Draigkhiun: Chapter One, Section V

Better late than never getting this posted...

V

For the first time that I could remember, I was awake before my father. The little sleep I had had was fitful and full of waking dreams.

I chased bears through coastal streams where I had never been before. My drill instructor incessantly badgered me through boot camp; reminding me that I wasn’t good enough, a disgrace, and I had best get my act together. There was a blue and brown globe of a planet I had never seen, floating in space. I felt that I knew it somehow.

The worst were the spaceship dreams. I was someone else altogether. I watched that same globe fade from view; a continually diminishing speck against the growing blackness. Eventually it faded to a tiny, blue point and I had to turn my attention back to cramped corridors reeking of dirty bodies, recycled air, aging machinery and hopelessness.

Unbidden, my eyes easily opened to the faint glow of dawn filling the window over where Zeke had once slept. It illuminated every corner of our room. The last dream felt too much like the one of the night before. It was like too many others I’d had at various times and I wished the Draoi had been able to help me when Ma and Pap had brought me to them years ago to explore their meaning or potential.

I felt like garbage but, surprisingly, still lacked a true hangover from the drinks at Beordarakh’s. Although I would have loved more sleep I didn’t see any point in trying to fight the inevitable any longer so I got out of bed.

I didn’t bother to use the household intranet and turn on lights as I came down the creaky stairs and into the kitchen. I had come home in the dark on many nights and was content to enjoy the kitchen as it was. I stood at the back windows over the sink and watched the sun come up.

As much as I was not an early riser I still loved watching the sun rise and feeling daytime life seep back into the world.

The old coffee pot began to sputter and hiss and I listened to liquid pour from the percolator and into the pot. Pap always had it programmed for just before he would wake up. I walked over to the cabinet and grabbed my favorite mug. The coffee was finished by the time I returned to the pot. I poured a healthy shot of cream and honey into the mug and added coffee.

“Well, good morning, Caleb.” Pap called from the next room. He sounded a little surprised. I heard him limp into the bathroom next my parents’ bedroom on the first floor.

“Banakhta er maijin,” I quietly replied. I leaned against the counter and stared out at the maples. I wondered if some of the frustration my father and I felt with each other was because we never saw each other at that time of day when everything was new and full of potential.

I heard sounds of flushing water and Pap came out into the kitchen. Without a word, he poured a mug of coffee and came to stand next to me at the window. Setting his mug on the counter, he pulled his long, gray hair back and slid a band onto it.

“You’re up early,” he commented. “I heard you come in and figured you would keep your regular hours.”

“I couldn’t sleep, you know, things are on my mind.” I exhaled slowly. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen the welcoming of the sun that I figured today might be a good chance.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You know, it always amazed me how well you handled boot camp and the Guard. I don’t ever recall that you could otherwise handle early mornings, even as a small child.”

“I have my great moments, Ahir, especially when I’ve no other choice.”

“And you have no choice, today?” My father turned to look at me. “You don’t have to work.”

“Maybe not,” I replied. I offered nothing further. I just kept staring out the window.

“Would these particular things have anything to do with that letter you received from your uncle, yesterday?”

“That’s my business, right now.”

“Okay.” Pap turned his attention back to the window. “I just hope that, whatever he had to say, you make your choices very carefully.”

“It’s my business, for now, Pap!” I had a little edge to my voice. I didn’t like his tone, even though I’d expected it.

“I know. I’m not trying to pry, Caleb, but you’re the only one in the house that receives written letters. It’s pretty difficult to not take a peek and get curious.”

“Sure,” I replied through clenched teeth. I turned away from him and fixed another cup of coffee.

“You’ll tell us when you’re ready?” he asked.

“Yes.” I sat down at the table and looked out the front windows by the pantry door. I tried to think of what to say next. Behind me, Pap gave a long, drawn out sigh.

“Caleb,” he asked, “can I get your help on something, today?”

“Sure. What?” I looked back towards him.

“Could you start putting together the plans for our hunt?  I won’t have time. We need the harvest tickets and the transport reservations real soon.”

“Okay. Are you sure you want me to do it?”

“Yes. You’re more than able and I should’ve asked you to do more of it.” He turned around. “Oh, and don’t forget to plan to have Calliope come along.”

“Diana still isn’t interested?”

“She says she’s still a vegetarian.”

“Are you sure Cali’s ready?”

