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Crumbly Writer’s Stories | ||||
| “Normalcy Is Harder Than It Looks” | |||||
| Book 3 of “The Catalyst” Series | |||||
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| Home | An Unknown Attraction | Trying To Be Normal | Normalcy Is Harder | Contact me | |||||
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Chapter 25: A Couple Discussions with no Voice
When I awoke, once again before the alarm went off, I was feeling more refreshed than I had been the prior evening. My throat didn’t hurt quite as much, I felt more energetic and I had a nice healthy erection which was nestled up against something that felt quite nice. Glancing around the mass of hair which lay over my face, I saw I was still nestled up against Patricia; or “Patty” as she was now billing herself.
I started playing with her breasts as I began gently moving my penis against her buns. She murmured in her sleep, snuggling against me. I kept going, trying to get her going even as she was slowly waking up. She was starting to moan softly as she moved with me, still not wholly awake. I felt someone clutching me from behind. I wasn’t sure, but I assumed it was Cate likewise having awakened early and feeling just as randy as I was.
Patricia started to respond, so I carefully repositioned myself. Sensing what I was doing, she lifted her leg and helped me as I slowly entered her.
“Ahh, so nice after so long,” she sighed.
‘What, no other boyfriends amongst all your fans down in New Orleans?’ I asked her in a teasing mental tone, although I really expected her to have plenty of fans to court her.
“No, after the love I’ve felt from you I’ve had no desire to deal with the basic ruttings of anyone else,” she whispered over her shoulder, choosing to answer me audibly despite my speaking to her the only way I could, which was mentally.
‘Say, whatever happened to, what was his name, Henry something, the guy you were dating when I first met you?’
“Oh, him. Henry Dunn. He’s still around, although he got demoted from boyfriend to simple business manager. He’s actually fairly good at his job, and he was fairly gracious about the demotion as long as he got to remain a part of the music business scene. It worked out quite well for him since it looks like I may finally have a big hit album. But, to answer your question, he’s back in New Orleans handling the business end of things. He didn’t think he could add anything here, though I think he didn’t want to have to deal with the two of us together if he could avoid it.”
I briefly felt bad for poor Henry, but the feeling didn’t last as I enjoyed having Patricia in my arms. She’d always be Patricia to me, since that’s how she’d first introduced herself to me. Patty was the name Henry insisted on using, even though it was plain she didn’t like it. I guess he’d convinced her it made more sense as a marketing tool. Still, it was nice knowing she still felt so close to me after we’d been separated for so long, even though it had only been six weeks. But her statement still disturbed me. I felt guilty taking over such a large part of so many women’s lives. They each deserved their own lives, their own loves, their own futures. I disliked they each felt so tied to me. Especially if what we feared was true and I didn’t have much longer. What would they do after I was gone?
However, I was feeling much too good to worry about it now. Grasping both of Patricia’s breasts, I set up a steady rhythm. She moaned once again as she reached back to grasp my buns, only to encounter Cate.
“Feeling better, Alex?” Cate asked, wrapping her arms tighter around me as she kissed my ear.
“It appears he’s feeling fairly good, and he does feel very good,” Patricia told her, having overheard Cate’s whispered question. That was handy since I was still unable to speak.
‘It’s been a long time, Patricia. I’ve missed you. What’s more you’ve missed a lot of what’s been happening while you’ve been gone.’ Luckily it was much easier to speak telepathically while making love, the only restriction seemed to be the concentration of the participants.
‘Yeah, the girls have been keeping me informed. But I’m more interested in spending some time with you than I am in any new abilities,’ she assured me. I punctuated the thought by driving home a little deeper, then grinding myself against her, hoping to stimulate whatever I could by pressing our groins together.
‘Frankly, it’s only been the knowledge I was doing such important work for you which kept me there. While my increased popularity has been fun and the new contract is helpful, all I really wanted was to run home to you. And yes, I now consider this to be my new home, even though I’ve spent so little time here. Knowing you were relying on me to do such important work for so many people kept me focused. But now that I’m here, it’s going to be difficult leaving this behind,’ she told me.
“Hey, we non-psychic people like to hear the little love talk, too, you know,” Cate complained, taking our silence as evidence we were doing more than just making love. “Half the fun of watching your brother screw around is listening to what a great guy he is, and why I made such a great decision going for him myself.” Although she was saying it in jest, I wondered whether there was a certain truth to her words.
“I was just … telling him how much I’ve … been missing him,” Patricia told her. “Hard to speak aloud. Much easier … mentally.”
I felt motion behind me and could hear Shani’s whispered voice, so I assumed she was filling Cate in on what we’d been discussing. I knew Patricia and I had been speaking privately, after all, I don’t normally broadcast my quiet words of love, so I guess Patricia had told her what we’d just said.
“Oh, that’s so sad, Patty,” Cate whispered in my ear. “Alex, give her some of your extra special love. She deserves it. Give her a little extra just for me.”
I guess it hadn’t been whispered quite so quietly, since several other women all agreed, suggesting I give her a piece of their love as well. What could I do? I reached around her and started to play with her clit while setting up a busier pace.
“Hmmm, that’s so nice,” Patricia purred. “I should get more people … involved in my lovemaking … more often. I like how we all agree … on having you love me more.”
