Pinball. (A tale) Chapter 1

 Pinball.

By JudeStringfellow

comments: jude.stringfellow@gmail.com

 

          His cousin’s question hit him somewhatout in left field, he wasn’t sure how to address it.

          “Why does your mum call you ‘Lexy’anyway? That’s a girl’s name.” But to be honest, Lexy had never reallyquestioned the matter. Being born Alexander John Wilson, he just thought it wasthe easier thing for his mum to do, to shorten the longer first name to ashorter one. She could have called him John, but he was named after hisgrandfather, and he was called John. Even the thought of being called “Johnnie”was repulsive to the man.  At 40 one thinksabout other things in life, not necessarily about why his mum or anyone else wouldcall him by a name that still others felt wasn’t up to par with the world’sstandards. There weren’t that many Lexy, is it Lexies, who are men; at least hedidn’t think so. Most women who went by the name spelled it with an “i”at that end. He decided not to let it bother him. This was his 4oth birthday;he was the guest of honor at the party, he would smile through it as best hecould. Family could be really annoying.

          After a few well-wishers had passedhim, slapping him on the back or the bum for good measure, and then taking thetime to either give him a few quid or mention they had meant to bring some buthad forgotten their wallets, Lexy found himself walking from the great room of his late aunt’s robust estate to a smaller less used room, the drawing room she once calledit. The room was where there were chairs and small tables for drinks andrefreshments. The windows in the room seemed overly large, but he didn’t noticeany drawing tables; he supposed the term was just a way to describe a smallroom where people talked rather than focusing on some sort of televisedentertainment. There wasn’t a telly in the room either. He wondered how hisaunt and uncle had survived their marriage without a telly. He imagined theremust be one somewhere else in the house.

          Sitting on an attractive golden-tonedsettee, Lexy sighed a long and exhaustive breath, while at the same time, hemade himself comfortable, he glanced over at the door to be sure he hadremembered to close it behind him. His anxiety was kicking in with so manypeople gathered in one place. With most of them rubbing up next to him, touchinghis arms, his back, and his backside, he wasn’t completely comfortable being inthe house. He had remembered it from years back, back when he was a kid, backwhen he was too young to be taken seriously when he had something serious totell his mum and dad about what had happened to him there in the house. He was seven.

          He was seven years old. That means itwas now thirty-three years, and thirty-three years to the day because it had been onthe occasion of his seventh birthday that he had last been inside the grandhome; a place he had vehemently had avoided. Why he had agreed to return to itnow must have had something to do with the passing of his uncle the springbefore his late summer birthday. With Uncle Rabbie gone, there wasn’t really areason to fear the place; unless of course, someone there knew what happened. Noone knew because when he had gathered the nerve to insist that something hadhappened he was immediately met with hush-hush instructions from both hismum and dad. “We can’t talk about it, ever.” His mum had told him. If itdid happen; and he knew it had, it would never be something to discuss withfamily and certainly not with others. This sort of thing can be handled by theadults. The adults never said a word to anyone. At 40, Lexy realized that when heheard from his cousins just how beautiful and wonderful the funeral of their fatherhad been. So many good things were said about Rabbie that day. Lexy knewno one had mentioned that Scott "Rabbie" Wilson had molested the boy rather than givinghim a quid on his seventh birthday or that he had continued to sexually assaulthim for months afterward.

“Oh, thiswill be better than a quid Lexy”, said the letch. “This willbe our secret and we can do it every time we see each other if you want to.”The boy couldn’t lie at that age. What his uncle had done to him did feelincredible; but if it was such as wonderful game they shared, why was it such asecret? Aren’t secrets between two people who trust each other supposed to be somethingthat binds them closer together? Lexy had a secret with his mum at about thesame age too; she would take him to his favorite ice cream store and let himpick whatever he wanted if he promised to sit still in the corner and wait forher to return to the front lobby. It usually only took a few minutes while shetalked to Debra Sterling in the back where they kept the ice cream tubs frozen;Daddy didn’t need to know.

