Turning Points -- 2011 NaNoWriMo

Writing on his computer, Doug reflects on what brought him to where he is now

* * 1 * *

         There have been many turning points in my life. Leaning back from the computer, Doug re-read what he’d just typed. Some good, some bad, but all have led me in one way or another to where I am now. They have made me who and what I am.

         Just what am I? I’m a Ph. D. in Electrical and Computer Engineering. During and after getting that education, I pioneered several processes that made me rich. Because of that, some have called me a genius. Others have called me an anti-social loner. I would say that both descriptions are accurate to some degree, as far as they go. But how did I come to be such an odd combination, you ask? It may sound crazy, but the real genesis came when I was 11 years old, in sixth grade, in the aftermath of my parent’s divorce.

         “Egads,” he whispered to himself. “It really all did start back then. Sixth Grade at Colin Bannister Elementary School… my math teacher was Mr. Roemer, and I learned science and social studies from Mrs. Keller. Reading / English was taught by Ms. Kincaid, and young Julie Portman was the new music teacher. Except for her class, my year got off to a poor start. And boy, did mom not like that one bit…”

* * *

         “Get your things, Douglass… right now!” Audrey Fowler had shown up unexpectedly at the after-school day-care center her son attended. The staff was surprised to see her at 2:20 p.m.; she normally didn’t arrive until just before closing time at six o’clock. Doug, along with a lot of other grade schoolers, was spending that day there because of parent-teacher conferences. Walking off to get his coat, he knew he was in trouble. The combination of fury in her voice and early arrival told him the visit with his teachers had not been a good one.

         Doug also breathed a mental sigh of relief. While quite worked up, the anger on his mother’s face and in her voice was not the worst he had seen during his parents’ divorce proceedings and several follow-on court decisions. But it was bad enough to let him know he was in very big trouble… and that his mother might not listen to much he had to say.

         That lack of communication had been forced on Douglas Stanford over the last 14 months. Never one to converse with her son, Audrey Fowler Stanford had turned into a lecturer and berater all through the very contentious proceedings. A successful divorce attorney herself, Audrey had handled her own case – and treated her son the way she treated the children of her clients. Children didn’t have legal standing, after all; what would they have to say that was important? He clients went along with it because she had a stellar record in not only winning cases but also getting more (sometimes much more) than her clients expected. Doug went along with it because he had no choice.

         In the end, Audrey had gotten everything she wanted in court. Not only was the divorce granted, but her now ex-husband had no semblance of parental rights. Audrey had not asked for either alimony or child support; knowing that she made more than Robert Stanford, she knew the court would not grant them. And having been married by a judge instead of in a church, she hadn’t needed to worry about getting a religious annulment. (As far as she was concerned, “God” was a myth used to fleece the dullard masses of their money, or for the wealthy to use as a tax dodge.) And that wasn’t the only thing Audrey had legally accomplished.

         “What do I have to do with you,” she grumbled, “to get you to use your correct name?”

         “But mom –”

         “Don’t try to get out of it! The teachers showed me your work. Sometimes you sign things right, but you’re still using… that name! Don’t you get it? You are NOT a ‘Stanford’ anymore. Your name is Douglas FOWLER!” While going through all of the legal machinations of reverting to her maiden name, Audrey Fowler had also rushed paperwork through the system the changed Doug’s last name to match. He hadn’t known it was happening until everything was done, and his mother showed him the legal paperwork that told the world who he had become. “Say it, Douglas! Say your proper name!”

         “Doug Stan – uh, Doug Fowler. But mom… please, understand… I’m still adjust –”

         “NO! You are NOT ‘adjusting’ to a new name anymore! It’s been three months since I showed you the legal truth; you can’t still be ‘adjusting’ to it.” Pausing for a sip of coffee while waiting for the light to change, she added, “You have NOTHING to do with your ex-father now! Or his family! Do you hear me? NOTHING! Now, say your full name, and say it correctly!”

         “Douglas… Douglas Phillip Fowl –”

         “Good God” – she did use the word when exasperated, but otherwise had no use for religion – “just how obtuse are you? Don’t answer, I already know! You’re either dumb… or you’re trying to bait me. And you had better not be doing that, Douglas! You know better than to try and make me angry!”

         “Uh, mom… please, I don’t understand –”

         “That’s obvious,” she growled while turning into the driveway of their split-level ranch house. “Okay, I’ll spell it out for you… again. ‘Phillip’ was the name of your ex-father’s father. And as we have nothing to do with that family anymore, you do not have a name related to them! Your middle name is ‘Arthur,’ after my father! Now, tell me your complete, legal name.”

         “Douglas Arthur Fowler.”

         “Good. Remember it. Because I have a chore for you once we finish talking. Now, get out of the car and get inside. Wait for me in the kitchen.” Doug scurried inside as the garage door closed behind their car. Sitting at the table, he suspected this would be a long (and rather one-sided) discussion. He had been half-expecting something like this, because he had not been doing well in school. Several of his teachers had asked him if there were problems outside of school. He had said no each time; according to his mother, there was nothing wrong and that was what he was to tell the world.

         I wish that were true, he thought to himself. Even though I’m not supposed to… I miss dad. Yeah, he’d be upset at my grades, too… but not like this. And he’d try to help me, instead of give me the chewing out that mom’s about to launch. He wasn’t that bad of a guy, no matter what mom said in court.

         Doug had attended several days of the divorce trial – until the judge expressed interest in talking to the boy. After that, Audrey parked him in day care until the trial was over. And she had rebuffed the judge by citing multiple laws and legal precedents that stated minor children, unless the actual victims of a crime, had no legal standing and could not be considered viable witnesses in court. (A thorough attorney, Audrey had found rulings over 100 years old to press to her advantage.)

         The courtroom episode most imprinted in Doug’s mind was watching his mother assail his father not only for the affair he’d had, but bringing up things that Doug couldn’t believe. Dad’s not a druggie, he thought at the time. And yeah, he was caught driving drunk – once. And mom and I weren’t with him. Audrey, however, had used that one DUI conviction and a dalliance with cocaine at age 22, along with the affair, to badly tar Robert Stanford in the judge’s eyes and achieve her courtroom goals.

         All through the trial, however, Audrey had taken little notice of her son or how the events were affecting him. When her own parents had voiced concerns, Audrey gave them her usual reply – “he’ll be fine. He just has to adjust to a new reality. And he will, I assure you.” In private she had repeatedly ordered Doug to do just that, overriding his questions and leaving the child little if any choice in the matter. As far as Audrey Fowler was concerned, her ex-husband was being surgically removed from their lives and there should be no reason for problems… or memories. She had even, in front of Doug, burned all photos of father and son she could find in the fireplace. “That’s what your ex-father is to you now, Douglas,” she said as the fire burned out. “A pile of cold ashes that will be swept away. And when you clean out the fireplace tomorrow, Douglas, you’ll do EVERYTHING you can to forget you even had that man as your father. You have a new life now, and he’s not part of it.”

