, even though there was no conceivable reason for it to be a lie. Joe was endlessly frustrating because he disbelieved every single thing that he was told that he couldn't prove to himself with firsthand knowledge. He'd always been that way.
Shawn didn't know what to do with my brother's disbelief. I could feel his surprise through our link. It was obvious he'd expected Joe to be appreciative, not incredulous. "I don't know how to prove it to you."
Joe leaned back in his chair and managed to look down his nose at my husband and his healing touch. "It's not fair to play on the hopes of a dying man." Joe said with accusation dripping from his tone.
My brother's Doubting Thomas routine pissed me off to the point of recklessness. "You'll never change, will you?" I asked as a direct, angry challenge. "Why is it automatically a lie?"
"Because he can't prove it." Joe insisted and pointed at Shawn.
"Fine...fine, Joe." My anger inspired me to action. "Remember, you asked for this." I darted into the kitchen and came back with a smooth-bladed sharp knife. I picked one of the thick, rubbery scars on the back of my left hand and slit the unfeeling flesh open. Unfortunately for me, the flesh wasn't as unfeeling as I expected it to be. The pain of the blade as it sliced my flesh was blinding in its intensity. I gritted my teeth for a second, then continued with my show and tell session.
I held my bleeding hand in Joe's face with my other hand cupped underneath it to catch the flowing blood. "Do you believe what you just saw?" I asked.
"Yes." Joe nodded and sounded less uneasy than I thought he should be.
"Good, it hurt like hell, and I don't want to do it again." I called Shawn over to work his magic where Joe could watch. "Shawn, would you please fix this?" I asked without taking my eyes off my brother. I felt Shawn's exasperation as he took my bloodied hand in his. My hand warmed and the wound closed like pulling up a zipper. The scar went back to the way it was before. I flexed the hand in Joe's face. "Well?" I asked.
"That's not proof." Joe insisted. "All you did was show that Shawn can heal basic wounds. For all I know he could set a broken bone as well, but he says he just cured ALS. That's a big leap of faith."
I shook my head at Joe. I was astonished at what he could witness and still refuse to believe. It was even more astonishing that this man was a devout Catholic. I assumed that at some point, Joe had met Jesus at a revival or something, because there was nothing else in his character that would explain his faith. I thought about stabbing my brother but decided against that extreme action. I suspected Joe would not easily forgive me. I settled for telling Joe that he was `fucking impossible' and retreated to the kitchen to wash my blood off the knife and out of my palm.
As I went, I heard Shawn attempt to use logic on Joe. He was still in `Doctor Shawn' mode and used his clinical voice. "It doesn't matter if you believe me. I've put a stop to your illness, and you will see signs soon enough. In the meantime, I recommend you stop whatever drug regimen your doctors have you on. That Earth poison can't repair the damage the disease has done to you and will only complicate your recovery."
I reentered the dining room in time to see Joe nod like he agreed. Joe didn't speak, which meant he didn't actually agree. My brother was a master at committing to nothing. Shawn didn't know that, so he assumed Joe had agreed with him and proceeded with what he'd been saying. "The other issue is your magic level. I can't tell your capacity, but I feel your level is low, probably because of the illness. When we connected, your body called to my magic. If we could get your level up, you would feel better. It might even help you recover a little."
Despite everything he'd seen and felt, Joe's face was a mask of disbelief, which was his normal expression when being told anything. I could tell him the time of day and he'd want three independent witnesses. "Where did I get magic? There isn't any magic on Earth." Joe argued with Shawn.
Shawn sighed. Even his long patience was being tested with the effort of trying to drive new concepts into my brother's head. Shawn's perseverance displayed the difference between he and I. I would eventually flip out and slice my hand open to prove a point. Shawn would simply press on with the explanation, which is what he did. "Every living thing has magic, even here. Life itself is magic. Just because you don't believe in it, doesn't mean it's not there. You don't have to believe in gravity, but not believing doesn't mean you'll float away."
"If you say so." Joe shrugged both physically and verbally. He still was not buying anything Shawn said.
