Chapter 9: Home

The cab pulled next to the curb, and I stepped out, waiting for the driver to open the trunk. Picking up my suitcase, I paid him, and walked to the apartment complex. My parents had been living in one of the flats for the last ten years. It had been my home for many good years before I finally moved out, and it was still home--of some sort. I had my room here, since I didn't have a place of my own. I had planned to rent a small flat or buy into one of the new condos being built, but my parents pointed out that it would be a waste of money. Well, they had a point. At the rig-site, I had a cabin. When I had to spend a few days in the office, the company had accommodations available for the staff at the compound. On my off-duty time, I was traveling and staying at hotels or pensions in coastal towns. If I had rented or bought a place it wouldn't have been used much, unless I rented it out. Besides defeating the purpose in the first place, that would have brought another set of problems--dealing with tenants, taxes, contracts, etc.

Of course, there was another--unspoken--reason. My parents wanted me to be financially independent. They had hopes I would eventually quit that job and place, and move somewhere safer and more civilized. If I had committed myself to paying for one of the condos, I couldn't easily leave my current job. I could afford the mortgage with my current salary. However, if I had to get a job in my hometown or in another big city--even a good paying job--the salary wouldn't be anywhere near half of what I was currently making. What's more, I didn't want the company to shackle me with a golden chain. I had gone to great lengths to ensure the privacy of my financial affairs. Every month, I pulled most of my salary from the bank the company used, and transferred it to an account with a small, independent bank, where a friend of my sister worked. When I had to finance the purchase of my car, he helped out, ensuring that there wouldn't be any contact with the Company; they only asked for official copies of my salary slip and contract. When my sister heard what I did, she figured out my reasoning and accused me of being paranoid, but she had no idea how things worked in some companies; I had seen quite a few examples of arm-twisting and manipulation. I wasn't going to give anybody that kind of leverage over me. Maybe she was right, but I haven't forgotten what Musashi wrote 400 years ago, about how to exploit your opponent's weaknesses in a combat situation. I had taken those lessons to heart and knew they did apply to many modern situations.

Climbing the stairs with my suitcase in hand, I tried to compose myself. I felt somewhat light hearted and happy, for the first time, but I didn't want anybody to notice that, and ask unnecessary, uncomfortable questions. I wasn't ready to answer any more awkward questions than I had to. I knew they would be curious why I had to spend the very night I was back in town, away from home. They didn't need to know, and I could get away with a white lie. I didn't like resorting to a lie, so I usually ignored the questions I didn't want to answer. They rarely got insistent, but they still did sometimes, as if I was a 15 year old teen (forgetting the long standing understanding that if I was avoiding a question, then they would do well to steer clear off the subject, unless they were ready to accept a half truth or an unpleasant truth). There had been exceptions to the rule, of course, when we laid our cards on the table, but they had been few and far between.

Before I knocked, the door opened, and my sister stood at the entrance, with a smile on her face.

"It's Mitch," she shouted over her shoulder, informing my parents, before stepping aside to let me in.

I set my suitcase to the side, closed the door behind me, then hugged her.

"Hey, Sis. What are you doing here?"

"What do you think? I was waiting for you," she replied.

When we parted, she gave me a quizzical look, and dropped a bombshell. "Did you change your aftershave?"

Shiiit! Did I have Dana's perfume on me? Oooh, maaan! That's all I need now.

"Nope. It must be the new shampoo," I replied with a straight face.

She wasn't convinced, but before she could interrogate me, I steered us towards the living room. Mom was a bit misty eyed, especially when she noticed the white and gray stripe on my temples, but she didn't make any comments. She was happy to have me back, away from that 'God-forsaken place.' Dad was his usual quiet self, exchanging a quick greeting. They looked healthy, although Mom seemed to have more worry lines around the corner of her eyes. I didn't want to think about that, but when I saw my parents I always felt guilty about working in that part of the country against their wishes.

"We were expecting you last night, Mitchell," Mom said.

"Sorry. It was a last minute thing. I couldn't get away."

I noticed Sis was listening in with interest and I was afraid of what she might say. She usually kept her quips private; I guess it was something we both learned as young siblings, them and us--the parents and the children. But on rare occasions, she would say something just to see me sweat. She was careful though, knowing a payback could be coming.

