by J. D. Dexter
Uncle Mark finally winds down, his Spectrum settling down into a dull, muddy red. His colors indicate he’s resigned himself to not being heard again—rejection and dejection all in one murky color. My heart hurts for him. What must it be like to know that you aren’t actually crazy but having no one believe you?
I blink a couple of times to bring the room back into focus with my normal vision. Mark’s posture reminds me of a little boy who is just waiting for someone to give him bad news. I look over at Brian and Brent, who have turned to me. I give them a slight nod. Their shoulders bunch up like they’re getting ready to go to battle for their dad.
“Dad. Dad look at me,” Brian says into the silence.
Mark slowly lifts his head, his eyes guarded.
“Dad, we all believe you.” Stretching his hand across the heavy wooden desk, Brian lays his hand over the much older hand of his father.
I slip back into the Spectrum to see Mark’s reaction: the pure emerald green of relief and hope. I smile sadly as I blink to clear my vision once again. Mark really must have thought no one would listen again.
“What changed? Why do you believe me this time?” Mark turns his hand over to grip his son’s.
“That’s one of the reasons we asked Finley here, Dad,” Brian starts to explain.
“Brian…” I’m hesitant to share this part of my life with Uncle Mark. Not that I think he would freak out or treat me differently, but this is a piece of my life I’ve never shared with anyone. For crap’s sake, the boys just got confirmation two days ago, and they’ve been in my life for the last twenty years.
“Finley, he needs to know,” Brent pleads. “Please.”
Mark’s head is moving between all of us, knowing now that something is different about me, and that the boys know. He gives me an encouraging smile, his eyes a little sad.
I sigh. And nod at Brent and Brian.
“Dad, Finley can tell when someone’s lying.” Brent only shares the bare minimum. I could kiss him for that.
“What do you mean? How can she do that?” I recognize the inquisitive look in his eyes. He now sees me as something infinitely more interesting and something worthy of study. I give him a big smile, even though now I’m a little sad at the change.
“We aren’t really sure, but she let us know that you are telling the truth, as far as you know it. Brent and I weren’t just writing you off, Dad, we just didn’t know if you were being as forgetful at work as you are at home,” Brian explains, a slight grin on his face.
“We asked Finley to come over and help us out. We wanted to have her hear you, so she could do her thing and tell us what was happening. To the extent that she can, anyway,” Brent put in.
“And she told you that I was telling the truth?” Marks questions.
“Yeah,” Brent replies.
“Okay. I can believe that.” Mark’s still looking at me with what I hope is curiosity, although I’m feeling a bit like a prepped lab slide under the microscope.
His smile is more scholarly than anything else. It’s the look in his eyes the makes me wary. His smile sends shivers down my spine.
“Wait. Why can you believe that? You had no idea that Finley was any different now than when she walked in here. What makes you so quick to believe that she is a walking lie detector?” Josh interrupts from the far side of the room.
I hadn’t thought of that. It is a little fishy. I loosen that inner grip, and I’m back to looking at the Spectrum around Mark. Murky browns with muddy yellows color the energy field around him, like a sloppy watercolor painting of a sunflower. He’s hiding something.
My heart sinks, even as dinner rises up my throat.
He knows something about me, and he’s hiding it.
Chapter Three
My insides feel like I’ve downed a frozen slushy too fast, that rushing numb sensation down my throat and slowly invading my stomach.
“What are you hiding, Uncle Mark?” I ask him, still looking at him through the Spectrum. His Spectrum starts to spike with charcoal. He’s getting ready to lie to me.
“I’ve always thought you were special, Finley. It’s nice to know that my instincts weren’t unfounded.” He lied right to my face.
My breath gets caught in my windpipe, making me cough unexpectedly. Even if what he said wasn’t a lie, he didn’t tell me the truth about what he knows. That’s as good as lying. The numbing sensation burns away under the heat of my anger.
