Chapter Nineteen continued
Sam and Dave watched Judy and Frank drive by. “Who are those two?”
“Isn’t that the chick we saw coming out of Allen’s that time?”
“Maybe.”
Judy drove past the house and parked turned in the direction for home. She took Frank’s arm and walked slowly up the flagstones. She loved growing up there. They used to play hide and seek as kids. Judy always got up somewhere high. The willow tree. The copper beach. The roof. It took them a long time to find her, and sometimes they went inside and left her hiding.
Allen opened the door. Judy gave him a big hug. He promised they’d go out back and catch a buzz later. Frank, too, he offered, but Frank didn’t get high, thanks just the same.
Mom was in the living room with Gordon. Judy was amazed at how clean everything looked. “Mom, do you have a maid?” she asked, and Allen beamed. Mom looked great: her skin was all pink and soft, and her eyes lacked that squinty look that said she was upset.
Mom simpered. “This is Gordon’s fiancee, Laurie.” Laurie squirmed and said nothing.
“Fiancee?” Judy looked at Gordon, who shrugged. Maybe he’d stretched the truth a little for Mom’s sake. He was always telling her what she wanted to hear, and Mom fell for it every time.
“Laurie’s a doctor,” Mom continued. “Of tribal dance.”
“Comparative religion,” Laurie corrected. Her imaginary degree was a field she’d always been interested in.
“There is no comparison between religions,” Mom said indignantly. “There’s only one religion. All the rest are lies.” Laurie raised an eyebrow. So Mom had religion buttons. Where should she poke next?
Judy turned to Laurie. “So you’re a doctor?”
“No, a doctorate. In college?” Judy nodded. They talked about college. Neither had ever been, and that was a sore spot with Mom, but they were talking in low tones and Mom was soaking up attention from the boys.
Frank turned to Laurie. “Tribal dancing?”
“Belly dancing.” They talked about dance and self expression, dance and magic, dance and sex. Since these were also sore spots with Mom, they too spoke in lowered voices.
Mom had asked Frank to come over to fix something, and since he knew what that meant, he decided to bring Judy. But he wasn’t prepared for dinner, or for other family members. His plan had been to install his latest death trap, endure more humiliating sex, and try to escape without collapsing.
He felt very happy about Allen. Never again would he have to come over and help Mom, with Allen around. Frank avoided Mom’s eyes. She kept drawing his attention to things, like the drapes he’d hung, the bookshelves he’d installed. Things that only reminded him of the depraved things she had done to him afterwards.
He brought out a plastic bag. Mom took it eagerly and peered inside. “What’s this?” she asked. Frank mumbled as Mom brought it out and displayed it. “Frank has brought me a present.” It was a heating pad. A heating pad with a specially modified control. He pointed out the features. This position for warmth, and this one for warmth and massage. He’d been struck by the simplicity of it one afternoon, when he noticed how icy her feet were in bed. “Why thank you, dear,” Mom smiled. “I get so cold at night. Allen,” she called, handing it to him as he came over, “please go put this in my room.”
Judy was cold toward Mom, and spent her time hanging out with Frank and asking if he felt okay. She kept visualizing her very own mother having her way with her poor ailing husband, and could hardly sit still. Why was he still bringing her things after all she’d done to him? She wanted to throw a burning log into Mom’s face, not heat her toesies.
They talked to Laurie for awhile, while Gordon was buttering Mom up to ask her something; money, probably. They liked Laurie. She was down to earth and said what she thought. They wanted to warn her about Mom’s temper, but she looked like she could handle it. Which would be great. Mom had run off all of Gordon’s girlfriends before.
“Where did you meet Gordon?” she asked as they watched him keeping Mom happy. He was almost prancing in front of the fire.
“He was always coming in where I work, and one night I sat and talked to him.” She shrugged. “I liked him.” He did magic tricks, he told her wild tales that couldn’t be true, he waved a fantasy life for the two of them. Talked her right into bed. That, and a bottle of Patron.
“Well, he’s my favorite brother, if that’s any use. I like you. But he’s – well, we’re kind of the black sheep in the family, so the rest of them are predisposed to disapprove.” Judy accentuated the syllables to make sure she wasn’t slurring.
