Unhappy In Its Own Way
Chapter Three: The (Not So) Perfect Family
Author's note: Eddie Giatti, Jessie Goloff, and the other staff members of Minkus International, and the case workers, Taylor and Armitage are created by yours truly.
Farkle warily crept downstairs, the mark under his eye still hurt from the fight last night.
It had been a few months since his mother had promised to take her medication again. Farkle hoped that it was a time of peace for his family that they would be happier and they were for a time. His mother's moods were stabilizing and while she didn't quit drinking completely, she stopped at home and only drank at social occasions. His mom and dad's marriage seemed to be going great for a while. They attended marriage counseling faithfully and Farkle and his dad went to the abuse group (in secret. They still didn't want Jennifer to know about it and they weren't by any means regular attendees). Over the summer, his parents even went for a romantic getaway to the Virgin Islands. Farkle and his father even took the opportunity of a peaceful summer to create a digital library of Great-Grandpa Ginsburg's photographs. Farkle began 8th grade with the hope and optimism that his parent's marriage problems were finally a thing of the past but then reality began to set in.
There were little cracks beginning to form in their new perfect union. For one thing after a time, they stopped going to the marriage counselor. ("You could hear the quacking from the waiting room," his father said. "A complete waste of time," his mother agreed.)
Farkle began to notice that his mother was taking her medicine less and less, always finding excuses not to take a dosage or pretending like she already had earlier that day. He also began to notice that her movements were unsteady and her speech was getting slurred. At first Farkle thought it was his imagination, but he began to smell once again the Chateau Marmot on her breath. His mother also began to make sarcastic comments again about her husband and son but would quickly take it back saying that they clearly misunderstood. Then the fighting started once more, the accusations, the yelling, and the throwing the ring. Farkle no longer saw his parents' peaceful period as the start of a better relationship. Instead he saw it only as a temporary reprieve. He knew that his mother was like a hungry tiger pent up in a cage. She was sedate and quiet but when released, she was ready to strike. She was angrier than ever, as if those months of pent up frustration had bubbled up inside her until she was ready to explode.
Farkle tried his best to ignore it and for the most part he did taking part in the adventures that he and his friends had over the school year; the passing of Mrs. Sivorski, the gossip of Riley and Lucas' relationship, his and Maya's pretend wedding (of course he gave back the ring when his mother wanted it again much to Maya's dismay), creating their time capsule, Zay's arrival, the closeness between Maya's mother and Riley's Uncle Shawn, the arrival of the new English teacher, Harper Burgess, the preliminary elections for Riley's Uncle Eric for the Senate, and so many more. Lately though it had been hard to ignore his parent's problems especially after last night.
The fight began because his mother was talking about trying to get a spread in Avenues magazine of her home and family. "All of society will read it. Won't it be wonderful?" she asked.
"Terrific," Minkus said clearly humoring her. Farkle didn't say anything. He knew at times separate opinions were a luxury that Farkle was not allowed in front of his mother.
Jennifer looked around the dining room. "I really think that we need new furniture. Hollywood Regency is so last year."
"You only redecorated three months ago," Minkus reminded his wife.
"But it's already starting to look shabby," she said pouting. "Of course what do you expect with a teenager in the house?"
"Yes because of all the wild parties that Farkle throws with his beer drinking friends," Minkus quipped sarcastically. "Have you ever seen any of Farkle's friends in our apartment ever?"
Jennifer glowered at her husband's sarcasm. "Why do you have to be so insolent about what's important to me?"
"I'm not," Minkus objected. "I just think it's a lot of trouble and expense for a magazine article."
"Well it's important to me," Jennifer said. "Who does what I say?"
"Everybody," Minkus answered with trepidation and fear.
"Will we have to be in the pictures?" Farkle asked.
"Well of course," Jennifer remarked. "The spreads not only show the home but the family as well. I want to show us as a perfect loving happy family. Farkle, you will be expected to wear a suit and tie."
"Why can't I dress how I normally dress," Farkle said. He covered his mouth before he could stop it.
"Because I am not going to have you wear those ridiculously loud stupid turtlenecks in my article," Jennifer insisted.
Farkle looked hurt but lowered his head. Minkus kindly held his son by the shoulder. "It's alright, son. You can wear whatever you want."
"Why are you undermining me?" Jennifer demanded. "Why do you always do that?"
"Because he likes what he wears," Minkus said.
"Well I want him to dress normally," Jennifer said.
