Fletch Reflected (3 page)

“And her major expense. A lot of good it was doing her. Did you know the staff at Blythe Spirit had pretty well convinced your mother she must plan to spend the rest of her life with them?”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. With one hand they fed her appetites, with the other hand they fed her despair, while somehow continuing to pick her pockets. For a bright woman such as your mother, that took real sleight of hand.”

“It’s okay, Dad. As her son, I can tell you she might take a swing at you, but she can’t catch you. Just don’t ever let her fall on you.”

Fletch said, “You mean, again.”

“Again.”

“Look what happened last time she fell on me.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I happened. Aren’t you glad?”

“We’ll see.”

“Sure you are.”

“Now I know why you’re so nimble footed.”

“Live with a six hundred plus pound mama for a while,” Jack said, “and you learn to take short, rapid, circuitous steps. Dos yee doe.”

“So how are you doing, Nijinski?”

“Who’s Nijinski?” Jack asked.

“Someone who could dance around women pretty well, too.”

“I’m fine,” Jack answered. “The stories exposing The Tribe made a big splash around the whole world. Or so I’m told. Did you see any of the stories on GCN?”

“You know we don’t have cable at the farm. But I’ve been reading about your stories in the press. I’m proud of you. You didn’t do any on-camera work, did you?

“What do you mean?”

“They didn’t show you, pictures of you, did they?”

“No. They wanted to, bad enough. In the vein of Young Reporter Risks Himself. I didn’t let them. Some of your principles have gotten through to me, you know.”

“Oh. Your mama taught you well.”

“But gee, Dad, it really crimps the vanity, you know? I coulda been a see-leb-pretty.”

“I’m sure. As the preacher said to his daughter, ‘Save yourself. There’s always tomorrow.’”

“Yeah. I had a date with her once. Speaking of people who don’t put out, I just met your Mr. Blair.”

“Alex Blair? He’s a jerk.”

“Gee, Dad, and I thought he was real nice.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Such a sincere man.”

“As sincere as a snake on a rock stirrin’ his tail in the water.”

“He gave me a nice big check.”

“I see.” Driving through rural Wisconsin, Fletch was trying to find a roadsign for the town of Forward. “That means GCN didn’t offer you a job.”

“It’s a very generous check.”

“Bastards. Which also means you didn’t let them know you’re my son.” In the van by himself, Fletch smiled. “Isn’t that right?”

“Gee, Dad, am I your son?”

“Until further notice.”

“You’re not going to make me submit to DNA tests?” Jack asked.

“I hate the question. I don’t even know why you’d want to be my son. Your mother raised you, filling you up with all kinds of lies about me…. All I’ve ever done is write a book you don’t like much.”

“Well, I look at it this way,” Jack said. “You still have an opportunity to turn out well. Just maybe, with my good influence on you—”

“You intend to reform me at this point? Good luck.”

“Hey, I might even teach you one or two things about journalism.”

“What are you going to do now that GCN has given you your walking papers?”

“Visit an old girlfriend in Georgia.”

“How close an old girlfriend?”

“She’s getting married. To someone else.”

“The best kind.”

“We only spent a very short weekend together once. Very short.”

“I’ve got the picture. You were at the Heartbreak Motel. So why are you showing up in her life now that she’s getting married? Can’t you stand any rejection at all?”

“She’s invited me. She thinks there’s something weird about her boyfriend’s family.”

“Isn’t there always? Few are the brides who realize it in time. You’re investigating the in-laws for her?”

“Something like that.”

“Why? Doesn’t sound like there’s a story there.”

“Does there always have to be a story?”

“You’ve got to keep yourself in Pepsi and pizza, boy.”

“You haven’t asked me who her in-laws are.”

“Who?”

“Professor and Mrs. Chester Radliegh.”

“Oh, yes. I see. He who invented the perfect mirror. Georgia. Isn’t he the guy that built that crazy place … ?”

“Vindemia. That’s where I’m going.”

“I see. I guess I wouldn’t mind meeting the guy who invented the wheel.”

“‘To collect characters for the long ride,’” Jack quoted. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say at this point?”

“Jeez, kid, you’re stealing all my best lines.”

“It might be interesting, don’t you think? For some reason Shana thinks the Professor’s life is in danger.”

