We were on our way back to the villa in a hurry. Malachi was mumbling to
himself the whole way, while I was keeping a sharp eye out for any roots
that I might possibly trip over. I didn't see him stop dead in his tracks,
and I ran right into him.
"Hey! Watch where you're going," I complained, stumbling backwards. Malachi had an alarmed look on his face and I quickly recovered. "Malachi, what is it?"
"I think I just—yeah, I just thought of something. Oh no," he said softly, his face falling. "No, no, that can't be true…"
"What?" I asked, glancing around. "What, do you see the police? Should I run? I'm getting pretty good at it!"
Malachi gave me an odd look, then grabbed me by the arm and didn't stop dragging me until we were in the door. "I really hope I'm wrong on this one," he said to himself.
"What already?"
"Rue, you know how Father had all of the classic symptoms of antisocial personality disorder?"
"Anti-sociey-whaty?"
Malachi sighed. "He was a sociopath, Rue."
"What's that?"
Malachi began to pace. "A person who doesn't know, or doesn't care, about morals. They are often cold, aloof and calculating. Often times they are even charming, and they know how to get what they want. They are self- centered only in that they don't know how to be any other way. The ends justifies the means for them. Nothing is impossible for a sociopath."
"So what? That's Dad, but we've known that for a long time."
"But Rue, you saw him…I saw him…Father is alive…but why…" Malachi sat down on the couch and stared into space. "But why wouldn't he come back to us? Of course, it makes perfect sense now. He's a sociopath, and though he is our father, he doesn't care. He looks out for his well-being. I should have known. God, I should have realized…"
"Malachi, you know its not that," I said, stroking my brother's hair.
"No, Rue, you don't understand. I've seen this. I've diagnosed this." He stood up and began to pace again. "Sociopaths are capable of having families and relationships, but inside they don't care about them in the least. Its all fulfillment for a sociopath. You notice how Father was never there when something would have been too taxing on him."
"Hey look, I forgave him for not coming to my Easter pageant in second grade. Honestly, could you blame him?"
"No, no, do you remember he was never there, for instance, when we were sick, other than to diagnose our illness? Or how about when you got your heart broken for the first time? Or when one of us hurt ourselves? He wasn't there. It would have required something of him, and he didn't want that."
I smiled. "Do you remember that clown Mom would hire for us when we were sick or hurt? The clown would come, and—"
"Rue, please. I'm serious now. Father felt he had no obligation to society. He did things because he wanted to; he was interested in fine things because they pleased him. And when he was shot in Vienna, and ultimately escaped, he saw family as something that would hinder his lifestyle. Thus, he never came back. It all makes sense now," Malachi finished, quite worked up by this time. "Why didn't I see it! People have called him a sociopath and I never believed it! Why! God, I'm a fool! I didn't see it!"
"Malachi, come on, we know Dad—"
"We thought we knew Dad!" He began to pace furiously; I had never seen him this hurt or angry. "Why was I led in like that? God, I've seen it so many times! I've seen it happen more times than I can count, and yet I was duped too!"
"How do you explain his relationship with Mom, then? Come on, a sociopath can't love!"
"How do we know he loved her? Did he ever tell her?! No! Did he ever tell us he loved us? No!"
"Dad wasn't like that, but it was unspoken, it was there—"
"No no no Rue! You don't get it!" He was very near tears by this point. "He was a sociopath, and nothing more than a sociopath, always was and always will be! People can't just change like that, especially people with personality disorders like antisocial! Go look it up if you don't believe me! Its right there, in DSM IV, under 'Antisocial Personality Disorder', code number 33—"
"Malachi, stop!" I yelled, getting worked up as well. "You don't know what you're talking about!"
"No, I know exactly what I'm talking about Rue, which is why it scares you! Go on, admit it! Admit that you're scared that I'm right!"
"You're not right, you have no idea what you're talking about!" I screamed as hard as I could at him. I could never remember speaking to him like this. "You're just angry at him for not coming back, so you're trying to rationalize it into a nice, neat little psychological category like you do with everything else in your life! You diagnose a situation before you even know what it is!"
"I know exactly what it is! I see it all now! Father never loved nor wanted you, or me, and he only wanted Mother for his personal safety and probably for sexual gratification! That's all! But when family life became inconvenient, he scared us off! Either he set the whole raid up, or he escaped and didn't tell us!"
"You're fucking paranoid, Malachi! Listen to yourself! Dad, setting up a raid? Come on! He could have just as easily gotten one of us hurt as him!"
A cruel smile appeared on Malachi's face. "You see, sis? For a sociopath, the ends justifies the means. Getting one of us hurt didn't matter, as long as it gave him an alibi, or even a route to escape."
