A simple story II part 5
#5 of A simple story II
The atmosphere was heavy. Literally as well as figuratively between the three men. Greg wiped his hand on his forehead to get rid of his sweat. The weather was turning slowly to the storm despite the good start of the day. The lack of wind strengthened the feeling of wetness making his underarms wet of sweat. He felt as well his skin being covered by some hot moisture on his other joints, or where the folds of his yet loose clothing did not allow his sweating to dissipate easily. Getting used at the physical efforts, Greg did not complained, nor complaining to his father or Francis he was accompaning, not knowing what to do else on a saturday afternoon. And yet, Mark and Francis sweated as much as him, walking on the overheated asphalt of the car park leading to warehouses made of concrete painted in white.
In front, Francis walked with a light bouncy tread. It was him who after all had asked to be led in the industrial area of the city looking for something important.
He had not, unable to sway his father to remain behind the separation glass, asked him what he was talking about. All he knew was that important to him was in a picture frame. Francis arose many questions, most leading to answers worthy of bad movies or dime novels. Unable to find a reasonable solution for such an enigma, he resolved himself to wait until Mark could give him a ride to the deposit.
Francis attention was focused to this issue. He didn't pay attention to anything else. The hot sun and heavy clouds that started to gather in the sky. Or his own sweat, which gave him the impression of wearing plastic clothes for sweating so much. He thanked Mark, of course, for the driving to find something so important, seemingly, for himself.
The only person that he was careful yet, it was Greg. After been kicked out from the team and the loss of his future, Francis was expecting him to collapse in good and due form. But despite a few crises of understandable tears, Greg had remained strong, apparently. He shared Mark's opinion for which this behavior was just a front. In the past, he had almost managed to convince himself that he was heterosexual, therefore, there is no harm to convince himself that he was fine, and that he would overcome this.
Francis didn't have enough life experience to see the precursory signs of the incoming catastrophe. He knew just that this was likely to happen quickly.
« Know where you're going ? »
Mark's voice was strong, as usual. Francis turned his head to answer him.
« Third section, box 4224. Judging by the signs, it is the second way on the right. »
Francis resumed his walk in the middle of the aligned warehouses. All or nearly closed by a thick iron curtain, maintained by a more or less resistant lock latch. A few box were open, empty for the day, waiting for the operator to come to inspect them and to close them with a lock of his own to avoid the squatters. Despite the weather, there was little people that fussed before the open and full boxes. The summer season was ending and people wanted to enjoy the beautiful days, postponing tasks like storage.
He had seen the protective gaze, sad and fatherly Mark posed on Greg when he wasn't looking. His face becoming neutral when Greg spoke to him. Francis had liked this mixture of solicitude and male pride.
« It's here ! »
Francis stood before an iron curtain painted in yellow, somegray hue of metal appearing at the joints of the curtain. He put his hand into a pocket and pulled out a key used to open the lock. The very hot metal gave him a grimace of pain, and he hurried to let it fall to the ground once opened. Damn sun, and screw the heat conduction !
Francis was encamped on his legs, stooped to grasp the handles and lifted the heavy curtain. The movement drew an arabesque of muscles in his legs and his back that Mark noted without further turmoil while Greg appreciated internally. Metal creaked and Francis paid attention to what the curtain would not fall on him.
Once certain about the stability of the opening, he looked inside the box. Mark and Greg stood by his side.
« Do you need help ? »
Francis was attempted to answer no, wanting to get by itself. But the box was full of disparate furniture and bags of clothes thrown in haste, without consideration of storage.
« I think Yes, I could spend hours in there otherwise. Dad told me to pick up the picture frame that was on his night table.
How is it ?
Golden plastic, the upper left corner is broken. There's mom and dad on it. »
Francis felt the bitter taste of loneliness and irreparable loss by saying these words. From his mother, he owned more souvenirs than pictures. He had even less from his father. A few computer files in a folder, somewhere on the hard drive of his computer. A life that seemed to take less space, and who still looked more fragile.
The two rotts looked a short moment and tacitly, they began to pick up in the goods in bulk, each to one side while Francis started through the bags in the middle.
Taking short breaks outside the box overheated by his tin roof, the three men took bags, opening them, looked exhaustively to see if the framework was not inside before to close the bag and move on to the next piece of furniture. An hour went by before Greg opened a drawer and starts to smile, triumphant. He tended the rectangle of plastic to Francis.
« I think I got it ! »
The boy dropped the bag he had in hands and caught the framework, smiling widely. He didn't need to talk to answer. Mark, satisfied, closed the bag he had in hands in and approached the boy to see the search results.
Francis was holding on his hands a golden plastic frame, broken at an angle. Plexiglass also began to be troubled and becoming gradually translucent with time. However it could still be seen very easily the portrait of two people in the picture.
Mark smiled, admiring and enjoying the contrast of furs from Francis' folks, who get from his father about the distribution of whites and blacks spots. Francis senior was on the right of the pic, an happy arm on the shoulder of his wife, smiling in the company of his wife, looking straight ahead.
The picture was nothing remarkable, but Mark felt that something was not right in the picture. He didn't knew what.
Francis was also watching the photo, as well as Greg. He alone wore a sad look on the cliché. His parents were so young. He knew that the photo had been taken some time before his coming in the world. In his hand, Francis took slowly aware that something was wrong. Not in the picture, even if it was the weird framing. His father was on the right, and the edge ate the left side of his body. What troubled the boy, was that the framework was clearly too thick. He felt under his fingers, there was something else inside.
That's when Francis began to open the frame than Mark saw what was wrong with the picture. The framework was planned for a photo in portrait mode, but the cliché was in landscape mode. That explained the strange framing. Francis opened the framework and took out the photo. He quickly discovered that an important part of the picture was folded. But his attention was drawn by a letter, hidden behind. It was without a doubt what his father he had alluded.
The letter or the photo. Francis would have to choose what to see first, because he only had two hands. He made his choice and entrusted the photo folded over to Mark. Greg stood by his father to watch what it was about. Both felt the tension mount to Francis gestures, more and more nervous.
