Chapter 242
Because the rear door to the work-out room was locked, Ben thought he would try the side door off of the sauna room, it paid off, he found it to be unlocked. Closing it carefully, gently behind him, he could hear him. He was lifting weights. Ben knew the sound, vigorous grunting and blowing to force from yourself that extra needed power to complete the lift, sometimes to failure. As he tread carefully towards the room where his father worked out, he girded himself for this confrontation, not sure of its outcome. Standing in the doorway behind him, he watched him laying on the bench, doing bench presses, lifting a loaded barbell of weights. Ben couldn't believe it, wondering was he crazy, he was lifting despite the injury to his hand. In fact, he could see that it was bleeding, no doubt from the pressure of holding such weights. He wondered if he'd busted a few of his stitches.
Suddenly, what he saw about to happen, happened - his father had been lifting to failure - he couldn't get the last push up to the bracket, his arms were trembling holding the bar above his chest. Quickly, Ben stepped up behind the bench and grabbed the bar, helping Shawn lift it up and back onto the hooks. Shawn looked up and backward to see his son standing behind him, hands on the bar.
He blew out and sat up on the bench turning sideways, breathing hard, sweating, he carefully flexed his bleeding hand leaning as he was, an elbow to one knee.
"You've probably broken a few stitches." Ben was the first to speak.
"Yeah ... probably." Shawn muttered low.
"Not safe to lift alone, not like that - you need a spotter."
"I would have thrown it off." Shawn supplied.
Ben walked around the bench and sat on the bench of the Bo-flex across from Shawn, "Why didn't you use this one? Safer when you're alone."
Shawn turned his face toward Ben, staring at him. His eyes were intense, penetrating and heated. Not with anger, but something else. They were red, wet, as if he'd been through some deep emotional torment. Ben returned the gaze, focused intensely on his father's eyes, unwilling to break the stare. His gaze was not hostile, but resigned, unwavering. Both sat barely five feet away from the other. Ben's eyes only wavered to his father's hand, as blood from it ran down his arm.
"That's going to need re-stitching."
"I'll tape it closed."
"You should do it now, stop the bleeding. Where is it, I'll get it."
"Behind you in that first aid kit." Shawn nodded in the general direction it could be found in.
Ben turned, stood and saw the black box attached to the wall. He went through it, took out of it what would be needed, peroxide, scissors, the quick stitch tape used on boxers to close an open cut, gauze and a new bandage to place over the injury when done repairing it. He turned, grabbed a chair from across the room and set it before his father. "Mind? I can do this." He offered.
Saying not a word, Shawn lowered his hand towards him to proceed.
With Ben so close, he couldn't help but give him closer inspection as he cut away the wrapped bandage from his hand, cleaned up the streaming blood, found where the stitches tore open. This young man, who now flushed his wound so thoroughly with the peroxide - was his flesh and blood son. Shawn closely examined the shape of his head, the angles of his face, the highs and lows of his features, his brows, his nose, his mouth, the color and texture of his skin, the breadth of his shoulders. Watching him as he dabbed at the injury and added pressure to stop the bleeding. That's when Shawn winced a bit, not much, just enough. "Need to stop the bleeding." Ben explained apologetically for causing him more pain.
Shawn said nothing, listening to his sons voice, he sat reeling from his day. He felt raw, overwhelmed and hammered. There was too much on his mind - too much rushing up on him at once in his life, from the past to the present. Right at that moment, he was facing a young man that he created. That meant something to him. He understood at that moment, that most of his life, he'd wanted something, or someone that was entirely, his. Just his. Come to be, because of him. Even when he was a young male, angry, hyped, resentful, had he known that Christine was carrying his son, he would have stuck to her like glue. It didn't matter if she hadn't wanted him, he would have made sure to get his son, no one would have kept him from his son - no one else would have raised his son.
He felt raw and angry.
Right then, he hated that he'd run from home.
He hated that no one told him.
He hated that he hadn't been man enough then, to stay, to deal with his life.
