I am sorry for this chapter coming so late. Usually I try to send my chapters to Nifty on Friday so they get posted for the weekend. Life got in the way so I'm sending this one in on Sunday evening. I suspect it will be posted on Monday. Keep an eye out after this one, because I will be sending the next chapter in as soon as this one posts.
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Crown Vic to a Parallel World: Stolen Love The third and final installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips
5
Joe
"You already know Andy can read minds," I reminded Paul as we descended the steps from my apartment, down to the entryway on the second floor, "so through Andy's mind reading and many, MANY discussions between Andy and me, I know what's bothering Joe but not what to do about it. He's depressed, he has been since he got here, and he just keeps getting worse. I don't know what to do about it and I thought...ah shit."
I trailed off and tried to figure out how to tell Paul what I needed to tell him without him thinking that I'd asked him to come to Solum just to help fix Joe. I'd asked Paul to come with me because I wanted to see him. If he could help Joe at the same time, so much the better, but Joe wasn't the main reason for the visit. I hoped Paul would believe me. I stopped our walk just as we reached the bottom of the steps into the entryway and put myself in front of Paul so I could look him in the eye as I said what I needed to say.
"Look, Father," I stumbled over how to address the man and corrected myself, "I mean, Paul, I want you to believe me when I say I asked you to come here because I wanted to see you, because I missed you, and because I think you are responsible for a lot of my happiness. I wanted to try to pay back some of what you gave me."
Paul tried to cut into my speech, and I raised a hand to stop him. "Let me have my say please."
Paul closed his mouth and waited for me to go on. I went on, and on, and on. "I know you'll probably say something like I don't owe you anything and you did what anyone would have done and all that kind of stuff, but what you did for me, and for Joe, and Mary, and Bem, and all of us was a great big thing.
"Even if you say it didn't cost you anything except some time, that thing that you did was the start of a pretty damn good twelve years of life for me and Shawn and Mary and Bem and Hannah and Leah and their boyfriend and Andy and his boyfriend and Cellarius the butler and Uncle Ars and a bunch of other people who are part of our lives. Even Joe, who is as miserable as he can be, is alive and able to walk around and see his boy turn into a hugely successful businessman because of that little bit of time you took when you didn't have to.
"NONE OF THAT means I invited you here as payment of a debt. I think of you as my friend and I've missed you and when I found out you were looking to slow down, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to bring you here." I felt like I'd talked myself breathless and paused to drag some air into my empty lungs. "Do you believe me?" I asked.
Paul nodded like he wasn't sure if it was OK for him to speak. "You can talk now if you want." I offered.
Paul grinned at me, like I'd amused the hell out of him. "You're right about what you thought I would have said. I would have said all of that and more, but I believe you are my friend, Church, and I don't question your motivations for bringing me here. That said, and just hear me out for a second, even if you did bring me here just to try to help your brother, I assume that is what you are leading up to, even if that's the only reason I'm here, I'm still thrilled to be here with you. With that out of the way, tell me what's wrong with Joe."
I moved to stand next to Paul and to drape my arm across his meaty shoulders. We resumed our slow walk across the entryway, toward the corridor of the residential wing of the estate. I elaborated on my `Joe problem' as we went.
"Thank you for understanding. Anyway, the long and short of it is that Joe thinks he's a failure and he doesn't think he has anything to offer this world. He's ashamed of living on my money but he doesn't know what to do to earn his own. He's so afraid of failing that he won't try, but not trying makes him feel like he's already failed, so he's miserable. Because he's miserable, he's comfort eating, which is something I know a lot about. The trouble is, because he doesn't do anything physical, the weight he's gained is really wearing on him, more than it ever did me.
"You never saw me full size." I continued explaining to Paul. "I was almost three hundred pounds and I smoked like a stack and drank like a fish, but I still worked a hard job. My body stayed strong and was able to deal with the weight because I never stopped moving." I gestured down at myself as we walked. "I also have this dinosaur-sized frame that carries weight pretty well. Joe's frame is smaller than mine, and all he does is sit around, so he's really struggling."