The two rotts focused a moment on the pic while Francis unfolded the letter to read it.
The fold was hiding a third of the original photograph. Leaflet the missing part, Mark could not restrain an exclamation of surprise. A third person appeared. Francis's father had a friendly arm resting as he did on his wife, in a perfect mirror gesture. A second woman stood at his side, the perfect copy of the first.
This was not the picture of a couple, but of a husband, his wife, and Mark considered very likely that the second donkey was the twin sister of the latter.
Raising his gaze, Mark saw that Francis was focused on the letter. It was not useful to read to learn the content. The photo he had in hand was worth all the words. He could see that the world of the boy collapsing completely around him.
--
The young woman looked up at the sky, grimacing a little, seeing the stars disappear behind the clouds for the second time in the evening. The ground she walked on, next to the boy who had accompanied her all day was still wet from the previous downpour. Short but strong, it had failed to lower the temperature or to remove the heavy feeling of wetness that had reigned all the afternoon. But the new approaching storm would certainly keep its promises. The deaf Thunder echoed off already.
« I should have taken my umbrella, don't think I'll avoid the next rain ! »
Lorette was rubbing her still slightly wet skirt reflexively. Fred smiled, rubbing his short hairs to try to evacuate the remaining moisture.
« I hesitated to take my cap and I should had too ! »
Lorette did not hide her smile, walking fast on the sidewalk. They still had a few minutes walk to reach the girl's house. Fred had considered more polite to accompany her taking the risk of getting wet again.
« It's something that I'll never understand in you, guys. A cap ! There are more elegant and pretty things to wear ! »
Fred did not hide his smile in return. The busy day was more than pleasant. Fred had truly appreciated what he had feared to be a chore but Lorette had a form of enthusiasm that carried everyone around her. Another one of his secret weapons to attract the attention of others on her and especially to impose her views.
« I don't see why a cap is a bad thing. It's convenient. You can roll it in the pocket when there is no need for it, it protects from rain and sun...
- And it makes you to look like rednecks too ! Not wanting to be mean, I saw today more ads for beer or cars on the heads of the people than during a week of Fox News ! »
Fred could not contradict Lorette.
« I know that aesthetic speaking, it needs to load more work on it ! But at least we don't have to carry a useless umbrella in hands almost all of the time ! »
Lorette shook her head.
« That's why the purses are for !
This is something that I will never understand in you, girls. Why the purses when you have pockets ?
Pockets on a dress or a skirt ?
Or pants. I have everything in my pockets you know. And I live very well with. And I don't remember seeing a single woman in my life without having a handbag on her ! It's as if it was a new limb or an extra organ on your body !
I am sure that there is a social explanation for all this, and even if I disagree with the sexism that prevents men to have such an handbag too, I am convinced of the inherent superiority of the bag on the pockets ! »
Fred looked at Lorette to smile at him all in discoursing. The duo walked through the cobblestone alleys of concrete leading to the home of Lorette. They were nothing more than a few tens of yards and it seemed good that despite the threatening rumblings from heaven, the time would remain dry a while still.
« With such a speech, I do not see why you should not enlist to the high school fashion club.
And having to attend these unbearable stuck-up ? No thanks, rather break a leg ! I have nothing against fashion, on the contrary, but it is not the center of my life either. It's this kind of obsession that makes life hard for women.
Not being one, I will not argue with you.
You don't know the chance you have to be a man, Fred. Your life will be simpler than mine.
As long as I don't met the wrong people about what you know ! »
Lorette could not this time than approve. Fred didn't not seem to notice, but his approval was tinged with regret.
« May I ask you an intimate question ?
- I do not know. If it's too intimate, do not be mad at me if I don't answer you ! »
Lorette understood.
« If you could change that, would you ? »
Fred looked for a short moment the interrogative face of the young woman, turning to his right to walk on the last street before the destination. Contrary to his wish and hope, he felt a few drops of rain to start to fall on his head. Lorette felt as well than the downpour arrived.
« I don't know to be honest. I like what I am. Although I don't claim not high and strong at every opportunity, I feel good. In my place. Being gay is my nature. But on the other hand, I have an easy life and my life is not in danger because of this. If I was threatened, I don't have any idea about how I would behave myself. »
Lorette smiled somewhat, seeming satisfied with the response.
« It is not a question I have to ask me one day. We like to imagine ourselves as an hero, fighting for a just cause, but as long as we are not faced with such a situation, it is impossible to know what we are made of. »
The duo now faced Lorette's place. Their arrival triggered the automatic lighting which made it even more visible the rain who grew stronger in their approach. It's running that the teens reached the porch. Lorette watched Fred with mutinous eyes.
« Such rain never lasts long in general. You just have to wait here instead of leaving and getting soaked you now. Unless you want to enter. I think that dad put away his gun now. »
Fred shook his head politely refusing the offer with his hand too. The memory of the paternal welcome, earlier in the day, was transformed into a pleasant incident in his memory.
« The porch suits me perfectly. I'm about to go home, either. I spent a great day with you, Lorette. »
Lorette had rest her back against the wall of white wood, near the entry door. The wet shirt was casting her generous and more intensely female forms.
« I also spent a good day, Fred. It's always nice to meet a nice boy really.
- I can say the same thing in the end. »
Fred's smile became more intense, thinking of his sentence without malice.
« What I want to say... It's always nice to have a good time with a friend too... »
Fred had wanted to finish his sentence saying to Lorette how his company was nice and well, hoping to do it again even, maybe. But his mouth was in contact with the hot and humid lips of the young woman. Eyes closed, Lorette had put a hand on the boy's cheek and put her lips against the young man's mouth.
The boy was still caught by surprise to react. All he could feel was the touch of the lips, tenderly placed on his own. By reflex, he began to return the favor, but soon he disengaged himself softly, drawing back his head, catching his breath. Lorette looked at him, surprised in turn, the full look of a light sorrow.
«I... I'm sorry Fred... I don't know what took me ! »
Lorette spoke in a soft, sad voice.
