Then one day when he was thirteen, Brandon could simply not take it anymore. After a particularly brutal beating, Brandon crawled away to his father’s study and retrieved the revolver that Bryan had stashed away for an emergency. He had never fired a gun before, but he had watched it enough on TV…how hard could it be. He loaded the chamber and clicked off the safety and walked, tears streaming from his eyes to his mother’s bedroom. He found her passed out from a combination of pills and alcohol and put the muzzle to her temple. At first, he could not summon the courage, but he pleaded for help and his finger pulled the trigger. He cried in anguish as the bullet did its work very effectively, whereupon he turned the gun on himself and ended his own life. There was a short but thorough investigation, the police deciding that the grief and suffering and pain from the murder of Bryan Ashley had been too much for the young boy. PTSD they all said…
……….
Regardless of the bogus verdict, young Brandon died with an extremely distorted perspective of mothers and women as a whole. Despite knowing what had twisted and damaged his own mother, he died with a bad image of both. Many learned people say how you die and what is in your mind at the moment of your death has a strong influence on how you move onto the next phase…that is if you can move on. And in Brandon’s case, he left the mortal plane with a deep and burning hatred of them all. The abuse and neglect he suffered at Ellen’s hand had erased any memory he had of her when he was younger.
Colleagues of Bryan and friends of his and Ellen’s put on a small, but warm memorial as they were remembered for the façade the people wanted to believe. There was still little if any belief in what Brandon had been trying to tell anyone he could get to about what was actually going on that led to his action. The mansion was put on the market, but due to its dark backstory, there was no one in New Orleans that was even remotely interested in buying the place. Debra Williams, a close friend of Ellen’s and a realtor, finally gave up trying to sell or even rent out the place after years of trying. Word had apparently gotten around outside of New Orleans as well, and she was about to throw in the towel completely. That was until she got a call from Dr. Myranda Black recently having arrived in New Orleans from the Phoenix area. Dr. Black was moving to New Orleans fresh from a residency in Arizona and needed a place to rent ASAP.
She had seen the old Ashley place on Debra’s website and wanted to know if it was still available. Debra felt a bit ashamed and awkward, but she kept the history of the house to herself when Myranda inquired and then came to take a look around. It was perhaps not her proudest moment as a realtor nor as a human being, but on some level, she was thrilled to finally have gotten the place unloaded. What could it hurt, Debra said to herself…what the good doctor did not know could hardly hurt her...right? As she wrote out a 2-year lease for Dr. Black, Debra sure hoped so…
Dr. Myranda Black In Arizona…But Not For Long
Chandler, Arizona
25th September, 1977
Myranda Black had reluctantly settled into the life she was now living. Professionally she was fulfilled, but on a personal level, she was utterly disappointed in herself. Ever since she had been a little girl growing up in the foothills of the Cascades in Oregon, Myranda had set her sights on two goals with a burning passion. Since having watched her mother waste away from an insidious case of pancreatic cancer, Myranda had known she was destined to become a physician. She had been just eight when her mother, Lucy, had finally lost her battle with cancer. It had been a time when this particular version of the disease was, in reality, a death sentence. This cancer came on unnoticed initially, and by the time it had been diagnosed, it was far too late for the doctors to do anything to save her.
Myranda had always had a keen interest in the sciences, but this dreadful experience set a fire ablaze in her to pursue medicine and look for cures to the types of ailments that had killed her mother. Her other goal in life, the personal one, while set firmly in her mind just never materialized, despite Myranda’s laser focus and determination. That one was to find the perfect partner and create the perfect family that she felt the fates had cheated her out of as a child. Many of Myranda’s female classmates in medical school had relationships jettisoned as potential partners were overly intimidated by their intelligence and professional drive. This, however, was not what had plagued Myranda. In her case, she had discovered early on that due to either some congenital condition or another anomaly, she would be unable to have children. The exact answer was never determined.
Myranda had been to numerous specialists and had countless consultations to get to the bottom of her dilemma, but in the end, no one could tell her anything except what she already knew: there was no way she could have children of her own. Even in vitro methods would not be an option. While considering adoption as a viable answer was within her mind, it had not been well-received by any of the men she had cultivated relationships with over the years. As time went by, Myranda fell into a dark space regarding her situation over this. On the one hand, she was disappointed and disillusioned at the reaction from these men once they found out. In all cases, Myranda felt like she had a good handle on her partners’ character and value as decent human beings, but if she was honest with herself, she supposed she would have to say she was reading people wrong…somewhere along the line, she was severely misjudging them.