Laurie seemed to think everything came out fine. “Well, I’ll have to meet the others, then,” she said, deciding to get up and go to the bathroom again.
“They’re all just pale reflections of Mom,” Judy assured her.
Laurie reared back. “What, your mother? She’s no match for me. And besides, my mom is just like her. I’ll be fine.” Mom heard that.
“Okay,” Judy replied. Mom glared from across the room.
“Oh, Laurie, dear, come tell me about your education.” She looked at Judy and grinned. “A master’s degree, did she tell you?” Judy scowled.
Gordon and Allen went around the house looking at all of Allen’s handiwork. The broken railing going up to the bedrooms. (Frank loosened it.) The new floorboards around the refrigerator. (Frank disconnected the defrost line and the wood rotted.) The badly wired 220 volt outlet in the kitchen that had a short in it (Frank), the leaking pipes in the bathtub (Frank’s work in progress, just waiting for it to rot thru the floor)
Laurie stood in front of Mom like she was in front of the class, weaving a tale full of buzzwords while Mom looked for holes. Just like defending her doctoral thesis would have been. As if – Laurie never finished high school, and made six figures. Tax free. Who needed grad school?
Frank and Judy huddled in the corner and almost decided to make an excuse and go home before dinner. Then Gordon and Allen came to ask Frank detailed questions about the state of Mom’s house, he being the expert. Gordon rubbed Judy’s shoulders as they sat there, and she felt calmer. It was so much easier when they were kids. They always got along even tho there was the most space between them as siblings. Gordon wasn’t as determined as the others, not as pushy, and they used to just sit around and talk. They never talked any more. There was so much more to deal with now. But it was nice being together now.
Gordon leaned in and kissed her neck gently. “I love you, sis.”
“I love you, Gordon.” She smiled and shut her eyes.
Allen saw the kiss, and smiled happily.
Laurie saw the kiss, and winked at Allen.
Frank saw the kiss, and squeezed her hand.
Mom saw the kiss, and grew suspicious.
Laurie went to the bathroom again. Allen mentioned it to Mom, and Gordon remarked how small women’s bladders could get. Judy wondered if Laurie could have an infection. Mom was silent.
* * *
Sam and Dave watched Rick and Alice drive by and park in front of the house.
“There he is.” Sam wiped fog off the window with his sleeve.
“Roger that.” Dave mumbled the time into his mini voice recorder.
Rick strode up the flagstone walk to Mom’s front porch, with Alice stumbling behind him on high heels he’d insisted she wear. He hated the house. He hated growing up there. His happiest memory was how they used to play Monopoly as kids. He did anything to get a monopoly, and then immediately slapped on hotels, to break everybody else.
Allen opened the door.
“You,” Rick said coldly, and brushed on by. “I’ll deal with you later.” He really liked saying that.
Alice smiled shyly as Allen helped her with her coat. They talked about the baby. He wished she’d come by again because Mom really loved seeing that baby. Alice kept her answers short and avoided his eyes.
Rick found Mom in the living room with his least favorite siblings sitting around sucking up to her. “Where are the kids, honey?” Mom asked, peering around him into the hall.
“We’re having a little trouble with the kids,” he said, prepared to resist her prying. “Nothing serious. I’ll talk about it later.”
Rick looked around the room and sat down next to Mom. Scumbags all, soiling his – soon to be his – antique furniture. Gordon the drug addict and petty criminal, Judy the besotted hippie, Frank the crackpot inventor. And now Allen. He was going to have to lay down the law to Mom. She couldn’t be allowed to keep criminals around
He was so glad they only did this once every couple of years. He scowled as Alice came into the room and chose a chair on the other side of the fireplace. She sat there and studied her hands. He wondered if he should discuss her little problem now, or wait until they were all gathered. For maximum effect.
Mom had called to invite Rick and Alice and the kids to dinner. She’d told him she had an announcement to make, something important to their future. He’d come prepared, with arguments for everything from him as executor of the will, to the great retirement home she could move into right away. Whatever she had in mind, he was ready to turn it to his advantage. Just sign here, Mom.
