Chapter 9: Revelations
Summary:
"Good morning, Daggers," he exclaims, his eyes shining, somewhat maniacal. "I have some really fun exercises for you today."
The captain (future rear admiral, says the scuttlebutt) ignores both the moans of fear and the exclamations of celebration and goes to put the graphics of his new maneuvers on the screen.
In the back of the classroom, Emily leans into Callie's shoulder.
"You sure the COMPACFLT is in Hawaii?"
"Oh, yeah! His well-fucked face is different. He's happy, but it's for something else."
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Part 6 of: The Lies We Told Each Other
Fandoms: Top Gun (Movies), Thunderheart (1992), Suits (US TV 2011)
Relationships: Brigham "Harvard" Lennox/Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Sarah Kazansky/Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Rick "Hollywood" Neven/Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe
Characters: Brigham "Harvard" Lennox, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Sarah Kazansky, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Ray Levoi, Harvey Specter, Mike Ross, Original Adult Character(s), Original Child Character(s)
Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Trans Male Character, Asexual Character, Transphobia, Polyamory, Phone Sex, Adoption
INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/i-have-right-to-this-lies-we-told-each.html
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Saturday, April 4, 2020
Residence of the Commander, United States Pacific Fleet
Honolulu, Hawaii
They talk a bit longer about the necessary changes to their plan to incorporate Pete into life in San Diego. School, for example, will have to wait a bit until the paperwork reflects his real name. They'll also need a specialized pediatrician and possibly psychological help. It's good they have a long-standing relationship with the city's medical community through Sarah and Sam.
"It's best to tell your sister as soon as possible," Sarah warns. "She's already hurt by your refusal to donate sperm for her baby."
"Iná…" Jake begins in an apologetic tone.
"No," she interrupts, "you don't have to give me any explanations. Just as Sam had no right to demand anything from you, much less try to pressure you through Pete and me. You're both adults. I'd rather you work this out on your own, but I'll mediate if you need it. Okay?"
Jake sighs. It's Brig who answers.
"Of course, they will talk."
Tom can imagine his son's somewhat exasperated face and the pout that curves his lips slightly on the right side, a sign that he was defeated, not convinced.
"Very well," she agrees.
Soon, they're saying their goodbyes. Tom has barely participated. He has his head in Sarah's lap and uses all his energy to remain silent. He thinks he can finish this conversation without being discovered until Jake says, "
Dad, can I talk to you… alone?"
Sarah looks down at him, questioning. He knows that if he makes even the slightest movement of denial, she'll intervene, but... does he want her protection? He couldn't be the father he wanted for Jake, nor could he be the father he should have been. In the end, he was, like most people, the father he could have been... shit.
He knows, with the certainty he knew his son would be the greatest aviator of his generation, that he will never stop being indebted for all the suffering he caused. It doesn't matter that Jake insists he did the best he could. Or that Pete, Ray, Sarah, Walter, Slider, Bill, Bradley, Sam, Sean, Brig—in short, all the people who know his secret—repeat variations of the same idea. Tom knows that the day everything went to shit, he could have been less cruel. That a thousand times before, he could have been less strict. That he could, with his power, have Jake brought to him at any point in his career and tell him the truth. He didn't do it out of cowardice. Because he feared another rejection more than he feared the pain of living away from his son for years on end.
So no, he has no real choice when Jake asks to talk to him alone.
He gives Sarah a hurt look but sits down on the couch.
"Yes, of course."
He picks up the phone, unplugs the speakerphone, puts it to his ear, gets up, and walks toward the bedroom. He can hear the faint murmur of people moving on the other end of the line. He assumes Pete and Brig are leaving the office. He closes the door before speaking again.
"Tell me, son."
"Dad, are you okay?"
"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I…?"
"Please don't do that. I understand this is difficult for you. If you don't want Pete around..."
"No!"
The word escapes him. There's no self-control in his tone. He realizes he sounds desperate, almost pleading. He takes advantage of the stunned silence on the other end to speak.
"No, please. If my silence... I just... Sarah's the one who knows about schools, pediatricians, health insurance, and all that stuff. That's why I let her talk." He knows it sounds like an excuse, so he turns into a pathetic old man without a scruple. "Please don't leave the house, Jake. Don't go." The "again" hangs in the ether like a storm cloud.
He bites his lips, fearful.
"Dad," Jake finally answers very softly, "Dad. Oh! How am I going to convince you? I'll only leave if you ask me to. I want to be by your side. I'm just waiting for your retirement so you can at least spend more time in San Diego. But I don't want to hurt you either. No matter what Mavdad says, if having a trans kid around opens up old wounds..."
Ah! His husband knows him well, yes, but their son has good reason to be wary when someone makes claims on behalf of others. He sighs, relieved. A misunderstanding due to an excess of caution. That's good, isn't it?