She supposed what really rubbed her the wrong way about these men was that she saw their opinion as selfish and uncaring, especially when the need for adoptive parents was so in demand. However, what had really punched her in the gut was this little voice in the back of her head telling her she was inadequate and not quite a whole woman. Deep down, her logical mind told her this was ridiculous, but her emotional and sensitive mind was talking louder…and it soon won out. Myranda compartmentalized her personal woes to focus on finishing medical school at the University of Arizona College of Medicine in Phoenix and then her internship and residency at the Chandler Regional Medical Center. During her post-med school years, Myranda did consult a psychologist to deal with what she saw as a failing in her personal life, though. It was an arduous and difficult process, but eventually, Myranda came out in a better space.
As she worked through her feelings with Dr. Robin Rice about not being able to conceive a child, Myranda overcame her intense emotions of feeling inadequate and embarrassed over the situation. She often found herself, when alone after hours, crying uncontrollably and wondering why life had dealt her such an unfair hand. Dr. Rice managed to get Myranda out of the black hole she had slipped into over this so she was not so thoroughly depressed, but in the end, Myranda felt it was just something no amount of psychotherapy was ever going to solve for her. In the end, Myranda decided to just focus on her career at the expense of the personal life she had always envisioned.
To many, it may seem harsh, but the only way she found to cope was to simply avoid close personal relationships. She walled herself off and began to shut people out as she could just not get over the feeling they were judging her. It was not like Myranda had a ton of free time for anything but her responsibilities at the medical center anyway, so in her mind, it was no big deal. However, Myranda was not satisfied with going it completely solo. When it was evident that a human relationship and children were not in her future…at least for the time being…Myranda consoled herself by turning to one of the local animal rescue shelters in Phoenix to create her own family.
She had grown up with a constant variety of pets as a child, and it was from those companions that Myranda had survived emotionally following her mother’s demise from cancer. Needing the same comfort and companionship now in Arizona, Myranda adopted a pair of dogs from a nearby shelter. They were a pair of young Labrador retrievers, one blonde who she named Blondie—yeah, I know, she told people…not too original—and her brother, a chocolate version, who acquired the moniker Scout. They had been abandoned near Scottsdale and though Myranda had not had the intention of coming home with two dogs, the siblings seemed
too attached to one another for her to have the heart to split them up.
Despite their young age and natural exuberance that intrinsically comes with this breed, both Blondie and Scout settled into Myranda’s home with little fanfare and before long she could hardly remember her life without them. Deep down she could still feel the sting of her inability to have children, but Blondie and Scout kept her centered and all three bonded tightly. After a few months, Myranda was awoken in the middle of the night by Blondie’s incessant whining as she pawed relentlessly at her bed. Myranda looked with curiosity and confusion at Blondie, her body and mind still highly fatigued from a long stint at the medical center. Scout was still fast asleep, but it was apparent that something was up with his sister.
Blondie always slept right through the night, so Myranda’s concern overcame her foggy brain and she got up following the dog as Blondie led her to the front door. As she neared the door, Myranda could hear the sounds that had apparently aroused the sleeping Blondie and her superior hearing. Just on the other side of the door, Myranda could hear the nonstop mewling and crying of a cat. She looked down and Blondie was giving her that irresistible sad look in her eyes as she wagged her tail slowly. Myranda eased her door open to find an empty pet bed. She furrowed her brow in confusion until she spotted the small gray kitten that had slipped, seemingly, out of the bed and into her flower bed just off the front steps. Myranda looked all around her street, but in the dark of the night, all seemed empty and quiet…except for the meowing that was.
She stepped out onto her porch step and bent over the flower bed to retrieve the very vocal feline. As soon as she scooped up the kitten, it stopped its cries and leaned in against her. It was not until Myranda had turned back to her door that she saw a note had been left in the empty pet bed:
Dear Neighbor,
We are pretty sure you do not know us. Unanticipated circumstances have forced us to have to leave Arizona on short notice. We can no longer care for our cat and we have seen how devoted and closer you are to your dogs. Please give her a good home. We know you will.
Myranda read the mysterious note a couple of times until her work-addled brain got it. She looked at the cat, who was now fast asleep in her arms and then at Blondie who was wagging exuberantly, her tongue lolling happily from her jowls. She sighed deeply as she collected the bed and returned inside and went to the sofa to sit and think this over. She felt great compassion for the abandoned kitten, but she was not sure adding another member to her small family was at this point in her life optimal…especially with having no idea how her two dogs would react. Right now they all were fine and Myranda was not sure she wanted to introduce a new element that might throw a wrench into all of that.
However, as she peered down at the little cat, now purring away contentedly in her lap, its head resting placidly on its front paws, her heart melted. She sat back and looked at Blondie who was sitting quietly at her feet.
“Did you have something to do with this, Missy?” Myranda asked.
Blondie just wagged slowly and cocked her head at an angle, as dogs are prone to do when we try to talk to them.
“How would you feel about a new sister?”
Blondie gave a muffled woof and drew her mouth back in what Myranda had come to interpret as a smile, though she was sure this was just her interpretation. At this point, Scout had appeared at the entrance into the living room, having been aroused by all the activity. He padded over and sat by Blondie looking curiously at the ball of fur in Myranda’s lap. Neither seemed overly concerned about the cat. Myranda sighed with resignation.