          It didn’t take too long before Lexyshared the gift and secret he had with his uncle with his parents. It may havebeen on their way home that night from his party, or it may have been the next dayas they rode the ferry back to the mainland. He never really remembered when hetalked first about it but he was certain that when he did he was made to shutup about it, never to say it again, and that sort of thing, this sort of thing,can’t be talked about. That’s how big of a secret it was. Whether he knew itwas wrong, the boy wasn’t sure, but it was in fact a secret and he knew thatfrom the moment he opened his mouth. Lexy saw his Uncle Rabbie a few times overthe autumn months, and of course, they celebrated Christmas, but not at the bigestate. Rabbie and his family had left the Isle of Skye to travel to Edinburgh’soutskirt town of Tranent to be with other family members. Lexy let his uncleknow that he had only told his parents, no one else. It was still a secret. 

OnChristmas day Lexy’s father entered a room of his father’s home to find the boycurled up in Rabbie’s lap and whispering into his uncle’s ear.  A long and stern look, a glare really, wasexchanged between the men, but nothing else was said. Uncle Rabbie never cameto another party after that. Excuses were made regarding his health. For thatmatter, Lexy hadn’t seen his cousins more than a few times over the next thirty-threeyears. Uncle Rabbie’s health had kept them from making travel plans as well, itseemed. His death had somehow released them from their otherwise obligatedrestrictions; one or two mentioned the past, but for the most part, it was leftunspoken. Being in the estate didn’t make it any easier for Lexy to enjoyhimself on the Big 40; if anything, he felt closed off. He wasn’t breathingvery deeply. When he took his retreat to the drawing room he couldn’t evenremember if the cake had already been served. He just knew he needed to escape.

When didit all begin anyway? What led him to this state of heightened anxiety wheneverhe thought about being around his own family? It couldn’t have just been thefact that when he was a little boy he was molested, it had to be more. Maybe itwas the fact that he wasn’t even sure if he belonged to that family. SinceRabbie Wilson was Murdoch Wilson’s brother and John Wilson’s son, that wouldmean he was related to the man his mother married but if he was to believe hisown mum’s words, Lexy wasn’t really even a Wilson! He was a Collins, or atleast he assumed he was a Collins.

It wasduring one of his parents’ infamous fights that his father dodged a flying teasaucer that had been hurled at him by his wife of over a decade after he had accusedher of having another affair. He used the word “another” as if it was anongoing thing. His mother’s response was both useless and confusing; she had statedsomething like “You didn’t mind me having an affair with you when I wasmarried to Robert Collins. In fact, if I remember correctly, you rather enjoyedyourself.”  But his father wasn’thaving any of it and retorted that at least he, Murdoch, was a man, and hecould understand if the woman had been with another man, but to cuckold him so thatshe could be with a woman was unthinkable!

          If he was keeping up with the conversation,as he tried to remain hidden behind the door of his bedroom, this meant thathis mum had not only had an affair with his father but that she was now having onewith a woman. Then another thought him right between the eyes; his fatherhad said “After a decade you’d think I’d have figured you out”, a decadeis a period of ten years, but Lexy was 14 when he had heard this particularfight. What about the years before that? Was Robert Collins his actual father?Was someone else his actual father? Lexy closed his bedroom door and made anunscheduled exit through his bedroom window that night. He didn’t return homefor several hours. He needed to think.

          Finding out at the age of 14 that youmay not be your father’s child, and you may not have a mother who even lovesyou enough to tell you the truth about who you are can be devastating to a boy.Being an only child didn’t make it easier; there was no one to confess to, noone to fight with, no one to cry with or share his deepest emotions with.Emotions were another thing Lexy wasn’t really allowed to express in the Wilsonhome. It’s almost as if speaking of one’s feelings somehow lessened their Scottishnessby a degree or two; couldn’t happen. Murdoch saw to that. Upper stiff lip andall, even if that was an English thing, it was a Wilson thing as well. Somewhere along the way their motto seemed to take shape in the words “Never letthem see you cry”. Well, here he was turning 40 and Lexy needed to cry; and hedid. He did so in a room that could have been a trigger point if he had allowedit to be, but instead, he willed himself to allow it to be a place where hecould confront the very event that caused so much turmoil.

