1997
Chapter Nine
Jacob stared at the photo of his mother, decked out in her hippie gear, topless for the world to see. His Mother! The woman he knew as the most uptight person on the planet – the most conservative person on the planet, nothing like the depiction of this young woman in the black and white photo. The look on her face, he had seen before. His mom always got this slightly sly smile and had a twinkle in her eye when she had made up her mind about something, felt she was right, and was ready to lower the boom. He did not see it a lot in the last couple of years, but he had seen it, and he knew it often came with news he was not going to like. It seemed funny in a way that some photographer had managed to capture that moment – that look – that troubled him.
He had thought he’d been lucky tonight. Besides a difficult start with Tammy, he had managed to do what he had not planned to, and finally ask her out. He worried the old coot in the pick-up truck might show up and ruin it for him, but he had not. Instead, Tammy had said, “Yes.” It had been fantastic, and he suddenly knew what people meant when they said they felt like they were on Cloud Nine.
Then Tammy found the photo.
The photo he knew was placed there by the old coot with the pick-up truck.
The old coot who seemed determined to torment him.
He had no explanation for Tammy. How many times do you find a topless photo of your mother on a playground, just after you have asked your first girl out on a date? Add to that someone has written the word ‘Sin’ in some sort of red substance, which your imagination tells you can only be blood, and bottom line, it is hard to explain. It raises one hell of a lot of questions, and you do not have any answers.
Days ago, his biggest troubles were he wanted to ask Tammy out, but was as cowardly as they come, and U2 had dropped a less than stellar album on him, that he still did not understand. He had managed, miraculously, to take care of the Tammy problem, and as Stanley had explained to him, creative artists like to experiment, especially when they are as successful as U2, so he just had to be patient and tolerant as chances are, if the Pop CD did not sink the band, they would be back with something better in the future. As a fan it was his duty to let the band indulge themselves. Of course, Stanley was still into the Spice Girls; Jacob did not know how it affected his observations on U2, but knew that somehow it must, and significantly.
Now, he had a topless, hippie Mother.
Now, that did not make sense.
Instead of glorying in his success with Tammy, and how he was going to rub that fact in his friends faces when he saw them tomorrow, he was preoccupied with the photo.
Jacob realized he knew very little about his mother and her past. She spoke very little about herself; as far as he could tell, she was just there to tell him the things he was not allowed to do. He had asked about his Father, who had left the two of them when Jacob was very young (or, as far as he knew, the two of them had left his father when he was very young), but his mother always said very little about him, saying he was not worth discussing and was better left forgotten. He did not feel the same way, but was not about to argue with his Mother and force the issue; he had not developed the nerve to do so yet, even though he really did want to know about his Father and what had happened.
He had tried a different tack with his mother, asking about her family, his grandparents and whether he had any aunts and uncles. The answer had been simple; she had been an only child and both her parents were dead. That was all he could get out of her and based on her attitude and tone when he brought such matters up, he learned quickly it was best not to press her on such issues. She did not want to talk about the past.
Not talking about the past had been easy, except for those rare moments when curiosity got the better of him. Like every child, who turned into a teenager, life quickly became all about him. As far as he and his friends were concerned, they were the center of the universe. They, and what they felt and thought, was all that mattered in the World, as they, in their youth, were the most relevant individuals on the planet. What they liked was the most important, like when it came to music. Their music was the best, and while there were a few exceptions, he did like bands like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and The Who, for the most part, the music of his mother’s generation was old and not worth paying too much attention to. The same with movies and actors, and just about everything else in life; the past was the past, and the only thing that mattered was the here and now, as the here and now was theirs.
