New! The Barbecue Series 10: Eggies in the Hanty
Date: Tue, 16 Mar 1999
Category: Story, MSR, MulderANGST, MulderTortureLite, mild Sk/Maggie
Rating: PG-13 for some language.
Spoilers: Let's just say through season 6, to be safe.
Summary: The Scully's learn more about Mulder, but more
importantly, Mulder
learns more about himself.
Archive: Yes
Disclaimer: The names you recognize belong to 10/13
productions and Chris
Carter. I'm just borrowing them. I won't keep them. At the end of
the story
you can have `em back, I swear, (unless you *want* to give `em to
me.) All
other characters belong to me, and if Mr. Carter wants to borrow
them, all he
needs to do is ask. <grin>
Introduction: It picks up in the Barbecue Series Universe and
follows the
incidents of # 9, so you might want to read it prior to this
one...And in fact
addresses an aspect of that story that one of my concerned
readers brought up
in feedback to me. So, never let it be said I don't attempt to
right a
perceived wrong! Okay MWard?? <g>
And to my resident expert on Catholicism, bless you, dear
Vickie! And now I
know I've come of age! I have made it to a Vickie Moseley
Signature! <VBEG!>
Thank you for all you teach me!
The Barbecue Series 10: Eggies in the
Hanty
by Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)
Part 1/2
Though we've been back in the X-Files division for a while,
I'm still trying
to get my desk back into the desired state of chaos that I work
best under, so
when Scully calls out to me with a question I don't quite hear.
"What?" I ask. "I didn't hear you, sorry," I confess.
"S'okay, Mulder. I just wanted to remind you we're going
over to my mother's
house for dinner tomorrow night."
"Oh." I look over at my desk calendar to see if I've
missed yet another
birthday or anniversary somewhere, but all it says in preprinted
letters is
the date and the words, 'Holy Thursday.' "Scully? Is there
something special
going on?"
"It's Holy Thursday, Mulder. We're going to have our
seder," she says, but
when she sees my eyes open wide in surprise and puzzlement, she
explains, "Mom
started having a seder when we moved to Baltimore. Father McKuen
was, and
still is, very big on ecumenical services. He and the Rabbi over
at the
reformed temple, Temple Israel, I think it is, have shared
services around
Easter and Passover for years now. So, Mom had started a
tradition of having
a seder on Holy Thursday as a remembrance of The Last
Supper."
"Oh." I'm not sure what to say here. For some reason
I feel tongue tied, and
I'm not quite sure why.
Well, maybe I'm not as unsure as I'd like to think. I do know
why, but I'm
not sure how to bring it up. You see, I don't want Scully to
think I've been
lying to her all this time. I mean, I don't think I've been,
lying that is.
It's just that the subject's never come up. But I'm afraid she
might think
it's been a lie by omission. I'm not sure what to do. I'm not
sure how to
tell her.
"Scully," I begin hesitantly, as I'm still not sure
what's going to come out
of my mouth, "have you ever been to a _real_ seder
dinner?"
"A real seder dinner? What's that supposed to mean,
Mulder? We talk about the
symbols of Passover, and Mom serves a really nice meal," she
says a little
defensively.
"No, no," I say quickly. "That's not what I
meant." I can't believe I put my
foot in my mouth already, and I haven't even told her yet.
"No, what I mean
is, have you ever been to a Passover seder conducted by a Jewish
family?"
"Oh," she says with a quick smile. She understands I
didn't mean any insult
to Mom. God knows, I could never insult that woman. She means too
damned
much to me, as does her daughter.
"No, Mulder, I haven't. Nearly went to one once, when I
was in college. A
suite mate invited me to her home cause it fell out on a long
weekend. I was
all ready to go, until Ahab got wind of it. He let it be known he
was a bit
upset I wasn't planning on being home for Good Friday and Easter,
especially
since he was on shore leave. Needless to say, my one opportunity
for
attending a Jewish Passover seder came and went."
I looked at Scully and wonder why I'm not feeling totally
comfortable at this
very moment. Maybe it's because I'm not sure whether it was her
dad's wish
for her to come home to spend the holidays with him, or he just
hadn't wanted
his little girl attending a Jewish seder. I can't imagine that
second thought
is really a possibility, but I find myself give off a little
shudder anyway.
"Mulder, are you all right?" she asks with sudden
concern. "You look pale all
of a sudden. Do you feel okay?"
