Brother
Version
“And Harvard’s left wing, number thirty-three, Nosedive Featherburn blazes down the ice—”
From the net, the goalie watched through narrowed eyes the
blonde teen, dressed in a maroon and white jersey, cross his left leg over his
right and zip down the middle of the street. In his ears echoed the boy's
flamboyant narration.
“—He crosses the blue line—”
Under the teen's feet blurred the white lines that signaled
the upcoming stop sign.
“—He’s all alone! The Yale defense will never catch him!
It’s just he and the goalie!”
The teen lifted his head and met the goalie's ice-hard
glare, looking determined and unrelenting. Narrowing his eyes, just like the
goalie, flicking the puck from the left side of his stick to the right,
the blonde zoomed toward the holed and faded net that barely hung onto the
rusting crossbar. His eyes scrutinized the positioning, equipment, and almost
absurd mock-serious look upon the goalie’s face. Then, with a smirk, Nosedive
brought his arm back.
Stick flat on the blacktop, legs perfectly positioned in
butterfly style, the goalie left the five-hole wide open.
Or, so he wanted the boy to think...
For the love of Patrick—
“WAH!” The teen let the puck rip, his scream echoing in the air—
—The goalie drew his leg pads close, squeezing them
together as the puck neared—
—But not nearly fast enough.
“OH!” The teen leapt on his rollerblades three feet into
the air at the sight of the puck in the back of the net. “You might not want to
opt for free agency, Kariya! Uh-huh, who’s the man?”
Wildwing Featherburn haggardly gathered himself on his
knees and pushed to his feet. Tearing off his mask, the white duck, at least
fifteen years older than his partying counterpart, stared at the puck in
the net. It couldn’t have gone in…unless…A
smug smile tugged onto his face.
The kid was getting good.
Nosedive fluttered about the net on his
skates, singing and dancing to what seemed like “Glory Days.”
Wildwing’s sharp blue eyes softened as he smiled at the teen and his own eyes
returned the gaze.
“No way that was
legal, you know.”
“What!” Nosedive shouted
incredulously. His face immediately twisted into an incensed expression. “Are
you kidding? What game were you watching?”
“Your right wing crossed the blue
line way before the puck. Off-sides. Doesn’t count. Sorry.”
“Hold the puck, big bro.” Rotating
on his skates, the teen swept a hand over the empty street. “Okay, I got the
puck from the left defense behind the net, took it up the middle ice, where I
passed both my team’s center and right wing, then crossed the blue line,
therefore eliminating the possibility of off-sides.”
Wildwing sighed and shook his head.
“Wrong again, kiddo. You got the puck from the right defense, who was by the left side of
the net, at which time, you zoomed up the right side of the ice, while your
right wing crossed over the blue line on the left side.”
“No! That’s impossible!”
The teen studied the street for the moment as a
sprinkler from the lawn to the left of them sprtiz a few drips of water over
their heads, though both ignored the brief shower. The trees swayed from just
beyond the sidewalks of the suburban setting, while down the road a little girl
rode her bike.
Rubbing his chin, Nosedive finally elbowed the older man in
the stomach. “Ah ha! I’m the left wing! Why would I
get the puck on the right side and go up the right side of the ice? That makes
no sense whatsoever! Not to mention, my right wing would be screaming at me to
get off his side, which makes you completely and totally full of—”
“What your language.”
“I was going to say, 'Oscar Mayer,’
but if you want to adlib your own word, be my guest.”
*BEEP!*
*BEEP!*
*BEEEEEEP!*
The two swiveled on their skates,
and Nosedive gasped loudly at the sight of a car screeching toward them.
Frozen, beak agape and eyes huge, the teen was completely unhinged.
Wildwing vaulted from his position a few feet from the net and wrapped an arm
around the boy's waist, slamming Nosedive to the ground. His other arm
encircled the teen's chest, so his body safeguarded his brother’s as they
rolled just out of the path of the oncoming car. Scrapping to a halt by
the side of the road, Wildwing lifted his head and gave it a quick shake to
rid himself of the falling-off-the-edge-of-the-world feeling. Underneath him
shifted his brother, groaning and wiggling in pain...and under the weight
and in the tight grip of his older sibling.
"You all right, kiddo?" Wildwing asked,
lightly touching his brother’s head and tilting up his beak so their eyes met.
"You're not dead or anything because that would not look good on my
parenting record."
Nosedive hissed in pain, causing Wildwing to
immediately release him. "Not for nothing, Wing, but lose a little
poundage there, huh?”
"Wildwing, you and Dive all right, Sugar?" A
hoarse, female voice interjected, echoing from a short distance.
Wildwing rolled his eyes toward the curly-haired,
elder female standing on the porch a house down. He waved
to her with a grimacing smile. "Nothing broken, cracked, fried, or seared,
Babette, but the day is young!”
"Hey, next time, honey," she added quickly in her
gruff voice, "make sure to teach your brother to stay out of the street,
all right? It’s dangerous playing in the middle like that."
Nosedive shifted again and let out a deep breath,
redirecting Wildwing’s attention toward the car. “You know, I think he just
killed our players.”
“Net stuck underneath his bumper. Probably lots of damage to his radiator.”
“He’s going to blame us, isn’t he?”
“Well, we can’t play hockey with only two players,
anyway…so…”
At that, the car door opened, and a
man in a three-piece suit stepped out of the Mercedes. He eyed Wildwing, still
shielding Nosedive on the ground, then the net jammed
under the front of his car. As the man opened his mouth, his face scrunching in
a perturbed manner, Wildwing rolled off his brother and hauled the younger duck
to his feet.
"So, Wild,”
Nosedive laughed, “game cancelled, huh?"
Grabbing his brother by the collar
of his shirt, Wildwing pushed Nosedive toward the white house behind them.
“RUN!”
"Featherburn Boys"
Where you lead, I will follow, anywhere that you tell me
to. If you need, if you need me to be with you, I will follow where you lead.
Nosedive finished his last geometry
problem, slammed shut his textbook, and quickly reached inside his backpack,
switching it for another book. Flipping through his notebook, he curled the
front cover to the back for a fresh sheet of paper and ripped open his history
book to the questions he had for homework.
He idly noticed the person to his
left, a girl painting her fingernails, turn to the
redhead in front of him. “Slambook?”
Another student, cladded in varsity gear, whispered, “Love
note?”
In front of him, the red-haired girl peeked over her
shoulder and stared at his paper. “Homework,” she murmured incredulously. “He’s
doing homework!”
Well, he was trying to at least. The
only problem was he couldn’t get that darn song out of his head.
I
wish that I had Jesse’s girl…
!!!
"I hate the off season," Wildwing sighed, walking
behind the front desk. He plopped his binder down next to a dark-feathered duck
and loosened his tie from around his neck. "Five rooms empty, and worse is
that it’s so quiet that I have an Eighties’ song stuck in my head!”
Duke L’Orange, dressed in a sharply pressed suit, turned
his glare from the computer screen to the manager. “Which
one?”
“Jesse’s Girl.
It’s reminds me of Canard’s nephew, Jess.”
“What? You fantasize about Canard’s nephew?”
“No, but thanks for getting that vision in my head,”
Wildwing scowled, getting up from the seat and checking the phone to make sure
it was working. “I’d just rather have U2
or at least Bon Jovi stuck in my head.”
“So much leather. Mullets.” Duke nodded knowingly.
“Those were the days.”
“Thank you, Archie Bunker,” Wildwing smirked and pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen.
"Oh, by the way," Duke called facetiously,
"the mail arrived earlier."
The door swung back open, and Wildwing stormed out with a
hard look upon his face. "I told you I wanted to be informed the minute it
arrived."
"There were no carrier pigeons available when Kirk
came."
Striding up the desk, Wildwing put his palm out. "Hand
it over."
"Now, is that any way to talk to your employees?"
Duke reached under the desk, pulling out a batch of envelopes.
Wildwing glowered at Duke. "Don’t make me hire a new
concierge."
"You'll have to do better than idle threats."
"Give me the mail or else I'll go all
Dog-the-Bounty-Hunter on you."
"Wear leather often, huh?"
"Only when I’m hunting outlaws, renegades, and crazed
concierges." Wildwing snatched the envelopes from Duke's hands and riffled
through them quickly. He stopped short at a particular letter, though no bigger
or smaller than the others. His eyes widened considerably. His heart skipped a beat.
“It’s here…”
“That’s it?” Duke inquired skeptically. “That’s what you’ve
been waiting a month to receive? A simple letter?”
“This is no simple
letter, my friend,” Wildwing admonished, walking backwards toward the kitchen.
“This is the Lost Ark, the ala mode on the cake. This is the Wal-Mart of
letters, Duke.”
“Ah. You got Nosedive’s Chilton acceptance letter, I take
it.”
“Right here,” Wildwing breathed in awe as he held the
letter up to the light and studied its contents. “For my little brother’s
dreams to be honored and full-filled…”
“Or to be crushed like a suspected
warlock in
“SHH!” He covered the letter with his jacket and eyed Duke
bitterly. “It can hear you.” Pushing the door open with his butt, Wildwing
entered the kitchen. “Sookie!”
A myriad of kitchen aides and chefs hustled and bustled
about the area, chopping vegetables on the island, baking in the oven at the
far right corner, and sautéing something that Wildwing didn’t even know what.
It smelled like a mixture of macaroni and cheese and guacamole. He made a bee-line
toward the stove, his nose-holes leading him blindly—
—when a hand caught his elbow by the
refrigerator. A heavy-set woman with
her hair tied in a bandana peeked out from behind the door.
"What? Are we out of coffee again?” Sookie St. James
asked as she dropped a hunk of carrots on the kitchen table and wiped her hands
with a rag. “I’m telling you, Wildwing. I know that it might seem like it, but no coffee is not the Apocalypse.”
Wildwing simply held up the letter in front of her face.
Wide-eyed, she gasped. “It’s here?” She seized it and
surveyed it.
“It’s here,” Wildwing confirmed.
“So…wow, it’s
here,” She emphasized, downcast.
“I think we established that,” Wildwing commented coolly,
then grabbed the letter back.
Sookie nodded indecisively, then
cringed. “Would it be wrong to…”
“Maybe if I suggested it, since I am his older brother, but
if you did…”
“Wildwing, do you think we should open it?” Sookie said
concernedly, her voice full of mirth. “What happens if he didn’t get in? I
think we should be the ones to tell him, not those Legal Blonde admission officers who only admit blondes in bikinis.”
“Dive’s blonde,” Wildwing pointed out.
“But doesn’t look that great in bikini.”
“Good point. So, it
would be much easier coming from me if he didn’t get in, right? So, really, I’m a good brother by doing
this,” Wildwing replied instantly.
“I think we have sufficiently rationalized it. Yes.”
“Good enough for me.” Wildwing took the knife Sookie handed
him and used it as an envelope opener, slicing through the paper swiftly. He
snatched the letter from the envelope and unfolded it with vigor. His hands
shaking, he didn’t glance up as his eyes darted back and forth on the page.
“Is it one of those ‘little envelopes’ good or ‘little
envelopes’ bad?”
Wildwing’s eyes glistened as he raised them from the paper.
“One of those little envelopes to frame!”
“He’s in?”
