Where else is there to look? I'm no longer sure if I even want to sleep on his bed. I cross the hall to the next room. I would look in the nursery/guest room, but I found nothing of use there. I open the door to find . . . stairs? A staircase lines the left sides of the room, along the outer wall. Just from the hall light, as well as that from a window along the front, I can see lines of coats and dresses hanging to my right. This room must be used as an overflow to the walk-in, probably for seasonal and outdated clothing. I can't see any drawers that would have extra sheet sets, though.
I notice that the hall lights are dimming again. I rush to the bathroom, as it would be the next logical place to have a linen closet. At least towels, if no sheets as well. I barely make it to the door and switch on the lights before those in the hall go out. As soon as the lights come on, I know I made a mistake. I ran blindly to the room to the left of the bath.
Only one bulb is lit, but it's enough to see by. A large bed dominates the right side, covered in a bright red and green quilt. The walls are a dusty pink, with borders of lavender. A dresser is on the fall wall, between the right wall and the window. An armoire is placed to the left of the closet door, which is in the corner with the far wall. A barren desk, and chair, is on my right, the only thing on it appears to be a toy pony. I'm in the bedroom of the sister, the one left untouched since my mom was here.
For a room that hadn't been used for years, it is actually in good shape. There doesn't appear to be much dust or cobwebs, as if it is cleaned fairly regularly. In fact, it doesn't even smell musky. Ever so slightly floral with a hint of lemon, again. I look at the toy pony, something about it seems off. It is the only toy, small object in the entire room that I can see. I walk over to the desk, only to stumble on a plastic bag partially hidden between it and the chair. I pick it up as I sit down.
In it, there is a book still in its shrink-wrap plastic. The title of the book is Applied Psychology of Early Childhood Development. What's that doing here? A few scraps of paper also drop from the bag. Most are too small to read, probably the receipt. The print is fairly faded, but I can just make out a date on one of the larger pieces. November, two years ago.
My dad was an art professor, studio and history. He wouldn't need this book. If he had a student over, wouldn't they have remembered this book after almost two years? Never mind that a student was upstairs. Sam's mother was a nurse, but she had moved over to administration. I doubt she would need to keep up on such a narrow subject. She also wouldn't need someone up here.
Dad's sister died when she was nine, or when my dad was nine. Either way, she wouldn't have had this book, especially so recently. I look again at the pony. A light purple-pink, with dark purple hair for its mane and tail. A magenta stripe run through both. My dad's sister died about forty years ago. There's no way she could have a Twilight Sparkle My Little Pony. Correction, a Princess Twilight Sparkle alicorn pony, She has a horn and wings. This is less than ten years old. And yes, I feel a twinge of pathetic angst that I know this as a twenty-seven year old man. Sam doesn't look like the "brony" type, even though I've only known him a few days, so whose is this?
Do the math. Sam just turned fourteen, meaning he was born when I was thirteen and conceived when I was twelve. From the MBA diploma, Sam's mom had gotten married about two years after my dad's father died, when I was four or five. That's a gap of about eight years. Why did they wait so long to have Sam? Dad would have been well along in his doctorate by the time they got married. He had no worries about money, not with his inheritance. Her degree didn't take as long, and she was able to get promoted and helped found a clinic without too much trouble. Even if they had fertility issues, they had the money to get help immediately, or even adopt sooner than that.
There's only on conclusion. I place the book and Twilight back on the desk as I get up. I need to talk to Sam, but it is well after midnight. It will have to wait til morning. I turn off the light as I open the door, having doubts about what to do, when I notice Sam's door across the hall. In the split-second before the notion sensor turns on the hall lights, I think I see a pale blue light emanating from under Sam's door. The hall light cancels it out, though. I stand there for a minute, still, waiting for the light to click off.
When it does go out, I see the light under Sam's door again. Maybe he left a light or his computer on. He shouldn't be awake this late. Maybe he just woke up, say from a nightmare, and he doesn't want to bother me. Regardless, I need to check on him, and now is just as good as a time as any. I cross the hall and open his door before the monitor can turn the lights back on. I don't even knock. I just push the door open.
"Sam, are you up? We need to talk?" My voice drops as a crash in, stunned by what I see.
Sam is awake, and really up. He is sitting buck naked by his computer. He swivels his chair around at my barging in. He tries to cover himself with his hand, but he is in such a state that one hand won't do. He takes his other hand away from the computer, leaving it on.
"I forgot to lock the door. I forgot to lock the door." Sam whimpers in a monotone, an octave deeper than I have even heard him. He can't stop talking.
I turn to the computer, embarrassed for Sam being caught. On the screen is someone naked. A man. It's me. What?!? It's me naked in the master, from earlier in the evening, when I almost had to . . .Almost as bad as a state Sam is in.
I can't speak for a minute, the only one talking is Sam in an endless refrain.
"Turn off the computer. Put some clothes on. Do not finish what you were doing! We are going downstairs. We need to talk about your sister. Our sister."
Friday, June 28, 2019
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
Dada: Chapter 20b
The hall light was still on, but it was beginning to fade. Must be on some sort of motion sensor. I quickly walk back to the guest room. Wait. I took my stuff to the master suite instead. I turn around and walk across the hall and open the door, all before the light completely dims.
I flip on the switch to turn the lights on. Make that switches. Must be three here. There doesn't seem to be that many lights in here, but who am I to question such an architect's mishmash of styles. All my things are right where I left them, although I still think I smell the faint trace of lemon that was in the kitchen. Odd. I try to push that out of my mind as I have more important worries. Like what to do about Sam and this house. Maybe a quick shower will help me think
Gurgle. Gurgle.
But first I will probably need to use the bathroom. Too many unusual foods in two days is doing a number on my digestive system. I open one of my bags and take out all of my toiletries: body wash, toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, scrubbing pad, my favorite brand of toilet paper (what can I say, I have special tastes), and my two sets of slippers. A plastic set for wet areas, like the bathroom, and a set of leather house shoes for everywhere else. I hope I haven't tracked too much dirt by not changing sooner.
I unbutton my shirt and pull it over my head. I undo the belt just before I remove my dress shoes. Some help they were tonight. I take off my socks before dropping my pants. I sit down on the edge of the bed to take them and my briefs off. When I stand up, I get a good look at my naked self in the large dresser mirror. I'm not that bad. Maybe a little pudgy. Could use some muscle tone. Okay, a lot of muscle tone, but I am not that bad off. Then it happens.
