An Unwitting Discovery Ch. 02

I offered her my hand to help her from the seat, and she took it, but released her grip once she was on her feet. Locking the car, I moved out in front of her to open the restaurant's door for her. There wasn't even a flicker of a smile, from her, to acknowledge my courtesy as we entered the place. I was kind of stumped. Some things I did had gotten through her deep thoughts, some didn't, but I couldn't stop being myself with her. I simply, desperately, wanted to make her happy; it felt like my primary purpose in life.

I dozed in fitful spurts, as my rock drove us stalwartly toward this unknown encounter. His dad and aunt had been very inviting, and I'd been so looking forward to meeting them but, in the light of our relationship, it felt like we were hurtling toward doom and judgment. What would they think, of this 'slut' who had been sleeping with her brother? Would they accept that my love for Tommy was real? Might I meet our mom, and what would she think? Would my biological mother even want to know about me, or be involved with me in any way? The stream of thoughts wouldn't ease up, and I struggled to keep myself from attempting to run away from it all.

Tommy startled me, when he asked me to check the weather. After I dug out my phone, I saw the message he must have sent me after I'd run from our apartment with nothing but the clothes on my back. Please, come back, his words sounded of begging. I hadn't read them at the time but, in the dreary light of that day, I believed I had heard and felt his anguish over my leaving. There was no science to explain what I'd experienced. There'd been something telling me to go back to him, or rather screaming at me, GO BACK TO HIM. Was that God, speaking to me, or just what I wanted to hear? I wondered. There was no way to tell, and no one that I could seek out for guidance.

After I told him about the weather and we discussed meal logistics, he exited the interstate to take me to my favorite breakfast restaurant. There was only one problem; the thought of eating was making me nauseous. Tommy was always such a gentleman; he was at my door, ready to help me out, before I'd even unbuckled my seatbelt. The fear and self-loathing I was feeling made me drop his hand, however, as I considered running into the nearby woods to hide my shame. What kind of shameless woman wants to continue to 'see' her brother? Every time I looked at him or touched him, I wanted to cry because all of my feelings for him welled up inside me with a nearly uncontrollable potency. What the hell do I do? He's so perfect; why'd he have to be my half-brother, of all things?

When we sat at the counter, I didn't get my usual. Instead I got a waffle, because I thought I might be able to keep that down. Tommy did order his usual, and comforted me with soft caresses on my back, while we waited. The discovery hadn't driven him from me, in the least. If anything, it was clear that nothing would change his nature, and he was more dedicated to me than ever before. His strength of conviction stabilized mine. Every bite of food I took, I took for him. I had to make it through this for him. He needed me as much as I needed him and, if I could, I wanted to be with him. Perhaps, if we had to separate, we'd still be very close. After all, we'd still have the tie of our newly found half-sibling relationship to bind us together.

The problem was that -- deep in my soul -- incest or not, I didn't want it to end with the two of us simply exchanging Christmas cards, phone calls, and occasional visits over the next fifty years or so. I wanted Tommy in my arms -- and, yes, in my bed! -- for the rest of my life. I'd never been as close to anyone as I had been, to him. There'd been friends, and even a boyfriend, but no one knew the things about me that Tommy did.

Sitting at the counter, looking at the menu absently, I thought about how my less refined self would have said I'd've crawled over cactus, to make her happy, and smiled. As predicted, my language had morphed to match my environment, and much of my 'lingo' -- the quaint colloquial expressions that had become part of me, growing up in Texas -- had begun to fade. I adopted phrases my professors and Suzan used, in favor of clearer communication.

Sometimes though, especially when excited or agitated, the vernacular came tumbling out of my mouth like a bubbling stream. Suzan had been a part of that change, encouraging me and helping me improve myself. Yes, she'd fallen in love with that slightly (okay, very) rough-around-the-edges trailer park Tommy, but college was about becoming improved versions of ourselves. We'd both taken to heart the idea of expanding our experiences and learning. Learning was what had brought us together; I hoped, at that moment, that it wouldn't be what tore us apart.

