Chapter 14: Tantrums and Turnabout

The look of confusion on Robert’s face made me suppress a chuckle. He shook it off and asks, “Handcuffs?”

I glared at him, “I need to borrow a pair and maybe that video camera you tried to film Christmas with.”

I watched the confusion on his face ... it was a bit enjoyable. I assumed he was aware of me being sexually active considering how loud Tracy in particular would get when she stayed over, not to mention the two or three times I had the entirety of the squad camping out in my room. Tracy never managed to match Angie’s decibel count, but she was enthusiastic enough in her own right. I’d guessed he was confused about how I knew about my mother’s proclivities, but I wouldn’t find out I was wrong for another year.

Eventually he sputtered, “I ... Okay.”

He waited till the commercial break then headed upstairs to what had become his room. Moira had moved into one of the bedrooms on the main floor, allegedly that was due to the irregularity of Robert’s work schedule, but I honestly didn’t care too much either way. I climbed the stairs to the top floor for the first time since my ‘tour’ of the place. What I saw at the top of the steps stopped me in my tracks.

Robert continued into his bedroom, and I stopped and stared at a bookshelf. It was set up like a trophy case and covered with old cameras, elephant statuettes, and a single metal tin. I stared and my anger flared. I stomped back down the stairs to the kitchen and found a large lawn and leaf bag and returned to the bookcase and began throwing all the items into it.

When I was half-finished Robert put a hand on my shoulder and I spun raising a fist and barely managing to stop myself. At the time I thought I’d gotten rid of that reflex, so it took me by surprise. He stepped back, “Those are your mother’s.”

“No, they’re not. Do you have the cuffs?”

He held up a box that looked brand new with the cuffs presumably in them unopened, “Don’t lose the key. They’re not cheap.”

“Thank you. Handcuff keys are universal and you can get one for a couple of dollars.”

I watched the surprise flash across his face, “They are? I thought they were paired with the cuff.”

That made me briefly wonder which end of the cuffs he preferred to be on, but I bashed the thought from my head, “The video camera?”

He disappeared back to the bedroom and I continued to fill the garbage bag. Eventually, he returned and handed me a heavy camera bag, “There is a tripod in it and a couple of blank tapes, That wasn’t cheap.”

“Thank you again and I’ll return it to you unharmed.”

Or I’ll replace it if necessary. It’ll be a good while before I have to worry about money. Need to look for a car too. I know I put off the license because of my eye, but I need to get that done too.

I slipped the box with the cuffs in it into the camera bag and dragged the bag downstairs. I set it at the basement door and took the camera bag downstairs. I set it on the couch and retrieved the Louisville Slugger that had been a gift from the Uncle I despised upon my birth from its place beside the chest of drawers and grabbed the lighter from my backpack. I climbed the steps once again and grabbed the trash bag. I dragged it out into the yard.

There was a metal shed that held tools and a hide-a-key on one side of the yard. I went to it and retrieved a gas can. I assumed it had the mix for the lawn mower in it, but it would burn and that is all I cared about. I grabbed a shovel as well.

I moved into the center of the yard and began digging. The ground was rocky. I didn’t know it then, but the entire river lane was made of fill dirt from one of the nearby mines’ excavations, so the ground was rocky. Eventually I had a one-foot cubed pit. I sat and took a break. I glanced up and saw Robert watching me from the bay window. When I was rested, I began digging into the trash bag.

I started with the statuettes. I tossed them into the air and then smashed them with the bat. One-by-one a dozen crystal elephants shattered and ended up at the bottom of my pit. My father had become obsessed with elephants. I didn’t know the full story, but I know it had something to do with Cambodia. Each one that shattered gave me a momentary spike of glee.

The metal tin was next. I opened it and tossed the various items into the pit; rations older than myself and a few other items. I was surprised there wasn’t a flare of some kind. I set the small, fixed blade knife aside before tossing the tin itself into the pit. The knife would be added to my collection. I knew he would hate it if he ever knew I had it. The kit had been a prized possession of his. I again knew it had something to do with Cambodia, but not much else.

The cameras were next. Some of them were ancient. The oldest was a kodak folding camera from 1910. I smashed it with the bat and tossed the remains into the pit while riding on the glee that infused me with each broken trophy. I continued with nine other cameras of varying ages and a dozen additional lenses.