Someone was clumping down the stairs on loud shoes. Mom cleared her throat. “Rick, this is Gordon’s fiancee, Laurie. She’s a dancer.”
Rick turned around with a sneer – Let’s see Gordon’s skank – and stopped in his tracks. His mouth dropped open. He felt like he’d been hit with a taser. Roxy.
First he felt embarrassed. God, Mom knew he was fucking a stripper. Then he thought of how hot she looked, and felt only lust. Maybe he could get her alone upstairs in the towel closet. Then he thought of her marrying Gordon and felt like beating his brother to death over it. Then he thought of continuing to fuck her once she was married. Take that, little brother. She loves me more than you.
Alice watched the thoughts play over Rick’s face. She had learned to read him very well. What his face said now was that she was going to get it when they got home. For something.
Laurie sat down beside Alice and said something nice about her hair. It broke the silence. Rick sat down and stared at the fire. Gordon said something to Mom. Allen said something to Frank. Gradually the noise level got loud enough that Alice could say something back to Laurie. Laurie seemed nice. Gordon was getting old to still be single, and she wished them both the best of luck.
Rick ignored Frank and Judy, found his wife beneath contempt, and Allen beneath notice, and was embarrassed by Laurie, so he applied himself to wooing Mom and edging Gordon out. The thing to do was to convince Mom to sign her life insurance over to him so he could leverage it into multiple rewards. Twice what it was worth. Triple. She could enjoy it while she was alive and still leave it for her heirs. He could pay off his debts and invest the rest in sure things, and take care of the old bitch even tho she’d never appreciate it.
Alice watched Rick sparring with his brother. As Rick’s wife, it was her place to disapprove of any choice Gordon cared to make. But she liked Gordon, even tho she had to join Rick in his disapproval. Laurie looked like a lot of fun. Maybe she could see more of them if they met at Mom’s house, or she could visit them wherever it was they lived.
Rick brought out the present he’d brought with him and gave it to Mom with a flourish. It was a silver framed professional photo of Rick and his family. She cooed over it and made to hand it off to Allen, but Rick grabbed it out of her hands and patted his pockets, pulling out a small hammer. That’s how much he loved his mom, he was going to put her gift up by himself. She beamed at him. Rick brushed past Allen and started making noises in the hall. “You,” he called, and Allen turned and followed.
Rick handed everything to Allen to hold. “I need a step stool,” Rick ordered loudly. “You owe me four months rent,” he whispered. “How dare you be here?”
Allen shrugged. “Your mother asked me to help.” He went to the kitchen for a stool.
Rick fumed until Allen got back. I’ll tell Mom on you. He mounted the step and looked for the right spot to put the picture. “I’m not having a criminal in my house,” he hissed.
Allen smiled and handed him the nail. “She knows about my past.”
Rick snorted and drove the nail into the wall. “We’ll see about that.”
He put the picture above the linen chest, where it had a 180 view of the front door, living, room, dining room, kitchen and back door. The den was out of sight thru the kitchen but you had to pass it to get there. Anyone using the stairs to another level had to pass it. It had pride of place. Everyone would see it, anytime they went anywhere in the house. They would be reminded how successful Mom’s eldest was, and would subconsciously affirm his right to rule the family fortunes.
He admired his photo.. Traditional frame, professional portrait, happy family, and a surveillance camera and microphone. He pressed a corner. Ben, watching from the basement of Rick’s headquarters, pressed the record button and noted the new feed in the log.
He fussed with his present for a long time, reluctant to go back into the living room and see his perfect Roxy sitting next to that mousy little disappointment of a wife. He decided to propose to her the next time they had sex and leave Alice for a real live trophy wife.
Rick was suspicious of the others. They seemed to be in on something together, and were treating him like the outsider. He wondered about Gordon and Allen, how much they had to do with each other. He wondered about Gordon’s and Judy’s designs on Mom’s fortune. He knew they were plotting against him. Plotting to rob his inheritance. He was in the strongest position; of course they’d try to gang up on him. They always had in the past, and he’d always gotten them to stand together and then yanked the rug out from under all of them.
