The Fool 8

The trip turned into a hot mess. It turned out that it had been nearly a week after Chet had been admitted to the psych ward before Myra had reached out to him. She had spent three days just waiting and two days trying to get a hold of him before his mother had responded that she was going to keep him there until he was deemed safe to return home. It took another day of her desperately trying to reach him and being blocked from visitation before Myra had drove to Al's with her bitter tale.

The confusion on the week later break up message was revealed when they reached Chet's mother's house to drop off his stuff and get answers. Al and Chet's mother had never met face to face before. So, she hadn't really thought much before answering the door in funeral attire.

The look of pale shock on Myra's face had broken the woman and she sat down listlessly on the front porch crying while Myra muttered words of denial between trying to get Chet's mother to tell her that it wasn't what it looked like. An older man who Al assumed was a second husband or boyfriend, joined Chet's mother on the front porch to console her. That moment shattered what little disbelief existed in Myra's heart as she took off running like she could escape the fear and emotional pain physically.

Al had never been so glad that his fragile discipline on exercise had held true for the last month or so. She had only grown faster since she was a teenage girl. The couple of years she had mostly walked to her fast food job had her in good sprinting shape. He barely caught her and dragged her back to the safety of the sidewalk when she just about dashed headlong into traffic.

Once he had princess carried her back to the car and got her calmed down enough that she would stay there, Al asked the man with Chet's mom what the real story was. The man explained that Chet had come back from a routine checkup on his chronic pancreatitis that had been acting up a lot more than normal. It turned out that the initial flare up had masked what had been very early stage pancreatic cancer.

Somehow, along the few years he had it, another cancer screening that probably should have been done at some point hadn't been. It wasn't until he'd nearly been hospitalized after another attack of abdominal pain that his doctor put in for the blood work on a cancer screening. Putting two and two together, Al realized that the day he had taken them out to dinner, the money Chet had asked him for was round trip bus fare to the hospital because he'd been called back in instead of being able to get results over the phone as usual.

The poor guy had been battling for days, maybe even weeks with the news that he was stage four with no one else aware. The depression demon won and he'd tried to escape with a bottle of sleeping pills. Chet's mom was the one who sent that break up message on Chet's behalf because he didn't want Myra to have to deal with that. Al thought that was noble in a stupid, scar someone forever kind of way.

What he didn't know what to think about was Chet's second successful attempt at suicide in the ward. He wasn't insensitive enough to ask how that was even possible but considering the slightly confused look on the older man's face, it's possible that only the hospital still knew. Either way, they had returned from Chet's funeral not but just an hour or so before Al and Myra arrived. Oblivious to the end, their actions had robbed Myra of closure but in the broader picture, Chet himself had done that first.

In an awkward state, Al and the stranger moved Chet's stuff into the garage. Before Al left, Chet's mom pulled herself together long enough to hug Myra and apologize for all she was worth, leading to a mutual but less dramatic breakdown. The woman's 'man friend' of whatever variety he might be, flagged them down to give Myra the cemetery and plot information.

"Do you feel like you can handle seeing him now or do you want to wait?" Al said softly into the silence of their commute back.

Knocked out of her private thoughts, she decided she wanted to see him. While she just kind of stood there, staring at the newly sodded plot, Al texted a message with the rough details to Deshawn and asked to have a few days before they handled anymore mutual business. Normally, it would have been Devon but if the young man had rushed over to lend a sympathetic shoulder to Myra, Al might have lost it.

Distracted, Al missed the moment his niece's grieving face had taken on an angry look and she managed to kick the tombstone twice before he grabbed her up. While she flailed, kicking at the air and shrieking her rage incoherently at the sky, he didn't know whether to take that as a good or bad thing. From his perspective, it was better for her to be mad than inconsolable but he remembered all too well that a burst of rage could easily be followed by that feeling anyway, with guilt on top.

When they finally got back home, Myra had worn herself out. While he was getting her situated in the guest room that had suddenly graduated into being hers for who knows how long, Deshawn let himself into the house. Al worked a quick lavender ritual on her before seeing what the man wanted. To his surprise, Deshawn was carrying a rather weighted looking small gym bag.

Setting it down on the dining room table, the older brother said, "I been holding this back for a few now. You been doing for us but we ain't been doing for you. And Devon was right, it does make me feel better.

"I know you didn't ask but I insist. I didn't know how you might want it. So, I brought it like this. Seemed like the right time, sh*t going on with your fam and all."

Al looked at the bag with mixed emotions and said, "I appreciate it but just remember that the main goal is to reach a point where you don't need the key to be comfortable anymore. I know it's hard to notice but it really is slowly eating away at you guys."