"Normal is overrated," Minkus said quoting a familiar slogan that he heard many times as a boy.
Jennifer laughed sarcastically. "Yes of course wit and wisdom from the Dime Store Diner Guru!"
"My grandfather owned a café," Minkus corrected defending his late Grandpa Ginsburg. "And he was a brilliant man!"
"Yes really brilliant," Jennifer said sarcastically. "His café closed down after five years and he died without a nickel to his name! How's that for brilliance. He was a failure!"
"He just meant that he was brilliant in other ways, Mother," Farkle replied. "He was really smart with word games and number puzzles."
Jennifer grabbed her son by the arm so hard that it hurt. "Did I ask you to interrupt and why are you always on his side?" She knocked her son out of his seat and threw him against the wall. Farkle moved on his backside away from his mother as she charged at him.
"Jennifer stop it," Minkus called but Jennifer didn't listen to her husband as she charged towards her son.
Normally, his mother stopped with one slap and usually just yelled. This time she kept hitting him again and again perhaps out of the pent up frustration from the months of trying to behave herself and hold it all in. Farkle screamed and cried begging for his mother to stop, but she kept hitting him and saying that they were always against her. She then shoved her son so hard that he fell into a nearby bookshelf. Jennifer approached her son, but Minkus grabbed her and picked her up and pushed her off Farkle.
The force of grabbing her shoved her towards the ground and she fell face first.
She began to kick and scream like a child with a tantrum. "You son of a bitch," she yelled at her husband as she threw her ring at his face. Jennifer ran towards Minkus clawing at him and calling him son of a bitch and weakling. She raised her hands into fists and started punching at his chest. Minkus managed to grab her hands, pull her into an almost bear hug, and forcibly pick her up. She continued to argue and struggle to get away but Stuart held onto his wife and practically pushed her into the bedroom locking the door behind her.
The next morning, Farkle sighed trying to cover last night's bruise with his hand as he approached his mother. She was seated at the kitchen table calmly smoking a cigarette. Her hair was askew and her makeup ran on her face. There was a red puffiness on her right cheek that emerged from her fall to the ground. She was dressed in her silk blue nightgown and robe as well as a diamond and sapphire necklace that Farkle had never seen before. She was reading a fashion magazine and drinking coffee.
It was clear that she was hung over. "Good morning, Mother," Farkle said warily.
"Good morning Honey," Jennifer said. "Your father had an early meeting, of course where else would he be? Would you like breakfast?"
Farkle shook his head. It had been awhile since his mother had cooked a big breakfast. "No thanks I'll get it," he said looking in the kitchen for cold cereal and milk.
She held up her necklace. "Look what your father got me," she said sweetly. "It's a peace offering for last night." The way she smiled seemed to say I own him and I own you and there's nothing either of you can do about it.
"It's very nice Mother," Farkle offered.
"Also look at the sofa and love seat he's ordering for me," Jennifer said pointing at some pictures that she printed from the Internet. "Really Minimalist Gregorian is so much nicer than Hollywood Regency don't you think?"
Farkle didn't understand but he shrugged. "I suppose so, Mother."
Jennifer wasn't paying attention. Instead she looked at her ring. "I should see about him getting me a new ring. This one's looking tarnished and cheap. It's also bent at the corners."
Maybe if you didn't keep using it as a hand grenade, Farkle wanted to say. Instead he said out loud, "Mother, that ring cost $78,000. What do you want, the Hope Diamond?"
"Are you talking back to me?" Jennifer warned.
"No, no," Farkle stammered.
"After all what happened to you last night was an accident a result of your own clumsiness wasn't it?" his mother reminded him.
"Yes Mother of course," Farkle agreed understanding the implied threat that he could easily have another "accident" again.
"Anyway inflation has set in," Jennifer said. "This ring is cheap now. A wedding ring is a symbol of love between your father and I. Surely, I'm worth more than $78,000 to him."
"Of course you are Mother," Farkle agreed. "I have to go."
"What?" Jennifer said. "Oh of course. Farkle honey, you do love me don't you?"
Farkle nodded. "Yes of course I do."
"And we are the perfect family aren't we?" his mother asked.
Farkle nodded. "Yes Mother we are," he said as he left the apartment.
Farkle ran into his friends as the entered the classroom. "Farkle what happened to your face?" Riley Matthews asked concerned.
"Oh nothing," Farkle said. "I tripped over the stairs in our apartment building. You know me, have my head in the clouds as usual."
