The wind howled and moaned outside the large bay window that looked into the normally-tidy front lawn. The snow, having fallen heavily for several days, had finally relented, yet was still blown and tossed in a whirling blur by the groaning wind. The aging glass panes within the tall windows shook and rattled under the assault of winter's rage, yet all these things went unnoticed by the portly woman who sat still and silent atop the built-in reading bench within the window.
Betty Jo wasn't sure exactly how long she'd sat staring into the moaning, whirling oblivion of winter weather. It had certainly been long enough to now feel a very present frost in the air, even within. The fire had long-since gone out, only a few smoldering embers now showing feebly in the grate. And though uncomfortably heavy, the great crocheted afghan she'd used in a feeble attempt to ward off the winter's bite did little to alleviate her chill. But Betty didn't care. Being cold somehow didn't matter, not now at least. Damn him! Damn Bradley McManus!
Betty Jo McManus had always taken great pride in what she simply referred to as "retaining her dignity" after she and Brad had divorced. She'd not been one of those women who'd gone chasing after the two-timing ass that had walked out on her, and she certainly hadn't spent any time pining for him! No, the terrible fact was that Betty Jo and Brad McManus' separation and divorce had been a very civil affair, frostily polite to the very end. She'd often questioned in hindsight as to whether this might have been the reason Aidan had struggled so with coming to terms with their' separation. Many nights she'd lain awake, worrying how her lack of remorse at Brad's leaving had affected her son. But even if she'd caused her son yet more grief with her lack of feeling toward his father Betty Jo couldn't change how she'd felt!
She and Brad's marriage had never been a happy one. Constant whispered fights, just out of earshot of their son, constant threats from Brad, added to the ever-present ordeal of his philandering had so calloused Betty to the man she'd once believed she'd loved that, indeed, the day he'd finally left she'd practically danced with glee at the sight of his retreating back! She'd had to constrain her elation for Aidan's sake, of course, but that had truly been the happiest day she'd experienced in the better part of twenty years! Indeed, the only true regret Betty Jo had ever had of her and Brad's divorce was the pain she'd been forced to watch Aidan experience. And there had been plenty of it!
Bradley McManus was a selfish ass! There was no kinder description she could think of. Betty Jo had never considered herself a beauty, even in her prime. But to treat one's own son with such disregard as Brad had chosen to do! Even when his son had confronted him with knowledge of the truth, Brad had been too selfish to be repentant. Even now the memory of an overgrown teen crying like a heartbroken child as his father walked swiftly past, without even a nod of acknowledgment, caused her to bristle.
But Aidan's pain hadn't ended there. Since that day there'd been seven birthdays without so much as a phone call, seven Christmases of not returning the card sent every year. There'd been excuses from secretaries of "being too busy to come to the phone," and rejection of offers from Aidan to visit Brad, always citing "business" or some excuse. But as the icy tears stung Betty Jo's already chilled cheeks as she surveyed the letter left half-read on the end table by her sofa an anger, no, a bitter hatred, foul and repulsive as bile, rose within her. This was too much! How much more of Aidan's happiness would that son of a bitch take from her son!?
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The bus gave a great lurch as the driver rounded yet another curve in the mountainous road in haste, jerking the young man out of a restless sleep. A loud snort beside him told him the talkative old bat who'd prattled on for the better part of two days as they'd made the trip side-by-side had almost been awakened from her sleepy silence as well. Mumbling something about "not being one to gossip, but..." the woman sank bank into a deep sleep. Blearily opening his eyes the young man chanced a gaze across the vast expanse of bosom that was the hearty elderly woman beside him to ascertain some hint of his new surroundings. Surely the trip would be over soon!
During the young man's dozing, which apparently had been longer than he'd believed, the great expanses of cotton fields of South Carolina had transitioned into high mountains and ridges, soaring over valleys that seemed an eternity below the winding road that clung to the mountainside. He mentally ran over a list of states along the Eastern Seaboard, specifically which occupied part of the vast chain of Appalachians. If he'd really been asleep that long he could be well into North Carolina, or even Virginia! Dang! His gazed roamed from snow covered peak to peak as the Greyhound, seemingly minuscule in comparison to its vast surroundings, rattled and moaned along the four lane that held precariously onto the mountains.
Where in God's name was he? This place was desolate! If not for the occasional car swiftly passing the bus, there wasn't a sign of life within sight! The young man grumbled to himself and slouched resentfully into his seat. He eyed the envelope that was just visible through the open zipper of his bag. That would tell him! The letter "would explain everything," according to his dad. Another surge of resentment swelled within him as he thought of his father. Cheapskate! Why in God's name hadn't Dad bought him an airplane ticket, or even a sleeping car ticket on the Amtrak? If he had to travel to this stupid place, for reasons he still didn't know, at least he could've either gotten there quicker or in more comfort! And for that matter, why had he had to leave home to begin with?