I really would have given my last dollar to see her happy again, I thought, suddenly provoked because there was nothing I felt I could do about the situation. If Suzan became fixated on the religious or shame aspects of our relationship, then we probably had no chance. Nothing would change the nature of my character, though; if anything, I was more dedicated to Suzan than ever.

We sat at the food counter and awaited the waitress. When she got to us, I ordered what I always did, two eggs over easy, bacon, hash browns all the way, and a coffee. Suzan just got waffles and coffee. She would have normally gotten something else, but I could tell she was just forcing herself to eat. She seemed to be in simple survival mode. I tried to stop analyzing everything she was doing, and just be there for her. I knew we couldn't talk here, but eventually I hoped she'd break through.

Cups, and coffee to fill, them came out quickly. It wasn't as good as the coffee Dad's machine made, but it warmed my insides and woke me up a bit. The cooks piled the ingredients of our order onto the grill and, before I knew it, our plates were delivered with contents steaming in front of us. Suzan buttered her waffle and poured maple syrup on it, still sort of going through the motions. I felt so bad for her, but couldn't see anything I could do aside from be there, for her. So I was. We ate in silence, but I would look at her and tenderly touch her shoulder or back, from time to time. She didn't pull away, and even seemed to anticipate it.

When we finished eating, she made a trip to the bathroom. I paid and waited in the car to get it warm again. When I saw her coming, I hopped out and got her door, which got me some acknowledgement, this time.

"Thanks, Tommy. I love you," she said softly, caressing my cheek before slipping into her seat.

"You know I love you, Suz," I said, stemming back a tear and closing her door.

As I slid behind the wheel, the rain started to fall. I worried a little, but the temperature gauge on the dash registered a few degrees above freezing. Pulling out of the parking lot, I tested the road, gently tapping the brakes. There wasn't any ice forming, yet, but there might be trouble on bridges or overpasses. Back on the interstate, the traffic had lessened a bit. There were still plenty of cars and trucks, but people were being fairly behaved, with the weather. Suzan was checking the weather app on her phone, again, to see what the predictions were showing.

"Still no reports of freezing rain this far south. We should be fine," she reported.

I drove, the wipers flipped water off the windshield, and my mind wandered in the soft white noise of the tires on wet pavement. The long drive reminded me of my trip up from Corpus. It hadn't been cold, like it was that morning, but it had been raining heavily from the remnants of a tropical storm. I'd used my phone, connected to the aux jack on the stereo, to keep from constantly having to find new radio stations every half hour or forty-five minutes.

That morning, however, I wasn't playing anything. It still felt too raw, too soon to play something happy, but I determined that I might venture to play some Christmas music, later, to lighten the mood. For the moment, I let the silence continue. Suzan was nestled back against the pillow, sleeping. Her trust in my driving, her earlier expression of love, and her continued gentleness with me, all told me to be patient.

Around 1:00 PM, we had reached the area just outside Atlanta. Tommy needed to get gas, and it was time to eat, again. He pulled off the interstate at a big combination truck stop and restaurant that advertised nice restrooms on their billboards.

After he gassed up the car, he asked, "You want another sit-down meal?"

"No, let's just get a quick bite to eat," I suggested. "I do need to use the restroom, though, before we get back on the road."

"Yeah, me too. I had too many coffee refills, at breakfast, and my back teeth are floating," he joked.

We met back at the restaurant, to get our food, both of us selecting finger food that could be eaten while driving. Chicken strips and waffle fries seemed to be the best choice, for that. When we finished inside and were headed back to the car, I got a rush of energy.

"You want me to drive, a while?" I asked, almost perkily. The surprise on Tommy's face was a delight to see. If I were him, I'd've probably said something like, I'd pay good money, to see that.

"Sure; you know the route?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so; I looked at the map, when we were planning. We just keep going south on I-85 until we get to Montgomery, then I-65 to I-10, right?"

"Yep, that's it. I guess we should put Dad's address in the GPS."

"Okay. You do that, and I'll drive for a while," I said, and held out my hand.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, hitting the unlock button on his key-fob and then handing me the keys with a slight bow.

