The Quantum

By Dabeagle

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Chapter Nineteen

When people think of New York, they usually think of New York City, the Mafia, Little Italy, or maybe the Yankees. If you were Eleanor, maybe you thought of the Metropolitan Opera, but for me New York meant a nasty past that I was going to have to face in a very short time. I’d like to say that when we arrived at the front of my parent’s house that I was not overcome with loathing. I would like to say that my heart didn’t beat twice as fast as it might normally when I saw Jake. I’d like to say that my months with my grandfather and the people that had come to populate my life had wiped out those memories for me.

Of course, none of those things happened. I felt my gut tremble as we headed down my block. My breathing quickened just a bit, but I did not panic. I did not squirm in my chair. That’s something.

"What a dump," Mr. Charbonneau commented.

"Definitely not the Ritz," my grandfather agreed.

"People live there?" Jake asked.

I looked at the house with a fresh perspective, or tried to. The paint was weathered and curled in many places. The scrub of a lawn had turned a dull wheat color with the lowered temperatures. Leaves scattered across the lawn, and trash brushed up against the side of the house. The roof appeared worn on the forlorn single story structure, and even the windows appeared weathered, perhaps because of the dingy curtains behind them.

"Can you tell if he’s home, Kris?" My grandfather arched an eyebrow at me. I turned slowly from the house to face him.

"Yeah, he’s home."

"How can you tell?" Jake asked, no doubt seeing no car or other signs of life.

"He just opened the door," I replied stonily. My grandfather turned to look on his only son with narrowed eyes. The steely glint and hard set to his face made him appear ready to scold my father. Perhaps that’s what he had in mind. He climbed out of the car, and that broke my paralysis as I stepped out with him, determined to show enough backbone to back my grandfather up in whatever he planned to say.

I glanced back at Jake and gave him a tight smile, shaking my head as he reached for the door handle. It was clear through our faces, through our eyes, that while he wasn’t satisfied being that far away, it would have to be close enough.

My father straightened up as he saw my grandfather, and his eyes warily took in the sight of me walking just behind him. We stopped about six feet from my father, who seemed confused.

"Frank," my grandfather intoned.

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk."

"I think we said all we ever needed to." My father’s voice hardened. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at his tone, and my guts tightened. I knew that tone of voice, and nothing good came from it.

"No, we still have one issue to discuss. Kristopher needs a home, and he has that with me. You are jeopardizing his well being—again."

"Oh, now you want to tell me that I’m a bad father?"

"Maybe the worst," My grandfather replied coolly.

"I think you have the lock on that one, Dad." My father’s face had contorted into a face I didn’t know. He was obviously angry, but this face was filled with bitterness and perhaps regret.

"We may not have agreed on what made a good person, and you made a great many choices that we still disagree bitterly about, but I never beat you. I never knocked you down a flight of stairs."

"You were never there to do anything. Kris needs discipline; he’s worthless, and if I don’t show him, who will? You?"

"Berating him isn’t the way to show anyone how much you care, Frank," My grandfather replied sarcastically.

"He’s stupid anyway, I don’t even think he’s mine." My father shifted on his feet, glancing at me for a moment before returning his gaze to my grandfather. A curious numb feeling was spreading from my head, maybe from the deepest recesses of my brain, and slowly calming the jangling nerves in my stomach and slowing my breathing. I felt calm, relaxed, as I if I were floating in a void where there was no threat called ‘Frank’.

"You’re right, Frank," I said in a clear, cold voice. My father looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"Don’t you disrespect me, boy."

"Shut up. You had your chance to talk, now it’s my turn." I took a small step towards him and he, oddly, took a small step back.

"I was stupid, stupid to stay here and take your shit. Stupid to have never asked about any other family, stupid to think that anything that ever came out of your mouth was the truth. Worst of all, I let you define who and what I was. I may be your son; I have to live with that. It’s a fact of life I have no control over." I narrowed my own eyes at him, and took another small step forward, and noted with satisfaction that he took another small step backward. "But I am not what I was, and I never again will be what you tried to make me. No matter where I end up, fear will never control me again."

