Feeling the Way, CH 01 (Patreon)

I want to set the record straight right now; I never saw the 2x4 coming. That’s not how things work with me. Trust me, I wish it was.

But before we continue, let’s go back, oh, fifteen minutes. The diner’s called Antoinette, it’s in the US, on one of the back roads, but I’m not telling you more. Sure, try to look it up, I can’t stop you, if you find it, have the pumpkin pie, it is amazing. I will say that it’s far from San Francisco. I’ll get into the why later.

* * * * *

I was at the counter enjoying a slice of pumpkin pie, talking with Valerie, the young cocker spaniel who was one of the three people working in the diner. Half a dozen customers were seated at varying tables and booths.

“And you’ve been on the road for how many weeks?” She asked. I’d been telling her how I travel a lot.

“Depends, what’s the criteria I’m to use to divide the stretches I’ve traveled? Being home with my family, spent more than a few days in the same place, or—”

“Family,” she cut me off, full of certainty.

“I’d say a year then.”

Hey muzzle hung open in a stunned expression. “How can you be away so long?”

I shrugged as I took a long swallow of the black coffee. “We don’t particularly get along.”

“With your family?” Now she was disbelieving, and I understood.

“My family’s only my brothers and fathers. I’m not in a relationship myself.”

“Oh, yeah, my cousin can’t stand her brothers and sisters, but she loves her parents. Don’t you love yours?”

That one took some thinking about. “I love them, and I’m pretty sure most of my dads love me too, but our relationship’s complicated. I didn’t exactly follow the family way, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, you’re from one of those families.”

I smiled, I had to. In 2076 families with two dads, or three or even four weren’t rare anymore, same with moms. Ever since the Diamond Incident, the world’s had to accept some pretty different way to look at things, but seven dads was still pretty rare.

“Yeah, one of those.” I was about to continue, but her eyes flicked to the side, focused behind me, and her lips tightened. She was afraid, but not for herself.

Behind me, the cup slapped on the table. “How many times do I have to tell you not to do that,” the man yells. 

My ears swiveled back, and I made out a woman, whimpering. “I’m sorry.”

I turned on the stool. The husband was a red fox in a too-tight shirt and too-large jacket. His jaw was set. His wife was a white fox, pretty petite woman. Not the kind Wolfgang went for, but he’d feel obligated to pound the man into a pulp for the way he was glaring at her. Wolf has this thing about making sure women are treated well.

My sense of obligation came from a different place. I hated seeing people hurt. I was off the stool and across the diner before the fox had his hand halfway in the air. I knew he was about to slap her, she knew it too, she was already turning inward, readying for the hit.

No one should fear another person like that, let along her own husband. I closed my hand on his wrist and stopped the motion.

He looked at me in surprised. “What the fuck? Let go of me you stripe.” He needed to work on his insults, or I’ve had too many flung at me from my brothers. Everything else just sheds off my fur. He pulled as hard as he could, but my hand didn’t move. I’m muscular. In my own right I’m fairly strong, but I received two gifts that make me ever stronger; one of my dad and one of my great Uncle. Someone like this fox didn’t stand a chance.

“Look,” I told him, keeping my voice gentle. “I know you’re going through a tough patch right now. It’s your job, right?” He glared at me, confirming my suspicion. The economy wasn’t going great yet, so joblessness was an easy guess. “I know this is going to sound tripe from someone like me, but things will get better. In the meantime, don’t take it out on her or she might not be there anymore when you need her.”

“Listen to me, you fucking asshole, why don’t you mind your fucking business.”

“You were yelling at your wife in public, about to hit her. You made it my business.” I turned to her, she was scared, more for him than herself. She was rational, so she saw the mass difference. Tiger versus fox, the math’s easy. “I’m not going to hurt him, I promise, but he has no business hurting you either. I’m guessing this has been going on for a while?”

She nodded.

“I’m not passing judgment, but is there somewhere you can go while he calms down? Family of your own in the area, a friend you trust?” she nodded. “You should go to them. When he’s calm, have a discussion with an intermediary present. You two need to talk things over in a safe and neutral place.” 

“Don’t you fucking leave, Mirabel. Do you hear me. If you do, we’ll track you down and I’m going to make you pay.”

She was afraid. I didn’t say it, but at this point, I figured she should get for a divorce, move out of the state. At least get a restraining order.

“It’s your decision, Mirabel,” I told her. “If you tell me you want to stay at the table with him, I will leave.”

