What did you think about Shawn's family? This seems like it's a family story, or a story about families. The one isn't exactly the same as the other I suppose. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading! Drop me a line if you want. I'd be happy to hear from you.
If you're younger than 18 or find these kinds of stories offensive, please close up now and have a great day! If you are of legal age and are interested, by all means keep going. I'll be glad to have you along for the journey. Please donate to Nifty. This is a great resource for great stories and a useful outlet to authors like me and readers like you.
Crown Vic to a Parallel World: From Whence I Came The second installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips
9
High Finance and Versions of Truth
It was early afternoon as Andy and I drove away from the park. I wondered if there was any lunch at the house and asked Andy to call to see if we should pick up sandwiches. He spoke with his father for a minute. "Dad said to just come home." Andy reported when he'd ended the call. "He's ordering pizza. He sounded funny but didn't say anything was wrong."
I knew that with Shawn there, nothing too bad could happen, but Andy's statement still worried me. I throttled the Town Car and made it to the house in good time. I parked the car carelessly and hurried toward the house. Andy beat me up the walk but not by much. When we got in, we found everyone sitting around the dining room table. Joe had his laptop open. Next to it, was the pile of papers from Ars along with a calculator and some scratch paper covered with figures.
Joe's face was white like he didn't have any blood in his body. He pointed a shaky finger at me as I came near him. "Do you know how much money you're about to be in control of? Did you read any of this?" His voice shook worse than his finger as he asked.
"No. I told you I wouldn't know what I was looking at...and it's not my money, it's Shawn's. Why? Is it a lot?"
"Is it a lot?" Joe repeated like he was asking the question back at me. "As near as I can tell, and I'm not an accountant, there's over four hundred million dollars wrapped up in these papers." Joe held up a fistful of financial statements with adhesive flags stuck all over them like they would prove his point. "It's a tremendous sum of money."
"Wow, that is a lot." I sat in the empty chair at the foot of the table. "Did you order the pizza?"
"PIZZA?" Joe shouted and shook the papers at me. "I just told you you've got four hundred million dollars coming to you, and you're worried about PIZZA?"
I took a deep breath and tried to reason with my brother. "Joe, it's not my money. It's going to be in Shawn's name, I don't enter into it."
Suspicion clouded Joe's features. He eyed me narrowly. "Why not? Did he make you sign a prenuptial agreement?"
I rubbed my face and swore frustration into my palms. "Joe, I want you to listen very carefully." I dropped my hands from my face and counted my points off on my fingers. "Number one, the money will be strictly in Shawn's name, not mine. Number two, Shawn is serving as the holder of this money on paper only. His uncle will continue to control the investments."
"That's..." Joe tried to interrupt, but I talked over him.
"Number three, we live on Solum. This money doesn't affect our fortunes at all. I can't spend US dollars on Solum. Number four, Shawn and I are in joint control of our own fortune. We don't need any more money. Number five, and probably the most important of all, did you, or did you not, order the pizza?"
"Are you trying to make me party to fraud?" Joe asked suspiciously.
I lost it. "DOES ANYONE KNOW IF HE ORDERED THE FUCKING PIZZA?" I shouted at the room.
Shawn answered from behind me. He'd stood from his chair and came to put a calming hand on my shoulder. "Yes, three pies, one pepperoni, a plain, and a sausage. He also got a two-liter of cola, one of lemon/lime, and one orange."
"Thank you." I huffed. I was still frustrated with Joe, but at least I knew food was on the way. I turned my attention back to my brother.
Joe's right index finger rubbed a spot on his forehead above his left brow. "I think you better explain this to me."
Shawn and I explained everything and answered all of Joe's probing questions. He was still harping even after we'd told him everything we knew. "Why does your uncle have investments here?" He asked Shawn. "If he lives on Solum, and the currency doesn't transfer or exchange, what good does it do him?"
Shawn shook his head and raised and dropped an indifferent hand. "I don't know. He didn't tell me, and I didn't ask. Why does it matter?"
