Mind Made Up Pt. 10

- Oh my! We still have that scarf? Mom yelps with a smile.

I hold up the thing; pale red, tattered, it looks like it could fall apart any day.

- I don't remember ever seeing it, I tell her.

- That's because your father had it when we dated. He loved it. Wouldn't part from it!

She giggles; I hand it to her. She carefully reaches for it and pulls it up to her face.

- There aren't even any mites. I thought for sure...

She smells it; her eyes close, like she can still catch the scent of my father on it. Her mind is lost to the moment. I dive back into the box. As I do, I wonder how much of my current life I can share with my mom. Obviously, she's not interested in my sex life, but I am meeting people and may even be starting a commune. Surely, that would be relevant. But I'm thinking more of what concerns my father.

- ...there's a locked security box at the bank, I tell her.

- What?

- Dad. He has a locked security box at the bank.

- Really?

I'm not sure why I'm telling her this but I carry on anyway.

- It's in my name.

- That's nice of your father, she replies.

- Except I can't access it. Not without my half-sister. Not without... Jessie.

I see the scowl appear on her forehead.

- Your father was always eccentric.

- At the same time, I say, he did ask me to find her. I suppose that's an incentive. It's odd that it wasn't in the will, though.

- It is, she agrees.

She hands me the scarf back and I return it to the trunk.

- How did you learn about the box? she asks.

- I... uh... went to the bank for personal business as I said before leaving.

It's a half-truth.

- While I was chatting with the clerk, we got to talking about dad. He offered condolences, and while he was looking up information, he came up with it. Figured he'd tell me.

- That's nice of him.

- It was. But he didn't break any protocol or anything. There was a note on file. Which makes me wonder still why it wasn't mentioned at the will reading.

Mom and I stare back, then giggle; my father really was something else. I dive back into the trunk. Mom's gaze follows my movements.

- Was it difficult, I ask her, to know that dad... couldn't... you know...?

- Be with me only?

There's a moment of hesitation in her voice.

- Maybe at first. I mean, he was very appealing, endearing and charming. And he didn't start out like that. It's like... well, I think we already talked about this.

- Yeah. His dad's passing.

- I guess he really was like his old man after all, despite himself. And yeah, it got me angry a bit, at first... but only because of the commitment. And you know... he didn't act on it until he told me about it. The way women looked at him. The way he felt. What he wanted.

She smiles timidly, gazing at the distance in her mind.

- I remember his confusion at first.

- Confusion?

- Yes. It was so odd for him to have so many people... wanting him. And him wanting them too. Before that, well... it was just me and only me. So yes, it was difficult. But I could see how happy it made him afterwards, and how happy it made everybody else.

She giggles as she recalls further.

- He wouldn't believe it at first, you know? I almost had to point out the women looking at him. Of course, I'd always seen him like that. But then the scandal emerged and your father... he just couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't inflict that upon us and so... well, you know the story.

I have stopped rummaging in the trunk, blankly staring at her.

- Do you think it was unfair to you? I ask her.

- It was only unfair because of our wedding, she replied. Which is why he refrained from anything unless he received my blessing. I was afraid at first - I was losing and I was right, though not in the way I imagined.

Jane stares back at me.

- I sense a reason behind your question, she states openly.

- There... is...

I look at her eyes and I can sense that she might understand. Obviously, there are some things I must keep from her at all costs. But I suppose there's no real harm in some honesty at this point. My father's story emulates mine so much, perhaps she has some insight. And as much as I don't want to reveal to her my master plan, there are some words that I need to speak plainly if I am to carry on like this.

- I'm... a lot... like dad, I tell her.

- You mean with girls?

- Yes, I nod.

She smiles.

- I'm not surprised at all. You always had his charm growing up.

That's not what I experienced growing up, I want to tell her, but I don't. I was never popular, but I was also never unpopular. I hashed out an unremarkable existence at school, in my youth and teenage years, and it was so until my return here, a week-and-a-half ago. Still, I need to air out some thoughts still so I carry one.

- ...I've been... since I've returned, I've met people across town. Made friends. Made... girlfriends.

- Plural? she asks.

- ...yeah.