“For Cate’s benefit, Alex says he doesn’t need anyone’s vote to know how much you deserve to be loved,” Allison said, leaning forward to kiss Patricia herself.
“You know, guys, if you give me any more reason to love my brother more, you’ll have to pry us apart with a crowbar,” Cate joked, but the way she was cuddled up to me I could very well envision it.
“You know, as disgusting a concept as two straights getting into it is, you two are pretty hot,” Gail observed from the door of the bathroom. I noticed she was indeed enjoying the show and she slowly rubbed herself in accompaniment to our motions.
By now, despite the conversation, we were going at it quite well. Patricia had already had a couple of small orgasms, the type that Gail was so famous for, the type which overwhelmed her largely just from being with me. However I kept up a steady pace and I could feel her nearing yet another one.
“Alex wants you to come for him, Patricia,” Allison told her. “He says he’s getting close as well.”
“Uh, Alex, I should probably mention to you that … that I’m not … that I’m not protect—” she started to say, but at that moment she went off like a firecracker and she took me along with her. Just as I started jetting into her, the meaning of her words hit me. However, instead of making me pull out, it simply set the pace up a notch and I shoved that much further into her as I deposited my sperm directly to its destination.
When we finished I was out of breath and Patricia was luckily still conscious, though she looked dazed. Shani got her a damp cloth from the bathroom to refresh her, and her words gradually sank into my conscious mind.
‘You know, I should be upset you pulled that on me,’ I told Patricia as she quivered slightly under me, making sure I broadcast it to the other women with us as well. ‘But given everything we’ve been learning of late, I don’t regret it. We need a couple more babies around. If those babies happen to be in New Orleans then there won’t be any finger pointing here, although given your association with me, it will likely trigger a whole new round of speculation about me.’
“Ha, I’m already known as the ‘New Orleans’ Angel’s Madonna’, so it would only be fitting,” Patricia said before she rolled over and kissed me. “Shut up my beautiful fool. There isn’t much fear of my getting pregnant at the moment. That was delicious. Now you go ahead and shower and I’ll experiment with my new abilities.”
As the girls pushed me into the shower, which I shared with Cate and Natalie, I considered the day before me. Yesterday had been worrisome but happy. I was still very concerned about Lisa’s activities. We could all be exposed in the press in one way or another. We were sure she couldn’t prove anything, but we didn’t know how she might present the information. She could cause us a lot of trouble, but whatever she did, I wasn’t going to be around here for much longer. I’d be heading out of town soon after graduation. It would impact the girls, but they could easily move around while I was gone, so there was no reason for them to be impacted by the media attention. I doubted it would get much attention outside of St. Louis and Carbondale. At least that’s what I told myself.
I’d noticed Gail standing beside the shower as we climbed in, like she was standing guard. I hadn’t asked her what her current status was, but she was acting like a full time bodyguard already, so I suspected she had purposefully showered before me, just so she could watch out while I was indisposed. I’d have to have a word with her about getting too carried away. After all, I think we’d have a decent amount of warning if someone broke in, between the front door and the shower, for her to do something.
Today was an improvement over yesterday in that I was no longer being ignored, at least. Although most of the girls had somewhere to be today while I was still relegated to remaining here at the house, waiting for news from Cate about what Lisa might be up to at school and what Michelle could tell me about Rakeem. I also had to spend several long hours listening to a bunch of random synaptic firings while I tried to listen in on Rakeem’s thoughts, hoping he’d think the wrong thing at the right time.
So far I’d picked up some more information from him. It was vague, but the overall feelings were clear. He was pissed at me for what had happened, even though he had no reason to suspect me for its occurrence. However, he seemed to think I needed to be taken out for another, unspecified reason, and his being caught didn’t seem to impact his desire that something should still happen to me. I’d have to remain vigilant, because it sounded like he had a few more cards up his sleeve.
The girls managed to make up for how they’d treated me yesterday during breakfast by really catering to me today. While I’d been annoyed at being ignored on my birthday, today I was annoyed at all the extra attention. I figured I’d complain if it continued for many more days! After the girls left, I got Nikki to make a phone call for me. We called Ms. Woodall’s station and asked to speak with her. Surprisingly we were told she had taken a few days off and was unavailable. It would have been one thing if we were simply told she wasn’t reachable, but they specifically told us she wasn’t working. That had to mean Gail was right and that she couldn’t get anyone at the station to listen to her outrageous story. As much as that news made me feel better, it still unnerved me that this reporter was so hot for this story that she’d investigate me on her own time. Persistence, when it was directed against me, was not something I was looking forward to.
Nikki pressed, telling whoever she was speaking with that Ms. Woodall would want to speak with us. They simply told us they couldn’t give out any personal information about their staff, but could pass along a message if we felt it necessary. Nikki gave them my name, knowing she’d recognize it when she heard it, and the house phone as a contact number. Now I was back to waiting again.
Even though I’d been afraid I’d spend the day alone after everyone else left, a second crew arrived. Natalie, Mom, Dad and Anh remained, but quite a few of the other Watchers were told to spend the day with me doing “whatever came up”, as Anh had so famously instructed them.
