Chapter Forty-One

-- August, 2002

Rolling Stones – “Paint it Black”

Lynn took another drag of her cigarette, like she’d been doing throughout her story. “When he went back to that woman, she wanted nothing to do with him. She heard who Oliver had been spending his time with and blamed dad’s other family for her son’s death. My father spent the next five months begging my mother to take him back.”

Sandra’s animosity at the Christmas party finally made sense. “Five months? Where’d he live that whole time?”

“He was down in Marathon, Florida deep sea fishing and having a nervous breakdown.”

“Jesus...” I exhaled long and hard. “I think it’s safe to say that that was the worst summer vacation story I ever heard.”

Lynn laughed, grimly.

“I’m kind of jealous of Nick though...” I added, smiling.

Lynn immediately turned on me. “You mean the woman who molested him?!”

I wasn’t expecting this reaction. “Yeah...”

“Tell me you understand that Taylor.”

She glared at me until I finally nodded. Lynn returned to her endless pack of cigarettes. I could sense she was done with the conversation.

I wandered off.

The story she told me bothered me to my core. It was jarring to have to rethink the origins of all my Aunts and Uncles, to say nothing of Mom.

God, Mom...

It was no wonder Janet found herself so lost in her relationships. I figured if she and I had anything in common, it was probably that.

I found her sitting by herself on the patio by the pool. If I was ever going to talk to her about this, now was the time. I told her how sorry I was about what happened to Oliver.

“What?!” she said, craning in her chair to see me. “How the hell do you know that name?” The way she looked at me, I could imagine her back on Lake Shore Drive.

“Lynn told me...” I managed.

“That was not her story to tell!” My mother screamed.

“Why are you so upset? It’s just me...”

“Is this fun for you, Taylor?! All these questions you keep asking about the family?! What are you hoping to find?!”

“I just-I wanted to know about you guys!” I stammered. “I wanted to know about you! About why you’re sad all the time--”

Mom appeared blindsided. “You think I’m sad?”

“Yes! And you don’t have to scream at Jesse and me for us to get it!”

All the fight seemed to drain out of her. She sank back into her chair and stared off over the camper grounds. “Love has... always been painful for me.”

I didn’t know how to help, so I just kept quiet. But there were still so many questions I wanted to ask her. I waited for the right moment.

“Do you remember when I asked you about that memory I had of Uncle Nick?” I pictured lost, oblivious patients wandering beige halls. I saw Nick, in a robe, seated by a windowsill. He was in bad shape.

Janet nodded. “Why?”

I recalled how I couldn’t meet Nick’s eyes and kept looking at that fighter jet that Mom had gotten me. “Why did you buy me that plane. Was it to distract me?”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Have you ever thought about just telling me the truth?”

“Not when you were four.”

“And now?”

She sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“You’ve been leaving Uncle Nick out of a lot of these stories you’ve been telling me.”

Janet started gathering her things together. “Taylor, there are things that you don’t need to hear.”

“Come on,” I said, following her.

“He had this secret life that he wasn't too keen on letting anyone in on. There were meetings with random people in bars...” She trailed off, looking away. She almost didn’t say it. “I think in all respects he was probably gay--”

“--What?!” I interrupted.

“He knew our parents made fun of those people, so I guess he chose to keep it quiet.”

I shook my head, unwilling to listen. “No, he loved women--”

“They loved him...”

“No,” I repeated, “that was just something he did when he needed drugs.”

“Come on, Taylor--”

Now I was the one fleeing. “Why would you say that?!”

“Taylor, do you think that you might be--”

“--where's your proof? Why would you say something like that?!”

“Use your head, sweetie. What about Nick and Cody?”

I felt stupid but kept going. “They were roommates!”

Mom shook her head, sadly. “He and Aunt Sheila were always just very good friends--”

“Why are you saying this?!”

I started to walk away as she called after me. “Taylor!”

But I kept moving. I yelled over my shoulder, “I’ll see you later.”

As she watched me go, she threw up her hands. “I thought you were old enough to hear it!” she said.

I wandered along the trailer park grounds thinking a million thoughts at once. I used to believe adulthood was something you grew into. Now I suspected it was a lie created by those who raise you. It's something you project onto them.

Stolen novel; please report.

