Chapter 7: Ignominious Beginning

Helping the New Neighbor, Part 2 – Chicago, 1941

Reminder: Darren Brimble is who bought the land and built the houses where Barb/Nick and Maggie/Ricky currently live.

The already miserable Chicago winter turned brutal in the past three days as a foot of snow fell, followed by a precipitous drop in the temperature into single digits. Little Darren Brimble’s eight-year-old mind thought he should be able to go outside and play in the fresh snow, but his mom steadfastly kept him inside.

Darren’s consolation was that his father was out of the house. When Germany’s aggression escalated in the late 1930s Donald Brimble marched into the naval recruiter’s office and offered his services even though he was a bit older than most. Him being a little older, and more mature, meant he quickly gained a low-ranking command position and was frequently moved from one base to another. Darren and his mom didn’t care where Donald was stationed, as long as it wasn’t in Chicago.

With the frigid weather outside, Darren would sit in the living room and shift his gaze from the Christmas tree to the front window. While starting at the tree he would daydream about what gifts Santa may bring him later in the month. When the occasional car passed his house, he would watch it slip and slide up the small hill exiting the neighborhood. Twice he saw a car lose control and careen into a neighbor’s yard. He ran to tell his mom, who called the neighbor even though they were already aware of the accident.

On Thursday morning, the third day of canceled school and single-digit temperatures, Darren saw a black sedan pull into his driveway. Two men exit the vehicle and pull their collars up over their necks. He bolts from the couch to find his mom and tell her about the impending visitors.

Allyson has just a second to throw on a robe and get to the living room before the doorbell rang. She answers the door with Darren standing behind her, peeking around her robe.

“Good morning, ma’am, are you Allyson Brimble, wife of Lieutenant Junior Grade Donald Brimble?” asks one of the men in a solemn voice.

Allyson slowly nods her head.

“Mrs. Brimble, I have tragic news about your husband, may we please come inside?”

Allyson steps to the side to allow the men to enter, causing Darren to scurry into the hallway to observe in relative secrecy. He watches the men step inside and carefully kick the snow off their shoes and remove their coats before progressing into the kitchen.

“May I get you gentlemen a coffee? It’s already made and fresh,” mumbles Allyson.

“Yes, ma’am, that would be appreciated,” says the younger man.

The older man clears his throat, but before he can speak Allyson cuts him off.

“You’re here to tell me Donald was killed on Sunday in Hawaii, right? Been all over the news.”

The two men exchange a glance and then the older one confirms her suspicion.

“Yes, Mrs. Brimble, your husband, Lieutenant Junior Grade Donald Brimble was killed-in-action on Sunday, December 7, in the Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. We are very sorry for your loss.”

Allyson turns from the counter and places two coffee cups on the table. She then places a small carafe of cream and bowl of sugar next to the cups. She shows no emotion as she serves the two officers sitting in her kitchen.

The older man reaches for his cup and takes a sip of the black coffee. The other adds a splash of cream and a little sugar before taking a drink.

“So what happens next?” Allyson asks. “I don’t live on base, and I don’t use any of the Navy’s services, but if I don’t get some kind of life-insurance money, my boy and me, we may have to move.”

The men exchange another look which Allyson sees.

“Look,” she says, “Donnie is, was, my husband, but he was a real prick. To both me and the kid. If we weren’t going to lose his money, I wouldn’t give a shit if he never came home.”

Darren is only eight years old, but he understands why the officers have come to his house. His dad was gone. Killed by attack at a location he couldn’t imagine. Like his mom, though, he doesn’t have any feelings that he’ll never again see the asshole he called ‘dad.’

Darren thinks about his first day of school when he started second grade. It was a new school building and his dad dropped him off at the front door without any instructions or encouragement. He just stopped the car and looked at him, telling him with his eyes to get out of the car. When Darren hesitated Donald erupted.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you boy? You some kind of pussy? Get your ass into school.”

Luckily for Darren, a teacher overheard the outburst through the open car windows.

“Sir,” he animatedly says, “please watch your language.” The teacher then sees Darren cowering against his side of the car and rushes to open the door.

“Are you OK, son?” asks the teacher.

Donald yells, “He’s fine. He’s just a sissy that needs to grow some balls.”

The teacher ignores Donald and gently asks Darren, “Do you want some help getting to your classroom?”

Darren meekly nods his head. The teacher helps him out of the car and sees his small lunchbox sitting on the seat. He leans in to retrieve it and quietly hisses at Donald.

“What the fuck is your problem? Treating your son this way? You’re the one that needs to grow a pair and learn how to be a real father.”

Donald’s face turns scarlet.

“What the fuck did you say to me, you two-bit son-of-a-bitch?”

Donald reaches for the teacher, but the instructor is able to evade Donald’s grasp. However, before he can get the door shut, Donald hurls a final insult toward his son.

“Hey, pussy-boy, if you pull this shit again there will be hell to pay when you get home.”

The teacher slams the car door as hard as he can and glares at Donald who throws the car in gear and punches the gas pedal. The car leaps from the curb, narrowly missing another parent’s car as a father drops off his daughter for her first day of school.

Darren is standing alone on the curb when the teacher turns to see that he has had an accident. The final insult from his father unnerved him so badly that he wet his pants. Acting quickly the teacher scoops Darren into his arms and rushes him into the school.

“Don’t worry, everything is going to be OK,” he’s saying as they briskly walk toward the nurses office. “What’s your name?”

“Darren Brimble,” he says in a low voice.

The teacher gets to the nurse’s office and gives her a quick rundown of what happened.

“Hi Darren, I’m nurse Quick. I think I have something here that will get you ready for your first day of school. Can Mr. Thompson help you change?”

The nurse stops rummaging through a small drawer and extracts a pair of underwear and a worn pair of slacks.

“Those aren’t mine,” says Darren.

“No, they’re not,” says nurse Quick, “but I keep extras in my office just in case they are needed.”

Darren looks from one adult to the other.

Mr. Thompson adds, “And because we got here so quickly, I don’t think anyone saw what happened so this will be our little secret.”

That seems to mollify Darren. He stands and starts to remove his belt. Nurse Quick busies herself by straightening books on a shelf and then turns when Darren is again dressed.

“Those look good on you,” she exclaims. “Now Mr. Thompson will take you to your classroom – I think Mrs. Cook will be your teacher this year – and get you settled.”

Darren nods and takes Mr. Thompson’s hand, but before they leave the nurse stops them.

“Oh, just a sec. I have an idea.”

She opens another shelf and takes out a large band-aid. She then takes a bottle of Mercurochrome and dabs some on Darren’s arm before affixing the band-aid. Satisfied with her handiwork she looks at Mr. Thompson.

“I think Darren will survive after almost being hit by a car in the driveway and badly scraping his arm, don’t you?”