"Yeah. Mom said that you ran into an old friend... at the airport," my sister got into the conversation. Although she didn't ask, the question was there, and she expected an answer.

I shot a warning look at her, but she was enjoying herself. Her female radar had recorded an unidentified object, and she was curious to find out what it was she had stumbled upon.

When I didn't answer, she came back. "So, whom did you see?"

"Katherine Tanner!" Mom warned her.

Thanks, Mom!

"It's all right, Ma. She's being Kathy--as usual. If she didn't, I would be asking 'who's this stranger'," I retorted with a smile, trying to get my sister off the hook with Mom, while paying her back.

Kathy was properly admonished, but she wasn't going to give it up so easily. "Well, Bro, you better treat this strange girl nicely, or you may be sleeping on the street tonight."

"Katherine! You behave yourself this instant," Mom said, then turning on me, she warned me, too, "And you too. I will not have you two bickering like children." Then, with a more gentle tone, she added, "Mitch, we're having your room and your father's den painted, so most of your stuff has been moved to your sister's place. It was her suggestion." She gave Kathy a pointed look. "But, if she's changed her mind, we can make other arrangements."

At that, my sister shook her head. "No. I miss him. I want him to stay at my place. I was just teasing."

"Teasing him? You call being impolite and nosy... teasing?" Mom asked her, the amused expression taking the sting out of her words.

"Sorry, Mitch. I didn't mean anything," my sister said with a soft voice.

Taking a step, I gathered her in my arms. "I know, Kathy. I missed you, too."

She relaxed in my embrace, then whispered, "I like your new shampoo."

She was incorrigible, but that was Kathy. It was going to be an interesting couple of days with her. I wondered whether I would survive the experience. As I was contemplating the coming days, my stomach growled, making my sister laugh.

"You didn't eat anything?" she asked.

"I had a big breakfast."

Extracting herself from my embrace, she headed for the kitchen. "I'll whip up something for you."

"Mitch, you better go and help her out. Otherwise, you might die of food poisoning or something," Mom said loudly, making sure Kathy heard her.

"Maaaa!" Kathy exclaimed. "I'm a good cook. And if I weren't, it would be your fault. You taught me how," she retorted.

"I know, dear. I was just teasing," Mom replied, giving her a devilish smile.

"Teasing? Tarnishing my reputation is teasing?" my sister responded, trying to get back at Mom.

Before the two women could get into a protracted give and take, Dad interrupted them. "Mitch, son. You better get to the kitchen. Don't wait on these two cats."

You're a brave man, Dad! Do you know what you're getting yourself into? If they turn on you, you're dead meat!

"Your dad is right, Mitch. You better get yourself something in the kitchen. And you, young lady, if you want to be over my knee, I'll make the time. Just ask," Mom said with a grin.

Heh! That was a threat Kathy and I could both call. She never hit us throughout our childhood, but then, we never gave her cause to make true on her threats either.

"Well, Sis. What's it gonna be? Kitchen or..."

She shrugged with a wry grin, and headed for the kitchen, with me following behind her. I wasn't very hungry, despite the growling in my stomach, so we got busy making a salad and an omelet, while chatting. When she finished preparing the salad, she set a plate on the small kitchen table.

I didn't take too long to clean up my plate, while Sis watched me wolf down the food, rushing through lunch--a nasty habit I picked up at the college due to the short lunch breaks between classes, and later, continued at the rig. When I finished eating, Mom came in. Sis collected the dirty dishes, and placed them in the dishwasher, and we sat around the table. Mom was in a good mood and I guess she was happy to see both of us in the house, but I noticed she was perturbed about something. When I looked askance, she shook her head as if to say 'nothing, ' but I knew she had something in her mind.

"Come on, Mom. What's on your mind?"

"You look tired, Mitchell. You're too young to have white in your hair. It's not in the family. That place is slowly killing you. When are you going to come back home, or move to someplace else?"

Ma, when are you going to stop asking the same questions? I don't have the answers. When I have them, you'll be the first to know.

I looked at Kathy to see if she would come to my aid, but either she was told not to or she didn't want to get pulled into this one, so she averted her eyes.

"Don't look at her, Mitchell. She's as worried as we are. You think she doesn't think about you every time she watches the news at night?"

