by Josan
Then there was the storm. Heavy rain, winds that meant that their flight—the plane was a DC9—out of New York was delayed for safety
reasons.
The car that Walter had rented had long left the lot. By the time they
landed in Burlington past midnight, there was only one car left, one of
those compact things that meant Walter would be driving with his chin on his
knees.
Oh, and of course, just to add to the entire fiasco, on the road to
Middlebury, Walter swerved to avoid a deer, ended up at a tilt on the soft
shoulder. Five minutes of spinning only sank the wheels deeper into the sodden
ground.
And to top that off, his cell phone had just enough power left for him to
contact the emergency number, give their location, ask for a tow. At
least an hour, came the staticky answer, before the phone faded and died.
By this time, they should have long ago pulled into the driveway at his
mother's. Instead, Walter and Alex were sitting in a car tilted nose
down in a ditch, watching the last of the lightning show the storm was putting
on, just for them.
Alex knew that Walter was not looking forward to this visit with his mother.
He'd been absentminded, tense since the phone call. Alex had
kept silent, not wanting to add to his lover's stress. Still, now that they sat
here, in the dark, in the wanning storm, he broached the one
question he'd been wanting to ask.
"Walter?"
"Hm?" Walter was looking out the window, lost in thought.
"I understand why you didn't tell you mother about me, about us."
Walter's attention shifted to Alex.
"But why didn't you tell her about leaving the Bureau?" Alex slouched his
back into the door, sitting sideways, left knee lying on the seat.
Walter said nothing.
"It's okay. It isn't any of my business," said Alex softly.
Walter sighed. "Actually, I don't know, Alex. I guess I just wanted some
time to get used to the idea."
"If it's taken you seven months to get used to it, maybe it wasn't a good
idea," offered Alex.
Walter moved, shifted his body, trying to find a comfortable position. He'd
have been fine if the steering wheel had suddenly disappeared.
Finally, he lowered the back of his seat, managed to sit awkwardly, but more
comfortably, facing Alex. He stretched his legs out over the
seat to rest on Alex's thighs.
"No," he finally said, "it was a good idea. I couldn't have stayed on and
kept sane. I told you that before, and I haven't changed my mind.
"Besides, I like what I do now. I like determining the validity of those
reports. I like the fact that my opinion is valued. That the people who
work at Wilson-Jones come from varied backgrounds, bring different experiences
to meetings. That those meetings actually accomplish
something.
"That I don't have to hide the fact that I have a lover and that my lover is
a man."
He smiled at Alex. "No, I don't regret leaving the Bureau. My ulcer rarely
bothers me. I sleep well," he grinned, "when I'm allowed to
sleep."
Alex grinned back.
"No, all in all, I think my life is much for the better these days."
"So, then, why haven't you told your family?"
Walter shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it.
It's... it's as if I had a secret and I didn't want to share it. I wanted to
keep it
to myself. I've never had that kind of secret before.
"Even when I was a kid, people used to confide in me. They knew I would keep
my mouth shut. But I never seemed to have those kinds
of secrets. On the whole, come to think of it, I was a pretty dull kid."
Alex snorted. "I doubt that."
"No. It's true. I'm the eldest and my parents depended on me quite a bit. To
keep an eye on my brother and sister. To be good at school.
Not to cause trouble. To do what was expected of me."
He thought a bit in silence. Alex just watched him work his way through this
evaluation of himself.
"I went for football because my father loved the sport—not that I don't
either—and the coaches expected a kid my size to play football. I
went into the Marines because my father's father had been in the Marines. I
went to Vietnam because my father expected me to do my duty
towards my country.
"I went into policing because my father was a cop. The only time I think I
disappointed him was when I choose to go to college in Texas
rather than Chicago. But after Vietnam, I wanted to be somewhere where being a
vet wasn't a capital offense and Texas was very pro the
war. It made things easier for me, too, at that particular time to be far from
the rest of the family.
"By then my sister Louisa had run off with the blue grass musician. And Gene
had informed my father that he had no intention of serving
in any military establishment and had gone off to do a stint with the Peace
Corps in Africa. My father was pretty sure all those
organizations were covers for the communists.
"See, I told you my life was pretty dull. I went into the FBI directly after
college. Got married to a nice girl that my parents approved of and
loved. My father got to see me become Assistant Director before he died.
