The House of Grey- Volume 3 (16 page)

Regrettably, as so often happened when Brian interjected himself into the conversation, Monson was completely lost as to the point or relevance of his perfectly articulated discourse. Cyann, however, seemed unfazed.

“So if gathering truth is the only way to really understand someone, to understand oneself, then how does one gather truth about another person?”

Monson felt his jaw constrict and he realized what she was asking. He did not like where this conversation was going.

“Why do you ask, Ms. Harrison?”

Cyann’s next movement was curious. She brought her hand up to her mouth and started to nibble at the fingernail on her pinky.

Monson held back a laugh. That was a nervous gesture if he had ever seen one. It made her look younger, more innocent.

Cyann’s response was lost to the opening of Monson’s door.

“Monson honey, could you turn on All Acc
-
”

Molly stopped mid-sentence. “Well, hello there.”

Cyann nodded her head and stood, and walked towards Molly. “Cyann Harrison.”

“Cyann Harrison?” Molly shot Monson a grin so wide she would have a received a callback for the part of the Joker in the next Batman remake. “As in, the daughter of Guy Harrison?”

Cyann dipped her chin once in response.

“Excellent!” exclaimed Molly. She threw her arms around the unsuspecting girl. “I am so happy to meet you! How do you know my Monson? What are your intentions? I will not forgive you if you hurt him, you know.”

Monson was not one to get embarrassed easily. With a face like his, thicker skin was definitely better. This once, however, he wanted to crawl into a hole and bury himself in it.

Artorius and Casey snickered through bites of sandwich. Molly released Cyann, whose expression mirrored Monson’s. As such, it did not surprise him when she said, “Well, if you’re alright, Monson, I’d better go.” She addressed Brian and Molly. “It was very nice meeting you both.” 

Before any of them could respond, Cyann nodded towards Casey and Artorius, walked to the door, and left. Monson did not even have the chance to thank her.

Casey and Artorius rounded on Monson, speaking harshly.

“DUDE, why didn’t you ask her to stay?”

Monson raised his eyebrow. “What? Why would I do that?”

Truthfully, for him it was the exact opposite; he was relieved to have her gone.

“Why would you do that? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? Grey, I swear you’re gonna give me an aneurism. Why would you do that? Maybe because she’s hot to trot and wants you like an Eskimo wants an Eskimo pie.”

“Yeah, Case, that’s another comparison that kind of fails to deliver. Really not enough punch,” said Artorius through a mouthful of food. He slammed a couple of gulps from his soda. “I’m not sure that Eskimos really have anything to do with Eskimo pies. As matter of fact, Casey, do you even know what an Eskimo pie is?”

He chuckled. “How about this one
-
she wants you like Derek Dayton wants
another nose job
.”

Monson laughed. “That was a good one, Arthur.”  

“Arthur! So not helping.” Casey turned back towards Monson. “First of all, what was she doing here and why was she helping you walk? Wait, no, the point is she was HERE and she wanted to stay! Why didn’t you ask
-
”

Monson interrupted. “Casey, you have to stop with the delusions of grandeur. If Cyann really wanted to stay, she would have. She’s not interested in me that way. I’m not interested in
her
that way. She’s weird
-
I’m weird
-
the situation is weird. Just drop it, would you?”

”How do you know that she’s not interested in you? Did you guys have another moment?” asked Casey.

“Yeah Grey, twice in two days.” Artorius spit through gritted teeth. “Twice now we’ve caught you all lovey-dovey with Cyann, and you’re still
-
”

“Monson honey.”

Monson cringed. Molly was about to say her peace. “How is it
possible
that you’ve been spending time with Guy Harrison’s eldest daughter and I didn’t know about it?”

Monson grimaced in frustration. “I’m not spending time with her. We’ve spoken a couple of times. She is not interested in me romantically
-
”

“Who said anything about you two being romantic?” Molly smiled at him smugly like she had just caught him in a lie.

“Lovey-dovey, Grey. Not once but twice, IN TWO DAYS!!” Artorius crossed his arms matter-of-factly.

Molly pursed her lips contemplatively. “Lovey-dovey?”

Casey nodded. “Yeah, that’s the technical term I believe.”

Molly chortled heartily.

“OK, topic change,” said Monson, trying to sound unconcerned.

The impending silence baffled him. “Oh come on, there has got to be something else we can talk about!”

“We can change the topic after you admit that you like that girl, Grey.” Casey mimicked Artorius crossing his arms as he spoke.

Monson rubbed at his temples. Why didn’t they get it? There was so much more happening than they understood.

He answered his own question.

Because you haven’t explained the situation to them,
Monson thought. Yet, seeing as he did not even understand the exact nature of Cyann’s odd behavior, it was not as if he could pass off his speculation as truth. So how was he supposed to explain a hunch?

Monson’s eyebrows creased. Cyann was right, he was an idiot. He quickly made a decision.

“I think that Cyann is a nice girl.”

“And?” Casey, Molly, Artorius and even Brian were hanging on his every word. He saw that this was becoming something of a habit.

“And that’s it. It’s hard to explain, but we aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend and I don’t plan on us being like that. She doesn’t either. It’s as simple as that.”

“Then what is your relationship?” asked Molly.

“Truthfully?” Monson gave her a deathly serious look, trying to instill in her that he was all business.

Molly nodded at the same time, saying, “Just explain to me what she means to you.”

Monson shook his head. “You don’t understand. There are things that you don’t know. Connections that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.”

Shocked surprise filled the room. “Monson honey, what do you mean?”