"I'm fine, Scully. Just a little tired," I say. I'm
not lying. I really am
okay, physically. I am just a little tired. However, there's also
the fact
that I'm a little worried about whether or not my nice, Catholic,
almost
fiancée will be upset over the fact that I, her nice, almost
fiancé is
Jewish.
It's never come up in conversation before. I've never brought
it up, because
it never seemed to be an issue that needed discussing, yet, all
of a sudden, I
feel as if there may be a problem.
And the irony is I'm the one who shouldn't be the one who
cares. But I do. I
don't see Scully out and out rejecting me because I'm Jewish, but
I don't know
if she would be willing to get married outside of her church.
Married. The 'M' word. Yeah. We've both been thinking about
it. We haven't
exactly said it out loud. We've been more inclined to use the 'E'
word, as in
engagement ring, engagement party, officially engaged, but we
haven't done
anything official along those lines either. Yet.
And now I'm worried that it may never come to pass.
Look, I know I'm nuts to give this a second thought. Hell,
people look at me
as if I'm nuts over a million other things, so why should
anything change?
But given the fact I haven't practiced Judaism in over twenty-six
years, I
understand why people might conclude I don't have any business
using my
religion as a roadblock to marrying Scully.
I gave up practicing Judaism when I was shown there were
greater forces in the
universe that could take an eight year old sister away from her
brother, and
no God could stop it. Or fix it. Not then, and not twenty-six odd
years
later. So, I know, though I turned toward the truth, I turned
away from God.
I stopped believing.
But the fact of the matter is, I've never stopped 'being.'
I'm a Jew. It's what I am. It's who I am. I'm a Jew.
I don't know how to explain that to Scully. I don't know how
to make her
understand. Hell, I don't know how to make myself understand. So,
for now at
least, I remain quiet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We're about ready to leave for Mom's house, when I tell Scully
to wait, as I
need to get something from the fridge. She looks at me
quizzically, and when
I return with the squared wine bottle she looks asks,
"What's that?"
"Sacramental wine. Manischevitz sweet wine. Kosher for Passover," I inform.
"When did you buy that?" she asks.
"Last night, when we came home, and I went back out for a
run. I figured we
should bring something, and this would be appropriate. Did I do
something
wrong?" I ask.
"No, not at all, Mulder. This is very, very sweet of you."
I laugh out loud at her unintentional pun. "Yeah, we
could all go into
diabetic coma after four glasses of this stuff," I say with
a chuckle.
"Four glasses?" she echoes in puzzlement.
"Yeah, you're supposed to drink four glasses of this
stuff at a Passover
seder," I explain.
"Wow, Mulder, you've really been doing your
research," she exclaims. "I am
impressed." Before I can explain to her my research was more
than just
looking it up online, she says, "Oh! I forgot to tell you!
Charlie's going
to be with us tonight."
"Charlie? Karen and the kids too?" I ask delighted
to hear the youngest
Scully sibling would be joining us.
"No, just Charlie. He's been called into town for some
kind of Naval
brouhaha. Bill nearly came in for it too, but unfortunately he
came down with
a really bad case of the flu."
"Aw, that's too bad," I say in a flat, none too sympathetic, monotone.
"Mulder, stop. You two were getting along better. I don't
understand what
happened," she says.
"He refused to apologize for accusing me of losing Matty
during Mom's Saint
Paddy's Day Barbecue," I say through clenched teeth. That
incident still
burns in my gut. I'd gone out to cool off about something or
other, and while
I was gone, the baby had disappeared. Everyone had assumed I had
something to
do with it.
Even Scully. That hurt. A lot. And I left once the baby was
found hiding
under the couch.
It wasn't until Scully had dragged me back to the barbecue,
and I found the
baby in my arms, that Bill had reminded everyone of how it was
_my_ fault
Matty ended up MIA. Of course I told him that was bullshit, but
then he'd
said even Dana had thought it was my doing.
Well, I'd obviously been feeling the effects of the few
bottles I'd guzzled,
so I just went off on them all. I'd told everyone I loved them
all very much,
and I really, really wanted to be a part of this family, but I
would not allow
them to subject me to those kind of accusations. Not when they
had to know
how much I loved that child.
