Fluke (22 page)

“I think that now is going to be the time we talk” she said, adding, “about everything.”

The alcohol in my body didn’t seem to be working too well, and my entire body felt shaky, like my hands.
 
My hands were clammy, and I wiped them on my jeans.
 
I realized I hadn’t responded to what she said.
 
I licked my lips to moisten my mouth and alleviate the drought which seemed to be going on there.

“Yes,” I croaked.
 
I cleared my throat, and watched her as she took another sip from her glass.
 
“We do need to talk.
 
Are you going to be okay, if we talk now?”

“I think…” she started, glancing down at her glass, giving the whiskey a stir with her finger, “I think I’ll be okay.
 
I realize that sometimes I have behaved a little strangely.”
 
 
She looked up from the glass, and settled her eyes upon me.
 
I nodded at her, acknowledging what we had previously not spoken of.
 
Acknowledging the episodes which I wasn’t even sure she was aware of until now. “I just don’t know where to begin.”

I nodded my head again having had the same uncertainty of what to attack first.
 
I leaned over, grabbed my glass, and quickly poured another drink.
 
All Jack, no Coke.
 
“I don’t know where to begin either, Sara.
 
I have a lot of questions, and I don’t know which are important, which I should ask, what to start with.”
 
I stirred my own drink with my finger unconsciously imitating Sara until I realized there was no need to stir it, and I stopped.
 
I wasn’t going to change the composition of a straight glass of Jack.

“Why don’t you ask me a question?
 
We can go slowly from there.”
 
She drank some more from the glass, and I saw that she was almost finished.
 
I drank some of my own, and the aroma that it left in my nose, and mouth, tickled the recesses of my mind.
 
A fleeting memory of having thrown up an entire bottle of Jack Daniels, years ago, crossed my mind.
 
I winced, and my eyes watered.
 
I looked at
Sara, and thought for a few seconds before I asked her the first question.
 
My nerves were raw, my senses shot, as I asked her:
 
“Who is the man in the picture, Sara?
 
Who is the man that looks just like me?”

My question out, I swallowed more of the whiskey, quickly, and let out a sigh of relief.
 
It was finally out there.
 
The question had been in my mind for so long, and even though I had tried to push it away, it was as if there were a little man screaming, kicking, and pounding the inner walls of my head, bellowing “
WHO IS HE, SARA?
 
WHO IN THE HELL IS THE MAN WHO LOOKS JUST FUCKING LIKE ME?”
 
Some of the anxiety and pressure was relieved, although, certainly not all of it.
 
I watched Sara.
 
She wasn’t in a trance, but instead in deep thought.
 
The little man in my head was gone, for the moment.
 
I inhaled, and exhaled deeply again.

“Well, Adam,” Sara began, her voice betraying a lack of comfort in the way her words warbled out from between her lips, in a very non-Sara way.
 
Here it comes.
 
That’s her father, and you are her brother.
 
A small noise escaped my lips, and I wiped my wet hands again, waiting.
 
She continued, “The truth is that I am not sure who the man in the picture is.”

A huge feeling of relief swept my entire being, and at the same time I was perplexed.
 
I sat, staring, unsure what to think, do, say.
 
She knew who her father was, I knew that much.
 
They were just distant.
 
But, she knew who he was, and she didn’t know who the man in the picture was.
 
This, above the other things, was a very good start even if it confused the hell out of me.

“Whew…” I finally said.
 
Nervous energy seemed to pour through my body, and I swallowed down some more Jack Daniels in the hopes that somehow it would penetrate my nerves, and calm them.
 
I looked at Sara, and it dawned on me that she gave no signs of feeling the relief that I felt.
 
“For a while, Sara, I thought you and I might be…” I cleared my throat and finished with, “brother and sister.”
 
I was nervous and felt silly saying the words out loud. I laughed a little, watching.
 
She didn’t laugh.

“No, Adam.
 
Not my father.
 
I shouldn’t have said that I didn’t know him.
 
He was a friend of the family, so to speak.
 
A friend of my parents, anyway.”
 
She reached to the bottle, uncapped
it, and poured more whiskey into her glass.
 
She left it uncapped on the table, and drank.
 

“Well, this is good, right?
 
I mean, I didn’t intentionally go through your things, but ever since I saw that picture…I couldn’t shake the awful feeling that we were related.”
 
I waited briefly for a reaction to what I said, and seeing none went on, “That’s why I threw up when you told me that you were…well, you know, late.
 
Well, that was the main reason.
 
The oysters and beers didn’t help.”

She raised her eyebrows questioningly, and then I saw the wheels turn, and understanding in her eyes.
 
