The War of the Roses: The Children

by Warren Adler

  “That was a childish outburst,” he told her calmly, showing no visible hint of outrage for what she had done.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet, Josh,” she sneered. “I won’t rest until….”

  “Hello, everybody!”

  It was Evie, offering her cupid’s smile, oblivious to the hatred that had permeated the room. She was cradling Tweedledee in her arms.

  “Well, well,” Victoria said. “The blimp has arrived.” She turned to Josh. “And her little pussy.”

  “They’re being cruel, Evie. Pay no attention.”

  “It’s all right, Josh. Really.”

  Evie’s presence seemed to have also energized Mrs. Stewart. Even the color had come back to her cheeks.

  “My God. She’s put on a hundred pounds since I saw her last.”

  “Mrs. Stewart,” Evie exclaimed, her smile in place. “So nice to see you again!”

  Then Michael appeared suddenly and embraced his aunt. She smiled broadly and returned the affection. Josh felt certain that the children had heard their entire argument.

  “I told you children to stay upstairs,” Victoria snarled.

  “We just wanted to see Aunt Evie,” Emily said. “And Tweedledee.”

  “Well, you’ve seen her,” Victoria said. “Now you can both go back upstairs.”

  “Listen to your mommy, children,” Evie said, her smile intact.

  “No need to go up just yet, kids,” Josh said.

  Evie, still smiling, appeared caught in the middle. Her glance darted between Josh and Victoria.

  “Tell you what,” she said sweetly, “I’ve brought the makings of a delicious baked Alaska flambé. You remember how much you loved it. I’ve done most of it at home and all I have to do is the finishing touches. How does that sound, everybody?”

  “Great, Aunt Evie,” Michael exclaimed.

  “Can I help?” Emily squealed.

  “Both of you can help,” Evie told them.

  Victoria and her mother exchanged glances. Mrs. Stewart, as indomitable as granite, seemed to have fully recovered her equilibrium, and both mother and daughter appeared to have united again, energized by their common enemy.

  Evie seemed suddenly lost in thought, her chubby little forefinger caressing her chin.

  “Hmmmm. All I’ll need is confectioner’s sugar, a sieve, and some cognac.”

  “I know where the confectioner’s sugar is and the sieve,” Emily blurted, immediately sensing that she had inadvertently revealed secret information. She slapped a little hand over her mouth.

  “It’s okay, darling,” Victoria said, shooting her mother a sinister half-smile, confirming their alliance. “Where is the confectioner’s sugar and the sieve?”

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Josh said reassuringly. “We have no secrets here.”

  “Not anymore,” Victoria said.

  “You’ll all love it. That I guarantee,” Evie said, offering smiles all around. “Of course, we’ll need a little time, but it will be worth the wait. There is nothing like a delicious flaming baked Alaska to bring joy and harmony into our lives.”

  He could see Victoria winding up for a comment, but before she could get it out, Michael spotted the broken glass box and the figure of Cribb.

  “Look, Dad,” he cried.

  “We know, Michael. It was an accident.”

  “A real accident?” he asked.

  “Yes,” he said, looking at Victoria, “a real accident.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, darling,” Victoria said, directing her attention to Emily. “I asked where the confectioner’s sugar and the sieve are stored.”

  Emily exchanged glances with Michael.

  “I’ll get it,” Josh said.

  “Let me, Dad,” Michael interjected.

  “Why don’t I go with you?” Victoria said.

  “It’s all right, Mom,” Michael said nervously. “I’ll go myself. I know where it is.”

  He ran swiftly to the door to the basement and they heard him clambering down the steps.

  “You’ll get it, won’t you Josh?” Evie asked. Holding Emily’s hand, she started out of the room, then stopped.

  “We must do everything we can to keep this lovely family together,” she said with a winning air of optimism, then moved with Emily out of the room.

  Victoria nodded while her mother could not resist a sneering insult.

  “That woman sounds retarded.”

  “That woman is a saint,” Josh said, glaring at Mrs. Stewart. Victoria’s mind seemed elsewhere.

  They heard Michael coming up the basement stairs, then heading for the kitchen.

  “So that’s how they did it,” Victoria said after a long silence. “That storage room in the basement.” She turned toward Josh. “You son of a bitch, making your children a party to this travesty. I want that woman out of here, along with that dirty cat and yourself.”

  “Is that an order?” he mocked. He saw her hesitate for a moment. From the kitchen came the sound of children’s voices and pots clattering.

  “After this disgusting little ritual. Just as soon as they go off to bed.”

  “I appreciate the dispensation, Victoria. But I’m not leaving this house,” Josh said. “I have no intention of putting those children in harm’s way.” He waved his finger at Mrs. Stewart, who squared her shoulders and sneered at him. The woman was impervious, Josh thought, with grudging admiration and disgust.

