Chapter 39: Twenty-Eight

March 18, 1994, Apple Orchard Bed-and-Breakfast near Montpelier, Vermont

“This place is fantastic!” Gina gushed when they returned to the great room.

“We certainly think so,” Katy laughed. “Steve, are you healthy enough?”

“For you, always,” I grinned, knowing what she meant.

I got a strange look from Gina, who knew Katy was lesbian and in a committed relationship. I winked at Katy, stood up, and walked over to her. I took her in my arms and looked deeply in her eyes.

“You’re up for it?” she smirked.

“Lead the way!”

She took my hand and led me towards the front door which was also towards the staircase that led up to the bedrooms. I heard Gina whisper to Jessica.

“Those two? Really?”

Jessica laughed, no longer able to keep a straight face, “He’s going to split wood for her in the barn!”

Gina laughed, “Nice, and here I thought his wood was going to split her!”

That led to uproarious laughter, and as I stopped and turned around, I saw Michelle was blushing.

“No chance!” Amy said firmly, but with a smile. “She agreed to give THAT up when she asked me to move in!”

“So like Josie and Jennifer?” Tom asked.

I nodded, “Pretty much exactly like that. Katy met Amy after she moved here and bought the property. She used to live with us in Chicago.”

“Bethany told me some of the details, but I guess she was in Madison most of that time.”

“That’s right. Katy was one of the original gang, along with Dave and Cindi.”

“You were dating Stephie and Kara then,” Katy smirked.

“Of COURSE he was!” Gina groaned, but with a smile.

“That was about the time Eduardo and Elyse got together for the first time, too. And Julia was in a class with Dave and me, though he was dating Cindi at the time.”

“This sounds like Days of Our Lives,” Amy laughed. “Or Falcon Crest!”

“Katy hasn’t told you all the stories?” I asked, putting my arm around Katy and pulling her close to my side.

“Watch where you put your hands, Buster!” Amy teased. “She HAS told me about your thing for Irish girls with freckles in certain places!”

“See why I call him incorrigible?” Gina laughed.

“Bethany uses other words for him,” Tom grinned.

“I BET she does!” Katy laughed. “And they probably can’t be repeated in front of Birgit!”

“Daddy is best!” Birgit said fiercely.

Tom laughed, “And here I thought it was because they were curse words!”

“No, she knows all those,” Kara smirked. “Birgit, what does Aunt Joyce call Daddy?”

Birgit giggled, “Shithead! And Aunt Stephanie calls him ‘dumb boy’! And Katt calls him «jävla idiot»!”

“What’s that last bit?” Tom asked.

“That’s Swedish for ‘fucking idiot’,” I grinned. “Birgit, are any of those true?”

“No! Daddy is best! He’s smart! He loves me! He cuddles!”

“There you have it,” I grinned. “The final word. I dare ANYONE to challenge my daughter on that topic!”

“Forget it,” Bethany said. “I’m not risking life, limb, and eternal enmity! That said, she might be a bit biased!”

“Might?” Kara asked sotto voce.

“I think I’m going out to split wood. Any of you alleged men want to help me by carrying some of it? I figure it weighs less than a hose reel!”

“I hate doing those qualifications,” Tom said. “Carrying those hose reels up the tower in full ‘turnout’ gear is no fun. I’d also much rather do my job than fight a hose full of high-pressure water.”

“Running into burning buildings doesn’t seem like my idea of fun,” Bo said.

Tom shrugged, “It’s part of the job, but really, it’s a very small part. More than 80% of our calls are rescue calls unrelated to structure fires. And that percentage is rising. Building codes, better materials, and regular inspections have really cut down on the number of fully-involved structure fires we’re called to. And even then, unless there are reports of people trapped or incapacitated, we don’t go into burning buildings. That’s usually a job for the regular firemen.”

“I thought you had to be a fireman first?” Bo asked.

“I am, but like your doctor there, we specialize. I can’t be a paramedic without being a fully-qualified firefighter. For example, at our station in Hyde Park, we have an Engine Company, a Truck Company, and our Ambulance Company. The first one is what you would call fire engines; the second is what you would call a ‘hook and ladder’ unit; and then there’s us. We’re part of Battalion 17 in the South division, which has other specialized units that are shared amongst the battalions and companies.”

“Where’s your station?” Bo asked.

“1150 East 55th St. It’s about halfway between Steve’s house in Kenwood and the Hospital; six blocks either way, roughly. If Steve needed a response, it could be from the station on South Cottage Grove or us, depending. They’re about the same distance from his house, but further north.”

“Let’s hope that’s not necessary,” I said. “We did that once and it was no fun.”

“You had a fire?”

I shook my head, “An OD. One of my sister’s friends. You guys saved her, but she ended up killing herself with an overdose several months later.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Spring of ‘88,” I said.

“I’d certainly have remembered if I’d come to your house. Do you know who responded?”