"The most likely outcome? He'll open my old wounds and heal them for good. I had a lonely childhood, Jake. Ray was the only one who knew my secret. I'm almost sixty, and fewer than a dozen people alive know who I am. I had to abandon you..."
"For the thousandth time," Jake interrupts, "you didn't abandon me! You left me with my dad and Carole. And you came back, didn't you?"
Tom snorts, frustrated. Why is Jake so generous? He doesn't deserve it. But it's best to stay on topic.
"Look, it doesn't matter in the end. I know things have improved since my time, but not that much. If I can help make just one trans child happy from the start... Of course, I want to be Pete's grandfather. Watch him grow up, help him. I don't think he'll be much different from any other child until he hits puberty, and it's not a game, Jake, believe me. I'll be there for you and for your son."
"Okay," Jake agrees cheerfully, clearly relieved. "Well, it's been a long day. Bye, Dad."
"Bye, son."
The call disconnects.
Tom stares at the screen. Tears roll down his cheeks, but it's not sadness. A complex mix of feelings bubbles up inside him: pride, anticipation, guilt, and insecurity. But the strongest emotion is optimism. He can do this. They can.
This quasi-meditative inner contemplation lasts so long that Sarah decides to enter the bedroom, worried.
She sits next to him on the edge of the bed, placing her left hand on her husband's right.
"Hey, is everything okay?"
Automatically, Tom turns his hand to intertwine his fingers with Sarah's. He looks at her, smiling, without bothering to wipe away his tears. He knows she'll be able to read his happiness in his eyes.
"Yes, everything's fine," he leans down to kiss her.
It's barely 5 p.m. in Honolulu, but they're both emotionally exhausted.
"A nap?" he suggests.
She nods.
Monday, April 6, 2020
Early morning. VFA-111 Daggers workroom
MCAS Miramar, California
They arrive in pairs or groups but are eager, as usual. Last week, Maverick used Lennox's absence to have them practice imperfect formations. In case one of the planes is knocked out, they have to keep going, and not exactly by improvisation. The challenge was serious, but after two or three setbacks—when Hangman is tense, he usually goes all out with Omaha, and Yale still doesn't fully trust Hawking—they managed to complete the drills with over 85 percent efficiency.
Anyway, Harvard was supposed to return today—everyone knows he's the only one who really reins Jake in—so no one hides their surprise when Seresin arrives alone. Almost everyone's eyes turn to Javier, who sighs and approaches his friend. Jake is busy taking his notebook and pens out of his bag. He doesn't seem tense, which both reassures and intrigues Coyote.
"Hey, is everything okay?"
"Yes, everything's fine, Javi. How was your weekend?"
"Well, normal, you know. We took the girls to a school friend's birthday party. Social chatter." He shrugs. "The truth is, we don't know half the neighborhood gossip because we spend so much time at the base."
Jake nods, serious.
"That's complicated, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Well, to keep up with your daughters' social life."
Javier raises his eyebrows in surprise. Jake has never made a comment like that before. He's a good friend. He listens when he complains or brags, and he knows that he can call him if he needs an emergency babysitter, but he's never before offered an opinion on the daily grind of being a father.
"Yes, it's complicated," he admits. "Honestly, María Celeste is more up-to-date. After all, it's," he grimaces uncomfortably because he knows it sounds sexist, "girl stuff. Of course, I've made it clear to them that if they had boys's trouble, I'm the expert."
Jake nods, his green eyes strangely serious. Javier remembers why he approached him and asks.
"Hey, hasn't Brig returned from Utah? Did something happen to his family?"
"So many things happened, man, but I can't tell you now. He asked for another two weeks."
Coyote feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Jake without Brig for two more weeks? The Daggers are a good squad, but… His friend recognizes the panic in his eyes and lets out a short, amused laugh.
"But don't worry. Brig is here in San Diego. He got back on Saturday. It's just that the family thing has taken a toll. So much paperwork! He's running back and forth between offices, interviews, and, you know, stuff. But everything's alright. I promise, okay?"
No, it's not okay. Jake seems overly happy at the prospect of being at the base while his boyfriend deals with civilian bureaucracy. Besides, he hasn't told him why he has to deal with civilian bureaucracy. But Javier doesn't have time for anything else as Maverick arrives.
"Good morning, Daggers," he exclaims, his eyes shining, somewhat maniacal. "I have some really fun exercises for you today."
The captain (future rear admiral, says the scuttlebutt) ignores both the moans of fear and the exclamations of celebration and goes to put the graphics of his new maneuvers on the screen.
In the back of the classroom, Emily leans into Callie's shoulder.
"You sure the COMPACFLT is in Hawaii?"
"Oh, yeah! His well-fucked face is different. He's happy, but it's for something else."
"Maybe Cain's day has finally come?" the blonde speculates, not hiding her resentment.
Halo looks at her, curious.
