319 Winesap Lane - 22. Chapter 22 - Jerry Comes Back, Part 1

Jerry’s POV

“Jerry, how are you today?”

“Alright, Dr. Avianca.”

“What has been going on with you during the past week?”

“Well, the A Corps has invaded the B’Nethean Empire and many men, women, and children were slain in the name of the God of Perpetual Harvests.”

“Who are the A Corps?”

“I cannot say lest they become manifest in our reality.”

“Jerry, do you really believe the A Corps has done this evil deed?”

“You see Dr. Avianca there is no other explanation for the deaths in the B’Nethean Empire.”

“Jerry, where is the B’Nethean Empire?”

“It is twelve points west of the Negrathebis Constitutional Monarchy in the realm of Nefdethebis. Some people mistake it for the Hierarchal Monarchy of Nefdethebis, but it is a totally separate realm.”

“Jerry, where are you now, at this very moment?”

“Uh, well, Dr. Avianca, I think I’m in the medical center in Rochester, New York; in your office, to be exact.”

“Good, and where is the Hierarchal Monarchy of Nefdethebis?”

“It’s, it’s, it’s, it must be near; mustn’t it? Dr. Avianca, am I imagining this?”

“Yes, Jerry, it’s all in your mind.”

“But, what is reality?”

“It’s not what you are seeing in your mind.”

“Can I be saved, Dr. Avianca?”

“Yes, Jerry, with help you can overcome your distorted view of the world.”

“Where do I start, D. Avianca?”

“You start now, today, at this point in reality.”

“Where is this?”

“You are in my office in the Rochester Medical Center in Rochester, New York, the United States of America, on the North American Continent, in the Western Hemisphere of the Earth. Do you understand that?”

“Room 435, Rochester Medical Center, Crittenden Drive, Rochester, New York, forty-seven miles west of my home at 319 Winesap Lane, in Warnton, New York. Yes, I understand where I am now.”

“Does this have any relationship to your fictional beliefs of your location on planet Earth?”

“I don’t know Dr. Avianca. It’s so confusing. I see these other realms, but I think you’re telling me they don’t exist. What am I to believe?”

“Jerry, look at me and tell me what you see.”

“You’re a woman, maybe in your fifties because of the amount of gray hair. You seem to have a kind face, almost motherly. You are wearing a white medical jacket that I would expect of the medical staff here at the hospital, but you don’t have a stethoscope, meaning you’re on staff in some way. If you are who you seem to be, then I have to assume our current relationship is in a present that I do not recognize. Am I to assume we are not in the B’Nethean Empire?”

“Jerry, we have to assume your fictional empire is a figment of your altered imagination.”

“Is it as simple as that, Dr. Avianca?”

“In many cases, Jerry, it is as simple as that.”

“What do I have to do to center myself in this reality?”

“Jerry, that is your assignment for the next week. I want you to try to focus your mind on the present reality. I want you to read a daily newspaper or a news site online so that you can see where you are in this world. I want you to relate to those around you in a way that you believe is representative of reality around you. When you come next week I want you to tell me about your week outside of the fictional reality in your altered state of mind. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I can only try, Dr. Avianca.”

“Very good, Jerry, you can go now.”

* * *

“Hi, Jerry, how did your session with Dr. Avianca go?”

“You are Dr. Geoffrey Johnson, my employer and the principal adult in a group foster home in Warnton, New York, where I live. Uh, I had a very interesting session with Dr. Avianca. She is my psychiatrist. How are you today, Dr. Johnson?”

“I am well. Are you ready to go down to Batavia to pick up Erik for his weekend with us?”

“Erik? Erik is blind and of diminished physical stature due to a deficiency of human growth hormone produced by his pituitary gland. Eric is blind. He needs our help to function in society. Have the papers come through for you to adopt Erik?”

“As a matter of fact, they have,” Dr. Johnson said. “We have an appointment this Monday morning in the Wayne County Family Court to finalize the adoption.”