They were enlightened; they knew stuff, and their parents, well, they all saw their parents going about their lives in as boring a fashion as they possibly could. They got up, went to work, came home, had dinner, watched a bit of TV, and not always the good shows, and then went to bed and repeated it all the next day. There was nothing exciting about any of their parents, so it was natural to assume that each one of them came from an equally unexciting past. It had never once dawned on him or his friends that their parents had been as young as them at one time; it had never dawned on them that their parents might have also felt the same way they did. None of their parents could have ever loved a band and music as much as he did U2 and the other bands that spoke to him and his sensibilities; none of their parents could ever have had the hopes and dreams that he and his friends had for their future, because if they did, where the hell did all those hopes, and dreams go to? Surely his mother’s dream was not being a legal secretary for a small law office in a small town? If it was, then his mother had absolutely no idea how to dream properly, as far as he was concerned. While life in Fergus was not bad, it was a nice little town; he could not believe all those parents, getting up every day and going to their mundane jobs, had not dreamt that would be their future.
Believing their parents had ever wanted anything was a stretch, as he and his friends knew they were just there to keep them from having too much fun – that was their purpose, and they did it well – for the most part.
Then there was the photo of his young Mother. That was the other disbelief, and one none of them ever thought about, as it was just to gross to contemplate. In the photo, his mother was young, beautiful, and half-naked – a sexual human being. The person who took this photo, and the others around her, as she seemed to frolic topless, what did they think about her? There were several guys in the photo, sitting around, what were their thoughts of his mother as she pranced around like that? He could only imagine, and those thoughts made him uncomfortable. Chances are most of those in the photo watching her, wanted to do it with her. It was the ultimate unthinkable.
In Jacob’s circle of friends, the fastest way to gross out any of them was to suggest their parents had sex, and were still having sex with one another. Sure, they were obsessed with sex, but that only seemed natural, as they were young, and sex was theirs to discover and explore, if the chance ever presented itself, but their parents? It was always fun to point out to one another from time to time that the only reason they were here was because at one point their parents had sex. That revelation was often followed by a declaration of, “Not my parents, I’m adopted.” And even if any of them were willing to openly acknowledge they were the product of their parents being horny, they were all pretty sure their parents only had sex once, at least in his case. A few of his friends, who had brothers and sisters, had to admit their parents only had sex as many times as they had kids. It was still a gross thought, but it seemed reasonable in their minds. The bottom line was parents were not sexual, and never really could have been, and that parents, in general, were boring.
The bottom line was no one’s parent ever walked around topless looking like a ridiculous hippie – it just was not natural.
No one did, except his mother.
Jacob was disturbed.
“You, okay?” asked Tammy, as Jacob approached her on the sidewalk.
He had seen her waiting for him; this had been the first time that happened. He was both excited she had, and worried; he had spent a lot of time last night thinking about the photo and the word ‘SIN’ scrawled across it and imagined she had thought about it also. He was afraid she had thought about it so much, she had decided it was all too weird, and the best course for her was to tell him she could not go to the dance with him.
“I don’t know,” he said, honestly.
“Did you tell your mother about the photo we found?” she asked.
“No bloody way,” he said. “I can’t show her that.”
They started walking.
“What are you going to do?” she asked. “It’s kinda freaky, you know.”
“Tell me about it,” he said.
They walked for a couple of seconds in silence.
“How much do you know about your parents?” he finally asked her.
“What?” she said.
“Your parents,” he repeated, “How much do you know about them? You know their past and what not?”
“I don’t know,” she said, thinking about it. “I know, for the most part they can’t stand one another these days, but in the past...”
Tammy thought some more. “...I mean, I know my aunts and uncles, we’ve gotten together from time to time at family functions and what not,” she said. “I’ve seen photos of when my parents were younger and when I was younger.”
“You ever see your mother topless,” asked Jacob. It sounded a little more defensive and challenging than he would have liked, but it had slipped out, nonetheless.
“No, Mom tended to wear tops in most of our photos,” she said, ignoring Jacob’s tone. She figured he would still be upset this morning, as who wouldn’t?
“This is probably the first time you’ve seen your mother topless,” said Tammy, “but surely you’ve seen her that young before. You know, in family photos and what not. It’s kinda cool knowing your mom was a hippie though, my Mom could never have been that cool, nor my Dad.”
Jacob stopped walking. It took a couple of seconds for Tammy to realize this. She turned to face him. “What?” she asked. She could see he was deep in thought.
“That’s it,” he said, not specifically to her, but more to himself.
“What?” she asked.
“Family photos,” he said, “you’ve got them all around your house, right. Hanging on the walls and stuff?”