I didn't want to start an argument, but my rising frustration level was making it impossible for me to keep my mouth shut. I muttered at the situation. "Joe would be the one who would float away out of sheer contrariness." No one acknowledged my comment, so I raised my voice with an actual suggestion. "Can I give him power, like I did for Bem?" I asked Shawn while I deliberately ignored Joe's refusal to believe. "If it will make him feel better, he can have as much as he needs."
"You can, but you have to be careful. We don't know how large his capacity is and you aren't carrying any weight."
"What does that mean?" Joe directed his question at me.
"Remember I explained that I'm unique in that I generate magic from body mass. Most people can't do that, they unconsciously call to nature, or to anyone near them whose levels are high to replenish their magic. Mine comes from me." I shifted my attention to Shawn. "I'll be fine. Just show me what to do. He needs this."
I could feel Shawn's concern, but he showed me what to do without objections. He didn't think laying Joe down would be necessary. I put my hands on him like I had with Bem and made my power available to him. The feeling was completely different with Joe. With Bem, the power flow was a trickle. Joe's body pulled the magic from me like a vacuum. The more I made available, the more he took. Shawn watched us closely. After a few minutes he told me to stop. It was an effort, a physical effort, to stop the transfer. I straightened up and realized I'd broken a sweat.
"How do you feel?" I asked as I wiped my face with a napkin from the table.
"Wow." Joe whispered. "How do I feel? I feel great, like I could run around the block!"
I was stunned that Joe admitted that he'd felt anything. I expected him to accuse Shawn of hypnotizing him again. For some reason the magic transfer had been real enough for Joe to believe that it had happened. I counted that as a small win.
Joe shifted in the chair and flexed his legs, one at a time. "Bring the walker please." He asked the room.
I floated it to him to tease him a little and offered my arm for support so he could get up. Joe waved me away, grabbed the walker, and stood on his own. He took a few tentative steps. They seemed easier than the one's he'd taken in the upstairs hallway, his legs seemed to be holding some of his weight. Joe straightened and tried to walk without leaning on the frame. He faltered and had to grab the top rails to keep from falling.
"I guess that would be too much to ask." He sighed.
"It's magic, but not a miracle." Shawn cautioned. "You need more medical attention to get your function back. It also looks like you'll need some physical therapy to rebuild your atrophied muscles. You'll get something back on your own if you keep your magic up, but it's not a cure. It would help if we could unlock your power, but I don't know how to do that unless..."
Shawn trailed off and glanced my way while he thought for a second. He seemed to come to a decision, then shook his head and moved on with what he'd been saying. "I had an idea for a way to do it, but it's an extreme method, and I hesitate to try it. If we could though, it would become natural for you to gain and lose magic. The cycle would help you more than Church artificially keeping your levels high." Shawn paused for some thought. "Maybe you should come to Solum with us for treatment. You can stay or return as you like once you're well."
A room door opened upstairs, and footsteps sounded in the hallway. Joe waved us to silence. "Don't say anything to him." He whispered.
Joe's command for silence made me mad. It reinforced the fact that he had no faith in me or my husband. I tried not to dwell on the anger, but it was tough. It was even more difficult because I had a small idea of what my nephew was going through, having to watch his father deteriorate day after day. I thought it was cruel to keep Andy in the dark about his father's new lease on life.
I understood how Joe approached the situation. In his mind, nothing had been proven, and it would be worse to get Andy's hopes up just to have them dashed later. Joe wasn't wrong in his thinking, except that he was. I'd lost the opportunity to convince him though, because Joe lowered himself into his chair just as Andy rounded the corner from the living room.
The Andy that joined us looked far different than the one that left. This one wore a buttoned-down shirt over a t-shirt. The buttoned-down was an open, short-sleeve, light-blue shirt with a horizontal zig-zag pattern of thin navy-blue lines. The t-shirt underneath that was white with an ocean-blue impressionist design across the chest. For pants, he had on navy-blue cloth shorts tapered to his leg that ended just above his knee. On his feet, he wore black and white canvas sneakers. Andy's dirty-blond hair was teased into deliberate bedhead. White-framed plastic sunglasses peaked from his over-shirt pocket. He looked great.