“As ready as she can ever be. We’ve been grouse hunting several times and I think she can handle her own.”

“She does seem eager to get her hands dirty.”

“She is her father’s daughter,” Pap replied. His eyes watered and he turned his attention back to the window and the growing daylight. I left him alone and got up to start another pot of coffee, listening to the long exhales my father was sighing.

I grabbed the CMI from the wall unit in the dining room and brought it back into the kitchen. Secretly hoping that I would still be on Andowhan for the hunt, I started by recalling the files for our equipment lists from past years and began adjusting them to include a teenage girl. I wanted to utilize the quiet to get the planning done before the rest of the family woke up. I didn’t need any distractions. I would wait until the twins left for school before making any of the actual reservations.

I heard Pap leave and put his boots on in the back foyer. He quietly exited the house without another word to me.

I began typing up a supply list when I heard the upstairs shower begin running. The morning’s quiet was coming to an end. If it was a typical morning, there would be a fight before the twins left for school. I couldn’t recall Zeke or I ever fought the way these two could. But, three years separated us. Luke was considerably older than both of us so he had been more like an uncle than a brother.

The water ran for almost twenty minutes before the frantic banging started.

“Quit it!” The yell from the bathroom was muffled.

“I’m going to be late! Come on.” The shrill, teenaged shriek came echoing down the stairs. I cringed and clenched my teeth. Intervening would only make it worse.

The water was turned off. I heard the woof of a door opened quickly on a steamy room.

“Don’t you gripe at me, you lazy ass, the alarm was on your side of the room. You’re the one who rolled over and went back to sleep.”

“But you knew they were imaging the Cumann Layas at school, today. Now I won’t have enough time to get ready.”

“There isn’t enough time in forever for you to look good!”

I tried to concentrate on my lists. I was failing miserably. I was getting a headache from clenching my teeth too much.

“Okh, and look who’s talking, Princess, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you clogged the drain with all your dirt! Poor Caleb has to work extra hours whenever you shower.”

I was absolutely certain that Luke, Zeke and I never fought like this. I minimized the holographic screen and keyboard on the CMI. I relaxed my jaw, closed my eyes and began to rub at my temples. I remembered one definitive reason I liked to sleep late.

This time, the water only ran for about seven minutes. Then came the pounding footfalls, slamming doors and muttered curses. The back door opened as my father started to come back into the house.

“Pap,” one shrieked down the stairs, “would you tell Cali to stay out of my makeup?”

“Cali,” my father hollered, “leave Diana alone.”

“Stay out of it!” sweet Cali snapped. Another door slammed. I wondered if they were taking the fight into my room; there was an extra mirror there. I kept my eyes closed and massaged my temples harder.

“Don’t you wake your Gramma up!” my father bellowed.

“Pap, stay out of it!” There were two voices in unison that time. A door slammed upstairs. There was muttering in the foyer and the back door slammed.

Everything went quiet. I opened my eyes and got up for another mug of coffee. My stomach was souring so I added extra cream and withheld the honey. I leaned against the counter and stared at absolutely nothing until I heard footfalls on the stairs. The door off the foyer opened and Diana came into the kitchen, tucking her shirt into the top of her jeans. Her long, loose, dark hair was still damp. She didn’t look like she had applied much makeup.

“Banakhta er maijin, Nakht,” I greeted her.

“Banakhta, Uncail,” she replied. She headed straight for the refrigerator.

“Coffee?” I asked, holding up my mug.

“Nee’r woh lahm.” She shook her head. She grabbed eggs and milk and took it to the big stove.

“Would you like an omelet?” she asked me.

“No thanks, I have everything I need in here.” I pointed at my mug. Diana shook her head and proceeded to fix her breakfast.

“Shanmahir’s still asleep?” she asked.

“Yes, your grandmother’s still asleep. And it’s no small wonder.”

“She worked late. She had to travel all the way out to Scoiteville for the clinic; there was some sort of emergency. She was pretty drained and upset when she got home.”

The door opened.

“She still beat you home, Caleb,” the young woman commented, stepping into the kitchen.

I did a double take, finally recognizing Calliope. Her makeup was expertly applied, her blonde hair precisely braided and she looked more like a professional woman in her suit-dress than a secondary student. Where Diana was dark like her father and grandmother, Cali was light like her grandfather. Both shared the dark, almost black, eyes of their grandmother. They were both as tall as I was—a feature they’d inherited from both grandparents.

