“I’m starving,” he said.
“You know the rules. No eating until your father gets here,” his mother told him.
“Well where’s he at? Dad’s usually here by now. He’s an hour late.”
“Yes, he’s running late. I was getting ready to call him when I noticed his phone in the bedroom. He always forgets to put minutes on that damn thing no matter how much I remind him.”
“You know he’s old school, mom.”
“That, and he’s damn well cheap.”
“Well at least you should eat,” Clark told her. “I’m sure our new family member is hungry.”
Clark’s mother placed a hand over her protruding stomach as if she were communicating with her unborn child.
“Only two more months,” she said as a car revved outside. “I think that’s your dad now.”
Clark heard the sound of his dad’s truck pulling into the driveway of their house. Seconds later his father opened the front door and walked into the house. His jeans and boots were covered in dirt.
“Frank,” Clark’s mom said to his father, “Why are you so messy? You’re a machine operator, not a lumberjack.”
“Sorry, Angela,” he said. “I went out over the tracks to pick up some lumber right after work. There’s some really good stuff out there. I got it in my truck.”
“Alright, alright,” she said to him. “Well go change those jeans and get back here so we can eat.”
“Dad?” Clark asked him, “Did you say you were out over the tracks?”
“Yeah,” his dad said, “Not far from the, er, barn. A mile or so away from the old Cincinnati train station. There’s good lumber out there.”
“Over the tracks? That’s perfect!” Clark exclaimed.
“What’s perfect?”
Clark was tight lipped. “It’s where I can do some photography,” he lied.
“Photography?” his dad asked, “Who are you? Peter Parker?”
Clark laughed but his father looked at him sternly.
“I’m sure you can find a better place,” his dad said. “I mean, this is a beautiful city. If you want to photograph something go down to Fountain Square. It’s nice and hip down there. There’s nothing over the tracks but a raggedy old unused barn and a dilapidated train station that hasn’t been in use for God knows how many years.”
“Actually, the old train station only shut down a year and a half ago,” Clark’s mom corrected his dad.
“Oh yeah,” his dad said, “You’re right. My mind’s a little worn out. But that’s not the point. You don’t need to go to that old area for anything other than good lumber.”
“Okay, sounds good,” Clark assured him.
Clark’s father went upstairs to clean himself up and Clark now had the perfect answer. He wasn’t interested in taking photographs; he just didn’t want his father to know what he was really thinking of. The idea was perfect: Clark would host the year’s first party in the outdoor region over the tracks.
CHAPTER 2
Around eight o’clock that night, Charles Walsh drove his flashy new car through the streets of Cincinnati and into the most exclusive gated community in the city. He changed out of the clothes he wore earlier during school hours and was now dressed in a black silk shirt and designer jeans. Sitting in the passenger seat of his car was twenty year old Kristina Renaldo in a red dress and matching pumps.
“You know how good you look tonight, baby?” Charles told her.
“Good enough for you?” she batted.
“You know it, baby!”
Charles’s phone rang; he looked at the screen. It read: Clark O’Sullivan.
“Hey, what’s up, Clark?” Charles answered.
“Charles,” Clark said on the other end of the phone. “I just got an idea. I think I’m gonna host the party on the other side of the tracks.”
“The other side of the tracks? There’s nothing out there,” Charles said.
“Exactly!” Clark told him. “It’ll be like that movie ‘Dazed and Confused.’ An outdoor party at night. Lots of music and kegs of beer. We won’t be around any houses so no one will crash.”
“Okay,” Charles said, “That actually sounds good. Sounds like a plan.”
“You think so? Sweet.”
“Hell yeah. But Clark, I’m on a date. We’ll discuss this more tomorrow.”
“Alright, Charles. Catch you later.”
Charles ended the call and soon enough, his car pulled into a driveway. But this was no ordinary driveway. It was an unwinding driveway that encircled a marble fountain and stopped at the column-adorned entrance of a massive white mansion.
“Have I ever taken you home before?” Charles asked.
“No, this is the first time I’ve been to your place,” Kristina said while awestruck.
Charles opened his car door and was greeted by two butlers. One of them opened the passenger door for Kristina while Charles handed the other his car keys. Charles took Kristina by the hand and led her between the white columns and up the steps that stopped at the golden double-door entrance. As Charles and Kristina reached the top step the ornate gold doors swung open and they were greeted by another butler.
“Good evening, Master Walsh,” the butler said.
“Evening, my man. Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Charles smiled.
“It certainly is,” the butler nodded in agreement.
“How many butlers do you have?” Kristina asked him.
“Hell if I know,” Charles shrugged.
They entered the mansion and Kristina’s jaw dropped as she peered around the foyer. Above them was a crystal chandelier surrounded by a fresco of oil-painted angels. Straight ahead was a lavish room that featured a clear grand piano as the centerpiece. And on both sides of the foyer was an ornate winding staircase laid with red carpet and a white marble banister. As Kristina was gazing in amazement, she noticed two individuals emerge down the stairs of the foyer.
“Those are my parents,” Charles told her.