He hated that he missed 22 years that nothing he could do, would bring them back.
He hated, that it seemed to be the story of his life, regret.
Looking at him there, working on his hand, so capable and focused, he could only wonder at who this person was. He had lived all of these years and no one, not one person in his family told him the times that he had called, that he had a son. Yet, they spoke so of wanting him to come home, home - where - at the time, he didn't want to be, because it was all too much, but had he known, that he'd had a son, he would have gone home without hesitation. Now, here was this person, that he didn't even know. Was he good and true, strong and moral, a defender -or- a bully? Was he kind? Was he vindictive? Was he trustworthy, or sly? Was he, a McPherson ... or, was he now, Quincy's son? No matter what he was, it was too late for him to mold his son. His son. And in his mind, 'My son! Mine!' Had they told him he had a son, maybe, just maybe - had they told him before Jesse was killed, he would have made him come back home with him. Maybe, just maybe, his knowing in time, would have saved even Jesse's life.
His son was done.
He looked at him, to hear him say to him, as if he were a doctor, "Be careful from now on, you don't need to make that worse."
Shawn nodded, quiet. "Fix me a drink." He asked him.
"A - a drink? Now?"
"Yeah, now."
Ben stared at him a moment, "Should we, go maybe, back in the house for that?" He asked hesitantly.
"No, fix it, bring it here." Shawn returned, speaking low.
"What - what would you like?"
"Bring me a beer, a shot of whiskey."
Ben stared at him a moment, then nodded, stood, "I should put this stuff back." He showed the items that he meant from the first aid kit. Shawn nodded, still watching him. Ben placed everything back in the first aid kit and then headed for the door, "I'll - be right back."
Again, watching him, Shawn nodded.
He sat fighting back thought. Thoughts that his wife put before him. She was wrong. She had no business accusing his father of things that she was mis-understanding. Had he stood strong, as his father had taught him to, he wouldn't have missed out on raising his son. Yet, just as Mama JoJo stated, had he stayed put, at home, he would have never met Jesse, but then, once more - maybe, Jesse would have been alive today, because it had been his actions that got him killed. Sometimes, he felt burdened to the extent that the stress was too much to carry. He had so much to be grateful for, a beautiful daughter, a new life, a beautiful wife, even if she was wrong about his father, she meant well, he knew that. He had Mundo, he had Crystal, her two little ones, Isaac and Darren. They all belonged to him now, he was responsible for them and now - it was confirmed that he also had a son. One that Christine denied him. "You weak, lying - bitch!" He murmured angrily, low. As he sat there thinking back, something told him that she had known all along. He heard the door to the house close and then the door there, Ben was back with a six pack of beer, a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. He set the six pack down before Shawn and pulled the chair before him, holding the bottle of whiskey he asked, "Mind if I join you?"
"You're over eighteen."
"Yeah." Ben sat down, pulled off a beer, popped the tab, passed it to Shawn and did one for himself, "We chasing?" He asked.
"Yeah, I'll go first." Shawn took a long swallow from his beer, then took the shot Ben poured him and threw his head back tossing the fiery liquid down, following it immediately with a few gulps of beer. Ben
wasted no time, he immediately followed suit. With the one shot between them, he sat the bottle down. Staring now at Shawn, he held his hand out to him, "Hi, I'm Benjamin Caesar McPherson, your son, nice to meet you."
Shawn looked down at his hand, then up at him, taking a deep breath, he took hold of the hand offered him and greeted in return, "I'm - Shawn Everett McPherson, your father - nice to meet you." And with a strong grip between them they shook hands, the son's grip as powerful as the fathers. Already, they were challenging each other, eyes narrowed so much the same, both not willing to be the first to let go. Finally, Ben was the one who had to retreat, because as he could see, the man before him wasn't going to. Ben loosened his grip and Shawn, let go - grinning.
"Pretty good grip there, but I would have never backed down."
"Even against your father?"
"Always - when its my father."
"That's the only reason I backed down."
Shawn grinned again, already feeling the shot and beer he was drinking.
