Confessions For a moment, there was only silence, one party studying the other intently, said other open-mouthed in shock. Finally, though, John shuffled his feet awkwardly, realized he was doing this, and fought to concentrate past the urge to fiddle with the collar of his shirt instead of saying anything.
“Your hair’s different,” he observed.
Joanie finally closed her mouth. She stared straight ahead for a moment longer, then nodded. “Yes,” she agreed, her left hand reaching up to touch the ends of her hair, which was indeed much shorter than it had been last summer, now not even reaching her shoulders. “Yes it is.”
Then, with what was half a noise of exertion and half a scream of long-suppressed rage, she picked up the book resting beside her – an unusually heavy, for its height and depth, book, solidly made and constructed, tome – and threw it as hard as she could at John’s head.
He ducked, biting back an oath and holding his hands up placatingly. This, he realized quickly, was not the best idea he’d ever had, as Joanie appeared to wish to make her next attempt at violence with her bare hands. “Joanie – “ he began, catching one wrist as she tried to hit him. “Joanie, let’s – son of a - ! “ he exclaimed as she, realizing punching him wasn’t going to work due to the differences in their weight and height in their current positions, kicked him in the shins instead.
“Glad to see you know your name,” snapped Joanie. “You – you – you bastard. You have the nerve to – “ She came back with her other hand and slapped him, hard enough to turn his head.
“I missed you, too,” said John, rubbing the offended side of his face.
Joanie seemed to calm slightly and John cautiously let go of her arm. She rubbed her wrist for a moment. “Of course you missed me,” said Joanie. “Who said anything about I missed you?”
“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have just thrown a dictionary at me and kicked me in the shins,” said John.
Joanie folded her arms in offense. “I can see nobody’s kept up your ‘how to interact with humans’ lessons while you were gone,” said Joanie. “Kicking you is called being pissed at you, John.”
“Why?” asked John.
Joanie glared at him. “You’re serious?” John nodded. “You run away without a word and leave me to deal with your mother and sister and – everything – and you want to know why I’m pissed at you? Seriously?”
John grimaced, studying his feet. “I was – it was – complicated,” muttered John. “I thought you’d all be better off – they wouldn’t have to deal with me, you wouldn’t have…any of us…You could just get on with it like….”
Joanie’s hands dropped to her sides. For about three seconds, John thought this might be a good sign, but then she started talking again as they curled into fists.
“Seriously?” she demanded again. “After all this, after all these years, you think I – that I would – “
This time, it was a porcelain figurine shaped like a cat which went flying toward John’s head. It narrowly missed the glass of the window behind him, instead smashing into the frame. John winced. Joanie huffed. “Fix that,” she ordered, turning her back to him and flopping down on her sofa. John did so and took a cautious seat on an unfortunately chintzy chair – her mother had, he thought, horrendous taste, and he was saying that as someone whose house had had maybe three items of new furniture in it ever and didn’t regularly use mugs that matched – which was facing her but out of arm’s reach of her. “I wouldn’t do that,” said Joanie finally.
“I wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time,” said John.
Joanie scowled at him. “And what, now you’re better? They have shrinks at wizard school or something?”
“No,” said John. “No shrinks. I just….” He stopped for a moment, struggling with his words. “They were all there, Joanie. At my school. Mom and Dad and Julian and Joe. I couldn’t tell them all no.”
“Well, you should find a frickin’ shrink,” said Joanie, now starting to cry and angrily wiping at her eyes with a blanket draped over the back of the sofa. “Mom always said you needed a shrink, and maybe you didn’t before, I don’t know, but you definitely do now – “
“Joanie, your mother eats Valiums like Valentine’s chocolates,” said John. “She’s not really in a position to judge.”
“It takes one to know one,” snapped Joanie.
John tilted his head, then suddenly nodded. “I suppose you’ve got a point there,” he said, and Joanie stifled a giggle as she rose and walked aimlessly around for a moment before going to stand behind the couch, leaning over it with her arms folded on top of it to stare him down over its high back.
“So what now?” asked Joanie, in a tone which suggested more mockery than genuine thought that he might have an answer. “We all just, go back to normal like the past year didn’t even happen?”
“No,” said John, and Joanie straightened her back.
“What then?” she asked.
“I want to tell them,” said John.
Joanie stared at him. “What?”
“My family – the ones who don’t know already. Dad, Steve, Paul. Not everything,” he added quickly. “Not our research – just that you know.” He found he couldn’t make eye contact with her anymore and dropped his gaze to the hideous abstract modern rug, more hideous beside the chintzy chair he was on than it would have been anyway, and ran his hand through his hair. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said in a low voice, trying to follow the pattern of the rug to some kind of conclusion, “but – it was a lie, Joanie. Omission, but still…it was a lie. And it made us – it screwed us all up, all of us, even them, and they don’t even know it. I want to – try to make it right.”
“’I want,’” quoted Joanie. “You keep saying that like you don’t think you’re actually going to do it.”
John mustered the nerve to look up at her again. “Yeah,” he said. “Well. It affects you, too.”