I was too shocked to speak; what was wrong with my brother? "Malachi, you said it yourself, you were closer to him than anyone, how could you—"
"Because I was taken in!" he roared, enraged by this time and pacing around furiously as if something possessed him. "I believed him! I looked up to him! I never thought in a million years that he was what he was! Classic symptoms! Classic symptoms of a sociopath's victim!" He went on ranting as he stormed through the villa, eventually walking out the door and slamming it shut hard behind him. The stillness and quietness that he left behind him was almost deafening, and I nearly broke down in sobs. What had gotten into Malachi? I didn't even want to think about what he had said, whether it was true or not, I was too worried about my brother.
I ran (yes, ran) to the phone and dialed Mom's cell as fast as my fingers would let me. After about 5 rings, I heard someone pick up.
"Hello?"
"Mom!"
"Hold on, dear," she said. I heard a few gunshots, a scream, then silence. "Hi Rue, how are you?" she said sweetly. "How was your day?"
"Mom, its Malachi! Something's wrong with him, something really wrong!"
"What?"
"Mom, first I have to tell you something, and you have to believe me. It sounds crazy, but its true. We both saw it. We went down to market and we saw Dad, Mom! I swear to you it was Dad! I swear to you on my life!"
"Your dad?"
"Yes, Mom, I swear it was him! He looked straight at us and then hurried away, but it was him! We came home and Malachi started ranting on and on about Dad being a sociopath and how he never loved us or wanted us, and that's why he left, and something about Dad setting up a raid and DSM IV—"
"Hold on, slow down! Your brother was ranting about your father being a sociopath?"
"Yes, he was getting all psychiatrist-y on me! He was talking all this jargon shit and describing symptoms, and how he'd been duped, and—"
"Your brother? Screaming? About your father?"
"Yes Mom, I'd never seen him like that! It was like he was another person! God, it was horrible," I said, finally starting to cry a little bit. "He's gone now. He left. I don't know where he went." I sunk down in an easy chair. "I know its not a good idea Mom, but I think you need to come down here…"
"I'm already hijacking a ship, dear. I'll be there in a day or so." I heard her put her phone down and yell, "IF YOU DON'T WANT TO GET YOUR HEAD BLOWN OFF, YOU'D BETTER START STEERING TOWARDS BELIZE, YOU HEAR ME? COMPRENDE?" She fired off a few rounds into the air and I heard the crew pull up anchor. "You just sit tight, sweetie, and Mom'll be there soon."
"Thanks, Mom," I sniffed. "You're the best."
"Don't mention it, honey," she said with the officials screaming in the background. "I'd do anything for you two. Bye now."
"Hey! Watch where you're going," I complained, stumbling backwards. Malachi had an alarmed look on his face and I quickly recovered. "Malachi, what is it?"
"I think I just—yeah, I just thought of something. Oh no," he said softly, his face falling. "No, no, that can't be true…"
"What?" I asked, glancing around. "What, do you see the police? Should I run? I'm getting pretty good at it!"
Malachi gave me an odd look, then grabbed me by the arm and didn't stop dragging me until we were in the door. "I really hope I'm wrong on this one," he said to himself.
"What already?"
"Rue, you know how Father had all of the classic symptoms of antisocial personality disorder?"
"Anti-sociey-whaty?"
Malachi sighed. "He was a sociopath, Rue."
"What's that?"
Malachi began to pace. "A person who doesn't know, or doesn't care, about morals. They are often cold, aloof and calculating. Often times they are even charming, and they know how to get what they want. They are self- centered only in that they don't know how to be any other way. The ends justifies the means for them. Nothing is impossible for a sociopath."
"So what? That's Dad, but we've known that for a long time."
"But Rue, you saw him…I saw him…Father is alive…but why…" Malachi sat down on the couch and stared into space. "But why wouldn't he come back to us? Of course, it makes perfect sense now. He's a sociopath, and though he is our father, he doesn't care. He looks out for his well-being. I should have known. God, I should have realized…"
"Malachi, you know its not that," I said, stroking my brother's hair.
"No, Rue, you don't understand. I've seen this. I've diagnosed this." He stood up and began to pace again. "Sociopaths are capable of having families and relationships, but inside they don't care about them in the least. Its all fulfillment for a sociopath. You notice how Father was never there when something would have been too taxing on him."
"Hey look, I forgave him for not coming to my Easter pageant in second grade. Honestly, could you blame him?"
"No, no, do you remember he was never there, for instance, when we were sick, other than to diagnose our illness? Or how about when you got your heart broken for the first time? Or when one of us hurt ourselves? He wasn't there. It would have required something of him, and he didn't want that."
