A Third of Me (16 page)

There's a brief speech from Reverend Motley. I drag my feet against the astroturf, touch the ring dangling behind my shirt. Before I know it, Damon's being lowered into a hole. He's gone. I'll never see him again. It doesn't make sense to me. I can't fathom this notion even after swallowing a handful of pills Lauren gave me to relax. I can't take it anymore so I just start weeping pitifully without caring how sensitive and unreasonable I seem. I begin questioning this reality I've made for myself – this waking world dressed with hopeful fantasy. My guts twist into a knot, jerking and spasming like I'm devouring myself from within. Suddenly the world begins to melt away slowly, flickering. My perception becoming abstract and senseless. Memories become that of which dreams are made – ghostly matter lingering like stale perfume. Breathing is something I've forgotten how to do. It seems laborious and superficially unnecessary. I watch as everything shrinks down, compressing into a dot.

I strap Devin in his car seat and crank the A/C. Once we're home, I cook us some fish sticks, watch him smile and look around, expecting his other father to come home after a long day of being dead. The permanence of death is something I wish I could explain to him. Devin is a smart boy, but I fear he’ll spend his days waiting for Damon to return. Unfortunately, I’m more afraid I’ll be doing the same thing.

E P I L O G U E

“Brian died not even a year after Damon was killed,” the boy said, leaning back in his chair and pulling his jacket tighter. “Doctors said it was the cancer, although I think it was a broken heart, which is way more lethal that the big C. But that’s my opinion.”

Sarah's jaw hung open, hovering above an empty soul bowl.

“That was…definitely a bizarre story,” she said.

He smiled a bit, satisfied, wondering when she'll get it. Part of him didn't expect her to, but he felt like going the subtle route might be the most effective in this situation.

“So whatever happened to this kid?”

A car horn cut the tension. “Devin!”

He spun around to see his stepfather parked at the curb, waving at him.

“Be right there, Adam!” Devin winked at Sarah and got up from the table, grabbing his backpack. “Call me okay?” He dropped a few bills on the table, weighted them with his coffee mug, and hoped off the patio.

“Wait!” Sarah yells. Devin turned back to her, watching her hair waver in the breeze, trying to freeze her in a mental snapshot. “Was all that true?” she asked.

“What do you think?” He winked at her again and got into the car. As Sarah watched them drive away, she felt as though her head might explode at any moment.

Adam's BMW eased through the gated driveway of a Spanish hacienda on Macklin Avenue. The place was hard to see from the street, but Dr. Weiss took great care to maintain his family's privacy even though those edgy days were far in the past.

They rounded the circular driveway and parked at the front steps. The front door opened. Lauren stepped outside, her beauty and stellar character intact. She crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow. Devin got out and ran up to her. She ruffled his thick, moppy hair.

“How was school?” she asked.

He bobbed his head. “School was cool.”

“Dinner's almost ready, I promise. You'd better be hungry.”

Adam hobbled up the steps and kissed his wife on the cheek. “What are you talking about, he's always hungry.”

“Always,” Devin said and ran into the house and up the elegant, carpeted staircase.

Adam sat his briefcase in a chair at the bar, braced his hands on the granite countertop. Lauren worked over the stove preparing a remarkable feast of pork roast, carrots, potatoes, squash, and even an Italian cream cake – a recipe she had gotten from Brian's mother many years ago.

“Good to be home,” Adam said. “It's been a nightmare today.”

“I'm sorry.”

“That smells really good.”

“It should. It's your favorite.”

Adam smiled and went over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “It was someone else's favorite, too.”

Lauren smiled without humor. “Brian had good taste.”

Adam walked away and loosened his tie, stared at an oil painting next to the stainless steel fridge. “I'm not expecting anything, you know?”

Lauren went to him, kissed him, wrapped her thin around his. “Baby, he's still young,” she said. “He probably just forgot.”

Adam let a yeah escape him and took a deep breath.

“Don't worry about it. It's nothing personal. Have you met that girl he's been talking to?”

“Haven't met her, no,” he said, taking a beer from the fridge. “I've only seen her from a distance.”

