Millennium - 52. Chapter 52

January 9, 2000

 

“Brad, wake up,” I heard Robbie say. He was shaking me.

“What?” I asked groggily.

“You must have been having a dream. You were thrashing around, mumbling and shit. You OK?”

I searched my brain. I didn’t remember what I had been dreaming about, but my emotions were frayed, so whatever it was had bothered me. “I don’t know.” I grabbed onto him and held him like my life depended on it. He responded like I knew he would, by wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in tighter.

“You said you remembered meeting your father last night. Can you tell me about it?”

I forced myself to think about that again, to take my mind back to that time. “I think it was March of 1968. I had just gotten out of school and he was waiting for me. I didn’t know who he was, or why he was there, or even that he was there to see me. He told me I was a special boy, and patted my head. Then my mother showed up.”

“What did she do?”

“She yelled at him, told him to stay away from her son. He said I was his son too, but I had no idea what he was talking about. She dragged me off and I remember looking back at him, watching his eyes. He seemed sad.” I felt a tear fall from my eye.

“Then what happened?”

And then it was like that movie Pleasantville, where they start hearing about Huck Finn and the book, the words fill in. “She pushed me into the car and started driving. She was unhinged. She told me I was a bastard, and that just looking at me made her hate herself. She said I was a reminder of everything that was wrong with her life. She just kept saying the same things over and over again.” Now I couldn’t stop the tears. “She took me home and I went up to my room. I could hear her ranting and raving, and then things were calm. She came into my room, packed a few things in a bag for me, and didn’t say anything.” I was sobbing now as I talked.

“It’s OK, baby,” he said soothingly.

“I stayed in my room but I heard her talking to Nick and Bitty, telling them she was going away for a while. She told them that she loved them, and she’d always be looking out for them. Then she came into my room and grabbed my hand roughly. ‘Come on,’ she’d said. I still remember the anger and venom in her voice. We got into the car again and she started driving. She was really going fast, tire-screeching fast, and I remember being really scared. I was sitting in the back seat, sliding across from one side to the other as she turned corners. I finally figured out how to hang on. The whole time she kept yelling at me, telling me that everything was my fault. She was screaming at me about how he came to visit me, and how now her life was over. Most of what she said was incoherent, but she kept ranting and raving, telling me how much she hated me, how she wished she were dead, how she wished I were dead. We got to Columbus and went to the airport. She left me in the car while she went in. I remember how I thought about running away. I knew if I could get to Tonto, she’d save me from this nightmare. But I didn’t know how to do that, and I knew that if I defied my mother, she’d only be madder, and get meaner still.”

“How long did she make you sit there?” he asked me sympathetically.

“I don’t know. It seemed like a long time though. She came out all frustrated and started going on and on about how there weren’t any flights. She drove to a nearby motel and got us a room. She left me in the room and went to the bar, then came home later, drunk off her ass with some guy. I hid in the closet, and when I heard them start fucking, I snuck out and wandered around the motel. I found a spot where they kept the luggage carts and sat there all by myself, avoiding everyone. I managed to stay hidden until morning. I got back to the room and realized I didn’t have a key. I knocked and she answered. She was alone, the guy was gone. She was so mad at me she ripped my pants off and spanked me until my ass must have been bleeding. I just remember crying and begging her to stop.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He was throwing out phrases to ground me, but kept them short so I didn’t get distracted.

“She finally stopped and threw some clothes at me. I got dressed and then she dragged me back to the airport. She was hysterical in the car, but once we got to the airport, she was calm, cool, and collected. I remember being amazed by her transition. We checked in and got our tickets, then headed down to the gate. I kept my mouth shut, and so did she. She let me sit by the window on the plane and just ignored me. She had a pen and some paper and she kept scrawling erratically. She’d make a mistake and tear up the paper, and give me a really hateful look.”

“Where were you going?”

