The Honeymoon is Over: Parts V & VI

—5—

A form of deliverance had come to Daniel's household the first time he had taken up arms against his father, Alvin Bastarache, or Alvie the Bastard, or just, Bastard to those who loved him most. Neither repeated calls to the police by neighbors, nor punches and kicks by ten year old Daniel, nor countless scenes of packed bags and weeping contrition had helped. Rather it was a knife, more blood than Dan had imagined could be in a human body, a 911 call, and an emergency surgery to save that bastards life that had done something. Angela Bastarache had them been forced to choose—Her bastard husband or her son.

Their life had begun again one October evening, a few days before Halloween, with all the horror and pain that blazes the trail of most new lives. Alvin had come home late, as was his custom, needing one or more beers after work, usually much more, to unwind from a hard day at the warehouse.

Apparently there was a great deal of stress to be found walking around with a clipboard marking off departing loaded trucks, and giving instructions to truck drivers on where to plant their empties so they could become loaded trucks. Given that the warehouse had exactly ten doors for trucks and one pull up loading dock for a bi-monthly Kimberly Clark train car delivery, Alvin was just worn thin from sitting at his desk and watching the interior of the loading dock out the giant Plexiglas window. Why on some days, he had to pick up and put down his magazine and put down and lift up his feet to his desk upwards of two dozen times. Such efforts must certainly earn him some down time with the guys... and girls... at The Forked Tongue Pub, which catered to the civilian laborers coming or going from all three shifts from the Norfolk Naval base and its environs. The navy folk did not go there, preferring more high class patrons and facilities. This was really saying something, Dan supposed. He'd never seen the place himself, but he'd heard enough of the arguments to put it together.

It was never exactly clear what made Alvie, the good natured Bastard, so angry when he drank; nothing logical nor wholly coherent ever came pouring from his lips at such times to explain his thinking, though his insults and threats were always comprehensible. He didn't even seem to be aware of the disdain he generated in this condition from those closest to him, and was almost as likely to tear into some stranger, as he was a friend or family member, if he delayed coming home long enough; the effect of the liquor seemed to mounted slowly enough for him to make it home on most occasions without excessive altercation. He usually stumbled in and mulled about the house for a time bumping into things and muttering to himself in a growing to a full froth.

Angela's best hopes on most evenings was to woo and coo Alvin into his bed to sleep off the booze and rage, keeping him distracted with flattery while keeping her distance. For some reason, physical contact of any kind, even seductive had a powerfully negative effect. She saved the arguments for his sober hours.

This October evening was different, however, for it followed on the heels of a metaphorical camel's straw. Three nights earlier, Alvin had taken to kicking Angela's thighs and rear with his muddy boots, besmearing her nightgown, and leaving purpling boot prints on her skin. She would spend the next three morning shifts hobbling around the Norfolk diner, barely able to wait on her customers. He'd gotten her into a corner in their bedroom down on the ground and seemed to be finding some sick pleasure in her self-defensive posture, all curled up with her head in her arms as if her plane were going down. So if all she was going to present to him was her fat ass and thunder thighs (Though not a stick, Angela would never be regarded as overweight in any way) then by golly he'd take what he could get and make her pay for the offer.

Dan, who had already concealed all three of his sisters in the back of their closet under some clothes, came flying at his father, bouncing off the bed and up onto Alvin's head, where he clung, beating, biting and clawing like an enraged monkey. Alvin's reaction was more instinct than revenge. He reached up and around the back of Dan's head, snatching at his hair. When he got hold of enough to use, he pulled and bent, flipping Dan off his back down onto his nightstand. Dan landed face up, smashing the lamp, the clock, and his mother's jewelry bowl. Then came the fists. The blood leaking into Alvin's eyes from the wounds on his forehead sent him into a tirade unmatched by his normal displays. In spite of Angela's attempted defense of the boy, Alvin held Dan onto the nightstand with one hand and punched his face, hanging over the edge as it was, again and again as hard as his drunken motor skills would allow.

When Angela had taken Dan to the hospital later, to get him sown up from his fall down the stairs, when will this boy learn that the bathroom is to the left and not the right and to turn on the hall light when going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, Dan had needed six stitches to close up the tear running from the top of his left eyelid up through his eyebrow. It was never going to be as cool as a lightning bolt scar, the Dr. had said, but promised Dan that the ladies would love it when he got older. Though he recommended making some exciting adjustments to the story of its origins... girls liked a dangerous man not a klutz.