Allison had told me Ryan thought I could try saying a little, emphasizing the little. He thought the exercise would be good for me, but he didn’t expect I’d be able to say much. However, anything I could manage to say would help. The ability to have someone else speak for you was helpful, but it was difficult to explain in mixed company. At least if I could mumbl, we could claim my girls had heard me, even if no one else could.
It’s hard to rest and recuperate when you know your life is about to unravel. Never mind the constant pain, inability to swallow, and the continually overwhelming messages flashing across my brain from some criminal’s random thoughts. I knew I’d need some serious time with a few select people to try to plot some way to handle what was happening to me. But somehow, with a bunch of gorgeous women around, I managed to find a couple of ways to pass the morning.
I wouldn’t say I exactly relaxed, but I felt pretty calm when I was done and boosted a couple of girls. Molly, the one type one Seer from the girls at SIU, the law professor, didn’t feel strange having sex with a teenager in front of her students from the university, the secret they shared together proving much stronger than any university rules. When everyone sat me at the table to finally eat my lunch, Diana actually pulled out a notepad and a tape recorder from her backpack to record my ‘observations’ (where did that ever come from, we were each naked previously?).
However, she didn’t so much interview me as she simply asked me my opinion on a series of things, not political or religious opinions either, but about my basic beliefs, what did I think of creativity, about love and achievement. I knew she was thinking with her philosophy major in mind, so I kept my responses along those lines. It seemed she was serious about wanting to help me craft some kind of a philosophy. So the time I didn’t spend in bed, we spend sitting in the living room discussing philosophical concerns. Molly had plenty of advice as well, although she told me I didn’t need much meditation since I seemed to be pretty ‘mindful’ as it was. I wasn’t sure what the hell that meant, but I took it to be a good thing.
The discussion was actually fun, and I learned a lot about everyone involved, even though they were much more concerned about my own thoughts on the topics than they were in each others. However I thought it a delightful way to get to know everyone involved.
Molly was concerned about Rakeem and whether the prosecutors were likely to bring any charges against him, despite the clear evidence of his guilt. She told me she’d ask around and see if she could bring any additional pressure to bear on the local politicians and prosecutors. Personally, I didn’t hold much hope for anything unless we could establish the link between all the individuals involved.
I was relieved when Cate finally came home. However, when she entered she threw her book bag against the wall, demonstrating her mood. Kitty and Chalise followed her in looking concerned over Cate’s reactions, but looking no more pleased. The assembled girls made room for them and they cuddled in beside me, Cate sitting on my lap as they proceeded to tell me how their day had gone.
The school was in a tizzy again. Yesterday the kids were all excited simply because someone practically famous showed an interest in me. Today they were visited by several police, and the rumor quickly spread about my attempted murder. Seems that little tidbit hadn’t gotten around the school yesterday. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on the subject and were more than happy to talk about it all day long. Cate, the girls and my friends knew about it, of course, but none of them had told anyone else, so the rest of the school was surprised by the news. The note excusing me from school simply stated I’d been in the hospital for an unspecified surgery.
The school authorities were worried it might be tied to my ongoing troubles at school, and were afraid of potential lawsuits which might result. Especially since Michelle had already come down so hard on them about those selfsame troubles. My mother and Cate had met with them, Mom had slipped out during the day without mentioning it to me, and they’d finally let the school know it wasn’t a wise move on their part to allow reporters free access to students who might bear me ill will, when there was an ongoing investigation in progress. They’d promised to keep my information private, but it was like closing the barn door after the horse had already issued a press release.
Everyone at school was trying to guess who might have tried to kill me, although few were suggesting Chalise’s family. That seemed a bit tame considering some of the stories circulating. Seems Tony and a few others got raked over the coals when they’d mentioned they considered it was a good thing it’d happened, but were disappointed the shooter wasn’t a better shot. I could just picture what would happen when I finally returned to school. The rumors about me certainly wouldn’t be any less, given this last piece of excitement.
Other than that, there wasn’t much to report. Lisa Woodall hadn’t been back today, although there was talk she’d been busy last night calling on various students’ families. When my other girls gradually drifted in we had a major conference. We went over everything, but the most interesting was when I got together privately with Gail and the other Sisters. I then revealed I’d picked up a connection between Rakeem and the Jones family. Seems our little entrepreneur was placing a number of bets regarding a certain upcoming Chicago Cubs baseball game this weekend. Seems James, Chalise’s eldest brother, had arranged to pay for my murder by arranging to throw the game by a very specific number of runs. Not an easy thing to do in a baseball game, but when you serve as a relief pitcher and have other friends on the team, not completely unheard of. He’d also promised to ensure the lead by “taking care of my pitcher”, who was known for being aggressive in throwing people out. I felt secure that information would be specific enough to establish a link.
Gail agreed it was vital information, but it was still difficult to prove and hard to argue. We plotted together until we decided I’d contact Michelle and testify that Rakeem had bragged about it to me just before he’d shot me. I’d have to give her some reason why I hadn’t revealed this previously, though. We finally agreed I should just claim I was simply afraid of him. That, coupled with my inability to explain it, had kept me quiet. I told Gail to go ahead and call her and to specify I had some vital information for her.