“He’s in!” Wildwing repeated, latching onto Sookie and
jumping up and down. Their euphoric laughter echoed throughout the kitchen. The
crew stopped in their tracks and observed the frenetic friends with
bewilderment. Why were they so happy?
Sookie released her boss and smiled. “Coffee?”
“To hell with coffee!” Wildwing dismissed. “Get a beer! Get Dive a beer!”
“Huh. I wonder if Harry Potter started his private school
adventure the same way.”
As Sookie clipped off the top of a Budweiser and handed it
to Wildwing, Duke
slipped through the swinging door. “Oh, drinking on the job? What
are we, the Bush Administration?”
Wildwing peered over his shoulder and glared at Duke. “I’m
sorry. Monster.com called. They said your resumé needed to be posted again.”
“I posted it yesterday to get away from my eccentric boss.”
“How’s that coming?” Wildwing picked up Duke’s empty hand.
“I don’t see a letter of resignation. Was it typed by the Invisible Man?”
Duke accepted a bottle from Sookie. “So, to what are we
toasting? World Peace?”
“To Dive, “ Sookie boasted, waving
the letter in the air. “He got into Chilton!”
“Ah. The fall-out of teenage pregnancy.”
Wildwing glowered at the concierge, then
clicked his bottle with Duke’s. “Works for me. God
bless my little fluke and no one else.”
“Amen,” Sookie giggled, and the three swigged their beers.
“Oh!” Duke put down his glass and thumbed over his
shoulder. “Fearless manager, there’s an irate business man who has a Donald
Trump complex at the front desk. He says he made a reservation, but I can’t
find it.”
“The job of manager is never done,” Wildwing commented as
he tightened his tie and handed his bottle to Sookie. Walking back into the main
room, he froze at the sight of the man standing at the reservation desk.
Dressed completely in a three-piece suit, his face still red from shouting, the
man looked oddly familiar.
It clicked almost audibly, and Wildwing glanced out the
front window. Sure enough, parked in the first space was a dented Mercedes.
“Sorry,” Wildwing said as he walked about the desk and
grinned professionally at the man, “we’re all booked up.”
!!!
Staring at the coffee stagnating in his cup, Wildwing
swished it around, then brought it up to his nose.
After a tentative inhale, his fears were affirmed. Conspiratorially, he looked
left, then right. The owner of the establishment was in the kitchen, leaving
the coffee pot open for the taking. Getting up on his stool, Wildwing strategically
placed one knee on the counter and reached over the small walkway in between
the counter and the wall. Grasping the black-handled pot on the heater, he
leapt at the sudden interruption and almost dropped the pot.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Wildwing didn’t move. “I’m sitting
safely in my seat, drinking my freshly brewed caffeinated coffee.” Creeping backwards, he once more plopped onto
his stool. He pushed his filled cup down the countertop to the tan mallard
standing a few feet away and pored the coffee into his
new empty cup.
Taking a sip, he savored the flavor.
“See?”
Canard Bronzeplume shook his head,
his backwards blue baseball cap mimicking his disapproval. “This side of the
counter is for the owner and employees only, Wildwing.”
“Employees? Plural?
You only have Caesar,” Wildwing felt compelled to point out.
“You know what I meant,” his best
friend vexed. “You cannot walk, amble, dance, or frolic on this side of the
counter.” Canard motioned with his hands where he stood.
“I rarely frolic, and I wasn’t doing
any of those. I was leaning. There is
a difference.”
The bell hanging on the door to the
diner dangled, and Wildwing whirled on his stool. An instinctive smile
enveloped his beak as a particular blonde teenager bustled into the corner
diner.
“Hey Wing!” Nosedive greeted as he plopped on the stool
next to his brother. He looked briefly to the owner and spurted, “Hey Canard!”
before once more focusing on the white drake. His voice bubbled with
excitement. “You will never guess—” His voice faded to silence as his mind
processed the exasperated look on Canard’s face and the crossed arms. “What did
you do? I was only a minute late!” Nosedive accused, pointing a finger at his
brother.
“He gave me decaf! Decaf!” Wildwing directed blame.
“Shoot me for trying
to get you healthy,” Canard offhanded, then pulled out his notebook. “So, what
can I get you guys?”
Nosedive looked to his older brother. “What’s today?”
“Tuesday.”
“Oh, then our Tuesday usual,” he proclaimed with a gleeful
smile.
Canard tipped his pencil at Nosedive and scolded Wildwing,
“See? This is what happens when you don’t nourish your charge.”
“What are you talking about? He asked for our Tuesday
usual,” Wildwing objected.
“You don’t have a Tuesday usual. Remember? You have a
Monday usual, a Wednesday usual, even a Saturday every-other-week-usual, but
Tuesday is the day—”
“Without usuals,” Wildwing and Nosedive finished in unison.
“Oh, that’s right. Then, a burger,” the teen returned.
“But didn’t you get a burger last Tuesday?” Wildwing posed.
“Then, the burger would be like a
usual, and you can’t have that.”
“You want a dead cow, too, or no?” Canard seethed at the
older Featherburn.
Wildwing shrugged. “Is there mad cow in it? I really would
like to catch that before the Avian flu. ”
Canard sighed exasperatingly. “Dead cow it is!”
Shaking his head, the diner owner took off toward the
kitchen.
Watching his
retreating back, Nosedive dropped his book bag to the floor and thumbed, “Is he
okay? He seems more angry than usual.”
“I leaned,”
Wildwing admitted sheepishly.
“Aw, big bro, you know how he hates that.”
Wildwing shrugged. “It’s his fault, anyway. So, you were
saying something about something…”
Nosedive blinked, then pondered
with a scrunched face, “About what?”
“Something.”
Taking his big brother’s cup of
coffee and sipping, Nosedive shrugged noncommittally. “I forget.”
“Well, if you don’t have anything…”
Wildwing opened his jacket and handed Nosedive an envelope. “It came.”
“It?”
Nosedive echoed, riveted. “As in it it?”
“Unless there’s
another it.”
Nosedive flipped the envelope over
and slumped. “WILDWING! It’s been opened!”
“No, it hasn’t,” Wildwing defended
indignantly.
Sending his brother his usual
mock-angered glare, Nosedive spat, “Then what’s with the tape?”
“Uh…It came that way.”
“Right,”
Nosedive threw the envelope on the counter and refused to relinquish his
brother’s life force when Wildwing beckoned for it with his hand. “So, am I
in?”
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
Wildwing inquired.
“Why?” Nosedive shifted on his
stool. “You know. Just tell me.”
“Come on. Where’s the fun in that?”
“It’s better from bro than a stupid
letter anyway. So,” Nosedive asked earnestly, “am I in?”
A contented smile furled onto
Wildwing’s beak. “Yeah, kiddo. You’re in!”
“How?”
Nosedive blinked, though a tiny smirk etched itself onto the corner of his
beak.
“Your 4.0 might have something to do
with it,” Wildwing supplied.
Nosedive looked suspiciously at his brother, asking
pointedly, “You didn’t sleep with the principal, did you?”
“What? NO! Kiddo,
that was just a joke. I don’t swing that way, hence your almost niece or
nephew.”
“Oh.” Nosedive blinked again,
unhinged, then vaulted into his brother’s arms. “Thank you!” He exclaimed. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”
“Why are you thanking me?” Wildwing
smiled fondly, trailing his fingers through his brother’s hair. “You’re the one
who did it.”
“Yeah, but you’re paying for it.”
Wildwing froze. Oh, Stars…
Nosedive shot up and grabbed the
letter off the counter. “Can I go tell Lane?”
“Uh, why don’t you leave it here?”
Wildwing disputed, taking it from his brother’s hands. “I was thinking of
framing it.”
Nosedive sent his brother a sideways
glance. “The last thing you framed was my last place ribbon in the fifty-yard dash.”
“At least you placed,” smirked
Wildwing, then pushed his brother toward the door. “Go
now before the food comes ‘cause you know I don’t like
eating without my sibling.”
Sending his older brother a unconvinced glare, Nosedive hurried out the door.
As soon as he left, Wildwing ripped
open the letter with a butter knife, then unfolded the
acceptance letter. Placing the letter behind the second page, Wildwing read
with a horrified vigor. His sight flew over a certain number, and he gagged.
“You okay?” Canard inquired, as he
wiped his rag down the counter. He halted, noticing the wild look in his best
friend’s eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Coff—ee,” Wildwing croaked. He thrust his cup into Canard’s hand. “Need
coffee—now!”
!!!
“Hi, yes, I’m Wildwing Featherburn,”
Wildwing started as he sat down on his couch. He sighed awkwardly, as if the
weight of the world was pressing down upon his shoulders. “I…uh…my little
brother just got into your school…Thank you, but see, that’s why I’m calling.”
Pausing for a moment, he summoned up
his resolve, and a pang of embarrassment fluttered in his gut at what he had to
divulge. He hesitated, then surveyed the paper in
front of him. “Does your school offer
any scholarships or financial aid? I took a peek at your tuition bill and
enrollment fee, and wow, there’re a lot of zeroes behind that five...No, I
understand that
He shot to his feet, not being able
to sit any longer. “No! I don’t want you to give away his spot. He worked
really hard to…When does it have to be paid?...When he
starts? But that’s Monday!” He shook his head and grimaced. “That doesn’t give
me a whole lot of time to knock over banks. How many do you think it’ll take to
paid this?”
Pacing, he stifled a dry laugh. “I
meant to steal for…never mind. Just don’t give up Nosedive’s spot. I’ll get the
money…somehow…Yeah, it was great talking to you, too. A treat.”
He scowled and threw the phone to
couch. Appalled, he gathered his bearings and looked to the fireplace mantle.
Pictures adorned the edge, all of them of he and his
little brother. One of Nosedive and he after fishing, though
they caught nothing because it was cruelty to animals; another of Nosedive at
two, and Wildwing helping him to walk. Nosedive wore a shirt that had
once been Wildwing’s, which the older brother had sown to be the younger’s
size. Money had been tight back then. In order to make ends meet, Wildwing had
to make his brother’s clothes from his old ones after a fellow “housekeeper”
taught him how to sew.
He had found a way to make a living
for he and his brother out of almost nothing. There
was a solution to this. He just how to find it.
“I don’t think you have a choice,” Sookie said twenty
minutes later. Sitting down on the porch swing outside of the house, she rocked
slowly back and forth.
Wildwing sipped his beer indignantly and savored the bland
taste in his beak. Swallowing, he spat, “No. I’m not going to them.” He shifted
uncomfortablly upon the porch’s railing. “I escaped from that
“Sure, in between running the Independence Inn, going for
your Associate’s Degree, and raising your little brother completely by
yourself, there’s time to wait tables,” Sookie agreed sardonically. “Of course,
the latter of that will probably go out the window because you’ll never see
Dive.”
Wildwing rubbed his thumb along the bottle’s opening and
let out one, scoffing laugh. He slumped against the pole. “Going to our parents
is not an option, Sookie. It’s not.”
Raising from her seat, she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Honey, I don’t see another option.”