I answered that one. "It doesn't. Joe just needs to know everything about anything he gets involved with.
I directed my next words to my brother. "Ars must have it for something. He doesn't do anything that's meaningless and he doesn't play games. My guess is, he's accumulating money in case he needs it. I assume the proceeds of his investments are what's paying for our trip here and what paid for Shawn's stay when he was here five years ago. I doubt there is an endgame beyond providing himself with options in case he needs them. Does that satisfy you? If it doesn't, I don't know what to tell you. I can't exactly get him on the phone to ask."
"Exactly!" Joe pounced on the point. "You can't contact him. How does he manage these funds from another dimension?"
A knock at the door interrupted the discussion and announced the arrival of the pizza. I got up to take care of the driver and bring the food in. The conversation paused while we loaded plates and returned to the table.
The short distraction did nothing to calm my nerves. Joe was under my skin like a deer tick. I kept my outward calm, but it took everything I had. "How the hell should I know how he manages the funds?" I griped to answer the question Joe had asked me a second time as I sat to eat. "He also watches `The Rockford Files' on cable. Somehow, he can communicate with this world, but he didn't share how."
Joe stared down at his plain pizza slice. "I don't like it. Fraud is an indictable offense. I could be disbarred."
I pushed a half a slice of pepperoni pizza in my face to keep from screaming. I thought hard while I chewed and had an answer for Joe when my mouth was clear again. "Joe, this is Shawn Summas," I waved an open hand in Shawn's direction, "he has all the right identification and his uncle's power of attorney. He has everything he needs to prove who he is and that he has the right, and the authority, to do what he's asking you to help him do. The fact that you happen to know he's from another dimension and the ID is bullshit doesn't enter into it."
"I can't compartmentalize my knowledge." Joe insisted.
I came unglued a second time. I couldn't help it. Joe could make the pope swear and that meant I had no chance of keeping my composure. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" I shouted and stood from the table. Joe scowled and his mouth dropped open like he had something to say. I shook my fist at him. "So help me, you say `language,' I'll punch you into next week." I shoved passed Shawn and went to pace the sunroom until I could get my anger under control.
I was still pacing when Bem's voice broke the silence that had settled on the room after my outburst. Bem's words were directed at Joe. "Are you the right type of lawyer to help Shawn and Church do what Shawn's uncle wants them to do?"
"No, I'm not." Joe answered and sounded distracted. "I am a contract lawyer, but I deal with corporations. This type of thing requires a wealth manager. They have financial analysts, accountants, and lawyers that are all specialized in this type of thing. I could do it, but they would be much better at it."
Bem asked another leading question. "Do you have someone in mind that can help them?"
"I was planning to recommend Abbey Associates Wealth Management. They are an excellent firm in Philadelphia. They would be my first phone call."
Bem pursued more information from Joe. "How much would they expect you to know about someone you directed toward them?"
"They wouldn't expect me to vet them, if that's what you're asking. They would do that themselves. In fact, I think they'd be insulted if I offered my opinion on a client."
"Joe." Bem waited until he had my brother's full attention. "Then stop being a pecker-head and make the call. You can't be party to fraud if you're not involved with the transaction."
The sound of Bem calling my brother a pecker-head was enough to stop me in my tracks. I stopped so quickly, my feet slid on the wood floor and I almost fell. I wanted to laugh, but I knew that would set Joe off and I was too interested in what was going to happen next to derail it by giving vent to my amusement. Instead, I strained my hearing to see how Joe was going to react.
Joe didn't say anything in response, but I heard the click as he unlocked his smart phone. A moment later he greeted someone and spoke about dates and times. He finished the call, and I heard another click as he locked the phone. Joe spoke to everyone and no one. "You have an appointment at Abbey Associates Wealth Management on Market Street this Tuesday at ten in the morning. Don't embarrass me by being late."
Bem asked yet another leading question. "Now was that so hard?" I could hear the smug smile in Bem's voice as he teased my brother.