There is always something about being naked in an unusual place that just starts something in me. Give me another minute, and I will be mimicking my dad. Don't think about that. I rush into the bathroom before anything else happens. Not here.
Think about Sam. He's already fourteen. I would only have to take care of him more four more years. That can't be too bad. (I find some fresh towels stacked on a shelf.). I have no idea how to parent, but then neither do many first-timers. Although they usually have family to help. My mom definitely can't be a role-model. (Wipe and flush.). Maybe I could send Sam into the system. Then again, I haven't seen that much from the system yet. Shouldn't there have been someone here, even on a holiday weekend? (Lather up. Can't forget down there. Stay away from that other place.). Another thing, why didn't the lawyers have an actual representative here? That Realtor woman wasn't really informative about what will happen with the house and the other assets. Would I be in charge of them, even if Sam goes elsewhere? I don't want the money, but it always helps. (Dry off. Mustn't forget my feet.). Something just feels wrong. Even this bathroom feels off. (Brush, brush, brush.). Why can't I feel anything about my father, or even a man's touch about? I find it hard to believe that he deferred everything to his wife, even to the point of his shaving. (Floss, floss, floss.). Maybe he used an electric razor, but never in here. I don't know, it all feels like I'm missing something. (And rinse.)
I leave the towel over the shower rack and rush back out. I try not to look in the mirror again, but I can't help myself. Just look, don't touch. But I need to. I quickly put my old briefs back on. They will do until morning. Then, I put on my bed tee and shorts. I prefer being cooler this time of year, so no heavy PJs for me.
Wait. I forgot about the sheets again. It's why I'm in here after all. I can't sleep on the bed and sheets where my father had ... No. I can't look in here for anything. There might be more than drawers in some of these drawers. Instead, I go to the walk-in closet. Lots of dresses, Nothing obvious of my father's either There is a second door at the other end though. I go through it, only to be back in the hall. Where else is there to look?
I flip on the switch to turn the lights on. Make that switches. Must be three here. There doesn't seem to be that many lights in here, but who am I to question such an architect's mishmash of styles. All my things are right where I left them, although I still think I smell the faint trace of lemon that was in the kitchen. Odd. I try to push that out of my mind as I have more important worries. Like what to do about Sam and this house. Maybe a quick shower will help me think
Gurgle. Gurgle.
But first I will probably need to use the bathroom. Too many unusual foods in two days is doing a number on my digestive system. I open one of my bags and take out all of my toiletries: body wash, toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, scrubbing pad, my favorite brand of toilet paper (what can I say, I have special tastes), and my two sets of slippers. A plastic set for wet areas, like the bathroom, and a set of leather house shoes for everywhere else. I hope I haven't tracked too much dirt by not changing sooner.
I unbutton my shirt and pull it over my head. I undo the belt just before I remove my dress shoes. Some help they were tonight. I take off my socks before dropping my pants. I sit down on the edge of the bed to take them and my briefs off. When I stand up, I get a good look at my naked self in the large dresser mirror. I'm not that bad. Maybe a little pudgy. Could use some muscle tone. Okay, a lot of muscle tone, but I am not that bad off. Then it happens.
There is always something about being naked in an unusual place that just starts something in me. Give me another minute, and I will be mimicking my dad. Don't think about that. I rush into the bathroom before anything else happens. Not here.
Think about Sam. He's already fourteen. I would only have to take care of him more four more years. That can't be too bad. (I find some fresh towels stacked on a shelf.). I have no idea how to parent, but then neither do many first-timers. Although they usually have family to help. My mom definitely can't be a role-model. (Wipe and flush.). Maybe I could send Sam into the system. Then again, I haven't seen that much from the system yet. Shouldn't there have been someone here, even on a holiday weekend? (Lather up. Can't forget down there. Stay away from that other place.). Another thing, why didn't the lawyers have an actual representative here? That Realtor woman wasn't really informative about what will happen with the house and the other assets. Would I be in charge of them, even if Sam goes elsewhere? I don't want the money, but it always helps. (Dry off. Mustn't forget my feet.). Something just feels wrong. Even this bathroom feels off. (Brush, brush, brush.). Why can't I feel anything about my father, or even a man's touch about? I find it hard to believe that he deferred everything to his wife, even to the point of his shaving. (Floss, floss, floss.). Maybe he used an electric razor, but never in here. I don't know, it all feels like I'm missing something. (And rinse.)
I leave the towel over the shower rack and rush back out. I try not to look in the mirror again, but I can't help myself. Just look, don't touch. But I need to. I quickly put my old briefs back on. They will do until morning. Then, I put on my bed tee and shorts. I prefer being cooler this time of year, so no heavy PJs for me.
Wait. I forgot about the sheets again. It's why I'm in here after all. I can't sleep on the bed and sheets where my father had ... No. I can't look in here for anything. There might be more than drawers in some of these drawers. Instead, I go to the walk-in closet. Lots of dresses, Nothing obvious of my father's either There is a second door at the other end though. I go through it, only to be back in the hall. Where else is there to look?
Friday, June 21, 2019
Dada: Chapter Twenty
I lean my head back onto the sofa. I can't believe the call went as well as it did. Sure, things got a little mean there, but that's nothing new when dealing with a woman like my mother. I notice that the ceiling is covered in that gauche rough textured look. Pebbling, maybe. Tough to clean, especially with such a high clearance. Easily twelve feet. Maybe Sam can clean it when, if, he stops growing. Should be easy for him.
My attention snaps back to the television. Even muted, the bright colors of the cartoon make the screen hard to miss. Looks like PJ Masks, which means I'm on Disney Jr. instead of regular Disney. Was it my mistake, or was this the channel it was already on? Still, the cartoon isn't that bad. Really a good take on superheroes, if aimed to toddlers and such. Okay, there are few problems with child superheroes. How did they get their powers? Why are they only out at night? Where are their parents? And most of all, why isn't there anyone else at night? Only heroes and villains, almost exclusively.
I think it is based on some European book series, but I could never confirm it. I do have a theory, though. The kids' parents are actually superheroes too, and have passed down a portion of their powers to the kids. While they are out saving the world and universe from the really big messes, their kids are protecting the town/city from the wannabes. In my defense, I doubt anyone else could come up with any better reasons. I mean, they can't be more than six or seven. Who else but other superheroes would allow their kids to stay out all night and solve crimes, even if perpetrated by the second-rate losers they deal with. Heck, the shows weird mix of super-science and mystic mumbo-jumbo can barely keep itself together.