He studied the letter several seconds, his mind weighing the consequences of temptation. He'd always had a real knack for opening his Christmas and birthday gifts to see what was in them, and then resealing the wrapping without anyone catching on! Could he do that with a letter? He'd not paid the greatest of attention when he'd taken it angrily from his father, but it had looked as though the envelope had been sealed with tape........... That would only make his scheme easier! Tape was much easier to conceal having disturbed than glue! He leaned out of his seat, his arm halfway to his bag when the old bat beside him gave another almighty grunt..........This time he practically slammed himself back into his seat. "Fine........I'll wait!"
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The howling wind that had added insult to injury of the bitter cold that had assaulted the mountains for days had finally abated, leaving the ridges and valleys in a now eerie silence. The bone-chilling cold still held an icy grip around the Appalachians, but the stillness of the wind now brought a tiny bit of relief to the mountain folk. But snuggled deep within their massive bed Mason and Aidan were warm and comfy. They'd made good use of their time together. It was just a good thing Aidan's mother hadn't been there to see it!
Thankfully the power had not gone out throughout the terrible snowstorm, but leaving the mountain to go into the town below had proven impossible. Aidan, sweet and considerate as he was, had gone out of his way to do everything possible to keep Mason's attention from drifting toward the ever-mounting layers of snow that had fallen unendingly for several days. He'd raided the cabinets for marshmallows "to roast in the fireplace," and then raided the DVD collection for several he knew were Mason's favorites. Of course he'd grumbled throughout the entire four hours of Gone With the Wind ( "Ashley is nothing short of a pussy! He doesn't have enough backbone to admit he has feelings for her, but he's too stupid to tell her to leave him alone!" ), but the mock display of macho manliness had only left Mason in peels of laughter, so he'd forgiven him that one!
After watching DVD's until they were both completely and utterly sick of the television Aidan had tirelessly dug through every closet and cupboard in the house until he'd found several board games to play. These, of course, had swiftly proven to be no help at all, as Aidan proved to have little patience for what he called the "scheming and robbing people blind" of Monopoly. In pretend exasperation Mason had thrown his hands into the air and questioned "just what it was that Aidan wanted from him, to do nothing all day but throw him across the bed and have his way with him?" Mason had known what reaction this would draw from Aidan, but he'd not expected to find himself and Aidan having literally skipped supper and spent the entire night "heating up their bedroom!"
Mason studied the handsome face, now relaxed in a deep sleep, and the muscular chest that had risen and fallen countless times as Aidan slept. He allowed his hand to trail along the wispy hairs that formed a trail from Aidan's chest to his groin until he found the pulse of Aidan's heart. And what a beautiful heart it was! This was what had attracted Mason to Aidan so long ago, not his looks, but his caring, kind, beautiful heart! Mason studied Aidan's features as he slept, and his heart ached within him. He'd not spent 20 years with Aidan McManus for nothing! Something was wrong. Oh sure, Aidan had put on a great show of false bravado with all the stuff to "occupy time" during this snow. But there was something else going on. He'd seen it in Aidan's eyes. And lately he'd taken to having nightmares. Aidan never had nightmares! Something was going on. Mason couldn't exactly explain why he knew; he just felt it.
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Aidan awoke suddenly, jerking so forcefully from the position he'd lain in that it surprised him that Mason still lay asleep by his side. He'd been dreaming again, dreaming about his dad. But the dream had been different this time; it had been more real. This time when he'd shouted at his father the words had seemed to almost reverberate around him, like he'd actually spoken them. What was this all about? He instinctively felt for Mason's smaller, warm body that always snuggled into him. But Mason wasn't there. "Mason?".......... "I'm here." "Where's here?" A hand reached through the blackness of the early morning twilight to find its place over his own heart.
A small "click" from the nightstand beside Mason's side of the bed suddenly shown a small orb of light around their bed, throwing Mason's serious face, sharply contrasted from it's normally soft appearance, into view. "Now.......suppose you tell me what all this is about?" Aidan felt his face flush. He knew! He might not know specifics, but he knew something was up. "What do you mean?" "Aidan don't you dare even try! You know that I know something's going on! Now what the hell is this?" Aidan stared silently into the brown eyes that bore into his own. "Mason I've.............I've not wanted to tell you about this, because honestly I'm doing everything I can to keep it from happening, but...." "Keep what from happening?" "Well, like I said, I'm doing everything I can to stop it, but........well.....we.....I......."
