A/N: Everybody has an Uncle Lenny Mckenna in their family. Unfortunately.
Ten minutes later, I faked the sudden jerk that happens when your involuntary nervous system doesn't quite take control of your body properly when you're falling asleep, like a gear slipping.
"Victor," I asked, anxiety in my voice. "Boris didn't—he didn't abuse you, or molest you in some way, did he?" I was sure he had not. Boris would never have done such a thing. Asking that was a tactic.
"What?" he asked, incredulously. "No! He was far too good and honorable a man to mistreat anyone—especially not in that way. And if he had, I would not have forgiven him—I would have come back and killed him. No, that was not the reason."
I said, 'That's good." but I did not relax.
"What's wrong?" Victor asked after a moment. "You are tensed up, I can feel it."
"Now my imagination has got hold of it. I can't stop wondering what it was that Boris did." I told him.
"Nothing so terrible as that, I assure you."
I still didn't relax.
He made an exasperated noise. "You're not going to sleep for wondering, are you?"
"Probably not. I have a very active and original imagination." I said.
"I know that." He sighed. "As my father and I stood over my mother's grave, Boris came, along with several other Rom men, and told my father they thought it would be best if we traveled elsewhere, at least for a while, lest the anger of those whose families she had killed should come to rest on the tribe in revenge. Boris came and told us that, before the dirt of her grave was even washed from my father's hands…I could not understand at first. Were they not our friends, our family? Did they not love us even as I loved them? They wanted to cast us out.
"That was the end of my childhood—there, at that moment. I could never fully trust them again. Never."
"But they didn't make you leave, did they?" I asked. Boris had said nothing about that.
"Only because I prevented them."
"Weren't you only four or so? How could you have done that?" were my next questions.
"I told them that if they threw us out, I would grow up to be just like my mother, only worse, and that I would come back and make them pay for it." He said, sardonically.
"Oh…" It should have been funny, the image of a four-year-old Victor looking up at a group of grown men and telling them he would have revenge on them. It should have made them laugh. It should have made me laugh. If it had been anyone else, maybe--but even the strength of will and determination must have showed in him.
"That reminds me of my uncle Lenny. "I said. Saying 'And that's why you won't call him father?' would get me nowhere. "He put an end to my belief that all the people I loved, loved each other as well. Uncle Lenny was a natural born comedian. You have to understand that in our area, it wasn't until the eighties that anyone Asian, Hispanic or black moved in. What with the economy being so bad there, anyone new was regarded as taking the food out of somebody else's mouth, as well as all the other prejudices. There were a few hate crimes—but there were a lot more jokes and comments about them.
"My uncle Lenny would do this whole routine at family dinners—once Mom was married and allowed back into the family circle, we went to eat at Grandmother and Grandfather Mckenna's at least once a month—and he would have the whole family practically wetting themselves laughing, when he started doing imitations of the different stereotypes. I laughed too—I was only, oh, eight years old, and you pick up things from your family—until one night, he started doing an imitation of my other grandmother.
"English wasn't even her second language—it was her fourth or fifth. She knew Hungarian, Russian, Romanian and German as well as Latverian, just from living in Latveria, as people will. She didn't learn English until my grandfather brought her back after World War Two as a war bride. She got by in it—but she had a strong accent. She also had mild osteoporosis, and she usually wore a shawl over her head and shoulders, a babushka. She looked funny and sounded funny—and I realized immediately exactly who Uncle Lenny was caricaturing. It was cruel. It wasn't just him, either, because the rest of my mother's family were falling down laughing, and making other comments about her. Even my mother. I started crying, and my mother had to take me home early.
"I think that's what saved me from becoming a racist, because I never trusted what anyone said about a person or an ethnic group after that. I never laughed at anything Uncle Lenny said after that either." I remembered something else about my uncle—and realized that it was the perfect thing to say, to get Victor to reconsider his decision never to call Boris 'Father'.
"It wasn't until years later that I realized that Uncle Lenny was gay. At first I wondered—why should somebody who lived in the glass house of homosexuality, so to speak, throw stones at other despised and laughed at groups? Then I realized it was a survival tactic. He did it because he was afraid. He made fun of others—because when he did, nobody was making fun of him."
I did not add, 'Maybe Boris came to ask your father to leave because he was being pressured into it. Maybe Boris was afraid if he stood by you, he would be thrown out, too—and he wasn't as young as your father. He had a wife and a granddaughter to think of, too.' Victor could ask himself that inside his head. I had done what I could.
"In a way, it's rather a shame I couldn't take you home to meet all the Mckennas as my husband. They would be overawed—after all, a wealthy doctor, that's quite a catch! But then when they asked about your background and your people, you could tell them you were descended from aristocrats and kings on your father's side, and your mother was a pure-blooded Romani—except they probably wouldn't know what a Rom was, so you'd have to explain that meant she was a gypsy. They'd check their wallets and count the spoons after you left to make sure you hadn't stolen anything." I said.
"You say that with all the contempt it deserves. Yet somehow they managed to produce you—the only accomplishment of any worth. I marvel at it."
"Well, they mostly did it by being a prime example of what not to be like. That was a terrible thing they did, and an even worse time they chose to do it. I'm sorry they wanted to get rid of you—and I'm sorrier that they made Boris do it."
"As am I, even now. Will you be able to sleep now?" he asked. "I will stay for at least a few more minutes."
"I think so. Good night, Victor." I relaxed. Before I fell asleep, he started to snore very slightly. I allowed myself a small smile of triumph, and shortly after that, I joined him.
A/N: Gonna sneak in some naughty stuff next chapter!