Relatively Honest (18 page)

“Fine,” I muttered. “No one minded when Cyrano did it, but when it’s me, oh…”

Julie turned to face the jury again. “We realize you probably have objections. And we’re ready to hear them and act accordingly.”

I cleared my throat. “For the record, I am not in agreement on the ‘act accordingly.’ We’re adults, remember?” I directed the words at Julie, but she averted her gaze.

“Daniel, I can’t see why you’re so determined to indulge in this…this abhorrent behavior,” Mum said. “It’s not as if you couldn’t find some other girl. You always have in the past.”

“How
very
polite of everyone to keep pointing that out,” I said.

“You are in no position to be snippy,” said Dad.

“And you are in no position to judge
me
for keeping secrets!” I answered. “Would it have killed the pair of you, somewhere between London and here, to mention, ‘Oh by the way, Daniel, if you meet any girls round Sunriver, best enquire into their heritage before hooking up’?”

“Dan,” Julie pleaded.

I shut my mouth and looked away.

“We’d like to hear what you have to say,” she said to the parents.

“First cousins – it’s simply
wrong
,” Mum began.

“Genetically,” Dad added.

“Not true,” I said, unable to let a falsehood stand. “Modern studies show that children of first cousins are not at any great risk.”

“Now you’re having children?” Mum sounded as if she might lose consciousness.

“God’s sake – no! But
you
brought up the genetics.”

“But it’s not even legal,” Julie’s dad said. “First cousins can’t marry. It’s incest.”

“Yes and no,” I said.

“It isn’t incest,” Julie explained. “Not according to the laws of Oregon. But it’s true that cousins can’t marry in Oregon, either.”

“Then there you are,” Dad said.

“But we can marry in England,” I pointed out. “Or several other places. Even half of the United States.”

“Forget marrying,” Julie’s step-mother said. She leaned forward and pressed her fingertips together. “You’re young, both of you. And you mean well. I know you do. But whatever happens between you will affect all of us, because we care about you. And when you belong to the same family, it complicates everything one more degree.”

“And with you in particular, Daniel,” Mum added, “it’s not as if we have any reason to expect you to stay with the poor girl for very long. You never do. And I do object to such treatment when it’s my niece we’re talking about!”

“Stop throwing that at me!” I said. “I wouldn’t hurt her. And do you think we haven’t considered all this?”

“I know his history,” Julie said softly. “I won’t hold it against him if he does the same to me.”

“Bloody hell!” I said. “Has
anyone
any faith in me?”

“Daniel,” Dad said, “this was a relationship you both kept secret, a relationship founded on lies you told even to each other. Why should we have faith in you? What have you done to make anyone proud?”

I opened my mouth in indignation, but the truth of what he said knocked the words out of me. To my total horror, tears rose into my eyes. I grimaced and looked down before anyone could notice.

“We’re sorry,” Julie said. “I forgive Daniel for lying. And we never wanted to upset any of you. Really, we’re so sorry. What do you want us to do?”

“You are adults,” her father conceded. He sounded ice-cold. “It’s up to you. But I didn’t raise a daughter to watch her screw around with her own cousin – especially a boy who treats girls like this one does. And I won’t have her in my house.”

“Dad,” Julie pleaded, her voice full of sobs. I couldn’t look at her.

“James,” her step-mother said.

“I’m afraid I agree,” Mum said. “It mustn’t continue. That’s my opinion.”

Maybe Dad nodded, I don’t know. I didn’t look. I was using all my willpower to keep the tears right where they were.

The sofa creaked; James French stood up. “I’ve said my piece. Let’s go. Julie? Get in your car. We’re going home.”

Mum and Dad sprang up to follow them to the door. “I’m so sorry,” Mum was saying. “I never expected…we’ll work this out. I do hope we’ll all still speak.”

“Of course. We’ll work it out,” Julie’s step-mother said.

Julie turned to join them. I caught her wrist. She looked at me, and from the distressed change in her eyes I could tell she saw the tears in mine. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Please don’t.”

“This is the future,” she whispered back. “It won’t do.” A tear fell down her cheek. She pressed my hand, slipped away, and walked out the door with her parents.

“Listen here,
Daniel,” Dad said, seconds after they had gone.

Never in my life had I liked what followed the words “Listen here, Daniel,” and I suspected I wouldn’t like it now either. I stamped toward the stairs. “I don’t want to speak to the pair of you.”

“You can’t just walk away!” Mum shrilled.

“Can’t I?” I slammed my bedroom door shut.

I sat in my desk chair and turned my computer on, then sat still for probably half an hour, totally at a loss. I checked my email, as if Julie might have written to me when she wasn’t even home yet. I opened the instant messaging application, thinking Sinter might be of some use, but he wasn’t logged on. I returned to gazing at my desk drawers, tugging on my lower lip and contemplating what on Earth to do next.

