I Really Thought I Didn’t Have A Choice

This story contains mentions of mental illness, suicide. and homosexuality.

Walter sat slumped in his seat, not very aware of anyone. He kept thinking about his uncle, his uncle who he was named for. The uncle he'd told twenty years ago that he would never again have any contact with him.

He smiled as the picture of his uncle's supposed sorrow as he'd told him that he'd never again acknowledge him came to mind. Clearly, he either didn't understand why or did and chose to ignore the validity of his nephew's decision.

Why then, he asked himself, did he accept that lawyer's letter summoning him to the funeral with a first-class airline ticket and check for expenses, a rather generous check, at that, enclosed. His husband had encouraged him to go, saying, "You need closure. What he did to you was rotten, but it freed you to be who you are. Without him, we wouldn't be together." Finally, he decided to go, still wondering if it was a good idea.

Rosemarie, sitting in the luxury of the fanciest car, well large limousine, that had come for her the day after that phone call from her Uncle Walter's lawyer, was asking herself why she had finally agreed to come to the funeral. She'd left her small hometown for New York and had stayed away for fifteen years. She'd promised her young self that she'd never come back. She'd made a life for herself in the big, scary city, and it was a pretty good life. Money was always a problem, but the natural result of pursuing her dream of being a dancer.

Robin, who'd run away to join the army at seventeen, high school diploma in hand, wondered why he was returning to Redmond. He hated it, but the Major who'd summoned him to his office handed him a train ticket and a check and a letter from a lawyer. He smiled at Robin, saying, "You've family emergency leave for a week. Use it. I hope you'll still want to reenlist when you get back. We need all the great technologists we can get." Robin accepted the order, as he always did, without examining his feelings about it. He was used to doing what he was told to do.

They had all been told to go to the small hotel in a town near Redmond that was the only one close that tiny city they'd been born in, and each was greeted with a letter from the lawyer asking them to be ready to come to his office on Wednesday. A car would pick them up that morning at ten he wrote.

Rosemarie remained in her room, ordering room service because she didn't want to sit in the hotel's dining room alone. Walter, who arrived Tuesday night, went straight to bed after calling his husband to assure him he'd arrived safely and would call again after the meeting the next day. Robin went out to look at the town, stopping at a bar for a burger and beer. He was surprised to discover that his uniform led to a number of conversations with former service members. 

On Wednesday, each entered the car that came for them. Shock was written on all three faces as they realized who the other passengers were. After a slew of, “Robin? Rosemarie? Walter?”, they started laughing. Once they’d settled that, they’d begun asking one another, “Do you know what this is all about?” They ended up agreed it was a mystery.

Then they started throwing out more questions, asked so quickly no one could answer. “Why did you come? Where have you been? What are you doing?” Robin stopped it, saying in a loud voice, "This is getting us nowhere. Driver, how long before we arrive?"

"About two minutes, no, we’re here," was the answer. 

They left the car and entered the building, a long nondescript building with a few front doors indicating what business was inside, entering the one with the sign Lewis Law.

A receptionist greeted them, saying, "Mr. Lewis will be right out."

A tall cadaverous looking man with a thatch of gray hair emerged and said, "I'm glad you all came. Now we need to go to Redmond, to the old house."

Seeing the hesitation on their faces, he said, "The only other people that will be there are the man who delivered groceries and a doctor."

The same car was still outside, and they entered it cautiously. Not a word was exchanged on the fifteen-minute drive to the house they'd grown up in and fled from.

When they were in the foyer, at first it looked just like it had when they'd left. Then Walter pointed out all the various additions, small but telling. A plethora of crosses, odd little figures, and strange little signs, tucked in between the small vases that their mother had collected. Mr. Lewis didn't comment, instead saying, "We need to go into the dining room. The others will be waiting there."

Rosemarie instantly recognized the doctor and stared at him, curiosity written on her face, which had turned white. Walter had the same reaction. Robin looked at them, and then turned to the doctor, who he didn't seem to know, and asked, "What did you do to them?"

Mr. Lewis quickly said, "Calm down, Robin, he didn't do anything wrong. It will all be explained when I read you your uncle's letter. He said to read it to you before reading his will.

Walter got to his feet, and announced he didn’t want to hear the letter or the will. “I don’t want to hear his excuses.” 

Robin jumped up and grabbed him, hugging him, and said, “Not knowing could be worse than knowing. If nothing else, we now have each other. I hated not having a family. Come on. Let’s just sit together and hold hands.”

They rearranged themselves so they could be a family, sitting hand in hand after all those years. 

Mr. Lewis quickly began reading,

“My dear children,

Please let me explain my actions. You must understand that I really thought I didn’t have a choice. I’d promised your father on his deathbed that I’d save you three no matter what the cost. But your mother was my sister and I’d promised my father on his deathbed that I’d always take care of her.

