From Whence I Came

You ever hear a conversation that you shouldn't have? Church does in this chapter. Let's see what happens!

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

23

Self-Loathing and Moral Superiority

"What happened to you two? I was getting ready to call missing persons." Joe griped as we came through the front door. He and Bem were either still at, or back at, the table in the middle of Bem's religious education. They'd added Mary and the oversized Philips family bible to the group. The scene managed to present a pretty picture of what I was coming to think of as Bem's indoctrination.

"It was a pretty involved process," I lied, "and they treated us to lunch."

"Where did you go?" Joe asked.

"It's a place near Penn's Landing called 1890..."

"YOU GOT INTO 1890?" Joe cut me off with a shout. "No one can get in that place. I've never been in there, but I've heard about it. Where did you sit?"

"In one of the sliding door private rooms at the back of the place." I explained and wondered if Joe would know what I was talking about.

"HOLY SHIT!" Joe shouted. The swear surprised me, Joe never swore.

"Is that a big deal?"

"Yes, it's a huge deal!" Joe practically vibrated with excitement. "When you left, did they give you anything?"

"Yeah, they gave me this little plastic card." I fished in my pockets until I found it and handed it to Joe. "I don't know what it is. The host gave it to me while he was seeing us out. He didn't say anything about it. Why?"

Joe inspected the card with careful, reverent hands. "This makes you both members. You can go back anytime. See where it says `immediate?'" He held the card under my nose. "You don't even need a reservation. They would put someone else out to make room for you. Incredible."

I shrugged off my brother's enthusiasm. "Well, Shawn does have almost half a billion dollars, on paper anyway. He could be a major force in the business or financial community. Do you want to go over there tomorrow?"

Joe shook his head. "No. I don't know for certain, but I'd bet your lunch cost about a thousand dollars...each."

"Anything you say, Joe." I accepted the card back from him and took a step toward the stairs. I had a second thought and paused before I reached them. "I'm going to get changed. When do you want to see Zeke?"

Mary winced at the mention of her husband but didn't say anything. Joe checked his watch. "It's getting late to go this afternoon. We'll go after dinner, get there around seven. He's sure to be home. I'm not calling ahead. I don't want him to know we're coming."

I agreed with Joe and followed Shawn upstairs to get changed. When we came back down, Shawn continued down the next flight of steps to the family room. He'd said something about seeing what Andy and the twins were up to. Shawn seemed to be able to get along with the eight-year-old girls, and I admired him for gaining their respect. I, on the other hand, kept them at arm's length. In spite of my sister's praise on the night I tucked the girls into the family room sofa bed, I was still nervous around her children.

I went to the kitchen for a glass of water and heard snatches of the catechism that was going on in the dining room. I called a sneering question in before my better judgement stopped me. "Did you get to the part where anything that's any fun is a sin?"

"Don't be like that." Joe snapped, immediately hostile to my remark. "Bem wants to understand the faith, and you shouldn't discourage him."

"I want him to understand fully." I leaned into the open doorway to deliver my retort. "I'm going to give him just one example." What I had in mind qualified as fighting dirty, but I didn't care. I knew that what I was about to share with my friend would grab him very literally by the short hairs. "Bem, did Joe tell you that all sex that isn't strictly for procreation is a sin?"

"What do you mean?" Bem demanded.

"All sex, that isn't for the purpose of impregnating a woman is prohibited. That means sex for pleasure between straight couples, touching yourself, and all gay sex is a sin. What that also implies is, if you stick it anywhere but a woman's babymaker, that's a sin as well. The beautiful physical expression of love we enjoyed last night should be confessed and repented. Do you think there's anything morally wrong with what we did?" I asked even though I already knew the answer.

A squeak from Mary's direction called my attention to her. I got to watch while all the color drained from Mary's face. I guessed she hadn't thought that Shawn and Bem and I had been doing anything at night because there was never any noise. I regretted disabusing her of that delusion, but Mary stayed silent, so I didn't bother to address her obvious revulsion.

Bem was more confused than ever. He examined the ornate page of the large bible that was open on the table like he thought the answer would jump from the paper. "Of course not, but...I don't get it. It doesn't actually say those things, does it? This story, and this book, they're supposed to be hopeful, right? The things you're talking about, it sounds like a horror story. It doesn't make sense."

