Family Issues Ch. 08

"No, say broom."

Ben raised his hand in the air.

"Not high five. Say broom."

"Boom."

"What the...?" Ben's Down syndrome affected his cognitive development. At the age of three he spoke only a handful of words.

"Boom."

"Dad?" Kevin hollered. "Daaaad?" He picked Ben up and ran out of the restaurant and into the street. A bus honked and screeched to a stop. The driver pulled open the window and shouted "Fucknugget!" at him. He'd never heard that curse before, but it sounded like a good one, so he stored it for later use.

He found his dad across the street loading a rusty lawnmower onto his GMC truck.

"Dad! Dad! I made Ben say another word! He said broom! I made him! He can say that! Say broom, Ben."

Ben giggled.

"No, broom. Boom. Say it."

"Where is your mother, Kevin?"

"He said it. I swear to God, he said broom."

Kevin's father clenched his jaw, never a good sign these days.

"She's still in the water, sir."

His father searched his face for some reason. "She didn't go to church?"

"No. Why would she?"

His father nodded. "Don't leave the restaurant like that." Without giving either of his sons a second glance, he climbed into the truck and drove away.

"But he did say broom. You did, Ben. I heard you."

Ben hugged Kevin's neck and kissed him.

Back on the beach, he found the Murphy brothers, Justin and Cody, playing Wall Ball against the restaurant's wall. Kevin gave them a non-committal nod. He didn't like either of them.

"Think fast." Justin threw the tennis ball at him, and Kevin snatched it out of the air with his free hand. Having been the smallest kid in class, he was often the target in dodgeball, forcing him to adjust.

"Yo, Kev, did you see the faggot bus?" Justin was shirtless, and there was a blue bruise on his cheek.

"What faggot bus?"

"The one with the flag that looks like a rainbow."

"The tourist bus?" Kevin stared at the bus parking down the street. People were pouring out. Other than the bus driver shouting 'Fucknugget' at him there was nothing out of the ordinary about it.

"It's not a tourist bus, it's a fag bus; they're all fags."

Kevin knew faggot was a serious curse word. He'd even used it a couple of times, though he was not really sure what it meant. The situation didn't help clarify anything because the people leaving the bus looked like regular men and women.

"The pastor's car is here." Justin pointed at Pastor Roy Anderson's Buick that was parking down the street, near Kevin's house. "Probably came to say hi to the fags. Gonna be a hell of a show." Justin clapped his hands and smiled; three of his upper teeth were missing.

Kevin suddenly noticed seven-year-old Cody reaching into his bulging pocket and pulling out a familiar Charm Blow Pop.

"Hey, did you go inside for candies, Justin?"

"So what?"

"You got to ask permission," Kevin raised his voice, "otherwise it's stealing."

Justin flipped him the bird.

Kevin noticed Justin's pockets were bulging too. "Did you and Cody take the whole jar?"

"I didn't steal anything."

"Yeah?"

"Take your retard brother and get the fuck away, bitch fag."

"Ben is not a retard."

"He's three and can't even speak a damn word. My dad says your mom is a whore, and that's why God punished her with a mongoloid retard. Two retards."

Kevin put Ben down and went for it. Justin was a year older and a head taller, but having been the smallest kid in class had also taught Kevin that not standing up to bullying had severe consequences. He tackled Justin's legs, flipping the bigger boy onto the sand. He jumped on Justin's stomach, arms flailing. Justin wasn't exactly a rookie when it came to fights, but Kevin managed to give as much as he got.

In the background, he could hear Ben crying hysterically when suddenly a strong arm lifted him off Justin, none too gently. He tried to dive right back into the fight when a harsh voice stopped him.

"Kevin O'Brien, don't you dare!"

"But Mom—"

"What did I tell you about fights?

"But Mom—"

"Tell Justin you're sorry and shake his hand."

"I won't. He—"

"Kevin O'Brien!"

"I'm sorry." Kevin didn't reach out his hand, and Justin snarled in return.

"Take your brother inside, Kevin."

Kevin took Ben back into the restaurant, still breathing hard. He kicked a wooden column and smashed his fist against the wall, getting a brief moment of satisfaction when the pain registered. His behavior frightened Ben, who started screaming again. The cries sobered Kevin quicker than his mother's rebuke.

It took a few hugs and some tickling for his little brother to stop crying.

