Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Frank's POV

Chapter 6

oOoOo

Helen.

Sigh.

What happened to my Helen?

We thought it was bad last time. We thought we had nipped it in the bud. Alas, we were sadly mistaken. Jeez. This has gone off the scale, compounded now with driving under the influence and failing to stop at a stop sign. She registered over the legal limit and narrowly missed a motorcyclist driving through the intersection. Unfortunately, this in not her first DUI offence.

Last time, it was with great reluctance and a lot of aggravation, that Helen relented by going into a treatment facility for her alcohol addiction.

Denial.

She was warned about the consequences with driving under the influence, amongst other things.

Denial.

She had a psychological evaluation as she entered, and another upon her release, which did take longer than we expected.

Denial.

She just referred to it as her "vacation".

See?

Denial.

Fortunately, we didn't have to deal with the fallout of her alcohol withdrawals and detox. It was traumatic enough as it was. However, this time it has evolved into something more dangerous with consequences that could have been much worse.

All her pontificating and constantly casting aspersions at Stephanie were a sneaky diversion for her own misconduct and indiscretions. She had learnt her gaslighting lessons from Morelli, believing all his lies verbatim, stupidly assuming he was an upstanding citizen and an acclaimed role model. Holy shit! He did a job on her with his manipulation and lies which, in turn, enabled Helen to manipulate Stephanie with new ammunition. Making Stephanie question her skills and deeds in her new role as a BEA from the outset was rather an ironic contradiction. If I recall, it was Helen who suggested applying for a job with my distant nephew Vincent Plum.

But, to be honest, she had honed her critical and disparaging skills before Morelli. He was likely a catalyst. Helen became obsessed with all the bullshit "what will the neighbours think?" and making perfect clones out of Valerie and Stephanie. Valerie was easy and malleable, exemplary in fact in Helen's eyes, but my Pumpkin had spirit and energy. She constantly tried to quash that natural vitality.

So, here we were, Edna and I planning to give Helen a taste of her own medicine and show her how it feels to be criticised so disparagingly in front of other people, just like she does to Stephanie. First a family experience. It was unbelievable timing, poetic justice really, that Helen had invited Stephanie over for dinner that infamous night. In spite of my utter disgust and abhorrence, she had also invited that Morelli asshole. Edna took the call, confirming that Stephanie was coming and they would be "arriving together". Edna knew exactly what she was doing as I saw her cackling after she had relayed the message to Helen. Helen was too excited to realise that her mother had sort of tricked her by a slight omission to say that Stephanie was arriving together, yes together, with Carlos. We knew immediately that the stars had aligned seemingly for our benefit in the best possible way. Our plan had an impromptu upgrade. Seeing that bastard out the door was beyond satisfying.

The next day at the markets was even better, with a public performance of us expressing our discontent with Helen.

She was confused, yet there it was again … denial.

But, I digress.

Helen was quiet all the way home from the Trenton Police Station. Her nephew's words and especially those from his partner, Big Dog, hit home hard. She turned her head away, staring out of her side window. I was not having that.

"Well. That was a fine how-do-you-do! I hope –"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"That's too bad, Helen. You have to face the facts. That was embarrassing. You're a disgrace. Look at you. What have you done to yourself? Don't you go blaming anyone else. By ignoring that stop sign, Eddie said you nearly knocked down the motorcyclist! Do you even understand the consequences of your behaviour? Your actions? Your disgusting addiction?"

"Stop it!" She screeched.

So, I did. I stopped the car, pulling over, well before the final intersection, and turned to face her with a stern expression, ignoring her crocodile tears. Helen let out a frustrated scream as I locked all the doors. It was then that I realised, I had stopped right near that stop sign.

"Listen to me, Helen. One: you were drunk. Two: you were over the limit. Three: you nearly killed a motorcyclist. See that? That is the stop sign which you completely ignored!" At least she had the decency to gasp in response. "Four: you disrespected your nephew Eddie in his duty as a police officer. I can't believe you are still in denial and still not showing any remorse. Snap out of it, Helen! Do you understand the consequences?"

At that she shrugged her shoulders. Oh, dear God. I did a mental facepalm. She thinks this will just pass as a minor infraction and life will just go along as normal. Time to wake up, Helen. Reality bites, yet it has not hit home.