Few people like Rear Admiral Cain, but there isn't a queer person in the Navy who doesn't hate him. They called him the Hammer before DADT, but Cain demonstrated an exceptional ability to turn anyone who smelled remotely gay or bisexual into a nail. Wherever he went, investigations flourished. And boy, did he go from one place to another! The state of panic he put people in was counterproductive, so the Admiralty passed him around like a hot potato. Some attribute nearly 20 percent of DADT discharges to cases opened under his command.
Did Emily lose someone in one of those bullshit investigations?
Never mind: the captain is explaining her and Omaha's part. She leans forward and starts taking notes.
Mid-morning. San Diego International Airport
Sarah crosses the last security door and looks around expectantly. There they are! She approaches them quickly, smiling.
"Good morning, Brig."
"Good morning, Sarah," the pilot answers cheerfully.
She looks up at the boy perched on his son-in-law's shoulders, his chin resting on the crown of his head, his expression somewhere between fearful and yearning. She can't help but be amazed at his winter-gray eyes. Indeed, they are very similar to Tom's.
"Good morning, Pete," she greets and raises her hand.
The little boy stares at the outstretched fingers for a moment but finally reaches out his little hand.
"Good morning. Is it true that you're my grandmother?"
"Yes. Sarah Kazansky, I'm delighted to be your grandmother."
Pete furrows his eyebrows and lips, confused.
"You're not white," he finally argues.
"Pete!" Brig slaps him on the foot and looks at his mother-in-law, all embarrassed. "I am so sorry..."
But she shakes her head, still smiling. Ah! Young parents.
"No, I'm not white, Pete. You're a very smart and observant kid. I'm Lakota. My people were here before the European ships arrived. My husband, Tomas Kazansky, was the brother of Jake's mom, your other dad."
Pete nods.
"Mrs. Rachel, right?" When Sarah nods, he explains very seriously, "She was my daddy Jake's mom, but she died, and Grandpa Pete married Mrs. Carole."
Brig looks at his son proudly. Yesterday, when they sat on the living room sofa with a photo album to explain the family history to the kid, they feared that the succession of deaths (both fake and real) and overlapping marriages would confuse him. Not so. Pete accepted everything without question and with enthusiasm. Growing up in a community where extended families, multigenerational homes, and, unfortunately, men with numerous marriages throughout their lives are usual, prepared him for this.
"You didn't look Indian in the photos," the boy explains, clearly unaware of his poor choice of words.
Brig grimaces uncomfortably. They have to work on Pete's racist and ableist language and extremely rigid ideas about gender roles. Sarah gives him a reassuring look. She has a thick skin, and at least this time, she knows there's no malice involved. The boy confirms this as he concludes.
"You're prettier in person."
"Thank you very much, darling. You can call me Grandma Sarah or Iná, like your dad and my other children do."
"Iná?"
"It means mom in Lakota, the language of my people."
Pete claps his hands and leans over, trying to look his father in the face.
"Did you hear that, Dad? I'm going to speak Lakota."
Brig squeezes his thighs, afraid he'll slip off his shoulders.
"Yes, I heard, honey, I heard. Well, are we going home?"
Mid-afternoon. Office of Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson
MCAS Miramar, California
"I must admit, Seresin, that I didn't expect this."
Simpson sits at his desk, a file open, eyes darting between the two people he called to try to understand and resolve this mess.
Jake stands firm, with the mask of falsely harmless calm he learned from Iná. Of course, Simpson knows he's not harmless, but he's found that goofy face relaxes people.
"I just received a request for two weeks of paternity leave from Lieutenant Lennox, because he's adopted a child, a boy whose full name is Pete Leonard Mitchell-Lennox. Isn't Lennox supposed to be your partner, Seresin?"
"He is, sir."
"So why does that child have Captain Mitchell's last name? Is this some kind of tribute?"
"The child has my surname, Vice Admiral. My full name is Jacob Raymond Mitchell. Seresin was my mother's surname."
Cyclone's face goes by a truly bizarre series of expressions of dismay, frustration, despair, and disgust. He turns to the third person in his office: Maverick, who, while finding this all incredibly amusing, is trying hard to maintain a discreet smile. He doesn't want to appear too proud. Cyclone glares at him accusingly anyway.
"Does Kazansky…?"
Pete's eyes widen, and Simpson bites his lip as if he can't believe the mistake he just made.
How could he…? He doesn't consider himself a homophobic man; he's talking to Seresin about his relationship with Lennox, isn't he? But that's different. Iceman is a married man, damn it! Sarah Kazansky isn't a piece of furniture or some accessory. She's a talented woman who deserves respect. His way of showing her respect is to ignore the admiral's scandalous lover, but this situation is… He looks back at Hangman and tries to find similarities between Maverick and him. His son? Is this the missing Mitchell?