          Maybe only a few moments passed in real-time, it seemed that way to the visitors and guests just beyond the door. Oneor two of them had seen Lexy make his retreat. Because everyone in the househad been there before, they knew the larger-than-usual windows were actuallyFrench doors, and that they led directly to the back garden pool and guest house.More than one cousin had spent the summer months enjoying the poolsidepleasures. Lexy wondered silently if these same cousins, not the sons or daughtersof Uncle Rabbie, but the other cousins, the daughters and one son of his fatherand Rabbie’s sister Julia; were fallen victims to the hands and mouth oftheir uncle or was it just something Lexy endured alone? Again, no one to askdirectly, it wasn’t something you brought up under ordinary circumstances.

          When the door opened, and Lexy couldsee clearly the shy and intimate face of his sweet cousin Renee; his Aunt Julia’sfirstborn, he knew he was in good company. As Renee quietly shut the door she allowed him to see her overlyexaggerated face making a funny sort of relieved expression as if to congratulatehim on finding the hidden spot where anyone could step away from the mayhem ofreality, and collide into the soft and inviting cushions of a world long sinceforgotten. The drawing room of an older woman was a haven to them both;something they could have shared a thousand times if Lexy’s father and UncleRabbie were on speaking terms during the past thirty-three years. Lexy quietlysmiled at Renee, deciding to be rather blunt rather than coy. 

          “You found me.” He spoke directly.

          “It wasn’t so difficult. You halfway caught my eye before you came into the room. It’s always been my place tohide, but I can share.”  Sheanswered.

          “Has it always been this way withthe Wilsons? Have there always been dozens of people milling about and takingover the place? I don’t remember I guess because when I was just a boy, Iremember being held back from most of the crowd because I was so little, I maybe squashed.” He half laughed, but only half, knowing that most of what hesaid was true.

          The two cousins sat a few feet from oneanother holding the same golden-colored throw pillows tightly, as if huggingthem made their existence better. Renee was a few years older than Lexy andremembered the rumors that spread quickly after his unfortunate seventh birthdayparty, the one where he forgot to take some of his presents with him, but hadnever returned to retrieve them either. Renee’s mother hadn’t thought to bringthem with her to Edinburgh, to give them over to Murdoch. The presents wereeither given to his cousins, which is the most likely scenario, or they weresimply binned and forgotten. The thought of mailing the toys had never entered Uncle Rabbie's or Aunt Claudia’s mind.

          Claudia Anne Baskerun Wilson, the auntof all aunts. Renee remembered her well enough, but upon her death a few yearsearlier, Renee was shocked to understand that neither the house nor any of herown possessions were to be distributed to her children until the death of her spouseScott Andrew Wilson; her husband and joint survivor of the estate and all thatcame with it. How no one in her family had thought to force a prenuptialagreement between the two is surprising, but again, having only been a youngerwoman at the time her aunt passed from this world, Renee was certain she had noinkling of an idea as to what was and what was not legitimate regarding the marriageof the Rabbie Wilsons; their uncle had kept his lips tight where that was concerned, evenif he opened them to things he should not have, to the children who visited.

          Renee was the first to draw emotionalblood. “Aunt Claudia never knew how he was. You couldn’t have told heranything about Rabbie that didn’t fit into her already iron-clad box of howwonderful she believed him to be.” With a glance of surprise that held its own tinge of embarrassment,Lexy questioned her, more or less feeling out what he could, to see what sheknew. “I’m not sure I understand your meaning.” He started. “Sure,you do. You would; of all people who would know, you would know.” Was hercurt and well-directed response. Adjusting himself into an even more protective posture using his pillowas a shield, Lexy chanced to look his older cousin in the eyes, those wateringsweet clear blue eyes, and without a word, he nodded his agreement. Reneequietly slipped her left hand out from under the pillow she held and offered itto her cousin. In silence they sat; his head lowered, her eyes welling up for asecond time in only a few minutes.

 

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