She knew the man wasn’t her father, therefore, she never considered that I might have been killing myself with those thoughts.
 
The fact that I was potentially fucking my sister and that she now had a monster inside of her, wasn’t the issue at all for her.
 
These things fell together in my mind, and I slowly began to wonder just what in the hell it was that was bothering her.
 
My stomach groaned as the unknown came into play, yet again.

“Adam.
 
I don’t know how to say this.
 
I never told anyone.
 
Not my parents, not anyone.”
 
She paused, and I saw that my relief was probably going to be short-lived.
 
“The man used to…” she began crying, and I moved to hold her, but she pushed me away, “He did things…to me…awful things,
sexual
things…and, I just could never tell anyone.
 
I didn’t know what to do.
 
I was so young!”
 
She cried in earnest now, and a new wave of feeling crashed over me.
 
Sorrow for Sara, disgust for this man and whatever it was he did to make her feel like this, confusion about what to do.
 
I tried again to get closer to her and was again pushed away.
 
I sat confused and numb.
 
I was at a total loss for words, and in classical Fluke fashion, I didn’t know what to do, either.

“You look so much like him, Adam.
 
So much.
 
And, when you said you were adopted I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he could be your father.
 
And I don’t know what to make of that.”
 
Her tears began to gradually taper off.
 
I sat dumbly, waiting.
 
She was looking at me, and I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
 

He could still very well be my father!
 
The sick fuck who molested your possibly pregnant girlfriend could be your father!

I couldn’t put an end to the sudden onslaught of anger I felt towards this man.
 
My mouth came open again, and again I closed it, shook my head, and opened it again.
 
Nothing was all that came out.
 
I closed it again.

“Every now and then, I kind of lose control.
 
I can’t seem to stop it.
 
I look at you…and I
do
love you.
 
But, then I think of him.” She moved close to me now, on the couch, and pushed her hand through my hair, leaving her hand on the back of my head.
 
“I love you, Adam!”

I looked at Sara, down to my lap, and back at Sara.
 
I wanted to kiss her, but I didn’t want her to think of that man kissing her.
 
The man that could be my dad.
 
The
friend
of the family.
 
I felt guilty, as if it were somehow partially my fault.

“I love you, too, Sara,” I finally said.
 
We watched each other.
 
She pulled me gently towards her, and we held each
other.When
we finally pulled apart Sara’s eyes were red and puffy from crying, but still beautiful.
 
“You are so beautiful, Sara.”

“Oh, stop.” She gave me a little push with her hand, and smiled slightly, “I’m not beautiful…I’ve been crying, and everything.
 
I have to look really bad right now and…”

“
Shhhhh
…No.
 
You are beautiful.” I said again.

“Well, thank you.
 
I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Um, I do think that we should find some…things out.” She said.
 
I nodded my head in agreement, and she went on, “Well, first, I would like to make an appointment with the doctor to find out if I really am pregnant or not.” She paused, and there was an odd expression on her face.
 
“And, then, I think we should take a little trip to find out something about my past.
 
To find out who certain people are from my past…and maybe find out whether there is any chance that you’re related to that person.”
 
Her eyes were a little misty as she said that last part.

I nodded my head, again, and my gaze fell on the coffee table.
 
I zoned out for a few seconds, thinking, when my eyes came to rest on the whiskey.
 
“Well, there’s no use in going to bed sober…”I began, shrugging my shoulders and looking at Sara.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said, letting a small laugh out, and refreshing our glasses with strong drinks.
 
She handed
me mine, and we simultaneously held our glasses up, as if to toast, but neither one of us said anything at first.

“To luck…the good kind.” I finally said.
 
It was all I could think of.

“To luck,” she agreed.

Then we got trashed.

11.

I was startled awake by the phone ringing.
 
Sharp pain shot through my head.
 
My first conscious thought was that I was in for an incredible hangover and that I might break down and cry from the awful, shrill, piercing racket that the phone was making.
 
Rubbing my eyes, holding my head, I grabbed at the phone and picked it up.
 
Sara was still sound asleep as I brought it to my face and grunted “Yeah?”

“Hello.
 
Is this Adam Fluke?” A vaguely familiar-sounding female voice. “Yeah?”
 
I said again.

“It’s Jennifer,” she paused.
 
“Jennifer from school. Jennifer from the
bookstore
,” she added emphasis to bookstore, and I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand.

8 a.m.
 
Shit. I was supposed to open the bookstore today.

“Oh, Jennifer…I’m really, really sorry.
 
I had some problems…” I began.
 
I tried to quickly think of an excuse for not showing up to work, but my brain just wasn’t functioning.