That information made me feel more secure, but not completely. Seems Rakeem was still pretty smug, so he must have further plans besides a clever Chicago lawyer and interfering cops. However I’d have to wait until I had more specific information before I could worry about anything more than just a crazy hunch.
Since the house was so crowded, we called and asked what was happening at the loft. My other sisters, along with Caroline and Martha, were there, as well as several others, sanding the floors and giving the place a good scrubbing, before painting the place once the dust from the sanding was cleaned up tomorrow or the next day. We told them we’d be by and they told us there were some unoccupied lofts which we could use. Shani shook her head and spoke to them herself. They decided to let the girls at the house drive to the loft and take over the painting, allowing the people who needed to see us to come here. That sounded like a plan, so we outfitted everyone and soon people and cars were moving all over.
When the girls arrived I was relaxing on the couch watching some silly movie. We turned it off and discussed what we’d discovered today. To say Chalise and Caroline were upset would be a severe understatement. I thought Chalise was likely to drive to Chicago and strangle her huge hulk of a brother. She’s shown me some pictures, and I was sure he was taking the same steroid concoctions which Brandon had been on.
Gail informed us she’d talked with Michelle and she’d be by first thing in the morning to speak with me.
The family hadn’t had much of a chance to discuss the specifics about what we now knew concerning Rakeem, so everyone had an opinion. Gail and I patiently listened to them, but made sure we kept control of the direction of the conversation. My mother thought I should simply try to cut the connection to Rakeem, since we didn’t know what influence his thoughts would have on my ‘developing brain’, but everyone else agreed we needed any potential intel it offered us, even if it resulted in my continued lack of sleep.
Cate was beyond excited by the news. When last we’d spoken of the subject it had been uninformed theory about what may or may not have been causing vague symptoms. Now I had distinct evidence that I’d invaded someone else’s mind and was performing a classic mind reading on them. This opened a whole new level of study for her. She started talking about all the possible things she could study or experiment on, until I finally had to cut her off. I gracefully informed her that until the immediate crises (that’s the plural of crisis by the way) were past, I wasn’t going to let myself be distracted by any theorizing or playing around. This last remark caused a loud groan by everyone near me, which I couldn’t help but smile at. At least everyone was keeping things in context.
Everyone was busy making plans when the house phone rang. Not knowing what to expect, my father picked it up expecting a business call.
“Hello, Jennings residence?” he answered.
“Yes, he lives here. What is this in regards to?” He listened for a moment then covered the phone to speak to us.
“It’s that reporter, Lisa Woodall. She says you asked to speak with her?” My father looked like he didn’t believe her and thought she was making it up. I remembered then that we had forgotten to mention this to anyone this evening. I nodded my head and had Nikki take the phone for me.
“Hello? This is Nikki. I’ll speak for Alex since he can’t speak at the moment.”
“No, I’ll just leave it at Nikki. No further details, although that doesn’t seem to stop you in most cases.” I could hear laughter over the phone and observed that everyone was busy listening to the conversation, including my sister Cate, who stood in the doorway with her own mobile phone in her hand.
“No, I can answer for him. He has a computer nearby and he’s typing replies while I speak to you.”
“No, he’s not telling me what to say through any other means. What a silly thing to ask,” Nikki insisted, even though we all knew there wasn’t much point in denying Lisa already had a fair knowledge of what we were capable of.
“No, he wasn’t very anxious to talk to you, but after you started making noise at his school he felt it was necessary to speak to you about it.” She listened for a bit longer at this point and she relayed what was being said.
Lisa conveyed she hadn’t wanted to make a pest of herself after I’d made it clear I wouldn’t speak to her. She hadn’t meant to embarrass me, and had been careful to not make any accusations or cause any attention to be directed at me.
“And you don’t think a bunch of high school students are going to take notice of a reporter’s interest in one specific student?” Nikki pressed.
“I don’t know about that,” she countered. “None of them seemed to be aware anything had even happened to him over the weekend.”
“That’s not as much due to their ability to resist the impulse to gossip, as it was a concerted effort to keep random facts to a minimum,” Nikki hedged.
“A very well orchestrated effort I must say,” Lisa replied. “I couldn’t get any of his friends to say a thing about him aside from what a terrific young man he was. They told me all about how he made them feel confident and secure, and always treated each one as an individual. Not one of them mentioned they knew he’d been injured or would repeat a negative rumor about him.”
“That speaks about the quality of his friends, Miss Woodall. Now, do you have any specific questions for Alex?”
“Oh, we’re getting formal now are we?” Lisa responded. “Tell Alex he can relax, I’m not working for the television station on this. However I’d certainly like to speak with him regarding this if he could spare the time. I understand he has some spare time on his hands lately.” I had time to think about my response while Nikki needlessly repeated everything she’d said in a louder voice than was necessary. Especially considering Lisa already suspected I was listening in to the conversation.
Cate appeared with her laptop to make some appropriate keyboard sounds in order to maintain our fictitious story. “He says he’ll meet with you tomorrow at 11 A.M if that’s alright with you. He’s meeting with the local police earlier than that, and he has to meet with the doctor as well,” Nikki invented, trying to garner me some additional sympathy, playing up both the assault and my resulting injury.
