The First Love Of Alipang Havens

With the plot to bring false accusations against the Free Clinic thwarted, the volunteers agreed that they needed to play some offense, to consolidate the defensive victory they had gained. And they were unanimous that the most insightful and eloquent person among them should lead the charge....

"What're you working on, Dad?"

Eric Havens looked away from the computer screen in his den to answer Alipang's question. "The text for a flyer to be distributed around town, inviting everyone to a healthcare town meeting."

Alipang peered over his father's shoulder at the text in progress. "Why are you talking about people claiming their rights? Isn't the limitless-entitlement philosophy the very thing you're fighting against?"

"Yes, Al, it is. What I'm writing here is tongue in cheek--a little bit of the old bait and switch, to get people to show up so they can hear some truth. Our knowing the truth doesn't do much good if we never get an audience for it. When I finish the draft of the flyer, how about you looking it over to make sure it says nothing which could afterwards be pointed to as a lie?"

"Gladly, Dad. When will the meeting be?"

"The Saturday after Labor Day weekend. I would never try to compete with your martial-arts demonstration." Alipang had been accorded the honor of leading the Escrima school's latest Labor Day exhibition; and it would incorporate a guest appearance by Curving Breeze.

"And where will you get space for a townhall meeting?"

Eric smiled roguishly. "It helps to have the whole Toynbee family as my dental patients." He was referring to the family of Darryl Toynbee, Principal of Smoky Lake West High School. "I'll be a West Panther for one morning."
 
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Oh my gosh,Copperfox your stories are amazing!
During the part where Alipang is still a homeless orphan in the Phillipines i cried.That part was really sad and where he starts living with the Havens family is so touching.
Write on,i'll be reading! :)
 
As Jesus Christ observed, God sends rain both on the just and on the unjust.

Which allows Him to send rain on Labor Day picnics in northern Virginia.

The Mayor of Smoky Lake, in anticipation of showers, had arranged for several broad shelter tents to be set up in Lakeshore Park, so that everyone hardy enough to GO there would have shelter once they WERE there; but the rain proved so torrential that many citizens chose not to go in the first place.

"This," observed Gilberto Costamesa as rain drummed on the roof of the movable stage, "is the kind of occasion when you find out who your friends are. We'll give a real show to the martial-arts fans who did come."

To the first half of his friend's remark, Alipang almost replied, "--and who your true GIRLfriends are," which would have been a salute to the faithfully-present Kim. But he stopped himself, because Gilberto had no girlfriend here. Suri Rivera, the exchange student from Honduras, had intended to try to get permission to stay another year in the United States, for she and Gilberto were growing close; but events in her own country, plus the perversity of journalists, had changed her plans. A Marxist-leaning, pro-Castro president of Honduras had tried to violate the Honduran constitution by extending his presidency beyond the time permitted. He was entirely in the wrong, and his removal from office with even the consent OF HIS OWN PARTY had been one hundred percent lawful....but mere facts had not prevented the United States media establishment from pretending that their socialist darling was the innocent and heroic victim of a thuggish banana-republic military coup. Becoming disgusted with her host nation's press for knowingly choosing the wrong side, Suri had dropped all plans of trying to remain in the United States. She would stand by her family through whatever Honduras had to endure in the immediate future.

To this day, Gilberto missed her sorely. But he kept a good face for the Escrima school, and the last thing Alipang wanted was to make this more difficult for him.

The two young men were now joined by Curving Breeze, who came into the stage's rear shelter alone. "Teacher, are you the only one actually performing with us for Tai Chi today?" asked Alipang.

"The only one performing, but not the only one here," the neo-hippie lady replied. "One person is enough to do the Tai Chi standard form for the spectators, and to say a few words about Tai Chi. I didn't come to hog your stage time. What I do should be enough to help make it more interesting to the audience when YOU announce our joint venture at Doverwood College."

"So you have students of yours in the audience, ma'am?" inquired Gilberto.

"I have students helping to CREATE the audience." Beckoning the others to follow her, the Tai Chi lady ascended onto the actual stage, which a bluegrass band had lately vacated, and pointed at the spectator seating. "Look, gentlemen, here comes Yvonne with some of them now."

Yvonne Delany, the girl who had tried to attract Alipang at her brother's wedding reception, was just finishing a stroll through the downpour. She had an umbrella keeping her light-brown hair from getting soaked; and the umbrella possibly had more fabric on it than Yvonne had on her body. Six boys, appearing to range in age from fifteen to twenty-three or so, followed her into the entertainment pavilion, all of them pathetically besotted. When they were within the shelter and Yvonne closed her umbrella, the boys looked ready to fight over the privilege of offering to hold it for her; but Yvonne forestalled trouble by saying, "Behave yourselves!" and purposely bestowing the privilege on the youngest, smallest boy.