The problem was that she’d begun to act strangely after she’d miscarried what would have been your sister. Both your father and I didn’t know what was going on in her head. She started going to a new church. Then she left it. Next, she ran off to join a cult that lived in Chaney, the small town or village they’d settled in. We managed to get her out of there. 

But then she joined a group of Wiccan’s. It was almost nonstop. She wouldn’t say a word to Dr. Martin, who we asked to examine her. He said she should be in a psychiatric hospital, so they could find out what was wrong. She apparently heard us, and ran off again.

This went on for years. Your father became your caretaker then your mother came back. We both thought it a good thing. She was quiet and seemed to have recovered.  

A few years later, when your father had that heart attack that killed him, I came to stay with you for awhile. When all seemed well I went back to my life.

That was when the problems started. You must remember some of the odd things that happened. Walter, my namesake, your mother decided to make certain you could not act on what she saw as “your nonsense.”

I hope you remember her taking you to Dr. Silver here. What you don’t know is she wanted him to castrate you. Of course he refused, but he knew me and called. I dropped everything and flew back. Not knowing what she would try next, I knew I had to get you out of there. That’s why I threatened you by claiming I’d reveal your secret to all in Redmond.  

At first you didn’t believe me, so to convince you, I said, “Either you leave or so help me God I will.”

You were so young and so bewildered; I put a pile of bills in your hand and a ticket to San Francisco. The next morning, I was relieved to find you’d left, and even glad you’d left a note filled with hatred and blaming me.

She was still my baby sister, and I had to protect her too.

And you Rosemarie, shortly after Walter left, your mother began to concentrate on you. She kept calling me, telling me you had become too beautiful, asking what she could do to keep you pure. Again, I rushed back. 

She was fixated on your looks. And my dear, you were so lovely. I was terrified she’d mutilate you, more so when I found a can of lye in the garage. That's why I pushed you to leave by touching you inappropriately, staring at you, air kissing you. You were strong, though and confronted me. I told you that if you did stay, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I offered you an opportunity to go to New York to study dance. You accepted.

And you Robin, you demanded to know what I did to make everyone leave. You were so confused. I simply told you, "She was my sister." You shouted at me that Rosemarie was your sister. I just stared at you. Not knowing what to say or do. A week later you were gone.

I stayed that time, running my business online, until the day your mother passed. She was my sister and I’d promised to take care of her, so I did.

Now I knew I had to find you three. I hired detectives who found out where you were and found some peace in knowing you were all well. You were safe. I didn’t reach out, wanting you all to grow some more into what you wanted to be. And I didn’t want to add any burdens. So I tore up every letter you wrote to your mother or me. I thought it was for the best. Maybe I was wrong. I’ll never know. And I’ll never know if you can forgive. But I had to protect my sister—and the three of you.”

Your Uncle, Walter.

The three of them sat there silently, immersed in their own thoughts. The others sat quietly by. 

Then Dr. Silver said, “Your mother was a classic case of bipolar disorder, but wouldn’t take the medicine prescribed, something none of us knew. She’d become so depressed on top of it, so quiet, even when she realized none of you were there anymore, she never asked why or where you were. I told him I had to report it. He said, I couldn't , that she wasn’t my patient anymore.”

The grocer finally spoke up, “She always ordered so much food, enough for a family, then left the bags sitting outside, only a few items taken in, I called your uncle, who paid the bills. He said he’d be back in a few days. That’s when he moved in. And he stayed till she died.”

“She died taking handfuls of the pills she’d hidden away. Your uncle did the same. Both committed suicide,” Dr. Silver said quietly.

The three siblings sat there digesting the horrible story. Finally, after a half an hour, Walter said, "Is nobody going to say it?"

The others nodded and they mumbled, “I guess we forgive you, Uncle Walter.” “I don’t know what I would have done in your situation.” “What a sad story.”

Mr. Lewis said, “Now for the will.”

“Not now, please,” Rosemarie said in a small voice. The boys nodded in agreement. They found the car still waiting, got in it and went back to the hotel. They sat up most of the night talking, reconnecting. Deciding that they were just going back to their lives, but would stay connected, they grabbed a few hours of sleep, then reassembled for breakfast. 

A few minutes later the manager of the hotel came to their table and handed each of them an envelope.

Looking at the envelopes, then one another, they opened them. Huge checks. Robin said it first, “I don’t know what to do. Burn it, cash it, give it to a charity???” Rosemarie said, “I know checks are good for ninety days, so we have time to decide.” Walter said, “I want to talk it over with my husband.”

They made their travel arrangements and left. They’d decided to call one another on Christmas Day to explain what they’d decided. Once again, Uncle Walter had made it possible for them to change their lives.