Destiny - a novel - 6. Chapter 6: Trappings

Chapter 6: Trappings

Rain steadily raps the glass of the windowpane behind my head. Dawn and I sit on the couch in Jack's room, and although her iPad is open and resting on our conjoined thighs, my mind is failing to focus on the visual input. I evidently get lost in the white-noise patter of the early December raindrops, and my skin seems to experience its foreboding chill even though I sit here in relative warmth and comfort.

It's been a long, tiring day for all of us – the first full day of Jack's stay in Palo Alto – and I can't help but sense the raindrops, and the ticking down of the moments to when hospital staff will say I have to go, with the same dull feeling of dread.

I glance away from the light of Dawn's screen to Jack in his bed. His mother is sitting serenely in the lounge chair by his side. She's unhurriedly doing needlepoint, while my boy's earbuds are in and he's been peacefully sleeping for the last twenty minutes. By the soft strum of strings and beats from percussion instruments, I think I know he's selected some Falkenstein music, for Neo-folk always makes us feel more centered and connected – how can it not? Based on what I can hear, he's probably listening to an album called Heiliger Wald, or the Holy forest.

Dawn's elbow digs into my upper arm for a moment. "You're missing the best part!"

A clip is playing on the screen. One where me and Dawn are walking through the parking lot down below earlier this morning, after we arrived from the motel.

"See," Dawn intones in a low voice, casting head gestures to make sure Mrs. S. cannot hear her. "It's incredible. The 'Leukemia Kid' media frenzy has not died down – they know he's been admitted to Stanford. And wait, look at this one."

Dawn taps one of the 'related' video thumbnails at the side of the screen, and up comes a vid of Dr. Kimball being nearly chased through the lobby downstairs.

Dawn continues speaking in an even quieter tone – one that if I close my eyes it might blend with the sound of the rain behind us and melt away. "The media is putting pressure on the doc to hold daily press conferences on Jack's status. I hope he doesn’t do that."

"I know," I agree with furtive glances towards the bed and Mrs. Shaw. "No good can come out of the public's obsession with Jack."

"It's worse than that, Lincoln. Our citizen bloggers think they know who you are too."

"What do you mean?"

She makes a sad face, an 'I pity you' sort of wash that temporarily comes and goes. "I'll show you," she says. "But it's rough…"

She taps on another thumbnail link, and a video opens of me supporting Jack as he gets out of his mother's car in Ohio. It was taken during one of our daily visits to Dr. Kimball to get Jack's treatments.

Dawn pauses the vid and scrolls down so we can read the 'idiot comments.'

They include such gems as:

"Who's that pervy older guy?!"

"…Cancer kid's fag bf…"

"OMG – TMI Info!!!"

"I'm sorry, Lincoln."

Just as I am trying to suppress my anger, and wondering if Hamish and Christie have anything to do with those comments, someone tentatively enters through the open door. At first, all I can see is the silhouette of a young man, his duffel bag, and a 35mm camera strapped and hanging over his shoulder.

In another second, I jump to my feet without any thought needed; I embrace my brother with a running bear hug and ear-to-ear smile.

I utter a string of questions couched in statements, and don’t let him reply to any. "How'd you get here! What about Mom and Dad? Man, how you've grown!" He sloughs off the strap of his bag, careful to grab his camera.

My glance around the room catches Dawn's intrigued stare, and Jack's waking up while slowly pulling out his earbuds; Mrs. S. lowers her needlework into her lap.

"But, wait a minute…" I flick the visitor badge around his neck, and settle onto one important question I must have the answer to. "Security is pretty tight for Jack. So, how did you get up here?"

My brother shrugs.

"It was me," Jack says.

After I shoot him a puzzled scowl, he continues. "I thought there might be a chance your brother would come by, so I gave his name to my mom to put on the visitor list."

Time for intros! I tug on my brother's camera strap, leading him towards the bed. "Jackson, this is my wonderful, thoughtful, boyfriend, Jack. Jack, this is my younger brother, Jackson Oliver."

