From Whence I Came

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

8

Lessons from Shawn's Past, and a Face From Mine

I started the tale with some background. 'The day Shawn brought me home from the hospital, about six months after the first mission, he proposed to me. He'd been apprehensive all day. I thought he was worried about...well, never mind what I thought he was worried about.' I didn't want to tell Andy the self-loathing truth, that I thought Shawn was worried about how to get rid of me now that the threat to the world was passed. I told Andy a gentler version of the truth. 'I didn't know he'd decided that I was what he wanted permanently, and he was worried I'd turn him down because...because I have no idea why.'

That was another lie. I knew that Shawn was worried that I'd turn him down because I didn't think I was good enough for him. I didn't want to tell Andy that. It was none of his business and that admission would have exposed more of myself to my nephew than I thought he was ready for. I let the lie ride.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the bench as I remembered. 'He was nervous about asking me and I was nervous about why he was nervous. We got each other so worked up that the whole scene devolved into a weird disagreement where I tried to walk out on him but wound up falling on the floor. He made sure I hadn't hurt myself and then we had kind of an honesty session where I forced him to tell me what was bothering him.'

'It was a shame because Shawn had this whole romantic evening planned. He was going to feed me dinner and watch the sunset with me while we held hands, then he was going to get us in bed and ask there. I kind of ruined it for him. He asked me to marry him so indirectly. He kept asking me about my last name, if I liked my last name or if I'd take his. He was referring to Incolumitas, which was the name I was using at the time. When I finally realized what he wanted, I couldn't say 'yes' fast enough.'

'It was only after we'd gotten passed the question that he let me off the floor and we had a version of the romantic evening he'd planned for us. We had dinner, then watched the sunset from the back patio. When it was full dark, he invited me to bed. We hadn't...you know...since before the mountain. I was looking forward to it. Then we...AHEM...anyway, uh.' I felt the heat rise in my face as the memory of our tender lovemaking replayed in my head. I was still weak, so we had to take it easy, but the memory of that session remains one of my all-time favorites.

'I looked into the marriage traditions they have on Solum. One of the big ones is for each member of the couple to ask the other person's family for permission. I've heard a lot of people say, you don't marry your in-laws, but that's not true, so I wanted to do the right thing. I knew Shawn's father didn't much care what Shawn did, but I knew his mother loved him. I figured, you know, we'd be married a long time so I should do the right thing. A lot can happen in a lifetime.'

I shrugged to indicate how much can happen in a lifetime and kept talking. 'Shawn resisted the idea, but eventually, I was able to coax him into setting up a weekend stay with his parents at their estate. We rode out there on a Friday. Shawn drove, which was unusual. I usually drive us everywhere, but Shawn wanted to be occupied on that trip, so he took the wheel and I sat on my hands.'

'I knew quite a bit about the family from Shawn's memories. I'd also spent some time mentally digging around for more details once I knew I was going to meet them. Shawn's father is a financial guru, he owns and runs a wealth management firm catering to big money clients. The older brother was being groomed to follow in the family business. Shawn was the black sheep because he was a powerful magic user while his father and brother have very small amounts of power.'

'His father disdained magic, called it a 'cheater's art'. He felt that he was better than magic users because he built a 'financial empire' using just hard work. The reality is that Shawn's father had been left a small fortune by his grandfather and it was that money he used to start the business. The last member of the family was Shawn's mother, Lenis. In spite of being Ars Summas' sister, she was a timid woman, or at least that's how she acted. She was very much under her husband's thumb.'

'It was the middle of the wet season and raining steadily as we made the two-hour drive north. Weather is different on Solum because of the way the planet tilts, it doesn't tilt as far as Earth. None of that has anything to do with Shawn though. We'd left Epistylium, the capital city where we live, mid-morning and planned to reach Shawn's father's estate in the town of Ortus in time for lunch.' I stuck my right pinky in the air. 'Think snooty, old money. A place where status is much more important than substance.'

'Anyway, we arrived in front of a big, blue stone mansion set on an undersized piece of property. The house had a busy style with too much ornamentation and gingerbread stuck all over it. We pulled into the drive and parked in front of the main entrance. It was a normal-sized door, set deep in the stone wall under a heavily-hooded portico with oversized fluted white pillars.'

