Chapter One-hundred Sixty-two: Admission

Chapter 162

Admission

Deimos lay in his bed, spooning Tristan. He wore a pair of blue pajama pants, and Tristan wore his white silk pajamas. Deimos buried his head in Tristan’s hair as he thought about what had happened the night before. He destroyed Diamantina’s nursery, and his mother came home to find it in ruins. She died of a massive heart attack. She’d rather die than face accountability, he thought. That’s some mad determination, he added as he held Tristan close.

~

Ichiro was in his study, chain-smoking cigarillos. He wore a dark red shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his buttons unsnapped at the collar, black pants, and socks. He had the invite link to Fabien’s Bungle Server.

Ichiro: “Now to think of a name where no one suspects me…”

He muttered and typed in “Tengu” for his username when creating a Bungle account.

After he created the account and confirmed it with his email, he clicked the link to join Fabien’s server. He scanned the usernames of the other members. He recognized Jaxon as “RedPepper69,” Jordi as “PurpleLightning, and he thought “SmokeShow” might be Tristan. “DeimosK” was obviously Deimos. “SeigneurMonstre” was Fabien, and then he saw “Green Queen.” He smiled widely, knowing Celeste used the name he put on her, and not the one Jiro did.

Then he saw “BlairDonati.” He uses his full name, he thought.

As he joined, he received a greeting from Fabien. He scowled at it and went through the photos on the server of Fabien with Celeste—his Celeste. There were pictures of Fabien cooking chicken wings for her, making beer-battered onion rings, and grilling a steak while she looked up at him with beseeching eyes.

Then his computer chimed. It was a new message from Blair.

BlairDonati: My aunt, Maria, is staying over and insists on trying Ashley’s baking. I don’t know whether to cry or cry more because I could do both. This week has been horrible. Blake’s lawn mowing woke me up, and it affected Samson’s allergies. Blake looks like a criminal hanging out here, and Gramps pays him out of sympathy. Ivy also gives me chores to walk Samson. I can’t put him in his stroller, so I take him out for walks, and I let him poop in Ashley’s garden. It was the only good thing to happen this week. Everything else was terrible. I waited in line at Wool-Mart to pay for my purchases, and the cards wouldn’t scan, so I had to get another deck so they could scan. They couldn’t give it to me? I had a terrible week. No one loves me.

SeigneurMonstre: Hey, Tengu, welcome to my server!

BlairDonati: Ivy gives me more chores. Pick up this sauce, which has a name not in English. I don’t know these ingredients. Why is she asking me to do this stuff? You know those people in comas? I envy them when she gives me chores. I can’t shed a single tear.

SeigneurMonstre: What sauce did she ask you to get?

BlairDonati: Soy sauce and oyster sauce. This is too much for me. I feel my blood pressure rising now. I squeezed my stress ball, and it exploded. Now my chest hurts. Maybe I am dying because people are giving me chores and shoving Ashley’s lard bottom down my throat. I don’t ask for much, you know.

Ichiro gaped at the screen. This is what Fabien finds joy in?! This sheltered manchild whining about NOTHING?! And acting as if his most significant problems are menial chores and people his grandfather hired to maintain his yard?! He wondered.

~

It was the day of Konstantina’s funeral. The nursery door was left open, with the curtains drawn back to let in some light. The nursery hasn’t seen light in seventeen years, and dust particles floated in the air against the sunbeams.

Deimos was in his bedroom. He wore an Obituary tank top, torn jeans, and black socks. He was on his bed, playing with a stuffed Siamese cat for his kittens.

He stared into the stuffed cat’s beady eyes and recalled the day of Diamantina’s funeral.

Deimos and Lazaros were both six years old and dressed in their little suits. Deimos sat with his brother, parents, and Monica, his eyes fixed on the tiny coffin. Deimos zoned out what the celebrant said and kept his eyes on that coffin, flashing back to seeing his little sister’s corpse in her crib.

He remembered coming home from the funeral and being in his and Lazaros’ bedroom. Before Lazaros left home, he and Deimos always shared a bedroom. A knock sounded on the door, and Monica entered his room with a big smile. She held up a large box wrapped in pastel blue patterned paper. She handed the box to Deimos. Deimos smiled slightly as he tore the wrapping paper open. He lifted the lid and took out a long stuffed Siamese cat with a blue ribbon around its neck. Deimos beamed down at the cat and hugged it tightly. He and Monica hugged each other.