They were fraternal, not identical. And they were growing up faster than I could assimilate. I realized they were almost of age for Dahshcavil and felt a powerful need to protect them. I swore that they had been little girls only a few weeks before. Their boot camp for Garda Plannad was only a season away as well.

Cali poured a mug of coffee or, at least, cream with a little coffee for taste.

“Breakfast, Your Highness?” Diana motioned to her skillet.

“No, thank you,” Cali replied, sweetly, “I won’t have time now.”

She sat primly at the table and stared at me as I leaned against the counter. Diana slid her omelet onto a plate and brought it to the table.

“You should eat something, Calliope,” she commented.

“What, and get fat like you?” Both girls scrunched their faces and stuck their tongues out at each other. Both of them usually had healthy appetites, like their father, and didn’t show a bit of fat. I got fat watching them eat.

“Are you and Pap getting ready for the hunt, Caleb?” Cali asked, nodding at the CMI. Diana focused on her omelet. At least she still ate eggs and dairy.

“Yes.”

“When are you and Pap going?”

“Two weeks.”

“You have the time off?”

“Yes.” I poured another mug of coffee. My coffee-cream ratio was beginning to look like Cali’s.

“I think it would be fun.” She smiled at me. “It’s a shame that Zeke can’t get leave and come home. It’s always nice to have a third person along.”

She kept smiling and stared at me. The brat knew we were going to ask her along. I kept my mouth shut; this was Pap’s responsibility.

“So, are you going to Terra, Caleb?” Diana innocently asked. She stared at me over her empty plate.

I stepped quickly over to the door between the kitchen and the dining room, sloshing coffee the entire way. My parents’ bedroom was on this end of the house. I softly closed the door and turned to face my nieces. Through the back windows over the counter, I saw Pap on the far side of the gardens.

“What do you know?” I growled. “Have you been going through my mail?” For fun, they had hacked my accounts several times over the years, and steamed the seals on several of Genevieve’s envelopes.

“No,” Diana replied, “we stayed at the top of the stairs and listened to you and Shanuncail get drunk the last time he was here.”

“Pap’s been mumbling about the envelope for several days,” Cali added.

“Does Ma know?” I asked. I set my mug on the table, grabbed a towel and began to clean my mess off the floor tiles.

“Pap doesn’t want to say anything until he’s sure, Caleb,” Diana said.

“So, it is true,” Cali smugly interjected. She looked like a cat-that-ate-the-canary as she held her mug and tried to look like an adult. Diana looked as though she could be sick. She wouldn’t look at me.

I glanced at the clock on the wall bordering the pantry.

“Don’t you have school?”

“Yes.” Diana nodded her head, stood up and put her dishes in the sink. Cali stood and haughtily placed her mug there as well.

“Come, Princess,” Cali said to her sister, “let us depart.”

“I insist,” Diana replied, holding the door open. “After you, Your Highness.” The girls stuck their tongues out at each other again and stepped into the foyer. They grabbed their jackets and packs.

“You have to tell them, Caleb,” Diana instructed me through the door, “and soon!” Her face was pained.

“Not a word,” I warned them, “this is my business.” They didn’t respond as they left.

I felt sick.

I slumped into a chair and grabbed the headset off the CMI. I needed a distraction. I adjusted it snugly over my ears, against my temples and along the base of my skull. The warning tone told me it was okay and I slid the blue-tinted visor across my eyes. Staring at the door to the pantry, I heard and then felt a pulsing countdown. I had uplinked my consciousness to the household intranet.

The image of the pantry door jumped and I felt like I was sliding on ice. It only lasted a moment before I was standing in front of the taskbars for the Tchakh Clann. Feeling light and a little incorporeal, I found the path I wanted through the icons and stepped into my virtual reading room.

I linked out to the Cog-Net and downloaded my news service. I sat down with my virtual paper and began to read.

The headlines confirmed much of what I had gathered from the few snippets I’d eavesdropped at Beordarakh’s: 

Siefren Baccarde had been confirmed as the new Volksfuhr of the Wassenglian Polistagg. Like her father, eight years before, she was thought to be a moderate. I couldn’t believe this had made the front page.

