Sera Ch. 04

" ... I actually never thought of that, but maybe I assumed you would. Would you have?"

"I don't know. Possibly, depending on how you came across. There's actually solid reasons why you should never return to the scene of your crime, you know."

I thought about this for a moment and couldn't help grinning as I recalled a mutual enemy of mine and Sheila's. I looked away, but not quite in time.

"Do feel free to stick any cutting and witty remarks out there. It's not like I haven't heard it all, mostly from myself."

Turning my grin to a sour smirk, I shook my head and replied, "I was just wondering which of us Barb Sutton would like to get her hands on first, 'cause there's a crime scene neither one of us should ever return to."

"Barb Sutton?" she asked, a smirk on her face now. "You know her?"

"She hired me to paint her salon a few years back."

"I'm surprised she didn't use you to burn me in effigy. Norah still work there?"

"Yup."

"She was always kind of a dirtbag."

"Well, now she's a smelly dirtbag. Tell me... did you really steal Barb's land tax money?"

"Yeah," she casually admitted, moving on to a wooden cabinet, its open shelves full of dainty figurines and ornaments. "She had her chance to be nice."

"You don't seem very regretful. About anything."

"Oh, I've got regrets, Barb not being one of them, but yeah, I do have them. What happened with your father back in the day is one of the biggies, but I'm not regretful within the definition of being 'full of regret'."

" ... You've hurt a lot of people, haven't you?" I more accused than assumed.

She rolled her eyes, then looked directly at me with that tricky smile again. Finishing off her drink, she shifted her freight back to the wet bar, asking a seemingly off topic question over her shoulder.

"Listen to much Floyd?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"That'd be a no. Pink Floyd, you've heard of them?"

"Yes."

"Well, they did this song about thirty years ago called Thin Ice," she told me, turning around after placing her glass on the bar. "It always appealed to me, became an anthem for my life, such as the Burchell drive made it. You should give it a listen so you can remember how it is for me next time you expect me to grovel at your high and mighty feet in apology."

With this dismissive advice, Sheila casually left the room.

Steven

It may have been the car trip, possibly the last three months altogether, but I slowly became more and more weary. It began to hit me while checking out a room not many have in their home, that being a small sickbay with an actual nurse who wasn't there at the time, but was in the house and on call according to the sign on the door.

I had to keep reminding myself that I had the run of the place on orders from above as I ran through the computer's list of in-house pharmaceuticals. I wondered if any of them were antipsychotics and how in hell my aunt would see her own sickbay as a necessity. Was she that eccentric? Her backyard and the way she liked to show off her bra seemed to point to that as an easy answer, but easy answers don't always apply to those of us who share the last name, 'Burchell'.

Thanks to Mum, I'd grown accustomed to toting a small notepad and a short, slender, metal pen, both of which fit into my wallet. I produced these items and began copying the list, soon noting phonic similarities within different families of drugs.

I finished up, stowed my info and poked around further on the computer until that fatigue began working its way further in. At one point, I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose for thirty seconds, feeling the room spin slightly before shutting the computer down and leaving.

On my way to my room, I thought again of Mum's reaction to me as of late and how I really had changed. I had a pretty good idea of why that was as I thought of the nice, cold beer waiting in my fridge, but I wondered again about her adjustment, that override switch that would ensure her own way with me should it come to that. Did it not last and was she wondering why? Or, was it still there and she refused to use it because she didn't want to inhibit her new and exciting 'other son'?

"Fourteen fucking people," I mumbled as I made my way.

It seemed so new and shocking every time I thought of it and I wondered if I'd ever get over it. Not to mention my father. I supposed it was the contribution her parasite had made to her life in addition to the hell her mother had put her through that made her the way she was, but that didn't change the fact that my mother was deeply disturbed, no matter which way one counted up her parasite.

This, of course, begged the question of Ashleigh's sanity. She seemed very measured and sane, but anybody who didn't know my mother like I did would say the same of her, so who could tell? And what about Sheila? Kitten? Myself, for that matter.