His mind goes back to the Mission, organized by Kazansky, planned and completed by Mitchell. Maverick told him, didn't he? Told him he had a difficult relationship with one of the pilots, but he ignored him. He assumed it was Rooster, some family drama related to the boy's mysterious detour to the University of Virginia. His mistake, of course; you can't assume anything with Mitchell, dammit!
He takes a deep breath and tries to regain control of the situation.
"Don't you think you've already pushed the boundaries far enough, Mitchell? Eccentric training practices, barbecues at your house, intimate relationships within the squadron, the highest rate of LGBTQ individuals of any DoD combat unit. And now you're the father and father-in-law of two of your own aviators? The Daggers are a Pro Publica investigation about to go viral on Twitter."
"Sir, this isn't my fault," he says, meaning it for the first time in a long time.
If anyone is to blame here, it's that shitty Mormon family, Pete thinks.
Simpson massages the bridge of his nose, trying in vain to stop the migraine. Kazansky owes him so many bottles of wine.
"I'm going to assume, for the sake of my mental health and the Navy's HR department, that you two have filled out all the necessary paperwork."
"We did, of course," Hangman is quick to confirm. "The first time I served under Captain Mitchell was last November," Cyclone is certain he can see Iceman's hand there, "and I think I proved…"
He stops him with a gesture.
"I know perfectly well what you two proved," he replies through gritted teeth.
Just thinking about being in a similar situation with his son makes his stomach churn. Maverick isn't a person; he's a fucking sociopath.
Actions, he needs actions. Give orders that confirm he has the situation under control.
"Seresin, you have two weeks of paternity leave, starting tomorrow. I don't want to see you around here until you and Lennox finalize the adoption paperwork."
He can almost see the shockwave this news will send through the military community. Will he be an aviator, too? He doesn't have the genes, but he'll have the example. After all, Seresin doesn't have Kazansky's genes, but they're very similar—far too similar! If they hadn't told him, he would still have been inclined to believe he was indeed a spawn of the admiral. If the family business continues, the son of Seresin and Lennox will, technically, be the fourth Mitchell to join the Navy. Please, let retirement come to him before that kid climbs into a jet's cockpit.
He turns his attention to the source of all this.
"Captain Mitchell, from now on, Seresin and Lennox are not allowed to go on missions together. You have five days to present me with a training and combat assignment plan that takes this into account."
Maverick doesn't even blink.
"Yes, sir."
"You are dismissed."
They've barely stepped out the door when Cyclone calls his secretary.
"I need fifteen minutes, Claire," he says and hangs up before she can answer.
He takes the bottle of whiskey out of the drawer and takes a good swig.
Kazansky is a monster, he thinks. Forcing his lover to train his two sons for a suicide mission. No wonder Maverick resisted tooth and nail when he tried to replace him. No, that's not fair. Mitchell would have acted the same way with any squad; he's always been stubborn and defiant, refusing to accept death. That's why he never suspected that the Mission was anything more than a war game for him. Seen that way, it was an example of professionalism. He doesn't like the captain's methods, but Cyclone has never detected favoritism in his work with the Daggers.
He frowns as he realizes something else: his granddaughters have become friends with Machado's daughters, so they will hang out with Seresin and Lennox's kid. How many children's events will he have to smile at that damn Mitchell? Birthdays? Sleepovers? Why did they have to allocate the Daggers in Miramar?
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
Mid-morning
Jake pauses, his fist a few millimeters from the door, uncertain. He knows Iná is right, which is why he's standing in front of his sister's door. At the same time, he doesn't feel like confronting Sam, which is why he hesitates. He can imagine it: his cekpápi will put Pete's arrival in the family on the list of her imaginary match with Jake. He doesn't want this to go on, but he doesn't know how to stop it because it's not really about him; it's about Sam. His sister needs therapy.
Finally, he lets out his breath very slowly and knocks three short times on the door.
First, he hears the footsteps, long and slow. Then the door opens. Elia is wearing a worn T-shirt and super-short pants with little green hearts, and her braid is half-undone. His sister-in-law looks him up and down, exasperated but not surprised.
"About time you showed up!" she turns and walks into the apartment.
She doesn't look back, sure that Jake will follow her.
She's right. He walks in, locks the door, takes off his shoes, and heads to the kitchen, where Elia has already put the electric kettle on and is taking a box of cookies from the cupboard. Jake sits on one of the four stools around the counter, which doubles as a dinner table, and rests his elbows on the plywood surface.
"How was the shift?"
Elia places the cookies and a bowl with a sachet of infusion in the center of the table.
"It was okay. Only two car accidents." She goes to the shelf where the cups of various styles and colors corresponding to the visitors are piled up. "Blue?"
"Yeah."
Elia takes a sky-blue one with a handle shaped like an elephant's trunk. She pours hot water into it and places it in front of Jake. He chooses one of the packets that claim to be caffeine-free. Elia adds two heaping tablespoons of instant coffee to her own cup of hot water. Only then she takes the stool across the table.
