Cleaning House

"I suppose you're right," James said. "Keep this between us?"

"Sure, Dad. She'll never know."

James chopped a few more logs, then said, "Oh, there was just one more thing. I saw your mother coming out of your room around one this morning. Everything alright?"

Jim gave an immediate laugh born from fear. He quickly used it to explain to his father, "Mom had a dream that I had suffocated. She went to my room to make sure I was still alive."

"And you are," James said with a smile, but Jim didn't like what he saw in that smile. James handed the ax back to his son as he said, "I think that's enough for me. Here." He held out his hand to retrieve the now-empty mug from Jim, then made his way back to the house.

Jim immediately called his mother and apprised her of the situation. James did question her about her nocturnal visit to their son's room, and she told him exactly what Jim had, bad dream. It seemed to be enough to quell any further questioning.

Thanksgiving dinner was exceptional. James's sister, Cathy, made the two-hour trip with her two kids, Irwin and Melvin. Melvin brought his girlfriend whose looks so closely resembled those of Marcie Brown that it had surpassed uncanny and leapt straight toward unnerving. After some rather stealthily-posed questions, though, both Jim and Sharon were relieved that the two were not related.

Sharon had roasted a twenty-eight-pound turkey to golden brown perfection, and along with dressing, corn on the cobb, broccoli casserole, steamed squash, potato salad, and her famous gravy, it was a meal fit for royalty with enough leftovers that everyone could go home happy. Before that, though, James and Jim agreed to take a photo with Sharon, the first to be taken in more years than any could remember.

The next day, after his AA meeting, James arrived home with Rev. DeAngelo in tow. Sharon and Jim were sitting on the couch watching a movie when they came in, and upon noticing her guest, Sharon, who was braless but wore a thin T-shirt, jumped to her feet and said, "Couldn't you have called to give me a heads up that you were bringing someone home with you, James?"

"I apologize for the intrusion," Rev. DeAngelo said, "but James has a concern that he would like to address and asked if I'd come along for moral support."

"Concern?" Sharon asked. "What concern?"

James looked to Rev. DeAngelo, then to Sharon. "I need to know. It's not like I could blame you if you did this, considering what I'm guilty of, but ... Have you been having an affair, Sharon?"

"What?!?"

"I feel like you're keeping something from me. You're secretive ..." he shot a quick glance at Jim, "... and ... I don't know. I feel like something's going on that we need to talk about."

"So, you drag a stranger into our home so that we can discuss it in front of him?" Sharon blasted back at her husband.

"I ... I just—"

"You just what?" Sharon yelled. "You've just been brainwashed by this asshat to think all you need is him and some god that doesn't even exist as a crutch to get you through your day. You stand there believing you have been absolved of every wrongdoing you have ever perpetrated when the truth is that you will never do enough good deeds to make up for them."

"Mrs. Swanson," Rev. DeAngelo began, "I think James just—"

"Did he tell you that he all but accused me of having an affair with my mother?" Jim shot as he quickly stood. "My own mother. What kind of sick, twisted mind comes up with something like that? I'll tell you what kind: The kind of mind that has been pickled by booze for the past fourteen years."

"James, this is low even for you," Sharon added. "I think you need to leave."

"Mrs. Swanson, if we could only—"

"She told him to leave, Rev," Jim said. "That means you, too."

Once outside, Rev. DeAngelo said, "I'm sorry things went as badly as they did, James. If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

"I can't be alone this weekend," James said. "I know I'll start drinking again if I am."

"Then you'll stay with me," the good reverend said. "Sharon and I will put you up in the guest room. It won't be a burden at all."

"Thank you," James said, "but first ..." He knocked on the door. When Sharon answered it, he said, "I'm going to stay with Rev. DeAngelo over the weekend. Would you please pack me some work clothes and bring my suit down?"

Sharon sighed, then opened the door wide. "Come on. You can get what you need."

Sharon and Jim were pissed, but both agreed that this was a bullet dodged. "And I still haven't told him I'm pregnant," Sharon admitted. "What's that going to do but prove his suspicions?"

Jim took his mother in his arms. He held her, kissed her. "I told you that I would always be here to rescue you, Mom. I will never allow any further harm to come to you. I promise."