Now, the fact that I'd been holding on to Matty for dear life
at that point
probably made me feel a little more emotional than if I hadn't
been carrying
him. The fact of the matter is, I'd stood there in front of
everyone and
started bawling like a baby. I don't know what it is about these
Scully
barbecues and my sudden compulsions to open myself up emotionally
like that.
By the time we'd gotten back to the apartment, our apartment,
Scully had done
her best to beg for my forgiveness. Actually, she'd done a great
job, cause
once we were in the apartment, I got to forgive her over and over
and over
again. It was a good thing that I'm such a cheap drunk. That
alcohol had left
my system pretty much after that first plea for forgiveness.
Thank heavens. I'd been able to forgive that woman all night
long and the
next morning too.
But I digress.
So, no, I'm not at all upset that poor Billy has a touch of
the flu. With any
luck, it'll develop into pneumonia and give Tara a real break
from him. Oh,
wait. I forget. Tara actually loves the moron, though for the
life of me I
haven't figured out why yet. But since I really do care for Tara,
I'll just
wish him to feel really, really miserable, but not be so sick
that Tara has to
wait on him hand and foot.
"I'm looking forward to seeing Charlie. We really didn't
get a chance to talk
much during Saint Patrick's Day," I say. Then a thought
occurs to me.
"Scully, is the AD gonna be there too?"
Scully sees my ambivalence, but she nods all the same.
"Damn," I mutter
aloud. "Are they getting serious, or what?" I ask. I'm
feeling a little
territorial over my Maggie Scully, and I'm not sure I like the
idea of sharing
her any more than I have to.
"I don't know Mulder. If I had to venture a guess, I'd
say they're in real,
serious, 'like' at the moment. Given some time and some
nurturing, I'd say it
could turn into love."
"How do you feel about that, Scully?" I ask
curiously. As a matter of fact,
I've been rather amazed at how calmly she's taken this turn of
events in her
mother's life.
"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about it,
but I had a rather
serious revelation. It doesn't really matter a hill of beans what
_I_ feel.
Mom and the AD's relationship is no more my business than our
relationship is
Bill's. Right?" she asks with a disarmingly sense of
rationality.
I nod my head in agreement, but then look at her and say,
"But, Scully, how do
you feel about it? Because to be honest, I'm a little ambivalent.
I mean I
want Mom to be happy, and I know Skinner seems to make her feel
happy. But,
this is Mom," I say, and then add in a whispered
exclamation, "_My_ Mom."
Scully looks at me and then takes the bottle of sweet wine
from my hands and
sets it down on the table. She then reaches around my waist and I
instinctively reach around hers and we draw each other as close
as possible.
"She'll always be there for us, Mulder. No matter what,
she'll always be
there. She loves us, you know." I pull away from her
slightly so I can see
her face. She smiles up at me and repeats, "She really does
love us, Mulder.
No matter what."
"How do you know that?" I ask, smiling, because I
already know what her answer
will be.
"Because she's our Mom, that's why."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We pull up near the driveway and see there are two cars in it
already. Walter
Skinner and Charles Scully must already be inside, which leaves
me feeling all
at once delighted and a bit nervous. I know at some point during
the evening,
I will share my heritage with the Scullys and Skinner, and I'm
not sure how
everyone will react.
As I walk to the door, I realize it's more than likely I'm
making more out of
this than necessary. Chances are, Scully will react merely by
saying,
'Really? That's nice,' and move on from there.
And I know of a wonderful piece of swampland I'd like to sell
you too.... I
sigh out loud, and Scully looks at me with that concerned, Doctor
expression
again.
"What's wrong, Mulder? You off your feed tonight, or what?"
"Maybe," I hedge. "C'mon, let's go
inside," I say as I guide her toward the
front door. We walk right in and call out to everyone.
"In the kitchen!" rings out Mom's voice. We follow
her voice and those of the
others into the kitchen, and we see Mom's putting the finishing
touches on the
salad. "Hello, you two! We were just about to call out for
the search team!"
"Mom, it's exactly seven o'clock. Isn't that the time you
told us to be
here?" Scully asks.
"Well, yes, but dear, you're usually early, aren't
you?" she asks with a
twinkle. Mom has Scully's number all right. Of course, then she
looks right
at me, and asks, "Is everything all right, Fox?"
Good heavens, the woman has my number too, doesn't she?
