Dada: Chapter 23b

  It was time to write Rick, as I had promised him an update, once I felt composed enough to do so.  I had to give him the update before I saw him tomorrow; it wouldn't be right otherwise.  Doesn't mean I was still a little frightened to do so.  I opened up a new page and began to write.
   I go over everything.  The failed construction company.  The English-style manor.  Dreams for a large family cut short, twice.  A lonely childhood.  Flash forward to a budding art student who made semi-pornographic films.  A trip to Berea and finding love.  The barely legal cross-country trips to hide out.  Another tragedy.  The gold digging shrew of a wife.  The tarnished princess of a daughter.  The incredible growing baby brother.  All of the events that led up to the horrible accident.  The hint of a noble sacrifice.  The hope of remission.  I even add my ideas for writing a book and going back to school.
    I am ready to hit 'Send,' when I hear the front door open.  I jump up in case the alarm goes off, but I had apparently not set it correctly.  It is nothing like the one I have at my house.  I don't think it is, anyway.  There are still some features on it that I can't explain.  It might be as complicated as this one for all I know.
    Actually, Sam had reset it as soon as he and his gaggle of friends came in.  It's easy to pick out Sam, as he towers four or five inches over the next tallest one, and almost a foot over the others.  It's like he's the only one who has really been going through puberty.  And he is far from done I fear.
     "Oh, hi Chris.  We're just back to grab some more to eat.  It won't be too much trouble."  The squeaking is finally absent.  His voice is rich and deep.  Hard to believe he was faking his voice cracking for most of those days.
      "It will be alright.  Dinner is still hours away.  Just leave some food for me.  Oh, and make sure you have everything packed for staying with Vinnie tomorrow.  I should be back by evening, but you should be prepared."
    "Okay.  I will,"  he replies.  There's a trace of fear in his voice, before his smile returns as one of the boys pats hims on his back.  Not Vinnie, maybe Joe?  Still getting them sorted out.  I wish I wasn't leaving him so soon, or it he could go with me.  Neither is an option.
     As I watch Sam and his friends go to the kitchen, through the hall to the downstairs bathroom, I get an idea.  I return to the computer, my hands practically shaking. Sweat is starting to run down my back.  I finish up my message with a new ending.

This might not sound right, but I want you to forward this message on to Pete and Will.  Heck, tell Will to send a copy to his brother as well.  I would do it, but you have kept in touch with them more than I have.  I just wanted to say to you how much you guys meant to me.  I don't think I would've stayed sane if it hadn't been for your friendship.  When we started to drift apart and change, I felt that you were abandoning me, so I cut you out before you did the same to me.  It was my fault.  I needed you, and I didn't realize how much you meant to me.  I know we will never be the same that we were back then, but I know we still have a connection.  You grew up, but I stayed the same.  I tried, but, well, this email is proof of how much of a mess I've been in.  We will always be friends.  

      I push send as quickly as I can, without looking over the message.  After a few seconds, I log off. Sweat is now pouring down my back.  That was either the bravest or stupidest thing I have done in these last few weeks.  For some reason, I feel better.  Not exactly happy, but hopeful.  While I might not have a job soon, I do have family.  I have a chance of reconnecting to my best friends.  I have a future.  What else fo I need?

THE END

 

 

Dada: Chapter 23a

  Even if he, no, when he recovers, dad won't be able to take care of Sam without help.  Sure, he could hire any number of people, just with his weekly dividends from his family's (my family's) stock portfolio.  But none of us want that.  So, I'll be staying here, but not permanently.  There is no way I'm selling that house.  I love it too much.  I'll continue to rent it out to students, the upstairs at least.  Rick can help look over it for the times I'm up here.  He finally got back to me with the same information I had already discovered.  He would have contacted my sooner, but his wife went into labor the afternoon I drove up here.   A little premature, maybe two weeks, but healthy and already released from the hospital.  I already forgave him, as having a newborn son is way more important.
    I'm hoping to get back to Lexington at least one weekend per month, probably more often than that.  Still, I have to make a lot of changes.  I've already emailed Pulse that I'll be ending my pull soon.  I'll still pick up everything I've already ordered for the next two months, but after that I'll be through.  There are at least six stores within  a five mile radius from the mansion, so it will be easier just to go through one of them.  Hopefully, one of them has a healthy WOD gaming community so I can get back into the system.  I'ver always felt that the chronicles that my friends and I started back in high school were leading to something.  The vampire one in particular was on the verge of discovering the true interconnected history of all fronts in the game world.  Just the vampire portions could make a good book. Maybe I could be the one to write it.
     I'm still looking for something to do.  While I could live off of the money I could get from the family, I need more from my life than just sitting around doing nothing.  I'm thinking about trying for grad school again.  While I probably couldn't get into dad's school, probably not with my background but definitely not in time for fall, I might be able to take some classes online somewhere.  My GRE scores should still be active, at least good enough for a little bit longer.  At least it would be something to do through the day besides real work.
    Sweat is starting to bead down my back as I hunch over the keyboard.  The afternoon sun is shining directly onto me.  The first day here, I didn't think the sun would shine in here so much.  It must have been all the clouds and rain making it so gloomy.  I wish I could go to the pool like Sam and his friends did, but I don't have a swimsuit with me.  Also, I can barely swim.  Will's family had a pool, but my mom hardly even let me go over to swim in it.  She would do everything in her power to prevent me from doing so.  The public pool was closed my freshman year.  Only re-opened last year, I believe.  My mom never let me go there either.  Still don't use public pools, even now.  Anyway, I have all but forgotten how got swim.
    I really should be looking for a school, or a job, but I can't.  I just don't feel like it.  So much has happened these last two weeks, I just don't feel like making any more changes.  Still, I do have one more thing that I have to do.  Unlike Blue Homestead and Pulse, I am actually dreading this one.  I need to tell the truth about what happened.
     Of course, I called my mother the day of the operation and told her about what I had found out and what I was getting ready to do.  I had to leave her a message, but she really lit into me that afternoon when I could finally call her back.  In fact, she may have been more angry that I had helped my father and was going to stay in New York than I was having surgery witbout much of a notice.  Oh she complained about how she should have been there to make sure I would be okay.  I think she really wanted a piece of my own money iff anything had happened to me.  I've only emailed and texted her since.

