by Doug Welch
Chapter 10
Guns and Lawyers
The day of the meeting with the lawyer wasn't one of Kentucky's finest, overcast, and unseasonably cool. The forecast was for rain. The farmers will be happy. I thought.
Elizabeth was swamped at the hospital, and Caesar was taking their father to a medical center, so Alex and I were free to accomplish some pressing tasks.
In the morning hours, I managed to stockpile some more material that I could use to satisfy Harvey in case he became insistent that I return to work. Alex worked with Dad's computer for a while, making copies of the data that I thought Silas might want to see. She eventually grew bored, hopped in her new truck, and went shopping for food. While she was away, I poured over the CAD drawings of the house to try to discover the nature of the unusual construction in the basement. The morning hours seemed to crawl.
When Alex returned, we stored the groceries in the pantry, and impatiently waited until it was time to leave.
We decided to take the new truck to the law office, and left early. On the way, the storm broke and the road was soon awash in sweeping bursts of driving rain. The truck's windshield wipers were barely able to keep up with the demand.
“I think we should have brought an umbrella,” I said.
“Are you kidding? We should have built an ark. We're gonna get soaked, and I'm wearing sandals.” We’d both dressed in lightweight spring clothing for the meeting. We were going to get wet.
A while later we both stood dripping in the foyer, until a secretary came to escort us into Silas' office.
He sat behind a large modern desk that held phone, computer and pictures. The normal office items cluttered the surface. Bookcases, containing rows of legal books, lined the office from floor to ceiling. Framed documents boasting numerous licenses, diplomas, and awards spaced between the rows, broke the monotony of the books.
“Sit down you two. You look like drowned rats. Why didn't you bring an umbrella? Would you like some coffee?”
“Thank you Silas,” I replied. “We asked ourselves the same question, and yes, I would like some coffee to warm up.”
He focused on Alex. “How about you, Alex?”
“I could drink a cup,” she replied.
The secretary brought a tray containing three steaming cups of coffee with cream and sugar and set it on the desk. She was an attractive middle-aged woman with graying hair and a smile that softened an otherwise severe face.
Silas gestured to the woman. “Paris, Alexandra. Meet my right hand. This is June Marrow, my administrative assistant and legal secretary. June will be able to handle most of your needs if I’m not available.”
June shook both our hands and looked expectantly at Silas. He gave a little shake of his head and indicated that she should leave us. She nodded, retired, and closed the office door.
“It seems we are at something of a crossroad here,” he began after she left. “I wouldn't have disrupted your lives, unless I was concerned about your safety. You two young people have some difficult challenges ahead.”
“Define 'difficult challenges',” I replied.
“Yes,” Alex said, “and stop being so obtuse. Start speaking plainly. We're tired of secrets and struggling to understand what’s happening to us. Someone needs to give us some honest answers.”
Silas leaned back in the office chair and looked briefly at the ceiling. Then he leaned forward, redirecting his attention to us. His eyes searched both our faces. “Very well, you want honest answers. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how honest the answers are. I can only tell you what your father confided in me, and what I’ve been able to discover from my own sources.” He laid a hand, palm down on the desk, turned slightly and tilted his head. His eyes grew narrow. “I believe that you are in danger. Where the threat comes from, I’m not sure, but I suspect it’s the Shadow People.”
We both looked at him in disbelief. I felt like we were characters who had just entered, stage left, into a grade-B science fiction movie.
“Silas,” I said, “this Shadow People crap is just the delusions of a bunch of crazy people on the Internet. I admit that the two nuts I encountered seemed to defy the odds, but there's probably an ordinary, rational explanation. I don't have to go looking for imaginary playmates to explain the real world.”
He looked at us for a while, until the silence became uncomfortable. “It may or may not surprise you to know your father believed it – completely. In fact, that's why you're wearing the objects that hang around your neck. He created them to protect you. You are wearing them, aren't you?”
We both involuntarily clutched the medallions.
He was silent, and turned toward the office window staring at the world outside. After a moment, he continued.
“I didn't believe him either when I first met him. If he’d been ranting about Shadow People when I talked to him, I most likely would have politely assured him I would take his case, and then contacted his next of kin to try to get him some medical help. However, he was rational, and he had evidence of some type of shadow underground that intrigued me.”
He turned back to look at both of us. “After a while, I began to entertain the notion that he might have discovered something that was wholly outside my personal experience, and completely outside what we consider normal. To understand his mental state, and the nature of the puzzles you are facing, you must set aside your disbelief and accept that the world is a lot stranger than most people realize. There are many wonders in God's creation.”