This is why I quit telling people about the extent of my differences even when I was a child. I feel like it always changes how they see me. The boys being the only ones who haven’t changed. Although, I haven’t told my parents about my being special, I can’t imagine that they would look at me any differently. Dad might have been more insistent that I become a doctor though. However, I don’t suffer liars in my life, not about important things.
“I know you’re lying, Uncle Mark. If you don’t want to tell me what you’re talking about, you don’t have to. But never lie to me again. Ever.” I rein the Spectrum back in, rise from the chair, and turn to leave the room. I’m so upset my stomach hurts. I feel a lump in my throat, cutting off my air and making it difficult to breathe.
“Dad! What’s Finley talking about?” Brian jumps from his chair and heads towards the door to cut me off. His arm around my shoulders is both a comfort and restraint. Both boys are in shock.
“Your dad knows something about me. Something about my being special,” I sneer that last hated word. “What he just said, he believes, but it’s not what he’s hiding.” I lean against Brian, huddling against him for support. I’ve never felt so betrayed by someone I consider family.
Growing up, it was just me, mom, and dad. Then I got Josh in Kindergarten, with Brian and Brent following pretty close behind in second grade. I’ve considered Mark and Cynthia to be part of my extended family—albeit the weird family you don’t really like in Cynthia’s case. Finding out that Mark knows something about me, something this personal, is a blow to my whole worldview. It doesn’t really compute, other than the betrayal. That’s coming through just fine.
“What are you hiding, dad? She came here to help us, help you, and then you treat her like this. You should be ashamed!” Brian roars, his anger radiating through his voice. His shaking chest rumbling under my cheek.
“What’re you hiding, dad?” Brent’s icy tone a sharp contrast to the heat of Brian’s anger.
Mark shakes his head, a softly defiant look on his face. “I’m sorry, Finley. I didn’t mean to lie to you, but it’s something I’m not allowed to discuss. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I understand not being able to discuss certain things, Uncle Mark. I don’t understand lying about those things.”
“You’re right; there are some things I can’t tell you. I shouldn’t have lied about it.”
“Wait. Why are there some things you can’t tell Finley specifically?” Josh asks tightly.
“Yeah. We’ve never asked about your work, largely because none of us understand what you do. But Finley didn’t get upset until you lied to her about hiding something about her being special. Why would you know anything about Finley from your job?” Brent’s lawyer’s hat is on, and, thankfully, I’m his client right now.
“I can’t discuss any of that with you all. It’s proprietary information,” Mark insists in a stiff, business-like tone. I take some solace from the guilt spreading over his face, his mouth turned down at the edges. Not to mention his bright red ears.
Shifting back into the Spectrum, I see a wash of reds, yellows, and oranges – almost like staring at a bonfire.
“Whatever he’s hiding, he’s really scared about it.” I mention quietly. Mark’s head whips around, his eyes stark when they meet mine.
“Finley, you need to stop doing whatever it is you’re doing. This…well…I was going to say doesn’t concern you, but it does. This isn’t information you are allowed to have—at least not from me.”
“So she can get
this information from someone else in your company then?” Brent demands.
“No, no. Then they would track it to me. This is a compartmentalized project. What about that are you not understanding?” Mark practically yells, shooting forward in his chair, slamming his hand down on the top of his desk. His fear and anger spiking the colors of his Spectrum into jewel tones. The darker colors of crimson, navy, and aubergine so different from his usual pastel palette.
“We don’t understand why you would be looking at Finley in your genetics research. We don’t understand why you can’t share any of that information with her, especially since it’s about her. We don’t understand why someone wants this information. We don’t understand why you are willing to let Finley dangle in the wind—especially since you seem to be scared of what’s happening at your office. If you’re in danger, and Finley is a part of your research, then it stands to reason that she would be in danger as well.” Brent is leaning over his father’s desk, arms rigid, spine ramrod straight, the muscles distended in his neck. His voice is a harsh staccato of outrage.