Shawn lavished compliments on Andy's sense of style. Andy blushed, embarrassed by the praise. "I guess." He muttered. "Did you guys say you needed clothes? I can help you shop. If you let me." Andy pushed himself up on his toes and bounced up and down, eager to be of use.
I rubbed the back of my neck with the heel of my right hand at the distasteful idea of shopping. "Well, if we're staying here, our next priority is clothes. We need to look like we belong."
I wasn't looking forward to going to an Earth mall. I always hated that. On Solum, I'd gotten used to the simplicity of going to see Rubi at Anticuus Men's for all my clothes. Every six months or so, I'd stop by, and she would outfit me. All I had to do was strip to be measured, then spend an hour in a robe drinking coffee while she made selections. Anything I wore that didn't come from her; Shawn ordered or picked out for me.
All four of us negotiated in a circle until the best possible outcome was achieved. The decision was for Shawn and Andy to go to the mall in a ride service car while Joe and I remained at the table to catch up. Bem was left alone to sleep in the darkened family room. Before Shawn and Andy left, we decided that two weeks of outfits would be a good start, as well as a suit each for Shawn and me. I made Andy's day when I told him money was no object and he could buy whatever he wanted for himself while he was at it. Andy all but dragged Shawn from the house, he was so excited.
Joe shouted after his son. He admonished me for being wasteful with my money, that Andy had enough clothes and that the shopping trip should focus on Shawn and me. I ran to the door like I was going to relay his objection. Instead, I yelled to Shawn to stick with sneakers or shoes instead of heels. Shawn objected from the sidewalk. "What about?" He trailed off and made a show of looking over his own shoulder.
I got the message. Shawn objected to wearing flats because he liked the way heels made his butt look. I reassured him. "It doesn't need any help."
"You're sweet." Shawn grinned and ran to where I stood in the doorway to kiss me goodbye.
I kissed him, gave his butt a squeeze, and sent him on his way with Andy. When I shut the door and turned back toward Joe, he was scowling at me. I assumed it was over the display of male affection, but it wasn't, at least not entirely. "I don't like extravagance." He complained.
"I don't care." I replied and went to the kitchen to load the breakfast things in the dishwasher and start a fresh pot of coffee. I assumed Joe would want to talk about personal things now that we were alone. More coffee seemed like a good idea. I set a steaming mug in front of an impatiently waiting Joe and sat to his right.
"What do you want to know?" I asked. "I know your lawyer's mind is grinding out questions. I'll tell you anything you want to know."
"Why are you back?"
"Shawn's uncle on his mother's side has a portfolio of investments he wants to transfer to Shawn's control. It seems there's a new law coming that will make things difficult for him to stay in control."
Joe stared at me like I'd said something nonsensical. "Shawn's uncle lives here?" He asked.
"No, on Solum."
"And he has investments here?" Joe clarified.
"Yeah, he made them in the late fifties or early sixties when he was here visiting."
Joe was aware of the new law and its implications, but that just confused him further. "Why couldn't he come here to prove his identity?"
"His records here say he's in his nineties, but he only looks a little older than me."
Joe shook his head. His hands gripped the table like if he didn't hold on, his confusion would cast him adrift. "I don't understand. Shawn's uncle is in his nineties, how old is Shawn?"
"No, Shawn's uncle is one-hundred-and-thirty-three-or-four. I forget when his birthday is. Shawn was twenty-six this past February."
"How old does that make Shawn's mother?"
I had to go to my mental Shawn reference book for that information. "She's one-hundred-and-thirty-one as of May of this year."
Joe's right index finger rubbed a spot above his left eyebrow like he was trying to massage understanding into his head. "Do you hear yourself?" He asked.
I held a hand up, palm facing my brother. "Joe, I advise you not to think too hard about it. I live there and I don't get it half the time. I stopped questioning. When someone tells me something batshit crazy, I shrug and tell myself it makes perfect sense. It's the only way to stay sane."
Joe stopped rubbing his brow and returned both of his hands to the tabletop. "I'll leave it alone for now, but I reserve the right to come back to it another time. How large a portfolio are we talking about? If it's substantial, I know a firm of wealth managers that can help."
