Chapter 5

Bette turned away from the lewd, lascivious sight of her ex-husband's brother, and the young teenage girlfriend of her son, Tony, fucking on the floor of the cabana, and rushed past the pool into the house, running blindly, choking back the cry of anguish which threatened to burst from her throat. She entered the guest room, locked the door, and flung herself on the bed, sobbing now, unable to blot the terrible scene she had just witnessed from her confused, stricken mind.

Oh God, oh God! her tortured mind cried. It's it's too awful, too sickening Ken, how could you? How could you do this to me after after what we had last night, after what you told me this morning? You said you loved me, you said you wanted to marry me, and then and then, the first minute I'm gone, you run around like a a dog on the floor with that disgusting little bitch, Debbie Mason ooohhh, God, God, what am I going to do?

Bette buried her face in the pillow, crying brokenly now. The shattered fragments of her world, reformed and reconstructed by her homecoming to Westridge, by her acceptance and forgiveness by Tony and Ken, by Ken's professed love for her and her own growing emotional involvement with the handsome brother of her dead ex-husband, were once again sharded at her feet. Was there no hope for her future at all? Was what she had just witnessed an omen, a warning to her, that only pain and futility lay ahead of her, that she would never again know true peace and happiness? God, oh God, oh God

The beauteous blonde mother cried bitter tears of torment for a long, timeless period; then, abruptly, as if there were suddenly no more moisture in her for tears, the crying ended and some semblence of calm returned. She slid off the bed, opened the door to the hallway, and looked out. The house was very still; Ken must still be out in the cabana with that that filthy slut, Debbie. Quickly, Bette padded down to the bathroom at the end of the hall, past Ken's and Tony's bedrooms, and washed her face and applied fresh makeup to her pain-etched face. Then, composed, she returned to the guest room, relocked the door, and lay down once more on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Grimly, she forced her mind to examine the situation with cold, careful rationality. She had to do something she couldn't just allow this wanton act that she had viewed to be forgotten, she couldn't just pretend that it had never happened. Ken had hurt her, hurt her desperately, by his carnal coupling with Debbie Mason, and Bette knew now that she could never marry him, could never make love with him or love him in any way after today. It would be difficult enough to face him again, to look into his eyes, without either crying or blurting out in rage what she had seen. And neither of those emotional reactions would solve anything. Still, what exactly could she do? There was no purpose in confronting Ken with the knowledge of his lustful endeavor with Debbie; he would either deny it boldly, or if he did admit to it, just say he was sorry, that it had been a terrible moment of weakness, and beg for her forgiveness. And the way Bette felt now, there was no capacity in her for that kind of compassionate exoneration of his sin--at least not where the two of them, and a future relationship between them, was concerned.

And yet, even with her disappointment and bitterness in Ken, Bette sensed deep down that he was not responsible for what had happened--was probably still happening--in the poolside cabana; he was just a man, weak and sexually unprincipled, like most men were. No, the blame for Ken's transgression could be laid, the lovely young mother felt sure, directly on the shoulders of that seductive little slut, Debbie Mason.

Bette felt a moment of unreasoning hatred for the lush, conscienceless teenage girl. The bitch, oh the damned dirty little bitch! Rutting on the floor with a man old enough to be her father, reveling in the feel of his penis deep inside her--and what was worse, infinitely worse, was the fact that that man was the uncle of the boy who claimed to be in love with her!

Tony, poor poor Tony, Bette thought. So trusting, so good involved with a slut like that, blinded by her beauty and her sensuality. God only knew how many other boys how many other men she was sleeping with, while Tony's love for her, blind and innocent, increased day by day. Poor Tony, oh my poor son

The beauteous blonde mother bit her lower lip in anguish. What could she do, what could she do? She couldn't go to Tony, could she? She couldn't tell him what happened today between Debbie and his uncle, could she? He wouldn't believe her, Bette knew that; he would think she was lying for some reason, trying to split he and the young girl up for some reason of her own. And he might hate her, might twist in his adolescent mind her mother's feelings for his well-being into something much darker and much more base. And she couldn't stand to have him hate her anymore, not when she had seen the glimmering of returning love on his face last night

The indecision swirled around in the blonde woman's brain, and still she came to no definite conclusion as to what she could do. She only knew that she had to do something, and soon, before it was too late. In Tony, now that Ken had betrayed her, Bette had to place all her hopes for salvation. If he turned on her, she would be totally destroyed--the fact was irrefutable. And unless she helped him, completely committed herself to her handsome young son, then she had nothing on which to hang the last desperate remnants of her spirit.