If there's one people I don't want to be judged by, it's her; the anxiety of admitting these things to my mom is unnerving at best and terrorizing at worst. But I seem to be committed to the path.

- I don't know how it happened really, I attempt to explain, but... it just did.

I don't dare speak of the ring at this point; if anyone would recognize it, it would be her. Then again, she may have seen it while I was still wearing it last week. I still don't want to chance speaking of it. I wait for her answer.

- Well, what's your standing with these girls? she asks. Have any of them asked you to be exclusive?

- No.

- Well then, there's nothing wrong. Obviously, you should use protection.

- Obviously, I reply.

Except I haven't been using it, not all the time anyway. My mother is right on this; it's so easy to fall into the trap here. I must be more mindful of it otherwise I'll get half the city pregnant. I'm exaggerating, of course.

- The only thing you have to accept, she continues, is that you have to be honest with them about everything. Every other relationship. And respect their choice if they can't share you.

I nod in agreement, but I am left asking if they really have a choice or if my power is simply too strong at exerting its dominance. It pains me a bit to think so; I would rather these women come to me of their own volition, without any influence. I stopped wearing the ring to see if it might have an impact but it doesn't seem to have changed anything. I might be stuck in 'domination' mode forever. It's not negative per se but it can be uncomfortable at times.

- Thank you for trusting me with this, Grant.

- I thank you for... well... not judging.

- You could be polyamorous if you wanted, you know. It's perfectly fine.

I'm surprised she knows the term; she just smiles at my expression.

- I am a cultured woman. Plus, there was a documentary on alternate lifestyles on the television a few weeks ago.

I smile at her, then dive back into the trunk. I pull out an etched wooden plaque, with my mother's full name on it.

- Oh my! Your dad gave this to me in our first year so I could put it up on my workshop door.

- You had a workshop?

- For a while, when we started, she confesses. Nothing fancy. Sewing, drawing. Then your sister was born so we converted the room into a nursery. I wondered where he had put it.

- Well, I reply, you should take it out. Turn one room into a workshop again if you want to.

She giggles.

- I sort of already did that with the basement, but I'll take it and put it on the door.

She retrieves it; our fingers touch as we exchange the item. She pulls it to her, reading her name out loud.

- "Jane Carrier." I never did take his name. Don't know why.

- Doesn't have to be a reason, I reply.

She holds it up for a moment before setting it down. We spend another half hour perusing through old memories and items, most of it junk, a few gems here and there. The simplicity of the relationship with my mother lulls my defenses against her. I crawl up to sit on the bed beside her as she regales me of a tale about said item. I watch her lips move, mesmerized by their dance and the words that fly out of there. Eventually, my mother stops speaking and stares at me.

- Something wrong?

- No. No, everything is right. I'm home.

- Aww! Sweetie!

I get a hug, the tightest hug one could hope for, arms wrapped around for several seconds. As we pull away, our faces meet, still clinging to one another. She smiles and places a quick peck on my lips. I close my eyes for a moment. Then she pulls away.

- ...thank you for doing this with me, she replied. Though I'm not sure we found anything relevant in that box.

- What I found wasn't in the box, I tell her.

- Awww... Grant, you're making me blush!

She caresses my cheek; I giggle, then rise to my feet. I must admit that, with all of this, I completely forgot what the goal of this search was. But there's nothing about Jessie, nothing about a safety deposit box, nothing relevant to further guide my investigation. I am nowhere nearer to the solution I need. But it's not that frustrating; I may have nothing new on that field but the afternoon with Jane has brightened my outlook - and hers, I believe.

A THOUGHT races to my mind later, as I sit down for supper. I haven't had sex today at all. I've gone from practically none to generally three times a day. I thought I might crave it but I don't. As I peruse the pictures in my phone (but only when my mother's back is turned), I wonder if I should call anyone to meet up tonight, or if I should simply hang. Certainly, I've received open invitations from half of them already, nothing insistent. After my fivesome last night, there are at least four who feel satisfied and not neglected. And no one else seems to be begging for it, for which I am quite grateful. I wouldn't want girls who would be too clingy or needy - not when there are so many already.