Silence reigned as I locked eyes with my father. Dimly I noted my grandfather’s hand on my shoulder. The calm feeling that had possessed me seemed to settle in, as if becoming entrenched in my bones. The moment seemed to stretch, each breath lasting for years and each blink an eon. My father’s eyes tore from me and focused on my grandfather.

"You turned him against me. You want him? Take him."

My grandfather reached into his coat pocket and produced a sheaf of papers. Holding them towards my father he spoke calmly, deliberately.

"You and I are going to go inside and go over these papers. Kris is going to his room to get anything he wants from it, and then we’ll go to a bank and get these papers notarized. You’ll be done with him then, and I with you."

It hadn’t occurred to me that there would be anything I had left behind that I might want. I looked at my grandfather, who didn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he focused his will on his son who, with a defeated sigh, turned and went back into the house. My grandfather nodded at me, and followed my father inside. I turned and looked at Jake’s apprehensive face, staring through the glass. I nodded to him, and beckoned him to come to me. His hand must have been on the door, for as quick as it opened, and he was by my side, pulling me to him.

"Do you have to do that on the street? Get a freaking room!" Mr. Charbonneau muttered from his open window. Jake smirked at him and took my hand before replying.

"Take your lithium."

I smiled and led him into the house. I liked that he wasn’t asking questions; I appreciated that he just walked with me, supported me as my fears rose up in me again. My heart sped up as I approached the threshold. My steps slowed, but I forced myself to keep moving. Jake’s thumb began to move slowly on my hand and I felt like my courage was bolstered. I had to be worth this guy that was walking hand in hand with me into the house that gave me nightmares. I had to control my fear, and learn to be…free. True freedom would only arrive once I had made peace with my past. I couldn’t erase it, just deal with and overcome it.

The house hadn’t changed much, from the stained ceiling to the peeling wallpaper. An ashtray overflowed on the small table near my father’s chair. A few stray beer cans littered the carpet around the chair. His cooler was open, a solitary beer can floating in the melted ice. My steps slowed as I approached the chair, and once more I rallied my strength and walked beyond another piece of my past.

An archway on my left revealed the scarred kitchen table, at which my grandfather and father were sitting to sign papers. My mother was there, coffee cup in hand and cigarette smoldering between the fingers of her right hand. She glanced at me, a bleary gaze, and she sneered slightly. Her gaze drifted to Jake and her eyes suddenly had a glint of hunger that disgusted me. I pulled Jake out of the room and away from my parents.

I walked down the hall, Jake trailing me with my hand in his. I paused outside my door, closed my eyes, and took one deep, calming breath before opening the door. My bed was as I had left it, unmade. My dresser was in splinters on the floor, perhaps having been a stand-in for me after I went to my grandfather. What few clothes I had in the dresser were covered with the splintered remains, and besides-which were not worth salvaging. I glanced around the room, my battered alarm clock sitting forlorn and broken on my nightstand. The wall to my left showed breaks in the plaster, some from my body and a few from objects in the room that had been hurled in fury. To my right was the closet, minus its door, a gaping hole gazing on an indifferent room.

I looked at Jake, his face conveying the disbelief of my former life, the realization that all of my statements had been true. It’s one thing to say you believe the statements of a person, and quite another to be faced with them. I released his hand and walked to my closet. I stepped on the narrow ledge of the baseboard to add a few necessary inches to my height while roaming with my hand over the shelf at the top of my closet. Grasping a small, glass object in my hand, I lowered myself and turned to face Jake. I held out my hand, displaying a small pot pipe. I slowly placed it on the floor, and then stepped on it.

I am not sure if Jake fully realized at the time what I was doing, but in my mind I was breaking with my past. My old habits, such as pot smoking and my failed attempt to be a car thief could now be left where they belonged, in the dim and distant past where I would relegate my parents.

When we approached the van, Mr. Charbonneau was in full grumble and complain mode. Apparently he was wasting away to nothing, which was funny all by itself.

"I need to eat, man." He directed this at my grandfather, who shrugged indifferently.

"We’re almost done. Follow the idiot to the bank so we can get this signed, then we can eat."