Curving Breeze laughed. "Alipang, I promised that Yvonne wouldn't bother YOU anymore; the rest of the boys in the world will have to watch out for themselves."

As they returned backstage for a last preparatory talk with the Escrima students, Kim joined Alipang. "I see that Miss Delany isn't incurably heartbroken over not having you in her life."

"Still less am I heartbroken over not having her," said Alipang, and pointedly kissed Kim in the view of all present. Kim could feel the sincerity in his kiss, and the others could see it. After the kiss, Alipang added, "It's bad luck for those nerds out there, but good for me, that they can't tell which girl's the best."

The martial-arts demonstration went very well under Alipang's leadership; but nothing about it was as dramatic as the half-hidden emotional currents among the persons performing or watching.
 
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The full reality only struck Alipang Havens when he walked in the doors of East High School as a senior, on the morning after Labor Day.

He had risen early in his old way, and walked to school in a rain slicker and galoshes, wet weather holding no terrors for him as a Filipino. He had patrolled the school grounds in his old way, finding no troublemakers anymore; then he had gone inside.

Kim Tisdale had not simply missed the pre-Labor Day school sessions; she had graduated in June, and would not be sitting in any more classes with him. She was now a student at Doverwood Community College, which was located at a highway junction where it could be reached with reasonable ease from Smoky Lake, Shilohsville, and three other towns. Brickpile had also graduated. Marine Private Brendan Hyland wasn't around, either; he would soon be on the battlefield in Afghanistan. Chilena and Dan, of course, were still here; but because of the arrangement which had made Alipang a senior, the other two as juniors were not in any of his courses this fall, except that he and Chilena had succeeded in being together for an art class--which might prove to be the first highschool course in which Alipang ever made poor grades. Sammy Ashford, a mere sophomore, would not be in any of Alipang's classes either. At least Alipang would see him at lunchtimes, along with Summer and Evan.

There was an emptiness in his heart--almost like fear, but not fear. There were quite a few people here who were afraid of HIM; but he had no interest in scaring anyone except blatant wrongdoers.

The school corridors, with minutes to go before last bell, were not empty. The swarming kids did as they had done for most of his first year in a public school: either cheerfully greeted him, or hastened to get out of his way. The few who did neither, were the few freshman who didn't already know about the Filipino Fireball. Not that there was any penalty for their paying no special heed to Alipang; he simply walked around them. Never in the history of the town of Smoky Lake had any teenage boy been so unconscious of being at the very top of the highschool food chain.

In the last minute before Alipang had to be in a classroom, he was greeted by Wilson Kramer. "Feels real different without Kim, doesn't it?"

Alipang nodded. "And even my sister isn't in a class with me until sixth period."

"I can appreciate the empty feeling, son--even more, now that my own life's fuller than ever. But there's a saying: you can't step into the same river twice, because the water moves."

"I feel as if the world has shrunk, sir, even while it's getting bigger for Kim and Brendan."

Wilson leaned closer to Alipang's ear. "You'll survive it. Now try to find something good in your senior year--even if you're more worthy to be teaching some of the courses here than some of the teachers are. Oh, and that was a cunning trick with the new volunteers at the Free Clinic. Thirteen seconds to last bell."


~ ~ END OF PART 25 ~ ~ ​
 
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Rachel, I just edited a reference to Summer Heron into my previous post. Now, are YOU going to USE the assistance recently provided to you, and start catching up "Summer's Story"?
 
I know how Alipang feels. My classes are so..wierd this year. I jumped into an AP english 12, so I didn't miss my friends.
 
PART TWENTY-SIX:
FRAGILE SANITY​

On that same Tuesday in September, there was a heavily-publicized invitation for students at the non-resident Doverwood Community College to stick around in the evening and attend a special event in the Performing Arts Building. Free food and soft drinks were offered as an incentive. Kim Tisdale didn't mind eating for free; but the main reason she stayed was because she had heard of "Theatre of the Absurd" as an artistic movement, and she supposed that the college experience would be incomplete without something sophisticated like this.

"It's going to make a STATEMENT, a revolutionary statement," insisted a second-year boy from Plattford named Orson. His eyes had a way of seeming not to look at anything in particular, yet to be staring fiercely. Still, he was able somehow to find food on the smorgasbord tables; and somehow he had maneuvered in such a way as to avoid six or seven less-attractive girls and home in directly on Kim.

"What's the statement about?" Kim inquired. No one who had seen old Monty Python programs could be completely unaware of what absurdist comedy was; but both students and teachers who had reminded her during the day of this event, had sounded as if it would be more like victory in a war, than like the dead-parrot sketch.