         What Audrey failed (or refused) to realize is that young boys’ memories aren’t like computer files; you can’t just delete them and be done with it. Her actions had actually made the boy secretly long for his father, an emotion he did his best to hide. Unfortunately for Doug, the strain was leading him into poor grades at school.

         “Care to guess what this is?” Doug didn’t reply; he’d learned not long after the divorce that his mother would provide and accept only her own answers when talking this way. “Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue? Okay, I’ll tell you, Douglas. This is a major embarrassment for me. I don’t work as hard as I do in order to have you turning into a FAILURE! How can you – LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU!” Doug’s face had drooped downward in shame at the word “failure,” only to be scolded by Audrey. “You will NOT disrespect me by looking away! Is that clear, mister?”

         “Yes, mom.”

         “Good! It’s bad enough that I work the hours I do only to find myself supporting a failing child. But I had to take time off of work today to find this out! You cost me time out of the office for this abomination! That is completely unacceptable!

         “Now, to the details of your embarrassment. Last year, you were a good boy and gave me straight A’s. But what are you doing now? You’re getting an ‘A’ in music, but that’s nothing. Anyone can get an ‘A’ in a fluff class like that. And music means nothing in the real world.” Because of that viewpoint, Audrey refused to relate the note from the music teacher – that Doug had an incredible voice, a talent that should be nurtured in the years to come as his voice eventually changed to its adult form. “Now, let’s talk about math and science. You’re getting a ‘C’ in both of those classes. I know you’re smarter than that, Douglas. I’ve seen it in past years.

         “And that’s not the worst of it. When it comes to reading and social studies, you’re actually failing! That’s why the grade letter is an ‘F,’ Douglas Arthur Fowler! F for failure! What do you have to say about that? No, don’t say a word. I will not listen to your lame excuses, MISTER! You do not have the right to say ANYTHING! Now get me glass of water out of the refrigerator; I’m losing my voice.”

         “Can I get something to drink –”

         “NO! You’ve not earned it, mister! Your voice isn’t sore or horse from talking. You don’t need anything. Now, stop stalling and get me my drink!” Doug did as he was told, walking past his mother to get a glass out of the cabinet. He had to walk past her again to get to the ‘fridge and pull out the pitcher of filtered water. Filling the glass, he put the pitcher in the fridge and closed the door before walking back to the table and handing the glass to his mother.

         Taking a sip of water as Doug sat down, Audrey said, “There’s no way a son of mine can get grades like this! You’re doing this to spite me, aren’t you? Spite me and embarrass me? Well, I won’t have it! So here’s what’s going to happen from now on.

         “When you get to the after-school center, you’re going to find a place away from all the other kids and STUDY! And don’t think of trying to get out of it; the people at the center will know your instructions. And I’ll make sure they know what will happen if they allow you to break them.” Doug didn’t say anything, but he had often heard his mom use the same phrase on the phone when talking to other lawyers, and to staff at her office. He had also seen the number of people at the office that would talk to her drop over the previous 14 months, and suspected they either feared or hated her. Both were emotions that Doug could understand.

         “And once you come home, or if I have to take you to my office when the after-school center closes, you will STUDY! And you will keep studying until and after your grades improve. I will not allow you to be a failure, Douglas Arthur Fowler. You will NOT fail me, nor will you embarrass me! Is that understood?” Doug nodded yes. “I didn’t hear you, Douglas! Do you understand what your responsibilities are?”

         “Yes… y-yes, mom.”

         “Good!” Audrey took another sip of water, only to slam the glass down at her son’s next comment.

         “Mom… could I go next door and play with Todd Kilbride for a little while?”

         “Good, God, just what kind of IDIOT are you? Don’t you understand what I just said? There is no playing! Not with your grades like this! And look at the mess you just made on the kitchen table!” Audrey pointed to the water that had splashed out of her glass when she slammed it down. Since she had reacted to something Doug had said, the mess (which was actually quite small) was automatically his fault. “Get some paper towels and clean this up!”

         As Doug moved to obey, Audrey said, “since you’re choosing to be so dense, I guess I have to spell it out in detail.” Ticking off the items on her fingers, she said, “There is no more playing! No more toys! No more television! No more computer games! No more FRIENDS! None of these things exist for you until your grades improve and stay better! Until and even after that happens, to my satisfaction, all you have is TEXTBOOKS and STUDYING! When it’s mealtime of some sort, you’ll have 15 minutes to eat your breakfast, lunch or dinner. That’s all. Then it’s back to the books if you’re not at school. And when you are at school, you’ll spend that waste of a time called recess in a classroom STUDYING! You need to improve your grades, not run around on a playground.

         “Now, your grades will improve by the next report card. And they will be straight A’s by the end of the school year. It will be done, Douglas. I don’t work like I do,” she reiterated, “to have a FAILURE for a son. Do you hear me Douglas? Do you HEAR me? You will NOT fail or embarrass me!”

         “Yes, mom.”

         “Good. I will not allow you to follow your ex-father into failure. This family is too good to turn out like that schlep of a man.”

         “Uh, mom… is there a chance I could get to see dad some time soon? I miss –” The next thing Doug knew, he was on the floor of the kitchen, his left cheek stinging. He looked up to see his mother angrier than he could ever remember.

         “Why, you god-damned IMBECILE! The man that was once your father is NOT a part of your life anymore! Remember, your last name is FOWLER, not STANFORD! We will have nothing to do with him; he is beneath us! Now get upstairs!” As he stood up from the floor, a tear rolled down his cheek. “Knock it off, Douglas. I didn’t hit you that hard, don’t try and milk it. And don’t even THINK of telling someone that I hit you. It won’t stand up to scrutiny, and there are times a child needs to be punished – especially when they talk about trying to contact a failure who’s been removed from their life.”

         Walking slowly towards the stairs, he heard his mother say, “Wait, I’m not finished with you.” Turning around, he mentally rejoiced at the reduced fury on his mother’s face, but kept his own expression carefully neutral. “First, you’re going to do your science homework. Then you’re going to write out, one thousand times, ‘My name is Douglas Arthur Fowler.’ You obviously need a reminder of just what your proper, legal name is.” Taking a sip of her water, she added, “Then you’ll do your math assignments. Once you’ve got that done, you can take a 15-minute break for dinner. Then you’ll write out your name sentence another thousand times before doing your reading homework. Once you have that done, you’ll write out your name yet another thousand times. Then you’ll do your social studies homework. And unless you need to use the bathroom or you’re coming down for your dinner break, you will not leave your room until all of your assignments are done. Is that understood?”

         “Yes, mom.”

         “Good. Now get to your room and stop failing me.” After her son ran upstairs, Audrey walked downstairs to the wet bar in the family room. Pouring herself a stiff Scotch, she said, “I will not be embarrassed by anybody… especially my own son.” Then she went back to the kitchen and made up her dinner from several choice leftovers. She also pulled a potpie out of the freezer for when Doug took his dinner break.