"So, what do you want?"
"I need," he corrects her automatically. "I need to talk to you both, but with you first."
She raises her eyebrows, mockingly suspicious. She's right, of course. Jake hasn't just lost time with his family in these years of absence. Sam and Elia have been together for almost nine years, but it's been just over five months since Jake and she shook hands for the first time. They don't have a strong enough relationship for his sister-in-law to trust his intentions.
"I don't know what you're up to, but I'm not going to interfere. She's your sister."
"She's your partner and the future mother of your child," Jake retorts.
Elia snorts, blows on her coffee, and takes a sip. Jake doesn't wait; he knows he has little time.
"I'm not going to ask for your side of the story, but I'll give you mine: I'm not available. I don't have PTSD, I don't have any genetic problems, and my boyfriend isn't gaslighting me. I just won't. You can talk to Sean or Dennys. It's all the same to me."
She shakes her head.
"She wants the baby to be your father's grandson," but her tone doesn't reveal if she thinks the idea is idiotic or brilliant.
Jake thinks it's probably the former. Elia thinks Sam wants a biological grandchild from Maverick, which would be a sweet gesture: strengthening ties with the third member of the polyamorous cell that raised her. But precisely because she believes it's about Maverick, her stubbornness must also seem illogical.
"What Sam wants is to score points with her father."
Elia looks up for the first time, her dark eyes easy for Jake to read. She's upset but mostly tired. Of course, she comes from a traditional Lakota family. Hunger, alcoholism, physical violence, discrimination, fear of authorities, those were her problems growing up. This middle-class drama may seem petty and ridiculous to her.
"When are you going to tell me something new?"
Jake concentrates on his tea to buy time, sweetens it, blows on it, and takes a sip.
"I just wanted to tell you in person: I refuse to be your baby's sperm donor for my own reasons, not because I'm sabotaging Sam. Please, Elia, you have to believe me, this competition for Icepop's affections only exists in her mind. My coming back doesn't... He never treated her any differently, he'll never treat her any differently. We are four siblings, it's always been that way."
"But you're cekpápi, Jake. Twin dynamics are more complicated. Besides, you can't deny that Iceman is a little crazy with your return."
"No, I won't deny it. It was difficult for him. I blamed him for everything. The family knew I wasn't coming back for him. When a tantrum lasts a decade, it leaves its mark."
Elia nods, but her lips haven't lost their hardness. She looks at her wristwatch.
"She'll be back any moment," she warns.
Now it's Jake's turn to nod. Yes, his sister will be back soon from her daily run—a habit she learned from Mavdad. He waited to see her leave before heading upstairs so he could talk to Elia without interruptions. He's counting on the relaxation the exercise brings to make Sam a little more receptive.
"I just need both of you to listen to me."
Elia gives him another long look, calculating and still somewhat distrustful, but doesn't tell him to leave, so Jake will take that as a victory.
Before he can finish his drink, he feels the keys in the door.
"Honey?" she shouts from the doorway.
"In the kitchen," Elia yells back.
Sam arrives sweaty and happy, taking off her headphones.
"Guess what I saw in the park…"
The smile fades from her lips and eyes when she sees her brother sitting at the kitchen table. She stiffens and instinctively leans against Elia.
"What are you doing here?"
"Good morning, cekpápi," Jake replies with a calmness he doesn't feel.
Sam snorts dismissively as he moves on.
"I came to give you an update on adoption."
Elia raises her eyebrows with a silent question. Sam is more vocal:
"You could call, or better yet, send a text. I'm not in the mood to..."
"I have a son."
Sam blinks a couple of times, looks at Elia, who doesn't hide her confusion, and turns back to her brother.
"You said it was a girl. Iná went crazy buying Wonder Woman, Black Canary, and Vixen outfits."
"We returned those clothes. It turns out the Lennox family's problem is that Dunia isn't a girl, but a boy."
He doesn't say anything else, preferring to wait until they connect the dots. Their reactions couldn't be more disparate: Elia says, "Oh," and her expression goes from surprise to concern. Sam's eyes widen, stupefaction giving way to anger in seconds.
"Fucking hell! Of course, you had to...! Can't you leave anything to others?"
"Sam!" Elia reproaches him.
"It's not my fault," Jake argues at the same time.
She waves her hand, steps back, and rubs her face.
"Of course it's not your fault," she replies sarcastically, "but you're happy, aren't you?"
"Happy!?" Jake stands up, incredulous. "Can you hear yourself? You need help!"
"As if therapy had helped you."
"Therapy helped me, it was our parents' lies that screwed me up."
"I don't know what you two are talking about right now, but I don't like where this is going. Sam, really, how could you say something so cruel?"
"You don't understand..." she answers in a desperate voice.
"No. I don't have to understand why your jealousy blinds you to such a delicate situation. Jake, the kid..." she wrings her hands nervously. "Did Lennox's family..."