“We landed in San Francisco. She rented a car, and again, she was being really nice and calm. Then as soon as we got into the car, she started screaming at me again. She was driving like a nutcase, swerving all over and going fast, really fast. I remember being scared that she was going to crash and kill us. We pulled up to the gates of Escorial, they buzzed us in, and we drove up to the front entry. Isidore was there to greet us, but JP was gone. I remember feeling so relieved to be there. Isidore was so calm and loving. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt safe.”

“Is that when she left you there?”

I nodded. “She told Isidore she wanted to talk to me alone, and dragged me into JP’s study. I didn’t want to go, I fought with her, threw a tantrum, but she pulled me in there anyway. I remember Isidore looking at me nervously, and with sympathy, but she couldn’t do anything. My mother closed the door and got real close to me, her face right in mine. She told me that she hated me, and that she was going to kill herself. She said she’d never have to see me again. She told me this was my fault, and that I should remember that I drove her to this. I remember the look in her eyes, the look of sheer hatred. Then she left, just turned and walked out. I stood in the study until Isidore came to get me, then she led me off to my room at Escorial.”

“And then she killed herself?”

“Yeah. She drove up to the City and jumped off the Golden Gate, only she was so fucking stupid she jumped over the rocks, so when she landed, she didn’t land in the water, she broke her back on the rocks below.”

“You blocked all of this?”

“I remembered the part about her yelling at me in the study. Remember when that came back to me? It was at Claire’s wedding reception. You were there for me then, just like you are now.”

“I’ll always be there for you.”

“I know, I know that now,” I told him lovingly. “And I’ll always be there for you.”

“So the only thing you remembered was the scene with her in her study?” I nodded. “No wonder you were having bad dreams.”

“That was really weird, like it all just came clear all of a sudden.”

“How do you feel about all this?”

I thought about that, and didn’t answer him for a while. “I’m sad that I didn’t get to know my bio-dad. From that brief interaction, he seemed like a nice guy. It means a lot that he took the time to come see me. Up until yesterday when I learned about that, I thought he was this callous guy who just blew me off.” I paused, shifting my thoughts to my mother. “My mother ended up doing me a favor. My life before she took me to Escorial was a living hell. When she wasn’t torturing me, Nick or Bitty did it for her. The only one I could really rely on was myself. I learned to avoid them, to deal with their hate and conflict. I stuck to Tonto like glue whenever I could, but she couldn’t always be there. After I got to Escorial, I was free of all that.”

“Most kids would have needed a lot of therapy to get beyond that.”

“I guess I kind of did get counseling, in a way. JP and Isidore gave me a safe and loving home. I could come out of my shell. But it was Stef who helped me the most. He took me under his wing, made sure I knew I was his favorite. He made me feel so loved and so special. If it weren’t for him, I’m not sure how I would have turned out.”

“It’s kind of refreshing in a way,” he said, then looked guilty. “I mean, I’m not happy that you went through this, but it always seems like I’m the one with all of this baggage. It’s kind of nice to know that we have that in common, that your life wasn’t so picture perfect either.”

“Yeah, but I’m nowhere near as fucked up as you are,” I teased. I felt my tension and anguish fade away, replaced or overridden by my libido. I moved my leg so it was over his dick and started moving against him, letting him feel my hard cock rubbing against his leg while I felt him rise to the occasion.

He rolled me over onto my stomach, lubed himself up, then entered me gently and lovingly. He lay across my body, making sure I could feel his weight and his strength, as he moved in and out of me. I felt his mouth nuzzle into my neck, then my cheeks, and then he turned my face so he could kiss me. “I don’t care who fucked who to create you, all I know is they made an amazing person, so in my mind, they’re heroes.”

I moaned and thrust back into him, rubbing my dick against the soft sheets as I did. “You are everything to me, you are my world,” he cooed in my ear. “When you’re not with me, I feel like there’s a void that I just can’t fill.” I cried, a cry of joy, and let myself go. He worked me, and himself, until he brought us to an amazing climax. After he was finished blasting his load in me, he just collapsed on top of me, smashing me against the bed. I felt his dick slowly soften until it popped out of my ass, making me giggle.

“That was incredible,” I said, looking sideways at him. He slid off of me and pulled me to him, to his soft and inviting chest.