"Court time, Helen. You will be charged and penalised as a law breaker, maybe even a criminal record."

At that, her head whip-lashed to face me with wide eyes. "Eddie wouldn't do that to me. I'm not a criminal!"

"Christ, Helen! It is not Eddie's decision. You disobeyed the law. You broke the law. You ignored the road rules. You were driving under the influence. Someone saw you and called it in. You were arrested and charged. Don't you dare blame Eddie for any of the repercussions! That is all on you. Did you even listen when they mentioned your court date?" She shook her head with a limp shoulder shrug. "I didn't think so. Here's the paperwork."

Huh! Shit for brains, pickled by the booze. If I had not been listening and grabbed the paperwork, she might have missed her court date. I could visualise her being captured by a bond enforcement agent. That is so ironic. I'd pity the poor bond enforcement agent who has to deal with her. Oh, Helen. You have a lot to learn. Consequences. She had not even considered the ramifications of her actions and those serious charges.

Denial.

I was so pissed off with her at this point. I started the car, continuing the journey home. Hm. I wonder. In doing so, I realised we had actually passed Angie Morelli's house well before the stop sign. My money's on Angie for making the call about Helen drunk driving. Sure enough, there she was, sweeping her porch, a satisfied sneer on her face. I waved to her, with a blank expression, just letting her know I saw her. She knew that I knew. It was not hard to figure out. Helen gasped, realising we had passed Angie on the way. She looked over her shoulder as I drove away watching Angie dash inside her house. Ha. I bet she's already on the phone, sharing her news with the Burg Grapevine. Pfft. Deal with it, Helen. Sucks to be you. Just a bit more payback. How appropriate.

Edna was waiting on the front porch, arms folded, scowling at her daughter. There was Helen's car, neatly parked in the driveway, as promised by Eddie.

"Go upstairs and clean yourself up, Helen. You look a disgrace like this. I am very disappointed in you. Arrested! Drunk driving? What will the neighbours think now?"

With that last remark Helen visibly flinched with a grimace, casting furtive glances around the immediate neighbourhood to check who was watching. Using Helen's favourite phrases and throwing them back at her so bluntly in her face was absolutely perfect.

"I have dinner ready. Get a move on," Edna firmly chastised her daughter.

Ironically, this entire fiasco played so fittingly with our initial plans. From the police station, being released on bail, passing Angie's house, the stop sign and now being reprimanded by her mother after all my condemnations, all that was a full to overflowing smackdown for Helen Plum. This was an unexpected opportunity, all as a result of her own actions.

Helen flew up the stairs to avoid any other admonishments. Having so many negative and critical reactions to her afternoon's activities hit her hard. Reluctantly, twenty minutes later, she slowly came down the stairs, freshly showered. Dinner was quiet yet oh so tasty.

"That was delicious, Edna." I smiled.

Helen nodded but was mentally not present as she fidgeted with the table cloth. She ate some of her lasagne but toyed with it absent-mindedly. Heavy thoughts and I am sure a headache was forming, both literally and figuratively speaking.

In a small voice, Helen voiced her concerns, "Will I get penalised for … the um … today's … events?" She was struggling to find the words but her denial was still evident as she hesitated in avoiding the actual terms of her arrest.

"Yes, Helen. You were arrested. You were charged. You were released on bail. Tomorrow you will go to court to find out the penalties." She just nodded vaguely, obviously not taking it in.

Still denial.

Helen cleared the table in a daze while Edna brought in the coffee and cake. Earlier, while Helen had been upstairs showering, I had emptied her car boot of all her hidden bottles and flasks, including the picnic floral tote bag with the tartan vacuum flask. I even found a flask hidden in the wheel well for the spare tyre. From the garage, I had the floral garden tote with its five flasks, and the other bottles stashed in another gardening box. Meanwhile, Helen was loading the dishwasher which gave me ample time to display all her drinking paraphernalia.

When I wheeled in her special dining trolley with all the evidence from her car and the garage she practically dropped her coffee cup in shock.

"Am I missing anything, Helen?" I asked pointedly using her favourite weapon of sarcasm. She knew I was beyond angry with her as I stood tall with my arms folded.

She hung her head in shame and began to sob, elbows on the table while holding her head. Part of me felt sad but Edna and I agreed we had to stand firm, and be strong together, to get the message through her addled brain.