The answer was instantaneous and bitter. “So what do I say
when they answer the door?” His free hand curled into a fist and shook
fervently. “ ‘Hey,
Mom, Dad. It’s been sixteen years. How are you? I’m good. Need some money,
though. Oh, by the way, the son I took from you, yeah. He’s good, too. He’s the
reason I need to the money.’ There’s a cheerful conversation. All Clinton-Bush, Sr. relationship. ”
A clatter behind them drew their curiosity, and out of the
front door Nosedive leapt. Hanging from his shoulders was an absurdly big, blue
blazer with a yellow monogram on the left breast. The sleeves completely
concealed his hands, the material at least three inches past the tips of his
fingers.
“So, what do you think?” Nosedive asked, turning around for
effect. “So! So!”
Sookie simply giggled, while Wildwing smiled but suppressed
a laugh. “You look good, kiddo, but I think you’re too much like Jim Carrey at
the end of Batman Forever. I’m going
to have to hem it a little.”
Nosedive flipped the excessive long sleeve around. “Well,
if you thinks so…”
“You’re okay here, Wildwing?” asked Sookie as she grabbed
her jacket and headed toward the stairs.
“Yeah, I’ll…figure something out. Thanks for stopping,
Sookie.”
“Not a problem.” She
tasseled Nosedive’s hair on the way out. “You might want to get a haircut,
Dive.”
“I’m going to a private school, not an army academy,” he
seethed, albeit facetiously.
As soon as Sookie was out of an earshot, Nosedive cocked
his head to side. “You’ll ‘figure something out’? Is everything okay, big bro?”
Wildwing draped a hand about his brother’s shoulders and
led him inside the house. “Everything’s peachy keen, Dive.” Then he added for
his own comfort, “Everything’s peachy keen.”
!!!
Wildwing sipped his coffee cup as he
sat on the footstep of his jeep. He peered up at the house—no, the American Taj
Mahal—in front of him. Brown brick adorned the front, while the windows were
made with the crossing metal that was only of the highest society. In the middle
of the cobblestone driveway was a fountain, where water coursed down the
concrete dolphins in the middle of the sea of sparkling, clear liquid, despite
the overcast sky. Ivan Ilyich would be proud.
Wildwing scowled. There had to be
another way. He just had to figure it out. Too bad he didn’t have the time.
Someone up there just didn’t like,
he finally resigned. Someone had it out for him. Either that,
or He/She were just laughing Himself/Herself sick watching him squirm.
Lifting his beak vertical, Wildwing put his cup to his beak
and allowed the life-sustaining coffee to trickle down his throat. When the
liquid failed to fill his beak again, he closed one eye to focus the other on
the mouth hole of the cup. Empty. Wonderful. Now he
had no excuse to procrastinate any longer.
How about not wanting to do this?
He needed the money by Monday—It wasn’t a valid reason.
Doggy-doody.
In fact, he would rather step in
doggy-doody every day for the rest of his entire life rather than go in the
house. However, that was impossible. Taking a deep breath, Wildwing heaved
himself to his feet and threw his coffee cup absentmindedly through the jeep’s
open window. Step by step, he closed the distance between his jeep and the
door.
His feet froze a few inches from the
door, his hand raised but not daring to knock. If he did…What if his worst
fears were realized? He had been looking over his shoulder for sixteen years,
waiting to be found, waiting for the police to storm his and Nosedive’s house,
waiting for the most precious of gifts to be torn from him in a surge of
bloodcurdling shrieks and tearstained faces.
The macabre thought almost brought tears to his eyes—he
sniffled—correction. The thought led to tears trickling down his face, and it
was almost enough to stop him from knocking. He had to believe at least part of
the people in the house were decent and would understand…and he desperately
needed the money. He wouldn’t destroy his little brother’s dream for his own
selfish reasons.
Swiftly, he knocked so as not to lose his nerve. Bracing
himself, he shifted his weight apprehensively from one foot to another. Tumult
ravaged his stomach, and all he wanted to do was run away like Toby Tyler. If
this was for anyone but his son, he would have kept his last statement to his
parents true.
“I don’t need your money, Daddy and Mommy Warbucks. Go to
Hell!”
Man, why did he have to love his little brother?
Finishing his count to one, he shrugged and swiveled to
leave. No one was home. Not his fault. He tried. Of course, as his luck would
happen, the door opened, and an elderly woman with curly, dyed red hair stood
in the doorway. She wore a shiny gold shirt that cut at her chest, while the ends
of it tucked into her brown dress pants. Her tense chin lifted superiorly high,
she stared at Wildwing through two narrowed and venomous eyes. Her glare was
almost tense enough to burn a hole through his head, though he had longed
become immune to its effects.
“Wild…wing?” She
asked suddenly. For a split second, Wildwing thought he might have heard euphoria or at least shock,
and the same emotions flashed through her features. As quickly as it came,
though, the glimpse he got of the stoic women was lost. Her defense mechanism
reconstructed itself faster than the Flash.
It had been sixteen years, and still, nothing had changed.
“Hey, Mom,” Wildwing greeted with a
forced smile. “How have you been?”
The Hilary Clinton of
“Better than you have faired,” she
commented grimly. “Where have you been? Greek housing?”
Wildwing sighed. Hell had not
frozen over currently. Good thing to note. “Nice to see you, too, Mom.”
She glared behind him, as if
expecting to see someone, then stepped out of the
doorway. “Well, you might as well come in. I hear there is a storm coming, and
you wouldn’t want to be in it.”
And
heading directly into another one, he thought dryly, then
stepped into the house. Blizzard
2005.
Remembering tradition, he took off
his dress coat and handed it to the maid that serendipitously entered at the
precise moment she was needed. Of course, Emily Gilmore wasn’t pleased.
“Sheryl, where were you? The
doorball rang, and you answer it. How hard is that?” the mistress of the house
snapped.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I was working on
lunch—”
“I didn’t realize that simple task
took your whole entire brain capacity. Next time we might as well ask our guest
not to come when you’re busy,” Emily scowled. She once more directed her gaze
to Wildwing, who rubbed his neck idly.
“Is there something wrong with your neck?” Emily asked
sharply.
Wildwing immediately dropped his hand. “Yeah,
Mom. I got whiplash by being in your line of fire.”
“Then would you like ice? Possibly a
shower? A pressed suit might also do the trick.” With that, she turned
on her heel and strode off, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She
halted just before the living room and peered back at Wildwing. “Well, are you
coming or staying in the foyer? I’m sure your father would fancy shouting
through a megaphone from the living room to alert the neighbors of your return
to
Why did he come again? Wait…wait…oh, yeah. Nosedive. He had
to keep his brother in mind.
As he followed his mother into the living room, Wildwing realized
not much had changed. Antiques were still used for furniture, even though
people were allowed to sit on them. Of course, no feet on the furniture or else
Earth would implode. To the left were the stairs, mimicking Rhett and
Scarlett’s home, while a liquor cabinet adorned the bottom. Behind the
furniture and to the right were the patio doors which led to the pool house,
and directly facing Wildwing was the fireplace. Above it was a painting of the
family. The master and mistress of the house stood in the background, while
Wildwing sat in between them in the front. He wore a smile that resembled more
of a smirk. It said, “This picture isn’t really what the family is like.”
However, unexpectedly, a pain seared through his chest. It was familiar, yet forgotten,
dulled by time. It was the same pain he received every time he thought of his
parents. He wanted them to be supportive of him, to accept him, to love him.
While he knew the latter was in part true, he wanted them to accept him for
whom he was, not the “major disappointment” they deemed him.
“Richard, look who’s here,” Emily instructed as she took a
seat next to her husband.
Wildwing blinked and redirected his gaze. Richard Gilmore,
reading the newspaper intently, looked up. His legs were crossed in the
gentlemanly way, while his reading glasses were perched on the bridge of his
nose. Like Wildwing had always known him, he was dressed in a sharply pressed
suit, so much more so than Wildwing’s, making the son seem almost untidy.
Instead of a tie, the elderly man wore a bow-tie.
His father gasped in surprise, “Wildwing?”
Well, at least he was more animated than his mother. “Hey, Dad. Time flies, huh?” spoke Wildwing with a lopsided
grin as he took a seat on the smaller couch across from his parents.
Folding up his paper and placing it upon the coffee table,
the elder man simply stared at Wildwing, much like his
mother had only a minute ago.
Wildwing rubbed his hands together and suffered the visual
examination in silence. Eventually, the two would get around to talking again,
and he could play the silent game as long as they could. In the meantime, maybe
he could pray for divine intervention.
Finally, after about another minute of awkward silence,
Richard cleared his throat. “You’re tall. Isn’t he tall, Emily?” He stated with
some sort of pride.
“I can see that he is. I’m not blind.” Shifting her legs,
she asked, “Would you like a drink, Wildwing? It’s been sixteen years. I
surmise you must be old enough now.”
“A beer,” Wildwing sighed thankfully, ignoring her sarcasm.
He might as well ride the liquor horse. If he was lucky, he’d pass out.
“A…beer?” She questioned incredulously. “You want…a beer?”
“One nitwit juice is good, Mom. Thanks.”
“We don’t have beer,”
she clipped.
Figures. “Then whatever
you’ve got that has liquor is fine. If not, just get me the mouthwash.”
Her tense face was a dead giveaway of her dislike of his
rebellion, but what else was knew? She stood instantly and walked behind
Wildwing to the liquor cabinet.
“So,
Wildwing,” Richard scooted to the edge of his seat, “where have you—”
“Where’s Nosedive? Is he still alive?” Emily interrupted.
Wildwing gritted his teeth. Direct to the point. No idle
babble, huh? “After I left here, I went to Star’s Hallow.” Then, waiting to
hear his mother’s grunt, he added, “And yes, Nosedive is alive.”
“Well, I should hope so,” his mother replied bitterly,
practically shoving the drink into his hand. It looked like vodka tonic, and he
suddenly wished for something stronger. “What have you been doing to support
your brother and yourself?”
Wildwing recollected his thoughts, wondering just what she
was getting at and why hadn’t she dropped the nuclear bomb of angered banter.
Figuring she would eventually, he opened his beak.
She cut him off. “You aren’t a gigolo, are you?”
He snorted in his drink. “W—What?
Are you serious?”
“Well, there aren’t many options for a young male in
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom,” Wildwing snapped.
“No. I’m actually working toward my Associate’s Degree, so I’m not Deuce
Bigolo. I’m the executive manger of an inn in Stars’ Hallow.”
Both Emily and Richard choked on their drinks, and Wildwing
found himself finishing his off in one swig. He gave his head one, rough shake.
A zinger of a drink. Actually
whisky. Not bad.
“You work at an inn?” His father scowled.
“I run the inn,”
Wildwing retorted.
“So, I can see you’re not married,” his mother rejoined
bitterly.
Wildwing looked down at his left hand and began to rub his
ring finger absently. “No, Mom. I’m not, but thanks for bringing that up.”
Emily wiped off her shirt with a napkin. “What do you want,
Wildwing? Why did you come back now?”
“Can’t I just come and visit my parents?” Wildwing asked,
feigning innocence.
His mother stared with masked malevolence and piqued
bewilderment. “Last I remember, you left us a note saying that you wanted to
make sure your brother had a better life than you had growing up. If we were a
Turkish prison, for what reason would you retur—” She suddenly gasped and
spurted, “You need money, don’t you?”
Wildwing grimaced and waited.
“Well, do you?”