Jackson reaches out his hand. "Hi! It's nice to meet you. I saw the media coverage, and knew you and Linc would be here."

"Where do you live?" Jack's mom inquires, her tone dripping with curiosity.

"Berkeley, so I came here by train after school."

"When's the last time you guys saw each other?" Jack asks, pulling himself to a more upright position in bed.

Jackson and I glance at one another. "It's been two years, Jack," I say. "A solid two years."

"Wow," Dawn offers to the open air.

"Jackson," I hear my tone get stern. "Do Mom and Pops know you are here? Truth, now."

He looks down at his sneakers for a second. "Not exactly, but I'll text them in a few minutes."

I ask, trying to hide my suspicions about the answer I'll receive, "Don’t you have school tomorrow?"

Jackson turns a quick, sidelong glance on Dawn. "Nope."

I 'feel' the vibe coming off my younger bro. "Well, I want a proper reunion with all the details, so you can crash with me in my motel room tonight, if you want."

"Hell yeah, I want!"

Me and Jackson do a shoulders back, 'jock-type' embrace where our chests come together for half a moment and our arms give each other a rough slap on the back.

"Jackson, let me complete the introductions. This is Mrs. Shaw, Jack's mom."

"Nice to meet you."

Mrs. S. takes Jackson's offered hand and says, "Likewise."

"And this is Jack's best buddy and witty pal, Dawn."

I watch Jackson suddenly get stiff and formal. All he does is tip up his chin at her briefly, and grunt out a "Hey."

She responds in kind, but looks pretty pissed about it.

"You two go sit on the couch a moment." My tone makes it clear that Dawn and Jackson better do as I say.

They sit awkwardly, but Jackson has to pull up his camera to settle down. Lucky for my little bro, Dawn is interested in it, and asks 'how does it work' questions – as somehow I knew she would.

I stride up to Jack's side all smiles. Our hands effortlessly slip together and the back of my fingers caress his cheek. His USA cap looks so cute on him.

"You okay, kid?"

"I'm tired, Linc. Dr. Kimball and his colleagues had a round of tests for me in the morning, and then my regular chemo in the afternoon."

"Ah, Jack…"

"It's ok, Lincoln. It's all for a higher purpose. I know that now."

"Yes, baby. But I feel so guilty."

"Why?"

"Because, I want you to know that I'd rather stay with you all night – by your side, like usual – but as the hospital does not consider me 'family,' I'll have to go at 8 PM, at the end of visiting hours."

"It's all right, you sexy beast. I know there's nothing we can do about it. But I want you to go visit with your brother now."

"Fuck, I love you," slips out of my mouth before I remember Jack's mom is close by. I cast a nervous glance at Mrs. Shaw for having used a cuss word. She only smiles at her needlework as she pretends she didn't hear a thing.

Jack squeezes my hand to draw my attention back to him. "Not as much as I love you, Lincoln Oliver."

I lean down, and my beautiful boyfriend's lips taste like honey on mine. How I love to kiss, and be kissed by my sweet boy.

˚˚˚˚˚

Dawn, Jackson and I sit on the couch; the rain behind us has settled into a steady downpour.

I shake my head, relieved. "I'm glad you don’t have to venture out in this storm, Jackson. Berkeley seems a million miles away in this weather."

"Yeah, the rents were surprised to learn I was with you, but relieved to know I could crash in your room tonight."

Dawn ventures to ask my brother, "So, what are your folks like?"

Me and Jackson exhibit two nervous and shy displays of an unwillingness to talk about them. Instead, I brightly change the subject. "Hey, how is Samantha?"

Jackson blushes. "Ah, bro – I know I told you, but we broke up almost a year ago, last Christmas."

I try and suppress my goofy grin. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Jackson spills a shy glance all over Dawn's face like a glass of milk. "It's all good." For half a second, I think the girl looks pissed at being 'objectified.'

"Um," so I say. "Are you dating anyone currently?"

