Conclusion

_____________ 21 ____________

Mom hung up the phone and then ushered me into her study with a deafening silence and thick air between us. This was going to be heavy... I'd really fucked up this time. Entering her study, we sat opposite of each other as Mom closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose with the finger tips of her open hand.

I'd really fucked up this time.

"...Tim, I'm not mad at you but I need to know what happened, the truth" Mom began by looking at me.

I stared at the bookcase behind her and tried to put into words what I was feeling. I wanted to tell her to fuck-off; I wanted to tell her to mind her own goddamn business. I clenched my jaws; I wanted to tell all of them to fuck-off. Maybe I should just pack my stuff and go, I suddenly thought. I was very capable of making my own way in the world now and didn't need people sticking their noses into my business. Fuck them. WAIT! ...Mom's always been fair; give her ONE shot I suddenly thought closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Jesus what's the big fucking deal, anyway? I asked myself.

"Mom, NOTHING happened, ok?" I said shaking my head in disgust.

"Tim, I know, NOTHING happened, you didn't have time for THAT to happen but what DID happen? Did you kiss?" Mom asked looking at me intently.

I suddenly felt like the whole fucking world was looking at me under a magnifying glass. I could feel red in my cheeks and I wanted to hit something.

"...Yes" I finally replied with clenched teeth and looking at the bookshelf.

"French kiss?" Mom quickly countered.

Oh, Jesus Christ, I thought "...yes" I answered sharply.

"...Tim, I know about Angela Bickle, - you mowed her lawn eleven goddamn times last week, I'm not stupid, son." Mom said looking at me and holding up her palm in a sign to let her finish and make her point, when I began to reply.

Mom then continued with "Angela Bickle is fifty three years old and can take care of herself, she's also widowed so I know that a jealous husband isn't going to kill you, please think long and hard about that, son. ...I also understand the changes that are going on inside your body right now and I've always known that, of my two sons, you're the sensual one, you always were. I've been expecting an Angela Bickle to show up for some time now. I've TURNED MY HEAD to this, son, and am confident that you'll eventually make the right decisions once you comprehend that the world is full of women like Angela Bickle and that you're better than that. PLEASE, ALWAYS use protection, son!" Mom pleaded.

I said nothing in reply.

Mom then returned to the issue at hand. "THIS however, is different; son, and now I NEED to step-in protect you."

"What's the BIG FUCKING DEAL, Mom? So Adeline and I kissed, SO WHAT?" I asked defiantly.

"Are you in-love with her?" Mom asked, going straight to the point and ignoring my language.

"...yes" I replied evenly after a pause.

"Does she know about Angela Bickle?" Mom asked pointedly.

"Oh God, ...of course she doesn't ...it's not like that, I mean..." I stammered.

"Tim, you're being honest with me but you're lying to yourself, son" Mom replied.

This last statement by Mom made absolutely no sense to me but I knew she understood matters of the heart much better than I ever would. I was presently upset and confused and suddenly realized that Mom was on my side, regardless of however much I was going to a argue with her now.

"You've been sleeping with Angela Bickle because you know in your heart that Adeline Atwood is, and always will be out of reach for you. In essence, you're substituting reckless erotica with Angela Bickle for an unattainable heartfelt love with Adeline Atwood, son, but it won't work and you're only cheating yourself. I'm afraid this is something which you'll have to eventually discover for yourself." Mom said quietly.

I didn't reply, I was still trying to grasp Mom's meaning and she could see this in my face.

"What I'm saying is that I believe you truly are in-love with Adeline - WHAT MAN WOULDN'T BE, OK? I TOTALLY GET IT, TIM! However what you're doing now with Angela Bickle is covering your hurt with an illicit and meaningless string of afternoon trysts with a woman that you don't even have feelings for. Have you told any of your buddies about rolling in the hay with a fifty three year old woman, Tim? My God, she's got kids older than you, Tim." Mom said incredulously.

With somewhat of a shock I suddenly realized that Mom had nailed it. I had known all along in my heart of hearts that Adeline and I could never be together and as a result I had eventually let myself succumb to Angela Bickle's advances one afternoon when I had been mowing her lawn. I had been shocked at how quickly things had then spiraled completely out of control with her and I was still reeling from the way my own body had reacted to her touches and caresses, as if some primordial hardwiring within me had suddenly been activated for the first time, which in essence it had... Thinking fast now, I inadvertently took the conversation full circle and began where Mom and I had begun.

