Thirty Seven - BF

One week later Scott opened the door that connect their two rooms and walked in. It was the only part of the whole complex in which he felt comfortable getting around unaided. "You know," he said, "every time I come in here I expect to smell oil paints."

"I didn't bring my paints." Virgil said flatly.

"Oh! Did you bring your pastels then?"

"No."

"Crayons?"

"No."

"Pencils?"

"No."

"Virgil!" Scott was astounded. "Did you bring anything?"

"No."

"Why not?" Scott was amazed at this admission.

"I just didn't want them that's all."

"Is it your arm?"

"No it's not!" Virgil said irritably. "But you've just reminded me that I've got a physio appointment soon. If you want me to take you where you should be we'd better leave now!"

But Scott had decided he was going to find out what was wrong. "Then what's the problem?"

"Nothing!"

"Have you drawn or painted anything since the accident?"

"I did in the hospital if you remember."

"But since then?"

"Scott! We're both going to be late if we don't leave now. Are you coming with me or do I leave you?

Stunned, Scott said nothing further until they'd met up with Dusty.

Virgil made his excuses and left.

"I don't remember him mentioning a physiotherapy appointment this afternoon." Dusty noted.

"No. Me neither." Scott admitted thoughtfully. "Dusty, you don't have to be here now do you? Would you mind doing me a favour...?"

***

Dusty found Virgil sitting in the garden. "I thought you had an appointment to go to?" she asked.

He looked away. "I'd got the time wrong."

"Scott was worried about you."

"He shouldn't. He's got enough to worry about."



"He seemed surprised that you haven't done any artwork since you left the hospital."

Virgil eyed her angrily. "Has he got you acting as his detective now?"

"Yes. But only because he cares about you and you clearly don't want to tell him what's bothering you."

Virgil was silent.

Dusty pondered her next move. "If I promise not to tell Scott will you tell me what's wrong?"

He didn't speak.

"Please. I'd like to help. Is it something to do with Scott?" She saw his jaw muscles tighten as he listened to her words, and decided to try another tack. "Scott tells me that you like to play the piano."

"Yes I do." He said cautiously.

"He says you're good."

"He's biased."

"You know there's a lot of people in this place who would really appreciate a good bit of piano playing. They've lost so much else, it's something they could still enjoy. Would you consider giving us a some sort of concert?"

Virgil raised his injured arm. "I haven't been able to get in a lot a practise lately."

"But would you consider it?"

He looked at her. "Yeah I don't mind. Once I can fully use my fingers. That's if I can get in some practise and reassure myself that I won't be too embarrassing."

Dusty smiled. "I'm sure we can arrange that." She looked down at the satchel that she'd placed beside her chair. "Scott told me to remind you that you weren't to blame yourself for what happened to him."



Virgil smiled ruefully. "I know. Up here," he tapped his head, "I know that there's nothing more that I could have done. I wasn't even close when the... generator," For an instant a guarded expression crept over his face, "exploded. But down here." He moved his hand to his heart. "I keep wondering. Was there something else I should have done?"

Dusty nodded in understanding, and then reverted back to the original topic. "So you're happy to play the piano... why won't you draw or paint anything?"

Virgil looked at her angrily. "That again? Why should I bother? What's the use? What would I achieve? Who'd appreciated it? Scott won't be able too..." As he became aware of what he'd said he looked almost frightened.

"Is that what worries you, Virgil?" Dusty asked quietly.

He nodded sadly.

"You are both very close aren't you?"

He nodded again.

"I thought so. That's why he wanted me to get you these." She reached into the satchel and pulled out a sketchpad and some artist's pencils. She held them out to Virgil.

He looked at her, and then hesitatingly took them.

"Virgil... I know it's hard for you, and everyone in your family. It's hard to watch someone you love struggle with things they used to do so easily. But believe me, he will find it easier eventually. At the moment he's finding everything strange and new and frustrating, but one day it will all seem natural to him. It'll either happen slowly, or suddenly, like a light bulb turning on. He'll learn to cope. His blindness will become a natural part of his life, both to him and to you. In the meantime he doesn't want you to give up on what is important to you."

Virgil looked down at the sketchpad and slowly turned the cover over so that top page lay exposed. He gave a quiet chuckle. "So he's still mothering me is he?" He looked at her and noted a questioning expression on her face. He began to sharpen a pencil. "What do you know about Scott's history?"

"When it came to talking about his brothers, Scott was very... voluble." Dusty told him. "But when it came to talking about himself he didn't have much to say. He couldn't even think of what hobbies he had."

"What did he say?" Virgil began to draw.

"Chess, the gym and flying."

"Oh, so he doesn't count bossing his brothers around as a hobby then?" Virgil was grinning as he drew a couple of sweeping lines on his pad.

Dusty smiled. "Does he do that a lot?"