He was just guessing here; Jacob had never been in Tammy’s house, but he had been in the homes of his friends, and invariably, somewhere on a wall or on a mantle were family photos. In some homes, like Eric and Ernie’s the photos were everywhere.
“Yeah, there are photos around the place,” said Tammy, “What of it?”
“Shit,” said Jacob, “I’ve never really paid attention before. There are no photos at home, no family photos anywhere.”
“Really?” said Tammy. She had known Jacob, or of Jacob for quite some time, and always thought he was nice, but these last couple of days, in getting to know him, he had gone from being an ordinary guy like everyone else, to someone mysterious, and possibly dangerous. There was the old guy in the pick-up calling him ‘SIN’, now there was a photo of his mother with the word emblazoned across it, and now the fact he and his mom lived differently from everyone else, without the usual photos of family everywhere, or at least somewhere. She did not want to admit it to herself, but this aspect of Jacob Sandler kind of thrilled her.
“There’s got to be,” he said, almost to himself.
“Got to be what?” she asked.
“Photos, or something, somewhere,” he said.
“You think so,” she said.
“Only one way to find out,” he said. “Fuck school. Mom’s hiding something, I know it. I have to find it. What do you say, want to help me look?”
She had no idea that he did not understand it was a stupid question, as, of course she wanted to help him look.
Jacob was not the type to snoop. As he got older, and it had become more important to him he have some privacy and his mother respected that privacy, they had developed a mutual agreement to give each other their space. It was not that his mother was indifferent to him and what he was doing; in actual fact, she seemed always concerned for him, as if she knew the world was this horrible, horrible place where just about anything could happen – anything bad that is. At the same time, at least within their household, she gave him the space he needed and wanted, especially as he raced into those teenage years. As they operated, if he had a question or needed to know something, all he had to do was ask his mother; of course, if she did not feel like answering him, like questions about the family he never knew, her family, she simply told him straight out she did not want to talk about that. It might seem harsh, but it was quite simple. His mother always told him people had a tendency not to say what they meant, so you had to be a mind reader, trying to figure out the true purpose of their words. She also pointed out that nine times out of ten, whatever you figured out, would probably be wrong. In actual fact, if pressed, Jacob would describe his mother as being very smart, although he would not want to publicly admit that, nor let her know he thought that.
So, presently, it appeared as if he was betraying a trust. The decision on the sidewalk had been quite easy; he and Tammy would skip school today, head back to his house, and ransack the place looking for anything that would tell him about his past. His mother would be at work all day, so they would have some time, and despite having lived in the house for years, he realized he kept to certain areas within it, having never checked out what was stored in the attic, the garage, parts of the basement, or in his mother’s bedroom, the large master bedroom. For all he knew, stored somewhere there, safe because of his indifference, where the answers to questions he suddenly wanted to know.
He and Tammy had started in the attic, the most likely place for storage.
The day was somewhat surreal. He and Tammy had headed back to his house, and Tammy, the Tammy Books, had, for the first time ever, entered it. He, Jacob Sandler was alone in his house with Tammy Books. There was a slight excitement about that, as he realized they were alone, and anything could happen, but deep down, he also knew that was not true; they were alone and absolutely nothing, at least sexual, was going to happen, simply because, they presently did not have that kind of relationship, and because, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he really was not prepared for that kind of a relationship with a girl; it still seemed a little too scary, and if he were even to try and make a move, he would probably only make a fool of himself. He liked Tammy, and enjoyed spending time with her, so he really didn’t want to mess things up by acting the fool. Little did he know that much like him, Tammy was not ready for any sexual relationship with a boy – they were both on the same page. And, while that was true, he would be able to dine out for weeks with his friends when they discovered he and Tammy skipped school and spent the whole day alone in his house.
“This is a cool space,” said Tammy, taking in the attic, “you could turn this into a really cool bedroom.”
“I guess,” said Jacob. He had never really spent much time up here, as there had been no need to. They rented a three-bedroom house, and there was only the two of them. There was no need to utilize every single space.