There's always Heather; she sits across the table from me as we eat. Her eyes speak of desire that I'm not ready to commit to yet. Besides, for some inexplicable reason, I don't want to act on it unless Stacey, my older sister, is also there. Maybe it has something to do with fairness. As with the other girls in my life, Heather's gaze is fixated but not insistent.

After supper, as I rise, I tell my family I'm heading out for a walk. I don't plan on calling anyone. I want my alone time. It's nice to feel wanted but sometimes you have to take a break and focus on yourself. I go past Pauline's house quickly, not bothering to check inside, and head out into town on a solo venture. The July weather is brisk tonight but I'm quite comfortable in my coat. I walk past Janie's Ice Cream Shop; Olivia's not working tonight. I walk past the beach; at this time of the evening, it's less sunbathing and more leisurely activities. Besides, I'll be back here tomorrow with my family. I keep walking to the edge of town, passing all the apartment buildings where some of my girlfriends live. I reach the city limits and stop, staring at the 'SO LONG' sign on the road that heads out to where Pauline and Irina live.

I begin staring at the sign intently.

- ...so long... I mumble.

For whatever reason, tears are forming in my eyes.

- ...farewell... auf wiedersehen... goodbye... shalom... do svidaniya...

The words are hitting me hard, for whatever reason; my body is getting tense. The words in my mind shift to a lingering thought, one that has been plaguing me for days, insinuating itself in the back of my mind while I tried to dismiss it.

- ...the prick... the lousy fucking prick... the goddamn bastard...

These insults are coming from deep within, my bowels, the recesses of my subconscious.

- ...the moronic imbecile... the outrageous twit... the greased-up sleazeball...

My nails are biting into the flesh of my hands. The anger is rising from the deepest pit of my soul, catching me off-guard, unaware. The next words are screamed out loud for no one to hear but me.

- YOU SICK TWISTED PERVERT!

Except I don't know anymore whom I'm talking about. I collapse on my knees and start crying. Tears flow naturally, without effort, and I don't know what's come over me. I don't understand this anger and this rage. For a moment, I thought it was directed at my father. But it turns out, I realize, that it's all about me.

I'm the pervert.

- ...fuck... fuck fuck fuck...

I can't help but feel distraught about my plight; I find it odd because, in some respects, it's every man's ultimate fantasy. I should be happy about it. Every girl I meet wants to sleep with me. And for a moment, I wonder if I'm feeling this way because of what I ended up doing with my sisters, but the little voice in my mind tells me that's not the case.

- ...it's too goddamn easy, I manage to mumble.

I don't enjoy the chase anymore. I don't even have to make an effort. They fall to their knees at my very whim. There's physical satisfaction, for sure, but there's no personal gratification for it. I have no merit. It's that damned power and that damned ring.

And it's about my mother too. What my father put her through. She may claim she got over it but I could sense that he hurt her with his desires. He also hurt her when he chose to leave her as well. He fled his responsibility. Maybe he felt like I did. Maybe it was just too easy.

I look back at the sign and that's what I want to do, I realize. Leave. Exit this city and its complications forever. Exit this maddening dream where I want to provide a home and comfort to all those women with whom I've started sleeping with.

I am so much like my father, I realize. And it hurts so bad. I've been selfish and careless about everything. I've indulged in the fantasy without considering its effects on me. I'm going down the same path as him and it seems inevitable. And with this power, if I left and did not want to be found, I could do it. Easily. Sway a person here and there, and no one would ever find me. I could be free of these duties which I've started to take on. Helping Pauline with her husband and Esther; rekindling the passion between my former teacher Alice and her lover; attempting to find Jessie for my dad and her mom; and whatever else I've gotten into my mind.

The sex, obviously, has been driving me forward. All those gorgeous, desirable, smart, intelligent women who open themselves to me, who provide me with delight and wonderful company. It's more than just sex to me now - and it always was. If it were only sex, I wouldn't care about their plight, or not so much. I wouldn't try to bring them into my fold. But I need their presence with me. I can't 'sleep' and 'go'. There's more to this than just pleasure - there's a real, genuine desire for being with someone wholly. It just happens to be more than one person.

Polyamory. My mother said it. I want these women in my life. I want their happiness linked to mine. And that's why I can't leave. Helping them - it makes me happy, much more than the sex.

