Castillo. Day nine. Thursday.
It's not an easy situation to consider, despite what some might think. And it's such a simple thing too, locking one's door so no one gets in. Yesterday morning, I left the door unlocked. It led to a very pleasant surprise at the hands of Heather - my sister. And believe me, there's no complaining on my part, except for the fact I feel things may be going too far; or rather evolving too quickly.
I'm awoken by the sound of the doorknob being pulled. It doesn't give. She must have forgotten what I told her last night about locking my door. I know it's her and a big part of me wants to let her in. Or a small part. I close my eyes and let it pass. Not yet, I tell myself. I'm not ready for more.
About half and hour later, I rise from bed and check my messages. Several have come in from my many lovers and I tend to each of them; it takes a few minutes but it should tide them over for a time. I'm in high demand and there's a chance this might increase. At some point, I'll have to find a way to manage these relationships more efficiently. Right now, there's only so much I can do given all I have to accomplish. Especially today.
After hitting the showers, I head downstairs. Mom is her usual self in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, looking content. As I walk past her, I lean in and give her a hug from behind, then a kiss on the shoulder.
- Good morning, Grant.
- Mom.
I move to the fridge and grab some juice, then sit at the table. She brings the pancakes over.
- How was your night?
- Restful. Where's Heather?
- Still in her room, I think, she answers.
I get a doubt in my mind. Is Heather angry at me? It's doubtful, but maybe the fact that I locked my door caused her some stress. I'll check in on her after the meal.
- What are your plans for today?
I look up at my mom, wondering how much I can share of my plan. I decide that, for this at least, I can come forward.
- Going to the bank.
Her eyes turn inquisitive.
- I'm looking for a loan, mom.
- But why?
- So I can start my own... business.
Mom trusts me implicitly but I can tell that her curiosity is not sated. However, I don't feel that I can share more details with her right now. This
- Don't worry, mom. I'll fill you in on all the details once they're settled. The project is pending.
- Very well.
She sits down to eat with me. We chat about life. Eventually, she looks up with a more specific thought in mind.
- Did I tell you that Dolores is coming over this Saturday?
- I believe you did, yes.
- It's so wonderful. She hasn't been around in so long. I miss her... at least your father's passing has allowed me to reconnect with her.
- I'm so glad for you two, I reply. Dolores... loves you very much.
- I love her too.
The sentiment echoes with something in the back of my mind, unresolved thoughts, ideas that are similar to the ones I have about Heather and Stacey. I shut my eyes for a moment and focus on myself. The inevitability of it all strikes me silently; I internalize everything.
- ...you know I love you, mom?
- Of course I do, sweetie!
Her smile is warm.
- And I love you too! she adds.
- Anything to make you happy, mom. Anything... to make my family happy.
The meaning of the word 'family' is starting to shift in my mind. A result of my current condition or behavior? Maybe. But I can't help but feel that everyone I connect with - everyone with whom I am intimate - becomes an extension of myself. I can't think of them and their happiness without thinking of mine. Making them happy makes me happy too. Dolores reconnecting with my mother. Pauline's issues with her husband and Esther. Finding my half-sister, Irina's daughter. Helping rekindle the passion between Alice, my old teacher, and her husband. And helping to secure everyone's financial future...
It's all one package - one single goal stretching in many directions.
- Where are you? mom asks me.
I turn to her, returning to the present moment.
- In the future.
- And how is the future?
- Glorious.
She smiles at me as we finish breakfast.
When I knock at my sister's room's door, I get no immediate answer. I knock again. There's a shuffle of feet and movement towards the door. She opens, standing there in a loose tank top that allows me to see the edges of her breasts; she's also bottomless so I can see the relative pink between her legs. Her eyes are a bit glazed over from the sleepiness, but her smile widens when she sees me.
- ...morning, Heather.
- Morning, she replies.
We stand there in silence for a second or so.
- I left my door locked last night. I hope you understand, I tell her.
- Don't worry, Grant.
She grabs my hand.
- There's no expectation or anything. I hit a locked door, I turned around.
- Did I wake you when I knocked? I ask her.
- No. I was just lounging.
Her instinct is to pull me into her room; I choose not to let her at this time. She doesn't insist.
- ...is there something you want? I ask her.
Her voice is hesitant, but not because she doesn't know what she wants, or because she thinks it's wrong. She hesitates, I think, because she's waiting for my input. I hold back a sigh. I need her to take the initiative and it seems like she won't, at this moment. In fact, I know she won't, because they generally don't until I give them permission.
That's a problem. At least, it is for me, at this moment.
I let go of her hand.
- I have to head out. But tomorrow, Heather... tomorrow, you and mom and me, and Stacey - she's coming back tomorrow, right?
- Right, Heather confirms.