"No, no. They didn't touch a hair on his head." Elia exhales, relieved. "But the abandonment hit him hard, honestly. Apparently, they were vocals in the fact that they were sending him away because he didn't know how to be a girl."
"Of course," Elia looks back at her partner. "Sam, this is the end. You can't extend your feud with Jake to an innocent child."
"What kind of monster do you think I am? Of course I'm not going to mess with the kid! I helped set up his room, didn't I? But you," she points her index finger at her brother. "You! Why do you have to be so fucking perfect!? Let me have something."
"Sam, I was never perfect, and you know it. Don't you realize I brought shame on this family? I rejected my name. I left. I literally had to watch Brig almost die to come out. I'm the one who has to pay for eleven years of absence. Please, just forget about me, have your baby with Elia, and be happy."
Sam gives him a bitter, guilty smile.
"You make it sound easy."
"It is."
"No, it isn't. Don't you see it?" Sam throws up her arms and waves her hands in frustration. "All those times we fought with the whole world because they said you were Kazansky's charity project, at school, at social gatherings, at Navy events." She lets out a bitter laugh. "Well, it turns out the world was wrong. All that time I," she taps her sweat-stained chest with her index finger, "I! I was the charity project. Icepop chose you. He risked his life for you. And he was saddled with me so he could pretend to be a man!"
Sam doesn't try to wipe away her tears. She just stares at her hands, which she opens and closes convulsively.
So many truths that day. Which is the same as so many lies that have been revealed. The lies they were told, told each other, and told to others. A family built on love and lies. What do you do when you discover your whole life is nothing more than a fairy tale? A cheap Hollywood melodrama?
She knew about the relationship between Iná, Icepop, and Mavdad and was, of course, proud to be the only one in on the secret. But that morning… Realizing she wasn't her daughter, that was impossible…
She'd once fantasized about being Mavdad's biological daughter, about being the one who united them. After all, she had that drive, that fixation for going head-on with things. Right? She was aware that her personality both exasperated and amused most people, except for Iná. At one point, she rationalized that if she was really Pete's daughter, her mother had every reason to hide it. It would have been a catastrophe! Look, her wish came true. She's not the crazy pilot's biological daughter but rather the daughter of a guy who, in fact, went around the world fucking what he wanted—metaphorically and literally.
She raises her eyes. Jake and Elia stare at her as if they don't know her. Sam doesn't blame them; she feels like she doesn't know herself anymore. She can't stand their expressions of... Disappointment? Pity? So she turns around and runs to the bathroom.
"Oh, no!" Jake manages to stick his shoulder in before she can close the door. Elia pushes from behind, and they both manage to squeeze through.
She steps back and ends up sitting on the edge of the tub.
Her brother sits to her right and puts his arm around her shoulders. His girlfriend sits to her left and wraps her arm around her waist.
"Icepop wasn't saddled you, Sam," is the first thing he says.
She grunts her disbelief.
"Really," he insists, "Mavdad was the one who came up with the idea, even before you were born. People don't realize it, but Mavdad is a great strategist too. He knew that Iná and Icepop would be a great couple before they even realized it. He told me," he pauses because he wants to tell her the truth, but they're not alone, so he has to be careful with his words, "he told me that Icepop needed a baby to spoil so that it wouldn't get jealous of me."
"You make it sound like I was an emotional support animal."
Jake rests his head on her shoulder. She feels his stifled laughter like a vibration.
"Babies are like little pets, aren't they?"
She nudges him without much force.
"My point is, he wasn't saddled with you. It was more like you carried him. You kept him afloat."
"I was a baby."
"Your merit is greater then," he insists.
"Sam, love, it doesn't matter how Kazansky became your father. The fact is, he is. I don't know what he was like before he went off to play airplanes..."
"Hey!"
Elia ignores her brother-in-law's outraged interjection and tightens her grip on Sam's waist.
"...but I've seen it from the outside, and I assure you, he's your father one hundred percent."
Sam looks at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Oh, sweet God. What did Icepop say to you? Did he threaten you?"
"Nope. Threats are imaginary. Your father only explained to me in detail what would happen if I broke your heart, or worse, if I let our relationship become unequal. He told me he didn't want weak people in the family, and if I couldn't live up to your expectations, I'd better go back to whatever I had with that slacker Dennys." Seeing the twins' horrified expressions, she quickly clarifies, "Who I never had anything with, of course. Dennys is... I mean... We've known each other since we were in diapers."
Sam looks at her, guilty and ashamed. She turns to her brother.
"You see? He feared that what I inherited from Troy Manning would come out."
"What? No!" Jake denies frantic.
"Yes, of course. I'm the daughter of a serial rapist, and he wanted to know if Elia would be capable of pulling my reins when..." A sob chokes her.
"No, Sam, darling, no!" Elia takes her chin in her fingertips, forcing her to look at her. "Kazansky wasn't talking about you, he was talking about me."