I set aside a polaroid camera. It would do nicely for what I had to do and it was owed to me. Plus, with the pictures I intended, I wouldn’t have to pay the clerk at the photo department to look the other way. These, all of these trophies. She must’ve insisted on them in the divorce or taken them from the house when we left for the duplex when she filed. They’d all been his prized possessions. The cameras placed carefully on a shelf in his dark room. The elephants scattered about the green metal table he used as a work desk. The survival kit had always been hidden in a drawer because he wasn’t supposed to have it.

I didn’t know the stories. I didn’t care. These things were precious to him and they were going to burn. The last pieces were two camera bags. The leather one contained a Nikon F3 and a handful of lenses and accessories. I set it aside I knew someone who would appreciate it, even if she hid it like her history books. I’d knocked it off the shelf once. I couldn’t remember why I’d been in the dark room. I’d been eight or so, it might’ve just been that I wasn’t supposed to be there.

I’d ended up in hospital. It wasn’t my first surgery, but the first one I remembered; broken rib, pierced lung ... All in a night’s work. I hummed a few bars. It would get a better home.

The other camera bag was canvas. I tossed it into the pit. I poured the entirety of the can of gas into the pit. I lit one of the lens wipes and tossed it into the pit.

I watched the fire burn despite the smell of burning plastic. I would’ve expected to feel catharsis, but the spikes of glee that the smashing had brought faded. I took solace in that I was destroying that which was precious to someone I hated, but the fucker would never know. I didn’t. I just felt angry. It wasn’t enough. Eventually I tossed the dirt back over it smothering the flame. I picked up my three tokens and took them down the stairs to my private entrance. I dumped them on the couch with the cuffs and the video camera bag and then had the urge to confront my mother.

I wanted to know why. I understood the reason why she had taken those trophies. She wanted to hurt him I understood that, but displaying them, giving them a place of honor instead of just destroying them or hocking them that I didn’t understand. The oldest cameras, even the Nikon would’ve fetched a decent amount.

I headed upstairs and checked to see that her car was there. I assumed she’d have arrived at some point between my walk home and now and the little blue car indicated she had. I would’ve assumed Robert had told her about my makeshift bonfire and her to be pissed about my destruction of her stolen trophies, but he’d moved back to the couch and was watching more M.A.S.H.

He called out as I passed him, “You okay, son?”

“Fine.”

I headed towards her bedroom intent to get some yelling in. She wasn’t there, but I noticed the light on in the hallway bathroom. I checked the handle and it opened. I took in the room and drew breath ready to get the confrontation going, but found Moira sitting naked in the bathtub. She was sobbing. I stepped forward and saw the contents of the red tinged toilet and sighed. She looked and me and I saw a hand reach out.

She can’t seriously be reaching out to ME for comfort?

I wasn’t capable of dealing with that. Not then, hell, maybe not even now. I felt a lot of things. Most of them I didn’t want to feel, but I wanted to yell, to fight ... and I wasn’t the kind of asshole that would yell at her in that moment. I was sure my tantrum would have consequences, but whatever it was at my core; a protective instinct? Some kind of emotional attachment to the woman that I couldn’t break? I didn’t know. Whatever it was ... it wanted to fix this, but I wasn’t capable of being the person. I couldn’t be the one that comforted her. I turned and exited. I walked back through the living room and turned off the television.

Robert protested in a half-hearted whine, “Hey, I was watching that!”

I summoned a bit of steel, but even I could hear that it didn’t ring true, “Go comfort your wife.”

“Why? What’s up?”

I sighed again. Robert’s cluelessness was irritating. I summoned the old familiar steel and that time I managed to not show how shaken I was that time, “Just go ... anyone in that position deserves comfort.”

I continued downstairs and took the time to shower and change clothes. I repacked a new spare outfit in my pack and a few other essentials. I was still angry, but I had someone to take it out on. I slung my pack over my shoulder and both camera bags. The weight was unpleasant; not so much the actual weight as how off-balance I felt.

I exited via my private entrance and headed down the street towards Beth’s. When I arrived at her stoop, I tapped the bell. Moments later, her blue-eyed clone answered the door. She opened in and seemed to draw breath to shout, but then instead she sang out, “She is upstairs. See if you can fix her.”