"So what else is new?" Maya quipped. The others laughed.
Cory watched his students and daughter enter the classroom. "Farkle, are you alright what happened to you?" he asked.
"Oh we are remodeling my bedroom and one of the bookshelves knocked me on the eye," he answered his teacher.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cory could see Riley and Lucas exchange a confused glance. Maya looked downward. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. "That ain't what you told us," Lucas remarked. "You said you fell on the stairs."
"Well I did that too," Farkle said hopping a little too quickly on that story.
"But wouldn't you have more than one bruise?" Lucas asked.
"Yes look I didn't hit the stairs that hard alright?" Farkle shot back. He sat down in his usual spot not wanting to continue the conversation.
Cory thought looking at his best student. It had been a few months towards the end of seventh grade since he had that conversation with Stuart Minkus about Farkle. He had checked up on Farkle the next day and asked Minkus how his son was doing. Minkus said that Farkle was fine and they were going to the group and things were alright. But he behaved pretty abrupt as if he wanted Cory to mind his own business. Cory didn't think that Farkle's parents had separated, he would have heard that, but he wondered what was going on. Had Farkle's mother become physically as well as verbally abusive? If the abuse was becoming physical, he knew what he was supposed to do.
Maybe this lesson might help. Cory didn't plan the lesson to fit the Minkus family, but as often was the way of things it tied neatly into their situation.
"Alright remember last year we talked about the rebellion of the late '60's," Cory said.
"Fun times," Maya countered.
"This year we are going to talk about the conformity of the '50s and early '60s," Cory added.
"Snooze fest," Maya added.
"Well not quite," Cory said. "Right now I am going to show you clips from The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet and The Patty Duke Show."
"Major snooze fest," Maya repeated as Cory turned off the lights and started the Blu-Ray.
Cory turned back on the lights as the "Cousins, Identical Cousins" theme ended. "There now what did you see?"
"The inside of my eyelids," Maya countered.
"Only white people," Zay interjected.
"Women vacuuming in pearls," Riley added.
Other students spoke up mentioning sarcastic humorous comments about the episodes. Cory nodded. "We'll all of that and more. You saw a perception of a perfect family; mother, father, two children, and in one case an identical cousin. You saw people who resolve their problems neatly in a half-hour."
"Ain't that the way it was like in the '50s?" Lucas asked.
"Not exactly in real life," Cory said. "What you didn't see in the shows was the reality. What you didn't see in Ozzie and Harriet was that Ozzie Nelson was considered a dictator to his family. He pushed his sons into show business from a young age first on radio and then later on television. David and Rickey later said that he refused to let them attend college so they could continue doing their show. What you didn't see in Patty Duke was that Patty had been taken from her mother at a young age and lived with her managers who verbally and at times sexually abused her."
"What happened to the British girl who played her cousin," Maya asked.
Cory looked at her incredulously before answering. "The same thing." He held up vintage advertisements from the '50s for products like kitchen appliances, and cooking materials. "Much of the '50s was spent trying to sell the idea of a perfect family. Many families put up appearances like they were perfect trying to live up to an ideal that didn't exist. While this image was being sold, juvenile delinquency was on a rise. Many parents turned to alcohol or prescription drugs."
"I don't get it," Riley said. "Rickey and David Nelson and Patty Duke were around other people all day. Why didn't they say anything? Why didn't anyone notice what was going on?"
"Because Riley," Cory informed his daughter. "They were considered children. It was their word against the adults who raised them. They felt that no one would believe them. As for the other people that acted around them, since the abuse was primarily verbal, they couldn't say anything. They could question it, but there would be no evidence to prove that they were being hurt. Here's a puzzler for you, both Harriet Nelson and Patty Duke's mother were in close proximity to the situation why didn't they tell anyone? When someone say a parent is close to a situation where their child is being abused, why don't they?" Farkle could feel Cory's eyes boring into him.
"Maybe they chose not to see it," Lucas suggested.
"Maybe they couldn't fight it," Maya offered.
"Maybe they thought they were trying to protect them," Farkle muttered under his breath. "Maybe they felt that it was their fault."
"Is there something you want to add Farkle?" Cory asked.
Farkle shook his head. "No thank you, Mr. Matthews."
Cory winced in surprise. "How many of you have seen the movie, Mommy Dearest?"
"NO WIRE HANGERS!" Zay quoted. The other kids laughed. "I never understood what the big deal was with the wire hangers, anyway. Seems like she was just being a drama queen."