Joanie stared at him for a moment, then bit her lip, shaking her head in frustrating and raising her hands from the back of the sofa to wrap them around herself. “You are the stupidest, thickheadest, pig-headedest – “ she said in a furious whisper. “You are the stupidest wizard I’ve ever met,” she managed after a moment.
“Should I take that as permission?” asked John cautiously.
“No,” said Joanie. “Not for doing it by yourself, anyway.” John raised an eyebrow. “We started this together,” said Joanie grimly. “We’ve done it all together since then. We should finish it the same way, don’t you think?”
John frowned at her. “You’re sure?” he asked.
“To the end. Scout’s honor,” said Joanie, her tone sarcastic. John suspected that was just habit, though, as she made the salute out of what also looked like habit at the same time. “You agree?”
“Scout’s honor,” said John, offering her the handshake. She returned the gesture, then, for the first time in their lives, abruptly hugged him, moving so quickly he didn’t have time to recover from the shock and return the gesture.
“Run off again and I’ll get Julian to magic you still while I beat the hell out of you,” warned Joanie, finally admitting she had missed him, too.
* * * * * * * *
The story was not an easy one to tell, for either of them. From the reactions they got – the various looks on the Umlands’ faces, the exclamations made at different points in the story, the variations on rising and pacing and sitting abruptly – it wasn’t an easy story to hear, either. Finally, though, it was done, and they were all left sitting in silence.
Paul was the one to break it. He, after several hesitations which seemed to be attempts to say something to John directly, suddenly turned on Julian instead, rounding on her low chair beside the fireplace.
“You knew!” he shouted. “You already knew!”
Julian nodded. Her blue eyes were, Joanie thought, uncannily lifeless; everything else about her was tidy, but her eyes looked exhausted. “Yeah,” said Julian.
“So did I, Paul,” said Joe quickly, but Paul either didn’t hear him or chose not to acknowledge him in any way.
“You knew all along what was going on and it never occurred to you to tell anyone?” demanded Paul.
“Implicate anyone, you mean?” asked Julian. Paul glared at her, but she glared back defiantly, refusing to back down or be cowed by his look. “I know John’s framing all this in sin and redemption, but let’s don’t forget that everyone of us is technically an accomplice now,” continued Julian, and this set her brother off again.
“I thought my brother had gone mad!” shouted Paul. “Damn the law, Julian! Damn it and damn you. You had no right. You – “
“Paul!” said John loudly, drawing Paul’s attention to himself. “If you’re going to be angry with someone, it should be me. Julian wouldn’t have had anything to tell you or anyone else if it wasn’t for me.”
Paul glared then at John, too. “Oh, believe me, I’ve got enough to go around,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening, John? We’re brothers. Brothers! Damn the law, and lying, and all of it. You should have told me.”
“And what?” asked John. “What was – “ he stopped abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. Can’t say that,” he muttered, more to himself than any of them. “Can’t say that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I already said,” he said. “I thought – I didn’t want to make things worse for anyone. I was wrong. I was being a coward. I’m the only one to blame for all of this.”
“There’s no point in blaming anyone now,” said Joanie, reluctantly allowing the room’s attention to refocus on her and giving John’s hand a slight squeeze.
“Why are you telling us all this now?” asked Mr. Umland, speaking for the first time in a good while.
“Because of her,” said John, looking at Julian. “She convinced me to come back. I knew that if I did, I’d have to make it right.”
“Right?” said Stephen Umland, the oldest brother. “How is this – “ he stopped, rubbing his face, seemingly unable to figure out how to continue.
“I know,” said John, and grimaced. “Which is why – say the word and I’ll go the Ministry with this.”
“What?” asked Joanie sharply. Everyone looked at her. She ignored them. “Oh, hell, no,” she said. “That was not part of the deal, John.”
“I’d – take care of you first,” said John.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” said John.
“There would only be two ways to do that,” said Julian. “Either he’s saying he’d wipe your memories himself or he’s saying he’d marry you.” The look Julian gave her made it clear which option Julian found preferable. It was not the option where they became sisters. “But we’re not doing any of that,” continued Julian, rising and speaking firmly as she knelt beside John. “You promised you’d have my back,” she said. “You can’t do that if you’re in jail.”
“It would be the best way,” said John, looking entirely at Julian now. “You have to pay for what you do, Julian. You know that as well as I do.”
“Whatever we’ve done, we’ve already paid enough,” argued Julian. “What’s done is done. Don’t make us all suffer again just to ease your conscience.” Then, in an undertone – had Joanie been six inches further away, she didn’t think she would have understood what Julian said – “Please, John. Don’t leave me here.”
They were so intensely fixated on each other now that Joanie thought she was not the only one in the room who was more than a bit uncomfortable, feeling as though she might as well not have been there. Joanie glanced up and saw Joe looking between her and them. She smiled at him, more sad than anything. John had talked about an end to all the secrets, to living as openly as their situation allowed, but she could only conclude that was a pipe dream of the first order. They were a long way from free and clear, all of them.