I turn the sound back on and watch the rest of the episode. Not that bad, but I think I have seen it before. That feels so weird coming from someone my age, at least for someone at my age without young children. Almost eleven. How many young kids would even be watching this late, even on a Saturday night? Even if you take in a national or even global audience, they are pushing the limits. I turn of the set. It still feels early, but I need to do something before going to bed.
I walk to the kitchen, turning the lights on and off as I pass through each room. By the time I get to the kitchen, any feelings of hunger have slipped away. I wasn't really hungry to begin with. I close my eyes and try to feel it again. Nope. Definitely not hungry.
I get a glass of water instead. I don't drink it all either. Not really thirsty, but I need some more time to think, calm down my brain before going to bed. I notice a faint lemony scent in the kitchen that I am pretty sure wasn't here earlier in the night. Maybe it was here, and I just didn't notice, from trying to hear, what's-her-name-again, speaking to me or the time spent eating. No, didn't have anything with lemon for the snack. Maybe it's the polish or cleaning solution I'm smelling? Haven't been here long enough to do either, but what else cold have been.
I don't want to think about it anymore. It was probably something that woman was wearing. (Who would ever wear a lemon-scented perfume, anyway?). I leave the glass on the counter, for tomorrow. Everything else, I had cleaned up earlier. Did I? There wasn't much, but that's what I did. Maybe the scent is coming from that.
I take the pantry door and head to the rear hallway, passing through it to the short connector to the front stairs. I almost take the rear stairs, but I am pretty sure I couldn't get around the cabinet blocking the entrance. Maybe it's mom's story, but I feel a chill in the air as I walk along. Just enough moonlight is wafting in so I don't need to turn on the lights until I reach the connector. I can see why mom hated this place, though. While the rooms are inviting, at least through the day, a creeping chill permeates everywhere at night. The pictures just heighten the effect. I quickly pass the garden collage, turn out the hall lights, and reach the front entrance and the main stairs.
The quiet is broken only by the faint trace of an electric hum coming through the chandelier overhead. At least all the bulbs appear to be working. I would dread having to climb a ladder to change one. Maybe Sam will grow tall enough to reach it without a ladder. Heh. He might not be even living here by the time he gets that tall. Maybe neither will I.
I stretch as I yawn. Time to get upstairs and try to sleep. I look at the hidden doorway to the back stairs as I reach the first landing. Why would she do that? There is plenty of room here to show that thing off here, without having to block the way. It would save at least a few seconds just by allowing to use the back stairs. I climb the rest of the way up, and turn off the lights.
My attention snaps back to the television. Even muted, the bright colors of the cartoon make the screen hard to miss. Looks like PJ Masks, which means I'm on Disney Jr. instead of regular Disney. Was it my mistake, or was this the channel it was already on? Still, the cartoon isn't that bad. Really a good take on superheroes, if aimed to toddlers and such. Okay, there are few problems with child superheroes. How did they get their powers? Why are they only out at night? Where are their parents? And most of all, why isn't there anyone else at night? Only heroes and villains, almost exclusively.
I think it is based on some European book series, but I could never confirm it. I do have a theory, though. The kids' parents are actually superheroes too, and have passed down a portion of their powers to the kids. While they are out saving the world and universe from the really big messes, their kids are protecting the town/city from the wannabes. In my defense, I doubt anyone else could come up with any better reasons. I mean, they can't be more than six or seven. Who else but other superheroes would allow their kids to stay out all night and solve crimes, even if perpetrated by the second-rate losers they deal with. Heck, the shows weird mix of super-science and mystic mumbo-jumbo can barely keep itself together.
I turn the sound back on and watch the rest of the episode. Not that bad, but I think I have seen it before. That feels so weird coming from someone my age, at least for someone at my age without young children. Almost eleven. How many young kids would even be watching this late, even on a Saturday night? Even if you take in a national or even global audience, they are pushing the limits. I turn of the set. It still feels early, but I need to do something before going to bed.
I walk to the kitchen, turning the lights on and off as I pass through each room. By the time I get to the kitchen, any feelings of hunger have slipped away. I wasn't really hungry to begin with. I close my eyes and try to feel it again. Nope. Definitely not hungry.
I get a glass of water instead. I don't drink it all either. Not really thirsty, but I need some more time to think, calm down my brain before going to bed. I notice a faint lemony scent in the kitchen that I am pretty sure wasn't here earlier in the night. Maybe it was here, and I just didn't notice, from trying to hear, what's-her-name-again, speaking to me or the time spent eating. No, didn't have anything with lemon for the snack. Maybe it's the polish or cleaning solution I'm smelling? Haven't been here long enough to do either, but what else cold have been.
I don't want to think about it anymore. It was probably something that woman was wearing. (Who would ever wear a lemon-scented perfume, anyway?). I leave the glass on the counter, for tomorrow. Everything else, I had cleaned up earlier. Did I? There wasn't much, but that's what I did. Maybe the scent is coming from that.
I take the pantry door and head to the rear hallway, passing through it to the short connector to the front stairs. I almost take the rear stairs, but I am pretty sure I couldn't get around the cabinet blocking the entrance. Maybe it's mom's story, but I feel a chill in the air as I walk along. Just enough moonlight is wafting in so I don't need to turn on the lights until I reach the connector. I can see why mom hated this place, though. While the rooms are inviting, at least through the day, a creeping chill permeates everywhere at night. The pictures just heighten the effect. I quickly pass the garden collage, turn out the hall lights, and reach the front entrance and the main stairs.
The quiet is broken only by the faint trace of an electric hum coming through the chandelier overhead. At least all the bulbs appear to be working. I would dread having to climb a ladder to change one. Maybe Sam will grow tall enough to reach it without a ladder. Heh. He might not be even living here by the time he gets that tall. Maybe neither will I.
I stretch as I yawn. Time to get upstairs and try to sleep. I look at the hidden doorway to the back stairs as I reach the first landing. Why would she do that? There is plenty of room here to show that thing off here, without having to block the way. It would save at least a few seconds just by allowing to use the back stairs. I climb the rest of the way up, and turn off the lights.
