The Peacock 1227

 It's quite a cool morning out here on the deck, so I am still wearing Dad's dark blue housecoat.  Sheeba the cat is keeping me company in the next chair.  The sky is overcast and the fragrant air a vibrancy redolent with birdsong.  All appears quiet in the home of Chelsea's grandmother, where she appears to have set up camp.  I wonder if she will end up living there long term?  Tomorrow is Saturday, when she will be coming over for dinner and then to cut and colour our hair.  It would be interesting to get George and Jeffrey, and of course, Jesús, in on the act.  Do I really want green hair?  Or perhaps purple?  I wonder how I would look as a blonde.  I have never been a blonde before.  Never in my life.  I may be part Mexican, but I look way more like my mother than like my father.  People have always mistaken me for Latino.  Not really a mistake.  And maybe it is time to learn Spanish?  I could ask Jesús to teach me.  Well, as they say, there is a first time for everything.  I am really looking forward to getting my car back tomorrow. Now it is sure that I will never have to return again to that horrible mansion.  And I will also have some independence from Carl.  He's not going to like that much... 

The Peacock 1226

 This search on google for Jesus as a teenager is anything but rewarding.  What comes up first are several entries on a rock band called Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, which I am not about to dignify with my very limited curiosity.  Then there is the esoteric claptrap that from thirteen to twenty-nilne he was traveling in India and learning from Buddhist monks and Hindu sages.  just one little bit seems to make sense, that it wouldn't be for another four hundred years that he would become famous enough for anyone to want to ask those kinds of questions, so likely he spent that time in his life just hanging out and learning to be an adult.  But that kid in the dream, the same kid who gave Carl that lemon balm, who is he really?

The Peacock 1312

 Carl is calling someone on his phone.  "Hello Mel.  This is Big Brother."

"Yes, Carl", says her voice on speaker phone.  "Where are you."

"I am in Christopher's car along with Sarah and Jesús.  We have just arrived in Richmond.  What's this I hear about how things have been going lately."

"That all depends.  Are you going to accept her word over mine?"

"I haven't yet heard your side of the story."

"We have to get this place ready for mother's arrival.  You know how high her standards are.  She would never hear of the kinds of goings on here since before you left."

"Since before  I left.  Am I hearing a little bit of blame in your voice?"

"Carl," and her voice is toneless and expressionless, as though she is reading off a grocery list", we are a Christian community and we have to start living like a Christian community.  Our Saviour must be honoured by the way we conduct ourselves."

"And you don't feel we've been doing that."

"We haven't been doing that.  Touch not the unclean thing.  how is Mother."

"I am going to see if I can get in to see her.  They still haven't let me.  Listen Mel, we can talk more about this when I come next week?"

"You are returning home."

"I am going to arrange to take some furniture from the big house for the place I just bought in New Westminster."

"Carl, I will not hear of it."

"Pardon?"

"Not a stick of furniture is leaving this house..."

The Peacock 1225

 What a rare treat this has become, to sit here all alone in the early morning with no one present but my cup of coffee at the kitchen table.  I do not want this moment to end.  Rather odd that Carl should ask for permission to go back to bed, but not François, who just unceremoniously upped and went back to bed.  I don't know which I prefer, since I am still far from feeling used to sharing with others my father's house.  And now we have George and Jeffrey sleeping in the den.  Well, why not, I suppose.  It's probably good for my mental health having my friends close by like this.  But I really want, right now, just now, to be alone.  I suppose I could go out for a walk, but I have no idea how far I'd get, plus, with the couple having just passed their first night under my roof, it would be the height of rudeness to not be here for them whenever they are ready to come in for breakfast.  But not right now.,  Please Lord, not right now,  Just this time alone for now with you and my precious cup of joe....

The Peacock 1224

 Francois suddenly gets up and empties into the sink what is left in his coffee mug.

"Had enough?" say I.

"I suddenly want to go back to sleep for a while", he says.  "The coffee is good, by the way, so don't get hurt about my dumping it.  I just need to get back to bed for a while."

I can hear him climbing the stairs and Carl, suddenly solemn and thoughtful, says, "My fault, I guess."

"Don't blame yourself.  We have been through quite a night.  My dad's robe looks really nice on you."

"Thanks.  I like it.  may I keep it."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

We seem to have nothing further to say.  Carl quickly sucks back his coffee and says, "Mind if I go back to sleep for a while?"

"This is your home, Carl.  Go back to bed..."

The Peacock 1223

 "Oh aren't we off to a cheery start this morning", chimes Carl.

"Give it a rest, eh?" says Francois.

"Yes, Carl.  please", say I.

"Oh what a couple of party poopers.  But I suppose you do have a point.  That was a rather dramatic episode we all witnessed last night."

"The thing is, with Lindstrom around, now I'm really worried about Erik", say I.

"Yes there is that.  But he is in police custody and they will soon be flying him home to the Swedish forensic specialists."

"Remember Aaron's warning last night", says Francois.  "That guy has more than a few aces up his sleeves."

"Actually, I think this guy's hilarious", says Carl.  "I mean, a supernatural being whose been around for hundreds, maybe thousands of years, and he cannot get anything right, and plus finds himself in the loony bin", says Carl.

"Point taken", say I, savouring the dark aromatic bitterness of my first cup of the morning...

The Peacock 1222

 "You're not going to tell me where you got it?" says Francois.

"It was a gift."

"Yeah, but from who?"

The coffee maker is now sputtering the last of its forces into the pot, and the dark brew already fills the glass container like a dread presence.  Instead of replying, I spring up and grab us each a mug and begin pouring.  Now that I have returned to the table, Francois seems to have given up the chase.  Or perhaps, as a form of bargaining, or perhaps blackmail, I could ask him first to tell me why he had to change his pyjamas last night.  He doesn't seem ready to budge, and that works for me.  Now Carl has appeared, his lithe and muscular body enhanced and gleaming in but a skimpy pair of tight red bikini briefs that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.  "Good morning", he chimes, and yes he is again up for play and mischief.

As he pours himself coffee, Francois grumbles, "Um, is your bathrobe in the laundry?"

"I didn't bring one."

"I could lend you one of my dad's robes?" say I.

"Oh, must we?" he says while stirring sugar and cream into his mug.

"Yes, we must", says Francois.

Dad left behind three robes in the bedroom closet.  This dark green velour number would look striking on Carl.  In fact, I also like his dark blue terry cloth number.  Always have, and although I am relatively decent in jogging shorts and white T shirt, I think I will.

"Here you are", I tell Carl back in the kitchen, and with affected petulance, he reaches to accept the green robe, and wraps himself in it.

To Francios he says, "Did you just change your pyjamas, Francois?"

"I don't know", he mutters, now clearly in an ill humour.  "Maybe."

"And who were you dreaming about?"

"None of your business!" he snaps.