Deshawn said, "We got a good rotation and we keep an eye on each other. Sometimes Devon pushes harder but I got him in check... I been meaning to ask, when you said it takes bites out of a soul, what does that mean? It's not going to make us go to Hell or something, right?"

Al was too drained to laugh. "No and I don't want to confuse you with a lot of stuff that won't matter much to you. There's a hard middle to a soul that's pretty much okay no matter what but outside of that there's a couple of different layers. It really depends on the person what those layers are like.

"The point where it wouldn't really do anything bad at all would be something like once or twice a month spread out but that's hardly doable and make it useful. At the rate you guys are going, using it a couple of times a week apiece... You have somewhere between four to six months before you'd feel like something was wrong. After that, you'd need to wait a couple full years of experience rich living before it would be low consequence to start using it again."

Deshawn thought about it and said, "What about after that? If we were to keep going the way we are, I mean."

Al shrugged. "It's different between people. For sure, you'd start losing lifespan. The aura around you would weaken enough that any kind of supernatural threat would be much more threatening to you. Easier to get sick and harder to recover would be very likely. The rest is hard to tell.

"Towards the end, you'd feel and look much older than you should. But before that would kill you, your soul would weaken to the point that the core would just disconnect. You're a church going family?... If you've heard the term 'give up the ghost', that's pretty much what it would be like."

The older brother broke out in goosebumps and shivered a little before quickly changing the subject. Asking about the house repairs, Al lead him around. Before it was all said and done, he ended up asking about some of the materials he'd need to get some side restorations done. Discussing how he could use old standing foundations like a smokehouse that used to be on the property, they came up with a plan to put up some amenities he wanted without having to go through a hellish approval process.

Over the next few days, Al discovered that having Deshawn's goodwill was almost as scary as being actively disliked. Like clockwork, the man would drag Patrick over to Al's after work or on days off to help with all the things Al had wish listed during their talk. The man wasn't satisfied with not feeling like he owed someone something. He seemed bent on making Al feel the sting of being indebted and poor Patrick had been dragged along for the ride.

Watching the two go at the projects around his place, he started to get the impression that Deshawn was tickled having a shy little 'white boy' as his side kick. There wasn't really anything to complain about. The older brother might be working Patrick hard but he always had an eye on him and it was obvious that the young man was looking healthier and more lively by the day. By the time the novelty wore off, Patrick would probably be ready to stand on his own.

In an effort to give Myra something to feel good about, Al broke out the feminine personal use herbal and alchemical goods that White's daughter had presented to her father to get his warm approval. Hidden within them was a good deal more magical kick than Al had first thought since some of the recipes weren't even in the memories that he had inherited. It wasn't anything dangerous except to Al's nerves as Patrick and even Deshawn started taking notice of the ethereal and fragile 'beauty' drifting around the house like a Hollywood fantasy of a tragic heroine.

It was during one such moment that Al caught them 'admiring the scenery', ominous news arrived. As Myra came back from a walk along the preserve trail near their house, ringed in blue butterflies and wearing a sad smile, she had accidentally created an otherworldly moment that left the two men spellbound until a vulgar ringtone broke the enchantment. All eyes were on Deshawn. As the man listened to what was being said, storm clouds started building behind his eyes.

Without explanation, he directed Patrick to his work van and they left. Al took a moment to pick up their tools and put the tarp in place over the sauna, disguised as a smokehouse, they were building. On the chance that whatever was going on would end up involving him, Al logged some time finishing up his workload for record keeping and had Myra order whatever dinner struck her fancy.

While they were relaxing to pizza and a movie that Myra had seen a dozen times but still enjoyed, Devon called. "Things are getting stupid down here. Jaffin beat charges on some kind of technicality. Now, he's got his crew that ain't locked up, burning sh*t down all over the place. That includes our office and moms' house.

"I wanted to set Moms and Hunter up in a hotel downtown but Deshawn thought they'd be safer out of town. Would you let them crash your place for a few days. We been thinking about moving up somewhere greener lately, anyway."

Al said, "Yeah, it's fine for them to stay a few days while the two of you house hunt."

With a heavy sigh, he started moving his things to the fully furnished basement a bit ahead of schedule and barely managed to clean out his room before Macy and Hunter arrived.

"Mrs Daily, you have a choice between the master bedroom or we can fix up the crafts room behind the kitchen if you don't want to deal with the stairs,'" Al said warmly after the awkward pleasantries were done.