Tuesday, June 18, 2019
Dada: Chapter 19c
"What do you mean!" My mother always had the habit of screaming at me, even for the slightest of reasons. Fortunately, I was prepared for the outburst. My phone was at least six inches away from my ear.
"I meant, you did everything in your power to keep me away from him, for the barest of reasons. You committed what was tantamount to breaking the law to keep your secret. And why? Because you were so inexperienced with men that you freaked out at the first chance. Well, guess what. Many men did and still do similar things, and there is nothing wrong with it. You now run around with anyone who can unzip his pants at the first signs of availability. You didn't even have the nerve to tell me any of this to my face. You think you might be forward thinking, but you are really just an uppity bi..."
"Don't go there." She interrupted my tirade with the faintest of whispers, another one of her talents.
I hold my tongue for a few seconds, waiting for her to offer any counterpoints to my argument. I know she can't come up with any. She can try, but she will fail, again.
"You stole my family from me. You stole opportunity from me. You stole candy money from me. Yes, I found out, but I never wanted to bring it up. You stole my history from me. And now, you are trying to steal my future. You know, my father was painting a picture of your old Beretta before he died; I'm sure of it. He still loved you, even after all this time. Even after being married to another woman and an actual father to a son. He moved on, but he still held onto the past."
"You are being ungrateful to me," she finally spoke up. "I raised you the best I could. Maybe I could've tried to get you more things. I did the best I could. I had to keep you away from him and his family. They were wrong for us. All their money did was fuel a life of weirdness. Sure, we didn't have too much, but we got by. Maybe if your grandma actually pitched in some of that money she left you sooner, things would have been different. She was the real greedy one there."
"That money wasn't hers." As soon as I said it, I knew I was going to be in trouble. I went on anyway. "My dad's dad had found her and had set up some sort of trust fund account to help me out, if she ever got back in touch with you."
"What? No, she would never have done that! Not after I told her about everything. She would have given the money back, or to me when we were the worse off."
"She didn't. Instead, she stole off the interest in the account whenever she could. If she have died any sooner, you would have gotten all the money. A little later, and the money would have reverted to the the family account, and they would have found me earlier, when it would have mattered. You didn't really believe she could've saved that much money, enough for me to buy a house, did you. Yes, it was on foreclosure, but think about it." I won't tell her about the rest of the payment. She might want to hit me up, or just hit me. Both she and my grandma would get a little too happy with the switch.
"I bet you will get a lot of money now, won't ya. That family was loaded, possibly even more now." And here it goes.
"It's too early to be sure. No one from the law offices were here to tell me. Or social work either. Holiday weekend and all. I won't know till Tuesday what has to happen. I might not get anything, if I don't remain Sam's caretaker. Any inheritance might be set up to take care of him, like the one that was supposed to take care of me. I don't know, and I won't know for a few days. So, I will wait to make any decisions."
"Take any money and run. This Sam will be just as bad as his father, especially being raised by him. Mark my words. " In the background, I think I hear someone calling her name, or maybe some coughing.
"Look, Chris. I have to go now. I've got someone over. We'll talk when you know more. Good-bye."
"Good night, mom."
"I love you." She hangs up on me. She knows I would never say "I love you" back at her.
"I meant, you did everything in your power to keep me away from him, for the barest of reasons. You committed what was tantamount to breaking the law to keep your secret. And why? Because you were so inexperienced with men that you freaked out at the first chance. Well, guess what. Many men did and still do similar things, and there is nothing wrong with it. You now run around with anyone who can unzip his pants at the first signs of availability. You didn't even have the nerve to tell me any of this to my face. You think you might be forward thinking, but you are really just an uppity bi..."
"Don't go there." She interrupted my tirade with the faintest of whispers, another one of her talents.
I hold my tongue for a few seconds, waiting for her to offer any counterpoints to my argument. I know she can't come up with any. She can try, but she will fail, again.
"You stole my family from me. You stole opportunity from me. You stole candy money from me. Yes, I found out, but I never wanted to bring it up. You stole my history from me. And now, you are trying to steal my future. You know, my father was painting a picture of your old Beretta before he died; I'm sure of it. He still loved you, even after all this time. Even after being married to another woman and an actual father to a son. He moved on, but he still held onto the past."
"You are being ungrateful to me," she finally spoke up. "I raised you the best I could. Maybe I could've tried to get you more things. I did the best I could. I had to keep you away from him and his family. They were wrong for us. All their money did was fuel a life of weirdness. Sure, we didn't have too much, but we got by. Maybe if your grandma actually pitched in some of that money she left you sooner, things would have been different. She was the real greedy one there."
"That money wasn't hers." As soon as I said it, I knew I was going to be in trouble. I went on anyway. "My dad's dad had found her and had set up some sort of trust fund account to help me out, if she ever got back in touch with you."
"What? No, she would never have done that! Not after I told her about everything. She would have given the money back, or to me when we were the worse off."
"She didn't. Instead, she stole off the interest in the account whenever she could. If she have died any sooner, you would have gotten all the money. A little later, and the money would have reverted to the the family account, and they would have found me earlier, when it would have mattered. You didn't really believe she could've saved that much money, enough for me to buy a house, did you. Yes, it was on foreclosure, but think about it." I won't tell her about the rest of the payment. She might want to hit me up, or just hit me. Both she and my grandma would get a little too happy with the switch.
"I bet you will get a lot of money now, won't ya. That family was loaded, possibly even more now." And here it goes.
"It's too early to be sure. No one from the law offices were here to tell me. Or social work either. Holiday weekend and all. I won't know till Tuesday what has to happen. I might not get anything, if I don't remain Sam's caretaker. Any inheritance might be set up to take care of him, like the one that was supposed to take care of me. I don't know, and I won't know for a few days. So, I will wait to make any decisions."
"Take any money and run. This Sam will be just as bad as his father, especially being raised by him. Mark my words. " In the background, I think I hear someone calling her name, or maybe some coughing.
"Look, Chris. I have to go now. I've got someone over. We'll talk when you know more. Good-bye."
"Good night, mom."
"I love you." She hangs up on me. She knows I would never say "I love you" back at her.
Friday, June 14, 2019
Dada: Chapter 19b
I turn the television to a random channel and mute it. I need something to concentrate on while talking to her. I just wish it was something I would actually like to watch, instead of the endless repeats and rehashes. Even the news channels aren't live any more, most Saturdays. I end up back on Disney. At least that what it looks like. As long as it doesn't interfere too much with this.