There was the sound of a door slamming from the rear of the house, and Bette heard Ken's slow, hesitant footsteps. They grew nearer, entering the hall, then a moment later he knocked almost fearfully on the door. "Bette?" he called, his voice trembling. "Bette, honey, are you in there?"

"Yes, I'm in here," she replied, trying to make her voice calm and toneless.

"I I saw the car in the garage, and I I knew that you'd come home. Is everything all right?"

"Just fine, Ken, thank you."

"I thought you were going to to drive around Westridge all day," he said.

"It got to be too hot after awhile, and I was more tired than I thought. So I decided to come home."

"Oh," Ken said, There was a pause, then he continued, "Well, I I'm not feeling so good, honey. I think I'll go lie down for awhile. I've got a miserable headache."

I don't wonder at that, Bette thought bitterly. "All right," she said. "Would you like me to fix supper tonight?"

"If you would. There's plenty of food in the refrigerator. But but just for you and Tony okay? I don't think I'll be hungry, feeling as lousy as I do now."

"Whatever you say, Ken."

She heard the shuffling of his steps as he continued down the hall to his own room, heard the sound of the door closing and the key turning in the lock. Then the house was still again. Bette got to her feet, opened the door, and walked quietly into the kitchen. She found a bottle of bourbon in the cabinet above the sink, and poured herself a small drink, her lovely mouth set resolutely.

Yes, she thought with grim determination, yes, I've got to commit myself fully and completely to Tony, in whatever way is necessary. It's my only hope--and where Debbie Mason is concerned, Tony's only hope too. Somehow, some way, I've got to help him, show him what Debbie really is. Somehow, some way

The handsome teenage youth returned home shortly past five that afternoon. Bette heard the sound of his Corvette as it entered the driveway; she was in the kitchen, preparing a platter of cold cuts, sipping from a glass filled with ice, soda, and more of the bourbon. She felt faintly drunk, but not enough so that it would hamper her movements or her speech; still, she knew she shouldn't have had so much to drink, even if it did help ease the gnawing distress which filled her lovely body. It would not do for Tony to see her even a little intoxicated; he might get the wrong ideas about her.

Bette hurried into the guest room and found a package of mints in her bag. She popped several into her mouth, then looked at herself in the vanity mirror, fluffing her soft blonde hair so that it framed her beautiful face. She looked all right, she decided. She looked just fine. The young mother went out into the living room then, just in time to see Tony opening the front door with his key and entering the house.

"Hi, Tony," she greeted him warmly.

"Hi," he replied, and Bette saw that he wasn't looking at her directly, that his voice seemed cool and distant. A pang of fear and anguish clutched at her heart.

"Is is something the matter, son?" she asked.

"No, why should anything be the matter?" Tony crossed the room, still not looking at her, and entered the kitchen. A moment later he reappeared with a frosty bottle of beer in his hand and sat on the couch facing the fireplace--the same couch on which she and Ken had made love last night

Her knees feeling weak, Bette sat on the opposite end of the couch, folding her hands in her lap, and looked with a mixture of love and despair at her handsome son. She forced a smile onto her pretty, naturally pink mouth, tried to make her voice gay and light as she said, "Well, did you have a nice day, Tony?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Where did you go?"

"Out for a drive."

"So did I. It was a beautiful day for one."

"Uh-huh."

Bette's smile faded. "Tony are you sure everything is okay? I mean, well, you're so so distant tonight "

The handsome teenage youth sighed, then seemed to square his shoulders, and his face lifted and his eyes touched his mother's. Bette saw with increasing despair that there was no light of love in them today, at least not nearly the kind of fervent acceptance which they had contained last night. Could Ken have been wrong, could Tony have seen them together last night before he entered the house, seen them making love on the very cushions on which mother and son now sat

Tony said, "I've got a lot of things on my mind tonight Mom, that's all. I made a big decision today."

"You did?" Bette said, eager to draw him out of the shell he seemed to be in. "What kind of decision, son?"

Tony reached into his pocket, produced a tiny square box--a jeweler's box. He flipped the top open with his thumbnail, extended the box so that Bette could see inside--and there, nestled in a bed of cotton, was a pair of sparkling diamond rings, expensive rings, one an engagement band and the other a wedding band. "I'm going to get married, Mom," he said firmly. "Next week, if arrangements can be made--and if Debbie will have me so soon. But I think she will. Anyway, I'm going over to propose to her tonight "

Bette felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. She couldn't seem to catch her breath, and faint black dots swam in back of her eyes. She thought for a minute that she was going to faint, then the feeling passed and she stared incredulously at her handsome son. "Tony you can't be serious " she stammered.

