Something's Burning: Chapter 15
Thank you for all your reviews and getting me over the 300 mark. I am still amazed. Never did I believe that I would be this far with my first FF. But I guess seeing is believing. It's an awesome journey.
Anything familiar is JE's but this plot is mine. I'm not making any money but having fun playing in this Plumverse.
"We have a meeting, Babe, if you recall." I followed him to find Bobby, Tank and Lester all waiting and looking very pleased, Lester with his shit-eating grin and Bobby like the cat that got the canary. Tank had his arms folded and a huge white smile on his visage. Their eyes were acknowledging each other smugly and I detected a distinct degree of pride. Why do I feel like I have walked into a scripted scenario? Like I have just played into their hands …
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Previous to that: …"Thank you for dinner, Frank. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. But I had to do this. You left me no choice." I pushed my chair in. "I'll catch a cab. You're on your own now, Frank. Just you … and Helen. I've already moved out and neither of you realised anything because you are so fucking blind!"
His head shot up at that last remark, his eyes pained and glistening.
"And you thought we could move into something, together? That was your little epiphany? Seriously?! I don't think so, Frank. You made your bed, now sleep in it. But, you can always re-make that bed. Cojones! You don't have any. Pfft! Now you can deal with Helen all on your own. She's all yours, with bells on."
And I walked away.
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CHAPTER 15: Reality Bites
Frank's POV
Shell-shocked. That's how I felt. What just happened? How did I get home? Sitting in my cab in the driveway with the engine idling I suddenly realised that I must have driven home on automatic pilot. My head was throbbing with a mighty headache, a tension headache of huge proportions promising an uncomfortable night to come. But I think that is the least of my worries. I felt so heavily burdened, weighed down with utter shame and guilt and also profound helplessness.
What just evolved took me completely unawares; unexpected and unprepared for an outcome that I sit here totally bewildered how it came to be. I had been played and strung along into a sense of misguided well-being and revelation and when I declared my hand to her she totally blindsided me handing me my ass in a most comprehensive and unequivocal manner. Never underestimate a woman scorned. My mother-in-law left me feeling crushed, shattered, ashamed and heart-broken, reeling and regretting my past actions, my lack of action, my lack of courage in my role as father and man of the house.
Where did I go wrong? When did I go wrong? How did I let it get this far? So out of hand that I relinquished all control to Helen and her bitter and malicious rumour mongering all in order to avoid confrontations. I had trusted her to bring up the girls while I was busy being man of the house, the breadwinner. Edna alluded to my fifties mentality in not so many words. For a crazy little old lady, Edna Mazur had proven to be an imposing and remarkable strategist and tactician. I severely underestimated her. I basically enabled Helen, empowered her with such authority, authority which I should have over-ruled and intervened so long ago. Cojones? Perhaps Edna was right, as hard as it is to admit. How could I be so unseeing, so blind and stupid? Selfish she called me. Have I become a selfish man? I held my head in my hands on the steering wheel, pained and confused how reality hurts, really hurts. I didn't want to hear all those words, those criticisms but there was no denying the truth to her censures. What a fool I have been. Hindsight! If only there was a reverse like on the gears of a car, an undo or an erase button, a redo or a do-over …. If only …
I looked up at the house. It used to be home, feel like home, my home, a family home, safe and warm. Somehow, somewhere along the way it reverted back to a house for it no longer feels like a home should. It's cold and uninviting with just a veneer of obligatory propriety as befits the Burg. The lights were still on partly silhouetting Helen's pacing form with her head firmly attached to that wretched phone, her arms gesticulating wildly and … yes, there it was … her classic "Why me?" pose and body language. Tsk. I rolled my eyes in disgust. And, yes, predictably crossing herself as she looked up to the heavens. I couldn't hear her from here but there was no doubt at all. Fuck me! For a purportedly Christian woman, that wife of mine is ostensibly a most un-Christian and uncharitable bitch! I sighed deeply, slumping back in the driver's seat, comfortable and moulded to my body shape from hours of driving as I turned the ignition off holding the keys in my hand, on my lap. Driving. Hmm. That was my escape from her relentless gossiping and malicious blathering. I feel like I have two cauliflower ears from that inane and incessant jabbering. Such empty-headed fools. Says I! Pfft!
How did it get so out of hand? When did I stop taking notice? I've protected myself with a number of strategies: the old metaphorical mute button known to all men; hearing but not listening; selective listening; reading the paper whilst watching TV, loudly; slipping into my zone by being there physically but not mentally; driving the cab, anywhere, with or without passengers; going to the Lodge; but best of all, driving to Point Pleasant, the drive, the beach and the fresh sea air does wonders to clear my head.
But, after Edna's ass whipping, I now realise reluctantly that I was so busy dodging Helen's tirades protecting myself but not protecting my Pumpkin. Well, she is all grown up now. Christ! I've enabled that harpy to harass and harangue Stephanie for more than half of her life, the half when she was a child and a young teenager; the time when she needed me to be strong for her, to protect her, to just be there for her. Was I too busy to see? I worked hard sometimes with long hours and Helen disciplined the girls and prepared them for school, home duties, life skills, marriage. We agreed and Helen took her role seriously as mother and homemaker. Valerie was the compliant one and the apple of her eye, her favourite. Maybe my fondness for Stephanie was built on that, but I let her down, I let her down big time. I had failed my own beloved daughter, miserably. In avoiding my own wife with all that complaining, nagging and gossiping, I had avoided my own daughter. Will she ever forgive me? How can I make it up to her? Christ! I don't even know where she is anymore. Evidently she no longer lives in that apartment. And what did Edna say? Someone is looking after her. Someone who loves her. He's protecting her.
