Ancestral

Kindred Spirits

“His name was Robin. He was the son of one of the gardeners, about five years older than me. Sometimes he would come in with his father to help out.” Mark was not wearing the tie and vest he had on earlier. I guessed they were part of his uniform. Instead, he was sporting a simple knit vest. I wondered who had made it for him, it fit him perfectly and the color accented the green flecks in his eyes. He was waiting for me when I got there. It wasn’t a real restaurant, only a pub, but he had suggested it, saying he didn’t feel comfortable going there alone, but liked the food. “I loved it when robin came to help. He did a lot of the heavy lifting, and sometimes, when it was hot, he would take off his shirt. He was so beautiful. I think he had figured out that I liked watching him and seemed to enjoy the attention. And I think sometimes he took off his shirt just for me. Anyway, one day my dad saw me watching him. I guess I was a little too obvious. I didn’t know anyone else was around, so I had let my guard down a little bit. That night he confronted me and made it clear I was no longer welcome in his house or in the family. I was to be disowned and banished.” He fell silent, reliving that awful moment when his family threw him away.

“Do you miss them?” I didn’t really know what to say.

“Sometimes,” he mused. “But I usually don’t let myself think about it. I’m here now and nobody really knows. They all just think I’m shy, but I’m not. I just don’t let them see who I really am.”

I could be discreet, but I had never been able to pretend I was something I wasn’t. How could I? That was how I made my living.

“That’s the hard part, really,” he continued, “Living a lie. I don’t have any real friends, friends who know who I really am and aren’t horrified.”

“Neither do I,” I responded. “the girls at the Hathaway know who I am and treat me like one of their own, but they’re not really friends, just co-workers. I saw how quickly they abandoned Maggie. I imagine they would do the same to me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had lost someone recently. You were close?” He heard how my voice caught when I said her name.

“Six months ago.”

“Well then, it’s good we finally found each other,” he said in an attempt to lighten the conversation. “Are you still willing to be my friend now that you know my secrets?”

I looked at him in surprise. He was honestly questioning and there was a hint of worry in his voice. “Of course. You have really admitted to nothing more than being attracted to men and being disowned because of it. There’s no shame in that.” I paused. “the real question is will you still want to be my friend once you know my secrets?” I had a lot more to hide than he did.

He seemed unphased. “Try me.”

I told him about how I got by when I first arrived in the area. “I remember, he said with a smile. Captain Carleton and Captain Foster were friends. I knew about your arrangement almost as soon as it started. I even thought about trying to get to know you, but I couldn’t get the nerve up to approach you. I knew how happy you made him and thought you might even be in love with him. He was certainly smitten with you.”

I blushed and hesitated for a moment before I told him of the time I spent in the city. How I had not only sold myself, but at times resorted to stealing and even a little blackmail to get by. He listened intently. I finally told him about how my father and uncle had beat me and sold me to various men who were passing through. "I wasn’t even sure how they knew I liked other boys, they figured it out somehow and I had no one who would stand up for me, so I ran away and sold myself because I didn’t know how to do anything else."

When I finished, he sat in silence for a minute. I worried that I might have said too much, but if we were really going to be friends, he had to know it all. When he looked up there were tears in the corners of his eyes. “I had no idea,” he said, trying to keep his composure. “I can’t…” He faded to silence as he took in all I had said.

“I understand," I said quietly. How could anyone be my friend after what I’ve done. Maybe loving other men is evil. Maybe I’m evil. I don’t deserve friends or happiness…”

He stopped me by placing his hand on mine. “No.” He said firmly. “You deserve happiness more than anyone else here. After all you’ve been through? I thought my family was bad, but they never did the things to me that your family did to you.” He looked directly into my eyes. “You’re not evil. The world is evil, the world that forced you to believe you could do nothing more than sell your body.” He removed his hand, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. “Do you like selling yourself?”

I had never thought to ask myself that. It just seemed so natural at this point. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “It pays well and it’s usually not all that hard work. I tried getting a job in a factory once, but I was exhausted all the time and I didn’t get much money at all. Didn’t seem worthwhile. Much easier to just…” I raised an eyebrow to finish the thought.

He smiled. “I can believe that. I was brought up way too respectable to even consider it as an option. I’ve been stuck in menial jobs since I was disowned. Tedious and depressing.”

At this point our food arrived and the conversation turned to more pleasant topics. I finally asked him who made the sweater vest and he blushed. “I did.” He admitted. “I’ve been knitting since I was ten.”

“Wow,” I admired, “I never learned how to do anything with my hands like that.”

“I could teach you if you want.”

I smiled at this. It would be interesting to learn, but more importantly, it would be an excuse for us to get together again, and for him to hold my hands. I liked him and wanted to spend time with him. I wasn’t thinking about sex yet. Sex was just my job, it wasn’t something I did with people I cared about, and I was definitely beginning to care about Mark. “I’d like that.”

* * *

I could hear a faint beeping sound. As it grew stronger, the pain in my head came back to haunt me. I moaned and raised one hand to my head. “He’s waking up!” I heard a voice yell. It was followed by the sounds of many footsteps rushing to my side.

“Joey?” The voice was quiet and gentle. “Can you hear me?”

I tried to nod, but any movement made me feel like I was going to be sick. I could feel hands doing something to one of my arms, and another cold compress on my head. I managed to open my eyes briefly and could just make out a doctor leaning over me as a nurse busied himself with my arm.

“I’m doctor Morgan,” she said. “We’re giving you something for the pain. Do you remember what happened?”

“I…tripped.”

She laughed, “Yes you did.” She seemed relieved that I could speak and that I could remember what happened. If only she knew all that I could remember. Memories of my own, and the memories Sylas was showing me. “The medicine will make you sleep,” she continued, “so just relax and let yourself go. In the brief moment after the drugs started taking effect but before I finally fell asleep again, I was able to look around enough to see Mr. Phipps and Ben sitting together in the corner watching. Mr. P. had his arm around Ben and looked worried, but Ben was in tears and seemed inconsolable. I couldn’t think clearly, and the medicine was taking me. I tried to reach out to them, but I had not strength or will, and the room just faded away.