Monson thought about this, stewing on the information for several moments. “I mean, to define our relationship would force me to tell you something that I promised I would keep locked away. A promise I swore to keep under all circumstances.”

“Can you at least give us a hint?” prompted Casey with rising excitement. “Something to set us on the right track?”

Monson shook his head. “It’s too horrible to speak of. The fact that I’m…that I’m in….”

Molly and the others unconsciously moved towards him as if to coax the words out of him.

Monson finished his thought. “The fact that I’m…in love with my sister. Cyann is my sister.”

The air of disbelief hung heavily around the small gathering.

Artorius rubbed at his stubble. “Grey is adopted.”

Casey echoed the sentiment, drawing the parallel. “Cyan is adopted. Dude, are you serious? Is this really happening?”

Monson hung his head as if weighed down by the tension. He sniffed. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Knowing that I am in love with my sister, it’s too much.”

Monson’s body started to quiver as he wrapped his arms around his chest.

“How did you find out, Grey? How do you know?” Artorius moved towards Monson but stopped when he saw the shaking. “Dude, are you OK?”

“Of course he’s not OK,” answered Casey abrasively. “How could he be?  He just found out that the girl he’s in love with is his
-
”

Casey cut his thought short. “Wait a second. How on earth could you know that Cyann is your
-
”

Monson looked up, tears flowing from his face. Tears, not of startling, life-changing sorrow, but for a successful gag received hook, line and sinker.

Casey and Artorius searched Monson's face, and within a half-second knew.

“Cyann’s not really your sister, is she?” grumbled Casey.

“And you aren’t really in love with her, are you?” added Artorius.

Monson did not comment.

“You were totally playing with us.” They said in unison.

Monson’s merriment gushed forth like the breaking of a massive dam. The laughter was so thick and so heavy he almost lost control of everything related to proper adulthood, from bladder control to breathing. He was laughing so hard that he did not even flinch when two pillows, Molly’s wallet, and a dishtowel struck him at nearly the exact same time.

Artorius pounced on him. “Grey, I think you need to be punished!” He sat on Monson, crushing him under his massive weight.

“Oh come on guys, it was just a joke,” said Monson in an attempt to pacify them all. “You guys give me crap all the time. I get you once and you freak out! How is that fair? Besides, SERIOUSLY, you should have seen your faces!”

A scowl breeched Casey’s brow the instant he said this.

“Grey, you are so
-
”

“Dead? I know.” Monson prepared to defend himself. 

***

Hours later, in the dead of night, Monson awoke. He glanced at the clock.

3:00 a.m., huh?
he thought through the haze of retreating sleep.
At least I was right on the hour. That’s something to be proud of.

Normally, Monson would have been upset or at least very annoyed at waking up at this hour. While his sleep was hardly peaceful, he still needed a great deal of it. He felt tired often, his exhaustion most likely a by-product of the attack on Baroty Bridge.

And it was these defenseless moments in the middle of the night that were so often brutal to his emotional well-being. When he was alone, in the dark, he experienced fear. Between the unknown, day and nighttime nightmares, and lack of memory he was never without something to fear. And this was just the weird stuff. Never mind the mundane like classes, girls and schoolwork. He wondered if he would be able to ever truly erase that feeling of helplessness.

But this time he didn’t mind waking; he wanted to ponder all the events that circled him like hungry vultures. Damion, Baroty Bridge, the cloaked man, his evil and sadistic self, all of them swarmed the borders of his sanity, pricking his person with their stingers of frustration, enigma and fear. How much longer would he have to endure this before something would make sense
?

As if on cue, his phone beeped, indicating an RSS feed update on GossipGuyBlog.com. Casey had been adamant about placing the handy little program on his phone’s web browser. Monson tapped the story.

Dixen here, your shadowy figure in the field, giving you the rough-and-tumble of goings-on at Coren University. Don’t try and figure out who I am, because you never will.
 

So, here’s what’s happening. You got my last update on the brutal attack on Damion “The Diamond” Peterson, then you saw the extra security detail on the way to classes yesterday morning. It is plain to see the question that is burning in everyone’s gut: Who attacked the Diamond and why
-

Monson stopped reading. He already knew who attacked Damion. He did not need to read more conjecture. The browser page slid downward as additional updates loaded. Monson read the taglines under the photos, the first of which was another close-up view of Damion’s completely unrecognizable face.

Despite the school’s refusal to acknowledge the brutal attack on the Diamond, this reporter was able to sneak into the restricted section of the hospital and take these additional pictures for proof.

Monson studied the picture, trying to recognize or find something that might help him understand the events surrounding him and Damion. Nothing came. No flash of recognition or suppressed memory; nothing but foreboding, saturated with uneasiness. He read the blurb again. The school refused to admit his injury? Now that was interesting. It was not as if they could keep it a secret. The kid was a superstar and they were right in the middle of football season. Why on earth would they hide it? What was he missing?

Monson rolled out of bed, no longer tired. He headed to the window seat of his bedroom, pulling at the fleece blanket folded neatly in the corner.

Molly
, he thought with a smile. Of course she would fold it.
Tidy. You always have to tidy up. Cleanliness is next to godliness.

“Godliness,” Monson said in a dull whisper. Molly used this particular expression a lot and he always found it odd.  What is godliness? What was the definition of godliness? Was one godly if one had all the power, but would still not intervene to relieve suffering? Was it godly to allow bad things to happen for no rhyme or reason? Godliness…pssh, what had God done for him lately?