"About you?"
"Sam, have you ever stopped to think about the abysmal class difference between us?"
"Well…"
"Sam, when I went to Oglala College, do you know what I bought?"
Sam is confused by the question. She tries to remember what she bought herself before leaving for college. It's a nice memory: going with Iná to look for new clothes appropriate for Dakota's climate. Jake was doing the same thing, but a little differently, because the Naval Academy has uniforms.
"Well… clothes, shoes?"
Elia sighs.
"Underwear, honey. The only things I could afford were new knickers and bras. All my clothes were inherited from dead relatives or no longer fit my neighbors. Oh! And my cousins scraped together enough money to buy me a cap with the tribal crest on it."
Sam knows that cap. Elia was wearing it on their first date. It's her most prized possession. She remembers thinking, when she decided Elia was more than just a good classmate, that she'd be much more attractive if she stopped wearing those outdated rags. Then she decided it was better that way because no one else noticed Elia's hotness beneath those ugly clothes. Pampering her, buying her nice clothes, and taking her to beautiful places was an essential part of her courtship. She wanted to give her the best because she didn't deserve anything else.
"You don't..." Elia strokes his cheek with her fingertips, smiling a little sadly. "You didn't realize it, but half the campus thought I was with you for your money. When we came to study in San Diego, too. After all, how many medical students on scholarships live in a mansion?"
"That's ridiculous!" Sam protests. "Why would we spend money on an apartment when my family's house was available? You don't... It's not like that. Did Icepop thought you were a gold digger?!"
Elia smiles, proud and amused by how offended Sam is.
"No, of course not. Your father knows how to measure people. What he was afraid of was that I wouldn't be able to... how can I put it? He was afraid that one day I'd get carried away with all the gifts and stop being your partner to become your pet. It's easy to get comfortable, you know?"
Sam nods slowly.
"That makes sense, I guess."
"If it's any consolation, Brig got not one, but five shovel-talks. And from people with the power to destroy him."
"Five?" Elia thinks she should spend more time with that pilot. After all, there aren't many other people available to discuss the uniqueness of the Kazansky-Mitchell family.
"Yeah, Iná, Slider, Bradley, Viper, and Mavdad. Now that I think about it, was Icepop the only one who talked to you?"
"Well, no. His was the more memorable, not the only shovel-talk. Your mother, of course. Your brother Sean, that one made me laugh more than it worried me. Linda Metcalf took me shopping the first time you brought me here, remember? She talked a lot about how difficult it can be to join a high-ranking military family and ended up buying me, I don't know how many things, from creams to pantyhose. But the strangest one was from Walter Crow Horse. He was the chief of the tribal police on the reservation."
Elia, lost in memory, doesn't notice how the cekpápi tense up upon hearing the name.
"It was weird because you and I still hadn't... I mean, I liked you and I was pretty sure you liked me, but we were just at the intense staring and giggling stage. I hadn't talked about it with anyone, not even Dennys. One weekend when I was back in Allen, I went to the cemetery to meditate by Grandpa Samuel's grave. Chief Walter found me there."
"Is kissing so complicated that you have to ask a dead person for help?" he said as he sat down next to me.
I snorted. His presence annoyed me because I was nineteen and believed what I felt was unique in the universe. But he was Chief Walter Crow Horse, husband of Ray Seresin, wakíŋyaŋ čhaŋté, and telling him I wanted to be alone would have been disrespectful.
"No," I finally answered.
"No. Kissing isn't complicated. What comes next is complicated."
Next? I didn't understand. After the kiss, if I kissed you, there would be more kisses, right?
"Her family is complicated," he clarified, and I thought it was true.
You'd already told me about Jake running away, that your dad was an important man in the Navy, and that you wanted to study medicine to stay out of his shadow. Was that what made me hesitate? Not you, but your family. I suddenly felt ashamed of myself.
"Oh, honey," Sam says softly, moved.
Elia continues with the story.
"And what do you know about it?" I snapped at him, annoyed.
"Ray sees a lot of things all the time, even the things he doesn't want to see."
I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. You, a carefree white girl, were in the visions of our wakíŋyaŋ čhaŋté?
"If tuŋwéya Ray doesn't want me to…"
"If Ray even hints at something like that, I'll kick his mystical ass across the prairie," he cut me off, clearly annoyed. "If you think I'd come here and tell you that, we have a serious problem."
"No, no, chief. It's just that... Look, yes, she doesn't know anything about my life. I don't know if she can understand this." I waved an arm around, trying to encompass the cemetery but also further: the town, the prairie, the reservation, my aunt's death, the memories, and the resentment. [see note at the end]
"Life at Oglala College is like a dream for both of you, isn't it?" I nodded, and he looked me in the eye. "Well," he said in a defeated tone, "Ray was right."
"I don't understand, chief."
