Discovery

by Douglas E Roff

  “What’s with all the mush? You know you’re gonna to get laid later anyway, right. Where’s my Adam? What have you done with my guy?”

  “Not mush, I just love you. Can’t help it. I’m caving in; you should be happy.”

  “Oh no you don’t. What did the ladies do to you?”

  “Nothing. Really, I’m just happy, that’s all.”

  “You wanna go fishing with Papa, is that it?

  “No. God no. What would I do with a fish?”

  “A surprise, then? Something really, really surprisy?”

  “Nope. Not even close. Is that even a real word?”

  “Then what? You, of all people are never this happy. Not unless …”

  “No, you’re wrong. And so very wrong that you are the known as Mrs. Wrong, and you live in Wrongville, USA. You are, as I said, very, very wrong. I just love you, that’s all. An epiphany of epiphanies while at Mass. I just realized how lucky I am, how happy I am and how much my life has changed. And it’s all good and it all started with you. So there.”

  “I repeat, you are getting laid, so stop scaring me. Makes me worry that something bad is about to happen. You’re not breaking up with me, are you? You’ll never do that threesome with my evil twin sister if you do.”

  “Break up? I’m not that crazy.”

  “You’re a certified genius with deeply scary sociopathic tendencies. So, yes you are crazy. I put nothing past you.”

  “You’re still here, you know. You understand me. How many men have a woman like that? I’d do anything for you and probably get away with it. Now that is what I call love, my dear.”

  “I still think you’re up to something, but my Adamometer must be low on batteries.”

  “You’re what?”

  “My Adam BS detector. Highly tuned girl instrument. Not available at major department stores. Custom made by the tias. We use it with little children too.”

  “I thought it was that other thing that was low on batteries. I thought you were starting to call it ‘Adam’ now.”

  The coffee was on the table, some sticky buns came out of nowhere and Misti was looking fetching in her summer dress.

  “Which do you want first?” she said.

  “Just you. It’s always going to be just you.”

  “Good choice. Maybe you really do love me.”

  “And your naughty sister.”

  Chapter 51

  “So, what happened at Mass today?”

  “New Priest. Father Rourke. As Irish as his name sounds and not a lick of Spanish. What was the Cardinal thinking?”

  “About what?”

  “About who should be saying Mass in a parish that is over ninety percent Hispanic. Not just Mexicanos, but latinos from all over the place and they make their home here in Seattle. Not freakin’ Dublin.”

  “Ohio?” was Misti’s only response. “So, no early Mass en Espanol anymore?” she continued, making polite conversation.

  “No, Dublin as in Ireland. And no, they’re going to have early Mass in English, and two other Masses in Spanish but later in the morning. I just don’t get what they’re thinking.”

  “You mean you like going to early Mass with tia and her entourage and now you won’t be able to go just when you want. Is that what’s really bugging you?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m certainly not divulging anything sensitive like that to you, missy. You obviously side with the heretics and the unbelievers.”

  “Hey, that’s ‘Misti’ with t. Not ‘missy’. Did you know I once stopped dating a guy because he kept spelling my name wrong? True story.”

  “And your point, before that train leaves the station, would be …”

  “None whatsoever. But it might help if the new immigrados learned a little English to go along with their new-found freedom and opportunity. We did and maybe they should give it a go too.”

  Adam groaned, visibly screwing up his face and acting very annoyed and put out. He wasn’t, but he had heard this gem so many times before, he thought it might be better to just record his stock answer and play it back. There must be an app for that.

  “And who exactly is ‘we’ mexicanita? I mean last I looked, you were born right here in Seattle, Washington US of A. You were gifted English by birth. Just like me.”

  “Now I speak six languages. I’m covered in the event I need to high tail it out of the good old USA and go on the lam. How ‘bout you, gabacho?”

  “I have approximately $569 million in the bank. I can afford to hire you to sneak me out of the country and translate. Sex is optional.”