"Just don't." Joe commanded, his voice dry and authoritative. "I don't appreciate being called a pecker-head. Don't do it again."
Bem didn't respond audibly. I took a few breaths to relax and enjoyed the humor of the term Bem had used to describe my brother. `Pecker-head' was a term that I used not infrequently, usually when driving. I assumed Bem had picked it up from me. The fact that Joe then repeated it, was almost enough to put a smile on my face. I stopped in the kitchen for more pizza on my way back to the table. "Thank you." I said to Joe as I sat.
"You're welcome." He replied begrudgingly and not another word was said about the incident.
We finished eating in relative silence. The atmosphere in the house was strained. Joe pushed his plate away and yawned into his palm. He said he felt tired and wanted to lie down. "Must have eaten too much." He muttered. He stood from the table, faltered, and flopped on the chair with a thud.
Shawn immediately checked him over. "He's displaying all the symptoms of low magic." Shawn announced after a superficial exam. He was in his full `Doctor Shawn' mode and using his clinical tone. "He must not be retaining the magic."
Shawn turned to me. "You gave him power yesterday and have been near him continuously except for a few hours this morning. He must be drawing from you. As long as you're near him, he can pull enough power to maintain. As soon as you go away, he loses it. I think the excitement of the disagreement you just had finished his reserves."
I objected to Shawn's logic because it wasn't what I wanted to hear. "But we've been in the same room for the last hour."
"It's like jump-starting a car with a bad battery." Shawn explained. "You can push enough power into him to start his engine, but once you pull away, the battery cannot retain what you gave it, and it runs down."
I felt a smile stretch my face. I loved when Shawn's analogies came from my memories. He said the words like he understood what they meant, and he did, but not from any first-hand experience.
"I'm a dead car battery?" Joe asked as he alternated his gaze between Shawn and me.
"We need to get his power working." Shawn continued without acknowledging Joe's comment. "If he can start using his power, even a little bit, his body will retain the magic and he'll recharge on his own. I have an idea for a way to unlock his power, but...it's a bit extreme. I've never tried it, but it may be time for an experiment."
"What's involved?" Joe asked. He seemed tired and frustrated and up for anything that would make him feel better.
Shawn paused before he explained, he looked into the distance but seemed to see nothing. It was his typical stance when he gathered himself for an explanation. I knew he was ready to speak when his left forearm crossed his body so his left hand could grip his right side, and his right elbow rested on the left wrist so his right forearm and hand could gesture without having to hold itself up.
"My idea is to flood you with magic." Shawn explained and momentarily waved his right hand toward Joe. Shawn cupped his right cheek in his right hand before he went on. "We need to give you so much power that your capacity is filled to overflowing. The extra magic that you can't hold onto will leave your body, but with so much going in, some will have to come out through your power. I think it will activate it along the way."
"Will that work?" I asked.
Shawn shook his head a little helplessly. His hand was still on his cheek as he did it and it made his head shake look a little ridiculous. I bit back a grin and waited for Shawn's answer to my question.
Shawn went on. I assumed he hadn't noticed my fight over my expression. "It's an idea that I had yesterday after I examined Joe. My idea is possible because of the way you can share magic power. It makes logical sense to me that if you push enough of something in...let's say you had a vessel of some kind with a blocked outlet. If you filled the vessel with water, it would come out every open outlet first. If you could push more in than was coming out, pressure would build until it forced the blocked outlet to clear. Joe's ability is blocked, like everyone else's on this world. We need to clear the blockage."
I had a mental image of the aftermath of a boiler explosion that I'd seen back when I was an industrial welder. In that instance, a safety valve didn't operate as it should have, and instead of `clearing the blockage,' the entire vessel exploded. I worried about what magic overload would do to Joe. "Is that dangerous?" I asked.