I sighed heavily, the same questions from Saint John settling into my head. Except this time, there was one big difference, that being Ashleigh, the great unknown. She could help if she was sane and genuine. For that reason and because I already respected her, I wanted to believe she was, but that only made it all the more important to be the proper detective.

Entering my apartment, I went straight to the fridge for a beer, then the open veranda door, noting Stanley's exploration of the living room carpet on my way by. At the railing, I could see Mum, kitten and Gina along with another woman down at the pool. I closed my eyes and felt the warm breeze on my face, actually a little content for the moment, thinking of what it would be like to call this home when a knock at my door startled me out of my sleepy funk.

"Come in!"

Most of my sleepiness went away at the sight of Ashleigh. She wore a barely knee length, short sleeved dress of black with small white polka dots. It buttoned up the front and she only left a moderate amount of cleavage visible, allowing the opaque material of the garment to add sex appeal by way of the dress's very flattering fit and the darker shadows of her skimpy panties and bra beneath it. Black lipstick and nails along with her black hair made quite a statement as she moved with a natural grace towards the balcony with a warm smile. It was the kind of confident, sure grace that a Martial Arts expert has.

"I take it you like my outfit," her sultry voice assumed.

" ... Sorry."

Coming to my side to place her hands on the railing and look out over the back yard, she assured, "It's alright, sweetie pie, I wear nice clothes for a reason."

"Uh huh," I responded, a bit hung up on the 'sweetie pie' thing in addition to her body. (What in hell was it with that affectation, anyhow?)

"Girl watching?" she asked, looking in the direction of the pool.

"Not at this distance," I answered, getting a grip on myself like a good detective would. "Only two of them I can watch, anyway."

"Yeah, sure. By the way, thanks for treating Sheila decently. I know your mother wouldn't approve."

"She's never done anything to me," I replied.

"I don't mean to be nosy, but did you tell your mother you were speaking with her?"

Here it was; my turn to have the talk with Ashleigh that Sheila, Mum and possibly kitten already had. More informal than her den, but I would have preferred to see that room.

"No, I didn't tell her."

"She'll find out sooner than later."

"I know."

" ... Do you like your apartment?"

"Very much, thank you."

"How about the cat?"

"Nice touch," I gave her with a slight grin.

"Don't you like cats?"

"Got nothing against them. Never had one."

"Your mother never had a cat when you were growing up?" she asked, looking at me as though this was quite odd.

"No. Why?"

"She loves cats, so does Sheila. So does kitten and so do I, along with Mum, her mother, her mother before her and her mother before her."

"Really?"

"When Kathleen and Sheila were kids, they had this cat named 'Kitty'. Some knob from across the street ran her over and what they did to him was pretty cruel."

"She told me the story," I said, nodding, "but how do you know about it? Mum said you didn't hang around them because of the age difference."

"I was sitting in my window smoking a joint while they were climbing out of theirs. I watched them run over there with those spiked pieces of plywood, wondering what the little maniacs were up to. I soon enough found out when the ambulance showed up across the street. The point is, we Burchells love our cats and I'm surprised your mum never had one, or several."

I shrugged my shoulders, took a sip of beer while I glanced at her chest and, instead of asking if I could grab her tits, asked, "You smoked joints?"

"Sure. I still do."

I smiled as I looked away, but got called on it, her demeanor friendly and almost fun loving like my other mother's could often be under the right circumstances.

"I see she's impressed her high society values on you."

"Well, it's just... Well, I've been walking around your estate and checking things out, getting used to thinking I was the guest of some kind of royalty or something, and here you are smoking pot like the people on the east side."

"East side?"

"Vancouver."

"Oh, puh-lease!" she laughed, shaking her head at me. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you're a mama's boy."

"And on that, I guess I have to assume you do know better."

"You're talking about my investigators. I'm afraid your mother wasn't very happy about that."

"I know. I gotta tell you, I'm not either. Even though I can understand the reasons you gave us, but I have to wonder just how far you went."

"As did she," Ashleigh replied, more serious now. "Steven, I don't want to hide anything from you and I don't intend to. That's why I wanted to speak to each of you, in addition to the opportunity for some 'one on one'."