He put his tool back into his pocket, admired the stiffy it gave his pants from certain angles, and swaggered back into the living room brandishing the bulge at his Roxy.
The moment he was clear of the door, Laurie got up and went off to the bathroom, looking nauseous.
Judy raised her eyebrows at Alice. Alice tilted her head.
* * *
Sam and Dave watched Cindy drive up and park right behind their stakeout. They both froze up and pretended to be head rests until she strode by, arguing with Bill.
She parked around the corner from the house on a whim, behind a nondescript car with two men in it. She might have gone in the back way if they hadn’t been there. She had such mixed feelings about the house, mainly because Mom still lived there. She remembered how they used to play slaves as kids. She ordered her slaves around and was haughty and mean, and tied them to her wagon like horses. She didn’t like it when it was her turn to be slave, and always ran away.
Bill rang the bell and ran his hand thru his thinning hair. Cindy reached into her purse for a couple of fuck you pills. Allen opened the door. Cindy swept by him as if he were a doorman.
“Hey,” Bill said, shaking his hand. “You didn’t tell me you were staying here.”
“Man,” Allen shook his head in disbelief. “You never told me she was her daughter.”
“Wow,” they said together.
Mom was in the living room, holding court. Cindy walked in to see Rick and Gordon running competing cons, and Judy and Frank sitting zombielike in the corner. Poor Alice looked broken, and Cindy wanted to sit down and comfort her, but had to go bow and scrape to Mom first. Bill came in and bowed and scraped even lower, and Mom hardly noticed him kissing her hand. What a cold bitch. Bill wasn’t good enough for Mom, and she rubbed it into Cindy’s eyes every chance she got.
Mom had called and confessed that she was writing her will. And in a moment of weakness had asked if there was anything Cindy especially wanted. She hadn’t been expecting everybody to be there for dinner, but it had struck her funny that Mom wanted Bill to come along. Mom hated Bill.
Cindy’s eyes narrowed involuntarily when she looked at Mom. Like she was squinting thru gunsights. Her eyes passed over Allen. She looked at Gordon and counted the number of charges she knew about, and thought about the times the family had to bail him out. Rehab. She looked at Judy and Frank and saw gray faceless shapes. Except that she’d like to slip Frank a couple of wakeup pills.
Cindy heard someone clacking down the stairs in cheap heels, missing the last one. Allen rushed to help. Cindy turned to see a drunk hooker wobbling into the room. She recoiled in horror and turned to the others to see if it was a joke. But they all acted normal. She hated her family.
“Cindy,” Mom said. It sounded evil, snakelike, the way Mom said her name. “This is Gordon’s fiancee, Laurie. She’s a waitress.”
* * *
Continue chapter nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Sam and Dave were staking out Rick again, sitting in their car along some hedges at the side of a house. Nice neighborhood. Quiet. The subject was going to dinner at his mother’s house. They were curious to see who Rick tried to have killed.
Sam and Dave – Feds, posing as international mobsters, posing as strip club regulars – were starting to look like they lived in their car. It had been weeks since their suits were cleaned, and the garbage was starting to pile up in the back. The car smelled of fat man, black man, ex hamburgers and dried up fries. Sam and Dave had dark rings under their eyes, and white rings in their nostrils. Sam’s hands shook and Dave was always sniffling and rubbing his nose.
Sam and Dave saw Gordon and Laurie drive by. Dave made a note.
“What’re they doing here?”
“She’s probably the entertainment.”
“I wish I could watch thru the window.”
* * *
Gordon and Laurie drove to Mom’s in silence. Gordon savored the companionable vibe between two compatible souls. Laurie thought how bored she was with Gordon’s dullness. She could have mentioned the club and opened his floodgates, but she turned on the radio instead. Gordon’s obsession with politics bored her more than silence. She unscrewed her flask.
Gordon tried to steer the conversation to the thickening around Laurie’s waist. He’d noticed it a couple of weeks ago, when she was throwing up alot. Not that it was unusual for Laurie to throw up. But you couldn’t just ask her if she thought she might be pregnant. She was touchy about her figure.
