Date: Tue, 23 Dec 2003 18:05:47 -0500 From: Jeff Wilson Subject: W.A.R. Part Five - Chapter 7 W.A.R. Part Five - Secrets Chapter 7 -- The Boiler Room Incident by Jeff Wilson Rumors spread pretty quickly through the week about what happened to Dustin. All anybody really knew for sure was that something big happened and that he was in the hospital and his dad was in jail waiting for formal charges to be filed. People really didn't bother Brett about it since they didn't know that he was involved. But people at school were constantly asking me if this rumor or that rumor was true. Some people said that Dustin's dad beat him, and that's why he was in the hospital. Mr. Palmer asked me point blank if it was sexual abuse. I denied that I knew anything. I guess everybody else had, too. The only person at school that I told anything to was Miss Winston. She was very concerned about Dustin since he was still one of her helpers for volleyball. I knew she liked him for more than just that, and that she had been doing what she could to help him over the last two years as well. So I wanted her to know the real story. She wrote an excuse for me from class during her prep time and I told her the whole story from the beginning. For the first time that I could ever remember, tears came to her eyes. "All this time he's been living with this." She said. "Yeah..." I said. "I knew there was something. I just never imagined it was this bad." "None of us really wanted to believe it. That's why no one ever told. I should have told as soon as I realized what was happening." I said. "Billy, you can't blame yourself for this. What happened to Dustin was horrible, but you are not responsible. You can't blame anybody here but Dustin's father. I'm wondering why the neighbor guy didn't say anything, personally." "I guess being neighbors with Mrs. Smith can be pretty intimidating. I told you what she did when she thought it was him. She could have killed him with that monitor." "But still, to keep a secret for two years?" "We all did. We all knew there was something. And if Dustin hadn't have gotten hurt we would still be pretending that everything is okay." I was relieved when the weekend came and I would be able to get away from all of the questions and rumors. Dad told me he'd take me to work on a project with him to help take my mind off things. Plus, I'd get a hundred dollars for the work. The money was nice, but more importantly, it would do me some good to just get myself thoroughly involved with something besides Dustin. Dad and I left the house at six in the morning and drove to a big house near Upper St. Clair. How they found out about dad was beyond me, but they wanted him to do the work nonetheless. It looked like one of those old style mansions, complete with the big fence around it and metal gate. This was no ordinary job dad had managed to snag. I spent the first ten minutes of our time there just staring in awe at how expensive everything looked. Dad walked with his cane to the front door and I lugged a heavy box of tools with me. A man opened the door and greeted dad warmly. "George, you old dog, you!" the man said. "Hello Barry," dad replied, shaking the man's hand. "You're going to make me feel old walking around with a cane, Georgey." "Georgey?" I thought to myself. "Sugar took care of that for me." Dad said. "You always did have trouble with that. We all had to learn what to do in case you passed out. Who's this guy?" Barry asked, noticing me. "That's my son, Billy." "Whoa, he's taller than both of us. How tall are you kid?" Barry asked, smiling warmly. "I'm five feet, eleven inches." I said sheepishly "Almost six feet." Barry said. "They sure make them big nowadays. What are you feeding him, George? Anyway George, Billy, let me take you to the furnace room." Barry said. We walked through the main hallway of the mansion and down a set of stairs into the basement. The basement, while not as richly decorated as the main floor, was still very impressive. To say I was impressed would be an understatement. "You have a pool in your house?" I asked excitedly when I saw that the boiler room was near the largest pool I'd seen in my life. Barry laughed. When we got to the furnace room, Barry explained what had happened. He had called in three different repairmen, and all three had just wanted to take the old system out and replace it with a new one. Barry wanted to keep the old system if it could be repaired, since replacing the whole system would have cost over a hundred thousand dollars. He was wondering if dad could figure out why it wasn't working properly. Dad had me open up the outer casing of the furnace control panels and then he just stared staring at all of the wires and buttons. Barry had apparently seen dad do this before and said he'd send one of his kids with something to drink in a while. Dad just kept on staring. This was always the boring part for me of working with dad. He could stand there and stare and mess around with something for an hour. And this job seemed to be particularly tough. The furnace was not