"Nope," he tells me in a totally clipped way. It's clear Jackson wants to change the subject now, so he turns attention to Dawn with a wide-open grin. "You staying at the same motel?"

"Yes."

"Cool. Are the rooms nice?"

Dawn distracts herself with her iPad. "Average."

"Oh."

I listen to them navigate the treacherous path to 'small talk,' and find myself wondering what exactly is happening in my little brother's head. Anyhow, Dawn seems 'not amused,' and that notion makes me chuckle internally; it's kinda cute, in an uncomfortable-to-watch sorta way.

˚˚˚˚˚

It's pouring down buckets this morning. The sky is one mass of gray on this, Jack's second full day in Palo Alto.

I try and shake off the last of the moisture from my jacket as I trudge down the corridor of my boyfriend's hospital unit. I see the door to Jack's room is standing open, so I just go in. Jackson is right behind me, making little excited wet squeaks from his sneakers as he goes.

Straight in front of me, I can see Dawn sitting on the sofa with her iPad, and as I pass by, I hear running water behind the closed bathroom door.

Clearing the corner of the room at last, I walk in to find Jack sitting in the lounge chair. His cap is on, with USA rakishly to the side, and a tray of breakfast food rests over his lap between the arms of his chair. I can already smell the kale from here and know my boy is not happy about that green and ruffly situation.

"Hello, hello!" I call out, imitating Dr. Kimball to stir up a reaction.

Lightning momentarily makes a motion outside the window behind Dawn's head.

"Took you long enough," she says as I shrug off the shoulder strap of my backpack.

Jackson strolls past me, the edge of his camera striking my hip for a moment. His hands are full of water bottles, and a plastic sack dangles from one extended finger. "We got the munchie-supplies for later," he calls out cheerily to Dawn as he goes up to the table by her side.

Mrs. Shaw had spent the night with her son, again, and the three of us back at the motel got up this morning, met at the waffle place and grabbed a quick bite. After waffles, we had to stop at the big-box drug store so Jackson could shop their fine selection of 'delicates.' For, let's face it, I was glad to have the company last night – but Jackson only brought a single change of clothes and talked about crashing with me for a while. "Fine," I said. "But, what will you do for duds?" He shrugged, letting his toothy grin unzip. "Looks like you brought plenty of extra." I conceded that I did with a sigh, and then laughingly told him: "Fine… You can borrow some of my clothes, but I draw the line at my drawers!" He laughed too, and I continued "Get a pack of El Cheapo tidy-whities at Walgreen's, cuz your teenage skid marks are a private thing between you and Mom – your laundress. I don’t want them anywhere near me!" He bent in two laughing himself into a stupor, barely getting out "Ok, Ok, Bro. Enough. You'll make me toss my cookies with this much laughter!"

Driving the mile-and-a-half from the drug store to the hospital, though the rain was a bit of a challenge, was tough, but at least The Center had given Mrs. Shaw a parking pass. So we pulled straight into the covered garage.

Dawn had gone directly up to the room, while me and my brother got chips, cookies and water from the hospital café. On the way here, I had also perused the magazine rack at the bookstore to see if Jack's new gamer magazine was out. Not yet.

Now I drop my bag in the corner and make my way to my grinning boyfriend. I genuflect right by his side and stretch out an arm behind him so I can lean in for a kiss. "Good morning, Jack."

"Morning, Lincoln."

"I bet your mom's tired."

"She said something about taking a nap later back at the motel; she expects you'll sit with me then."

I lace our fingers together, pressing them a little, and in the process getting an unwanted whiff of his scrambled eggs and kale. "Then, she expects correctly. But, don’t tell me I'll have to play 'airplane' to get you to eat something, because I will." I slyly let my sight drift down and across untouched cup of orange juice.

Jack cracks a huge smile. "Phew! – That's not below the dignity level of my sexy jock boyfriend?"

"Nope!"

"Wo. Good information. I'll file that away for later."

