Taboo: Generations B. 20

Book XX: Revelations II, and the Final Farewell

Oh, where do I even begin? How this book came into my possession would be a good starting point, but so much had happened prior to that that I really need to go as far back as the entry Daddy asked me to compile—you know what? Let's just say that everything from Book Fifteen to now was recently added. Okay. There. Even still, it's not enough.

Okay, so as I write this, I am thirty-three years of age. I am sitting alone outside of Jason's Landing—that's the name I have given the farmhouse that Daddy purchased from Grandma. It is twelve-thirty a.m. My partner, Lisbeth, and our twin children, Linda Shari Conyers-Saunders and Jason James Conyers-Saunders, are fast asleep. There is a fire burning before me, and I just added another log, so I should be okay for a while longer.

There is so much that has not been said, so much to divulge, yet, for what reason? The fire burns because it is thirty degrees out at the moment. The fire also burns so that I have light by which to write. Lastly, though, the fire burns because once I dot the last "I" and cross the last "T" and indent the final sentence, this, and every other part of this book, is going to burn.

I suppose I should start by saying that I have read this book in its entirety over and over again. I see now why Daddy thought it important to preserve the diary and the subsequent additions. I'm just sorry he was never able to do with them what he truly wanted, or does the fact that I now have possession of them fulfill his fondest wishes? Be that as it may, history class is now in session.

Shortly after my return from Greenland, Daddy told me that the results from the paternity test had come back and I was, indeed, his daughter. His next move was to legitimize me, which involves lawyers and the court, and my understanding of it is that the biological parent basically has to adopt his biological offspring. Whatever. Anyway, he assured me that this was all for the best because he wanted nothing standing in the way of my inheritance.

I finished at Brown, accruing both a Bachelors in Physics and a Bachelors in Psychology. I know Daddy was hoping I would follow in his footsteps, but Psychology had the stronger pull on me. Daddy flew Mom in for my graduation. It was strange seeing them together for the first time since that video was made all those years ago. She recognized Aunt Linda immediately, and they shared laughs over an isolated incident most people would have forgotten.

I'll be honest. I really tried to play matchmaker with Mom and Daddy. I suppose part of that was just me wanting a family. Not that the Saunders' didn't provide me with one. It was just a child's fantasy to have her mother and father together. Mom and Daddy just didn't click, though. Too much time had gone by, and both were on their own, respective paths.

Daddy was saddened that I was moving away to pursue my Masters at Stanford, and doubly so when I went to the University of California—Berkley for my Doctorate. I came back home as often as I could, though, because I missed everyone so terribly. Then I met Lisbeth.

How our paths crossed in a world as big as ours is anyone's guess, but this Aussie had me at "Hello," and she has had a stranglehold on me ever since. Believe it or not, she is so much like every member of my family that it is scary. She is as brilliant as Daddy, as understanding and in touch with human emotions as Aunt Linda, as kind-hearted as Grandpa, and as resourceful, easy-going, and beautiful as Grandma.

The first day we had met, she told me that I was whom she had been searching for all her life. I felt it, too, but I had to wonder if that feeling was true, or if I just missed my family and lovers so. I told her that night that if she wanted to be with me then she had to accept all my baggage without question, then I told her all about the incestuous relationships I shared to this day with my family, and I told her that as much as I may eventually grow to love her, that I could never give them up, not for anyone.

Surprisingly, she said she understood completely and that she would never ask me to do such a thing, that she and her mother had spent the last six years in a relationship before her mother succumbed to cancer. She then told me that if we ever got to the point where I introduced her to my family, that she didn't mind sitting on the sidelines if the need to express my love with any of them overcame me. I think it was at that point that I decided I loved her.

The incestuous relationships I enjoyed with each family member were so very different from what I had with another. For instance, my relationship with Grandma was always a nurturing one. She helped me to become the mature woman I am today. To contrast that, however, Aunt Linda is a jokester with a killer sense of humor, and she is extremely playful, so she has always kept me young at heart.

Grandpa was a no-nonsense kind of person. When we made love, we knew what we were after: Gratification, plain and simple. And yes, my ass still belonged to him alone. Daddy, now ... Once I had chosen which Masters (and eventual Doctorate) I was going to pursue, Daddy helped me delve into the psychology of the incestuous relationships I had. He put me on the track of, "What do you get from each that you don't get from another? Do you enjoy the differences, or do you yearn for more sameness?" He once told me that it was like a complex math problem, that the answer was already there, but I had to figure out the most efficient way of reaching it.

I maintained contact with everyone back home via email, text, and skype. As graduation day approached, all contacted me through one medium or another to tell me how proud they were of me, that they loved me, and that they would be seeing me very soon. I had already told them of Lisbeth, and all were happy for me, especially Aunt Linda, but that didn't stop her from being who she is. In fact, I dare say that her flirting increased upon my revelation.

