by David Connor
"Kiss." Liam kissed the bowl of the same wooden spoon they had both fondled several nights back. He passed it to Frank. "Kiss," he said again. "G-good m—mmm o-ring."
Frank got the gist, and half-heartedly complied. "You are too precious," he said with full sincerity. "But I am afraid I must hurry off." Claustrophobia was but one of the feelings that played on his every nerve. He had to get out of the trailer which now seemed far too small for two people and a giant bear. "Vaughn is home. Your father… He needs me at work." Frank set down the spoon, and then moved to what used to be his room to grab clothes for the day. "See you later."
"Liam c-come?"
"No. Liam stay!" It came out far more harshly than planned. Frank winced. Liam did as well. He was not a dog, damn it, and there was no excuse for treating him as one. Whatever he was or was not, none of the blame for it should be thrust upon him. "You'd be bored out of your mind." He hadn't been bored at all. He seemed to enjoy outdoor work. "Stay here. Watch TV, play music, or read. I really need to speak with your father alone."
"Liam c-come." His face contorted, as if he was about to cry again, and suddenly Frank's sympathy was tempered with irritation. Where was Renny when Frank cried all those days and nights?
"Where is your compassion? Perhaps the man wants to see his parents."
Frank's inner voice ruled.
"Do what you wish. But you have to clean up and dress first." If Liam followed the order, that would give Frank a head start. "I'll be back," Frank said, though he wasn't certain he would be. Without even fastening his pants, he was out the door.
Frank fumed the whole way to the funeral home. He stopped to snap twigs and swat at flora all ugly and brown, dead, for all intents and purposes, until spring rain and warmth brought them back. That was what nature intended. Rebirth was natural for plant life, not for people.
"It's criminal, Vaughn, what you have done!"
So much for being late. Vaughn hadn't even headed down to the mortuary himself yet. He was still upstairs, where Frank faced off with him.
"I am appalled… sickened." Bare torso heaving and sweating, Frank balled his shirt up in his clenched fist, his knuckles sore from pummeling the Hellier's front door. His eyes burning and wide, spit was flying with every accusation hurled. He'd become the man beast half the town thought he was.
"Franklin, do calm down. Marion, go fetch the boy some water."
"I do not need water. I need answers." Frank inhaled deeply, then slowly let it out. "How is she, Vaughn?" he asked, once Marion was gone from the room. "She looks well."
"Marion is fine."
"The trip?"
"It accomplished some important things."
"Are you being purposely cryptic? I guess that has always been your way."
"Is this what you needed to speak about?" Vaughn asked.
"I do hope Marion is well. But there is another issue. Liam."
"Oh?"
Marion returned with the water and handed it to Frank.
"Perhaps you will bring me a coffee, my dear."
"Don't you have one?" Marion asked her husband.
"It has gotten cold."
Marion left again. There was another reason Vaughn wanted his wife out of the room. Frank would bet anything on that. "What did you do? How…? That is the real question. Is Liam Renny Watson?"
"Franklin, sit. Gather your temper. You're talking foolishness."
"Is Liam Renny?"
"Of course not. Liam is my son."
"You had never once mentioned a son, Vaughn, not one single time in the many years I have known you. Not when I was a boy, not when I lost my father, not when I came to work for you, not whenever you called me your son." Frank sat, but not still. "Even when anyone asked if I was, you never said 'no, but I have one.' It rather stands to reason one of the hundreds of people we've buried over the years or one of their loved ones would have reminded you of him, and yet not a mention of a phone call you wished to make or a birthday card ready to mail or a Christmas gift."
"I explained all of that."
"You explained some of it, with vaguery and justifications as full of holes as a colander, dare I say?"
"You may say whatever you wish. I know the truth."
"And it is highly unlikely that is it." Frank adjusted his glasses. "You didn't even ask for him when we spoke to one another last night, or yet this morning."
"I trust you implicitly with Liam's care. That is why I gave him to you."
"Gave him to me?" Frank shot up from the sofa. "He's a human being—at least I think he is—not some puppy from a litter!" Another pang of guilt came from the recent kitchen dust up.
"You are the one doubting that, it seems."
"He has scars where no one would from a car accident. The one on his chest is as big as if…" Frank couldn't bring himself to finish. "Is he Renny?"
"Does he look like Renny?" Vaughn asked quite huffily. "As I recall, your friend had dark hair and eyes. Liam is a blond with blue. They are not even the same height or weight. The answer is no. They look nothing alike."
"Part of him does."
"Which part, Franklin?" Vaughn lit a cigarette. "Hmm?"
"I think you know. The one with which you were so enamored, so impressed." Frank stared at the ground.
Vaughn had the nerve to chortle. "Was I, or were you?"
"Stop it, Vaughn."
"If there is a resemblance to your eye, that is your romantic fantasies, perhaps. Maybe that is who you wish him to be. As for this body part you are suddenly too bashful to put a name to, there are not that many varieties, from my observations throughout the years." Vaughn snickered again. "Even given the extreme ways your mind works, why you would jump to such an odd and outrageous conclusion based solely on someone's genitalia?"
Frank was not ready to give up just yet. "You're right about his hair and his eyes, of course. I'll give you that."