Laurie waved off Gordon’s concern. She wasn’t gaining weight, she was just bloated. Gordon was such a worry wart. She was getting tired of it. One of her sugar daddies was a film director and he’d been talking about making her a star, so she thought about that and they lapsed into silence again.
Gordon parked in front of Mom’s house. He stood at the curb with Laurie in his arms and looked at the house, pretending not to notice Sam and Dave on the corner. He loved that house. He grew up there. He remembered how they used to play war as kids; all the neighborhood kids would choose up sides and shoot pretend guns and lob pretend grenades. Gordon skulked around the edges of the battle interfering with one side and then another, singling out his enemies one by one. Lobbing real sticks and real stones.
Allen opened the door and said a friendly hey to his old friends. He and Gordon did a gang sign.
Laurie shoved him aside with her hip. “What’s that little creep Allen doing here?”
Gordon winked at Allen. “He’s on assignment.”
Mom was in the formal living room, sitting in Dad’s wingback. There were new drapes and the ceiling was freshly painted. Gordon praised the work while Allen described the fire.
Gordon and Laurie sat side by side on the couch. He held her hand. It kept her from fidgeting.
“Mom, this is Laurie.” Mom looked her up and down and forced a smile. Laurie glared back at her and said nothing. Laurie and Mom took instant dislikes to each other. Mom thought evil of anyone who would go out in public dressed like that. Laurie hated Mom because of what she did to Gordon as a child.
“So, Laurie, how long have you been seeing each other?” Mom peered at Laurie, who wouldn’t return her gaze.
“Oh, a while.” No way was the bitch going to get anything from her.
Mom looked perplexed. “Gordon, how come I never heard anything about this, sweetie?”
Gordon rubbed Laurie’s shoulder. “Well, Mom, I didn’t want to jinx it.” He lowered his voice. “I’m kind of serious about this one.”
“Are you, now?” Mom mused. She turned back to Laurie. “And what do you do, my dear?” she asked, a fixed smile on her face.
“Oh, I work in a bar,” she said, waving vaguely. “Cocktail waitress.”
Gordon didn’t like Mom’s smile. “Don’t be modest,” he said, looking for something to impress her. “She’s been studying dance.” Laurie left marks on his ankle telling him to shut up.
Mom’s smile turned icy. “Ballet?”
Laurie grimaced politely. “Folk dance.” She’d taken up dancing for its healthy effect on tips, but after an affair with the teacher ended badly, she continued to let Gordon think she was going for lessons, and went to see a sugar daddy instead. “College,” she continued, not fond of the look on Mom’s face. “For my doctorate.”
“Oh.” Mom got a nasty look on her face. “At least you’re not an actress.”
Gordon stepped in to enquire about Mom’s health, and the focus was off of Laurie. For which she wasn’t the slightest bit grateful. Gordon’s pandering to his mother pissed her off. Mom’s probing questions upset her. Prosecuting attorneys weren’t as unpleasant. She felt queasy again. She excused herself to go to the bathroom. Once inside, she locked the door, sat down, unscrewed the pint flask, and rooted around her purse for some pharmaceuticals.
While Laurie was gone, Gordon whispered to Mom that he thought she might be carrying his child, and that he wanted to do the right thing. Mom was immediately torn. The thought – what an odious daughter-in-law – was equally balanced by the vision of more grandchildren. Unlike Rick, Gordon would let her see his children. On the whole, she was delighted by the prospect. Especially that he wanted to make it legal. Especially that there’d be new babies.
“You know,” he remarked wistfully, “I would propose on the spot if I only had a ring.” Mom thought for a moment, and then in a fit of generosity, offered to let him use her engagement ring. He was effusive in his thanks, and helped to wrench it from her finger.
* * *
By TRAVIS REED
The Associated Press
JUPITER, Fla. — Three women and a child in bed were shot to death during a familyThanksgiving gathering in South Florida and a male relative was being sought early Friday.
Police said 17 relatives were in the house when the shootings were reported around 10 p.m. Thursday in Jupiter, a small, well-off beach town about 90 miles north of Miami that is best known as a home to celebrities including Michael Jordan and Burt Reynolds.