'We ran up and knocked. An elderly butler opened the door, took our rain jackets, and ushered us into a smallish wood-paneled foyer with too-much fussy carving. The butler was Shawn's height and looked to be in his seventies. Despite his age, his skin was smooth and clear with a healthy color. He had a full head of thick snow-white hair, an erect carriage, and he wore an immaculate burgundy suit. His dignity slipped when he saw Shawn and he greeted us with a wide grin and kind eyes.'

I dove into the flashback and reported the conversations as closely as I remembered them. I even did my best to mimic the voices and cadence to make the story more interesting for Andy.

'Good afternoon, Master Shawn. It is a pleasure to welcome you home.' The butler greeted Shawn.

'Hello Cellarius.' Shawn replied. 'I'm glad to see you. What's the atmosphere in there?'

The butler's smile faded. 'Master Shawn, it is not my place to say the atmosphere is one of disdainful disapproval with an accompaniment of overt judgement and prejudice.' The old man's grin returned, and he flashed it at me. 'Who is this gentleman?'

A conspiratorial smile creased Shawn's face as he prepared to introduce me. I did a quick mental search to see what Shawn's relationship with the butler was. My search revealed that Shawn and the old man had shared many confidences when Shawn was growing up. 'I'll tell you a secret Cellarius,' Shawn said with a hand next to his mouth like he was afraid of his lips being read, 'this is Church, my fiance. What do you think?'

Cellarius sized me up, like he was thinking of buying me but wasn't quite convinced. 'I think you have chosen a fine-looking man who is either very reserved or has good enough manners to keep quiet until he is properly introduced.'

Shawn introduced us. 'Church, this is the family's faithful butler Cellarius. Cellarius, this is my fiance, Church Incolumitas.'

I put my hand out. The old butler shook it heartily. 'Pleasure to meet you sir.' I said to show my respect for a man who Shawn respected.

'Sir,' the old man repeated, and some color rose in his face, 'don't let them hear you call me that. I appreciate the compliment. You are a well-mannered man, and it is a pleasure to meet you.'

The old man took his hand back, straightened his jacket, and offered some advice. 'If you wouldn't think it too forward of me to be completely frank, I would like to give you a word of warning. You are entering the lion's den. I recommend one of two courses of action. The first is heavy and continuous intoxication for the duration of your stay, the second is absolute silence. Given the discussion I overheard earlier, you may wish to combine the two. If my inference of the purpose of your visit is correct, that you intend to obey tradition and ask for permission to marry into the family, I offer you no hope of mental peace until you depart these premises. Good luck. Please follow me to the drawing room where the master of the house is sharpening his claws.'

I liked the old man immediately and hoped to get to know him better. If he was as unhappy with his employers as I gathered, I thought maybe Shawn and I could hire him once we had established our own household, or maybe pension him off for time served.

The butler led us to an interior room where three people sat. The drawing room was every bit as fussy as the rest of the house. The walls were painted or papered with floral prints in every color of the rainbow with trim of dark carved wood. There were a few wall hangings, including a painting of Shawn's father. When we entered the room, the man stood below and just to the right of his own likeness.

Shawn's father was a short, fat man with mousy brown hair combed flat to his head. He had a round face with heavy features and wore a forest green smoking jacket with a wide cut. Shawn's older brother, whose name was Primis, was a shorter, younger, and slightly better built version of his father. Shawn's mother was tall for a woman, around five feet nine with shining raven black hair that fell all the way to her waist. She had ice blue eyes, fair skin, and a lean, athletic build on a medium size frame. She had curves in the right places but was not overly voluptuous. She wore a close fitting, canary yellow dress that went all the way to the floor. She was a very striking woman.

As soon as Cellarius announced us, Shawn's father addressed Shawn with a condescending tone and his proper first name. 'Ah, Chordus, you haven't been home in quite a while. I don't believe we've seen you since you left for school when you were fifteen. What has compelled you to break your extended absence?'

Shawn's father's smug and unwelcoming introduction showed me why Shawn didn't want to visit his parents. We hadn't been in the house for five minutes and his father had already made it plain that Shawn was as welcome as a rank fart in a crowded elevator. Shawn kept his temper. I assumed from long practice.

'Hello father.' Shawn said, his speech very formal and deliberately civil. 'Perhaps the reason for my visit will wait until proper introductions are made. This is Church Incolumitas. He's an associate from The HALL.'

Shawn's father's already-deep frown got even deeper. 'Please don't mention that shadow organization that my brother-in-law is in charge of within these walls. I've said it for years, that man is not to be trusted and his power extends beyond all reasonable government controls. He's a tin tyrant with delusions of grandeur.' Shawn's father scolded in the same condescending manner without even a glance my way.