Dada: Chapter 23

One Week Later

      I walk from the laundry room, with a basket full of clothes, but walk towards the library instead of taking them up the newly reopened rear staircase.  I just don't feel like putting them away just yet.  The sun is shining too brightly to take such a dark way up, so I decide to take the long way around, and maybe take a break before packing my clothes.  The last few weeks have been day after day of rain.  Showers and storms just seem to pop up whenever they like.  Morning, afternoon, or night.  It's just so nice to have sun for an entire day.

     I put the basket down in one of the leather chairs that ring the room, choosing to sit in the large one behind the desk instead.  I spin the seat around a few times, just for fun.  Everything just feels so light and renewed.

     Dad is recovering; the transplant appears to be working.

    I mean, it will take a few more weeks to be sure, but dad is definitely looking better.  The infection has finally cleared, and he no longer needs an oxygen mask.  He is smiling and talking.  So much talking.  We go to see him every day now.  This morning's visit was pleasing.  We talked about his mother and sister and their cancer history.  In his mind, he always knew that the specter of disease would haunt him, he just hoped it would be later in life.  He has recovered just enough to transfer him to a rehabilitation center where he will slowly build his strength back up.  His doctors are positive there has been some nerve damage to his legs.  He might never be able to walk without help again.  Hopefully, he should get most of his function back.  He can still move them and feel them, but the coordination isn't there any more and not being able to walk for so long has atrophied his muscles to a point where rehab will take months.  But I think he can make it through.

     Sam has been out with some of his friends for the rest of the afternoon, after swimming out back for hours.  Hard to believe I've only known him two weeks, but it feels like I'ver known him all his life.  It's even harder to believe that he has grown over three inches in that time.  The clothes I got him back in Lexington are already getting to small for him.  Dad and I have made a bet that he'll be six feet by Friday.  I'll probably win, since he only needs about a fourth of inch to go.  He'll make by Thursday.  Or Wednesday.

    Or this evening at the rate he's eating.

    I stop spinning to look at my computer.  I've placed it by dad's so I can share the internet connection more easily.  I log in and start by checking on flight schedules.  Everything seems to be a go for tomorrow and the trip back home.  No storms forecast for the entire east coast for the next three days, as a heat wave is setting in.  The trip to Lexington and back should be hassle free.

   I'm glad I decided to get my sinuses fixed at the same time as my marrow donation.  Both were outpatient procedures, so I killed two birds with one stone.  Bad choice of words.  I shouldn't have said that.  Anyway, I won't have to drive back to do all the tasks I have to do and I can get everything done it one day, instead of spending two to four if I drove. There's just so much I have to do.

    The most important is sending in my resignation in person.  I'm sure Hemphill will be thrilled.  She has been gunning for me for so long.  Well, she won.  I'm going to be spending most of the next few months in New York, I just won't be able to do my job anymore.  In all honesty, I'm going to miss working there, and some fo the people, but telecommuting from this far away won't work.  Besides, I'll have other things on my mind.