He drew a long breath before heaving it back out into the dim light. "Mason you're not gonna like what I tell you." A quiet voice answered. "Why is that?" "Because.....well, because I've heard from my......my father." Silence answered him for some time. Mason's face shown with confusion. "Aidan I think you're father was an epic ass for how he treated you, but why would that upset me? If you can reconcile with your father, why wouldn't I like that?" Aidan stared into the beautiful brown orbs that met his gaze, willing to pay any price to keep from answering Mason's question. "......because it seems I have a sibling..........a sibling that my father is trying to send to visit us."
Mason stared in dumbfounded shock. "A....a sibling? What...when....who is...." "I don't know. I've never met this person." He raised himself from the bed and reached into the nightstand on his own side of the bed. "Here, read this. I've been trying every way possible to keep you from having to know this, because I honestly don't want to meet this supposed long-lost relative now. There's just been too much water under the bridge with my dad and myself. But I'm afraid I've already made a mistake by keeping this from you now. I don't want you to be blindsided by this any more than you already have been. I still don't understand everything, but hopefully this will explain a little.
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Aidan,
I hope this finds you well. I suppose I am the last person on the earth you would have dreamt of receiving any form of communication from, after so many years away. I do apologize for that, and I must apologize in advance for the very reason I am writing to you now.
Aidan, I wish there was some way I could tell you that I had regret for your mother's and my separation, but I feel I deceived you enough throughout your earlier years without putting you through such lies again. I wish there were some kinder way to say this, but I'm afraid your mother and I have both been happier after separating. As to myself, I moved on and married again. Unfortunately that marriage ended in my becoming a widower a few years ago. Because of my second wife's death I now find myself in a situation I never dreamt possible myself, and it is of this dilemma that I write to you now.
I realize how great a shock this will be to you, or given my own personal record, possibly how little of a shock it may be, but you need to know that you have another sibling, a brother. I wish I could say your brother was a product of my second wife's and my marriage, but unfortunately Dylan was fathered during our time together while I was still married to your own mother. Dylan is now fifteen, and a wonderful young man. I do not wish to insult you by saying this, but I do see similarities between you both. But what I must write to you now is not of comparing personalities. I must ask the un-askable of you.
As you well know, I have been a heavy smoker for years. A recent visit to my doctor has revealed that I am now facing an advanced stage of lung cancer, one that I, quite honestly, will probably not survive. Dylan's mother's family have never been involved in his life. He hardly know's their faces. It saddens me to say that he is, perhaps, like unto them as you realized you truly were to me. But this is why I write. As I said, I must ask something that shouldn't be ask of you. As I now face the possibility of death I do not wish Dylan to be left with family that he hardly knows and I, frankly, have never cared for or trusted.
It is my deepest, most sincere wish that you would open your heart to your younger brother, if not for me as your father, then to see to it that another young man does not fall victim to the repercussions of my previous sins any more than need be. I cannot ask you to forgive me for what I allowed you or your mother to go through, and I am all too aware of how unfair what I ask of you now is. But you must know that you are a dying man's only hope, his only means of seeing to it that both his sons are provided for after he departs this life.
I leave, not only my own happiness, but also your brother's in your hands,
Sincerely your father, Bradley McManus
Hey guys, Jesse here. Just wanted to take a quick moment and thank you all for the wonderfully kind comments I've received regarding the story thus far, and to apologize for taking so long to publish another installment. Besides the typical busyness of the Holidays, I have been in a bit of a moving process and some job transitions, so writing had to take a bit of a back burner. Hopefully I am back now to be able to work a bit more dutifully on the story's progression.
Though I hadn't planned to insert any "personal/real" comments into my posts, I will take a moment to respond to three questions that I've been asked more times than I can count throughout my writing the "Giving Us A Chance" story.
1: Yes, I am personally from the Appalachian region, though for privacy's sake I'll not divulge any great detail as to where I live.
2: Yes, the story is partially based on some personal experiences. The characters of Aidan and Mason are based partially on myself (Mason, though I wish I had the good looks I've imagined him to have!) and two or three other people that have been influential upon my life.
3: Several folks have asked my inspiration for Aidan, specifically one individual asked if there was anyone "Google-able" that could give them a bit of an image to put with the face. My answer would be this: The inspiration for Aidan is a very real individual whom I, of course, am not at liberty to reveal. But if any two people came to mind as I imagine Aidan in my own mind, they would have to be Trevor Donovan (actor) and Alek Skarlatos (recently honored veteran for his bravery during the French train attacks.) If you take these two guys and mentally meld them together you'd have the closest thing to my "real Aidan."
Thanks again for the kind words, and keep them coming, Jesse