“Will Erik be able to get out of school?”

“Jerry, everything is okay. Are you ready to leave now?”

“I have to concentrate on my presence, but I am ready to accompany you, Dr. Johnson to get Erik at the School of the Blind in Batavia, New York.”

I tried not looking around me at other people in the clinic, whether they were staff or patients because my mind still produced an illogical representation of their being. Many of the people had two faces, but a few had three. From somewhere in my mind I knew that wasn’t possible because neither Dr. Johnson or myself had multiple faces. We got on an elevator with a few other people, but I looked at the floor lest I see they had multiple faces.

Between the third and second floor I saw one of the others produce snake-like appendages where its feet should have been. Somewhere back in the deep recesses of my mind I knew these manifestations were not true, but my focus on current reality conflicted with those realities to the point where I had to shut my eyes and grasp Dr. Johnson’s arm.

“What is it, Jerry?” he asked.

“I’m seeing things and I need your support,” I said.

“I’m here for you, Jerry.”

When the elevator came to a stop, Dr. Johnson said, “Jerry, we have to get off now.”

“Will you guide me?” I asked.

“Sure thing, just hold onto my arm,” he said. “Excuse us; please excuse us, this is our floor.”

I followed Dr. Johnson as best I could until we were out of the elevator. Dr. Johnson said, “Can you open your eyes now or do you want me to guide you out to the parking garage?”

“Wait a moment and I’ll open my eyes,” I said. When I did I saw a large room filled with people or mere representations of human beings. Many of the people had multiple faces with pale skin over bloody bones. I shut my eyes and concentrated on who I was and who Dr. Johnson was and then opened them again and saw the other people as they really were, which was just like me and Dr. Johnson.

“We can go to the car now,” I said.

As Dr. Johnson led me to the car I kept looking around at the people to see if there were any aliens, but for some strange reason all the people looked perfectly normal, whatever that was. On the other hand, maybe they were appearing too perfectly normal as if some higher being had modeled them after some perfect being out of a catalog of human beings.

“Dr. Johnson? I need to shut my eyes for a little while,” I said. “The people around us are looking a little too perfect. I’m sorry.”

“No problem, Jerry, take ahold of my forearm and I’ll lead you out to the car.”

It was surreal experience having Dr. Johnson lead me out into the parking garage. I know we went up an elevator and then walked quite a distance until we stopped and he said, “Wait a minute, I’ll unlock your door. Okay, you can get in now.”

After fastening my seat and shoulder belt, I opened my eyes and saw A Corps transports and fighters all around us. I quickly shut my eyes and thought back to my session with Dr. Avianca. Obviously, all the spaceships were mere figments of my imagination that had been distorted by the bullet that had crossed the lower frontal lobe of my brain. Dr. Avianca had previously told me that eventually my brain might heal itself, but I would have to help the process along by concentrating on reality as seen by other people.

“Geoff, do you think marijuana might help me see reality as it is?” I asked.

“It might, but you can’t smoke it in the house.”

“Maybe I could at Barry and Clarence’s apartment,” I said.

“I’d be careful of those two; you know what happened the first time you visited them.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been back and they haven’t done anything that I would consider as dangerous. Maybe, if I said I needed to smoke marijuana therapeutically.”

“I could go with you to make sure they understand your condition.”

“No, I’ll do this myself. I have to try to be responsible for myself. After all, if I’m going to go to Columbia in the fall, I have to show that I can act in a responsible manner.”

“What’s this about you going to Columbia?”

“I sent them an email and they said if you will agree to allow me to go back to New York, they might consider allowing me to matriculate.”

“Why Jerry aren’t you the little stinker.”

“Yeah and I’m trying to better myself. We can go now if you want.”

