Sera Ch. 01

I sighed and agreed with, "I don't suppose."

"Don't worry. We're very good together, you know. I like how you think. I definitely love how you figured that invitation."

"I might be wrong."

"I have a hunch you're not. Uh... look, I've been meaning to ask... are you greatly bothered over what we talked about earlier? I mean, it's understandable that you'd be upset to find out... what you have, but I need to know if you're okay, or if you're having trouble with it."

I laughed humourlessly and shook my head, but answered, "Mum, I don't want to be disrespectful at all, but that's something... I just don't think I can deal with that in its entirety right now. At least not now that we have this other stuff with the invitations."

"Well, it's a long car trip and I think we should take the opportunity to talk about-"

"You killed Dad."

There was a pause between us while I tried to find an appropriate way to go on from there before I decided, "I'm not sure that talking with you about it would help right now."

"I understand. You need time to... Look, I've done a lot of things that a lot of people wouldn't be proud of, but a lot of other people have as well, to varying degrees. None of us ever think of having to defend ourselves or our actions in the future, especially not to someone like our own child years and years later. People do things. Nobody's perfect, not even you."

"I know, Mum. Neither was Dad."

We drove along in a heavy silence for many miles until we stopped to gas up and grab a few things to eat before we got under way again.

It was her turn to take the wheel and she was behind it while we sat parked, eating our truck stop sandwiches. She spoke between bites with her mouth full as a dirty, dark greenFreightlinergrumbled by in the parking lot.

"I understand you don't want to talk about it and I'll respect that, but I have to know... do you still love me?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to leave me?"

"No, Mum, I'd never do that," I sincerely assured her.

"Alright. Thank you."

"Mum... I can't believe I'm asking this, but... Can you please not kill any more people?"

She actually laughed. She tried to stop herself, to at least casually turn away and hide her reaction, but failed, crumbs spitting from her mouth before she could cover it and finish swallowing.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I- it's just the way that sounded, honey!"

"It's not funny."

"I know, I know, you just..! Okay, I'm sorry, let's just... you know. Okay look, that's not something somebody like me would make any promises about, but I'll try to avoid killing anybody else from here on in. Just for you, alright?"

I suppose I couldn't really blame her for laughing, I knew how it sounded when I said it, but at least she said she'd make a point of trying not to kill anybody else. The air was a bit lighter in the car after that, although little was still said.

"So, we're pretty much decided at this point, aren't we?" she asked the evening before our invitations came due.

For whatever reason, we'd been avoiding the subject that evening until she brought it up over some takeout pizza in our Montreal motel room. She'd secured this one and the one the night before by the same method she'd used with the Driscolls, except only financially this time, perhaps only worried about pushing me too far in light of what I was already adjusting to.

And I was adjusting. I had no other choice, did I? I was telling the truth when I told her that I still loved her and would never leave her, so what else was there? Besides, those damned invitations had me mystified and I was actually a lot more wrapped up in that immediate concern.

I glanced at her, pausing before reply as I chewed, contemplating whether or not it was time to be more open with her about our conduct, about the things we were allowing ourselves to do and about our drinking. Somehow, the revelations I'd received in that motel during our last day in Saint John only served to strengthen my resolve in keeping my promise, and it was time to take a more (much more) active role in controlling my mother and her actions.

Of course, this meant that I'd first have to control mine. Yes, things would have to be radically different, even while allowing the necessarily sensible, ongoing use of alcohol until the current situation with our invitations and whoever sent them was dealt with. I had to man up.

"I still don't like it," I finally answered, "but yeah, if you think we should show up, I agree."

"I believe in our profile. No matter who it is, it makes sense."

"You do have a way of coming up right."

"Thanks. Here, have some of these chicken fingers, they're delicious. You know, I have to admit that a big part of the reason I want to go is because of curiosity."

"Don't forget about the cat that had that affliction," I reminded her just before I took a bite out of a chicken finger.

"Oh I know, and I'm plenty on edge about it. I haven't forgotten that whoever this is must have been eying us closely for quite some time, but you must be at least a little curious as well."

