Chapter 30: He’s A Smart Young Man

November 24, 1982, Goshen, Ohio

I made decent time, despite leaving Chicago during rush hour. I drove through a Wendy’s in Indiana for my dinner and arrived in Goshen just before midnight. As I expected, my mom was waiting up for me.

“Hi, Mom!” I said.

“Hi, Jonathan!” she replied.

We hugged.

“I just stopped in to say ‘hi’,” I said. “I’m sleeping at Bev’s.”

“I don’t think Mr. Newton is going to be happy about that.”

“And if I sleep here, Bev will not be happy. One of those things scares me far more than the other!”

Mom laughed, “You always did what Bev said! Fortunately, she was level-headed.”

“Not one night,” I chuckled. “We were lucky.”

“Not using birth control was foolish, but understandable, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. There was no way to plan for something spontaneous, that neither of us had even thought about ten minutes before it happened.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then. Just so you aren’t surprised, Glen will join us for dinner tomorrow.”

“So it is that serious,” I replied with a smirk.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, young man!” Mom said playfully.

“Mom, you neither need my permission nor my approval. Do what makes you happy and I’ll be happy, and I won’t judge.”

Mom smiled, “Thanks. He’s not hiding in my bedroom.”

I laughed, “As if I could say anything, given I’m going to sleep with Bev!”

“Sleep. Uh-huh.”

“Good night, Mom!” I replied with a grin.

We hugged again, and I walked out of the house. I decided to leave my car in the driveway and walk over to Bev’s house. She flung the door open before I could knock.

“Jonny!” Bev exclaimed.

“Hi,” I said.

She hugged me, then took my hand and practically dragged me into the house.

“How’s Heather?” I asked.

“Good. She’s asleep and should sleep until around 4:00am. She’s not quite making it through the night just yet, but she’s getting closer. Mom and Dad are already in bed. That’s where we should be!”

“I am tired from my long drive and could use some sleep,” I replied.

“Jonathan Edward Kane, I’m going to get grief from my dad about sleeping with you, so sleep better be the LAST thing on your mind at the moment!”

“Yes, Dear,” I deadpanned.

“Oh, stop! Come upstairs.”

“I didn’t expect to cum down here!” I grinned.

“What?” Bev smirked. “You don’t want to put on a show for my parents?”

“I will if you will,” I teased.

“My dad would have a heart attack! He couldn’t even handle being in the room when I was in labor!”

Bev turned off the lights, and I followed her up to her room, where I saw Heather asleep in her crib. Bev shut the door behind us, with the room dimly lit by two night lights.

“Just put your bag on the desk,” Bev instructed. “You can unpack in the morning.”

“OK,” I replied, setting my bag on her desk.

“Just like that first night?” she asked impishly.

“Six times?”

“Yes! And in the morning, I’ll give you a slow, sexy blowjob!”

“You don’t have to,” I replied.

“I want to! Now, fuck my brains out like that first night in the hayloft!”

“Your wish is my command!” I replied, starting to undress.

November 25, 1982, Thanksgiving Day, Goshen, Ohio

“Now that’s the way to wake up!” I declared as Bev slid up to kiss me after a ‘good morning’ blowjob.

Bev laughed, “It’s the least I could do after last night! I lost track of how many orgasms I had from your tongue and from screwing like crazed bunny rabbits!”

“And now that we have it out of our systems, we can talk?” I asked.

“Let’s shower, Heather will need to nurse, and we should have breakfast.”

“OK.”

We got out of bed, put on robes, and went across the hall to the bathroom. We quickly showered, then returned to the bedroom to dress. Heather was still sleeping, so we went down to have a light breakfast, given it was Thanksgiving and we’d be stuffing ourselves mid-afternoon.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Newton said when we walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” I replied.

“Sleep OK?” she asked with a slight curl of her lip.

“I did, thank you,” I replied.

“Did you stop in and see your mom last night?”

“I did. She let me know that Glen was joining us for dinner.”

