The Untruth Told (3/5)
The Untruth Told
{3/5}
He who does not punish evil commands it to be done.
~ Leonardo da Vinci ~
- Palo Alto, California
Sam loved Jenn, loved being with her; but when she told him that she would be gone for the entire weekend, he couldn’t suppress a blissful sigh at the sound of their door closing. Quiet time - alone time - was few and far between these days.
But, as much as Sam would have liked to simply kick off his shoes, lounge around on the sofa with a beer, and watch whatever game he could find on television, he knew that he had a list of things to accomplish. Wedding things. And, he’d be damned if he let Jenn down again.
Through the grapevine, he had learned of his prior errors and Jenn’s concerns… the grapevine that went from Jenn to Regina to Elizabeth to Jack to Sam. He felt like he was back in high school, but he couldn’t be angry. He was almost glad that he had heard the news from Jack rather than Jenn, as he honestly couldn’t put his finger on why he continued to miswrite his own mother’s name.
These days, Jenn never went anywhere without what she called her ‘second brain’ - also known as her calendar and wedding organizer. So, Sam had started making his own notes, lately feeling that a ‘second brain’ could be quite a benefit. Actually, between work and school, his wedding notebook was actually his third or fourth brain (though they were in no way listed in order of importance!).
So, once Jenn had left, Sam settled for kicking off his shoes, sitting on the sofa with some warmed up Chinese food and a beer, and looking through his list of things he still needed to complete. He was determined to alleviate Jenn’s worries.
Calls to make - he thought to himself while shoving a large bite of garlic chicken in his mouth. Since he now knew the number of out-of-town family and friends that would be attending the wedding and needed a hotel room (tallied from their RSVP cards), he could call the manager at Cliff House.
He felt a little strange about the arrangement. Cliff House was not even an hour away from their apartment, but he and Jenn would be spending four days and three nights there. In a sudden play for sway, Eileen Morris suggested the romantic spot to them at dinner. Though the dinner was to be in honor of the newly engaged couple, Eileen had discussed her own wedding at length.
Mrs. Morris, now a world-traveling successful business woman, had started out as lower-middle class as her now-husband. She made mention of how her wedding had been small and anything but fancy, and how she wanted to give her daughter the wedding she herself had always dreamed of. Apparently, Eileen had always dreamed of a wedding in which her mother chose the place and the food and the rest of the itinerary.
Sam had remarked to Jenn in private that he was surprised her mother didn’t set the date and pick out her dress. Jenn smiled wearily and explained that they had already picked the date (nothing her mother could do about it) and she most likely would have been made to wear her mother’s dress had an unfortunate flood in the basement of her parents’ first home not destroyed it.
But, the Morrises, as parents of the bride, were footing the bill. So (without the words actually being spoken), Sam and Jenn were to put up and shut up, or find their wedding funds suddenly cut off. Not wanting to alienate her parents, the couple chose the former. After all, what really mattered to them was getting married, not the wedding itself.
So, they would follow Eileen’s instructions:
Thursday -Bachelor Party in the Zinc Bar and Bachelorette in Sutro’s Bar
Friday - meet and greet guests, rehearse for wedding
Saturday - wedding and reception, of course
Sunday - champagne brunch in the Terrance Room at 10:00 am
They would chose the Golden Gate Tower Menu for the Reception and enjoy the hot and cold hors d’oeuvres that Eileen chose for them. They would even order the correct wines that she picked out (they would not be serving beer). Then, at 1:00, they would flee and begin their new life together - starting with the honeymoon that they planned on their own.
{-*-}
- Lawrence, Kansas
“Honey, I’m home,” John called out as he closed the front door. It had become a silly tradition since the boys had all moved away, but since they both still laughed at the ‘50s sitcom style greeting; he continued to spout out the phrase day after day.
“Hey, you’ll never believe what was donated to the school today,” he continued as he took off his coat and hung it in the closet. “Someone gave me… and, um, the auto shop kids the most beautiful car. It had been in an accident and the passenger side was good and crunched in, but I think with some work the kids can fix it up. And, you’ll never believe what it is: a 1967 Chevy Impala!”
He could still remember the feeling he got when he first heard about it - he was taken back to his boyhood in an instant. When he was a kid, not quite old enough to drive, one of his friends from the neighborhood showed him the car for the first time. The kid’s older brother had just gotten what they nicknamed ‘The Silver Bullet’. It was the most glorious car John had ever seen and from that day on, it was his dream car.