As Deimos went downstairs, he saw Lazaros sitting in front of the TV, vigorously sucking his thumb. On the TV, an overweight woman with a beehive hairstyle was seen eating a four-course meal prepared by the chef, who smiled at her as she ate.

Deimos leaned back in his bed, holding his kitten Leo close as he recalled those memories. Tristan entered Deimos’ bedroom. He wore a white pressed shirt with the collar buttons undone, a gray sweater over it, a black sports jacket, jeans, and black loafers.

Tristan: “Hey, how do you feel?”

He sat on his bed with him, and the two kissed.

Deimos: “I don’t know how to feel.”

Tristan grasped his hand. Deimos smiled and kissed it.

Tristan: “I don’t think I need to ask if you’re going to the funeral.”

He laughed bitterly. Deimos shook his head.

Deimos: “I don’t believe in funerals.”

He said darkly. Tristan nodded.

Tristan: “I am not going out of respect for you.”

Deimos smiled a bit.

Monica stepped in. She wore a gray blouse with a black cardigan over it, a flowing skirt, and black heels. She had her hair in a low bun, secured with a black clip.

Monica: “Hello, Tristan… Deimos, how do you feel?”

She sat on his bed with him.

Deimos: “I don’t know how to feel, Monica.”

He sighed.

Monica: “Your mother loved you very much.”

She grasped his hands.

Deimos: “No, she didn’t. All she did was give birth to Lazaros and me. She wasn’t a mother, though.”

He huffed.

Tristan nodded.

Tristan: “His real mother is right here.”

He nodded to her.

Monica: “Do you mean as in a spirit?”

Tristan shook his head with a smile.

Tristan: “No, Monica, I mean YOU are his mother. You gave him this plush cat, kissed his injuries better when he scraped his knees, attended school plays, helped him with his homework, and were always there to help him with his issues.”

He said genially. Monica smiled.

Monica: “That must have been hard for you to say.”

Tristan: “It would be harder if I didn’t say it.”

He said earnestly.

Lazaros stepped into the house. He wore a black and silver vest with an ornate, brocade-like pattern, a black tie, a black suit jacket, pants, and black Oxfords. The silver part of the pattern on the vest had a metallic sheen, creating a striking contrast with the black base. The vest was worn over a black dress shirt. The shirt had a high, stiff collar and a unique placket that was embellished with parallel small pleats. He gripped Ashley’s hand tightly as they stood by him. They were dressed in a black blazer and matching pants, with a black scarf and a gray shirt underneath, and black sandals on their feet.

Giorgos was on the couch in the living room, dressed in an English-cut black suit, white pressed shirt, black tie, and black Oxfords. Giorgos turned to Ashley and Lazaros.

Giorgos: “Oh, is she going to bring the sweets for after the funeral, or did you make her eat them all, Lazaros?”

He asked him. Lazaros bowed his head. Ashley pursed their lips and rubbed Lazaros’ back. Both, Ashley thought.

Monica came downstairs.

Giorgos: “Is Deimos coming?”

Monica: “No, sir, he’s not. He’s staying here with Tristan.”

Giorgos rolled his eyes.

Giorgos: “I don’t know why I put up with you and your brother, Lazaros. One is apathetic, and the other just shoves food in his girlfriend’s face. Well, indulge, my boy. You earned it.”

He said dryly. Lazaros bowed his head, and his bottom lip trembled. Ashley shifted uncomfortably and held Lazaros close.

Giorgos rose.

Giorgos: “I’ll be driving Monica. I imagine your girlfriend will take you in the new big car you bought for her.”

He muttered to Lazaros. Lazaros bowed his head as Giorgos led Monica out of the house. Ashley turned to Lazaros and placed their hand on the wall of his chest.

Ashley: “I can drive if you need me to.”

They offered gently to Lazaros. Lazaros turned to them and smiled.

Lazaros: “Yeah, would you?”

He asked, tears filling his eyes. Ashley gingerly nodded, taking his hand and leading him out of the house to their 1970 Dodge Monaco Station Wagon.

~

Celeste and Jaxon ascended the stairs of the Katsaros Hacienda. Celeste wore a leopard print halter top, a jean micro mini skirt, sheer thigh-high stockings, and black ankle boots. Jaxon wore a black button-up shirt with a colorful paint stroke pattern, tight black jeans, and Chelsea boots. He peered into the nursery, and his jaw dropped at the damage done. He has been to Deimos’ house several times and never saw what was behind that door.

Celeste entered Deimos’ room, where he and Tristan were, and Jaxon followed.

