This exchange set John to thinking just what could change his sister. Sometime, somewhere she had developed a bad attitude. Now his mind ran through the variables and the possibilities. Was it being deprived? No, she had gotten whatever she desired. Was it, then, getting too much without working for it? To her credit, she was a hard working girl; helping around the home, busy with school and holding down a full time job. It must be something less obvious. Certainly she was given plenty of attention—in fact, she demanded attention. Perhaps father was the key. He couldn’t recall a moment of true affection from him toward his sister. For some reason he remained at arm’s length, neither being mean nor loving—just indifferent. John had watched them play a wary game of emotional chess. But his sister was resilient, or was she? It was hard to tell. For one thing, she never seemed to be mad for long. Either she was forgiving (probably not) or she simply hid things well. John knew a lot about hiding things, but he was now on his own “coming out” mission; the recent events had thrust him to center stage, both literally and figuratively.
“Hey, mom, I’m going out.” It was sister passing by him in a blur of motion, throwing her scarf around her neck. Her hair had been combed to perfection. She keyed in on moving quickly toward the kitchen door, but mom, the ever-present sentry, began quizzing.
“Well, where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Answer my question, please.”
“I’m meeting Sue at Ridley’s for some ice cream. I won’t be back late.”
“Ridley’s? She hates that place, and the people in it. Something’s up.”
“Um…well, call me before you leave to come home.”
“Like…why?”
“I just want to be sure you are safe, that’s all.”
“Mom’s on to something, too.”
“Alright,” she said, almost inaudibly, and she was off into the night.
The recent break up with Charles made John think that perhaps a rendezvous of a different kind was taking place. But it was uncharacteristic of Mary to meet another guy without announcing it to the world. Her ego normally trumped any reservations she may have had. She wanted everyone to know that she was desired, that she was important—and that she was firmly in control.
He quickly made it up the stairs, into his room and over to the window that had a good view of the front yard and the street. It had started to rain so slightly. But he could see his sister walking with an iron purpose. She flipped part of the scarf over her head to protect herself from the rain. Her pace picked up.
Suddenly, something came over John. “Bing, bum, data dum…” He quickly opened the door to his closet, grabbed his baseball jacket (a decent substitute for a raincoat) and unlatched the window. The rain began to come down harder as he made his way onto the ledge. He then slowly slid down the drain pipe at the corner of the house. He reached the ground safely and paused for a moment, shocked at his own athletic ability. He looked up from whence he came. He had never done this before and had truly amazed himself.
He snapped out of this bit of self-congratulation and bolted down the street. He kept up a good pace for a number of blocks. Somehow, he had lost track of his sister. He could make out the sign for Ridley’s in the distance. This would be the normal route his sister would take, but there was no sign of her. He was now drenched in rain and perspiration. He took a deep breath, scanned the landscape, and then decided to head off in another direction. Perhaps she needed to get something out of her locker at school. This was very typical of her, and the school was left open until sundown for just that purpose. He cut across Bay Street. This would be the shortest route. He was quickly upon the rear entrance of the school. And, yes, there was his sister standing in the entrance way, looking rather nervous. No doubt, her behavior was suspicious. The whole Ridley’s thing was obviously a lie. She was now looking for someone.
John could see a figure walking down the hallway toward the entrance. His sister motioned to the person in question. The mysterious figure came closer. It was a man, and there was something familiar about his walk. The two figures met, but his sister was in front of the man, blocking John’s view. They seemed to be having an agitated conversation. Just as he suspected, his sister was having a secret rendezvous. But the man seemed a whole lot younger, and shorter—and definitely not a high school student. What was going on here?
Then, as his sister turned aside, he could make out the face of the young man in question. It was…Brian! What in the world was she doing talking to him…and what could she possibly be talking to him about? His thoughts raced. He then noticed that his sister had placed something in Brian’s hand, and it sure looked like money. Was she paying Brian to have him bumped off? Perhaps she had really lost her mind this time. The two seemed to come to some kind of agreement; they actually shook hands and were all smiles. John hid himself behind the fence that separated the actual school ground from the athletic field. His sister headed for the front of the school, a relieved expression covering her face. This was all too much for John.
It now occurred to him that mom and dad probably discovered that he was missing, and he raced full speed back down Bay Street. The steady rain had turned into a torrent. In what seemed like a flash, he was back at the house. It was now twilight and he could see that there were lights on in the living room. But nothing seemed out of order. He could hear no loud protestations or panicked screaming. There was nothing that would indicate that his disappearance had been discovered. Surprisingly, the back door was opened. Odd, because mother always made sure that it was locked. He had to get to the stairs, and surely he would leave a trail of water that would give him away. He took off his wet sneakers and tip-toed down the hall. Sure enough, mom and dad were in the living room. Dad, of course, was occupied reading the paper and mom was knitting. Up the stairs he went and into his room. Made it! He looked back at the path he had taken. Curiously, there was no trail of water. He touched his shirt. It was almost as dry as when he left the house. And then he noticed that the sneakers he was carrying so carefully were dry also.