Jupiter Police Sgt. Scott Pascarella said officers were looking for Paul Michael Merhige, 35, of Miami. Merhige is a cousin of the 6-year-old victim, Makayla Sitton, and has no criminal record, police said.
The others killed were Merhige’s twin sisters, Carla Merhige and Lisa Knight, 33, and an aunt, Raymonde Joseph, 76, according to police.
Authorities said a fifth victim, Merhige’s brother-in-law Patrick Knight, was being treated at a hospital. His condition was not available. Another man, Clifford Gebara, 52, was grazed by a bullet and was treated by paramedics on the scene and released.
Police across South Florida and the U.S. Marshals Service were searching for Merhige. Pascarella said Merhige is believed to be driving a blue 2007 4-door Toyota Camry with Florida license plate W42 7JT.
Pascarella said police received a 911 call from a neighbor shortly after 10 p.m. Police then received a second 911 call from someone within the home.
Pascarella said the shootings took place inside the house. He said that sometime after Thanksgiving dinner, Merhige left the residence and returned shortly afterward with a handgun.
“What led to this incident, we’re not quite sure,” said Pascarella. “It did not appear there was any altercation prior to this shooting.”
Pascarella said there was an “ongoing resentment” in the family, but didn’t know the nature of the problem or whether the victims were specifically targeted.
Police said the home was owned by Jim Sitton, a photojournalist for WPTV-TV and father of the little girl killed. Sitton told WPTV his daughter was in bed when she was shot. He was at the party at the time of the shooting but was not wounded.
Yellow crime scene tape was stretched around Sitton’s salmon-colored house, located in a well-kept subdivision of stucco homes. Several cars were parked in the driveway, and a crime scene van sat in front.
Sitton told local media that his daughter was supposed to perform Friday in a holiday production of “The Nutcracker.”
“God packed a lot of sweetness into that little body,” Sitton said. “She’s just our life. I don’t know how we are ever going to recover.”
The relationship between Sitton and Paul Merhige was unclear, police said.
Phone calls to a number listed for Paul Merhige were not answered. A phone call to Sitton was also not returned.
Neighbors in the Palm Beach County community were shocked.
“Our kids walk the streets by themselves,” said 67-year-old Nicole Kemp, who did not know any of the victims. “I thought it was the safest place to live. I guess it doesn’t matter, if there’s a maniac here.”
It’s unclear where the adult victims lived. Carla Merhige was a real estate agent in Miami, said a co-worker.
“She was a wonderful agent,” said Joanna Sherman, a manager at Coldwell Banker Residential real estate. “She was very active in the community and in charities. She was just a genuine, beautiful individual. She always had a smile for everybody.”
___
Associated Press writers Suzette Laboy and Tamara Lush contributed to this report.
Chapter Eighteen
Judy picked her way carefully to Mom’s house. She drove very well when she’d been drinking. Long years of practice. She always traveled under the speed limit, and took extraordinary care not to weave or cross over the yellow line or any of those things that attract attention. She didn’t park well at the best of times, however, and often she’d find a ticket on her car when she came out of the liquor store.
Mom wasn’t as pleased to see her as last time. She was a little distant, and Judy wanted to talk. She wanted to tell Mom about her new perceptions. She’d been practicing for a conversation with Mom while she was telling Allen and Ben about it. But Mom said she was going out, and they stood in the hall for a few moments, Mom holding her purse and keys, Judy sweating all over the painting she’d brought to show off.
She whipped the painting up and thrust it under Mom’s nose. “I made this for you,” she gushed. “Because I love you.” It’s how she used to say it when she was a kid. She still felt like a kid. She’d been thinking about how it was, and had a whole bunch of questions. How old was I when I broke my arm? What was the name of the boy I liked in second grade? Was I really grounded for Senior Prom?
Mom stood staring at the painting. The garish reds and yellows, the vomit-looking foreground. The edges were sticky. The thing smelled like a bar. This was clear proof that her eldest daughter was severely disturbed. She was still painting like a child, but expressing all kinds of hostility in her choice of colors. She was pitifully proud of it, like a baby showing off a handful of her own poop. And she’d been drinking. “That’s nice, dear,” she said mildly. “I’ve really got to go. I hope Frank’s feeling better,” and shooed her out the door.