At last I opened up a new email and wrote to Julie:

All right darling,

The worst is over. We both knew all along, so that’s sorted. Really that’s the part I was most worried about. Patrick knows, and it sounds like he’s out of the picture now. I gather you’re not really upset about that. (Don’t listen to him, by the way. You ARE hot.) Then there’s our parents, who aren’t thrilled, but we couldn’t expect that right off. They need time. However, the way they’re treating us right now, like we’re irresponsible children, is not acceptable. I’m sure you’re with me.

So here’s what I say. Pack some things. Come back in your car and get me. We’ll drive off and find somewhere cheap to stay for the summer. Doesn’t matter where. We’ll get jobs. We’ll go back to Eugene in the autumn, unless you want to transfer to another uni. When they forgive us and accept us we can come back, but there’s no reason we should sit here and take this. We want to be together. I understand you had to leave with them just now, to appease them, but you couldn’t mean to leave me, really, could you?

Call me on my mobile. We’ll discuss.

xoxo,

Daniel

Seven hours
later, after dark, she rang me. I was still in my room, refusing to eat, refusing to face my parents.

“I got your email.” She sounded depressed.

“Right, and what do you think? Tonight, should we?”

“No…”

“Tomorrow, then. We’ll wait. Today’s been difficult.”

“You don’t understand. I meant it.”

“Meant what?” I asked.

“When I said this won’t do.”

“Why? What’s the matter? All those ‘I love you’s and ‘I can’t get enough of you’s…”

“I meant those too.” She was shading out of depressed and into miserable. “But I also said my family is everything.”

“Yeah, I
am
family, all right?”

“You know who I mean.”

“Yes, but – I don’t understand. Why would you risk everything, going behind everyone’s backs, if you didn’t want to be with me?”

“I did want to be with you. But not if anyone knew. Why would I keep it secret, unless I was ashamed?”

“Fuck. You’re ashamed of me?”

“Daniel, we’re first cousins! Are
you
about to go shout it from the rooftops? How many people did
you
tell?”

“Well, just Sinter, but...”

“You told Sinter?” Now she was angry.

“Hey, when you lied about the ‘open relationship’ – which I can’t believe I fell for, by the way – you don’t get to be all outraged about who told what.”

Her sigh sounded shaky, like she had been crying. “See? We don’t even trust each other. Why should we run away together?”

“Because I love you more than anyone, ever. I
hadn’t
loved anyone, before you.”

“You will again. You’re broken in now.”

“No, no, no. Stop this. Come and get me, all right? We’ll get away. You’ll see, when we’re together…”

“It won’t do,” she whispered.

“It will do! Please!”

“I can’t see you. Not for a while. We can’t go on like we were. I’ve never seen my dad so…disillusioned with me.”

“You’re breaking up with me? You’re honestly breaking up with me?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Running away together, hello?”

“Like my mother did? Was that the right solution? Did that lead to happiness on everyone’s part?”

I went quiet. She had something of a point there. Then again… “Wasn’t all bad,” I said. “Sounds like she went to America and found someone she loved, someone who really treated her right. And they had a kid together, and it was all okay. She just got in an accident, and it ended before it should have.”

Julie said nothing for several seconds, then sniffled. In a strained voice she answered, “Well. She was innocent. We weren’t.”

“Don’t do this to me, Jules. God, please don’t.”

“I can’t see you. I’d do something stupid.”

“Don’t…”

“I’m sorry, Daniel. I love you. Please let us stay on good terms.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Heal. Take some time. Forgive your parents.”

“No – listen…”

“That’s all. I’m sorry. Goodbye.” She hung up.

I stretched out my arm and watched the lit-up screen on the mobile go dark. I lowered the phone to my lap. Sitting where I was, on my bed, this time I didn’t pay attention to the tears when they spilled onto my cheeks, because there was no one to see and no one to care.

“Thank God,
you’re still in Oregon,” I said.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Sinter said. “What’s up?”

“All fucking hell has broke loose. When are you leaving for London?”

“Uh…in two days. Why?”

“I want to come. Is the flight full?”

“I…have no idea.” I heard him moving, clicking keys at his computer. “I’ll check the web page. Want to elaborate, in the meantime?”

“Not particularly. We’ll need something to talk about on a ten-hour flight.”

“Can I guess?” he said. “Julie found out?”

“Hah. Julie already
knew
. But it’s over anyway.”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, like I said. Details later. How’s the flight look?”

“There’s room, actually,” he said. “It’s not cheap, but there is room.”

“I’m only paying one-way. Should save some funds.”