Dada: Chapter 22b

   I am standing at the foot of my father's hospital bed.  I am dressed in a hospital gown.  I can't set down because of it, and I shouldn't be pacing either.  It could work up a sweat.  I wish I had someplace to put my hands, but I am not supposed to be touching anything.  My father's immune system is still in a state of uncertainty.  I look up towards his face.  The cancer, the chemo, and the recent infections have hit him hard.  The little bit of hair he has left is grey and short, as if it was trying to grow back.  The beard is gone, but it is hard to tell because of the oxygen mask.  At least he doesn't need to be on a respirator.  The mask is more so that he doesn't get another infection, more than to help him breathe.  The lines on his face make him look even older than he should be.  But his eyes are open, still strong and hazel brown.  Like mine.  Like Sam.
     He wants to talk, but he knows he can't remove the mask, not yet.  He couldn't even if he tries.  His arms are too weak, and they are tied to the bed.  I wish I could get closer, to touch him, but he is still too sick.
    His nurse walks into the room.  Lucy?  Lacey?  No, Lani.  I'm positive.
    "Mr. Burton.  Uh, Chris,"  Lani looks at me.  "You really need to return to your room soon, so we can finish prepping you for the procedure."
    "I know.  Just give me five.  No, ten minutes tops.  I'll be back before you know it.  I just have a little more I have to say."
    "Please hurry, Chris.  Even though this is out-patient, we do need to start soon.  Five minutes, and no more than one minute more."  Lani answers before smiling at my father.  "You have a great son Mr. Burton.  I'll be back for you too." She leaves with another gentle smile and a short wave.
     I hope I haven't lost my place.
    "While you may have fooled some of the social workers here, the judge back in Lexington wasn't going to have any of it.  See, I worked with some of them.  Well, one of my friends helped me get to know a few of them, but that's beside the point.  What matters is that the judge had tests performed to make sure that I was the right person that was being looked for.  He didn't want a total stranger who wasn't related to a teenage boy look after one.  Not after the lackadaisical nature of that guy from New York.
   "The tests were expedited, which is really saying something for a holiday weekend.  The results were sent to this hospital, per the investigator's orders.  He hadn't been told to disregard those orders in time to have them stopped.  Less than an hour after I first came to see you, still sleeping, I had proof that I am you son.  And that I am a perfect blood marrow donor match."
    I had to wait a whole day before we could get the operation set up.  Dad was asleep most of the time, recovering from the twin shocks of the infection and losing his wife and daughter.  The other two times I visited, I mostly told him who I was and how Sam was doing.  I was advised not to tell him about the procedure until now.  While he had agreed to it previously, some hospital official were afraid he might change his mind.  Fortunately, his doctors and lawyers made sure he would go along with everything.  As is, I have one of the attorneys watching over Sam in the waiting room.  I wasn't going to have him not seeing his dad again, or face the fear of losing another.
    Lani barges in, a little louder this time.  "Chris, we need to start now.  I'll take you back to your room."  At least her face show how sorry she is that I have to leave my father.
    "Alright."  I turn to go, but I have one last thing to add.  "The tests proved one more thing.  Sam is your son.  The doubts your wife planted were just that.  I don't know why she did that, but you still have Sam.  And me.  See you soon, dad.  I love you."
   I think I see him start to cry, as I walk out the door.