'Yes Father.' Shawn shrugged. 'Mister Incolumitas, this is my father, Verpa Summas.'

I stepped up and offered my hand. 'Mister Summas, it's a great pleasure to meet you. Shawn has told me so much about you.' I lied with good intentions. The man seemed so vain; I'd hoped to feed his vanity with the fib that we had discussed him. What I managed to do instead was cause Shawn some grief.

'Has he now?' Verpa asked rhetorically while he ignored my offer of a handshake. 'At first, I did not know whom you meant. My son's name is Chordus regardless of what ridiculous things he chooses to call himself. Also, you may discount whatever my second son has to say about me, Mister Incolumitas. He has not visited or made any effort to contact this house in the years he has been gone. I can therefore say that his information is outdated at least, or outright lies at worst.'

I dropped my hand and took a deep breath to beat my temper down. Shawn was upset, and I was upset. It was obvious the trip had been a huge mistake. Shawn's father had no respect for him, and presumably none for his career, or his Uncle Ars. I wasn't sure what to do.

Shawn tried to salvage the moment. 'Father, Mother...Church and I plan to be married. Church wanted to observe the tradition of presenting himself to ask permission.'

Shawn's father looked down his nose at me, as much as it's possible for a shorter man to look down on a taller one. When he spoke, he spoke to Shawn. 'I fail to understand why you bothered to tell me at all. He wants permission to marry into this family, does he? I refuse to grant it. You have alienated yourself from it for several years and I have no intention of accepting you back. I therefore cannot accept your intended. You both may do whatever you wish as it doesn't affect me in the slightest.'

I took a deep breath and sighed it out in frustration. The scene would have been interesting if it had been part of a stage play and not real life. Verpa's expression was placid, one of complete finality as if he had disposed of an unpleasant topic for good and all. Shawn's older brother admired his father with a matching look of satisfaction. His mother surprised me. Her face was full of high color like she was holding back violent emotions. Shawn didn't seem to notice her; he was focused on his father.

'Father,' Shawn still sounded calm though I knew he wasn't, 'thank you for confirming what I already knew. I have never felt like a part of this family, you made certain of that. Even my given name means 'second.' You win. I'll take my leave for what I hope will be the last time.' Then to me he said, 'let's go.'

We left the room. Shawn led the way to the foyer with rapid long strides. When we got there, he jerked closet doors open to look for our jackets. Shawn was still looking for them when the old butler made a rapid appearance. 'Master Shawn, please, your mother requests to see you in the library.'

Shawn rounded on the man and whispered his refusal. 'No, Cellarius.' He hissed.

The whispering told me that Shawn was VERY angry. Shawn doesn't yell. If he whispers, he's either telling a secret or he's enraged. Shawn had more to say to the butler. 'My mother has spent my entire life not speaking up. Now she can spend the rest of hers with no one around to speak up for. I'm leaving. You can tell her...you tell her nothing.' Shawn gave up on the jackets and wrenched the front door open into the wind-driven rain. 'Are you coming?' He asked me with a voice that was almost normal volume.

I felt his pain, his anger, and his frustration at not being accepted in his own family. I didn't want to make it harder, but the scene was familiar. I'd had a similar blow up when I moved out of my parent's house. The decision I made at that critical moment was to leave. After that, I didn't see any member of my family for two years. If not for my sister and brother, I never would have gone back. I didn't want that for Shawn, especially because his mother seemed to care about him. I could tell Shawn was conflicted over storming out, but that emotion was overshadowed by the hurt.

I tried to diffuse the situation with what I hoped was a reasonable request. 'I think I'd like to meet your mother. Is that OK?'

Shawn glared at me. I wasn't sure what he was going to do. I don't think he was sure either. After a moment's hesitation he slammed the door so hard it sounded like a thunderclap and marched into the house. I followed him, but Cellarius didn't follow us. Shawn led me to a door and jerked it open. The room behind it was a smallish square and every wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf. I noticed that there was no ladder to get to the upper shelves. That told me the books were a status symbol and not there to be read. Shawn's mother stood in the center of the room next to a highly polished library table that was completely bare except for a brass lamp. Her face was tight with strain.

'Mother, this is Church.' Shawn whispered; his voice so low I had to work to hear. 'He wanted to meet you before we leave this house forever. Church, this is my mother, Lenis.'