I surprised Bem by agreeing with him, then explained some more. "You're right, the book is supposed to be hopeful. It has some plot issues, and the narrators tend to disagree in parts, but the message is one of love and hope. The problem is, how that story has been used by man in the two thousand years since it was written. How all religions are twisted by men to suit their own purposes. That book, and all books like it, are so soaked in blood, the pages should be made from tanned human skin. Ask Joe about the Spanish Inquisition, the Salem witch trials, The Crusades, or more recently, gay rights, attitudes in the Middle East, and the closed-minded hatred nursed by a large cross-section of bible-beaters in America. Ask him to explain some of that to you."

I grabbed a breath and ranted some more. "When he's done, he can tell you what it was like to grow up in this house, the children of fanatics. Ask him how forgetting to take out the trash was a mortal sin and how many times we were damned to hell by the time we were ten years old. No, Bem, the book itself is not evil, it's the interpretation and execution of its values by man that is. More people have been killed in the name of God that for any other reason. Ask Joe if that is not the case. Ask him!"

I finished sounding off and caught my breath. All three of the people at the table stared at me. I hadn't realized that I'd been shouting until I stopped speaking and was deafened by the silence. Joe cast his eyes down and rubbed a spot on the table like he was working out a stain. Bem looked at me like I'd lost my mind. He didn't understand the intensity of my outburst. Mary seemed small and defeated.

"I apologize." I said to everyone and genuinely meant it. "I didn't mean to get so upset. This subject is very difficult for me, and I'm afraid for my friend."

"We're not converting your Bem." Joe insisted to the table.

"That's easy to say," I challenged, "but he's been through a lot lately and a pretty story may seem very attractive to him right now." I shifted my gaze to Bem so he would know that I was talking directly to him. "I'm sorry for talking about you like you're not here and for sounding like I think you're easily led, it's just...the message is beautiful, but like many beautiful things, it comes with some stuff that isn't so pretty...thorns on a rose. Please be aware of that."

"I'm OK, Church." Bem said like he really wanted to convince me. "I'm a careful guy."

"I know. I'll shut up now." I moved away from the table and looked for a place to be alone to regroup.

I was feeling tired. The combination of having a marathon session two nights in a row, a very early morning, constant emotional stress, and a heavy lunch with a few drinks was catching up with me. The semi-blow-up in the dining room had sapped the last of my energy.

I sat in the living room recliner, stuck my feet up, and shoved the back down as far as it would go. In a few minutes, I was asleep.

I woke up a while later but didn't move. Low tones murmured in the dining room, one was Shawn's, and the other was Joe's. There was no other noise. I assumed Bem's lessons had concluded for the day and that he and Mary were elsewhere. I didn't hear the children and wondered where they were. The sound of my name stopped my wondering and brought my focus to the low tones. I wanted to know what was being said.

My brother's voice carried the first complete statement I picked up. "Why are you asking me about your husband? You're married to him, and according to him, you have all his memories. What could I tell you that you don't already know?"

"Having his memories and understanding the context are two different things." Shawn insisted with rising frustration. "I have his memories, but I didn't live his life. I don't remember his experiences the way he does. You're his brother. You grew up with him, in this house, with his parents. You understand what happened here."

"His brother," Joe's voice mocked Shawn's assertion, "not lately, not in a long time really. When he moved out of this house, I was twelve. No one heard from him for two years. After that he came only when he had to because he couldn't get along with our parents. When our folks were killed, I didn't see him sober for a decade, then you took him away and I didn't see him at all for another half-dozen years. The man asleep in the other room is my blood, but I don't know him."

Joe's words hurt, but I had to strangle the negativity. I focused on keeping my emotions in neutral because I wanted to hear the rest of the conversation. I knew that wouldn't be possible if Shawn felt my hurt and knew I was awake. I forced myself to stay calm and focused on listening.

A dining room chair slid back abruptly and tilted but didn't fall. The move was too fast to have been Joe. I assumed Shawn stood from the table. He growled at Joe, as much as it's possible for his sweet, tenor voice to growl. "I want to know what happened to him in this house so I can help him get over it. I want to know why he hates himself and why he worries about everyone's happiness but his own. I want to know who made him think he has no value as a human being. I NEED to know, for his sake."

`Fucking WOW.' I thought as Shawn described my inner thoughts and feelings as clearly as if they were his own. He didn't stop there.

"He told you we can sense each-other. All I've felt from him since we came here is anxiety. I keep getting flashes of the past. I haven't been able to escape the disapproval and contempt your parents had for him and how desperately he needed to be loved, to have someone tell him he was a good person. This house is so soaked in negative feelings, I think it should be burned to the ground to keep it from infecting future owners."