“I’m thinking of becoming an artist,” Judy said.
“Oh, you’ve had so many jobs,” Mom said, edging toward the car. She was tired of hearing it.
Judy protested. “None of them were anything more than a job.” This one is different.
”What’s wrong with just a job? You could have stuck with one of them. You’d be near retirement now. Look at you – you’re not even employed.”
“Yes I am. I’m employed seven days a week making art.” She thought of those stickies decorating the living room. That qualified as art. It would make a great exhibit – Hoarder’s Living Room, Year 27. “Just because it doesn’t make any money…”
Mom wanted to let her down easy. Nah, she’d been doing that for 50 years. “I’m afraid you don’t have what it takes to be an artist. You’d be better off working in a call center, the way you dress.”
Judy laughed bitterly. “Well, it’s too late now, isn’t it? I’m too old. Even if I wanted a job nobody would hire me. I could work at McDonald’s, maybe.”
‘That’d be great.” Anything would be nice. A productive member of society.
“I wasn’t suggesting it,” Judy sneered. “I’m not trying to get a job. We’re doing fine, we don’t have any debt and we don’t spend much.” She’d been rehearsing that.
Mom wasn’t impressed. “Except for all that marijuana and alcohol you’ve been buying for the last thirty years. You’d be rich now, you know.”
Know-it-all. “I don’t want to be rich.”
Mom just stared at her. I’ve raised a loser. “Maybe if I’d raised you differently,” she began. If I’d raised you in the church. If I’d raised you with an iron fist. If I’d raised you with duct tape and attack dogs.
That’s when Judy let her have it with both barrels. She had plenty of ammo to shoot. “There wasn’t anything you could have done to raise us differently. The problem was you, Mom. We’re all screwed up because of you and your problems. And Dad and his problems.”
“Don’t say anything against your father.”
“And the elephants in the room. All the things we can’t talk about. All the times you have to be right. We always have to do it your way because only your way is right.”
Mom didn’t have an argument, and couldn’t see why it should upset Judy. Of course she was right. She was Mom. She had to be right. It was a horrible burden, and nobody appreciated it.
Certainly not Judy, who let loose with a lot more that she didn’t remember later, and left. She left crying hysterically, wanting nothing more than for Mom to put her arms around her and comfort her. Except she would pull away and say something hateful, and so would Mom, and they’d be off again. Just like when Judy was a teenager.
She calmed down in the car. Driving home erratically, she thought about her smoking and drinking. If she did it to numb her pain, that was Mom’s fault for causing the pain. Mom sensitized her to emotional brutality, and she’s been trying to cover up the wound since she was a child. She would be strong, capable, and independent if Mom hadn’t systematically broken her spirit.
Judy recalled a magic ritual to deal with mother issues and psychic blood suckers. A visualization, circle of safety, banishing kind of ritual. She needed an emblem. An old family photo probably still up in the attic. She’d remind Frank to get one the next time he went to Mom’s. She wondered for a moment about Mom’s reference to Frank – hoping he felt better. But she didn’t give it another thought until she got home to an empty house. Where was Frank?
She found him after calls to several local hospitals. She took up several spaces in the parking lot and rushed into the emergency room. She got lost several times trying to find his room. They finally wrote it down for her so she could just show it to people.
Frank was lying in a hospital bed with the covers tucked in regulation tight, like straps. He was wearing an oxygen tube under his nose. He had on one of those ridiculous gowns. (Nice key pattern.) He was haggard and thin. Suddenly he looked old. His skin hung off his bones. His eyes were deeper set, and darker. His face was waxy.
Judy made him push over, and sat next to him, holding his cold hands. She got up and found the nurse to ask for a heated blanket. She got up again and asked the nurse to bring him some water. She got up and sat down again, snatching at his hand and fussing with it.