She picks up on the fifth ring, just my luck.
"Hello Chris. Why are you calling me again, this late and on a Saturday?" She is always direct.
"Hi mom. I'm calling from New York, and I need to talk to you."
"New York? Don't tell me you are taking care of that kid. I thought you weren't going to do it."
"As for right now, it will just be for the weekend or until I get the estate settled. Why didn't you tell me his family was loaded?" I can be just as direct.
She waits about three seconds to answer.
"You are at the mansion? I didn't think he would keep that creepy place after all this time." Huh.
"You have been here? I could have used that information earlier." She's also great at holding things back.
"Everything about that family was creepy. His father had kept his dead kids' rooms the same way after they died. Wouldn't even let me stay on the same floor. Had to sleep downstairs in one of the servant's rooms, at least until we were married. Even then, we stayed at his apartment more than there."
I wait silently for a few seconds before I land the big one. "There was a tribute to him this evening. I saw the movie with you, and the ruler." How long will she wait before ...
"Oh my. At least you know how sick that man was. He never told me what he was doing! Being naked like that, with other men nearby. How wrong that was. I swear, I never would have done such, such filth. I tell you ..."
"Filth? It wasn't porn. It was an art film, for goodness sakes! I admit, it is a little weird, but it is nothing that shocking." I am not sure if this is a lie or not. I just don't want my mother to be right.
"Look. I met him during my last semester of college. Me and some of my girlfriends went down to Berea to see the first art fair of the spring." Yeah, my mom graduated from college, somehow. Can't remember her degree though. Social work, or something? She never followed up on it.
"He had come down from New York, taking a day off from his first year of grad school, maybe it was his spring break, I forget. He was this folksy kind of guy. Interested in the old-fashioned type stuff. The kind of crap that rich guys just slurp up. But he was hot. He picked up on me in a flash. He would come down every weekend for the rest of the spring semester, while I would drive to one fair or another in my old Beretta to catch him. After I graduated, we went back to New York. I didn't have a job, nor did I really want one yet. I had to stay at his family's place for most of the time. His daddy didn't take to me at all, so I had to stay downstairs, not that anything was going on mind you. I was still a young lady."
How things have changed since then. I'm lucky she didn't have a 'friend' over tonight.
"We got married in August. Almost a year to the day before you were born. Then, everything changed. When he went back to school, he started working on these movies. I found out from some of his friends that he had made quite a few of them for his classes. The professors were pushing to expand his horizons and such stuff."
"Therefore, the nudity and the arousals, I take it." I tried to be neutral. No way was I going to talk to mother about sex, especially since she is the expert.
"Until that day, he was the only man I had ever, you know, saw. And there he was, take as a jaybird, sitting with these two other men. And they were, like that! He never even warned me. It was sick, I tell you. That was September. By November, he had made other short movies. I told him I didn't want to be in them, so he didn't ask again. We never did talk about his sick mind. Then I found out I was pregnant, with you. Between him and his creepy father, I knew I had to leave. I never told my ma about it, and she didn't even come to the wedding. Just a phone call and a letter. I had broken her heart, and I didn't care one bit.
"So, I found a lawyer and made plans to divorce the creep as soon as I gave birth. I knew I had to keep you away from them, so the lawyer and I hitched up a plan. For someone so cheap, he was brilliant. I was to keep moving from state to state, changing my and your names, and staying as far away from Kentucky and my ma as possible. The lawyer hooked me up with the names of various other guys who could help me out. To cap it off, he had a friend who worked for the Burton's attorneys! That guy made sure that any leads would be lost so we wouldn't be found.
"I barely contacted ma, and never directly. Always through a friend of a friend and such. When I found out old man Burton had died, I made my way back to Kentucky, with you and our current names. For some reason, your father was never looking for me. At least not as hard as the father."
I was stunned. My mother had a complicated plan, and it had worked for decades. She never is good at this.
"Mom, what you did was worse than anything my father filmed."
She picks up on the fifth ring, just my luck.
"Hello Chris. Why are you calling me again, this late and on a Saturday?" She is always direct.
"Hi mom. I'm calling from New York, and I need to talk to you."
"New York? Don't tell me you are taking care of that kid. I thought you weren't going to do it."
"As for right now, it will just be for the weekend or until I get the estate settled. Why didn't you tell me his family was loaded?" I can be just as direct.
She waits about three seconds to answer.
"You are at the mansion? I didn't think he would keep that creepy place after all this time." Huh.
"You have been here? I could have used that information earlier." She's also great at holding things back.
"Everything about that family was creepy. His father had kept his dead kids' rooms the same way after they died. Wouldn't even let me stay on the same floor. Had to sleep downstairs in one of the servant's rooms, at least until we were married. Even then, we stayed at his apartment more than there."
I wait silently for a few seconds before I land the big one. "There was a tribute to him this evening. I saw the movie with you, and the ruler." How long will she wait before ...
"Oh my. At least you know how sick that man was. He never told me what he was doing! Being naked like that, with other men nearby. How wrong that was. I swear, I never would have done such, such filth. I tell you ..."
"Filth? It wasn't porn. It was an art film, for goodness sakes! I admit, it is a little weird, but it is nothing that shocking." I am not sure if this is a lie or not. I just don't want my mother to be right.
"Look. I met him during my last semester of college. Me and some of my girlfriends went down to Berea to see the first art fair of the spring." Yeah, my mom graduated from college, somehow. Can't remember her degree though. Social work, or something? She never followed up on it.
"He had come down from New York, taking a day off from his first year of grad school, maybe it was his spring break, I forget. He was this folksy kind of guy. Interested in the old-fashioned type stuff. The kind of crap that rich guys just slurp up. But he was hot. He picked up on me in a flash. He would come down every weekend for the rest of the spring semester, while I would drive to one fair or another in my old Beretta to catch him. After I graduated, we went back to New York. I didn't have a job, nor did I really want one yet. I had to stay at his family's place for most of the time. His daddy didn't take to me at all, so I had to stay downstairs, not that anything was going on mind you. I was still a young lady."
How things have changed since then. I'm lucky she didn't have a 'friend' over tonight.
"We got married in August. Almost a year to the day before you were born. Then, everything changed. When he went back to school, he started working on these movies. I found out from some of his friends that he had made quite a few of them for his classes. The professors were pushing to expand his horizons and such stuff."