Putting up a finger, Wildwing looked about the room. “Hold
on. I figure I’m due for divine intervention. I prayed about five minutes ago,
so...”
“Wildwing,” his father provoked.
A heavy sigh resounded from Wildwing’s beak, and his body
slouched. “Yes, I need money.”
“For what?” Emily challenged.
He rubbed his temples, attempting to elevate the pressure
mounting. “See, Dive got into Chilton, and there’re more zeroes in the tuition
than my monthly pay.”
“He did, did he?”
Emily smirked, clicking her glass with Richard. “Well, he must have taken after
us.”
Wildwing fought the urge to point out that Emily and
Richard were not Nosedive’s biological parents, and the boy had hardly lived
with them for a year before Wildwing left with him, but hey? Who was checking
facts? “Look, Dive has dreamed about going to Harvard since he could talk. I
think his first word wasn’t ‘Win-Wig’ but ‘Ha-vad,’ and if you could just pay
the bill, which I will definitely pay back in full, it would mean the world to
him. He’s worked so hard for this,
and he’s such a great kid.”
“Not Yale?” Emily questioned
quizzically. “Your father went to Yale.”
“It was Dive’s choice, Mom. Not
mine.”
Emily sat back on the couch and
crossed her arms. A conniving smirk curled upon her mouth. “Well, then, this
certainly a different predicament, isn’t it?”
Wildwing didn’t at all like the look on her face. “Mom—”
“We’ll pay for
Leaning closer, Wildwing breathed a
sigh of relief. They weren’t going to fight him over custody. Oh, Stars…the
rumor was true. They had hearts! “That’s it?” He asked to make sure. There had
to be an underlying agenda.
“Wildwing, I want to be a part of
your life again. No, a part of yours and…Nosedive’s
lives again. Therefore, we’ll see you on Friday, and we’ll pay for Chilton.”
“But—But—”
She cocked her head to the side. “Is
seven good for you?”
The white mallard let out a
breathless laugh. Sure, he would have to hear every single week how much a
disappointment he was, but he still had Nosedive under his roof.
“Look, I’d just really appreciate it
if you didn’t tell Nosedive about this,” Wildwing broached.
Richard rose from his seat, to which
Wildwing followed. “Fair enough.” He shook his son’s
hand. “See you Friday then, Wildwing.
Now, if you’d excuse me, I have a conference call.”
“I’m sure you know the way out,” his
mother said starkly, “in case you need me to draw you a map.” She took off up
the stairs.
Shaking his head and lugging himself
toward the door, Wildwing halted in the foyer. He smirked sadly and was
suddenly filled with morose. In sixteen years, nothing had changed.
!!!
“I can’t believe it!” Nosedive
screeched as he slammed shut his locker. “My last day of ever
having this locker!”
“Last day of the moldy smell of the
hallways,” an Asian girl with black glasses celebrated with him.
“Last day of shit
on a shingle!”
“Last day of Old
Mrs. Bondicle!”
Nosedive’s face fell slightly. “Last day of being in school with you.”
Lane Kim blinked, then
sighed. “That means I’ll be all alone in her class. How could you do that to
me?”
“What if I think about you every
time I have math class?” Nosedive presented with a smile.
“As long as you stay my best friend,
I’m good,” Lane smirked, then thumbed behind her. “I
have to run while I can before Mrs. Kim’s time clock notices I’m five minutes
late. It’s better than the official time at
“What’s tonight?” Nosedive asked. He
bent down to the floor and picked up the box next to his locker filled with its
contents—a few books, pictures, a fuzzy pink thing he didn’t remember dropping
in his locker.
“Oh, I’m meeting another potential mate. A
premed student.” Her voice was tainted with disdain, as together, she
and Nosedive headed toward the exit.
Nosedive pushed the door open with
his back and headed outside. “Oh, man. Why don’t you just tell her you’ll marry
me? Then you won’t have any problems.”
“I would, but you’re missing one of
Mrs. Kim’s prime aspects of my mate. Korean, you’re not.” She dropped the book
she was holding into the box. “Call me later. I’ll tell you all about tonight’s
communal suffering.”
“So this is what I get for leaving
school, huh?” He yelled at her retreating back.
“Watch out!”
Startled, he pivoted on his heel,
wide-eyed at the sight of vulcanized rubber speeding toward him. Lifting up his
box, Nosedive caught the puck on the edge, and it ricocheted into his package.
“Creamed by my own team? I’ll sue
myself for damages,” Nosedive muttered as he dropped his box to the ground and plucked
the puck from its contains.
“The
Mighty Ducks, right?”
He craned his neck and spotted the
redhead looking down at him. Blinking, he slowly rose from his crouching
position, unsure if she was talking to him. He glanced behind him, seeing no
one there. He gazed at her and saw the tight fitting sweater than cut right at
the buckle of her waist, but that wasn’t what mesmerized him. Her emerald green
shone back at him, amused and twinkling, as her flame hair seemed to whisk like
embers floating off a fire into the night sky.
She was beautiful.
“Wh-huh?”
“Very astute,” she laughed and took
the puck from his hands. Turning sharply, she threw it to the hockey players
skating on the basketball court. “The
Mighty Ducks, right? The animated series, not the movies.
The movies were actually cornier than the TV show.”
Nosedive blinked, finally realizing
she was talking to him. To him! “You know that series?”
“Totally.”
She put out her hand. “I’m Mallory, by the way. Mallory McMallard.”
He wiped his sweaty hand on his
jeans and clasped hers. “Dive—”
“Dive Featherburn, I know,” she
returned with a grin.
He blinked. “You’re better than a one-eight-hundred number.
Can you tell me my future, too?”
She smiled sheepishly. “No, I’m not physic. I’ve just been
watching you. Not in a creepy-stalker-type way,” she assured with a roll of her
gorgeous eyes. “We were playing hockey the other day, and I noticed you were
sitting in the park reading a book.”
It was then Nosedive discerned the rollerblades on her
feet. A beautiful girl who played hockey was talking to him? Divine
intervention without a doubt!
“Anyway,” she continued, “Grin got creamed in the beak.
There was blood everywhere, and the ambulance came, but there you were, reading
your book. You didn’t look up once! I just said, ‘I had to meet that guy.’ ”
Nosedive’s face darkened to a deep
crimson as he rubbed the back of his head apprehensively. “I could just be
incredibly self-centered.”
“Nah, just oblivious,” she chuckled
and hit him on the shoulder. “How’d you get a name like ‘Dive?”
Nosedive shrugged. “My big bro
dropped me on my head once, and his best friend, Canard, thought I did a
‘nosedive.’ The name kinda stuck…uh…yeah. So, are you going back to play
hockey?” Oh, please no!
She shrugged. “Where are you going? Looks like you could
use a hand.”
“Actually, I was heading to the
library, but…”
Bending down, Mallory lifted out
three books from the box. “Well, I’ll accompany you there, but then I need to
go find a job. My dad’s a military general and was transferred here from
“You know who could help you with
that?” Nosedive posed as he heaved the box off the ground. “Miss Patty.”
Mallory sent him a sideways glance. “Who?”
“Miss Patty. She runs a dance studio
in town,” Nosedive elaborated as he headed toward the park. “She used to dance
on Broadway and everything. Now, though, she knows the beat of the town better
than Sally Field in Without Malice. If
there’s a job in town, she’ll know about it.”
“So, pit stop at Miss Patty’s then?”
Mallory asked, skating next to him at a mundane pace.
Nosedive snorted. “I thought you
liked hockey, not NASCAR.”
“Same diff.”
Well, the teen thought as he
grinned, she wasn’t perfect, but she was damn close.
“So, a Melville,
huh?” She posed as she studied the books in her hand, stealing his
attention.
A shrug. “I
know Moby Dick is a little clichéd
for my first Melville, but hey…”
!!!
Nosedive picked at his mash
potatoes, twirling them about his fork.
Wildwing watched him from the
opposite side of the table at Canard’s, taking a bite of his hamburger. “So,
you were home late today. Where’d you go?”
Nosedive shrugged. “The library.”
Nodding absently, the father wiped
his beak with his napkin. Shifting uncomfortably, he spouted, “Look, we’re
having dinner at our parents’ this Friday.”
“Who?”
Nosedive asked, and Wildwing found himself on the receiving end of a perplexed
glare.
“Our parents.
You know, the people who took in your brother and
later on you after the spaceships left us on Earth.”
It wasn’t something they spoke of
often. In fact, it was something society hardly mentioned. Besides a paragraph
in the recent textbooks, it was a subject avoided like brussel spouts and
Sixteen years later, Wildwing recalled, another ship had
landed, and that time, Wildwing was one of the first to enter. Wanting to know
more about his lost planet and family, he searched along with the other
teenagers who were there. He had been unnerved to find more hatchlings, but
disturbingly so at the sight of hatchling with his last name on the carrier. He
still remembered touching the case, an oval, iced glass, and gasping as it
opened. As he held his baby brother in his arms, his heart simply grew. After
what happened with Tanya—having a child the same age his own would have been
was a blessing in disguise. Nosedive kept Wildwing sane, kept him going, gave him a reason to wake up in the morning.
He still remembered the message his parents left when
Nosedive arrived.
“Our elder son, Wildwing, has been given to your planet
prior. As you have protected him, please watch over our little hatchling,” the
female Puckworlder with long blonde conveyed, tears in her blue eyes. “We wish
we could be there to see him grow, but the war is turning and not for the
better of Puckworld. Please,” she implored, “please watch over him. He will undoubtedly be used to get to
Wildwing when the Saurians arrive. Like Wildwing, he is more valuable than you
know.”
Oh, he knew. He knew just how
valuable his little brother was that he was willingly to give him up for
Nosedive’s dreams to be achieved.
Wildwing let his thoughts wane, not wanting to explore that
particular morbid thought. Luckily, Nosedive revisited their conversation a
moment later, replying dryly, “I thought we didn’t have any parents. Remember
when I asked you about them for my second grade family tree. You said ‘Stalin’
and ‘Darth Vader.’ Still trying to figure out how that occurred.”
“You’ll
find out on Friday. Trust me,” Wildwing answered cryptically.
“You know, you should have told me.
I could’ve had something planned,” Nosedive rejoined, dropping his fork to the
plate with a clatter.
“I would have known.”
“I don’t tell you everything, you
know. I have my own things.”
Wildwing stuffed the remainder of
his sandwich in his beak. “Like what?” he mumbled.
“You know…things. Like…” He looked away and confided softly, “Maybe I don’t
want to go to Chilton.”
“What!” Wildwing barked. “What do
you mean, you don’t want to go?”
“Well, maybe I’m not good enough—”
“Baby bro, you know that isn’t
true.”
“And we don’t know I won’t get into
Harvard staying here.”
Wildwing shook his head. Images of
the torture session with his parents that the Geneva Convention would not
sanction flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t hold back the seethe that
sounded from his beak. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
“And let’s not forget that you want
to start your own inn!” Nosedive added vigorously. “I know this has to be
costing you a lot.”
“Oh,
kiddo, you have no idea,” Wildwing bit.
“Then really I shouldn’t be going,
and we can just—”
Wildwing pushed his chair back
swiftly and stood. “I’m not doing this here. I’m not!” He began to storm from
the diner when Nosedive shouted, “We have to pay!”