I kiss him briefly, and then feel satisfied when he reaches for his fork. I pick up his juice to pull back the foil seal for him and my eyes casually scan the room to find Jackson snapping a picture of us. His camera quickly turns on Dawn, and she makes a sour face. Click.

Beaming, I restore my attention to my boyfriend. "How was your night…" I place his open cup down for him "…that is, without me?"

He scoops some eggs into his mouth. "Just fine, Linc. Although of course…" chew, chew, chew "…I would have loved to feel you in bed next to me."

I chuckle, "Anybody compliment you on your cap yet?"

"Yep! The night nurse, my mom, Dawn."

"Cool."

"And they know who it's from too."

"Good. As long as they know you're just borrowing it."

"I am?"

"Sure, kid. You won't need it once your hair starts to come back in."

"Ah. That's right."

I chuckle again and jostle his shoulder. "How are those eggs?"

"Perfectly – yuk!"

"I'm sure they're not that bad – "

"Have some then." He laughs.

"No thanks. I'm…good."

He laughs at me again. "You know what I could go for right about now?"

"No, babe. What?"

"I dream of having a Pink's hot dog with you in L.A. – and sauerkraut, and pickles, and all of it."

"Dawn took me to have one of your Cincinnati chilidogs, at…Red…red..?"

"Red Star. Well, I could go for either place right about now, as long as it's with my stunning boyfriend."

"I'll take you too, anywhere you want to go, babe. Just get Dr. Kimball to say you're outta here, and it's just you and me from then on."

There's a weird vibrating noise from somewhere in the room. Jackson leaps to his feet and takes out his phone. "Oh Shit!" My brother holds the screen towards me as if I can read it. "Lincoln, they're here."

"Who?"

"Our folks." His phone rings. He holds up his finger to me, and answers. "Hello..?"

There is strained silence in the room as none of us dare to breathe.

"I stayed with Linc last night…you know that…" My brother sounds a bit annoyed and browbeaten.

"Um…" he draws out. "I don’t know – maybe tonight…"

His eyes grow into saucers staring at me. There is fear in them.

"Down in the café..? Ok, I'll tell him. Bye."

Jackson hangs up and stands perfectly still, as if in stunned silence.

"What is it?!" Dawn demands.

He rotates an owl-like gaze upon her. "Lincoln and I have to go."

"What!" I say, standing up.

He turns to me and practically sighs: "They want to have a 'family meeting.' They're waiting in the cafeteria downstairs."

The terse quiet is broken by Mrs. Shaw coming out of the bathroom. She drifts into the center of the room. "What? Something happen?"

As Dawn begins to relay the stream of information to Jack's mom, I go back down on one knee by my boyfriend's side.

"Don’t you worry, Jack. I'll be back here by the time you're out of treatment. I'm not going anywhere – not without you by my side."

"I know, Lincoln."

"Kid, I'd rather stay with you. You know that."

"Go, Linc. I bet your folks will be happy to see you."

"I'm not so sure of that." I rise to my feet and meet a fleeting look of concern from Mrs. Shaw.

˚˚˚˚˚

The cafeteria is a large rectangle. Three entire walls are floor-to-ceiling glass, which look out onto a garden patio. Lightning and thunder glint and ping off of the stacked aluminum tables and chairs stranded out in the inclement weather. No one is going to be dining al fresco today.

Jackson and I walk through the open double doors, and immediately my nervous senses are struck by gold garland and red satin ball strung up for the holidays. There is something the opposite of festive about them dropping from the ceiling tiles, something that looks unloved and which spends most of the year forgotten and moldering away in a box somewhere.

Jackson now leads the way; he's spotted where our folks are sitting in the crowd, and I follow wondering if my knees will give out before I get there. I ran away from these people two years ago, so what – if anything – do I expect to be different?

I grab Jackson's arm and halt him. "Are they really any better?"

My younger brother swallows hard, shaking his head. "It's hard to tell. I think Mom was affected by your running away – at least she showed it, unlike our dad – and she's been a little 'softer' since then, but… Anyway, with Pops…I…I – "

"Ok. Whatever. Thanks for the heads-up."