"Yes, Mom. Everything is fine," I say, and then hand
her the bottle of
Manischevitz. She takes it and thanks me, then orders everyone to
get seated
as our seder is now about to begin.
Mom carries the opened bottle of sweet wine to the table along
with another
bottle that is probably more to everyone's liking. Actually, I
have a
confession to make. I like the sweet wine. I remember as a kid I
used to
snatch sips of the stuff at my Aunt Carol's house, when Mom
wasn't looking.
The stuff tastes like grape juice. Only drawback is it makes me
feel sleepy
as shit.
I sit down and look at the large serving platter on the table.
I see a
familiar sight and smile slightly at an old, but very fond,
memory. One of
the symbols of Passover is a roasted egg. My grandmother actually
hard boiled
eggs, but would then place them under the broiler for a few
minutes to brown
them a bit.
I remember Sam and I used to beg to be able to eat those eggs
after they were
talked about in the course of the seder. 'So, nu? You vant the
eggies in the
hanty, do you?' she would tease. That's what my grandmother
called the hard
boiled eggs, 'eggies in the hanty.' Sam and I would squeal, 'Yes!
yes!
please!' and she would give Sam one, but she always gave me two.
She would
always whisper to me, 'Fox, you're a growing boy. You need two to
grow tall
and strong.'
I haven't thought of my grandmother in a very long time. I
sometimes forget I
actually have some happy memories from my childhood. I've really
got to work
on remembering more of them. I need to be able to share them with
Scully, and
someday, I hope at any rate, with our children.
As we seat ourselves, I hear Mom say that in front of us is
the seder plate
which holds the symbols of Passover. She's given us each a couple
of cards,
each of which describes one of the symbols on the plate.
"The bitter herbs, also known as the moror," begins
Scully, "are a reminder to
us all that slavery was a bitter time. Until Pharoh could be
convinced to let
the Jewish people go, slaves everywhere would continue to
suffer."
It is now my time to read. "The egg represents life. It
represents the
rebirth that occurs in the spring. But it also stands for the
additional
offerings that were made in the Temples on festivals."
"The shankbone represents the sacrificial lamb, and all
of the sacrifices the
slaves of Egypt had to endure," offers Charlie.
"Next are the greens, which represents the Spring,"
begins Skinner. "We are
to take the greens and dip them in some salt water, for then we
can remember
the tears our ancestors shed while they were in bondage." I
watch as Skinner
pulls apart the parsley leaves, dips them into the salted water
in the bowl
nearby, and passes the salted parsley around to each of us.
I smile as I remember Sam used to make a face whenever she had
to eat the
parsley and saltwater. 'But Fox,' she'd whined, 'it tickles my
mouth!' I
think I used to stick my tongue out at that point, and listen to
my mother
admonish us to behave at the table or we would eat in the
kitchen.
"And then there is the __," Mom began but stumbled
over the word.
"/K/arosset."
"Charosset," I correct without thinking as I use the guttural /ch/ sound.
"What?" Mom asks.
"It's pronounced 'Charosset,' Mom," I reply softly.
"Why thank you, Fox. I always mess that one up for some reason," Mom says.
"It's not an easy word to say," I reply, again very
softly. Suddenly I feel
as though everyone's eyes are on me, yet I know it's probably
only my
imagination.
"You said that like an expert, Mulder," I hear
Charlie say. I look at him and
see something in his eyes that I'd never observed before. I'm not
sure what
it is, but I know it doesn't make me feel comfortable.
"Dana," Mom interrupts, "please go on and share about the matzoh."
Scully nods and reads from the card, "The matzoh is a
flattened bread which
was eaten due to the haste with which the Jewish people were
forced to flee
Egypt. Since they didn't have time to wait for the yeast to rise,
they ate
these hard, flat boards of cracker."
"Walter, would you please pour the wine?" Mom asks.
I watch as Skinner reaches for the wine glasses and waits for
everyone to
indicate which of the wines they want him to pour. When he gets
to mine, I
indicate the sweet wine, to which he shakes his head ever so
slightly. I
decide to ignore him; my perceived insult from him isn't worth
getting into an
argument over.
At which point, Mom recites the prayer over the wine, in
English. "Blessed
are thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who createst the
fruit of the
vine."
As everyone is about to raise their glasses, I find myself
uttering the same
prayer out loud, in a tongue I haven't even realized I
remembered.
"Baruch ata Adonai, Elohaynu melech ha-olam, boray p'ree haggafen."
