He breezed by his step-mother, stormed down the basement stairs three at a time and entombed himself in his room until suppertime. He stuck a chair under the doorknob in a feeble attempt to keep the mini-trespassers out.
A lesser guy would have yelled, screamed, thrown stuff around, smashed up furniture or punched holes in walls. That wasn’t his style.
I need my music.
He breathed hard, his hands buried in his jean pockets. Then he grabbed his MP3 player, stuffing the ear buds in his ears, and threw himself on his bed.
His heart pounded. His mind raced. Then Mozart’s Requiem flowed through his ears. Odd as it was, the score calmed him. A requiem is a ‘death mass’ of sorts, music played at someone’s funeral. But Mozart’s was hauntingly beautiful…peaceful.
He closed his eyes. The stress eased in his arms and legs, calming the adrenaline prickling his fingers and toes.
Ahh…
‘Clear as mud.’ One of Payton’s grandfather’s favorite sayings had become the theme of his life. Of course, Grandpa also said things never stayed muddy forever. Eventually everything cleared up, but you had to be willing to see things properly before that could happen.
Darn that wise old man.
Payton folded his hands under his head, shifting his body into a starfish shape. The strings, woods, and brass instruments played the intro to Rex Tremendae. Gooseflesh prickled his arms when the choir took their cue.
Rex tremendae majestatis, qui salvandos savas gratis…
Why? Would his grandparents keep all of this from him, after everything he’d gone through with his mom?
I mean I may have been cool with everything if they’d just talked to me about it, he thought.
But they never even tried.
…salve me, fons pietatis…
Something about mom.
Mom and the prep school. He remembered a story he’d heard, but it didn’t come to him in that moment…
When Payton had brought up wanting to go to the school the first time, his grandfather had tried talking him out of it.
“You can’t go there, son,” Grandpa had said, clearing his throat.
Payton had crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, not this year,” he’d said. “But next year I’ll qualify. I’ll be fifteen and done with regular school. Then I’d just have to take the theory and music stuff. Well, I mean I’d already have most of it, but stuff there is totally advanced and—”
“Son, I just can’t send you there,” Grandpa had interrupted. “Too far. Too much. Too close to…other things.”
“I don’t understand, Gramps,” Payton had said, holding a printout of the curriculum in his hand. “What things? It’s a great school. Even my piano teacher suggested I should go there.”
Grandpa had shot Grandma a look like someone had stabbed him or something.
“Pay, we aren’t saying you can’t go,” Grandma had said in her usual smooth-things-out tone of voice. “We’re saying just wait until next year and we’ll see. It’s awfully expensive to go there, you know. And it’s difficult. And you’ll practically be alone. We won’t be there to turn to. You know, your mother—”
“That’s enough talk about this,” Grandpa had said, slapping the arm of his barrel chair. “You concentrate on now. Do your practicing, do your schoolwork and keep your grades up. This can wait.”
“But Gramps—”
Grandpa had pulled himself up, holding back tears. “I said, enough, son. Please.”
And that had been the last of the conversation about the school. Payton had tried bringing it up the next year, just before his mom had died, and his grandparents gave him the same, ‘wait and see’ speech.
He just wished he understood why…now.
He reached down to hit the rewind button, then startled when his right earphone was tugged out of his ear.
“Ow! Geez!” he said, holding his ear.
He turned his head, touching noses with Dahlia.
“Watcha listening to?” she asked, stuffing the ear bud into her ear. “Wow! That’s really loud!”
Payton looked past her head and saw the chair he’d wedged under the doorknob laying on the floor with a space just big enough for a small person to squeeze through. He rolled his eyes, and flopped his head into the pillow.
Army kids, he thought. They seem to figure out everything.
“I like it that way,” he said, gently removing the bud from her ear. “It’s stuff that’s good for your soul.”
The little girl scrunched her nose. “But you can’t even understand what they’re saying.”