"There's places in Europe where they ...Adeline and I could move to Canada where no one knows us and get..." I began rationalizing in a last ditch effort.

Mom adamantly shook her head-NO.

" IT'S SO FUCKING UNFAIR!" I yelled, covering my face.

"It's grossly unfair, Tim, but that doesn't change the facts" Mom replied.

I closed my eyes and said nothing in reply.

"Your Aunt Elsie and I have been watching the two of you like hawks, son, we both saw this coming, years ago. Elsie is gone now so I have to be the one to protect you and Adeline, both. I have to be the bad guy" Mom said quietly.

"But why can't Adeline and me just go to Skateland, as friends, without dragging Myron and Ricky with us, don't you trust me, Mom?" I asked heatedly and looking at her.

"Your integrity, I've never doubted son, or Adeline's. What I don't trust are the hormones and teenage adrenaline pumping through your veins right now. You and Adeline are two pyromaniacs in a room full of dynamite and I've instructed Myron and Ricky, both, never to let either of you out of their sight for one second whenever you and Adeline are in close proximity of each other, Tim, -my decision stands" Mom replied firmly.

"...Adeline is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Mom ...I'm in-love with her" I said wiping my eyes.

"Tim, if you'd met her any other place, I'd stand behind you all the way. She's in-love with you as well and she's a beautiful, wonderful person. Under ANY other circumstances I would wish you to be with her, you know that" Mom said reassuringly.

"But not now" I said softly.

"She's your cousin, Tim, it won't work, baby." Mom said as she sat beside me and held me now...

"Uncle Don and Myron won't even speak to me and I'm not even welcome in their house now. Guess I've really made a mess of things this time haven't I, Mom?" I asked ashamed yet still tingling with the mind blowing sensation of French kissing Adeline a few minutes earlier in the Atwood's garage.

"For a while, yes, ...love doesn't always come in nice pretty packages with a pretty bow on top, sometimes its messy and confusing and this is how we learn. Welcome to Life-101, Tim." Mom said gently.

I was no longer angry with Mom and knew, however much I didn't like it, that she did in fact have my best interest in mind as well as Adeline's.

My mother held me for a long time that afternoon.

Doc, being his gregarious self, as always, had later pulled me aside after the incident in the garage with Adeline and said "Laddy, if you hadn't wanted to hug and kiss on that girl, then I would have worried about you, more than a wee bit, son." As had always been the case, Doc seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it. His words had brought me out from under a deep depression and self loathing that day. "Go, and sin no more, my son" Doc had said winking at me and then adding that he couldn't wait to meet the next young lady that caught my attention.

...Presently I smiled at the thought of Doc. If there was ever a man that understood human nature, it was Doc. Pulling Andrea closer to me now as she slept, I stared into the darkness of the bedroom and reflected deeply upon the conversation I'd had with my mother almost forty years ago during that afternoon when I'd been seventeen, almost eighteen. Looking back I really didn't judge, too harshly, the adolescent young man sitting across from her that day. Eventually the incident within the garage that day had been forgotten and life had moved onward for all of us.

...It had often been said that my cousin Adeline held an exact likeness to my Grandmother Ada. If Gramma really had been as beautiful as her Granddaughter Adeline was, then she must have been absolutely stunning I concurred. ...My ex-wife Susan also held a striking physical resemblance to Adeline, something which hadn't been lost to Mom. Looking back now I realize that I had married Susan, in large part, as an attempt to clone Adeline. This had failed.

A few months after the incident in the garage with Adeline I had gone, as planned, to Denver Colorado and attended Diesel School for six months, it had been my first time away from home and proven to be a very steep learning curve for me, I had stayed very busy during that time with books and hands-on training. From there I had gone to Alaska and begun work in the trucking industry for a man named Abe Reese. I had then worked with Abe for close to thirty years before his own retirement and eventual passing. Abe had been a good man to work for and I had considered him as a friend.

Glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand now, I realized that it'd been almost seven years since I had last seen my cousin Adeline, a wife and mother now herself. She'd be at Ricky and Brenda's wedding I knew, as would Myron, now divorced and living alone. After the incident inside the garage with Adeline, my Uncle Don had never spoken to me again. I suspect that much of his cold manner and reclusiveness had stemmed from the loss of his own wife, my Aunt Elsie, which had occurred the previous year before my incident in the garage with Adeline. My Uncle Don had later purchased a sailboat whereupon he allegedly had a string of several meaningless affairs and an increasing dependence upon alcohol and prescription medication. He died in a boating accident two years after his retirement at the age of sixty three, a broken man.

...Apparently Angela Bickle had ultimately moved away to another State, spending her last days living inside a dilapidated camper within a junkyard somewhere in the Mid-West where she supposedly died of a drug overdose. I believe that Angela Bickle had been a good and decent person at heart, that had simply suffered from severe loneliness after her husband had died... I held no ill feelings towards her and really don't believe Mom had either. Angela Bickle had helped make me the man I now was today and her passing saddened me.

Holding Andrea now, I listened to the Seattle rain as it drummed on the metal roof above us. It was our third night at Ricky's trailer and now technically, Tuesday morning. Les had delivered the Ford coup on Sunday night and Ricky and I had begun work on the car almost immediately. Ricky was in the process of ironing out the damaged front fender and I currently had the engine completely disassembled and ready for machine work. Andrea and I had ordered an engine overhaul kit on-line and a local transmission shop was in the process of rebuilding one of the C-4 transmissions which Randy had given us. The wedding was now one week away and scheduled to be held on March first, Mom's birthday. Ricky and Brenda had also invited Mickey to attend and I genuinely hoped that he would come and join us, I suddenly realized.

Presently, Ricky and I now had a three day trip planned with our cousin Myron and a guy named Dalton, one of Ricky's biker friends. Ricky wanted to visit a junkyard someplace that one of Dalton's friends had, which was supposedly filled with vintage cars. In reality the trip was nothing more than a way for a bunch of guys to get together and celebrate the last few days of Ricky's freedom. We loved our women but some time away from them occasionally was healthy and realistically, Ricky, Myron and I hadn't spent much time around each other since becoming "adults" and it was time. We had loaded an old camper onto Ricky's battered Ford truck and we already had the coolers and fishing poles loaded. I was looking forward to the trip and I knew that Brenda and Andrea wanted some more time to get to know each other.

...I rolled out of bed and made my way to the shower, Andrea and I had a meeting scheduled with Wren Gleason in a few hours and I wanted to be ready and look my best. Forty minutes later I was showered and already wearing my suit and tie as Andréa crawled out of bed. I presently took her a cup of coffee as she sat on the edge of bed now with Stormy the cat purring beside her.

"Morning" we each said as we kissed and I handed her the coffee.

"I'll be ready in a few, Tim. You look sharp, babe." Andrea said sipping her coffee now and admiring me.

"So do you" I replied, leaning down and kissing her again.

Making my way into the kitchen then, I sat down at the table from across my brother Ricky who was looking through the contents of the leather briefcase which my Auntie Colleen had given us on the night she had passed. Neither Ricky nor I spoke for several minutes. Now within the stillness of the morning I could hear the water running as Andrea showered herself and also the mumbled conversation of Brenda from within the master bedroom as she talked on the phone with someone. Looking down, I noticed that Yogi was stretched out on the floor beside Ricky and snoring slightly, his massive frame taking up most of the space between the kitchen table and dishwasher. The morning sounds and smell of freshly brewed coffee gave the trailer a warm and tranquil feel. Several more minutes passed without Ricky or I speaking. Stormy now jumped into my lap and began purring. Holding her up to my face I received several kisses and "I love you" nuzzles.

"Nothing here for me, Tim" Ricky said with finality and handing me the briefcase's contents.

The briefcase had contained exactly what I had suspected, photographs of the Old Man and a few CDs. One CD was labeled "Pat D. Phoenix Roundup September 1990" the other CD was marked "Patrick Allen Donovan August 21st 1924 - January 19th 1995" I noticed. Stormy now jumped down from my lap and I began to halfheartedly sift through the photographs. There were photos of the Old Man and my Uncle Sean as kids growing up in the city and there were also photos of the entire family on an outing of some kind in a wooded area. The photos seemed to have been arranged in some form of chronological order and eventually I was looking at the Old Man as he proudly stood in front of the P-40E which he had first soloed in. The airplane looked as if it had been patched together on numerous occasions during the course of its life. Obviously many young cadets had earned their wings with the machine with probably just as many minor scrapes mishaps occurring along the way as well and accounting for all of the small dings and mismatched coloration of hastily replaced used parts.