"Therefore, the nudity and the arousals, I take it." I tried to be neutral. No way was I going to talk to mother about sex, especially since she is the expert.
"Until that day, he was the only man I had ever, you know, saw. And there he was, take as a jaybird, sitting with these two other men. And they were, like that! He never even warned me. It was sick, I tell you. That was September. By November, he had made other short movies. I told him I didn't want to be in them, so he didn't ask again. We never did talk about his sick mind. Then I found out I was pregnant, with you. Between him and his creepy father, I knew I had to leave. I never told my ma about it, and she didn't even come to the wedding. Just a phone call and a letter. I had broken her heart, and I didn't care one bit.
"So, I found a lawyer and made plans to divorce the creep as soon as I gave birth. I knew I had to keep you away from them, so the lawyer and I hitched up a plan. For someone so cheap, he was brilliant. I was to keep moving from state to state, changing my and your names, and staying as far away from Kentucky and my ma as possible. The lawyer hooked me up with the names of various other guys who could help me out. To cap it off, he had a friend who worked for the Burton's attorneys! That guy made sure that any leads would be lost so we wouldn't be found.
"I barely contacted ma, and never directly. Always through a friend of a friend and such. When I found out old man Burton had died, I made my way back to Kentucky, with you and our current names. For some reason, your father was never looking for me. At least not as hard as the father."
I was stunned. My mother had a complicated plan, and it had worked for decades. She never is good at this.
"Mom, what you did was worse than anything my father filmed."
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Dada: Chapter Nineteen
We don't talk while we eat. Partially because Sam is all but inhaling his Big Mac and fries. I don't see how he does it. I never ate that much at his age. I make do with a few chicken nuggets, although I do manage to sneak a few of his fries when he was busy eating the burger.
We don't talk on the drive back to the house either. I don't know what I should say. I'm pretty sure Sam had "the talk" before, so I don't have to go into those details, but what else should I say. At least he didn't see what I saw at the end. Maybe he hasn't gotten the talk yet? I mean, my mom never really gave me those details when I was his age, but Sam's parents looked like they were better than my mom. I learned all that stuff from my friend's dad, before they went away. Everything else, I caught in high school, here and there, on my own. They probably teach it in middle school here.
Furthermore, Sam is not the talkative type. I doubt he said much even before his voice started going haywire with puberty. I haven't asked him anything about his life, nothing important. I want him to open up to me, not force him into a conversation he doesn't want to have, bringing up bad memories, forever tied to his parents' death. If he needs to talk, I'm here. But this silence is driving me crazy. I don't have the radio on. It just doesn't feel right after the night we had. We shouldn't have gone.
We make it back just after nine-thirty. Still fairly bright, the distant glow from the Manhattan skyline the only hint that we are just minutes from New York. The light keeps this street from getting too dark, even now. I park silently by the door. Why park further away? Sam gets out first and heads to the door, while I lock everything up as I follow.
"Think the car will be safe here?"
"Sure, I guess. That's where..." Sam hesitates. "Yeah, that will be good. I just want to go to bed."
"After all you ate tonight, I wouldn't be surprised." I add a trace of a laugh as I unlock the door and shut down the alarm. Luckily, I get it right on the first try. Don't want to try and explain myself to a whole bunch of strangers.
Sam quickly finds the light switch, illuminating the large entry hall. I didn't notice how big the chandelier was before. I guess it was because it wasn't on. Dozens of tiny bulbs flickered on, shining into both rooms to the sides, as well into the upper stairwell.
"There's a second switch upstairs, by the second landing. It will turn the lights," Sam's speech got interrupted by a huge yawn. He stretched his arms wide above his head, his shirt tail pulling out from his waistband. My shirt, almost too small for him.
"Off," he finished his sentence. A second, smaller yawn following.
"You go on up. I have some things I need to down here. You can turn off the lights when you get up there. I'll try not to take too long."
"Fine," Sam trudged up the stairs.
"Wait." I call out to him.
"What." He turns around to look at me from the first landing.
"Just keep the shirt in your room for tonight. I can get it back tomorrow. Just don't leave it on the floor, alright?"
"Okay," he mumbles as he slowly went up the stairs.
Not only wasn't I that tired yet, but I also needed some answers. I start for the office, but I quickly change my mind. After the movie, I don't think I'm ready to go in there.
I walk through the living room to the family room and its big screen television. I flick it on. Disney. Another reminder that Sam is still just a kid. One who is almost seven feet tall. Okay, almost taller than me, but he's still going to be seven feet one day. Just my luck that I got dad's hair and eyes, and not the height gene. At least I guess I got something else from him, judging by that last scene of the movie, but I don't want to go there, just yet.
I flip to news, or sports. Anything else, really, to get my mind off of what I saw. I need to get my mind ready for what I have to do.
I don't think I can find my answers here. At least not yet. That leaves me with one choice. Not yet ten, so she still should be awake. I just hope she's at hone. Some Saturdays, she goes out for one reason or another, mostly involving trying to pickup a man. Sad to think of her this way, but it is pretty close to the truth. She would have mentioned if she was going out of town, but maybe not.
Regardless, I call my mother for the second time in three days. It's the most I've called her in years.
We don't talk on the drive back to the house either. I don't know what I should say. I'm pretty sure Sam had "the talk" before, so I don't have to go into those details, but what else should I say. At least he didn't see what I saw at the end. Maybe he hasn't gotten the talk yet? I mean, my mom never really gave me those details when I was his age, but Sam's parents looked like they were better than my mom. I learned all that stuff from my friend's dad, before they went away. Everything else, I caught in high school, here and there, on my own. They probably teach it in middle school here.
Furthermore, Sam is not the talkative type. I doubt he said much even before his voice started going haywire with puberty. I haven't asked him anything about his life, nothing important. I want him to open up to me, not force him into a conversation he doesn't want to have, bringing up bad memories, forever tied to his parents' death. If he needs to talk, I'm here. But this silence is driving me crazy. I don't have the radio on. It just doesn't feel right after the night we had. We shouldn't have gone.
We make it back just after nine-thirty. Still fairly bright, the distant glow from the Manhattan skyline the only hint that we are just minutes from New York. The light keeps this street from getting too dark, even now. I park silently by the door. Why park further away? Sam gets out first and heads to the door, while I lock everything up as I follow.
"Think the car will be safe here?"
