Fever Dream Pt. 01: T.L.D.E.

"Why don't we all go to the kitchen and sit down?" he suggested, turning to his wife. "Tillie, could you put on a pot of tea for everyone?" Everyone started moseying into the kitchen, with Jack taking the closest seat at one end of the long oak dining table, while the rest of the family took their seats at the end opposite end, sans Tillie as she hurried about the kitchen. After a few moments where everyone seemed to be waiting for someone to start, Jack cleared his throat.

"So...I guess I should start?" he asked in a low, subdued voice.

"Why don't I ask the most obvious questions first, "His father said venomously. "And then you can give us an entire story on where our son has been for ten years." Jack nodded in affirmation.

"You can ask me anything..."

"Why'd you leave?"

"...Except that." Jack answered quickly, looking down. At this, his father hammered his fist on the table to show his anger, but Jack didn't waver, nor even look up.

"OK...why are you here?" his father continued.

"I...wanted to come, Dad. I needed to come home."

"What the hell does that even mean?" George snapped back.

"I...I don't really know. I guess I...looked in the mirror one day and...found I couldn't look anymore."

"What do you mean, honey?" Martha interjected, finally turning to look at her son. She was struck by how 'not her son' he looked. He was only 28, but he looked old, beaten, and tired.

"I..." he stuttered, starting to lose it. he looked in his mother's eyes finally, "I don't know...who I am anymore Mom." He said through labored breaths. That was the last her anger at him could take. She was his mother and he was her baby.

She left her seat suddenly, and in seconds was in the seat next to jack, taking his hand.

"You're Jackson. You're my boy, and you're home now," She cooed. "Look, enough questions. Just start as close to the beginning as you can and tell us where you've been and what has happened."

"I left...and wandered into a recruiting station," he began slowly. "I snuck into your office dad, and stole out my documents and stuff. I told them to give me whatever job left immediately, no matter what it was. Only thing available that fast was with the Army and it was infantry. If I signed on for infantry right then, the next day I could sign all the paperwork, they would drive me down to MEPS, and from there, in as early as two days, I'd be gone. They would put me up at a Holiday Inn while I waited for my flight to Basic Training."

"...and in those two days, you didn't take even a second to think that for every moment of those two days, and for TWO WEEKS after...every member of your family was searching all over town for you?" George said through gritted teeth. "I guess If I hadn't listened to your damn brother, and put out that damn BOLO like I wanted to, I'd have found you right quick," he finished, throwing Paul a fiery glance, which Paul didn't look over to see.

"Dad...I-"

"Continue Jackson," Martha said, shooting daggers at George, which shut him up.

Tillie was now bringing everyone their tea, bringing Jackson his cup last.

"Jackson, this is your sister, Tillie. Tillie, this is Jackson, your brother," his mother said, gesturing with her hand between the two of them. Tillie bent down, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a genuine, warm embrace. "Welcome home," she whispered, then walked over to take her seat by Paul. Jack wasn't surprised by his mother's very specific omitting of 'in-law'. In his family, they didn't use terms like 'in-law', or 'step', or even 'half' anything. When you came into this family, you came in with no adjectives, no hyphens, and no half measures. "Thanks," he answered her.

"...anyway, I uh...I arrived at Fort Benning for Basic. After that was Infantry School. Before Infantry School was over, I was offered a slot at Airborne school in Fort Bragg. After that, I was offered another school slot, in Fort Campbell, Kentucky for Air Assault...fast-roping out of helicopters" he added to his mother's confused look. "I finally arrived back at Fort Benning for...Ranger School." He looked to his father after that last part to see his reaction. He was rewarded with the faintest of chuckles and the first approving look he'd yet received.

"...you make it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing, one eye brow cocked.

Jack answered with as close to a smirk as he could manage, "Yup." At this, his father relaxed enough to give a full smile. "Like your old man after all."

"Just what I need, two of you," Martha tisked. Still, she had to chuckle.