* * *

Unlike usual Geoff went the backway to Batavia, that is down Highway 33 versus down I-490 to the Thruway and west to Highway 98 into Batavia. I was enjoying the ride through the countryside until the trees started to look like something you might see in an elementary student’s diorama of suburbia with puffs of green foam on brown painted popsicle sticks. The few people I saw were also like stick figures with two dimensional faces and bodies.

“Geoff?”

“Yes?”

“My mind is having trouble processing this reality.”

“I’m sorry; I thought you might enjoy a drive through the country,” he said. “When we get to Bergen, I’ll cut back to I-490 and go back to our usual route.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I don’t want to be a bother, but maybe I’m trying too hard to be normal.”

“Just shut your eyes and try to relax. Is there anything specific you want to listen to?”

“Could you play that Booker T and the MGs CD?”

“Sure thing, son.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Don’t you consider me to be your father, even though we haven’t gone through the formal possess of adoption?”

“Oh, Geoff, why do you have to do this to me? Of course, I feel you’re my father, but we still sleep together and that doesn’t represent a healthy relationship between a father and a son.”

“Then stop sleeping with me,” Geoff said.

“No! Don’t say that. Oh, Hell, what am I to do? Okay, tonight I’m moving out of your room.”

“Whatever you feel is right.”

“I don’t feel either of my choices is right, but I suppose I should move out if only for appearances sake.”

“Yes, there is that,” Geoff said.

I felt the car slow and then come to complete stop. I wanted to open my eyes, but thought the better of it and didn’t risk seeing something that might upset me. Soon, Geoff started out and turned left; and, then after a short while he turned right and sped up. I imagined him merging onto I-490 which meant he would soon be merging onto the Thruway.

I opened my eyes and looked about. Everything was back to normal and I kept looking out the windows as we sped down the highway. Cars and trucks went by because Geoff didn’t drive that fast and they were probably going well over the speed limit. I looked in some of them and saw regular people concentrating on their own lives.

“Geoff?”

“Yes?”

“I think I want to go see Clarence and Barry tomorrow night.”

“Okay, just don’t let them give you any LSD.”

“Yes, bad idea.”

It probably wasn’t that bad, but I had to keep up the appearance of someone who recognized a bad trip when I saw one. I’d seen Clarence since that night when I’d experienced more gay sex in my short lifetime, except Clarence never seemed interested in having sex with me anymore. I took out my cell and selected MESSAGING. I scrolled down to his number and selected him. I typed: Hey, this is Jerry. Are you and Barry going to be home tomorrow night? I’d like to come over and see what might happen.

Jerry

I waited for his response while watching the landscape and other vehicles go by. I hoped Clarence would respond before we got to Batavia and felt somewhat disturbed when I noticed we were on the onramp to the Thruway. I thought about asking Geoff to go slower, but then realized how stupid that was. We were going to the School of the Blind to pick up Erik and we had to be there at a specific time or the school administrators would complain about our lateness. And, then when I was least expecting it my phone beeped and I saw I had a message.

My Dearest Jerry, Barry has abandoned me and moved out leaving me to my own devices. You are most welcome to come over. Pray tell, wouldst thou to top me with your wonderful appendage? I haven’t had a decent cock since Barry took his away.

Your dear friend, Clarence.

I reread the message and immediately noticed I was getting an erection. The more I thought about fucking Clarence the harder I got. I thought about the tightness of Clarence’s ass I was sure to experience and shut my eyes to close out all external impulses to my mind. A vague thought crossed my mind to take out my cock and stroke it to the stream of consciousness I was experiencing, but thought the better of it since we were driving down the Thruway and passing cars might take exception to my attempts to have an elicit orgasm.

“Geoff?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not going to move out tonight.”

“Whatever you desire is fine with me.”

“Geoff?”

“Yes?”

“Will you fuck me?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Geoff, I know you want to so why won’t you?”

“Because you want me to adopt you. I can’t fuck my own child.”

“But, you won’t be my real father. You’ll only be my adopted father, so it shouldn’t matter, should it?”

“It will matter to me.”

