Untitled, part III
“I’m really just interested in one thing,” Alex replied, not certain how to reply to such an odd statement, and starting to eye the door behind him, wondering if he might need to make a break for it. “Just tell me how to get back to the city, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Are you really in such a rush?” Jonathan said, opening a cabinet set on one of the tables, and pulling out a crystal decanter and two small glasses. “I get very few visitors out here. It seems a shame to waste your serendipitous arrival.” He filled the cups with a dark red liquid and placed the decanter back into the cabinet. “I’ve been saving this port for twenty years. Listen to me for just one drink before you go.”
Alex couldn’t stop himself from stepping back from the proffered cup.
“Um . . . I’m only twenty. I’m too young to drink.”
“That didn’t stop me when I was your age,” Jonathan said with a snicker. “Come now, never turn down a drink that’s as old as you are. Who knows when you’ll have a chance to taste something like this again?” He pushed the cup forward once more, and Alex, unsure of what else to do, took it. Jonathan immediately took a sip, closing his eyes as he held the liquid in his mouth for a few seconds; Alex wasn’t about to do the same. Finished with his reverential appreciation, Jonathan wondered over next to a chair and laid his hand softly on the back. Alex just pivoted to follow his movements. God only knows what might happen if I let him out of my sight. Grow fangs and bite my neck? Tie me to a chair and sacrifice me to Cthulhu? Or maybe just pull out a meat cleaver? As surreptitiously as he could, Alex began to inch back towards the front door. His host didn’t appear to notice.
“What do you think of the house?” he asked, waving his hand to encompass the room. “It’s my own creation. Rather dramatic, wouldn’t you say?”
“That’s certainly one word for it.” ‘Unnerving’ would be another. Alex slid another couple of inches towards his escape. Jonathan just smirked.
“I’m sure most people would consider it overly melodramatic, if not simply archaic,” Jonathan went on, “but dramatic suits me. What is life without a little drama?”
“I’ve always liked the idea of living a quiet life,” Alex said, more to keep his bizarre companion talking and distracted than for any interest in the conversation. Slide. Slide.
“Yes, but there are some for whom that is not an option. In that case, is it not better to embrace the excitement than to try to deny it, which is ultimately nothing more than frustrating?” He flowed around the chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving Alex. “But I can see you one who would rather deny than accept. Trust me, it only makes things harder in the long run. Your destined drama will find you, mark my words.”
OK, that’s it. Time to run. Abandoning all attempts at secrecy, Alex pivoted on his heel and took a single bound towards the door, dropping his drink in the process. Rather to Alex’s surprise, Jonathan did not jump up and follow him, didn’t even voice a shocked protest. He merely waved a hand, and Alex heard a distinct click. When he reached the door a couple of seconds later, it was locked. His heart pounding, Alex twisted the handle a couple of times, with no result; he twisted it more frantically, but nothing changed. In shock, he stumbled backwards, eyes darting around to find another escape route; they lit on the window, and Alex found himself wondering how much it would hurt if he threw himself through it. From the chair behind him came a heavy sigh.
“You can’t get out that way,” Jonathan said, sounding almost regretful. “I’m afraid we have too much to talk about for me to let you leave so soon.” Alex turned to find that the man had not even raised himself from his seat, and his voice remained utterly level, a strong contrast to Alex’s own rising panic. Jonathan’s gaze fell on the spilled drink and shattered glass, and his lips turned down ever so slightly. “You didn’t even try it,” he said. “Well, you still have time.” He turned his gaze to the table beside him, and the glass appeared there, intact and full, just before the seat just opposite his own. Without thinking, Alex looked down to where he had let it drop, and the floor was completely clean, with no indication of the red stain that had been soaking into it just moments before. The event was all too familiar. Alex felt a weight on his chest and a rushing sensation inside his head. The urge to run was now stronger than ever, and knowing he could not only made it worse. He stared at Jonathan with ever-widening eyes.
“Who . . . who are you?” he choked out. One side of Jonathan’s mouth jerked up in response.
“Now that is the six-million dollar question, is it not?” He gestured once more to the chair in front of him. “If you would please sit down and make yourself comfortable, as I originally requested, I can make a start of answering that, and several other things as well.” A note of petulance entered his voice, the first time Alex had heard him sound anything other than perfectly calm and controlled. Alex still wanted to run, but he wanted even more to get some explanation of everything, and as odd and creepy as this man was, he also looked to be someone who might actually be able to supply answers. He settled himself into the chair, folding his hands nervously in his lap. He was still not about to touch that drink.
“Very good,” Jonathan said, his tone back to its wonted level. “I promise you, you have nothing to fear from me; quite the opposite, actually. My methods may be overly theatrical, but as I just tried to tell you, for those such as us, it is better to embrace the drama than try to avoid it.”
“And just who are ‘those such as us’? How did you do . . . what you just did? How do you know about me?” Despite himself, eagerness crept into Alex’s voice, and he leaned forward ever so slightly. But he was not to be satisfied so easily.