He was a bit groggy, and very slow, but gradually she understood that he had fainted and hit his head. He had a nasty gash on the back of his head, slathered in bandages. She teased him about giving him a mohawk to finish the haircut, but he didn’t laugh. Everything still seemed to be an effort.
The doctor came in and explained it all. Sort of. They’d found nothing on the head x-ray but they didn’t like his blood pressure and his bloodwork, and were going to keep him for a day (or so) for tests. He asked for Frank’s medical history. No operations, no chronic illnesses. Still had his tonsils. Judy was surprised to hear Frank tell the doctor about previous fainting spells. The latest being that time he came home from her mother’s with a bump on his head.
“Is my mom beating you?’ she asked.
Frank looked sheepishly at the doctor. ‘No. I’m losing consciousness and falling down.”
Later on Frank was more like his old self, cracking jokes and agitating to sneak out and go home. Judy snuggled up to him, feeling anxious. The doctor had mentioned CAT scans and bypass surgery. Frank was getting old. She was going to lose him. She was going to be alone. She’d rather die.
The nurse came in during the night for a blood pressure check. Judy was asleep on Frank’s shoulder. He was lying awake. When the nurse was gone he told he about his visits to Mom’s. “I’ve been having sex with your mother.” Judy shut her eyes and he went on. “It’s been going on for a long time. Years.”
Mom started it. She liked to pretend that Frank was her long-dead husband. She liked to role-play. She liked bondage and discipline. Judy blushed thru the whole story. Just the thought of Mom in leather made her sick.
He tried to stop going over there, but something had a hold on him. He hated what he was doing, but the brutality of it activated childhood traumas and he felt compelled to visit them again and again.
Judy started crying and after awhile Frank joined her. They sniffled and held each other until the nurse came in for another blood pressure check.
That night Judy and Frank saved their marriage, talking until dawn. Judy told him the lessons she’d learned, Frank told her the things he’d always wanted to do. They decided to sell the house and move to the country where they could have space all to themselves. Frank would build bigger gadgets in the barn, Judy would practice minimalism and start a flower farm.
That night Mom and Allen tried out Frank’s sunlamp and were nearly blinded. Allen unplugged it and put it on the curb, where it was taken by a resourceful homeless guy and sold for five dollars to the local beauty shop, where it was used for one tanning session. The customer was rushed to the hospital with severe burns, and died later of radiation poisoning.
That night Ben sat up late cutting and splicing. He was weaving a story involving practically everybody. It was building nicely, but wasn’t really going anywhere. That’s the trouble with life, often it’s pretty aimless. No plot.
That night Sam hashed out version 2.0 of the combined plan to rob the club, while Dave made up likely activities for all of his characters. They had a late macs n’cheese.
That night Rick and Alice didn’t have much to say to each other. He sat at his computer making money in the stock market, vowing to flee the torment that was his life, and make a new start with a real woman. She sat at her computer and googled undetectable poisons.
That night Cindy took an Ambien and a Valium and slept like a log. Tsindee, however, went sleepwalking with her gun. She was Lieutenant Callous. It was South Vietnam. She was leading a squad of handpicked men into the clearing of a tiny village, surrounded by jungle. They were going from hut to hut and shooting everything. Mom looked up with terror in her eyes, her body wrapped around a tiny child who cried pitifully. She shot Mom, and as the child blinked in recognition, shot her as well, and went back to bed.
Bill was home. Cindy woke up feeling like she was being invaded. She heard the door slam, and now the TV was echoing in the kitchen as he got something to eat. She went downstairs and turned the sound off. Serial Killer on the Loose said the banner at the bottom of the screen. “It’s the middle of the night,” she said. “I can’t think.” She swallowed a handful of pills with his beer and went back to bed. He followed ten minutes later, and had sex with her sleeping body.
That night Gordon wandered around on the roof of the club, snooping. When the boss and all his boys had gone, he found a hatch. He found a safe. He found a trap door. He found a tunnel.
That night Laurie was alone at the trailer. She was bored, and the devils from the past were bothering her again. She drank up all the wine. She drank up all the beer. She drank the Listerine. She drove to the liquor store dressed in only a towel and high heels, and made it back home just in time for a three day drunk.
* * *
