Author: Daydreamer
Posted: 10 March 2004

The Second Mission

The sunrise had been glorious. Not that I'd really been able to enjoy it, but I did at least note that it was clear; the heavy shroud of fog that covered Cascade most mornings was missing today. Colors blazed brilliant orange and red as if God himself had opened his paint box and used the horizon as his canvas. It was beautiful.

But it was also very short-lived.

The colors faded and the haze rolled in from the sea and within minutes, it was just an ordinary day.

Actually, it sorta reminded me of Naomi. Especially in light of the new facts I had learned.

She was glorious; a beautiful blaze that would rise up in an instant, burn you in a flash and be gone before you knew what hit you.

Yeah, I'd sat up the rest of the night then met the sunrise and in all that time, I still hadn't figured out exactly what I was going to say. I'd tried a hundred different tacks, everything from understanding and sympathetic to cold and insistent. I really didn't care what approach I had to use to get her to come back and talk to Blair - I just wanted to make sure she came back.

As much as I might want to take the "you're a rotten mother, a rotten human being and the world would be a better place without you" approach, it really wasn't about what would make me feel better. It was about what would work for Sandburg.

And if that meant I needed to use the "having a kid when you're by yourself is tough" routine, I could handle it. I could choke the words out, I could keep the right expression on my face, I could play the sympathetic one. As long as in the end, she showed up at Jim's and said what the kid needed to hear.

I waited until a little after 9:00 to start calling around. I have to admit, I'd been a little worried. The way Jim had explained it, I wondered if Naomi might not have just taken off. I half-expected to spend the day making phone calls and still coming up with zilch. But it hadn't been that hard to find her. Third place I checked and, voila! I had a location.

Now I've just got to talk to her.

You'd think that with all the time I spent last night and this morning getting ready, I'd know what I was going to say. But I don't. I'm not sure I'll ever know what to say, but I have come to the conclusion that, to a certain extent, I'm going to have to let her lead.

She blinked up at me, and then stepped back, letting me into the room. "Of course," she said, "I should have known. Jim sent you." Her head was down and she closed the door then trailed me into the room without lifting it.

"Jim called me," I corrected her. "He told me some of what had happened."

Her eyes glittered hard for a moment before she lowered her head again. "He had no right to talk to you about that!"

I shrugged. "I'm his friend. Jim knows he can talk to me when he's troubled." I looked around a minute. It was a standard hotel room. Two queen beds, one slept in. Nightstand in the middle. Dresser and desk along the wall in front of the beds. TV on the dresser. And on the far wall, a small round table with two chairs. I opted for one of the chairs and sat down. An odor lingered in the air; something herbal and rather strong and it tickled my nostrils. I rubbed my nose then looked up at her and said, "I'm Blair's friend, too."

She shook her head as if my words didn't matter. "But you're here because Jim wants me to come back."

I shrugged again. "I'm not sure what Jim wants. I'm here because Jim and I agree that Blair needs you to come back."

She turned her back on me and for a moment, I thought she was going to bolt. I tensed, ready to chase her if need be, but she didn't move. She just stood there, almost totally still as seconds turned into minutes.

I schooled myself to patience and at length she said, "I don't know what you want from me. I can't change what happened."

The anger rose up in me -- I wanted to shake her. I took a minute or so to calm myself before I answered. "Blair needs you now. Whatever happened in the past, whatever happened before -- he needs you now."

She looked at me, a practiced look that screamed 'see how I suffer,' then said, "He's always been needy; don't you find him needy?"

I shook my head and said firmly, "No, I don't find him needy at all. Actually, he's exceptionally strong." I cocked my head and studied her. She was physically attractive; she exuded a sensuality that seemed rooted in earthiness and she was clearly comfortable in her own body. But now, even here in a hotel room, with this sensual and beautiful woman mere feet away from me, nothing about her attracted me. I'd seen beneath the cover and there just wasn't much there. And what was there, wasn't attractive at all. "Considering what he's been through, I find him one of the strongest men I've ever met."

She turned her back on me, then spat out words. "'Considering what he's been through...'" She whipped around, eyes blazing. "Does anyone ever consider what I've been through?"