'Misses Summas, it's nice to meet you.' I gave Shawn's mother my warmest smile and shook her delicate hand. 'I can see where Shawn gets his good looks. You are a very attractive woman. If he didn't look so much like you, I would swear you are far too young to have a son Shawn's age.' I layered the flattery on thick and almost oversold it by kissing her hand. I held back at the last second and settled for a shallow bow.

Lenis grinned. Her smile was just like Shawn's. Her ice-blue eyes flashed in the lamplight and made her whole face glow. 'I see why Shawn chose you, Mister Incolumitas.' Her face fell as she continued to speak. 'I called you both back to apologize for my husband. I wish I could say his reaction is out of character, but sadly it is not.'

'Mother, I'm tired of this.' Shawn said in an even, low tone. 'I'm sick of you letting him get away with treating me, and now my fiance, like dirt and not saying a word in front of him. You always do this. You stand by and let him abuse me because I'm not like him, then when we're alone you pat my head and try to make it all better. It's not all better. Today was the breaking point. I'm done with this house and this family.' Shawn's face was red; his hands balled into fists at his sides. Sadness and anger radiated from him like heat from a fire.

'I am sorry, son.' Shawn's mother shrank under the weight of his accusations. 'I understand if you hate me and this place. You know your father was always intimidated by you because you are like me and not like him. I should have done something years ago, but I did not. He is a fragile man beneath his bluster and taking your side would have crushed him. I do not know what I could have done but seeing you like this reminds me that something would have been better than nothing.'

'I don't hate you, Mom.' Shawn's voice and his manner started to soften. 'This is not your fault, it's his. I don't know why you stay with him. He treats you like he treats me.'

'Not always, not at first.' A sob invaded Lenis' voice. She seemed to be fighting back tears. 'I stay for the memory of what he was, of what we were together once, long ago.'

Shawn hugged his mother and kissed her cheek. 'It's not enough. You have too much love to give to stay here for a memory. It's your life though. I won't interfere beyond telling you that if you ever decide to leave, you should come to us.'

'Thank you, but I could never be a burden to you.' Lenis said in typical motherly fashion.

'You wouldn't be a burden.' Shawn said to dismiss her worries. 'Besides, we're pretty well off, Church and me. Put any financial concerns out of your head. If you make the decision to leave, come to us. Please.'

Lenis smiled warmly and wiped her eyes. 'Thank you, Shawn. Thank you, Church. I will think about it. I promise.' She hugged Shawn and kissed his forehead. 'I love you.'

Lenis shook my hand again. 'Take good care of each other.'

'Goodbye, Misses Summas.' I said and looked her in the eye. 'The offer Shawn made is fine with me. You're too vibrant a flower to wilt in this mausoleum. If you can gather the courage, please join us in the sunshine.'

She told me to call her Lenis, or Mom. We left after that. Cellarius met us at the door with our jackets and bid us goodbye. Shawn went out first to open the car. The old butler caught me before I got outside. He dropped his dignity for the second time that day. 'Do you have any idea how lucky you are that he chose you?' He demanded of me.

'I do actually. For once in my life the spinning wheel landed on my number.'

Cellarius grabbed a handful of my shirt and pulled my face down to his. The old man's strength was startling, and his hard, hot eyes bored into mine. 'I don't know what that means, but I helped to raise that boy and I care about his happiness. If I find out you hurt him, you will have me to contend with.'

The butler's threat was delivered with stony sincerity, and he kept his eyes locked to mine like he was waiting for a reply. I nodded because I didn't know what else to do, and his manner changed like a switch was flipped. He released me and smoothed the wrinkles from my shirt. 'Master Shawn is waiting for you. Goodbye.' Cellarius smiled and shook my hand.

The way he'd threatened me made me believe that angering the old man would be bad for my health, even though I couldn't imagine what harm he could visit upon me. The exchange was both amusing and disturbing. 'Maybe we won't hire him.' I thought as I got in the car.

We drove the two hours home in the rain, almost without speaking a word. The only discussion we had was when I offered Shawn an apology for forcing the visit in the first place. 'Don't apologize.' Shawn said. 'I got to make a clean break with my father today. I also reminded myself that my mother really does love me in spite of her not knowing how to show it. I have some hope now, some hope that she might leave him and come live with us.'

'I'm glad it wasn't a complete disaster.' I said miserably. 'I felt like absolute shit when we were standing in the drawing room.'

'Church, let's not talk about it anymore please.'