He nods and continues on his way. I trail and spot them sitting in the corner where two glass walls intersect. We pass by many hospital staff on break, but the corner my father chose seems gloomy and abandoned. Now my Pops sees us approaching and begins to stare me down. There is more gray at his temples than I remember, but instead of softening his looks, that bit of brightness only seems to dim any signs of youthful good spirits he may once have possessed.

My mother sits by that man's side, and appears as flinty as ever. You know that expression about steel needing to kiss stone to spark flame..? Well, such is true of these two; it always has.

They both glare unblinkingly as Jackson and I pull out the chairs across from them to sit down. I'm reminded that our eye color comes from our mom, and that my dad's are steely blue and cold.

"So, it's true, huh?" Pops starts low and gruff. "Your brother thought he recognized you on the YouTube."

"Yes, sir."

My father folds his hands in front of him on the table. He leans slightly towards me and shows me some lower whites of his eyes. "And how did you get messed up with that sick kid?"

"Messed up with..?" I try to tap down my anger.

"Involved – whatever it is you think you have," my father says without warmth.

Jackson inclines halfway across the table to him. "They're in love, Pops. You don’t have to doubt that."

My mom makes a disgusted sound through her clenched jaws.

"Well, Jackson…" my dad's tone tries to lay down the law. "This one ran away, and his affairs are his own business and mess to deal with. We're here to take you home with us, because we have parental duties to fulfill."

"Humph," slips out under my breath.

Jackson leans back in his seat. "Did you know – did you realize – that Lincoln is forced to leave his boyfriend's side every night at eight simply because the hospital does not consider him 'family'?"

The facial expression on both our folks makes it clear the entire notion repels them.

"Jackson…" my mom's tone vibrates with annoyance "…what's your point?"

"My point is this – I do not want to waste four hours of my time on BART and Caltrain every day, because I will be down here in Palo Alto, no matter what. Lincoln supports Jack through this scary time, and I will support Linc through it as well."

˚˚˚˚˚

Me and my brother enter Jack's room quietly, in case he's asleep. Mrs. Shaw smiles weakly at us from the couch. The lights are low, it is pouring outside, and she appears utterly exhausted.

I round the blind corner and can finally see the bed is made and empty. I haven’t missed Jack's return; that's a relief.

Jackson whispers: "Where did Dawn go?"

"Down to the gift shop." Mrs. Shaw had started out in a whisper too, but ends at conversational volume.

I watch my bro seem uncomfortable for a moment, then Mrs. S. tells him, "Go, Jackson. Let me have your phone for a second – I'll give you her number so you can go find her. Take a break."

My kid brother seems to light up all of a sudden. He strides up to Jack's mom on the sofa with his phone extended towards her. Mrs. Shaw taps in Dawn's contact info and hands the phone back.

Jackson, a pile of smiles, reaches over to the side table and picks up the strap of his camera. "Ok, guys. I'll see you in a bit!" He exits the room with a bounce in his step.

After I watch him go, Mrs. S. pats the sofa cushion next to her. I sit, hoping I don’t look as miserable as I feel.

"How did it go with your folks?"

"It was shocking to see them again."

"They change?"

"No." I shake my head. "That was the shocking part, to see them act exactly like the people I ran away from."

"What about Jackson? Is he going home with them?"

"Uh-uh," I murmur, still pretty astounded at my brother's pluck and cunning. "He convinced them to let me look after him for a couple of weeks. He said he does all of his homework online anyway, and he got a family medical pass to excuse his absence from class, so as long as he turns in his assignments, he's golden." I glance at Mrs. S. and let my admiration for him show fully. "He came all prepared – prepared to stay and support me and Jack."

"And your parents gave in?" Her soft blue eyes are clearly really tired.

"Well yes, the homework situation's one thing, and then he hinted to me in private that he has some information over our Pops' head too. So, you see I'm pretty amazed to see how my formerly-kid brother has grown up."