  “For you, maybe. I had you figured for maybe $568 million, tops. Interest must be accruing in bushels these days.”

  “Maybe. You must ask Cindy about all that shit. Gives me a headache.”

  “She runs all your money?”

  “I don’t know about 'running money’ but Cindy manages the whole shebang for the entire family. All the trusts, business stuff and personal investments. She does a great job, so I hear we still have a few centavos to spare.”

  “You’re gonna have to tell me more about this whole deal someday. I’m interested you know.”

  “Then don’t ask me, ask your buddy Cindy. You have my permission. Mi fortune es tu fortune or so the saying almost goes.”

  “Maybe I should be sleeping with Cindy instead of you. She’s the one with the money, honey.” Misti laughed but not because the notion was ridiculous.

  “You’d have better luck with a stranger, hon. To wit, I’m an idiot and completely corruptible. You, my love – well who the hell knows about you, so we’ll skip you for now. But Cindy, our sweet Cindy, is incorruptible, honest, beautiful and a Mom. She couldn’t be dishonest – she’s Canadian. Plus, what you see is what you get with Cindy, so I can’t even imagine her even having secrets. Not from Rod, anyway.”

  “You believe all that nonsense, do you?”

  “Why, yes, I do as a matter of fact. Don’t you? I don’t mean in general but with Rod and Cindy? You can’t be serious.”

  “I think we never know anyone, including Cindy, as well as we think we do. And in our family, well hell there are more secrets than people, fingers and toes included. That means you too, buddy, and Edward and everyone else up in the Bay. Shake that tree hard enough and we all might be surprised to find what falls out.”

  “My, my - aren’t we being cynical today. More than usual, even for you. I think you’ve been hangin’ around Dad – I mean Edward – just a teensy bit too much.”

  “Not nearly enough, if you ask me. Your Dad sees things clearly, especially when it comes to family and all. When it comes to his field, he is without peer.”

  “Peerless, you say?” Adam asked.

  “Why does that sound so dirty when you say it?”

  “You must not be saying it right.”

  Chapter 52

  The morning had come and gone, and Misti and Adam were sitting on the couch reading. Adam’s book had a lot of charts and numbers, so Misti was uninterested. Misti was reading about the forensic mess left behind by site robbers at a new Mayan dig in Guatemala. Not casual reading but Edward wanted Misti to learn more about forensics and the application of forensic sciences to archeology. After all, it was something Edward had helped pioneer and he was widely considered somewhat of an authority on the subject. She was now his protégé, so she was catching up on many of the finer points of his work, particularly as applied to the current family project.

  But Edward hadn’t been out in the field now for several years and he thought he was beginning to lose his edge. Poppycock said all his colleagues, but Edward knew better. Science and Anthropology, Edward believed, were like a raging river sweeping past those in the shallows standing in the mud. He was squarely in the mud, and he knew it.

  “Adam dearest, can I disturb you for a moment. Got a question that’s been bugging me for a while.”

  “Shoot.” Adam didn’t look up but con
tinued reading.

  “Hey, you. Over here.” Misti was waving, her way of capturing the attention of a man she thought might not notice her even if she was starkers’ naked and waving a flag.

  “What? Didn’t I say what?”

  “No, you said ‘shoot’. There’s a difference. When I’m talking to you!”

  “Oh, yeah sure. So, what’s buggin’ you?”

  “I am not bugged. I’m just curious about the whole ‘go to Mass every Sunday’ thing. I mean now that we are living together, I would not really have pegged you for a church type. Your Dad is … well, I don’t know what your Dad is, but so far as I can make out, you and Maria seem to be the only two churchgoers up here in Barrows. Rod stopped years ago, so who’s left?”

  “Well, you’re not the first person to ask me that nor doubtless will you be the last. But the short, and least boring answer, is that it has to do with how I was raised.”

  “You mean Maria and Edward?”