- The four of us... will have a beach date. Does that sound nice?
- It does.
Her eyes tilt sideways, indicating she's deep in thought. I leave her on that. In fact, I leave the house altogether, after making a call for someone to meet me downtown.
WHEN WE ENTER THE BANK, Sally and myself head over to the front clerk who looks up at us in her professional manner.
- We're here to meet with a mortgage specialist, I tell her.
- Do you have an appointment?
- We do, Sally says.
She organized this herself; after all, as a real estate agent, she's familiar with the process and has the connections. She still can't believe she's agreed to this. All of it obviously bewilders her still - the visit to the million-dollar mansion, the wild sex we had there, the four-girl orgy she partook in yesterday - and yet, she fully accepts and invests in it. Chances are she'll be leaving her boyfriend. Not that I care. It is her choice entirely, as far as I am concerned. At least, I think it is.
We wait around for a few minutes, then are led to a closed office. Good. It works better that way. The man that greets us introduces himself as Kyle Rooney. He's in his mid-thirties, looks relatively athletic and an easy-going person. Him being a man only implies that sex won't be a factor in the negotiations (not like Lulu and Elena the previous day!) - at least as far as I'm concerned. Sally has all the papers and I barely have to talk, at least while she explains to him my goal.
- A loan on that house? the man quips, unsure if he heard correctly.
- Yes, I insist. It's what I want.
The man is puzzled. It doesn't make sense to loan such an amount to a man in my position. And it's more complicated than just getting him to agree. Even if he signs off on it, the bank director won't. And it might be stopped higher up as well, like the FCC, or some other regulatory agency which I can't reach and therefore affect. There's a fine line that needs to be walked here - Sally's given him the facts; I have to play the other game.
- Kyle, I turn to him. This is important to me.
- I understand, Mr. Hammond. I truly do. But what you're asking for is beyond what's allowed within the bank's rules.
I have to get him onboard.
- Kyle, listen to me. I need that loan. And I think you can make it happen.
I see his mind racing; of course, I've won him over with my power but that doesn't mean he can change the rules of the game. I insist on the fact that I won't be alone in paying back the loan, that there will be others, that we will be living and paying for it with our shared incomes and that it will be sufficient. Sally has even crunched some numbers. But despite my reassurances, his mind can't find a loophole to exploit without breaking the law - and despite his desire to help me, the fear of losing his job prevents him from investigating illegal options.
- Well, he argues, you do have someone offering collateral. It's a start, but...
Lulu had Elena forward a formal document to Sally with respect to the endorsement; apparently, it's not sufficient given the amount of money involved and the price of the home.
- Do you have any other ideas? I ask him.
- Well...
Kyle is on my side and his mind races again. I look at Sally beside me. She's focused, all professional.
- I'll be personally investing my own finances, she tells the clerk.
- That's fine and good, he replies. But how much money are we talking about?
They exchange amounts; it's not nearly enough and we knew that, but I suppose every bit of information helps.
- If everyone involved could sign up and be on the potential mortgage, Kyle suggests. Your name alone doesn't carry much... monetary weight
That's not feasible to me. I don't want anyone but me to officially invest in this. Maybe it's pride on my part but I can't see the people I'll be living with taking the financial risk that goes along with this odd social experiment. The problem is literally capital - I don't have enough.
Mind you, I could probably get some, if I were being selfish. I could walk up to people, ask them to give me money, and I'd probably get rich quick. Such is the power of suggestion I seem to hold over people. I mean, even this reasonable man at the bank is trying to accommodate my unreasonable deal. And it is, as unlikely as me become a Don Juan overnight, just like my dad was.
My dad. The awareness hits me hard. Castillo is a small town and there's only one bank. One branch.
- Listen, I interject. I'd like to ask about another topic.
- Of course.
- You've been working here for many years?
- Specifically twelve. Why?
I pull out my phone and retrieve a picture of my father.
- Do you know this customer?
He stares at it and smiles.
- I do, yes.
- Was he a customer here?
The clerk smiles.
- Oh! I remember him well. He was a great customer... great person too.
His words are unsurprising.
- I'm... his son. Grant.
- Oh! Lovely to meet you. Yes... Hammond. I hadn't made the connection.
- May I pry into my father's activities at the bank? You know he died recently, right?
- Yes, I heard about the news. Condolences.
- Thank you.
Sally is looking me inquisitively, wondering where this line of questioning is headed. I visually ask her to indulge me; of course she will.
- Do you know if my father... kept a secret account of his earnings?
My question stumps him. I elaborate.
- We met with the executor last week and were given some of his items. But most of the money he supposedly earned is, well, nowhere to be found. It could really help in this.
- Well, if it wasn't in his will...
- Could you check, please?
