Blood of Abraham - Chapter Eleven
by Mik
"Yours?" Langly echoed.
Frohike just grinned at me, a wolfish grin in that owl-like face.
"It certainly makes sense," Byers allowed, with the air of a man who has been presented with irrefutable facts in favor of something he cannot support.
"It does not," I countered churlishly. "Nothing makes sense." I dropped my coat on the floor and sank into my chair, relaxing my other hand so that my briefcase and keys tumbled away from me. I wish I could let go of all my other burdens so easily. It had been a hellish day. Skinner and Scully both, without saying a word, managed to make me feel like the taut and fraying rope in a bloody game of tug of war. And all that time, I was punting my brain around, trying to account for progeny for which I had no prior knowledge or desire. "The whole day seemed skewed."
"Time is out of joint," Byers answered, as if I'd asked him a question.
"Hamlet," I sighed, and then chuckled grimly at the irony of the text. "Act one, scene five. Time is out of joint, O cursed spite, that I was born to set it right." So, Shakespeare, how do I set right a man I thought was my enemy, who now wants to be my friend, and the woman I thought was my closest friend, who now wants to be something so much closer than a friend?
They were all four staring at me, the Gunmen scattered over my futon, Bram in his car carrier, trying to cram both fists into his mouth. "Sorry," I murmured, at none of them in particular. "Too late in the day for Shakespeare."
Byers rose abruptly. I didn't even watch him go. I just sat there glumly, watching Bram drool all over his bib. And in a moment Byers reappeared at the side of the chair, a cup of coffee extended.
"Bad day at the office, dear?" Frohike cackled, as Byers collected my briefcase and keys.
"Oh, just go home, will you?" I held the cup against my knee and rested my head against my fist. "This is... I'm overwhelmed, that's all. I'll get it together in a minute." I shut my eyes.
"What are you going to do with him?" Byers asked, bringing a hanger for my coat.
"What kind of question is that?" Frohike demanded.
"Yeah, you're going to keep the little dude, aren't you?" Langly protested.
"Of course he will," Frohike said archly. "He'd never abandon his own son."
'His own son'. That phrase was like an icy stake into my vitals. It made me shiver and ache. "I don't know what legal ramifications are involved." I opened my eyes and lifted the cup for a sip. It was surprisingly good. Much better than my own brew. "Skinner says he'll make some inquiries."
"Old Baldy's getting pretty keen on the kid, isn't he?" Frohike and Langly exchanged sly glances.
"Yeah, oddly enough. It's the - what does that mean?"
All three of them looked at me, blinking innocently. "What?" they chorused.
"That look. I saw it." I gestured with the coffee cup. "That knowing smirk."
They exchanged other looks and shook their heads. "Paranoia," Langly tsked.
"Sleep deprivation," Byers contributed.
"Happens to the best of 'em," Frohike said sadly.
"Do you ever want to have another play date with Junior, here?" I struggled to my feet and looked down on them, trying to appear imposing, something I've never been particularly successful at. "Give."
They all looked at one another again. "Well," Langly began.
"Let's just say it might not be the child he's so keen on," Byers finished.
I stared. I gaped. I goggled. Then I made a loud sound of contempt. "Not this again. I got this same song and dance from Scully last night."
They looked at each other again. It was as if they needed eye contact to complete a circuit. "Dr. Scully knows?" Byers squeaked. Frohike and Langly said nothing but looked as if someone had made a better box racer than theirs.
"Yeah, and she said - wait a minute. How did you know?"
Byers shrugged.
Frohike continued to look mournful.
"Common knowledge," Langly said, but he didn't look happy, either.
"But you're surprised that Scully knew?" When, on the ride home, Skinner confided that a few people knew, I don't think he meant to include the Gunmen. I wonder if he knew they knew? I wonder if he knew Scully was on that list?
"We didn't think he'd be exactly out at work," Langly explained, "but after hours he's quite popular at a couple of leather clubs in Maryland."
"And how do you know that?" I demanded.
"Weblogs," Frohike explained. "We did a Google and his name came up several times."
"Well," Langly temporized, "a few times."
"Once, actually," Byers amended.
"Because of a fight he was involved in," Langly continued, almost eagerly.
"He busted some heads," Frohike finished gleefully.
"You never told me about any of this," I complained, feeling left out, even though the notion of Skinner in leather, busting heads, was giving me quite another reason to shiver.
"Well..." another triumvirate look, "that's because we also knew about you."
The shiver was gone. In its place was an inferno of anger and shame. "You... knew... what... about me?"
Frohike smiled tolerantly. "C'mon, Mulder. A guy who looks like you... dresses like you... talks like you... you ought to have a million girls panting after you, a million notches on your belt. But you don't."
I wasn't able to talk like me. I was speechless. "My work -"
"And there's the gay porn you order online," Byers added helpfully.
"It doesn't matter to us, of course," Langly put in hastily. "We're strictly live and let live, you know?"