I shift my concentration to Brent. His Spectrum flares with the colors of anger, disgust, fear, and disappointment. Jewel bright, and just as hard. I change back to my normal vision and just stare at Brent. I’ve never seen him this angry before, the veins in his head are pulsing, and his arms are trembling.
“We’re waiting, dad.” Brian joins his brother leaning over the desk. His fists supporting his weight. Their bodies acting as a solid wall of protection and defense between their father and me.
A couple of tense minutes pass. Deflated, Mark leans back in his chair, his head slumped on his chest. “Sit down. Both of you. I’ll tell you what I can.” He motions the boys back to their chairs. A nervous couple of moments fill the space while we wait for Brent and Brian to make the first moves. I’ll follow their lead right now. I move back to my chair in the sunshine streaming through the window. I barely notice the gentle heat that suffuses my cold body.
“Do you all remember about a year ago when everyone was here for that cookout we had to kick off spring? I asked each of you for a DNA sample because I was getting ready to start a new project at work looking at genetic markers for cancer. There were no indicators of cancer in any of our families, so I thought I could use your samples as part of the control group.” He swallows a couple of times. His eyes dart to me and then away so fast I wonder if I imagined it.
“From that work stemmed the compartmentalized project. I had moved past cancer markers and was onto something that was only present in point-zero-zero-one percent of the samples we had access to. Only one person in every one-thousand people have this mutation.” When he looks at me, his eyes are full of a sickening joyful curiosity that makes me want to vomit.
“And Finley is a part of that small group of people?” Brent sneers.
“Yes. We aren’t sure yet what the mutation means for adaptation, but it is a fascinating project. And now you tell me that she can tell when someone is lying? This is ground breaking!” Mark’s entire face is glowing.
“We can bring her in and study what’s different about her. We might be able to change how medicine works and how to save more people. There’s no telling where this research could go. No way to know what we don’t know. We might not even be asking the right questions yet.”
I don’t need to see him through the Spectrum right now to see what he’s feeling. It’s written all over his face and body. My Uncle Mark is gone and in his place is a man caught in a religious fervor: bright eyes, rapid breathing, trembling hands. He’s looking at me not like I’m Finley, a child who grew up in his house and with his family, but as an object to be studied.
My body is flashing from cold to hot and back again, too fast for me to keep track. My heart feels like it’s about to drum right out of my chest. I can’t really feel my legs anymore, and I’m glad I’m sitting down. It sounds like I have ear plugs in, I can barely hear the boys yelling at Mark and each other.
I feel like the world has dropped out from under me, and I have no anchor or lifeline.
Chapter Four
I feel like I’m wrapped in layers of gauze and cotton with a film covering my eyes. I can see the light shifting, like fast-moving clouds are briefly covering the sun, shadows moving in and away again. Sound reaches me, but most of it’s muffled with only short, sharp bursts coming through clearly. The warmth has left my body, leaving me a cold empty shell. My head is stuffed to the brim with cotton, my thoughts like dandelion fluff on the wind.
“Finley!”
I’m snapped back into Mark’s study by the sound of three terrified voices. Brian, Brent, and Josh are huddled around my chair in a protective barrier. Someone is holding my right hand, patting it like you would a beloved pet’s flank.
“I’m here. I’m okay,” I murmur, blinking rapidly to wet my desert-dry eyes.
“We’ve sent Dad to a different room, Finley. You don’t have to talk to him anymore.” Brent’s the one holding my hand, giving it another gentle squeeze.
“I’m so sorry, Finley-babe. I had no idea Dad had gone crazy. I never would’ve asked you here like this, had all of this dumped on you, had I known,” Brian apologizes, his voice thick with the sound of tears and recriminations.
“I know. I’m not mad at you, Bri. I’m…I’m not really sure what I am right now.” My voice sounds flat to my own ears.
“I’m fucking furious!” Josh erupts.