« This is nothing, Lorette. I... »
Fred turned his head a minute, thinking about what was happening to him. About what he had to do. Say. He again reported his gaze on the young woman, not forcing himself too much to offer him a broad smile to comfort the girl somewhat shameful.
« I think I would have tried the same thing if I was dating with a handsome dude, even if in return I would have certainly taken a punch in the face ! »
Lorette could not repress a smile to live on her face.
« In fact, I'm almost glad that you did, Lorette.
Oh, really ?
Yes. I had never kissed a girl before. I know what I am, Lorette. Nothing in the world will change that. But you taught me that there is a difference between the sexes. Between what I could feel or not. »
Lorette looked at the boy, growing a slight tear in the corner of her eye. She still managed to keep enough capacity so that Fred would notice anything.
« How was it then ?
- An experience for me, Lorette. I've kissed a... a boy before. And what I felt tonight there was something incredibly strong and deep. »
Fred caught himself in time. He not only wanted Lorette, that anyone knew, than his first time went pretty wild way with three friends at the same time.
« And you felt nothing of all this. »
Lorette's mind was filled with melancholy. Fred could only agree despite the injury he inflicted to his friend. He saw his sentence go up. Fred appraoached and put a delicate hand on her friend's cheek, trying to put more care in his voice.
« It will be probably insufficient to your eyes, Lorette. But it will be this. No doubt you'll be the only girl I've ever kissed in my life. And I will always thank you for that. »
Lorette was basing her cheek against Fred's hand. She liked the contact more than anything else. She wanted it. But she knew that he would be never fond of her as she was.
« I think I'll get used to this idea over time. »
Fred understood by the sound of her voice she shall succeed there, but that it would take a lot of time. The boy noticed that the sound of the rain was less strong. He did not know if it is a sustainable lull or not. But he had a good opportunity and he did not fail. Fred withdrew his hand and turned on his heel.
« I'm going, now. We'll meet again, probably ! »
Out of the shelter of the porch, Fred was found with a light despite the rain resumed. Before Lorette could tries again to try to convince him to wait, he started running under the downpour, his mind shared between his sorrow for wounding his friend and the satisfaction to know himself a little better.
Vigorously rubbing his soaked head with an hand and opening the door with the other, Fred entered without waiting in his house. Raising his head, he looked around, trying to find out who was inside. On the left, the kitchen door was opened and he heard a sound to come from. After taking off his shoes, he came into the kitchen. He could not suppress a smile of mischief in seeing his father, wearing only an undershirt and undies, quickly closed his mouth, swallowing something and hold something behind him.
« Oh, you're already home ? »
Fred went and tried not to see what was in the back of his father, which seemed to satisfy him.
« As the weather was stormy, we preferred to go home a little earlier. Mom's not here ?
- No, she called. Apparently, the discussion of her book club is going to last a good while yet. What did you do today ? »
Fred opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, opening it quickly before his father could protest.
« Hey !
- You don't say anything to mom for the beer, and I won't tell her about your secret supply of biscuits under the couch ! »
Fred watched his father right in his eyes, sending a first load of liquid hops on his throat. John wanted to rip the bottle of his hands, but the threat above his reserves was to be considered.
« After all, you're not 10 anymore... But just one, ok ?
- Promised ! »
A second load disappeared into the boy's throat. Despite his young age, John couldn't help but admire his poise and his nerve. He had still some hard time to believe about his homosexuality, the mind still cluttered with stereotypes that society had instilled him in his youth on this subject.
John laid the biscuit's box on the work plan, knowing that it risked nothing yet now that Fred knew his little vice. He approached his boy to open the fridge door, opening a beer for himself.
« Don't forget to throw away your bottle directly in the bin outside. You know how your mother control my drinking.
And why you won't throw yours ?
First, I'm in my underwear and I have no desire to put a pair of pants tonight. Then, I won't be surprised if one day your mother make DNA tests to find out who had the bottle in hands then as much as you to now take good habits. And finally, you will because I'm your father. »
Fred could not help but smile upon hearing this last plea. It was true, of course, but it was something so rare to hear John argue that's to enforce his authority that Fred had eventually considered it as a form of ironic replica.
« You still did not told me what you did tonight.
Not much. We were drinking a Coke, we talked, we've been to a movie. Finally I tried to look into it, but I knew the end after five minutes of film.
What was that ?
San Andreas. I had not seen it when it was out, but I had missed anything in the end. Then I walked Lorette home and I got home, soaked wet as you can see !
The next time you'll check the weather before you go out ! Do not lose too much time with your beer and change your clothes before you wet the carpet in the living room ! »
Fred agreed, feeling the moisture of his clothes become unpleasant.
« I'll take a shower and go to bed then. I walked a lot today and I have thighs on fire ! »
Fred looked at the neck of the bottle almost empty now.
« Don't forget to put your clothes in the washing machine, I'll do laundry tomorrow. Do you think you'll go out with her again ? »
The interrogative and falsely playful John tone wasn't luring Fred about his real intentions. It was always an interrogation in the proper manner. A few days before, this would have upset him. But now, the mind lightened by the beer, the boy was taking it like a game.
« I don't know. I'm not against this idea, but I think she won't.
- Oh, why is that ? »
Fred looked at his father, shrugging his shoulders.
« For a lot of reasons. She's a nice girl, but she's a girl. I'll be her friend again but it will not go to the beyond. And she wants more then so necessarily, it will not work.
She wants more ?
Yes. »
Fred hesitated somewhat. He really wanted to talk about what had happened ? He didn't really knew himself. But after all, what harm was there ?
« She took advantage of a moment of inattention on my part to kiss me.
Oh, really ?
Yes. With the tongue and everything. I told her I felt nothing but I lied a little.
You lied ?
Instantly, I felt nothing, it is true. Finally, physical level. But then, I knew that the closest word that can express my feelings about it was "Yuck".
Yuck ?
Yuck. It wasn't a question of hygiene, no. For her, or me. But "yuck." Girls are definitely not for me, I am sure now ! I did not told her because she was too embarrassed herself. I didn't humiliate her more. »
John showed a tired smile, he tried to make fun. Fred understood the reason.