Dada: Chapter 22a

   I wait.  I know I won't get a response, but I wait.
   "I don't know about everything that went on in Charlotte, but following the investigator was easy.  He followed the lead about my mom back to eastern Kentucky.  He wisely stayed away from my mom, but he found one of my old classmates.  There's still quite a few who didn't leave, for one reason or another.  That led him to Lexington, and eventually to me via a stop at a family court judge.  He didn't know he didn't have any coverage until he got to Lexington, but by that time, things had taken a turn for the worse.
    "He finally checked his messages, after three days offline, and found out what happened in Pennsylvania.  I won't go into the details, but the investigator left immediately to see what he should do next.  He had been told not to stay and finish his job, but to return to New York, against his wishes.  Whatever, his part was done, and now there was a new plan, all because of the accident."
     I keep thinking about the tragedy.  Early Saturday morning.  A semi trailer had a blow-out on one of its rear tires.  The truck driver barely even knew it happened, because of all the redundancies, and he managed to stop fairly quickly with little incident.  The tire chunks hit the wife's car.  The biggest one crashed through the windshield and hit her straight on.  Whipped her neck straight back and broke it instantly.  The car was already breaking as it spun out of control.  Candi was in the back seat, without her seatbelt on.  She got thrown into the windshield, right where a smaller chunk had cracked it.  Her added weight was enough to shatter it completely, around her neck.  The pieces fell onto her neck and almost completely decapitated her.  Neither injury had been survivable, but death might not have been instant.
    "What you might have been feeling that morning when Sam came in;  what you were feeling for Sam when he told you what he knew, both about the accident and about the final phone call.  The attorney who was with him informed you about the worst part.  Candi and your wife have both been embalmed immediately after the county coroner looked them over.  Apparently, he also worked for the county's primary funeral home and thought he could make some extra money.  There would be no way to test her, or even get any marrow from her."
    The attorneys have already started filing cases against the truck driver, the shipping company, and the coroner.  Very efficient bunch, when they aren't being convinced to look the other way by one of your wives.
     "You weren't going to have Sam tested no matter what.  You couldn't lose him, too.  You started the contingency plans to have him looked after as well as the funeral, when the news from Lexington came in.  I had been found, but there didn't seem to be enough time.  You didn't think I would help.  You couldn't rest your hopes on me being a match.  But, there was a way to make sure Sam would be taken care of.  Even in your weakened state, physically and emotionally, you came up with a plan with your attorneys.
      "Sam would be sent to me, with a social worker.  Because you were still technically capable, the authorities were told that the exchange would be temporary.  Nothing too deep to look into.  You lucked out when you found one with a pregnant wife near her due date.  Just a subtle suggestion for her to call, and he was back to New York before he could alert the Kentucky authorities about you.  She hasn't given birth yet, 'false alarm.'  You even made sure that Sam wasn't able to change clothes after the funeral, making sure he would be in a disheveled state when I first saw him.  Too bad he also couldn't get his phone so that he would be kept informed about what was happening on this end.
    "Sam so much wanted to tell me everything, but he kept his word to you.  You felt that I would be more likely to take care for him, if it looked like he needed all the help he cold get.  He just wanted for us to get here as soon as possible, so I would get to see you.  He knew what cold happen, but you had forbade it.  You felt that you didn't deserve to live, not after abandoning me for so long.  Not after losing your wife and daughter.  Sam would have me to look after him, but only if I didn't find out until it was too late.
   "Sam was crushed when he found out we would be driving back.  Apparently, your team's research brought up the fact that I am unable to fly.  It was part of the plan that I wouldn't make it back in time to see the officials.  I wouldn't get answers to my questions.  You even made sure that only a minor realtor was there to open up the house, someone with no knowledge of the accident, but who knew much about the house.  You thought the hint of money and history would convince me to stay, more so than any emotional ties."
    So manipulative, but he was relying on lawyers and years, decades of self-loathing and doubt.  What else could he have done but try and give Sam the best chance?  I've never had kids, at least not yet, so I can't be sure I can relate to such feelings, but I don't see why he had to deceive so much.
   "You had even told Sam to get into the house first to make sure everything had been taken care of that needed to be done.  You had your downstairs bedroom with the family photos locked up, so I wouldn't find out about you medical condition.  The only photograph that wasn't hid was one of Candi's high school graduation pics.  It was too big to move from the backstairs landing, but each end was to be blocked off.  A cabinet did for the top end, but the key to the lower end was missing.  That allowed me to snoop.  A cleaning crew was supposed to have done all this work, but Sam had too instead.  The crew didn't come in until after we had left for the evening.  They were the source of the lemon scent I kept smelling afterwards.
    "They were supposed to have cleaned up the bedrooms and got the sheets out for me.  If I had only looked into the guest room again, I would have found the sheets, and I wouldn't have snooped upstairs.  Candi's room was supposed to be locked as well, but the person assigned to the room forgot.  I would have realized something was up either way, but I was already feeling off.  You don't know how lucky you are that done of you neighbors and 'fans' corrected me about the accident.  One wrong slip, and I would be have found out the truth even sooner than this."
   I don't mention the film I saw.  That would definitely not be pertinent here.  "Oh, I saw you film.  You were naked."  Yeah, that would not be appropriate.  Not here and now.
    "Sam was so anxious.  He was afraid to talk in case he would have to tell me the truth.  He faked his voice cracking so much that he might have permanently damaged his vocal cords, if he hadn't stopped.  Already so deep, he's practically a man now."
     I don't bring up how I caught him naked as well.  And why he was naked.  And what he was looking at.  Who, and who's what.
     "As is, he finally told me everything.  Fortunately for the all three of us, he wasn't too late."