"Please. I'm not going to get drawn into a discussion. It's a closed issue. Don't believe everything you see on TV or read in the newspapers. It's not that bad at all. Do you really believe I would stay there if it was as dangerous as you think? Give me some credit, will you?" I said, trying hard not to be argumentative.

"I don't know what to believe! But I know what I see. That place is wearing you down."

"Sometimes it gets too busy, and I don't get enough sleep. I haven't had much sleep in the last two days, and last night I had a few drinks. That's why I look like the way I do. You've seen Kathy in the same condition, when she pulls a 36-40 hour shift in the emergency ward. She does that more regularly than I do. So, what's the difference? I tell you. There's no difference. None at all," I retorted with a tired sigh.

"I get a day off after those long shifts, and I don't spend my time out in the open, like you do. Two months ago, they reported 53 C in the shade and regularly upper 40s for the region. Last year, you had -20 C for several days in December. You spend most of your time outside, exposed to the elements. Your hours are irregular," Kathy said.

You too, Sis? What is this? I just arrived and I'm already being grilled. This discussion was settled almost a year ago. I'm not going to rehash it!

"That's why I get several weeks of off-duty time. To recuperate. Like all other people who work on the rig. Most of them spend more time out in the open than I do. They have been working in different countries, in different climates for years. I didn't see anybody dying from hard work," I replied, with a low, controlled tone.

This was trying my patience, especially because it had been a long time since we had a similar discussion. When I took a moment to reflect on it, I realized there was one notable difference between this and previous ones--I wasn't angry or even irritated. I was ticked off, a bit, and my patience was slowly running out, but I didn't feel any anger or even resentment at being pulled into the same subject, taking it in stride.

What has changed? Was it Dana?

My mind was busy with that question and I almost missed the signal between Kathy and Mom. Mom was going to say something, but I saw Sis shake her head 'don't.' Kathy was watching me carefully, and I felt like I was under an electron microscope.

Does she suspect something?

I learned early on to never underestimate her.

I hope the next couple of days aren't going to be a trial.

Sometimes, Kathy didn't know when to stop, and I wasn't ready to talk. Well, I hadn't talked with Kathy about anything in the last few years. I knew I clammed up pretty hard every time she had tried to probe, and on a few occasions I had to remind her to mind her own business. I knew it wasn't a nice thing to say to my sister, but siblings or not, I didn't appreciate any intrusion to my personal life and what I considered my private affairs. I had been somewhat distant, not only because of what happened in the past, but for other reasons as well.

Kathy and my parents thought my decision was based solely on getting over my wounds, and, I believe, they didn't realize I didn't want them to see me struggle every day. I was still struggling, but it had gotten better--except yesterday! I also needed the space; my personal, private space, without intrusions. I wouldn't have that while trying to work a regular job, with regular hours, and regular people who had certain expectations (especially social expectations). I would have drawn unnecessary attention, and I knew I didn't need. It was bound to get me a bad reputation, if not into trouble with people.

I didn't want the people who knew me (including my family) to witness what I was going through. 'Far from the eyes, far from the heart.' That might not always apply to family--my family--but it did to a certain degree. I had moved into a protective shell, and letting them witness my daily struggles would just add to the feelings of guilt. It would have been impossible to maintain an appearance of normalcy in an office. And, since I didn't fit into a regular world, I had my doubts about holding a regular job for more than a few months. That would have been another blow, another worry for them. They were used to seeing me succeed, and seeing me switch or lose jobs, or being a misfit, would have torn them worse than their current worries.

It's not that they wouldn't understand my reasons. I'm pretty sure they would have. I know they would still love me if I had failed, but it would have destroyed me for sure. I know what I am. I'm too proud and stubborn. I wouldn't, couldn't settle for failure. If I had stayed and found a job here, I was destined to fail. I'm sure of it. I didn't fit in then, and I still don't. That day may come. Perhaps, sooner than I expect, but it's too early to talk about it and get their hopes up.

Changing the subject, Mom asked about my plans for my vacation, but before I could get a word in, Kathy cut in. "You're taking me out to dinner tonight, Bro. Some place nice."

"Sure. Wherever you want," I replied, my attention still on Mom.

"Close your mouth, dear," Mom said to Kathy, who was staring at me with a gaping mouth.

She sputtered, then asked, "You... You're not going to argue?"

"Kathy, I always enjoyed taking you out. I only argued when our schedules didn't match, or you had those annoying friends of yours tagging along. You know I don't care for some of them, and yet, you insist."