“She's very sweet.”

“When did you meet her?”

“When I picked him up from school last week. Here, taste this.” She held out a fork with a sliver of beef dangling from its prongs. Adam took it, nodding.

“Tender enough?”

“Perfect.”

Lauren smiles and turns her head towards the stairs. “Devin! Come eat!”

The three of them ate quietly. Devin picked at his food.

“How's Sarah?” Lauren asked.

“She's good. Really good. We had coffee together today.”

“Third time this week,” Adam said, going for another beer.

“Yeah, I'm trying to make it a regular thing, but–”

“But what?” Lauren leaned in, waiting for it.

“I think I may have scared her today.”

Adam laughed. “Women are so fragile, so easy to scare. I wouldn't worry about it.”

Devin took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I told her about Brian and Damon.”

A fork fell from Adam's hand and chattered as it struck his plate. Lauren touched his arm.

“I'm sorry. I just thought… Well, I know you guys are worried about people finding out.”

“We just don't want you get into any trouble,” Lauren said. “The world's full of narrow-minded people.”

“You shouldn't worry what people think. From what you've told me, you use to not care. I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of. Sorry.”

“We're not upset,” Adam said. “I would just be careful who you tell, that's all.”

The door bell chimed three times. Adam got up, wiped his mouth, and went to the door. Lauren squeezed Devin's leg underneath the table.

“I love you,” she said.

“I know.” He winked back.

“Devin, you've got company,” Adam called.

Devin ran to the door. Sarah stood in the doorway against the setting sun through the maples that lined Macklin Avenue. Adam invited her in, but she said, “Thanks, but I can't stay long.”

“I'll leave you two, then.” Adam went back into the dining room. Sarah just stood there smiling.

“Aren't you gonna say something?” he asked.

She shook her head, leaned in and planted her lips easily on his cheek. His fingers touched the spot, which seemed to tingle once her lips withdrew.
Victory!
he cried out in his head.

“Can I come over tomorrow?” she asked.

“I'll have to ask… Fuck it, come on over.”

“You sure?”

He nodded without looking like a love-drunk fool. She turned and walked out the house and into the sunset. Devin expected to see credits rolling as she turned the corner.

He ran past Adam and Lauren and bolted up the stairs, hooting and hollering as if he had just won the lottery. Big win, baby.

A steamy discharge of water shot out from the shower head. He adjusted the temperature while kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt, revealing two rings on a chain around his neck. His eyes moved from the rings to his face, then back to the rings. His hand closed around them. Devin took the chain from around his neck and hung it next to a photograph of Damon, Lauren, and Brian – one that Lauren had saved after Brian passed. Devin examined every detail just as he'd had many times before.

“Love you guys.”

He showered and pulled a shirt over his damp hair, tossing the towel aside. He hopped into bed, checked the clock, felt for the light switch. A knock came before he could escape into the darkness. He smiled. Adam peeked his head in slowly.

“You still up?” Adam asked.

Devin sat up in bed. “I was about to give up on you.”

“What do you mean?”

Devin reached into his nightstand and pulled out a small box, crudely wrapped. “Did you really think I'd forgotten?”

Adam took it from him and opened it. An antique pocket watch. Light flashed off the crystal.

“It doesn't run, but I thought it would look good in your collection. Did I do all right?”

Adam nodded. “You did fine. Thank you. I don't really know what else to say.”

“You don't have to say anything.”

For a moment, the words seemed to echo Brian's, which made him shiver. He just shook his head and hugged Devin as though he wouldn't be able to again.

“Happy Birthday.” For the first time, Adam felt like the sentiment was deserved. He had helped raise Devin since he was just a tyke, and being recognized as his father figure was a tougher road than he initially planned to take.

Adam kisses his forehead. “Get some sleep.” He went out and pulled the door closed, startled but not surprised to see Lauren leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed.

“I'm not going to say you told me so,” Adam said.

“You don't have to.” And after that, they made love and felt better about everything. Life had finally begun to seem normal in spite of how different their family history might have been. But who's to say any family is normal?