Dada: Chapter 22

   "You weren't in the car.  You never even went to North Carolina."
    I wish I could sit down, or at least pace a little, but neither would be appropriate right now.  I just wish I had somewhere to put my hands.  I place them behind my back, but they swing back to the front almost immediately.  I don't want to cross them, because it wouldn't look good.  So, they hand loosely, idle beside me.
    "I finally got Sam to tell me everything.  Then I went to the lawyers, and everything just came out. I wish you had just made things easier, simpler.  But I figured it out.  I knew something was up, but I just couldn't see what it was.  So many small details I almost overlooked.  Inconsistencies.  Well, I know.  Maybe more than you think I know.
     "It started last September.  You were worried about Candi.  The police couldn't help you, because she was over eighteen and was keeping it contact with you.  At least partially.  You were literally worried sick.  One day, while teaching a class, you got a little dizzy.  You all but fainted.  You told the administration it was due to stress.  You took a few days off.
    "But you had a feeling.  A doctor examination proved it.  Cancer.  Blood cancer.  Not leukemia, another variety that I can't pronounce or spell.  Fortunately, it was caught early and had a high survival rate, with the right treatment.  That treatment was a bone marrow transplant.  Nothing too unusual.  Done every day.
    "Unfortunately, you didn't have a donor.  Your parents were dead.  Your dad had no siblings.  Your mom had a few, but they were all dead, too.  Their families didn't keep in contact with you after her death, but you felt that they were now dead as well, and many of their children.  You might have a second cousin out there, but you didn't know their names.  Didn't think they even lived in the country any more.  Your sister and brother died before they could have any children.  That left you with your own children.  Candi was in the wind, with no easy way to get her back.  She contacted you; you couldn't get in touch with her.  You didn't know where I was, or even if I was still alive.
    "That left Sam.  Sam, who might not be your biological son.  The only child you still had.  If you tested him, he could be a match.  But, you could also find out he wasn't yours.  You couldn't take losing the only child you still had.  You loved him too much to risk losing him.  So, you didn't test him.  You went with chemo instead, while waiting for Candi or another match.  With your uncommon blood type and unique heritage, finding one was not going to be easy.  Still, the chemo was working.  You got the university to give you the rest of the semester off.  Things weren't that bad.
      "You were all ready to get back to work in January.  Candi was still only sending emails and texts, the occasional letter dropped off from nowhere, never allowing you a way to response.  She made sure that you were out of her life.  Then, two weeks after Christmas, you collapsed.  You had gotten an infection.  They had to stop chemo for awhile so you could recover.  You got a sabbatical from the university, but you never told them it was really for medical reasons.  Just stress over Candi.
       "The infection was so bad that it left you too weak to climb the stairs.  You moved into one of the servant's rooms downstairs.  You had all of the family photos put in there so you could look at them whenever you wanted.  Even after the infection passed, you were too weak to go upstairs.  You had a walker that just barely allowed you to get through most of the downstairs.  The chemo wasn't working as well anymore.  You had to do something else."
      I pause.  I had practiced this in my mind for hours.  I don't want to leave anything out, except I have to.  This is the part that is going to hurt the most.
     "You called in your lawyers.  Your wife thought it was to make final preparations in case you wouldn't pull through.  That was part of it.  You also wanted the firm's investigation unit to look for Candi.  If the police couldn't help, maybe they could.  Your wife had discouraged you to do so earlier, but you were now desperate. So desperate that you even suggested they try looking for me again.  Something to hedge your bets on, or a final attempt to ask me for forgiveness.
     "That's when you found out about the initial attempts your father made.  They were getting close when he first got sick, but they were instructed to hold back.  The order didn't come from him, but from his personal nurse, you future wife.  It looks like she was going to try to get him to marry her, so she could get her hands on his fortune,  but he took a turn for the worse before she could marry him.  So, she turned to his only direct heir, you.  In a little over a year, you were engaged with one caveat, you had to stop looking for me.  It broke your heart, all over again.  Your were so needing love at that time of loneliness, that you accepted her demands and stopped looking for me."
    I stop again.  I could go on about some of the things that she did.  She set up a false trust fund for me, but the money went to your new clinic instead.  You "helped" along some of your miscarriages so that you wouldn't have to share your money with other heirs, besides your daughter since you only wanted a girl.  Never a boy, like all three babies that you lost.  You even were the one who planted the fake news story about the problems with the both the surrogate and the fertility clinic that led to your doubts about Sam.  Now is not the time for this.  I need to hurry, as I don't have that much time.
    "You continued your treatments, even as they started to lose their effectiveness.  You kept hope that  both Candi and I would be found. You managed to all but finish a painting, the one at the art fair where you met my mother. You even got to attend Sam's birthday party.  Things were hopeful.
     "Then, you got a miracle and a setback at the same time.  The investigators had found Candi.  She was living in Charlotte under an assumed name.  Strangely enough, the were only able to find her because she got arrested for prostitution.  But, they also got a lucky break.  Turns out, North Carolina was the last place we were living before moving back to Kentucky, and they found a lead back to me in Winston-Salem.  One man was sent back to get more information, while plans were made to get Candi out of jail.
      "That's when you collapsed again.  It was so bad that you had to be hospitalized.  Your wife would have to go to Charlotte on her own.  I can only imagine the argument you two had when she found out about the investigation.  Anyway, she would go, Sam would stay at a friend's house, and you would try and recover at the hospital.  You needed that bone marrow transfusion, and the sooner the better."