“Come on, Geoff, I want someone to fuck me and Barry is no longer living with Clarence. Please Geoff, please fuck me.”

“Okay, Jerry, I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”

I sat in the backseat of the car watching the countryside go by occasionally interrupted by passing cars and trucks of various sizes. I don’t know when I started focusing on cars and trucks, but I noticed that I was watching the cars that passed us focusing on their make, model, color, who was driving, and who was sitting in the other seats. The trucks were relatively easy because they were either semi rigs or box trucks of various sizes.

Eventually, I don’t really know why, I started mostly focusing on the cars. I started counting the various colors, the number of doors, and the number of people in the cars. I would see a four-door car with only one person in it and wonder where were the people who sat in those empty seats, but then I started looking out for specific four-door cars of a specific color and the number of people in them, especially if some of the seats were occupied by children or adults. Then there was the age of the cars because older models tended to be larger than newer models, especially SUVs and those cars between SUVs and regular cars which manufacturers referred to as crossovers. Then there were the mini-vans, foreign and domestic.

I soon began to realize there were a lot more white cars than any other color and most of them only had one person in them. Plus, all these white cars passed us. Geoff wasn’t driving too slow, in fact, he was going over the speed limit, moving out into the left lane to pass a slower car or truck and then immediately returning to the right lane, but these white cars without any passengers kept passing us. I couldn’t figure out why they were going so fast to wherever they were going. It was totally inexplicable.

I tried to imagine the why, what, where, and how of the white cars and slowly a thought came to me that all those people were on their way to an inevitable destination they had no control over. Their minds had been taken over by the White Princess of the West who resided on an artificial island in Lake Erie west of Freedonia, the Land of the Right Marks. Or, was it the Reich Marks? After all, there was the Grouch, the Zipper, the Harp Player, and something made entirely of gum. It was good that Geoff was keeping out of their way because, although our car wasn’t white—it was a light shade of something that might be called metallic beige, a color that changed depending on which way the sun was shining—it might be mistaken for white if a holy visionary looked down upon it with rose colored glasses.

I kept watch as the white cars passed us and noted that some of them were seemingly driving in convoys toward their unfortunate demise in the murky depths of Lake Erie. And, then, then car stopped. I looked up, but Geoff had already gotten out. We must have arrived wherever we were going.

“Jerry, are you going to get out?” Erik asked.

“What?”

“Come on, Jerry, you’ve been mumbling all the way from Batavia.”

“I have?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, right,” I said as I got out and saw that the car hadn’t changed to white. That was good. Also, Geoff’s Explorer wasn’t white, either. Obviously, we had avoided being drawn into that never-ending conflict in Freedonia.

“Come on, Jerry, get out of my way,” Erik said.

I looked at him standing beside me with his stick in one hand and a small blue canvas bag in the other. “Oh, sure, sorry,” I said.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he went around me and headed toward the backdoor of the house.

“My imagination was playing tricks on me, again,” I said as I followed along.

“Well, at least you’re able to recognize it’s your imagination.”

“Yes, I have to get better, if I’m to go to Columbia University in the fall.”

Erik stopped and said, “What’s this about Columbia?”

“I sent them an email and explained my situation. They said I could be accepted this coming fall term with a letter from Dr. Avianca and the financial support from Geoff.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I think so; I just have to get control of my imaginations.”

“Yeah, you certainly need to do that.”

I followed Erik into the house totally unaware that Geoff had to make two trips to bring in all of Erik’s luggage and laundry bags. I went up to my bedroom and looked around at the unfamiliar furnishings. I went over to the desk and saw three envelopes. By the return addresses, I could see one was from my parents. One of the other ones was from the grandfather and the last one was from a D. A. B., Esq. I had no idea who that was from.

I opened the letter from my parents.

March 21

Dear Jerrold,

Your father and I are still concerned about your shooting in New York. Although we’ve spoken with your employer, we sense there is something wrong with your relationship with that man, but your father says you chose your way in life and there is nothing we can do.