"Okay," I allowed, encouraging more from her.

"So, we'll just get this stuff right out of the way so that you and I can move on."

"Okay," I repeated.

"But you have to be honest with me as well."

"O-kaaay..."

"Uh huh," she grinned. "Nevertheless... Remember Mrs. Toole?"

"Uh, my grade twelve biology teacher?"

"Yes. She had some very pressing issues with her personal finances that fall, so I made a little deal with her. She reported to me on... you."

"Mrs. Toole was a spy?"

No, nothing like that. I simply had her keep a journal of your behaviour and such so I could understand who you are. Or were. You don't seem like that person anymore."

"You ain't kiddin', Auntie, but Toole still amounts to a spy."

"Don't be silly. She didn't tell me anything she wouldn't have told your mother on parent/teacher day and, since I am your aunt, what's the harm?"

" ... I suppose, it's just... You know, Toole didn't even like me."

"Your other teachers didn't like you, Toole hated you. She knew you were responsible for whatever happened to her aquarium and every form of life in it. Especially when you stood up in class, pointed at it with a smile and said, 'Look, Mrs. Toole, it's an ecological nightmare!'"

I laughed out loud at that, barely managing to swallow a mouthful of beer first.

"That aquarium was her pride and joy; what'd you do, you little freak?"

"Well, this is a bit inglorious..." I warned with pride.

"Let's have it, you can't shock me."

"She stepped out of the room for a few minutes and I pissed in it."

" ... You're kidding."

I shook my head, laughing a little again.

"What, like... right in front of the rest of the class?"

"I had my back to them," I chortled.

"Oh my god, what have I invited into my home?"

"You can choose your friends, but not your family."

"I wouldn't choose any different in you if I could, Steven. Alright, here we go with something else. This might take you aback, so just... give me a chance to explain, alright?"

"Alright."

"Promise?" she asked with a serious grin.

"Yeah, I promise."

"Please remember that. Okay... First of all, it was me who your mother and mine felt watching them. At that point, I had to take an active role which is why I also, uhh... Do you remember having an odd dream a couple of weeks or so ago that would have maybe pointed you in the direction of Shoreline Residential Facility?"

"That was you?" I asked, stunned and immediately recalling Sheila's similar story.

"I'm afraid so."

"But... how did you...?"

"We've met before, you and I. Twice."

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember meeting you."

"Not necessarily."

" ... You mesmerized me."

"I'm sorry, but I had to. The first time we met, you were in the Saint John Public Library, staring at a shelf of psychology texts with one already in your hand. You were on the wrong track and I had to make sure you wouldn't miss the truth of what was going on with your mother. So I left a sort of marker within your consciousness. It enabled me to... guide you, but there's never any telling what a person's mind will do with such directions by the time they dream it, and I'd never tried with another such as what we are.

"The second time was while you were looking at a painting in the front window of a small art gallery one evening. My very gentle guiding didn't seem to be working and I had to be blunt, so I put an idea into your head in a more direct way."

I nodded, remembering how I just suddenly knew Marie was in Saint John after I stepped away from the display window of that gallery, how I believed it. Of course, it wasn't any belief of mine, but knowledge of hers, information she'd shared with me without my knowing.

"Why couldn't Mum sense you'd done it?"

"I'm good, sweetie pie."

I didn't respond to this, but only looked at her, still avoiding her eyes out of recent habit with everyone I came into contact with at that point.

"The reason I did these things," she went on with a light sigh, transferring her weight to one hip as she leaned a bit more on the railing, "was because I needed you to be aware of what was what before you got here. I didn't want to have to convince you because, as I know you've seen, there are problems that need to be dealt with in this family. Two very immediate ones in particular, one of those being your mother."

After a short pause between us where she regarded me quite frankly, I suggested, "Okay, let's slow down a minute. You have to understand that I don't know who, or in the case of this family, what I'm dealing with. I've only just met you and, while you seem very sincere, I don't know you. Were it not for the undeniable resemblance between us, I'd have no proof you're even related to me."

"I'm aware of that and I expect, before long, both you and your mother will know I'm exactly what I say I am."