“I meant all those things I said,” he told me. “I wasn’t just saying them in the throes of passion.”

I chuckled. “You mean my ass isn’t good enough to make you say things you didn’t mean?” He smiled back at me. I knew him so well. Some guys would do that, say whatever they wanted while fucking and not mean any of it, but not Robbie. He actually was at his most honest and most straightforward when he was fucking.

“Nope,” he said, grinning at me. Then he yawned, and I remembered that I woke him up and it was still the middle of the night. We drifted off to sleep after that, and I slept peacefully, wrapped in his arms.

 

January 10, 2000

 

“God, she was horrible,” Robbie whispered to me. We were eating lunch at a diner near Times Square, a diner where the staff would occasionally break into a dance routine and the individual waiters would alternate singing.

“Quiet,” I said. “You’re just jaded.”

“You mean because I work around amazingly talented and good-looking people all the time?” he asked, joking around with me.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling back at him. I was having such a good time with him, just being with him. “I feel so comfortable with you.”

His face broke into that adorable grin, the one that always melted me. “You make me feel like an old shoe.”

“You smell like one,” I said, and the grin changed into a fake pout, which was almost as cute. He was about to give me some shit right back when my phone rang. “Brad Schluter,” I said, answering.

“Brad, it’s Jordan. I hope I’m not bothering you.” Jordan Pfinster’s voice was crisp and businesslike, and that put me instinctively into the same mode. I would have been able to pull off my business façade if one of the waiters hadn’t just burst into a rendition of Elvis’ “Burning Love”.

“Not at all. Hang on,” I said. “It’s Jordan. I’m going to step outside so I can hear him,” I told Robbie. I hurried outside. “Alright, I’m back.”

“Sounds like you’re at a party,” he said.

“No, we’re at some diner where they sing and serve food.”

He laughed. “Near Times Square? I’ve been there. Now I don’t feel guilty for interrupting you. I’m probably saving you.”

I laughed with him. “Some of them are pretty good,” I said, being generous. I let him decide when to get to the point because I knew it wouldn’t take long. I was right.

“I was wondering if you and Robbie had plans this afternoon.”

“We’re just out sight-seeing, enjoying the city, so we’re free. We’re planning to fly out this evening. Why?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up my alone time with Robbie.

“I wonder if you’d be willing to join my wife and me for dinner. We’ll send a car to pick you up, and our house is relatively close to the airport. I assume your plane is still there?” I’d chartered a plane to take us back, but he was right, it was at the airport in Connecticut.

I didn’t really want to do that, but something told me this was important. “We’d be delighted. We’re staying at the Waldorf.”

“Excellent. We’ll have a car pick you up there at 5:00pm,” he said. We exchanged parting platitudes, and then I hung up. I wandered in to find Robbie paying the bill.

“Who was it?”

“Jordan Pfinster,” I said. “He invited us to join him and his wife for dinner. He claims it’s on the way to the airport.”

“And you accepted?” he asked, looking disappointed.

I nodded. “They pick us up at the hotel at 5. I sensed it was important.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “As long as I’m with you, I really don’t care where we go.”

“Come on Mr. Sweet Talker. Let’s go see if you can still ice skate,” I joked. I dragged him off to Rockefeller Center, and then we went back to the hotel to make love and get ready for our ride. The limo picked us up as scheduled, and we just sat back, taking in the barren winter landscape as we were whisked out of the city and into the opulent Connecticut suburbs.

Jordan’s house was large, and on a nice plot of land. I smiled when I thought about how typical Jordan seemed for an east coast CEO. He dressed right, with the Brooks Brothers suits and conservative ties. He had that nasal but refined accent you’d expect from someone who was a member of the ‘club’. And now, driving up to his house, it was clear that he had the right address too. This house looked just like the stereotypical place they’d use in the movies for a CEO like Jordan.

Jordan was there to greet us at the door. “Welcome! Thanks for giving up some time on your weekend to join us.”

“No problem at all,” I lied.