"Now what?" Ben asked.
"Hell if I know." Shawn shook his head, took another swallow, belched, and looking at Ben, "How long have you known?"
"Since I was really young, people took delight in making me aware, that they were aware, of who my father really was."
"Jake ever mention me being your father?"
"No, he never did."
Shawn nodded, drank some more, "Pour another shot." He directed.
Ben did so, passing the filled glass first to Shawn who took it straight down; Ben followed suit with Shawn's intense eyes on him, when he sat the shot glass down on the floor beside him, he looked up into his father's eyes.
"Sylvia feels that I owe you an apology. That I overstepped myself with you, considering the circumstances - maybe - she's right. She's my voice of reason you see, not that I always listen to her - but I have to consider what she says."
"Is this your way of saying you're sorry? Or, letting me know you're contemplating it?"
Shawn smiled, "I'm contemplating it. You two should have never been in that pool hall without me."
"Well if it helps any, I agree - I shouldn't have gone along with that idea. I just wanted us to have a nice time out - didn't want to rock the boat."
"Screw the boat! Your lives should come first, as the older of the two, you should have known - had you been raised properly by me-..."
"Shawn - don't go there, okay? Quincy was a good father, he's not responsible for my lapses in wisdom."
"Maybe - but he's not your father! I'm your father - and it pisses me off that he raised you when it should have been me!"
"You weren't around to raise me." Ben returned calmly.
"Aye, I told you before when we spoke about this, I didn't know! I didn't fuckin' run off! I never knew she was pregnant! She fuckin' deliberately kept that from me! So, out of respect for the fact that she is your mother, I won't come back any further on that."
"I appreciate that, because outside of that, she was a good mother to me."
"Good for you, so she did something right."
"Not to mention choosing a good man to raise us, and Quincy was that."
"Quincy, hmph - I had to save his ass a time or two in school."
"I know, he told me. Told me a lot about you. In fact, he's done nothing but praise you, so if you don't mind, don't dis him now, okay?"
Lifting his beer as if in a salute, Shawn tipped his head and then finished his beer off, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth when done, clearing the suds from his mustache and beard. Going quiet a spell, thinking he asked, "Tell me, he know I was your father?"
"I believe so, I think its the reason he always talked about you to me. He knew what I was going through, so he, made you - my hero."
Shawn was quiet again, thinking about that.
"He said, that when you all went to school, you were a hero to quite a few that couldn't, or wouldn't fight the bullies back, for whatever reason."
"Emm." Shawn grunted. Deciding to change the subject, he brought up Crystal.
"Why are you taking Crystal to that ball? What's up with that?"
"Angela brought it to my attention-..."
Shawn chuckled shaking his head, "She's been busy I guess."
"Yeah, she brought it to my attention and I decided that it would be a nice thing for her to experience, me as well."
"Don't forget our talk concerning her. I will not, under any circumstances, tolerate anyone - I don't give a damn, who it is, hurting her, in anyway, I mean that."
"I know you mean it - and I gave you my word, that I have no intention of doing anything of the kind. We're friends, really good friends. Her boys, are simply incredible, I can't get enough of them."
"Long as you know what you're doing. You're an adult, so is she. Only difference is, she's been through some real hell - real hell! No more, not while I live, you understand?" Shawn's speech was starting to slow down, taking on a southern quality, Ben noted as he listened and watched him, nodding that he did understand. Shawn went on to say, "She needs - for us to surround her, keep any son'uva'bitch away, or else. 'Cause far as I see her, that young beauty, is a McPherson, know what that means?" He asked reaching for another beer.
"Sure I know - your father, was my grandfather - believe me, I know."
"Shit - you don't know my father - you don't know anything about him, I know him - I know him - like no one else."
Ben froze, accepting the beer Shawn passed him, and popped the cap, "What do you mean?"
Shawn was drinking from his beer and stared at his son a moment, shaking his head, he shut down the thought.
Ben saw him shift a bit, changing the subject immediately.
"You know how to treat a woman? Huh?"