It was Monday. Jim had taken all his finals and once again was sure to make the Dean's list with another 4.0 GPA. Sharon had two finals to take today and two tomorrow, and she was on her way to making the Dean's list as well. Jim was awaiting her arrival. He sat at the kitchen table and was peeling an orange when he heard the front door open and close, then footsteps heading toward the kitchen. He smiled and said, "Hello, Prrrrrrrrr ..." he noticed it was his dad, so he quickly modified his word from "Pretty Lady" to "Pop."

"Jim," James greeted coolly.

"What brings you home?" Jim asked as he returned his attention to the orange.

"I live here," he answered matter-of-factly. "Where's your mother?"

"At school taking finals."

"What time is she due home?"

"I believe her first was from three-thirty to five-thirty and her second is from six to eight." Jim still hadn't given his father more notice than the fruit. "You still haven't answered my question. Why are you home?"

James laughed. "Thanksgiving morning when I questioned you about your mother coming out of your room? The truth is, that wasn't the first time I saw that. In fact, it was the third." This did give Jim pause. He looked up at his father, who took an apple from the fruit bowl. James bit into it, chewed, swallowed, then said, "When I packed my bag Friday night? I forgot to include the schematics for the conduit system in that new high rise we're building, so I came back early this morning to retrieve them. I went to look in on your mother and what should I find but you and she asleep in the same bed together, naked as the day you were born."

Jim did not falter at this news. He continued to stare at James intently.

"You almost had me convinced on Friday, but after seeing with my own two eyes what I saw?" James laughed. "I think things are going to change around here."

"Have you told anyone about this, Dad?"

"No. Not yet."

"Will you promise me you won't? I know you have your AA meeting tonight. Just sit on it till it's over. By the time you get home, Mom should be here also. We can discuss everything then. Full disclosure."

"So, you're admitting it to me, then?" James asked.

"Yes, Dad. I'm admitting it to you."

"Full disclosure tonight."

"You have my word."

James thought it over, then said, "Okay, but if I get the feeling you or your mother are lying to me, quite a few people are going to find out about it."

"Does this mean that if we satisfy your sense of honesty then no one will ever know?"

"If it comes to a complete halt afterwards, then yes, it does."

"I'll inform Mom of it."

James looked at his watch. It was four-fifteen. "Guess I'll head on down to the church and help them set up."

"We'll be waiting for you when you get home," Jim replied.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. Forget the fact that Jim just lied to his father about Sharon's tentative arrival home. The fact was that she was due home any minute. Then what? He thought of everything his father had just said to him. He analyzed it six ways from Sunday. Something needed to be done, but what?

Sharon arrived home at five-fifteen. "That last test was exhausting. We literally had to use every bit of knowledge we had accrued over this semester to get through the final, but I'm confident I made an A."

"If you're exhausted, maybe we should go out for dinner," Jim suggested.

"Well, there is that new sushi place that opened up on Clairmont," Sharon answered. It was spelled Chez Sushi, but it was pronounced Shay Sushay.

"And maybe a walk in the park afterward?"

"That would be lovely," Sharon said with a smile. "Just let me change clothes." She kissed Jim, then headed up the stairs as he checked the time. Fifteen minutes later, she was back downstairs and back in her lover's arms.

Jim kissed her deeply. "How about an appetizer before we head out?"

"Mmmm. Sounds delish. What did you have in mind?"

"Sixty-nine?" Jim proposed.

Sharon couldn't get her clothes off fast enough.

He held her door as she climbed into the Navigator, and as he rounded the vehicle he absently patted at his pockets. "I forgot my wallet. Be right back." It was almost five full minutes. "Sorry. I had left them in my cargo shorts, which were in the dirty laundry hamper."

They arrived at the restaurant at seven-thirty due to the fact that what began as a sixty-nine soon became Mommy punishing Jimmy for not eating her pussy properly. This was the first time that Sharon had introduced her ass as an available means of sexual fulfillment, and it had struck such a primal response from Jim that what should have lasted twenty minutes tops turned into forty-five minutes of pure, hardcore pleasure enjoyed by both.

Neither Jim nor Sharon wanted to overdo it with the sushi, or sushay, but it was just so damned delicious that neither could help themselves.

They made their way to the park and took their time walking its perimeter. The night was cool heading into cold. Jim removed his sportscoat and draped it over Sharon's shoulders. She stopped and kissed him, held him as their tongues danced like two figurines on a music box. "My love for you is so honest and complete, Jim. You have made me so happy over the past six months. If I ..."

"What, Mom?"

"If I were to divorce your father, would you allow me to remain the only woman in your life?"