Edna banged the table which startled her.

"Forget the tears, Helen! Deal with it. You brought this on yourself. You are so done. This, all these flasks and bottles, is disgusting! We warned you about it, last time. Look at all this! How could you? No more. You are going back to the alcohol addiction rehab centre. But, that depends on what they charge you with at the arraignment."

"What do you mean?"

"Helen. You have been arrested and charged and regardless of your plea, you will not just be getting a slap on the wrist. It's not like anyone can put a good word in for you. This is serious. You can expect to get fined, maybe even jail time! Or, if you're lucky, community service. But AA and Rehab are a certainty for you."

Helen paled at the "jail time" remark, sitting there in utter shock, mouthing speechlessly like a goldfish. "Jail time?" she squeaked, to which I shrugged and raised my eyebrows. Edna raised her open hands in much the same manner.

After clearing up the coffee and cake with a confused Helen, I sent her to bed with two pain killers for her headache, but back to the spare room.

I heard her cry herself to sleep as Edna and I had a post dinner debrief with another coffee.

I leaned back in my arm chair and sighed deeply. Edna did much the same.

"That was hard, but necessary, Edna. I did not enjoy that."

"Yes. It was indeed, Frank. It was like talking to her as a teenager. Yet even then she was never a recalcitrant child. She is deep in denial which is making it so hard. Tomorrow will be hard to take."

"I was thinking earlier, you know, how and when Helen changed."

"I can tell you when. You were on a mission which coincided with the time that Morelli first molested Stephanie in his father's garage. From then onwards she was on Stephanie's case, relentlessly. The shame, the chastisements and constant criticisms of little Stephanie was unbearable. Before Harry died, Stephanie would often run away to our place, to escape the relentless censures. Then Helen mellowed, which coincided with her drinking her "iced tea" occasionally. Each time you went away, she became worse, with more than just an occasional "iced tea". Stephanie was her cross to bear. Valerie was her angel, which made Stephanie appear worse. Helen tried to quash her enthusiasm and curiosity. Helen assumed the martyr role. Then the horrible incident at the Tasty Pastry with that asshole Morelli again."

I winced. My poor Pumpkin. That was a bad period, for both of us. I should have had counselling for PTSD but it was not made available to Vietnam Vets. Our reception upon our return amid the political turmoil here did not help at all. We were shunned. There was no "Thank you for your service" at that time. Quite the opposite. Even Helen got on her pontifical throne with that situation. She was unbearable.

Edna was watching me intently, nodded, guessing to where my thoughts had drifted.

"Sad to say, you were not there, as in not physically present, after your final mission Frank. It must have been a tough one. It was weeks after Morelli's parting dirty deed. Helen punished Stephanie! Grounded for the entire summer vacation. That douche took her virginity and she punished Stephanie! If that was not bad enough, she called her a slut, and a whore, and other derogatory and offensive words. That was a sad summer for our girl. That's why she missed the beach with friends, sleepovers with Mary Lou, the boardwalk and even the Prom."

"Yes," I sighed. "That was tragic. That should have been her best summer, now tainted by her own mother's vitriol and disdain. Shameful."

"Remember how Helen kept inviting those creepy, sleazy young men? They had read Morelli's poems about his Plum-conquest, which insinuated that she was an easy lay, a fast catch. You tried to find out who it was but the bastard had "absconded" to join the navy. Coward. That's when Stephanie perfected her master move of discouragement, as they said goodnight on the porch. Many of them were already touching her inappropriately, with Helen's blessing! I was so angry with Helen as she smiled, encouraging the jerks. Spilling the hot gravy into their laps was no accident. You know that Stephanie is not that clumsy. Stephanie knew she was being thrown to the sleazy wolves. Her knee to the gonads was her classic and final defence. Hands off!"

I smiled with pride at Stephanie's response which explains why there were no return visits from those jerks. She certainly wasn't playing hard to get as Helen implied so sickeningly.

"Her drinking increased after that. Remember how we'd hear the kitchen cabinet open from here, as she topped up her "tea" or took a swig from one of her three favourites, Jim, Jack and The Turk. She had those bottles hidden in the kitchen, the laundry and even upstairs. We did our best to find them until we sent her to rehab. That was hard even then. This has progressed to a new level. Now look at her. It's a fine pickle she's got herself into. Now it's up to the judge to get through to her dumb, addled brain. Dumb is not the right word. We both know she is a permanent resident in Denial Land. Wait until she sobers up."