I rose and took two steps forward until I towered over her. "No, Naomi -- nobody around here is really thinking about what you went through. What exactly was it that happened to you, again? Did you have a mother who used to forget you when you were a child? Did you get dragged all over kingdom come and back again, always the unwanted tagalong? Were you the one who was beaten and abused until scars were left on your defenseless body? Did someone ..." I choked a moment, bile filling my mouth and it took a second before I could go on. "Did someone lose you -- leaving you to bounce from place to place to place, each one worse than the one before? Did," I swallowed again, forcing the words past my lips, "did someone rape you when you were a child, Naomi? Is that what happened? Is that why you're so damned insensitive to your son?"

She turned away again, edging back from me and I forced myself to step back as well. I returned to the table by the window, but I couldn't sit now -- I was too tensed up, coiled to spring at the slightest wrong move, wrong word from this self-centered, uh, woman.

"Don't you think rape is a rather strong word for what happened?" she asked. "You trivialize what has happened to millions of women."

"No, Naomi, I don't," I replied. "There is nothing trivial about rape. And acknowledging what happened to Blair, doesn't, in any way, take away from what those millions of women have suffered. But when a grown man forcibly inserts his penis into the anus of a child -- that's rape. Oh, the courts may call it sodomy, but the reality is -- it's rape."

Her voice was small as she said, "He never told me."

"Maybe he was scared to. Maybe he was afraid that if he caused too many problems, you'd just take off and leave him again and the next place would be even worse."

"I never knew what to believe with Blair." She cast a quick look my way, an over-the-shoulder glance that was as practiced as everything else about her. I began to wonder if there was anything about this woman that hadn't been practiced a thousand times. "He told -- stories."

I shook my head. "I'm sure he did. He's pretty handy with bending the truth now when he feels the need, but when it comes to the important stuff -- he's ruthlessly honest." I sighed. "You had to know what was going on."

She moved the bed and sat, shaking her head. "I didn't -- I really didn't. I mean, I knew Don was hard on him, but I didn't realize how hard until Don hit me."

I closed my eyes for a moment, then said, "Naomi, that's the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard in my life. How could you have missed the marks on your own child's body? Didn't you ever give him a bath?"

She flushed, her body tensed and for another brief moment, I again thought she was going to bolt. But then she eased down and said, "I wasn't always there -- I couldn't know everything that was going on. I always tried to leave him with people I thought I could trust."

"And what exactly was it that you had to do that required you to leave your child so many times and for so long?"

Anger crackled in her voice as she answered, "I was working for important things -- equal rights, the environment, justice for the oppressed."

It was my turn to be angry. "And did your work do any good? Or was it all just an excuse to let you flit about the country without Blair and still feel like you were doing something worthwhile? Let's see, last time I looked," I ticked things off on my fingers as I counted out to her, "the Equal Rights Amendment never passed and while things are better for women and minorities, the work is still ongoing. The environment is still polluted -- the EPA won't be going anywhere for years. And justice for the oppressed, Naomi?" I snorted in disgust. "Didn't anyone ever tell you charity should begin at home? Maybe you should have been more concerned about justice for your child -- maybe you should have been worried about how oppressed he was!"

"You have no idea how hard things were for me!" she snapped.

I think back on what it was like with Daryl, and I think I have an idea. Daryl's a bright kid, inquisitive, testing his limits, and there were two of us for most of the time. I think about how hard it was to do the right thing, say the right thing, be in the right place with him. Then I try to imagine doing that by myself, without anyone to confer with, without anyone to take some of the pressure off when it got tough. And I try to imagine having a kid like Sandburg -- one that probably never shut up and was smarter than just about everyone around him. Yeah, I can imagine it was hard for her. But...

"That's no excuse, Naomi! I raised a child, my own son and yes, I was married for most of that time, so, yes, there were two of us. But that doesn't change the fact that the foremost thought in my mind for all those years -- hell, the foremost thought in my mind now, is 'how do I do the right thing for my son?' That thought colored every decision I ever made. I was always aware that everything I did or said was going to have lasting consequences on how another human being turned out."

"Everyone always takes his side," she whined, sounding like a child herself. "I get so tired of everyone always taking his side."