only old, but it had been repaired by so many different people over the years that there were repairs of repairs of even older repairs. But dad just kept staring at it. After a while, a boy who looked to be about twelve asked us what we wanted to drink. Dad asked for coffee with cream and extra sugar. I asked for a Coke. The boy left and came back with the drinks and I was ready to die of boredom. Dad was still exploring the old equipment. So I decided to see if I could talk to the boy. "So," I said. "You live in this place?" "Yeah," the boy said. "I'll bet you have a lot of fun here." I said. "It's alright," he said. "It gets old sometimes." "Your friends must really be impressed when they see it." I said. "My friends all live in houses bigger than this one." He said. He said he had to go do homework and said he'd see us later. And I was bored once again. Suddenly, dad told me that we were going to the hardware store. He told Barry what he needed and asked where the best hardware store was. Barry gave him directions and a few hundred dollar bills. Then we went to the store. On the way, I found out that he and Barry were old classmates in school. Dad found all of the things we needed and then we drove back to the house. I had to carry all of the stuff, which took me a few trips. I didn't mind though, because it gave me a chance to see that house. Dad was already at work on wires and stuff when I finally finished bringing everything in. He told me to unscrew some bolts replace some wires and stuff. It was all pretty easy stuff that I had done before on smaller projects for him. I did that while he worked on something underneath the control panel. All of a sudden I heard a clang as his screw driver hit the floor. "Shit." Dad said crossly. "Billy hand me that screwdriver please." I handed it to him and he continued working. Then I heard it clang again. "God dammit," he said angrily. "Billy, come under here and loosen this screw." "Okay dad." I said. I quickly slipped under the unit and found the screw he was trying to reach. I loosened it and handed it to dad. "There you go." I said. "Thanks, boy..." Dad grumbled. Then he crawled back under the unit again. Over the next hour or so, dad continued to tell me what to do on what part of what piece of equipment. Every time he tried to do something on his own with his hands, he ended up fumbling the tool he was using out of his hands and it would fall to the floor. I could see that he was getting more and more angry about it, so I made the mistake of trying to help him before he would drop it. "Here dad, let me do that." I said as he was working on a bolt with a wrench. "God dammit, Billy. I can unscrew a simple bolt without you." He snapped. "Fine." I said. I went back to what I had been working on when I heard a clang once again. The wrench fell to the floor. "God dammit!!!" Dad yelled. Then he tried to kick the wrench, but his leg gave out on him and he fell on the floor. "Dad, are you alright?" I said, jumping up to help him. Dad pushed me away and slowly got up on his own. On his face was a look of anger that I hadn't seen in years. He grabbed his cane and threw it across the room and then he flipped over the tool box, sending tools and parts flying everywhere. A couple of loose things hit me. "God dammit!! God dammit!! God dammit all!!!" He cursed. He angrily started kicking the tools that were around his feet. All I could do is stand there in stunned silence. "God dammit all!!" "Dad..." "Shut the fuck up, Billy!" Dad shouted. He placed his hands on the counter and rested against it, breathing heavily. "Okay." I said. Then I walked out. I walked right out of that house and out to the truck. I leaned against the side of the truck, looking out over the yard to the fence beyond. I thought about how long it would take me if I decided to walk home. After a few minutes, I heard the familiar "ka-chink step, ka-chink step" that told me that dad was coming up behind me. "I don't even want to hear it." I said. "Billy, I'm sorry." "Too late." I said, not turning around. "I didn't do anything to you. I'm not the one who made you diabetic. I'm not the one who made you smoke cigarettes and drink pop. I'm not the one who made you have a stroke. I didn't deserve to get a box of tools thrown at me. And I didn't deserve to get told to fuck off." "You're right. Do you know how hard it is, boy? I used to be able to fix anything. Anything. We could have been done with that furnace and out of here by now. But since that god damn stroke I can't even tie a pair of shoe laces. Look at the shoes I have to wear now! Slip on pieces of shit or Velcro. You know how humiliating that is? I feel like a damn five year old. I'm forty-eight years old and the doctor told me I've got the body of an eighty year old. I stared at that furnace for two hours in there waiting for a solution to come to me that used to take ten minutes. I'm nothing now." I turned around. "You didn't have to yell at me." I said. "I know..." he said. "You and mom never care about my feelings. Mom thinks she's so spiritual