         In his room, Doug took a picture of him and his father he kept hidden in a desk drawer. My name may legally be Douglas Arthur Fowler, he thought to himself. And the courts may say you’re no longer my father. But Robert Stanford… you’ll always be “dad” to me. Being sure to hide the photograph, Doug bent down to his assorted learning tasks.

* * *

         That night in sixth grade, Doug wrote on his computer, was what effectively started my academic career. My mother insisted I be “the ultimate student,” and I was. Even after my grades started improving, there was no let up. And at least once a week I had to write my legal name on a paper over and over.

         Though it wasn’t easy, I never forgot who my dad was and where I came from. I also managed for a while to keep that from mom. But that’s a story for later. The end of sixth grade, despite my better grades, brought new challenges at home.

* * 2 * *

         “What is this? What the hell is this?” Audrey Fowler stood in the kitchen, waving Doug’s final report card for sixth grade. Attached to it was a letter from his teachers asking she come to a meeting the next day. “What are you doing, Douglas? What kind of trouble have you gotten into? What am I going to find out this time?”
         
         “Mom… I don’t think I’m in any trouble.” Not at school, anyway. “And mom… I thought you’d be happy with my grades. They’re much better than the start of the year.”

         “Much better? Much better? Don’t give me that crap! You got a ‘D’ in music! A ‘D’! How in the Hell could you get a ‘D’ in a fluff class like music?”

         “Uhm, mom… I hate to say this, but you helped in –” Though he didn’t fall out of his chair this time, the sting of Audrey’s hand on his left cheek stopped Doug in his tracks. That’s what you get for speaking the truth, he thought to himself.

         “How could I have made you get a ‘D’ in a fluff-head music class? I’m not there with you, after all. I can’t bring you down if I’m not there… though you seem to be doing your damndest to embarrass me!”

         “Mom…” Be ready for another slap, he thought. And just hope it’s not a backhand. “Mom, there were several mandatory performances I missed in the last few months. School shows that you said weren’t important and would detract from my studying.”

         “And they would have if you had gone! You don’t need concerts, Douglas, they’re just excuses to get out of your homework. What you need is STUDYING, mister! And that’s what you’re going to have, come Hell or high water. Because I will NOT allow you to embarrass me this way again!”

         “Uh, mom… didn’t I get A’s in the rest of my classes?”

         “You weren’t perfect! Douglas! It wasn’t straight A’s! You still got a ‘D’ on this report card. And you did that to me on purpose!” Taking a sip of her Scotch, Audrey added, “well, I guess I have to take time out of my busy schedule tomorrow to go be embarrassed by you again. Well, you know what, mister? You’re coming with me! You’re going to be just as embarrassed as I am. And your teachers are going to get an honest look at what I have to deal with. Now, get up to your room and study!”

         “Uh, mom… I don’t have any textbooks to study with. We had to turn them in to the teachers today. The school year ended –” Doug again felt the sting of his mother’s hand on his left cheek.

         “Don’t give me that bullshit!” Doug tried to edge back; it was the first time he had ever heard his mother curse at him. “I pay my fucking taxes to that school district! I’ve paid for those books time and again! Do don’t tell me you had to give them back to the teachers! Those are your books and you will god-damned-well keep them! When we go to the school tomorrow, you are bringing those books home! You’ll need them next year, after all!”

         “But mom… next year, I’ll be in junior high, at a different school with different teachers. Won’t they use different books as well?” Seeing he had scored a rare point, Doug pressed on. “Would it really be beneficial, mom, for me to have books that are a lower grade than I’ll be attending?”

         “Well, what do you know,” she said after another sip of Scotch. “You actually said something smart for once! Perhaps you’re finally moving away from that failure of an ex-father you had.” Doug kept his face neutral, but the anger he felt at that statement burned deep within him. The boy felt that neither he nor his father were failures; they had just been unlucky enough to get involved with (or come from) Audrey Fowler. “But don’t you worry, mister. You are STILL going to be studying this summer; don’t think you’re getting out of it.”

         Looking at the letter, Audrey said, “okay, they expect me there at 9:00 a.m. That means you’re coming to the office with me tomorrow morning so we can go to your embarrassment together. You’ll stay where I put you, Doug, and you will be quiet. I’ll find something for you to read, since you don’t have your textbooks anymore. Now, get up to your room. And I don’t want to hear a peep out of you the rest of the night. I’ll tell you when you can take your dinner break.” As the boy walked upstairs, Audrey muttered, “you will not embarrass me anymore. And whatever it takes, I will drive the last vestiges of your ex-father out of you.” Finishing her glass of Scotch, she walked downstairs to the wet bar and poured another. Then she went to her den to go over the deposition she had obtained the day before.

         Doug sat at his desk, wondering what the new day would bring. I did what she wanted, he thought to himself. I got A’s in all of my classes… except for music. And despite what she said, SHE was the one who caused my bad grade in music, not me. If I’d made those concerts, I would have had at least a ‘B’ in that class. God… tomorrow could be a mess.

         A while later, he heard noises coming from the kitchen. The <BEEP-BEEP-BEEP> of the microwave told him supper should soon be ready. He waited to get the word to come downstairs.

         When his alarm clock read “10:02”, Doug pulled a granola bar out of his lower desk drawer. When that was finished, he changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed. Ten o’clock was bedtime when he wasn’t studying, and nothing changed that.

* * *

         Doug sat at the back of the classroom, away from his mom and several of his teachers. At least I’m not constantly writing, he thought as he flexed his aching right hand. When they had walked into his mom’s office at 7:00 a.m. (getting there early was her custom), Audrey had parked Doug in a vacant office and given him an “assignment” – write out the legal reality of his name, over and over, until told to stop. When she came for him 90 minutes later, he was starting his fifth legal pad, getting halfway through it during the drive to school.

         “Now, Mrs. Fowler –”

         “Ms. Fowler. I’m divorced and my ex-husband has nothing to do with my life. That’s why my son and I don’t have his name anymore.”

         “Uh, Ms. Fowler…” The speaker was Imogene Keller, Doug’s science and social studies teacher for the past year. “Is this something you really want to be saying in front of Doug?”

         “Douglas knows all about his philandering, drug-swilling, drunk-driving father. And he’s fine with that. Aren’t you, Douglas,” she said over her shoulder.

         “Yes, mom,” came plaintively from the back of the room. Doug looked up to see the approving smile of his mother – and the questioning looks of his teachers. Looks that changed to disbelief, then to neutral as his mom turned back to them. Please don’t make her angry, he thought to himself. Today is hard enough as it is.

         “Now,” Audrey said to the three teachers, “what do we need to discuss today? I’m assuming it’s something important, since yesterday was the last day of school and I’ve already seen Douglas’s report card.”