His mom came in a minute later. Her wetsuit was still dripping, and she left smudges of seawater and wet sand on the freshly swept tiles. Her fish keeper carried no less than eight beautiful white sea bass, which she hung with her spear-gun on a hook. She then hoisted Ben up and placed him on the counter. A few strategically placed kisses under his armpits and his neck were enough to restore Kevin's little brother to his usual giggling, beaming self. Only then did she squat down to Kevin's level.

"Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. "But Mom—"

"What did I tell you about fights?"

He lowered his head. "Violence is not the way. But, Mom, he...he said..."

"He said what?"

"Hate words." He didn't want to tell her that it was Justin calling Ben 'retard' that had triggered him. His little brother's Down syndrome and late development kept her awake at nights. He did not think she needed more grief on top of that. "Hurting words."

"They're just words, and they can't hurt if you don't allow them to."

"He stole candies from the bar."

"How do you know?"

"I saw the lollipops from our jar in his pocket. Everyone knows his dad is an unemployed drunk who beats him and his mom every day and never gives him any money. He always steals."

"All the more reason to be kind to him."

"But Mom—"

She kissed his forehead. "What are the three most important things in life?"

"Be kind to other people, be kind to other people, and be kind to other people."

She kissed his forehead again. "I'm going to the house to clean myself up, okay, sweetie? I'll be back in a jiffy. Clean the fish and store them in the fridge. No more fights."

"No more fights." Kevin sighed and took Ben with him to the kitchen. He knew not to argue with his mom and knew she was wrong about Justin Murphy. Kevin had tried her way against bullies, and it only made things worse. He was confident that Justin would now think twice before calling Ben a retard again.

The old clay fish pot needed scrubbing before he could rinse the fish in it. Kevin was halfway through the job when Ben curled into a little ball in the corner and fell asleep. He then heard voices coming from the restaurant.

"Is this place even open? It looks deserted."

"I don't know. Hello? Anyone here?"

"Come on, Mom. It's not enough that we got stuck in hillbilly shitsville, but you had to pick the Krasty Krab? Let's go to that big restaurant near the pier where everyone else went."

Kevin grabbed a stack of menus and ran out of the kitchen. "Please, come in. We're open."

There were three of them. Tall, taller than most adults he knew. The one who talked was a beautiful woman wearing a white twist-knot tank top and black jeans. It was a simple enough set, but she looked nothing like any women he knew. Her face was kind, and she had a constant warm smile that Kevin liked immediately. Behind the tall woman stood two tall teenage girls, a blond and a redhead.

"Oh, hello," she smiled. "So you're open?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Aren't you just the prettiest little thing."

He didn't want to give her a chance to listen to her daughter and try the O'Sullivans' restaurant down the street. His mother always said that money didn't grow on trees. "Thank you, ma'am. Please, ma'am, I'll fix your table for you in no time."

The woman laughed. "Do you work here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You seem a bit young."

"I'm just a little short for my age, ma'am, but I'm ten."

She laughed again. It wasn't the condescending kind of laugh, but one of joy. Kevin liked the sound of her voice and decided that Justin was just full of shit and didn't have a clue about these people or their bus. He rushed to the table beside them, cleaned it in a flash, and then pulled on an ornamented tablecloth before he laid the dishes.

"Are there any adults in, or are you the manager?"

"My mom is the manager and cook, ma'am. Please, sit down."

"What is your name, sweetie?"

"Kevin."

"Well, Kevin. You're not only the most handsome boy I've ever seen, you're also a very polite young man. I'm Fabienne." She offered her hand.

Kevin shook it and blushed. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll bring your refreshment. It's on the house." He zipped back into the kitchen and returned two seconds later with a pitcher full of cold lemonade.

He heard the blond girl whispering. "Mom, stop embarrassing him!"

"You mean, stop embarrassing you."

"Just stop!"

"So, Kevin, what do you recommend? Wait, are the sea bass hanging over there an option?"

He nodded, relieved. His mother was sure taking her time with the shower, and there were only a few items on the menu that he felt confident enough to make on his own. Sea bass was a breeze, though. "My mom just caught them a few minutes ago. But they'll need to be cleaned first."

"We have an hour."

"Oh, it will take maybe twenty-five minutes to clean them and grill them, ma'am."

Kevin dragged a chair to the beam where his mother had hung the fish. The tall blond girl beat him to it. She took down the fish, holding the hook at arm's length, and smiling, she gave it to him. "There you go, Kevin."