"It can't hurt Joe. I've never heard of a case of harm coming to someone who was saturated with magic. Most of the power will dissipate to the environment." Shawn took his hand from his face and aimed it at me, four fingers together and thumb up. "It could be dangerous to you. You will have to be the magic source. This will cost you mass and put you directly in front of whatever Joe's power happens to be. It could be dangerous to all of us because we don't know what he's capable of."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "What do you think could happen?"
Shawn answered my question with another question. "Think about your white magic. Could you imagine what would have happened if we could have tried this technique on you? They'd still be cleaning up the rubble of the capital."
That seemed a stark enough warning and definitely something to worry about. I wasn't overly concerned for my personal safety, especially with Shawn nearby, but Joe's magic was an unknown quantity. I wondered if there was any way to know what Joe's power was, or maybe what category it fell into. I asked my question. "Is there any way to get an idea of what type of power he has?"
"I don't know." Shawn shook his head and returned his right hand to his right cheek. "It's said that most people gravitate toward professions that are compatible with their magic type. On Solum, power is cultivated from an early age and education is tailored accordingly. Does one cause the other or simply follow the other? It's difficult to say."
Joe reentered the discussion. "I'm an attorney, what does that mean for my magic type?"
Shawn shook his head into his palm again and I stifled another smirk at the sight. "No idea. It's up to you, Joe. I know Church doesn't mind the risk. I doubt I could talk him out of trying anything that could help you."
"Is that true, Church?" Joe asked and managed to sound like he wouldn't believe any answer I might give him.
I nodded and was a little miffed that my brother even had to ask the question. "Of course, it's true. You might be a pecker-head, but I want you to be OK. Let's try it. Maybe we should go outside. If your power is destructive...well...I'd hate the house to fall down on top of us."
Joe shook his head violently. "I feel like I'm insane. I'm sitting here listening to you two talk about magic like it's real. There is no magic. If there was, why does no one here have any?"
Just like Joe.' I thought without surprise. Even when you prove something, he still doesn't believe it.' I rubbed my face in frustration and muttered, "you can lead a horse to water."
My muttering caught Bem's attention. He and Andy had been quiet since Joe's failed rise from the lunch table. I guessed it was time for Bem to say something. "Why would you do that?" Bem asked with his eyes on me.
"Do what?"
"Lead a horse to water?" Bem clarified his question.
I was momentarily surprised by Bem's question. `Lead a horse to water' was a platitude I'd used in his presence before. I couldn't understand why he'd chosen that moment to ask about it, especially when he'd never done so before. I waved Bem's question away with a dismissive hand. We had more important things to worry about and I didn't want to get distracted with a discussion on folk wisdom. "It's just a saying. It doesn't mean anything."
Joe scowled at my answer. "Don't be that way. Bem asked a genuine question; you should provide a genuine answer. He wants to know about this world. Bem," my brother addressed my friend directly, "the complete saying is, `you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.' It's about the futility of presenting facts that some people will not believe no matter how much proof one offers."
Bem pulled his chin against his chest, scrunched his expression, and shook his head with what I took to be either furious thought or complete confusion. "If the horse isn't thirsty, why would you want to make him drink?"
"You wouldn't." Joe patiently explained. "That's the point. If people don't want to believe facts, you can't force them."
"Like you and Church?" Bem asked for confirmation.
Joe agreed with Bem. "Exactly."
Bem made a leap of logic to connect the saying to the current discussion. "So, you're the horse...the one that's not thirsty." He said to Joe.
"Sort of." Joe hedged and paused to think about how to explain himself properly.
A comment flashed in my brain and demanded I let it out. "Horse's ass maybe."
My comment elicited two responses. Andy got a fit of the giggles, which he stifled when his father scowled at him, and Joe took issue with my word choice. "Language!" Joe scolded.
"Everyone!" Shawn cried to stop the distraction and get us back on topic. We all quieted our side conversation and gave Shawn our attention. He picked up where he left off with an attempt to explain why there was no magic on Earth.
"People here don't believe in magic, so they don't attempt to use it. Their powers remain dormant, and like anything dormant, the longer they stay that way, the harder it is to make their power work." Shawn paused to find an example in his mind and went on when he'd found one he liked.