  “No, I mean school, martial arts, throw in a lot of travel and, you know, my birth Mom being dead and all, and just a whole bunch of shit kids shouldn’t have to deal with as kids. Then there was the temper thing, trouble with the police and Dad’s freakin’ out, and Mom’s freakin’ out, and man there was just too much noise. Every day the noise just kept droning on, incessantly, getting louder and louder. Then what about this, or what about that, or you’ve got a symposium to attend, and are you packed? I mean, I’m like ten years old and stressing out about finals.

  “So, I figured out that Mass on Sunday was where I could go with Mom – just the two of us, and we could have some quiet time. And talk, just the two of us, alone. No noise in Church and just a bunch of people from all walks of life there in one spot doing whatever they’re there to do. Some folks are stressed, just like me. Some people want guidance. Some people need to confess. Some people are just plain scared.

  “Church is where I go to get relief from everything else. But then later, it was just fun seeing my ‘church friends’ on Sunday, and talkin’ about nuthin’, thinkin’ about nuthin’. Plus, nobody wanted to know my opinion about some new piece of software or did I read that new article in Scientific American. It was like Adam, good to see you. Or Adam, are you coming to the bake sale, or Adam, did you hear that Ginny got married. Normal stuff. Mom never said it, but this was all I was ever going to get of ‘normal’.

  “So, I went. And I liked it. And I still like it. But now there is less noise, less stress and better company. I know the men all think I’m a weenie, but I enjoy my Sunday mornings with the tias when I’m in Seattle. They know everything and they all pretend to have a scoop of some sort for me. So, I don’t mind going to Church with ten or twelve Latina women, some of whom have daughters of marriageable age. It’s not all about religion, you know. Mostly it’s about family.”

  “Are you a man-whore, Adam St. James? Stalking Latina women at church to satisfy your carnal desires? How did I not see this?” Misti was laughing, remembering all the ‘Adam’ reports she would get from her mum and her aunties. No cause for alarm on that front, as far as they could tell.

  “I object to the term man-whore, not because of its inaccuracy when applied to my gender but because it’s inaccurate if applied to me. No, I was way too nerdy and uncool. Bad temper, trouble with school, schoolmates, teachers and God knows who else. Quiet, moody and hard to talk to. Pissy, arrogant and a host of other totally accurate descriptors I used to hate. Mostly true. When I went to Church in Victoria, and in Seattle, I was in a different world. A world where none of that mattered and no one cared. It was perfect.”

  “So how come you never ask me to go? I would go with you, you know. If you wanted me to.”

  “I don’t ask because I know you don’t really want to go. It’s not the same for you and you hate going anyway. Talk around the water cooler is that you only went to keep your mother happy. And you didn’t seem to be having any fun.”

  “I didn’t think you were supposed to have fun. But yeah, I only went for Mom’s sake. I never got much out of it, so I thought it was a waste of time – for me, that is. I never saw it through your eyes.”

  “Why would you? Or why would you want to? But I do remember getting ‘Misti’ news from time to time. Which I assumed was heavily redacted.”

  “Like I was a virgin all through high school and college – something like that?”

  “Yeah, something like that. Glad at least that all of that was true. I’m recruiting virgins for an all new virgin-only project. I’m the project director.”

  “Too late for me, buddy, but my sister is still holding out. Maybe she’ll have your hand in marriage.”

  “Naw, I like the naughty girls. They’re way more fun.”

  “And us Catholic girls, where do we fit in?”

  “You Catholic girls have to work off all that guilt somehow. Now I know how.”

  Misti quietly sighed a little sigh of relief. She wasn’t enthused with Adam’s devout religious scruples, which would make her story even harder for him to understand when she eventually told it all to him. Edward had suggested that talking to Adam about it would give her a new and better perspective. But it wasn’t about what she thought that mattered. And it wasn’t what anybody else thought it was either.