“No idea, though the paramedic was one of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Tom laughed, “Pete Muñoz. He’s almost TOO big to be a firefighter! His cousin played football in the NFL.”

“Anthony Muñoz? The Cincinnati Bengal?”

“That’s the guy. He tried to play for the Bucs last season, but his shoulder injury forced him to retire.”

“You boys are stalling and there’s work to be done!” Amy teased.

“Yeah, yeah, Nurse Ratched,” I said with an exaggerated sigh.

“Nurse Ratched?” Michelle asked.

“Never read One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?”

“No.”

“Children!” I complained playfully. “She’s perhaps the best villainess in literature. You know the stereotypical ‘battleaxe’ nurse? The one who’s a cold, heartless tyrant?”

“Amy is ANYTHING but cold,” Katy said with a smile and wink.

“Ahem,” I said, pretending to clear my throat. “The actress who played her, Louise Fletcher, is someone you’ve seen. She plays Vedek Winn on Deep Space Nine. And I can see some similar personality traits in the two characters.”

“Don’t you have some wood to split or something?” Amy said sweetly.

“Forget it,” Kara laughed. “That only works for his daughters, and even then only sometimes.”

“Birgit, does your daddy always do what you want?”

“No!” she giggled. “He’s mean!”

“On that note...” I chuckled.

Tom and Bo got up, put on their winter gear, and followed me out to the barn where we split all of the stacked logs, and re-stacked them in the back of the barn where Katy kept the wood ready for the fireplace. We had a good chat while we worked, and my only regret was that Kurt wasn’t with us.

March 20, 1994, Apple Orchard Bed-and-Breakfast near Montpelier, Vermont

On Sunday morning, after I had spent the night with Michelle, and after a group breakfast, my wives and I decided to take a walk. We bundled up against the chilly air, and headed along the curving driveway towards a trail that started just the other side of the two-lane road that led past the bed-and-breakfast. Happily, we found that the snow wasn’t too deep, and the trail had been walked, so we could make our way through the woods quite easily.

We walked in silence, but I could tell something was bothering Jessica. In fact, it seemed like she might be about to cry.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“What?” I asked, not making whatever connection she thought was obvious.

“He would have been twenty-eight today, you know.”

Shit. Jorge. It was his birthday, and being here in Vermont had made me clear my mind of everything back home. That was intended, but this was something I should have remembered.

“You still miss him,” I stated, then added, “I do, too.”

“Tiger?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve said he knew about you and Stephanie.”

I nodded, “He was pretty astute. I don’t think he gave himself enough credit for that, either.”

“Do you think he knew about my dad?”

“I’m not sure how. I mean, if you didn’t tell him...”

She shook her head slowly, “No, of course not.”

“But?” I prompted.

“It’s just that sometimes when we were talking, and he was insisting I ‘make things right’, he wouldn’t just limit it to you and Kara and the kids, but also include ‘Doctor Al’ as he referred to him.

I wondered. Knowing Jorge, and knowing his intuition and sensitivity, it might just be that he had discerned something. Elyse had figured it out, but only because she read my journals and put some very vague references together in a way that only she could have. Could Jorge, in his inimitable way, have figured it out? If so, maybe that was part of why he felt it necessary not only to help Jessica, but also to remain just aloof enough as to not be drawn into her bed.

“You know, with Jorge, I have no idea, but given everything else, I think it’s safe to say that he knew, or intuited, much more than he let on. He was a pretty keen observer.”

“I’m pretty sure he loved me, too.”

I nodded, “I’m positive; but it was more like amour courtois, ‘courtly love’. That kind of romanticized ideal love of a knight for his lady. A love of dedication and service, according to a chivalric code.”

“But he was attracted to me,” Jessica said.

I chuckled, “And so were the knights to their ladies in the literature. And from that literature, the concept became reality. Life imitates art, if you will.”

“Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere?” she said with a sad tone and rueful smile.

Kara nearly choked on a laugh.

“Well, hopefully without the betrayal and disastrous consequences!” I replied.

“He loved you too, Tiger. Maybe even more.”

I nodded, “And I loved him.”

“I did, too,” Kara added, dropping my hand and stepping around to take Jessica’s free hand. “And I’m grateful he helped bring you back to us. Sadly, I can’t tell him that.”

“Somehow, some way, I think he knows,” I said.

Jessica sighed deeply, “Am I really back, yet?”

“Yes, you are. ‘Mommy’ and ‘Wife’ have come forward, and ‘Doctor Jessica’ has taken a step back at home and with her friends. Have we arrived? Not a chance! But as Anala would have said, and certainly Jorge would have agreed, life is about the journey, not the destination. There are a lot of pitfalls on the path, and we’ve stumbled into quite a few of them. But we’re still on the path, and we’re all committed to walking it together.”

“I love you both,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

March 22, 1994, Chicago, Illinois

“This is a Thai restaurant,” Mitsuko objected as we walked in.