"Take speech as an example." He waved his gesturing hand at all of us. "Let's say all man communicated with hand signals because they didn't believe speech was possible. No one would try to use their voice for anything. They wouldn't even cry out when they were injured because using their voice wouldn't be an automatic response. The first person to use their voice would make that breakthrough for everyone else, just like if we showed Earth that magic was possible, it would be a breakthrough for this world. That's not why we're here though, so..." Shawn trailed off with a shrug.
"It just doesn't make sense." Joe objected.
I got tired of trying to convince Joe of what was best for him and decided that action was better than words. "It doesn't have to make sense." I used my magic and my strength to scoop Joe out of his chair and into my arms. He fought me, resisted being carried, but I ignored his struggles. I carried him, and his protests, to the middle of the back yard and laid him across the yard swing.
Shawn came out with us to direct the process. Andy and Bem tried to come into the yard to watch what was going to happen, but Shawn sent them away. He warned them that, for their safety, they should return to the house. Andy and Bem objected. Andy complained because he was worried about his father and Bem complained because...because Bem complained.
I suggested that Andy and Bem could watch from the house as long as they did it from behind one of the support pillars between the sets of sliding glass doors that made up the sunroom. If they positioned themselves carefully, they could watch from an angle through the glass. That would put some very strong wood framing between them and Joe's magic.
I figured that, even if Joe's power was destructive and it misfired, it might shatter the sliding door glass, but it would be less likely to destroy the structure of the house. That wasn't much safety, depending on what Joe's power was, but it was better than nothing.
Andy and Bem reluctantly agreed with my plan and retreated to the house. Once they were safely inside, Shawn re-explained the magic transfer process to me and Joe. He added some details because of the overflow we were trying to achieve. He told me to offer my power to Joe until he filled to capacity. Once that happened, I'd have to add some push.
Shawn cautioned me to keep the push very light, because too much push could cause the raw energy to become destructive white magic. Shawn suggested that I'd feel the change in flow when Joe's capacity reached full. He also instructed Joe to keep a running commentary on how he felt during the transfer so we would know if anything changed.
"Can't you monitor him?" I asked.
"Not accurately." Shawn shook his head. "As a third-class empath, I can only see the symptoms of low magic, not his level or capacity. I'd need to be at least a second-class for that. The most accurate measure of Joe's level is going to be how Joe feels."
I bowed to Shawn's expert knowledge and didn't ask any more questions. I took my position next to the swing and leaned down to put my hands on my brother. Shawn moved next to and a little behind me so he could watch Joe's expression. I felt a tickle of Shawn's lust as he took up his position and assumed it was because my ass was pointed at him. I'd been feeling a little needy lately and hoped that Shawn and I could resume our normal levels of intimacy soon. I beat those thoughts down to focus on what I was doing and I felt Shawn do the same.
I put one hand on Joe's chest and the other on his stomach and offered my power to him. The feeling was like it had been the previous day. Joe pulled the magic out of me as fast as I could make it. He drew so much, I started to get the pleasant feeling in my core that comes with generating large quantities of power.
Joe's nature, his ability to find absolutely nothing amazing, served him well during what I imagined was a very strange experience. "Feels good, warm." He said at first. "I'm starting to feel stronger...that's not it exactly. I don't know how to explain it. I feel like anything is possible." He shut his eyes. I suppose he did it to focus on what he was feeling without distraction.
"Something is building inside." Joe's voice sounded almost enthusiastic. "I can't describe it. It's like the beginnings of an orgasm, but not sexual. I think something is going to happen soon. It's still building but...I don't know...the end seems close, but I don't know why I think that. I...uh...I don't...it's...WOW!" Joe exclaimed.
Joe's body stopped pulling the magic from me just as he made his exclamation. I added the push like Shawn had instructed and maintained the flow of magic. A short time later, not even a full minute, and I felt a tremor run through Joe's body. I glanced at Joe's face to check on him. His eyes were open and staring passed me, presumably at Shawn.
