X-Ray Vision Ch. 11: Family

"You've met Khang?"

Billie shook no! "No call to, not so far. Maybe I'll drop by sometime, say Hi!"

I resolved to repair that oversight, take her by the shop. See what Khang could do for a sassy kid with eclectic tastes! That would be worth seeing.

"She's cool. Smart! Tiny Vietnamese woman, beautiful, sharp face, generous nature. Those hands! Black eyes I could just fall into..." Nick was smiling a dreamy smile; Billie looked shocked, but disguised it quickly, turned it into a grin.

"A genius at clothing design! Never had anything fit so well, look so good. Never had anybody do that for me. Maybe why I'm so taken with her. She didn't have to do that, do anything, but she did. Looked at me, right at me, saw who I was, what would work for me."

Billie had a wondering look. There! That was the hook to get her to go over, meet Khang. Clothes! We'd do that first chance next week.

They talked late, about their day, the Crinshaw life, the Pham's, the other girls at the rooming house. Kelly and Tito and what that was about. Nick's early childhood, gave Billie some perspective on her own.

Bonding time for two orphans, two young people needlessly separated from their families, alone just for being who they were. Certain they'd made the right call, not compromising their morals. But still, lonely.

I said nothing, they didn't need my opinion or permission or endorsement. I appreciated their hardship, being on their own. Some of it. Something like my own life, a little.

Much like Jillian's! Even Khang's! What we had here was a convention of orphans, women who for one reason or another were doing it without benefit of parents, nobody to fall back on. Independent, figuring it out for themselves.

Well, not now of course. Now they had me and Jillian; they had each other. They'd fallen into probably the best group of friends they could have hoped for, each with their skills and talents, their different histories but the same for all that. Folks who understood them, accepted them. Loved them.

Not really fallen into. Jillian had made this all happen. Saw what needed to be done and done it like a boss.

God, I love that woman.

I got tired for some reason, my nap long forgotten, yawning and stretching. Said goodnight, left them to it.

...

Jillian

Back from the theatre, Khang was already in her nightgown, cross-legged on the floor, a bowl of nasty Vietnamese snack-chips, some off-brand soda. Channeling her teenaged years? We were not going to get drunk, apparently.

"You promised to tell all! Spill!" She grabbed a handful of chips, started tossing them in, crunching them like chewing glass.

I guess I was the entertainment, the floorshow tonight! Ok, I had a whopper of a story to tell.

Where to begin?

"Greg sees through everything; just knows what's inside without trying. Like Cyclops, a beam he can scan around. You've seen him do it! Turning, looking but not with his eyes. Ever since he was a kid."

Her hand frozen halfway to her face, mouth open with a wad of half-chewed chips inside.

"Everything? He sees what I'm wearing?"

Not too hard to do, she wasn't wearing much at the moment. So much leg for such a tiny woman! Whenever she shifted on the floor she flashed her bush, that shorty nightgown didn't cover shit.

I nodded. "He sees what your lungs are doing too, how your kidneys look. What you ate last night."

"Ugh. Gross!" she looked disgusted, looked at that chip in her hand. Put it back in the bowl.

Thought about it, chewing absently. I waited her out; she had to process this a bite at a time, chew it over in her mind.

"Can he tell if we're sick?"

Bingo; the thousand-dollar question, the important one.

"You're both healthy." She relaxed at that. "If anything was wrong, he'd have said."

She instantly saw the possibilities: the free medical care; a brother-in-law who gave consultations any time she needed! Started to be excited about this all.

"So, you're not pregnant, how? He can't see a few cells?"

Nope. "Not a microscope. No ability to focus in. Just what you'd see if something was right in front of you.

"It doesn't seem to matter how far away; he can see the astronauts in the space station! Says they're far away but not actually smaller, that's just how eyes work."

"So, he knows what's happening in China? In Timbuktu?"

No again. "A couple of blocks maybe, then it gets all scrambled because there's too much. See, nothing but air between him and the space station, at least when it's right up there. So, he can see.

"But when I'm at work, he's got nuthin. Too much to take in, between us."

Another break to absorb that. She was relieved, I could see it in her posture. Her sense of privacy was returning, that was important to her. To most people, I guess.

Wheels turning; then "Is this why he won't go into the lumberyard center?"

"Right! So much stuff, not just the boxes but everything inside too, everywhere he looks. Gives him a headache.