"Which one the mother or the daughter?" Darby asked.
"Both Mama for freaking out and the daughter for writing it," Zay added amongst the laughter.
Farkle stood up. "Joan Crawford's mother worked in a laundromat. Joan used to hang clothes on wire hangers and she hated the place. Her daughter Christina said that it was one of her many night raids where she tried to maintain control over her children, how they looked, how they dressed, how they cleaned the house for her. It wasn't a big deal to them!"
"Okay Farkle," Cory said. Farkle sat back down. "Farkle Time?" he encouraged the genius student.
Farkle looked from one face to another nervously. "Not today, sir."
"Okay," Cory replied confused and worried for his student. "That's an example of child abuse that while many knew about it, no one mentioned it. It wasn't until Christina wrote her autobiography after her mother died that this issue came to light."
The bell rang and Cory spoke up. "Well that's all we have time for today. Tomorrow we will talk about the McCarthy Hearings and how Hollywood reacted to it."
"Yayyy," Maya said sarcastically as she Riley, and Lucas left.
As Farkle passed Cory's desk, the teacher called the student over. "Farkle I would like to see you after class for a minute."
They waited until the other students left before Cory spoke again. "Farkle, you know that you can talk to me about anything."
"There isn't anything to talk about Mr. Matthews," Farkle replied.
"I have been hoping that you or your father would come to me if you're in trouble," Cory said.
"Why should he?" Farkle snapped but then he reverted to his original persona. "I'm sorry, Mr. Matthews. I know that you and my father didn't get along but could you please not accuse him in front of me?" He then left the classroom.
As expected, Riley, Lucas, and Maya stayed in the hallway waiting for their geekier friend. "Farkle what's wrong?" Riley asked.
"Riley, why would you think something would be wrong?" Farkle asked.
"The bruise, the way you didn't talk in class and the way you blew up at Zay," Riley listed.
"There's nothing wrong," Farkle said. "I just fell. I didn't feel like talking and Zay annoyed me, that's all."
"We want to help you," Lucas said.
"You can't help," Farkle said. "It's nothing you would understand." He walked away practically running so the others couldn't catch up to him.
"I wonder what's bothering him." Lucas said.
"It's not our business Ranger Rick," Maya added.
"How can you say that Maya, Farkle's our friend," Riley objected. "We've never turned our back on our friends."
"Look, Riley, there are just some problems that are too big for us to fix alright," Maya countered before she too walked away.
"This is starting to be an epidemic," Lucas said wryly.
"Why is Farkle keeping secrets from us and what does Maya know about it," Riley said half to herself and half to Lucas.
"Who says Maya does," Lucas asked.
Riley shrugged. "Just some things. Like remember when Farkle wanted to get his mom's ring back from Maya? Maya kept fighting him for it, but he said something like she knew exactly why he needed it back. Plus they've been whispering to each other an awful lot."
"You think they're together and not telling us," Lucas asked. Riley shrugged like that was a possibility. "It seems deeper than that," he reasoned.
"You're thinking what I'm thinking that Farkle is getting beaten and Maya knows about it," Riley asked. "Maybe by his father?"
"I don't think it's his father doing the beating." Lucas said remembering something about the ring incident.
"Come on it's usually the father or the husband, except Joan Crawford," Riley said. "I've seen enough cop shows. Besides my dad doesn't like his father and he does seem….distant."
"Riley, there's something that Farkle told me when he gave me his mother's ring that stuck out," Lucas pointed out. "I mean he laughed about it then and I didn't think too much of it until now. He said that his mother always throws her ring at his father but she always wants it back by Thursday."
Riley's eyes widened as she thought about it. "Well whoever is hurting him shouldn't be, no matter who it is! Why is this happening anyway? Farkle is one of my best friends! How could I not know about this? Why wouldn't he tell us this?" And why didn't we notice, the young girl asked herself. Tears formed in her eyes of the thought of one of her closest friends being hurt and her never noticing just like the people who were around the Nelson brothers, Christina Crawford, and Patty Duke. Maybe she too saw it but chose not to.
"I don't know Riley, I wish I did," Lucas said hugging her in comfort.
In his classroom, Cory picked up his cellphone as Harley Keiner entered. "Harley, can you wait to clean my classroom? I have to take a private phone call."
"Suit yourself, Baboon," Harley quipped. "I've got all night!" He left the room closing the door behind him.