"I know from what he told me, and what I've seen in his memories, that his entire existence until I met him was pain. The death of your parents, an event that should have released him from suffering, only made it worse because of the guilt he feels. I wish I could erase it for him. Having nothing would be better than the misery he lives with."

Shawn's voice grew less strident as he went on speaking. "I grew up in a bad situation, not like this, but bad. Church was able to give me part of my family back. I already told you about my mother at our wedding. That never would have happened without him. Now she's happier and I'm happier because he's a part of our lives. He touches everyone he cares about. He makes them better than they were, but he never credits himself with success. He assumes they would have figured it out on their own eventually. It's just not true. I gave up my mother for lost long ago. He gave her back to me."

Shawn choked up a little. His voice grew sad and a little tender. "Every day he makes me feel attractive and desirable. He makes me feel like I'm the most important person in the world. I can never do that in return. He automatically deprecates my affection and feels like I'm doing him a favor by being with him. Part of me believes he wants to touch me constantly because he thinks that one day, he'll lose me to someone better. I can't make him understand there is no one better. It makes me sad to know he's given me immeasurable joy, and I can't figure out how to give it back."

"He's functional now, without the addictions. Some of that is because he cleaned up and looks good and the rest of it is having something to focus on that isn't the misery. Have you seen him? He looks incredible but he still doesn't like what he sees when he looks at himself. I tried to put a mirror over our bed, but he wouldn't let me because he didn't want to see himself in it. I can't imagine how hard that must be. I burn for him. He averts his eyes from his own reflection."

"I love him with everything that I am, my entire being. He loves me the same way, but no matter how much I love him, reinforce him, support him, believe in him, I can't make him love himself. He's suffering and I can't stop it. Do you understand how hard that is?" Shawn pleaded. "I can't do anything. The reason for all that is right here. You have to tell me about it."

Shawn's plea was followed by a charged silence that lasted a long time. I listened closely because I didn't want to miss Joe's response. "I'm sorry, Shawn." Joe said slowly and quietly. He sounded like he was talking to the tabletop. "I didn't know he felt like that. He always seemed so grown up when I was a kid, maybe not grown up, but independent. Sit down, I'll tell you anything I can."

"What was he like, when you were growing up?" Shawn asked over the scrape of a chair sliding on the laminate floor.

"Much like he is now, I guess." Joe said with a verbal shrug. "He always wanted to make everyone happy. I remember him being more sensitive, very sensitive really. He would cry during movies if there was a sad part, and our father would belittle him. The old man could make him weep with just a few words. Sometimes I think he did it for sport. Dad had a special brand of cruelty he reserved for his family."

Joe paused, and Shawn's voice entered the silence. "I had a dream...last night, actually. Maybe it was a nightmare. Because of my connection to Church, sometimes his memories invade my dreams."

Joe interrupted Shawn with an incredulous question. "You dream each other's memories?"

"Sometimes," Shawn explained, "usually they have to be triggered by something. I guess being here...anyway, I was Church."

"Wait," Joe interrupted again, "you dream his memories as him?"

Shawn answered with his clinical tone. "Yes...the memories are his, so the perspective would have to be his."

No one spoke. I assumed Joe responded to Shawn with a gesture. Shawn went on. "Church was an adolescent...maybe thirteen or so. He brought home a watercolor painting, something he'd done in art class at school. It was a picture of this house with five happy stick figures in front of it. He was careful with it the whole way home. He kept it between his history book and his science book, the two largest books he had. He carried it between them the whole long walk home. He didn't even have science homework that day, so he carried that heavy book all the way home to protect his picture."

I remembered the event Shawn was relating to Joe. The memory was a sour one. I concentrated on keeping my emotions neutral so Shawn wouldn't know that I was awake. It was difficult work.

"Church brought his picture to the kitchen. Your mother was out, but you and your sister were home. Church found a magnetic potato-chip-bag clip and used it to hang his picture from the refrigerator. He stood back from it and was so proud. He was so proud, and he wanted nothing more than to have your parents come home and like his picture. He thought that since he'd painted everyone, since he took special care to include everyone and show them happy, that your folks would praise him and his work."

"That's not what happened." Joe filled in. "I can't believe you dreamed that. I remember it...like it happened yesterday I remember it."

"So, I don't have to tell you what happened next." Shawn clarified.

