Sins of the Mother

by B K Johnson

  Manny had turned his attention to Dave, who was bloodied with Tommy’s blood but not much of his own. His wrists, ankles and waist showed evidence of his struggles against the chains. He’d been conscious, but barely. Manny took in the festering wounds on each of Dave’s fingers and toes, and winced in recognition of the pain Dave must have suffered at the hands of the strange wahine lying on top of the Hawaiian kane.

  He’d told Dave to just lie still and wait for the ambulance he’d summoned as soon as the woman shot herself. Trying to comfort Dave as best he could, he had to turn his head while the man quietly wept uncontrollably, every now and then gasping for breath. Manny had uttered soothing words that sounded unconvincing even to himself.

  And so he turned his attention to Rod, who was caressing Tommy’s forehead and pleading for her forgiveness for arriving at the last minute to rescue her.

  Manny said, “Hey, man, we did the best we could. And we did arrive just at the right time to stop the crazy bitch from shooting anybody else but herself.”

  Rod had slowly nodded his head, and knew he would have to content himself with the knowledge that they were able to help save Tommy’s and Dave’s lives. The extent of the damage to either of them had yet to be evaluated or attended to by the paramedics, who had not yet arrived.

  Having been a homicide detective prior to opening up his own detective agency, Manny was as careful as he could be to avoid traipsing through the various trails of blood streaming across the garage floor. He looked around without moving too much and could see that someone had put a bullet hole in the man on the cement. He’d witnessed the woman’s suicide, so knew firsthand how her still warm corpse came to be lying on the man’s.

  Manny was well aware he and Rod would be questioned at length by some of his old buddies on the force, once the living Tommy and Dave were transported to Kaneohe. Tommy, once stabilized, would be transferred to Kaiser since she had Kaiser medical insurance and did not look as critical by Manny’s assessment as she did to Rod’s. Dave would have to stay at Kaneohe State Hospital and have not only his physical wounds treated, but also his extremely fragile psychiatric state. Kaneohe State Hospital had a mental ward that was well known throughout the islands as providing the very best care for the mentally unstable that Hawaii had. And Dave, having been through what he’d suffered, would need lots of nurturing. His parents had already been informed and were on their way to tend to their son’s needs in any way they could.

  Rod had paced the entire time in the interrogation room, once the police had secured the scene. He and Manny had been taken to the Kailua station to be interviewed. He couldn’t stand being away from Tommy, and had pled to be at her side as the ambulance had taken her away. Of course, he understood the rules that, not being family, he couldn’t accompany her. Rod was also aware that he had to have his statement taken. But that didn’t mean he willingly abided by regulations. All his life he had been used to having the rules bent because of his family’s wealth and position. Although the Jefferson name was well known in Honolulu, Kailua police didn’t know Rod Jefferson from the next haole, and treated him accordingly. Therefore, no favors.

  Now, finally by her side, Rod stroked Tommy’s head, trying to calm her from becoming too aggravated. She was supposed to be lying still and getting adequate rest in order to allow her corpuscles time to get back to work and replenish her own blood supply, instead of having to rely on transfusions. And the rest of her body needed to heal.

  Her left arm was wrapped in a huge bandage that stretched from above her elbow to her wrist. She couldn’t yet see the many stitches it took to piece it back together. The bullet had not only pierced her arteries but fractured the ulna. An orthopedic specialist and a plastic surgeon had consulted and determined to pin the ulna and allow the skin to heal without the placing of a cast further irritating the abraded skin’s healing process.

  Tommy wouldn’t be happy with the months of therapy awaiting her while she couldn’t even wash her own hair, much less box. She had a concussion from the use of her head as a battering ram, and stitches lined her forehead. The plastic surgeon had carefully weaved them into what would look more like a frown line than a scar, once it healed. Her wrists and legs were badly bruised from her fight against the restricting chains. She didn’t mind these at all, knowing that Dave’s were so much worse.

  “Would you like me to set up a room at home for you with 24-hour private care?” suggested Rod.