"Sure, but the bizarre nature of the whole thing..."

"Yeah," she agreed, but it could turn out to be a good thing. An opportunity. We'd never know."

"Right now, I honestly wouldn't speculate either way on positive or negative, but..."

"Yes?"

"My hunch is that it will be something we wouldn't have ever expected."

"So... We definitely go," she said, making a question of her assumption.

"We definitely go."

"You really are quite something," she offered. "I love how we... you know."

"Yes."

"There's this different side of you since Saint John."

"Well... I'm glad we talked back there. I'm glad things are worked out between us and that there's going to be more control on both our parts."

She didn't reply and we ate in silence, my thoughts returning to more personal matters between her and I. The very unnatural attraction between us, or between our parasites, wasn't overly turned on right then. In fact, I felt a distance from her in that regard since I'd learned just what a dangerous person she was. It wasn't as though the attraction wasn't there, especially with the adjustment that I could still feel, but it seemed somewhat overwhelmed by the very sobering fact that she'd murdered my father along with thirteen other people in her lifetime.

Depressingly, it all boiled down to the same thing it always had, the priority of somehow saving my mother from herself. The damned promise I'd made, and I was willing to do whatever it took to get her back into her place.

Because that was the key, wasn't it? This was the thing she said I was smart enough to figure out, even told me herself. I have my place, she has hers. And her place, in her own words, wasbehindme, the successful man she sought to create from that position, her own self appointedplace.

But the idea was still so foreign to me, to the relationship I'd always had with her as my mother. How could I ever accomplish this without feeling out ofmyplace?

She didn't even try to jump me that night as we lay side by side in bed, neither one of us saying much before we fell asleep. On her part, I thought it was a combination of nerves over the next day and the reluctance to push me so soon after learning of her horrible secrets. Whatever the reason, I was glad. I wasn't into it.

Kitten

We were confused when our directions led us to a gate that barricaded our way from a picturesque, tree lined road. There was even a manned gatehouse, its occupant very helpful when we asked him if we'd taken a wrong turn. He told us we had the right place and asked our names before returning to his gatehouse from the hot sun. Moments later, he raised the gate and came out to give us more detailed directions to our destination. From there, we idled through a beautiful landscape of huge houses, mansions on impressive grounds amidst a cultured wood. It was suburbia for the wealthy, and I couldn't help but grin over this comical thought. Our animated chatter and exclamations ceased when we found the house that matched my invitation, both of us silent as we took it in.

I was really taken aback by this, as anybody would be and even though my foolish imagination kept picturing such a place in my mind's eye. This was not only one of the larger, grander structures in the neighbourhood, but the grounds were also as striking. The dark stone construction was half covered with creeping vines and, bordering the cobblestoned courtyard and the walkway to the huge front steps, were flowers of what must have been every variety with well placed, healthy shrubbery. It was all very well maintained, like a park, and the nicest front yard I'd ever seen.

In stark contrast, an old, grayCapricesat in the courtyard, near the steps. Getting out with Gina, I knew how the thing must have felt, looking down at my painted on, gray work jeans, black tank top and unbuttoned, blue plaid shirt. My hair was in a ponytail and I wore mirrored, teardrop shades through which I goggled at the scenery as I stood there in my snakeskin ball breakers.

"Wow," Gina said, looking around in her dark gray slacks and shiny red blouse. (She'd become somewhat conservative since Parker)

Her understatement said it all and I was just about to offer one of my own when the front door opened. In the doorway stood a woman who I guessed was in her mid thirties, wearing a smart business suit. She smiled and waited as we approached.

"Hello," the attractive woman politely greeted when we were in front of her. "My name is Delores."

"Hello," I returned, feeling decidedly uncomfortable as I stood there like a beggar with my teal coloured invitation in hand. "My name is Kathleen Hale. This is my friend, Gina Green."

"I'm very pleased to meet you both. I see you have your invitation, won't you please follow me?"