Joe finished the story. "My folks came home within a few minutes of each other. They called Church into the kitchen and my mother berated him while my father crumpled his painting up and threw it away right in front of him. I saw it happen. I heard the yelling and went to see what was wrong. I watched my father crumple Church's painting up and throw it in the trashcan. I watched Church stand his ground. I watched him endure it. When my father dismissed him, he left the kitchen with tears streaming down his face. Church hid in his room and cried. He cried for most of the rest of the night."

Shawn told the aftermath of the tale. "In the dream I had, you tried to make him feel better."

Joe agreed. There was another silence that I assumed held a gesture. My brain filled in a nod by Joe. "I fished it out of the trash and flattened it out as best I could. I was a very little kid, five or six maybe. I did the best I could with it. I brought it to Church. I tried to give it back to him. He thanked me, but I saw it in the trash again later. Do you know why he threw it away again?"

"He threw it away..." Shawn's voice broke, and he trailed off into silence. He felt bad at the memory, sad and depressed and hurt, like I had felt at the time. He cleared his throat and tried again. "He threw it away because he couldn't look at it without seeing the hate in your father's eyes or hearing your mother's disapproval. He couldn't look at it without seeing the hurt. It hurt him less to have it gone, so he threw it away again. He didn't want you to know. He didn't want to hurt your feelings. He appreciated that you tried to give it back to him. It meant a lot to him."

The conversation died for a time. Joe brought it back to life with a question. "Do you understand the significance of the refrigerator?"

"I think so, but why don't you tell me anyway?" Shawn asked. "Make me understand the way you understand."

"I don't know how things are done on Solum," Joe premised his explanation, "but here, on Earth, or in this country I guess, the refrigerator is a place of honor. It's a big magnetic surface and most parents, the ones that are proud of their kids, they hang stuff on the fridge with magnets. At the store, they even sell fun plastic magnets that are called `refrigerator magnets.' People hang pictures of the kids, Christmas cards, good report cards, artwork, all kinds of stuff. When Andy was young, our fridge was covered with his drawings." Joe stopped for some introspection. "I wonder when we stopped doing that." He said to himself.

Shawn put the conversation back on track. "Isn't that sad? Doesn't that make it so much more devastating? Church knew that your folks would never acknowledge him. He knew they would never celebrate him, so he tried to celebrate himself. A child tried to celebrate himself and your parents were petty enough to tear his art down, to tell him with their actions that it was trash. What a destructively hurtful thing to do to a child. What a petty, small, hateful thing for a parent to do to their own child...to any child."

"Poor Church," Joe muttered, "I know how he felt." Joe paused again, I guessed for some thought, then he went on in a quieter tone than he'd been using. "But...but that's not what we're talking about." Joe seemed to shrug verbally. I assumed he did so physically as well. "That's how our father was. That's just how he was. Our mother was different, but no better. She was hyper-critical at the top of her voice. Where my father was taciturn, my mother shrieked her disapproval."

"And that, Shawn, is what it was like to grow up in this house." Joe's tone grew brisk as he summarized the experience. "I guess by the time Church was fifteen or sixteen, he didn't cry anymore. I thought he grew up, developed some magic grown-up power of confidence. That lasted a few years until...I suppose it was that blow up he had with Dad, when he moved out. I really didn't see him much after that. When he started drinking all the time, after the accident, even when I did see him, it was like he wasn't there. He was barely in there at all. He was empty."

"The religion was a separate trauma. It must've been harder for him as the oldest. By the time I came along, I think Mom and Dad were wearing out. The intensity wasn't the same for me as what I've heard him describe. I don't know what they did to him at bible study or catechism class. The old priest was a tyrant. Everything was damnation and flaming torment. That's terrifying for a kid. If you swear, you go to hell. If you talk back to your parents, you go to hell. If you touch yourself, hell."

"I assume he decided that he was gay when he was around Andy's age. Add that to the rest of it, and I'm impressed he was able to function at all."

Joe took a breath to continue speaking but Shawn didn't let him. "You mean, he realized that he was gay."

"That's what I said." Joe countered Shawn's assertion.

"It isn't and I can't believe we're doing this again." Shawn corrected Joe as a note of exasperation invaded his otherwise calm tone. "You said that Church `decided' that he was gay, not that he realized it. You're still trying to make it sound like it's a choice."

Joe huffed in frustration. "I don't want to have this discussion with you right now, Shawn."