The room is absolutely silent. Everyone's eyes are on me, and
I suddenly feel
sick to my stomach. I don't know why I feel embarrassed, but I
do. I
shouldn't feel embarrassed, but I do. I don't want to feel
embarrassed, but I
do.
I fear I will throw up right there at the dinner table, if I
don't leave right
then and there. I stand up so quickly, I knock my chair over.
Then, I run.
I run for the nearest bathroom, because I know I am about to not
only make a
complete fool of myself, but I'm about to make a huge mess doing
so.
I hear voices calling out my name; Scully's voice and Mom's,
even Skinner's
calling out to me. The only voice I don't hear at the moment is
Charlie's,
and that saddens me for a second or two. But then I don' have
time to worry
about who is and who is not calling me. I'm too busy puking my
guts up.
I've somehow managed to close the door behind me, but it
remains unlocked. I
hear Scully calling my name from outside, but I can't catch my
breath to
answer her.
I feel physically ill. I'm embarrassed and I feel guilty. The
sad thing is,
I'm not exactly sure what it is I'm feeling sad and guilty about.
Is it
because I'm embarrassed that the Scully's and Skinner have found
out about my
Judaism? Or is it more likely I feel guilty because I am indeed
embarrassed
they've found out. At least like this.
I never meant to deny my religion, to deny who I was. But it's
been so long
since I'd thought of myself as a Jew. A couple of years back,
when we had
that case in New York City that involved the Golem, that had hit
pretty close
to home. But, I didn't reveal my inner fears to Scully.
I didn't reveal to her how much I feared people I loved would
reject me
because of who I am.
That case in Nevada when I was forced to drive that poor man
around only to
have him literally explode inside the car; he accused me of being
'one of
them.' And though I didn't deny it, I couldn't bring myself to
admit to it
either.
What kind of a person am I to be afraid to admit to who I am?
And then I think of Charlie's expression. That look he had in
his eyes, like
he knows. He knows who and what I am, and it's not a good thing.
And I don't
understand why it's not. Yet I've felt that look penetrate me
before.
And though I've never consciously denied it, I've learned not
to admit it
outright either. I may not have carried the nickname forever, but
I've been
looked upon as something akin to 'Spooky' Mulder for as long as I
can
remember. I didn't exactly live in a Jewish ghetto growing up on
the Vinyard,
and so my religion was never made public by my parents.
I learned why when I went to Oxford. I didn't exactly receive
the welcome
wagon treatment when some of my so-called mates made the
discovery in the
locker room. The only one who seemed to tolerate that discovery
was Phoebe,
and she simply used the knowledge to taunt me.
So Charlie's expression is familiar to me; the fact that it is
Charlie who has
the doubts and fears is what hurts. I trust Charlie, or rather I
thought I
could trust him. But now?
Now I throw up some more and I continue to dry heave until
Scully finally
stops calling my name and simply throws the door open.
"Mulder, are you okay?" she asks breathlessly.
Now, in my mind I'm thinking these wonderfully sarcastic
remarks, like 'Sure,
Scully! I'm just doing this new age cleansing routine, ya know?'
or perhaps
just a simple, 'Never felt better' in between the dry heaves.
But of course, I don't have the strength to say anything at
the moment. My
hands are shaking as they hold on to the porcelain bowl for dear
life, my head
is throbbing and my stomach continues to feel as though it's
going to come up
through my mouth. I can't seem to catch my breath, and as a
result, I'm
feeling even more self-conscious which means taking a breath is
even more
difficult.
I lower my head into the toilet and try to wish this night
away. A cool but
firm touch manages to find its way to my forehead. Scully is
supporting my
head now, and I can feel her wrap her other arm around my chest.
She's trying
to take care of me. I love her for this; I love her for trying.
But all I really want to do right at the moment is find a hole
to crawl into
and never come out again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 1/2
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Barbecue Series 10: Eggies in the Hanty
by Susan Proto (STPteach@aol.com)
Disclaimers in Part 1
Part 2/2
"Mulder?" I hear her say my name so softly, it's
almost like a caress. "Do
you think you can sit up now?"
I lean into her hands, and then manage to croak out a 'yes.'
Next, I feel her
support me as I lean back from my kneeling position and sit back
against the
vanity. Scully sits across from me and waits silently.