"I have no idea. Ars, that's Shawn's uncle's name, Uncle Ars Summas, he said the investments were large, but his definition might not be the same as yours. I've got the paperwork in the car. I'll bring it in later and you can have a look-see. I wouldn't know how to make heads or tails of any of it."
Joe agreed to have a look. "OK, that's settled." I said. "What else?"
Joe launched into an interrogation worthy of the most thorough trial lawyer grilling the most hostile of witnesses. He worked on me for well over an hour. Everything from weather patterns to the political climate to holidays and local customs. He asked about things that I hadn't even wondered about, like how the government was run and how laws were made. I had to rely on my `Shawn reference book' for a lot of what Joe wanted to know. The stuff he asked about, a lot of it hadn't mattered enough for me to find out. His questions exposed how much I still had to learn about my new home. The one thing he didn't ask about was religion. I wondered why. It wasn't like Joe to skirt any issue.
When he'd exhausted my knowledge, it was my turn. "What was it like here, after I left?" I asked, and as I did it, I wasn't sure that I wanted the answer. In my nervousness, as I waited for Joe to start talking, my left hand slid into my pocket and closed around my watch. Joe rubbed the back of his neck with the heel of his left hand, a motion that mirrored the one I tended to use when I was thinking about something. I wondered where the gesture came from.
"It was difficult." Joe began. "I didn't hear from you for a while, but that wasn't unusual. I called you once, and left a message, but you never got back to me. Again, nothing unusual. I didn't even worry much until your landlord called me. He said the rent was unpaid and a month overdue. He said he'd tried to reach you but couldn't. I met him at your house, and we looked around. I threw away the rotten leftovers in the fridge and emptied the trash. I assumed you were away on a job or out on a bender and would come back before too long. I paid the rent up and gave him another month in advance to settle him down."
"Another month went by, and you still didn't show or answer anyone's calls. I called the company you worked for, and they told me you were laid off and what about it. That's when I got worried. Laid off on your fortieth birthday...I really thought it was possible you killed yourself. I reported you missing and hired a private investigator I'd worked with on insurance cases. I offered a reward for information. I even went on the news."
"A guy who worked at a truck stop in northern Maryland came forward. He remembered having to help a young guy pump gas in the early morning hours of Thanksgiving Day. He said the car was a white Crown Victoria and a guy matching your description was snoring in the passenger seat. He remembered because he thought it was strange that someone driving a car with Pennsylvania tags wouldn't know how to operate a gas pump. I guess it was Shawn he helped."
"Anyway," Joe said and placed his large, lean hands palm down on the tabletop, "I didn't know what to make of that and no more information came in. When the rent ran out on your place again, I collected your important papers and a few of your things and told the landlord to keep the rest. I waited another two years before having you declared dead."
Joe looked up from his monologue and glared at me. "Wait a minute...I had you declared dead. That's a problem...a BIG problem. You're dead...I claimed your assets and reported to your life insurance company. I spent your money. I can't give it back to you. This is..."
I stopped Joe. He was getting excited as he talked, and I wanted to put his mind at ease. "JOE! Church Philips is still dead. I'm Church Summas." I took my identification from my wallet and passed it to Joe. "See?"
Joe scrutinized the license and social security card I'd given him. He didn't like what he saw. "How?" He asked.
"No idea." I admitted and accepted the cards back from him. "More magic from Shawn's uncle. I almost asked him how he did it, but a magician never reveals his secrets."
"He's a magician?" Joe asked. "Like a wizard or something?"
"No." I smiled at my brother for taking my words literally. "He's a bureaucrat...with connections. It really doesn't matter. I'm not moving back here. It's just as well that my Earth identity is dead. For all intents and purposes, that man is dead, and good riddance to him. I'm a new person with a new name and a new life. There's no reason to worry about the old me."
"I don't like it." Joe scowled. "I'd argue with you, except I can't afford to stand on principles. Even though your presence in my home and my knowledge that you're alive could be construed by unscrupulous people to look like I'm party to a fraud after the fact, I can't make it right. I never claimed the insurance money, but your money...most of that is gone."
"Doesn't bother me."
Joe slapped the tabletop. "IT BOTHERS ME!" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I needed the money and it's spent."