But, as the car was towed into the garage, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of déjà visté. It didn’t make any sense, but the car seemed so familiar to him. What was even more eerie was that, when he looked inside, he already knew right where to find the coffee and mustard stains - even the dark brown stain (he didn’t want to admit it, but he knew it was blood) that he discovered in the far left corner of the trunk.
When he saw the nightmare of a car, not the shiny silver from his dreams but a spiteful and mocking black, he was tempted to turn it away. But, he tried to focus on his early excitement and keep an open mind. Besides, maybe they could give the monster a paint job.
“Maria?” he called out after not hearing or seeing his wife. “Honey?”
He walked into the kitchen and found a legal pad sitting on the counter. His wife’s usual elegant handwriting looked rushed and anxious.
John -
Cassidy’s having the twins.
Tried to call you but your cell was turned off.
I’ll call from the hospital when I know more.
Love,
Maria
John began looking around and pacing, as if trying to figure out his next move. A giddy medley of I’m gonna be a grandpa, I’m gonna be a grandpa buzzed in his head. He looked in the reflective surface of his toaster. Yep, there was a silly smile plastered on his face.
Gotta call Shane, he thought. Gotta call Mark.
Not that he thought either of the two would be able to simply drop everything and come to meet their new nephews, but they deserved a call. He instinctively reached for his cell phone and then cursed himself.
How long ago did Maria try and get in touch with him? How could he forget to turn his phone on? The twins might already be born! I might already be a grandpa - no, Maria would’ve left a message at the house.
He stopped his nervous movements for a moment and took a deep breath. He was starting to get excited and twitchy. He really didn’t think he had gotten this bad when his own sons were born!
First order of business: turn on the cell phone. He looked at the screen as the device took its time to power up. Three missed messages. The last one was from his wife and he could see that he had only missed her by 20-30 minutes. The first two were unfamiliar numbers. He ran through the menu to listen to them.
As the first voice started, he recognized it as Mark’s best-friend and dorm-mate. The boy had gone to high school with Mark and had even taken John’s auto shop class last year.
Hey, Mister Winchester. It’s Stan. Uh, I don’t know if you’ll get this, but it’s Mark. He’s had a bit of an accident and, uh, the doctors say they can’t give me any information since I’m not family. Um, but, uh, I know it’s his leg - uh, the right. So, don’t worry, ‘cause, uh, he’s being taken care of. All right? I just wanted to let you know.
Filled with a new sort of panic from the kid’s semi-cryptic message, John began pacing again. The next voice that came through the phone was from Mark. He sounded sleepy, or more likely drugged.
Dad? I know Stan left you a message before. I don’t know if you got it but I’m at LawrenceMemorialHospital, and I’ve got a cast up to my thigh. I didn’t want to call Mom and worry her but, I don’t know what to do… So, whatever you’re doing, if you could get here… Please. I need your help Dad.
Well, apparently John would be able to visit two of his three sons this afternoon. Too bad they were in different wards - it would make life a lot easier if Cassidy and Mark could be neighbors.
{-*-}
- Cape Girardeau, Missouri
Dean had never been one to sit still, so instead he took to pacing the narrow hallway that separated the pediatric waiting room from the various other medical specialty offices. He was beginning to wear a path in the carpet from his many laps back and forth between the offices of Dr. Bloom - ophthalmologist, and Dr. Weimer - ear, nose, and throat specialist.
He tried to relax - he really did. But, the longer he had to wait, having been told that he was not allowed to accompany Abby while she was being taken care of, the harder it became.
“Dean?” he heard the familiar voice and looked up to see his mother and father-in-law walking towards him. He was usually quite observant to his surroundings and was a little surprised; not only by their presence, but that he hadn’t even heard the elevator’s loud bell when they arrived.
“Mrs. Robins,” he said, giving the woman a quick hug before she passed him and went into the waiting room to sit with her daughter. “Mr. Robins,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “What are doing here?”
“Carrie called us and told us what happened. She was worried,” the man told him.
“Well, you know Carrie,” Dean smiled, “all it takes is for Abby to scrape her knee and she’s right there with disinfectant, a bandage, and an ice cream sundae to make everything better.”
“You’re right about that,” George Robins couldn’t help but laugh, a deep and pleasant belly-chuckle. “She gets that from her mother, you know?”
George, a tall and bulky teddy bear of a man, put his arm around Dean’s shoulder and gently led him to a bench in the hallway.