Stacked to one side of the room, were a bunch of boxes; off to one side was a wooden chest, and just various other items, that had once been used, and instead of being thrown out once they had outlived their usefulness, were relegated to the barren wasteland of the attic.
“So, what do you want to do?” asked Tammy.
He looked at her. “I guess we just start looking through boxes. Hope we find something in one of them.”
And that’s what they did.
The boxes were dusty – they had been up there for quite some time. With each box he grabbed he felt a sense of anticipation and the hope this one would reveal some secrets. They revealed a lot, or more specifically that his mother was a bit of a pack rat. Tucked away in many of the boxes was a bunch of old clothes, including his baby clothes, and toys. In some boxes they actually found empty boxes of items his mother had bought, that were being stored away, because she was afraid to throw them out, as one day, who knows, maybe they might be needed; based on this line of logic, his mother was storing empty boxes in empty boxes she had acquired for that express purpose. It seemed silly, but it seemed like something a parent would do. It was a lot like the bag of plastic bags that his mother kept down stairs in the room with the washer and dryer. They were for use if needed, but they really never needed that many, and instead of shrinking from use, it seemed their collection of plastic bags was growing and growing. He often thought he should just throw the bag of plastic bags out but was not sure it would not shock his mother and give her a stroke.
“Oh, this is cool,” said Tammy, having opened one of the last boxes. Jacob looked over to her as she pulled a photo album out of the box. “There’s more in there” she said, as she sat down on the floor, prepared to look through the album.
Jacob joined her, pulling another photo album out of the box. This had been what they were looking for. He was secretly excited.
“That’s you, isn’t it?” asked Tammy, pointing to a black and white baby photo, of a recently newborn child.
Jacob looked over. “I guess it is,” he said.
“You were cute,” she said.
“Were cute?” he asked, smiling at her.
“Some of it has worn off,” said Tammy, with a big smile on her face, “but I guess there’s a bit remaining, but just a bit.”
“Thanks,” said Jacob.
“You know,” said Tammy, “you kind of look like Phil Collins.”
“Phil Collins?” said Jacob. He was aware of the singer, both as a solo artist and part of Genesis; his music was all right, but not something Jacob would add to his music collection.
“Yeah,” said Tammy, “I actually think every newborn baby looks like Phil Collins.”
Jacob had to laugh. She was on to something.
They continued flipping through the photo albums, Jacob rushing through it and reaching into the box to get another one; Tammy was taking her time, taking in each photo, seemingly enjoying herself.
“So, you were a Batman fan,” she said. Jacob looked over to see she was looking at a photo of him at the age of five, dressed as Batman; it was Halloween.
“Yeah,” he said.
“I’ll bet if we look in enough boxes up here, we can find that costume.”
Jacob laughed. “I wouldn’t bet against that,” he offered.
While Tammy was enjoying her journey through photos from his childhood, Jacob was not. Each photo album he pulled out of the box, and there were eight altogether, merely featured photos of him and his mother and their life’s journey with one another. Not a single photo album featured photos of his mother when she was a young girl, or of her family, her parents, or any brothers and sisters. When Tammy had discovered the photo albums, he had thought, finally, something, but instead it had turned out a bust. Frustrated and a little annoyed, Jacob moved on to the remaining boxes and the wooden chest, while Tammy finished looking through the one photo album, and picked up another he had discarded.
“There’s nothing in any of them about my mother’s past,” he said, as he opened another box.
“That’s all right,” she said, opening the next album, “I’m having fun.”
The attic had been a bust – a huge disappointment; he had not found anything he was looking for. Tammy had offered her only consolation by pointing out that at least they had found photo albums of him as he grew up. Not finding any family photos would have been weird, but not finding any photos of him growing up, and realizing that a mother had not taken photos of her only child as he grew up, would have been even more disturbing. She had a point.
They moved to the basement next. There was a crawl space down there, under the sunken living room, where more boxes and crap had been stuffed. They had to crawl under there and shove boxes out, so it was a bit of a pain in the ass, but, he hoped, maybe it was down here that what he was looking for was being hidden.
“What would you do, if we opened a box and in it you found all this leather gear, like knee-high boots, maybe a whip, you know stuff like that?” asked Tammy.