Jaxon: “Hey, sorry about your mother.”

He said sympathetically.

Deimos: “Why be sorry? She would rather die than face her problems or accountability…”

He grumbled, and his expression relaxed.

Deimos: “But thank you.”

Jaxon smiled a bit.

Celeste: “This is the first time I’ve ever seen that nursery.”

Deimos: “It hasn’t been open in seventeen years.”

He said flatly.

Celeste: “What are you gonna do with it?”

Deimos shrugged.

Deimos: “Leave it so people can see how fucked up we are? It should have been taken down years ago.”

He rolled his eyes.

They all heard Giorgos arrive back home with Monica, followed by Ashley and Lazaros. A few minutes later, they listened as a multitude of people entered.

Ashley had prepared and laid out plates of tiny sandwiches, all devoid of tomatoes, along with bite-sized cheesecakes in various flavors, including strawberry, chocolate, lemon, and classic. Among the selections were tiny Lorraine and spinach quiches, as well as meat pies with mushrooms, along with small bite-sized apple and cherry pies. These were all laid out on a tray by the back door.

Monica: “Oh my, Ashley, these look quite scrumptious! You outdid yourself here, and I thank you for that.”

She patted their shoulder. Ashley smiled at her.

Ashley: “Thank you!”

They beamed and stroked Lazaros’ hand. Lazaros smiled a bit at Ashley.

Demetrio approached Ashley with an overweight Italian woman beside him. Demetrio wore a dark gray suit, a black tie, a white, pressed shirt, and black Oxfords. The woman wore her dark blue, graying hair in a bob. She had a black dress on with a string of pearls around her neck, a black derby hat, and black heels.

Demetrio: “Ashley! Am I glad I ran into you! This is my sister, Maria Donati!”

She held her hand out to them. Ashley turned on their heel, surprised to see Demetrio. Their heart sank when they pondered if Blair was here, too. Ashley maintained their smile and greeted him and Maria.

Ashley: “Hello, Demetrio! Good to see! Nice to meet you, Maria!”

They chirped, gripping Lazaros’ hand and waving at them with the other.

Maria: “Nice to meet you, Ashley! Demetrio and Sylvia said great things about you and your cooking! I hope you can come to our house to prepare a feast for my birthday!”

She said enthusiastically. Ashley swallowed hard and forced a polite smile.

Demetrio: “Would you do that for us, Ashley?”

He asked them. Ashley shifted their gaze to Lazaros. Lazaros stared blankly at the variety of food on the table. Sylvia approached them with a plate of sweets. She wore a black sweater with a white, pressed shirt and a black tie underneath, black pants, and black derby shoes.

Sylvia: “Greetings, Ashley, is something troubling you?”

Ashley: “Oh, hey, Syliva! N-Not at all. I’m just here for Lazaros.”

They tenderly held his hand and gazed up at him with concern.

Sylvia: “Don’t fret. Blair is not here. He didn’t want to attend because Deimos and Lazaros hurt his feelings. Those were his words.”

She told them. Ashley’s shoulders dropped with a sigh of relief.

Ashley: “More like the other way around…”

They muttered under their breath.

Demetrio cleared his throat.

Demetrio: “Would you be willing to prepare Maria’s birthday feast, Ashley?”

He asked them.

Maria: “I would love it! I heard good things about your food! If my brother loves it, I will!”

She smiled pleasantly. Ashley forced a smile, caught between a rock and a hard place. They needed to rebuild their business again and didn’t want to let them down, but also didn’t want to deal with Blair.

Ashley: “S-Sure.”

They forced a smile and nodded.

Demetrio: “I can pay you what you like or donate to a charity for cats of your choice!”

He smiled at them.

Sylvia: “I can try to ensure Blair is on his best behavior.”

She said genially. Ashley was dubious that Blair could be on his best behavior unless Deimos or someone got rid of him, but they smiled and nodded.

Ashley: “Sure, thank you.”

They replied.

Giorgos: “Ah, I love how the sandwiches are void of tomatoes. Thanks, Lazaros! You made her do that so you could feed her!”

He said wryly. Lazaros stared vacantly at his father. Demetrio cleared his throat awkwardly. Ashley knit their eyebrows and looked up at Lazaros. Why does he let his father be mean? They thought.

Ashley: “Actually… I didn’t put tomatoes in them because tomatoes ruin sandwiches and hamburgers.”

They said in a small voice.

They heard a deep French voice say, “Oh my God, didn’t Blair say he wanted to slap you for that?” They turned to see Fabien. He wore a “Dead Dog Café” shirt, jeans, and flip-flops.