Devin

I'm with Sarah out by the pool. She’s still my girlfriend. It's a frickin scorcher today, but I'm feeling pretty good. I take a sip of fruit punch while she's making eyes at me from behind her sunglasses. She doesn't know that I know this. Her hand finds mine and I squeeze it just the tiniest bit. I can smell her tanning oil, which smells good enough to eat – a coconut dessert just for me – then I lower my sunglasses and think about asking her something, but the words never make it past my lips. I've already forgotten what I was about to say. Must not have been that important.

With my free hand, I pull out a spiral-bound notebook from underneath my chair. I turn to a blank page and sit there with my pen for a while.

“What are you going to write about?” Sarah asks.

I don't answer her right away. Maybe I'll surprise her. Maybe I'll surprise myself. I look down and see the ink expanding into a huge black dot where my pen has rested on the page for too long. Something tells me I already have a story. I told it last Christmas and it was a riot. It would make for a cool movie. Yeah. A movie…

We all act as if we've got ourselves figured out, but let me be the first to say that I don't have a clue. I don't have all the answers. I don't pretend like I do. I'm just trying to find my way through life. One thing I have learned is to not believe what they say about the impossible. There's no such thing.

I scrawl the first lines of my new screenplay and relax because I have all the time in the world. Maybe I can even deepen this world. Just a little bit anyways.

Hang tight and check back with me later. I've got a lot of work to do. In the meantime, love and be loved. There is nothing else.

THANKS FOR READING

A THIRD OF ME

ENJOY THIS SPECIAL PREVIEW OF ALAN CONWAY’S UPCOMING NOVEL

ELEGANT PREDATORS

CHAPTER
1

The phone rings four times before I am completely awake. I know because the machine had four messages from four completely different telemarketers. The “do-not-call list” is about as useful as second cock. I erase the messages and pour a glass of orange juice but not before swallowing my daily multi-vitamin along with an additional five-hundred milligrams of both calcium and vitamin E as recommended by my nutritionist.

I have twenty minutes to shower, shave, and masturbate before catching the red-eye to Portland. The four hour layover in Vegas will allow sufficient time to imbibe and stretch before boarding the last leg of the flight.

Chastity will be waiting for me at PDX, waving her delicate fingers as I pass through the gate. She'll draw back her thick lips to reveal a flawless smile – a very expensive smile courtesy of Dr. Bruce Skenoza in New York – then take me to her car, which I'll drive to the hotel while she's blowing me.

We won't have time to fuck once we get there. We'll go to sleep immediately because George and Katherine are meeting us for an early breakfast at Delany's. George and I knew each other from grade school, but we were never friends until our junior year of college. We shared a small house off Kansas Street with a guy named Mickey Burman. Mickey wasn't in school, but he told the landlord he was so he got a great deal on rent. Best liar I've ever known. Besides yours truly, of course. That goes without question.

I assure you the events that follow are completely accurate according to what I remember of those few days in Portland. If I choose to embellish any details, they are for your enjoyment as well as my own. At the end of this confession, you may ask yourself why I did what I did, so I'll tell you upfront–

On second thought, I'll let you be the judge of that.

CHAPTER
2

We can't sleep so we go downtown. A group of hipster kids walk out of this cafe. They're in their late teens and wearing classic band T-shirts (bands these kids probably never heard of) that evoke a sense of euphoric nostalgia within me, but at the same time, the sight of these lame mouth-breathers with their converse sneakers, tight jeans, and stocking caps (Christ, it's summer) sickens me and pisses me off beyond my capacity to remain cool. One of them, a pretty young redhead with a body I'd rock for weeks, reminds me of an ex who had spouted off snide remarks about my receding hairline and the extra pounds growing above my belt. She's dead now. Car accident. '96. Don't remember her name. Anyways, this redhead sees me pull out a pack of Camels and asks me for one. I want to light it for her then hold her down and push the cherry into her forehead while she screams, oh that sweet song of her crying generation, high on anti-depressants and German techno music. Chastity is with me, so I walk past the girl, but I smile at her. I try very hard to make it sincere and apologetic but also a warning to her and her classy socialites.