and right all the time. You think I'm dumb." "I don't think you're dumb! I know you're smart." "With books and stuff like that. You never trust me to do stuff on my own. You always think your way is better." I turned around to lean on the truck bed again. I looked out at two dogs running around on the lawn. "Billy, I'm just trying to help you to do things better. That's what dads are supposed to do. I had no idea you were upset about it. I've only got so much time to spend with you, Billy. I think I try too hard to get it all in." "I wish you'd stop talking like that." I said. "You're going to be around for a long time, dad. I just... Sometimes I just can't stand the bullshit anymore. I can't stand not being able to tell you stuff. I hate that I can't tell you what I'm feeling. I know that you're going to hate me when you really get to know me. You're just like everybody else. You're just a..." "An asshole?" dad said. "No... I know better than to say that." I said, rubbing my cheek subconsciously. "Well, I am an asshole. You were right about me that day." Dad replied. "I'm just tired, dad. I'm tired of pretending I'm something I'm not. I'm tired of trying to be the perfect son. I'm not." "No one's asking you to be perfect." "No one knows what I feel inside." I said. "You mean about you and Brett?" Dad asked. I turned to look at him. "What about me and Brett?" I said. "You don't think I already know about you two? Billy, I've always known." "I'm not doing anything with Brett." I said. "It's not what you do, Billy. It's how you feel. If you've gone the next step and made it physical, that's your business. But you don't have to pretend to feel something or not feel something because of me. I've always told you that I love you for who you are." "But you didn't know what you were saying. You didn't know that I'd end up..." "That you loved Brett as more than a friend? I knew before you did. I knew about Brett too." Dad said. "How?" I asked, turning to look at him again. "I had a feeling from long ago. That dinner on your birthday a few years ago sealed it. But even before then, I just knew you and I knew that that's always been who you are. It's not like you have some disease or something, or that you did something bad. It's just like being left handed. It's something that you are. What kind of father would I be if I didn't let you be who you are?" "And you don't think I'm a sinner going to hell?" I asked. "That's your mother, not me. You think you'll go to hell for loving somebody the way you love Brett? I've never seen someone so caring and loving in my life, son. There's something about you two that is beyond my comprehension. I'm proud that you are able to love like that, especially with all of the bullshit that you'll have to go through." "So you're not mad?" I asked. "Billy, not everyone one is going to accept you for who you are. But I do. I love you! I've always loved you. And I will always love you. You're my boy, no matter what." I started to turn back around but dad grabbed me and hugged me. I tried not to, but I ended up with the sniffles. We must have looked pretty silly, standing by a truck hugging for a good five minutes. And dad let me cry all I wanted. But I wasn't sad, it was more of a relief. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of my back. "Brett told me that he thought you knew." I said, still sniffling. "Well Brett's a smart boy." Dad said. "You know, he used to annoy me. He was on my last nerve before that night on your birthday. But when he broke down in the car, and when he told us what he was going through... I realized that he was a little boy in a lot of pain, and I knew that I wanted to help him as much as I could. And now the more I see him, the more I like him nowadays. He's not so much of a brat anymore. You've both grown up into good boys. No, good men. I'm proud of both of you. Now, let's go finish that furnace. I guess I've got a mess to clean up." "I'll help you," I said. "And then let's just go somewhere and eat dinner, just you and me." "I'd like that a lot, son." Dad said. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Well, somebody finally knows Billy's biggest secret, and it's one of the last people Billy wanted to know. But the reaction was not the reaction Billy expected. In fact, it is more of a relief than anything else. Not everyone would have reacted the way George did. Now, what will happen now that George and Billy have revealed what they know? Well, with George, who knows. George knew before this point, and the way he treated Billy before is a good indication of how he'll treat him after. Of course, you are free to write to me to let me know what you thought of this chapter. I welcome your comments. I have two email addresses to choose from: vicioussquirrel@hotmail.com or jkwsquirrel@yahoo.com I look forward to hearing from you! I also have the yahoo group you can join! Here's that address: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/squirrelwriter Next time: Billy and Brett discuss fine literature, and Dustin pays Brett a visit.