Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“No, it does,” I say in a throaty tone. “The Lewis line is an esteemed one that goes back generations. We can’t just end because Harry’s dead. I want to knock Juliette up. I have to. The line won’t end, at least not on my watch.”
“Okay, I get it,” Chris says with a pointed look. “But what if it does? Would that be so bad? I mean, carbon footprint and all that. People don’t have kids anymore by choice because they want to save the planet. Their DNA is dying with them, and it’s seen as honorable and noble. So what if it happens to you too?”
I grind my teeth.
“They can do whatever the fuck they want, but that’s not going to happen to the Lewises,” I growl.
But Chris is serious, and he holds up a hand.
“Seriously bro, you need to take it easy with this shit. First of all, because you’re not even descended from Meriwether Lewis himself. That dude had no kids. You’re descended from his sister, so the bloodline is indirect and somewhat diluted from the get go.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl. But Chris isn’t intimidated and continues to speak.
“Not only that, but Meriwether himself was mentally unstable. I mean, don’t get me wrong because he was the Governor of the Louisiana Territory and an avid explorer who will go down in the annals of history. But he’s not exactly a Disney hero.”
“I didn’t say he was. Besides, that movie was about Pocahontas, and not Sacajawea,” I interject immediately. “Wrong person.”
Chris holds up a big hand.
“Okay, fine. But you get my drift. Meriwether was a bold adventurer, but he was also messed up in the head. I mean, that dude ended up committing suicide, he was so fucked-up.”
“Maybe,” I acknowledge, “but the suicide is still contested. He could have been murdered.”
Chris shrugs before taking a sip of his drink.
“Okay, but all I’m saying is that Meriwether Lewis was a mixed pot, and that he wasn’t some god without faults. All of those dudes were complicated people, including George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. They weren’t just patriots and politicians. They were also enslavers, who saw nothing wrong with what they were doing. Hell, doesn’t Jefferson have a slew of African-American descendants because he took one of his slaves as a mistress? From what I’ve heard, it was pretty common back then for plantation owners to have a second Black family.”
“Her name was Sally Hemings,” I bite out. “And yes, she and Jefferson had six kids together. Allegedly.”
“Yeah, so no one’s throwing stones,” Chris reasons. “Including your forefather, Meriwether Lewis. He wasn’t the be-all, end-all, although he occupies an important place in American history.”
“Right, because no one’s perfect,” I say through gritted teeth. “I never claimed he was.”
Chris shakes his head.
“It’s not just that, my man, because you’re not hearing me. Meriwether Lewis wasn’t just imperfect. He wouldn’t care about “continuing the line” and all the bullshit you’re putting yourself through because he committed suicide without procreating first. That dude definitely wouldn’t care if his DNA died out because he chose to take his own life, snuffing out his lineage. So why are you forcing the issue? Why is it so important to you to breed an heir, when Meriwether Lewis himself didn’t give two fucks? It’s strange.”
I stop to consider because when Chris puts it this way, my values do seem twisted and messed up. What the fuck am I doing?
“I guess I just thought it was important because it’s always been important in our family. When I was a kid, my dad and even my grandfather would talk to me about the necessity of continuing the line.”
My friend squints at me.
“That’s because you’re all suffering from the same delusion. I’m sorry, Jor, but I think that over the years, you guys became snobs. You see yourself as aristocrats descended from a mighty adventurer who rubbed shoulders with presidents. But that was a long time ago, and again, Meriwether Lewis himself wouldn’t give a fuck if he had no descendants because he killed himself without procreating. He snuffed out his own line. I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.”
I pause before letting out a huge sigh.
“Yeah. We’ll see,” I say in a terse grunt.
Chris drains his drink and claps me on the back again.
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but someone had to do it. I mean, my god, man. You’re fucking your son’s girlfriend because you want to procreate now? At age forty-five? Are you really going to stay up nights with a crying baby, not to mention wiping noses and changing dirty diapers? Fuck man! Even the thought gives me chills.”
Then, Chris shivers theatrically before reaching for his wallet and pulling out a wad of bills which he throws on the bar top.