Cory dialed a number for the Child Abuse Hotline. "Hello my name is Cory Matthews, a history teacher at John Quincy Adams Middle School."
"What can I help you with Mr. Matthews?" the operator asked.
"I would like to file a report for child abuse," Cory began.
"Name of the child?" the operator began.
"Farkle-That's F as in Frank-A-R-K-L-E," Cory spelled. "Minkus."
The operator paused. "Wait Minkus as in the computer guy?"
"Yes the very same," Cory answered. "He's his son."
"Is the report on the computer guy?" the operator asked.
"No, I don't think so," Cory said. "I think it's on his wife, Jennifer…"
Lucas and Riley ran into the classroom to confront Riley's father about their theory. He had just finished filing the report. "You're too late," he said. "I already took care of it."
"Took care of what, Daddy?" Riley asked innocently ready to come up with some major pleading about finding out about Farkle and surprised that her father was already onto them.
"I think I know my daughter and her friend pretty well by now," Cory said. "I already called DFS on Farkle's mother."
Farkle reentered the house. His mother was much more tucked in and dressed than he saw her earlier that morning. She wore a white blouse over black slacks and her hair was tied back in a French braid. Her makeup was completely retouched so the puffy swelling on her cheek was almost invisible. She was speaking on the phone in an exaggerated overtly pleasing tone. "Why of course Stuart and I will attend your charity opera. We are looking forward to it." The person continued to speak as Farkle dropped his bag on the floor. Jennifer continued to speak on the phone. "Oh Stuart and I are just fine. Our relationship is never better. And Farkle? He is just wonderful, such a brilliant boy…. Well naturally I'm proud to be his mother." Farkle opened the refrigerator to get a juice jug. He then reached for a glass. Irritated, Jennifer put her hand on the receiver and the phone to her breast before she chastised her son. "Could you be a little louder? I'm only on the phone."
Farkle knew that Maya would say something like "I could try," and proceed to make more noise. But Farkle just humbly apologized and gathered his drink as quietly as he could.
Jennifer continued to talk on the phone while Farkle thumbed through the magazine pictures that lay on the island. They were of various homes, decorated in various ornate styles. Next to them lay photographs of their home as well as the potential orders for the new furniture. Farkle drank thoughtfully as he looked at the pictures. Jennifer turned to her son again. "Farkle, keep your hands off. I am working on that."Farkle nodded. She continued on the phone. "Well I am sending some of the photos of our home to the editor, tomorrow." She said. "Of course it will look completely different by then, with all new furniture but it will give them an idea of how our home will be….. Well of course Stuart will buy the furniture. He does everything for me. …Yes, I am truly lucky aren't I?" She glanced at her wedding ring and rolled her eyes. Trying to be the perfect family, Farkle thought ironically remembering Mr. Matthews lesson and how tightly it pertained.
She turned to the phone and resumed speaking. "Of course I am looking forward to the photo spread for Avenues... Anyone who is anyone will see it." Farkle leaned over, but the glass tumbled out of his hand. Before he could stop it, the juice poured over the table and onto his mother's pictures. Jennifer rose and watched the mess, her face reddened. "I'm sorry," she said on the phone through clenched teeth. "I will have to get back to you." She hung up the phone and stormed up to her son. "You little shit, do you have any idea how important it was to me?" She pushed her son so hard that he fell against the island and screamed. Jennifer continued to rant. "This is the one thing in my life that I was looking forward to and you ruined it! You ruin everything!"
"I'm sorry Mother," Farkle gasped as he tried to stand.
"Clean it up!" His mother commanded. Farkle meekly picked up a sponge and dabbed at the mess, throwing the worse photos in the trash. Even though the mess was clean, his mother was still angry.
Jennifer spoke again, this time very icy her eyes filled with hatred and anger. "You are nothing! I wish you were never born! You know what no one wants you! Why does your father spend so much time at work? To get away from you! Do your friends want you? They only like you because you're richer than they are! Your teachers would love to see the back of you! They're the lucky ones! They get to be away from you, but no! I get stuck with you! Why don't you just kill yourself? It would save us all the trouble!"
Farkle couldn't say anything except to cry silent tears as he walked slowly to his bedroom.