« I have a question ask you, Daddy.
Yes, what ?
You already kissed a boy ? Or a guy ? »
The face of John briefly showed a grimace of disgust at the idea. The grimace that Fred perceived to the dismay of John.
«I... No, never. »
Fred had understood the answer before it was pronounced. John felt shame for what he had expressed. Yet, it reflected his sincere position, but he didn't wanted to hurt his son because of this.
« I've never had the opportunity, and to be honest I don't want to search for it. »
Fred saw the embarrassment of his father. He approached him, having emptied the last load of beer, enclosing him in his free arm, rubbing his face against the jersey of his father. A gesture he had custom to do as a little boy and that he had never done it since.
« Fortunately for me, guys are not for you ! »
John could not restrain a laugh rise in his throat.
« You are what you are, the same way that I am what I am. I told you already, but I'll reiterated. You're my son. And I will always be behind you. It's maybe something I'll fully understand one day. But even if it never happens, it will not taint my relationship with you ! »
Closing his eyes, Fred left his face against his father's chest. He understood his position and it was reassuring to hear him say. He released his embrace, a broad smile on his face.
« I think that I am able to understand it, dad. »
John smiled, this time satisfied and happy. Fred was holding his empty bottle in hands and was preparing to go out, now that the storm had passed.
« By the way !
Yes ?
Remember that Sunday morning when we were on the Thunderbird ? When did you knew ?
It is something that I am not ready to forget !
You told me that you knew that I had sneaked out. But you never told me how you knew ! »
John thought for a bit to remember the thing.
« In fact, there was a gust of wind that night here and it was creaking door. I was upset that you don't noticed it so I came to your room to yell at you. But try to make a lecture to a badly done dummy ! Note, you have as much listening that it sometimes ! »
Fred blushed a little thinking about the reason that made him sneak out that night, and what had happened.
« I guess so.
- I remember that back in my room, I thought « as long he does not put her pregnant... »
The reddening of Fred became more visible.
« You must believe that you were listened ! »
A little uncomfortable, Fred opened the door to go throw the empty bottle and to escape to a conversation that was beginning to bother him a bit. John knew exactly what his son felt. Smiling, he regained his room, glad to see that despite everything his boy was like all the others, in the end.
--
The man was sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair, looking at the other side of the glass, hands clasped in his lap. The empty wooden chair across the solid thick plexiglas was not worth to take the telephone handset still clinging to its support. Turning his head on his left and then his right, Francis senior saw his captivity's neighbours in full conversation with their family, or friends. He does not knew the two men who framed him and could not judge of the links between them with those who were on the other side. On the good side of existence. A side where he had lost the right to attend for a good time. Francis scratched his armpit, growling against some tenacious fungus that irritated him. At his arrival on the chair, he had been somewhat surprised to see no one to face him at last. Probably a last minute delay. The only thing for certain was that his son had come to see him once again.
Francis kept his head low. He really was concerned that this be the last time. Everything was said it to him. His crime. His repeated lies. Empty chair in front of him. Yet, he knew that he wouldn't be sitting in his place if he had no one to talk to him. The parlor was frequent and highly demanded. To see his son twice in the space of a few days was a rare opportunity. Raising his eyes, he saw in front of him the light reflection of his thick face, his black fur that was beginning to turn grey. Focusing, he also saw his gaze. That of a man who was about to lose the last thing to which he held despite everything. His son's affection.
Francis, his sad eyes, laid his hand on the glass in an attempt to touch what he imagined to be the face of his child, based on its own outline. As he looked like him. From birth, Francis had no doubt on his fatherhood. He saw so much of him in his son, carrying in his arms the fragile life which had appeared and who had filled his soul a pride and joy he felt always despite the years.
Francis strongly withdrew his hand from the thick plastic glass seeing his son sit down with authority on the chair. He took the handset. Francis Junior did the same, the look of hardness, anger and blame. His voice masked not his bitterness.
« It was crowded to the bathroom. I was searched at the entrance and exit. They really take security seriously, here. »
Francis Senior noted the absence of an apology and the harsh tone.
« I have not forgotten to leave the package. Six vials of gel shower. This should suffice for a moment. »
Francis John wore a severe look on his father. The latter understood his reasons and he didn't hold it against him. How could with what he did ?
Senior was looking for how to start the conversation.
« You read the letter I guess.
- And saw the picture. »
Senior shook his head. The tone of Francis did not change. But his gaze was evolving. Anger doubling of sadness, of reproach, incomprehension. Senior knew that the time had come.
« I have so much to tell you that I don't even know where to start.
- At the beginning then. I read that she was her sister. A sister I've ever heard of. A sister I learned about only poking deep into vital, at a place or I would never have thought to look for ! »
Still, Francis shook his head.
« You have to know above all as if we have never told you about her, it was to protect you. So that you could have a normal childhood despite to what happened. »
Junior watched his father with anger and curiosity.
« And also, so I can forget myself my mistake. My fault. A fault that I do not regret yet, because she gave me a beautiful son. »
Senior raised his head. Francis seemed pleased with the momentum of sincerity.
« Her name was Doris. Doris and Patricia. I've known them at college. They were in second year. I met them at the library. They liked to wear the same clothes, but they each had a distinct personality. Could really not confuse them when they spoke. I fell immediately in love with Pat. It was a shared feeling but Doris also had an attraction to me. I liked her too, but I knew that between us two it would never work. It was Patricia I wanted. She only. Doris quickly got it and she agreed that we were just friends. »
Senior still scratched under his arm. He kept a fast flow to avoid seeing his voice breaking. He also wanted to avoid the questions. There would be for sure, but he wanted to talk about before.
« I don't know if you've already fallen. It's one thing I want you anyway. It's a wonderful feeling, even if it brings its share of dangers and miseries. Patricia loved me. She loved me enough to screw up her second year and get left back so that we would be at the same level. She would not leave before me. This was a big financial sacrifice, but she did. Doris continued and she went to live her life a year before her sister. Pat and I, we became a couple to his departure. She moved to the West Coast but we had heard from her and she came back for the holidays. »
Senior took a short break, raising his eyes once again to watch Francis. His eyes had not changed. Just a hint of sadness and more.