Shawn's emotions felt strange to me. They went from neutral, which is how he usually feels when he's in Doctor Shawn mode, to lusty in a split second. The rapid change unnerved me. He spoke and unnerved me even more. "I haven't had sex in four days and it's taking everything I have not to tear Church's clothes off and fuck."
I was so shocked by what my husband said that I stopped the power transfer to see if he was OK. I stood back from Joe and turned to Shawn. He looked calm and a little glassy eyed. "Shawn, are you alright?" I asked.
He replied in even monotone with his gaze still fixed on my brother. "I love Church's body." I looked back at Joe to see how he was going to react to Shawn's lustful admissions.
Joe's predictably scowling face shifted from Shawn to me. As soon as it did, I felt the irresistible urge to say exactly what was on my mind. "It turns me on when Shawn is aggressive." I blurted. The honesty urge went away as fast as it came. I knew what I'd said but had no idea why I'd said it.
I blinked a few times while I collected myself and looked back down at Joe. Shawn was on his knees next to the yard swing. He had his hand over Joe's eyes. "Well, that was awkward." Shawn said under his breath. He instructed Joe to keep his eyes shut, then stood up to explain what happened.
Shawn's left arm crossed his body again, and his right rested on it, and he gestured from the elbow. "He's at least a second-class empath with at least a `B' rating. He just compelled us both to admit what we were thinking, and he did it without physical contact. That makes sense based on Joe's inherent need for truth. He will certainly have other powers, but this one is likely his strongest because it's what presented first. The others will eventually manifest on their own, but it would be better if someone trained him."
"Are you telling me Joe is a human lie-detector?" I asked and got very nervous about what that might mean for my continued relationship with my brother.
"Sort of," Shawn hedged, "that component of his power is a fairly unique one that's known informally as the `power of truth.' It's actually a mild version of mind control. With just eye contact and some concentration, Joe can make anyone tell him what's foremost on their mind, then they will tell him anything he asks. Anyone exposed to that power feels an overwhelming need to tell the absolute and complete truth with no self-preserving spin."
"What does that mean...what you said about spin?"
"I'll give you an example. I'm a competent physician and was in the top of my class in medical school. I can say I am a `good doctor.' Let's say I've convinced myself I am the best doctor in the whole world. If Joe used his power on me, I would tell him I'm a good doctor. I would not tell him my delusion. The only thing that keeps this power from being terrifying is that anyone he uses it on will remember what they told him, even if they don't know why they did it."
Joe interrupted Shawn and me in the middle of talking about him like he wasn't there. "Shawn, that's fascinating, but I'd like to open my eyes now."
"Don't!" Shawn cried. He modulated the urgency out of his voice and gave Joe his reasons. "Please keep them shut. You need to learn to control your power. If you don't, things are going to get even more awkward around here than they already are."
Shawn let Joe sit up on the yard swing but insisted he keep his eyes closed. Shawn explained that he needed time to instruct Joe on his newfound power. Shawn further explained that using magic power was like flexing an imaginary muscle. Since Joe was overflowing with energy, that muscle was clenched like a leg with a charley horse, and it needed to be relaxed.
Shawn worked with Joe to help him understand the concept, and I became the test subject. Wave after wave of honesty compulsion washed over me as I blurted embarrassing sexual truths. I didn't want to spout sex at Joe, but I was pent up from the four-day-long celibacy that Shawn and I had observed while taking care of Bem. Between that and the wave of lust I'd felt from Shawn, relieving the pressure was foremost on my mind.
Because sex was foremost on my mind, and because it was the very thing that I wanted to hide from Joe, it became the very thing I couldn't hide. The experience became a cycle of mortification where Joe scowled disapproval at me and I announced extremely personal things to him, over and over and over again.