“Oh, I wouldn’t pass up a chance to meet with him,” Lisa told Nikki. “Assure him I’ll be there with bells on. You’re probably too young to appreciate that phrase, but let him know I’m eager to meet with him. Thank him and thank you as well for taking the time to speak with me. I didn’t think he’d ever try to reach out to me. I’ll go ahead and hang up since I know he can hear me and he hasn’t objected yet. I’ll speak to you both tomorrow. Bye,” and she was gone.
Suddenly I not only had a plan for dealing with things in my life, but I actually had some things to do tomorrow. Now all I needed was a voice to say all the things which needed saying and I’d be set.
Michelle was true to her word about meeting me first thing in the morning. The girls with jobs had just dispersed after breakfast when there was a knock on the door. Anh let her in and escorted her back. I was sitting on the couch, relaxing with a large cup of tea I figured I’d need if I said anything. I’d tried speaking some yesterday and, although it was difficult, I could say a few short sentences if I needed to. Gail was listening in from the kitchen, but hadn’t wanted to be a part of this interview.
I indicated another chair set up facing me, figuring she’d like the traditional interview setup. She thanked me and sat.
“It’s nice to see you looking better,” Michelle offered as we made our introductions.
“He’s been feeling better recently,” Nikki told her for me. “Now he’s starting to feel stir crazy.”
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Michelle responded. “You’re a new one aren’t you?” Nikki had the good grace to laugh.
“Yeah, I’m new. I met Alex recently when I was having some trouble and his family offered to take me in for a little while.”
“Yeah, his family has a tendency to do that,” the detective replied, stressing the fact she didn’t think my family had anything to do with the decision.
“I’ll get Alex’s laptop,” Nikki said. “He finds it easier to write with than a notepad.” She got as far as the hallway before she was met by Natalie coming downstairs with it.
“You all manage to think of the same things at the same time,” Michelle stated, skating perilously close to the truth. Whether it was intentional or not, I had no way of knowing.
“I understand you had something to tell me,” she said, handing me a notepad which I used while the laptop was still booting up.
“Gunman said more Sat night,” I wrote.
“Really?” she asked. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” I simply shrugged, jotting “2 many words.” She looked askance at me while pondering my words. By now the laptop seemed ready so I moved to it instead.
“He started talking after his stroke, rambling what sounded like nonsense, but I thought about it afterward. He said something about a game and four runs, then added it was ‘guaranteed, even if he had to bean the lead pitcher’ to keep him from defending too aggressively,” I wrote. Michelle had stood up and was looking over my shoulder as I typed, so she responded just as I was finishing up.
“That’s awfully specific for random ramblings from someone suffering a stroke while you’re lying bleeding on the ground several feet away,” she observed.
Frowning, I wrote out my response. “Was before he pulled trigger, he was standing there, making random comments while gun was waving around. I wasn’t paying much attention at time because I was busy watching the gun. Once the door opened he snapped out of it and everything happened after that.”
“So he was lucid enough to mumble this, despite having suffered a stroke, and you remember it despite staring at a gun pointed at your forehead?” I sighed as I began typing again.
“I remembered it mostly afterwards. I put it together while thinking about it over the last 2 days.”
She seemed to consider this for a few moments. “Just how much are you not telling me?” she asked me point blank. I mentally groaned and resumed typing.
“I’m not telling you I almost wet my pants,” I wrote. “I’m telling you what I remember he said.”
“Fine, don’t tell me,” she replied. “You forget I was at your big birthday party. I could see everyone there had a very unnatural attraction to you. They were careful speaking to me, but I could still hear select portions of comments in passing before they’d notice me. I have the distinct impression there’s a lot more to you than you like to let on. But I’m not going to give you a hard time about that. Now, do you think he was referring to anything specific or was this just a random delusion he was suffering?” she asked, implying she expected a better story than I was giving her.
“I’ve thought about it, and I think it was in reference to James Jones. I think it was an unofficial form of payment. If it bears out in an upcoming game it could implicate him,” I typed.
“I suppose,” she mused. “Assuming there’s more to it than getting close to a number you pulled out of your hat.”
“Winning by that amount wouldn’t be enough?” I asked.
“It would be very hard to prove. It could cause him difficulties if I supplied this to the proper authorities ahead of time, though, and got them to agree to keep it confidential,” she stated. “Otherwise I’d need something more than this for a court conviction. It’d provide good collaborating evidence, but it wouldn’t stand on its own.”
“You could use it to try to get a confession,” I suggested.
“I’ll consider it,” she advised, “but only after it occurs. It’s still weak, and he’s not likely to confess anything with his lawyer present.”
“I understand,” I wrote out.
“There’s also the question of motive,” she continued. “Why would an established bookmaker make a large bet on a regular weekly baseball game? If he were to start pushing it heavily, everyone would suspect a setup, so I can’t see him being able to make much money off of this deal.”
All I could do with this information was simply to shrug, since I had no idea, and had even less of an idea of what’s involved in illicit baseball betting.
“Anyway, you’ll have to write out a full detailed statement,” she told me. “This time be sure to include any more things you might remember in the future, though,” she snidely advised me. I had another bad feeling regarding yet another person’s suspicions of me and my abilities.