“Nice house,” Robbie observed as he shook Jordan’s hand. “Tudor gothic, and a nice representation of it.” I’d forgotten about those architectural classes he’d taken in Paris.

“Thank you,” Jordan replied with a smile. “There are some inconsistencies with the style, but it serves.” Robbie and Jordan had just devolved into a conversation on architecture, which seemed to be a hobby for Jordan, when a woman breezed into the room.

“Welcome to our home. I’m Marcia Pfinster,” she said. I introduced myself as I shook her hand and gave her the faux kisses on the cheek that were required. She just completed the picture. Jordan had the right clothes, right address, and he even had the right wife. Marcia looked like the quintessential wife of a CEO. “I wasn’t sure if Jordan could lure you out of the city to our dreadfully boring suburb.”

“We were grateful for the invitation,” I said gracefully.

“Jordan has told me all about your new joint venture. I think it’s wonderful,” she said supportively.

“I’m glad you think so. We’re pretty excited. I talked to my team, and what started out as a business venture motivated by vengeance is looking to be a really good investment.” My team had been pretty pumped up when they left Friday night.

“Jordan told me that he talked to you about your father,” she said delicately. The way she could raise a touchy issue but disarm it with just her tone reminded me of my mother. “He was a remarkable man.”

“Remarkable?” I asked curiously.

She laughed. “In any group of friends, there seems to be a social beast, someone who drives the group forward to go out or get together. Your father was that man. And then when we were at parties, he was literally the life of them. He had a magnetism that was almost irresistible.”

“I certainly didn’t inherit that,” I joked. “I was painfully shy when I was younger. In fact, now that I think about it, I was painfully shy until we got together,” I said, looking at Robbie lovingly.

“I brought you out of your shell and out of the closet at the same time,” he joked, cracking us up.

“You look a lot like him,” she said. “Just seeing you makes me remember him. They are good memories.” She led us in to dinner, where we enjoyed a nice meal and general conversation. It was funny that people like this, who lived ensconced in their world that revolved around New York, were fascinated by discussions about celebrities and the goings-on in LA. Robbie wonderfully supplied them with a few juicy tidbits that would cause no one any harm.

After dessert, Jordan gathered himself up as if he was going to make some monumental statement. I knew that he hadn’t invited us here just to get to know us better, and I’d been speculating on what his plan was since he’d first called me. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and left the room. Marcia, good hostess that she was, jumped in and filled the void with conversation. Jordan came in, carrying a large box. It looked dusty, like it had been stored in the attic or basement for years. “I wanted to show you this.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“These are some of your father’s things, things that I kept. When he died,” Jordan said, and got a little choked up even now, “I was tasked with going through his things on base. I snagged a few for myself.”

I stood up and went over, next to him, and looked into the box as he pulled out a book. “This looks like his yearbook,” I said.

“That’s right: The Lucky Dog. There were some pretty off-color comments in here, comments Alex probably wouldn’t appreciate, but I bet you will,” he said.

“I’ll bet you’re right,” I said jovially. I went to flip through it but he stopped me.

“You can read through it later.”

“Later? We really do have to catch a plane,” I said. I mean, this stuff was interesting, but we needed to get home.

“I put all of his things in this box and stowed it away, wondering why I saved them and didn’t give them to Alex. Something told me to preserve some aspects of his memory for myself. Now I know why. These things belong to you.”

“You’re giving me this?” I asked, stunned.

“The other guys got various items to remember their father, and you got nothing except his handsome looks,” Jordan said.

“You certainly did get those,” Marcia said, almost flirting. I felt myself blushing.

“Thank you,” I stammered. Robbie was trying not to giggle at my discomfort.

“It’s appropriate that you should have something, and this is all I have, so it will have to do,” Jordan said.

“The fact that you gave it to me will make it that much more special,” I said.

He pulled out a small box with insignia my father wore at the Naval Academy, and a cache of letters he’d saved. Then there were the pictures. Lots and lots of pictures of him, many of him with Jordan. Both of them had been very handsome men when they were younger. It was really great to see my father in action, and not just posing for portraits like the one I’d seen in Mike’s office. There was one of him about to throw a football that looked really sexy, if I could allow myself to think that. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts, and was winding back to throw the ball, exposing his bicep and his underarm.