Have I lost my Pumpkin by being such a fool? Edna's words hit hard and initially I hadn't realised what she was on about as I was already thinking ahead about my happy revelation and the warm relief of the feel good thoughts of my epiphany. My escape was but a brief dream shattered to smithereens by Edna's scathing and scornful verities. To say that she pulled the earth from under my feet was putting it mildly. I landed disgracefully with a resoundingly huge thud on my ass while she reamed me a new one.
Her words were constantly rolling through my head like an endless loop. Ignoring the abuse from Morelli and also the relentless verbal abuse from Helen over many years as I realised it for what it was, it's a wonder Stephanie turned out so well. I guess if I had been more supportive and had more of a backbone, things might have been different. She is not a clone of Helen like Valerie is, living the Burg life. But I allowed Helen to hound her, ignoring the hurtful scathing criticism of Stephanie's job, her cars and her love life. How could I be so fucking short sighted? So fucking stupid to let that cazzo di merda, that stronzo bastardo share my family dinner table after what he did to my little girl. Edna was so right. But Helen assured me it was alright especially as Stephanie had cleared his name in her first case as a bounty hunter. The cop seemed to have redeemed himself in the community all because of his family history … and I still said nothing. Stephanie seemed happy, well, most of the time. Edna gave me the reality check of all time. The shit has hit the fan and I'm about to enter that hellhole of a house. Huh! Helen in that Hellhole. That'd be right, I laughed wryly.
I need some space, some thinking time. Planning a drive to Point Pleasant was something to look forward to in my present bleak future. Decision made for an early morning drive to my thinking spot, I braced myself for re-entry into the Torrid Zone. As I locked the car I could already hear her before I got to the front steps. Urgh! That contemptuous moaning! That whinging and whining! Not now, I don't need it. I've had my quota of lectures to last me a lifetime. I took a deep breath and walked in, ignoring her on the phone and walked up the stairs to the bathroom to get some Tylenol for this headache. All the while Helen is still on the phone, holding it to her chest and hissing my name as I ignored her.
"Frank. Frank? Frank! Frank?!" Hissing like a vicious viper poised to strike.
I came down the stairs to get a glass of water avoiding eye contact at all costs as she was about to harangue me with all her woes but she suddenly stopped, perplexed. She looked expectantly at the front door and opened it, looking for her mother obviously. I waited in the kitchen, mentally counting down, as realisation hit her.
"Frank? Fra-ank?! Where's Mother? Frank! Where is Mom?! Frank?" She had put the phone down, finally extracting it from her ear. It probably needed time to recharge after being constantly in her hand anyway. Hmm. Now there's a thought. A flat battery on the phone …. She took a huge swig of her "tea" when she barged into the kitchen repeating the same questions to my face. So I told her but I don't think she heard the answer because the phone rang at that precise moment and drowned out my answer as she spun around quickly to answer it in the polite and proper Burg manner.
"She's at Millicent's." I'd replied but the words fell on deaf ears.
"I've got a headache, Helen. I'm going to bed."
She had that almighty dramatic look going; the martyr of all martyrs was in full flight again. She nodded impatiently, the urgency of her missing mother all but forgotten.
I shrugged my shoulders and trudged heavily up the stairs feeling mentally and emotionally drained and physically devastated. Is this how Stephanie felt? After my bathroom routine I peeked into Edna's room. All was neat and tidy and gave the impression that someone was there, even with her slippers neatly tucked under the bed, side by side with her robe hanging neatly from the bedpost confirmed that.
But sleep would not come. I was restless and uncomfortable. Helen had eventually left the phone and come upstairs to bed, muttering about her crazy mother and her whereabouts unknown. She tried to ask me again but I feigned sleep and rolled over. I've created a monster. Why did I not see that before? My head was pounding and I drifted in and out of macabre visions of Helen and her diatribe, remonstrating Stephanie, seeing the hurt on my Pumpkin's face. Edna's dinner conversation reeled over and over again in my head like swirling headlines and disgusted media presentations like a continuous, endless loop. It was a nightmare and I woke up in a sweat, breathing heavily. In the dim light of the digital alarm I saw Helen's face, harsh and contorted. Even in sleep her malicious malevolence prevailed. It was only just gone three in the morning. All was blissfully peaceful in this house, this house that was my home, is my home. I took some more Tylenol hoping it would bring the welcome relief of sleep but it was shallow and short lived. I lay there in the dark, my hands behind my head contemplating my next move. Decision made, I quietly crept out of bed and went to the bathroom. Ironic! I would happily battle with Edna for dibs on the bathroom right here and now but that's history now. I showered and dressed in peace. After making some sandwiches and a picnic lunch with some cake, cookies and a piece of fruit, I left the house and went for that drive, that space and thinking time. Headlights on and I was off into the quiet of the night.
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So this was all about Frank's POV. I have rewritten this chapter a number of times but felt this was a necessary perspective to include.
I'm toying with Helen's POV but like Morelli before, I don't want to go that deep into her murky twisted and ugly perspective, but maybe just a bit of peripheral thoughts.
Ranger and Stephanie and the Merry Men will feature in Chapter 16. After all, there is that dinner date after the meeting. ;)