I spent the next half hour crafting a detailed statement concerning everything I could remember of the night in question. I tried to be specific where I could but vague regarding his supposed ramblings. I hoped I could write a convincing lie. I was glad they couldn’t examine a computer printout with a hand writing analysis. After I was finished I signed it, having it signed by my mother as a witness. It turned out Anh was actually a notary. Who would have known? As we were preparing for her to depart Michelle turned to me.
“You really are a remarkable man with more than a few surprises about you. I’ll keep my eyes open regarding any possible leads. If you have any more clues for me they’ll have to come from a source other than your assailant, since you’ve already filed your statement, though. Give that some thought for the next time.
“And good luck in the future. I’m hoping you can avoid any more entanglements in the coming weeks.” She shook my hand and departed. So much for that, I thought. She clearly wasn’t convinced, but we managed to get it into the written statement. She could argue it was delayed a couple of days while I recuperated enough to write it out.
Next up was my appointment with Lisa Woodall, lady reporter. Gail came in and sat with me, sitting in a chair nearby instead of joining me on the couch. Her presence was bound to bring up questions, since it confirmed she was actively helping me—making the risks to her job which Lisa created that much worse. Gail wanted to be here when I met with Lisa, but hadn’t wanted to be hanging around when I met with Michelle. She still had the pretense of impartiality to maintain. Nikki and Anh both made themselves scarce. We didn’t want to expose more people to scrutiny than already had been.
She was right on time. Nikki was watching unobtrusively from upstairs and observed her arrival. Lisa arrived in an SUV. You could tell she wasn’t exactly poor, but at least she didn’t arrive in a news van.
My mother answered the door and escorted the woman in.
“Hello, Mr. Jennings,” she greeted me. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” I rolled my eyes a bit and I think she noticed.
“He’s not exactly happy with having been tracked down. People should be allowed their privacy, even if they make for exciting stories,” Gail informed her.
“Oh, I agree,” she enthused. “We in the media get such bad exposure. In normal circumstances we’re pretty careful. What most people remember are when we go after politicians or very public people. In those cases it’s mostly a case of exposing abuses of the public trust. You can’t be accused of having done that, Alex. Can I call you Alex?” she asked.
“I think you already have,” Gail replied a little testily. She wasn’t pleased with what she thought was the falsely accepting front she was posting. I waved her off, afraid if she spoke too much it would reinforce the idea she was taking her cues from me.
“And it’s nice to see you, Officer Sanders,” Lisa said. “It’s nice you’re here voluntarily this time. I hope it reflects a tiny bit of trust. At least I’d like to hope so.”
Gail had enough sense to not respond, since I wasn’t sure she’d be able to avoid sneering at her. My laptop was ready and sitting in front of me this time. I began typing while she stood there.
“Since Alex still can’t speak he’s been using his laptop to communicate. If you sit down he’ll show you what he’s trying to say,” Gail explained our procedure to her.
“Thank you,” she said, graciously accepted the simple offer of a seat. “I can understand the difficulty you’re having. That was quite a significant injury you suffered.” I stopped typing and started on a new message. I spun the laptop around and showed her what I’d typed.
“Did you find me via the hospital?” I’d asked her. I was actually curious about it, but I was also fishing to discover whether she knew anything about what I’d been doing there.
“Well, that’s a bit of a complicated answer,” she hedged. “That’s how I found you. Clara Thomas was very upset when she received a vision of you being threatened by a gunman, followed by the feelings of panic and pain. She panicked herself. She told me she was forbidden from speaking with me, but explained she had no other way of finding you. She was crying as we spoke. So I did a quick search of nearby hospitals which treated shooting victims. I’ll admit I’d already figured out certain things. I had an idea of how far away you were, so I could limit where to look. I’d also guessed your story of being in college wasn’t true.
“As you might expect, there aren’t that many shootings in this region, and by isolating it to a specific time, it was easy to identify the hospital. Once I found what hospital you were in, I backtracked through the preceding police reports and saw the one of a shooting here. Once I knew where to look, it was pretty easy getting your address and name, since everyone here was buzzing about it. But I made it a point to not be obtrusive. I didn’t want any of you to think I was intruding on your suffering, so I stayed away from the hospital. I also avoided the little party you held for your birthday.”
I cringed slightly realizing she had managed to find out so much about me. Apparently she had already figured out a lot of what we were trying to keep secret.
‘Don’t panic, Alex,’ Gail instructed me. ‘Chances are she was told something overheard at school. She’s bluffing. I doubt she knows the location or who was there.’ That made me feel better and reestablished my footing for the interview.
“The same was true when I began my background research into you at your school. It started cautiously,” she assured me, “however you were such an interesting study I found myself interviewing student after student. Each had such intense feelings about you. None of your friends would say much about you other than how much you’d impacted their lives. Somehow I’d expected that, you seem to generate very intense feelings of loyalty in others. So I focused on those not as close to you, figuring I’d have to pick their stories apart to figure out what was true and what was purely invented. However, what I picked up was pretty universal, although the attitudes regarding the facts weren’t.