I came out of the story and tried to wrap it up for Andy. 'I have never brought that day up, and I never will. So, you see, everyone has something. It's all about how you deal with it. Shawn came to terms with his family that day. That's step one. Step two is how you deal with whatever the rest of it is. If you're gay, you need to figure out how to be OK with that. Then, you can deal with how it impacts your life and your relationships.'

I looked at the cigarette that I'd forgotten to smoke. It had been reduced to a cold butt between my fingers. I tossed it behind me and tried to offer some advice that did make sense. 'I think if you go to your father and have an open, honest conversation with him, he'll understand you. He may not be thrilled. He'll struggle with parts of what your sexuality means, but he won't stop loving you. Shawn's father was a petty, small man who was intimidated by his son. Instead of trying to understand him, he abused him. Your father loves you above anything else.'

'I know he does...but...' Andy trailed off into his thoughts. He was clearly unconvinced. I tried to make my advice sound less urgent and more realistic. 'I'm not telling you to run right home and talk to him today, but I don't think you should be afraid of that conversation. I can assure you, the absolute wrong thing to do is to ignore how you feel. If you do that, you'll just waste years of your life like I did.'

Andy stared at the ground, without speaking. After a minute I interrupted his introspection by rising from the bench. 'I hope I said something at least a little helpful. We should get going. I'm hungry and your dad will be wondering where we disappeared to.'

'I have questions.'

I sat back down. 'Shoot.'

'What was that weird last name that you were using?'

'Shawn's Uncle Ars created an identity for me, complete with forged documents showing I was born on Solum. My last name had to be changed to make it sound like I belonged there. Ars picked that one and assigned it. I didn't have a say. Later when we were married, I took Shawn's name. My legal name on Solum is Church P. Summas. Actually, that's my legal name here now to.'

'That makes sense.' Andy concluded, then he shook his head like he changed his mind. "But...you told that Anthony guy your name was Philips. Why did you do that if your name is Summas?"

I rubbed my neck in embarrassment. The kid had me again. He was definitely my brother's son. "Church Philips is the old me...the Earth me. Church Summas is the new me...the Solum me. Anthony would have known the Earth me, so that's who I told him I was."

"That makes sense." Andy agreed again. 'What about Shawn's first name?'

'His given name is Chordus and he always hated it because it means 'second,' like he's the second son and not as important as the first. When Shawn left home and went to school, his uncle helped reinvent him. Little Chordus was a shy, unhappy kid, with no self-esteem, who grew up in his brother's shadow. Ars suggested he drop the misery with the name and came up with 'Shawn' as a new one.'

'Funny side story,' I said to let Andy into an amusing secret about my husband, 'he's named after Sean Connery, because Shawn's uncle liked the old James Bond movies. He thought Connery was the best Bond and when he needed an exciting name for his nephew, he thought of the films. Shawn is lucky he didn't wind up named 'James Bond Summas' or something like that. On Solum, 'Shawn' is a very exotic sounding name. It was a name that Shawn could use to build his new image around. He never told anyone it wasn't the name he was born with. Right after that day at his parents' house, when he left them for good, he changed his name legally.'

'Got it.' Andy nodded.

'Anything else?' I asked.

'Yeah, you kept talking about how Shawn felt. I know you said you have this connection thing, but how much...uhm...you know. What's it like?'

I had to think about that one before I answered. Talking about the connection Shawn and I had could easily lead me down the road of too much information. I didn't want to have to explain how Shawn and I shared lust and passion. I wanted to keep things clean for Andy. I chose my words carefully to not reveal too much. 'It's comforting. When we're close enough, I know where he is and how he feels. He knows the same about me.'

'THAT'S WEIRD!' Andy exclaimed. 'Can you read his mind?'

'No,' I chuckled, 'and thank God for that. I get impressions of his mood. When he feels good, I get to share that, if he feels bad, I can help him feel better, and he can do the same for me.'

'How does the memory thing work?' Andy asked.

'I remember anything he remembers from his childhood up to the day after we met five-and-a-half years ago, and he remembers anything I do from my childhood to that same day. When it first happened, it was like having a completely separate mind in my head next to mine. As time passed, the memories normalized, and now I can access them as easily as my own. I still know they're his, but they don't feel foreign anymore.'

'Does that mean you can do anything he can?'

'Not exactly.' I explained. 'I couldn't perform medical magic because I'm not an empath. I could play an instrument that he studied, but I don't have the same muscle memory as him, so I'd never sound as good. That said, I can run back over his life and see things as he saw them. It helps me understand his point of view.'