"Will you?"
"Even the body type. But…"
"That certain organ again, Franklin? Oh, how I wish I could discuss this with Freud."
Was Vaughn enjoying this, Frank wondered? "Is such even possible?" Frank asked him.
"I suppose it is. The careful grafting of skin and nerve endings, reattaching all of the functioning vessels and veins… In Europe, internal organs are transplanted. However, this is up to you to prove. If you're accusing me of something, state your evidence."
"If you love me, as you've always claimed that you do, tell me the truth."
"The truth is Liam adores you."
"Because you told him he should."
"Nonsense." Vaughn angrily snuffed out his Winston.
"I've seen it on television shows, read it in books… how someone can be brainwashed. Not even fiction, the government says it is possible. It was on the news just the other night… how communists are using propaganda to sway Americans into giving up top secret information."
"Only you could take Walter Cronkite reporting on communism and make it about your love life."
Frank paused, feeling foolish, but then he thought of something else. "It is not unheard of for comatose patients to be fed memories in case they awaken. Didn't you do that with Liam? Didn't you talk to him?"
"Of course we did."
"That isn't all that different, really. And you already affirmed it was your plan to put us together—Liam and I—if not from the start, certainly by the time you had me wake him up. You very easily could have planted the idea in him that makes him think he loves me."
"Because it could not possibly be genuine."
Frank took himself back to Liam's enthusiasm as he hummed while creating the breakfast setup, something so special. Liam's pleasure and affection seemed completely real. The thought of ruining it all, and Frank's next words, "No, it could not," both were like the point of the sharpest knife in his kitchen going straight into his heart.
"Even if that much is accurate, it is a far leap between there and this other… purer unsinn."
; "Total nonsense." Frank had picked up some German over the years. "Is it? After what I've been through of late, the most unimaginable now seems somehow possible.
"Bull."
"I asked him, you know." Frank looked Vaughn in the eye. "And I will again. And he'll tell me."
"He speaks better than before? So quickly?" The ash on Vaughn's next cigarette had grown so long during the argument, it fell on its own.
"Yes." Frank brushed it up and deposited it into the ashtray. "A few words at a time still, but he initiates and asks for things." The pain intensified when Frank thought of what—kisses and intimacy.
"That's impressive." Vaughn smiled. "What kinds of things does he ask for?"
Frank may have blushed.
"You are the reason he is feeling what he does." Vaughn must have known. "Because you are special in his eyes."
"Whose eyes are they?"
"They are eyes that light up when you enter a room. Always. From the first day you finally paid him a visit. No matter how difficult his day, the moment he saw you, any pain, any frustration melted away and a smile crossed his lips. Marion said so. That cannot be faked. It is in his heart."
"Or his brain. Should I repeat the previous question, Vaughn?"
"Your eyes do the same, Franklin." Vaughn lit a third cigarette, even though much of the first two had been wasted. He exhaled its smoke which Frank had no choice but to share. "You cannot deny it. You have come to love him, so quickly, so completely."
"And that was your plan." Frank walked away then, to peer out the window into the foggy fall morning, to wonder what Liam was doing right at that moment. "Whatever you have done, you did it all for me."
"It did," Vaughn said. "I never led you to believe anything else. We spoke of happiness and heaven a little bit of time ago, remember?"
"Yes."
"You are happier already. At least you were until you created this foolishness in your mind. You were brought back to life with Liam," Vaughn declared with grand gestures. "I saw it right there at my table, right there in my living room. Those woods you cherish you cherish more with him. Tell me that is not true."
"You wanted me to have a man, so you made one. I would resolutely declare such a thing far too farfetched to believe," Frank said desperately, but quietly, "if I hadn't laid on him myself and started his heart and brain again. Good God! You made a person!"
"Just when I think you are listening to reason…" Vaughn shook his head. "Just when I thought you could change. You do speak differently. Some parts of your argument were presented in common heppy American and lazy English."
"Hippie. You mean hippie. And not really."
"There was something new."
Frank had noticed too. It had happened quickly. He had become far more grounded in reality since Liam had entered his life and his home, as ironic as that now seemed.
"There are just too many odd happenstances to ignore."
"Which one could say about life in general would they really pay attention." Vaughn took a labored breath. He seemed rather exhausted with the whole thing. "If you need a creative outlet for this noise in your head, write a story like those I should have discouraged you from reading long ago. You are being absurd, Franklin. Shall I remind you once again you said yourself he looks nothing like the man you allege I made him from."
"I also said—"
"And I also answered." Vaughn literally put his foot down, punctuating the proclamation. "Enough about the penis! I will not go so far as to say they all look alike. Still, most do not look so completely different, either."
"It doesn't look like mine," Frank said.
"You have an unrealistic view of every part of you, Franklin. You shun even my affection, because of your scars, those on your flesh and also inside your soul."
There was that word again. Vaughn took an extra-long drag on his cigarette after speaking it, and Frank immediately wondered if some profound statement was about to be delivered.
"I am not well, son."
There it was.
"You?"
"Yes."
"Not Marion."
"No."
Frank sat again. Then he stood, and motioned for Vaughn to take his place. "How so?" he asked softly.
