A Sea Change (30 page)

“Yeah,” he went on. “On top of all my other character flaws.”

A terrifying thought entered her mind, and she asked, “The man you loved. Did he die?” Danny nodded, and Maddy’s voice turned to a whisper. “Of AIDS?”

He thought of lying to her. A way to get sympathy. But he finally shook his head, knowing he didn’t want to go into this relationship with falsehoods. “No, Maddy. He had a heart attack.”

“Oh, Danny, I’m so sorry. But you’re all right? You’re – safe?”

“I’ve had other lovers, Maddy.”

The implication made her relief short-lived. “Have you been tested?”

“I don’t want to know.”

Maddy put her arms around him, her despair complete; her guilt at the things she’d said to him enormous.

“Would you still love me?” he asked, the end of his question left to hang in deathly silence.

She answered him by holding him tighter; then she said, “Is that the real reason you don’t want me to tell Nick? Are you ashamed? Because you don’t have to be, Danny.”

“I just want my privacy. And I want to be with you, Maddy. You’re the only family I have.”

“Okay, Danny…okay,” she said, like a mother to a hurting child. “But you’ve got to let me think. Please. Go back to your place.”

“When can I see you again?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Danny. But I promise – I’ll call.”

“There’s a lot I want to tell you.”

Maddy tried to smile. “Nineteen years worth.” She walked with him to the front door and let him out into the moonless night.

Maddy sat in the dark living room, Chloe on her lap. Fifteen minutes went by. Then half an hour. All her thoughts circled back around to her brother’s revelation. Funny how it didn’t really surprise her. Worried her, yes. And angered her at his irresponsible approach to life. He seemed fine. Healthy. But that didn’t mean a damned thing. HIV could be lurking in his body, waiting to pounce and take away his vitality and beauty.

Good or bad, he was back in Maddy’s life. She would be dealing with that fact for quite some time to come. And if he left again, she’d have to handle that, too. But Maddy didn’t want to have to deal with the possibility he would leave her in some way other than walking out the door.

Then there was Nick. The thought of his walking out the door and never coming back was inconceivable.

She hated to exploit something as personal as Danny’s sexual preference, but it was the only solution to her immediate problem. Maybe if Maddy gave Danny what he wanted, he’d do the same for her.

Maddy sat in the only chair in the claustrophobic cabin. Even with the windows open, it was stuffy and overly-warm, and she asked Danny for something to drink.

As he handed her a plastic souvenir cup filled with tap water, Danny said, “I’m really glad you’re here. Tell me your idea.”

She regarded the Seattle Mariner’s cup in her hands, a little amused at the irony. “I think you know how I feel about Nick.”

“I think you think you’re in love with him.”

Maddy looked over at Danny as he settled, cross-legged, on the bed. “I don’t think, Danny. I know. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. We haven’t known each other very long, and our relationship is just becoming real. The minute I started lying to him, I started losing him.”

“You aren’t lying.”

“But I’m not telling him the truth. And I’m hoping you and I can come to some sort of compromise with that.” She sat forward. “Nick has started to see you as a threat. And if you want to stay on here at the beach, you need him on your side, Danny. So, I’ll listen to what you have to say about why you left, if you’ll at least let me tell him you’re gay. He doesn’t have to know you’re my brother. Not right now, anyway.”

“Not ever, Maddy.”

“That’s a long time, Danny. What if Nick and I end up married? How do I explain you at Christmas and Easter?”

Maddy noticed something missing from his smile, but it was such a fleeting distraction, and she had other things on her mind.

“We’ll see,” he answered.

Maddy felt as if she was giving more than getting in this agreement, but kept her thoughts to herself.

“Okay. So that’s it. I’m ready to hear what you have to say, Danny.”

Ch
apter Thirty-Four

The man who calls himself Phil Madvick would rather make up a story than tell the truth. From his experience, truth brings no good – only pain.

When he was still Danny Phillips, he thought honesty was tantamount to nobility. But truth disillusioned him. It was difficult to reconcile what the commercials on television, the Hardy Boys books, and shows like
Father Knows Best
told him a family should be. His particular truth was a world away from all that. His truth was that fathers didn’t love their sons and didn’t cherish their wives.