“He’s a very nice man,” Mrs. Newton said. “I’m sure you’ll like him. Scrambled Eggs and English Muffins OK?”

“Yes, please,” I replied.

“OJ and coffee, Jonny?” Bev asked.

“Yes, please; but not together!”

“I see you haven’t changed, ‘Jonny’!” Mrs. Newton observed.

“And you know very well that Bev, given the opportunity, would do something like that just to mess with me!”

“Who? Me?” Bev asked, trying to sound innocent.

“Yes!” Mrs. Newton and I said simultaneously.

“Being pregnant made you more serious,” I said. “Which I totally understand. And now you have Heather, so you have to be even more serious and responsible.”

“And it sucks,” Bev sighed. “But I made my bed.”

“You love Heather, and that’s what matters, and I don’t believe you would go back and change anything; in fact, you told me so.”

Bev smiled, “I did, because I love her more than anyone or anything in the world.”

“As you should.”

“Good morning, Jonathan,” Mr. Newton said, coming into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mr. Newton.”

“The drive down was OK?”

“Other than a bit of rush hour traffic in Chicago and Northern Indiana, smooth sailing.”

“Interested in either the Giants—Lions or Cowboys—Browns?” Mr. Newton asked.

“Not particularly, but I’ll watch football with you anytime! Though this season is a mess.”

“And needlessly so because the players basically folded,” Mr. Newton observed. “We can watch the early game, and it should end before dinner is ready.”

“Bev, is that OK?” I asked.

“I don’t mind, so long as I can sit and cuddle with you.”

“Of course.”

We had our breakfast, then went back upstairs because Heather was demanding to be fed. As I did every time I saw it happen, I watched in awe as Heather nursed.

“I’m still blown away by that,” I said.

“She’ll get solid food soon,” Bev replied. “But just things like applesauce.”

“How did you learn all of this?”

“From our moms and Heather’s pediatrician. There are books, too, but I think your mom and my mom did a pretty good job raising us.”

“More than pretty good,” I replied.

“How are things with Huifen?” Bev asked.

“Over,” I replied. “I’m pretty sure it’s because I told her I couldn’t make any commitments at this point and wasn’t ready to be a couple because of what it implied.”

“Your bit about the logical progression?”

“Yes. To me, it seems like once you start down that road, the destination is clear.”

“Is that because of what happened with Lily?” Bev asked.

“I think that was instructive, but she and I are on good terms again. She came to a similar conclusion that we were both too young to make the commitment that going steady had implied. Now, she’s dating casually and we see each other from time to time.”

“Were you seeing her while you and Huifen were together?”

“Yes, but remember, Huifen and I weren’t a couple.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you were cheating.”

“I didn’t take it that way, just that things were still casual between Huifen and me, which, as I said, is what I think led to her deciding she didn’t want to continue seeing me.”

“She broke it off?”

“We agreed to end our regular dates and since then she hasn’t returned my calls.”

“Well, that’s rude.”

“There may be more to it, but it’s just rumor and speculation.”

“Now you have me curious.”

“Sorry, but you’ll have to stay curious because I only have third-hand information and it’s pure speculation on some unknown person’s part that got back to me via another person.”

“Changing subjects then, did you find out anything about your dad?”

“Sworn to secrecy still?”

“Yes, of course.”

“My friend found out from a friend at the FAA that Continental Airlines Flight 11 crashed on May 22, 1962, en route from Chicago to Kansas City, Missouri. Everyone on board was killed, but there was nobody named Mark Knopf on the flight. There was a male passenger named Marcus Brand of around the right age, who did work for Hallmark and whose employment ended the same day as the crash.”

“Whoa! So he gave your mom a fake name?”

“So it would appear. There’s too much correlation for it to be just a random coincidence. If my mom made up the story, how did she get so much right? I doubt the Enquirer ran a list of victims, ages, hometowns, and employers. I mean, sure it’s possible, but I think it’s the truth. I could fit everything together except two things — the date they met and who called whom when mom found out that he’d died.

