Outlets
By Mazza
It's funny how the human mind needs comfort more than anything else. My boys are no exception. Everyday I'm asking them to go out to risk their lives and as a consequence they see on a regular basis what people shouldn't even see once in a lifetime: death, destruction and nature's cruel wrath. They never complain about what they see. Occasionally there may be annoyed noises from Alan and Gordon, usually one jealous as the other got to go out with Virgil and has to stay behind. Scott only flares up if something goes wrong and then tirelessly tries to put it right for the next time. John and Virgil hardly say anything negative at all.
However, I constantly see that rescues do affect them. The tired weariness apparent in their postures, stunned shock and worse yet the absolute sorrow in their eyes; especially when they're sent out to situations when the outcome certainly wouldn't be a happy one. Nature's a bitch and she's the one that stings the worst.
Although they are all brothers, they handle their emotions very differently. Far too often for our liking, we get called on rescues when there wasn't a damn thing that could be done and there is nothing that we can do to improve on that. All the boys are focused on saving human life and it's always an upsetting time when this happens.
Often, I subtly check to see how the boys cope after coming home from such rescues. I always make it my business never to pry in their lives, more so now that they're grown men, but out of fatherly concern I need to know that they are coping. Over the last few years I've noticed how each of them has dealt with their emotions and learnt how to curb them through outlets.
Scott, out of all the boys, is the best at keeping himself steady, which unknown to him is a family trait. My father was never one to sit and ponder, he was a man of action and his demeanour served him well as it did his son and grandson after him. Scott never gets overly angry or upset; he uses that energy to make sure that the situation he's in never happens again. Failing that, he would rather punch hell out of a punch bag than talk about things affecting him or let his emotions go. John is the one who is the most reflective, quite often you will catch him standing out on the balcony looking out to sea; pondering and processing what had happened. Virgil seethes, just like his mother did. It used to drive me insane. Gordon goes numb and almost looks like a statue sitting on a chair in the lounge. Alan on the other hand is just like my mother, he lets it all out. In the long run, his reaction is probably the healthiest out of all of us and he normally bounces back faster.
Over the last few years, they've developed routines they need to go through to channel their emotions. After the debrief, Scott will normally head down to the gym; that punch bag has borne the brunt of many a bad rescue. If the weather is nice, he goes for a long run around the island. John writes, sometimes about his feelings or throws himself into his current projects. Or sometimes you'll find him on the balcony with his telescope; he claims it helps him rediscover the beauty of the universe after seeing ugly scenes. Virgil either picks up a pen, pencil or paintbrush or he plays our grand to death. With the latter, I don't really appreciate it when I'm trying to concentrate on something in the lounge, but I can't stop him. Sometimes I don't think he even realises what he's doing but he always feels better once he comes out of his intense mood. Gordon will sit still for a while and then head for the pool to cool himself off. Alan, as I've said before, always makes his feelings known but quite often Tin-Tin will lead him away privately so that the rest of us don't have to keep hearing what we already know. Her distraction tactics with her feminine wiles are always effective as Alan always seems to emerge at dinner with a big smile on his face… It makes the rest of his brothers jealous that they don't have a girl of their own to talk to (and for other things) so that they can forget.
And me? That's when I throw myself completely into Tracy Enterprise work, which is why quite often Virgil and I clash in our coping strategies if he plays the piano loudly and I decide to work in the lounge. That's when I move to the study, I don't see any point in angering anybody and causing more trouble.
But recently a new tradition has started. At night, when everyone has finished channelling and dinner has just about settled in our stomachs, the boys and I gather in the lounge, crack open a bottle of scotch and talk about just about anything and everything other than what happened in the rescue earlier. We video call either John or Alan on Thunderbird Five as well so they can join in. Some of those nights we'll have pool competitions in the billiard room and it's just like we're having a few drinks at a bar, which is what most people do after work, particularly after a hard day. It's certainly something I've missed since moving here and I always feel honoured when the boys include me. Not every son wants to include their father in such activities but they treat me as if I am one of the boys and realise that I need light relief just as much as they do. There's no such thing as management class or a generation gap here and although I do get treated with respect, their old man is still classed as a buddy.
The next day I always wake up feeling better, or with a bit of a hangover if I overdid it. Ready to embrace the day and the possibility of a more successful rescue. Looking at their eyes around the breakfast table, I know the boys feel the same.