“You’re not coming back?”

“Shan’t say ‘never’, but let’s say I’ve got no plans to.”

“Jesus.”

“Tell me the airline and flight number. I’ll buy the ticket.”

I got
through the next day by walking past my parents on the way to the kitchen and bathroom as if they weren’t there. They tried to talk to me, but I wouldn’t answer. I didn’t hear from Julie either, nor did I try to contact her, not until the morning I left. Then all she got was a short email, and directly after sending that I switched off my computer and packed it up.

I emerged from my room with two heavy pieces of luggage and a sheaf of pages I had printed out from the web. My mother stepped into my path and asked where I thought I was going. I handed her the pages and kept walking.

“What?” she shrieked, after a few seconds of looking at them. “What can you mean? Daniel, you’re not –”

But I was down the stairs by then, and out the front door. A taxi awaited me at the curb. I got in, and the driver set off for the Bend/Redmond airport. I did not look back.

On the top of the pages, I had put a printout of my flight confirmation: Bend/Redmond to Portland, Portland to Chicago, Chicago to London, complete with my name as “passenger” and today’s date under “departure.” Under that, a blank page on which I had scrawled a brief FAQ:

When am I coming back?: Don’t know

Who’s going with me?: Sinter

Is Julie coming?: No

Will I be checking email?: Occasionally

Will we speak again?: Someday. Read the attached in the meantime.

The attached was a collection of articles and information from the cousin-couples web pages, the same statistics that had convinced me I wasn’t totally mad to love Julie. She may not have wanted to see me anymore – at least not as her lover – but I felt it important that Mum and Dad see why I had acted as I did, all the same.

I left my mobile behind, as it wouldn’t work in the UK, but from a pay phone in the Bend/Redmond airport I dialed the voice-mail number and checked my messages. Nothing. Did Julie not know yet that I was leaving, or was she trying to “make it easier on us both” by remaining silent, or some such shite?

My flight began boarding. I filed on with the others, stashed my carry-on, and fastened my seatbelt. It felt like a dismal dream, sitting alone, rising off the ground, watching the beautiful Cascades peel away from my window. I looked at the houses and their tiny roofs down there in Bend, and knew Julie was beneath one of them, but I didn’t know which. I had never been to her house. I had mattered as little as that.

Thought you should know I’m going back to London
,

I had written to her in this morning’s email.

I got onto the same flight as Sinter. It leaves this afternoon. You won’t have to worry about running into me around Oregon this summer. Answer if you want a postcard or anything.

Was that last line too hostile? It was twice as bitter as I ever acted toward my ex-girlfriends, but only a fraction of how bitter I really felt. I had never been dumped before, not since being handed a five-pound note and having a hotel door shut on me. And at least those girls hadn’t
lied
.

In Portland I shouldered my carry-on and trudged to the gate where our Chicago flight would depart. A shock of black hair caught my eye: Sinter sat reading in a corner, wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and his black leather jacket. His Doc-Martens-clad feet sprawled on either side of his luggage. Since
Cyrano
he had rarely bothered with the eyeliner and spiked-up hair, but now he had done both again – probably from being around his parents and wishing to irritate them. Today I understood that impulse completely.

“Ahoy.” I approached him.

He looked up. “Hey.”

I fell into the chair beside his. “Finally, someone who’s not completely insane.”

“That’s not one I often get.” He closed his book. “So, I’m kind of dying of curiosity. What happened?”

My explanation, and his questions, took up so much time that we were boarding the plane before finishing the discussion. I fastened my seatbelt, and panicked a little as the engine started to squeal in warm-up. “This is really it,” I said. “No going back, is there?”

“Well, they do sell return tickets.”

“But if I don’t stop now I’ll be in Chicago in a few hours, and then London this time tomorrow. Is this completely stupid of me?”

“You can come back later. Some time apart will be good for you both. Besides, I want you to show me around London.”

“But it’s cowardly. Isn’t it? Running off like this? Is this what Cyrano would have done?”

“Cyrano would probably do something involving a sharp sword, so forget that. Look, I can tell you this: I’ve spent enough of my life staying and suffering. I don’t see why running away and suffering is any less noble.”

I fell silent as the plane taxied forward. We were soon airborne, and it was only minutes before the lovely mountains gave way to golden-brown desert below. Goodbye, Oregon.

“In case you think I don’t see the irony,” I said, “I do.”

“Irony?”

“The player getting played. Maybe irony isn’t the right word. Maybe more like ‘karma.’”

“Ah. Yes. Open relationship. Don’t ask, don’t tell. That was a good one.”

“She’s devious. She’s heartless. She’s evil.”

“You don’t believe a word of that.”

I closed my eyes. “Leave a man to his delusions, would you?”