The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside and any questions Gina or I may have had for Delores were lost in the décor. We were led up an impressively wide, curved staircase, through a main upper hall with coffered ceilings and a beautiful, hand painted mural in renaissance style on one entire wall, and then down a narrower one with a long window-wall to one side. Beyond this glass wall was a garden that made the front of the estate seem half inspired by comparison. The other side of the hall featured expensive looking portraits of people I'd never seen and wide mahogany doors, one of which our escort stopped in front of and opened for us. She smiled, asking us to please have a seat in the library as she stood back to allow our entry. I looked at Gina, who'd just ripped her eyes away from the view outside to look at me with wonder, probably at who our host could be.

"Well," she said in a slightly nervous tone, "by all means, let's have a seat in the library."

The library had a lot of natural wood with dark green panels. Most of the wood was in the form of shelves containing books and, at about three times the size of the living room at home and with twice the ceiling height, that was a lot of books. Amidst the many plants was a wet bar, a billiards table and two very nice, antique looking wooden reading tables. One section of the room featured a large fireplace with tall windows to each side, ample and comfortable seating around it. In one chair sat a very attractive woman who looked to be in her late thirties. Like Gina, she was dressed in a tasteful blouse, but of black satin, left unbuttoned enough to show ample cleavage and the top of her black bra. A gray, knee length, somewhat snug skirt emphasized the soft, inviting curves of her hips and she sat with the poise of a professional. Seemingly in conflict with her poise and attire, her long blonde hair sported shocking streaks of black, her nails and lips painted the same colour and her striking eyes lit exhilaratingly when she saw me.

Her jaw fell open and she dropped the wineglass she was holding. It bounced, spilling its load of white wine without breaking on the polished hardwood floor, and rolled to a stop against the toe of her left shoe.

A few feet away, sitting in a similar chair, was a young man. He was quite attractive, although it looked like he'd recently had his face beaten. There was something about him that somehow drew me right away, a familiarity, a quality that the blonde woman also had, but not like he did. He stared at me too, but not like the woman. He stared at me like I stared at him.

"Uh..." she attempted, regaining her composure as she stood and approached almost cautiously. "(ahem) I'm sorry, I... You're Sheila's daughter."

"Yes," I confirmed nervously, stunned and surprised, but noting how she also seemed somehow familiar. "My name is Kathleen Hale. I got th-"

I was about to show her my invitation, but her face suddenly split in a wide grin and I knew right away, as soon as I looked at her beautiful, bright hazel eyes, that this was a very nice woman. I could only smile in return.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" she asked.

"No, I'm sorry. I've never met Sheila."

She nodded with a sudden, yet subtly knowing expression before speaking again.

"My Name is Kathleen Burchell. I'm your mother's sister. Your aunt."

I was completely blown away and, after a moment of stunned silence, could only stupidly ask, "Your name is Kathleen, too?"

"Yes. Sheila and I had this pact when we were girls, that we'd name our firstborn daughters after each other."

"Wow," I expressed, glancing at Gina. "I-I didn't even realize she was the one who named me."

"Well, I couldn't very well keep up my side of the pact," she said, gesturing for the young man to join us before making an introduction. "This is my son, Steven. Steven, this is your first cousin, Kathleen."

We looked each other in the eye and there it was again, thateffect. And again, I knew he could feel it too, as well as I knew he knew I was feeling it. We said hello and when we shook hands it intensified, this inner excitement over him. I let go of his hand out of surprise as we both beheld each other with interest and wariness.

"Umm... this- this is my friend, Gina. Gina Green."

I'd recovered my smile as he had his more sober composure by the time Gina shook hands with both of them. They took their seats once again, my aunt Kathleen scowling over the dropped glass that she picked up off the floor, while Gina and I took a nearby loveseat.

"So Kathleen," she said while settling herself, "I take it you're not the one who asked us here today."

"No. You got an invitation, too?"

"We each did, just our names with this address and time."

"Same here. I was thinking Sheila...?"

She answered my questioning expression with, "I'm sorry, I haven't seen or heard from your mother in thirty years. Not since we were your age. How old are you, by the way?"

"I'm twenty-one."