The next morning at breakfast his sister was unusually quiet. “Pass the milk, please” were the only words spoken. She kept her gaze down at the table and her neck unmoved even as she rose to put on her coat, getting ready to leave for school. John watched her stiff frame make its way to the other side of the kitchen and out the door without so much as a “goodbye.” Mother had been watching from the other side of the kitchen while tending to an omelet at the stove. She turned quickly and flipped the now almost burned food. She never burned food, she never wasted a thing; everything had its value.
After a large pause, John said, “Well, mom, I’m off.” He grabbed his coat, gave his mother a hearty hug, and made his way out. He arrived at the bus stop promptly. There he encountered Brian, as usual. But something was different. It appeared as if Brian was actually ignoring him. Here John was at the bus stop early—just he and Brian—and his arch adversary was saying nothing. Their eyes met momentarily, but Brian turned away. Brian looked almost…almost afraid.
Finally, John said, “Hi, Brian” rather awkwardly. No response. “Hi, Brian. How are you?”
Instantly, Brian was on him. He grabbed John by the collar and pulled him close. “Look, idiot. I can beat your brains in…I can do it no matter what…” He stopped and released John like a trained dog.
“No matter…what? No matter what somebody told you, Brian?” He wanted desperately to get to the bottom of this whole affair. He wanted to tell Brian right out that he had seen him with his sister. And he wanted to know what she had given him. But, amazingly, he restrained himself. Brian was still indeed dangerous, and he didn’t want to take chances.
They eyed each other from at least ten paces, but no more words were spoken. The other kids arrived as usual. There was the typical pre-bus banter about issues of low regard. No one said anything to either John or Brian, but they surely knew that something was different.
That day at school
Brian and John must have passed each other in the hall a half dozen times, but there were no words—not even a glare. There was no doubt that Brian’s reticence to confront John only made the latter’s mystique increase with the general school population. But this was one mystery John had to solve.
There are many mysteries in life, but none more mysterious than the human heart. Indeed, one of the greatest mysteries of all is not how humans try to fool each other, but how handily they can fool themselves.
The days past quickly and the invisible standoff between John and Brian continued. It was almost as if the two had never met. John thought that perhaps the mystery would never be solved.
It was particularly odd since John and Brian always seemed to share a class or two. This day, something strange occurred; Brian began to seem unsettled in social studies. It began benignly enough; he started shifting in his seat. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead—and he began a low but audible sighing. The teacher, Mr. Henderson, had been discussing the penal system in the United States and how a person’s “record” of convictions followed one through life. It was something people who had criminal records had to live with for the rest of their lives.
“Hmmm…does Brian have a record? He sure was a problem, but the way things are in this school, everybody would know it by now.”
The class ended and the now glazed-over students shuffled out. Brian remained in his seat. John hadn’t moved either, his eyes fixed on Brian.
“Brian,” John said gently, “are you….you alright.”
“Fine,” Brian shot back rather sharply. “Just fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, idiot. Back off.”
There was a long moment of silence. Suddenly Brian broke into tears. It seemed as if some kind of levee in his heart had broken, and all the pent up emotion came pouring out.
“Brian, what is it, man?” But Brian quickly bolted out of the room and vanished down the hall.
Back at home that evening John’s sister also seemed unsettled. What exactly was going on here? The mystery was back on the front burner again. She was not one to ponder and wrestle with her conscience, so this was definitely not typical behavior. During dinner she said nothing, a fact which nobody commented on. But mother’s all seeing eye was upon her. She studied her from across the table like a scientist would a petri dish.
“Are you alright, young lady? You’ve been awfully quite of late.”
“Yeah, just fine.” She stared down into her peas as if looking for some kind of clue.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in the library, haven’t you,” Mom inquired as she got up to put her dish in the sink circling sister like a hungry hawk.
“Yup…been real busy.”
“With a school project?”
“Of course! Of course! Why else would I be in the library?”
“Well, ok…just asking.”
John’s mind started to race. All this uncharacteristic behavior was indeed odd. The library? His sister barely ever darkened the door of one. Her time in the library and her meeting with Brian seemed to coincide. Suddenly, she was a research scholar?
“Yeah, like, I’m off, mom!” Her eyes were still on the plate as she slid the dish into the sink and quickly exited out the side door.
“Well, what was that all about?”
“Um...she’s busy, mom?”
“I guess so.”
So the mystery continued. Actually, John felt that his sister was the mystery. But he didn’t want his curiosity to turn into something more sinister. It would be easy for him to dislike his sister; she wasn’t very pleasant, seemed to care very little for anyone but herself—and had a penchant for being very secretive. Nevertheless, she was family, and he felt an inbred responsibility to figure her out.
CHAPTER 6
Wherein the mystery is revealed.