The man, wearing a tuxedo, was tall and masculine with a defined jawline. With jet black hair, he looked like an older and more mature version of Charles. The woman, wearing a black ball gown and pearls, was a short brunette. Her heels made her appear several inches taller and she gave off an aura of sophistication. They stepped off the staircase and made it to the front entrance before greetings were in order.
“Mom, dad, this is my date, Kristina.”
“Hello, I’m Paul Walsh,” his dad said.
“And I’m Jennifer,” said his mom.
They didn’t shake her hand; they merely nodded before Paul addressed his son.
“Alright, Charles, you two behave. Your mother and I are going to a benefit gala tonight hosted by Bill and Melinda.”
“Sounds great, have fun,” Charles told them.
“If you’re hungry, head to the kitchen,” his dad told him, “All the chefs are still here. As always, they’ll prepare whatever you like.”
“Lovely,” Charles nodded.
“We’re taking the ivory limousine tonight,” Charles’s dad waved to a butler.
“Oh goodie,” said his mother. “We haven’t taken that one in a while.”
“I was having the interior re-done,” his father told her. “You’re going to love it. Just love it.”
“Charles,” the mother turned to her son. “Are you enjoying the car your father gave you?”
“Yeah, mom,” Charles smiled. “It’s pretty nice. And I’ve gone three weeks without a single speeding ticket.”
“Great,” his mother smiled. “Keep it up. See you soon.”
Charles and Kristina moved aside as the butler opened the front door. His parents made their exit and the butler shut the door behind them. Charles took the young woman by the hand and headed down a corridor filled with sculptures and busts. They took a left and arrived at the first floor kitchen. Charles told his date that it was the largest kitchen in the house.
“You have multiple kitchen
s?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Charles said, “Three, I think. One on each floor.”
The uniformed chef bowed and asked Charles what he and his lady friend would like to be served.
“I was thinking steak and lobster like a mobster,” Charles winked.
“Very well,” the chef said, “The lobster and filet mignon should take roughly 20 minutes to cook.”
The chef and his assistant began preparing the food as Charles and Kristina sat at a table in the kitchen.
“I don’t think you ever told me. What exactly do your parents do to afford all of this?” Kristina asked.
“Well my mom is just a balabusta,” Charles answered. “She just married the right man, you could say. Now my dad, he runs BioTech Industries. He co-founded the company right after graduating from Harvard. They do nano-technology, scientific breakthroughs… all that boring stuff.”
“Wow, that’s really something,” Kristina said.
“But hey,” Charles told her, “I can’t talk any crap about my mom. I just got born into the right family. God knows I don’t know anything about science. But my dad, the man’s a genius. His parents were Irish Jews who moved to America with a twenty dollar bill in their pocket. Now look at this empire. As far as I’m concerned, my dad’s the greatest mind to ever live. You ever want to know which business is his, just head downtown and look up for the highest skyscraper. The one nearly touching the clouds.”
“He sounds pretty brilliant,” Kristina said.
“Definitely. But enough about him. How ‘bout me and you head up to my room for a little one-on-one time before dinner?”
Charles took her by the hand and whisked her out of his fancy kitchen and up a flight of stairs.
“I hope you’re wearing that lace like I asked.”
***
It was very early Tuesday morning and John Ahern was lying in bed in the small old house that Charles had picked him up from the morning prior. In his dusty room, hanging directly above John’s bed, was a solid red flag and a solid black flag. Shirts and jeans lied about the uncarpeted floorboard. The curtains were drawn back and John allowed the early sunlight to wake him. His eyes opened but he remained in bed for several more minutes. John was wearing a pair of boxers but there was neither sheet nor blanket covering him. He swept his long blonde hair out of his eyes, stared at the cracked ceiling for a moment, and flopped over to lie on his stomach.
With his eyes closed, he reached out and patted the top of the drawer nearest him. He accidentally knocked over a cup of water but didn’t seem to mind. He kept feeling around until he reached his watch. John opened one eye, took a glimpse at the time, and yawned. A few moments later, he rolled over onto his back and finally decided to get up.
John went into the dusty hallway of his house and opened the laundry room door. It insistently creaked every time he grabbed the doorknob. He had washed and dried several items the night before so he opened the worn out drier and pulled out a few towels, a set of sheets, a pair of briefs, and his favorite faded shirt bearing the face of Che Guevara. He returned to his room and placed the items on top of the drawer near the cup of water that spilled over. John ripped off the old sheets that were on his small twin-sized bed and replaced them with the clean set from the drier.
With the window curtains still pulled back and the blinds open, without a care, John took off his boxers and dropped them on top of the pile of dirty sheets.
“Gotta remember to wash this later,” he said to himself. He locked his bedroom door, grabbed a towel, and walked into the small bathroom that was connected to his bedroom. He turned the shower water on but knew it would take at least two to three minutes before the water became even lukewarm.
“Do I piss now, when I get out of the shower, or perhaps when I’m in the shower?” John asked himself.