'I guess that makes you guys the closest couple ever.' Andy reflected.

'Don't misunderstand. That doesn't mean we always agree or that we can immediately see where the other person is coming from. It usually makes agreeing easier, but we still argue sometimes. I mean...we don't exactly argue, or we really haven't yet, but we do disagree, but not too often.'

'Huh. You've got a really cool relationship.'

I smiled my agreement. 'You're right, Andy. I'm a lucky guy. Now, we really have to get going.' I warned and felt self-conscious about how long we'd been gone. 'Your dad will be sending a search party out soon.'

Andy and I got into the Town Car and were idling toward the park exit when a white pick-up truck with company lettering on it sped through the gate toward us. It dodged around our car and slid into a parking spot. The dust hadn't even settled around the truck when the driver's door swung open and a fat man struggled out.

The man lit a cigarette and held it away from the open door while he reached into the truck cab for an insulated travel cup. He drank from the cup and shuddered, then he went back to pulling down the smoke like it was the breath of life. The truck had gone by too quickly for me to see what company owned it, but I was sure I recognized the man.

He was six feet tall and had to weigh over three hundred pounds. He was dressed in faded black jeans and a solid red polo shirt under a road crew style reflective vest. He had prescription safety glasses with side shields on and plain brown work boots. He was balding. What hair he had was light brown and cut close to his head. His face was round with full chipmunk cheeks, a small chin, and a red complexion that looked like it had more to do with high blood pressure than sunburn.

I reversed course and backed the car into the spot next to the lettered truck so I could read the words on the door. The truck belonged to the company I used to work for. I looked hard at the fat man and remembered the last time I'd seen him. The intervening years had not been kind to him.

Actually, it looked like he hadn't been kind to himself. His big belly sagged and pulled on his untucked shirt. Stress had carved deep lines into his forehead and creased the skin around his eyes. The hand that held his cigarette shook to the point that he had to concentrate on getting it to his mouth every time he took a drag.

I got out of the car and approached the man. Andy followed.

The man muttered angrily to himself and didn't notice us. I picked up some of what he said as we got close. 'Fuckin' non-smoking site...six fuckin' welders burning rod all day...light a cigarette, you're an asshole...jerk-offs.'

'Sam, is that you?' I asked. 'Do you know me?'

'I'm Sam.' The fat man said and squinted without recognition. 'Wait.' He took a long drag on what was left of his cigarette and tossed it away. He swapped his safety glasses with a regular pair from the pocket of his reflective vest. When he had them on, he scrutinized me again.

'You're just a little familiar.' Sam rasped in a deep voice that had been made coarse by cigarette smoke. 'I'm not sure. If you're who I think you might be, I haven't seen you since that heat recovery job at the coal-fired plant in Reading. Five years ago, maybe six, or a little more. Is that right?'

'You nailed it.' I was astonished he knew me, especially the new me. 'How did you know first try?'

Sam set his travel cup on the hood of the truck and offered his hand. I shook it. 'I hired you and we worked together for eight years. You were the best damn welder I ever saw, even if you were a lush. It broke my heart to lay you off. I tried to call you back; I called and called. Eventually your phone stopped answering and the message said the service had been cut. I even went by your place. The neighbor said you'd disappeared. I figured you died. You look good for a dead man.'

'You to.' I replied automatically without meaning what I'd said.

Sam laughed without humor and had a coughing fit that threatened to double him over. When his ragged breathing recovered, he lit another cigarette. 'Don't bullshit me, Church. We've known each other too long. I'm not even good looking for a corpse. I look like shit, I feel like shit, I can't handle the stress of the job and it's killing me. What can you do? It's the only thing I'm any good at.' He paused to shrug and draw on his cigarette.

'How about you?' Sam asked on a smoky exhale. 'Do you want to come back? I'd hire you this minute and shit-can one of the useless fucks I've got working for me now. Fuck me...if you came back, I could shit-can them all.'

Sam's stream of obscenity reminded me of my brother's kid standing at my elbow. In my mind, I heard Joe saying 'language.' I nodded toward Andy and made the motion of zipping my lips. Sam took the hint, or at least he tried to. 'Shit...I mean, damn...uh, sorry kid.'

Sam shifted his cigarette to his left hand and offered Andy his right. Andy shook it and introduced himself. 'Good handshake there, kid.' Sam complimented. 'Let 'em know you mean business. Send the message that you won't take any shit.' Sam cringed when he realized he swore again. 'FUCK ME...I'm sorry, kid. The words...I don't even hear them anymore.'