         “Doug’s grade turnaround has been spectacular,” replied the math teacher, Mr. Roemer. “And checking his records for the last few years, he’s always done well until the start of this year. But what concerns us is that during the turnaround, Doug has become… well, less sociable with his fellow students.”

         “Wait, has he been disruptive?” Looking over her right shoulder, she said, “Douglas, you had better not have been disrupting your classes! You know better than that!”

         “No, Ms. Fowler, Doug’s behavior has been exemplary. It’s just that… well… Doug’s withdrawing from the other students, not interacting with them.” James Roemer took a moment to compose his thoughts, wondering how the word “disruptive” had suddenly entered the conversation. “He answers questions when called on, but doesn’t readily volunteer like some of the other kids do. And at recess and breaks… well, he’s always got his nose buried in a textbook instead of playing with the other kids. My concern is that if he keeps that up, he’ll have trouble relating with people in the future.”

         “What the Hell is this? You’re not a bunch of amateur psychologists,” Audrey shot back. “You people are teachers. Your job is to TEACH, not do a bunch of social engineering. You should be glad that you have a healthy, dedicated student like Douglas! Why do you even have recess, anyway? It’s a waste of time! You need to have these kids in their seats studying! Studying and improving their test scores so you can get more government funding and stop leeching off hard-working taxpayers like me!”

         “You’re right, ma’am,” replied Mrs. Keller, “that test scores and knowledge are important. But life skills don’t come just from textbooks. Being able to interact with other people, to hold a conversation, to make trades and negotiate, those are all important inter-personal skills. Skills learned just as much on a playground or in a lunchroom as they are in a classroom. And when one of our students becomes less involved with his classmates as the year goes on, we get concerned. We begin to wonder if he’s having problems outside of school –”

         “Douglas’s life away from here,” Audrey yelled while standing up, “is not your concern.” She had slapped an open palm on the table to emphasize the last words, and continued doing so as she spoke. “”You do not belong in anyone’s private life! Your job is to TEACH! NOT to care about kids when they are outside your school building. No wonder Douglas got A’s from you people; imbeciles like you are easy to snow! I’ve got half a mind to send Douglas to a better school and have him re-take sixth grade to make sure he actually learns something! And you,” she said pointing to music teacher Julie Portman. “Don’t think I don’t remember you, young lady! You’re the so called music teacher who wants to take kids away from their studies so they can do fluff-and-frill concerts. And when I insisted my son study, you punished him for it!”

         “Actually, Ms. Fowler, I didn’t overly punish Doug. I was actually lenient with him regarding the concerts. You see… if a student misses three or more mandatory concerts during a school year, I normally flunk them. But I couldn’t flunk someone with your son’s vocal talent. He’s too good to flunk.”

         “Your ‘concerts’ don’t amount to a pile of shit, lady!” In the back of the room, Doug cringed. When his mom let the profanity fly, other things usually flew as well. “Hell, why do schools even have music programs? They don’t accomplish anything, after all. Except to leech money off of us hard-working taxpayers and fluff our kids’ minds with unimportant bullshit!”

         “With all due respect,” Julie Portman replied, “many studies by universities, educational groups, even parental advocacy groups, have shown that music and other arts help to broaden student’s minds and make overall learning easier. They challenge the mind to think in new ways, which helps kids develop their problem-solving abilities. And they help kids to interact with other people, both now and in the future.”

         “Lady you are so full of shit, it’s ridiculous. I’ll have you know, Douglas doesn’t need any of your artsy-fartsy crap in his life. He needs STUDYING! He needs hard knowledge textbooks and strong homework assignments. And if he’s so talented and spectacular,” she scoffed, “then he needs an ‘A’ in your class, not a ‘D’. So I suggest you change his grade today!”

         “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s not possible. I can be lenient because of his talent, but not that lenient.” Audrey looked at the younger woman, and her protest died on her lips. It was the look in Julie Portman’s eyes that made Audrey Fowler stop talking. The look she had seen in the eyes of several judges just before they had placed Audrey under a contempt citation for her courtroom behavior. “Plus, you consented to my grading system at the beginning of the year. All of my students’ parents did, and have the signed papers to prove it. Plus, I have your signed rejections of the notification slips I sent to all my parents as each concert came around. I’ve also checked with my bosses and the district’s legal counsel, and your statements of ‘neither my son nor I will be bothered with or engage in these frivolous activities’ is not enough of an objection to exempt Doug from performances that are mandatory attendance.” Looking to the back of the room, Julie Portman raised her voice and said, “I’m sorry, Doug, but I have to enforce the rules. I hope you understand.”

         “Yes, Miss Portman –”

         “Goddamnit, you will talk to ME!” Audrey shrilled. “Douglas is only here to see how much of an embarrassment he is to me by interrupting my busy schedule and making me listen to this drivel! And to learn that he will NOT do this to me again! He will STUDY! He will get EXCELLENT GRADES! He will know his place and what his responsibilities are! And so will you people, I swear.” Taking a breath, she added, “You will come out of this meeting with the knowledge that your job is to TEACH, not to interfere in people’s private lives! And to know that when you have a student like Douglas who actually excels, you will NOT question it, but simply bask in the success!”

         “”Okay, Ms. Walker,” James Roemer replied, “If we’re going to get down to those sorts of brass tacks, let’s lay it all out on the table. Just who is Doug supposed to get these good grades for, you or him? Just who is he supposed to be making happy here?”

         “THAT IS NOT YOUR CONCERN! Just do your jobs and teach, people. Or I’ll make sure you don’t ever teach again.” Picking up her purse and coat, she turned and said, “come along, Doug. We’re through with you wasting my time here.” She stormed out of the room, grabbing Doug’s arm and shoving him out of the door ahead of her.

         “My God,” James Roemer said several minutes after the clatter of Audrey’s heels faded away. “I’ve seen lots of ‘little league parents’ at my daughter’s volleyball games. I never dreamed I’d see one in the classroom.”

         “She may be beyond that,” Julie Portman replied. “Practically everything she said was wrapped up in how Doug made her look. And meetings like this were a waste of her time.” Pausing, the music teacher added, “There’s something else I’ve been noticing, but was afraid to bring up.”

         “What’s that?”

         “Is it my imagination, Imogene… or has Doug been losing weight the last few months?”

         “I’ve had the same thought. I’m no medical doctor, but I have wondered at times if Doug’s eating well.” Wringing her hands, Imogene Keller said, “I pray I’m wrong. But I have to wonder if that boy is being abused in some way.”

* * *

         “God, what a waste of my time!” Audrey Fowler was pulling out of the school’s parking lot. “Thank God you’re not going back there next year. Hopefully your new junior high will have better teachers than that.” Doug kept his peace; he felt that his sixth grade teachers had been some of the most attentive to their students he had ever seen, as well as some of the most demanding. He felt they would be very good instructors for years to come.

         “Uh, mom… where are we going? Aren’t your office and the after-school center the other way?”