"Why? All of the girls are nice, and the guys behave themselves," she replied, with a defensive tone.

Shit. I don't want to get into this in front of Mom. Why don't you zip it up?

"Some of those girls are too nice," I replied, pointedly.

Sensing trouble brewing, Mom interrupted us. "Mitchell, that's not a nice thing to say about anybody, let alone those girls."

"They are shopping for a boyfriend, and worse, yet, some of them are shopping for a husband. I'm not shopping for a girlfriend or a wife. I have no interest in them, and they don't take a hint. And, that's all I'm going to say, on this subject," I replied with deliberation, my tone making it clear I would not tolerate further discussion.

"Moving on to your question," I said, swiftly changing the subject. "I don't have any specific plans. I need to get the car to the garage for a check-up. Then I'll head for the coast. There are some towns I want to visit. I really liked one place last time, so I might spend most of my time there, exploring."

Kathy broke in with another question. "Sarah is having a party on Saturday. You'll come, won't you?"

You're insistent, Sis. Never give up trying. I'll give you that, but neither do I. You should know that.

Sarah was her best friend, and a girl I had known since we were kids. She was a very nice girl, not one of the sharks who made my hair stand on end when I had to socialize. It'd been several years since I had seen her, and what I remembered was a girl with whitish blonde hair, gray eyes, and a slightly chubby body. But, she had the voice of an angel and played the guitar like a virtuoso. In junior high, she and my sister had started taking guitar lessons, and Sarah turned out to be exceptionally gifted. Not only was she good at playing the guitar, but she had a voice.

Man, did she sing! Angels must have been listening to her crystal clear voice in the heavens, every time she sang.

Many times, I had found myself taking a break from my studies just to listen to their practice sessions next door in my sister's room, relaxing to her voice.

Fond memories, indeed.

"Sarah... How's she doing?"

"She works in Orthopedics at the other hospital, but we get together whenever we can. She still plays the guitar and sings. I hope you haven't forgotten that."

"No way I could forget that voice. I always thought she would quit school and turn professional, being a singer. I remember her having problems in med school."

"She did. Repeated a year. She wanted to go professional, but her parents and I talked some sense into her."

"She didn't resent it?"

"No. She's happy she continued with her studies. She still has time for music, and she could still try singing professionally, if she wanted to. But I guess, she didn't want it that badly. When did you see her last?" she asked.

"Ummm... I don't know... five, six years ago... Why?"

Instead of answering me, she gave me a smile filled with mischief, making me uneasy.

"What exactly are you cooking up, Sis?" I asked, apprehensive about what she might be planning to spring on me. She always managed to find a way to catch me unprepared. Although her surprises had been pleasant enough--more often than I cared to admit--there had also been many occasions when they had annoyed the hell out of me.

"Ohh... nothing, really," she replied casually. It was too casual for my liking, and seeing I was getting antsy, she hastily said, "Don't get your knickers in a tw--"

"For your information, I don't wear ladies underwear!" I cut her off.

"OK! Don't get your pants in a twist! It's really nothing. She's just... changed..." she replied with a teasing smile.

"Changed?" I repeated her words with a smirk. I found it hard not to suspect her motives, after her casual remark.

"You'll see when we go," she responded cryptically.

Hell, no! I'm not going to be suckered into anything. I know you Sis. I know how devious your mind can be...

Giving her a teasing smile, I said, "Well, that could be difficult... I'm not sure if I can make the party."

Her face fell at that, because she knew that she couldn't cajole me in any way to go to a party, even if it was Sarah's; not after what I had said about the other girls, and knowing that there bound to be a few of them attending the same party.

"You know, you can be a real spoil sport, Bro. But I'm being polite. I won't say that you're being a sourpuss."

Mom caught her breath at that quip, but instead of admonishing her, she took her side. "She's right, Mitchell. You are being a rat about the whole thing."

"I didn't say I wouldn't go. I said, I might not make it," I retorted.

I wanted to know what she was planning. I didn't like being caught unprepared or suckered into something I would dislike. Kathy immediately recognized the opportunity, but was reluctant to come out with whatever she had up her sleeve. In the end, she gave up the pretense, and said, "Sarah turned into a babe, Mitchell. You would hardly recognize her."