  “And I’ll insist that you take the contents of that room with you. I assume you used it as a storeroom for the creation of her love objects and a larder for fat-creating concoctions like the one she is now making, which I have no intention of eating.”

  “Your loss,” Josh muttered.

  “Now if you don’t mind, I think I’m entitled to see exactly what is in that room.”

  “Christ, Victoria. It’s only kitchen stuff. Maybe some food and Evie’s clothes. No big deal.” Josh said.

  “A hidden cache,” Victoria smirked.

  “The intent was hardly as sinister as that. We knew you’d be upset if you found out that Evie was helping out. There were practical concerns as well. Taking things back and forth. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a special place to store your mother’s things… a hidden room somewhere.”

  “Here we go again. Tit for tat. No such luck. Mother left nothing.” She looked at him with an angry stare. “This is my house. Now show me what’s in that damn room.”

  Josh shrugged and started toward the hall corridor. Looking behind him, he saw Mrs. Stewart following in Victoria’s wake.

  “Does she need to come?” Josh asked.

  “You’re not going to leave me here by myself,” Mrs. Stewart said.

  “This is stupid, Victoria,” he said as they proceeded down the basement stairs.

  “Not to me, it isn’t.”

  He led them past the furnace and the hot water heater, stopping in front of the storage room door. He looked at the combination lock, then grasped it and began to roll the dial, discovering after a few attempts that he had forgotten the combination.

  “I don’t remember it,” he said finally.

  “I’ll bet Michael does,” Victoria said.

  “Leave Michael out of it,” Josh snapped.

  Victoria walked to the bottom of the basement stairs and shouted her son’s name.

  “Yes, Mom,” Michael cried from the top of the stairs.

  “Come down here this minute.”

  He walked halfway down the stairs, looking wary and uncomfortable. Then he stopped.

  “I want that door open,” she said, pointing to the storage room door.

  Josh watched his son’s face. It had turned white, accentuated by the dull basement light. His expression was oddly defiant, the nostrils dilated, the eyes blazin
g with anger. Michael said nothing, staring at her.

  “Don’t you hear me?” Victoria screamed. “Do you want me to come up there and drag you down here?”

  “What is it, son?” Josh asked, moving toward the stairs.

  Victoria turned to face him.

  “What have you done to this child?” she shouted. She looked up at Michael again. “You come down here, Michael. Right now!”

  “I won’t,” Michael cried.

  “Oh yes you will,” Victoria yelled, starting up the stairs.

  “No. I won’t,” Michael said, his voice breaking. Suddenly he turned and ran up the stairs. Victoria followed him halfway up, then stopped and came down again, gasping. She turned to Josh.

  “You fuck,” she cried. “What have you done to him?”

  “It’s you who’s making him crazy, Victoria.”

  “What the hell’s in that room?”

  “I told you,” Josh replied. He, too, had been stunned by Michael’s reaction. He wanted to go upstairs and comfort his son.

  But Victoria’s sudden movement prevented him. She grabbed an axe hanging on the basement wall that Josh had occasionally used to split fireplace wood. As a reflex, he moved away. Mrs. Stewart, too, seemed uneasy with her daughter’s action and shrunk out of her path.

  Victoria paid no attention to either Josh or her mother and moved instead to the door of storage room. Josh watched in stunned silence as Victoria lifted the axe and swung it toward the lock. The force of her blows was astonishing and it took no more than four swings to smash away the lock and break the door hinges.

  Victoria kicked the door open and, still holding the axe, entered the room. Josh and Mrs. Stewart exchanged nervous glances, but did not follow.

  “Is everything okay down there?”

  It was Evie’s voice cheerfully calling from the top of the basement stairs.

  “Okay, Evie,” Josh called back. “No problem.”

  “Won’t be long, kiddies,” Evie replied. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  At that moment, Josh saw a white shape bound down the stairs.

  “Tweedledee,” Emily called.

  The cat moved along the basement floor and through the door of the storage room.

  “Don’t come down, Emily,” Josh called. “You help Aunt Evie.”

  “What about Tweedledee?” she cried.

  “We’ll bring her up. Go with Aunt Evie now, sweetheart.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  The door was hanging on its hinges. He could hear Victoria inside but made no move to go in.

  “Victoria,” he called into the room.

  There was no answer. He moved forward cautiously.

  “Victoria,” he called again.

  Suddenly he heard a loud clatter from inside the room, and a shriek.

  Rushing into the room, he stopped in his tracks. Victoria was swinging the axe at Tweedledee as she darted in and out of the various clutter of pots, pans, boxes, cans, and suitcases that were piled up there.

  “Stop it,” Josh shouted. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Undeterred, she took another swing. Josh grabbed the axe handle, wrestled it out of her grip, and threw it to the other side of the room. Tweedledee bounded out of her hiding place behind a suitcase and scooted up the stairs.

  Victoria looked at him in horror.