At least
his
father didn’t, and that was all that mattered.

Danny found them together – his father and a woman who wasn’t his mother – on a fine spring day, when he’d ditched gym class. His mother was at her monthly bridge club luncheon, his sister was away at school, and his father was at the office.

But when Danny let himself into the garage at eleven-thirty that morning, his father’s car sat parked inside, the engine still warm, the metal still ticking as it contracted. He stood – the car between himself and the door that led into the kitchen – trying to decide how to deal with this turn of events when he heard muffled voices, and the door suddenly opened. As he ducked behind the car, a woman’s voice – not his mother’s – was saying, “I left my purse in the car.”

Danny couldn’t make out what his father said in return, but his tone was low, and the woman giggled. She opened the passenger door. Then Danny heard his father very clearly, because he’d stepped into the garage. In a voice Danny had never heard before – a voice that was full of innuendo – he said, “Hurry up, Miss Howell. We have a lot of work to do.”

The woman closed the door, rocking the car against Danny, and breathily said, “But Mr. Phillips, it’s almost lunchtime, and I’m
so
hungry.”

His father chuckled, and in his real voice said, “I thought you were going to put that thing in before we left. You know I hate waiting.”

The words the woman used were more intimate than anything they’d said up until that moment. “You wouldn’t have to wait if you’d get a vasectomy like I keep asking.”

The kitchen door closed on his father’s words: “Nobody’s getting a knife near my dick.”

Crouched by the driver’s side door of his father’s white Buick Regal, Danny waited for his heart to stop pounding and his rage to subside. When those things happened, only ten minutes had passed – an eternity nevertheless. He stood, and on legs filled with gelatin walked out of the garage and into the backyard. A morbid curiosity filled him and, without caution, he made his way to his parents’ bedroom window and watched his father break his marriage vows in the same bed he enforced them.

Danny carefully held this terrible secret for more than two months, avoiding his father for the most part. But when he did find himself in his presence, Danny closely scrutinized his father and swore he could see the guilt on his face. And then he’d look at his mother and wonder how she could be so blind.

His father’s betrayal became a malignancy that grew inside Danny until it felt like it had always been a part of him, and he took on the shame of what his father had done as his own. It was locked inside him, because he didn’t want his mother or sister to feel the way he did.

By that time he’d skipped gym many more times, and the news of his missing P.E. credit added more misery to Danny’s life – his father pushing him to take it in the summer, until he thought he’d go crazy.

He felt trapped. And that last morning, as Danny listened to his father yell at him one more time about responsibility, he finally saw a way out of that hateful prison.

He waited for his mother to leave the house. He made sure Maddy was outside. He shoved some clothes into his backpack. And when his father walked past his bedroom door on his way to a golf game, he said, “I need to talk to you for a minute, Dad.”

He knew that what he said next was the last thing his father expected.

“I can’t believe you have the balls to lecture me on responsibility.”

“I don’t have time for this,” his father said, and stepped toward the hallway.

“It’ll only take me a couple of minutes to tell Mom what you’ve been doing behind her back,” Danny said, with the knowledge he’d just written his own walking papers.

His father stopped and turned. “Like hell you will,” he said, not realizing the fear showed on his face.

Emboldened, Danny said, “I’ll tell her today. I’ll tell her about you and Theresa Howell.”

“Get out of my house.”

Those were the words Danny Phillips had been waiting for. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key on a chain. It was the key to the safety deposit box that held approximately $23,000 in savings bonds earmarked for his higher education. “You don’t need to ask me twice,” he said. “But I’m taking my college fund with me.”

“Fine by me, you little pansy. But don’t ever come back. You hear me? Because if you do – if you ever try to contact anyone in this family – I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“You can’t keep me away from Maddy.”

His father had found his weak spot, and pushed the knife in all the way. “Have it your way, Danny. The minute you walk out the front door, I’ll call the police. No contact – no police.”

Danny suddenly realized what he’d sacrificed with this confrontation. His eyes burned with tears, and he said, “I hate you, Dad. I hate you for what you’ve done to Mom.” His voice rose. “I hate you for making me choose between Maddy and your lies.” And then he was shouting. “I hate you for every shitty thing you’ve ever said to me!”