"Sure, I guess. That's where..." Sam hesitates. "Yeah, that will be good. I just want to go to bed."
"After all you ate tonight, I wouldn't be surprised." I add a trace of a laugh as I unlock the door and shut down the alarm. Luckily, I get it right on the first try. Don't want to try and explain myself to a whole bunch of strangers.
Sam quickly finds the light switch, illuminating the large entry hall. I didn't notice how big the chandelier was before. I guess it was because it wasn't on. Dozens of tiny bulbs flickered on, shining into both rooms to the sides, as well into the upper stairwell.
"There's a second switch upstairs, by the second landing. It will turn the lights," Sam's speech got interrupted by a huge yawn. He stretched his arms wide above his head, his shirt tail pulling out from his waistband. My shirt, almost too small for him.
"Off," he finished his sentence. A second, smaller yawn following.
"You go on up. I have some things I need to down here. You can turn off the lights when you get up there. I'll try not to take too long."
"Fine," Sam trudged up the stairs.
"Wait." I call out to him.
"What." He turns around to look at me from the first landing.
"Just keep the shirt in your room for tonight. I can get it back tomorrow. Just don't leave it on the floor, alright?"
"Okay," he mumbles as he slowly went up the stairs.
Not only wasn't I that tired yet, but I also needed some answers. I start for the office, but I quickly change my mind. After the movie, I don't think I'm ready to go in there.
I walk through the living room to the family room and its big screen television. I flick it on. Disney. Another reminder that Sam is still just a kid. One who is almost seven feet tall. Okay, almost taller than me, but he's still going to be seven feet one day. Just my luck that I got dad's hair and eyes, and not the height gene. At least I guess I got something else from him, judging by that last scene of the movie, but I don't want to go there, just yet.
I flip to news, or sports. Anything else, really, to get my mind off of what I saw. I need to get my mind ready for what I have to do.
I don't think I can find my answers here. At least not yet. That leaves me with one choice. Not yet ten, so she still should be awake. I just hope she's at hone. Some Saturdays, she goes out for one reason or another, mostly involving trying to pickup a man. Sad to think of her this way, but it is pretty close to the truth. She would have mentioned if she was going out of town, but maybe not.
Regardless, I call my mother for the second time in three days. It's the most I've called her in years.
Friday, June 7, 2019
The Icon Experiment, Take One
The world wasn't ready for what he was about to do. Hell, he wasn't ready for what he was going to do, but it had to be done. If not now, then never. The world would change, but would it be for the better?
He made the final adjustments to his work. This was only phase one, and there were still so many things that could go wrong. He had to stop thinking about the what ifs and just go with what he had. At first, not too many would notice this first attempt. Maybe a dozen or so, maybe a few more than that. Whatever, as long as the subject matter was out there, more would learn about it.
This first attempt would be in two parts. The first part would accomplish the minimum amount of change. Some would recognize it for what it was. It would only be with the success of the second part, which might still fail, that would be making the real changes. Part two was the one that the world could notice.
If that failed, then it would be on to phase two. That was the one that would be earth-shattering. He was hoping that it would not come to that. So much more work would have to be done before the second phase could start. He tried to put it out of his mind. This will work the first time! It must.
The trepidation was growing. "Should I do it?' he thought. It would not be hard. It would only take a few seconds. Even if the second part would fail, this first part of phase one had no such vulnerabilities. It could not fail.
The time was there. It was now or never. One last thing to do and ...
The first attempt at an icon logo for this blog was added to the page. This would become the first image seen in links on social media, and possibly on some searches. Now, I only have to see if the image is square enough to be accepted by Blogger to be added officially to the blog, and I am home free.
He made the final adjustments to his work. This was only phase one, and there were still so many things that could go wrong. He had to stop thinking about the what ifs and just go with what he had. At first, not too many would notice this first attempt. Maybe a dozen or so, maybe a few more than that. Whatever, as long as the subject matter was out there, more would learn about it.
This first attempt would be in two parts. The first part would accomplish the minimum amount of change. Some would recognize it for what it was. It would only be with the success of the second part, which might still fail, that would be making the real changes. Part two was the one that the world could notice.
If that failed, then it would be on to phase two. That was the one that would be earth-shattering. He was hoping that it would not come to that. So much more work would have to be done before the second phase could start. He tried to put it out of his mind. This will work the first time! It must.
The trepidation was growing. "Should I do it?' he thought. It would not be hard. It would only take a few seconds. Even if the second part would fail, this first part of phase one had no such vulnerabilities. It could not fail.
The time was there. It was now or never. One last thing to do and ...
Tuesday, June 4, 2019
Dada: Chapter 18c
I rush along the hallway towards the main entrance, Sam barely keeping up. I try not to run into anyone. Definitely try not to talk to anyone. Fortunately, no one is trying to come near me. At least not again. I just want to leave this place, forget about it and what I saw. How could they do this to me?
"Slow down. I'm not that hungry." Sam pants as I reach the door and dash outside.
It's a little darker than I expected for a little after eight. I guess it's because we are farther north and east. My jacket feels comfortable again against the slight chill of the evening. New York late spring. Might be typical. I already have my keys ready by the time I get to the car. No one is lurking about, either to talk or to attack me. Not sure which would be better.
I'm already in the car and buckled up by the time Sam gets in. I wait until his fastens his seat belt before starting it up. The lot is silent, save for us. I guess most everyone is staying for another movie, although I'm not sure most of the men are "up" for a second round. Unless they have help. They will need it, considering how old some of them looked. I push the thought out of mind as I pull out of the lot.
"Are you sure you need to ear now? Could you wait until we get back to the house? It would be faster, although it will be later," I ask Sam once we are on the street.
"I don't think I heard you. Faster and later?" Sam mumbled back.
"I meant easier. More direct, as opposed to waiting for an order to be filled. Besides, you won't be eating in the car. I don't want any more crumbs in here, especially since it will be too dark to find them."
"Fine. I guess I will wait. I don't see why we had to leave so fast. What happened back there? If it that spot on your pants, it's gonna dry in another minute. I mean, most guys dribble. I hear it happens to older guy especially."
I roll my eyes towards him. He had noticed, but he had thought it happened after I entered the rest room.
"I'm only twenty-seven. I'm not that old. And we left for reasons other than my pants. Those people, that movie. We just have to leave."