He stared down at her for a few seconds, then put one bud back in her ear, keeping the other one in his own.
“Here, I’ll sing it in English while they sing it in Latin.”
“What’s Latin?”
“It’s another language people speak. Here. Just listen.”
He rewound the song. The music started. Strings. Voices. Goosebumps. He sang, and she stared wide-eyed at his lips.
King of tremendous majesty, who freely saves those worthy ones, save me, source of mercy.
He looked at the door to see a small audience had gathered. His step-mother and little brother watched.
“Wow. That was amazing, Pay,” Katie said. “I didn’t know you could sing too.”
Payton cleared his throat, taking the bud out of Dahlia’s ear, then wound the headphones around the player, putting it on his nightstand.
“I can’t, really,” he said. “Just enough on tune so I’m not asked to mouth the words.”
Katie laughed. “Well, you’re better than me. Right, then. Dinner’s ready. Did you want to join us?”
His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“Guess so.”
The kids ran up the stairs. Katie grabbed his shoulder when he tried shimmying past her.
“You okay?”
He sighed heavily. “Yeah. I guess.”
“He was only trying to help, Pay. It isn’t just about the money, you know. It’s a lot more.”
He shrugged her hand away. “Whatever,” he said, walking to the stairs.
“It was my idea to bring you here, Pay,” she said.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She seemed to take that as a cue to continue.
“After one of the calls to your grandparents, your dad told me you were interested in the school. So we looked into what we could do. We never did anything without your grandparents’ permission. We all just wanted to help.”
Payton spun around. “Didn’t any of you think that, maybe, I should have been in on the final decision? Who do you think you are, anyway? You don’t just make major decisions on a guy’s life without his knowing about it.”
Her arms fell to her sides. “This is such a huge opportunity for you. I heard your piano tapes. I mean, even if you don’t want to stay with us, you should at least grab onto this chance to go to the school. You’re so talented. You could go so far.”
Payton softened. “Look, I appreciate what you guys are trying to do. Really. I just…I just don’t get it. It’s too much, too fast.”
“You need to talk to your dad, Pay. Get his side. Geez, you don’t even need to talk to him if you don’t want to. Just listen. Please. Then decide.”
Payton chewed the inside of his bottom lip. He thought it incredibly ironic how someone who kept her house anally clean as a way to busy herself from her own troubles told him to chitchat with his dad.
He sighed again, then nodded. She nodded back, then turned away to turn off his light. As he walked up the stairs, he had the feeling she most likely picked the chair up off the floor and straightened his bed too.
When he got to the top of the stairs, the aroma of East Coast fish chowder wafted from the kitchen. His mouth flooded with anticipation. He saw Liam already sitting at the head of the table with his two obedient children sitting at their designated places—hands in laps, napkins in their shirts, waiting for everyon
e else to sit before being allowed to eat.
They weren’t even smiling.
It seemed everyone in this mess needed to talk.
Yeah, a great, big family powwow…with boxing gloves.
Payton smiled. He’d totally put money on Katie winning in the first or second round against Liam. She seemed to have a lot of pent up feistiness she wasn’t openly expressing.
They dined on the chowder and fresh corn bread. K.D. Lang crooned from the stereo. Spoons scraped the last drops of goodness from the bowls, then Katie said, “Okay, kids. How about we go out for ice cream tonight?”
Dahlia looked at Payton with a furrowed brow. “Doncha wanna come too? You can bring that lentil stuff and we can listen to it in the car!”
Payton nearly spit out his water. “It’s ‘Latin.’ And I think I’ll hang out here ‘til ya get back. Just bring back something for me, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” Dahlia said, her face brightening. “I’ll getcha a Blizzard. You like Blizzards, right? Mama can we bring back a Blizzard for Payton?”
Katie stroked the length of the girl’s shiny strawberry-blonde hair. “Of course, Sweetpea,” she said, laughing. “Anything he wants. Reese’s Pieces?”