“Fix her?”

“You’re her weird boyfriend and she has been throwing a fit since last night.”

I was curious. I stepped in and set the video camera bag and my pack down; juggling the bag with the Nikon back on to my shoulder, “Keep an eye on this stuff for me. And give a shout if the man mountain takes an interest.”

She shook her head and said, “Dad isn’t home.” I noticed she had a section of hair that was shorter than the rest.

“What happened to your hair?”

“Gum...”

“Who did it?”

“Someone from school.”

“Male or female?”

She tucked her head and muttered out, “It was a boy.”

“I’ll have Beth pick you out a nice hat for a few weeks. Next time you see him. Wait till he’s about to say something and hit him right here ... with every bit of force you can muster.” I pointed at my diaphragm. ‘Feel this little hard band ... hit there. Hit as hard as you can.”

Her eyes raised and her voice was a bit louder, “Not just in the nads?”

“No, you hit him there he’ll hit the ground. Then you can jump on those.”

“How do you know this?”

I just smiled. She was far too innocent to hear that, “Just trust me, kiddo.”

She hissed in a manner that very much emulated Beth’s queen bitch voice, “You’re not that much older than me.”

“Maybe not, watch the stuff.”

I hopped up the steps and around the corner and towards Beth’s room. I could hear grunts of anger and objects slamming into walls.

My other spoke, “Two toddlers throwing tantrums today.”

I briefly wondered if the alliteration was intentional, but shook it off and opened the door. She turned to face me holding a paperback which was quickly tossed at my head. I caught it and glanced at it. It was ‘The long walk to freedom.”

She turned her ire on me and I could tell she’d been crying while she trashed her room, “And you! What the fuck do you want?”

I tried to force a smile, “Wanted to borrow a book actually ... this one will be perfect.”

“Fucking lying piece of shit!”

“Wee-ooo, wee-ooo!”

She started jamming her finger into my chest, “Don’t you fucking start that!”

“If the alarm fits.”

“What the fuck do you actually want?!”

“I brought you a present. I wanted a ride. And I was tasked with the epic quest of fixing you by Deirdre of the sorrows. Which would you like to cover first?”

“Fuck you!”

“If you think it’ll help.’

She raised her hand and for a moment I thought she was going to slap me, but she grabbed the book out of my hand and disappeared into the en suite. I heard water running and had a seat on the bed. A few minutes later she popped out, “So, you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“So, we’ve moved from mood B to D then?”

“If that is a jab, you’ll need to explain it.”

“You have six moods.”

I forced a chuckle, “Sure, six moods.”

She was still angry and the redness around her eyes wasn’t as hidden by the make up as she thought, “Six. A: Cold, detached, and vengeful. B: Pretending to be goofy to cover over whatever you’re actually feeling. C: Mine, Mine, Mine! Where you get crazy possessive, D: ‘concerned’ while still not understanding what the other person is feeling. Cause you’re a fucking robot half-the-time!”

I interrupted, “I think you can stop. Is it that hard to believe I want to help?” I was curious what the other two were in her opinion, but she was just attempting to distract from whatever had her rage crying.

“Oh, Fuck you.”

“Do I need to make the siren noise or are you just going to talk to me?”

She huffed and I watched her try to still her own emotions. Till that moment I never realized we had that in common.

She actually has a good family. Loving parents even if they’re a bit ‘in your face.’ Between this and the anorexia I’m curious where the damage came from.

“And there is the fucking ‘pensive prick’ mode.”

“How about this? I give you the gift. Then we talk; Then we can figure out how to fix whatever it is that is bugging you.”

She half-shouted, “And what do you get out of it!”

“A: My friend is less distressed, B: I was hoping for a ride. C: Your sister gets to be less worried about you.”

“She is my cousin!”

“Sure.”

She sat down beside me and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. I didn’t pull her into me. I just wanted her to know I was there. She leaned in on her own and after a few minutes she sighed, “The gift better be good.”

I offered her the camera bag, “It’s a Nikon. Pretty decent grade. There are a few lenses for specialty stuff and the bag cost one E-9 paycheck, so it’s probably decent.”