Dada: Chapter 21c

[Note:  The various voices on the recording will be color-coded for ease of identification, as well as getting around the need for the re-use of multiple tags.  The final version will probably not have this feature.]
     Her voice was somewhat husky, almost manly, with that nasal quality all but stereotypical of New Jersey.  She may have been a smoker, but not anymore.
      "We're just now entering Pennsylvania.  Things took longer with your sister than expected, but at least we won't have to go back.  Everything is settled up.  We should be back in an hour or so.  I thought you would be awake by now, but you just seem to sleep all the time now.  Anyway, we'll pick you up at the DeSilva's and then talk more about your sister.  She needs us right now."
   "I need you right now?!  Where were you when I dropped out of college?  Where were you when I tried to talk to you about that, that thing?"
   A second voice popped in, our sister, Candi.  Much younger, without a trace of the huskiness or accent of her mother.  I looked up from the phone to Sam.  He gave a slight nod to confirm my suspicion.
   "Rachel, I thought you were still asleep.  I've got Sam on the phone.  Try and be quiet."
   "Oh, I should be quiet, just because you got me out of jail on a prostitution charge.  Well, thank you for finally being there!"
   I look back at Sam.  He gives me another nod and silently mouths "I know," letting me know that he knows what "prostitution" is.  I'm glad that I won't have to give him that talk, not that I have ever went that route to scratch an itch, mind you.  I am much more prone to scratch myself.
    "Rachel! Sam doesn't know about that part, yet.  We were planning on telling him, later, after you were back at home.  He's not old enough yet to know about such things." Well, he learned somewhere.
     "Right, like I was too young to know about dad's films.  I can't believe you never told me about them.  One of my roommates just chuckled at me when she found out who my father is.  I had to find out from one of my high school friends about what was on it.  Her mother actually watches that stuff. I had to watch it with my girl friend.  You could have told me, before I went to college."
    "The lawyers have been trying to stop it for years now,"  Sam's mom cuts Candi off.  "Because they were part of his official thesis, they were available for private and educational use.  As long as no one  tries to sell it or use it for financial gain, there is little that can be done.  The professor in charge at the time was very unscrupulous.  He probably sold some of the originals for profit, but it was never proven."
    I can't believe what I'm hearing.  Sam said he had been told about the films, soon after he hit puberty.  About the same time Candi left.  Maybe it was an end around, after his parents learned that the film might have caused Candi's problems.
    "Well, the one I saw was boring.  I guess that is why Kelley was laughing at me, and why Tony broke up with me after graduation.  He knew about the films.  Probably half the neighborhood knows, and they just enjoy  knocking their. . . ."
     "Found ladies aren't supposed to use such language!  We have been trying to stop those perverts for years.  And there aren't that many in town.  Barely a dozen, and most keep it quiet and to themselves.  At least they keep it away from children.  Or they are supposed to."  At least one has seen it, and I am looking at him again.  Sam can't look at me, though.  His head is down, and his eyes are darting in all directions.
      "I bet you aren't treating Sam that way, is she now?"  Candi raises her voice at this, making sure that the phone can pick her up.  "Sam, the perfect little baby.  The one both of you like more than me.  I wasn't enough, so you had him, years after I first said I wanted a baby sister.  But NO.  You had to go and wait until I could be the one to help take care of him.  So much older, that I couldn't play the same things.  Dad has always liked him best."  With this, I hear a loud sloshing, followed by a few gulps and a rather loud belch.
    "Rachel!  What are you drinking back there?"
   "Just some 'Jack that I had stashed with the rest of my stuff at my house."
   "How could you call that run-down rattrap a "house?"  It wasn't even yours.  It was abandoned, and you were squatting there with a few of your "friends" between jobs."
     "Chill.  I just starting walking a few weeks ago.  I had other 'interests' that you don't know about yet.  Still doesn't change the fact that you two will never treat Sam as badly as you have treated me.  And Sam isn't even yours."
      What?!  "Sam isn't even yours?"  What does she mean?  I look up at Sam again.  He's quiet, but I can tell he is about ready to cry.
       "Shut up!  How did you know?"
      "I heard your argument the last Thanksgiving I was at home.  I had already bought one of books for spring, when I heard you and dad arguing about how I was spending so much at college, even though we could easily afford it.  Dad thought I was being too spending, but you said I needed it, unlike Sam's new top-of-the-line Mac.  Almost equal to his.  You were the one who brought up the money on the medical treatments so you could have Sam.  And how he wasn't yours."
   There is silence for a few seconds before Sam's mom answers.
    "He wanted another son, after all I did to make sure he would never find his first one.  Never mind we had a perfectly fine daughter.  Never mind that I had three miscarriages that prevented me from getting pregnant again.  Never mind all the money for a surrogate who wasn't even the carrier, just some random woman who got paid for an egg to host his donation from a cup.  Never mind that we never checked to make sure the kid was even his.  Never mind that this parasite is living with me and should never have been born, only because he was "lonely" and wanted to have forgiveness.  I hate him.  What's that?"
    Before she gets and answer, I hear the screeching of brakes just before the loud smash of breaking glass and multiple thumps with more breaking glass.
    I look up at Sam.  This call was made just as the accident was happening.  He's dry crying.  I can see why.  Not only is he hearing his family die, but the last words his 'mother' says to him is that she hates him.  I motion to stop the playback, but Sam's hand darts out and stops me.
      "There's more."  He whispers, his voice finally cracking again.
       I can't see what more would be on here.  There's no moaning, only the occasional drip and the clink of falling glass.  After almost two minutes, a siren blares into the background.  It's following by multiple footsteps, from what sound like different directions.
     "We've got a multiple vehicle accident.  Checking now on victims."  Must be a highway officer on the radio.  First on the scene.
     Another voice cuts in.  "I don't know what happened.  One of my rear tires just blew.  I was hauling a load to Phily and, whoa, is that what.  Oh no.  Right through the head."
      "Please sir, step away from the vehicle.  Someone will be by soon to take your official statement."
      "But that woman.  She went right through the windshield.  I can't even see her head.  And that other one.  The tire just snapped right into her."
      "Sir, please move." I hear some shuffling as the driver leaves.  "Two victims.  Death appears to be near instantaneous.  Driver is a woman, late forties or early fifties.  She was using a wireless phone holder ...  Oh my God!  The phone is still on.  She  was calling her ..."
  There was some muffling that prevented me from hearing the rest of the sentence.  The recording ends.  The officer must have ended the call.  Sam turns the phone off soon after.
   No wonder Sam has been so quiet.  Hearing how his family died, in such brusque detail.  That just added to the misery.  Then, it hits me.
    "Sam, where was our father?  He wasn't in the car."