Farkle sat on his bed feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. He felt cold and numb throughout his body. His mother's words rang in his head like a song that wouldn't go away: You are nothing….I wish you were never born…No one wants you…Why don't you just kill yourself... It would save us all the trouble! It was true enough. Farkle could see the rest of his life flash before him. He would always have to wear this mask of confidence, intelligence. It would eat away at him and erode, until everyone would
see the real Farkle. They already were beginning to. He would be nothing for the rest of his life. He could see the future envelope before him, unwanted, unneeded, unloved. Why would his father ever want him when he has his job? His friends and people in school tolerated him, but didn't care about him. Well his mother made her feelings perfectly clear. He was a waste of human skin and air.
He flipped on his laptop and poured out his thoughts to the screen in a letter to his father.
He printed the letter and left it on his desk writing "Father," on the outside.
He felt like he was walking through cold water or a frozen ice block as he staggered to the bathroom. He closed and locked the door then took off his clothing. He moved his hands around his thin body and glanced at himself in the mirror. His face looked hideous screwed up and crying. He pounded on the mirror in frustration putting a crack in the glass and a sharp cut on his knuckles. He ignored it.
He opened the medicine cabinet and took out a large bottle of diphenhydramine which was used for cold medication. He also reached for a razor. He laughed at the bitter irony. He had only just begun to shave and here he was using the razor for other purposes. Farkle turned on the bathtub and let the water pour over his body. He waited until the bathtub was full then he reached over and turned the faucets off. He opened the pill bottle and placed a handful of pills in his mouth and swallowed them down. He then poured another handful in his mouth and then lay the razor next to his arm towards his torso. He barely made a sound as he could see the red pouring from the open wound. He welcomed the exhaustion that filled him as he cut the other arm.
Jennifer heard a sound coming from the bathroom. "Farkle?" She called, but her son didn't answer. Instead she heard the sound of water running. She shrugged. He was probably taking a bath. She jumped at the sound of the knock on the door. She opened it to see two people looking at her.
One was an overweight brunette woman and the other was a large bearded African-American man. "Mrs. Jennifer Minkus," the woman said.
"Yes?" Jennifer asked.
"I am Officer Taylor and this is Officer Armitage," she said with an official voice. "We are from the Department of Family Services. We are responding from a call about your son, Fark-Lee?"
"Farkle," his mother corrected. "His name is Farkle." It's a dumb name anyway, she thought, I wanted to name him Shamus. But of course he named him while I was laid up with post-partum depression!
"I apologize ma'am, Farkle," the officer said.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Jennifer objected crossing her arms defiantly. This was not going to be good, how was she going to get out of this one?
"The report stated that your son appeared in school with a black eye," Armitage said. "And it further alleges that you did the hurting."
Jennifer felt a bit weak at the knees. She should have made Farkle stay home until the bruise healed, but oh no he and his nerd of a father insisted on perfect attendance. "Who would make such an accusation?"
"We cannot give that information out to you," Taylor said. "For confidentiality reasons."
It didn't matter. Jennifer had a feeling who it was. She should have pulled Farkle from John Quincy Adams when she found out his teacher was Cory Matthews. That Brillo Head always had it out for her! She would love for him to be here right now so she could really make him suffer, but first how was she going to counter these allegations?
"My son is just very clumsy," she said. "Children often are at that age. This whole thing is blown out of proportion." She walked closer to the officials.
"That may be true," Armitage said as he stepped into the apartment with Taylor close behind. Make yourself at home, Jennifer thought sarcastically. "But for now, we have to put your son in a foster home until the hearing."
The two officials moved forward as Jennifer held onto him. "You cannot take my son! You cannot do this!"
"Ma'am we have no choice," Taylor said.
In the bright lights of the living room, Taylor looked closer at Jennifer's face.
She pointed at the right side of Jennifer's cheek. "What happened to you ma'am?"
Jennifer's eyes narrowed. Of course she knew the perfect way to get out of this. Sorry, Stuart, she thought knowing that she would miss the golden goose, but the Titanic is going down and I am only saving one of us. It's women and children first.
She worked up a few tears and made choking sounds. "I've covered for him long enough," she said crying. "My friends keep telling me to leave him but I don't know what to do!"
Taylor and Armitage looked confused at each other. "Are you implying that your husband beat your son?"
Jennifer shook her head and wrung her hands. "He has a bad temper! He yells at my son! You know how these men are, powerful CEO's and think they can control everybody even their home life! He beats him and he hurts me too! I just don't want my little boy to be hurt!"
Armitage held Jennifer by the shoulders. "Ma'am are you willing to get make a counter report on your husband?"