"Mom, even if you didn't divorce him, I would never want anyone but you. Don't you get it yet? Just as you have given me your heart, I have given you mine. There is no way that I could ever refer to you as my fantasy woman because you are more than that, Mom. You are my reality. You are the reason I strive to be a better person each and every day." Jim placed a hand upon Sharon's belly as he continued. "Together, we have created a child that is growing inside of you, a little girl we will both raise and cherish and love. There will never be a more beautiful expression of our love than this, and there will never be a more beautiful woman than you in my eyes. You know I do not believe in fate, Mom, but I'm starting to think that maybe I have to, for something stronger than ourselves brought us together, and I'll be damned if I ever allow anything to tear us apart."

Sharon had begun weeping as Jim bared his soul to her, and by the time he had finished she was crying profusely. She buried her face into his shoulder and wept for untold minutes. Finally, she pulled away and said, "That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard, Jim. Thank you for the esteem in which you hold me. I promise I will never disappoint you."

Jim wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they made one more revolution around the park before heading home. Upon entering, both noticed that the only light to be found was the small emanation that peeked out from the kitchen, the light over the stove more than likely. They could see well enough in the living room to discern that James wasn't there. "Where could he be?"

"He might have gone to bed early," Jim noted. He pulled his mother close and kissed her. "I'm going to get a bottle of water. Why don't you go on up?" He had scarcely made it to the kitchen and opened the door to the fridge when a scream, his mother's scream, echoed through the house. He dropped his bottle of Perrier as he ran to her side. "Mom? What—?"

"Oh, Jim," Sharon cried as she threw herself into her son's arms. "It's horrible, just so horrible."

"What, Mom?" He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length. "What is it, Mom? Tell me."

"It's your father," Sharon managed as she pointed toward the stairwell. "He's ... He's ..." and she began crying once again.

Jim rounded the corner to the stairwell, looked down, and found James lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Quickly, he looked at his mother and said, "Mom, call 9-1-1." She didn't budge. She stood there, a hand over her mouth as she continued weeping. "Mom! Go outside and call 9-1-1. Go. You don't need to see this." Jim returned his attention to his father's body as Sharon made her way outside. He noticed a gash on James's forehead and his neck appeared to be broken. Jim felt for a pulse. Nothing.

Sharon made it outside. She clumsily pulled her phone from her purse and dialed. When the

9-1-1 operator came on, all Sharon could manage was, "My ... My Husband. He's ... and there was blood ..."

"Ma'am, is your husband still alive?"

"I ... I don't ... Please hurry." So in shock was she that Sharon sat in the grass of the front yard.

Jim eventually made his way to his mother's side just as police and ambulance vehicles were arriving. "I'm sorry, Mom. There wasn't ... I couldn't find a pulse."

This sent Sharon into a new wave of tears.

The sirens had awakened the lookie-loos in the neighborhood. Mr. Walton had made it past the

officers in charge of crowd control by simply walking over the stunted hedges that separated his

land from the Swanson's. As he approached, "Jim, Sharon; what's happened?"

"We found my dad at the bottom of the stairs," Jim said as a single tear fell from his left eye.

"Oh, dear Lord," Mr. Walton whispered. His very first thought was, "Is he ...?"

"I couldn't find a pulse," Jim answered.

The second most obvious question was, "Had there been signs that he'd been drinking?"

"Oh, God. I hope not," Sharon was able to say before another torrent of emotion washed over her. Jim hugged her close.

A man dressed in plain clothes but sporting a detective's badge approached and said, "Sir, I need you to—Oh, Mr. Walton."

"Rusty," Mr. Walton greeted upon recognizing the man who sat third row, center every Sunday morning at church.

"I need to question the Swanson's, sir. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," he answered. He knelt, placed a hand on Sharon's shoulder, and said, "May I call Rev. DeAngelo, Sharon?" She managed to nod her head. Mr. Walton walked to where the shrubs divided their properties and made the call.

"So, tell me what happened," Rusty said.

"Mom?" Jim asked, but Sharon was in shock. He lightly encouraged her, but when she wasn't forthcoming, he said, "My dad is a recovering alcoholic. He has AA meetings on Mondays and Fridays. Generally, Mom accompanies him to his Monday night meetings, but we had finals today—we both attend college here. As a stress reliever, we went out to eat at that new sushi place and then went for a walk around the park. When we got home, I went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water while Mom made her way upstairs. I heard her scream, so I ran to her side. That's when she pointed out Dad's body to me."