I remembered the life insurance policy being a large one. A number in the neighborhood of one hundred and fifty thousand rang in my head. I wondered why Joe hadn't claimed it. I asked him. "Why didn't you claim the insurance?"
Joe rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. "It would have meant admitting that you were dead. I had you declared dead, but that was more to force you into the open. I figured you'd walked away from your life. I took over your assets because...well, I'd intended to hold onto them for you until you showed up again. That's not the way things worked out though. Originally, I spent some of it with the intention of paying it back to your estate, but I never did. As to the insurance policy...cashing that in would have been like throwing dirt on your face. I sent your death certificate to the insurance company, and they processed the policy, but I never claimed the money. I retained the right to claim it."
The way Joe talked about having to come to terms with my death, it made me feel bad for leaving him. I didn't have a choice, but I supposed that I could have tried to get word to my family, somehow. I just never did. "I'm sorry I put you through that." I said to Joe, too little and too late. "I'm sorry I made you worry. It was nice of you to hold out hope."
"Anyway," Joe said to move away from the part of the discussion that threatened to get emotional, "I didn't claim it, so I guess I didn't commit fraud. Thank God for small favors."
I thought about what Joe had said about spending the other money. I remembered thinking that my 401k and savings would have been a largish sum. I hadn't seen anything...any extravagance that Joe could have spent the money on. I asked him about it.
Joe sighed and rubbed his neck again. "In some ways, your disappearance saved my life." He said.
"What do you mean? How?" I asked.
"I didn't know you had a will. Even if I thought you did have one, I didn't think you'd have any assets to leave. I assumed you drank whatever you made. When I found your final wishes, your will, stuffed in between the title to your car and the warranty on your television...well, I was surprised. The ambulance chaser you hired to prepare the will for you did a good job. You left everything to me. Between your 401K, the automatic payroll deductions you set up for that savings account, after taxes and fees, it amounted to four hundred and three thousand dollars. I was staggered." Joe flashed a rare smirky smile at me. "Mary was so mad she wasn't in for any of it."
"Fuck her!" I blurted as an automatic response. Joe stared, like he didn't understand why I was suddenly angry. I tried to explain. "She pissed me off when mom and dad died. I thought it was shitty of her to begrudge you her third of the house. She didn't need it, or the money from the estate, but you did. I didn't have a will before that. I damn well made sure I had one after."
"Whatever your reasons," Joe raised a hand to stop me from spouting venom, "I kept the money. Mary tried to get me to split with her. I almost did, then I thought, `no, Church wanted me to have this.' I paid off my student loans and held onto the rest. When I got sick...disability and insurance, they only cover so much. I didn't have much of my own money saved. Most attorneys don't hit their peak earning years until their mid-forties. Your money paid for the care I needed and covered the bills that disability wouldn't. If not for that money, I would have had to sell this house and I still wouldn't have been able to afford all the treatments I needed. Thank you for looking out for me."
"Ah shit." I jumped up from the table so fast I almost knocked the chair over. "I didn't do anything. I just signed a paper." I retreated to the kitchen for more coffee...and to hide from Joe.
"What's wrong?" Joe called in after me.
I set my empty coffee cup on the counter and came back far enough to lean on the frame of the doorless opening between the kitchen and dining room. "Don't thank me, Joe. Please don't ever thank me for anything. I don't deserve thanks from you, especially from you." I tried to stretch my bracelet like I used to stretch my watchband. When it wouldn't stretch, I slid the golden band up and down, moving it a few inches in the narrow space between the heel of my hand and the bulge of the muscle of my forearm.
Joe didn't understand why I refused to accept his gratitude. How could he? I'd never told him or Mary. I never admitted to killing our parents. "Why shouldn't I thank you?" He demanded. "You did me a kindness, I should thank you."
"You can't." I refused. I couldn't let him think I'd done something good for him. Even if good came out of it, a wicked action is wicked, no matter what the outcome.
Joe's face changed; his forehead creased, and the corners of his mouth drew down. "I suppose it's time we talk about this. Sit down please." He gestured to the chair I'd abandoned.
I refused. "No, I'd appreciate it if you would leave whatever it is alone."