"...after that, I did my EIB training, and finally got placed on a rapid-deployment cycle. 2 months later, I was in Afghanistan for a 26-month tour with a smaller fire-team. Came home, then volunteered for another tour, this time in Iraq. One of the last since we got the word 6 months in to pull all troops out. any-"

"OH MY GOD, STELLA!" his mother shouted. "I completely forgot! I've gotta-"

"Oh God, you're right! Stay mom, I'll run and try to find her," Tillie said, suddenly running out of the kitchen towards the front door.

"Sorry honey, go on," Martha coaxed him, rubbing his hand.

"...Anyway I got home and...alright look. I did 2 tours in Afghanistan, one in Iraq, spent 2 years in Korea, and 2 in Germany. I made friends, lost friends, saw things, did things, and now...now I'm home," he said, feeling the weight of an entire life lived all at once. "Yeah, there's a lot more, and of course I want to tell you, and I will but-"

"You got an honorable discharge?" his father asked, suddenly grave.

"Yeah," Jack answered. "Well, officially speaking, I'm retired...medically"

"Medically!" his mother blurted, suddenly handling him all over as if some body part she couldn't see might be missing. "Honey! What happened?"

"Nothing much...on the outside anyway."

His father looked at him with a knowing expression. He knew, more than some, that the true toll of what warfare meant to a human being was rarely shown on the outside. It was usually when the day was drawing to a close, when all was dark, quiet and still that the memories...of lives taken and decisions made, that couldn't be taken back, weighed on you. Even those who weren't forced to take a life, could be haunted by the memory of that version of themselves making the mental decision that if it came down to it, they would pull that trigger before risking making the wrong call. 'better to be judged by twelve than carried by six' was his old Platoon Sergeant's motto before every mission he had run, seemingly a lifetime ago.

"Not tonight," George finally said to everyone around the table. "That particular discussion can be had later, and in private if need be." He added, more for Jack's benefit, than anyone else's.

"Thanks dad."

"Honey, there has to be more to your life in ten years than just your Army career stuff. Did you ever meet any girls? I dunno..." Martha started. "...any boys?"

"Mom..." he sighed, clearly not amused.

"Martha, come on now," George said.

"No, I'm serious! Look, I'm just saying, no judgements sweetheart. I know you left and became this 'super-soldier' man, probably trying to be whatever you felt your father, or whoever else, wanted you to be, but the Jackson I remember was such a soft, gentle boy," She stated matter-of-factly. "I mean, you never wanted to hurt a fly, and I mean...I never saw you interested in, or dating, any girls...not that you would have had any time to, with you and Stella taking up 100% of each other's time since practically birth."

Another mention of Stella made Jacks stomach turn, and his suddenly pale face didn't hide it.

"I'm just saying, whoever you would have chosen, whichever it might be, you know your father and I would love and accept you no matter what."

"Yeah mom...I know. I always have. But for the record, I am not attracted to men...like at all." He said with a tone of finality that meant the question of his orientation was settled.

"Ok, there was a woman, but it's not a normal situation, and it's a lot to get into. I married her. We are not togeth-"

"Married!" his mother choked out, nearly shooting tea out of her nose.

"Yes, married. Look...We aren't together anymore, I didn't love her, she didn't love me. I was...stepping in...to help her." He continued with reluctance. "I mean, we never even slept together. She was in a bad way, I thought she just needed someone to take a chance and help her get on her feet, so I helped provide some...stability I guess, for her and her son."

"Oh honey..."

"She turned out to be someone else entirely, and now I'm paying for it. That's basically the story...at least all I'm willing to get into tonight."

For a few moments, all was quiet. Then they heard the front door open.

"Stella, sweetheart?" Martha called out.

"No, just me," Tillie answered back.

"Oh no. Honey, go driv-"

"Martha," George cut in. "You know as well as I do, if Stella doesn't want to be found, she won't be. She will come back when she is ready to. Lord knows she has more right than most to react the way she did."

"Oh my God! I totally forgot about...Should we tell him, or let Stella?" Martha asked.

"God no, are you nuts woman? We can tell him."

"Tell me what?" he demanded.

"Well, honey, it's about the night you...disappeared." She said, looking very uncomfortable.