Jennifer shrugged. Inside she was thinking, Forget Julianne Moore, I should get the Oscar! "I don't know. He is a very wealthy man with many dangerous friends! He said if I ever left him that he would come after me!"
"Mrs. Minkus, we can protect you and your son," Armitage said. "We can deliver you to a safe house."
Jennifer inwardly winced. She wasn't planning on that. A thought occurred to her to kill two birds with one stone: get rid of Stuart and make sure that her family came out with their wealth unscathed. "No, but if I can call my father, he would take Farkle and I in in a heartbeat. He never liked my husband and tried to warn me about him, but of course I didn't listen." She fell into a fit of sobbing.
Taylor looked at her quizzically. "Mrs. Minkus, won't your father's be the first place that your husband would look?" Jennifer glared at her. What is with this woman's suspicion?
"I know," Jennifer said ruefully. "But my father has an in with the local police upstate. If they find out that Stuart tracked us down, he could take care of it." That fact was true. Good luck trying to find us, you spineless wimp, Jennifer thought.
Armitage looked at her sympathetically. It was clear he was falling for it but Taylor was harder to convince. "I would like to hear from your son if that's alright," Taylor said. "Just so he could corroborate with the details."
No it would not be alright you stupid cow, Jennifer thought angrily, but instead she nodded to the bathroom. "Well I think he's having his bath. I'll go talk to him."
She walked over to the door and knocked. "Farkle honey? There are some people who want to talk to you." There was no answer. She knocked again. "Farkle?" She tried to open the doorknob but it was locked. She turned to the officials. "Something's wrong!"
She pounded on the door. "Farkle, answer me!" Armitage and Taylor ran to the the door and began pounding with her. Armitage raised his foot and kicked the door down.
Farkle lay in the tub with the water around him. Jennifer would have thought that her son was simply asleep except for the pill bottle that lay on the floor with its contents spilled and the blood that trickled out of the tub and onto the floor. "Oh no!" Jennifer gasped. "No, Farkle Baby no!" Armitage and Taylor ran past the boy's frozen immobile mother as they pulled the boy out of the tub. Armitage felt the boy's neck as Taylor covered his arms with a towel. "He's still breathing!" Taylor grabbed some bandages from her first aid kit and wrapped the boy's arms inside them. She then picked up her cell phone and called emergency while Armitage held onto his shocked mother.
Jennifer crawled to her son. Her first thoughts were, What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all? She wanted to scream at him that he had made a mess on the bathroom floor. But her thoughts could not connect. Real tears streamed down her face as she slapped her son's cheeks. "Farkle, honey, come on wake up," she begged. "Please wake up, baby! Open your eyes! Please!" She kept begging getting more and more hysterical as two paramedics arrived. Armitage continued to hold onto Jennifer, but she knelt down begging for her son to open his eyes.
"Mrs. Minkus, you'd better come with us," Armitage said as he picked up the woman who kept crying and screaming not words just noise. He led her into the living room as Jennifer heard the case worker tell a paramedic to take care of her.
"Do you need any more evidence now of what he does?" Jennifer screamed. Stuart Minkus was definitely going down for this! No way was this her fault!
She barely acknowledged the injection in her arm as the paramedic gave her a sedative.
"Mrs. Minkus will you make a counter report against your husband?" Taylor asked who appeared by the mother's side.
"Yes, I will," Jennifer said wearily as the drug and the overwhelming emotions both fabricated and real filled her.
"Do you want us to call your father?" Armitage asked.
"Yes," she said. She then said her father's phone number before she fell into a peaceful drug induced sleep.
Stuart Minkus sat behind his desk as his financial advisor, Eddie Giatti read the grim possibilities for Minkus International. He wanted to know exactly how much the company would lose if he bought out his in-laws. "Give it to me straight, Eddie," he said. "Can we survive without my father-in-law's support?"
Eddie looked at his report not wanting to be the bearer of bad news. The dark haired businessman had a good head for accounts and was very good at dealing with people, even if he was a bit on the cautious and nervous side. But he was a loyal worker and could always be counted on to tell Minkus the unvarnished truth no matter how bad it was.
"Well that depends on if you want to go bankrupt in a month or wait a year," Eddie said sarcastically.
"That bad?" Minkus asked.
"Let's put it this way," Eddie began. "We'd be going down in flames and the flight attendants will stop serving beverages. Trouble in paradise?"
Minkus looked at his assistant as if that were an absurd notion. "Of course not, everything's fine."