Ripping out his wallet, Wildwing
flicked a few bills onto the table. “Come on,” he ordered.
Even though he couldn’t see his
brother’s reaction, Wildwing knew Nosedive was sending him daggers as he
trailed just a step behind him. The older brother pulled his coat tighter about
him when the cold autumn air blew through the town.
“I don’t understand,” he mused, his
hot breath forming clouds in front of his beak. “I don’t understand where this
is coming from.”
“It’s nothing, okay?” Nosedive
spurted. “Maybe I just don’t want to go to Chilton. Did you ever think of
that?”
Wildwing halted in his footsteps and
turned swiftly. A harsh glower enveloped his face. “You were the one who wanted
to go there! I was the one who tried to talk you out of it, remember? ‘Teachers worse than Stepford!’ ‘Food that
resembles my cooking!’ ”
“Dive, honey!” an elderly lady’s
voice cut through Wildwing’s shouts.
On the entranceway of the boxcar
dance studio stood Miss Patty, her purplish hair accenting her dark make-up and
her puffing cigarette. She watched the little girls inside practicing ballet,
while speaking to Nosedive at the same time. “I think I found that girl friend
of yours a job. Taylor Doose is looking for a checker/shelfer/box person.
Susie!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Do you have to tinkle? If not,
uncross your legs, dear.” Turning back to Nosedive, she winked. “Good taste, by
the way. She compliments you.”
Stuffing his hands in his pockets,
Nosedive huffed past his brother and walked at a hasty pace toward their house.
“Oh, you are going to have walk
faster than that,” Wildwing called after him.
!!!
Storming into the house, Nosedive
slammed shut the door. A split second later, Wildwing opened it.
“Why didn’t I see it before? You’re me! It’s like looking
in a mirror!”
“If the mirror has a completely different complexion,”
Nosedive snapped as he turned toward the kitchen and subsequently, his room.
“Does she have a nice bod? If you’re going to throw your
life away for a girl, she better be a looker.”
“This isn’t about her!” Nosedive whirled. “This isn’t about
you, either! If you just cared about someone other than yourself for a
millisecond, you’d realize I’m not you! I’m sixteen and don’t have a pregnant
girlfriend!” Nosedive shouted madly. “And who are you to boss me around,
anyway? It’s not like you’re my father! You just think you can take all that
parental urgencies out on me because Tanya had an abortion and you lost your
kid! Well, look in the mirror, brother, because I’m not yours to
command!” He disappeared into his room and slammed shut the door.
Wildwing took a deep breath, holding back the smoldering
anger in his chest. No. He had to push it down. He never screamed all-out at
his little brother before, and he wouldn’t now. This should be a happy event.
Nosedive’s first love…aw…shit. He remembered his first love. Tanya.
He wasn’t their parents. He wasn’t their parents. He was not their parents.
He opened the door, finding Nosedive on his bed taking off
his sneakers.
“Hey! Didn’t you ever hear of knocking?”
“Okay, let’s start over,” Wildwing broached thoughtfully.
“You tell me about her—what she looks like, who is she, for that matter. Then
we’ll discuss this Chilton thing. Sound good?”
Nosedive kicked his sneakers off his bed and plopped down
on his pillow, his back now facing his father. “I’m not going! There’s nothing
to discuss!”
Wildwing growled. Okay, that’s the way he wanted it. “Look,
you know we’ve always been a democracy here. We’ve never made a decision
without the other, and I’ve never forced you to do something you didn’t want
to. However, today I’m pulling the Big Brother card. Monday, you’re going to
Chilton, whether you like it or not.” He turned sharply on his heel and headed
out the door.
“We’ll see, Orwell!” Nosedive spat at him.
“Uh-uh, we will!” Wildwing slammed the door and angrily
treaded into the living room. Sighing deeply, he ran hands through his hair and
let out his pent-up frustration. He hit on the stereo.
As he flopped onto the couch, “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”
blared through the speakers.
!!!
Nosedive rolled over on his bed. He
needed to just relax. His older brother never commanded him. Never. Why was he so ticked over this?
Laying stomach-down on his bed,
clutching his pillow under his head, Nosedive smacked on his stereo, and his
thoughts intermingled with “Boulevard of Broken Dreams.”
!!!
“It was about the girl. No doubt
about it,” Wildwing proclaimed as he chewed on a piece of chocolate. He watched
indolently as Sookie cut celery and shook his head. “He’s always told me these
things. When he had a crush on J.K. Rowling, he told me. He loves her books.”
“Well, he’s sixteen now. Girls he
can actually talk to might make him just a little less like Harry Potter and a
little more Ron Wesley, you know?” The female replied simply. “Did you talk
about your parents about girls when you were sixteen?”
“Tanya was already pregnant, so any
talking I did to them centered around, ‘Why aren’t you two getting married?’
which quickly diminished to ‘Nosedive’s not your son. He’s ours.’
“But Nosedive and I have never
fought. Not like this.” He reached into the jar and pulled out another piece of
chocolate. “And when he woke up today, he didn’t make me a Pop-Tart or start
the coffee pot. The Pop-Tart is debatable, but he knows I can’t function
without caffeine.”
“You’ll work it out,” Sookie
encouraged. “After all, it’s not like you’re Angelina Jolie and Jon Voget.”
“Well, as Nosedive pointed out
yesterday, I couldn’t get away with playing the Pope…”
Sookie stared at his distraught
face, cocking her head to the side. “What’s wrong? You look like they’ve
cancelled Skating with Celebrities.”
Wildwing sighed and leaned back on
the counter. He closed his eyes to safeguard the tears threatening to fall.
“Nosedive brought up the fact that I’m not his father and the only reason I
look after him is because Tanya had an abortion.”
“What?” She giggled, mixing the
salad in front of her. “Oh, honey. I’m sure he didn’t mean it. Come on. Even
the Hardy Boys had their fights, and it’s not like you wouldn’t have looked
after him if you had your own kid.”
“But I’m sure it was part of it,” Wildwing objected. “Think
about it. Tanya had the abortion three weeks before the ship came, and then
suddenly, there was a baby in my arms not much older than my own child would
have been. If I would have been able to convince Tanya not to have the—”
Sookie stabbed him in the ribs with a carrot.
“OW!”
“You would have still loved your brother as you do now. You
could have even had a show. How about Me, My Son, and My Brother?”
Wildwing laughed and felt the shadows in his heart lift
slightly. “Now’s that a Family Affair.”
The door behind him opened, and Wildwing craned his neck.
Trotting into the room, Duke aimed his acerbic glare at his boss. “The
offspring of your parents is here, and he’s sitting in my chair. MY CHAIR!”
Wildwing shook his head and took an
extra piece of chocolate out of the jar. Winking at Sookie, he headed out the
door.
“Hey, kiddo!”
He greeted brightly as he spotted Nosedive on the stool behind the front desk.
Hitting his cross-armed brother on the knee, he slipped the chocolate into the
teen’s hand. “I was thinking you might want to make a few extra bucks working
for me today.”
Nosedive averted his eyes and
nibbled on his chocolate. “Whatever.”
“Don’t want to make any money?”
Wildwing asked as he flipped open the reservation book and counted the number
of room occupied.
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do…Brother.” The teen’s tone was cool
enough for freeze the room.
Wildwing gagged. Nosedive was
emphasizing that he was not his father. Below the belt, kid. Swiveling, he fumed, “Fine. Go home,
and get ready. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. You don’t have to wear a tie if
you don’t want to.”
Nosedive slithered off Duke’s chair.
“Whoopie.”
As soon as Nosedive vacated the
area, Duke slipped into his chair. “Ahhhh….”
!!!
Standing before the house, Wildwing
and Nosedive were side-by-side. Nosedive’s beak was agape, as he surveyed the
huge palace masquerading as mansion.
“Okay, look,” Wildwing leveled his
son, “truce inside there, okay? Let’s go through dinner amicably, and when we
get on Route 91, you can pull a Cane.”
Nosedive rolled his eyes. “Or you
can pull a Darth Vader. I heard it runs in the family.”
“If I was going to pull a Darth
Vader, I’d take more than your hand,” Wildwing assured surly and walked up to
the door.
Ringing the doorbell, Wildwing
entertained the idea of praying again for divine intervention, but for some
reason, the invention never came his way. Instead, he waited in an
uncomfortable silence until the door opened.
Emily Gilmore stood in the doorway,
an instant smile forming upon her face. “Well, you must be Nosedive.” She
welcomed, ushering them into the house.
“Uh…yeah…M—Mom.” The world fumbled on his tongue from its lack of use.
She smiled genially at the sound of her name. “Well, then,
come in. Come in. It’s almost as cold as an ice rink out there.”
Nosedive shrugged as he entered. “That’s not such a bad
thing.” Suddenly, a force tugged at the collar of his coat, and he tore a way.
“What the heck—Getting robbed at rich person’s home! I
knew it! Republicans are dangerous!”
“Oh, that’s just the maid,” Emily assured and helped to
take off Nosedive’s coat.
“First impressions are made within the first seven
seconds,” Wildwing snickered.
Emily stared at her son. “Hello, Wildwing. I see you
there.” She quickly switched her glare to her younger son. “Now, Nosedive, let
me get a look at you.” Twirling her hand, she beckoned him to turn.
Blushing, Nosedive, dressed in a dress shirt and pants,
sans jacket and tie, swiveled on his heel. When he completed a full circle,
Emily grabbed him by the forearms and smiled. “Handsome. You have the
complexion of your mother and hopefully not the attitude of your brother. ”
Wildwing rolled his eyes, but followed as Emily escorted
her son into the living room.
“Richard,” Emily bellowed, “our guests have arrived.”
Looking up from his paper, Richard eyed the boy in front of
him. With elevator eyes, he remarked with a stringent nod, “He’s short.”
“Well, we’re complete opposites,” Wildwing commented,
sitting down on the couch he had occupied a few days prior.
“We could tell that, Wildwing. Mindless clatter doesn’t
help a conversation,” Emily chastised.
“Wing thought about stretching me like in the old days, but
decided against it at the last moment,” Nosedive added, sending his brother a
sympathetic expression. He took a seat next to Richard and across from
Wildwing. His eyes darted about as he
cocked his head to the side to see the whole foyer, staircase, and living
room—mystified. “You have a nice house. Really…big.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Emily replied, hustling
to the liquor cabinet and getting a tray. She returned a moment later, giving
Wildwing a beer bottle, while allotting a flute to Richard, Nosedive, and
herself. “We must make a toast.”
“Uh, Mom? Dive’s sixteen,” Wildwing interrupted.
“Yes, and club soda will
definitely give him a buzz. Shall I get him something less body numbing?”
Wildwing sat back in his seat. “No, club soda is fine,
Mom.”
“So…to what do we toast?” Richard asked, laying his paper
in between him and Nosedive.
“How about to our resident son genius
here?” Emily raised her glass.
“And to pie!” Wildwing added. When everyone stared at him, Wildwing
mended, “Pie’s good, too. Maybe not a genius, but still…”
Emily turned to her son, and as she did so, Richard took
his paper, opening it to the business section once more. As he read aloofly, he
ruffled through the remainder of the paper and handed a section to the
astounded Nosedive.
!!!
“This is delicious, Mom and D—Dad.