“One possibility, which I think is most likely, is that both things had happened — Mom had called his work and discovered he had died, and later, his roommate found the photo and called Mom. I could see Mom telling my Aunt Wendy that his roommate had called, rather than revealing she knew where he worked or any other details about him.

“That leaves the question of when they met, and there is no way to reconcile meeting at a Reds game a week before I was conceived, because Opening Day is always in April, and I was conceived in February. My Aunt Wendy said Mom had gone to the game on a class trip as a Sophomore, and that could have happened in September 1961, and she did sneak out to see him. Whatever happened then, we know she didn’t get pregnant until sometime in February 1962.

“The one problem with that theory is that my mom has insisted they went on only one date, or whatever you want to call it. For that to be true, it could be that they met, he went home, returned to Cincinnati, and that’s when they got together. That would make all the pieces fit, with only minor discrepancies, the biggest of which was the date of the Reds game.”

“I think that makes sense,” Bev replied. “Do you know what caused the plane crash?”

“A guy who was in financial and legal trouble bought life insurance, brought several sticks of dynamite on board the plane, and blew it up in the hopes his wife would collect the insurance.”

“No way!” Bev gasped.

“That’s in the FAA report, according to my friend who works in a Congressman’s office. She spoke to her friend who works at the FAA, and I can’t imagine why they’d make up that story.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Nothing. There’s no point in upsetting my mom, really. The man who is most likely my dad has been dead for twenty years. It’s possible I have cousins or grandparents, but I don’t feel a burning need to meet them. And certainly not if it would upset my mom.”

“I think you’re probably right about that. Your mom’s boyfriend is a really nice guy.”

“No need to do a sales job,” I chuckled. “Mom is free to do what we did last night, if that’s what she wants to do!”

Bev laughed, “I wasn’t doing a sales job! He really is a nice guy! And I have seen his car in her driveway early in the morning, and I don’t mean picking her up for work.”

“So they like to have breakfast together,” I replied with a grin. “Good for her!”

“I was positive you’d be OK with it. Mom was a bit concerned.”

“Why? I mean, I don’t need a dad at this point and I don’t expect him to try to be one, if he and mom decide to get married or whatever. He’ll be my mom’s husband, not ‘dad’. I’d expect to call him by his first name.”

“Changing subjects again, what will you do in your new job?”

“An analyst gathers information, collates it, and uses it to predict the future!”

“That’s really possible?”

“Not with complete certainty, but the thing is, you don’t have to be right every time, just more than you’re wrong, and there are ways to protect yourself if you’re wrong. Remember when we had the conversation in Chicago and you said you didn’t understand a word that I’d said? I could go on that way for ten minutes and not run out of strategies to lock in profits and prevent big losses.”

“But somebody has to lose, right?”

“I think it depends on your perspective. If you buy a stock and it doubles in price, and you sell it to me, and it doubles again, have you lost anything?”

“No. Well, I guess the profits I would have made if I hadn’t sold it to you.”

“OK, but you still came out ahead, right?”

“Yes.”

“So it doesn’t have to be a zero-sum game. That said, the public is basically screwed and most of the profits go to companies like Spurgeon and their clients. People who trade on news headlines or quarterly reports are always behind the curve. As an individual investor, the deck is seriously stacked against you, so your best strategy is to buy so-called ‘Blue Chip’ stocks that pay dividends, and hold them for a long time, slowly accumulating shares. You’ll make a profit and if you accumulate enough, nicely supplement your retirement, whether it’s a pension or Social Security. And if you start as early in your career as possible, it adds up very quickly.”

“You’ll have to help me once I’m working.”

“You can count on it!”

“Dad is likely to ask you about getting engaged.”

“I have gay friends, and that’s cool, but I am NOT going to get engaged to your dad! And besides, he’s already married!”

Bev laughed, “I think Dad would react less well to that comment than to how he did to you spending the night. He has a serious problem with gays.”