Next morning came quickly, far too quickly for Helen. By the time we arrived at the courthouse, she was in quite a state. She was vague before we departed for her arraignment but not anymore. She fussed over her appearance, fidgeting with invisible lint.

"Helen. Have a drink of water and calm down. Breathe in slowly and out," Edna suggested. Helen's eyes darted around the waiting area checking the long queue for security. "Do I have to go through that?"

"We all do, Helen. It's standard procedure. That's why we arrived early so you had time for all these procedures," I explained.

"Will you be inside with me?"

"Helen. You've been through this before. We can enter the courtroom with you, but we have to sit in the gallery while you're at the front waiting to be called."

I knew part of her nerves were part of the anxiety she experiences with her withdrawal. Waking up with a headache was part of it. I heard her mutter with a longing moan, "Darn. What I'd give for getting a drink right now, just a sip would do." I was shaking my head. That's another indicator, craving for a drink. This is definitely more serious than the previous time. With her anxiety she seems to have forgotten what happened the last time she appeared in court.

Finally, the time came to enter the courtroom. She had already been registered and processed with the necessary paperwork given to her with the charges to present to the judge by the probation officer. We had discussed the options and she understood she had to plead guilty. She hesitated about that this morning over breakfast, so Edna laid it out for her.

"Helen if you plead not guilty, you'd have to have an attorney and then your court date would be later. You'd have to pay for them to represent you. By pleading not guilty means you have to testify and have proof of your innocence. Think about it, Helen. You know what you did was wrong and you got caught. Besides, the courtroom would be open to the public if you were to proceed with a not guilty plea. Is that what you want?"

Helen thought through Edna's straight response. "Open to the public? Like anyone from the Burg could be there and hear …" Her shoulders slumped and with a dejected sigh she conceded that pleading guilty was the shortest and simplest path to take as well as less costly. No more was said about it.

While waiting she was sitting upright, in her proper ladylike manner, as I expected, but I could tell she was fidgeting. Edna had given her a lace handkerchief just for that purpose, since we had left her handbag with us. All she had was her documentation and charge papers. When security checked her handbag, she was flustered and affronted with that process. This has been affecting her more than I anticipated.

With the judge, it was patently evident, he was not taking any nonsense from anyone. He was firm and direct, quick and efficient with the previous defendants. That likely made her even more anxious. He had been eyeing the defendants while listening their pleas.

"Helen Plum."

"Present."

She stood and handed her charge sheet to the court assistant and waited as directed by the podium while the judge read her charge sheet.

"You have been charged with driving under the influence of alcohol, with a blood alcohol content level registering over the limit, at 0.12. How do you plead?"

"Guilty, Your Honour," she replied softly after a hesitant pause. That was hard for her to admit out loud and she hung her head in shame. Funnily enough, that little show of embarrassment, and dare I say, humiliation might go in her favour when the judge makes his decision as he was reading her body language with his piercing grey-eyed gaze.

"According to these records, this is your second offence in two years for driving under the influence of alcohol."

She nodded then quickly replied to his questioning stare over his halfmoon reading glasses. "Yes, Your Honour." She was mortified with that reminder and shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"In addition, you failed to stop at a stop sign, almost causing a serious and dangerous incident with a motorcyclist. How do you plead?"

Her head dropped, feeling disgraced, knowing that everyone, the other defendants and the gallery, could hear her charges. "Guilty, Your Honour."

"As a consequence of your crimes, your driver's licence is suspended for twelve months. Driving with any detectable amount of alcohol in your system can result in jail time for between 2 to 90 days." He paused when he received the expected gasp of shock and a small sob, from Helen as she clung onto the podium to steady herself. Oh yes. Reality bites.

"Since this is your second offence, I am issuing a fine of $750. You are required to complete an evaluation and referral as well as attendance of the IDRC, which is an alcohol and traffic safety education program at the Intoxicated Driver Resource Centre. How you perform with the evaluation will depend on you and may require a longer commitment until you fulfil the requirements.

"For failing to stop at a designated stop sign that can also incur jail time of fifteen days and a $200 fine.