         “Funny you should ask,” she replied. “We’re going to your new school. You are getting your NEW textbooks today, and you WILL study this summer! Because you will NEVER AGAIN embarrass me the way you have today!”

* * *

         That proved harder than mom thought, Doug wrote on the computer screen. The staff at the junior high school hadn’t set up student schedules yet – Hell, they had just finished one school year the day before; there hadn’t been any time to get ready for the next. Because of that, they couldn’t tell mom what classes I would be taking, and thus couldn’t provide any text books for me. (I later learned that even if there had been student schedules, mom wouldn’t have gotten any books. The administrators at Robert Cosgrove Junior High had a firm belief that kids needed time off to be kids.)

         That didn’t keep mom from making sure I studied, though. Since the school district (even the school board itself, which included one of her bosses at the law office) wouldn’t give in to her demands, she put me in a private summer academy. The instructors there were at a loss for what to do with me, for in their eyes I wasn’t in need of any remedial education (their usual forte). So they and I ended up brainstorming things for me to do in researching government, civics, world history, and even got me started on learning Spanish. And as long as I stayed in my room, studied and got good marks, mom didn’t get upset with me that summer.

         Except for two things.

* * 3 * *

         “Mom, I’m going to need to be on my computer for a while tonight.”

         “And why is that?”

         “I need to do some research on Greece for a World History project. I need to write out a list of the gods in the Greek pantheon, and what areas they covered, like lighting, fire, etc. I have to write up a 10-page paper by the end of the week. So the sooner I get started on it, the better.”

         “Okay, but you had better only be doing research, young man. I better not catch you playing any games. Am I clear?”

         “Yes, mom.”

         Audrey walked to her den, Doug following her as far as the doorway. He had yet to earn his way into the room since the divorce, even just to say goodnight. He watched Audrey unlock one of her office safes and pull out the power cord for his desktop computer. “And remember, she shrilled, “to bring it back to me before you go to sleep tonight.”

         “Yes, mom.” With that, Doug trudged up to his room and plugged in the machine. Because of his grade problems, Audrey had banished all distractions from Doug’s life. That included computers, on the basis of him wasting time playing games when he should be cracking the books. Along with the constant comments of making sure the investment in the computer wasn’t ruined by overuse, Doug had also begun to suspect that his mother didn’t want to chance an outside contact from his father, and was “locking down” the computer to prevent any “undesirable” e-mails and such going through.

         Though it was no longer the fastest available, the 14.4K modem hooked to Doug’s computer soon had him finding the information he was looking for. Printing pages and copying down information, he soon had enough to get the paper started. Doug made sure to use the modem as little as possible, because it was hooked to the main phone line and his mom didn’t like to be cut off from the phone any more than necessary.

         Sure enough, the phone rang 10 minutes after Doug finished that part of his research. “Hello? Oh, hi mom,” Audrey said in her den. “What’s that? Oh, Doug had to do some research on the computer for his summer school. That’s probably why you kept getting a busy signal… No, no Doug’s perfectly happy going to summer school! And besides, he needs to spend his time studying, not out on a playground… now, mom, don’t start with me.” Audrey’s voice began to shrill as her mom questioned the apparent lack of fun and playtime in Doug’s life. “That boy got bad grades early last year, and he’s had to study ever since… yes, his grades were a lot better by the end of the school year. But that was because he was studying, not off playing with other kids and wasting my money on movies and roller skating parties and such…

         “Well, let me see… The Roylerson case doesn’t go to trial for another week or so, and I just finished the depositions on the Mahoney hearing. I guess we could come out for dinner on Sunday afternoon. What time should we be there – wait, James his family will be there? And Connie and her fiancé? Uhm… let me check my schedule again… no! Heavens, no! Why would I be trying to avoid you? It’s not that at all, it’s just that my schedule is busy and – oh, okay, we’ll be out there at 1:00 on Sunday afternoon. Do I need to bring anything? Just me and Doug? Okay, we’ll be there! Love you!”

         “Guess what,” she said on entering Doug’s room. “We’re going out to your grandma and grandpa’s place on Sunday. You better make sure not to come back messy.” Audrey’s parents lived on a small farm about 20 minutes outside of town. They had moved there three years ago when Arthur Fowler retired after a 30-year career working for a defense contractor. A career that not only left him a nice retirement pension but had allowed Leona Fowler to be a stay-at-home mom and put his three children through their respective undergraduate degrees. Arthur leased out most of the land to neighboring farms, setting aside a few acres for himself to be a “gentleman farmer” and raise a small amount of crops each year (some of which went to the family dinner table, with the rest being sold at the Farmer’s Market in town).

         Doug had always loved visiting the farm; it was a chance no only to run around, but a world completely different from the city life he was growing up in. And on most visits, his cousins Ron and Sheryl would be there to play with. Though he didn’t get to see them often, Ron and Sheryl had been good friends over the years, and loved to explore the farm with Grandpa Arthur as much as he did. Doug always enjoyed seeing their parents, his Uncle James and Aunt Rita, as well.

         “Your uncle James and his family will be there, and so will your aunt Connie and her fiancé.” This greatly pleased Doug; he rarely got to see his Aunt Connie, an Air Force officer and copilot on a refueling tanker. One of his most favorite days was when Connie took the entire family on a tour of her KC-10A Extender when it visited the local airport as part of an air show. For a while Doug had wanted to follow in her footsteps, but the reading glasses he started wearing at age 10 had ended that possibility. Still, every time Connie would visit, she would encourage Doug to do well in school, try his best, and never give up on his dreams.

         “I see that look,” his mom intoned. “Don’t think you’re going to spend a lot of time running around with your cousins. You’re bringing your books with you, young man, and you will STUDY while we are there. THAT is what you need, not a bunch of useless playtime with relatives. And you will NOT embarrass me in any way. Is that clear?

         “Yes, mom.” Doug wondered how the rest of the family would react to him being off in a room studying instead of talking with the family. She always has answers for things like that, he reminded himself. With that understanding, he returned to the world of Zeus, Apollo and Hera.

* * *

         “Grandpa! Grandma!”

         “Doug, my boy! My, how tall you’ve gotten!” Arthur Fowler hugged his grandson close, surprised not only at how tall the boy was, but also how thin. “Look at you! You’ve grown so much that you’re skin and bones! You need some of your grandma’s good cookin’ to put some meat on you!” Still hugging the boy, Arthur would have sworn he could feel Doug’s ribs.

         “Let’s look at you now,” he heard Grandma Leona say. “My, you are getting tall at that! Pretty soon you’ll be taller than me! And maybe even taller than your mom!” While getting her slight build from her mother, Audrey Fowler had taken on her father’s height. Doug had long been following in those same footsteps; every year, Audrey had to buy jeans that were much bigger and have them taken in because of Doug’s long legs. “And what on earth are you wearing that heavy backpack for? You plan on climbing a mountain or two while you’re here?”