"Yeah because people generally want to cut their in-laws out when things are going great," Eddie muttered under his breath. "Nothing wrong with the Mrs. or Junior?" Eddie had known Farkle since he was a newborn even inadvertantly at his delivery. He became really fond of Farkle when the boy was a toddler and his dad would bring him to work when he couldn't find someone to watch him. Eddie often referred to him as "Junior," or "The Kid." Even though he was single with no children, he thought of Farkle as sort of like a nephew or a kid brother. In fact he got the job of accounts executive indirectly because of Farkle, when Minkus International's previous exec, Alvin Meese, had been fired for insulting Farkle and calling him a "brat" during one of those times when his father had to bring him among other reasons. Eddie was immediately promoted in his place.
"Everything's fine, Eddie," Minkus said not wanting to continue. "Can you give me an estimate of how much we would lose then?"
Eddie looked at the numbers that his boss told to find in secret. "Let's see I think the title Minkus International would be misleading. We would lose most of our international business including the new offices in Delhi and Shanghai. All of our nice incentive packages for our clients would disappear, so it may be awhile before we get some new ones. Our staff would be disastrously cut-"
"-By how much?" Minkus asked rubbing his forehead trying to rub away the tension.
"I think it would be easier for me to tell you who we could afford to keep on," Eddie said. "We might be able to survive with five technicians, one office manager, and someone in accounts. They will be paid the same salaries as before right?"
"Probably not," Minkus answered wryly.
"Make that three or four technicians then," Eddie corrected making the change in his notes.
"I want Jessie to start giving me their resumes," Minkus remarked. "I want to have an idea of who we can keep and who can be laid off."
Eddie held up his hands in defense. "This sounds like something you are actually thinking of doing."
"Just seriously considering it," Minkus said knowing that he was going to lose no matter what he chose. He didn't know what was right anymore. For a man who prided himself on thinking he knew everything, for the first time Stuart Minkus realized that he didn't know anything at all.
"Then if you don't mind, I think I will update my resume," Eddie suggested. "I hear Jack Hunter's hiring."
Minkus looked at his advisor stone faced. "You do what you have to do. I would appreciate it if you did not let the news out until I want to make it official. I haven't decided yet and I definitely don't want Mr. Bassett or my wife to know."
"Wouldn't hear it from me," Eddie said putting his mouth to his lips as though he were pretending to lock his mouth shut.
From Minkus' computer he saw the icon for his office manager, Jessie Goloff appear.
He opened the icon to see her face appear on the screen. "Mr. Minkus there are two police officers in the lobby. They want to speak with you," Jessie said.
Eddie and Minkus looked confused but Minkus turned to the computer. "I'll be right there, Jessie," he said.
When Minkus entered the lobby he could see the two police officers standing behind Jessie's desk. The red-haired plump office manager crossed her arms in defiance. "I told you that Mr. Minkus will be out in a minute. You can't just come in here and-"
"-It's alright, Jessie, I'm here," Minkus told her. He was impressed by Jessie's loyalty and formidable nature in protecting her superiors almost like a mother tiger protecting her cubs. He hoped that she at least would stay on.
"Are you Stuart Minkus?" one of the officers said.
"Yes," Minkus answered.
"We have a warrant for your arrest," the police officer held up a paper.
"What?" Minkus was confused. "This is preposterous! I haven't done anything wrong!" He continued to object as the officers slapped handcuffs on him and read him his rights. "I know my rights! What are the charges?"
"Domestic violence," the police officer said.
"What?" Minkus asked incredulously. "That is not true! Where is my wife? Where is my son?"
"Your wife is under protection at a secure location," the officer answered testily. "Your son is at Mt. Sinai. It appears that he tried to commit suicide."
The news sunk in. Minkus couldn't feel his legs. "No, oh god no, please dear god, no!" He begged as the police officers led him away from the desk. Regaining some sense of business, Minkus turned to Jessie. "Jessie, call Mt. Sinai and find out Farkle's condition immediately and call Topanga Lawrence-Matthews, she's an attorney!"
"I'm on it," Jessie said already putting the phone to her ear and dialing the numbers as her boss was led out of the lobby and the building.
Author's Note: All biographical information on the Nelsons, Patty Duke, and Joan Crawford are true and are based on multiple sources. I particularly recommend Duke's autobiography Call Me Anna. Not only does it describe Duke's relationship with John and Ethel Ross, her managers but it also documents her journey through what would later be known as bipolar disorder.