"I don't understand." Paul shook his head. "Why does he think he's a failure?"
I reached for my bracelet and diverted my hand to rub my neck as I thought about how to answer that question. It had more to do with me than I cared to admit, but I needed to admit it if I wanted Paul's help. "Joe spent years thinking he was the only success story in the Philips family. I was a drunken, no good, high school educated tradesman. Mary didn't have a career and her marriage was no good and everyone knew it. Joe was a lawyer, a volunteer at the church, the father of a great kid, a pillar of the community. He was the definition of a middle-class success."
Paul spoke up to let me know he was paying attention. I remembered him being a very active listener and that was one of the reasons I enjoyed talking to him. "I knew him during that time of his life." Paul reminded me. "What's changed? He still is many of those things, isn't he?"
"That's just it." I explained. "He's not. The situation has changed. First of all, when I went back to Earth, I wasn't any of the things I'd been when I left, so Joe felt less successful than he used to, as compared to me. You have to remember, when I went back, his illness had already robbed him of most of his life, so he wasn't a working lawyer, and he didn't go to church, and his kid was more his caretaker than his son. Joe also couldn't look down on me if I was sober and fit and wealthy and in a good relationship.
"Soon after I showed up, Andy came out as gay and started getting along with me. That was the next problem. Joe lost a good deal of influence over his son. Once we came here, and Andy was able to succeed without help from me or Joe, that kind of finished off Joe's superior-ness. Andy's incredible success is all his own. He did it all himself."
"I remember those letters." Paul contributed his memories to the discussion. "When Andy got out of school, he went to work for that one company. They wouldn't give him any exposure, but he learned a great deal. Later, when that other company recruited him, his designs took off and he decided to strike out on his own. You offered to finance a company for him, but he wanted to succeed or fail on his own. When he was ready, he issued stock to fund his start-up and all the shares sold out in pre-sale."
"Yeah, I bought them." I admitted. Paul halted our walk to gape at my admission. I paused to explain myself to him. "Shawn's mother is a financial genius. She manages our fortune. When Andy issued the IPO, I went to her, and we bought all the shares through shell companies.
"It was a tough secret to keep from a clairvoyant, but we managed. Well...we managed to keep the secret until Andy started making money, then it slipped. He was mad at first. I mean, he was apocalyptically angry with me. I had to show him that by making money for me, he proved my gamble was correct. His stock is outperforming every other stock in my portfolio. That settled him down."
"Very impressive." Paul acknowledged the truly amazing achievement.
"What's even more impressive, is that he's buying me out." I said to Paul as we resumed our slow stroll. "He wants to own the company completely and he's well on his way. Whenever he posts a major profit, he pays me the dividends he owes me and uses as much of the balance as possible to purchase the stock back from me at full market price."
"Remarkable." Paul commented.
I agreed. "I'm so happy for him...but...but you see why his success is a problem for Joe. He did it without his father's help or even his advice. Joe doesn't feel like he has anything to add. He just kind of withdrew from life when we got here. Once he was done with his acclimation classes..."
"What kind of classes?" Paul asked.
I'd forgotten that I had never discussed them with Paul. They weren't anything to write about, so I never bothered with them in my monthly email. I stopped my dissertation on Joe to explain.
"When we got back here, I got a tutor for Mary and Joe to get them up to speed on this world. I attended most of the classes as well because, even though I had Shawn's memories, my general knowledge needed some work. I also didn't want Mary and Joe feeling like they were the only ones who needed help. I wanted to support my family. Andy went to the classes, but for less time, and the twins hardly went at all. They were young enough to go right into the school system without much prep. It took us, the adults that is, a little over two years of work to `fit in.'"
"Makes sense." Paul added as another comment to prove he was listening.
"Anyway," I restarted our stroll as I restarted the story, "after our classes were done, Joe was supposed to go to work for Ars, but he never did. He was supposed to try his hand at being an artist, but beyond the mural on the mountain outside, he never did. I've offered to fund an art exhibition for him, or to send him around the world to find himself, but he won't do either because it would mean taking more of my money.