One day I received a text from her that was a picture of her naked, her legs spread wide, and her holding two Alaskan king crabs near her crotch. The text read, "This is what I get for sleeping with a local. And they say everything is bigger in TEXAS? I think not."

I sent her a return with me in the same pose, only I was holding two lobsters. "You know how us blue-bloods do it."

A day later, she sent me a picture of a powdered sugar doughnut that had a piece bitten out of it. The text read, "I was thinking of you and had to bite something sweet. Or did I bite this and immediately think of you?"

I sent her a pic of my legs parted wide, and just above my clitty I sprayed a splotch of whipped cream and placed a cherry on top. "This is what awaits you when I see you again."

Her next text was a simple, "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Can hardly wait."

Two days later, Grandma called me and told me that Aunt Linda was dead.

Her and that God-damned tequila! She had been filming in Alaska. Inebriated, she was attempting to navigate her way across a narrow passageway alongside the ship when she lost her footing and fell overboard. When her body was finally pulled from the icy water, she was still maintaining her hold on the bottle.

Her death was hard on everyone because of the many levels of love and reverence with which we held her. The funeral coincided with graduation day. This was a no-brainer. I had already walked twice, thus I had no need to do so a third time. Besides, I would never get another chance to be with my family when they needed me most, when

I

needed

them

most.

Lisbeth accompanied me, and why wouldn't she? We were already so deeply in love with one another. My family accepted her without question. I made it a point to tell them that Lisbeth knew about the incest, and she was fine with our continued practice of it, but that in no way meant that she was to become a part of the equation, a variable, as Daddy may call her.

After the funeral, Daddy said he wanted me back home, that I needed to be closer to the family. I wanted that, too. As an incentive, he gave me the house I now occupy. I applied for a position at Brown, and two weeks later I was the psychology department's newest instructor. I would stay with Daddy through the week, then come home to Lisbeth on the weekends, unless she decided she wanted to come back to the Brown house, which was fine with Daddy.

Lisbeth and I wanted to begin our own family. She was intent on finding a sperm donor who would exemplify every good and positive trait one could possibly conceive, so when I suggested my father, she had no qualms about it.

The day we asked Daddy if he would consent to it, he cried. The process would be In Vitro, of course, though truth be told, we did spend a good three months having him ejaculate into a turkey baster and me shooting the contents into Lisbeth manually. The In Vitro finally took, though, and nine months later our twins were born.

Grandpa called me one day to tell me that last time he was at the farmhouse, he noticed a leak in the roof. I told him to hire someone to fix it, but Grandpa, who really had no business attempting to work on it, took it upon himself to do the job. Lisbeth took our children and decided to spend the day with Grandma while he was there, and upon her return ...

It seems that there was a patch of dry rot that had gone unnoticed by Grandpa. He stepped onto the roof and fell through. It was better than thirty feet from the roof to the floor. Upon her return to the house, Lisbeth performed as she should have. First, she called 9-1-1, then she called Grandma, then she called me, and I told Daddy. By the time Daddy and I returned home, it was too late. Lisbeth said his final words were, "Tell Shari I have always loved her," then he was dead.

Grandma was heartbroken. We all were. Daddy took Grandpa's death the hardest, though. He spent all of five minutes at the wake before disappearing, and remained absent even onto the funeral. We were all greatly concerned, of course. That goes without saying. I drove back to the house at Brown thinking I would find him there, but no such luck. A phone call home told me that no one was yet to hear from him, so I started back to lend what comfort to Grandma I could.

At two the following morning, my phone rang. It was Daddy. I sat up and answered immediately, and could tell by the way he spoke that he had been drinking, if not already downright drunk. "I told you we were cursed." Those were the first words out of his mouth.

"Daddy, no," I said soothingly. "It's just happenstance. A great kick in the balls, yes, but happenstance nonetheless."

"We're cursed," he said again, and as I wondered how alcohol could turn such a beautiful mind into something so irrational, he added, "If Gram killing her mother wasn't bad enough, then it's all this God-damned incest that we've convinced ourselves is normal sexual behavior." He broke down then, crying great sobs through his phone. "Gram, Ma, and Linda were bad enough, but

you

? My own

daughter

? What the fuck was I thinking? I had the power to stop it, to end the cycle, but I chose to perpetuate it for my own selfish reasons. And now ... and now ..." and he was overcome by another torrent of guilt-laden tears.

"Daddy, please. Just tell me where you are and I'll come to you. We can discuss this—"

"I'm at home," he interrupted, "but I'm about to leave. I love you so dearly, Kairi. You were the one thing in my life that I should have protected, and I failed at that."

"Daddy, don't."

"Tell your Grandma that I love her, and that I'm sorry."

"Daddy? Daddy! Don't—"

Then the sound of a gun firing filled my ear.

I collapsed onto the bed, crying my heart out as Lisbeth drew me close to her. Grandma entered the room and asked what all the shouting was about. I somehow mustered the strength and courage to tell her, and she fainted onto the floor.