I smiled. "Do you remember that clown Mom would hire for us when we were sick or hurt? The clown would come, and—"
"Rue, please. I'm serious now. Father felt he had no obligation to society. He did things because he wanted to; he was interested in fine things because they pleased him. And when he was shot in Vienna, and ultimately escaped, he saw family as something that would hinder his lifestyle. Thus, he never came back. It all makes sense now," Malachi finished, quite worked up by this time. "Why didn't I see it! People have called him a sociopath and I never believed it! Why! God, I'm a fool! I didn't see it!"
"Malachi, come on, we know Dad—"
"We thought we knew Dad!" He began to pace furiously; I had never seen him this hurt or angry. "Why was I led in like that? God, I've seen it so many times! I've seen it happen more times than I can count, and yet I was duped too!"
"How do you explain his relationship with Mom, then? Come on, a sociopath can't love!"
"How do we know he loved her? Did he ever tell her?! No! Did he ever tell us he loved us? No!"
"Dad wasn't like that, but it was unspoken, it was there—"
"No no no Rue! You don't get it!" He was very near tears by this point. "He was a sociopath, and nothing more than a sociopath, always was and always will be! People can't just change like that, especially people with personality disorders like antisocial! Go look it up if you don't believe me! Its right there, in DSM IV, under 'Antisocial Personality Disorder', code number 33—"
"Malachi, stop!" I yelled, getting worked up as well. "You don't know what you're talking about!"
"No, I know exactly what I'm talking about Rue, which is why it scares you! Go on, admit it! Admit that you're scared that I'm right!"
"You're not right, you have no idea what you're talking about!" I screamed as hard as I could at him. I could never remember speaking to him like this. "You're just angry at him for not coming back, so you're trying to rationalize it into a nice, neat little psychological category like you do with everything else in your life! You diagnose a situation before you even know what it is!"
"I know exactly what it is! I see it all now! Father never loved nor wanted you, or me, and he only wanted Mother for his personal safety and probably for sexual gratification! That's all! But when family life became inconvenient, he scared us off! Either he set the whole raid up, or he escaped and didn't tell us!"
"You're fucking paranoid, Malachi! Listen to yourself! Dad, setting up a raid? Come on! He could have just as easily gotten one of us hurt as him!"
A cruel smile appeared on Malachi's face. "You see, sis? For a sociopath, the ends justifies the means. Getting one of us hurt didn't matter, as long as it gave him an alibi, or even a route to escape."
I was too shocked to speak; what was wrong with my brother? "Malachi, you said it yourself, you were closer to him than anyone, how could you—"
"Because I was taken in!" he roared, enraged by this time and pacing around furiously as if something possessed him. "I believed him! I looked up to him! I never thought in a million years that he was what he was! Classic symptoms! Classic symptoms of a sociopath's victim!" He went on ranting as he stormed through the villa, eventually walking out the door and slamming it shut hard behind him. The stillness and quietness that he left behind him was almost deafening, and I nearly broke down in sobs. What had gotten into Malachi? I didn't even want to think about what he had said, whether it was true or not, I was too worried about my brother.
I ran (yes, ran) to the phone and dialed Mom's cell as fast as my fingers would let me. After about 5 rings, I heard someone pick up.
"Hello?"
"Mom!"
"Hold on, dear," she said. I heard a few gunshots, a scream, then silence. "Hi Rue, how are you?" she said sweetly. "How was your day?"
"Mom, its Malachi! Something's wrong with him, something really wrong!"
"What?"
"Mom, first I have to tell you something, and you have to believe me. It sounds crazy, but its true. We both saw it. We went down to market and we saw Dad, Mom! I swear to you it was Dad! I swear to you on my life!"
"Your dad?"
"Yes, Mom, I swear it was him! He looked straight at us and then hurried away, but it was him! We came home and Malachi started ranting on and on about Dad being a sociopath and how he never loved us or wanted us, and that's why he left, and something about Dad setting up a raid and DSM IV—"
"Hold on, slow down! Your brother was ranting about your father being a sociopath?"
"Yes, he was getting all psychiatrist-y on me! He was talking all this jargon shit and describing symptoms, and how he'd been duped, and—"
"Your brother? Screaming? About your father?"
"Yes Mom, I'd never seen him like that! It was like he was another person! God, it was horrible," I said, finally starting to cry a little bit. "He's gone now. He left. I don't know where he went." I sunk down in an easy chair. "I know its not a good idea Mom, but I think you need to come down here…"
"I'm already hijacking a ship, dear. I'll be there in a day or so." I heard her put her phone down and yell, "IF YOU DON'T WANT TO GET YOUR HEAD BLOWN OFF, YOU'D BETTER START STEERING TOWARDS BELIZE, YOU HEAR ME? COMPRENDE?" She fired off a few rounds into the air and I heard the crew pull up anchor. "You just sit tight, sweetie, and Mom'll be there soon."
"Thanks, Mom," I sniffed. "You're the best."
"Don't mention it, honey," she said with the officials screaming in the background. "I'd do anything for you two. Bye now."