“If it doesn’t work out, come back to Priory Farm, will you? Carrie insists she likes you and wouldn’t mind having you around for a while. Besides, the fences always need painting. We can offer you minimum wage, a shed to sleep in, and a bath on Saturdays.”

“Naw,” Jack said. “As a father and son, we’ve grown too close.”

“Sure,” Fletch said. “I’ve seen you two or three times now, spent hours with you.”

“It’s not the quantity of time we spend together, it’s the quality.”

“Well …” Fletch spotted the sign for Forward and slowed the van for a left turn. “You sure got my attention the few days we spent together.”

“How is Carrie?”

“Didn’t I just say? She’s crazy. She likes you. She loves me.”

“Just wanted you to know where I’ll be,” Jack said. “Tell my mother, please.”

“Sure,” Fletch said, turning the van left at the intersection. “Call if you find work.”

•

“Want to go have lunch?” Andy Cyst asked.

“Yeah,” John Fletcher Faoni answered.

“We might as well go to the employees’ dining room. Lasagna is the special today.”

“No,” Jack said, “I want an Italian submarine sandwich.”

“Where are you going to get that?”

“Subs Rosa.”

“Where’s that?”

“North Carolina.”

“Uh?”

Jack shook Andy’s hand. “It’s been fun. Thanks for all your help.”

“Blair didn’t give you a job?”

“He gave me what he called ‘fatherly advice,’ to wit: get lost.”

“Hey, Jack!” Andy called after him. “Will I see you again?”

Walking toward the exit of Global Cable News, Jack turned and waved at Andy.

Jack sang, “Maybe when I learn not to end a sentence with a proposition.”

“T
ell me who the bastard is now,” Crystal demanded through clenched jaws at the sight of Fletch.

She was lying on the big bed in what had been her room on the second floor of Blythe Spirit. There were no pillowcases, sheets, blankets on the bed. There was no curtain around the bed.

She was an enormous mound of mostly useless flesh in an outsized nightgown and bathrobe.

To Fletch she looked as helpless, vulnerable as someone lying in the middle of a highway after a car wreck.

Except through a curtain the week before, Fletch had not seen Crystal in years. When he had entered the room he was physically shocked by her mammoth size.

Fletch exhaled. “Hi.”

“They’ve even taken the lamps,” Crystal said. “The reading lamps.”

“Yeah. This is a busy old place today.” There were cars, station wagons, ambulances, trucks, some of them with official insignias on their doors, crammed in Blythe Spirit’s horseshoe driveway. Files were being wheeled out of the administration offices downstairs on dollies. He cleared his throat. “Let me take you away from all this.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Crystal snapped. “You put the law on us. Your damned report on Global Cable News.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I know no such thing. These people were taking care of me.”

“These people were keeping you handicapped so they could pick your pockets.”

“Where’s Jack?”

“Virginia. I was just talking to him.”

“Is he coming?”

“No. He’s on his way to Georgia.”

“What did he say to you?”

Fletch smiled. “He told me to be careful not to let you fall on me again.”

After looking at Fletch a moment from the bed, Crystal laughed. “This time, I’d crush you to death.”

“Flatter than a manhole cover.”

“You’re both bastards. Father and son. I shouldn’t have let one of you know the other existed. Get out of here. Who needs you?”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay. What are your plans?”

On her bed, Crystal raised her arm and dropped it in an impatient gesture. Watching her, Fletch realized the woman was so fat she probably could not sit up without help. “You have no responsibility for me,” she muttered.

“I know.” Softly, Fletch said, “But I told you Sunday I’d be back.”

He continued to stand halfway between the bed and the door to the hall.

“Yeah,” Crystal said. “You sneak in here as a reporter, spy on me, spy on the people taking care of me, blow the story on Global Cable News, cause every law enforcement agency, health agency, and tin-whistle politician to lay siege to this place, get everybody from the cook to the secretary in the office indicted, get the place closed down in hours, and here I am, stranded on this bed, unable to move, with nothing to eat all morning, I might add, without even a tissue to throw at you! You came back, all right. You’re back like the second half of a hurricane on a seaside resort!”

Fletch grinned. “Haven’t lost your fight, anyway.”

“Why didn’t Jack come?”

“Oh, I suspect he’s giving us a chance to get reacquainted.”