"That's where I come in; I do the buying, the price comparing and bargaining. Saves him trouble, and pain."

She nodded. "He sticks to his 'private investigation'. Looking for lost stuff.

"Why is it always money?"

Good question. "He says, folks always carry money, everybody, all the time. So, it's the most common thing to lose. He finds a wallet, a purse, he returns it if he can. But just cash? he keeps, calls it 'salvage'."

She marveled at that, thinking about the possibilities, the opportunities. I already knew the next question: cheating at cards.

Khang surprised me.

"Tell me some of the marvels he's seen."

Oh my dear big sister! So much more honest than me! I flushed, embarrassed. Collected my thoughts.

I told a rambling tale of old skeletons, alligators in the sewer, the fort under the park. Junk in the river, in boarded-up basements, in alleys and drainpipes. The subway train under the bank.

She got tired of that pretty quick, not really a history person. Waved the flies away, returned to the critical question on her mind.

"So, you're not preggers yet. Because why? If he can't see it?"

Right. "He just sees changes that happen when you've got a bun in the over. The way stuff sits; where fluids are sloshing; swelling and tenderness and such. From long practice, seeing it every day, he can read people pretty well.

"He'd eventually be able to see, when it's big enough to make sense to him. Know how it's going, that everything is fine. Or not."

Khang got serious at that, paled a little as the consequences occurred to her.

"He ever see that? Something not... going fine."

I nodded seriously. "Pretty much every day. Bad knees; bad backs. Cancer and ruined livers and bruises, abuse patterns and drug addiction. Tumors and bad hearts and kidneys."

"That's gotta be a load, he sees somebody hurting like that. And nothing he can do!"

She understood quick, quicker than I had.

"It is. He never had anybody to share that with before. I try, but I can hardly imagine how it must feel. Not just guess; to really know, without any doubt.

"He does what he can, passes out breast-cancer screening fliers and so on. That's what he's doing on those walks every morning, besides foraging. Folks mostly ignore him, but he says he has to try."

I left out the part about watching his folks die; this was an information session, not a pity party. Some other time.

She was touched! I thought she was maybe going to cry; my big sister was actually a softie under all that bluff!

She collected herself, said it out loud, a little unsteadily.

"I love Greg, you know that, right? Because you love him, that's enough, that's how family works. But now, geeze..." she couldn't go on, not right away.

I let it sit, that was maybe enough for one day. Poured some pop into her teacups, gave her one, we sat and slurped for a bit.

"No wine tonight? I could use a drink."

I demurred. "Got a big day tomorrow, I want to be well-rested."

I stayed a while, watched Bachelorette with her, tried those nasty chips but our hearts weren't in it. So much to think about. A watershed moment in our family, the elephant on the table now trumpeting and trampling everything that went before, re-making every memory into something else now, different meaning viewed through the 'Greg' glass.

Khang turned off the show before it was half over, finished the pop by sucking the dregs from the bottle. Burped.

That meant, Time to Go! We got up, traded a kiss on the cheek. She started to hug me, awkwardly, unsure, so I just gathered her in close, held her tight. She kept the clench for a beat longer than usual, my big sister needed that.

"Tell Greg, Thanks for trusting me."

"No problem! No more stories, he wants to come clean with family, close friends. Kept this secret for too long.

"Says he'll tell Phuong next, but Phuong already seems to know somehow, most of it anyway. Maybe Phuong could invite him to tea? For a son-in-law chat? Make it official, Phuong deserves that courtesy. Could you ask him?"

A nod, another kiss on the cheek and I was out of there. Left Khang staring into space, trying to digest all this.

...

Sunday

Gregory

Jillian came in late, I think, I hardly stirred, just put an arm around her. Mumbled "How'd it go?", got a brief reply, something about chewing it over. Not weirded out, so that was good. As good as I can expect.

Woke early, sun barely up. A knee in my thigh; an arm across my chest, bony elbow where it hurt. Snuffling adorably into my pillow, drool saturating the case under her chin.

We're sleeping together now! Every day! Sudden joy, thinking about that.

Probably need a bigger bed. Or maybe not, this is nice, elbows, drool and all. Wait on that one.

Extracting myself, she just rolled over, stole the blankets but no problem, I'm getting up. Shower and dress, Sunday clothes, no different from every day I guess, like a bum according to Jill.

Went out to the kitchen, stopped.