I was left wondering if this family was, indeed, cursed. I spoke with Grandma about it, and she assured me that while there were no such things as curses, we all were held accountable for our actions. I then asked if she ever regretted the incest we shared, that she shared with everyone else, and she told me no, that she felt it made us all better people and built a familial bond that only strengthened over time because of it. I liked that answer, and decided that it would be my truth as well.

Daddy had shot himself in his back yard, so insofar as clean-up was concerned, the house remained unscathed. Lisbeth and the kids moved up to stay in the house with me, and that is when the books were found. She was cleaning, rearranging, what we in the psychological field refer to as "nesting," and she found a box containing various items of importance, including the books. She told me that she read just far enough to realize she didn't need to be reading it due to its private nature. I eventually allowed her to read them, and the rapes aside, she said she could see the same love in our family that she had held for her mother. She is my everything. I honestly don't know what I'd do without her.

Five years after Daddy's death, on the

eve

of his death, Grandma called me and asked if I would drive down and spend some time with her. Just me, not Lisbeth or the kids. I agreed without hesitation.

We went out and had ourselves a nice dinner, then returned home and sipped at some wine while talking about nothing in particular. She didn't mention Daddy, and I was content to not talk about him, also.

When we went to bed, she asked me to make love to her. I did, and it was just as special then as it had always been. I wrapped an arm around her waist, and we fell asleep. I awoke at six the following morning and was surprised at how cold the room was. As I lay there, though, I realized that the room itself was not cold, just my right arm, the arm I had wrapped around Grandma. Dread and sorrow filled me because I knew what it meant. Even still, I checked for a pulse and found none. "Oh, Grandma." I called 9-1-1, then hurriedly got dressed.

I called Lisbeth to inform her; her empathy gave me the strength to face this. She promised she and the kids would be down as quickly as possible.

Once the ambulance had taken Grandma's body away, I decided to call Mom. I really just needed to hear her voice right now. I called her cell phone and received a message that the voice mailbox was full. I tried the house phone next, but a message came on saying that her phone was no longer in service. I then called my uncle Eqaluk who answered in our native tongue as he never learned English. Speaking the same, I said, "Uncle, this is Kairi. I am looking for Mother."

"Kairi?" He asked questioningly. "Where have you been?"

"What do you mean?" I asked him. "I live in the United States now. You know that."

"What I mean is, why haven't you called sooner?"

"I apologize, Uncle, but I have been dealing with many hardships and set-backs," I told him, "which is why I am calling now. I am trying to reach Mother, but she does not answer her house phone or her cell phone."

"Kairi, your mother no longer walks the same path as we."

The words stung me as the bitterest colds of my youth had. "What? What do you mean, Uncle?"

"Several weeks ago, she fell victim to the piteraq," he answered after a moment's silence. Piteraq is the name we natives have given to the katabatic winds that originate at the peaks of ice caps. One can very literally freeze to death if caught by surprise, which is what Uncle Eqaluk was explaining. "She had taken to drinking much this past year. Apparently, she went for a walk and was ill-prepared for the possibility of the piteraq."

I was stunned. As much emotion as was raging inside me at the moment, I could not latch onto even a sliver of it. I would have welcomed the pain I felt at Daddy's death, but right now, having to deal with both Grandma and Mom's deaths, I was a void. I promised Uncle Eqaluk that I would be there as soon as time permitted to pay my respects, then just sat on the bed and awaited Lisbeth's arrival.

I remember thinking how irrational it was of Daddy to believe that this family was cursed, yet, as I sat there, nothing made more sense. We all indulged in our perversions, yet at no time did we force ourselves on one another. It was all willing and consensual. Does that matter, though? Am I next? Will I die, or worse still, will my children or my partner be taken from me for what society would dictate a transgression against nature? No. I won't allow it.

Look at the time. Five-thirty a.m. Lisbeth came to me during the night with a thermos of hot cocoa and a blanket. She threw another log on the fire, kissed me, and told me to take as much time as I needed. I am so thankful to have her.

This supposed curse continues to stay on my mind. What if it is

I

who am the cursed one? Think about it. Aunt Linda's last communique was with me, then she died. Grandpa and I discussed the state of the roof, then he died. Daddy and I talked on the phone, then he died. Finally, I spent the night with Grandma, and she died. Know what, though? The curse, if there is one, ends with me. The cycle ends with me.

Lisbeth and I both come from families where incest was a wonderful thing. This is not always the case, though, as my family history can attest. Even still, out of that violence came something beautiful, and I would not trade anything in the world for it.

I'm wrapping this up now, and soon it will feed the fire for a few more minutes. Then again ... You know what? Screw that. This would make one hell of a case study. I can only imagine the papers that can be written about us, and who better to explore it than she who lived it? Who knows? It just may garner me a Nobel, an honor I would be glad to share with my father.

END