"I was bored anyway. The woman looking after us was way older, like thirty-something. She didn't even bother to check on me." Sam abruptly stopped before he could compete his thought.
"Did you leave the wait room, more than once?' I ask.
Sam doesn't respond.
I think back to the disaster of the movie screening. The doors opened out into the hall. The man by the door was paying more attention to the movie and himself than making sure no one could get in. Someone could have peeked in and watched while he was "pre-occupied" with his own needs. And the mens' rest room was near.
"You went and watched the movie." A statement, not a question. "While the guard wasn't looking, you snuck in. At least you were watching from the hall. How much did you see? I need to know, now." Please let it be barely anything.
He waits a few more seconds before answering.
"I saw the men, all of them sporting ... you know. Even dad." Sam stuttered.
"Anything else. What about the other people in the room? Did you see anything happening with them."
"I didn't really look at the audience. The man by the door seemed to be doing something, but his back was towards me, so I couldn't really tell what he was doing. He tried to turn, so I closed the door and went to the rest room."
"What was happening when you left?" I prodded him. I hope I'm right with this.
"Dad was finishing his speech, and he was so, well, you know. I don't see how he could keep that going for so long. I think a party was starting. I saw the doctor with all these other women, but the guy at the door looked like he heard me. I quickly shut the door and left." He finished and stayed quiet.
"A little bit more happened with the movie after that. Things that teenagers don't need to see. The audience, too. They were doing things, stuff like the guard. Some of the things could have gotten them in trouble, if they knew you were there."
"Did I do anything wrong? I mean, I know what was going on with dad and the other men in that film. I been taught about those things. What were they doing? Just filming themselves like that. It doesn't make sense. " Sam mumbles out, again.
"Your dad, our dad, was encouraged to make a film that went beyond what he usually worked with. He apparently made quite a few more in the same vein, and many people like them. While awkward, I guess it is art, of a sort. What the audience was doing, that was going too far. There shouldn't have been any minors anywhere near that hall tonight, with all what was happening. I'm sorry. You should never have been there tonight. If I had only known, I wouldn't have brought you. I probably shouldn't have been there either."
I feel I should add something about seeing my father, our father, naked, but that would be pushing things. It looks like Sam is having a hard time as it is.
I see a McDonalds ahead on the left. "If you really want to eat, we can pull in here," I say to him. "It's not my first choice, but it'll be fast and easy."
Sam mumbles an indistinct "Yeah, okay," just before it would have been too late to turn in. I hang the left into the parking lot so Sam can eat.
"Slow down. I'm not that hungry." Sam pants as I reach the door and dash outside.
It's a little darker than I expected for a little after eight. I guess it's because we are farther north and east. My jacket feels comfortable again against the slight chill of the evening. New York late spring. Might be typical. I already have my keys ready by the time I get to the car. No one is lurking about, either to talk or to attack me. Not sure which would be better.
I'm already in the car and buckled up by the time Sam gets in. I wait until his fastens his seat belt before starting it up. The lot is silent, save for us. I guess most everyone is staying for another movie, although I'm not sure most of the men are "up" for a second round. Unless they have help. They will need it, considering how old some of them looked. I push the thought out of mind as I pull out of the lot.
"Are you sure you need to ear now? Could you wait until we get back to the house? It would be faster, although it will be later," I ask Sam once we are on the street.
"I don't think I heard you. Faster and later?" Sam mumbled back.
"I meant easier. More direct, as opposed to waiting for an order to be filled. Besides, you won't be eating in the car. I don't want any more crumbs in here, especially since it will be too dark to find them."
"Fine. I guess I will wait. I don't see why we had to leave so fast. What happened back there? If it that spot on your pants, it's gonna dry in another minute. I mean, most guys dribble. I hear it happens to older guy especially."
I roll my eyes towards him. He had noticed, but he had thought it happened after I entered the rest room.
"I'm only twenty-seven. I'm not that old. And we left for reasons other than my pants. Those people, that movie. We just have to leave."
"I was bored anyway. The woman looking after us was way older, like thirty-something. She didn't even bother to check on me." Sam abruptly stopped before he could compete his thought.
"Did you leave the wait room, more than once?' I ask.
Sam doesn't respond.
I think back to the disaster of the movie screening. The doors opened out into the hall. The man by the door was paying more attention to the movie and himself than making sure no one could get in. Someone could have peeked in and watched while he was "pre-occupied" with his own needs. And the mens' rest room was near.
"You went and watched the movie." A statement, not a question. "While the guard wasn't looking, you snuck in. At least you were watching from the hall. How much did you see? I need to know, now." Please let it be barely anything.
He waits a few more seconds before answering.
"I saw the men, all of them sporting ... you know. Even dad." Sam stuttered.
"Anything else. What about the other people in the room? Did you see anything happening with them."
"I didn't really look at the audience. The man by the door seemed to be doing something, but his back was towards me, so I couldn't really tell what he was doing. He tried to turn, so I closed the door and went to the rest room."
"What was happening when you left?" I prodded him. I hope I'm right with this.
"Dad was finishing his speech, and he was so, well, you know. I don't see how he could keep that going for so long. I think a party was starting. I saw the doctor with all these other women, but the guy at the door looked like he heard me. I quickly shut the door and left." He finished and stayed quiet.
"A little bit more happened with the movie after that. Things that teenagers don't need to see. The audience, too. They were doing things, stuff like the guard. Some of the things could have gotten them in trouble, if they knew you were there."
"Did I do anything wrong? I mean, I know what was going on with dad and the other men in that film. I been taught about those things. What were they doing? Just filming themselves like that. It doesn't make sense. " Sam mumbles out, again.
"Your dad, our dad, was encouraged to make a film that went beyond what he usually worked with. He apparently made quite a few more in the same vein, and many people like them. While awkward, I guess it is art, of a sort. What the audience was doing, that was going too far. There shouldn't have been any minors anywhere near that hall tonight, with all what was happening. I'm sorry. You should never have been there tonight. If I had only known, I wouldn't have brought you. I probably shouldn't have been there either."
I feel I should add something about seeing my father, our father, naked, but that would be pushing things. It looks like Sam is having a hard time as it is.
I see a McDonalds ahead on the left. "If you really want to eat, we can pull in here," I say to him. "It's not my first choice, but it'll be fast and easy."
Sam mumbles an indistinct "Yeah, okay," just before it would have been too late to turn in. I hang the left into the parking lot so Sam can eat.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)