         “No, grandma, it’s my schoolbooks.”

         “Schoolbooks? In the summer? Why are –”

         “He needs to study,” Audrey interjected. “His grades fell last year, and he needs to work to keep them up. So he studies year-round now. Summer is too much time away from the books.”

         “Oh, pish-tosh,” Leona replied. “And heavens, I think one afternoon away from books to spend time with family is a good idea. We all need a break every now and then. Even you did, Audrey, when you were in school. And you turned out pretty well, didn’t you?”

         “He doesn’t have the drive, mother.” Seeing the stern look on Audrey’s face, Leona was astonished to hear her say, “Douglas here doesn’t know what it is to be dedicated to something. So he’s going to learn what it takes to be a success in life. Aren’t you, Douglas? After all, you do want to be successful for me, don’t you?”

         “Yes, mom.”

         “Good. Now go up to my old room and start in on your studies. I’ll let you know when you can take your dinner break.”

         As Doug started up the staircase of the old-yet-renovated farmhouse, he heard his grandma say, “Wait, his dinner break? What does that mean? And why on earth are you putting him in an upstairs room when he’s here to visit family?”

         “Get off my case, mother,” he heard as he started to close the door. “That is my son, and I will make sure he’s not a failure like his ex-father was. And don’t you dare question me on how to raise Douglas. It’s my responsibility and my choice, not yours.”

         “Young lady,” his grandmother said in a lumbering voice, “when I see something ridiculous, I’ll right well speak up about it.” Doug closed the door, not wanting to hear a family argument. The voices carried anyway, making Doug wonder what was going to happen on the drive home.

         The door opened a short while later. “Hey there, buster!” Looking up, Doug dropped his civics book on the bed and ran to his Aunt Connie. As they hugged, she said, “what in the world are you doing up here? I heard this crazy rumor you were studying, but I can’t believe that. After all, it’s a sunny summer Sunday! A day to be out flying kites, chasing frogs, running around the farm with Grandpa and your cousins… you shouldn’t be cooped up in here with your nose in a school book!”

         “Well… yes, Aunt Connie, I am studying. You see, my grades weren’t so good last year…” With shame in his voice, Doug proceeded to tell how early in the school year his grades had gone down, and that he’d been required to study every night until his grades were perfect. “And they weren’t all perfect, so I’m taking summer school now.”

         “What? That’s ludicrous!” Sitting next to him on the bed, Connie ruffled her nephew’s hair. You’re a good kid and a good student, Doug. You’ll accomplish whatever you want to in life. I’m sure of that, and I have faith in you.” Before Doug could react in fear, he felt a kiss on his forehead. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you different, okay?”

         “Uh… okay, Aunt Connie.”

         “Now, Doug… I’m going to ask what might be a tough question. I know that last year, your mom and dad went through a very bitter divorce. Did that affect you somehow? Is that part of why you had bad grades? Don’t worry, honey – this is just between you and me.” Not trusting his voice, Doug nodded yes. “Honey, it’s no shame to be affected by a divorce that way. I saw a lot of friends, even friends in college, who were hurting mentally because their parents divorced. It happens, and a lot more than people think. And it’s rare that the kids aren’t affected in some way. Now you’re not thinking of doing anything rash because of this, are you? You’re not sneaking into your mom’s liquor cabinet or anything?” Doug shook his head no. “Good! You are a good, strong young man, Doug Stanford –”

         “Fowler,” he corrected his aunt. “My name is Douglas… Arthur Fowler.” At the look of shock on her face, Doug added, “It was legally changed not long after the divorce was finalized. And I’ve spent a lot of time making… making sure I get it right.”

         “Doug, why did you change your name?” Doug didn’t answer as a tear trickled down his face. “Wait, Doug… did you want to change your name? Or did your mom make this choice for you?” Doug’s reply was to hold up two fingers as several more tears ran down his cheeks. “Oh, honey… why would she do that?”

         “Because,” he replied in a choked up voice, “we’re to have nothing to do with my… with dad. Mom says… says he’s beneath us, and I’m… I’m to do everything to forget… he was ever… part of my life.”

         “That’s wrong, Doug.” Both he and Connie looked over to see his grandfather in the doorway. “Your father made some mistakes, yes,” he said as he sat down next to Doug. “I’ll admit, he wasn’t always my favorite person in the world. But in spite of everything, he loved you, and cared about you greatly. I imagine he still does.” Rubbing the boy’s knee, he added, “I think your mom made a few mistakes, too. And it’s not right for her to take out her anger on you this way. You shouldn’t be punished for your parent’s marriage failures.”

         “Do you still have anything of your dad’s,” Connie asked. “Any mementos? Pictures? Books? Post cards?”

         “I… I’m not supposed to,” Doug replied. “Mom took all the pictures that had dad and burned them in the fireplace. She made me throw all the ones of me and him into the flames.” Then he whispered, “but if you guys can keep a secret…” Both his aunt and grandfather nodded yes. “Okay. I still have picture of dad and me, when we went fishing out a Calabasas Lake.”

         “Wait,” his grandpa asked. “Isn’t that the time you caught that 10 pound bass?”

         “That’s the one, grandpa. Me and dad holding up that big fish right after I pulled it in. Aren’t you the one who took that picture?”

         “I sure did, kiddo. And it’s hanging up on my office wall downstairs. How about you and I go look at it and the rest of the family pictures down there?”

         “I can’t, grandpa! I have to study! I have to get good grades –”

         “A few hours looking at pictures and listening to your ol’ grandpa tell stories isn’t going to affect your grades, Doug. Especially in the summer! Plus, your cousins Ron and Cheryl are here! Don’t you want to see them?”

         “Yes, I do… but mom says I have to study… always.”

         “Not here, she doesn’t.” Standing up, Arthur Fowler said, “You’re in my house, Doug, on my farm. So you’ll follow my rules. And rule number one – you come out here for a day with the family, by God, you’re going to spend it having fun with the family! I’ll speak to your mom about this, don’t you worry.” The look on Doug’s face at this was nothing but worry and fear, which both his grandpa and aunt noticed. “Pack up those books, my boy. That’s an order.” The smile on his grandpa’s face partially eased Doug’s fears, though he knew his mom would be upset when she heard about this. It would also mean getting to again explore the farm with Grandpa (especially with Ron and Cheryl), instead of sitting in the upstairs bedroom reading books. Realizing that, he packed his bag a little faster.

         Walking down the back stairs, the trio found Doug’s mom, grandma and Aunt Mary talking in the kitchen. “What are you doing down here, Douglas? Get back upstairs,” his mom shouted, “and hit the books. I didn’t tell you to come down for dinner yet. You’ve got several hours of studying to do before we eat.” Doug simply stood there, not sure what do to. “Didn’t you hear me?” Audrey said as she stalked over to him. “Get upstairs and study!”

