[A.N.: This chapter may contain disturbing material for some readers.]

Chapter 23

Who Was Barbara Wendell?

Lloyd mansion

-RHONDA-

"…so… what you're saying… is my grandfather is not dead."

When my mom called be over to talk to me, I had assumed it was to convince me to have Joule put in an appearance at her charity event. After all, that was her current project, and superheroes were known for doing charity work. So, imagine my surprise when it turned out it wasn't about that, but about her mysterious past.

Mom could go on for hours about her modelling days, or about her early courtship with my dad, but she never touched on her life before that. I'd asked her on occasion, but she would always just avoid the line of questioning with "Oh, it wasn't very interesting, really," and any questions about my grandparents from her side of the family were dismissed with "They passed away a long time before you were born, dear." I never really pressed the issue but it always seemed like she was hiding something. It seemed I was finally going to learn what.

"I know that's what I've always told you, but… it's true. He's not dead, and he wants to see you."

"So… I take it that this is not a good thing."

"It's a very long story. See… Brooke Wellington wasn't my original name. I was born Barbara Wendell, in Bridgeport, Connecticut. My father, Clayton Wendell, was the founder of Wendell Frozen Foods, the #1 producer of frozen foods in the entire Northeast. As you can imagine, he was a very wealthy, powerful man. Someone who knew what he wanted, and was used to getting it."

"Now, we lost our mother when I was very young-"

"…hold on, 'we?'"

"Yes, my older brother Rhys and I."

"So, let me get this straight, I not only have a grandfather I've never known, but an uncle?"

"Yes, I'm getting to all that, dear. Anyway, the two of us grew up alone in that big house, with him. I suppose losing her made him the cold, distant man we came to know. It was mostly the servants who raised us. In any case, it just made the two of us closer. Your uncle Rhys was quite the charmer… handsome, smart, dashing… of course, all the girls were crazy about him. But… it wasn't so much the girls he was into, if you know what I mean. As I discovered one day when I caught him with one of his friends from the football team."

"So… what happened then?" I asked.

"Well… you must understand... we were raised to be very traditional. I didn't understand at the time that it was a perfectly normal thing for some people. So, at the time, I found it very shocking. But he begged me not to tell Father, and out of respect for him, I didn't. It was our little secret that we shared, and in time, I grew to understand." She drifted off, wistful. "He was… different, but he was still the same brother I loved."

"This is kind of explaining a lot," I remarked. "Like why you gave me that really big, embarrassing hug when I came out…."

"Yes, I may have overdid it," she agreed. "I just wanted to make it very clear to you that I accepted you."

"Well, you certainly did that…" It was nice to know her mother's love was unconditional, but really, there were certain standards that needed to be adhered to. "So… what happened? I'm getting the sense that this doesn't end happily."

"I'm afraid your sense is right on the money, dear. You see, Rhys was discreet about his relationship, but it just takes one slip-up to be exposed. And when the coach caught him, you can be sure that it was reported directly to Father… and he did not take it well. Father immediately pulled Rhys out of school and sent him off to a 'special camp' to be 'fixed.'" She grimaced ruefully at the memory. "It wasn't until much later that I found out exactly what goes on at those camps. It's horrifying. The fact that there are still states where that sort of thing is legal is sickening."

"When he finally came home, it was as if a part of him had been murdered and what we got back was some kind of hollowed-out corpse walking around with his face. I lied to myself at the time it was fine, that he had been 'fixed', after all, right? He would be back to normal soon enough." A deep, rueful sigh. "And everything was fine. Right up until he hanged himself in his room. I was five at the time."

"Oh," was all I could say. How do you react to that? "What happened next?"

"Well, you would think this would be a wake-up call, that maybe he would have realized his mistake and acknowledged it, attempted to atone for it. But then, you don't know Clayton Wendell. Rhys's body was quietly disposed of, and seemingly overnight, he stripped the house clean of any sign that Rhys had ever existed. When I asked what had happened to my brother, instead of telling me, he denied that I ever had a brother, that I should stop believing in imaginary friends, that it was unhealthy. Later on, I learned that there was a word for what he was doing. It was called 'gaslighting.'"