She didn't look anything like Pastor Roy Anderson's Sodomites. She had piercing green eyes and a beautiful blond mane that framed her symmetrical face. Kevin thought she looked like a fairy or an angel much more than someone who is on her way to hell.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I'm not a ma'am, I'm Helen."

He blushed and nodded, running to the kitchen. He fired up the grill, then scraped the scales, raking three of the heavier white bass from tail to head in smooth straight movements. He rinsed the scaled fish, then gutted them, removing the gills with long-nose pliers. It was a trick his mom taught him.

The seasoning mix was prepared in the fridge, waiting to be sprinkled. Kevin tossed the butter with chopped garlic and parsley in a pan and strategically placed the fish on the grill. He then rushed back to the restaurant, carrying a tray with creamed herring, salmon mousse, lobster dip and other pre-made starters for their choosing.

The other girl, the redhead, had her nose stuck in a mobile phone. She was constantly text-messaging. It didn't bother her mother, who kept asking her questions. The three bantered, they laughed, and they were comfortable with each other. Even Helen, who looked very shy, was laughing.

Kevin felt a pang of envy watching them, because dinners at his house were unbearable. Nobody said a word, and his father always looked angry nowadays. It was a relief each time they ended.

"Wow, this is officially the best sea bass I've ever tasted." Fabienne smiled when she tried the fish. "Your mother is a talented cook."

"Thank you, ma'am, I'll tell her. I'm sorry it took so long."

"It's okay, sweetie. We'll have a takeaway if we run out of time." She suddenly noticed the tall man who stood on the restaurant's doorstep. He was staring at them, so she gave him her warmest smile.

"Howdy." When he wasn't in the office, Pastor Roy Anderson walked around in Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, and cowboy hat. Maybe he missed his days out on the ranch and the cowboy halo that went with it. He was a hell-raiser in his youth and very popular with the ladies before he married and turned to the ministry.

He walked into the Chatty Sea Bass as if he owned the restaurant and patted Kevin on his head. He liked kids, but Kevin always felt the pastor had a soft spot for him. "Well, heck. Looks like we got some company. You folks from the Human Rights branch in Virginia? Got lost on your way to Phoenix?"

"Just a small detour." Fabienne smiled. "We heard the seafood restaurants here are the best. You're the town welcoming committee?"

"I'm the local man of the cloth."

"Well, preacher—"

"I'm a pastor, not a preacher."

"Well, I'm an atheist. I wouldn't know the difference."

"Of course you are." The pastor's smile wasn't kind. Fabienne appeared unfazed, Helen looked distressed, and the redhead looked bored. "So I'm guessing you're on your way to that thing in Phoenix? The pride parade?"

"It's a Proposition Eight protest. Same-sex marriage on the agenda today, pastor."

"Same-sex marriage? I remember a time when nobody would have dreamed of such a thing."

"Thank god we're long past those times."

"We live a simple life down here, Mrs.—"

"It's Ms. and call me Fabienne."

"Do my ears detect a slight Cajun accent?" the pastor said.

Fabienne smiled. "Vous avez raison."

"So you know we prefer to run things as they used to be. A bit old-fashioned. You know how it is down here."

"Oh, I sure do. I sure do, pastor." She nodded, and her eyes became sad. Probably touching an unpleasant memory.

"It's a funny thing, the name that you chose to call it. Pride parade. You see, I've not always been a pastor. I am a married man. Been around as they say. But I don't understand what the big achievement is. It's not an Olympic Games gold medal, and it's not a Nobel Prize. It's just sex, and unnatural sex at that. What's to be so proud of?"

Kevin didn't understand most parts of the conversation, but he could read body language. He couldn't understand what fault the pastor found in Fabienne or her beautiful daughters.

He let out a breath he was holding when his mother entered the restaurant. "Mom!" he cried, hoping to break the tension.

His mother took a second to register the situation before she shot Pastor Roy Anderson a warning glance. "Hi there, good evening," she said. "I hope you're enjoying your meal."

"We certainly did." Fabienne rose from her seat. "But unfortunately, we need to go back to the bus. I really thank you for the hospitality. Your son is an amazing host. I'm sure you're very proud."

"I sure am." Kevin's mom hugged him.

"Just a..." Fabienne pulled forty dollars from her purse and left them on the table. "Well, pastor. Imagine a young man or a young woman living down here, where it's simple. Ashamed of who they are because people who belong in the medieval period are all around them. People who seek to oppress and marginalize even people like me because God gave me a futanari gene. They feel uncomfortable at best, and that it's dangerous at worst, to be open about who they are. So when this young man or woman sees us marching, heads high, it gives them a glimpse of hope."