  Except Edward, the only person besides Misti who knew everything. About Misti’s past, that is. Even then, she might have left out a few salacious details.

  Chapter 53

  It was late March, and Edward was comfortably seated in his office at the Institute racing through a stack of papers, reports, financials and administrative directives he had carefully placed into an ever-increasing heap paperwork marked “to do”. More accurately, there was little careful thought about any of it, save Edward’s penchant for carefully avoiding doing mounds of admin, the bane of his otherwise somewhat pastoral life. Or so he thought.

  In truth his stack was several stacks and had been accumulating for months, maybe longer. Edward most often settled into sending off discrete packets of documents, sorted into appropriate categories, to the departmental administrators with sticky notes attached. Questions on the notes were then ignored by the administrators, as they were fully aware that Edward would never follow up on anything about which he requested information anyway. He was thoughtful about admin in the moment, but that moment was ever fleeting.

  For the Institute, which had been playing this parlor game with Edward for well over two decades, the game was a robust round of ‘you decide, or we decide; but you go first’. Anything to which Edward did not say yes, was by default a no, or where indicated, just the opposite. It wasn’t a good system by Institute standards, but it worked well enough with only a few actual mistakes over the many long years.

  Edward’s intense concentration was interrupted by a light tapping on his office door, which famously had a ‘do not disturb’ sign permanently affixed to the exterior side of the office door. He barely had time to look up when all 5’2” of Maria Suarez entered his room. He hadn’t even had time to shout his standard, good natured ‘go away’, in response to every knock at the door. Before he knew it, Maria was seated in front of him, staring from across the large expanse of his desk.

  Edward’s colleagues almost always walked in anyway, having learned over many years to ignore what Edward said but and pay strict attention to what he did. If he threw something at the door, it was not safe to enter.

  “And to what do I owe this rare guest appearance, Dr. Suarez? In the past, if memory serves, you only visit when I’m in trouble, or Adam is in trouble, or we have both somehow broken a law of the Eight Families. Which is it now?”

  Maria, after almost a quarter century of putting up with Edward’s malarkey, was immune to his charm and avoidance techniques, having seen them all. Edward could still coax a smile from those pursed and sometimes taciturn lips but not when the mood was somber, as it was today.

  Maria said nothing, waiting for Edward to sit back i
n his chair and set his glasses on his desk. These were the only signs she would accept that Edward was paying attention and she wouldn’t be ignored. Edward, acceding to the unspoken request sat back, and let his glasses fall to his lap.

  “We have much to discuss, Edward.”

  “About?”

  “Stop it Edward. Some say that you have one of the most intuitive minds on the planet and yet you are unable to discern the purpose of this visit? I love you as a brother, Edward; this you know. But I have no time for you or your childish antics when you don’t wish to have a simple conversation. I’m here about Misti and Adam and this developing romance. And what you intend to do about it.”

  Edward looked down, rubbing his face in his hands while gathering his thoughts. This conversation, which became inevitable seventeen years ago on a warm spring day in Seattle, would be difficult and contentious, unusual in their makeshift family. Maria was seldom overtly direct with Edward, a coping mechanism each developed with the other to avoid confrontation over family matters. There was rarely a need for brutally frank discussions; Edward normally acceded to Maria’s wishes on a wide variety of family, social and personal issues but this topic today wasn’t one of them.

  “I cannot read your mind Maria, but having said that, I intuit from the look on your face that you’re about to voice your deep reservations about our little lovebirds. Is that about the sum and substance?”

  “And you? No reservations at all, clear conscience and wish the happy couple all the best? I know you have been plotting and planning all sorts of machinations over the past umpteen years and the only reason I withheld comment, as you well know, is because I did not believe, truly believe, that any of your ridiculous manoeuvrings had any real chance of success. Whether by fortuity, intention or otherwise I now admit I should have taken your ill-advised schemes a lot more seriously. But I didn’t and that is an error I shall not make a second time.”