"Old age, mostly. My internal organs are failing. Were it one at a time, perhaps we could fix it. If the outside of my body was not so uncooperative these days, perhaps it would be worth it to try. Please just be happy, Franklin. Stop looking for trouble where there is none. It would do me good in the days I have left to know that the ones that come after for you will be happier with Liam in them."
Frank touched his chest. "Days?"
Vaughn shrugged. "Weeks. Months, perhaps, but not much more than that. Poor Marion has already said she does not wish to go on without me."
"We will take care of her… Liam and I."
That made Vaughn smile. "She adores you so," he said.
"We hardly speak."
"She wanted you to live with us, after your father's passing."
"Oh?" Frank was shocked.
"Oh, yes. It is I who kept the two of you apart. She would have turned you into a housecat. Your tendency to isolate, my Marion would have abetted it." Vaughn smiled again. "She'd also have doted on you and practically smothered you with love. Maybe not bringing you in was a mistake. Had you been around that more, maybe you'd believe yourself loveable."
Frank was left with no more words.
"It was the same with Liam, really. Despite her sternness when you were about, I know she coddled him when alone. If you could have seen her when she thought no one could." Vaughn sighed, then he picked up the newspaper, rolled it into a coil, and gently touched it to Frank's cheek. It was quite a bit nicer than the last time The Courier had made contact with his head in that house. "The swat of one of these… the wrap of a knife on your knuckles… that shows as much affection as a kiss. Trust me. My Marion loves you both so."
A pounding at the door broke the mood. "What in heaven's name?" Marion finally came in from the kitchen, as if she'd been waiting for a break in the conversation on which she had no doubt been eavesdropping. Vaughn flung open the door as she approached it. Liam was there, in the same state of half dress Frank had left him in—undershorts—only now they were hanging half off and paired with untied sneakers. He was crying, dirty, and sweaty. It was obvious he had fallen more than once on his journey.
"Fank… g-gone." Liam flung himself into Marion's arms.
Marion hugged him tight. Frank saw the love. Of all the things Vaughn professed, at least that much seemed true. "I'm right here, Liam. I'm right here." Frank picked up a pillow from the sofa and squeezed it in his arms in much the same manner Liam clung to his mother. "God, I am so sorry. You must have been frightened all alone in the woods." It was obvious he had taken the circuitous route, rather than finding the main road into town.
Liam held onto Marion for dear life. There was a connection, Frank thought. How could he have doubted the familial bond? Liam obviously found comfort in his mother's embrace. "Hug… Fank."
Or maybe he didn't.
"I had to speak with Vaughn," Frank said. "It was urgent."
"It wasn't at all. I hope we can agree on that now." Vaughn hugged his son next—or whoever Liam was to him. "Take him home," he said, breaking free.
Frank objected. "But there is work."
"Which I can handle on my own. I will need you at the cemetery tomorrow, however. Go with Frank, Liam."
"To the kitchen first, maybe. I bet Marion—your mom—has some lemonade or pop we can take with us."
Marion nodded.
"Good. I love your lemonade, Mrs. Hellier. Vaughn always shares what you send with him for lunch."
"Come and help, my schatz, Liam. I have missed you so."
Liam looked to Frank.
"Yes. Go. I promise never to leave you again with such dander. I also vow I will be here when you return with our snacks." When Liam headed for the kitchen behind his mother, Frank
made another pledge. "Whatever memories he has will come back eventually, you know. He already recalls certain things. Just last night, he told me he's been on a boat… fishing."
"Is it so hard to believe I would take my son fishing?"
"Frankly, yes. I do not see you as the type."
"Fathers do for those they love, things that may seem odd to those looking in from outside."
"More enigmatic pronouncements are only going to strengthen my doubts."
"Only when you twist them. Your father served tea to a cat at your behest, you once told me. Do you recall?"
Frank recounted the tea party, and couldn't help letting the joy show on his face. The cat had been so cooperative. Frank Sr, had plopped him onto a chair, and there he had sat. He had even lapped at the plastic cup with the clear, tasteless tea from the tap.
"Now Liam is that cat, dropped into my life to play pretend."
Vaughn huffed. "So much for the point I was trying to make, because I thought mere moments ago those doubts had been allayed, your irrational theories dispelled."
"Yeah. I thought so too, but I can't even look at him now without seeing a creature rather than a human. The moment he walked through that door it was obvious again that the pieces of the puzzle will never properly fit together no matter how you manipulate them."
Vaugh shook his head yet again. "The more you look for reasons to be unhappy, Franklin, the more unhappy you will be. That is a simple fact. Your speech and vernacular, when it comes back, is like a barrier itself, each fancy word and formal embellishment nothing but a façade, another brick stacked against progress and healing. You do not speak this way to Liam when you are relaxed and open." He lit cigarette number four. Frank probably should have insisted he slow down. "Forget about how he came into your life and just accept him as he is. Accept the pleasure of it. Allow the joy."
"To what end? So I can hurt later on?"
"Your gift can be used in conjunction with medical advances. Imagine what you can do with it, now that you know. Have you even considered that? Your entire life could be different."