His father had looked at him, derision on his face, and walked out. Danny heard the front door slam and his father’s car start.

He wiped his eyes and took one last look around his room. He slowly made his way down the hall, and outside, to say goodbye to Maddy.

As he drove away, Danny Phillips sobbed, “I hate you because you never loved me.”

Only his sister fit the storybook version of family. But the truth separated him from her, leaving him to flounder through life with nothing. If families were supposed to cling together and love each other – if that was how it was in the real world – then something was very wrong with his.

And rather than admit this shame, Danny Phillips perpetrated his first lie and found a new name - the first of many.

From then on fabrication became his way of life. It had so many advantages: he could hide from humiliation, leave behind his fears. But most of all, no one could hurt the lonely boy known as Danny Phillips ever again.

So, when the man who calls himself Phil Madvick tells his sister this true story, it is harder than he ever imagines, because he’s had to resurrect young Danny Phillips, along with all the pain and torment he has suffered. And once again, he knows how much the truth hurts, because reality is clear and sharp.

Chap
ter Thirty-Five

The house was beginning to feel like a prison. Sleep seemed like some ancient concept, lost under the dusty rubble of his thoughts, the heat, and another night without Maddy.

By midnight, Nick had tried everything in his insomnia arsenal, but he pretty much lost the battle. Nothing on television held his interest. A Travis McGee mystery he’d started three months ago was still dog-eared on page fifteen. He’d flipped through about twelve catalogs in as many minutes, tossing each one back under the coffee table, where they landed with perfect precision. Even Jaed’s herbal tea hadn’t done the trick.

Call her, you jerk.

But the apology he owed her felt too big. What the hell would he say? I’m sorry I practically forced you to have sex with me? Let’s just pretend it never happened and go on from there?

Just pick up the phone and call her.

Nick was coming out of his skin. If he’d screwed this up, he deserved every lonely moment for the rest of his very long, stupid life.

He carried the telephone out to the deck and sat down, his hand resting on the receiver. The lights were still on at Jaed’s, and he put the receiver to his ear. He listened to the dial tone for several seconds then pushed the ‘off’ button.

Nick tried to compose a sentence that would keep her on the line long enough to let him come up with something resembling a meaningful apology. He was stumped.

Come on, McKay. Just do it.

Nick lifted the receiver again, but the number he dialed was his sister’s.

After three rings someone picked up the phone, dropped it, swore, then groggily said, “Hello.”

“Tom – it’s Nick. Sorry to wake you up. Can I talk to Kay?”

Tom Gillespie mumbled something that may have been “no problem,” and then Kay was on the line, terror in her voice.

“What’s wrong?!”

“Nothing really. I just need to talk to you.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh. “You
know
it scares the crap out of me when you do this… What’s up?”

“I have a hypothetical question.”

“Oh goody. Something I have to actually use my brain for at…” She paused. “Almost one o’clock in the morning.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“No you’re not.”

“Okay. I’m not,” he replied. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m gonna be at this hour. Shoot.”

“Say there’s this woman I really like a lot…” he began.

“Okay. There’s this woman I really like a lot,” she parroted, then said, “Go back to sleep, Tom.” To Nick once more, she said, “I’ll get you for this. You just rekindled his number one fantasy.”

“Come on, Kay. Get serious.”

“Cut me some slack, Nick. I’ve only been awake five minutes. It’s the best I can do.” She yawned. “Where were we? Oh, yeah. You really like Maddy a lot. Stop the presses.”

Nick shut his eyes in annoyance, and went on. “So, I really like this woman, and I sorta…” He involuntarily flinched before quickly saying, “…told her to have sex with me, kinda as proof…”

“Whoa there, buckaroo!” Kay interrupted. “Please don’t tell me your next words were gonna be, ‘as proof she really loves me.’”

He was silent for a moment then asked, “So, what do I say to her?”

“Aside from, ‘I’m a total shit and I’ll be sorry forever?’ Probably ‘it’s been real,’ ‘cause – Nicky? – if this woman has any self-esteem left, she’ll never talk to you again.” Kay paused to catch her breath. “What in the name of all that’s good in this world made you do a thing like that?”