“I want to emphasize I’ve been keeping a very open mind in regards to what I’ve learned. I didn’t want to go into this thinking I already knew the story. What I’ve learned is you’re a very fascinating young man, completely separate from anything unusual or mysterious about you.” She looked me dead in the eyes.
“You’re right about Clara, though, you shouldn’t trust her. She’s completely unstable and will expose anything you reveal to her.” She took a deep breath at this point, so I knew there was a big ‘but’ coming. “What you need to understand, though, is she’s highly despondent since you rejected her the second time. She’s given up her foundations: her church, her friends, much of her belief system. Right now she’s pretty near suicidal except she’s still unsure whether suicide is allowable. You’ve convinced her that what she understands of Christianity is wrong, so she doesn’t know what to believe any more.
“I’d like to recommend that, while you don’t give her any information which could further expose you, you try to reach out to her and throw her a lifeline. She really needs it at this point, and the one thing I think I’ve learned about you is that you truly care about other people.”
I could see how she had become a TV reporter. She was a talker. She could go on about herself and keep you enthralled in her and her pretty face while doing it. I gave what she said some consideration and decided to take a chance.
‘Clara, can we speak?’ I asked, reaching out to the woman in question while I sat there watching Lisa.
‘Is that you? I don’t know what to call you. You didn’t seem to like it when I called you Jesus before,’ she asked humbly. I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was hurting.
‘I just wanted to let you know I don’t fault you, despite the trouble you’ve caused me, but you’re going to have to reevaluate much of your life,’ I warned her.
‘I understand, please forgive me,’ she begged.
‘I think forgiveness has become pretty meaningless after the last two millennia,’ I told her. ‘It’s very easy to ask forgiveness of a remote entity who doesn’t interfere. Most folk ask forgiveness on Sunday, and then continue with the exact same sins that evening. I don’t think forgiveness is going to do you much good.
‘What I want you to do is think about what it is you’ve done and what it means. How would you change what you already know is wrong. Don’t just ask blindly for me to absolve you, but really reach down and ask what it is which drives you to do the wrong thing, and decide what it is you need to learn about yourself to avoid doing it the next time,’ I lectured her.
‘I want you to be able forgive yourself once you’ve come to an understanding of what drives you to do what’s wrong in your life. As a part of that, I want you to do a few things for me,’ I continued.
‘Anything, Master, I promise I’ll do whatever you ask, my Lord,’ she responded, seemingly desperate for a chance to make amends. I took a moment to respond, ignoring the overwrought titles she was throwing about.
‘First I want you to give up on TV for the next year. I think you’ve been relying on easy answers for too long. Next I want you to return to school. I don’t want you to bankrupt yourself doing it. Simply attending continuing education classes at a local school on an evaluation basis would be enough, but I want you to study things which previously made you uncomfortable or that you are unfamiliar with. I want you to stretch yourself and learn new things. You’ve got a chance to reinvent yourself. Go out there and become the better person you’ve been hiding from yourself for so long,’ I instructed her.
‘I will, Lord, I will. Thank you for this chance to prove myself to you again. You won’t regret it this time, I assure you,’ she insisted.
‘OK, you can call me Lord and Master, but just realize I’m not Jesus, and I’m not here to wreak vengeance on the human population. I’m here to help, and I’m very human myself, just as Jesus was. That’s what made Jesus’ suffering so real, because he was human and he felt everything and died very painfully. Don’t forget that. I’d hate to meet an end like he did.’
She was silent and I got a feeling she was seriously considering what I’d told her, so I continued.
‘Just be careful how you evaluate your successes,’ I cautioned her. ‘It’s easy to justify evil when you think you’re right. I’m not even speaking of subtle degrees of wrong, but major things like murder. That’s the number one commandment, yet we continue to slaughter people every day. How many times do you think Henry Kissinger asked forgiveness for the lives he took as a result of his actions in the Vietnam War? Do you think he requested it 30,000 times, 100,000? Did he request it for each and every enemy combatant he had a role, however minor, in the death of? It’s easy to forgive yourself if you think you’re allowed to sin by being on the winning side. Think about that when you’re evaluating your future, Clara.’
She proceeded to thank me over and over for giving her this chance, but I was concentrating on the woman before me. This whole conversation took only a few seconds in real time. I don’t know if my eyes glazed over again, but Lisa hardly had a chance to miss me while I was gone.
“It’s done,” I croaked out, telling her simply. She looked at me in momentary confusion before her face relaxed again in understanding.
‘Are you insane, Alex? This is the type of evidence she’s looking for, that you have some sort of power she can report on,’ Gail insisted to me. I told her to relax and to trust me.
“It’s really that easy?” Lisa asked me.
I began typing out my response, since it was too long to say out loud. “It took a bit to explain what I wanted her to do, but I think she got it. I gave her a task which should keep her busy and out of our hair for a while. Hopefully it will also improve her life in the process,” I added.
“You know, it’s easy to pick up on this reborn messiah idea of hers. It has a certain attraction all its own, but I don’t think you appreciate it very much. You keep stressing how you want to be evaluated based on your actions, and not on others expectations of you. Besides,” she replied in a teasing tone, “I don’t think you’d tell me even if you were.
