"Later that day Dad took me aside and had a talk with me."
"A talk?" I asked, trying to picture jovial, terminally happy Mr. Blackmore having a serious talk about anything.
She nodded. "He told me about, well, boys like you. Boys that were only after one thing. He used a lot of profanity as he talked about it and he lost his temper a few times even though he was the only one talking. He told me how they could 'fuck up my whole life' and 'destroy everything I've worked for', how they were good for nothing but destroying other people's relationships."
"It seems your parents have some rather strong feelings about this." I told her, giving the understatement of the year. What she was telling me was very unsettling. Though I would have expected some depth of anger from her parents at what she had told them, this seemed a little excessive, even for older generation people that were raised in the pre-World War II era.
"Yes." She answered. "Strong feelings would be a good way to put it. Thank God it was me who answered the phone today. I don't know what would have happened if Dad would have been the one."
"Are we going to keep seeing each other Nina?" I asked her.
She looked sharply at me. "Yes." She answered. "I want to see you as much as possible. I'm already pouting to myself because I can't see you tomorrow."
"Don't you think that your parents will find out about us pretty soon?"
She shook her head. "I don't even want to think about that." She told me. "If I keep coming over to your house and you don't call me at mine, there's no reason why they need to know anything."
I opened my mouth to protest this statement. I wanted to tell her that her reasoning was flawed, that if I'd learned one thing in the past few months it was that you could not hide your activities from the people you lived with for any length of time. But before the first word could clear my lips I slammed them shut. What purpose could such a discussion serve right now? What purpose except to spoil what had been a perfect, glorious night?
"Okay Nina." I said, giving her a smile and giving her hand another squeeze.
"We'll play it your way."
We arrived back at my house a few minutes later. I walked her to her mother's car where we exchanged one more kiss, one more hug, before she climbed inside. She started up the car and drove away. I watched her until she was out of sight.
"This is my reception?" Tracy asked with mock indignation when we finally found each other in the crowded airport. "I faithfully call and write all the time and all they can send is YOU to come pick me up?"
"You're lucky you even got me." I told her. "They were gonna have you take the bus home."
She laughed and we embraced each other warmly.
"It's good to see you Bill." She told me. "And it's good to see snow on the ground. I'm so sick of rain all the goddam time."
I stepped back from her and took in her attire. She was wearing tight jeans and a sweater covered by a light windbreaker. "I don't think you're gonna be too happy about it when you step outside. It's about twenty degrees out there. Where the hell is your heavy jacket?"
"It's in my suitcase mother." She told me, "Which is probably in the baggage carousel if it isn't on its way to Beirut or something. It never gets cold enough in the Bay Area to wear the damn thing. Every time I put it on I break out in a sweat."
"Well you'll get some use out of it this week." I told her. "C'mon, lets go get your bag."
"You seem to be in a good mood." Tracy commented as we fought our way through the terminal full of holiday travelers.
"Really?" I asked. "Does it show?"
"You're walking around looking like someone who's in the process of getting a blowjob."
I chuckled. "Well put." I said. "Actually I am in a very good mood."
"Really?" She asked. "And why is that? Have there been some developments since the last time I talked to you?"
"Many." I nodded. "It all started with this." I held up my hand for her inspection.
"Stitches." She nodded. "Mom told me the other night that you'd cut your stupid self at work. You'd think that after living in two lives you'd have learned to keep your hand away from surgical instruments. Why should that put you in a good mood?"
I told her about my make-up with Nina and about our date.
"Bill, that's absolutely radical." She squealed, giving me another hug. "Congratulations."
"Thanks Tracy." I smiled. I knew she was more than simply happy for me, but for herself as well. My improving relationship with Nina went a long way towards confirming the theory we'd discussed at Thanksgiving. I knew my next piece of news would make her even happier in that regard.
"And there's more." I told her.
"More?" She asked.
I told her what I had done for Anita. She listened with growing respect.
"Wow." She finally said. "You really are a conniving son of a bitch little brother."
"Thank you." I replied.
"Do you think it worked?" She asked.
"Time will tell." I shrugged. "I'll keep an eye out for his car suddenly parked in front of her house. If I see that, I'll know it worked. If I don't, then maybe I'll have to come up with something else."
She giggled. "My brother," She said. "The motherfucking hand of fate."
As we drove towards home Tracy seemed a little fidgety, as if there was something she wanted to say but that she didn't know how to begin. Finally I told her to spill it.
"Well," She started. "I know you've been putting money into the stock market and all."
"Yeah." I agreed.
"But I was wondering if you'd really thought about, you know, taking advantage of the knowledge you have."
"What do you mean?" I asked her.
"You could do so much more than just put a few bucks into the stock market." She told me. "You could actually 'invent' things that are going to be popular in a few years. You could patent them before the inventor does and then take the money from that and put it into your stocks. You could make billions if you play your cards right Bill. Billions! And I could help you. I'm going to be a corporate lawyer that specializes in…"
"Hold on a second Tracy." I interrupted, not liking the way she was talking a bit.
"What?" She asked.
"You're suggesting that I steal people's inventions and take the credit for them?"
"It's not really stealing." She protested. "You're just thinking of it first. And I'm not talking about the telephone patent or anything. I'm talking about shit like that." She pointed at the car in front of us. In its rear window was a small plastic sign shaped like a highway caution sign and colored yellow. It was stuck to the rear window with suction cups. BABY ON BOARD read the motto in black letters. "The fuckin' baby on board signs. Whoever invented that stupid thing must be raking it in. Something like that comes along every couple of years. There must be other stuff like that in the future, stuff you already know about. Why can't you just make the first move?"
"Tracy…" I started.
"Or what about books and music lyrics?" She went on. "You know what books are going to be best sellers! You know what songs are going to be number one hits! What if you wrote them first? What if you copyrighted the…"
"Tracy!" I barked, finally getting her attention.
"What?"
"I couldn't do that." I told her.
"Why not?" She asked. "Think about how much money you could make!"
"I'll make enough money from my stocks Tracy. I was a paramedic who was used to living on less than forty thousand dollars a year. My investments will be enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life."
"Fuck comfort!" She yelled. "Bill, you have the potential to become the richest man ever if you play your cards right."
"And what would that accomplish?" I asked her, surprised and slightly disgusted by this greedy side of my sister. "First of all my conscience will not allow me to do something like that. Despite what you say, what you are suggesting is stealing. Maybe the worst form of stealing a person could do."