“Dean, Carrie didn’t call us because she was worried about Abby.” When Dean looked up at the man with confusion, George continued. “Yes, the scene with Abby scared her, but… well, I know you’re not one for surprises so I wanted to give you a little warning. Carrie asked if we could take Abby to our house this afternoon so that the two of you could talk… privately.”
“What?” The word came out as little more than a whisper and Dean’s insides felt like ice.
George suddenly realized the worry he was unintentionally causing when he saw the young man’s eyes grow wide. He would never understand his son-in-law’s self-esteem issues. Carrie and Abby were his life and Dean would do anything and everything to make them happy, and yet he often second guessed himself if there was even a hint (and in this case, a misunderstood hint) that something was wrong. Though he didn’t know all the facts involved, George knew that Dean’s anxieties stemmed from issues with his family. But, how the man’s family could be responsible for such an adverse reaction…
“No, no, Dean,” he said hurriedly, trying to right the wrong, “it’s nothing to worry about. Carrie is just a little concerned. She says that you haven’t been acting quite like yourself lately…” but the rest was cut off when the three generations of Robins women walked out of the waiting room.
“Daddy!” Abby exclaimed upon seeing him and ran and jumped into the man’s arms.
“Hey, baby,” Dean said, still a little shaken, held onto his daughter as if he were ready to protect her from the world.
“Big, squishy hugs!” Abby said happily and hugged him tighter. “But, Daddy, it’s OK. Doc didn’t even have to sew it up,” she told him as she let go of his neck and held out her arm for him to see. “He just put on some special glue - good as new!”
“That’s great. That means it probably won’t scar,” Dean told her. When she huffed and wrinkled her nose in disappointment, he laughed. “Oh, come on kiddo, don’t take it too hard. After all, it’s not a very good scar story. I’m sure there will be better ones in the future, Monkey-girl.” He ruffled her hair and she giggled at the nickname.
“Abby,” Teresa Robins said softly, “how would you like to come and get a banana split with your grandpa and me?” It was all George could do not to laugh at his wife for being so predictable.
“Aw man,” Dean said when he felt Abby grip his arm, indicating how much she didn’t want to go, “and here I thought that Grandma and Grandpa were here to take me for ice cream. You get all the luck, kid!” Abby laughed and hopped off of his lap. “Hey, make sure you eat all the bananas, Monkey-girl.”
“Dean…” Carrie began, not quite sure what she wanted to say. They had just waved their good-byes to Abby and were walking along a quiet path through a park not too far from the medical building. She looked up at her husband and saw that he was very poignantly not looking at her, and instead was concentrating on breathing normally.
Oh, what did Dad say to him? she wondered. She knew that her father had taken an instant liking to Dean - considering her husband the son he never had, and therefore felt the need to bond and guide and explain ‘those Robins women’ and how they think.
Unfortunately, these little chats often seemed to have the opposite of their desired effect. Carrie knew, after long nights of having to drag the facts out of him (and pouring alcohol into him), that Dean and his family had had a falling out. From what she had ascertained, Dean wanted to travel and get his education through living and personal experience. His brother, Sean, chose the studious route and went to law school.
The rest of the story always became muddled and vague, but from what Carrie had pieced together, Dean felt as if he had let his family down somehow. There were always drunken mumblings of, “not good enough” and “they don’t need me like I need them” and then passing out.
“Dean, please look at me.” He clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, and turned to her. “God, you’re making me nervous.”
“I’m making you nervous?”
“Yes! Look… I don’t know what my father told you…”
“Only that you’re concerned,” he mumbled.
“Please,” she stopped, grabbed his hands, and looked him in the eye, “tell me I don’t have to be. Lately, you’ve been acting… I don’t know - but not like yourself. I’m starting to feel…” she broke the eye contact, “I’m starting to feel like I’m holding you back.”
“What?” Dean was flabbergasted. “Carrie, what are you talking about?”
“Dean, when we first met… you were so, I don’t know… Jack Kerouac, On the Road; travel the country and live your life…” now Carrie was becoming flustered. “I’m just starting to feel that me, and Abby, well - we weren’t exactly part of the plan.”
“Carrie, I’m so sorry,” Dean said, pulling his wife into his arms. “I didn’t mean to make you feel…”
“What? No, Dean, you need to stop blaming yourself for everything,” she told him as she continued to hold onto him, only loosening the embrace so that she could look him in the eyes once again. Seeing the look on his face and knowing what he would say, she spoke again before he had the chance, “Don’t argue with me. I’m older, which means I’m right.”
Déjà vu?
“What?”
“Dean,” Carrie said, instead of answering any of his questions. “Go away with me.”