It takes me several minutes to gather my wits after this breakdown; I dry my eyes as best as I can, confused and bewildered at the intensity of the emotion that overcame me. I give myself a few gentle slaps as I rise to my feet and start shuffling back into town.

It's a long walk with a lot of detours; I wander through the side streets, lost in the strange cloud of positive and negative thought that spawned at the edge of town. I'm not great but I'm not bad either. I still need time to process these revelations and I don't want company in the midst of it. For whatever reason, the universe decides to grant my wish. No one interrupts my walkabout, that is, not until I actually stop walking. Light has dimmed around me and evening has started creeping in. I look up - I'm back near the beach, near the large houses where I plan to organize my commune. Must be fate, I tell myself. I end up staring intently at it.

Suddenly, a voice beckons to me, drawing me out of my reverie.

- Sir? Are you alright, sir?

The voice isn't aggressive but it is authoritarian; my head twists on my frame and I see the police car. Two young officers have just stepped out, a man and a woman. Their gaze on me speaks of concern.

- Sir? the woman repeats.

- I'm... fine.

I must look drunk, I tell myself.

- Could you come over here? the young policeman asks.

I shuffle towards them.

- We've had a call about your presence here, he simply tells me. You've been hanging around the place and it's making the residents nervous. Are you all right, sir?

My gaze wanders to the various houses; some local occupant called these officers on me. I wonder how they'll feel when I actually move in with my girls.

- I'm... all right, I tell them.

- Are you drunk? he asks further.

- I'm not. Haven't had a drop.

They stare at each other for a moment; they seem to believe me.

- I'm sorry, I apologize. I've just been having a weird week or two. My... it doesn't matter.

- You can tell us, the woman chimes in.

- My father died last week, I tell them. I've just been dealing with it.

- Our condolences, she adds.

They are sympathetic; then again, why wouldn't they be? I'm cooperating and they're just here because someone called my presence. Maybe my powers are also preventing them from being aggravated.

This last thought, though, brings a wrinkle in my mind.

- ...do you have time to talk? I ask.

- Of course we do, the woman says.

Her partner nods in agreement; police are trained in minor psychological intervention, after all.

- I don't want to take up your time, I say.

The man giggles.

- This is Castillo. Nothing ever happens here! I'm Michael.

- Shane, the female officer says.

Their familiarity is a giveaway of my influence on them; most officers will introduce themselves by their last names and rank. Or maybe these two are just friendlier than the rest. Regardless, I move closer to them and, with their permission, lean back on their car. I take a moment to take in their looks; early twenties, quite in shape, gorgeous in their own way.

- Grant, I tell them. And thank you.

- It's our job, Shane says. Your father's death really hit you.

- Yeah, it did. I mean, we weren't close but... I've been investigating him for over a week now - looking into his past - and we are so much alike, it's scary!

They're trained to listen so that's what they do; however, I sense their empathy towards me.

- In his last communication, he left me a task to complete.

- Sounds harsh, Michael interjects.

- Not so much. But it's difficult to accomplish.

- What is it?

I tell them about Jessie and Irina. I leave out the lurid details, obviously.

- Half-sister, eh? Michael comments. And you have no idea.

- No. Her mother says she hasn't been seen in a while. Or at least she hasn't contacted her.

- So she's missing? Shane inquires.

- Maybe. I don't know enough for sure. She could simply be unlisted somewhere.

The two officers stare at each other and I know what's going through their minds; I'm almost tempted to tell them to stop. And they would. But frankly, I could use the help.

- I'll log in to the computer, Michael says as he goes back inside the vehicle.

- ...thank you, I mumble.

- Hey! Protect and serve, Shane says.

Her hand reaches for my forearm and she caresses it. I bite my lower lip. She is beautiful and I haven't had sex all day. Maybe it's because I didn't put myself in any situation for it that I wasn't aroused, but now I am. I giggle at the madness of it.

- What's funny? Shane asks.

- Nothing. A bad joke.

My life is a bad porn movie, I tell myself. Or a good one. I can't really tell the difference. I look back at the other officer in the car.

- He's looking up on Jessie? I inquire.

- Yep. We're happy to help.