I got a bit lost, today...like I'm slamming too much of the story together and making it into a chopped salad before I've got all the ingredients in...or some stupid analogy like that. So here's some of what I'm happy with. Devlin has just been arrested and is waiting to be interrogated, and he's wondering how him being stuck in England for god knows how long will affect the company since his brother is damaged.
-------
I had to give it to Diana, she had Colin's back. They'd connected when he got lost in Queens and she brought him home. The first couple years after they got married, I'd thought she was just a controlling bitch, but I found out how much of a momma bear she could be for big bro' when Marci, Colin's little-old-lady secretary, used what she knew about it to slap me down after I made a snotty comment about Mrs. Know-It-All-Pope.
It was while I was a junior in college and living on campus, deliberately. She and Colin had been married about six months and she was five months pregnant with their twins. Somehow he'd kept the abuse secret from her, until she walked in on dad berating him with words and slaps over a messed up order. In his office. Where the whole building could hear what was going on. Diana didn't even pause for second but calmly stepped between the two and said to the prick, "You'll stop this shit right now."
Dad tried to shove her aside, but she wouldn't budge. Then he tried to shout her into submission and raised a hand to slap her. Colin tried to pull her away...but she would not budge. She only got cooler and calmer and more stuck to the ground as she glared into dad's hateful eyes and said, "Lay one hand on me, motherfucker, and I will have your ass thrown in jail. Then I will make fucking sure your balls are cut off and shoved up that ass for hitting a poor pregnant lady, because I know people in there. Do you fucking understand me?"
Dad got red in the face and stalked off, using a few choice words. She didn't move...not until Colin started bawling, behind her. Then she sat him on a couch he had in his office, kneeled before him (how she did that in her condition, I will never know), and held his face in her hands till he regained control. Marci quietly closed the office door so they'd have a semblance of privacy, but she could hear every word. And Diana finally learned the real reason he'd been coming home depressed, with cuts and bruises. Dad had sensed she wouldn't tolerate his outbursts so he'd confined them to the office, then Colin would tell her he'd run into something or fallen or whatever other lie he could think of.
He'd started blubbering an apology but she stopped him, whispering, "You were raised to fear that man. I was not. From this day forward I will be at your side, and he will never lay another hand on you. Nor will he raise his voice, again, not if he wants to see his grandchildren."
Fortunately, the son-of-a-bitch died a couple months later from a stroke. I guess in reaction to being forced to hold in his fury. The only reason I came to his funeral was to make sure he really was dead...and spit on his grave.
Of course, that's also when I caught on to why dad would explode at Colin, and I was caught between fury at the prick for what he'd done to my brother and irritation at my brother for not being able to do what dad had done with the company. He came close to ruining it, twice, before I took over. We didn't know about the brain damage, yet, so I thought he just had a porcupine's manner when it came to dealing with clients and that he'd inherited dad's hair-trigger temper. When I was at the office, on more than one occasion I had to disconnect a call as he was shifting into rant and rave mode then make a follow-up call to smooth some pissy dealers.
It was when Diana had forced Colin to make an appointment with a brain specialist and was saying I should see him, too, that I'd snarled about her. And Marci'd told me the story. Then she'd sweetly added, "Wouldn't hurt you one bit to find out how scrambled your brain is."
"What d'you mean?" I snapped.
"Devlin, I've known you since you were two. Little Sir Innocence is not one of your nick-names. Get the scan."
Then she patted me on the cheek in a way that told me if I didn't do as she said, I'd regret it. So I did.
At least Colin was better, now, what with the counseling and Diana's backup...and his kids turning out to be eleven and nine year-old adults instead of obnoxious brats. He still had his moments, but he was at the point where he could apologize for exploding at one of the piss-ant dealers who used and abused us. Looked like he'd be doing more of that, now.
-------
I had to give it to Diana, she had Colin's back. They'd connected when he got lost in Queens and she brought him home. The first couple years after they got married, I'd thought she was just a controlling bitch, but I found out how much of a momma bear she could be for big bro' when Marci, Colin's little-old-lady secretary, used what she knew about it to slap me down after I made a snotty comment about Mrs. Know-It-All-Pope.
It was while I was a junior in college and living on campus, deliberately. She and Colin had been married about six months and she was five months pregnant with their twins. Somehow he'd kept the abuse secret from her, until she walked in on dad berating him with words and slaps over a messed up order. In his office. Where the whole building could hear what was going on. Diana didn't even pause for second but calmly stepped between the two and said to the prick, "You'll stop this shit right now."
Dad tried to shove her aside, but she wouldn't budge. Then he tried to shout her into submission and raised a hand to slap her. Colin tried to pull her away...but she would not budge. She only got cooler and calmer and more stuck to the ground as she glared into dad's hateful eyes and said, "Lay one hand on me, motherfucker, and I will have your ass thrown in jail. Then I will make fucking sure your balls are cut off and shoved up that ass for hitting a poor pregnant lady, because I know people in there. Do you fucking understand me?"
Dad got red in the face and stalked off, using a few choice words. She didn't move...not until Colin started bawling, behind her. Then she sat him on a couch he had in his office, kneeled before him (how she did that in her condition, I will never know), and held his face in her hands till he regained control. Marci quietly closed the office door so they'd have a semblance of privacy, but she could hear every word. And Diana finally learned the real reason he'd been coming home depressed, with cuts and bruises. Dad had sensed she wouldn't tolerate his outbursts so he'd confined them to the office, then Colin would tell her he'd run into something or fallen or whatever other lie he could think of.
He'd started blubbering an apology but she stopped him, whispering, "You were raised to fear that man. I was not. From this day forward I will be at your side, and he will never lay another hand on you. Nor will he raise his voice, again, not if he wants to see his grandchildren."
Fortunately, the son-of-a-bitch died a couple months later from a stroke. I guess in reaction to being forced to hold in his fury. The only reason I came to his funeral was to make sure he really was dead...and spit on his grave.
Of course, that's also when I caught on to why dad would explode at Colin, and I was caught between fury at the prick for what he'd done to my brother and irritation at my brother for not being able to do what dad had done with the company. He came close to ruining it, twice, before I took over. We didn't know about the brain damage, yet, so I thought he just had a porcupine's manner when it came to dealing with clients and that he'd inherited dad's hair-trigger temper. When I was at the office, on more than one occasion I had to disconnect a call as he was shifting into rant and rave mode then make a follow-up call to smooth some pissy dealers.
It was when Diana had forced Colin to make an appointment with a brain specialist and was saying I should see him, too, that I'd snarled about her. And Marci'd told me the story. Then she'd sweetly added, "Wouldn't hurt you one bit to find out how scrambled your brain is."
"What d'you mean?" I snapped.
"Devlin, I've known you since you were two. Little Sir Innocence is not one of your nick-names. Get the scan."
Then she patted me on the cheek in a way that told me if I didn't do as she said, I'd regret it. So I did.
At least Colin was better, now, what with the counseling and Diana's backup...and his kids turning out to be eleven and nine year-old adults instead of obnoxious brats. He still had his moments, but he was at the point where he could apologize for exploding at one of the piss-ant dealers who used and abused us. Looked like he'd be doing more of that, now.
No comments:
Post a Comment