Fabien: “I read on The Lonely Nice Guys Forum that Fatley complained about tomatoes on her burger and Blair wanted to smack her stupid!”

He cackled. Demetrio furrowed his eyebrows. Sylvia quirked an eyebrow. Ashley drew a long breath. Not you again, they thought.

Sylvia: “Blair created such a post?”

Fabien: “Yeah, it was him complaining about an ad for chicken fries at Fred’s Burger Castle.”

He laughed. Ashley nodded.

Ashley: “Yeah…, he wanted to hurt me because I don’t like tomatoes, but like, he doesn’t like anything and always complains about everything…”

They pouted.

Demetrio: “Don’t you worry, Ashley. Sylvia and I will be having a word with him.”

He patted their shoulder and nodded.

Sylvia: “Rest assured.”

She said firmly. Fabien snickered. Oh boy, the meltdown in my server and on the forum is going to be priceless, he thought. Ashley smiled a bit with a trace of doubt.

Ashley: “Thank you!”

Fabien picked up a paper plate and filled it with sandwiches. He thrust it to Ashley.

Fabien: “Little pick me up for your boyfriend. You know he wants it.”

He grinned and laughed. He then filled up a paper plate of sandwiches and sweets to take upstairs. Lazaros gaped at the plate of sandwiches in Ashley’s hands. Ashley’s eyes widened, taken by surprise, and they glanced up at Lazaros, staring at them.

Lazaros: “Ashley, eat them. Eat them all.”

He smiled sadly. Ashley looked up at Lazaros, smiling at his smile.

Ashley: “Sure, Lazaros…”

They smiled sadly and nodded, wanting to cheer him up and make him happy through his grief, biting down into the sandwiches. Lazaros licked his lips and bit his bottom lip as he watched them eat the sandwiches. Ashley smiled at his happiness and licked the cheesecake, slowly eating it for him. Lazaros let out a slight moan and relished in watching them eat.

~

Fabien walked by the nursery and gaped inside. He whistled at the sight of the damage and that it was left there for so long.

~

Fabien was in Deimos’ room, and they were all eating together.

Deimos: “Thanks, Fab. I didn’t feel like going downstairs.”

Fabien: “I get it, but guess what? I got this!”

He held up a card with a picture of Borko smiling in a bathtub with Lily. It was a card inviting people to Borko’s funeral at the expense of the Ferraro family.

Fabien: “Anyone wanna come with?”

He smiled.

Deimos: “I don’t give a shit about Borko or the Huang-Ferraro family, so no.”

He muttered.

Tristan: “Same. I have work that day anyway.”

Jaxon twisted his mouth.

Jaxon: “I don’t like funerals.”

He said quickly after recalling Chelsea’s funeral.

Celeste: “I’ll go with you, Fab!”

She piped up. Jaxon knit his eyebrows and looked away. Tristan surveyed his expression. Fabien smiled at her.

Fabien: “You can’t spell funeral without fun!”

He quipped. Celeste laughed. Tristan forced a smile.

~

Later that evening, after all the guests had departed, Deimos slowly made his way downstairs to get something to eat. He saw his father in the living room, staring at the TV. He had his suit jacket removed, his tie loosened, and his buttons undone. He slouched down on the couch.

Giorgos: “First, my daughter, and now my wife.”

He mumbled.

Giorgos: “You and your brother do amazing work, Deimos…”

He raised his glass of whiskey and took a swig.

Giorgos: “When you both want…”

He muttered. Deimos’ face twisted into a scowl.

Deimos: “Don’t you give me that bullshit, Father! You and Mother weren’t supposed to attend that party because Monica was back in Anglia with family! You didn’t get a sitter or anything!”

He hissed as he shot his forefinger at his father. Giorgos drew a long breath.

Giorgos: “It doesn’t matter, Deimos. I’m not angry with you, don’t worry. I fell out of love with your mother years ago, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

He said bitterly.

Deimos froze when he said that and gaped at his father in disbelief. This is the most honest he has ever been with me, he thought as he slowly made his way into the living room to sit on the armchair.

Deimos: “...When did you fall out of love?”

Giorgos drew a long breath.

Giorgos: “Years ago. I don’t know when it happened, but it happened when I realized nothing I could do would ever make her happy. When I suggested changing the nursery into a guest bedroom so that her elderly father wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch, she lost it with me.”

He sighed.