"Make that younger than you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, but umm... well, not to nitpick, Auntie Kathleen, but I don't refer to her as my mother. She ran out on me and Daddy as soon as I was born and before that she... well, I don't want to offend you because I know she's your sister and all."

"Again, I apologize for my reference, but please don't think you'll offend me by anything you could say about Sheila. I can only imagine the mess she made. I imagine she made a mess wherever she went."

I nodded and when Delores returned with a drink for both Gina and I, replacing my aunt's as well, I asked, "So... are you younger, or older than Sheila?"

"She's a little better than a year older than I am. I'm forty-five; she'd be forty-seven."

Her age surprised me, especially considering her unique vitality, complimenting her more youthful appearance.

"You know, you lookexactlylike her," she remarked. "Sheila, I mean. The only difference is the hair colour."

I grinned a little and said, "I know. A few people have commented on it. People who knew Sheila have been... surprised by it."

"I sure was," she laughed.

While we spoke, both Steven and Gina remained silent, listening to Kathleen and I getting to know one another a little. I knew why Steven was being quiet, but Gina was usually much more vocal and forward. Was she allowing me the spotlight, the opportunity to experience this and to speak for myself while she stayed out of it? Was it still the things I'd said that night in my laboratory?

Steven

I didn't notice Mum's reaction to the young woman until she dropped her glass, such was my own. Hers, it turned out, were based on another amazing Burchell family likeness between the young Kathleen and her mother, Sheila, whereas mine was centered more around something indefinable to me at the time. It was as if I should already know the scrumptious little thing, wassupposedto know her. When I shook her hand it was like grabbing some spiritual livewire that made my cock twitch in my pants.

She was just fucking incredible.

Also, she was distracted by me in the same way, both of us completely aware of our perception of the other. It was actually quite uncomfortable and I averted my eyes from the twenty one year old who looked seventeen and sounded even younger. And, if she looked exactly like her mother, she had the very same voice as Marie and that's what really knocked me off balance.

I smiled politely at her friend Gina as our eyes made incidental contact, me looking away after as she did. She was a very attractive woman in her late twenties, slimmer than the young Kathleen, maybe five and a half feet tall and with a dark complexion befitting of some Asian descent. From the corner of my eye, she seemed a little uncomfortable as she looked around herself every now and then while paying a polite level of attention to the conversation between Mum and Kathleen. I wondered if she'd been noticing anything odd about her beautiful friend in the last few years. As said brown haired beauty ignored me as studiously as I ignored her, the two relatives seemed to hit it off right away.

"So, do you think it was Sheila who invited us?" the young woman who really did a lot for her old clothes asked.

"I don't know about you, but I can't see her inviting me in this way," Mum told her frankly. "Not with the past we have. Plus, it's just not her style."

"What was she like when you knew her, Auntie Kathleen?"

"At first, when we were kids, she was great. The best. Then as she got older, she became... distracted by other things."

"Her pussy," the young woman assumed with a raised brow, much like Mum's.

Mum nodded with a knowing smile and took a sip of her drink while she briefly looked her niece over, saying afterwards, "Sheila caused a lot of trouble back home and then ran off. That's why I haven't seen or heard from her."

"That's what she did where I'm from, too. She ruined marriages and lives and then took off after cleaning Daddy out and even stealing his car to take off in."

Mum shook her head and hissed disgustedly at this, offering, "I'm not surprised. But no, I really don't think this is her. At least it isn't the type of thing she'd do back when I knew her."

"Hmm," young Kathleen toned as she looked at the carpet in thought. "Do you have any idea who else it could be?"

"Not a clue, honey. Steven and I have been over and over it. May I ask how you received your invitation?"

"Sure. I was standing in the supermarket, waiting in line at the checkout, and this funny looking little man walked up and handed it to me. Then he walked away."

"Huh... You know, that's somewhat how Steven and I received ours. In a circumstance where somebody would have to have been following us in order to know where we were to serve the invitations."

" ... You're right. OMG."

She turned to Gina to gauge her reaction for a second before turning back to Mum with wide eyes, lips parted.