The big, silly goof never stopped trying to make me happy, even in the face of the over-encompassing feel of doom. I couldn't help but smile at him as I took the keys and slid into the driver's seat. I'd driven his car dozens of times but, that day, he seemed surprised or apprehensive, for some reason. While I adjusted the seat and mirrors, he punched Dan's Corpus Christi address into the GPS, which reported there were just over fifteen hours left in our trip. The navigation system announced that 'Route guidance will now begin,' and reminded me (like I really needed the reminder!) to 'be alert' as I merged us back into traffic on the highway, heading southwest.

"We aren't through Atlanta, yet; have you driven through there, before?" he asked, probably worrying about the stress it might cause, in my current emotional state.

He seemed never to have a thought for himself, and I tried to ease him, "No, but I should be okay."

"I'm just warning you. It's like eight or nine lanes of traffic, and they drive like crazy people."

I couldn't help but smile and played like I thought he was worried for his safety, "I've driven roads like that, before, Tommy; I won't get us hurt, okay?"

"I'm not worried about that. The number of lanes and intensity of the traffic took me by surprise. It might be worse than Houston's insane spaghetti junctions on I-10, which I'd seen before," he told me.

When we reached the Atlanta multi-lane craziness, I could feel him settle back into his seat. I'd driven the madhouse known as the Capital Beltway, around Washington DC, and I'd also driven around Norfolk, so I'd seen crazy drivers before. From his sleepy look, I took it to mean I'd convinced him I was alright. He'd been right, of course; there was insanity going on around us, but I simply let those people do their thing and maneuvered the path in front of me. Maybe I could pull off the same trick, with our relationship, by taking each step as it came.

Once we were on the other side of Atlanta Tommy took a turn napping. He was very restless, and I worried that he was putting on a facade of strength for my sake. There was nothing I wouldn't do to make him happy. During what must have been a dream that was tormenting him, he kept saying, No, don't! and Why am I here? I gently placed my hand on his leg and he settled a bit.

Just outside of Montgomery, I shook him awake, "Are you okay? You kept saying, I never saw him this crazy!."

"I just had the worst dream," he yawned, stretching and looking around.

"What was it?" I asked him.

"Um -- I don't want to think about it, right now. Where are we?"

"Coming into Montgomery," I told him, wondering why he didn't want to talk about it. I could tell it wasn't just about me. I had to wonder what it was. "Alright; well, I'm going to stop for a restroom break, okay?"

"Yes. I think I need to go, too," he said.

I got off the interstate and pulled into another one of those big truck stops. I dumped the lunch trash into the cans, and we each used the facilities. At the huge bank of vending machines, I purchased a bottle of water for each of us, and we headed back to the car.

On the way back to the car, I offered, "I'll take over, if you'd like."

"Okay, thanks. I'm still very tired," she said sadly.

I hated seeing her like that; it pulled at my heartstrings. Wishing to brighten the mood a bit, I opened her door, helped her in, and asked, "You ready for some Christmas music?"

"Yeah, I'll hook up your phone and start it streaming."

I dug the phone out of my pocket and handed it to her. We'd recently started listening to a streaming service that tracked our usage, learned what we liked, and played more of it. It also had various prebuilt streaming selections that we liked. The service was so good, and cheap, that I'd signed up to get the commercial-free version on a yearly subscription for less than what the satellite people wanted for two months. We'd put the app on both our phones, but the unlimited data plan Dad had gotten, on my phone, meant we used it most of the time. As Christmas had neared, Suzan noticed a new station and had started listening to it for prospective guitar duet pieces she wanted to practice and learn together.

We'd taken up several, 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas', 'Silent Night', 'Jingle Bells', 'All I Want For Christmas Is You,' and her favorite, 'Feliz Navidad'. As she got the app running, I was introduced to something that was new, to me, but apparently not, to her, because her face lit up.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"It's a group called, The Trans Siberian Orchestra; they've done an entire Christmas album."

"It's really different. I'm familiar with a wide range of styles, from classical to country, but this is -- "

"You want me to skip it?" she asked.

"Nah, it's good."

She smiled brightly. The music was nothing like I'd heard, but it was kind of exciting and was a good change from the seasonal standards we'd heard repeats of, over the last week or so -- Christmas In Dixie by Alabama, Christmas Time from Charlie Brown, I'll Be Home For Christmas, and more. That it made her happy was a definite bonus.