"Why not?"

"Well well, you're too young, you're only eighteen and and you said you wanted to go to college next September "

"I'll still be going to college," Tony said. "And I'm old enough to know my own mind, to know that Debbie and I are in love and that I want her to be my wife "

No, no, no, no! Bette thought despairingly. Oh God, no, Tony you can't you can't marry that cheating little bitch! I've got to stop you, somehow I've got to stop you but you won't believe me if I tell you about what I saw in the cabana this afternoon, I know you won't

She said falteringly, "What what brought on this sudden decision? You didn't say anything about marriage last night."

"It's not a sudden decision and I didn't say anything about it because well, I wanted it to be a secret until I picked up the rings and asked Debbie. I probably shouldn't be telling you now, not until I have Deb's answer, but it doesn't make any difference I guess. I might as well tell Uncle Ken, too. Where is he? In his study?"

"No, he's lying down. He doesn't feel very well."

"Then I guess I'll wait until later tonight, or tomorrow to tell him. Don't say anything to him until I talk to him first, okay?"

"If if that's what you want."

Tony studied his mother for a moment. "How come you sound so upset? You ought to be happy for me, if you love me as much as Uncle Ken says you do."

"I do love you, Tony! I love you very, very much. It's just that I I'm so surprised. This is all so sudden "

"Yeah, sure," Tony said. He finished his beer, then got to his feet. "Guess I'll go take a quick shower and get ready for supper."

"Tony "

"Yeah?"

"Tony, couldn't you wait for awhile? A few months at least, until you're very sure that marrying Debbie is what you really want."

"I'm very sure now," he said positively. "Very sure."

"Son suppose she's not the right kind of girl for you "

His eyes narrowed, and he snapped defensively, "What do you mean by that?"

Bette swallowed hard. "N-nothing," she stuttered. "I I " She felt tears welling in her eyes, and she pressed her hands over her face, turned, and fled from the room.

Lying once again on the bed in the guest room, more tears spilling down over her cheeks, Bette felt a fresh sense of impending doom. This was the very thing she had dreaded, the turning out of her by her son and the embracing of Debbie Mason in her place. But she couldn't let Tony marry that little slut, she couldn't! She would only bring him eventual pain and misery and heart break, of that Bette had no doubt at all. She had to stop him, she had to stop him!

But how?

How?

Supper was a grim affair, eaten in silence, and the lovley blonde mother's heart skipped a beat of anguish every time she looked at her son. He ate quickly, without seeming to taste his food, while Bette picked at her portion, having no appetite at all, managing to choke down only a few mouthfuls of the delicious cold cuts she had prepared.

She was slicing a wedge of melon for him, ice-cold from the refrigerator, when the telephone rang.

Tony said, "I'll get it, it might be Debbie." He jumped up and hurried into the living room, to where the phone was. Bette busied herself at the counter with the melon, put it on a plate, and set it in Tony's place. She thought about pouring herself a drink, which she wanted desperately, then decided it wasn't such a good idea with Tony still there in the house. She compromised by opening a beer for herself. She was sipping from a tall glass when her handsome young son returned from the living room, a perplexed frown on his face.

"That was Debbie," he said. "Her grandmother's sick over in Walnut Grove, and the whole family's leaving right now. She won't be back until tomorrow evening."

Bette felt a resurgence of hope, a sense of having been reprieved for just a little while. "You didn't propose to her over the phone, did you?"

"No," Tony answered. "She was in pretty much of a hurry, and a telephone is no place for such an important thing anyway."

"Then you won't be asking her until she returns tomorrow night."

"I guess not," Tony said. He looked at his mother coldly for a moment. "I suppose that makes you happy, huh?"

"Oh, Tony "

"Aww forget it, I'm sorry," he mumbled. He sat down at the table and began to eat the ice-cold melon she had placed there.

Bette stood watching him for a time, her brain whirling as she tried to conjure up a plan, some method of proving to Tony what a slut Debbie was, of winning his once-again-cooled love for herself so that she would have a chance for future peace and happiness. But still she could think of nothing, and she knew she was trying too hard, that her confused mind was not functioning as well as it should. She had to calm herself, think, think because now, perhaps irrationally, she had the premonition that everything might turn out all right, might turn out happily for her and Tony if only she could hit upon the proper plan