There was a filibuster pending over Colonial sovereignty of trade. I began to dismiss it as more partisanship until I read that the loggerheads had come regarding attempts to open trade with Mensuunum and the Unity by Shindaiwa and Tánn’mekkah. I didn’t have to read the pundit’s sidebars to see the backdoor attempt at normalizing relations. All such attempts had to be backdoor: there were too many generations of hatred—especially between Shondrean and Unitarian. Of course the Confederation had put a dramatic stop to the efforts and, now, any legislation regarding inter-Colonial trade was being stalled by Shindaiwa and Tánn’mekkah—both of whom extended great influence over the younger Colony of Aldersheime, giving them more power in Parliament.

I shivered at the thought of us ever attempting the normalization of relations with the Unitarians. Their views of the uses of technology within society were antithetical to the Shondrean beliefs, as well as most Creationists’. They used clones as slave labor, affecting a genetic caste system within their society. They used mind control to enforce peace and harmony. I was amazed that the Shindaiwans wanted to trade with them at all. The potential technological contracts must have been too lucrative for common sense to prevail.

Andowhan Orga, Cairibhe and Wassenglia could remember too many conflicts and the Unitarians were hated and feared across the Confederation almost as much as the alien Fhovoy. The Histaklii were merely troublesome compared to either of the others.

I turned my attention back to the virtual paper.

In the Andowhan section, there was a report of a draigmilishokh attack near Scoiteville, on the other side of Armagh. Three people had been attacked within the perimeter of the village and two had died. It was no wonder that Ma was so late getting home. As a trauma specialist she had been sent there after the attack.

It was rare for a single draigmilishokh to attack multiple people. Draigmilishokh—draigs as they were more commonly called—were the intelligent, indigenous apex predator on Andowhan. In the Shondrean, their name was “nasty dragons”. And nasty they were. I was terrified of them, as were most people that ventured into the Andowhan wilds. Luckily, there were not a lot of them. Still, humans always carried firearms beyond the perimeters of their communities as a precaution.

I began to read the specifics in earnest. The Androscoggin Plains, where we hunted antallop, were part of the Armagh Wilderness Reserve.

“Caleb.” My mother’s ebony-colored face peeked in the door to my virtual sitting room.

I was startled. The safety protocols automatically logged me off. Warning pulses counted, I slid along the ice in a downlink and my eyes tried to focus back through the visor. I looked over to my mother, sitting at my right, as she refocused her own eyes. Everyone had the Cognitive-Interlace implants but was restricted in their uses. As a medical doctor, Ma was Active and perpetually linked to the Cog-Net without the aid of a CMI. Only the CAF shared those same privileges.

My mother was the perfect complement to my father. Where he was always calm and rational, she was fire, emotion and compassion. Both were tall and lean. He was Andowhan light, in complexion, and she was Cairibhean dark. Both were strong of personality and soul. Both had kept their hair long since the Histaklii conflict, never returning to the CAF.

“Oh, Caleb,” she apologized, reaching to touch my hand, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Her black eyes projected warmth and concern.

“By barging in on me?” I flipped the visor up and shook her hand away.

“You hadn’t locked me out.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to.”

“Well, I am truly sorry, sweetie,” her patois made her voice melodic. She reached out to rub at my head as I took the headset off. “I’m still trying to recover from yesterday afternoon.”

“I was reading about it when you startled me,” I commented, “it sounded horrible.”

“It was.” Her ebony face paled. “We should kill every one of those foul things!” She stared down into the steam rising from her tea.

“No, Ma,” I replied. Eradicating a species was against Shondrean beliefs. Everything held a sacred balance in the universe. Allowing limited hunts and defensive killings had taught the draigs to give humans a healthy respect.

“I can’t disagree more.” She was quiet after that. She stared at nothing and I couldn’t tell if she was online or only lost in her thoughts.

I reactivated the CMI and, using the keyboard, began the process of registering our harvest tickets with Andowhan Fish and Wildlife: AFAW was only going to allow our family a total of six antallop for the year. I also finalized our travel arrangements to be dropped off in Androscoggin. Our transport costs were easily offset by the Agrarian Tax Credits. Our government encouraged its people to live from the land as much as possible.

While I worked on our reservations, Pap returned from outside. He grabbed my empty mug and poured coffee for both of us before sitting down next to my mother. She leaned against him and put her head on his shoulder. They said nothing to each other. They would do that often and I could never understand how they could go so long without talking to each other.

“I suppose I can’t talk either of you into canceling this hunt?” my mother finally asked. I’d been waiting for the request.

“Mareia,” was all my father replied.