Orson's eyes at least now drilled their laser beams through Kim, rather than through the air to one side of her. "Have you never heard the saying, 'A poem should not mean, but BE'? This applies to theatre, too. When you've seen what an authenticating experience this is, you won't have to ask about the 'about.' "

When the auditorium doors opened, ushers all clad in Gothic black admitted the audience. Admitted them--and herded them up onto the actual stage. Anyone who couldn't be packed onto the stage, was asked to sit in the seats farthest forward. When asked why this was being done, every usher had the same verbatim reply: "We make an end of categories!"

Kim, Orson and the others waited for something to happen. What happened first was that the sound system gently played the theme song from "Misterogers' Neighborhood." Only, at the very end, the final repetition of the phrase "Won't you be my neighbor?" had its very last word cut off by--

--what must have been at least fifteen different, unrelated words, being screamed simultaneously by masked actors, who had been lying on the floor in the upper seat rows, and who rose to their feet in time for the opening yell. Once they had the attention of their audience, four of these performers displayed large American flags, went stomping together into one of the aisles, and began a steady, rhythmic chant of "I...hate...you! I...hate...you! I...hate...you!" with a thump of their flagstaffs on the floor after each repetition.

The other actors dispersed around the auditorium, taking turns reciting nursery rhymes. Not until the fifth or sixth nursery rhyme did changes in the wording become noticeable to Kim.

In the nineteenth or twentieth nursery rhyme such words were being used, that Kim decided she had had more than enough sophistication for one night. Squeezing between some fellow students who were enjoying this more than she was, she descended from the stage and began making her way past the self-important masked theatre majors. One obese boy blocked her path, shouting at her, "Don't be a slave to patriarchal tribalism!"

Pushing the dork out of her way, Kim hurried off to her old white sedan.

Less than half an hour later, she was ringing the doorbell at the Havens residence. Eric Havens himself opened the door and let her in, whereupon she declared, "Dr. Havens, I really need to hear Alipang recite some Shakespeare!"

A bit puzzled, but happy that Kim would still be resorting to his son as a relief from whatever distasteful thing she had experienced, Eric shouted toward the stairs, "Hey, Al! Kim's here to see you!"

Kim smiled her first real smile of the evening at the sight of Alipang practically flying down the stairs to meet her.
 
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The following Friday evening, Alipang had the more cause to be grateful for the time Kim had spent with him on Tuesday night; for they were unable to enjoy Friday evening together. Kim was needed at home, with a superabundance of boarded pets to care for; and Alipang could not pass up the chance to work another catering job with Maria Ramos for Rafael and Carmen Imada. In fact, the customers were known.

Harry and Kwai Richardson were celebrating twenty years of continuous operation of their shoestore, In Step With Your Instep. An unrelated store having lately gone out of business right next door to In Step, Uncle Rafael had taken initiative and made arrangements with the realty company that was trying to resell the property, so that the party could overlap the full store and the empty one--the food tables being set up in the latter. The eldest of the Richardsons' grown children, Jasmine Wallberg, was in attendance with her husband Louie, who was a commercial fisherman in Massachussetts.

Until Alipang heard Louie Wallberg speak, he would never have thought of his fellow Virginia residents as having an accent. Uncle Doug from Pennsylvania was more neutral-sounding, but Louie had a real New England accent which made Alipang's own speech patterns sound "Southern" to himself for the first time. As for Jasmine, her distinct blend of her African-American father and her Chinese-American mother argued eloquently that Harry and Kwai must both have been very attractive in their youth. This showed also in the children Jasmine had born to Louie; they found playmates in Melody and Harmony Havens, for the whole Havens family was also present.

"Too bad Kim couldn't make it," said a sudden voice at Alipang's shoulder: Summer Heron's voice, a little deeper in register than he seemed to remember it. "And Evan's camping with his guy friends tonight. But we can each assure the other one's steady that we're not misbehaving." Summer herself had somewhere found the time to grow a little taller, too. Her heels made her taller than Alipang, and from top to bottom she was radiant.

"Dang, Summer, you look too good to be legal," Alipang sputtered. "Have you eaten yet?" He was pretty sure she hadn't; he had been staying businesslike, serving Filipino food to all comers.

"A bite at home, and I'll have some of your spread in a minute; but I'm saving room for cake." She leaned in close, filling her friend's nostrils with a tastefully sexy scent, and whispered, "Is it true that Uncle Rafael ordered a cake made in the shape of a giant shoe?"

"Sort of," Alipang whispered back. "A basic block of cake, but with a sort of relief sculpture worked in on each side: a man's shoe on one side, a lady's shoe on the other. We'll be revealing it in about fifteen minutes." He had to suspend conversation then, to serve another ten or twelve persons. To his gratification, one of these was Summer's father, moving around essentially normally.

When she could, Summer asked him, "Are your college plans any better formed by now?" She knew that one way or another, Alipang would have to travel away from Smoky Lake to attend a dental school.