Virgil laughed. "He probably regards it as a calling rather than a hobby. He's had to do it since he was a kid."

"Had to?"

Virgil stopped drawing. "I'm holding you up here. Shouldn't you be working?"

"Knowing about my clients is part of my work. If I know how they tick, then I have a better chance of helping them. At the moment I don't have to be anywhere else, so tell me about Scott."

Virgil thought for a moment, began drawing again, and started to speak. "Well you know there's five of us boys, and that Scott's the oldest." Dusty nodded. "We were all kids when Ma died... It was an accident... Alan was only a baby." She saw the sadness of the memory in his eyes. "Father had to give up being an astronaut..."

"A what?"

"An astronaut."

"A real astronaut?"

"Yeah. He went to the moon and everything." Virgil laughed.

"You're laughing at me." She protested.

"No I'm not. In our family our father was an astronaut. He was just a part of our family. You forget that most other people aren't related to astronauts. Sorry that I laughed, I just realised how silly it is that some jobs are more 'special' than others. For our family it was just another job."

"Makes sense." Dusty said. "Go on."

"He realised that it wasn't ideal for an astronaut to be a solo dad to five boys so he gave up his job. Those first years must have been hard for him. I don't think we boys ever knew just how hard. He had to find work that allowed him to earn enough to keep us all fed and housed as well as giving him time to look after us all. Scott saw the difficulties and started taking care of us as well. He'd make sure we were ready for school on time, had our lunches, did our homework. By the time Grandma came to live with us I think it was ingrained into Scott's psyche that he had to look out for the rest of us. Remember Alan was still a baby and Gordon wasn't much older, John had his head in the stars and I was always covered in paint!"

"You've always been artistic then." She'd noticed that he'd started to relax now that was allowing himself to be creative.

Virgil nodded. "Scott did well at school, both academically and on the sports field, but he always wanted to fly. He wanted to be just like our father and join the Air Force."

"Did he want to be an astronaut too?"

"I don't think so. He just wanted to fly planes, the faster and more manoeuvrable the better."

"Did he join the Air Force?"

"Yeah. He became quite high ranking too."

"So why did he leave?"

There was that guarded expression again. She'd noticed that all the Tracy's got that expression when they talked about their present lives. "He decided to work for our Father."

"Being a pilot."

"Among other things, yes." Virgil clammed up.

Dusty sat for a moment in thought. She couldn't quite make out this family. They appeared close and yet no one had come to visit Scott. Perhaps Jeff Tracy believed that the business should come first in their lives. She dismissed that idea. While he'd been here supporting Scott he'd been attentive of his son. There'd been no clock watching, fidgeting or worrying about how things were going at work. Scott had been his only concern.

Then there was the strange fact that here were five extremely eligible young men. Handsome, personable, sons of a billionaire, and yet none of them were married or even in serious relationships, although Scott had hinted about something between the youngest and their friends daughter. Maybe Jeff Tracy felt that no one was good enough for his boys. She rejected that idea too, feeling that Scott, at least, would have stood up for himself and would probably have supported his brothers if they'd found any romantic attachments. Maybe the five men just enjoyed the playboy lifestyle, being free and easy. As she looked at Virgil she rejected that idea too, and clocked it up to one of the great mysteries of life.

"So now that he works for your Father what does Scott do to relax?"

"Relax?" Virgil smiled as he thought. "Play chess, work out in the gym..."

"Fly planes." She finished off. "He must do something else surely."

"Work keeps, kept..." for the first time Virgil used the past tense, "him busy."

"But you work for your father too and you find time to play the piano and paint."

"You've got to remember that our father is a billionaire and that he worked hard to get there. We've all inherited something of his work ethic." There was nothing bragging in Virgil's tone. It was uttered as a simple fact. "But we live in a place that you'd expect a billionaire to live in - pool, tennis courts, games room. We've got plenty to keep us occupied when we're not working. Scott keeps himself busy with plenty of variety, but nothing that you could pin down as a 'hobby'."

"Oh." Dusty said. "I see. It's good that he has such varied interests. With a bit of equipment modification there's no reason why he shouldn't continued to enjoy them." She looked at her watch. "I'd better go get ready for my next session." She watched him finish his drawing and wondered once again about the Tracy's. Then she gave herself a shake mentally, it was none of her business. Her job wasn't to understand this family. Her job was to give Scott Tracy his life back.

Virgil looked at his sketch. "It's not one of my best works. It would have been better if I'd done it left handed, but..." he signed it with a flourish, tore the page off and handed it to Dusty. "Give it to your husband so that he remembers what you look like while you're here all hours."

She gasped as she looked at the picture. It was of her. She hadn't even realised he'd been observing her as he did the drawing. "I-I don't know what do say. If this isn't one of your best then your best must be wonderful... Thank you."

He smiled. "No. Thank you!"