I'm glad to see a bunch of new views. Hope you like the new chapter. Well... parts of it, anyway. This one was hard for me to write, and I'm sure you'll get why. Hang in there.

Chapter Thirty-One: I'd Like Your Opinion On Some Curtains

I'm tempted to flashback and tell you a story or two from my childhood, but I think I better save that for a separate story altogether. Instead, flash-forward: 2018. Oh no, you're thinking. He's an old man and he's going to give us dry, unhelpful advice that has nothing to do with anything. Well, no, I'm not. I'm not old, and I'm not about to hand out advice.

I need to give some background, and I'm not an expert, so bear with me. I'm sure you've heard of DID or MPD—Dissociative Identity Disorder or Multiple Personality Disorder—that's because you live in the 21st century, where people pay more attention to this stuff. [Fraser says I should have said "when" not "where." He's probably right.] But I think still not many people know about DD-NOS, Dissociative Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified. It's the younger, more versatile cousin of DID. It's also the reason I said at the very beginning that you needed to read the MaireadSystem profile or eventually the story wouldn't make sense.

Anyway, people with DID sometimes call their alternate personalities "alters." So, that's what Mairead calls us. That's how come it's not Mairead writing this story, but me, Ray Kowalski. I'm setting down my memoirs. On her plane of existence, my ideas are coming out through her hands, into her computer in 2018, getting published to a fan fiction site, because who on earth besides fan fiction enthusiasts is gonna read the memoirs of someone fictional?

Some alters are confused when they find themselves in a new world. I'm one of the newest, so I haven't had much time to observe, but I heard that Jack M. was kinda out of it when he got here. You can read about him in another MaireadSystem story. Others, like Levi (you can read about him, too) came programmed for the job, what Levi calls "fully briefed." What is the job? We're a coping mechanism, plain and simple. Okay, not plain, because all her current alters are pretty darn good-looking guys, and not simple for obvious reasons. But that's still the fact of the matter of the thing.

I'm happy to say that Ray, Fraser and I came on this scene fully briefed. Even though we'd had no warning, just showed up in this person's home, we all knew the situation instantly, knew we were there just to hang out and help out however we could, knew we weren't real, didn't really care. Kind of like Fraser's dad's ghost, only... not real. Eventually, Ray went back to our world, but he's dropped in again since then. More on "dropping in" elsewhere. Fraser and I are confident that we'll go back to that world one day, too—a world of endless coincidences, unfailing happy endings and comedy-gold banter. In the meantime, we're totally cool getting a glimpse of what our world might be like in twenty years. It's nice to know that the Internet will do some growing up, and even though the Bulls won't win every game, they'll still give the competition a hard time.

By now you're probably thinking either "Yes, I see." or "Wait, WHAT?" so I'm gonna pick up where the last chapter left off and give you some more of the story you signed on for in the first place. But I must reiterate: I said it was crazy. I warned ya.

Back to the '90s...

Tuesday morning, my parents showed up at my door. Fraser was already in my apartment with Dief, ready to back me up like he promised. Mom had somehow found the time to bake a coffee cake to bring over. She's like that. She's the hometown doting mother character. I love her for it, but it can be kinda smothering.

I offered everyone coffee, and then my dad finally said what he was thinking.

"What's this all about, Stanley? I know you didn't get me and your mother over here just to join you and your partner for brunch."

"Well, no," I admitted. "Fraser, you wanna tell them?"

While Fraser collected himself (I don't think he had realized I wanted him to do all the talking), my dad looked from me to him, back to me, at my mom, and his expression was getting really suspicious. Just as Fraser opened his mouth to start, Dad said, "Isn't this maybe something you should tell us, son?"

All I thought was that he was annoyed because I hadn't communicated very well lately. "I think Fraser can explain it better," I said, not able to look him in the eye.

"I'm not so sure about that."

"With all due respect, sir," said Fraser, "you can't expect to judge my capability on an unknown subject."

Dad sighed and put his face in his hands, leaning on the bar. "Fine. Just hurry it up."

"Damian, give them a chance," Mom told him.

Fraser started at the beginning. What we'd seen on our first trip to King William Island. The tourist attractions. The grave. The dream of the grave. Figuring out what was wrong with it. He ended with the reasoning he had presented to me the day before and our plan to return for one more shot at finding Franklin.

"You're going back?" Mom asked, looking worried.