Last year’s harvest went well, although we did have a bit of a problem with two of the Mex pickers who got in a fight and one pulled a knife on the other. Although the one Mex was seriously cut on his upper arm he was able to wrench the knife from the other Mex and inflicted a serious wound in his abdomen. When both men were discharged from the hospital in Grand Rapids, they were arrested and put in jail.

We were afraid we might lose production by the loss of two Mex workers, but the overseer was able to bring in a new Mex from another orchard. Luckily, we brought the harvest in on time and the apples are now in CA awaiting transport orders to grocery distributors in the Eastern U.S.A.

Your father has allocated 0.05% of the net as your share of the harvest due to your choice to attend that college in NY and live with that homosexual who we see as responsible for you being shot in New York. Once, your share is shipped I will send you a check.

With love,

Your Mother

I quickly figured my share of the harvest and realized I wasn’t going to receive a check much over a thousand dollars. I could’ve been angry if not for the fact that my father was, basically at heart, the very definition of an SOB. I suppose there was nothing left for me in Appledale. I opened the next envelope.

January 23

Dear Jer,

I was sorely shocked to hear that you were shot down in the Bronx while waiting for that homosexual (I guess they’re called gay men these days) while he was doing his business and left you in the car at the mercy of the despicable elements on the streets of NYC. He called Appledale when you went into the hospital in NYC, but neither your parents or Dad would accept the call. I was astonished he had the balls to call considering what he did to endanger you, but that’s just water under the bridge now. I know your parents will do everything they can to deny you your rightful share of their harvest this year because of their dogmatic beliefs. If you need any financial assistance going forward please write. I know that Dad will do everything he can to help, too. Although you haven’t said, I suppose you have now committed to being gay. For what it’s worth, I accept your sexuality. I know it is not a choice. God made you gay and as a believer I have to accept that for whatever reason God acted as he saw fit.

With love,

Your Grandfather Jerrold

I reread the letter three times until I could finally accept the fact he was totally okay with what I was. I guess I underestimated Gramps. Of course, I was one of many grandchildren, so maybe I missed his signals when I was growing up. He always seemed gruff and off-putting. I set the letter aside so I could answer it.

I picked up the last envelope and, again, looked at the return address D. A. B., Esq.; P.O. Box 477; Lyons, NY 14489. I had no idea who it could be from so I opened it and read:

January 3,

My Dearest Bottom,

I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed leaving my load in your virgin ass. It was an experience I will cherish all my days. I hope you are not sleeping around because I look forward to the day I am released from this place of incarceration and can return to Warnton where I will most certainly give you a good honest fuck, once again leaving my seed to maintain my ownership of your ass.

My case seems to be taking an inordinate amount of time, but I am certain I will prevail and be released from custody. My lawyers keep assuring me I will be found innocent of the arson attack on your residence. It was unfortunate that I hurriedly left Warnton and tried to hurry home to Woodstock thereby causing the state police to suspect me in the arson. Well, that was my mistake and as I said I must wait patiently until the day I will once again take possession of your sweet ass.

Oh, damn, I must go now. There is a sweet young man here who loves my cock and I feel obligated to give him the good fuck he desires.

Your dearest fucker,

David

I stared at the letter trying to comprehend what was written on the paper and then I yelled, “Geoff!” And, ran out of my room and down the stairs, almost knocking Erik over who walking up. I ran to Geoff’s study, but he wasn’t there. I checked the exercise room, but he wasn’t there, either. I went into the kitchen, but he wasn’t there.

Again, I yelled, “Geoff! Where are you?”

“He’s gone to the grocery store with Jamie and Curt,” Billy said from the dinette where he was finishing his afternoon snack.

“But, I need him! I need him, now!”

“Sorry, but you’re just going to have to wait.”

“Fuck!” I screamed and then everything went black.