"Pardon the unladylike language, but Grandpa sounds like a colossal piece of shit."

"I'll allow it, sweetie. He was a piece of shit. Anyway, I pretended to go along with his little fiction, but I knew, deep down, that he was lying to me. I knew that I would never look at him the same way again. And the moment I was old enough, I ran away to Paris, changed my name, and threw myself into the world of modelling, and never looked back. Years later, I met your father while he was vacationing, and the rest, as they say, c'est l'histoire." She got up. "I really should have poured myself some wine before we started having this conversation because quite frankly, I'm missing it now."

"Don't deprive yourself on my account. In fact, I'll join you."

"*chuckle* Nice try, dear. You can join me… with a more appropriate beverage."

"We don't know if alcohol works on me yet," I said innocently.

"And we will continue to bask in our ignorance until you're at least 18," she said, pouring herself a rosé and me sparkling apple juice. Way to make me feel like I'm six instead of sixteen. At least it was in a nice glass.

"Anyway," she said after taking a sip, "I never heard from him after that, either personally or from the news. I supposed he decided that I didn't exist, either. Which was fine with me; I had absolutely no desire to see him ever again. As far as I was concerned, he might as well have been dead… so, that was the fiction I maintained. I guess lying to ourselves runs in the family."

"Mom," I said, "no one can blame you for wanting to distance yourself from your past. It doesn't make you like him. You didn't use your lies to actively hurt people."

She took another sip, smiling. "You really are growing up to be quite the mature woman. Your mother must be very proud."

"Does that mean…"

"No wine," she restated. "Maybe a little on your birthday." She downed the rest of the glass. "You know, you would have been Rhys if you were a boy. Your sister, too. At least I got the 'RH' in there, so that's something."

"One thing I don't understand… if he stayed pretty much out of your life for twenty-" She shot a glance at me that said don't go there, "for however many or few years it's been… why would he suddenly want to get in contact with us now?"

"I couldn't begin to fathom what goes on in that man's mind. If I didn't know better, I'd say maybe his conscience has been nagging him all these years. But I do know better."

I took a sip of my own drink. "There is one way we could find out. Next time he wants to get in touch with us, we let hm."

"Out of the question," Mom declared. "There is no way he's getting anywhere near you kids. Especially you, given what he did with your uncle."

"Mom, if you think I'm gonna just let myself get brainwashed like that…"

"You don't know what that man's like!"

"Actually, I have a pretty good idea thanks to you. Enough that I'd be on my guard."

"Nope. Not happening. No way."

"Mom, think about it. Like you said, he's a very wealthy, powerful man. If he wants something, he's going to find a way to make it happen. Pretending he doesn't exist isn't going to make him go away, not now. You need to take control of the situation, set your own terms. Don't play by his rules."

"I'll think about it," Mom finally said after a long pause, during with she poured herself a rare second glass of wine (I didn't doubt this was a two-glass situation). I questioned whether she actually did intend to think about it, or whether she'd said she would so that I would drop the matter for now. Well, for now, I would, but this wasn't over. Sooner or later, Clayton Wendell would make another move, and if Mom proved to be intractable, I had no doubt he would instead try to make contact directly with me. And while I confess a bit of curiosity about what my grandfather was like in person, I knew he would probably make some attempt use me to get to Mom. But if serving as bait was what I had to do to get to know his intentions, then so be it.

-HELGA-

"…forty minutes. I spent forty minutes with that woman, but I swear to god it felt like a lifetime. Tell me I'm wrong, Olga, tell me I'm wrong!"

Olga smiled in that serene way of hers as she poured the tea. "Oh. Karen? Yes, I agree. Total bitch. Can't stand being around her. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Sheer torture."

Criminy. Hearing the word "bitch" out of my oh-so-proper sister's mouth was something I will never get used to hearing. "Bob seems to think you like her."

"Well, I don't, but she seems to make Daddy happy, so I'm keeping my opinions to myself."