Alvin had been horrified the next morning at what he'd done to Dan. His face was mottled with bruises and badly swollen. He said he couldn't remember a thing, and wanted to know what Dan had done to provoke him; didn't he know that he needs to leave him be when he's been drinking, and "Oh, no, you can't leave me Baby, it'll never happen again," and "it was the boy's fault really," and "the stress at work," and "let me take Dan out to buy him something nice to make it up to him," and "how will you support our babies without me," and "our sweet girl's need their father, and look at them they have my eyes, you always loved my eyes, Baby. You know I love you, Baby."

So on that fateful October night, when Alvin came home late again, drunk again, brewing up to a good fight again, Dan was calm. He'd learned his lesson well, that was for sure. He was just too small to take his father on, too small to protect his mother. His mother kept circling around the coffee table in the living room to keep on the opposite side of it from Alvin. Alvin was jigging and jagging to get at her, calling her filthy names, and stumbling every few seconds, then cursing her for making him struggle. Dan, got his sisters into their normal hiding place in the closet, and went into the kitchen. He opened the drawer next to the broken dishwasher and took out the biggest knife they had. It was a foot long with a fine grooved serrated edge and cracked black plastic handle. It wasn't very sharp, even Dan knew that, but it had a point, and that was what he needed. He waited peering out the kitchen opening into the living room until his father's back was too him, and without a sound rushed up behind him and sank the knife into his lower back with a two handed over head swing, just to get strength he'd need to send the blade home. He drove it so deep that his mother was unable to pull it out, which saved his life the paramedic had said.

After that, Dan's mother had to make a choice. It was going to be Dan or it was going to be her husband. Alvin had sworn, when he awoke after surgery, that Dan attacked him unprovoked, but his inebriated condition in the ambulance and Dan's recently battered face raised serious questions about Alvin's story. Dan wouldn't speak not a word. It was up to Angela to set the record straight. She showed them her bruises. She told them about the beating three days earlier. She said he was choking her and shoving her face into the couch cushions to smother her when Dan stabbed him. It was a lie, but the truest lie she'd ever told.

—6—

Dinner was interesting that night. Elizabeth and Dan had girded themselves for a fight but got a sit down Italian meal, catered, in the formal dining room with the best dishes, silverware, glasses, and clothe napkins.

When they finally returned home from their day's wanderings, rehearsing the plan for that night, they were greeted at the door by their smiling mother, dressed in a glittering silver evening gown, auburn hair washed and let to curl, then pinned up on top her head, showing off the dangling diamond earrings she'd worn at the wedding—a wedding day gift.

It was the first time she'd worn make-up since she'd returned from Europe. The house's entrance, grand and spacious, marble floored and decorated with expensive paintings on the walls and bronze statues on pedestals seemed to demand such dazzling perfection from its hostess, but the whole picture was still a bit unsettling. Dingy yellow blotches covered every exposed area of her skin, save for her face where the make-up had been heavily applied; but even there, her two black eyes shown through, diminished into spreading shadows on an otherwise stunning face.

Her wrists, where one of the sets of manacles must be fastened, were each covered by a three inch band of small clear stones set in shimmering silver they couldn't possibly be diamonds, that would be just too much, but Dan could just make out a darker ring of flesh around her ankles where the other set of manacles must be attached. Her panty hose were much darker than she normally wore, but still, he was certain he could just make out the marks hiding behind the nylon skin that was cloaking the truth about her marriage.

Taking her in, Dan was surprised that this was the same women who could barely get herself out of bed that morning, leaving blood behind on the sheets as she rose shakily. He was actually surprised at how well the gouges in her arms were healing. The places where "the moped accident" had taken large chucks had closed to the point of being nasty scrapes thinly crusted with blackened red scabs. He saw in her smiling face the promise of happier times ahead, when she entertained her own guests, without the encumbrance of the man who laid those wounds upon her. This thought pleased him. "You look great, Mom," he said grinning naturally, "Are you going out tonight?"

She walked closer, still smiling, and turned herself between her two eldest, putting one arm across each shoulder. "No, we're eating in tonight. But with style. I want everyone to dress up; so, get going. You both need to shower and change. Dress formal, everything you need is in your closets. Consider the clothes a belated wedding gift from Alex." Then she took a good look at Elizabeth's lip and winced. "Oh Baby, that looks bad. Perhaps we should give that a better cleaning and put a butterfly bandage on it. You wouldn't want stitches, but that cut looks like it needs attention."

Elizabeth smiled with obvious discomfort and said, "You're all gussied up. I'll get the girls help with my lip; they love playing nurse."

Angela gave her a peck on the cheek and pushed them both on toward the stairs rising on both sides of the entrance way, then walked away with far more stiffness than her spiked heels could account. As she disappeared through the archway heading for the kitchen, she said, "And it looks like you might want to put some ice on that hand, too, Elizabeth."