What is it?” Nosedive inquired as a shoved another fork-load of the meat into
his beak. He still had yet to get the patriarchal word out without a stutter.
“Don’t answer that!” Wildwing said
abruptly. He grinned at his little brother. “Every time I ask what something
is, I find out it’s something completely gross and disgusting, and I won’t be
able to eat it knowing what it is.”
“Aw,
come on, Wild,” Nosedive replied, “it can’t be that
bad.”
“Famous last words. That’s exactly what General Lee said to Jefferson Davis at
“It’s pancreas, Nosedive,” Emily answered kindly.
Nosedive’s face paled. “W—What?”
“Thank you, General Lee,” Wildwing said, dropping his fork
to the plate with a clatter.
“So, Nosedive, tell us,” Richard broached as he leaned
closer to his younger son, “has your brother ever tried to give you a
mother-figure?”
“Dad!” Wildwing cried, horrified.
Nosedive simply took a swig of his water and replied, “Uh,
Wildwing actually has a set of rules, where if I’m home, he won’t even bring
the girl to the door. I only get to meet his dates if it gets serious, but
that’s never happened.”
“Ah, so I see.”
“Said the blind man…” Wildwing commented under his breath.
Once more, he finished off a beer.
Richard glowered at his son. “So, Tanya called yesterday,”
he interjected, taking a sip of his wine.
A wave of alarm fluttered over Nosedive’s face. “Oh.”
Emily leaned closer, laying a hand on Nosedive’s. “Have you
ever met the mother of your nephew or niece?”
“Mom—” Wildwing started, but was quickly cut off.
“You haven’t, have you?”
Nosedive squirmed uneasily and wiped his beak with a
napkin. “Well, no, but she’s never really in the East.”
“She says she’s doing well in
“Wing’s doing well, too!” Nosedive praised. “He worked his
way up from housekeeper to executive manager at the inn.”
Wildwing closed his eyes. He really wished Nosedive hadn’t said that. Hearing the shocked gasps, he needn’t open his eyes to know his parents’
reaction.
“You were a maid?”
They exasperated together.
“Had to make a living,” Wildwing said evenly to his
parents. “And it’s ‘housekeeper,’ thank you very much.”
“But you cleaned people’s rooms!” Emily repeated,
devastated. “Tanya owns her own company!”
“Good for her. Would like to switch kids?”
Richard looked directly Nosedive. “You would like her.
She’s more of your mind-set and intelligence.”
Wildwing shot to his feet and threw his napkin on the
table. “Thanks, Dad. Right here, in the room!” As he hurried past his father
and into the kitchen, he uttered, “Excuse me.”
Nosedive rose to his feet, but Emily patted him on the
shoulder as she passed. “I’ll talk to him.”
When she entered the kitchen, she found her son next to the
maid, scrubbing the dinner dishes. He had rolled up his jacket’s sleeves, so as
not to get them dirty, and while his back faced her, the tenseness of his
muscles alerted her just how upset he was.
“Getting back into old habits?”
Emily incensed. Her son—doing dishes? Appalling.
“Is this how it’s going to be every
week, Mom?” Wildwing asked through his anger. He continued to scrub a pan that
just wouldn’t let go of its grease.
“What how?”
“You and Dad
putting the Great Disappointment down in front of his little brother every five
seconds.”
“Is that what you think?”
Wildwing slammed the pan into the
sink, the water splashing over the edge. “Didn’t you hear yourselves out there?
What do you think Dad meant when he said that to Nosedive?”
Emily situated herself between the
door to the dining room and Wildwing. “Well, I’m sure he meant to get you out
of the dining room, so we could
talk.”
Wildwing froze, looking at his mother skeptically. He
scrutinized her positioning, as his heart suddenly raced. He tried to slow his
breathing, but the horrifying realization flooded him. It was the same fear he
had the first time he had returned to this house, and now it was just
manifesting. “Mom, please. Don’t do
this,” he practically begged.
“You stole both our sons away from us, Wildwing,” Emily
said with an edge in her voice sharp enough to pierce. “Not only did you run
away, but you took your brother with you as well. That is inexcusable.”
“You acted cool about this to get him here,” Wildwing
accused hollowly.
“You had no right to keep that boy from us.”
“You had no intention of giving me that money.”
“Why should we when we are his parents?” Emily retorted
bitterly. “We should be the ones raising him, not you.”
Wildwing stared resentfully at Emily, his eyes so crisp
they cut through almost Emily’s malevolence. “It was your prerogative all
along. If you could separate us, then you figured you could force me out. Why
you yelled at me during drinks, the conversation at the table, bringing Tanya
up—”
“He is our son, not yours,” Emily strained, tears evident
in her eyes, different but just as poignant as the emotions reflecting in Wildwing’s.
“You stole him from us, stole the last sixteen years, so you could selfishly
raise him as your son!”
Wildwing shook his head. “No. I wanted to give him a better
than you gave me. You berated me at every whim. You tried to control my life. I
wasn’t going to let you do that to Dive!”
!!!
Nosedive’s head perked up at the
sound of screaming. He leaned a little closer to the door to hear, but his
father grabbed his hand.
“Nosedive, why don’t I show you my den? I have a painting of your brother there from when he was a
teenager. I’m sure you would enjoy seeing it.”
Looking over his shoulder, Nosedive felt he shouldn’t.
Something screamed at him that he shouldn’t go. Wildwing was fighting in there.
He should be in there helping his brother, not taking the White House tour.
“Come on. It will only take five minutes,” Richard said. He
seized Nosedive arm and abruptly tugged his younger son from his chair.
“Whoa!”
And Nosedive, glancing over his shoulder worriedly, was
dragged away.
!!!
“Where is he, Mom?” Wildwing asked
harshly. He moved to rush his mother, only to see the maid standing in the
doorway now, also blocking his path. “What have you done with him? Dive! NOSEDIVE!”
“Leave, Wildwing, and perhaps your father and I will not
call the police,” Emily said, crossing her arms.
Wildwing’s eyes darted back and forth. Every second his
brother didn’t return his call twisted the knife deeper into his gut more.
“What are you going to do, Mom? Have your own son arrested?”
Emily stood firm. “You have kidnapped that boy and kept him
hostage for sixteen years—”
“Kept him what? I
raised him! He’s in perfect health!”
“Yes, but it looks as if he’s been living at a hostel. His
hair’s how those punk-skating boarding drug dealers are wearing them—”
“Mom—”
“—and don’t get me started on his etiquette. He should be
wearing a jacket and tie…” Her stringent voice trailed on to nothing. Sighing
exasperatingly, she gestured to the door. “We will not press charges if you
leave now and do not seek to take Nosedive again. You may come for Friday night
dinners, but that is all.”
“Why are you doing this, Mom?” Wildwing inquired
helplessly. “Why now? You could have found us at any time. You’re rich enough.
You could’ve hired a private investigator. Why take Nosedive away from me now?”
Crossing her arms, Emily narrowed her eyes. “Your father
and I always trusted you to do the right thing. We thought once you realized
you couldn’t support your brother and yourself or you
realized taking the boy away from his parents was wrong, you would return.
Obviously, we were wrong.
“However,” she continued with a slightly raised voice, “we
knew that calling child services and having him torn from you would only
heighten his fear of us. Now, when he stays, he’ll be more comfortable, knowing
you have brought him here.”
Wildwing grimaced at her thinking—how they used him to get
at his brother.
“Now,” she pointed toward the door, unforgiving, “leave,
Wildwing.”
“MOM! PLEASE!”
Wildwing pleaded. He breathed deeply as more tears coursed his already tearstained
face. He couldn’t bear to lose Nosedive… He firmed his resolved and despite his
trembling insides, forced his voice to be stern. “Please. Don’t take him from
me.”
“You said we always controlled your life, Wildwing,” Emily
scolded. “Well, now you have the choice. Leave or I will call the police.”
Wildwing looked at his mother, then at the door. His mind
reeled unbound, trying to uncover a way he hadn’t thought of prior to retain
Nosedive. His brother had lived with him for sixteen years. That had to be something. In common law terms, he would
be married at seven years to a female. For sixteen years with his brother,
wouldn’t Nosedive be his common law son? Of course, the fact that he did, in
legal terms, kidnap his brother would not serve him well in court. If he was
arrested, there was a good chance he couldn’t get Nosedive back at all. There
was a good chance he wouldn’t now, but at least he could see his brother…every
Friday…
Demoralized, he glowered at his mother. “I was right, all
those years ago. If you are willing to do this, to pull Nosedive away from the
only life he has ever known and the only home he has ever had and the only
person who has been willing to give anything and everything for him to have a
better life, then you are the people I thought you were.”
“Yes. I am quite aware. ‘Stalin’ and ‘Darth Vader,’ wasn’t
it?” Emily said.
Wildwing gasped. That meant…someone had followed them; she
had known where they were…
He staggered backwards, realizing just how close he had
been to losing Nosedive prior to this, but it didn’t changed the evitable. It
didn’t change what she was forcing him to do—to leave the one person in the
world he couldn’t bare to lose.
I’m
sorry, Dive.
Sparing her once last glance, he
turned on his heels. Opening the help’s door to the kitchen, he stopped at the
abrupt call from his mother.
“Wildwing, I am truly sorry.”
“So was the Unibomber and the BTK
killer,” Wildwing spat. In a soft, fond tone, he added, “Tell my brother I love
him.”
Defeated, he barely slammed the door
behind him.
!!!
“Clichéd as it sounds, I didn’t
think Wing was ever that young,” Nosedive laughed as he came out his father’s
office. “And an afro! Oh, wait until he makes fun of
my hair again!”
“Yes, well, your hair will definitely be one of the first
topics of conversation,” Richard commented cryptically, following his son.
Nosedive turned to ask him just what he meant by that when
he caught a glimpse of Emily. Her face was ruddy with tears, but she brushed
them briskly from her eyes.
“Well, he’s gone,” she proclaimed just as caustic as ever.
“Who’s gone?” Nosedive asked apprehensively, then looked about the house. “Where’s Wing?”
Richard clasped his son on the shoulder, to which Nosedive
tensed. “Son, why don’t we show you your older brother’s
room? I’m sure you’ll find it quite decorated for a teenager such as
yourself. Though, I must say, it will probably be for one in the Eighties.”
Nosedive stared rigidly at Richard before calling,
“Wildwing?” He tore his eyes from Richard’s and shook his father’s hand off.
Unnerved when his brother failed to return his beckon, as he always had,
Nosedive dashed toward the door. “Wildwing!”
His brother always came for him when he was scared.
Nosedive remembered time and time again when Wildwing had been at his bedside
after a night-terror within seconds, despite the older brother’s bedroom being
on the second floor.
Turning the corner in the foyer, he dashed to the front
door and ripped it open. “WILDWING!”
But his brother’s jeep was no where to be found.
!!!
The door to the diner jingled open,
but Canard wasn’t fazed. Only two people were brash enough to enter his place a
half an hour after closing and demand coffee.
He heard a rather large figure slip
onto a stool on the opposite side of the counter, as he grabbed a cup and the
still percolating coffee. “So, how was your dinner with the Fockers—”
The coffee pot dropped from his
hands, as his wide eyes landed on the disturbing sight of his utterly broken
best friend. The pot shattered on impact on the floor, and Canard leapt
backwards to avoid the spraying scolding coffee.