"I can't believe you invaded my privacy that way!"
They all laughed. "Oh, please. That from Mr. FBI?"
I put the cup down before my grip tightened any more and I crushed it in my hand. "Please don't take what I'm about to say the wrong way, but," I rubbed my burning eyes, "get the hell out."
They continued to chuckle and look at me as if I was a precocious child and they were just prodigiously proud of me. Byers looked at his watch and mumbled something about warming up some Chinese for me, and Langly said the 'little dude' needed a bath.
"Hello? Am I still here?"
"Relax, Mulder." Frohike patted me down into the chair. "We've got everything under control."
"Control?" I spluttered. "Nothing's in control. The whole fucking world's out of control."
"Language," Langly said sharply. I'd never heard him use a tone like that before, particularly toward me.
"That kid's an alien," I declared, pulling myself back out of the chair. "Don't turn your back on him." I tugged at my tie. "His bath will just have to wait. I'm taking a shower."
They were ignoring me.
The hot water felt good. Being able to stay in more than two minutes felt even better. I pressed my brow against the tiles and let the shower pound against my aching shoulders and neck and tried to make my mind go blank. But so many questions kept asking themselves. Was it possible that Bram was actually my son? How was it possible? Was it possible that Scully would use Bram as an excuse to get closer to me? Why would she want that? I had wanted her for so long, and she'd held me off with her disinterest and offhand affection, why change her mind now? Because what she wanted wasn't necessarily me, but the baby? Was it possible Skinner wanted me, with or without Bram? Was it possible that it mattered to me if he did? Was it possible for me to ever see Skinner in leather? Whoa! Stop right there, Mulder. Not a train of thought to ride with the Nosy Parker Trio just on the other side of the wall. For all I knew they had my shower bugged.
I rinsed, toweled, and found a clean pair of sweats, before staggering back to the living room. Frohike and Langly were wrestling Bram into a diaper and pajamas and Byers was standing by my bedroom door holding a steaming plate of Chinese leftovers. I took the plate and nodded thanks. "I've never had a valet before." I sat and watched the other two. They seemed to be having a good time. "Umm... guys..."
Frohike waved me off. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. We know you're under a lot of stress right now."
"No, I..." I put the plate down on the table and got up to look over Langly's shoulder. "What do you think of circumcision?"
Frohike clamped his thighs together tightly.
"As a religious gesture or a lifestyle choice?" Byers asked.
"It's wrong, dude. Leave him the way nature intended."
"I meant as a religious gesture," I explained, still watching.
"Oh, yeah... you're Jewish, aren't you?" Langly conceded.
"Well, not technically," I answered, considering Bram thoughtfully. "My mom's not Jewish, so that means I'm not. But my dad was and we sort of practiced the faith for about fifteen minutes."
"So..." Frohike sent a sly glance toward my sweatpants.
"Yes," I said sharply. "Because it's part of the tradition. Just as my name is part of the tradition."
"Fox is Jew - hey!" Bram smacked Langly's glasses from his nose. "Fox is Jewish?"
I wrinkled my nose instinctively at the pronouncement of my name. "No, but it's tradition to name your child after a recently deceased relative, and my great uncle on my mother's side had just died when I was born. So, I was named for him. A sign of respect."
"Why did you name him Bram, then?" Langly pushed his glasses into place with his forefinger. "After a relative?"
"No." I settled on the arm of the futon and watched Langly handle the kid masterfully, despite Frohike's interference. "Just a good friend. Ibrihim Zefe, one of my favorite professors at Oxford." I smiled nostalgically. I couldn't help it, thinking about his big, happy face and positive outlook. "A good guy. He was the first one to suggest to me that I could be open to extreme possibilities." The smile faded. I coughed away an unexpected lump in my throat. "Anyway, I had just gotten a message he'd passed away a couple of days before this guy showed up." I shrugged. "It seemed right at the time."
"A Jewish professor at Oxford?" Frohike asked, brows arched just like Scully. "Talk about time out of joint."
"Sure, why not? But he wasn't Jewish. About as close to opposite as you can get. I think he was born in Saudi Arabia, but was raised there in London." I gestured toward the kid. "There's no rule that you have to name him after someone Jewish. It just usually happens because, if part of a family's Jewish, most of it is."
Langly lifted Bram and cradled him against his shoulder. "Isn't there like some rule, some time limit for circumcising a kid?"
"Eight days," I told him. "I know he's more than eight days old, but he'll be mine eight days tomorrow. I'm wondering if I ought to have it done." I looked over my shoulder at Byers. "What do you think?"
Byers chose his words carefully, as always. "I think if you intend to keep him and raise him in that faith, then you should start him on the right path."
"Well, then." I drew a deep breath. "I'd better make some calls."
"Eat before your food gets cold," Byers clucked.
I picked up my plate. "Anyone know a good Mohel?" I asked cheerfully, skewering chicken with a fork.