Several minutes go by when I finally find my voice. "I'm so sorry."
"What's going on, Mulder?"
"I __, I didn't __." I hesitate. I'm not sure how to
explain myself, because
the more I think about it the more ridiculous it sounds even to
me. "I didn't
know how to tell you I'm Jewish."
"Well, you might have tried, 'By the way, Scully, I'm
Jewish,' or even a
'Scully, what do you think of celebrating Hanukkah this year
too?' Either of
those might have been just as effective as puking your guts up at
Mom's Holy
Thursday Seder," she says with a slight smile.
I know she's not angry, but I feel so guilty. She's absolutely
right. I had
no right to do this to Mom and ruin her holiday dinner. I'm such
a selfish
bastard; sometimes I think Bill Scully called it right when he'd
accused me of
being a selfish sonofabitch.
"I have to apologize to Mom and Skinner," I say
forlornly. "And Charlie," I
add with a little trepidation.
"Mulder, you still haven't told me why. Why would you
feel it necessary to
hide your religion from me?" she asks.
"No. I never hid it from you!" I respond adamantly.
"Well, not
intentionally," I add quietly.
"C'mon, Mulder. Let's have this conversation out there so
we only have to go
through this once. I really think everyone deserves an
explanation, don't
you?" Scully asks gently. I know she doesn't want to
antagonize me and make
me feel like I want to run in the other direction, but she does
and I do.
"Scully, I really want to leave," I say without too
much conviction. I know
neither one of us will allow me to leave, but it is the way I
feel.
"Let's go, G-Man. You can do this, and try to remember
these are all people
who care about you, okay?" When I give her a slightly
incredulous look, she
confirms, "Yes, Mulder, even Skinner. When you consider how
many times he's
hauled your ass out of trouble, you can't possibly believe he
doesn't care
about you, right?"
Of course, I see the truth in her words, but they don't seem
to make the
anxiety I feel in facing everyone go away. But I take the hand
she now
extends to me, and allow her to pull me up. I stand up, and watch
her find
the bottle of mouthwash and a paper cup. I rinse my mouth and
then wash my
face with some soap and water and dry off. I bury my face into
the soft terry
cloth towel and take a couple of deep breaths. I really am scared
shitless at
the moment.
I replace the towel back on its rack as carefully as I've ever
done in my
entire life. When it comes to procrastinating, I've developed it
to a new art
form. If I don't want to face something, I can amaze even myself
with my
avoidance techniques.
However, I'm at a slight disadvantage in that Scully is at my
side at the
moment, and knows everyone of my little tricks. She finally grabs
the towel
from me, pushes it in place and practically pushes me out of the
bathroom.
She leads me into the family room, and I see everyone has
congregated in here
already. As I sit down next to Scully on the love seat, I look
from one
person to the next to try and get a feel for everyone's reactions
toward the
whole situation. I know I find a sympathetic eye in Mom, and I
think Skinner
is leaning toward forgiveness as well.
The only one I can't gauge is Charlie. I just can't seem to
get a handle on
his reaction. It may be because he's yet to make eye contact with
me while
the others have. Damn it. I never meant for this to happen. I
don't know
what to say to make this right again. I don't know if it will
ever be right
again, at least between Charlie and me.
"Fox?" Mom is calling me and I turn to meet her
gaze. Unbelievable. All I
see in this woman's eyes is love. Where has this dear person been
all my
life? Lord knows, I don't want to ever lose her. "Can you
tell us what's
bothering you?"
What's bothering me? I wish I could tell her. I wish I could
figure it out
totally for myself. But I owe her an explanation. I owe her big
time, so I
try to explain. "I feel as though I've been lying to you in
a way."
"Lying? How, Sweetheart?" she asks so tenderly.
"I never told you." I take a deep breath, as I can
anticipate what she'll say
next.
"Told us what, Fox?"
"I'm not a Catholic, Mom."
I see Maggie Scully's face break into this enormous smile.
"Oh, Fox, I pretty
much figured that out a while ago."
"You did?" I know I look like a wide eyed ten year
old, but that's the way I
feel at this moment. "I don't understand."
"Well, that's not to say I knew exactly which religion
you were born to, dear,
but I knew it wasn't Catholicism. If you were raised a Catholic,
you would
have been more aware of some of our traditions." She pauses
for a second, and
then says, "I think it would be lovely if you learned more
of our traditions,
Fox. Do you think you might like to do that?"