"That's it?" said Dad, still looking suspicious.

I was surprised he hadn't blown his stack. "Y-yeah... that's it."

"Isn't it enough?" said Mom.

"Well... sure. I mean, we just found out you were home and you're talking about leaving again. That's certainly enough."

"What did you think it was going to be?" I asked.

"I didn't know." He sounded kind of defensive. "It's just that... well, you remember your friend Jamar."

"Yeah... he pretty much saved my life on the playground...more than once. He got me into boxing and he taught me to talk street. How could I not remember Jamar? We were like brothers."

"Right. Well... there were times when I wondered if the two of you... if you were..."

I suddenly knew where he was going. Why he'd looked so suspicious and gone out of his way to call Fraser my partner instead of using his name. It made me mad. It shouldn't have, but emotions are complicated. I had a bunch of them mixed together, and mad was what came out. "What, Dad? Just say it!"

Fraser cleared his throat. "Missus Kowalski, er, Barbara, I'd like your opinion on some curtains I purchased for my apartment. Uh, shall we...?"

Great, Fraser. Just the thing to convince my dad you're not gay: asking a lady for curtain advice.

They scurried out of the apartment, leaving me alone with my father.

After a very loud silence, Dad said, "I wouldn't... you know... stop speaking to you if that was it."

I felt a little embarrassed to be talking about this with him, but I could see that he did, too. I might actually be able take the upper hand in the discussion for once. I stepped toward him. "No? But you'd have stopped talking to other people about me. Change the subject when kids come up, because you don't want to have to talk about how your son screwed up a marriage and decided to try his luck with men instead."

"Stanley..."

"Will you please call me Ray?"

"Ray. I'm sorry."

"Just listen for a minute, okay? Jamar and I were tight. Closer than family, if my relationship with you and Mom is anything to go by. But that doesn't make us gay. Most of the time, I don't take sides. Live and let live. But you know what really hacks me off? It's that your generation is so freaked out by the idea of 'sexual orientation' that you wanna screw up really good platonic relationships for fear they might 'turn gay.' I loved Jamar. Still love him. And I love Fraser, too. But I do not wanna make out with him, for god's sake!"

He was quiet, not even looking like he was waiting for his turn to talk anymore. I'd successfully scolded my dad for the first time in my life. I didn't know why I didn't feel good about it. I felt really hot and I was shaking a little.

"Do you understand?" I asked more quietly.

He nodded. "You make a lot of sense," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Fraser does seem like a very good man, and he's been a damn good friend for you. I wouldn't want to do anything to damage that. And if you two are closer than some of us find normal... well, I'll do my best not to let it bother me and just be happy for you."

My eyes were clouding and I tried to wipe them clear as fast as I could, before he noticed. I was trying not to wonder if he had thought I was gay my whole life. Or if it mattered much to me. Or how he really would have responded just now if I was. It didn't make me feel very loved. But I did think he meant what he'd just told me, and that made me hope things could be better now. I took a long, deep breath, let it out, took another one and said in a pretty steady voice, "Thanks, Dad. I'm sorry I raised my voice."

He shrugged. "This is your home. If anyone has a right, it's you."

He let me win. He really let me win this one. I wasn't sure what it meant. It made me feel weird.

He put his hand over mine on the bar. We stayed like that for a while, and I think it's because we both wanted to say more, but we were both too chicken.

There was a quiet knock on the door and I went around to answer it, giving my dad's shoulder a little pat as I went by him. Of course, it was Mom and Fraser in the hall.

Fraser smiled at me. "Your mother has been an admirable help with the curtains. Would you like us to rejoin you now, or do I have time to discuss sheets with her?"

I grabbed the little strap on his shoulder that holds his lanyard in place and tugged him toward me. "Get in here, you freak."

My mom fussed over me a ton and made me promise to see them again before we went to the airport. Dad shook my hand and Fraser's before they left.

"I knew they'd understand," Fraser said once I'd closed the door behind them.

I sighed. "Sure... but only because it wasn't nearly as horrible as what my dad thought was going on."

"Oh, Ray."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"You always knew I was straight, right? I mean, that hug the first time I saw you didn't make you think..."

He shook his head. "No... but I was thoroughly confused at the time. There was a very brief moment of doubt that one time you asked if I found you attractive..."

"But I meant—would you if you were a woman," I protested.