         “But, mom, grandpa –”

         Doug felt the sting on his left cheek as Audrey said, “Don’t talk back, you little twerp! I told you to get back upstairs and study! And you WILL obey me, mister! Or do you need some more convincing?” Doug closed his eyes, preparing to feel another <SLAP> from his mom. When it didn’t come, he looked over to see his mom’s wrist firmly grasped in his aunt’s large hand. “Damn you, Connie! I will not have you undermine my authority with my child! Let go of me, right now!”

         “Not until you calm down, Audrey.” The change in his aunt’s voice caught everyone by surprise. This was a voice of command they had never heard from Connie. “He may be your son, but he’s also my nephew. And I’m not letting you treat him this way. There’s no reason for it.”

         “Yes, there is! He’s insubordinate! He’s disobeying me! And he’s a failure, just like his ex-father was! I will not be embarrassed that way again! And if it takes a few slaps across the face to make that happen, then so be it!”

         “Doug, let’s you and me go outside.” Arthur Fowler guided his grandson out the back door. As they walked away, both heard a heated argument from the kitchen. “Doug, please, level with me. Does your mom slap you like that often?”

         “Well… grandpa, I know she loves me –”

         “That’s beside the point, Doug. She loves you, yes, I’m sure. But what she said in there, about being embarrassed… does she punish you for that?”

         “Yes,” Doug said with a sigh. “Ever since last fall, when my grades went in the toilet for a while. That was an embarrassment to her, to take time off from work to hear at the parent-teacher conference that I was close to failing two classes and getting C’s in two others. And at the end of the year, I got a ‘D’ in music, which was another embarrassment, even though all my other grades were A’s.”

         “Doug… I’ve heard you sing. You’ve got a fantastic voice. I can’t believe a music teacher would give you a low grade. Was this teacher nuts?”

         “No, grandpa. In fact, she was a great teacher, and her class was loads of fun. But… well, I missed several mandatory concerts during the year. And because of that, I got a ‘D’.”

         “Did you tell your mom about the concerts?”

         “All of them, grandpa. I even had to bring back signed papers saying I had done so. Mom always wrote on them something about not letting a fluff course get in the way of my studies. So mom made me stay home and study… and I got a ‘D’ at the end of the year, which was my fault.” Before his grandpa could object, Doug said, “It has to be my fault – mom said so.”

         “Doug, I’m going to tell you something. Never let anyone – even your mother – make you take the blame for something that isn’t your fault. If you do something wrong, yes, own up to it and take responsibility. But never take the blame, the fall, what have you for someone else. And don’t ever let anyone drag you down. You’re a good young man, Doug, with a strong spirit. You wouldn’t have made it through your parents’ divorce otherwise. Always remember that, Doug, and use it to your advantage. Now, how about we go down and check out the ducks?”

         “I’d love that grandpa.”

         “And let me take a look…” Arthur peered intently at his grandson’s face for several minutes. “Okay, I don’t think your mom left a bruise. Don’t say anything to Ron and Sheryl about what happened in the kitchen. If they need to know, their parents will tell them. And look, there, they are. Hey, Ronny! Sheryl! Look who I have here!” Seeing their year-older cousin, the twins turned and ran to Doug and grandpa. After a series of hugs and hand slaps, the four walked past the shed where grandpa kept his 1953 Chevy truck to the pond at the back of the yard. Using the loaf of bread under Grandpa’s arm, the kids took turns feeding the ducks and geese. They stayed there year round, Arthur having built a coop for the birds to nest in during the winter. Because of that, the older animals were so accustomed to humans with bread that they would walk right up to the kids and snatch pieces out of their hands. All three kids would laugh with grandpa at the antics of the various birds. Doug felt a little strange laughing, for it was not something he had done much of since the divorce. Yet it also felt good.

         No one, in the meantime, was laughing in the kitchen. Audrey had calmed down enough after Doug’s exit that Connie let go of her arm. But the conversation was still shrill as Audrey defended her right to raise her child however she saw fit.

         “None of you have any fucking idea what I’ve been through the last 14 months! Of what it took to get that schlep of an ex-husband out of my life! Of how badly Doug has behaved since then! So don’t any of you judge me on how I’m raising my son. Frankly, the whole lot of you need to but out and let me live my life! Especially you, Connie! You have no leg and no experience to stand on!”

         “True, Audrey, I’ve never been married and I don’t have any kids. But I have enough common sense to know that slapping your child across the face isn’t going to build love and respect. That kind of abuse only creates fear and hate – emotions that can some back to bite a person in the long run.”

         “I am not abusing my son! Get that through your thick skulls, people! I am simply giving my son the proper motivation to excel! To be a good, strong man with a good future! To not turn out like his ex-father did!”

         “Don’t you mean his father –”

         “Doug will have nothing to do with that schlep! That pitiful excuse for a man will not be involved in my son’s life! And I will have nothing that reminds me of the 14 years I wasted on Robert Stanford… noting at all.”

         “So what are you going to do,” Leona asked rather acidly. “Change Doug’s last name?”

         “It’s already changed, mother. My son’s name is Douglas Arthur Fowler. It’s what Doug wanted, so when I changed my name after the divorce I got his changed, too.”

         “Bullshit.” This came from Audrey’s brother, James. “I know that Doug loves his father. So I find it very hard to believe that Doug would want to change his name. Why do I get the feeling that’s what you wanted, Audrey, and Doug had no say in the matter?”

         “So what if it was? I did Douglas a favor, getting him away from and any all links to that leech. Why do you think I didn’t ask for child support? I knew the bastard would never pay a dime of it! So why inflict Robert Stanford’s stupidity on my son? He’ll have a much better life this way, anyway. God, I’m thirsty. Mother, where do you keep the Scotch around here?”

         “We don’t, Audrey. We don’t have any alcohol, no beer, no wine, no liquor of any sort. Your father can’t have it because of the Hepatitis he suffered last year. It hurt his liver enough that the doctors said, ‘no more booze.’ And he listened to them. And truth be told, since he stopped drinking, he’s lost 20 pounds and gotten in better shape.”

         “Great… now my parents have turned into temperance workers. Go ahead, mom, give me a lecture on the evils of drink. You’ve already lit into me about being a lousy parent; what’s one more diatribe?”

         “There’s a reason I’ve been talking about your parenting today, Audrey. It’s because I see you lashing out at Robert Stanford – and using your son as the punching bag. Now that your divorce is finalized and you don’t have Robert around to berate anymore, you’re taking out your anger on Doug.”

         “I am not, mother!”

         “Then why the slap across your son’s face a little while ago?”

         “Because he disobeyed me by coming downstairs! I don’t care if dad led him down here; he knew better than to leave that room before he was told to! And the last thing I need is you – any of you,” she yelled at the room, “to go and undermine my authority with my son. Or allow him to embarrass me the way he did!”