"Mom," I rasp uneasily, "I __, I don't think I want to convert."
"No, Dear, I should think you wouldn't want to do that,
not until you become
more comfortable with the Judaism you were born to. You would
need to know
what you were converting from before you could take the step to
convert to
something else, don't you think?"
All I can do is nod my head in agreement at this point.
"No, Fox, I'm not suggesting for you to become Catholic.
I think it might be
helpful for you to simply learn more about it, and perhaps this
will help you
learn more about yourself as well."
I nod again at this woman's wisdom and then turn to catch
Charlie's eye. His
expression is not nearly as understanding as his mother's is.
"Charlie?" I
croak out. I need to connect with this man again, and I'm not
sure how to go
about it. I don't know exactly what he feels about me, and to be
honest, I'm
just a little more than afraid to find out. But I press on
anyway.
"Charlie, say something."
"What's there to say?" he says tonelessly.
"Charlie, I've come to respect you and appreciate our
friendship. I sense you
have a change of heart, and I need to know if that's true and, if
so, why?"
Charlie shifts a little in the chair and looks down. I feel
Scully shift a
bit next to me and then hear her say, "Charlie, what the
hell is your
problem?"
That's my little sailor, always cutting to the chase.
"I don't have the problem, Dana."
"Are you insinuating someone does, Charlie?"
"Yes! No! Well, maybe. Oh, jeeze, Dana, I don't know what
the hell I mean."
He turns to finally look me in the eye. "Mulder, I'm sorry,
I don't mean to
feel this way, it's just that, well, oh damn it! You weren't
supposed to be
__, I mean, if you were Catholic, there wouldn't be a problem,
you know?"
"Charles?" Mom interrupts and asks, "What are you trying to say?"
"Mom, if Mulder's not Catholic, then how can they get
married? She'll be
excommunicated, won't she? You've worked so hard to bring her
back to the
church, and now you're willing to let her throw it away for a
___."
I'm not sure who gasps louder at this moment, Charlie or the
rest of us.
Charlie looks at me and then at Scully. Finally he turns his eyes
to Mom and
Skinner and I can tell the poor guy is absolutely horrified. I
honestly think
Charlie cannot believe what he was about to say.
"Charles Brian Scully, how dare you bring that kind of
thinking into this
house!" cries out Mom.
"Oh, Mom, I'm sorry. I am so sorry."
"I don't believe it's me that's owed the apology,
Charles," she admonishes
sternly.
Charlie tries to look at me, but he can't, so I decide it's my
turn to pick up
the gauntlet.
"Charlie, it's okay."
"Mulder, it is not okay," retorts Scully.
"Shh, Scully, let me finish, okay?" I see her nod
her assent, and I continue.
"Charlie, it really is okay, because I guess I've felt the
same way at one
time or another, but I don't think either one of us means it.
"There was a time in my life when I and my family
celebrated our religion, our
heritage, but after my sister was taken from us, our family
disintegrated, and
one of the things that disappeared was our faith.
"I lost that aspect of me, Charlie. I hid my Judaism as
if it was something
to be ashamed of because my parents decided we needed to change
in order to
deal with the missing piece in our lives. Where we'd lived, there
were no
other Jews. It was easy to pretend I was something I was not,
because I had
no one to compare myself to.
"But Charlie, even though I stopped practicing being a
Jew, I never stopped
being a Jew. I don't think I could even if I wanted to, though to
be honest,
I'm not sure what I want to do. Mom's right. I can't reject
something if I'm
ignorant of what I'm rejecting.
"I don't want to take the church away from your sister,
Charlie, certainly not
if it's something she wants in her life. You're right. It took
her a long
time to find her way back to it; God, it took her almost dying to
find her way
back to it," I groan as if in pain. I suppose thinking back
to that time does
cause me pain.
"I think, Dana," I say as I now turn to her,
"that's one of the reasons I
never brought up the subject. I'm afraid you'll feel you have to
chose
between me and the church, and I don't want to place that burden
on you.
Besides, I'm so afraid of what your choice would be." I stop
for a moment to
catch my breath.
"Mulder," Scully says, "You have to understand
something. I don't _have_ to
chose between you and my faith. I know I can be a good Catholic,
and still
love you and be with you. It's not an either or situation, guys.