"Trust me, lots of universities with dental programs have heard from me by now. But that IS still fairly far off. I'm going to be around for one year after I graduate East, getting general-purpose college credits at Doverwood while Kim's on her second year there. So it'll be nearly 2012 before Mom and Dad can get rid of me."

Summer's voice dropped in volume. "And Kim? Will you and she still be together by 2012?"

Alipang shrugged. "I want us to be, but at our age, who can be certain?"

Summer sighed. "I hear you. Evan and I are still tight, but I know that most highschool relationships end at the entrance to a college campus. Thinking about it kind of upsets me sometimes."

"Then let's try not to think about that now."

"Good idea; the shoe cake will distract me."

Alipang turned to dishing out food for the Katon and Conrad families. For the rest of the evening, he and Summer managed not to talk about serious matters.
 
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On each of the four days following Labor Day, Cecilia Havens left Melody and baby Terrance under the supervision of Mrs. Capshaw from next door, and went forth with Harmony to hand out her husband's flyers for the healthcare townhall meeting at West High. It was, naturally, also being publicized by WVVV-AM. On Saturday morning they would see the fruits of the efforts of one radio station and one homeschooling mother.

On the day, Principal Toynbee himself unlocked his building at the auditorium end for Eric's party. He remained with them to lend some legitimacy to this not-very-official event. Also providing legitimacy were Dr. Fleming from the Free Clinic, Dr. Wicklund who looked after the Havens family, several nurses and medical administrative workers from various locations, Police Chief Costamesa, and Otto Grundzig from WVVV. The station manager would be recording audio, some of which would later be aired on Amy Gordon's weekday talk program. Alipang was there too, with Gilberto Costamesa, to help as required. Also, in the worst case, to destroy anyone who threatened violence to Alipang's father, if such person were not deterred by the police chief's presence.

Four white markerboards were being furnished by the high school; Alipang and Gilberto positioned them on the auditorium stage as directed. Then Eric Havens prayed with the young men, armed himself with a cordless microphone, and sat on the edge of the stage to wait for people to start coming in.

More than a hundred persons ultimately showed up, diverse in age and race, with some of them clearly from out of town. That wasn't bad. Eric welcomed them all, and invited them to begin by telling him what they needed and expected from a healthcare system, be it private or public.

One abrasive-mannered man who didn't live in Smoky Lake (but also did not resemble any of the imported W.A.L.N.U.T. activists Eric remembered seeing last spring), got the ball rolling for the rest. Standing up and accepting the mike, he refused to tell his name, only growling, "I want my rights! I want justice!" Not to be rude, Eric signalled Gilberto, who wrote "RIGHTS" and "JUSTICE" in large capitals on the markerboard farthest to the audience's left.

Happily, the others now emboldened to speak mostly had more meaningful things to say. They spoke about insurance coverage, freedom to choose physicians, availability of prescription drugs, and so on, with more than one political persuasion represented. Before long, all four markerboards were covered with writing. Then Eric began the one scripted portion of the gathering:

"Friends, thank you for giving us a spectrum of health concerns to look at together. I am neither a holder of public office, nor a candidate for any office; but one doesn't have to be either of those, to take part in civic affairs and to encourage other people's involvement. Quite a few of you, in particular, have spoken in terms of wanting to see an equal distribution of everything the medical community has to offer. Such equality is often referred to as dividing a pie. So now, allow me to offer all of you an _equal_ share of pie."
At this cue, the nurses and office workers passed among the attendees, giving everyone a clean, unused aluminum pie plate. It didn't take long at all for the brilliant observation "These are empty!" to start being heard from various seats in the auditorium.

"All of you are equal," Eric affirmed in an innocent voice; "all of you equally have nothing. You there in the back, don't leave yet! The point of this gesture is to remind you that no amount of _saying_ the words 'fair distribution' actually _gives_ anything to anyone. Someone still has to _produce_ the things people need. Are there any farmers with us this morning?....Good. God gives you the earth and the sunshine, but He doesn't drive your tractors for you, does He? Neither does any politician drive your tractors for you. If I walked up to you and shouted, 'All food must be equally shared,' my words would not plant one field or fill one stomach, would they?"

He proceeded from here to talk about the time, effort and expense required for a person to become any kind of medical professional. He cited the way his son Alipang had postponed buying a car in order to save up more money for dental school. Then he brought his colleagues who were present into the discussion, one after another. Two and a half hours later, a handful of persons had walked out, finding that they were not being offered goodies as a bribe to vote for this or that; but those who stayed had increased their knowledge of economic and ethical realities.

A smiling Sammy Ashford emerged from the dispersing crowd to high-five Alipang. "This was great, Al! My Dad's about to ask your Dad to do this again."