Billie was up, dressed, sitting in the stuffed chair. Suitcase on the floor! I hadn't been looking, giving her privacy, she took me by surprise.

"Going someplace? So early? A field trip?"

She grinned, no worries, not mad or in trouble.

"I'm moving out! Today! Can hardly sleep with you horndogs skulking around, trying to get me out from underfoot so you can bonk."

Pure Billie, laid it out there, rude and honest. I smiled despite myself.

"You can stay, you know? We actually enjoy you, no problem having you around. Plenty of opportunities, one way and another." Important she know, she has options.

A nod, but determined. "Gonna go live in that house where Nick lives. Already have half the first month saved; more by the first, enough. Nick coming by, soon, to take me there."

I relaxed; the women had this worked out, plotting last night, had a plan in place. I worry too much, even though it's not my business. I just want my friends to succeed!

And it would be good for her, living with Nick, with Kelly. They'd take care of her, make sure she wasn't alone, lonely. Mrs. Pham would do the rest, feed her, keep her safe.

A brain flash: our service!

"How will the business work? Will I be manning the phone from now on? We'll miss calls!"

She looked at me like I was confused. "I can access that from there, get the messages from the machine as usual. I'll forward calls when I'm on phone-duty, take them there. No change."

I had no idea that was a thing; Billie proved again she was the technical part of this deal.

"Well, congratulations on..."

A knock at the door, then Nick came right in. Totally comfortable treating this place as her own. That felt right, somehow.

"Heyo!" A greeting to Billie, a nod to me.

They hugged, Billie picked up her suitcase, ready.

Nick, to me: "I'll take her there, introduce her, help with the interview. Get her settled. Like Mrs. Pham said, She's in good hands, we'll take care of her, don't worry any longer." Nick was reassuring me!

So now, I had two nieces? A growing family. Maybe we did need that place in the country, for family gatherings!

Billie was all ready to go, but Nick gave her the high sign, gotta say Goodbye properly! So little sister put her suitcase down, faced me. I went to shake her hand, but she was having none of it, went in for the hug.

I maybe got a little teary, hugging my business partner, my housemate, my niece goodbye. Had gotten used to this insolent sassy smart woman underfoot. I held the hug maybe a little too long, broke when she got impatient.

"Gonna miss you!"

"Not for long, I'm gonna come over so much you're sick of me." A sassy grin, reassuring somehow.

And they were gone. And the place was quiet again, too quiet. Not even the tick of Billie's clock.

How quickly I'd gotten used to a houseful!

This baby couldn't come soon enough.

...

I was concerned about breaking the news to Jillian, Billie gone without saying goodbye. But of course, she already knew, had plotted with them the night before. Why she was so bleary this morning, up late last night helping her friends scheme.

Sunday was our slack day, for walking the beach, maybe doing some grocery shopping. Slow lovemaking on the porch, once the sun was high and the air warmed a little.

It was great to have the run of the place back, be able to casually feel up my sweety, get surprised by her sudden flirtations. Still, we were both subdued, feeling out how we felt about Billie, here then gone again, so quick!

Khang came by at lunch, eyed me like I might be a secret perv, a little nervous. Why Jillian had called, insisted, wanted her to get over her worries, her suspicions. See that Greg was still the same guy he always was?

By the time I'd fed them leftover carnitas, supplemented with some Chinese I found in a take-home box back of the fridge, still good, some toast and cheese, they were laughing and talking and ignoring me like normal.

Before she left Khang asked "You have any more surprises? Can you fly? Heat ray vision? Pick up cars?"

I was dumbfounded, just stood with my mouth open, nothing to say. The girls laughed, Khang elbowed me hard in the side, my teasing sister-in-law again. Left with a kiss to Jillian and a promise to meet again tomorrow night. A parting shot to me, Phuong expected me for tea, once he had time in his busy schedule.

Jillian was fine after that, happy her sister was happy, draped herself over my shoulders, smooched me lazily.

"That went well."

"Phuong? Busy schedule? What's that about?"

"He's just making you wait, wait on him. Grandfather's prerogative!"

That made sense. I didn't mind, tea with Phuong was always good, informative.

We took a walk, talked about the weather, a book Jillian wanted to read. Should we get a newspaper subscription? I objected; they deliver but won't take them away afterward. Piled up, made a mess. Jillian thought I was nuts, but ok.

Sun going down, I was getting out my new suit, eyeballing the shine on those black shoes critically, Jillian changing in the bedroom.