“No, I didn’t think so.” She sat up and stretched her arms. She pulled a band from the pocket of her robe and tied her disheveled hair back. There was more gray in her hair than I remembered.

“You will be careful, will you not?” It was more rhetorical than inquiry. “Of course you will. You’re my big, strong men.” She looked at my father and smiled. His return smile showed clearly through his thick beard.

“Calliope?” she asked.

“Will not leave my side,” my father responded.

“Good. I wish I could go, if for nothing more than watching out for you.” She looked at me. I clenched my jaw at her over-protectiveness.

My mother actually did like to hunt but she was fatally allergic to the stings of several of Andowhan’s indigenous insects. So, she no longer cared to be far from established medical facilities.

“So,” she asked, “how was your letter?”

Both Pap and I looked at her. My breath caught for a moment. The whole family must have been aware of the rare letter.

“Ah, interesting,” I replied. My heart began to beat fast.

“Was it from Genevieve?”

“No, actually it wasn’t.”

“God,” she said, “who else writes as such?” She looked at nothing and was quiet; apparently searching her thoughts for whom else I might correspond with.

“It was from Malakai, Mareia,” my father replied.

“I didn’t realize the two of you were writing.” She leaned back against my father and smiled at me. I felt horrible, absolutely knowing what her next reaction was going to be.

“Yeah, we’ve written a few times since his last visit,” I responded.

“It is so nice that the two of them can correspond, isn’t it, Fergus?”

“Yes.” Through his thick beard, my father looked almost as pale as my mother’s robe and I knew he was anticipating what was coming as well. I don’t think I looked much better. Still half-asleep, Ma didn’t seem to notice.

“How is the old rascal doing,” she inquired, “does he plan on coming back to Andowhan?”

“He’s doing well and, no, I wouldn’t expect him to return anytime soon.” My throat was dry.

“Did he have anything else to say?” my father quietly asked, fatalistically encouraging the inevitable.

“Actually,” I replied meekly, “he, ah, offered me a job.” It was out.

“That’s nice,” she started to say.

Her eyes opened wide and she sat up straight, shivering a little as she did so.

“My god, it’s finally come,” she muttered under her breath. I barely heard it before she raised her voice. “On Terra; you are kidding me, aren’t you?”

“No, Ma.”

She violently twisted and pushed my father away from her. His chair almost tipped over but he calmly caught himself and swiveled the whole chair to look at her. He stayed an arm’s length away.

“What did you know of this?” she hissed at him. The melody of her patois was gone.

“Nothing.”

“Your own brother would scheme this without telling you?”

“Yes. You know him almost as well as I do these days, Mareia.”

“Of course, you turned it down,” she stated to me, turning away from my father. Her hands were shaking. I had only seen those doctor’s hands shake once before, at Luke and Elise’s memorial service.

“No, Ma, I accepted it yesterday.”

“Fuhkinay, you didn’t!” She began to try to control herself, taking deep breaths. Her eyes showed conflicting fear and anger. I was never sure that there was a true difference in those emotions. “You have no idea what you may be getting yourself into. You can’t possibly, Caleb.”

“Jehosephus, Mahir! Nee’r lahnveen agam.” I was sick of feeling treated like a little child.

She reached over and slapped me.

“What the—” I started to exclaim.

“Don’t utter that devil’s name at my table!” She drew herself up straight in her chair. Momentarily taking control, she became all Cairibhean propriety; the matriarch of the household. “I’ll not tolerate that profanity under our roof.” With her reproach, she was much more composed. Pap didn’t move; didn’t say a word.

“Now,” she continued, “you can’t possibly expect to go traipsing across the galaxy on some fantasy he has deluded you with. Your future—your family—is here. It is not in their hands.” She may have been Cairibhean but she spoke like a true Shondrean.

“No, Ma, it is not. My future isn’t in anyone’s hands except my own.” My voice was regaining some strength. My body buzzed with anticipation of the escalating conflict. My parents actually blurred in my vision momentarily as I tensed myself for the inevitable contact.

“You will ruin any chance of a career on Andowhan. That place has wasted far too much of all of us. Your father, your uncle—me,” she tapped her chest, “have all paid for that accursed planet. I’ll not watch another. It will use you and rip you apart as that god-fuhkin’ war over it ripped apart your father.”