« Tell you why it was Patricia and not Doris is easy in fact. Pat was more similar to me. Doris was more adventurous, more free. More irresponsible and unpredictable also. I wanted stability and few surprises. Doris was able to give up everything from one day to the next. I liked her, but I didn't see me come home one night and found a table a letter saying she was leaving to the other end of the world and that she'd be back maybe in few years. »
Senior smiled sadly.
« It's what I had in the end, despite everything. At the end of our studies, Pat and me, we got married. We quickly tried to have a child and Pat became pregnant. This did not last. Two months after, she lost the child. »
The eye of Francis changed, showing surprise. Senior saw it.
« We never told you. Pat has had four miscarriages in total. The doctors didn't knew why. This affected her a lot. She dreamed of having children and as time passed and more it was obvious that this would not the case. After the third failure, Pat went into a serious depression. Doris was back from California to help her. It took her a few weeks while I failed. Missed me the link that existed between twin sisters, I guess. Over time, Pat took back on life. She was seriously considering adopting a child to found despite all a family, something she had always refused before. We meet again friends, neighbors that we were away because of these miscarriages. Pat has even organized a big party for the new year. Doris and I were happy. The party lasted all night and the last guests were gone in the morning. Only Doris remained. »
Senior resumed once again his breathing. On the other side of the glass, Francis wondered.
« I was born mid-September. This has to do ? »
Senior nodded.
"You were born two weeks late on the scheduled date. When I woke up in the afternoon, I was naked in my bed. Next to me, there was Pat. I thought that's Pat. But turning the head, I saw her naked across the bed, also asleep. I realized then it was Doris on the other side. I screamed my surprise. It woke up the sisters and they quickly realized what had happened. A maximum had been drinking the night before. »
Francis watched his father with eyes filled with disbelief. Senior smiled shyly.
« I'll spare to tell you what happened during the night. Pat was not happy, but she was aware of the fact that she was responsible too. It was she who had convinced Doris to sleep in the living room instead to take a taxi. I had my heart in other one's boot. Doris swore that she did not knew how she had ended up in our room. Given all the alcohol consumed, we have believed her easily. I must admit to Pat the fact that she never blamed me for what had happened that night, never. Doris left the same evening and we have more news the months that followed. »
On the other side of the glass, Francis could not believe his ears. Yet this elaborated certain passages of the letter that Pat had written before she left in the company of Lily.
« The following week, Pat became pregnant for the fourth time. She tried not to worry and as she sensed, a month later, she had a fourth miscarriage. It was like having a cold in his eyes. I was sad for her. She was doing her best to stay brave but I saw all the distress she was able. »
Francis wanted to place the handset and taking the head in hands. But if he did that, he could no longer hear the rest. He forced himself to listen the story.
« Then the next spring break, Doris returned. We understood why she had not told us. She feared the reaction of her sister, knowing the hell she lived at each miscarriage. She had planned to postpone her coming but she had finally decided to do nothing, believing that we had to face reality in the face, all. Pat was not happy to see the belly of her sister who was rounded while her would be probably flat forever. I was both happy and sorry. Happy to have a child, sorry that's it was not my woman who were bearing him. Doris got a job in the arts. She never went into details, we trusted her. I established paternity so that he could have a father, even to the other end of the country. She stayed a week before returning. That was the last time we saw her alive. »
Senior interrupted his story. Francis stranded sat on his chair. He placed the handset on the ledge and finally took his head in his hands, blowing hard, biting his tongue for not to explode with anger or sadness. However, he sobbed a long time. Senior was sorry to have to tell him this. He was also sorry not being able to take his son in his arms to comfort him. After a moment that seemed an eternity, Francis pulled away his face, rubbing his wet nose against his neck.
« What happened then ? »
Senior bowed his head again.
« Doris doesn't had not told us everything, far from it. We knew she was unpredictable, and that her character sometimes drove her to trust the people that she shouldn't. You were born, but she never did the promised trip to come see again us. Shortly after the beginning of the following year, we received a call from the Californian police. We knew that Doris had been found dead on her bed. She had always loved to make new experiences, but her curiosity made her taste the forbidden and dangerous pleasures. She ODed. »
Senior stand mute, time for Francis to integrate the information.
« The police told us that she found on a stock of drugs too heavily dosed. The overdose was inevitable. It's you who alerted the neighbors shouting for your crib one whole night. Pat was devastated, she had always loved Doris despite her flaws. As I was your father officially, you came quickly at home. For us, it was a complete shock. We didn't want you could suffer from the situation. So we decided to lie to you. Pat took on the role of mother. We have taken the precaution of moving so that the neighbors would not be surprised by your fast arrival. We resumed contact with our old acquaintances after a credible time by lying about your age of a few weeks to perfect the illusion. Our only fear was seeing you come into possession of your birth certificate, it's the reason why we have so that you never have to read. After awhile, we made a fake for you only, to turn off your curiosity, and we have never talked about Doris so that you could never ask you any questions. It was a painful choice for us both as we loved all Doris. But to remove her from our lives seemed to us the best way to protect you. »
Francis put the handset again to compose himself. Senior understood him. He looked to his right to read the time and worried to see the soon elapsed time. Francis, reopening his eyes, noted the gaze of his father on the pendulum, including quickly which resulted.
He remained silent. Simply by staring at his father. He looked down in turn.
« A lifetime lying to me. Even in my worst nightmares I never considered a moment you could be able to do that to me. »
Francis spoke in a low voice. This reinforced the conviction that his father had.
« We knew what we were doing was wrong, Francis. But it seemed preferable to the rest. I'm sorry to see that in the end, we did more harm than good by doing this. We have never wanted this, Francis. Never. Just as I never wanted the death of this poor guy.
- That didn't stopped you from attending his death yet. »
The replica was hurting. But he was right. Senior kept his head low.
« I know. I will never make it. As I can never repair the lies. »
Francis kept his head down in turn. The evocation of the lies made him remember what himself had hidden from his father. Francis was still angry with him, but he felt himself become hypocritical.
