My Kind of Town
My Kind of Town
Reality sucks
>> Queen's Medical Center
The story of her mother's bachelorette party as told by her cousin Quinn -- no, she had to stop thinking of him like that -- made Lily Ah Sun's head swirl, her stomach churn. She picked up photocopied newspaper story from the stack on the nightstand beside Quinn's bed, a Donnelly column that included a mug shot of Bobo Ah Sun.
Now she knew why he looked so familial.
Quinn saw the look on Lily's face as she gazed at the photo of her real father. Far from closure, she was angry and had only more questions.
"So my mother," she said, spitting out that last word derisively, "decided to have one last little fling before her wedding night and..."
"Whoa, Lil, hold on." He took a deep breath. This was where it got sinkhole heavy. "What my mom told me, Bobo was, and I quote, a horndog."
"I gathered that from the postcards. Every one he mentions 'hooking up' with a wahine. So my mother was just another conquest."
"That's not what my mom thinks."
That, Lily knew, left just one ugly possibility.
"My mom," he continued, "said Bobo came on to her a couple of times at family get-togethers. She was pretty frank, said she thought he had a sex addiction. Lily, my mom thinks that when Bobo was driving Auntie Grace home he raped her."
The tears came all at once then, one instant her cheeks were dry, the next salty waves were splashing across them.
"Oh, Quinn!" she said as he pulled her into his broad, muscular chest. "I figured it out years ago that I was born not quite eight months after my parents were married. I always thought I was a love child. It was kind of a romantic idea, you know? But now, my God, I'm a rape child!"
Sobbing, she wadded up the image of Bobo and angrily threw it against the wall, then let Quinn hold her and kiss her tears and stroke her hair, and for a long time the only sound was her anguished sobbing.
But at last the sobs and the tears began to ebb. Quinn gently cradled her head in his big, strong hands, kissed her lips, and she kissed back, knowing this is where she wanted to be for the rest of her days. Nights too.
Quinn gently wiped away the last tear, took her hands in his. "Sometimes reality sucks," he said.
The guy did have a way with words.
"I know."
"But look at the good side."
"There is one?"
"Oh yeah."
She couldn't imagine.
"I can't call you cousin any more, Lily. But I could call you my wife. If you'd marry me."
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com