Giorgos: “Our dead daughter came first, even before you boys, before her elderly father, and… me.”

He said grimly.

Giorgos: “I tried getting her into therapy, but she wasn’t cooperative. She just seemed content with being miserable and wallowing in her self-pity.”

He swallowed hard and continued.

Giorgos: “When Hiroto voiced his disdain for his wife, we went to hostess bars. He wanted to show me a good time. I had a better, more enjoyable experience spending twenty minutes with those ladies than I did in the last seventeen years with my wife.”

He laughed bitterly.

Giorgos: “She wasn’t always like this. Unlike Hiroto and Mayumi, it wasn’t an arranged marriage.”

He smiled a bit.

Giorgos: “She used to be so much fun… She brought me out of the miserable life I had and showed me a good time and how to have fun.”

He smiled wistfully.

Deimos: “...Mother died seventeen years ago. Her shell died a few days ago.”

Giorgos stared at his reflection in the whiskey.

Giorgos: “Yeah…”

He whispered and drained his drink.

~

Demetrio and Sylvia had Blair in the dining room. Blair wore his blue kitty hoodie pajamas, which Ashley had bought for him. He had his hands folded and pouted as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Demetrio: “Blair, you have to stop posting on this forum. People are discussing what you’re saying, and I don’t like it! Ashley was nothing but kind to you, and they should feel welcome here!”

He said firmly.

Blair: “Yeah, kindness is rejecting me for a loser feeder fetishist.”

He sobbed. Sylvia sighed.

Sylvia: “Blair, you cannot control Ashley’s choices. Their decisions are their own. You don’t have to agree with them, but if they choose not to pursue a relationship with you, they don’t deserve to be demonized and certainly not hit! Blair, this is below you!”

She chided him gently. Blair sobbed loudly.

Blair: “I am so tired of Ashley coming out winning while I stay here failing!”

He bawled. Sylvia and Demetrio sighed.

Sylvia: “If you’re dissatisfied with how your life is now, do something to change it.”

She said firmly.

Blair: “Why am I being punished when ASHLEY hurt me badly and betrayed me!?”

He cried.

Demetrio: “You made a post online about wishing to harm them. This is why. I don’t want you posting to that forum again.”

He shook his forefinger at him.

Blair: “I am tired of that fat loser tattling on me! I didn’t do anything wrong! It’s always ME who’s being bullied!”

He angrily rose from the dining room table and stormed out.

Demetrio threw his hands up.

Demetrio: “He’s as difficult to speak to as Vanessa!”

Sylvia smiled tightly and patted his arm.

~

Blair went into his bedroom and crashed on his racecar bed, where he cried into Samson.

Blair: “It’s not my fault! I did nothing wrong! I am always being blamed!”

He blubbered.

~

At the Trémaux Château, Tristan marched down the pedway and Oliver dashed ahead of him. Tristan stood in front of his father’s bedroom and knocked.

Tristan: “Papa! Papa! Open up, please!”

He demanded.

After not receiving a response, he sighed and nodded to Oliver, who looked up at him with dewy eyes. Tristan nodded. Oliver went through the door. Victor lay in bed staring off into space. He wore his orange pajamas with his orange plaid robe over them.

Oliver stood on his hind legs and used his paws to unlock the door. When he heard a click, the knob turned, and Tristan entered the room. Tristan heaved a deep sigh.

Tristan: “You’re doing this again?”

He asked sharply. A tear trickled down Victor’s cheek.

Tristan: “I am NOT being like that thing! STOP comparing me to it! I am allowed to get angry and vent! I am not perfect, Papa! You always wanted me to be happy and would get like this if I expressed anger or sorrow!”

He snapped. Victor closed his eyes and sobbed.

Tristan: “You’re allowed to express a myriad of emotions and do! You want to lie in here and feel sorry for yourself, fine with me! But YOU hurt ME! I wasn’t being like that thing!”

He snapped and stormed out, slamming the door shut.

~

Tristan was in the kitchen and glared at the bottle of “Beaumont Bordeaux” wine. It was a magnum-sized bottle with the label being a painted scenery of a vineyard. Tristan clenched his fist tightly. Oliver jumped up and lay on his stomach as his pupils dilated. He put his paw through the bottle. Tristan gasped.

Tristan: “NO, OLLIE, DON’T!”

He shrieked. He hastily picked up the cat and took him to the kitchen sink to wash him off. He paused when he saw something in the sink. He froze when he saw a single green crushed caterpillar. He slowly released Oliver and gazed at it and then at the bottle.