« I read the letter from mom... well... my aunt... That I know it by heart. I spent the last three days prostrate on my bed outside of school, dad. Three days without that nothing or no one can make me change my mind until I can see you to understand. You can imagine this, Dad ? »
Senior raised his head. The last word he gave a semblance of hope.
« No. I can't. I always hoped that you don't know this. When Pat were gone, I lost so much. I loved my daughter in the same way that I love you. I can't imagine the pain you feel just like you can't imagine the happiness that I experienced at each of your birth. »
Feeling the end of the allotted time, Senior had laid his hand flat on the unbreakable glass, spreading the fingers, watching his son. He missed him so much. But now that he knew he would probably never feel it close to him, it was so obvious. This drove him to seek his presence even more. Francis was perfectly aware of this. He had a lot of resentment toward his father, but the feelings he always felt for him, he could not reject him.
It is with great hesitation that Francis laid his hand on the glass covering the image of his father's fingers in turn. The gesture, hoped, made Senior to cry, who couldn't contain long tears flowing down his cheeks. Francis, he was still vainly trying to feed his anger against his father. But all that he could express, it was an intense compassion for a guilty man but who did not wanted this.
« I have to tell you, dad...
What is it ?
I knew. For mom. »
Francis's throat was tied even more. Even knowing the truth, he could not do otherwise than to consider Patricia as his mother. Senior felt it also.
« How's that, you knew ?
- That this was going to end. I... It's a long story, but I knew she was cheating on you, dad. I didn't want to say because I was scared, dad. I was afraid that it would be the end between you. I didn't wanted to be responsible for this, but I'm afraid it happened anyway ! »
Francis could not hold back his tears. Senior was devastated. He wanted to get to the other side, but he couldn't do it. He knew and it made him sicker.
« Do not say that, Francis! If this was going to end, you couldn't do anything. Nothing. »
Francis felt that his father tried once again to protect himself.
« But if I said it, none of this would happened, Dad ! »
Senior shook his head.
« You don't know anything, Francis. Even if you had told me this might speed things up. Do not feel guilty, Francis. It's between me and your mother. And no one else. The only people to blame are your mother and me. No one else. »
The great pain of Senior, a discreet ringing in the corridor or him and the other prisoners were sitting. Francis heard him also. The time had come.
« I must go now, my son. Be strong. You're not responsible. If there is something true in everything I told you, that is. Nothing is your fault. It is up to us to endure the consequences of our choices. Our faults. Not you. »
Always wet cheeks, Francis regained control of himself.
«I... Maybe I will believe one day. I'll... try to come and see you soon Daddy... I know that you must leave now. I don't know if I really want to come back, dad. But I'll try, I promise... »
Nodding a last time, Senior smiles at his son, including his doubts and hesitation, the heart filled with hope now. Relenting, he withdrew his hand and keeping an eye on his son, hung up. Francis was slower, but he offered a last smile to his father before getting up and leaving.
--
Outside, the wind began to blow in gusts. The eyes still red with emotion and tears, Francis walked slowly toward the bus that would bring him back to the city in the company of the other visitors, the head on fire, the thoughts troubled, contradictory desires mingling. He barely noted the rumble coming from his pants pocket. Taking his cell phone, Francis read the message.
« On your left, dummy. »
Francis wrinkled his brows, reading the message. He turned his head to the left, noticing the large bear greeting him with great signs of his arms, his butt on the hood of the red sports car.
« Ed ? »
Francis left the leading merchants and joined the bear.
« At last ! You went without seeing me !
What are you doing here, Ed ?
Mark told me this morning that you were going to see your father. As I finished my service, I called him to find out what time you were going out. I didn't call you and bother you so when I heard that you were not yet on the road back, I came. I was hoping to get before the bus left. You coming up ? »
Ed joined his place, opening the door of his car, inviting Francis.
« I don't know. I don't want to bother you.
- You're not bothering me you know. And then I'm already here. Don't tell me you'd rather be on a moldy Greyhound instead of in a small red bomb ! »
The choice offered by Ed was simple and the answer obvious, although Francis did not share in usual way his exaggerated passion for speed. He had also wanted to stay alone to rehash his thoughts. But after all, he could be alone after.
« Well, okay. »
Francis left the bus line and went up next to Ed, who engaged the first, vigorously making squealing the tires and outstripping quickly and carefully the wheezy bus that ran on the main road. Ed put the gas to gain momentum, making roaring the engine under the hood. Despite his gloomy thoughts, Francis could not help but feel a certain pleasure to rise and manifest between his legs, pulling off a smile. Which filled Ed.
« I prefer this kind of look !
Hey, it's always this way ?
Most of the time. It does not last, but it's still nice. »
The red car sped at full speed, Ed being careful to restrain his desire to go faster. He dosed his pace to flirt with the limits, offsetting his want to go more quickly through accelerations and abrupt braking, history of shake their body and to be provided a supplement of adrenaline.
Ed kept his eyes on the road, which prevented him to guess the State of mind of the boy.
« How it happened ? »
Francis enjoyed the fast movements, a hand attached to the door, the glass down to feel the rapid wind against his hand. The surprise of Ed's arrival and the pure speed made their effect.
« I don't know. I appreciated his frankness and his honesty. I didn't like the reasons that pushed him to act.
- It is often our fault, you know. Us, adults. We sometimes judge badly and what we're doing to fix things are often worse with time. »
Francis was always smiling. The words of Ed had a special flavor. He liked his frankness.
« Or how to cause disasters trying to avoid them !
- Exactly ! I know nothing of your father or what he did, but the best thing you can do is to follow his example for not imitate him ! »
Francis nodded. It had meaning. Senior had ruined everything. But his intentions were good. Francis had the chance to take his bad experience to not make the same mistakes.
« I've always blamed mom to had left. But now that I know more things to his topic, I understand a little better.
Oh, really ?
Not to the point of no longer blame her. But I realized that whatever I do, I could not change things. At best, I could delay the separation. But not to prevent it. Can you tell me one thing, Ed ?