Dada: Chapter 21b

   "Candi.  Rachel Candice Burton.  Pretty much only mom, maybe a few of her teachers, called her Rachel.  Even dad and me called her Candi.  She turned twenty-two this past February."  Sam's voice is steady, and surprisingly deep.  Not a squeak or crack.
    Twenty-two.  I do some more mental math.  She would have been born when I was about six, meaning she was conceived over a year after my dad remarried.  Still, almost seven years until Sam came along.  Something still feels wrong.
    "She used to look after me most of the time, at least from the time I can remember.  She was the one who would be here for me after school.  She was the one who would look stay with me at night whenever mom and dad went out.  Even though she was in high school, she was there for me.  Then, she went off to college.   Mom was hoping she would say in New York, but she wanted to get into a huge psychology program at North Carolina.  No, North Carolina State.  I always get those schools confused."
     As a University of Kentucky grad, there is no way to get this two confused.  Trust me.  But then, Sam doesn't look like much of a collegiate sport follower.
      "She would always come home for holidays and breaks.  Then, at Thanksgiving, two years ago, she started acting strange.  She came home for the weekend, but went out with an ex-boyfriend of hers from high school.  Just friends now.  He used to call her "Moonlight" or something like that.  Name came form that My Little Pony cartoon."
     "Twilight Sparkle."  Me and my stupid need to correct people.  At least that makes me a good proofreader and editor.  Sam gives me a slightly puzzled look and continues.
     "Still, she seemed a little off.  When she left, she was somewhat distant.  At Christmas, things were just wrong.  She didn't get gifts for anyone.  She had always had at least something, like a handmade card, for everyone.  Not that year.  She spent much of her time with another one of her old friends, who had also came back here from college.  She wouldn't talk to anyone after that.  She even left for school early, without saying goodbye to anyone,  Not even me."
     I could hear a trace of remorse in his voice.  He was fidgeting again.  I know he's got something behind behind his back, but I can't tell what.  He's beginning to stare down again.  This is getting painful for him.  I can almost see how this ends.
     "She didn't come home for Easter or spring break.  She called saying she had some big project to work on.  Supposedly, she just wasn't going off with friends somewhere, although that was what my dad was thinking at the time.  Then, she called to say she landed a huge internship for the summer and that she wouldn't be able to come home.  My mom freaked out, but dad managed to calm her down, barely.  She would call and text us, but she never came home."
    He is almost on the verge of tears.  Maybe I should stop him, but I can't.  He needs to let this come out.  I hope I'm wrong about what happened.  Please let me be wrong.
     "Then, last August, dad sent in the in the money for Candi's tuition, like he always did.  She had scholarships and junk, but there was still a little bit more that had to be paid.  Anyway, a few days later, the school notified him saying that Candi had dropped out last semester and that she wasn't scheduled to be back for this semester, either.  The next time she called, both mom and dad tried to find out what was wrong.  She stopped calling back after that.  She would sent email, and even mailed us letters, letting us know she was alright, but we had no way to directly contact her.  She email always came from secondary sources; the letters delivered through an intermediary.  She was okay, but gone."
   Sam's speech has gotten practiced, as if someone has fed him the words he had to say.  No way a fourteen year old would use some of those words.  I am feeling that he is hiding more than he is saying.
     "When she wouldn't even come home for Christmas, mom and dad tried to change tactics.  We couldn't call the police.  She was an adult, technically, and was keeping contact with us, in a way.  That's when dad called in the private investigators.  He hadn't had contact with them since his father died.  They worked with the family's attorneys.  It took them five months of searching, but they finally found her.  She had been arrested and put in jail in Charlotte.  She was using an assumed name.  That was why we couldn't find her sooner."
    Must have been the same crew that was charged with trying to find me when mom went off.  Yet, why were they looking for me?  Was it guilt from dad for not trying harder when I was a kid?  Maybe, the investigators just wanted to take care of unfinished business.  Something is not adding up.  It takes me a second to realize that Sam has stopped talking.  He is still fidgeting though.  He is now looking form side to side instead of straight down.  What is he hiding?
    "Go on.  What happened next?  Why was Candi in jail?"  I ask him.  In my head, I do some more math.  Five months would equal to now.  She was found in the past few weeks.  Maybe just before me.
     Sam doesn't say anything.  After a few seconds of agonizing, he hands me the object he was holding behind his back.  It is a phone.  He places it on the desk before me and activates a stored call.
     "Here.  This will tell you all you need to know."  His voice starts to crack again, but from emotion this time.
      "Sam, it's Mom."

