[ Dear Readers:
If you prefer to read episodes of this series without their predecessors, that's fine and I hope you enjoy them that way. Just a heads-up, though: It's not meant to be an anthology. All the episodes (except the first) build on those before them, so you'll probably conclude some things differently from what was intended.
Some of our readers' public and private comments touch on unmentioned matters, just a few of which are safe sex, STDs and common real-world consequences of things and events in the story.
Two chief rules in theatre are, first, everything on stage must have a reason to be there, second, everything that the action requires must be present, whether explicitly or implicitly. It's not much different in written fiction. By the second rule, if a story does not get into some particular issue explicitly or implicitly (for example, indirectly through consequences) then it is irrelevant because the author deems it so and asks the reader to consider that issue adequately handled without mention. Sometimes action may be simplified a little from what is actually meant for the sake of smoothness and avoiding distracting details unnecessary for understanding the scene. A good author has respect for the reader's intelligence and imagination and does not feel compelled to paint every scene with photographic detail.
In short, if it ain't there, it don't matter. Please remember that this is a story, not a case study or the news.]
SECRET NO LONGER
Chapter 17
Waiting for the Axe to Fall
"You were right, Jannie; you were
so
right," I said. Several days had passed since the shocking discovery that Fred was aware of Jason's and my misbehavior, enough that I had found a little bit more energy and was getting a little bit more rest. Not much, but enough to help. "You now have my official permission to say I told you so."
"I told you so," Jannie said, affecting a stern scowl for a while before breaking up with a laugh. "Didn't expect that, now did'ja? Eh?"
"The truth be told, no," I said, managing a hint of a laugh myself, "though knowing you, I should have."
"Now it's you that's turning mind-reader, Lin," said she, glancing slyly over her coffee cup.
"If I do, I'll have learned from the Master, Jannie."
"I humbly acknowledge your praise. No, correct that: not humbly at all," she quipped. "And so now, Linda, the doctor is in. Please lie on the stereotypical couch no therapist since Freud has ever used and pour out your soul."
"There's a hell of a lot to pour, Jannie, and it all smells. Better be ready."
"Ready I am."
"It's the waiting, Jannie, the questions. The uncertainty. Sometimes I think I'd rather hear the worst possible news, as long as I can hear it now. This delay is killing me. Killing us both, really."
"Yes, but consider the good side, Lin. All this time Fred is getting over the shock. He's processing it all. He's
thinking
, Lin, and decisions that are thought out are worth waiting for."
"Then, Jannie, be honest. Do you think that after he had the chance to simmer down and think it all over, that he'll want to come home and try to put our family back together?"
I did not like the time Jannie required to choose her answer, nor did I like the answer once it came.
"Linda," she replied, very quietly and carefully, "I would give a lot for the power to answer that question the way you want it answered. Right now, I am unwilling to even give you odds one way or the other."
I knew she was right, but the words cut through me like ice shards in a blizzard.