Each child walked half dazed up the stairs exiting the foyer. Dan took “The East Stairs" and Elizabeth "The West Stairs." These were the actual names of the stairwells, as Alexander had explained when they moved in. There was also "The Back East Stairs" and "The Back West Stairs." Not creative, but geographically accurate.

Stopping half way, they exchanged shocked looks across the widening chasm between them. Their mother had said nothing about the fight on the bus that morning, in spite of seeing Elizabeth’s injuries. Nor did she say a single word about a whole day playing hooky.

Dan said, "Maybe it's a surprise ambush?"

Elizabeth gave a non-committal shrug and said, "In an evening gown? That would be a surprise."

It was not exactly customary to eat such a meal at 4:00 PM, they weren't retired old bitties after all, but Alexander seemed eager to get things going. He kept looking at his watch. A Rolex naturally, Dan thought, looking at his own Casio Atomic, which Alexander had helped him pick out for the wedding. When I see that you take care of this one for a couple years, I'll take you out to get a really nice watch, but this one is good for the rough and tumble years. It had made him proud then, like he'd been given a charge and a trust, a chance to prove something noble about himself. Now it just seem pretentious.

During the meal, Alexander got up and walked over to Angela and whispered loud enough for Dan to hear, "Shouldn't we get on with the talking, it's getting late; I need to get you to bed for the night."

This displeased his mother, who knitted her brows together and looked at her own watch. She said, "We're having such a good time, let's not rush. We'll be fine. Let's just wait until after dessert." Alex checked his watch again, as something akin to anger flashed across his face and dissipated just as quickly.

Dessert, like every aspect of the meal was amazing. It was a tart lemon custard that hit Daniel's taste buds like electricity. He could tell from the acrobatic twists that his sister's faces made, all of which ended with a big smile, that they liked it as much as he did. I hope Alexander enjoyed it, Dan mused to himself, no death row inmate could ask for a better last meal.

When the eating was done, and the girls asked to be excused, a point of manners that Alexander had insisted be kept early on, his mother said, "No, girls, we need to have a good old fashioned family meeting... like we used to have in Rochester."

Elizabeth and the girls gave Dan a nervous look, obviously thinking of their most recent family meeting. Though, he supposed, there was nothing old fashioned about that one.

Alex said, "I don't think your mother and I have been fair to you kids. We move you out here to a new home, a new school, new friends…”

As if they'd made friends either here or there, Dan thought.

“…and then we have a big wedding and take off for Europe leaving you with a baby... um... a governess for what was supposed to be a month, and then turns out to be a week, ending in our unexpected return, construction work in the house, our injuries and distraction. We just haven't been a family, and we think that it is affecting you very negatively." At this he gave a steady, but not unkind look at Dan and Elizabeth. "I know it may be hard for you two to imagine it from looking at me, but I was a teenager once myself. I remember what it was like. So no worries yet, stuff happens."

The girls wore puzzled, and a bit wounded. Something had happened to which they were not privy. Not that they hadn't asked given the condition of Elizabeth's hand and mouth.

Turning to the girls, and reaching out to tweak each of their noses in turn, Alexander said, "And our two little one's here just haven't been getting the hugs and snuggles that every little girl deserves." The girls did not giggle as Alexander seemed to expect them to, and the big smile on his face disappeared with a nervous twitching.

Dan's mother reached out and rubbed the hands of the two closest to her, Little Debbie on one side next to Allison, and Elizabeth on the other next to Dan. She gave Alexander a big smile across the table and said, "That's right. I've been so tired since... since the accident... I just haven't been here for you and I'm sorry. But we're going to do better. We're going to be a real family just like we planned."

Alexander cut her off with a clearing of his throat and a stern look. He tapped his watch. Dan’s mother scowled at him and gave her head a tight shake. Alex returned a tight nod and slightly sterner look. His mother, pursing her lips into a rigid line, stared for a second or two before acquiescing, protecting her family, no doubt, from some brewing struggle for whatever control Alexander thought his right to exercise over her.

Then Alexander stood, saying, "And remember, Kids, you can talk to us about anything. It is our greatest desire to see you happy and prosperous. That means discipline, of course, but it also means understanding and compassion. The important thing to know is that we are on your side."

His mother stood too, saying, "That's right, but that does not mean that we don't need you all to do the dishes. Your father and I..." The words fell like lead to the table top when each kid instantly stiffened at the label, and Dan could tell that both Alexander and his mother felt it. After an uncomfortable pause, Angela went on, "Right, Alex and I need to go to bed. We have a lot of healing to do."

Alexander looked at his watch again, then, walking passed the window on the way out of the formal dining room, pulled back the crimson laced curtains and gazed up and out at the coming night.

Continued in Parts VII & VIII.