Dada: Chapter 21

   I go back out into the hall to wait for him.  The lights switch back on all but immediately.  I still can't believe that I've only known Sam a few days, and I already have caught him twice.  My mother never once caught me, not even close.  Sure, my grandmother just missed me by a few seconds that one time.  And there was that night when we stayed over at Will's house, when his dad almost walked in on us, but we covered because we had just come back from a late swim.  He may have known better, but I choose to believe my recollection.  Knowing teenage response times, somewhat, he could be trying to finish up.  It could take hime anywhere from thirty seconds to a few minutes, but I doubt he will even try,  The shock will return him to normal quickly.
    He is out in under a minute.  He is wearing almost the exact same PJs I am.  I didn't notice I got him the same thing I normally wear.  Navy blue top and dull grey shorts.  I look him in the eyes.  Man, we're practically the same height now.  He has to have grown over half an inch since Thursday, maybe even an inch.  Same mousy brown hair, his a little lighter and curlier.  Same flat hazel eyes, with his maybe a touch darker.  Same 'equipment,' although I'm thinking that he has overtaken me in that department already.  I look at him, back in the eyes.
     "We're going downstairs.  I think that will be more comfortable and appropriate."
     He doesn't respond, just barely nodding his head.
    We reach the landing before the lights click off, and I switch on the chandelier as we pass by.  As I turn left towards the library, I hear Sam gasp behind.
     "Do we have to do it there?  The living room or TV room will be better."  I notice that his voice is not really squeaking.   Not truly deep yet, but not pitchy either.
     "Library.  It is for the best."
     We trudge along to the library.  I flip on yet another light switch.  Not as much overhead lighting here compared to the other rooms.  I guess that the table lights would be better for reading anyway.  I motion Sam to stand in front of the desk, while I take the swivel chair behind it.  Normally, I should be the one standing, but I think this will allow Sam a chance to calm down.
     "Before we go into our sister, I want to know how you got those naked pictures of me from earlier tonight."  Direct, forceful, and blunt.  At least I feel parental.
       Sam turns his head down, looking at his feet.  His hands are crossed behind his back.  I'm not sure, but I think he might be holding something.  Why didn't I catch that on the way down?
    "When I got my computer last year, I detected a strange signal coming from an unknown source.  I hooked into it.  It turned out to be a camera system."  Sam never quavers.  In fact, his voice is a fairly steady monotone, fairly deep too.
       "At first, I thought it was part of the security system.  Dad always fiddled with it from his computer, or phone.  But, this signal didn't seem to be connected to that one in any form.  I was able to latch onto it, and I found that it was a private camera in my parents' bedroom.  One of the first images I found was one of dad, naked, and posing in front of the mirror.  And he was big."
      My mind races.  I knew that some couples liked to film themselves, and with dad's artistic nature and experience, it would have been simple for him to set up.
    "Don't tell me you would watch your parents . . .'
    "NO!  I would never do that."  Sam all but shouts.  "The camera wasn't on all the time.  Only when a switch on the wall was turned on. I set things up so that I would get a notification whenever the camera turned on.  Most of the time, it was at night when I was sleeping.  I wouldn't record anything that happened overnight, just to be safe.  However, whenever it was just my dad there, I would watch and record.  And do "other things" at times."
    "I know I accidentally turned on the camera, but why record me.  And why do "that" as well?"  I had to get an answer.  I needed a reason.
     "Dad was so big. I would always try to catch a glimpse whenever he took my into the restrooms with him.  You know how big he was.  You saw him in that movie, too."
     "Wait, Sam.   How did you see any of that movie?  The entry was blocked."  I won't let on about the general state of the audience.
        "I knew about the movies.  He told my about them late last year, just before I started growing.  After seeing him those other times, I just had to look at him in his full glory.  You know, you're almost as big as him, I think.  Maybe a lighter smaller."
     I should interrupt, but I'm all but speechless.  "How did you even, guess about my, you know?" I barely stammer out.
    "That night, last night.  When you got up, just as I was finishing for the first time.  I could see the outline on your shorts.  Just seeing that was enough to allow me to go a second time.  First time I was able to go a second time so quickly."  Rather frank talk, and unexpected.  "I've seen picture of naked women, too, but, whenever I see someone as big as you, or dad, I think it makes me bigger too."
          What is going through his head right now?  I don't know what is happening.  I'm afraid about what he'll say next.
     "I was always kind of big.  Not dad big, when I was a kid, but one of the biggest.  Then, it just grew and grew.  The last few weeks of school, I had to be the biggest there.  I know I was bigger than Vinnie Johnson, and he was already six-two.  I couldn't believe it."  I can hear the pride in his voice.  The tone even slightly goes up a bit, trying to crack again, but it doesn't.
    "So, when I saw that you had the camera on, I checked you out.  You were posing the same way he did all the time.  I starting watching him just before Thanksgiving last year.  I think it even helped with this growth spurt I'm having.  You were just something new.  Not as big as dad, but I think you might be above average."
      I don't interrupt him to confirm his opinion.
    "I woke up a few minutes before you caught me.  I think I heard you come upstairs, and that woke me up.  I was, well, you know, and I saw that you had the camera on.  I just had to try it out.  I know it was wrong, but it just clicked in me somehow.  I'm sorry."
    "Look.  You know that what you did is wrong.  The camera part, the other part is natural.  I could go on about morality, exploration, and ethics, among other things.  But, I will wait until tomorrow, and by that I mean later today, to go into that.  Right now, I want to know about our sister and what happened to her."