“No.” The word was soft, but she was even more afraid once it she said it.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you. Do you have a car?”

Her eyes flicked to the fox’s breast pocket. Of course, he’d be the one with the ignition code. “Is it his car?”

She shook her head. I can tell when people lie most of the time. Only the good ones fool me. She was telling the truth. Which meant I was simply giving her access to her own vehicle. “Take out your phone.” I pulled out mine and brought up the ignitions override app I had. Adam, one of my dads, doesn’t let us leave the house without it on our phone. I put a copy on her phone with a forty-eight-hour delete delay.

“You’ll be able to start the car, but you have two days to sync your phone and the ignition, it’ll stop after that. Any respectable garage can do that for you, just show them the registration in your name and ID.” I pocketed my phone.

She hesitated.

“I promise, I won’t hurt him. I’ll simply make sure he stays here until you’ve left. What the two of you do after this is entirely up to you.”

She slipped out of the booth and whispered, “thank you.” Then she was outside.

“I’m going to end you,” the fox growled. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

I smiled. As if this guy could pull the line off. My brothers were always saying it, and they did it way better; they had the family gravitas to go with it. “I have no clue, and I don’t care. In thirty minutes, I’m going to be out of here and never come back. If you want to cause a scene right here, you go right ahead, although I doubt the owner will appreciate it.”

The fox looked around and seemed to only now realize he was in a public space. Outside, a car started. I looked out the bay window to see the white fox driving away. I let go of the fox and stepped away.

He looked like he’d start something right there. I told her I wouldn’t hurt him, but if he tried anything, I was throwing him out.

“This isn’t over,” the fox said.

“Whatever you say.” I turned my back to him and headed back to the counter. He wouldn't attack me. It had nothing to do with me; he didn’t want to do it in front of them. Some of the looks I got told me they figured I’d made a mistake. They didn’t know me. I could handle one fox, no matter how full of himself he was in this little piece of nowhere.

The door opened and closed as I sat.

Valerie’s expression was a mix of admiration and worry. “Do you have any idea who that was?”

I shook my head. “After my family, I don’t impress easily, so I can’t say I care. Can I have another piece of pumpkin pie before I get back on the road? And another coffee.”

She brought both to me, but then avoided me as if I had something she could catch. I enjoyed the pie and coffee in silence, swiped my phone over the payment marker, and did a pit-stop before heading out. The diner was perpendicular to the road, with the door facing the road and the parking on the side.

It’s as I turned the corner the 2x4 happened.

I was on my back, head ringing. Reflexively I touched my forehead, trying to figure out what happened. My thinking was fried. I wouldn’t get a concussion, one of my gift saw to that, but I still couldn’t think straight.

“How the fuck is he still conscious?” the fox said, I recognized his voice.

“No idea,” another man, deeper. “I hit him pretty hard.”

“Clearly not hard enough.”

Oh, and I also didn’t see the second time the 2x4 hit me coming.

* * * * *

While I’m unconscious, let me give you something of a backstory.

I was four years old when my fathers realized there was something wrong with me. I don’t remember the incident, but I’ve had it recounted to me so many times with a varying level of mocking that I can visualize it.

We were spending the afternoon in Golden Gate Park, one of the rare times my family took a day off and just rested. We’d rented a large enough section no one would bother us. My brothers were playing in the grass and tousling, my fathers were enjoying themselves.

I’m not going to give you any more details. If you know my family, you don’t need them; if you don’t know my family, you don’t want them.

I came out of a bush holding something in my hands, running, crying and yelling for them to help it. I’d found an injured bird, and I wanted to save it. I needed to. I wouldn’t shut up about it until Aaron took it off my hands and walked away with it. Adam said he was getting it help.

When the story was first told to me, I was eight, and Aaron nearly spit his beer on hearing that. He quickly corrected the story by telling me he’d broken the thing’s neck and put it out of its misery. 

I remember that breakdown.

By then, my emotional outburst didn’t surprise them anymore, and I knew enough to try to control them. I was just too young to do it most of the time.

I was six years old when I found out how worried my fathers were about my condition. It was late at night, well, late for a six years old. I was thirsty and gotten out of the bed I shared with my brothers to get water. We were raised to be self-sufficient.

I heard the voices coming from the kitchen. I knew I wouldn’t get any water, but curiosity got the better of me and I got close enough to peek in. All seven of my fathers were there. 