It took him a moment to react, mostly because he knew exactly what they were going to tell him. Of course, they had no idea he knew. As far as they knew, he had vanished before Stella came home, clothes ripped and shaking all over. They had no idea that he had snuck downstairs, having heard her come home. He had heard every detail that came out that night. Not that it made this moment any easier. Not only did he have to hear it recounted to him, but he had to try to act like he was hearing it for the first time.

"Let me Martha," George started. "Look son, I know how you two...are...when it comes to each other."

You have no idea.

"So, try to keep calm and just wait until I'm all done, because trust me it's gonna be as hard for me to say as it is for you to listen, ok?"

Cool Control. It's fine. You can handle this.

"That night, Stella was at the school late, with Mr. Peterson, like every Monday evening. Apparently, he wanted more than to help her get that scholarship she had her heart set on."

He paused, looking like he was still trying to find the best way to put it.

"Ok look, Jack. I don't...ok. He...he raped her, Jack" he finished, suddenly looking sick.

"Wow, way to soften the blow dad. Very delicate."

"Fuck you Paul! You try sayin' this stuff. Wait until it's your little girl one day huh? see how you fuckin'- "

"JESUS George! Enough!" Martha said sternly.

"No mom, it's alright. He's right, I was way out of line. I'm sorry dad," Paul said, feeling genuinely sorry.

"Look, honey. She got home late that night, and told us everything. I won't go into any scary details or anything, but it was bad. Your Dad and Paul went into the station right away and tried to get a warrant for his arrest as fast as they could, but by the time they got everything situated, and got down to his house, which was actually right across the woods back here, behind the estate, funny enough, he was gone..." Martha almost babbled.

"...without a trace really."

"Well, not completely without a trace. We found fingerprints and fibers in the house...some blood spots..."

Until now Jack had kept his jaw clenched and eyes straight forward, but this was something he hadn't thought of. Hadn't counted on. He jerked his head to Paul, without even thinking, staring into his eyes, looking for a hint of...something. Paul, who had been mostly silent until now, looked intently back, letting his intense gaze do some talking of its own.

"I mean...we didn't pull any matches on the prints or hair that wasn't Mr. Peterson's, so fat lot of good they did us. But the blood was definitely his. Whoever else was there, was sloppy, but vanished as well."

"So, you suspect foul play then?" Jack asked, almost holding his breath, his eyes not leaving Paul's for a single second.

"Well, I wouldn't call what might have happened to him foul," Paul said, with a knowing smile touching at the corner of his lips. "But there's really no way for us to know what happened to him, or where he is."

Ok. He can only suspect. I can handle that. Jack assured himself inside.

"I mean...given what he did, and who he did it to, if it had been me..." Paul paused, his smile now gone, eyes boring into Jack's. "...and I wasn't a cop. I probably would have snuck into his house, strangled the life out of him, put him in his own car, driven his body out to some...secluded spot in the woods, buried his body in a shallow grave, and set his car on fire."

His entire body felt sick instantly. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins. He was right, earlier up in his room: he should have never come.

"Of course, if I had done something like that, I'd have left behind a ton of evidence, and I couldn't hope to stay unknown for long," he said, smiling at everyone else in the room, chuckling. "Hell, my only hope would have been that by some stroke of cosmic luck, just the right person would have had to find the evidence, and make it disappear. Of course, then I'd have to take a page out of Jack's book and vanish. Right?" he asked his dad, looking his way as he chuckled.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" George asked, scowling.

"Honey, I know the topic makes us all angry, but you don't have to be so morbid," Martha added. Tillie merely rubbed his back, not knowing what to say.

It took Jack a few moments to find his voice again. It was clear that Paul knew more than Jack had ever imagined anyone would, but it also seemed equally clear that no matter what he knew for sure, he was, and had been, keeping it to himself.

"Look...I know that we all have a lot more to talk about, but I don't think I have any more in me tonight. I didn't want to just assume, but would it be alright if I crashed here for maybe a couple of days, get my bearings and I'll look into a place t-"

"Excuse me, but you aren't going to be staying anywhere outside of this house, for any foreseeable future," His mother said forcefully.

"She's right," his father said, standing up to his full height. "This might seem like some silly parenting joke, but I assure you it's not. I don't want you leaving this house, Jack. Not for a while anyway."