Alipang smiled back. "I expect my Dad will be doing it again."
 
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"Jason Katon! On the periodic table, there is a group of non-metallic elements which has been alternately designated by the letter O, and by the numbers 8 and 18. Can you--"

Mr. Hayata, who had also been Alipang's Biology teacher, was East High's Chemistry teacher. His efforts to be caustic to Alipang one year ago had evaporated in failure; but he was not above harassing a friend of Alipang's who seemed inert.

Not at all inert was the class clown Paco--Paco the Taco to his friends. He grabbed at Mr. Hayata's question as a chance to burst out: "Chemical Street has been brought to you today by the letter O, and by the numbers 8 and 18."

Already acquainted with nearly all the students he was to have in this course this semester, Mr. Hayata had from Day One imposed his own seating plan. He had stationed Alipang and Jason almost the entire width of the classroom from each other, and forbidden them to be laboratory partners. He had additionally positioned Alipang directly in front of Paco, in order to maximize the clown's disruption of Alipang's concentration. Grimly determined to make at least one Christian look like a stupid hick, he was not going to let Alipang help Jason if he could prevent it. But of course, Mr. Hayata could not prevent Jason from seeking his friend's aid after school.

Nor could he prevent Alipang from having an instinct for using fortuitous opportunities.

While other kids were laughing at the interruption, Alipang swung to the rear and told Paco to be quiet. Having thus an excuse to turn his back to Mr. Hayata, he caught Jason's eye before fully returning to his usual posture. In that instant, undetected by the teacher, he mouthed the word "noble," and the name "Bartlett." Facing front again, he mentally prayed that this cue to Jason would be enough to remind him of their study times together.

It was. When Mr. Hayata finished, "Can you tell me what that group is?", Jason confidently replied, "Sir, those are the noble gases: neon, helium, argon, radon, krypton and xenon."

"Hmm, not in the exact order of their atomic numbers, but otherwise correct. Why are they called noble gases?"

"The gas part is because they normally occur in nature in a gaseous state. The noble part is because the electron shells around their atoms resist bonding with other elements, like aristocrats refusing to marry peasants."

Here Mr. Hayata thought he saw an opportunity to trip Jason up. "So, Mr. Katon, you're saying that none of the noble gases can ever form compounds with other elements, right?"

"Not quite never, sir. They are said to have low reactivity, but it isn't absolutely impossible for compounds to exist. In the 1960's, a chemist named Bartlett was able to make xenon combine in a molecule with two other elements, platinum and something else."

"Very good, Mr. Katon," the teacher conceded grudgingly. "The other element used was fluorine. I hope this means that you're making a habit of paying more attention to the real world. That will be all."

Jason had no chance till after class to communicate his gratitude to Alipang; but the very fact of helping his buddy do better scholastically gave Alipang the satisfied feeling of being one of The Three Amigos, declaring, "Our reward is that justice has been done." Alipang would not help Jason in a cheating way on tests; but it wasn't academic cheating to build up Jason's confidence. As for "the real world," Alipang fleetingly wondered whether Mr. Hayata would survive even one hour in a Filipino jungle.
 
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By word of mouth, word of e-mail, and air time on WVVV, the idea of repeating the healthcare townhall meeting caught on quickly enough that it was repeated the next Saturday morning, in the same place. The grapevine alerted Eric that this time there _would_ be some W.A.L.N.U.T. agitators present; so he requested the presence of at least two uniformed city police officers, which was granted. Pitik Imada cancelled his usual Escrima class, in order to bring his toughest students (besides Alipang and Gilberto, who would have been there anyway) as a potential screen between the presenters and any troublemakers. Wilson Kramer also came, in civilian clothes but with his intimidating aura intact. And Eric planned to start right off with a still stronger theatrical gesture, to get people's thinking in motion in a sensible direction from the outset.

This time, almost four hundred persons came. "Pretty good for a small town and short notice," observed a female pediatrician from Shilohsville General Hospital, who had come officially authorized to speak for the hospital.

As soon as possible, Eric launched his theatrical weapon. "Ladies and gentlemen, you didn't realize that you were entering a monarchy; but we have a King now: His Majesty, Principal Toynbee!" The dentist bowed, and onstage came Darryl Toynbee, wearing a costume-department crown above an otherwise normal suit. Wilson Kramer joined them onstage, also bowed to Toynbee, and said as planned, "Your Majesty, I always wanted to be a dentist; could you make me a dentist?"

"Of course," replied Mr. Toynbee; "you are now the royal dentist."

Eric pretended to be taken aback. "Sire, what does that do to MY dental practice?"

"It doesn't change anything at all about your practice, Dr. Havens," replied the West High Principal. "Dr. Kramer here is just the royal option. Anyone who wants you to treat their teeth, still can go to you."