I can have
my faith and my Mulder, too." She grins at that, and I find
myself with the
beginnings of a smile forming on my face as well.
"I appreciate your concern," she continues,
"but you don't need to worry
whether I can be Catholic and still be in a relationship with
you. I am what
I am, unless I chose otherwise. Mulder, you are what you are,
unless you
chose otherwise as well. You don't need to burden yourself with
the idea we
must travel the same path. We don't, Mulder. We can find our own
paths to
God and faith; all you need to know is I'll support you however
you choose to
seek it.
"Get this through your head, G-Man. I love you. I'm not
going anywhere.
Catholic, Jewish, or Reticulan, I'm not going anywhere," she
affirms.
She then turns to Charlie and says, "And you little
brother, I appreciate your
desire to look out for my best interests but honestly, I think
I'm the one
best capable of doing that."
Charlie looks directly at Dana and agrees immediately.
"You're right, of
course. Dana I'm sorry, and Mulder, I really am sorry. I have no
right to
judge anyone. I didn't mean to __. My mouth just got way ahead of
my brain.
I do value our friendship, Mulder. Really. Oh God, Mulder,
please, can you
forgive me?"
I feel as if a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I
lean over and
extend my hand towards Charlie and thankfully, he grasps it in
his own. I
appreciate this man's devotion to his sister, and if anyone can
understand a
need to protect a sister's best interests, it's me.
"Well, now," Mom says with a radiant smile, "I
don't know about you, but I'm
really quite famished, and we still have a seder to complete.
Would you all
care to join me in the dining room?"
We all nod in agreement and stand up to walk into the dining
room. Scully
scoots ahead so she can help Mom get the things she'd put back in
the fridge
or in the oven back to where they belong. Charlie follows and
then I go.
Skinner is behind me, when I feel him tug a bit on my arm. I turn
and look at
him quizzically.
"Are you okay now? I mean, really, okay?" Skinner asks with real concern.
I feel touched by this show of compassion, and I shrug my
shoulders. "I guess
for now I am. I still have some decisions to make, but at least
now I know I
can make an informed decision."
"It's not always easy being a member of 'the tribe', is
it?" he says with
almost a conspiratorial grin.
I confess I'm a little confused by his remark until it dawns
on me exactly
what he's saying. "You?"
"Mulder, my surname is Skinner, but the 'maiden' name is
Malyshev. My
mother's mother was born in Russia, and had to hide her religious
beliefs. It
wasn't until she came to America and gave birth to my mother that
she felt
safe to practice Judaism. The first time she was ever in a temple
was for the
naming ceremony for my mother. For crying out loud, Mulder, where
the hell do
you think I'd get a middle name like Sergei, anyway?" he
chuckles out loud.
Skinner chuckling? With me? Well, now this is a side of him I
certainly
didn't know existed. And he's Jewish. Go figure. Maybe__. I think
about
the possibilities for a moment and then I ask aloud, " Sir?
If there ever
comes a time when I need to find out about __, well, you know, if
I have a
question about anything___." I stop. Suddenly I feel like a
blithering
idiot, but I guess the boss picks up on this pretty quickly.
"Mulder, I'm not an expert on Judaism. I don't practice,
I don't go to
Temple, but yes, if you ever want to just talk and get another
view, my door
is always open to you. Okay?"
"Thanks," I say, and then I feel compelled to ask
one more question. "Sir?"
He looks at me sternly, and I realize that's at least the second
time I've
called him 'Sir' when he'd asked Scully and I call him Walter
during our off
time. "Sorry," I apologize, "Walter, may I ask you
one more question?"
"The answer is 'yes', Mulder. Maggie knows I'm Jewish.
I'm not sure when it
came up, or how it came up, but suffice it to say she learned I
was Jewish
rather early in the relationship.
"Now, if you ask me if Charlie or Bill knows, I'd have to say, I doubt it."
"I don't think you'll need to worry about it, Sir_, I
mean Walter. Mom seems
to be pretty good at convincing her children she's perfectly
capable of making
her own decisions," I say with a hint of irony.
"I suspect you're right, Mulder. Oh, by the way, Good Pesach."
"Thanks, Walter. Happy Passover to you too. But now, I
think I need to learn
about some new traditions. How about you?" I ask lightly.
"Lead the way, Mulder. Just lead the way."
And I feel as if, now, I can.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of Part 2/2