I looked at Alex. She nodded. “Okay, we're listening.”
Silas leaned back in his chair and began. “According to your father, the Shadows are human genetic aberrations, some kind of split from humanity that was an adaptation to the need to avoid violent confrontation. He maintained that the Shadows affected the visual fields of the minds of normal humans. It wasn't that they weren't real. It was as if a normal human mind slid past them when it tried to focus on them. Normal persons could not see them unless they willed it. He said that the sensation was like the mind was denying that they existed. He also stated that he and other people, who he would not name, had physical proof that this was possible. Therefore, for all practical purposes, the Shadows do not exist to the normal human world.
“Apparently, this Shadow culture views the whole human race as servants, serfs who exist only to provide for them. He also said that the Shadows have not evolved as a culture. Their society has remained static from the times of the middle ages. In other words, they have a very feudal culture.”
He paused, and waited for our reactions.
It was hard to divorce my mind from its skepticism. His whole dialogue was not rational, yet I had experienced some irrational events in the past few days that had, to a certain extent, modified my thinking.
“What proof do you have?” Alex asked.
“Only your father and his word, which I value very highly,” he replied.
“What do you mean?” Alex asked. “Did my father give you some documents or evidence of the existence of these Shadows?”
“No, I mean your father was the proof.”
“Explain that,” I said.
Silas nodded. “Gladly. – I believe your father found a way to use some of the abilities of the Shadows. I know that he acquired fantastic capabilities in financial matters, and was able to predict events that affected the financial world before they occurred. I also know that he was able to influence people's decisions. He could ask them to do things that they ordinarily wouldn’t agree to do, and they would do what he wanted.”
Placing his forearms on the desk top, he leaned forward and stared intently at us. “Your father became a very scary man, and he was aware of that fact. He agonized over the implications of his abilities, and suffered several crises of conscious about it. Before his death, we became very close friends, and we had numerous talks about his situation and his concerns for your safety. I know that some of this can be explained by recourse to a rational argument, but
you didn't see him as I did. It was plain that something extraordinary occurred in his life. I finally believed that the Shadows are real, and they pose a danger to anyone who knows of their existence.”
I sat silent. I looked around the ordinary, solid law office, and thought that the whole package was somehow surreal. The books, the plaques, and the decor, all screamed respectability and rationality. Silas, on the other hand, was spouting the kind of conspiracy theory that belonged in some underground journal, the kind of rumor that was xeroxed to willing participants, who sucked in the nonsense, and cowered in their fortified bedrooms. It was not an auspicious start to a dialogue.
I cleared my throat. “Ah, Silas, you realize that this is not entirely sane, don't you?”
“Miserably,” he said earnestly, "but you wanted the truth, and I'm telling you what I believe to be the truth.”
Alex looked skeptical. “So, why didn't you tell us this sooner?”
“I couldn't. When we first met, I had a legal colleague with me as a witness. In addition, at the time I was under the impression your father did not want you to know Jenny was not your birth mother. I was not about to reveal what I am telling you in front of someone who worked with me. I know how irrational it sounds.”
He looked distressed.
I took pity on him. “Okay, Silas. Relax. – Alex, I propose we suspend our disbelief, and let Silas continue with his story.”
Alex’ lips were set in a grim line. “Okay,”
“I guess I didn't start this carefully enough,” he said. “I'm sorry to have bombarded you with things that would cause you to doubt me, but you must realize I’m only interested in protecting you. I feel I owe a debt to your father.”
“Why do you feel you owe my father?” I asked.
“It's a long story,” he replied, “and it's unimportant. Just take my word for it. I would do anything for your father – or now, you. I know now, that you are both aware that certain persons, people who might be blood relatives are disappearing. This could be your fate. I don't want you to meet the same end. Regardless of the nature of the culture your father called the Shadows, from what I have been able to determine, they are directly involved in these disappearances, and they want to abduct you next.”
“Why would they want us?” I asked.
“We – your father and I – thought that the woman who gave birth to you was a Shadow.”
“Wait a minute,” Alex exclaimed. “This doesn't make sense. How could she be a Shadow? I thought normal people couldn't see them.”