"Uh-huh. What did you do then?" Rusty asked.

"I made Mom come outside and call 9-1-1 while I checked Dad for a pulse ..." Jim's body shook. "I ... I'm sorry. I couldn't find one."

"Did you happen to disturb the scene?" Rusty asked.

"No," Jim swore emphatically. "I—wait. The stairwell was dark. I tried to turn on the light, but nothing, which is odd considering I changed that bulb just a few days ago."

"Well, from what I have been able to determine, your father must have tripped at the top of the stairs where he crashed headlong into that dresser with the mirror." He was speaking of the antique Victorian walnut dresser with marble top and ornate wishbone mirror that had been a decorative piece in that very spot since its purchase. "From there, he must have lost his footing and fell backward and down the stairs. I'm sorry. He might have lived through the gash in his head, but the fall broke his neck."

Mr. Walton approached and said, "I just want to let you both know that Rev. DeAngelo is on his way. He should be here shortly."

"Thank you," Jim said.

"I know your father had many demons in his past," Rusty said to Jim, "but having spent time with him in church, I know he was trying his best to make amends for his trespasses against you and your mother. He was a good man."

"Thank you," Jim said as he wiped at his eyes.

"Yes. Thank you," Sharon said as she leaned on her son for support as she stood. "I think the most tragic thing here is that he died never knowing that I'm pregnant."

"You are?" Jim quickly shot at her.

Sharon perceived this to be her son's way of authenticating that things in the household had been going well all along. She added, "I was going to surprise everyone over Christmas dinner."

Rusty reached out to her, as did Mr. Walton. They gave their heart-felt apologies just as the coroner arrived, and as he pronounced the body and made his way back to the morgue, Rev. DeAngelo arrived with members of his flock. Sharon allowed them to pray over her and ask God to receive James to His bosom. Jim stood to the side and waited for the dog and pony show to end. Once it had, and his father's body had been removed from the house, he led his mother back in, up the stairs, and to her bedroom where he helped her undress before putting her to bed.

Jim stripped down to his underwear and crawled in bed next to his mother. He pulled her close to him, and she wedged herself in even further. Small, soft whimpers still escaped her lips. Jim knew that this was partially because of the love she still held for James, however small it might be, and partially because of the shock of finding him as she did. He knew that, just as he knew that she had to be the one to find him.

After his conversation with James earlier, one thing resonated within Jim's mind above all others. When he asked his father if he had told anyone that he knew about his mother and him, James answered "No. Not yet." It was the "Not yet" that had driven Jim into action, for "Not yet" was a device which could be used as blackmail, or simply an eventuality just waiting to happen, and Jim couldn't chance either.

He had been like a military intelligence officer. He would concoct a scenario, thoroughly analyze

it to find why it wouldn't work, then tweak it to ensure its success. He had spent thirty minutes on this, and by the time he was done, he knew the plan to be flawless. The most important aspect would have to hinge on James's continued sobriety, though, for no other reason that if Jim had gotten his father drunk like he had originally planned, then the insurance wouldn't pay off, and with a baby on the way ... Well, it stood to reason that he and Sharon would need all the financial assistance they could get.

Citing his mother's fatigue, it was as nothing to get her to agree to a night out. Keeping her out, however ... That might prove to be a problem, especially if they were to leave early, which is why he suggested sex before they left and was pleasantly surprised when it extended close to an hour. They took their time at the restaurant, also, enjoying each variety of sushi almost as much as they enjoyed each other's company. Next was the walk. He was more than sure that one revolution around the park would suffice, but he led Sharon on two just to be sure.

The final piece of this puzzle, however, is what he must do before his evening out with Sharon even began. Setting it into motion started with Jim citing that he had left his wallet behind. He entered the house, went to his room, and pulled a thick, five-foot extension cord from the junk drawer of his dresser. He pulled this taut and tied it about four inches above the next to last step at the top of the stairs, ensuring that any who attempted ascension would trip. Next, he pulled the Victorian dresser from the wall and to about two feet from the top step to ensure that whomever tripped forward would go crashing head-first into it. He knew the dresser could not be seen in the dark, and everyone was so used to it anyway that they never gave it a second thought. About the dark ... He unscrewed the light over the stairwell and shook it vigorously until he heard the filament detach, then he replaced it before heading back to his mother's side.