"Maybe that's because his side is the right side. Did you ever consider that?"

She shook her head, denying my words. "I have to go," she said. "I'm going to Alaska."

I rose and stared out the window for a minute then turned to look at her. Jim's words were ringing in my ears. 'I want her to tell him it wasn't his fault. I want her to hold him and kiss him and tell him he didn't do anything wrong. I want her to lie to him and tell him she didn't know. I want her to convince him she would never have left him alone like that if she'd really known what was going on.' And his last thought: "If she can't do that, and make him believe, then I want her to stay away for a while -- until I contact her and tell her she can come back." I'm studying her now and I'm trying to decide if she can be trusted to say the right things, do the right things.

"Naomi," I say at last, "I have something to tell you. It's going to be a new concept for you, but I want you to work at accepting it. This. Is. Not. About. You. For all I know, you may have been abused yourself; you may be struggling with your own baggage and have issues that have affected every aspect of your life. But you know what? I just don't care. I'm tired and I don't have the time or energy to deal with you. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Blair." She reeled back as if I had struck her and her eyes filled with tears. Instead of evoking my sympathy, it just made me angrier.

"What do you want, then?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"I want to know if you can tell Blair what he needs to hear. Can you put him first for once in your life? Can you convince him that he's the important one for just this moment?"

"I suppose I should be happy that he has people who care so strongly for him."

You got that, lady. You should be happy, but you're jealous. I can see it clearly on your face. I make sure my face stays neutral. "Blair needs to hear you say that you didn't know what was going on. That you weren't aware that he was being beaten and abused and -- raped." Just saying it makes my spit turn sour. "He needs to hear it from you."

"He's going to blame me," she whispered.

I shook my head vigorously. "Not Blair. I may blame you," I narrowed my eyes as I looked at her, "and Jim certainly blames you, but Blair is the most forgiving, most understanding person in the world."

"I don't know if I can face him."

"He loves you, Naomi. Hasn't that gotten through to you yet?" The last shreds of my patience were fading. "Why do you think he never pushed you to face all this before? Why do you think he tried so hard to deal with it all on his own? He doesn't want to hurt you. He worries about you." I rose and walked over to the bed, taking her shoulders gently in my hands. "Why can't you worry about him -- just this once?"

She shuddered, then looked up to meet my eyes. "Is Jim going to be there?"

"I'm sure he will be."

"He's angry with me." She dropped her eyes again.

"He won't hurt you," I promise, as I drop my hands and step back.

She struggled with herself for a moment and I could almost see her pulling on the 'concerned mother' guise then she said, "I can do this. Of course, I can. I want my baby to know that I'm here for him. I can help him through this."

It was hard, but I didn't roll my eyes. "Good," I said.

"When?" She sounded almost eager. Maybe she was. Maybe she wanted to see how well she could wear the role of loving mother. Maybe it had occurred to her that she could cry and get Blair to comfort her. It wouldn't surprise me if she still found a way to turn this whole thing around and focus on her.

"I'll call Jim, and get back to you. Probably this afternoon." A thought skittered across my mind. "You will be here, won't you?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Of course I will."

I nodded and made a note to put a uniform outside the hotel -- just in case. I started to leave, but she called me.

"Simon?"

"Yeah?"

"You have to understand something."

I turned back to look at her. She was excited and I could see she had really decided to go all out for this.

"I can do this. I'm like the ocean -- very soothing, very calming. A gentle, ever-present warmth. I won't let you down."

"Just don't let Blair down," I growl as I turn again and reach for the door. "I'll be back to get you in a few hours."

I closed the door behind me and let myself sag in the hallway for a moment. Like the ocean, my ass. Maybe if you consider that ocean is always coming and going and dragging crap around with it to leave on the shore -- then maybe she was like the ocean. Maybe if you consider the worst storms in the world originate in the ocean -- then maybe she was like the ocean. Maybe if you consider the ocean is a deep, bottomless nothingness -- then she was certainly like the ocean.

"Like the ocean, my ass," I mutter as I head down the hall to arrange for that uniform to sit on the ocean -- at least until she'd done what she needed to do.