"The only unexpected thing I ever did until recently was divorce Sharon. And
she and my mother still talk on the phone every now and
then."
A car driving by slowed down. Walter lowered his window, told the driver
they were okay, that help was on the way from Middlebury.
"That'll be the Labonty boys," said the man. "I drive by their place. I'll
get them to hurry on up."
Walter thanked him politely. "The nice thing about small towns is that
everybody knows everybody else."
"And," continued Alex, "the worse thing about small towns is that everybody
knows everybody else."
Walter chuckled. "Yeah. But my mother likes it. After my father died, she
moved here to be near Gene and his family. She was never that
fond of the Midwest."
"Gene is the one teaching at Middlebury College?"
"Yes. Politics. And it's convenient for Louisa and her boy. New York City is
just far enough away for her to have a life of her own, close
enough to visit every couple of months. My mother likes keeping in touch with
her grandchildren."
"So, why haven't you told her about the new job?"
"Maybe because it would have worried her. She's used to worrying about the
others, not about me. I'm the responsible one. And I guess
this move from the Bureau doesn't look, at first glance, to be very
responsible."
"And then there's me," added Alex. "Definitely not responsible behaviour."
Walter leaned forward, stroked his hand across the stubble on Alex's cheek.
"God, no," he grinned. "What was it Sharon called you? My
mid-life crisis."
He leaned back and examined Alex by what little light there was. "Maybe that
was part of it as well. Maybe I couldn't tell her any of it until
I was certain of you. Because, let's face it, Alex, for a while there, there
were mornings I was afraid I'd wake up and find you gone."
Alex nodded. "There were mornings you were right to think that."
"So what made you decide to stay, Alex?" Walter reached out his hand and
Alex took it. Held onto it while he tried to put his thoughts into
words.
"Lots of things I guess," he finally said. "There was the fact that no
matter what people said about me, you stood by me. That had never
happened to me before. I felt that if I left, I was betraying your trust.
"And then there was the fact that you picked me up every day at the Bureau.
Like you expected me to be there. I thought if I took off from
the Bureau, you'd lose face and I didn't want to do that to you.
"Then Sharon asked me if I was going to run out on you. And I told her no,
that I wasn't going anywhere. I realized that I had no good
reason to. That I believed you when you said you loved me. And I finally had to
admit to myself that I did love you. And I wanted this to
work."
Alex leaned over and met Walter half way. The kiss began as a gentle
commitment, became gradually more intense. The headlights pulling
up behind them broke them apart. "Then," said Alex with a glint, "there's the
incredible sex."
Walter was laughing as he went out to meet the Labonty boys and their tow
truck.
The Labonty "boys" would never see retirement age again. They were also
tipsy. They evaluated the situation all the while nipping at an
unlabelled bottle of colourless liquid. Walter worried about that a bit until
it became obvious that the two old men knew what they were
doing. He and Alex watched from the sidelines as the tow chain was attached,
the car lifted with a squish sound from the mud, and arefully
moved back onto the highway.
Then, of course, there was the careful questioning that led them to connect
Walter Skinner to that Nadia Skinner who had bought the
Adams place over on College Street. They plowed her driveway in the winter. Not
her son's: he lived too far out of town for them to bother.
Didn't the Duprey boy do his?
All the time, nipping happily away, politely offering the bottle to the two
men they had rescued once they were certain of the local
connection. Walter knew they would be insulted if he refused, so he brought the
bottle to his lips, pretended to drink. And was glad that
was all he did: the stuff had to be 100 proof!
Alex was less successful with his ploy: the bottle slipped out of the old
man's hand and, as he reached to save it, the contents splashed out
onto the sleeve of his jacket.
When the car finally pulled up in the darkened driveway of the darkened
house, it was after two in the morning, some four hours after they
had been expected. Walter rang the doorbell, wishing he had stood firm on their
travelling on Saturday. It crossed his mind that maybe this
was a sign of how the whole weekend was going to go.
Will Walter's mother answer the door this late? Will our boys have to spend
the rest of the night in the car?
The Trip Up
he trip to the airport began with a Friday traffic jam on the Beltway.
That set them a good hour behind. It also meant that they now had to
be rerouted through New York for Burlington, rather than fly directly out.
How would your mother handle this?