"I’m not sure I can wait that long," Mr. Charbonneau said with a very serious expression.

"Try not to pass out, you big baby." My grandfather grinned at him.

"Christ!" Mr. Charbonneau grumbled as he put the vehicle in gear and we followed the car my father was driving from the car lot. Just a few minutes later the papers were signed, and my father was driving away from us, out of my life. Good riddance.

"Can we eat now? Is that ok?" Mr. Charbonneau growled and my grandfather directed us to a place for good food.

"The lady at the bank said this place has good food, and reasonable prices." He glanced at Mr. Charbonneau. "It’s a Chinese buffet."

"Oh, nice, I could go for Chinese," Mr. Charbonneau enthused. I think it was the happiest I’d ever seen him.

After being seated and getting our first plate of food, Mr. Charbonneau picked up his fork and looked directly at the tines. Grunting, he placed it on Jake’s plate and took the one intended for Jake. Glancing once more at the tines, he threw the fork on my plate and took my fork. I looked at Jake, who just rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing, my neurotic friend?" My grandfather asked.

"I can’t eat with a bent fork." Mr. Charbonneau made this statement sound, almost, rational.

"You’re really fucked up, you know that?" My grandfather grinned at him. Mr. Charbonneau grinned as he swapped the fork in his hand for the one at my grandfather’s place setting.

"Yeah, I know."

As we pulled into my driveway, I noted Bryan’s car in the lot, and the light on in the house. Jake got grudging permission from his father to stay over and we entered the garage, tired but satisfied with the day’s results.

"Did you leave the damned light on?" My grandfather asked as he strode through the garage door.

"No, and something smells good too." I replied. We stepped through the door and stopped, stunned at the sight before us.

"What the hell are you doing?" My grandfather thundered.

"Don’t you take that tone with me! And don’t think for a minute I made any of this for you! You probably forgot to feed Kristopher, you old goat." Eleanor faced us as we stepped into the kitchen, like a picture from a Betty Crocker cook-book. That was if Betty Crocker looked like her face were covered in key lime pie.

"What the hell is on your face? It’s certainly an improvement." My grandfather walked past her.

"It’s a facial cream, you cretin, and I could care less how you think I look."

Jake and I stood in the doorway, and I found myself straining not to laugh at Eleanor and my grandfather, but what really challenged my control was poor Bryan. Eleanor had him outfitted in a flower-patterned apron that was splattered with whatever she had been forcing him to make.

"I try not to think of it at all, especially before I eat." My grandfather replied conversationally as he hung up his coat and removed the documents that broke my chains from my father.

"So many sweet things to say, no wonder you’re single. Did you get the papers signed?"

"Yes, he still remembered how to sign his own name, Eleanor. What did you make?"

"Kristopher!" She beamed at me, ignoring my grandfather. "Now you need to put some real thought into your future, and considering your brains I think you should look at college right away." She glanced at my grandfather, who was peering into a pot. "A nice expensive college."

Bryan, Jake, and I stole out of the room as my grandfather turned to fire another volley at her. We sneaked up the hallway to my room, and once safely inside, burst out laughing.

"Guys, what took so long? If you took much longer I was gonna’ fake sick to get away from her!"

"My bi-polar father is what happened!" Jake laughed.

"Lemme guess. He was wasting away?" Brian grinned.

"He took everyone’s fork. Is he really bi-polar? That would explain a lot," I asked.

"Probably. We all tell him he is, but he just shrugs and says he turned out fine."

"So it’s all over, huh?" Brian asked as he sat down.

"As far as my parents go, yeah. I won’t say I didn’t get close to crapping myself but…"

"Bullshit! I heard what you said to your dad. That took balls."

We talked for a bit, Jake exaggerated my encounter with my father, and Bryan just smiled at his friend’s antics. Everything probably would have gone fine from there if we all hadn’t forgotten one very important thing.

"Oh good, you’re all here together. We’re making a day of our opera trip and we need to get you fitted for tuxedoes on Tuesday so that we can pick them up Thursday and leave on Friday. We’ll stay the night and have a nice proper meal out!" Eleanor beamed at us.

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