About ?
Therefore always to have to take it up the head before to understand things correctly ? »
Ed remained somewhat silent to thick on the question.
« It's probably because we refuse to grow up. Becoming an adult is to realize that what we need to do past before what we want to do. We can reconcile the two, but if one must be sacrificed, it's always what seems to us the most attractive and seductive. It's sad, I know. But I don't make the rules and it is very difficult to change and this doesn't happen without damage on our lives or worse, on the lives of our loved ones. Consider this also.
Yet once, what we want comes after after what we have to do.
Exactly.
I blame my father, Ed. Oh, really. But when I saw him locked up, I could not help but be sad for him. He regrets what he did. For me and the guy who got killed. I want to help him but it's too late.
Oh, but you can still do it.
What do you mean?
Stay with him. He'll serve a long time. A life sentence, maybe. If you stay close to him, this will make it more bearable detention. You're no longer have to see him every day, far from it. But knowing you close to him will do much good for him.
The thing is that I don't know if I want to. You don't know how much I have suffered, Ed. And I want him. But I also think that to let him won't make me more happy. That would make me guilty also.
What you want, and what you need to...
We don't get out of this scheme, right ?
Difficult to.
I'll see then. »
Ed smiled. Despite his marked hesitations, he was convinced that Francis had already made his decision. He now needed just to have the courage to acknowledge.
« When I was younger, I never imagined that the relationship can evolve in such a way.
These are the joys of adulthood !
And you, Ed ?
Yes ?
It's that kind of relationship you had with your parents ? I'm here that for a few weeks, but I don't remember have never heard you of them. »
The mouth of Ed writhed a little. Francis saw him, and he understood that something was wrong.
« Sorry if I put the finger on a sensitive thing.
- It's nothing, you can't know. I never talk to them for the simple reason that I don't know who they are. »
Francis bore his full attention to Ed.
« I was abandoned at birth. I don't know who is my mother. I don't know anything about my father. I was raised in different homes. It was not too bad, but I had never of relationship per se. I built myself only so to speak.
But, your name ?
Given by my tutor at the time. A type I never saw, only to sign some papers. As is sometimes the use, in absence of any civil, he took a famous name in the dictionary. I'm not going to complain, before, it was the registration number that was used as a surname. This is why we had some mister Six and madam Nine...
You're kidding ?
No. It was thus in the last century. Fortunately, that changed. I prefer to wear the name of a painter to be a mister Six for example. I'm free, after all.
And I'm the one who complaining about my life. You don't know anything then ?
Practically. When I was 18 I had access to my files. It was virtually empty, except for a date and place of birth. I managed to find a nurse who worked at the hospital that night. She taught me the little she knew. Namely in middle of the night, a girl came to the emergency room, about to give birth. She did not speak french and she gave no name. Nurses have estimated her age at 15. Maybe less.
Hell...
You said it. I was born and the nurses have contacted the police and social services. It seems that she never spoke. The police have investigated but they never found anything. The following night, she left leaving me in my cradle. No one saw here again. »
Francis remained silent.
« No news ?
None. It was as if she had never existed.
How did she disappeared ?
You know Francis, a maternity hospital, is not a prison. There were cameras but no guards. The time of his disappearance was noticed, she was far away. »
Francis understood, shook his head. He had noted the tone of Ed, who became increasingly nostalgic. He couldn't see the slight tear in the corner of his left eye.
« In short, I had nothing other than my name to get into my life. My past was inaccessible. I decided to focus on my future.
- I understand better. You have never blamed her then ? »
Ed shook his head.
« How could I? I am sure she took the best decision according to it.
You really think?
No, I know.
What do you mean ?
As I was involved in this case, I also had access to the police file. There was a record of her departure, picked up by the cameras. Her face wasn't clear because of the low resolution of the image. But before leaving, she stopped in the nursery. »
Francis remained silent. The voice of Ed took over with emotion and joy.
« She stopped and she kissed me on the forehead. Then she went looking at me one last time. »
Ed no longer said anything. Francis either, merely look at the tears that flowed along the right cheek of the bear before the latter quickly wiped it.
« She did what she had to do. Not what she wanted. I know she loved me and she sacrificed the most important for my benefit, although I'll never know why. »
Francis stared straight in front of him, still silent. He understood Ed's emotions, and he did not want to spoil this moment of intimacy and pure feeling.
The miles went in silence, the inside of the car filled with only the sound of the engine and the friction of the wheels on the ground. Francis was admiring.
« Tell Ed, how did you afford this car ? »
Ed turned his head slightly, his face again illuminated by the pleasure of spinning at high speed.
« It is a very old model that I bought used. I won't ever have the means to afford a new one.
But still, it should cost a lot !
Let's just that it's a long story and that some chapters are not yet legally accessible to you... »
Francis, chagrined, realized quickly, sighing inwardly. Ed smiled openly, happy being understood.
« It's a question of will, too. It is what makes the difference between make something accessible or not. I wanted to have a car of this kind, but I knew that as a nurse I could never afford buying one the regular way.
How did you do so ?
I took the low road. I have developed good relations and I got lucky. I know I could fail in my business but it has not happened. »
Francis had laid his hand on the delicate leather but a bit faded from the door, enjoying the softness of touch.
« It's still a gorgeous car despite his age. Can I drive it ?
No way !
Come on, I will have my license in a few months !
And you think that this will give you enough experience ? Certainly not ! On the other hand... You're in a hurry ?
Not really, why ? »
Ed did not answered. He turned his head to the left to ensure that no one was trying to overtake him despite its high speed. A steady hand on the gearshift knob and a foot full of self-control on the clutch, Ed quickly turned on a dirt road that went through a forest. Francis looked around to try to see where Ed could drive to. After a short minute's drive, the car faced a rusty metal fence that barred access. It didn't stopped Ed, alighted from the car and removed the rusty padlock, raising the bar. Ed took place behind the wheel, forward before going out to close the gate. The bear handed his belt and still took a good minute on a road in good condition despite the dust that had accumulated on the track. The forest was followed by a landscape of tall grass plain. The same landscape that belting prison. They were probably on the edge of the safety limit. The path of dirt gave way to one lane wide and paved, the road dotted with cracks. Quickly the road turned to his right, being elevated to the inside track.