"In considering your conviction, I have chosen to waive your jail time, for both crimes, but you will be required to complete thirty days of community service instead. When your driving suspension is complete, you will be under probation. You will have an ignition interlock device fitted to your vehicle. This is mandatory. Failure to complete these requirements means instant jail time. Do you understand Mrs Plum?"

She swallowed hard and nodded her head. "Yes, Your Honour."

His gavel banged, making her startle, dismissing Helen with an icy warning glare. I reckon he has met her kind before.

Helen abided by all the requirements. She attended and completed the 48 hour IDRC program. However, her evaluation recommended further assessment and attendance at a drug and alcohol rehabilitation centre, acknowledging that she had a serious alcohol addiction.

In the process, Helen had her ups and downs. There was a period of great concern when she regressed and had to be sedated. She had become hysterical and resentful. I had to sit with her as she was interviewed by the resident psychiatrist.

"It's all Stephanie's fault!"

"Who is Stephanie?"

"My disaster of a daughter!"

"Was she in the car with you?"

"No."

"Was she drinking?"

"No!"

"Was she driving?"

"No!"

Thank God this conversation didn't emerge in the courtroom. Then she started to rant about all the things she found embarrassing about Stephanie and how she was mortified, accompanied by her usual "why me's" and "what will the neighbours think?" and how bad it made her look in the Burg.

"Helen! Stop! You are an adult. You made the decision to drink. You made the decision to drive. The fault lies with you, and only you. Blaming someone else is not going to help your recovery."

I sat there as I was firmly discouraged from making any comments. Helen then lashed out and had to be physically subdued by the orderlies.

She is now in a locked ward, receiving psychiatric treatment in her rehabilitation. It has been a strenuous time to endure. Seeing her flip the proverbial switch like that showed her latent anger and resentment, and remarkably, by her own admission, jealousy of Stephanie. The psychiatrist confirmed this was classic denial and serious addictive behaviour.

Reluctantly, I have taken out divorce papers. This person called Helen Plum is no longer the woman I married. I cannot live with that constant negativity any more. When she did have a home stay, she reverted back to her whining.

However, one time when I was driving her to Giovichinni's, Angie made a direct path for her, making an audible aside to Helen. "You're a lush and a drunk," in a decidedly sarcastic remark, loud enough for others to hear.

Helen didn't bat an eyelid but responded with a sharp retort, "You would know. I see your merlot smile Angie. You've been in the red wine again. You should check your face better and wipe your mouth, before you go out shopping my dear."

Pow! The giggles from the busybodies nearby was interesting. Damn good comeback Helen. That night I had to call the rehab centre for assistance. She was becoming increasingly aggressive. It was after she slapped her own mother, I decided I had enough. Poor Edna was knocked down by the force of the slap. Nope. No more. It took all my strength to hold her back from a second assault. We had to call emergency. Their quick response was a saving grace. Her homestay was cut short.

Her rehab attendance is now a longer term affair. With her after care planning, she had to seek employment. We suggested a laundry where an ironing specialist is required or a hospital facility like an aged care centre, as part of her community service compliance. She liked laundry and ironing. That was a good fit for Helen. The aged care centre was an alcohol free zone and was closely monitored with tight security at the entrance, and exits. After her community service was fulfilled, Helen was offered an onsite room. She was in the secure ward section, with some dementia patients. By decree from the courts, she was only permitted supervised departures for appointments or with an approved family member. We could visit. But when she became agitated, it was time to leave. She was transferred to a psychiatric facility in lieu of her jail time. The judge decreed that jail time was not appropriate for her situation which had escalated.

Edna and I now live together in our house, sharing the cooking and cleaning duties. We get by and have allowed ourselves the bonus of eating out, or ordering in. This was never allowed before. We chuckled the first couple of times we ordered Chinese, or went out for a pizza. Meeting up with Stephanie and Carlos at Pino's or a delicious restaurant meal at Rossini's was wonderful. Life has to go on.

It's remarkable how a genuine attempt to teach Helen a lesson in respect had snowballed into something more sinister and devious because of the evil influence of her alcohol addiction. It revealed a monster which had been hidden, lurking deep inside a bottle. At least now, Helen gets the help she needs. In return, we get the peace we deserve. I guess Helen won't be coming to dinner with us anymore.

oOoOo

The End