“It’s actually both Thai and Japanese. You saw the sign out front that said Takumi, right?”

“Yes, but the decor isn’t Japanese.”

“No, it’s Thai. But, just wait, OK?”

She nodded. When the hostess returned to her stand she asked my name, and I gave it. She led us through the main part of the restaurant to a smaller, separate room with low tables, decorated in Japanese style. We were shown to a table towards the center of the room and sat down on pillows on the floor.

“Sorry,” Mitsuko said with a nod of apology. “I should have trusted you.”

“They have two menus. You are actually able to order Japanese food at the tables, but in here, you aren’t allowed to order Thai food. I assumed you preferred pure Japanese!”

She nodded, “I do like Thai food, but yes, obviously, I prefer Japanese cooking. Is the sushi chef here good?”

“He’s Japanese and friends with Sensei Ichirou, so I would say yes. I’m not exactly an expert, but I like it.”

“Have you tried other dishes here?”

“No; well, the tempura. I come here for sushi with two of my team who really like it. Most of my staff prefers Thai or Chinese.”

“And you?” she smiled.

“If I say anything other than ‘Japanese’, I think I’ll be in trouble!”

Mitsuko laughed softly, “Very wise!”

A waitress, clad in a tight-fitting dress meant to resemble a kimono, came to the table and presented us with a list of sushi options. We each selected six pieces and I also ordered a plate of tempura with a mix of shrimp and vegetables. After she left, I poured small amounts of soy sauce into the small dishes provided for that purpose.

“More training from your Sensei?” she asked.

“Yes. Soy goes into the dish, not onto the food, and you only pour a reasonable amount, as pouring too much is seen as wasteful and greedy.”

“I’m impressed. I think you’ll do quite well in Japan!”

“But I don’t speak Japanese and there isn’t much chance of learning in time! If I’d known I was going to have to delay my trip twice, I might have taken a course. At this point, I’ll have to settle for the dozen phrases I know.”

“Just watch carefully what others do, and always defer to persons who are older than you or in positions of authority over you. And be exceedingly polite.”

“The same advice I’ve been given by Ichirou-san,” I nodded. “Last time we were about to talk about the tea service when you had to leave for class.”

“I’d like to do that for you, but I don’t have an appropriate place to do it. My parents have a tea room in their home that is absolutely correct. It’s funny, because it’s the only room in the house that is pure Japanese. Everything else is a mix of Western and Japanese styles.”

“That’s true of Ichirou-san’s house as well, though his leans more towards Japanese than American. His daughter’s house is probably like your parents’. My house is mostly Scandinavian modern, though I do have one room that we call the ‘Indian’ room because of its decor.”

“Do you like that style?”

I nodded, “Low tables? Pillows on the floor? Tapestries on the walls? Yes. But, like with everything, I’m eclectic. A mix of styles. So in that room are some basket chairs I bought at Pier 1. The kids love them because it’s like they’re climbing into a nest. But my favorite room is the sauna. And it has a nice tub to soak in.”

“You know about Japanese baths, I take it?”

“I do.”

“And you know the reputable ones are not like in You Only Live Twice?”

I chuckled, “I do! I’m not going anywhere near a sōpu rando! I suspect I wouldn’t find one in Oguni in Yamagata province! And I won’t be in any big city except Tokyo, and only then when I arrive and leave.”

The waitress brought our food, and we began eating. Mitsuko nodded approval when I used my chopsticks and turned the sushi ‘top-side’ down to dip it in the soy sauce and then ate it.

“If you, as a «gaikokujin» are able to use chopsticks, and know the proper way to eat sushi, and behave politely, you’ll do fine! I still want to find a way to hide in your suitcase!”

I smiled, “It would be easier to buy you a ticket, but I don’t think I’m supposed to bring someone along with me that might interfere with my training.”

“Might?” she asked, cocking her head to the side and smiling.

“Might,” I said. “Aikido, remember?”

She nodded, “I remember.”

We finished eating our sushi and tempura, and after I settled the bill, we walked out the building onto Clinton Street.

“Thanks for lunch!” she said. “I very much enjoyed it. Will I see you on Sunday morning?”

“Yes. We can meet at the dojo, if that’s OK. We won’t be able to spar, but we can practice. Remember, I’m still not allowed to strike anything.”

She nodded, “I remember. But your head is fine now?”

I chuckled, “Physically? Yes. Mentally? I know quite a few people who would dispute that.”

Mitsuko laughed, “Indeed!”

We exchanged a light hug, and I walked her to the L, then headed back to the office.

March 24, 1994, Chicago, Illinois

“You were right,” I said to Jamie.

“I TOLD you it would be boring and nothing would happen. Preliminary hearings are like that. Even in criminal trials.”

“So now what?”

“We review their discovery request and I file objections. I have two weeks to reply, and file our discovery brief.”