Macy's eyes widened a bit and she said, "Master bedroom? Where do you sleep, the basement!?"

Al smiled widely. "After today, I do. It's a dream man cave come true down there. No small amount of thanks to your eldest. If it was any more moisture proof, I'd have to actually add some to keep from getting nose bleeds. He's got a gift."

After some small talk and seeing that the stairs weren't all that bad, Macy said that she'd rather have to deal with some stairs than have to share a bathroom with everybody. Likewise, Hunter chose that he'd rather deal with an army cot and emptying a portable AC unit his dad left, every morning and before bed, if it meant he could have the whole attic to himself.

In the attic, Al rolled out a sectional piece of extra thick padding and a cut of carpet and told the teen with a chuckle, "You mess this carpet up, you'll be dealing with your dad, not me. And if you start pacing around on the other side of the attic while Myra's still sleeping, you'll be dealing with her. We haven't replaced the boards on that side yet and they're crazy creaky."

Hunter smiled and flexed his dad given knowledge. "When Pops redid Nanna's attic, he just used some kind of special glue and wood screws. Made it good as new and saved her a whole bunch of money."

Al looked down at the darkly stained planks of maple leading up to the old, slightly grayed oak. There was a sudden thought that maybe Deshawn was trying to keep him from being embarrassed or was feeling extra generous. According to the man, it was some doctored up 'reclaimed' from another job anyway.

To keep from feeling embarrassed in front of the man's son, Al said, "And miss treasure hunting? Besides, my niece didn't like how it sounded as if someone was pacing back and forth up here sometimes... Why, I could swear I heard someone muttering about not being able to find their tin. I thought it was Patrick but it turned out, he was checking the drain from the old greenhouse foundation."

Hunter didn't have the reaction he had expected. The teen went through his things and pulled out an old tape recorder with a small microphone attached, asking him exactly where he heard the 'phenomenon'. Luckily, it was summer vacation because the poor kid looked exhausted the next day as he slowly went over some of his recording material before taking a short nap and doing it some more.

Macy helped herself to the kitchen and made a mess of fried potatoes, scrambled eggs and bacon for everybody that morning. Around noon, Al was taking a break from doing his record keeping workload for the day and caught her going through the kitchen cupboards with a frown. He had a sudden inkling that being anywhere else would be a good idea but she was sharp.

"Al, what in Gawd's name is going on with this kitchen!? You got all them fancy utensils and next to nothing to use it all on. Do y'all live on cereal, pizza and junk food around here!?" Macy said, judgment pouring from every look and gesture around the relatively bare cupboards.

Ears burning, Al said, "Well, I suppose it's been awhile since I went grocery shopping but there WAS some healthy essentials in here. I originally only bought for myself but-"

With a sharp gesture from her hand but a kind smile, she said, "I don't need ya life story. Just do what good mens are supposed to do. Fork over some green and let a woman who knows what she's doing, handle it... What's that girl o your's name again?"

Al was about to respond when she shouted a little shrilly, "Hey Mimi! That uncle of yours got my wool gathering grandson chasing ghosts. Help an old lady do some shopping."

The smell of bacon might have lured her from bed before the crack of noon but Myra had returned to her room for some more lazy lounging before her busy day of moping around. Macy wasn't having it. With some sharp but good natured ribbing, the older woman had her out the door in nearly half an hour record time.

The rest of the day was spent with the woman getting Myra's help with this or that while subtly growing horror dawned on Macy's face at how little the girl knew how to do. Over the following days, Myra's life was filled with learning how to do all the things a young woman should know according to her nearly spartan teacher. Al almost interceded but changed his mind after seeing just how much each new successfully fulfilled task was elevating her mood and granting her a sense of self worth she hadn't had before, one drop at a time.

Whatever was going on in the brothers' lives, it wasn't including house hunting. But considering how much of a positive affect having Macy and Hunter around was, Al didn't even bat an eye when Deshawn asked to extend their stay. He happily agreed.

It bothered Al that the brothers were up to something and made sure to only have the key on them when they were using it. He could see the concealed anger and determination in their eyes the few times they stopped by. He decided to let it go the same way he ignored Deshawn's occasional lingering interactions with his niece and how the man was subconsciously a little vicious when warning off his younger brother's 'anything but innocent' advances.

Although Myra wasn't doing anything to encourage their attention, Al could see she was enjoying it. They were both enjoying the presence of Macy. And Hunter was worming into their affection in his own oddball way. It wasn't hard to see the direction of things, assuming nothing tragic happened. Al desperately hoped that the gentle summer days would continue without much faith they would.