“What?” he asked.
“You know,” she said, “if you suddenly realized your mother was a kinky girl, a dirty girl with a kinky past?”
“I’m going to throw up,” said Jacob.
Jacob continued shoving boxes out from the crawl space. They turned up about as much information as the items in the attic. By the time they had finished with the items in the crawl space, and put everything back, it was time for lunch. He and Tammy headed to the kitchen, where Tammy took over, telling him she made a killer grilled cheese sandwich. Luckily his mother had recently done the shopping, so they had everything Tammy needed.
“So, how are your parents doing?” asked Jacob, as Tammy prepared lunch.
“They’re fucked,” said Tammy, “Totally fucked.”
“Sorry to hear that,” said Jacob. “Who knows, maybe it’ll blow over. You know, get better.”
“I highly doubt that,” said Tammy. “My Dad’s fucking someone else. I don’t know her. I don’t know who. Who knows, maybe he loves her. He’s such an asshole.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s only a matter of time, before he leaves, I figure,” said Tammy. “The fights are getting to be too much. It sounds weird, but right now, based on what’s been going on, I think it will be a relief if he leaves. I just can’t take the fighting anymore.”
“What then?” asked Jacob.
Tammy paused. She had the grilled cheese sandwiches in a cast iron pan. Unlike his mother, when she used to make him grilled cheese sandwiches, Tammy not only added cheese, but chopped up tomatoes and some bacon. It all smelled terrific.
“I don’t know,” said Tammy, after a few thoughtful moments. “I guess me and my mother will have to figure out how to get along by ourselves. I don’t even know if she can. It’s really fucked up. I wish I was older and could just get away from the two of them.”
Jacob really did not know what to add to that; he sympathized with Tammy, and wished her parents were not fighting, and her father wasn’t cheating on her mother, but he was, and there was nothing he could think of to say that would make her feel any better about it all. He could try but knew he would probably sound like an idiot. Luckily, Tammy did not want to talk about it anymore and just brought over the sandwiches.
He sensed it was time to lighten things up. “So, who do you listen to?” he asked. Secretly he prayed she would not say The Spice Girls.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I like Lenny Kravitz, also Mariah Carey.”
It would have been too much to hope she would say U2; he had heard Lenny Kravitz, seen the music videos on TV, and he was not too bad, much better than he would have thought, so that seemed all right. Mariah Carey, on the other hand, really wasn’t his cup of tea, although from a standpoint of sexiness, she ranked right up there amongst his fantasy favourites. He could acknowledge she was a great singer, just not the type of songs he liked to listen to.
“Here’s one that will throw you,” said Tammy, “I’m also a fan of Aerosmith. I like their old stuff, but also, I really like a lot of the new stuff, since their comeback.”
That was surprising. No mention of The Spice Girls or anyone as lame as that, and despite Mariah Carey, she also had a rocker girl edge to her as well. That was promising.
“What about U2?” he asked.
What would he do if she dissed the band? U2 were brilliant, what if she did not think so? Could he still take her out? He thought about that for a second and realized despite how much he liked Bono and the boys, she was a pretty female who was willing to go out with him, and that more than anything, trumped all else. Jacob figured that if the difference between hanging out with a girl like Tammy, and possibly one day developing a sexual relationship with her depended on him not liking U2, he would probably be willing to burn all of his U2 CDs and call the band every name in the book. Even at this young an age, he suspected the power and lure of the female was stronger than even he knew, and even right now he was experiencing some of that power and knew how much he enjoyed and wanted it to continue. Right now, talking to Tammy, he was in Heaven.
“They’re okay,” she said. “I like them.”
‘Okay’ seemed underwhelming in describing his favorite band, but it was better than her saying they were ‘crap.’
“I like their stuff,” she continued, “but I was getting tired of Bono’s moody look and attitude during those early years. I like the fact they seem to be having more fun nowadays.”
Okay, she was criticizing Bono, but she was cute; as far as he was concerned, Bono had never been that cute.
“Have you heard their new album?” he asked.