"Of course I do." Ben answered.
"Gail? That your girlfriends name, right?"
"Yeah."
"You think you're treating her right?"
"I treat her good." Ben responded.
"Psssh!" Shawn blew off the notion, "How long have you been with her?"
"Why?"
"Curious - can I be curious?"
"Sure, close to two years - I've been with her."
"But you're not in love, right?"
Ben hesitated, because he wondered what he was getting at, "No, not in love."
"So - why two years, hm?"
"Just - because."
"You gonna fall in love with her? Gonna marry her?"
"No, it's not like that."
"Well - my son - if it's not like that, why are you leading her on? Keeping her just for a fuck-buddy - right?"
"Hey, it's - not like that, chill okay?"
"Bullshit, I won't fuckin' chill! If you have no plans for marrying her, you shouldn't still be in that relationship. You've wasted almost two years of that young woman's time. That long in a relationship, they feel they've, invested a lot - what you're doing, could make her bitter. It's not fair. Any woman you don't plan to marry, you don't date for any length of time, at the most, three months maybe, and then, unsteady - you get me?"
"So you've never been with a woman you weren't serious about?" Ben challenged.
"Of course I have, but back when I was out there, tom cattin' - a month in, I was done. Didn't call, only took'em out for drinks, and would just show up from time to time. No promises made, none expected. For instance, there was this stewardess I had an affair with a while back, she was nice - but I kept things pretty cool - didn't give her too much of me and then, following my divorce-..."
"You cheated?" Ben asked, stunned, obviously disapproving.
Shawn made a face, blushed a bit, pausing as he realized the alcohol was making his tongue loose, but it was too late now, he'd spilled it. "Yeah, I cheated. Deidre and I - we weren't happy together, we were always arguing and I was so caught up in trying to build my reputation with work, at the same time - fighting off her mother-..."
"Her mother?! Geez - her mother was after you?" He asked, holding his beer, he took
a drink, never looking away from Shawn.
Once more, he'd said a bit too much, "Yeah, she was and I'm not going into that, so forget it. Back to the stewardess, I broke it off with her - and after my marriage is over, I stick to one night stands, that kind of thing. Then on this flight, I run into her again, and - I started it back up, I thought, what the hell - it was only in between her flights when we could meet up."
"How long did that last?"
"Oh - about four or five months. I then relocated to Wisconsin finally, found out she was landing in St. Paul, Minnesota, I invited her to a little party I threw. The next day, I took her back because she had a flight out."
"So when did you meet Sylvia?"
Shawn smiled, grinning devilishly, making Ben chuckle at the look on his face.
"Before I met her, the town had been telling me about her, heard all these stories about how stuck up she was, how nice she was, how - get this - how - no men allowed she was." He grinned, chuckling down and dirty, once more making Ben laugh out. "I couldn't wait to see her. The famous Ms Payne. I was coming back, from dropping her, the stewardess back at her hotel, on my Harley, it was pretty early in the morning, rode up right behind her; oh what a sight she was from behind. Man lemme' tell'yah - the rear view made me come, this close," He held up his index and thumb to measure a pinch, "... to whistling a wolf call, but I controlled myself."
Ben shook his head, "Why do I get this feeling, you're good and drunk."
Shawn was smiling, rubbing his chest, remembering her then, "Not yet I'm not." Shawn winked at him, "Boy, I'm telling you, she - was - hot!"
"Did you know right away, like love at first sight?"
Shawn drank more of his beer, "I don't know - all I know is, she was so fresh, clean, untouchable, snooty with eyes that said, "Who the hell do you think you are?" - uppity as hell! It was on - right there dawg!"
Ben threw his head back laughing out loud. "You are like - totally insane, but I like that."
Shawn was cheesing, "Well, to be honest, at first all I could think of was getting her to bed. Only one problem, she couldn't stand the sight of me, avoiding me as much as she could, but it made me want her more. She got me told, two or three times, it took some doing to wear her down."
BOMAW 10-12 Page 47