She laughs a moment that way some ladies do,[1] and her hand lands on top of mine. "I suspect part of your little brother's motives rest with how much he likes Dawn."

I laugh. "Yeah. You were sweet to give him her number."

"Saves her the embarrassment of having to give it; saves him the discomfort of having to ask for it."

I squeeze her fingers. "Do you think Jack knows what a treasure he has in you?"

An ironic lilt creeps into her tone. "Well, I think all kids are a little more than skeptical of their parents' behaviors and motivations."

"Nope. Sometimes…" I suddenly feel like crying "…a kid knows when his folks…well – " I can't go on.

"It's ok, Lincoln. You feel the way you feel, and no one can rightfully judge you on it, because no one has been in your shoes and gone through exactly what you have."

A tear falls from my eye. I wipe it away quickly. "I ain't no angel, Mrs. Shaw. I'm not free of regrets. I hate doing what I did – running away and leaving Jackson with them – but I had to. I hope some part of you can understand that." Remembered glints of tinsel and satin ornaments filter across my sight as I blink out another couple of drops.

"It's all right, Lincoln." She drapes her arm across my shoulders. "What matters to me is that you and Jack found one another. You see, that's my reward, because if you hadn't been the one, then no one could have saved my Jack." She wipes her own tears. "I don’t think I'd have Jack with me anymore if not for you, so thank you, son."

I shake my head slowly. "I've said it before, but he doesn't know how lucky he is to have you. If you let me, I'll share something, because you deserve that little bit of truth about me."

"If you want to, honey."

"I do. My Pops is overbearing and possessive when it comes to his kids; it's his way or the highway. In terms of my mom, she's always been far from the passive 'victim' to my old man's personality. The truth is, our mom is just as mean. But even so, it all changed for us one day when I was thirteen. We were in the car driving home after a long day of Christmas shopping. The mood was light, with me and Jackson in the back, and my mom in the passenger seat up front with Pops. As I say, it was all fun and games with mom and dad playing their typical game of aggressive dishing of one another – her cigarette lit, and the glowing tip held near the cracked passenger-side window – when I leaned on the back of the front seat with elbows spread and added some confirming criticism about Pops. It was something they did; it was all good fun anyway, until the back of my mom's hand came crashing up into my nose and mouth. She yelled, "I'm sick to death of you always smart-mouthing your father. It stops here and now." I collapsed back on my seat. My nose was bleeding and my lip was bust open, but I did not know it until Jackson pressed his finger to the top of my mouth and drew it away bloody to show me. It was getting all over my coat, but I was oblivious, because my eyes were trained and stuck on the twin sights of my mother's angry stare, as she had turned around on the seat, and my Pop's vindictive glance at me through the rearview mirror."

"Lincoln…" Mrs. S. starts tentatively.

"I'm telling you this, because even though I've vowed not to lash out like I was raised to do, it's hard to go against conditioning – and I feel ashamed for punching Hamish, even though he deserved it. I hope Jack can help me be a better man than that one day."

"Oh, Lincoln – you do not need to worry. You are a wonderful, brave young man. And you can only get better."

I sigh. "Look at me, rambling on about stuff from my past. But you tell me this, you're tired, so why don’t you go back to the motel room and sleep? Jackson, Dawn and I will be here for Jack until you come back this evening."

"I know you will, sweetie. And I'll go as soon as Jack returns from treatment, but right now it seems like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, so I'll stay with you, if you don't mind."

Images of half-loved, half-acknowledged Christmas decorations again flit before my blinking eyes. "I wish you were my mother."

"Well, if you want to start thinking of me as 'Mom,' I would like that too." She hugs me, and I start to cry uncontrollably. "It's all right, Linc," she croons and pats my back. "You're safe, so let it out."

As I do, why I'd be thinking of those stupid trappings of the holiday season seem to sum themselves up: I'd rather have the spirit of that time in my heart and soul than ever see its tinsel and gold falseness around me again.