“You can see them, can't you?” I had a sinking feeling. I felt that I knew where he was going with this, but my mind refused to consider the implications. Silas spoke again. “Oh, the Shadows can let people see them if they will it, but their abilities seem to be reflexive. That is, they normally remain concealed. They must will themselves to be seen. – Understand, what I'm telling you is what your father confided to me. I haven't any knowledge as to how this could be occurring, or what kind of abnormal abilities could be employed to accomplish it.”
We all remained silent for a while, each brooding in thought. Finally, I spoke. “Okay, Silas, I believe you’re telling us what you think to be true, but if we spent our lives 'jumping at Shadows', we would lead miserable ones. I for one have a difficult time believing this. Even if I did, how could I defend myself against something I can't see?”
Silas looked exasperated. “Oh. That's the point. Don't you understand? You can see them. You and Alex are half-Shadow. In fact, you're probably the only protection that a normal human could possibly have against them. That may be why they want to take you. – Although you don't seem to have their abilities. However, I think there is something about you that may be latent. – You both have a charisma. – You seem to be able to draw people to you without thinking about it. – If your father could possess some of their powers as a human, think what you could do. Maybe you could use what he learned to defend yourselves.” He looked pleadingly at us, as though we could jump right up and conjure a disappearing act, then run out to do battle with the enemy. I was a little stunned and speechless.
“Ridiculous!” Alex said. “I’ve never disappeared in my life. – Silas, this is crazy. Do I look like I'm not human? I admit, we've had some unusual experiences recently, but surely, they have a rational explanation. We don't have to resort to some paranoid delusion to understand what happened. Maybe before he died, Dad went through an episode of mental aberration – I don't know – but I do know that Paris and I are as normal as anyone else is. How can you expect us to believe this?”
“I knew this would be hard,” he replied. “I suppose that you have no reason to believe me, but I'm grateful that you’ve heard me out. Maybe I can make you understand, by explaining my attitude and the reasons for this meeting.
He took a deep breath. “Okay. – I'm a lawyer. I deal in facts. Let's look at the facts. One, you're being harassed by some strange people who the police, apparently, are unable to see. Two, people who look like you are being abducted and then they disappear, all across the country. Three, the same woman who gave birth to you, appears to be the birth mother of these missing people. Four, your parents may have been murdered by persons unknown, or at least their deaths may have been the result of the actions of these people. And, five, your father appeared to have unexplainable abilities, at least abilities I was unable to understand, a few years before his death. Is that enough facts for you?”
Alex's face looked white. I felt subdued. His words had been staring us in the face for a while. We’d refused to consider it, dismissed it as unimportant. I felt that we’d adopted a head-in-the-sand attitude, hoping that we could wait, and our problems and doubts would solve themselves.
Maybe he was right; maybe we should be paranoid. Perhaps someone was stalking us, and preparing to whisk us off to some place where we could be forced to obey their agenda.
The thought gave me cold chills. It was not normal; not the safe, sane world we had been brought up to believe in. Things like Shadows did not exist in that world. His logical words had created doubts.
Could this be real? Could the universe contain entities like the Shadows? The universe was big and unknowable. Humans were less than blips, less than the smallest particle of matter in the immensity of the cosmos. In universal terms, anything was possible. Why not Shadows, why not humans who had evolved differently?
“Okay, Silas, assuming we believe you. Assuming we need to do something to protect ourselves. What do you have in mind?”
“Thank you. I was afraid that I had lost your confidence. I didn't want to alienate you or your sister, but you needed to know what I suspected. As to what I recommend, you have considerable wealth. You can afford to hire protection. I know some people who might become allies, who have as many reasons to oppose these people as you. In the final event, you may want to leave Kentucky, to assume new identities. I can help you with that.”
“Leave home? I don't think so,” Alex said. “I'm not about to abandon my home. There has to be a better solution. I'd kill them before I let them chase me out of my house. If anything, Silas, you'd be more useful in figuring a way to defend us from a murder charge if it comes to that.”
I thought about what she’d said. She’d called the farm home. I realized now it was my home, also. I’d been denying it, but my roots were here. I would not abandon it.
“No, Silas is right,” I said, “so far they’ve only attempted to intimidate us, nothing that justifies the use of lethal force. However, if they try to abduct us, the gloves come off. In the meantime, let's see how they react to a face full of mace, pepper spray or a Taser.”
“Be careful,” Silas warned. “Your father intimated that there were some of these Shadows who had unusual abilities. They could coerce others to do their bidding, or in some cases, actually change matter to become something else. Whether this is true, I can’t say. But you should be cautious. I’ll contact the people I mentioned and arrange for surveillance
, for as much good as it will do. I plan to make other preparations which I’ll not reveal to you at this time, to avoid warning the Shadows.” He thought for a moment.