Ignoring the coffee, he looked up at Wildwing. Head
hanging, tears streaming from his eyes, the white mallard stared at him in
hopelessness. “T—They took him.”
“What?” Canard questioned
incredulously. “Who took who? What are you talking about?” His eyes drifted to
the empty seat next to Wildwing. He looked back at his friend before his eyes
snapped back toward the seat. “Where’s Dive? Is he okay?”
Wildwing shook his head, then stared down at the counter. “My
parents. They took Dive away from me. They said if I tried to contact
him or tried to take him back, they’d have me arrested for kidnapping.”
“How can they do that!”
Canard seethed. He stormed around the counter. “Let’s go back there! They can’t
just say Dive’s theirs, and that be the end of it!”
“But it is,” Wildwing answered,
defeated.
“No, it’s not!” Canard stopped just
short of the door and turned on his heel. “Why aren’t you more
angry? They took your kid!”
“That’s just it,” Wildwing conceded,
closing his eyes. Fresh tears stung, as he winced from the searing truth. “He
isn’t mine, Canard. He’s my parents’. My child died in the abortion.”
Canard couldn’t believe what he
heard. Seizing Wildwing by the shoulders, he demanded, “What are you talking
about? Sure, he might not be your blood that way, but he’s still blood, and you
raised him. You have custody—”
Wildwing broke eye contact.
“Oh, Stars,” Canard breathed,
deflated. He staggered backwards, only stopping when he clutched a table. “You
don’t have custody. B—But you said you took care of this years ago. You said—”
“I lied, okay!” Wildwing burst. “I
was always afraid that if I put in for custody, my parents wouldn’t allow it
and wouldn’t allow me to see Dive.” He slumped in his chair, beseeching into
his open palms on his knees. “I guess I was right.”
“It doesn’t matter if you were
right!” Canard argued. “It doesn’t matter if your parents are right! You can’t
let them do this, Wildwing. Dive lives with you. He looks up to you, and no
matter what has gone on your lives, he is
your son.”
“But he’s not!” Wildwing exploded,
leaping to his feet. “As he was so apt to tell me, he’s not my kid! He’s not my
responsibility, and it’s time I realized—”
His voice silenced instantly at the
ringing in the diner of “
Expectantly, Wildwing’s eyes lit up
at the number on his screen, and he flipped it open. “Dive?”
“Why the hell did you leave me
here!” Nosedive’s embittered voice shouted so loudly that he had to pull the
phone away from his ear. “Did you go completely mental, or is this just a phase
you’re going through?”
Wildwing sank to his stool, shaking
his head. “Kiddo, no…you don’t understand…It’s not—”
“You can’t leave me here!” Nosedive
screamed, his voice infiltrated by hysteria. “Besides the
fact that I’m trapped in Eighties’ Hell—Stars, Wayne Gretzky, Grant Fuhr, and
Paul Coffey on your wall? Could you be
any more lame?”
Wildwing chuckled slightly, leaning back on
the counter. Canard rolled his eyes and preceded to
clean up the shattered coffee pot. “Hey, they’re hockey greats. Do not mess
with the Gretz.”
“Oh, please. All of them are in
retirement homes by now or sitting behind the bench shaking their heads and
wondering why their teams aren’t in the play-offs.” Nosedive rejoined before
whining helplessly, “They want to cut my hair, bro, and they’re talking about
getting rid of my jeans and wearing slacks and not playing hockey and going
into insurance and—and—Why did you leave me here? Dante wasn’t this evil to the
souls in Hell.”
Wildwing closed his eyes. “Dive, kiddo, please. You have to understand—”
“Understand? Understand? You want me to understand why you left me to fend for
myself in the place Van Helsing and Anna Valerious wouldn’t be foolish enough
to attack?”
Sighing, Wildwing struggled with
himself. He shouldn’t tell Nosedive what their parents did. He shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be good for the
teenager, now that he had to live with Emily and Richard for the rest of his
natural life, but for Nosedive to think it was his fault and that he didn’t
love him enough to…
A knock sounded on the other side of
the phone. “Hold on a second, Wing.”
“Nosedive, this is your mother.”
Wildwing heard a shifting of something, probably a pillow
over the phone, and the opening of a door. “Hey, Ma.
Uh, something wrong?”
“I thought I heard talking up here, and you don’t have a
TV. Who’s here? Who’re you talking to?” Her reproachful tone condemned the teen
for misbehaving even before she had proof.
“J—Just me and my invisible friend,” Nosedive stammered.
“What’s with the pillow?”
“Mom, it’s nothing! Don’t—”
More shifting sounded, followed by Emily’s voice growing
louder. “You have a cell phone! Your brother had enough money to buy you this?”
“Mom, I’m on with my girlfriend. Would you mind—
“So, your girlfriend’s name on your contact list is ‘Big
Bro’?” She accused.
“MOM!” Wildwing yelled into the phone, hoping to redirect their
mother’s venomous attention from his little brother to him. “It was my fault! I
called him!”
Emily’s crisp voice sounded, “Wildwing, you have been
warned. You stay away from this boy, or so help me God, you will never see him
again!”
“NO!” Nosedive screamed, though his
voice was drowned out by Wildwing’s, “MOM!”
Gingerly, Wildwing lowered the phone
from his ear. His frantic eyes darted back and forth from the panic in his baby
brother’s voice. Nosedive wanted to see him. He didn’t want to be there.
Nosedive wanted to still live with him.
He leapt from his chair and dashed
toward the door.
“Hey, where are you going?” Canard
called after him.
Wildwing opened the door to the
diner and turned sideways to look back at Canard. “To get my
brother.”
He slammed the door behind him, not
even waiting for a reply.
Canard wiped his hands with a rag.
“It’s about time.”
!!!
Opening the door to the house, Emily
Gilmore glowered at her elder son on the threshold. “I told you not to come
here.”
Wildwing stormed past her and into
the house. “Where is he, Mom? Is he still in my old room?” He stalked toward
the stairs. “NOSEDIVE!”
Emily fluttered next to him. “Wildwing, please. Do not make me call the police.”
Wildwing stopped sharply and stared
callously at his mother. “Do it, Mom. Call the police, but by the time they get
here, I’ll be long gone with Dive.”
“What is going on here?” Richard’s
stark voice interjected.
Wildwing whirled to his father, now
standing in between he and the stairs. “Move, Dad, or
I will move you.”
“Wildwing,” Richard addressed, his
hands up in front of him, “I thought we came to an agreement.”
“That you steal my brother and keep
him from me? I don’t think so.” He beseeched up the stairs. “DIVE!”
“He is sleeping, Wildwing,” Emily
chastised. “Now, will you please keep your voice down?”
“No, he’s not. He doesn’t fall
asleep until eleven.” Wildwing gasped suddenly, his stomach sinking. “You
didn’t drug him, did you?”
Emily was repulsed. “I wouldn’t drug
my own son!”
“Wildwing?”
Wildwing swiveled instantly, and a
natural smile formed on his face. On the stairs stood Nosedive, dressed in teal
baggy sweatpants and a too-big-for-him tee-shirt with an Oilers’ insignia that
had once been Wildwing’s.
Nosedive smiled at him and jumped
from the stairs. “WILDWING!”
Richard scrambled out of the way as
Nosedive flew across the threshold and into Wildwing’s arms. Wildwing grunted
as the momentum and his brother’s sudden weight as the force knocked him to the
ground, his back smacking against the hardwood floors. He seethed softly in
pain, though he didn’t at all mind as he felt the reassuring weight pressing
down on his stomach.
He looked up at his brother, still grinning warmly despite
the teenager now straddling his waist. He remembered fondly how Nosedive used
to jump from their stairs at home into his arms and how he finally scolded his
baby brother when the boy, at the age of twelve, almost broke his leg when
Wildwing failed to be able to catch him properly.
This time, Wildwing couldn’t find it
in himself to yell at his little brother.
“You came back!” Nosedive shouted
cheerfully.
Wildwing’s smile grew. “Of course I
came back. You needed me.”
Nosedive’s face darkened. “Why did
you leave? Was it because of the abortion thing?” Tears glistened in his eyes,
and he dove into Wildwing’s chest, his head just under his brother’s beak. He
wrapped his arms about his older brother’s neck. “I’m really sorry! I didn’t
mean it! I was just angry because of Clinton and Mallory and—”
“Ah,” Wildwing chuckled, “she has a name.”
Nosedive sniffled and murmured into
his brother’s ear. “And she has a bod.”
Holding his brother, Wildwing sighed
and drew his brother closer. He nuzzled the boy on the top of his head, then ran a hand through the teen’s long hair. Feeling his
brother’s weight, his warmth, his closeness, Wildwing was content, knowing his
brother loved him and was in his arms.
“Oh, Stars, kiddo—” He felt his
brother tense. His eyes shot open, and he gasped at his father’s hand on his
brother’s shoulder.
“Let go of him, Nosedive, and go
upstairs. We need to discuss something with your brother.”
The arms about Wildwing’s neck
tightened. “No, Daddy Warbucks!”
Wildwing smirked.
“Nosedive, I said,” Richard gripped
Nosedive by both of his shoulders and ripped the boy involuntary from
Wildwing’s grasp, “go upstairs!”
“WING!” Nosedive
screamed as he dragged to his feet and pushed unwillingly toward the stairs.
Swiftly, Wildwing pushed his feet
underneath him and stood, gripping his father’s arm. He twisted it almost to
the point of pain. “Realize it, Dad. Mom was right. When I left and took
Nosedive with me, you lost both of your sons.”
Richard’s grip on Nosedive slackened
in shock, and the teen fled from his grasp. He quickly ran toward Wildwing,
ducking behind him. He eyed Emily distrustfully, who watching the scene
unfolding with crossed arms and a contemptuous pursing of her lips.
“By forcing Nosedive to live with
you, all you’ll be doing is making him into me. But by letting him go, you’ll
still have a chance to have a relationship with him. Things don’t have to be
like they were before. You can know your son.”
Richard tugged his arm from
Wildwing’s gasp and stared in disbelief at his son.
“Nosedive, would you please go
upstairs?” Emily asked after an intense moment of silence.
Nosedive looked to Wildwing in front
of him, who nodded. “It’ll be okay.” He tasseled his little brother’s hair.
Nosedive smiled slightly, feeling
his brother’s affection, and proceeded hesitantly up the stairs. While Wildwing
couldn’t see him, he was sure his little brother was sitting at the top. It was
same place he and Tanya had sat when their parents hashed out what their lives
would entail with a child. At least this time, he was included in the
conversation.
“So, what do you suggest?” Richard
asked pointedly. The resentment in his voice was palpable.
Wildwing stared at him squarely.
“Give me complete custody and the money for
“That is your idea of a trade? Who
are you,
“Stars’ Hallow is not a garbage dump!”
Nosedive’s voice pierced the conversation.
“I did not ask you!” Emily relayed, her tone disdainful and condemning.
Wildwing shook his head at her lack
of understanding. “Nosedive, it’ll be okay. Please just go to my room.”
Nosedive peeked around the corner
and between the railing posts. “They might be able to force you out again, so I
want to stick around to be your human shield.”
“Dive, have you ever known me to lie
to you?”