"He won't even cultivate his magic. Andy says that Joe feels like his magic is something I gave him, so using it is like taking more stuff from me. Joe just won't do anything. He did sort of OK for a while, but he had a blow up with Andy, over Andy's sexuality, about ten years ago...that's a whole `nother story."
I shook my head at the memory of that eruption but didn't elaborate on it. "Joe hates it here. He's listless and miserable all the time. As an act of desperation, I've tried to get him to do daily things with me. I thought that he and I could kill time together, but every time I ask him to do something, he asks me if his depression is motivating the offer and uses his power to force me to tell the truth. Because he's depressed and I'm worried, that motivation is always part of the equation. When Joe finds that out, he gets pissed and refuses to do anything that I suggest. He's walled himself off from everyone."
Paul wagged his head back and forth in a wide arc of what I took to be disappointment in Joe. "It's a sad shame for a man with as much potential as your brother, to waste it on idleness." He said as we reached the stairs that would take us from the main house down to the residential corridor.
I agreed with a frustrated shrug as Paul and I went down the steps and arrived at a door in a wall of black glass. I paused my story to say my name to the door and asked Paul to say his to it as well. "Paul Miller." He said and the door opened into Paul's living room.
"Welcome," I said and showed Paul inside, "welcome to what I hope you will consider your home while you're here, Paul. I had this apartment added onto the house when Shawn and I decided to invite you to visit us. Andy designed it and picked out all the furniture, but don't let that bother you. If you don't like it, all you have to do is say so and I'll have it changed. I want this place to be your place."
Paul rotated around himself like he was mounted on a spindle and let his wide eyes take in the room we'd entered. We were in a medium blue living room with warm grey carpet and light grey furniture. On the outside wall, a pair of simulated windows were open to the plains outside with sheer white curtains that blew gently in the warm breeze. Beyond the living room was an open-floor-plan kitchen with black glass cabinets and countertops and an island between with seating for two.
"My place." Paul said as a question.
"Yes, your place. I thought maybe the clear walls would be too stark for you, so Andy picked the colors, and we programmed the windows into the walls to make it feel more like Earth." I pointed at two black doors in the far wall of the living room.
"Through that first door is a powder room, the second is the garage with your car that you won't use, and through the kitchen and up the stairs, is the master suite with your bedroom, full bath, and walk-in closet. There's a private balcony on the back with seating and," I opened the drawer of an end table next to the couch and took out a smallish tablet of black glass, "here is your cell phone."
I unlocked the screen and brought up the apps to show him. "You can control the entire apartment from here and this button is a help feature that has instructions on everything from the culinarian to how to change the wall colors. If that is too confusing, we named the apartment Sven and programmed full voice controls."
"Sven," I called to the apartment as a demonstration, "make the walls pink." A chime sounded from everywhere and the apartment walls changed from medium blue to salmon pink. I told Sven to change them back to blue and handed the phone to Paul.
The old man seemed stricken, like he was upset about something, but I couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong. "This is mine?" He gasped and seemed to choke on a sob.
"Sure. You get your own place for as long as you want to stay."
"I thought...I thought maybe I'd have a room, not a whole apartment."
I put my hand back on Paul's shoulder to steady him, as he seemed a bit shaky. "You are our very special guest. You get a whole place."
"As long as I want?" He asked. His whole face seemed to beg me to tell him he could stay as long as he wanted.
I paused to think about how to answer him. I hadn't planned to tell Paul that he could stay forever so early in the visit, but I figured, `what the hell?' "An hour, a day, a week, a month, a year, ten years, a hundred years, or forever, Paul, this place belongs to you. It's yours as much as the clothes you're wearing now or the new ones in your closet upstairs or the new license and identification in the drawer of your bedroom bureau. You're a citizen of this world now, if you want to be, for as long as you choose to stay."