“Yeah. Cool.” Payton said.
Then Katie and the kids hurried out of the house.
Boy, that was subtle, he thought.
The two men sat in the painful silence for several seconds, then Liam opened his mouth to speak.
“Wait,” Payton said, holding up his hand. “Before you say anything let’s be straight. You tell me everything this time, okay? Even if it’s painful crap I might not like. I’d rather have it all right up front then find out bits and pieces like the way it’s gone so far.”
Liam nodded, folding his hands on the table. “Alright. Sounds fair.”
“And one other thing,” Payton continued. “Grandpa taught me a lot of things, but the two most important have been, ‘Every man is only as good as his word.’ And ‘Everyone deserves a second chance.’ I’m doing the second because he told me you deserved the first. Be straight up with me, or that’s it.”
“Your grandfather is a wise man,” Liam said. “I’ve always had a lot of respect for him. He and I have always been able to talk. I don’t think your Grandma likes me though. She doesn’t like military men.”
Payton didn’t respond.
Liam inhaled deeply, then released his breath slowly. “Okay, here it is. When I was a little older than you are now, I met this phenomenal woman. She wasn’t from around here. She was going to that prep school we visited today. We didn’t know it at the time, but we had some mutual friends. I went to watch a friend of mine play in his dress rehearsal for some opera he played violin in. What was it now…some Mozart thing? Um, something about a flute and birds and stuff…”
Payton leaned forward. “The Magic Flute?”
“Yeah, that was it,” his father said, pointing his finger. Then he leaned back in his chair. “I was picking up my friend to go party, you know…it was Friday. But he had to practice first. I’m not the most creative or musical kinda guy, but I respected it. So they were doing that scene with the Queen of the Night where she rises above the stage singing about rage and vengeance. Stuff I understood. And then this gorgeous, tiny, dark-haired girl belted out a great piece of music. Didn’t understand one darn word but, wow, could that girl ever sing.”
Payton’s eyes widened. Der Holle Reche. He knew the aria well. When sung right, it drove chills down a person’s spine.
“It was your mother, Pay,” Liam said, his eyes meeting his son’s. “She had me hooked from the beginning. From the second I heard her sing. She made the hairs on my arms stand at attention.”
Payton was speechless. He’d heard his mother sing the same aria. But years of smoking and booze ruined her ability to hit the high notes.
So sad.
“You heard her sing that? What was she like?”
Liam shook his head. “Son, there are no words to describe. She got a standing ovation, though. Each night.”
Payton wasn’t surprised.
“So, our mutual friends introduced us and, well, the rest is history, I guess. We dated for a bit but she wasn’t very…stable. You know, she was up one minute, then so down the next. It was scary. And she could be reckless. So we broke up. Of course we still hung out because we had some of the same friends. But after a few months, she just disappeared. I’d heard she went back home to Winnipeg. Then about a year later, I heard she’d had a baby. You.”
That couldn’t have been the only reason. Yeah, Mom had problems but she wouldn’t have given everything up…her dream…for a baby.
Would she?
Liam continued. “If I’d known, I’d never have let her leave. Joined the military shortly after finding out about you. Wanted to send money or…support…or something, you know? She refused my help. So I socked the money away, hoping I could use it one day for your education, or whatever came up.”
Payton rubbed his forehead. “Okay, I get that part. But why didn’t you ever check up on me? Why did you just leave me there with her if you knew she was unstable?”
“Pay, I tried to. Honestly, I did,” Liam said, leaning toward him. “But there’s only so much you can do when someone doesn’t want your help, you know? I mean thank God your grandparents talked to me once in a while. If I knew about how bad things got…if I’d known…”
Everyone said that.
If I’d only known.
The thing was that Liam knew. So, where was he? Payton chose not to ask because, honestly, it didn’t matter anymore. He got it, he really did. Mom pushed everyone away. She was hard to live with, and Payton understood. But she’d given him a gift.