Tooling down the highway, I couldn't shake that damn dream. Despite the cheery music, it had a hold of me for some reason. It'd been the most vivid dream I could ever remember having, and I shuddered like someone had walked across my grave. Even as I sat there, the details were fresh.

Why we were even at Mom's trailer, outside Austin, I couldn't really fathom. We'd arrived shortly after lunchtime, but I honestly hadn't wanted to go there -- let alone spend too much time at their place. I'd never felt welcome when I'd lived there, plus I knew in the back of my head that Suzan was still struggling with the fact that Launa was probably her mother. The dream seemed to delve right into that discomfort and played on all of my worst fears.

When we pulled up, the curtain in the open living area parted slightly, and I saw Pete staring at us from where I knew his easy chair was. Mom was out the front door and to my side of the car before I'd turned off the engine. She was happy to see me, but she looked haggard.

Getting out of the car, I accepted her hug, "Hi, Mom." Then I broke the embrace and introduced Suzan as she approached from the front of the car. "I want you to meet Suzan."

"Hello, dear; nice to meet you. I didn't even know Tommy was dating," she said with a little cattiness that put me off immediately.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Davis," Suzan replied, offering her outstretched arms.

Mom turned toward the house, ignoring her, "Y'all come inside; I'll fix us a drink."

"We'll be right in," I said, not following immediately.

When she was inside, I said to Suzan, "This feels all wrong; you want to leave?"

"No, I wanted to meet her," she said as my dream continued working against me.

"Well, I don't know what's up with Mom. She looks like hell."

"Let's go in. I'm sure it'll be fine."

We walked hand in hand to the door. Inside, I found Mom sitting on the sofa. She got up at once, when I came inside.

"Suzan, this is Pete, my step-dad."

Pete nodded at her from his chair, and continued to watch football on TV. He had shit for manners, and could probably foul up a two-car funeral. I tried to ignore his disrespect and turned to Mom.

"Y'all want some tea or lemonade?" she asked, more sweetly than I'd heard in real life.

The dream compelled me to talk with her and leave Suzan alone with Pete. In reality, I'd never have done that, but in that dream, I'd dopily gone along, "Sure, I'll help you get those."

"Hello Mr. Davis, nice to finally meet you," I heard Suzan tell Pete.

Despite being in the kitchen, in the dream I could see Pete look over at her and then looked her from head to toe and back again. I felt a pang of anger and jealousy wash over me as Pete seemed to have turned his sheets into the wind to ogle my fiancée.

Fiancée? When had I settled on that notion? I'd certainly been thinking about how I could spend the rest of my life, loving her, and we'd talked something along those lines from time to time, but I hadn't officially 'popped the question' to her, yet. And, now, with the realization of our true relationship, I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever get the chance to do so.

"Pete, you be nice," Launa said from the kitchen like a bell tolling out its warning.

He turned his attention back to the TV, spit into the spittoon, and took a pull on his beer. Satisfied he would leave her alone, I followed Mom into the kitchen. She'd gotten down three plastic tumbler sized cups and put ice in them.

"You two want tea?" she asked as she poured herself the last of the lemonade.

"Yeah, that'd be fine. Are you okay? You look bruised up."

"I've just had a little fall, the other day."

"Mom, is he abusing you?"

"No, sweetie; I told you, I fell."

"Is there some reason you don't like Suzan?" I asked flatly.

"Well, I know y'all are livin' in sin, up there."

I felt kind of dumbstruck. She'd actually cheated on Dad, with the genius out in the front room. Her description of our relationship was about as welcome as an outhouse breeze.

"I can't believe you're going to stand there, in judgment of me, after what you did to Dad. Look, if you don't want her here, we can just leave," I said in an angry whisper.

"Don't go Tommy; I'm sorry. She seems nice. Please, stay for supper."

"I don't know; I'll see what Suzan wants," I said, picking up the tumbler full of tea.

As I headed back into the front room, I was confronted with the sight of Pete's hand, reaching over to touch Suzan's knee.