I began flipping each photo toward the waste basket in a nonchalant manner as I viewed each of them, most of the photos wound up on the floor close to Yogi's head. Another photo showed the Old Man beside his P-47 Thunderbolt which he first flew into combat with the Eighth Air Force. The young man in the photo had a confident, devil-may-care look on his face. Several other photos showed him in London and along English country sides with his buddies. There was also a photo of him in dress Uniform and standing with a very attractive girl that looked to be English... I flipped the photo toward the waste can.

The next photo I recognized as the brand new P-51D Mustang he had proudly been assigned with the name "Dorothy" painted boldly on the cowling, whoever she may had been, I didn't know. The next photo, which I had never seen before showed a man standing in front of the same aircraft with four victories adorning the lower canopy, the airplane looked the same but the same young man in this photo looked much harder... I now recognized the brutal look which I had seen so often in his eyes when I was growing-up... they were the eyes of a predator ...I flipped the photo toward the waste basket.

"NO!" Andrea now said from behind me as she stooped down and began collecting the photographs which I had discarded onto the floor.

Neither Ricky nor I said anything in reply.

"Your Auntie Colleen wanted you to have these, if you don't want them, then I'll keep them - DON'T throw them away!" Andrea said with force.

Without answering Andrea I looked at the next photo, my Auntie Colleen as a young girl, I would keep this photograph; I set this picture aside on the table. The photos were now showing life during the nineteen fifties and sixties.

The following photo showed the Old Man in front of a narrow nose Peterbilt mixer truck from when he had first worked at Redi-Mix after the war, in Seattle.

Another photo showed him with Auntie Colleen in front of a boutique somewhere in the city, they looked like they'd spent the entire day shopping for clothes.

"...Oh my God, Andrea..." I suddenly said in genuine shock.

"What" Andrea asked looking up from the floor where she was bent over and retrieving the photos which I had discarded.

"It's her" I said holding up the photograph.

"Who?" Andrea asked, standing now and stacking the discarded pictures in her hands.

"That's not... oh my God, Tim, I think that is her. I'll get Rick's photos so we can compare them" Andrea said looking down at the picture and turning toward the bedroom.

"...Same girl" I concluded incredulously a few minutes later and comparing, side by side, the picture from within Auntie Colleen's leather briefcase next to the photograph taken by Rick Sheffield which we had since dubbed "The Wild Card."

Here we had a photograph of an unknown girl which we had found in the stack of photographs taken by Rick Sheffield. Yet now, we had another photograph of the exact same girl found within the unrelated stack of the Old Man's photos that Auntie Colleen had just given us. It made absolutely no sense. The only annotation on the back of this photograph was "Hein" and obviously in Auntie Colleen's hand writing.

"Same girl, no doubt about it" Brenda concluded a few minutes later and sipping her own coffee.

"Tim, we need to go if we're going to meet Wren on time" Andrea said, looking at her watch.

"We'll be here when you get back" Ricky said, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

...Andrea and I soon sped away in Brenda's Toyota Camry, with Andrea at the wheel.

"I wish we could have stayed and studied the photos some more" I said looking out the passenger's window.

"We will when we get back, Tim" Andrea replied.

Ten minutes later Andrea dove the little Camry into a McDonald's parking lot and we got out.

"Let me look at you" Andrea now said as we stood facing each other.

She then straightened my tie for me and kissed me.

"You're a handsome man, maybe I'll take you home with me" she said.

"I'd like that" I replied as we grasped hands and walked toward the entryway door.

My phone alerted me of a text.

"...She'll be here in a few minutes - enough time to get a coffee" I said looking at my phone.

"Are you nervous?" Andrea asked.

"Not really, we'll see what she has to say" I said shrugging.

Shortly after Andrea and I sat down with our coffees I saw a middle aged woman enter the building and begin looking in every direction. Taking the cue, I raised my hand and waved it above my head. Wren nodded her head and then indicated that she would join us once she had procured her own cup of coffee. A few minutes later Andrea and I stood as Wren approached our table, we shook hands.