I walked for a while, aimlessly, but soon found my feet heading back to the community rec. room. It was mostly empty at this early evening hour; everyone having gone back to the motel to change before dinner. But I recognized a familiar face at the bar.

Bill sat drinking by himself. I tried to look at my uncle in a new light. Lynn’s story certainly explained why William was so hard on him. It seemed that after Oliver died, William made his second oldest son pay for it.

I took a seat next to Bill. “Thanks for yelling at my mom earlier.”

He looked at me, a little bit guilty. “Yeah, no one pushes my buttons like Janet...”

“No, it's okay, I don't like her very much either.”

I eyed my uncle as he drank, letting the silence fill the air. “Can I get one?” I asked.

Bill looked around. There was practically no one there. Even the bartender seemed to be on break. “Your mother would kill me...” he said, finally.

“Who’s gonna tell her?”

Bill smirked. He poured me a shot, sarcastically sliding it down the bar. “You’re such a rebel,” he said, mocking me.

I scooped it up and downed it quickly. It tasted like shit. He was drinking swill. I made a face. “I need a chaser.”

“Yeah, of course - they’re over there by the tampons.”

I glowered at him, annoyed. I dragged the garnish station over and fished out a couple of lemon slices. I did several shots in a row, thinking that if I could get on my uncle’s level then maybe I might be able to get what I needed out of him.

Bill watched me down the vodka, a bemused expression on his face, curious to see how far I would take it. After about the sixth shot, he waved me off. “Alright take it easy, maybe eat a couple olives so you don’t puke.”

I could have been more tactful, but in the end, I just blurted it out. “Aunt Lynn told me about your old camp counselor...”

Bill dropped his head, irritated. “Jesus, and you were one of the relatives I could stand.” He was quiet for a moment before sipping his drink. “Let me guess - you want to know what everybody wants to know, right? Did he touchme?”

Bill laughed, brutally. “No, what he did was much worse. He made me believe that I had a friend. Even gave me his address to stay in touch. But when I showed up at his door he acted as if it was the weirdest thing in the world. The way he looked at me... said he was afraid for his girlfriend... like I was dangerous!”

“Maybe people wouldn’t think that if you didn’t keep to yourself all the time.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” he said, howling.

“Fuck you!” I said, reeling from the insult.

“You’re starting to get a little loud, nephew...”

“Why are you being like this?” I demanded. “I already know about Nick!”

“You'll have to be more specific. My wayward brother did a lot of shit.” Bill staggered to his feet and lit a cigarette. He finished his drink and started to leave.

“I know about him being gay...” Bill slowed, halfway to the door. “And that he didn't die from cancer.”

Bill turned around. He made his way back to the bar but didn’t sit. “So, the big stuff...”

“Tell me everything they haven't told me.”

“Trust me kid, to know someone is to be disappointed by them.”

“Please...” I implored him.

“Don’t beg. Jesus, you're just like your mother - you always want what you can’t have. And that's why you want it.”

He tried to leave once more. “Enjoy the bottle. I’m gonna go. Drinking’s more fun on your own anyway.”

I felt the opportunity slipping away. I called after him. “If I don't know what's wrong, I can't fix it--”

Bill laughed at that and stalked back over. “You wanna fix my problems?! Doesn't that mean you think you're better than me? What makes you think there's something wrong with me, huh?! You little shit.”

He lit another cigarette and breathed the smoke in my face. I was quite drunk by then and willing to give it right back.

“I always thought life was supposed to get better. But looking at you now, I know that’s not true. One thing’s for sure though... I won't end up like you.”

I tried to take another sip, but Bill snatched the bottle from my hand. “You kidding?! You already are me! The black sheep, the outcast...”

When he headed out, I slid off the stool to follow him. “Shouldn’t somebody tell Nannie how her son really died?”

Bill snapped. He spun around, frantically grabbing for the scruff of my shirt. He pulled back to punch me but stopped just inches away from my face.

I smiled, drunkenly. “You would punch me, wouldn't you?!”

He let go of my collared shirt and pushed me away.

I knew I shouldn’t have, but by then I was feeling no pain...

I laughed.

He looked up suddenly, aiming to wipe the smile off my stupid face. “Did you know that we killed him? That we stuck a pillow over his face until he couldn't breathe anymore?”