"I don't either, Joe." Shawn parroted Joe's use of first names for emphasis. "Having this discussion over and over again isn't fun for me, but you insist that it's necessary."

"I don't insist..."

"By your actions you insist upon it." Shawn countered. "By your repeated mischaracterization my husband's nature, and mine, and your son's like it's some kind of option on a restaurant menu. You know something Joe, even on Solum being a man who is exclusively attracted to men is more difficult than being a man who is at least a little attracted to women."

"Wait!" Joe objected. "Church said gay wasn't a problem on Solum."

"Hush!" Shawn reminded my brother they were supposed to be talking in low tones. "It's not a problem. That's not what I'm trying to say." Shawn paused to consider his words. He went on after a moment's concentration.

"I'm a physician. When I was in school, I learned a lot of biology, all about the biological imperative of reproduction. With that in mind, it makes sense that even in a place like Solum, where no one is bothered by same sex relationships, it's still a matter of...of going against the current. Growing up the way I did, spending so much time feeling isolated and sad, when I realized that I wasn't attracted to women, it was one more thing that made me feel alone."

"If not for my uncle," Shawn started to tell his story and stopped himself, "but that's not the point. The point I'm making is, as difficult as it can be, this is how I am. I can't change it and I am not ashamed of it. This is how my husband is. This is how your son is. If you want to hurt us, and alienate us, and make your relationship with each of us more difficult, then keep insisting that our homosexuality is a preference. I'm telling you from experience that it isn't."

Joe waited a long beat. He seemed to have nothing to say to reply to what Shawn had explained to him. Instead of addressing what Shawn had said, he skipped it and went on speaking like the detour in the conversation hadn't happened. The tactic was classic Joe. "There's more to the story of what it was like to grow up in this house, but you get the picture. It wasn't ever nice here. If I would have thought about it, it's pretty obvious that Church was hurting for a long time, most of the time. I always took him at face value and never looked any deeper. I suppose I failed him."

Shawn didn't say anything for a minute. I guessed he was trying to decide whether to allow Joe his tactic or to fight against it. Shawn chose not to antagonize Joe by trying to `win' the conversation. He went along with the line of discussion that Joe had returned to. "Don't ever say that to him." Shawn pleaded. "He'll add that to the guilt he's carrying."

"Why would he feel guilty about my failure?" Joe asked.

My husband explained how I felt to my brother but did it without the condescending tone that my brother would have used had the roles been reversed. "Church wants everyone to be happy. No one should ever be sad or upset on his account. If you feel like you failed him, he'll feel worse because you feel bad because of him."

"How can he care so little for his own happiness?" Joe asked.

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

The discussion paused. I guessed Joe was thinking. I heard the sound of Joe drumming his fingers on the tablecloth. He broke the silence. "What's he like now? What are your lives like, day to day?"

"I wish I knew." Shawn said and added his own verbal shrug. "We've been on one continuous mission since we met. My uncle has kept us moving from place to place, solving the world's problems. I'm stopping it when we get back. We need to settle down, get some structure in our lives. The only constant in all that time has been Church."

"Is it good being married?" Joe asked.

"It's been good, sharing his life. I hinted earlier that my childhood was...unpleasant. Luckily, when I moved to the city from my parent's house, my uncle saw the sad little boy living inside me and worked hard to draw him out and show him his value. Without him, I don't know what would have happened. I'm not unscathed. I have doubts and fears, things that haunt me."

Shawn trailed off, then spoke again with new vigor. "Church validates me, proclaims his love for me every single day in a million small ways. Did you notice his eyes are on me whenever he thinks I'm not looking? He hides it well, but I've caught him enough to know. I also feel a subtle spike in his lust almost every time I walk away from him. Have you ever been someone's best friend and their fantasy? It's the most incredible feeling."

"There's also a lot of normal life stuff that we do." Shawn went on with his story. "We spend time together, talk, split the mundane tasks, share experiences, enjoy each other's company. Sometimes we just sit together in silence. He holds me, or we sit separately and take pleasure in being with each other. Most evenings, when the sun goes down, we make love." Shawn said like he was picturing an idyllic day.

"I understand that's a frequent activity." Joe scoffed at my husband's story.

Shawn verbally rounded on Joe. "I'm getting really fucking tired of your comments on that subject." He snapped.

The obscenity surprised me. One of the few things Shawn and Joe had in common was an aversion to swearing. I guessed Shawn used it for effect. He ripped into Joe.