"That's the thing when a wakíŋyaŋ čhaŋté is reincarnated and comes to live in your town, kid, many things no longer make sense. But things don't stop being true just because you don't understand them."
I nodded, of course. That sounded profound, disturbing, but, above all, frightfully logical.
Jake presses his lips together to keep the groan from escaping his throat. Yes, that's precisely what it is. His life is a testament to the absurdity that twins Ray and Tom can conjure into the world. Elia had almost finished her story.
"That relationship, no matter which way it goes, will define you both. The men around her are like dogs. Do you know how to deal with dogs?"
"You stand firm, show your teeth, ignore the barking, and look the alpha in the eye."
"Good. That's good."
He started to get up, but I grabbed his wrist. His eyes flicked from my hand to my face. There was disbelief in his pupils but also a hint of amusement. I couldn't believe what I'd done, but after talking about visions, about the deaths that bound his family and mine, that comment about dogs was so anticlimactic that I couldn't let him go. You know? I swallowed hard and forced myself to speak.
"Nothing else… chief?"
He barked a mocking laugh.
"Ah! You can't resist the oracle's temptation, can't you?"
I felt ashamed and weak. Wasn't I capable of making my own decisions? Walter's eyes turned sad and resigned; he seemed to feel sorry for me. Then he said...
She closes her mouth and cranes her neck to look at Jake. Her dark eyes scan his features intently, searching… Elia stands up from the tub's edge and stands in front of the twins. She takes a step back, trying to see them together. Jake and Sam notice where her mind is going. He lowers his head and covers his face with his hands, sighing in resignation. Her face shows her panic. She raises her hands.
"It's not…"
But her girlfriend ignores her and slowly repeats the message, amazed and unable to doubt because the evidence is right in front of her.
"A man will deny her the only possible escape, and she'll have to look into the darkness within. By then, you'll have crossed that darkness without realizing it. You'll be her guide. That's Ray Seresin's message, wakíŋyaŋ čhaŋté, to you, Elia Eagle Bear. Of course, you could avoid all that if you didn't fuck Seresin, but I can see it's too late."
She pauses, looks over their heads at the sliver of sky visible through the bathroom window, and fights the urge to punch the tiled wall.
She knew Jake was Ray Seresin's nephew. How could she not know? His visit to Pine Ridge in the summer of 2008 sparked all sorts of speculation. Her cousin Mary couldn't stop talking about how handsome he was, about how she wasted no time trying to set him up with Elia or Dennys—because Mary's particular obsession was to bring more Sioux babies into the world. She believed that was the Seresin she had to keep at bay. It never occurred to her that her sweet Samantha, that willful girl, sweetly ignorant of the world's evils... That she, too...
"So you're a Seresin?"
But Sam looks at her with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, ignoring her question to make his confusion at the prophecy's implications evident.
"So you don't care that my real father is a monster?"
That again.
"A sperm gob doesn't make a father, Sam," her mind briefly returns to the reserve, "believe me. Your real father is Thomas Kazansky. Now tell me."
"My mother..." she stops, looks at her embarrassed, sticks to her brother's side, and shrinks like a wet kitten. "My mother is Ray Seresin's half-sister."
It can't be. Mrs. Sarah is Sioux, yes, but she said she didn't know her family, that she'd been separated from her biological parents and had grown up in the foster care system, a victim of racism and neglect. She said... Yes, well, she said. Ah! The lies that were told.
"But why?"
"To help her husband's career, of course." Elia can't tell if Jake's resentment is directed at Kazansky or the government. "Ray Seresin is an enemy of the state. The CIA tried to kill him who knows how many times. Of course, they didn't want any association with the evil Indian terrorist."
Yes, that makes sense. She nods silently. Sam's eyes are insecure, with something like tentative hope. Elia kneels and places her hands on her knees.
"Sam, love, is all this fuss about Jake's sperm because you don't want to...? You don't want to use your eggs?"
"Half of my genes came from him."
Jake grunts, angry. Elia gives him an admonishing stare and turns back to her partner.
"And the other half came from your mother. More importantly, as mothers, it will be our responsibility to give our baby the tools to be a good person."
"How can you trust that…?"
"I don't trust Sam, I know. You're the one who has to trust me, please."
"But I lied to you…"
"Yeah, well, everyone's been lying around here. I... I told you I liked the Star Wars prequel trilogy."
"You what!?"
----------------------------------
Note:
Elia Eagle Bear's murdered aunt is Maggie Eagle Bear.
In the film Thunderheart (1992), Maggie Eagle Bear is a peaceful Native American political activist and teacher. She was murdered by Native American mercenaries serving the U.S. government while investigating a government plan to mine uranium on the Pine Ridge Reservation, which was contaminating the community's water supply. Ray Levoi and Walter Crow Horse find her body at Red Deer Table.
INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/i-have-right-to-this-lies-we-told-each.html
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