“Around here, we’re all pretty much related one way or other.”
“It would be fascinating to chart your family tree.”
“Johnny Appleseed couldn’t chart our family tree!”
I shake the cobwebs from my head and start in again.
“Lucy and Lori were identical twins.”
“You’ve said that three times already. And you’ve already told me Lucy was your mother.”
“Hush! I mean it! Or I’ll start over.”
“Sorry.”
“This ain’t an easy story to tell, you know.”
“I have no way of knowing that. You haven’t told me anything yet.”
I give him a look and start in a fourth time. “Twenty years ago, before I was born, Lucy, who later became my mom, was livin’ thirty miles away, in Rowena. Her twin sister Lori met a guy from Clayton, at a dance. His name was Will, and he worked nights at a convenience store. Lori and Will dated a couple of times, and Lori agreed to a third date, but took sick that day. Will had gone to a lot of trouble to take off work and borrow a car, and Lori didn’t have the heart to cancel the date, so she asked my mom to stand in for her. They were supposed to go to the movies, but wound up gettin’ drunk. One thing led to another, and my mom had sex with him.
“Did she tell your Aunt Lori?”
“Yes, of course. They told each other everything.”
“And Lori was okay with it?”
“She was disappointed, but it’s not like she and Will were in love or anything.”
“Go on.”
“All that week Lori got sicker and sicker. The next week Will got shot and killed durin’ a robbery at the store. A month later, mom discovered she was pregnant. Happened the same day Aunt Lori was diagnosed with cancer.”
“Whoa. That’s a lot to keep up with.”
“Wait till you hear the rest. Aunt Lori was dyin’, and wanted the joy of raisin’ a baby. Mom didn’t want the baby. So they traded names.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mom had the baby while pretendin’ to be Aunt Lori. When Darrell was born, she turned him over to be raised by Lori, and amazingly, Lori’s health improved. The next year Mom moved to Clayton, met Scooter. They got married and had me. When I was fourteen, Aunt Lori got sick again, and Mom moved her and Darrell into our home to take care of them.”
“How old was Darrell?”
“Sixteen.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“So anyway, Darrell and I spent a lot of time in the basement and back yard, and started developin’ feelin’s for each other.”
“You and your brother.”
“Yes, but at the time we thought he was my cousin.”
Dr. Box shakes his head in frustration. “And that would have been okay?”
“This ain’t New York, where eight million people walk the streets. This is Clayton, Kentucky, where there ain’t but a few hundred people my age in the whole county.”
“You’re saying cousins often fall in love and get married in Wilford County?”
“Well, of course they do!”
He shakes his head again.
I say, “You want to go ahead and paint a big red letter on my forehead, or do you want to hear the rest of the story?”
He waves for me to continue, so I say, “No one knew about me and Darrell’s relationship, and one afternoon when I was sixteen we ran off and got married and never told anyone. It was a stupid thing to do, more like a joke, you know?”
“This might surprise you,” Dr. Box says, “but no. None of this makes any sense to me.”
“Well, anyway, we didn’t tell anyone. We kept livin’ with our parents, kept goin’ to school, actin’ like cousins. Him, cookin’ crystal meth with his friends. Me, workin’ part-time at the restaurant. After high school I switched to full time. Aunt Lori got sicker and sicker, and one day her number came up.”
“She died?”
“No. She played the lottery. She won four hundred thousand dollars, and took the quarter-million cash option.”
Dr. Box shakes his head again and says, “This sounds like a B movie on TV.”
“The killer bee movie?” I say. “’Cause that one scared the shit out of me!”
“Please,” he says. “Tell your story.”
“Well, a week after gettin’ the money, Lori dies, and Darrell inherits the money. And that’s when we tell everyone we’re married.”
“That had to be a shock to your mother.”
“It was. She hung herself.”
“She-what? Hung herself? To death?”
“Yup. But not with the rope Daddy used on you.”
“That’s a relief,” he says. Then adds, “Hey, I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks. It was tough on us at the time, not knowin’ why she did it.”
“When was this?”
“Five months ago.”
We’re quiet a minute. Then I say, “So anyway, me and Darrell got a small apartment, and he squandered his inheritance on a monster truck and lab equipment for his meth business. Two months later, a lawyer showed up with legal papers. He sat us all down and told us the family secret.”
“That you and Darrell are brother and sister.”
“Right.”
“What was your reaction?”
“I moved back in with my dad, got a blood test, filed for divorce.”
“And Darrell?”
“He refused to sign the papers.”
“And the blood test?”
“He refused to take one.”
“So what happened?”
“We got lawyers. A judge finally ordered him to take a blood test.” “When did you get the results?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“And here we are?” he says.
“Yup. Here we are.”
Dr. Box looks like he swallowed a bad hot dog.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m having a hard time picturing you and Darrell.”
“In what way?”
“To be honest? Sexually.”
“You’re still hung up on us bein’ kinfolk?”
“I’m odd that way. Are you aware you just asked if I was hung up on that issue?’”
“It’s just an expression, Gideon.”
“So is hanging around. And brotherly love. But in this town those expressions take on a whole different meaning.”
I frown at him.
He says, “Even if I could erase the mental image in my head, I find it hard to believe you ever found Darrell attractive.”
“Why’s that?”
“His size. Shape. Features. Attitude. Complete lack of intelligence.”
He turns his palms upward, frustrated. Seekin’ an explanation.
I say, “When you’re fourteen years old, comin’ of age in a small town, proximity is more apt to turn a girl’s head than looks, charm, or brainpower.”
We look at each other a long moment.
Dr. Box looks sad. Like an old man with heart trouble turnin’ down the Tuesday night all-you-can-eat steak special. He wants the steak, but thinks it’s bad for him.
I’ve seen that sad steak look in a man’s eyes before.
I say, “You’re gonna leave, aren’t you.”
He nods.
“You’re not gonna take me with you.”
He sighs. “No.”
“Why not?”
He shakes his head and gestures at the room in general, but his meanin’ is clear. It’s all too much for him.
“I know I look like hell right now, but my face will heal. And when it does I’ll be pretty for you for a lot of years. You don’t know me that well, but I’ll make you a wonderful girlfriend. I can cook, sew, take care of kids and critters. I’m fun when I’m not banged up, and not opposed to grantin’ sexual favors. And those favors will belong only to you, Gideon.”
“Trudy-”
“I’ll be polite to your friends. I won’t complain if you drink or stay out at night, long as you treat me with respect.”
“I’ll marry you, Trudy!” the policeman shouts out from the back of the room.
“Mind your own business, Clem!” I scold. Then turn my focus back to Dr. Box. “I see good inside you, Gideon. I’ll make you happy.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t.”
I put on a brave face and sigh.
We look at each other a minute, and I say, “I hope you find what you’re lookin’ for.”
“Thanks,” he says. “You too.”
He leans over, kisses my cheek, then starts to leave.