"Well, what if it gets serious? What if he proposes, she soaks Bob for all he's worth, then leaves him high and dry? I mean… it's not like she can milk that weather girl gig for much longer. The station's eventually going to trade her in for a younger model. And she knows it, I bet. She's just looking for a new gravy train to get a seat on, and Pop's the unsuspecting conductor."

Carrying her tea, Olga gingerly sank her expanding body into one of the overstuffed chairs in the parlor. "Even given her… unpleasant personality, that seems a bit farfetched."

"'Farfetched.' After what we've seen? I wouldn't dismiss anything." I took a sip of my own tea and grimaced. "Ughhh what is this swill? Brynner's pee?" The Siamese briefly looked up from where he was dozing on the rug at the mention of his name, determined it was of no interest, and nodded off again.

"It's a mix of nettle, rosehips, raspberry leaf, peppermint and lemon oil. It's supposed to be very good for pregnancy. If you'd prefer, I could make you some coffee."

"Nah, I'll do it. Don't get up on my account." I made for the kitchenette. "I still can't believe I'm gonna be a freakin' aunt. I mean, yeah, growing up, you seemed like you were always gonna be the type who would settle down and start pushing out babies, but then you started working for Bridgette and I figured you were gonna actually be cool."

"Well, you never knew what's going to happen. Or who you're going to fall in love with." Two years ago, while on a mission for Bridgette, Olga had saved some rich yuppie's life and the next thing you know, she hung up her lilac catsuit and beret for good, went back to teaching, and got married to said rich yuppie. "It was fate that I met Taylor. Being a secret agent was fun for a while, but this is the life really want."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing. It's not gonna happen to me. You'll never catch Helga Pataki waddling around in bunny slippers with a baby in her gut drinking boiled plant piss."

'Never say never, baby sis. One day, could be soon, could be far off, you might just find yourself wanting what you never thought you could."

"Not likely. Could you imagine? Me? A mom?"

"I think you'd make a wonderful mother."

"Of course you do. You think everything I do is wonderful. You're like… like Pop is with you."

"*chuckle* Well, you've got me there. Still though… you meet the right, I assume, boy and your priorities could change."

The right boy. Well, the right boy was four thousand miles away from here, and while supposedly I'd see him again in ten months, there was always the chance he'd move on. And while Brainy was here, now, and I was definitely growing fond of him, I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was just using him as a distraction for loneliness. Not that he seemed to mind.

"Yeah, well, don't count it. Honestly, I'm not sure I could even if I wanted to. Different biology and all that. For all I know I lay eggs now."

Olga giggled. "That would certainly be unexpected."

"Yeah, laugh it up, it isn't you they'd be popping out of."

"Well, even if you can't have babies with regular people, there's always adoption. And, I know, I'm ridiculously biased, but I truly do think you would make a wonderful mother."

"Hey, if you want to be delusional, go for it." I replied, but the wheels in my mind were turning, and for the briefest of moments I did picture myself in Olga's slippers and maternity dress, feeling my belly swell, carrying… whose child?

Who else.

It seemed even now, even with someone else, my thoughts were still drifting to Arnold when I let them. No matter how much I tell myself I can move past him, I can be my own person, still he is at the center of my thoughts, and he always would be. And as much as I liked being with Brainy, it wasn't fair to him that I was always going to be keeping a part of myself for someone else. I to think, here I was judging Bob and Karen when I was I my own sham relationship.

No…. this could not go on. Sooner or later, something was going to have to give.

And the sooner, the better it would be for Brainy.

A.N.: Well, there it is, Brooke's backstory revealed. I've had this all plotted out since the first story, but never had the space to work it in until now. Let me know if you think it works.

Since it ran short, I also figured it was time we got to see what Olga was up to after all this time. And we also get to meet the single most important character in this story… Olga's cat, Brynner. Well, okay, not really the most important, but I like to think he, Abner, and Stinky's bat go out on the town every night and have rollicking adventures.

Jose: Yep, but what does he have planned, and why? And trust Helga to bust out the literary references.

See you next time!