The three of us were so focused on getting Joe's new magic under control, that none of us noticed when Andy approached. The boy had gotten curious, and when he saw that we weren't doing anything except talking, he ventured out to see what was happening. I found out later that Bem had cautioned him not to go near us until Shawn said it was OK, but Andy had insisted. Bem didn't see any risk of physical danger for the boy, so he didn't bother to stop him from coming to join us in the yard. Bem remained inside because he didn't want to further complicate whatever was happening between me and Shawn and Joe.
Luckily, as Andy got near, Joe had his eyes closed to give me a break and I wasn't spouting position preferences when the boy moved within earshot. "What's going on?" He asked the group. "Is everything OK?"
Joe forgot himself and glanced at his son to reassure him. "I'm gay." Andy blurted as soon as their eyes met.
`FUCK!' my mind screamed. I reacted before Joe and Andy recovered from their shock at Andy's admission. I immediately moved to separate father and son to avoid any words that might be said in the heat of the moment. I grabbed Andy, turned him away from his father, and marched him toward the glass doors. Joe shouted behind me, but I ignored him. When we reached the house, I sent Bem outside to help Shawn, and I sat Andy at the dining room table.
Andy was crying. "Why did I say that?" He sobbed.
I explained as much as I could about Joe's newfound power and that Andy didn't have a choice but to admit what he was thinking.
"But I don't know if I'm gay or not." Andy objected.
I sighed and sat next to my nephew. I didn't know if I should put my arm around him or if that would be awkward. Instead, I sat with my hands in my lap and stared into the tablecloth. "Apparently your subconscious does. Your father's power makes people tell the complete truth. If someone is lying to themselves, they can't lie to him. Do you understand what that means?"
"Oh my GOD!" Andy wailed. The kid was beside himself and there wasn't anything I could do to comfort him. He wept steadily for several minutes while I felt as useless as most men do when someone near them is crying.
Bem came in and presented himself at the table to get our attention. "Andy," he said, "I talked to your dad. He wants to see you. He's got his power under control and promised never to use it on you again. He also said, `it's OK' and he loves you no matter what. Would you come outside and bring the cane?"
"Did he really say it was OK?" Andy snuffled. He smeared the tears across his face with the palms of both his hands as he tried to get himself under control.
"He really said it." Bem confirmed.
Andy took a minute to collect himself, then carried his father's cane into the yard. Shawn came in as Andy left and shut the sliding door. Anger radiated from Shawn in sour waves. I didn't ask him anything. I assumed Joe was responsible for Shawn's barely contained rage, but I also knew that Shawn wouldn't have walked away if he thought Joe was about to upset Andy. I peered through the glass and waited to see what was going to happen between father and son.
Andy crossed the yard with his head hanging like he was a whipped dog. He didn't raise his eyes when gave his father the cane or when he helped him off the yard swing bench. Once Joe was on his feet, he and Andy said a few words to each other. Joe reached out to tilt his son's head up. Andy finally met his father's gaze. Some more words were exchanged, and Andy hugged his father. Joe hugged him back, hugged him so tightly I could see the boy's shirt bunch across his back. Andy was crying again. His sobs shook them both.
"That's that." I said to no one. "Let's go out front and you two can tell me what really happened." I led the way to the front patio and shut the house door behind us. "OK, talk. There's no way that storybook ending just happened on its own. What did you do?"
Bitter rage roiled inside Shawn. His arms were straight at his sides, rigidly straight, his hands tight fists. I put my hand on Shawn's shoulder and felt that his whole body was clenched. I didn't remember when I'd ever seen him that angry. Bem spoke up when it seemed clear that Shawn wasn't going to be able to communicate until he settled down.
Bem's right hand slid into his pants pocket while his left hand reached up to knead his right shoulder. It was Bem's thoughtful pose. "Joe said being gay is a sin against God. Shawn asked Joe if he wanted his son to have the same life his brother had. He asked Joe if he would be OK with Andy learning to hate himself over something he couldn't help. Joe tried to say something about it being a choice. Shawn asked him why anyone would choose something with such a high personal cost. Joe couldn't answer that one. Joe never said he was OK with it, but he did say he would love Andy no matter what. That's when I came in to get him."