« Where are we ?
- On my small private track... No traffic, no police, no speed limits. »
Ed rolled gently on the track and stopped the car just after the turn. On the ground, traces of faded paintings were always despite the bad weather. The coating is damaged gently but the road still seemed viable. The road was a turn off but the tall grass hiding the rest of the course. The car was immobilized and Ed was roaring engine, licking his lips with appetite. He engaged and with surprise Ed rolled gently. Slowly. Too much in the eyes of Francis.
« Can't you go faster ?
- Opens the box gloves and hand me the glasses. »
Francis opened and found a few pairs of sunglasses. He took one and gave to Ed, who put it on.
« Put a pair too.
Uh, the weather is cloudy.
It's not a question of Sun, it is a matter of mood. »
Including, Francis regarding on-reserve and lowered the sun visor to admire himself in the mirror. To his surprise, the tinted glasses gave him a whole different look. More cool and relaxed. Francis enjoyed it.
« Can we go faster ?
- Always do a first round relaxed to ensure there is no one ! »
Francis listened to the tone of Ed who had radically changed. It was no more the nurse, the father, legal guardian, the responsible adult.
No. Under the effect of the steering wheel leather under the hands, tinted glasses and vibration at low frequencies emitted by the engine, the bear had become a kind of big flippant redneck, ready to empty a tank at high speed for the pure pleasure of the gesture. A thin smile, Ed crushed the accelerator once the first round was completed. Pinned to the bottom of his seat, Francis issued a quick protest that turned quickly into shouts of approval as the car sped at full speed in a rumble of thunder.
Slowing down slightly, Ed began his fourth lap, Francis always screaming his joy of feeling his organs overwhelmed by sudden accelerations. Releasing the gas pedal, Ed grabs the hand brake and giving a sudden steering wheel, he drew the car in a skid that immobilized the vehicle from a grove of trees. Francis seemed to regain control of his breathing while Ed came out, having cut the engine.
« I gotta pee. »
All smile, Francis realized that his bladder was full and went down, circling the car to admire it more closely. The grille in v shape wore a coat gaudy in its Center. A cross of St. George with golden contours on the left, a kind of snake stylized and crowned on the right. Francis was not a wonder what was the name of the car, this name being written basically above the two drawings. Ed saw the interest of the boy to his car, he was back.
« Alfa Romeo. It's Italian. GTV, or 916 model according to the purists. I did swell the engine a little and I strengthened the brakes too. Should never neglect the brakes when you inflate an engine. »
Francis nodded, enjoying the pure lines a bit massive for a model of sport according to him.
« This should cost a max anyway.
- Maintenance, Yes. It is a 95 model. And it drink fuel even faster that Mark does pump his beers. But it worth the money ! Also, I did move the seats before a little so that the rear passengers have room for their legs. But otherwise, given that the car has more than twenty years, it was not too expensive. »
Francis admired the lines, following the curves of the car with his fingers, slowly circling.
« This isn't the kind of car that you go to the supermarket with !
Oh no. For this, there is Mark's pick up.
It's rare to see such craft in the vicinity. I like it. I can't wait to be able to drive it when I can. »
Ed smiled, the word « never ! » screaming in his head.
« I just doubt on the gearbox. An automatic, wouldn't it be easier ? »
Ed smile faded, replaced by a sneer of disgust.
« Francis, an automatic on a sports car, it's like when a straight guy meets a transvestite. He finds it pretty to look at but he realizes quickly the scam ! »
Francis nevertheless appreciated the lines but his bladder recalled him to the order. He walked toward the Grove of trees where Ed was already, legs apart, the open pants, a long yellow and powerful jet lapping against the bark and leaving a puddle on the roots. Francis turned his head and made a similar fate in a nearby tree, the body of bias to leave a minimum of privacy to the two men. Once the urge is relieved, Francis closed his pants and went back to the car, which went his way at a slow pace, leaving the track. Francis had removed the glasses, just like Ed, who smiled at him.
« It's crazy that there is this kind of track in the area. Without anything around.
- From what I've learned, there was a car factory before. It was razed, but the owners were unwilling to spend more to destroy the test track. Mark and I found it one day or we needed to find a quiet corner to... pee quietly. »
Francis looked at Ed on bias. The smile of the bear pointed out his lie. It was useless to ask the real reason.
« There are no miracles, Francis. Sometimes, even the most powerful will may not be enough. »
Francis remained silent, leaving Ed to go there or he wanted.
« But it's a valuable asset when you have a dream to achieve, whatever it is. Failure is always possible, but better fail in having tried to have nothing.
Greg knows that ?
He must understand it. We are trying to help him, but it's not easy. He is taken in still powerful forces and I do not know if we can get him out.
It seems to me so strong. But I think that it is only a façade. I'm always afraid to see him crumble.
This is exactly what is happening, Francis. Find a suitable solution for him won't be easy. It would be a crime to leave him without future. But there is no question of dropping him and only let him as prospect that let him work in a warehouse. I think that even bringing him here was not enough to make him change his mind.
It's as if he needed a new space in fact. His aquarium is no longer inhabitable and he needs a new place to live.
It's a bit that, yes. But it's like trying to find a dry sea. He needs to find a team. Very easy. But or his homosexuality won't be a problem. Very difficult.
Except in one of these gay teams.
It would not be a good idea. It would only shift the problem. He could never go pro. Unless he agrees to play in minor leagues.
It would be a waste.
And it would give reason to those little bastards that caused his exclusion. »
Francis nodded. The problem of Greg was more important, more current, and harder to solve. This caused him to forget his own vicissitudes on the way back.
At the wheel, Ed was hiding his smile. He did not that Francis understand that divert his attention from his problem on that Greg was a good way to think about anything else and distract it from his own trouble. This was of no help, however. He could not ignore the problems of Greg. The resolution was his responsibility now.
But just like Mark, Ed had no idea how to get Greg out of his troubles.