Paul wiped his eyes with his closed fists like he was trying to rub them out of his head. "I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything." I shepherded the old man to the kitchen island and sat him down. I hoped to get him settled by returning to everyday routine. "How about lunch?" I offered. "You must be starved. I know I am. What would you like?"
Paul wiped his face some more and scrubbed his hands on his pants. "Uh...I don't know. What is there?"
I leaned against the counter and patted the top of the culinarian. "There is anything you can imagine."
Paul heaved a deep sigh and propped an elbow on the island to support a forearm that he used to support a palm that he rested his chin in. "Would you pick something please? I don't think I'm thinking clearly."
I tried to remember the food I'd seen the man consume when I spent time with him before. Sandwiches seemed to be at the forefront of his diet, and I didn't think it mattered if that was for reasons of convenience or because he loved them. Familiarity seemed more important than a gourmet meal. "How about an Italian hoagie?" I offered.
Paul's face brightened at the mention of the fatty sandwich. "Sounds fine. Oil and vinegar, no onions please."
"Iced tea?"
"Yes, please." He agreed. "With lemon and no sugar."
I programmed two Italian subs, one with onions for me and one without for him, both with chips on the side and a dill pickle spear. I added a glass of plain iced tea with lemon for each of us. The machine chimed and the door opened, and I took the two plates and glasses from the compartment. I passed one of the plates to Paul and retained my own. I was busy stuffing chips between the meat and cheese on the long roll when Paul asked a question around a mouthful of sandwich.
"It's perfect." He mumbled. "Is it magic?"
I admitted that I had no idea how the machine worked. I showed Paul the carton of powdered `base' that was used to fill the hopper and the touch screen that did the programming. How ever it did what it did, I was just happy it did it.
Paul ate his meal sitting and I ate mine standing and when we were finished, I showed him how to load the little dishwasher cabinet-thing under the sink and turn it on. Paul leaned back in his seat, his eyes looked glazed and heavy. "Come on." I stood away from the counter where I'd been leaning. "I'll show you to your room and you can get some rest. You've had a big morning."
Paul roused himself and tried to act like he was wide awake and paying attention. "We didn't finish talking about Joe." He objected.
I waved away his concerns. "Joe's story can wait. You're going to drop soon."
Paul allowed himself to be led to the second floor and into his calming lavender bedroom. He startled when he opened the door and saw his suitcases were already in the room and carefully stacked next to his white bureau. The icing on the cake was Paul's `Hotel Regis' cup sitting, exactly centered, on the bureau's white surface. "Was that magic?" He asked as he crossed the room to touch the cup like he needed to make sure it was real.
"Sort of." I said without meaning it. "Cellarius always knows just the right thing to do to make anyone feel at home."
Paul touched the rim of the cup with the index finger of his right hand and that seemed enough to settle him down. He yawned like a bored lion and stretched his arms above his head. "You're right, young man, I suddenly feel like I could sleep for a week."
I gave Paul a two-minute tour of the room and showed him how the bathroom plumbing fixtures worked. I also showed him an outfit Andy had laid out for him for later. He seemed dubious about the cut and colors of the clothes but made no verbal comment. He stripped off his suit and let me hang it in the wardrobe for him and got in bed. I called out to Sven to dim the lights and to provide a wake-up call at six. We were planning to have dinner at seven. An hour seemed enough to get Paul ready for it, and I planned to be back in time to help him anyway.
I wished Paul sweet dreams and was almost out the bedroom door when he called me back. "Church...you said you added this unit on for me."
"Yes." I answered to what sounded like a question.
"But this place is first against the main building. It must have been here before."
I shook my head at my neatly tucked-in guest. "I had the contractors cut the residential wing from the main house and I moved the whole wing down far enough to add your place. I didn't know how well you got around and wanted you close to everything."
"You moved the wing?"
"With my telekinesis."
Paul shook his head by rolling it across the pillow. "This is truly a wonderous place." He whispered and yawned again.
I tiptoed from the room and left him to his slumbers.