"Sweetheart! Where did I put the shawl? For this dress!"

I scanned, didn't see it at first. Lingered a bit on her sweet soft form, maybe just a tiny bit more padded now, the swelling inside showing as sexy curves on the outside. I am going to love pregnant-Jillian, I have a pregnancy fetish, I guess? No problem: she's gonna stay knocked up for years apparently, I'll have all the satisfaction I could ever want.

Scanned again, more careful this time. Found the shawl wadded up in the bottom of the dry-cleaner bag Khang had returned the dress in, fallen off the hangar.

"Thanks, hun!" She pulled it out, shook it out, tried it over her shoulders, over one shoulder, primping in the mirror. Stuffed it back in the little bag, stuffed it down the front of the dress for now, hardly made a bulge.

She came out, made a show of oohing! over my new jacket, shirt, pants. The shoes worked with it; she complimented me. I didn't own up to Billie's part in that.

Larry honked and we headed out, Larry managing not to gawk this time, holding the door for her, then the other side for me, all proper and helpful.

Jill leaned against me in the back seat, content, not talking. Watching the sunset over the ocean each time it appeared between the houses, flashing light on her face like a golden beacon, making her beautiful, more beautiful. Serene somehow. And I knew why, and was gonna own up tonight.

The ring was in my jacket pocket, making a considerable bulge. Jillian probably thought it was a roll of bills, accustomed to me squirreling away thousands in my pockets, unconcerned.

Larry let us out, at the entrance to our early supper reservation, an old place famous around here for their Italian food. Old Italian family, Conti's, I'd warned them about a blocked drain once, saved them a bundle on sewage cleanup. I kept that story from Jillian, not appropriate dinnertime conversation.

Anyway, Papa greeted us as friends of the family, gave us the best table, no problem, the place was half-full this early. Bread and wine set out, a chianti bottle of good olive oil on every table. The waiter made a fuss, brought some fried ravioli, dressed it with oil and parmesan, laid out the best silver, served us with a fancy spoon, winked at me broadly, bowed out silently.

Jillian was a little surprised, not used to such personal consideration at dinner. Didn't know that Papa had prompted everybody, Greg is proposing tonight!

"Mama Conti makes this ravioli by hand! I like it; I hope you don't mind I ordered ahead."

Jillian shook her head No! and tried one, chewed thoughtfully. Raised an eyebrow.

"Seafood?" Ravioli was usually just cheese, maybe some spiced sausage.

"Caught yesterday! Mama shops every morning, right off the boat."

She liked it; she finished it off herself, left me one or two but ate like a starving longshoreman. Surprised herself at her appetite, didn't surprise me, I knew why.

The next course was soup, Italian Wedding soup, a not-so-subtle suggestion of Papa's, served in China bowls with two handles, like small casseroles.

She tried a bite, nodded, smiled at me. "They know their spices here! This is delicious!"

Started spooning it down, again with enthusiasm. Stopped herself, put her spoon down.

"I'm gonna pop this dress before we even get to the show!"

I smiled my biggest smile, confusing her again, pouted at what she thought was teasing.

Papa came to clear the soup, looked alarmed at her half-full bowl. "You don't like my soup? Can I get you something else? I'll get you something else!"

Mama bustled up, shushed him. "Let the girl alone! Of course, she likes your soup! It's the dress!" That in a stage-whisper, audible to everybody in the room. Led Papa away, still confused, concerned. Hushed conversation in the kitchen.

Last course, lasagna. A tactical error on my part; no way could Jillian eat this without sartorial disaster. She looked at the plate put in front of her, a huge mound of meaty cheesy pasta, steaming from the oven, threatening to slump into a glorious pile in front of her eyes. She looked at me helplessly.

I could see my time had arrived; any more delay and this could reach critical dinner disaster. I reached into my pocket, clutched the ring in my now-sweating hand. Reached across the table, took her hand in mine.

She let me take her hand, perplexed. Felt the ring as I pressed it into her palm, startled, pulled her hand back. Open her fingers, looked at the ring without understanding.

"What's this?"

Not the reception I'd been hoping for.

"A... a ring?"

"What for?"

Going downhill fast. Cut to the chase.

"So I can ask you to marry me. So you know I'm serious? I asked Phuong, he said it was time, the ring is 'adequate' and I thought..." I shut up; I was babbling.