“A lot of people do, but I don’t get it.”

“It doesn’t gross you out?”

“Why should it? Nobody is trying to make me do it, and that should be the standard in my mind. Do what you want, just don’t force anyone else to do it, and don’t expect any special privileges. Well, assuming everyone is consenting.”

“Drugs?”

“I have no interest, but I could get all the coke I could handle just by going upstairs. And honestly, if that’s how some guys want to spend their money, that’s on them, not me. Fortunately, that’s not Mr. Matheson’s vice.”

“Let me guess, his secretary?”

“His new, tall, blonde, Swedish secretary!”

Bev rolled her eyes, “Hired for her ability to take dick ... tation?”

I laughed, “She seems competent as a secretary. I can’t say about anything else. I avoid those kinds of relationships at work, especially with the secretaries to the Suits.”

“Won’t you be one of them?”

“Yes, but I’m not going to behave the way they do. No coke, limited booze, and no screwing my secretary, or any other secretary for that matter. I tried that once, and honestly, it’s not worth it.”

“That was the girl who quit, right?”

“Yes. And to be clear, I wasn’t screwing her.”

“I don’t care, Jonny. You know that.”

“I understand, but I felt it was important to point out, given what I just said. And, actually, to be fully honest, I did have a one-time fling with a secretary, which was also a major mistake. Those two things convinced me it was a bad idea all around. But the difference is, I wasn’t their boss.”

“You do seem to make friends easily,” Bev smirked.

“I hang out with college girls from a Catholic college, so no surprise, right?”

Bev smirked, “So Frank Zappa was right about them?”

“Does your dad know you have those tapes?”

“He’d kill me! I’m sure you remember he had a fit about the Steve Martin album with the comment about the cat being the best...”

“I do. Did you replace the tape he destroyed?”

“Yes. It’s in the drawer under a box of pads, so he’ll never, ever find it! Dad would die before he’d touch them!”

“I was clueless until I started living with Bianca and Shelly. I mean, I know the most basic stuff from health class, but you and I never talked about it and you managed our encounters such that it was never something that came up.”

“Oh, it came up alright!” Bev teased.

“That was YOUR fault! My best friend turned into a girl!”

“Can I ask you something about that?”

“Of course.”

“You never tried, even after that first night. You always let me decide.”

“Well, that first night, you took me totally by surprise. After that, I figured it was better for you to decide, and while we didn’t do it every night or even every week, I was happy. Heck, there were times when it was as much as six weeks, and that didn’t bother me in any way. Did it bother you that I wasn’t asking?”

“No, but I wondered at times. I finally figured out, after Bob, that you just wanted me to be happy and to be my friend, and so you didn’t put any pressure on me.”

“Did he pressure you?”

“Some,” Bev replied. “But I think it was the normal High School boy pressure, if you know what I mean. He wanted to get laid, and so did everything he could to make it happen. I told you why I did it.”

“Water under the bridge,” I replied. “I don’t care what you did with Bob, except to the extent the little girl who is nursing right now exists. And, honestly, what was Bob’s contribution?”

“Sperm,” Bev replied. “The state is having to drag child support from him tooth and nail. I didn’t tell you, but they got a court order attaching his savings and they garnished his wages from his part-time job. He’ll owe back payments which they’ll collect when he starts working full time after college. And he has to pay even if I get married, all the way until Heather is eighteen.”

“No man who had any honor or dignity would fight paying child support,” I observed.

“He actually tried to claim I trapped him by not taking my pills, but the judge said the law doesn’t distinguish, and he’s responsible.”

“Now I have even less respect for him than I had, and that’s saying something.”

“I know you would never do anything like that. You have too much integrity.”

“Thanks. OK to talk about us?”

“Yes.”

“Now that we got last night out of our systems, where are we?”

“I think the same place we were when I visited. You need two or three years to get established so we could buy a house and afford daycare, and I need to finish college and get my teaching license.”