“You don’t want to know me.”

“Maybe not.”

“I’m a mess.”

“You’re in a mess.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Who’s talking about fault?”

“You didn’t neglect me. You didn’t know I had a son by you. I purposely dropped out of your sight so I could raise him myself.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t need you then, and I don’t need you now.”

“You needed me once. A little bit. For a few minutes.”

“I don’t blame you for hating me. Doing this to me. Wrecking Blythe Spirit with a stroke of your coaxial sword. You always know how to get back at people, don’t you, Fletch?”

“I’m not getting back at you.”

“Of course you are. You found out about our son, Jack, that I had him and kept him from you and in four days I’m lying here stranded, starving, mortified beyond belief.”

“That’s okay,” he said, “as long as you’re not indulging in self-pity.”

From the bed, she shot him a glance and half a smile. She said, “I’ll bet you’ve even had breakfast.”

“On the plane to Chicago,” he said. “A coffee and muffin.”

“Coffee and muffin!” she scoffed. “What kind of a muffin?”

“Blueberry.”

“Call that breakfast?”

“Actually, no,” Fletch answered. “What I might call breakfast would be, let me see, a half a fresh, chilled grape
fruit, eggs scrambled with cream cheese, a steak, medium rare, a few sticks of crisp bacon, home-fried potatoes, maybe just a slice or two of summer sausage with fresh lemon juice—”

“Shut up.”

“—buttered toast with, let’s see, strawberry preserves would be nice—”

Crystal’s eyes were full on him. “You eat all that stuff? For breakfast?”

“Are you going to get off that bed?”

“I can’t! Can’t you see?”

“I can see an enormously fat person, lying on a bed in a fraudulent medical facility rapidly being closed by the authorities, whose sheets, blankets, reading lamp and tissue box have been taken from her, who hints to me she is hungry, but who isn’t doing anything about her situation. Are you going to die there, Crystal? One thing I absolutely will not do for you is serve as your pallbearer. We’ll have to plant you with a crane.”

“I have done something about it.”

“What have you done? Send out for Chinese?”

“You’re killing me.”

“You’re killing yourself. What have you done to save yourself?”

“There’s an ambulance coming for me.”

“You sent for it?”

“No.”

“An ambulance to take you where?”

“To the public hospital.”

“Crystal, the public cannot afford you. Not you and schools and the police and fire departments, too.”

“They’ll probably put me in the psychiatric ward.” She sniffed.

Her head was turned toward the window. “I can’t afford myself.”

“Probably not.”

“I don’t need you.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t need you. I don’t need Jack. I don’t need anybody.”

Fletch sighed. “Crystal, when I left here Sunday, I said I’d be back. I’m back. If I leave here again, I won’t be back.”

“Go.”

“I’ll never enter this room again.”

“So go.”

Fletch said, “Okay.” He left.

•

“Mortimer.”

“Hi, Mister Mortimer. This is Fletch.”

“Who?”

“I. M. Fletcher.”

“Oh, no.”

“Did I call you at a bad time?”

“Yeah. I am not dead yet.”

“How have you been otherwise?” Fletch was using the phone in the handicap van. He had not left the front driveway of Blythe Spirit.

“Well enough to hang up on you.”

“Oh, don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I might have something interesting to say.”

“You always do. That’s why I’m hanging up. I’m too old to be interested in anything you have to say.”

“Come on, now.”

“Last time I listened to you is how I got so old. I was a young man, until then, with a full head of hair, a straight back, and friends. I listened to you and my hair grayed and fell out, my gums sank, my back stooped, my skin wrinkled,
I lost my way of making a living, I lost all my friends—all in the three months I listened to you. I should listen to you again?”

“This time you might find it rejuvenating.”

“Sure. This time I’ll end up wearing incontinence pads.”

“Hey, I—”

“No ‘Hey, I—’ nothing, Fletcher! You talked me into turning state’s evidence. Everybody else, all my friends in the business went to jail. I was sent to Wyoming, for my own protection, ha! I’d rather be in jail. I would have known what I was doing in jail. What am I doing in Wyoming? There would have been more people I know in jail. We would have had a lot to talk about. I don’t know anybody in Wyoming. All the people here talk about is something they call beef cattle and the twelve deadly sins.”