"Your Majesty, will Dr. Kramer charge patients the same fees as I charge?"

Mr. Toynbee uttered an exaggerated laugh. "Patients going to the _royal_ dentist won't _have_ to pay any fees! YOU, Dr. Havens, will pay out of _your_ pocket for the services Dr. Kramer provides to them."

Wilson tugged at the Principal's sleeve. "Sire, don't forget the equipment."

"Oh, yes. Dr. Havens, you also have to pay the costs of Dr. Kramer's dental chair, drills and other equipment. And if he breaks them, you have to buy replacements for him."

Eric wore a flabbergasted expression. "Your Majesty, I'll be driven out of business!"

Mr. Toynbee shrugged. "That's not my fault; I'm not _forcing_ anyone to choose the royal option. Besides, I'm not _literally_ paying for Dr. Kramer's dental practice _only_ from your individual bank account." With his eyes on Eric, he moved forward to the edge of the stage, and gestured toward the audience. "I'm also taking money from _them!_"

This was enough. Before there could be time for disruptions to get started, Eric broke character, ending the skit. "Ladies and gentlemen, theater may exaggerate, but it is a _fact_ that, when a service is paid for by tax money and those providing it are NOT held accountable for failures, there is no incentive to provide quality service...."

In the three hours that followed, there was noise and irrationality; but with the initial momentum Eric and his colleagues had gained, some education still took place. There was just enough brute force on hand that the W.A.L.N.U.T. activists dared not try to take over the meeting by force of their own, yet not such an overbearing presence that they could claim dissent was being silenced.

Eventually, Alipang had the chance to compliment Wilson Kramer on his acting job. "You should do some community theater, sir."

Wilson laughed. "Thanks, Al, but I'm already getting all the artistic satisfaction I need from the leading-man role I've been cast in."

Alipang smiled happily at the implications. "Then your leading lady is working out okay?"

This brought a sigh of contentment from the Navy veteran. "Yes, she is. We expect the show to have a lifetime run."
 
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That evening, Quinn Kramer was parked at his computer well past eleven p.m. His mother, with a bathrobe wrapped around her nightie, came downstairs to check on him: only the fourth time since remarrying Wilson that she had felt bold enough to check on her son in such a way _without_ her husband present.

"Quinn? Are you working or playing?" Lorraine asked, and found that she still felt relief when her son showed no resentment in voice or expression as he replied.

"Working, Mom. I have a History report due the Thursday after next, and by having it done ahead of time, I'll have a cushion of time for other things in case I need it. I'm writing about the history of special forces in the U.S. military--nothing classified in it, of course. I'm starting as far back as Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox in the Revolutionary War; and for the War Between the States, I'll describe Anderson's raid on the Confederate railways."

"I guess the subject is close to your heart."

"Yes, Mom, it is, because Dad's close to my heart."

Lorraine wasn't sure whether she wanted to cry upon hearing this; but Quinn spared her from pain by pushing his chair back and standing up to face his mother. He was almost as tall as she was by now, and his arms which slid around her were firm and strong. "Mom, since my heart is close to my father, you getting close to him puts you close to me, too. You and I aren't competing over him, any more than we're competing for the love of Jesus."

Now Lorraine's tears did come, but they were not tears of pain. She silently clasped her son to her for a long time, and his willingly hugging her back was a medicine for her soul, reinforcing the benefits of Wilson's own forgiveness and love.

The next morning, on short notice, Wilson had to go on patrol duty to fill in for another sheriff's deputy who had fallen sick. But Lorraine and Quinn attended worship together at House On Rock Baptist Church. Quinn skipped youth fellowship in order to stay with his mother in the sanctuary; and everyone who bothered to look at them, could see Lorraine's joy at being more sure of her son's love.
 
On the last Sunday afternoon in September, Kim Tisdale parked her white sedan in the parking ramp of Baltimore-Washington International Airport. Then she and Alipang started across the elevated walkway to the terminal, accompanied by Jennifer Williams--and Mrs. Hyland, the mother of the new United States Marine named Brendan. Alipang had fond memories of his first sight of this airport; and he realized that the terminal was about to _become_ a loving memory for a mother and a girlfriend.

Brendan was about to land for a few days of leave, before he shipped out to join the action in Afghanistan.

"I wish he didn't have to go; I wish they could just _end_ this," Mrs. Hyland half-wailed, for the sixth or seventh time that day. "Me too," sighed Jennifer, though in a less complaining tone.

Alipang finally said what he had been refraining from saying all the way up from Virginia: "A war can't end unless _both_ sides quit fighting; so all it takes is _one_ side still shooting, and no amount of diplomacy from the other side will stop it. If one side _won't_ make peace, that side must either get its own way, or be killed. And no, I _don't_ have to have been over in Afghanistan myself to know this is true. I've had enough times in my own life when armed violence came looking for me, _without_ my having done a thing to provoke it."