Bem's speech had given Shawn time to cool off. He'd began to relax under my hand as Bem finished up. "I'm sorry, Church." Shawn said with sympathy that I could hear and feel. "I needed your example. Joe needed to hear it."
"Wow." I sighed. I shoved my hands in my pockets to search for comfort. I felt like I needed a cigarette...badly. I felt my wallet, my watch, my phone, some change, a pen. I couldn't find what I wanted. I wondered where I'd left my pack. It took me a minute to remember that the last pack of cigarettes I'd had, I left on the desk in the suite at the Capital Hotel at the beginning of my second full day on Solum.
I wondered why I'd reached for a smoke so instinctively when I hadn't been a habitual smoker in almost six years. It didn't take much reflection to guess that the strong negative feelings, felt in front of the house where so many of those feelings were born, made me reach into the past to find comfort from something I no longer carried. I also assumed that the couple menthols that Andy had shared with me had reignited the ghost of the habit in my psyche.
I rubbed my empty hands together, at a loss of what to do with them, then sat on the step and pulled my knees to my chest. I felt like I used to, a million times, in that very spot; sad, scared, lonely, angry at myself, angry at God for making me what I was and then telling me it was wrong. Shawn sat next to me and wrapped as much of himself around me as he could. Bem stood close. He provided his friendly support without intruding on my relationship with my husband.
The front door opened behind us, and Andy came through it. His eyes were dry, but his face was red and puffy from crying. "You guys can come back in." He announced as he walked around in front of us.
"You OK?" I asked without unwinding myself.
"Yeah, I think I am." He said quietly.
"You just discovered something about yourself. How do you feel about that?"
The boy seemed to debate something in his head before he responded. "I guess I knew. I was scared. I hoped it wasn't true. I thought if I was even a little interested in girls...I guess it doesn't matter now. I'm glad we both know who I am."
"How did your dad take it? What did he say?"
"You were right about that, Uncle Church. Dad said I'm his son first and always. He said he loves me no matter what."
I felt like a bastard that I'd counseled Andy to level with his father about his sexuality because I knew the acceptance the boy thought that he had was a lie. Despite that knowledge, I joined the lie. I wasn't going to be the one to destroy Andy's fragile triumph over his fear. "I'm happy for you Andy." I said to reinforce the lie. "Congratulations."
The boy's face lit up with a relieved smile. I was glad he could smile. His expression didn't last, though. It seemed to fade as he took in the image of the balled-up adult and the man clinging to him. "What's wrong, Uncle Church?"
What can I tell him?' I wondered. Even if he could understand, do I want him to?'
I told him as much as I thought he could handle. "I guess I'm jealous, Andy. That conversation you just had with your dad...no one ever had one like that with me. You're a lucky guy. Don't ever let anyone make you feel guilty about something you can't help, OK?"
Andy nodded, but he looked as uncomfortable as most kids would look when seeing uncertainty in adults that, in their minds, are supposed to have it all figured out. "Sure, Uncle Church. Do you want to come back inside?"
"In a few minutes. You go ahead."
Andy went away. I waited for the glass door to shut and latch before I gave vent to the emotion that had been building up inside me. "It was really ha...hard being a kid here." I gasped as I tried to keep the old dread from swallowing me whole.
Shawn stroked my back. He whispered familiar encouragement in my ear. "I'm here and you're safe with me. I love you and I'm here for you. You never have to face it alone, ever again."
I let Shawn's warmth wash over me. I used my husband's support to chase away the old feelings, to force them back into the dark place where they lived. They went reluctantly, dragging their claws across my psyche as they sank into the black. A couple of the tears I'd been holding back slid down my cheeks and dried in the August heat. "Thank you, Shawn. I'm OK now." I said though I really wasn't.
Shawn drew back from me and stood. I unwound and got to my feet. "You to, Bem...thank you." Bem shook his head, like he didn't deserve any thanks. I let it lay, and we went back inside.