Brian was not about to let John corner him. His stocky legs moved faster, almost in a cantor toward his destination. John was in close pursuit, but had to break off the interception because it was time for his weekly speech. Besides, his fans were lining up quickly by the side of the auditorium, hoping to get the inside scoop on what the topic would be for the afternoon. That, of course, was impossible as John never revealed it—namely because he never knew himself what he was going to talk about.
By the time he reached the backstage door Brian had disappeared. Now he was in his speaking mode, waiting for unearthly inspiration to move him to new heights of profundity. He knew the drill; there would be no introduction. He would simply step on stage. Most unusual for a junior high school audience, the chatter would end abruptly the minute John appeared. And there he was, resplendent in his black pants and red turtleneck. He adjusted his glasses ever so slightly.
“Students, let’s talk about who we think we are, as opposed to who we really are, shall we?” Mild applause. “Let’s begin by how others perceive us. We know that how others think of us may be different than how we think of ourselves. For instance, we may think we are good looking, when, in fact, we may not be. We may think that we are dumb, when really we are smart. But, you know, the most important thing is our character, don’t you think? I mean, we can think all kinds of things about ourselves or others, but character is most important.”
The gallery of teachers was beaming. A true prophet had arisen, and best of all, this was one that seemed to be helping their cause.
As John spoke he could detect movement among the seats in the auditorium. There seemed to be of a bit of a commotion in the back. Someone was vaulting over the seats in an attempt make it to the rear exit. The person in question was tackled abruptly by what John supposed was a teacher. There was shouting and the offender was resisting restraint.
“Get off me! Get off me now!”
The voice was familiar.
“He was a good man! He was a good man!”
Now there was a phalanx of teachers rushing to the back to the auditorium. The offender was hoisted up and quickly removed, but not without a few minor injuries to those in the restraining party.
John had continued to speak with only a slight stammer as the events unfolded. He quickly concluded his speech, but the there was a great deal of buzzing going on and very little applause. He quickly made his way to the side hallway, trying his best not to sprint even though his curiosity was running wild. And then he saw it: Brian being held down by Mr. Joyce, the gym teacher, and another unidentified and rather large man. Standing over this gaggle was Mrs. Benson, the home economics teacher.
“Brian Murphy, what in the world has gotten into you?” she blurted.
Brian was being lifted off the floor, still blubbering, large tears running down his face. He was quickly taken away in the direction of Mr. Pollock’s office. The sea of confusion parted and the noise quickly diminished. The excitement was over.
David, a bit shocked and bemused at the events, sauntered over to John.
“Man, they really took him away fast—like money at a bar mitzvah!”
“Look,” John said cautiously, pulling David in close, “Something is really not right here.”
“You mean the bit with your sister meeting him…”
“Ssssh…pipe down. That’s not public information! We have to find out what’s eating him.”
“Yeah,” David said rubbing his temple in puzzlement. “What do you think he meant when he said, ‘He’s a good man’”?
John adjusted his glasses. “Don’t know. It can’t be his brother; he doesn’t have one. Just sisters.” He then puffed out his chest in a display of mock bravado. “David, my friend, there comes a time when a man has to conquer his fears and get to the bottom of things.”
David said nothing. He knew better than to ask questions when that special look came over his friend’s face.
The back screen door slammed and in came sister like a whirlwind; determined and head down. She quickly turned toward her room when suddenly John appeared in the hallway and then set a course of inte
rception.
“Excuse me, sis,” he said, striking a defiant pose.
A bit taken aback, but nonetheless unmoved: “Yeah… what is it, little one.”
“I want the goods.”
“What?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
“You and Brian.”
At first she looked away. John could see tears welling up in her eyes.
An actual display of emotion?
“Look, John,” she began softly. “I’ve done a lot of things I regret. I’m not proud of them. You know, I’m your sister. Yeah, I know what you all think of me. But I was just trying to protect you.”
“You mean, from Brian? Protect me how? I’m telling you there was an incident at school…”
“Yeah, yeah…I know all about it.”
John stammered, “You… you do? How?”
“Word gets around.”
“So, in this secret meeting, what did you hand Brian?”
“Um…a newspaper clipping…I mean a copy of one, that is.”
John thought for a moment. “Something about Brian?”
She looked at the ground. “No. About his dad.”
“His dad? His dad is dead.”
“I know. But…his…dad…”
“What?”
“You see…he spent years in prison. He only died last year. Really, it was one of the best kept secrets around.”
John closed his eyes in a moment of illumination.
“So that’s it. Brian loved his dad, and when the issue of character came up, he couldn’t take it. That explains why he acted funny in sociology class…and why he freaked out during my speech.”
“Exactly.”
“So what does that have to do…” Again, he closed his eyes and held his hand to his head. “So, if Brian threatened me in any way, you were going to reveal the real story about his dad?”
“Uh…yeah.”
“Sis…that’s bad news...how could you?”
“I…I…just thought it would be something good for you; something that would get at least one bully off your back.”
Unnecessary Noises Page 5