“Seconded,” Brent swears.
“What am I going to do?” I whisper. “I’ve known I was different from others, but I feel like my life has just become some kind of cosmic joke. You three were the ones to keep me sane growing up. And that was before I found out that I’m actually a freaking mutant.”
“I know I talk a big game, but sometimes that younger me still peeks her head out to see if everything is okay in the world. And now Mark is treating me like a precious lab sample he can’t wait to shove into the nearest microscope. Other than healing myself and seeing things on what I call the Spectrum, I’m not that different from others. Right?” I plead with the men surrounding me. Needing comfort, needing to know they still consider me the same old Finley Marie.
“Of course not!” Josh replies hotly. “You’re still a crazy sadist who revels in the pain and anguish of others while simultaneously being one of the kindest, sweetest people I know. We love you. That’s not changing. Ever.”
“Seconded,” Brent and Brian reply in unison. Smiling at each other, they high five like they’re still sixteen. A ghost of a smile turns my lips up at the corners.
“Honestly, Finley. We love you just how you are. No matter what Dad may, or may not, have found. There’s nothing he could find that would change how we love you.”
I can feel the burn of tears starting to rise up the back of my throat. I hurry to swallow them back down. Crying in front of my guys in not something I do very often. I’m certainly not going to do it in Cynthia’s house either.
“What if it turns out I have super powers? Agent Clark might actually be after me now,” I say with a slightly hysterical laugh. Inside, my bones feel like melted butter, and my stomach feels like ants are leaving their hill like it’s on fire.
“Then we’ll be the first ones to buy your trademarked merchandise. I’ll be the first lawyer to represent a super hero, Brian can build you a fantastically secure super hero compound, and Josh can take over your marketing and branding,” Brent reassures me.
“Dude. That would be so cool.” Josh says with a little bit of wonder and awe in his voice.
“Dude. When did you start saying dude again?” Brian looks at Josh with one eyebrow raised.
“Just now. It kinda slipped out. Don’t tell my dad. He’d never let me live it down,” Josh replies.
Brent clears his throat. “So glad Josh is worried about his dad’s thoughts on his vernacular choices.” His voice is a as dry as the Saharan Desert. “Good thing we don’t have more important things to worry ab
out right now.”
I laugh at the sheepish looks from Brian and Josh. I love these men.
“No worries, fellas. It gave me a taste of normal, which is something I could use a big helping of right now. However, I don’t think things are going to be normal for me for the foreseeable future. Something about all of this gives me a feeling of impending doom. Nothing I can pinpoint, but there nonetheless. Especially since we have no idea what the adaptation in my genes could even mean. It might turn out to be nothing.” Even I can hear the hope in my voice.
“Right. It could be nothing. But I think we need to prepare for it to be something other than nothing.” Brent, always practical.
“True.” My sigh is one of dejection. “I think we need to bring your dad back in here. We need to know more about what could possibly be wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you, Fin,” Josh is adamant.
“That we know of. We need Mark in here to learn more,” I say a little morosely.
“Finley, I just want to apologize again.” Mark’s voice is jarring in the silence.
I lift my head from where I have it resting against the back of the chair with my eyes closed. I’m working really hard not to freak out or let my anxiety run amok with all of the unanswered questions.
“I can’t deal with that right now, Mark. I just need some answers. Where did the boys go?”
“I asked them for a couple minutes alone with you. I’m sure if you yelled loud enough, they would break down the door they’re undoubtedly listening against,” he says the last with a sad smile. “I never meant for you to find out about any of this. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it. But since you did find out, I’m sorry that it was in this way. With me slavering over you like you’re only a piece of lab equipment or a nice specimen to study. I am truly sorry for my behavior. Can you please forgive me?” Now he looks like he’s about to throw up.
Part of my heart relaxes at seeing the sensitive Mark I know and love back in his face. Scary Geneticist Mark can stay far, far away.