"So, you know about what happened with us in Vancouver," I assumed.

"Your father's fraud charges? Yes. I also know of the following investigation into you and your mother. Hell, it was all over the news anyway."

"Do you know where my father is now?"

"No."

"What else do you know?"

"Let's see... I know your ex-girlfriend's name is Staci, I know you were the Captain of your swim team and that you're a Jujitsu black belt... I know you graduated with honours and that you're gifted with natural business and number skills. I know about your first job in Saint John, your love of libraries, your fear of what's happening to you and your mother, and that you two are having sex with one another."

I have to credit myself with keeping my cool and delivering a proper and timely comeback while my foundations rocked.

"Se-? What!? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Okay, now I also know you're a good liar. A very good liar. If I didn't know better, I'd have bought that little-"

"Look, I don't know what put that idea into your head, but I can assure you right now that Mum and I are certainly not ha-"

"Oh, give it up. Yours and your mother's share of the family heritage wouldn't be awake if you weren't having sex with another Burchell. I know this because that's how it was awoken in me, thanks to my mum and, since I know it wasn't me, Sheila, or kitten that's gotten to you..."

" ... (Sigh) Super. Just... super." I softly complained as I flushed, looking down at the pool area.

"Count yourself lucky, sweetie pie. You won't turn out like her because of that, because you got it nice and early like we should."

" ... I- I won't?"

"Nope. So, now you have nothing you can't be completely honest with me about, do you? I mean, what could be worse in your own mind than fucking your own mum, right?" she asked with a warm, yet teasing smile.

"Okay, I'd rather you didn't do that, because it's not like you probably think it is and it just so happens that-"

"I know, that attraction between us. It's hard to deny and I don't blame you one little bit. My mother and I shared something very special before she became... what she became. I feel it for you right now and I know you feel it for me, although not as strong as you do for your mother because of that connection you have. You shouldn't feel awkward about it, either. We Burchells are different and that's that."

"How much do you know about what's wrong with us?"

"Wrong with us? Uh, well, more than you do. And yes, I'm willing to share, but I'd rather do that with all of you as a group. I don't want anybody left out of anything in this family, especially on this matter but, before I'm able to do that, another immediate problem aside from your mother needs to somehow be resolved."

"What's that?" I asked.

"How we're going to inform Kitten of her family heritage."

"Kitten?"

"Yes."

" ... 'We'?"

"Yes, 'we'."

"I have to be honest with you here," I told her. "I'm sure Kitten's a nice girl and all, but my first and only concern is Mum."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Ashleigh patiently explained, taking my hand and leading me out of the sunlight and inside my apartment. "You're a Burchell, she's a Burchell. Your problems are hers, her problems are yours because that's how a good family works."

"I don't even know her," I protested as she gently tugged me down to a seat beside her on the couch.

"And that's why I called us all together, isn't it? So we could get to know one another. Look, you might not want to hear this, but you can't handle your mother, not on your own. You need us like we need you."

"I'm getting better... stronger. I can..." I trailed off as she shook her head, halfheartedly inspecting her hands in her lap.

"No, you can't. She's all over you and you know it."

She lifted her gaze to mine and we regarded each other quite seriously for a moment before she gestured to my face and spoke softly.

"She did that to you, didn't she?"

"What?"

"Your face. It's pretty obvious that somebody did a number on it, and I happen to know that there aren't too many average people running around out there who could. You weren't fighting back and there's only one person on this planet who you'd allow to do that to you. Isn't there?"

"I deserved it."

"I doubt that."

"I've made horrible mistakes."

She shook her head again and sighed, offering, "I'm not gathering evidence on her, you don't have to protect her from me no matter what she says, but I'm telling you that she'll probably do it again."

My fatigue began to return as I closed my eyes, relaxing my back into the upholstery and sighed, "What do you want?"

"I want you to stay here. I want to know you're going to stay here and back me up because I'm going to need it if things are going to work out for all of us, especially for your mother."

"That's asking a lot at this early stage."

"I know, but whether you know it or not... your mum can never leave here."