You have to know them to understand how unusual that was. We all lived under the same roof back then, but it was rare more than two of them would be there at the same time. Once we moved out, they sold the house and each of them went back to living on their own. About the only time they are in the same room, let alone the same building, is when there’s a corporate meeting.

So yeah, there they were, drink in hand, not one of them looking happy.

“Every time we let him go outside,” Anakin said, “we have to deal with one of those dammed strays.” Quick note, that wasn’t the actual language my father used. I’m toning it down to avoid offending you. My fathers are the epitome of foul language, trust me on that.

“That’s when he’s not running off during an outing and spending his allowance on some poor kid who wants candy, or a bike,” Adam said.

“He lets everyone take advantage of him,” Aaron said, “we got to do something about him. There’s got to be a way to toughen him up.”

“I think the others are already tough enough on him as it is,” Arnold said. “Maybe he just doesn’t fit in among us.”

“Are you really talking about giving him up?” Aiden asked.

At that point, I was confused. I couldn’t imagine who they were talking about. What could any of my brothers have done that had them talking like that? They were trouble-makers, always tousling, running around, disobeying our fathers, but in spite of the screaming, they’d never given any indications they were contemplating getting rid of one of them.

“I don’t know,” Arnold said. “We have to do something. I wish Midge was still with us.”

“He’s a little young for that treatment,” Alex said. “Maybe we just need to, I don’t know, give him his own space, you know, not stress him, maybe set aside part of the house, just for him.”

“You mean ostracize him,” Albert said. “Call it with it is.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Alex replied, “but the kid’s wrong.”

“Like I was wrong?”

The comment silenced all of them. It would be years until I understood why, and why Albert was defending… well, me.

“There’s nothing wrong with Wyatt,” Albert said. “He’s just different.”

“He cries watching those cartoons,” Aaron said. “Do you guys seriously think his gift is going to be anything good? I say we dump him in the child care system, there’s got to—”

I can reconstruct the rest of what he said, but I didn’t hear it. I’d just found out my fathers were going to get rid of me because there was something wrong with me. I didn’t know what it was. I knew I wasn’t as tough as my brothers.They could tousle for hours, end up bleeding and just laugh. I never lasted as long, and I never laughed.

I don’t know if you can imagine what it does to a six-year-old to find out he’s unwanted because of a defect. I have problems, and a lot of them can be traced to that conversation.

Obviously, they never got rid of me, but I spent the next six or seven years burying my emotions, trying to be the son I thought they wanted. Albert did his best to get me to come out of my emotional shell, but he’s not emotionally equipped to connect with someone like me; none of them are.

Okay, another aside, before you get any ideas.

My fathers love me. I know it without a doubt. The irony of my situation is that while they don’t get me, I get them perfectly. As you saw, I’m good at reading people, and that extends to my fathers, so when I say I know they love me, I’m not hoping. I know.

But they’ve never said it. To me, or my brothers, or one another. I’ve only heard the word love mentioned in relation to one person, Arthur. My dead father, and to this day, I haven’t been able to get the story out of anyone.

No, I can tell they love me by the things they’ll do. Like how Aaron will walk away from me anytime I do something that pissed him off. It’s that or hit me. No, he isn’t abusive. My other brothers will hit him back. To be fair, I can hit him back too, but he knows how I hate fighting, so he walks away.

Aiden will sing with me, Adam built my bike. Arnold taught me how to fight. Each one has his way of showing he loves me. But that doesn’t make our relationship any easier.

It wasn’t until Uncle Paul entered the picture that I found someone to connect with.

He’s not my uncle, he’s my father’s cousin, Dietrich’s son. The one advantage he had over all of them is that he wasn’t raised by Dietrich. Paul was raised apart from any of them, so his upbringing’s normal. Spending time with him allowed me to understand that emotions weren’t a bad thing, that caring for other people wasn’t a weakness, no matter with my fathers thought.

They’re trying to change. Alex took me aside after, well, I’m going to call our ceremony of adulthood, and leave it at that. He told me about how they were raised, the kind of abuse they suffered at the hands of their fathers, they had two, and how they promised each other we’d never be treated like that.

I scared the shit out of him when I hugged him and cried for him, for the pain he and the rest of my fathers had endured.

So yes, my fathers are not perfect, but they try their best, and I love them for that. I just can’t stand them for very long.

Looks like I’m about to wake up, so we can pick this up later.