“All in good time, I assure you,” Jonathan put him off with a wave of his hand. “But before I completely redefine your view of the universe, and your own place within it, I want to share with you a story from my childhood.” He took another sip – as much for the dramatic pause as from any desire or thirst, Alex was certain – and then continued on. “Growing up, in what seems now to be another life, I had a younger sister. I loved her deeply, and she had many worthy qualities, but she lacked self-control and good judgment. He choice of friends was poor, and as she became older, they led her into more and more unwise decisions. She drank, she took drugs, she had the most unfortunate tastes in boyfriends; in short, she threw more and more of her life away. Finally, her increasingly reckless decisions reached one of their inevitable conclusions; unmarried and still a teenager, she became pregnant. Keeping the baby was out of the question, and to us, abortion was not even an option, so she gave the baby up for adoption.” Alex’s breathing nearly stopped. He was well aware of his own family history, and he had a disturbing premonition as to where this story was headed. “As I said, I loved my sister, and the thought of forever losing her son – my nephew – was unbearable to me. So I did something about it. Even as he was being carried away to his adoptive family, I gave my nephew a gift, something that would guarantee that I would see him again, that would draw him back to me at the right time.” He took another dramatic sip, then fixed Alex with his eyes. “My dear boy, you are that child. Alexander, you are my sister’s son.”
“That’s . . . that’s impossible,” Alex mumbled, his mind reeling, but even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He had known from an early age that he was adopted; from so early an age, that he never even thought about it. It was simply a fact of his life. There was no factual reason that he couldn’t be this man’s nephew, as disturbing a thought as that was. But the thought of that possible connection was just too big, too much to deal with, so instead he concentrated on the most immediate mystery. This ‘gift’, this thing that brought me back . . . Does that have something to do with what happened? Obviously, he can do things too. What does that have to do with our relation? How does it all tie in? Even that was a bit too much for his rattled brain that very instant, so he blurted out the most banal of his many questions. “How do you know my name? I never told you.”
“One of the very few things we were allowed to know about your adoptive life was that your new parents had decided to keep the name my sister gave you. You were named after our father, a good man who deserved better children than he got.” He leaned in. “But that’s not really what you want to know, is it? You have many other, more important, questions than that. You came here with questions, drawn to the one place where those questions could be answered, even though you did not know it at the time.” Alex found himself nodding, unable to look away, nearly unable to breathe. “Something happened to you today, didn’t it? Something unusual, something inexplicable, maybe even something frightening.” Wordlessly, Alex nodded again. Jonathan smiled. “Good. Then listen closely to what I am about to tell you.”
“I’m really just interested in one thing,” Alex replied, not certain how to reply to such an odd statement, and starting to eye the door behind him, wondering if he might need to make a break for it. “Just tell me how to get back to the city, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Are you really in such a rush?” Jonathan said, opening a cabinet set on one of the tables, and pulling out a crystal decanter and two small glasses. “I get very few visitors out here. It seems a shame to waste your serendipitous arrival.” He filled the cups with a dark red liquid and placed the decanter back into the cabinet. “I’ve been saving this port for twenty years. Listen to me for just one drink before you go.”
Alex couldn’t stop himself from stepping back from the proffered cup.
“Um . . . I’m only twenty. I’m too young to drink.”
“That didn’t stop me when I was your age,” Jonathan said with a snicker. “Come now, never turn down a drink that’s as old as you are. Who knows when you’ll have a chance to taste something like this again?” He pushed the cup forward once more, and Alex, unsure of what else to do, took it. Jonathan immediately took a sip, closing his eyes as he held the liquid in his mouth for a few seconds; Alex wasn’t about to do the same. Finished with his reverential appreciation, Jonathan wondered over next to a chair and laid his hand softly on the back. Alex just pivoted to follow his movements. God only knows what might happen if I let him out of my sight. Grow fangs and bite my neck? Tie me to a chair and sacrifice me to Cthulhu? Or maybe just pull out a meat cleaver? As surreptitiously as he could, Alex began to inch back towards the front door. His host didn’t appear to notice.
“What do you think of the house?” he asked, waving his hand to encompass the room. “It’s my own creation. Rather dramatic, wouldn’t you say?”
“That’s certainly one word for it.” ‘Unnerving’ would be another. Alex slid another couple of inches towards his escape. Jonathan just smirked.
“I’m sure most people would consider it overly melodramatic, if not simply archaic,” Jonathan went on, “but dramatic suits me. What is life without a little drama?”
“I’ve always liked the idea of living a quiet life,” Alex said, more to keep his bizarre companion talking and distracted than for any interest in the conversation. Slide. Slide.
“Yes, but there are some for whom that is not an option. In that case, is it not better to embrace the excitement than to try to deny it, which is ultimately nothing more than frustrating?” He flowed around the chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving Alex. “But I can see you one who would rather deny than accept. Trust me, it only makes things harder in the long run. Your destined drama will find you, mark my words.”