         “Him embarrass you? Give me break!” Taking a sip of her coffee, Marie Fowler said, “I may not be a blood relative, Audrey. But as an in-law, I’ll have my say. And my say is that you are going to destroy Doug if you keep this up, all in the subconscious desire to lash out at your ex-husband. It’s not worth it, Audrey; I speak from experience.

         “Donald, my son from my first marriage, he wouldn’t speak to me for over two years after my divorce with his father was finalized. Looking back, I can’t blame him. I used Donald as a weapon against my ex, after all. If ever there was a way to turn your child against you, that’s an effective one.”

         “So are you going to tell me that since you ‘repented for your sins,’ you and this boy are all hunky-dorey, lovey-dovey family? I find that hard to believe, considering I’ve never met this boy in my life! I bet he doesn’t even exist! So take your lies and shove them up your ass.”

         “Knock it off, Audrey.” James stood up from the kitchen table, steam readily coming from his ears. “You don’t have a clue of what you’re talking about, so quit while you’re behind. Don’t go down this road, sister; it’s a very bumpy ride.”

         “Your brother is right, Audrey.” Sipping her own coffee, Leona Fowler said, “I know for a fact that Marie’s telling the truth. And Marie… you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to –”

         “Of course not, mother! You’ll stand up for an in-law loser,” Audrey shrilled “before listening to your very successful oldest daughter! I knew coming out here was a bad idea.”

         “Thanks, Leona,” Marie quietly said. “But I do need to talk about this. And Audrey needs to hear it. You need to know, Audrey, what’s possible in life. Like I said earlier, I used my son as a weapon in my divorce. Frankly, my ex did the same thing; we were equally guilty. Bill and I were so both so intent on ‘getting’ each other that we didn’t have any clue of what it was doing to Don. Bill ended up getting custody –”

         “Your ex got custody of your kid? Damn, you must have had a sucky lawyer!”

         “Audrey,” James replied, “just shut up and listen, okay? For once in your life, shut your trap and listen to what someone else has to say.” Holding his wife’s hand, he reiterated that she didn’t have to talk if she didn’t want to.

         “Thanks, honey. But I do need to keep going.” It was a face of granite that turned towards Audrey. “Like I was saying, Bill got custody and I got visitation. What hurt the most was that for two years after that, Don wouldn’t visit me, talk with me, anything. He so despised me for what I did to him in the divorce that he put up a wall. He also disliked his father for what had happened, but I got the larger share of his anger.

         “Don was 10 when Bill and I divorced. We started talking again when he turned 12. That started two years of eggshells, especially when I met and married your brother. Luckily, James was accepting of him, and wanted Don and I to get back together.”

         “So my brother is some sort of saint. Big effing deal. That still doesn’t explain why this ‘phantom son’ of yours isn’t here. Or is he too good to come visit our family now?”

         “Well… he’ll never be here, but not for the reasons you’re suggesting, Audrey. Don would have been 24 last week. But a month after his fourteenth birthday, Donald Cahill put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.” Taking a sip of her coffee, Marie added, “I was devastated, and so was my ex. James was a rock for me; I don’t think I would have gotten through it without him.” Marie took a moment to dab at her eyes. “Ron and Sheryl were only two years old; they have no recollection of Don. They just know that on a certain day each year, mommy gets very sad. They also know I love them very much.” The granite turned even harder as Marie asked, “does Doug know how you feel?”

         “That’s none of your business,” Audrey sniped back. “And frankly, I don’t believe a word you just said. After all, if I had known about it, I would have been at the funeral.”

         “It’s true,” Leona piped in. “I know it’s true because I went to the funeral, and so did Connie and your father. We all found ways to be there for James and Marie.” Putting her coffee down, Leona added, “Robert and Doug also came over. You, on the other hand, were too busy with your legal career to make a one-hour drive and attend the services.”

         “You’re damn right, I was busy! I had a career to establish! I couldn’t just take off at the drop of a hat for a funeral for some punk-ass kid I never knew! And don’t you go pinning your failures on me, Marie! Or trying to insinuate I’ll do the same!”

         “I’m doing nothing of the kind,” she quietly replied. “I’m simply telling you what happened to me, Audrey. So you don’t have to go through something similar. I pray that no one ever has to see their child in a casket, though I know it will happen to someone, somewhere, for some reason.”

         “Well, that won’t happen, and I’ll tell you why. Because Douglas is going to be a success! Not a failure like your Donald. And you better face up to something, Marie – your son failed at life because you were a failure. James, you might want to get rid of her before she makes failures of your children as well. When you come to your senses, little brother, give me a call and I’ll make sure –” Audrey was cut off by the sudden <SLAP> landing on her right cheek. “How dare you! I don’t care if you’re my mother or not; no one raises a hand to me and gets away with it!” Audrey reared back her right hand to retaliate, only to have James pin it behind her back. “Let go of me! Now!”

         “You maybe an adult, Audrey, but you’re still my child. And while I spanked all three of you over the years for various misdeeds, I’ve never slapped any of you in the face before now. Neither has your father.”

         “So what’s your point, mother?” Audrey said this as she struggled to break free of her brother’s grip. “Out to castigate me again in front of family?”

         “No, Audrey. But I have to wonder – where in the Hell did you learn that kind of parenting from? It wasn’t from our family. And I highly doubt it was from Robert or his family, either. Especially as you didn’t make any claims of spousal or child abuse in the divorce.”

         “The way I raise my child is none of your Goddamn –” Audrey was cut off by another <SLAP>. “Stop hitting me, mother!”

         “I will not have you blaspheme the Lord in my house! And don’t complain,” Leona snarled, “when someone uses your own disciplining techniques on you.” Stepping away, Leona said, “I’m curious, Audrey… that line, ‘stop hitting me, mother’… is that what Doug says when you smack him? Or do you give your son a chance to say anything? Okay, James, let her go.” James did so, keeping an eye out to make sure Audrey didn’t take a swing at someone else.

         “You have no right,” Audrey breathed heavily, “to treat me this way. None of you do! I am important! I am powerful! And I don’t care if you are family; I will crush you if necessary. No one treats me this way!”

         “Can it,” her brother replied. “You’re a divorce attorney, Audrey. You may be brilliant in the courtroom, but you’re not that all-powerful. Quit the histrionics and calm down.”

         Checking something in the oven, Leona said, “I suggest, Audrey, you go upstairs for a while and calm down. You need to get yourself together before dinner is served. Because I will not have you acting this way at table. Now, go upstairs – that’s an order, Audrey.”

         “Yes, mother,” she shrilly replied. As Audrey walked up the back staircase, Connie followed her. Before Audrey could object, her sister had taken Doug’s backpack out of the room and put it on the backseat of Audrey’s car. With a few choice words, Audrey slammed the door behind her younger sister.

* * *

         Until we were on the way home, Doug wrote on his computer, I had no idea what had gone on in the house while us kids were feeding the ducks. When mom came downstairs for dinner, she seemed “normal” for her. Dinner itself was something of an adventure, though, as was the drive home that night.

* * 4 * *