“No,” she said, “Just saw the new music video. It seems different. Kinda out there for U2.”
“It is,” he said.
“So, who else do you like?” she asked.
“Well, U2’s my band,” he said, “and then there’s R.E.M., Tom Petty, Def Leppard, Nirvana, Green Day, Foo Fighters, bands like that.”
“What about Oasis?’ she asked.
“Not bad, I guess,” he said. “I also like Aerosmith.”
They continued making small talk. He had discovered what he wanted to know; Tammy, despite being a girl, had good musical taste. That only made her seem that much more exciting.
After lunch they moved on to the garage, and much like the attic and crawl space in the basement, there was absolutely nothing to tell him about his mother’s past. She was as much a mystery to him, as she had been when they had started.
That left his mother’s bedroom. Jacob had hoped by now he would have found what he was looking for. Snooping through the attic, basement and garage all seemed perfectly fine, as these were common areas he and his mother shared or were expected to share. There were only two rooms in the house that were exclusive to each of them, those being his bedroom, which she was not allowed in, and her bedroom, which was off limits to him. It was not spoken, but instead an unwritten rule and how they lived. Heading into the master bedroom and going through her stuff, really felt like a violation. It was likely, if she had something she did not want him to see, it would be hidden in her bedroom. It was the only place left to look. For the first time today, he felt like he was doing something completely wrong.
Tammy was impressed with his mother’s bedroom; she liked how it was decorated, or at least commented on it. He half heard what she said but was still conflicted by what he was doing and how wrong it was. Jacob thought of the photo Tammy had found on the jungle gym, the word ‘SIN’ written across it, and decided no matter how bad a violation it was, he needed to find out more about his mother.
He and Tammy were much more careful in his mother’s bedroom than they had been looking through everything else; it was important they did not make a mess, but kept things tidy; he did not want his mother to know he had been snooping through her room, for two reasons, the first being, he was embarrassed doing so, and secondly, he did not want to set a precedent, opening the door for her to feel she had a right to begin snooping through his room.
The master bedroom turned up absolutely nothing. It was getting close to two, and they had been snooping around his house since about ten in the morning. They had covered a lot of ground but had turned up absolutely nothing. His mother’s past, whatever it was, and whoever had been in it, was as foreign to them as when the day dawned. He did not want to admit it, but he was disappointed. It was almost as if before he came along, his mother did not exist. Why had she taken such pains to keep it a secret? Why would she keep it a secret from him, her only son?
Jacob sat on the bed in the master bedroom, as Tammy sat on the edge of it. They had been careful to leave everything as it had been when they arrived, and he was pretty sure they had done a good job in that. He was so disappointed that it did not even register with him he was in a bedroom with the girl he liked, and they were all alone. Normally this would have secretly thrilled him, as he thought of what could happen, at least in his fantasies, but he was too tired and upset as to how the day had turned out. Of course, later, at some point when he was telling his friends about this day, he would mention how they were alone in the bedroom and Tammy was on the bed; deep down they would know nothing happened, but in their sexually immature, adolescent minds, it would be a big deal.
“Shit,” said Jacob.
“Your Mother store stuff anywhere else?” asked Tammy.
“No,” said Jacob, “I don’t think so.”
Tammy fell back on the bed, laying there, quiet. Jacob just sat there, lost in his thoughts. He had no idea what to do now. He had no idea if there was anything he could do. He knew asking his mother was not a good idea, as he knew if she knew about the photo and the old coot that had left it for him, she would want to bolt and leave Fergus and that was not acceptable.
“I’ve got it,” said Tammy enthusiastically, as she sprang up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “There’s nothing here in the house that can help you, and you can’t ask your mother, so there’s only one way left...”
She paused and smiled. Jacob was intrigued.
“...the old guy,” she said, “the one who bothered us the other night. He knows something; he has answers for you. Hell, Jacob, he started all this. We don’t need your mother to tell us anything, we just have to find him and make him tell us what he knows.”
Jacob had never considered confronting the old coot, but Tammy was right. If he wanted answers, he was going to have to take drastic action to do so. She was right, the only problem being, where was the old coot, and how the hell was he going to get him to talk?