"Church!" Joe slapped his right hand flat on the table again. The noise startled me despite being muffled by the tablecloth. "You didn't kill them."
I panicked and made a poor attempt at playing dumb. "What are you talking about? Kill who?"
"Mom and Dad, you didn't kill them. You had an argument, Mom got mad, she dragged Dad away, he made a mistake on the way home, and the dump truck driver didn't stop. It was just one of those things that happens. You didn't cause it. If you're at fault for picking a fight with mom, then so am I for inviting you to the picnic."
I crept into the dining room and sat down. I sat like my chair was perched on thin ice on a deep lake instead of very old shag-pile carpet. "How do you know all that?"
Joe rubbed his neck like I do again. "You told me...a few times. You'd show up here drunk, a dozen eggs and a pound of scrapple under your arm. I'd let you in. You'd cook and make small talk. You usually broke down when you set the plates out. You'd cry in your scrambled eggs and confess your crime to me. I never knew what to say. I'd try to tell you it wasn't your fault, but you'd never listen."
"All I could do was make sure you got the food into your stomach and tuck you into the sofa-bed downstairs. The next morning, I'd wake up, and you'd be gone. I always wondered if you remembered what you said to me. I wished there was something I could've done. I never said anything because I didn't want to make it worse. Maybe I should have. Maybe you wouldn't have had to be so miserable all those years if I'd tried to reach you."
I was stunned, but maybe I shouldn't have been. It wasn't all that surprising that the thing that haunted my every conscious moment would have come spilling out when my defenses were at their lowest. "So much for my deep, dark secret." I said with a verbal shrug. "It worked out in the end. If I hadn't been a miserable drunk, I wouldn't have met Shawn. I'd have gladly suffered twice as much if it led to him."
Joe grew quiet after I mentioned my husband. In the silence, I noticed that I'd forgotten my coffee cup in the kitchen. I got up to get it. When I went into the kitchen, I noticed the clock on the microwave. The green numbers told me it was lunchtime, a little after it really. I raided the fridge and came up with a simple meal. Joe and I ate lunchmeat sandwiches and chips. After we ate, I helped Joe get cleaned up and changed. We were back at the dining room table for a few minutes when Joe wondered aloud what was taking Shawn and Andy so long.
"They're almost here." I announced. "I'm pretty sure they just got off the circle onto Coles Avenue." "How would you know that? The circle is at least a half-mile from here."
"The memory swap I told you about, remember? Within a range of distance, I always know where Shawn is and how he's feeling. He knows the same about me. He's happy right now, and a little apprehensive. I'm guessing the shopping trip went well, but he's uncertain if I'll like what he bought."
Joe folded his hands on the table and looked down at them. "Church...when did you decide you were gay?" He asked without taking his eyes off his hands.
The question surprised me on a couple levels. I didn't expect Joe to raise that subject at all, as it was uncomfortable for both of us. The way he asked the question didn't sit well with me either. I didn't `decide' I was gay. I may have realized, or come to terms with it, but it's not like I chose to be attracted to men. My brother's precise nature and his training as a lawyer meant that he didn't often use words he didn't intend to use. I knew that if he'd asked the question the way he'd asked it, he'd done it deliberately.
I wanted to address it. I wanted to answer Joe's question both the way he asked it and the way he should have asked it, but Shawn and Andy were too close to the house. I knew that I wouldn't have the time I needed to deal with the subject. I decided not to risk getting into a big discussion or an argument. I answered the question I wished Joe had asked.
"I guess I always knew, even though I never admitted it to anyone, not even myself. I've never really been attracted to women. I find some of them pretty, but they don't do anything for me. The couple times I tried having sex with a woman; I just couldn't find any passion for the act. I was attracted to Shawn from the first time I set eyes on him. The first time I was with him...I don't know, it felt right."
I felt Shawn's presence very near as the ride-service car stopped in front of the house. I glanced through the bay window to see Shawn and Andy unloading big bags from the car trunk. Andy was talking to Shawn like a house on fire. I finished my response to Joe. "If this is something you really want to know about, I'll tell you, but only in private. The guys are back from shopping. Try to work up some excitement. Your son looks like he's ready to turn cartwheels."