A smirk that spelled mischief spread across Andy's face. 'Don't fucking worry about it, Mister Sam.'

Sam's eyes bulged behind his glasses. He barked with genuine laughter until the wracking cough overtook him again. He coughed himself breathless and had to lean on the truck fender to stay on his feet until he recovered. As soon as he could breathe again, he drew on his cigarette and tossed it away. He grabbed his cup, gulped at it, winced, and put it back on the truck hood.

'That's good, kid.' Sam wheezed and thumped the center of his chest with his fist like he was trying to beat down the rattling phlegm with a physical action. 'I like a kid with a sense of humor. Too many kids your age take everything so goddamned serious. Offended by everything. Wouldn't last a half-a-day out there with us, huh Church?' Sam flashed a genuine smile at me and looked back at my nephew. 'Andy, huh...who are you? You can't belong to this one.' Sam jerked his thumb at me. 'He's my brother's son.' I answered for Andy.

Sam's grin widened as he fished his pockets for his smokes. He found them, Trafalgar Square non-filter kings, my old brand. Sam lit one with a plain Zippo. He held the pack my way and I shook my head. I wanted one, but I didn't want to smoke in front of Andy anymore. I also didn't want to remind myself of how good those cigarettes tasted.

Sam shrugged off my refusal and returned the pack to his pocket. 'Your brother must not know you very well if he let his son out with you.' Sam got back to what he'd been saying when the cough had stolen his voice. 'Then again, you look like you've cleaned up. What'd you do, find Jesus or something?' Andy looked to see what my reaction would be. I shook my head at Sam again. 'Not quite. I fell in love and got married.'

Andy shifted his gaze to Sam and looked back and forth between us as we bantered. 'Where in the hell did you find a woman who could turn you into this?' Sam gestured up and down at the new me.

'I didn't.'

'She found you, huh?'

I shook my head again. 'No, HE found me.'

'He?' Sam asked, his head cocked, and a grin on his face that waited for a punch line.

I made firm eye contact with Sam. For some reason, it was important to me that he understand. I guess it was because I respected him. 'Yes, he.' I took my phone from my back pocket where I'd been carrying the thing out of habit, even though it was useless on Earth. I unlocked the screen to bring up my wallpaper. The image was a candid photo of Shawn, shirtless on a sunny day and laughing at something silly Bem had said. I pointed the phone at Sam.

Sam leaned in and tilted his head up and down as he tried to find the right level of his progressive glasses to see Shawn clearly. He took a long look. Sam studied the photo while I held the phone. His eyes flicked up to my face. 'You married him?' Sam asked.

I nodded.

'I'll be goddamned.' Sam breathed. His whole manner changed, all the fake, masculine, construction-site, tough-guy bravado left him. He offered his hand again. I shook it. When he spoke, his voice was soft, almost tender in spite of the smoker's rasp. 'Congratulations, Church...truly. I'm happy for you. If I'm honest, and let's face it, I'm a project manager, what are the odds?' Sam said with a deep shrug to add some dark humor about how much lying goes on in the construction industry. 'If I'm honest, oh shit...I'm happy for you. He's a looker. Good...uh...good for you. All the happiness and that stuff.'

Sam tossed his third cigarette away and moved toward the truck. He paused to shoot a question over his shoulder. 'I guess you don't want to come back to work.'

'Sorry, Sam. I appreciate the offer, but I'm not a welder anymore. I haven't been one since that power plant job.'

'Well fuck.' Sam swore and sounded genuinely disappointed. He turned his girth on his overloaded legs and came back over to us. He dug in his pockets like he was trying to locate his smokes again. He brought out a dog-eared business card and a pen. He wrote on the back and handed the card over. 'Here, take this and keep it. My personal number is on the back. If you ever change your mind, or even if you just want to shoot the shit, give me a call. I'll always be happy to hear from you and I'll always take you back even if there isn't any work.'

Sam waved at Andy. 'Nice to meet you, kid.' As an after-thought, he handed Andy another dog-eared card. 'Call me when you get outta school. We always need summer help and maybe you'd like to try a career in the trades. It's good, honest work. No stress, and it pays a fuck-of-a-lot better than office-bitch jobs like mine.' With that, Sam hauled himself into the truck and drove off with a wave and a grin that looked more like a gas pain than a real smile.