"I may have played along earlier today when Bem was having fun portraying him as a sex maniac, but I resented that you believed that asinine story. I love my husband. I enjoy him. I like the way he feels when we're together. I love the fact that his big, solid body can be as gentle as a flower petal falling on a pond. I love the little, desperate sounds he makes when I'm doing exactly what he wants me to."

Shawn's voice quieted as he spoke and what had started as a harangue, ended up as a wistful tale of love. "I even like the way he smells when he wraps me in his powerful arms and holds me, holds me like he never wants to be without me. I feel so safe in his arms. When we're together like that, it's difficult to tell where he ends and where I begin. Why shouldn't I want to experience that as often as I can? Why shouldn't I add pleasure to his life? I love that he can lose himself in me. Sometimes I think that's his only true peace."

Shawn's anger returned in a flash as he finished his speech with a final accusation. "How dare you belittle that? How dare you?" Shawn demanded.

Silence landed on the room as loudly as a lofted bowling ball dropped on a deserted lane. I assumed that Joe didn't speak because he was processing the chastisement Shawn had just given him. When he finally spoke, he sounded humbled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Is it because we're both men?" Shawn demanded; his voice still laced with hostility. "Should it be impossible for us to love each other?"

Joe surprised me by freely admitting his hang-ups. "Two men in love doesn't make sense to me. I always told myself gay didn't bother me, but it does. I can't help how I feel. Church told me how often you...engage. It sounds animal, deviant, disgusting. I know that the standard of relationships I was taught does not apply universally, but..." Joe paused then went on like he was attacking the issue from a slightly different angle. "I love my son. I love my brother. I accept them for all that they are, but I can't understand."

"That doesn't sound like any version of acceptance I've ever heard of." Shawn snapped back at him. "Honestly, I don't care if you understand. All I care about is my husband and how he feels. Don't make him suffer because you're small-minded."

"I can't help how I feel." Joe insisted.

"Well, you damn well better." Shawn insisted back. "You will not continue to hurt him. I will not permit it." Shawn's voice switched from demanding to pleading. "Don't you understand? He wants your approval so badly. He needs to know that he can have the life that we share, and he can still be your big brother. It's not fair for you to make him choose."

Joe didn't say anything, and the silence drew out like a wire from a die. I waited and listened. I listened so hard, I started to hear the subtle creak of the house as people moved around inside the old wooden structure. I heard the shouts of neighborhood kids that filtered in from the outside. After a very long time, Joe broke his brooding silence. "I didn't mean to hurt him." He muttered too low for me to gauge the sincerity in his voice. "What should I do?"

"Just love him. Don't apologize, he doesn't know how to handle an apology. Just treat him with respect and be his brother." Shawn advised.

"Thank you, Shawn." Joe said and managed to sound gracious. "I'll work on the other thing. I need to figure out how to be OK with this, for his sake and Andy's."

Shawn provided some inciteful advice. "You just need to separate sex from love. They're not the same thing. I love my husband, I care about Bem, and I have sex with both of them. I don't love Bem like I love Church, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy him physically. You can't expect to `understand' how what we do is enjoyable. You prefer women, they excite you. I don't understand that, but I don't have to. I do have to respect you, and treat you as a person, and love you as part of my extended family. Like it or not, we're brothers now."

"I'll work on it." Joe promised.

After that, the discussion turned to dryer topics, and I wondered how much longer I'd have to pretend to be asleep. Shawn solved that problem when he knocked a frying pan from the kitchen counter and set off a huge racket. I sat up, like I just startled awake, and rubbed my eyes. "Can't a guy get a little sleep around here?" I complained.

"No." Shawn called from the kitchen. "Besides, it's time to cook dinner. Let's go."

I snapped the reclining chair closed and went to my husband so we could discuss the menu. Shawn looked me over. "You need to wash your face. There's sleep all over it."

I nodded and headed upstairs. Shawn trailed at my heels. He said something about needing to change his shirt. He closed the room door behind us and leaned against it. "How much did you hear?" He asked.

"What are you talking about? Hear what?" I went into the bathroom to avoid Shawn's gaze and tried to get away with playing dumb.

"I knew you were awake." Shawn followed me as far as the bathroom doorway so he could keep me in sight as he spoke. "I was angry, so I didn't realize it right away. I threw that pan on the floor so you could stop faking. How much?"

I sighed and shrugged. "Most of it I think." I turned the water on in the sink to let it get hot and watched it run.