“Oh yes, I forgot to mention. Your accounts have been compromised. This was another reason for my concern for your safety. There was an attempt to penetrate the financial institutions in which they are held. We’ve taken steps to make the accounts more secure, including changing the passwords on the accounts. I have the new passwords in my safe, along with other documents you might need. I suggest you take them to your house, because it seems, for some reason, to be secure from the Shadow People. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes,” I said, “I want to buy a handgun for Alex. I will need a permit to carry a concealed weapon. I also plan to purchase mace and a Taser. Can you help me get a permit?”
“Yes, I'll get right on it. Is there anything else?”
“No,” I said. “Alex?”
“No. – Silas, please keep us informed.”
“I'll see you two Friday, and let you know what progress I've made. Meanwhile, you should work on acquiring the same abilities that your father had. You may need them.”
“Acquiring his abilities?” I said. “How can we do that? Why should we even attempt it?”
“Your father was not a Shadow, yet he was able to accomplish things that only Shadows can do. You're genetically a Shadow. It should be easier for you. In the end, it may be the only thing that can protect you.”
I thought about it. The idea made me very uneasy. “Maybe,” I said.
“Think very hard about it. That's all I'm asking.”
We promised to be back by Friday. Outside, the sun peeked out of the rain clouds. We got back in Alex's truck and turned toward the farm.
“Stop at the gun store,” I said. “We've got to get you a weapon.”
She stopped the truck at the end of the street and turned to look at me. “Paris, do you really believe any of this?”
I paused. “Not necessarily,” I replied. “I have an uneasy feeling, though. I just think it would be prudent to get you comfortable with firearms, just in case.”
“In case of what? Paris, I'm glad you're not as crazy as he is, but do we need to carry guns?”
“Not until you're competent with fire arms, and maybe never. It's a skill I want you to learn. You never know when you'll need it.”
“Okay. I can live with that, – I guess. – Just don't go all paranoid on me.”
“Not likely to happen, Sis.”
In Kentucky, you didn’t need a permit to purchase a gun, and registration was not required. Kentuckians take their Second Amendment rights seriously. We browsed through the gun store, looking at the displays. The store had an impressive array of handguns, and a Smith&Wesson M&P Compact 9mm caught my attention. It would complement the Glock, because I could carry it concealed. However, I still hadn't found the right pistol for Alex, so I decided to ask for help. I approached the store clerk. “I need some help finding the right hand gun for my sister,” I indicated Alex, who was gazing around the store a little nervously.
He looked at her and saw her obvious discomfort. “Not easy around firearms, is she?”
“No. I need something for her personal protection, but not something that will intimidate her.”
“I think I understand. Come with me.”
He led me to another display that showcased some Saturday night specials. I had discounted them as not worthy of attention. He took out a small handgun and laid it on the counter.
“This is a Ruger LCP. Thirty-eight caliber, semiautomatic, clip fed. Small barrel, not good for accuracy at long range, but hell on close-up. It'll get their attention. It can be carried in a purse if she needs to.”
I studied the weapon. It was sleek and sexy. It would fit her hand, and the short barrel would make for a milder kick. The caliber of the gun would take the bad guys down, rather than piss them off, as a small caliber weapon would.
“I'll take it, and the Smith and Wesson nine millimeter Compact. Do you have Mace and pepper spray? Also I need a couple of Tasers.”
He looked at me suspiciously, but didn't make any comments.
He brought out the items, and I bought four cans each of pepper spray and Mace. I also bought two of the Tasers, along with ammunition for the handguns. I paid for the purchases, and we left the store, headed for home.
“Can I see it?” Alex asked.
I hesitated. The weapon was still in its box. I decided that the first lesson in gun safety should start immediately. “You don't want to handle guns casually,” I replied. “We should wait until we get home.”
“At least let me see it,” she said impatiently.
I thought about it. A gun had an effect on people. They were easily intimidated by it and in many cases, afraid to touch it. I wanted Alex to become comfortable with the weapon, but not frightened of it.
“Not until we get home and can handle it properly. You need to learn a lot about weapon safety, and this is not the time or the place.”
She appeared annoyed, but stopped short of insisting.
I smiled. “Trust me Alex; I think you'll like it. It fits your personality. Feisty, sleek, ornery, and sexy.” I grinned.