“Maybe I’m finally willing to take that chance, Mahir. What is my future here, alcoholism?  My career makes just enough credits to pay my bar bill. The only thing I have had around here was the Cumann Shanakhai and the only ones who ever appreciated it were Mahmoh and Daideoh and that was years ago!”

“I have lost Luke. I will not lose you; I will not let them have you, too.”

“You already have!” I screamed. I slammed both palms down on the table and leaned forward locking my eyes on hers.

“Caleb,” Pap warned. He started to reach for me. I brushed his hand away and sat back in my chair, fighting to regain control. I fought tears as well as rising anger.

“You lost me in the shadows of Luke’s ghost. You have held my life hostage to that pain and fear.” I chose my words slowly and carefully.

“What do you know of that pain, Caleb?  You have seen nothing of those horrors your father and I have witnessed.”

“Precisely,” Pap interjected. Ma gained a satisfied look. Her husband was coming to her side, as he should.

I readied myself for his flanking assault.

“He has seen nothing of this,” Pap continued calmly, “but we make him live it every single day.” Ma snapped her head around to stare at him in open-mouthed incredulity.

“Fergus?” Ma fought her feelings for a moment, trying to maintain the control she had regained. Her whole body quivered. I almost hated myself for this; for forcing her to live her fear.

“Caleb,” Pap said, “cancel your acceptance. This, ah, may not be the job for you. You may find much about it you will not like and you will be a long way from home. I have connections and can make it worthwhile if you want to explore full-time duty in the Garda Plannad.”

“No,” I replied, succinct and cold. “It wouldn’t change a thing.”

“If you don’t cancel,” Ma said, shaking, “I will petition for your Armed Forces exemption.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“We have the right, Caleb,” Pap replied. “You are our remaining child. The petition would succeed.” His eyes flicked towards my mother and I had the impression that he doubted his words a little.

That blew the last control on my temper.

“Go ahead and do it!” I screamed. I stood up and my chair went flying against a cupboard. I heard wood crack but didn’t care.

“Do it!” I jabbed a finger towards the back door. “Do it and I am out of here for good.”

“You would estrange us, Caleb?” Pap asked. He was still confoundedly calm.

“Faster than you can believe.” I could not look at Ma as she sat; her tears beyond control and finally beginning to flow.

“If he’s safe I don’t care,” Ma sobbed, “I don’t care. I don’t care. I do not care!” She frantically stood and grabbed the CMI off the table. She almost threw it at my father.

“Maudit batarde, do it, Fergus!” she shrieked. “Start difuhkin’ petition! Don’t you be wastin’ our time or his life on this bolshiit?”

I had never heard my mother curse before this morning. The kitchen was quiet except for her sobs and my heavy breathing. Ma stood for several minutes as my father sat, arms folded, staring from her, to the ceiling, to me.

“No,” he finally stated, breaking the silence between us.

“What?” Her voice was so choked we barely heard her. Tears flowed down her cheeks in rivulets and her nose began to run. She closed her eyes tight.

I had not expected this from my father. He looked old and ashen as he sat there, caught between us. I did not want to fathom his thoughts.

“We have to let him follow this calling, Mareia.”

Without a word, Ma turned and stalked through the dining room. The door to hers and my father’s bedroom slammed with the sounds of splintering of wood.

My father and I remained silent in the kitchen, listening as her sobs resumed. My entire body was shaking and my cheeks were wet. My bowels began to cramp up. I hung on to the edge of the counter, as though it were the edge of a cliff, in order to steady myself. I felt I couldn’t breathe.

Pap came over and picked up the chair I had kicked away.

“Why does this seem to keep happening, here?” he asked as he surveyed the damage.

“What?” My reply was choked. I turned my face away from him to hide my own tears. I didn’t want him to see how shallow my newfound confidence truly was.

“Nothing,” he responded sadly. “Just, I’ve been here before.” I barely heard him. “This kitchen’s seen a lot through a few generations and I’d hoped that would end for a while.”

“I think maybe it would be best if I stayed with Paul and Magritte for a few days, huh?”

“Perhaps so.”

I listened some more to my mother’s sobs echoing through the house. I was amazed at how quickly it went wrong. But she always had been ruled by her passions. Pap stared towards the door that led through the dining room, off to the family room and my parents’ room. He fiddled with the chair as he did so.

“Aren’t you going to go to her?” I asked.

“Right now,” Pap replied, patting me on the shoulder with his free hand, “not on your life.” 

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