"A what?" Frohike looked up from collecting Bram's clothes.
"Snip, snip," Langly said, rubbing Bram's back.
Frohike shuddered and left the room.
"There's a synagogue about three blocks from here, isn't there?" Byers suggested, going to the kitchen.
"There is?" I took a bite. "I never noticed."
"When's the last time you went to Temple, Mulder?" Byers returned with my tattered Yellow Pages.
"I couldn't tell you." I licked away lo mein from my lip. "Like many things in the Mulder family, religion lost its appeal after my sister... well, let's just say it all seemed pretty meaningless then."
"What do they do for girls?" Langly asked. "They don't have a circumcision for them, do they?"
"No. As I remember it, women are considered closer to God than men." I twirled my fork in the noodles. "Something about the fact that they can give birth."
Frohike snorted.
"I think he's ready for a bottle," Langly whispered, rocking Bram, and making it look easy.
I put my plate down. "I'll get it." In the kitchen, I found Byers on my mobile, talking in a hushed tone. He hung up and handed me a note he had scribbled on the back of my electricity bill. "The rabbi will contact you tomorrow with details. May I borrow your printer?"
"Sure." I looked at him, mystified. "This guy is cool with doing it on such short notice?"
Byers nodded, collecting loose pages from the ancient directory, shoving them back between the tattered covers, and carrying it to the cupboard. "I explained it was an adoption and tomorrow was the eighth day. He seemed impressed you were taking it that seriously."
"Huh." I pulled the refrigerator open. I was kind of impressed, myself. "Thanks... um, John. That was a lot of help."
"My pleasure. I'm just surprised that it's something you want to do, I mean, given that religion is not something you're particularly interested in, or even believe -"
"I have a lot of respect for religion," I cut him off. "I have a hard time accepting some of the notions, but I find the rituals very comforting." I sighed. I couldn't confess the real reason for my decision; the hope that taking this step with him would make him somehow more... mine.
When I brought the bottle of warmed formula back to the living room, Byers was printing something off. Frohike was finishing my plate of lo mein and Langly and the baby were gone. "Printer was making too much noise," Frohike explained around the last of my supper. "He took him in the bedroom."
"Sure, everyone make themselves at home," I muttered and took the bottle into the bedroom. Langly was leaning over the bed, rubbing Bram's belly. "Kids are amazing little creatures, aren't they?" he whispered. "So... real."
I held out the bottle. "That's because they are. And if you doubt it, try sleeping through a two a.m. tantrum."
Frohike came to the door, still holding my plate. "Do you want us to come over tomorrow?"
"Uh... yeah, at least in the morning. I don't know how we're going to work the bris. I think it has to be done before sunset." I leaned against the crib, watching Langly try to coax a drowsy baby to eat. "I guess I'm going to have to sneak out of the office tomorrow to do this." I looked at Frohike. "You guys will come, won't you?"
"Wouldn't miss it," he promised.
"He's not going to eat this," Langly decided, putting the bottle on the bedside table and starting to lift him.
"Just leave him there, Langly," I whispered. "I'll move him in a few minutes."
Byers came to the door with a couple of sheets of paper. "The rabbi gave me a site to download instructions for the Bris Milah. These are the things that have to be done tomorrow... and this is a sheet of prayers that need to be said tonight."
I glanced over them. "Thanks, Byers. I appreciate this."
They looked at each other again. "I guess it's time to go," Byers whispered.
"Mazel tov, Mulder," Frohike snickered.
"Mazel tov, Mulder," Langly said, and actually sounded as if he meant it.
"Thanks. All of you." I followed them, surreptitiously trying to herd them toward the door before something else distracted them. Once they were on the other side of the door, I glanced over the papers in my hand once more before I started to crumble them up and toss them away.
I don't know what stopped me. Guilt, perhaps. Curiosity, likely. I won't go so far as to suggest some Divine intervention, and yet...
I smoothed the papers out, and began to read the list of things that must be done to prepare for the ceremony. The people I needed to gather around me. It was an acutely personal gesture I was about to make, but I wanted and needed witnesses. If I did this in the quiet of some office with only me, a rabbi and the kid, I could deny my commitment later on, if I wanted to. I could discharge myself of the responsibility of being a father, much the way my father had done. But doing it before the prescribed witnesses was almost like making a promise to God.
I looked at the second sheet of papers, which described the parents' studying of the Torah near him, and young children's prayers that should be recited over him. Well, I didn't have the Torah. Nothing I could do about that. I didn't know any children to invite to pray over him. I put the pages down, and went into the bedroom to move him to his crib. For the first time in seven days, he let me move him, and put him into his bed without a fuss. "I know this seems silly to you," I murmured, watching him sleep, "but I want to do this right. If you are mine, I need all the help I can get."
I went back, picked up the papers, and knelt awkwardly, near the crib. "Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. Blessed be the name of the glory of His kingdom forever and ever. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your..."
End Chapter Eleven