He knew it might have sounded odd for parents to try to ground a grown adult child, but he fully understood where they were coming from, and wouldn't fight them.

"Ok."

"Good. Now let's all turn in. It's been a long night and I think we all need some sleep. C'mon sweet pea." George said, trying to somehow guide his family through one tough evening like an old, tired captain through uncertain waters. It seemed to work though, as everyone slowly rose form their chairs, and started hugging each other goodnight. Jack's mother wrapped her arms around him first, gripping him for dear life.

"You'll be here in the morning, won't you Jack?" she whispered to him. It broke his heart just a little more.

"I'm not going anywhere, ever again Mom. I promise. I'll be here when you wake."

"Thank you, honey. I hope you're a heavy sleeper because I might check to make sure a few times through the night," She said, chuckling. His father took his mother's spot a moment, later, wrapping his son in a bear hug.

"I love you so much, son."

"I love you too, Dad."

Tillie came next, tears in her eyes. "I'm so happy you're here. I know you don't know me yet, but just know I'm here for you, we all are." She said, hugging him tightly. The thing was, even thought he had just met her tonight, he found comfort in her words, and hugged her tightly back.

"Thank you, Tillie." He whispered back.

"I'll go get the car started babe, take your time." She said to Paul, smiling as she left for the front door. Now it was just Jack and Paul, standing across from each other, the silence becoming deafening. Paul strode over to his brother, putting his hands on his shoulders, and looked into his eyes.

"Don't worry, Jack. You're safe. You've always been safe," Paul said, bringing him into his arms. "Unlike when we were kids, this was one mess...I gladly cleaned up," He whispered in his ear. "I'll always have your back, man."

"Does anyone else..."

"No." Paul quickly whispered back.

"Could you ever get in trou-"

"No. Don't worry, I knew what I was doing. Like I said, you're safe. Completely. Now...let's never talk about this, ever again, OK? What's buried, stays buried."

"Thank you, Paul. Thank you so much."

"I love you, man." Paul said. With that, he strode past, into the entryway, and out the front door, leaving Jack alone again.

CH. 4

Feeling physically exhausted, but with his mind too active to sleep yet, he went out of the kitchen door, out onto the back porch. Not wanting to switch on any lights, he strode out to the top most step and sat down, looking up and taking in the clear night sky. Tonight was a still night, and a near-full moon shone down, basking the long, sweeping lawn in the magic of a lunar embrace. Moonlight kissed every surface in sight, and it made the world glow. Something about the sun being down, and the moon taking its place gave off the feeling that the starry night sky was a safe canopy, enveloping all under its ever-protective wings. The smells of summer were more subdued at night, but it still permeated through his nostrils. Fresh-cut grass, Evening dew, and what seemed like a trace scent of every tree on earth, wafted through him, wrapped around him.

How many times had he run up, down, and all around that wide-open lawn? Through all of those trees, hand-in-hand with her? How many times had she lifted him up when he fell, kissing his cuts and scratches? How many nights had they lain, side by side on a blanket, trying in vain to touch the stars in the sky? How many sunsets had she begged him to dance with her, barefoot and free? Countless. But it didn't seem to matter much now, at least not on this lawn, on this night. Probably not on any night in ten years. All was still in this world now. No laughing, no running, no kissed scratches or touched stars. Just regret.

I should have danced with her, just once.

"You got off easy." a soft voice said from behind him, making him jump up and whip around.

On the patio couch, sitting with her knees in her chest, beside an open dining room window, sat Stella.

"How long have you been out here Stel?"

"Long enough to know you've been a busy boy," she said, nudging her head towards the open window. "Long enough to hear most of your...incomplete story." As she paused, she stood up, walking down the porch steps, facing up at him.

"Stel, if you heard most everything, then you heard that I can't go into it anymore tonight, OK? Look, tomorrow morning, you and I ca-"

"Oh fuck you Jackson, OK? You can spin your fucking bullshit yarn to them, and gloss over everything important, and they will cave, maybe even not notice for a while, but don't you dare insult me. I'm. not. Them." She snapped. The second she said it, he knew she was right. And since it was Stella, to him, it didn't matter if she was right or not. She was getting what she wanted. She always did. Well, almost everything, he thought.