Mrs. Hyland knew in her heart that Alipang was right, so she didn't pick a quarrel. But knowing that the truth was true didn't make her feel any better about her son having to go in harm's way.

Fortunately, they were not waiting very long. Brendan's flight arrived on time; and his Marine dress uniform stood out amid the crowd swarming in from the concourse. Mrs. Hyland had first claim; she hastily kissed her son, then hugged him at length. Next Jennifer hastily hugged her boyfriend, then kissed him at length.

"Al, shall we send for pizza?" Kim laughed. But eventually Jennifer permitted Brendan to take notice of his friends also. Then the new Marine hugged Alipang, Kim, and Alipang again.

"Can I carry your luggage for you?" Alipang asked.

"You can _wheel_ it for me," Brendan replied. Before long, he was in the back seat of Kim's car, with his mother on his right and Jennifer on his left. Alipang, in the front passenger position, almost gave himself a stiff neck during the return drive to Smoky Lake, what with all the questions he had for his friend.
 
On the way down Interstate 95 into Virginia, they stopped at a franchise truckstop for an early supper. Alipang and Kim remembered the dreadful night at Rafferty's Truckstop; the other three also knew of it; but none of them spoke about that.

On the road again, Jennifer asked Brendan what female Marines were like.

"Not ape-jawed, man-hating monsters, as a rule," replied the bootcamp graduate. "But you don't have to be jealous; none of them I've met so far is even dandruff in your hairbrush." He tapped Kim's shoulder. "And I'm sorry, Kim, but I also haven't met one of them yet whom I couldn't pin to the mat in ten seconds or less."

"I'm not offended," Kim assured him. "I've done some growing up this year."

Brendan went on to describe various buddies he had made on Parris Island. Some of these he had mentioned in letters to Mrs. Hyland or to Jennifer, but they were mostly new to Alipang and Kim.

"The heck of it," Brendan concluded finally, "is that even though we all graduated together, I've got no guarantee that even one of them will be in my rifle company in Afghanistan. The world is bigger than Parris Island; even Afghanistan by itself is bigger than Parris Island; and of course, they don't crowd all the newbies into just one combat unit."

"You'll make new buddies," Alipang predicted.

"Meanwhile, while you're HERE," Jennifer cut in, "what do you want to do for fun?"

Brendan kissed her, then said, "Play lacrosse, of course."
 
Brendan spent most of his leave time with his mother and his girlfriend; but he did make it, with Jennifer in tow, to one meeting of the new Mixed Martial Arts Club at Doverwood Community College. Kim was there too, lending moral support to Alipang, as only three other Escrima students had made it there for this particular meeting: Alipang's own sister Chilena, with Dan to applaud her, and two younger boys named Jeff and Ollie.

Curving Breeze, remarking on the fact that Escrima emphasized weapons where Tai Chi did not, asked for a stick-fighting demonstration to open the real business of the evening after warmup exercises. So, using the hollow plastic training batons, Alipang sparred with Jeff and Chilena with Ollie. After two or three minutes of this, it was all Tai Chi for awhile. Alipang and his contingent gamely worked at getting the slow, graceful Chinese movements right; Brendan, Kim, Dan and Jennifer were coaxed into joining this part.

When Curving Breeze gave the okay, Alipang called up the Tai Chi students two at a time, and put them through rudimentary stick drills. Thus the meeting went back and forth between styles, and no one seemed to be bored with it. Eventually, Alipang called a halt, and addressed Miss Breeze:

"Teacher, I am familiar with the saying you are fond of, about the greatest warrior being the one whose sword rusts because he never needs to use it. But we simply don't always have the option of never using our sword. My friend Brendan has been trained to cope with that sad reality. With your permission, I would like to allow him to demonstrate some of what he has already learned in the Marine Corps." As he finished, he held up two rubber practice knives.

Curving Breeze wasn't wildly enthusiastic about the idea; but she knew that even some of her own Tai Chi pupils would keep a higher level of interest in this club if it offered a greater variety of action. So she agreed.

Brendan accepted his knife with a grin. "This will be hard, Al: you and I never disagreed about anything back at East High, so how can I act mad at you?"

Alipang grinned back. "Pretend I'm an Army grunt who just badmouthed the Corps. Miss Breeze, please give the word to start and stop."

Brendan held his toy knife in an icepick grip, while Alipang chose a saber grip. Their bout moved almost too fast to see, but Curving Breeze had a keen enough eye to call the halt at just the right instant. "Freeze!"