She finally smiled. “You'd better be right,” she replied, but then paused. “But how can a gun be sexy?”
I shook my head and didn't answer her.
We drove back to the farm, parked the car, and entered the house. I decided that the best place to start the safety lessons would be in the back porch, so we took our purchases back to the rear of the house. I pulled out the box containing the Ruger and handed it to Alex. “Open it.”
She opened the box and stared at the gun. “It's little and shiny but sort of pretty. I like the blue color.”
I chuckled. “Little, but powerful, trust me. If you hit someone with this gun, it’ll get their attention.”
She worried her lip. “I think the Mace or the pepper spray would be better for me.”
I thought about it. “In most cases, you would be right. However, if it comes down to a firefight, you need to be ready. If you are afraid of the weapon or hesitate, you’ll be the victim and the bad guys will be the victors. You may never need to use this gun, but you need to be prepared to use it if you must, and you need to be prepared to use it safely, in case it's necessary. I want you to know how to do both. Besides, target shooting is fun. I know you, you'll enjoy it.”
“What do I do?”
“First, start by removing the gun from the box, and then we'll go from there.”
I had her handle the weapon, check that the magazine was clear, the action was empty, and the safety was on.
“The last thing is the safety. If you click it off, you’d better be prepared to shoot something or someone. It's the last resort. Remember that. If the safety is off, the weapon is dangerous, both to you, and to anyone else who is near it.”
She was hesitant. She handled the gun like a live, poisonous snake. I demonstrated all of the features of the gun, had her repeat them until the actions became nearly automatic. We went through dry fire drills over and over.
Alex was a quick learner, but firearms drills needed to be learned by muscle memory, and repetition. I demonstrated the proper stance for firing and had her repeat it endlessly. I corrected her behavior often. In a while, she was tired, so we took a break, and I brewed some iced tea.
She sat in the kitchen, watching me prepare the tea. “So, when do I get to shoot something?”
I handed her a glass of tea. “When you're ready. You need to be able to do these drills in your sleep. They must be automatic. When you can take the weapon in your hand, arm it properly, and correctly point it without hesitation, then you'll be ready to fire it. All of the safety procedures must be automatic. This is how we taught the firearm’s drills in the Army. You can't take any shortcuts. You must be able to do it the right way every time.”
Alex sipped her drink. “Well, I
have to admit, I'm more comfortable with it. It fits in my hand like it was made for it. And, to be honest, it does look a little sexy.”
I smiled. “We'll need more practice and repetition. When you're ready, you can carry it in the glove box of your truck. Don't put it under the seat or conceal it in the door. To do that, you'll need a concealed carry permit. I don't think you'll need one. If I'm wrong, we can get you one, but I don't think it would be the best thing to have on a date.”
“Okay,” she said, if we're gonna do this, let's get back to work,”
I extended the lessons to how to determine the gun sight picture, and aiming the weapon. I had her recite the nearby obstructions and items that she could not, or should not shoot, and repeat them under varying conditions.
We spent the most of the day, repeating the lessons. When I was satisfied with her performance, I said, “Okay, if you can repeat this tomorrow, without my coaching, and if we have time, we'll go to the gun range, and you can fire the weapon. Let's call it a day. I have some emails to answer, and, undoubtedly, some additional work to do for Harvey.”
“Good. I want to call Caesar.”
I carefully didn't mention that I also wanted to call Elizabeth; I didn't want to give her more ammunition with which to tease me. “Right. You call your boyfriend, and I'll get to work.”
She looked skeptical, but didn't say anything. We went about our separate tasks. I hit the workstation. Sure enough, Harvey had figured out another project that needed my talents, but the additional work that I had done would almost fit his requirements. With a little tweaking, I could accomplish his request with minimal fuss.
I replied with a future completion date that was reasonable and would satisfy him. Then I started sifting through my other emails. I replied to requests for information, and directed the inquiries that requested a face-to-face meeting to Harvey. Soon I found an email from Tom. He was reporting on the results of his work on Dad’s internet habits.
Hi Paris.
I finished looking over the data I copied. I don't know how much good it will do. It seems your father was fixated on this collection of groups that are all over the Internet. A bunch of whackos that are ranting about something they call the Shadow People. He visited numerous sites and requested any information they had. Also, he conducted extensive correspondence with a physics professor at KSU. I could not get the contents of the emails, apparently, your father trashed them, but there were a lot of them. I have the professor's email address if you are interested. Other than that, nothing to report. How are you succeeding in getting the passwords? Do you need my help? Oh, by the way, my band won't have a gig until next month. Tell Alex I'll be getting in touch with her then.