  Sighing thankfully, Tommy happily agreed to this arrangement. “How soon can you get it done, Rod, so I can get out of here,” she asked.

  “Let me go take care of it now, sweetheart,” he responded. He bent down and kissed her head. “I promise I won’t hire any demented nurses, okay, and I will personally keep watch over you.”

  “How did I get so lucky?” Tommy whispered to herself as Rod left the room.

  Her eyes closed and she sorted through the scrambled thoughts her brain was still having trouble processing. Relieved that Dave was safe, although suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder along with his wounds, Tommy didn’t pity herself at all. She did know she would carry the guilt of his suffering with her forever, though.

  Never again would she allow any of her friends to be used to get to her, she vowed. Not that she had that many friends to begin with, having preferred a fairly solitary life. Rod, Trish and Nadine forced her to get out and about, and Dave had been a constant for so long. AA meetings required her to meet and greet new people, and share what she was comfortable with in group settings. But undergoing psychotherapy again was not in her picture, if she had anything to say about it.

  As far as Tommy was concerned, this whole situation was sad beyond belief. Kekoa had been a loving, talented, handsome young man, only desiring his mother’s love and acceptance, and a monogamous relationship with his kumu hula, Leleo. His life should never have been sacrificed on the altar of aversion to homosexuality, whose victims were too many. And Leleo’s life, as well as Samantha’s, had also been forfeit.

  “Homosexuality has been around forever,” Tommy mused. “Only now are people finally refusing to denounce it as aberrant behavior, thanks to the likes of Ellen DeGeneres, Lance Bass, and other celebrities. Nature versus nurture, who cares? We are who we are.”

  “Kekoa killed himself rather than come out of the closet. Samantha Gage was killed for fooling around on the edges of lesbianism with no serious intent to commit herself to it, and her murderess had died by her own hand. Daniella Kahn would face years of imprisonment for the murder for hire, and the sentencing for her confession of her own father’s murder would also add numerous years. It would devastate Michaela.

  “Sins of the mother are visited upon their children,” Tommy summed up to herself. “Maybe my precious baby was spared early on from having to be punished for my sins. Or maybe, the Goddess was taking her from me to punish me, since my own mother didn’t live long enough to screw up my life.”

  I’ll probably never know,” she said aloud, as one solitary tear swam its way down her bruised right cheek. “At least, not until I cross over that great divide and see what our creator designed for us on that next plane.”

  Rod rushed into the room, and grabbed her right hand. “It’s all set. Now all we have to do is get the doctors to release you, get your meds filled, and we’re good to go.”

  “The doctors can go to hell, for all I care,” muttered Tommy, not at all grateful at the moment for the fact that they’d saved her life, the use of her arm and spared her head from too much visible damage. “I’ll leave under my own steam, AMA (against medical advice), if need be. And I’m in recovery, so now that I have my wits about me, why the hell should I take any meds at all?”

  Laughing, knowing that these mutterings were good signs that Tommy was well on her way to wellness, Rod left the room. He returned, pushing a wheel chair. “It’s hospital rules, darling, but you are going to have to get in this bucket and let me push you out of here. Whether or not you are capable
of exiting on your own steam is not the question, so don’t give me any shit, okay? I’ve broken enough rules already on your behalf, so please behave.”

  Shaking her head from side to side, and grimacing, Tommy lifted herself up and allowed Rod to help her into the chair. “Take me home, James, or whatever the hell your name is,” she joked. “I’ll behave, and follow your advice, if only just this once.” They merrily left the room, with Tommy still in her hospital gown, her clothes having been trashed. She would find a way to thank Rod later, and he would enjoy the physical manifestations of her gratitude.

  Rod became aware of the state of Tommy’s dress, and stripped off his own t-shirt, draping it around her shoulders. Strutting with his bare, muscled pecs and arms moving seductively with each movement, Rod wheeled his lady out of the hospital, totally unaware of each female head that turned in approval as he passed. Tommy noticed, though, and thought, “I’d better heal fast or I may lose this guy. And he is worth hanging on to.”