“Well, now with that whole, ‘I have
custody; no, I don’t’ thing—”
Wildwing stifled a chuckle. “When I
say it will be okay, it will be okay.
So, please trust me to handle this.”
A grumble was the reply before the
sound of stomping boomed upstairs.
Staring at Wildwing flabbergasted,
Richard breathed, “How did you do that?”
“Uh, do what?”
“He just did what you asked,” Emily
bleated, glancing upward. “He wouldn’t even let me in his room without a
fight!”
“Because I listen to him and he
listens to me,” Wildwing said sternly. “I don’t know what you just heard, but
Nosedive just said that he’s scared that I’m going to leave again and he’ll be
all alone with strangers he hardly knows who have tried to separate him from
his older brother.”
Emily’s face scrunched in a
characteristically skeptical frown. “I heard no such complaint!”
“See?” Wildwing interjected. “That’s
just it. You weren’t listening to him. All you heard were the words, not the
meaning behind them.”
“Oh, so now I’m supposed to be
a mind reader?”
“No, Mom,” Wildwing scowled, raking
a hand through his hair. “You just have to listen to him, see what he wants.
All you’ve done is threaten him. He wants out, just I wanted, and I can give me
that out and give you time with him. It’s a win-win deal.”
“But he would still not be with us,”
Richard pointed out.
Wildwing shrugged. “Dad, you lost us
once. Now, you’ve got us at least once a week. If you force your hand and your
command over him, you will lose us again, and I won’t come back. And trust me,”
he grated harshly, yet with truth, “your private investigators will not find
us.”
Richard and Emily looked at each
other, looking silently in one another for an idea. Richard shrugged in defeat,
to Wildwing smiled slightly.
“You cannot be serious,” Emily argued.
“I do not see another option,” Richard replied sharply.
Growling, Emily slammed her hands against her dress
incredulously and stormed from the room.
Richard grabbed Wildwing’s by the
forearm. “Everything will be worked out between our lawyers in the morning,” he
said sternly.
Wildwing nodded. “I’ll call Al.”
Richard furled an eyebrow. “Al?”
“Al from Al’s
Pancake World. He doubles as the town lawyer,” Wildwing admitted with a
wide smile.
“Inbred town, isn’t it, this Stars’
Hallow?”
!!!
The door shut behind them, and Wildwing leaned against the
wall for support.
“Do I look shorter to you?” He asked his little brother,
who immediately was at his side, offering his help. Walking toward their car,
Nosedive’s arm about his shoulders, Wildwing continued dismayed, “I physically
feel shorter. What do you think? Three? Four inches?”
Nosedive grinned gently. “You think
you can reach the pedals?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking of
allowing you to drive and give me time to grow back.” He opened the jeep’s door
and flopped into the driver’s seat. “Of course, I’ll grow back just in time for
Friday and then be cut down again!” He studied his little brother thoughtfully,
landing pointedly at the boy’s nightwear under his jacket. “Those look better
on than those snooty clothes.”
“You should have told me,” Nosedive
said, ignoring his brother’s comments.
Wildwing sighed and looked at his
brother. He grabbed Nosedive’s wrist, then tugged him into an embrace. “I love
you, kiddo.”
Nosedive pulled back slightly,
though he didn’t let go of his brother. “You still should have told me.”
“Yeah, probably, but I didn’t want
you to know I didn’t have custody or couldn’t pay for your schooling.”
A sideway glance. “But you are.”
Wildwing snorted. “In a way, we’re
both paying for it.”
A solemn silence enveloped them as
neither moved.
“Do I really have to come back here every Friday?”
Wildwing shook his head and
suppressed a laugh. “Kiddo, they aren’t as bad as they seem.”
“Really?
Because tonight tried to have you arrested.”
Wildwing cringed. “Don’t remind me. I just want to forget this
whole night ever happened.”
A mischievous smile grew on Nosedive’s face. “Maybe we can
get drown our sorrows in club soda.”
Wildwing wrenched his brother by the
wrist and put the boy in a headlock. “Oh, you are so going to get it!”
!!!
Wildwing dragged his tired body into
Canard’s and held the door for his distraught brother behind him. Taking a seat
at the first table, he practically dumped himself into the chair. Nosedive
plopped into the one across from him.
“Service,” the teen called with an
exasperated wave of his hand. “Service.”
“I’m
getting there!” Canard yelled from behind the counter. He strode about it,
shaking his head. “Petulant.” He
teased the teen and tussled his hair. “But it is good
to see you. I hear you had a run-in with your parents tonight.”
“When a warrant is out for my
arrest, I think ‘run-in’ is an understatement,” Wildwing replied. “Anyway,
thanks for keeping the place open. I want coffee. Coff—ee. Caffeine! Not that decaf crap
you have back there.”
Nosedive pondered contemplatively. “Chili fries and a coffee, too.”
“I can’t do this,” muttered Canard. He placed his hands on the sides
of the table and leaned over to Nosedive, nodding toward Wildwing. “Dive, you
can be healthy. You do not have to be
like your brother over there.”
Nosedive looked at him, then caught
Wildwing’s eye with a smirk. “Too late.”
Shaking his head in disapproval,
Canard vacated the table, muttering, “Impossible. How
are they even alive?”
Eying down the pie on the counter,
Nosedive asked distractedly, “So, did you finish hemming my jacket?”
Wildwing smiled. “Does that mean
you’re going?”
Nosedive shrugged. “I already ate
pancreas and was held hostage by my parents. What’s three years at a private
school?”
“So!” Wildwing sat straight-up in
his chair and aimed a mischievous grin at his little brother. “Mallory, huh?”
“Wing! Come
on!” Nosedive protested, his face bright red.
“You can tell big brother.”
“What is this? 1984. Don’t think so.”
“So, she has a bod. Is she
good-looking?”
Nosedive crossed his arms and
slouched in his chair. “What does that matter?”
“Well, if you do happen to get her
pregnant,” Wildwing considered, “I don’t want ugly nephews and nieces,
especially when their uncle is so handsome.”
!!!
“…Wing…?”
Wildwing groaned and rolled over,
clutching his pillow under his head.
A poke in his
shoulder, then a whispered, impelling inquiry, “Wildwing? You awake?”
“Wha tem iz ‘t?”
Wildwing mumbled, not even opening his eyes.
“…ah…about
twelve-thirty.”
“Parentin’ houz
betwin six an’ ten. Go bac’ ta bed.”
Suddenly, his bed rocked vehemently
as a force jumped into it. A warm being leaned against his back.
“Bro, I want to ask you something.”
“Your brother’s asleep and has two
hundred guests coming to the inn at seven.”
“…Am I your son?”
Wildwing’s eyes snapped open, and he sighed loudly. Pushing up, he
turned around to see the troubled and haunted expression on his son’s face. He
crossed his legs and brushed the hair and sleepiness from his eyes, then sent a
tiny smile to Nosedive. “Well, depends, kiddo. I mean,” he shrugged, “if you
want to be.”
Nosedive looked away, his eyes
crestfallen. “When you left me there today, I just…and
when I kept calling that guy ‘Dad,’ I just felt so dirty.” He shivered
noticeably.
Wildwing cocked his head to the
side. “Dirty how?”
“Like I was
betraying you.”
“Oh, kiddo, you weren’t betraying
me.” A fond smile appeared on his beak, and he rubbed his brother’s leg warmly.
“He is your father, and he’s my father. Just because you didn’t grow up there
doesn’t change that.”
Nosedive scoffed, “But I’ve always
listened to you, and…and…I don’t want him to be my father.”
“I wish I could make things
different, Dive. I really do,” he said somberly, “but things are how they are.
That being said,” Wildwing sighed, “I love you, kiddo, as if you were my son,
and though I don’t expect you to call me ‘Dad’…I love you just the same.”
“Well, that’s good because sometimes I call you my dad to
my friends rather than my big bro,” Nosedive revealed sheepishly.
Wildwing lowered his beak, so their eyes met. His grin
grew, and he ruffled his brother’s hair. “I’ll tell you something, kid. I
sometimes call you my son, too.”
Nosedive’s eyes glistened with fresh tears, and he looked
away, abashed. “I’m sorry, about what I said earlier. About the abortion and
that’s why you care about me. I didn’t mean any of it, and I was—”
Beckoning his brother into his arms and rubbing his back
tenderly, Wildwing soothed, “I know, kiddo, and sometimes I have wondered the
same thing. Y’know, if we would have been this close if I would have been able
to convince Tanya not have an abortion.”
Nosedive stiffened in his brother’s arms.
“You know what I concluded?”
Nosedive shook his head, not lifting it from his brother’s
chest.
“Number one, that it doesn’t
matter because life has given us each other, so what? And number two, that I would have taken you with me, too. Sure, it
might have been a little weird to be raising my son’s uncle, too, but hey,
what’s life without a little weirdness? It just makes it more interesting.” He
leaned back to be able to see into his little brother’s eyes. “Okay, kiddo?”
Nosedive nodded, his eyes red from crying, and he once more
clutched his brother. Wildwing smiled affectionately and reveled in the
presence that he found sixteen years ago, who saved his life and whom he had
been able to return the favor. Peering heavenward and praying silently, he
thanked the Stars for their kindness.
A stark
inquisition. “Bro?”
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“Would really have given me up if I
hadn’t called you?”
Wildwing sighed heavily. “I want
what is best for you, Dive. That’s the reason I went back to our parents,
despite the probability of them wanting you back. I had to take the chance of
losing you to give you the best chance in life.” He propped his beak on his
little brother’s head. “But no, I think I would have finally realized just how
much you mean to me and would have come for you.”
Nosedive seemed to take some comfort
in that, and he sunk into his brother’s chest.
For a whole three seconds.
“Wing?
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want you not pass go and
not stop for $200. I don’t want to live with them, either, but I don’t want you going to jail. ”
Looking down at his brother,
Wildwing sighed contently. “Well, we don’t have to worry about that anymore.
Al’ll take care of it.” Reluctantly pulling out of the embrace, he patted his
brother on the leg. “Now, you better get back to bed before Brad Pitt and Tom
Cruise decide they would rather have you than Kirstin Dunst.”
Nosedive rolled his eyes, but staggered off the bed.
“You’re changing the subject, and I’m not liking it
one bit.”
“Good. Then my work as a big brother is done! Go to
asleep!”
Down the stairs and past the
kitchen, Nosedive entered his room. As the teen settled under his own covers,
he turned suddenly at the sound of footsteps in the hallway.
Wildwing grinned tiredly at him as he walked into the room,
blanket and pillow in tow.
As he pulled the chair in the corner close to the bed,
Nosedive inquired, “What are you doing?”
“I’m gonna sleep here tonight,” was the simple answer.
“Well, I got that. Why?”
Wildwing smiled, albeit fondly, but sadly. “I don’t like to
ponder how close I was to losing you, so I just want to be close to you. That
okay with you?”
“And if it wasn’t?” Nosedive challenged facetiously.
“Tough noodges.”
Nosedive snuggled under the covers and reveled in its
warmth before an affectionate murmur sounded from his beak. “I love you, big
bro.”
Wildwing grumbled. “Go to sleep because you’re coming to
work with me in the morning.”
Silence.
A loving whisper pervaded the darkness of slumber, “Kiddo,
you have no idea.”
The End