Shawn came into the room and shut the tap off. He inserted himself between me and the sink to force me to pay attention to him. "Are you OK with what I said?"

The whole conversation between Shawn and Joe had been emotionally draining for me. It had been draining to the point that it affected me physically. My arms felt heavy. I felt them pulling my shoulders into a slouch. "A lot of it made me sad." I admitted to Shawn. "That stuff Joe said about not knowing me and finding out the way he really feels about our relationship, it's disappointing to know he thinks that way. When you started talking about my misery...I thought I kept that buried well enough that you didn't know about it. It's my problem and I didn't want to trouble you. I'm sorry you had to dream it. That sucks. I'll work on keeping it to myself."

"You're missing the point." The words came out of my husband as an angry whisper. Shawn wasn't a yeller. He almost never shouted. When he whispered, if he wasn't doing it to be confidential, he was either angry or sad. He put a hand on either side of my head and held it still. "It's not your problem. It's ours. I want to help you get over it, but to do that, I need you to let me in, all the way in."

"I always do that." I teased to avoid the depth of the conversation Shawn was trying to have with me. "I'll do it again in a few hours...Bem will to if he's up for it."

Shawn's glare could have peeled paint, but it couldn't stand up against my silliness. "You are infuriating." Shawn hissed in frustration. He fought and fought against my innuendo, but he didn't last long before he broke up in ringing laughter. I joined him, like I always did. I couldn't hear his beautiful, musical laugh without joining him in it.

"You're right." I said after we'd laughed ourselves out. I held Shawn's hands and looked directly into his eyes. "I shouldn't have tried to hide, especially from you. I don't want to feel like this anymore. I want to let you put that mirror over the bed. I'll let you in. I hope you can be OK with what you find. It's a dark and scary place in there."

"Church, you know I love you, right?" Shawn pressed me. "I love you completely. I'm better with you in my life than I could ever be without you. You need to believe that. There is nothing you could tell me that would change that. I bought the whole package, not just the fun parts. I know it will be difficult. Dragging that stuff into the light will hurt, but when we come out on the other side, it will have been worth it." Shawn grabbed my head, pulled it down, and kissed my lips.

"I love you too!" I wrapped him in my arms, squeezed him against me, and kissed him hungrily.

Shawn started to melt in my arms, then he went rigid and fought to get away. "Stop it, stop it!" He cried. "Don't get me all steamed up now! We have to make dinner and you still have to see Zeke."

I released Shawn reluctantly and he jumped out of arm's reach. "Wash your face and let me change my shirt. We've already been up here way too long. Joe will start to suspect things."

"You really look out for me. It means a lot. It means everything." I told him in spite of how sappy it sounded.

"We look out for each other." He corrected.

I felt a little better when we came downstairs a few minutes later. As if on cue, Andy strolled into the kitchen to help get dinner ready. I ruffled his already-deliberately ruffled hair. "Where you been?" I asked the boy. "I feel like I haven't seen you for a week even though it was just this morning."

Andy seemed a little frazzled and dejected as he answered. "I've been hanging out with Hannah and Leah all day. We went to the park again this morning. After lunch it was too hot, so we watched movies. Bem was up here all-day learning about God, so I didn't have anyone to play video games with."

"Where is he now?"

"He came down to watch the movie with us and fell asleep. He seemed pretty tired. Is he OK?"

"Yeah, we were up late last night and then he was up extra early this morning. He's still not at a hundred percent."

Andy smirked and asked a question that dripped with sarcasm. "I thought you guys went up kind of early last night. Couldn't he sleep?"

"Leave it alone, kid." I added some menace to my tone as I answered Andy's indirect accusation. Then I whispered. "You don't smell like smoke. Did you quit?"

"Yeah," Andy whispered back. "I haven't had one since we were at the lake. That's why I left the pack in the visor."

"That pack may have saved a life." I admitted. "I'll tell you about it sometime." My hands balled into fists at the memory. It was going to be difficult to see Zeke later.

We cooked dinner and ate it. It was nice having everyone around the table at the same time. The conversation was lively and fun, and Joe didn't say anything condescending or judgmental. I'd started to think that Shawn's idea of a big house we could all live in was a good one. We would have separate wings but could come together for meals. I thought that we could even move Shawn's mother there to so she would be close. She'd probably love to live in a house with some kids running around.

After dinner, we cleaned up, then it was time to see Zeke.