Her music legacy.
Was he seriously going to mess that up the way she had messed it up for herself? She was a countrywide, sought-after musician and teacher and she just…gave up.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his fists. For several minutes the two men said nothing.
“Okay, I’ll try,” Payton finally said. “I’ll go to the Orientation tomorrow and check it out. For my grandparents. Not for you, the past or whatever guilt you seem to have.”
Liam smiled. “Okay. That’s fine. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’ll drive you.”
It wouldn’t hurt.
Besides, maybe he’d even see that Lily chick again.
Yeah…Lily…
Suddenly, a welcoming break in the tension, the kids burst through the front door, Blizzard’s in fists.
“Here you go, Payton,” Dahlia said, shoving a cup in his face.
“What flavor did you go with?”
“I know you like Reese’s Pieces, but I chose Oreo instead. I hope that’s okay. And we got a large cuz you are.”
He raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “I like Oreo. Good choice.”
River ran over to his dad and handed him his ice cream treasure. “Brownie.”
“Mm. My favorite,” his dad responded.
They sat eating their desserts until bedtime was announced. “Okay, kiddos. Time for baths and bed. Say goodnight.”
Payton was mass-hugged, his stomach lurching slightly from the overdose of ice cream treats, then went into the basement. For the first time in a long time he didn’t do his night time ritual. He just wanted sleep.
Too much information too soon.
But on some level he was grateful for it.
He laid on his stomach, trying to ease the hurricane developing in it, put his earbuds in, and fell into a restless sleep.
Seven
Payton woke up with a Blizzard Hangover. That’s a Canadian way to explain when someone was stupid enough to wolf down a large Blizzard in one sitting just before going to sleep. And exactly what Payton had done.
My bad.
Katie had brought him a large ice cream treat. He’d only intended to munch a few mouthfuls, then stuff the rest in the freezer for later. But, seriously. Who can stop eati
ng an ice cream treat once they started?
No one he knew.
So he tossed and turned half the night while his stomach did the same. Then when the Blizzard rock finally digested, he had nightmares…about his mom.
She’d died in her sleep and Payton had found her. He’d gotten up in the morning, but she was still in bed. Unless she’d been stinking drunk the night before, and had gotten to bed late, she never slept in late. He’d gone to her bedroom door, and knocked.
“Mom? Are you in there?”
He’d listened for the shower.
Nothing.
He’d smelled for the coffee or breakfast cooking.
Nothing.
No extra pair of shoes at the front door. No empty wine or rum bottles on the counter. It was just too weird.
So he opened her door. There she was, lying on her side.
Still.
“Mom?”
He’d touched her but her body had felt stiff…cold.
Then it hit him.
She was dead.
He screamed. “Mom!”
That’s what woke him up.
He breathed slowly, calming his racing heart. He just hoped he hadn’t screamed out loud and woken up anyone upstairs. It was bad enough he’d dreamt about it at all.
He showered, dressed and grabbed his favorite hoodie and canvas bag, then ventured upstairs. The Blizzard residue lingered in his stomach. He couldn’t eat. Katie handed him something that looked like one of those sausage breakfast sandwiches from a breakfast drive-through.
Yep. Grease stains on the paper towel and everything.
It took every restraint in him not to puke.
He gave her his best fake smile, then stuffed the sandwich into his canvas bag with his MP3 player and some paper and pens.
“Ready for school, Pay?” his father asked, walking to the front door with his own sandwich in hand.
Liam was dressed in his camouflage uniform. Apparently, the Canadian military was following the U.S. approach to similar uniforms in all areas. It was meant to give a sense of uniformity.
Liam hated it.
He joined the military to be in the Air Force, not to be blended in. Payton overheard several heated discussions between his parents about how they should put in their twenty years for the full pension, then bail. Katie wasn’t comfortable giving up her job. Liam couldn’t wait to.
Blackbird Flies Page 4