He decided to go before jumping in the shower and when he was done, he still had to wait another two minutes before the shower was as hot as he liked it. So he stepped on the scale and it read, “112 lbs.” He sighed.
Finally, when the moment was right, he hopped in the shower and covered every bit of his shoulder-length hair with shampoo. He washed thoroughly, got out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed. He sent Charles a text message informing him that his morning was going well and he wouldn’t need a ride to school because he’d be able to make the bus. Charles’s reply was a single, “cool.”
John hesitated for a moment and then sent another text message asking Charles if he could stay over at his place for a few days. “Just gotta get away from here,” John typed.
“Anytime bro,” Charles replied.
John went into his closet and grabbed his favorite jacket, the black hooded trench coat. He placed it on over his faded Che shirt and grabbed his backpack. While still in his room, he took his phone from his pocket and called Clark.
“Hey, Clark. What’s up, man?”
“Not much, John. Just getting ready for class. I’m waiting on my girlfriend to come over.”
“How does she get to your place?” John asked him.
“Sarah has a friend that picks her up from her parents’ place. Her friend drives her to my place so we can hook up and then we take the bus together to get to school. That’s how it usually works.”
“As long as it works, man,” John said.
“Yeah. I’m having dinner with her and her parents tonight.”
“Wish you luck,” John said. “Anyway, I was calling about your party. Heard you got a location.”
“Yeah, actually, I do,” Clark said over the phone. “It’s gonna be in the large open area over the tracks. No adults, no interruptions, just a huge hangout near the old barn. You’re gonna love it.”
“We’ll party like the Amish,” John joked.
Clark laughed, “Exactly.”
“Well cool, that’s all I was wondering. See you in class.”
John ended the call, opened his bedroom door, and made his exit. He entered the living room of his house. It was an extremely messy room with beer bottles lying all over the dirty carpet. A small clunky television was turned onto Channel 5 News.
“Negotiations are underway for reconstruction of the John A. Roebling Suspension Bridge,” said the newscaster. “The mayor of Cincinnati is seeking measures to gather the proper funding.”
In front of the television was a ratty old recliner and sitting in the recliner was John’s father, Alexander Ahern. His father was a salt and pepper bearded man whose head was balding. He was also missing his left leg which had been amputated at the knee. In a musty housecoat and pajamas, his father awoke from a stupor with beer bottles surrounding his recliner. He coughed and looked up at John.
“Where’re you goin’?” his father croaked.
“I’m going to school. Don’t see you the bookbag,” John said as he pointed to the backpack draped over his shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah,” his father said in a raspy tone. “Today I… I… I gotta…”
“You gotta what?” John asked. “Get high?”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, you jackass,” his father said as he took his walking stick and pointed to the mantelpiece above the fireplace. On the mantelpiece were four items lined up in a row: a military beret, a shoulder strap embroidered with two silver stars, a Purple Heart medal, and a Purple Heart Certificate. It read:
The United States of America
To All Who Shall See These Presents, Greeting:
This Is To Certify That
The President of The United States of America
Has Awarded The
PURPLE HEART
Established By General George Washington
At Newburgh, New York, August 7, 1782
To
0-8 MAJOR GENERAL ALEXANDER J. AHERN
For Wounds Received In Action
In The Republic of Iraq
“You see that?” John’s father asked him.
“I see it,” John said. “It’s a great reminder of the man y
ou once were.”
“That means I’m a respected man,” his father scoffed.
“It means you WERE a respected man,” John said.
“Get out of my sight,” his father coughed.
“I’m glad you asked. Later this week I’m going to spend a few days at a friend’s place so I don’t have to be in this rathole with you.”
“I provide for you and this is how you treat me?” his father coughed angrily.
“Provide for me?” John said, “Take a look at yourself. What kind of father are you? I’m the one being generous to you. And I just don’t feel…”
“I told you to get out of my sight!” his father yelled from his recliner. He grew a beer bottle at John and missed.
John walked out of the front door and shut it behind him. He angrily rushed down the steps and headed toward the street. By the time he made it to the bus stop, he had cooled down and noticed Andrew Lockman. Lockman was dressed the same as always; polo shirt, khaki pants, rosary around his neck, and his long hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“Hello, John,” Andrew said. “How are things?”
“Eh, not bad,” John said lowly. “You?”
“Likewise. Even when things aren’t going my way, I just remember they could be worse,” Andrew said. “Take for instance me. My mom is a single mother raising four kids. And this is the neighborhood we live in. But we do our best.”
“Yeah, I guess it helps to stay positive or whatever,” John said.
“Oh, it makes all the difference in the world, John,” Andrew told him. “The line between being okay and not being okay is a tightrope.”
The school bus pulled up to the bus stop as John and Andrew boarded the bus along with a few other students. They sat next to one another and continued speaking.
“Andrew,” John said. “I noticed you always wear the rosary. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it.”
“Never leave home without it,” Andrew said as he held the rosary in his hand. “There are a lot of things about me that have changed and there are a lot of things about me that will continue to change. But if there’s one constant in my life it’s this. And faith in my family.”
Ascension (The Ascension Series) Page 3