"I know, and your clarification was the reason I said it was very brief. To be honest, I sometimes find your attraction to women annoying... or perhaps I should say 'your obsession.'"

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad."

"I'll be in the middle of explaining something to you, a woman will go through your line of sight, and I'll know I've lost you."

"Nuh-uh!"

He tilted his head and said "Yuh-huh" in the most dignified and refined way I'd ever heard it in my life.

Dief barked and I glared at him.

"Like you're any better," I snapped at the wolf. I looked back at Fraser. "You know the one time I doubted your straightness? Two words for you: buddy breathing."

"I attribute that to your disoriented state at the time. If you'd had your full capacity for logic about you, you would have realized that even if I thought we were both going to drown and that there was no hope of escape, kissing you would hardly be the way I chose to say goodbye. Shaking your hand, maybe. More likely a salute."

I snorted. "Yup, that sounds like you." A freaking underwater salute. Just what I want as the last thing I see before I die.

"There is also your fondness for teasing men that you're frisking..."

"I'm a funny guy. I crack some jokes."

"It hardly seems to come from a spirit of goodwill."

Goodwill? Toward criminals? I sighed. "Well... I guess it's kind of adding insult to injury."

He nodded. "You are already in the process of arresting them. I'm sure that nowhere does your police manual instruct you to demoralize your suspects."

"Yeah... he's already lost most of his dignity. No need to keep chipping at it. Or his self-esteem, if he actually is gay."

"Precisely."

Damn that moral high ground. Fraser was still miles above me. "If it helps... I do the same thing when I'm the one being frisked."

"I don't think that negates it, Ray." That's Fraser-speak for "No, it doesn't help."

To be honest, the whole frisking thing is awkward as hell when you first start doing it. You have to find a way to get over it, and my way was joking around. I'm not saying it was a good way. I'm just saying I needed a way. "Well, um... what do we do now? About our travel plans, I mean," I added quickly, to make sure he knew I was changing the subject.

"Now I put in a call to Gjoa Haven. May I use your phone?"

"Okay, but when the bill comes, you're helping to pay it."

"Understood. I'm planning to have one installed in my apartment while we're away. Miz Tate will open my apartment for the technician."

"Good. It's about time. God, Fraser with his own phone. I can call you without having to go through Turnbull or someone."

I could see that Fraser knew exactly how annoying Turnbull could be. "It will be more convenient," was his tactful reply.

He was put on hold for quite a while by a few different people, but he just waited with a patience that passes mortal understanding. I brought him more coffee and worked on a crossword, something I rarely do, so you know I was bored, and fought my impulse to take the phone from him and bark at the next person who came on.

I fidgeted with the chain I wore on my wrist. Jamar had given it to me a long time ago. I remembered Dad kind of freaking out about it. "Boys don't wear jewelry," he'd said. I'd pointed at his wedding ring. "What the hell is that?" I'd asked. "A rivet? Are you a cyborg or something?" Yeah... I'd been sent to my room for that one. I think that was when I realized I was too old to hit, because if I'd mouthed off like that a couple years earlier, I definitely would have gotten a spanking. But I kept the bracelet, and he never brought it up again. I'm guessing Mom had something to do with that. It had been too big for me at the time, and was still pretty loose. I didn't wear it at school, both for fear of losing it, and for fear of getting beaten up. But I always made sure I had it on when I was hanging out with Jamar. It made me feel like I looked cool to his other friends.

Finally, Fraser got the right person to talk to and explained his request. He gave solid-sounding reasons without spelling everything out. I think he did a fair job, considering he has this thing against lying. Finally, he put the phone down.

"So?" I asked impatiently. "What did they say?"

"My request is going on record and the necessary people are to be contacted about it."

"Okay, and how long will that take?"

"A couple of days, probably."

"So, when will we know if we're going?"

"I think it would be wise to leave as soon as possible, traveling while they make their deliberations. I can arrange our flights now, if that's all right."

"But what if we get up there and then they won't go through with it?"

"Then we can make an appeal in person."

"And if that doesn't work?"

Fraser sighed, looking like that result would really crush him. Then he said, "In that case, I suppose we can make a long visit with Maggie."

I had no problem with that. "Okay. We're going back to Canada."

He smiled a real one. Ten points.

Whew, well, that's over. There are still plenty of weird life-twists to come, but most of them are nowhere near that uncomfortable to write about. Don't be too hard on my dad... he means well. ~Ray K.