My mouth sagged. I didn’t want to hear any more.

But Bill’s smile matched the one I had previously worn. “Hey, you wanted to know...”

From behind me came a voice. “Bill... why?!”

I turned to see my mother by the door. She had entered so quietly that neither of us had spotted her. She had tears in her eyes.

Bill answered. “Because no matter how hard I tried to get their attention, no matter what I did, they only cared about you--”

“--That's not true!” Janet insisted.

But Bill was too far gone to care. “--And they only cared about Nick and they only cared about Lynn—”

“I meant, why tell Taylor?!”

Bill shrugged his shoulders and set out into the dusk. “He came from you, didn’t he?”

I tried to storm past my mother, but she attempted to stop me--

“Taylor, he was in pain!”

“I don’t care!”

“You should! What did you want me to say? That you didn't know your uncle at all?!”

“You could have helped him!”

“You don't think we tried? That we tried until we were blue in the face?!”

“Not hard enough--”

“I know it’s hard, but we move on. It’s what we do!”

I blew past her but turned back in a fit of anger. “You know what?! I hope I never get old! Because I look around at all you people and you know what? You all look fucking sad to me! You look disappointed. I hope I never end up like you. I don't have to do things the way you did them. I'm gonna make the right decisions in my life--”

“Oh, because you're doing such a good job so far!”

“Why aren't you madder?! If I had been dealt the hand that you've been dealt--”

“--why? I love my life--”

“You do not love your life -- how could you?! You resent me! Because I'm young and I have my life ahead of me. But you shouldn't - I got nothin' goin' for me!”

“You think you're the unluckiest boy who ever lived! You don't see what I see... boarding school, the country clubs, a loving family--”

“--I never asked for any of this! I never asked you to spend a cent on me!”

“You didn't have to Taylor!”

“I didn’t want to be sent away! You sent me away! You gave up on me!”

“We didn’t know how to help you!” she screamed.

I didn’t know what to say. I stood there, crying, while Mom spoke. “You just... you scare me sometimes because you remind me so much of him... of Nick...”

“How could Nick scare you?!”

“He could be dangerous. You remember that fire at Bishop, don’t you?”

“That was an accident.”

“No, it wasn’t. You think he was just caught sneaking a cig with friends? He was lighting matches and dropping them down the laundry chute!”

I thought about William sitting on a bench outside the Headmaster’s office saying, “I can’t do this again, Nick.”

Janet continued. “And that memory you have of Uncle Nick at rehab? It wasn’t a rehab, sweetheart, it was an asylum.”

“No...” I said, shaking my head.

“He was paranoid. He saw horrible things everywhere, heard animals scratching around in the walls--”

I turned pale suddenly. “What did you say?”

“How could we tell you, Taylor?! How could we tell you that you grew up idolizing the wrong person?! Who taught you how to ride a bike? Who let you grow up at their house?! You liked Nick because he was a child! Because he never grew up!”

“Then why did you kill him?!”

“We didn’t kill him. We helped him die! He asked us to in Bermuda. Said he was afraid of how bad it was going to get! He made us promise!

“You didn’t have to.”

I tried to flee once more, but mom caught up to me. “Taylor, my brothers made all the wrong decisions in life. Please don’t let this ruin you--”

She went to hug me, but I pushed her away. When she tried to do it again, I ran.

Images kept coming to me. I saw Sheila cleaning up after hospice had taken Nick’s body away. I wondered if she found the pillow used to silence him.

All I wanted was to go back, back before I knew any of this ever happened. To a time when I had three parents...

I sprinted until I was out of breath. Until I was doubled over and sucking in air. I was near the parking lot that overlooked the creek where I had seen my old friends, the alligators. I prayed that one of them would climb up the ditch wall and take me out of my misery. It would be so easy to climb down the hill and wade into the water...

If what Mom said about Nick was right, then there might be a little animal in all of us. Trying to deny it just made it want to come out even worse. We are human beings that eat and shit and fuck and piss and there are still some people who can't seem to reconcile that. They go on believing that we can be perfect every day for the rest of our lives, if only we try hard enough. Well, I was done trying. All these neuroses feeding each other, balanced in perfect stasis and it was so clear to me that if one of them got better, then maybe they all could.

But what did I know? I was only seventeen.