“Your dad was hot,” Robbie said, echoing my thoughts. “You really do look like him. See that picture,” he said, pointing at one of him on a beach.

“Yeah. So?” I asked.

“I have one of you in my office, sitting on the beach, looking almost exactly like that,” he said. “You’d just come ashore after surfing, and you were all exhilarated.”

Marcia laughed. “I believe this one was taken in the morning, after he’d spent the night with that horrible creature he’d taken home from the club.”

“Exhilaration takes different forms,” Robbie joked.

“This one,” Marcia said, pointing at one where they were in New York, “was taken on the weekend before our wedding.”

“He looks hung over,” I observed. He looked like I did when I was hung over, anyway.

“That’s very insightful. This was the day after Jordan’s bachelor party. He still hasn’t revealed all that went on,” she said, and gave him a loving look.

“Some things are best left as a mystery,” he replied.

“What’s this?” Robbie asked, pulling out a uniform.

“That was Kevin’s service dress blue uniform,” Jordan said.

“This looks like the jacket he wore when he came to see me,” I said. I took it in my hands and caressed these same fabrics that had once clothed my bio-dad.

“It probably was,” Jordan said. “Here’s the ‘cover’ to go with it.”

I put down the uniform and took the hat from Jordan, studying its brim and analyzing its features as if to divine some new insight into my bio-dad. “I wonder if it fits you,” Robbie said.

“There’s really only one way to find out,” Marcia said. I shucked off my blazer and put the blue coat on, buttoning the double-breasted front. It was a little tight in the shoulders, but otherwise, it fit well.

“Now the hat,” Robbie said, handing that to me as well. I put it on and then turned to gaze at myself in the mirror. Marcia stood next to me and gasped.

“You are the spitting image,” she said.

I studied my reflection, and then it wasn’t me. I was looking at my father outside that school in Claremont. The same vision I’d had before came back to me, only this time it was more vivid because I was able to more clearly visualize him. “Are you alright?” Jordan asked in a gentle but concerned manner.

I shook myself out of it and took off the uniform. “It just triggered memories from the one time I saw him.”

“You remember that?” Jordan asked.

“I do. I had a flashback last night, when I recalled meeting him.”

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t a pleasant meeting,” he said sadly. It dawned on me that it was important to these people that I liked my father, this man that they had loved.

“He was pleasant, really nice to me. It was my mother who was unpleasant. She’d arrived just as he spoke to me. She committed suicide a few days after he saw me. I think it’s safe to say that his appearance may have sparked that.”

“Oh that’s terrible!” Marcia said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. This must be bringing back some terrible memories.”

“No, really, it’s just fine,” I said, and put my hand on her arm to emphasize that. “My mother treated me badly, and blamed me for her affair. She took it out on me every chance she got, and trained my half-brother and half-sister to do the same. The only sanity in my life came from my grandmother and from my uncle, Stefan.” I smiled when I thought about Tonto and Stefan.

“That really is a shame,” she said sympathetically.

“It is,” I agreed. “But when I think back and recall her, I find it hard to miss her, and even harder to feel bad that she killed herself. My life was hell before that, and relatively normal after. Then I’ll feel guilty about feeling that way, and wish that she was here so we could heal our relationship. I’m not sure it would have been possible, but I would have liked to have had that chance.”

Robbie looked at me strangely, because I’d just revealed a whole bunch of my internal feelings to people whom I barely knew. That wasn’t like me at all. But somehow, I felt like I did know them. I thanked them for the box, said my goodbyes, and we headed to the airport.

“They’re nice people,” Robbie observed casually.

“They are,” I agreed. Then he left me alone to process all of this, to digest all of these things that I’d discovered. He knew me so well, knew to leave me alone so I could internalize it. It dawned on me that I’d done exactly the same thing for Will when we were discussing Drew. The genetic chain was a powerful thing.