“But I’d also ask the same of you in return,” she said. “I’d like you to evaluate me based on my actions and what I believe, and not how you expect a reporter to behave.”
She had me there, I thought to myself as I began typing. “Just how should I judge you then? By the way you chase after me with a live camera feed? By how you track me down despite my letting you know I didn’t want you to know anything about me? By your speaking to my friends and enemies behind my back?”
“Fair enough,” she admitted in return, after reading my response. “But I want you to know that I realize I don’t have much time left in this little career of mine. Unless you’re in the upper tiers there’s a very short shelf life on female TV reporters. I’ve about reached mine. While I’d like a really big story to finish off my career with, I realize it’d only be a fleeting acknowledgement to me. I’d still be out of a job in a very short time.
“To be honest with you, I’d love to document your story. I know you have no desire for recognition, or even risk exposure of any kind, but I’d be glad to work around those limitations. I’d keep all my notes anonymous, I’d use all phony names, and I’d agree to any restrictions you wanted to place on me. I could sit on it until you’re eventually exposed by other means. Just think how nice it would be to have an impartial and fair evaluation of what you’re trying to achieve released, just as anger at you builds in the public’s mind.” She seemed to read the tensing of the muscles in my face as the response to her proposal.
“I’d also be willing to consider putting off publication. Say, maybe 10 or 20 years? Maybe 30 or 50? I could even arrange to have it printed posthumously,” she suggested.
“Why are you so interested in this?” I wrote. “Are you still chasing the elusive dream of fame in your chosen career?”
“That’s a good question,” she allowed. “I think I’ve become disillusioned with life after so long reporting it in all its degraded forms. However, I see a possibility of hope in whatever it is you represent. You offer me a renewed belief in hope and magic and the ability to overcome what’s wrong with all of us. I have absolutely no idea what you represent, but I’d like a chance to be a part of it somehow, and watch it develop, or fail,” she answered honestly, “on its own merits.”
“That’s a good answer as well,” I told her. “So what do you bring to the table? I don’t need a hackneyed wannabe sycophant writer following me around. In my position I need people to give me honest evaluations so I don’t lose track of myself. Could you actually write a story like this, and what’s more, do you honestly think you could keep it secret even if I allowed you to?” I felt safe throwing words like ’hackneyed’ and ’sycophant’ around with a supposed writer. So far I wasn’t impressed with any need to have anything I did documented by anyone. Besides, I already had one person I felt I could trust who wanted to write my philosophy, which was probably more important anyway.
‘Do you think she’s ever used one of those words in any of her broadcasts before?’ Gail asked, taking the entire conversation with a heavy dose of skepticism. It was clear she didn’t like this leap of faith of mine, and she didn’t like offering olive branches to people who presented me with risks.
Lisa took my words under consideration and thought about them for a bit.
“I can’t say I’ve done much writing in my career,” she told me. “I began as an aspiring investigative journalist when I went after my journalism degree. However I was pretty easily sidetracked with the promises of easy fame and attention my good looks generated. I kept trying to present my producers with short pieces of writing I thought would be edgy and provocative, but I don’t know if they ever read a single piece.” She sighed heavily before continuing.
“I don’t think I’ve offered anyone anything in my career but a pretty piece of eye candy to sell a variety of ads posing as nightly news. I’d like to believe I can still write. Heck, I’d like to believe I can still feel committed to something. But I believe I can do this. No, that’s not right, I know I have to do this. It’s important to me, and although I don’t know what’s going on yet, I already know what you’re doing is important.
“Mahatma Gandhi may have been a lawyer, and George Washington a politician, but I believe you are what a young Jesus Christ would have been like. Understated, yearning, struggling, and believing more in the importance of others than in himself. I can see you’re on a mission to change the world, even if I don’t know what it is. Please let me be a part of it,” she requested with a look of yearning for a vision she saw far off in the distance.
“I’m hardly any of those men,” I protested. “What I have to offer is never going to be recognized by anyone, so a book cataloguing those exploits wouldn’t accomplish much. I’ll remain an unknown figure, hopefully, until I’m long forgotten. Also the so called miracles I offer aren’t mine to give away. They belong to the people who present themselves to me. I simply hold the key to unlocking what they have buried within them. I can’t give you anything. I can’t promise you anything, but I’d like to see you working toward those goals you have for yourself.
“Why don’t we do this? Write up what you currently know about me. That’ll give me an understanding of what you’ve uncovered so far, as well as giving me an idea of how well you write. It’ll also reveal whether you’ll be honest or try to suck up to me. Do that for me and we’ll come to a decision at that point. Just be forewarned, though, that I really don’t see any call for having anything about my life documented. Now my sister Cate is a different story, though. She has her own mission in life, and is already planning throwing away the chance at a Nobel Prize she thinks she’d get by studying me. She needs things documented more than I do.”
She agreed to my conditions and seemed anxious to get started. I graciously escorted her to the door and saw her out. I could tell Gail and the other women wanted to have a word about the chance I was taking here, but I had to collapse and rest. I was still weak from the surgery earlier in the week. They began lecturing me but I felt myself drifting off. I felt they’d likely to be pissed at me but I couldn’t help it. They soon accepted the fact I was out of it and let me sleep.
To Be Continued
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