OK, that’s it. Time to run. Abandoning all attempts at secrecy, Alex pivoted on his heel and took a single bound towards the door, dropping his drink in the process. Rather to Alex’s surprise, Jonathan did not jump up and follow him, didn’t even voice a shocked protest. He merely waved a hand, and Alex heard a distinct click. When he reached the door a couple of seconds later, it was locked. His heart pounding, Alex twisted the handle a couple of times, with no result; he twisted it more frantically, but nothing changed. In shock, he stumbled backwards, eyes darting around to find another escape route; they lit on the window, and Alex found himself wondering how much it would hurt if he threw himself through it. From the chair behind him came a heavy sigh.
“You can’t get out that way,” Jonathan said, sounding almost regretful. “I’m afraid we have too much to talk about for me to let you leave so soon.” Alex turned to find that the man had not even raised himself from his seat, and his voice remained utterly level, a strong contrast to Alex’s own rising panic. Jonathan’s gaze fell on the spilled drink and shattered glass, and his lips turned down ever so slightly. “You didn’t even try it,” he said. “Well, you still have time.” He turned his gaze to the table beside him, and the glass appeared there, intact and full, just before the seat just opposite his own. Without thinking, Alex looked down to where he had let it drop, and the floor was completely clean, with no indication of the red stain that had been soaking into it just moments before. The event was all too familiar. Alex felt a weight on his chest and a rushing sensation inside his head. The urge to run was now stronger than ever, and knowing he could not only made it worse. He stared at Jonathan with ever-widening eyes.
“Who . . . who are you?” he choked out. One side of Jonathan’s mouth jerked up in response.
“Now that is the six-million dollar question, is it not?” He gestured once more to the chair in front of him. “If you would please sit down and make yourself comfortable, as I originally requested, I can make a start of answering that, and several other things as well.” A note of petulance entered his voice, the first time Alex had heard him sound anything other than perfectly calm and controlled. Alex still wanted to run, but he wanted even more to get some explanation of everything, and as odd and creepy as this man was, he also looked to be someone who might actually be able to supply answers. He settled himself into the chair, folding his hands nervously in his lap. He was still not about to touch that drink.
“Very good,” Jonathan said, his tone back to its wonted level. “I promise you, you have nothing to fear from me; quite the opposite, actually. My methods may be overly theatrical, but as I just tried to tell you, for those such as us, it is better to embrace the drama than try to avoid it.”
“And just who are ‘those such as us’? How did you do . . . what you just did? How do you know about me?” Despite himself, eagerness crept into Alex’s voice, and he leaned forward ever so slightly. But he was not to be satisfied so easily.
“All in good time, I assure you,” Jonathan put him off with a wave of his hand. “But before I completely redefine your view of the universe, and your own place within it, I want to share with you a story from my childhood.” He took another sip – as much for the dramatic pause as from any desire or thirst, Alex was certain – and then continued on. “Growing up, in what seems now to be another life, I had a younger sister. I loved her deeply, and she had many worthy qualities, but she lacked self-control and good judgment. He choice of friends was poor, and as she became older, they led her into more and more unwise decisions. She drank, she took drugs, she had the most unfortunate tastes in boyfriends; in short, she threw more and more of her life away. Finally, her increasingly reckless decisions reached one of their inevitable conclusions; unmarried and still a teenager, she became pregnant. Keeping the baby was out of the question, and to us, abortion was not even an option, so she gave the baby up for adoption.” Alex’s breathing nearly stopped. He was well aware of his own family history, and he had a disturbing premonition as to where this story was headed. “As I said, I loved my sister, and the thought of forever losing her son – my nephew – was unbearable to me. So I did something about it. Even as he was being carried away to his adoptive family, I gave my nephew a gift, something that would guarantee that I would see him again, that would draw him back to me at the right time.” He took another dramatic sip, then fixed Alex with his eyes. “My dear boy, you are that child. Alexander, you are my sister’s son.”
“That’s . . . that’s impossible,” Alex mumbled, his mind reeling, but even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He had known from an early age that he was adopted; from so early an age, that he never even thought about it. It was simply a fact of his life. There was no factual reason that he couldn’t be this man’s nephew, as disturbing a thought as that was. But the thought of that possible connection was just too big, too much to deal with, so instead he concentrated on the most immediate mystery. This ‘gift’, this thing that brought me back . . . Does that have something to do with what happened? Obviously, he can do things too. What does that have to do with our relation? How does it all tie in? Even that was a bit too much for his rattled brain that very instant, so he blurted out the most banal of his many questions. “How do you know my name? I never told you.”
“One of the very few things we were allowed to know about your adoptive life was that your new parents had decided to keep the name my sister gave you. You were named after our father, a good man who deserved better children than he got.” He leaned in. “But that’s not really what you want to know, is it? You have many other, more important, questions than that. You came here with questions, drawn to the one place where those questions could be answered, even though you did not know it at the time.” Alex found himself nodding, unable to look away, nearly unable to breathe. “Something happened to you today, didn’t it? Something unusual, something inexplicable, maybe even something frightening.” Wordlessly, Alex nodded again. Jonathan smiled. “Good. Then listen closely to what I am about to tell you.”
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