"Hope? What hope does your kind offer?"

"Hope that things can get better. That everyone can be free, safe, and celebrated for who they are. Hope, is important, pastor, especially in places where patches of it are few and far between. So, hell yeah, I can certainly see something to be proud of." She motioned to her daughters. "Helen, Diana, let's go."

Kevin stared after them when they left, with a sense that he'd missed something. He couldn't understand why a nice person like the pastor and a nice person like Fabienne didn't like each other. "Mom, they didn't finish their meal," he suddenly said. "They said they wanted a takeaway."

"Sure." His mother nodded. "Go after them, but take Ben with you to Annie Jane, and then come back. I have reservations for tonight."

She packed the leftovers in a paper bag while Kevin grabbed his little brother from the kitchen. He ran outside, hoping the bus hadn't left.

Helen noticed him first, and a shy smile lit her beautiful face. It made Kevin's heart beat faster. Diana smirked when she saw him, but Fabienne compensated with a huge smile.

"I've made you—" he huffed.

"You're beyond sweet." She took the bags. "Who's the love bug? Your brother?"

Kevin nodded. "His name is Ben."

"Hello, Ben. By the way, don't think that I didn't notice that your mother, who was supposed to be in the kitchen, entered the restaurant from the front entrance. Very clever, Kevin."

Kevin blushed. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"What about? It was still the best sea bass I've ever tasted."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"So other than being so handsome, polite, and an amazing cook, is there anything else that you can do?"

Kevin really wanted to impress her. He wasn't used to getting compliments from adults, and her words made him feel three feet taller. "I...I invent jokes, ma'am. I want to be a stand-up comedian when I grow up."

"Really? Let's hear one."

"What's the similarity between a spoon, a shark, and an ant?"

"Dunno."

"They all begin with the letter S."

"Ant?"

"Her name is Suzan."

Fabienne laughed so hard she had to wipe tears; Helen sniggered, too, and even Diana smiled. "I should give you Helen's phone number so you could call her when you grow up—"

"Mom, stop!" Helen said.

"If it weren't a complete waste of time, as you can see. It was an amazing pleasure meeting you, Kevin." She leaned and kissed the top of his head. "I hope we pass here on our way back because I want to hear the rest of your jokes."

Kevin stared after the bus until it cleared the bend. He was hoping they'd pass again. Especially Helen.

He started walking towards his aunt's house, a mile's walk, when he noticed Ben missing a shoe. It must have fallen off when he slept in the kitchen. He went back to the restaurant but paused at the door when he heard the arguing.

"That's the last time you share those views in front of my children, Roy."

"Come on, Sam. Futanari? Damnation! When I was a kid, someone like her would never—" .

"I don't care," Kevin heard his mother cut the pastor off in mid-sentence. "Everyone is God's child. Everyone! No exceptions! You will not teach your hate to Kevin, you hear me?"

"Come on, Sam."

"No!"

"Please."

"Stop it—not here, you idiot. Someone might come in."

Kevin saw his mother's silhouette from where he was standing. But then she moved as if pushed against the counter. Pastor Roy's tall body stumbled after her from the kitchen, and in front of Kevin's astounded eyes, the pastor hugged her lithe form from behind. One of his big hands went to her tit; his other hand went between her legs and lifted her dress.

Tom Murphy, Justin's dad, in one of his drunk episodes had once grabbed Kevin's mother at the local fair. Her slap sent him flying into the mud. Kevin expected the pastor to end the same way, on his ass.

His mother turned around. She lifted both hands and grabbed the pastor's neck, bringing his head down for a deep kiss. The pastor lifted her dress again, and Kevin's mom, Samantha, moaned.

Kevin ran away, his little brother in his arms, the shoe forgotten. He managed a hundred steps before he had to sit down on the pier because his legs were shaking.

Ben wasn't much of a talker, but he was attuned to his big brother's moods. He tried tickling Kevin, and when that didn't help, he tried giggling. It was usually enough to start Kevin laughing, too, but to Ben's surprise, Kevin began to cry.

"Boom?" he said.

Kevin sniffed. "Boom."

--

"No good." The image on the living room's massive TV screen flickered. "It's saying 'Bad Signal' again." Kevin put the cable company's support representative on speaker, ran to the kitchen, and added the heavy cream to the pot with the melted butter and garlic. He stirred, then turned down the heat and set the oven timer to ring in three minutes.