I replied; that yes, I would like him to send the email address, and yes, I would inform Alex. I thanked him again for his efforts, and concluded by hinting at something special for his help.
I didn't want to work on the engineering project, because I desperately wanted to hear Elizabeth's voice again. I called her on my cell phone, but the recorded voice replied that her phone was turned off, and could I leave a voice message? She had indicated that it was a common practice to shut down the cell phones when they were treating patients, so I asked her to call me when she was not busy.
I wandered around the house, and then decided to tackle some of the data that was on Dad's computer. I specifically wanted to know what the weird modifications to the basement meant and if they did anything. I studied the blueprints and text until I got a headache and shut off the computer in disgust.
I finally drifted into the kitchen, and opened the box containing the Smith & Wesson. I cleaned it. I also cleaned Alex's gun. She’d have to be taught to clean it herself.
I took the weapons down to the gun safe and locked them up and took the pepper spray and the Mace into the study and stored it in the desk. Finally, my cell phone rang, and I grabbed it.
“Hi Paris.” Elizabeth's mellow voice greeted me on the phone.
I couldn't help it. I felt a sudden rush at the sound of her voice rippled through my body. God help me. I'm starting to act like an adolescent teenager who has a crush on some hot girl. The feeling was wonderful.
“Beth, I'm glad to hear from you,” I said. “I was just wondering when we could get together again.”
I silently cursed myself. Surely, I could say something more clever and sophisticated. Why was I so tongue tied whenever I spoke to her?
“Not tonight,” she said. “It was another busy day at the ER. I'm so tired, all I want is to curl up with a hot drink and sleep for a full eight hours.”
Here's your chance, I thought. Say something clever about sleeping with her, or comforting her in bed. “I understand. Maybe later.” I tried to disguise it, but the disappointment was evident in my voice.
“I'm free all day tomorrow,” she said quickly. “Perhaps we could go picnicking or something.”
I immediately replied, “How about a walk in the woods along the lake? I'll pack a basket.”
“Paris, that would be wonderful,” she replied.
My heart went into overdrive. I had finally succeeded in saying something that made her happy. We agreed to meet at the lake, she was going to be home, and had two days off.
I suggested she bring a bathing suit, so we could take a swim later, and she agreed. We said some prolonged goodbyes, and she disconnected. My feelings soared. The world was a wonderful place, and I was the happiest inhabitant of the planet. I exited the room and ran into Alex.
“Called Elizabeth, did you?”
“What makes you think I called Beth?” I replied.
“That big sloppy, loopy smile on your face.”
I groaned. “Alex, what am I going to do? I'm hopelessly in love with her. What if she rejects me? How can I cope with that? What do I say to make her understand, and not be terrified by my feelings? Hell, I'm terrified by my feelings. I've never felt about a woman like I feel about Beth. It’s frightening.”
Her grin morphed into a smile of compassion. “I know the feeling, Big Brother. I feel the same about Caesar. I just happen to know that he feels the same about me. It’s strange. We make an imperfect couple, but it doesn't matter. We're linked and there's nothing that will change that. It's a rush. My advice to you is to be you. You don't have to be clever, or witty, you just have to be you. I think that's what she likes about you. As to whether her feelings are the same as yours, only time will tell. I think they are, but I could be wrong.”
“I'm happy and miserable at the same time,” I replied.
“You could try to be honest,” she said.
I looked down at the floor. “I'm afraid she won't understand. She'll run screaming to rid herself of me. I don't understand. I've only known her for a few days. How can I be this way? How can she believe me or feel the same way?”
“I don't know,” she replied. “I just know that there’s a link between all four of us. Why it happened, or how it happened isn’t important. I'm just going with my feelings.”
“I wish it was as easy for me.”
With her hands on her hips, Alex huffed. “Men! I'll never understand them! You men are such idiots.”
I thought about her words. They reflected the opinion I had about women. I couldn't understand them either. Maybe the species was tailored not to understand each other, to make the thrill of finding out so much sweeter. It didn't help. I resolved to listen to her, and to try to be as honest with Elizabeth as I dared.
We talked some more while we prepared dinner, and during the meal, and after, into the late hours. I told her about the email from Tom. We discussed it, but in my mind, nothing was settled. I was still apprehensive. We settled in for sleep.