We watched Sam drive off, then Andy and I got back in the Town Car. I sat and stared through the windshield at the lingering dust cloud left by Sam's truck. 'Poor bastard.' I thought. Seeing Sam like that was a little like looking in a mirror at the past. I felt Andy's gaze on me, but I didn't know what to say to him.

'Who was that?' He asked.

'That was my old boss.' I explained.

'He's a wreck, isn't he?'

I gritted my teeth in anger over Andy's flippant dismissal of Sam. I almost bawled the boy out, but I realized he was just a kid. He didn't understand these things yet. Hopefully, he never would. 'Don't say that about him.' I pleaded. As I did it, I realized I was pleading for Sam, and for me. 'He's a good man. He hired me when I was a drunk. He gave me a job when my reputation was so bad, I couldn't get one anywhere else. I'll always be grateful for that. I came to the job interview hammered, not slurring, but not far off. Sam took me out onto the loading dock at his office building, offered me a cigarette, and we talked.'

'Sam asked me if I could dry out enough to work. He'd heard I was good before I started drinking full-time and he needed someone good. He said he didn't care if I drank on the job, only that I was sober enough to do the work, not get hurt, and not get caught. I told him I could, and he believed me. He hired me knowing full-well what I was. I worked hard for him.'

I paused and thought about the long days and double shifts. I thought about the sweat and the heat and the freezing cold. I thought about the endless apple juice bottles of bourbon and the crumpled soft packs at the bottom of the tin bucket full of welding rod stubs. I thought about the job I did and the man I'd done it for. I breathed in and heaved a sigh that exhaled a little over eight years of my life. I looked at my brother's kid and tried to explain the gratitude I had for the miserable man we'd just seen.

'Eventually, I was able to control it...control the drinking...the alcoholism, enough to only drink at night and on the second half of double shifts. Sam kept me working as much as he could and always stopped to talk to me when he visited the site. That wreck gave me the lift I needed to crawl out of the gutter. I only made it as far as the curb, but it was a step in the right direction.'

Andy's eyes shone like he was going to cry. Cry for who or what, I didn't know. 'I didn't mean to insult him.' Andy said and sounded chastened. 'Why does he treat himself like that? He's fat and he smokes. He's killing himself.'

'Says the kid with the menthols in his pocket.' I sniped at Andy. I knew the comment was hitting below the belt, but it was a good opportunity to make a point with the kid. Sam was the poster boy for not smoking. Andy took the pack out of his pocket and shoved it above the visor on his side. I nodded at the gesture and continued my explanation of Sam and the misery some adults never shake. 'He's day-drinking now to. He wasn't doing that when I worked for him before. That coffee cup was full of bourbon. I could smell it.'

I paused for some introspection. 'He's killing himself because he's sad. I don't know why he is, but I know that he is. Something went wrong along the way and all he wants to do is get through life without feeling the pain, without feeling anything. I was just like that for a decade, longer really, so I know what I'm talking about. There's a lot like him out there. Make sure you never get like that.'

'I could never...' Andy started to say.

I cut my nephew off and locked my eyes on his to drive my point home. 'Yes, you could. It doesn't take much. Something happens and you lose your joy, then you lose your contentment, then you lose your hope. Once hope is gone, nothing is left but indifference. When I lived that way, I didn't want to die but I didn't want to live either. I just existed from one day to the next. Whenever I wasn't working, I was drinking because I didn't want to think. I didn't want to experience the hopelessness. Be very careful in your life, Andy. That way of living is slow suicide.'

Andy surveyed my face, as if he couldn't reconcile the man in front of him with the man I just described. 'Why were you like that?' He asked.

I debated for just a second before I decided to tell him the truth. 'You know your grandparents died in a car accident, right?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, for reasons I'm not going to explain, I blamed myself for their deaths. From the day they died, until a month or two after Sam hired me, about two years, I drank every single day, all day. I lost the job I'd had and lived on my savings. Eventually I got to the point where I needed to work, but I didn't know how to stop drinking long enough to get a job.'

I shrugged at the mad reasoning the old me had used at the time. 'I figured I could get one, a job I mean, and then try to stop drinking...during the day anyway. Sam gave me the chance I needed. I owe him for that. I owe him a great deal. If not for him, if not for that cigarette he gave me on the loading dock and the risk he took hiring me, I might be dead now. I probably would be.'

'How did you stop living like that?' Andy asked when I trailed off into thoughts of time gone by.

'Shawn gave me my hope back.' I started the car and pulled out of the spot.