Brendan and Alipang both had experience of holding still to facilitate a critique of their actions in training. Miss Breeze drew everyone's attention to the positions of the combatants and their knives. "Brendan has just cut Alipang's throat wide open, while Alipang has severed Brendan's femoral artery. A draw by mutual slaying; they have thus unwittingly illustrated the futility of violence."

Courtesy, a trait encouraged in Marines, inhibited Brendan from retorting to this. But Alipang was less inhibited. "If I were a terrorist, and Brendan by sacrificing himself were preventing me from killing ten innocent civilians, his act would not be futile at all. Come on, Brendan, let's have another go."

Having gained a feel for Brendan's knife technique, Alipang scored clear wins in the two duels that followed. Then they switched to unarmed grappling, and Brendan pinned the smaller Alipang the first three times out of four. All of this held the captivated interest of the onlookers. Finally, Brendan made a gesture of tact: "Miss Breeze, could we go back to Tai Chi now? I was just beginning to get the hang of the basic form before, and I'd rather not leave without feeling I'd gotten somewhere with it."

Later, Alipang and Chilena invited everyone who had come with them to hang out for a little while at the Havens house. There, Jennifer--who purposely had been avoiding warlike subjects while enjoying these precious days with her sweetheart--asked Brendan, "Do you expect to be doing much hand-to-hand fighting in Afghanistan?"

"Actually, no, mostly shooting hostiles and blowing things up. But my drill sergeant says that it's good to build a habit of not losing your nerve when an enemy is looking you right in the face while he tries to kill you. We may not be able to scare them; but as long as we don't let them scare us, we can beat them."
 
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On the next Friday, the day before he had to depart for the war, Brendan contrived to eat lunch with his recruiter Spiro Trivizas, plus Wilson and Lorraine Kramer. Brendan was delighted that Wilson and Lorraine were building a successful relationship on God's terms; Lorraine was delighted that Brendan was delighted; and Wilson and the Gunny were both keenly interested in all that Brendan could tell about current basic training procedures in the Marine Corps.

That evening, Quinn Kramer went to a sleepover with Sammy Ashford, the two boys planning an all-night video games marathon. This was coordinated with a supper invitation Quinn's parents had received, to drive up to Alexandria and eat at the home of Bryce and Deborah Wesselrood--the couple of whom the wife had both listened to Lorraine's Christian testimony, and provided Lorraine with the information that had helped clear Wilson of false accusations a few months ago.

As far as the Kramers knew, Bryce remained unaware that it was his own trophy wife who had swiped the W.A.L.N.U.T. information. They weren't afraid of Bryce, whom Wilson could kill in one second with one blow of one hand; but they were greatly wondering what Bryce's attitude would be toward them. The invitation had been communicated to the Kramers solely by Deborah. So before setting out shortly after the lunch with Brendan, Wilson and Lorraine prayed very seriously together about the visit. They also kissed each other very seriously when the prayer was finished, but they counted on God not to regard the kissing as making the praying any less valid.

Hours later, coming into Alexandria on the west side of the District of Columbia, Lorraine made a cellphone call to tell Deborah that they were almost there. She was unprepared for the first thing Deborah told her:

"Listen quickly, Lorraine. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this earlier; Bryce has been watching me. You and Wilson won't be the only guests tonight. It was Bryce who had the supper idea in the first place. He wants you to hear the sales pitch of a really bizarre cult that he's been drawn into by some of his business clients. It's called The Space Triangle. They have centers in D.C., in Boston, and in Chicago--that's their triangle; and they claim that if enough people in these three cities beam good vibrations into space, this will attract space aliens to come and save the Earth from poverty and violence. Please don't let Bryce know that I warned you; but be on guard. I'm sorry I lured you into this."

Lorraine blew out a surprised breath, but then told her friend, "Don't worry, Deb. God has His own plans for this situation, and He can overrule anything that weirdoes may be trying to do."

When Wilson, driving the car, heard what it was that Deborah had told Lorraine, he found the first place where he could legally park, and he and Lorraine prayed again. This done, Wilson mentioned John 5:43, in which Jesus said, "I have come in My Father's name, and you do not receive Me; if another comes in his own name, him you will receive." Then he asked Lorraine, "When you gave your heart to Jesus, did you ever imagine you would be ministering to such oddballs?"

"No, I didn't," Lorraine admitted. "But I was worse than an oddball, and Jesus still saved me; so I won't chicken out of situations like this. It only makes me wish all the more that I had been true to God and you from the start; then you and I could have had years of working together to help people spiritually."

Wilson kissed her again. "Good girl! Obviously, it isn't too late for you to join me in fighting the good fight. There's no shortage of people who have let themselves be seduced by nonsense; once caught, they can't find their way back to sanity without help. That, sweetheart, is where we come in. With God's grace watching over us, let's go get 'em!"


~ ~ END OF PART 26 ~ ~​
 
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