“I guess as long as our new guest can tolerate you guys, we are now four instead of three.”
Both dogs wagged in unison. Myranda chuckled wondering what it was they actually understood when she conversed with them.
“I guess you have a home, little one,” Myranda said as she looked down on the cat. “The note did not give your name, so I guess that is the first order of business.”
She pondered and mulled this over when the perfect name came to her: Violet. It was feminine enough for a female cat and seeing as how she had plucked her from her flower bed, full of violets…well…corny but appropriate, Myranda reasoned. She carried the furry bundle with her to the bedroom and laid Violet on the covers as the canine duo followed along, quickly settling down in their usual spots. And that was that. With no drama or other issues, Violet became ensconced in the Black family. She was not sure if Violet thought she was part of the pack or not, but all three intermingled as if they had known each other forever.
……….
Myranda went about her regular routine as the end of her residency at the medical center was approaching. Blondie, Scout, and Violet had become great pals, the three of them often cuddling together on an oversized bed that Myranda had gotten for just the dogs. Though not what she had been expecting of her life, Myranda was for the most part content and happy. Professionally, though, she had some decisions to make…and soon. She had loved being at the Chandler Regional Medical Center. The work had been challenging and rewarding and her colleagues were great. But there was just something about the desert of Arizona that was just not her cup of tea. Maybe it was that she had grown up in Oregon and the climate here was just too hot and dry…she was not sure.
But since her residency requirements were ending soon, Myranda had to decide if she was going to stay on there or begin looking for opportunities elsewhere as she moved on to the role of a full-fledged physician. The Chandler Regional Medical Center had a wonderful cancer treatment focus, what she really wanted to pursue, so that was a strong pull on her as she considered what to do. However, as often happens in these circumstances, Myranda found an answer to her quandary by surprise after attending a lecture by a visiting physician from The Tulane Medical Center in New Orleans. She had never been there, but New Orleans had always captured her imagination; both its rich history and the music and the food. As far as working there, though? It had not occurred to her until she had gone to the lecture.
Dr. Simon Blakesly, the visiting speaker, had presented an intriguing and captivating picture of a new approach to cancer diagnostics and forward-thinking treatment options that she knew would never be offered here in Chandler. It was exactly the type of thing that she had been searching for in her career without consciously realizing it. After the talk, she flagged Dr. Blakesly down and found out they were actively looking to expand their staff at the cancer center. They talked over coffee and Blakesly was amazed at her credentials and experience. Out of the blue, he asked her if she might be interested in joining their team. Myranda was a bit taken aback, but after hearing the lecture and getting a better feel for the center at Tulane and how Blakesly praised the program and the staff, Myranda did let him know she was very interested.
After meeting the team at Tulane and interviewing extensively with Blakesly and his supervisors, Myranda did not have to think twice when they offered her a position with them. She was always looking for a new intellectual and professional challenge and the idea of living somewhere new thrilled her as well. It would be hard to say goodbye to all the people in Chandler she had developed close professional relationships with, but not so much to say goodbye to the arid climate of Arizona. It was silly, she realized, but she ran the idea by the gang at home as well. Both Blondie and Scout just pivoted their heads at an angle and Violet stretched out and curled up in a ray of sun from the window.
Myranda laughed.
“I am not hearing any objections, guys…so I guess we are off to Louisiana!”
Dr. Myranda Black In New Orleans
New Orleans, Louisiana
25th - 27th October, 1977
Despite the good lead time in knowing her new destination, Myranda arrived in New Orleans at a loss as to what her new living arrangements might be. The Tulane Medical Center was offering her a nice salary, so money was not so much of a concern, even as she knew she had to set aside a significant chunk of that salary for her stu
dent loans. She was just not familiar with the town and arriving with three pets in tow might, she thought, make finding the right place for all four of them a challenge. She had no idea how pet-friendly the landlords of New Orleans were, but she was determined to make sure she did not have to compromise her charges. Myranda was not a big believer in setting intentions in her mind, despite the growing movement in this area from a number of disparate new age religious groups. In fact, though not really an atheist, Myranda was a serious agnostic.
However, as she arrived in New Orleans, she kept an optimistic outlook and began her search. She knew that with the dogs and Violet that an apartment was likely not to be an option, both for them as well as a landlord. With that in mind, Myranda kept her hunt focused on houses…even a duplex of some sort might work as long as it had adequate room for them all. Myranda looked and looked for several days, and soon her initial optimism was beginning to flag. One after another of the places that would have been perfect for them were nixed by either being further away from The Tulane Medical Center than she wanted or by landlords scared off at the possibility of having multiple pets in their offerings. On day three, Myranda got up wondering what she was going to do. She did not for a moment regret her decision to move here, but it seemed as if her options for living quarters were dwindling to something she might not be so happy with.
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