  “Jesus,” she said, shaking her head. Their eyes met briefly, then she turned away and her gaze seemed to freeze.

  “What is it?” Josh asked.

  “That,” she said, pointing to various objects that lined the floor along the wall, their hiding place revealed by the displacement of suitcases and other large items. The fracas with the cat had scattered their protective cover.

  The sight stunned him. There were the missing Victorian inkwells, vases, blue bells, Victorian hats, and leather-bound books. In fact, all the missing items in her collections.

  “So this is where you hid them?” Mrs. Stewart croaked.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Josh replied. He knew, of course, who had put them there. It explained Michael’s reluctance to open the door.

  At that moment, they heard Evie’s cheery voice calling from the top of the basement steps.

  “We’re ready,” she called. “Come see Emily light the mountain.”

  Josh searched for Victoria’s eyes and held her glance for a long while. Had she understood?

  Without thinking, they obeyed Evie’s call for their presence. Their reaction was inexplicable. They moved slowly up the basement stairs. To Josh it felt like a funeral procession. Upstairs, they were greeted incongruously by Evie’s happy face. She held a tray on which was perched the white confectionery mountain she had created. Emily stood beside her holding Tweedledee.

  “Isn’t that just beautiful?” she said, smiling broadly, oblivious to the gloomy faces confronting her.

  “Where’s Michael?” Josh asked.

  “Isn’t he with you?” Evie replied.

  Josh and Victoria exchanged panicked looks. Josh went to the top of the stairs and shouted “Michael! Michael!”

  There was no answer.

  “Michael,” Emily shouted.

  Still no answer.

  “I better put this on the dining room table,” Evie said.

  Suddenly, they heard loud voices emanating from the den. Josh recognized Victoria’s voice and looked at her puzzled and confused.

  “I need to know your decision, Gordon. It’s very important to me.” Victoria’s voice boomed from the den.

  “I think we are heading for an understanding, Victoria,” a male voice said in counterpoint. The voice was vaguely familiar.

  It was soon obvious that the voices were coming through the stereo speakers.

  Victoria erupted.

  “Stop,” she screamed. “Stop that at once.”

  With an expression of extreme panic on her face, she dashed toward the den. Josh reacted in tandem, reaching her just as she lifted her arm toward the stereo. Pinning her arms back, he held her tightly. She struggled to be released, but Josh continued to hold her.

  “He will not be expelled. Now get on with it, please. Blow me, baby.”

  “Say it again, Gordon. No expulsion for Michael.”

  “No expulsion for Michael. I told you. For crying out loud, Victoria. Suck my cock.”

  “Jesus, Victoria. I love it.”

  “Please, I beg of you,” Victoria shouted, struggling in Josh’s arms.

  “I’m coming,” the male voice cried from the stereo. “Swallow. Swallow.”

  “Stop, please,” Victoria shouted. Josh held her with all his strength, mesmerized and utterly confused by what he was hearing. He slapped her hard across the face. She shook with sobs as her strength ebbed, and she made no further moves to free herself. Surveying the room, he could see the ashen face of Mrs. Stewart and the stunned and confused expressions of Evie and Emily. He wondered suddenly if Emily actually understood what was being said.

  In the earlier melee, he had missed some of the words, but as he concentrated he picked up the thread of what was happening. By then, Victoria had collapsed in his arms. “God that was great, Victoria,” the male voice said, the words clear, the situation unmistakable.

  Victoria’s sobs became louder. For a tiny moment his concentration wavered, then returned. He felt too astonished to react.

  “That was something. We have got to do this again.”

  “You mean on a regular basis?” Victoria’s voice asked.

  “More or less.”

  “I just want to know what the deal is.”

  There was no mistaking the implication and the event. But beyond the shock of it was the nagging question. How did this recording arrive here at precisely this moment in time? Who had put it in the stereo?

&
nbsp; “A nice blow job once a week, say. Is that too much to ask?”

  There was a pause.

  “Shut it off!”

  Victoria’s shriek reverberated through the house. It was primal, a furious testimony to her pain. Josh was so horrified by her scream that his grip loosened. Victoria darted for the stereo and slammed the power button. The recorded conversation was silenced. She collapsed in a heap on the floor, hysterical, beating her fist into the carpet.

  Josh felt rooted to the spot. Questions poured into his mind. Victoria had made this recording, had offered herself for the cause of her child. That deduction and the use for which it was intended were clear. Suddenly he turned and surveyed the people in the room. One person, Michael, was clearly among the missing.

  But before he could calculate his response, something else was happening in the house.

  His nostrils quivered with recognition. Panic seized him. Something was burning.

  Chapter 17

  When Victoria heard her own words floating through space over the speakers, she thought she was caught in some hideous nightmare. She felt helpless, trapped in a whirlpool, unable to tear free, struggling against a relentless downward pull that carried her into a bottomless black hole. Then reality intervened and she fervently wished that she were back in the hole.

  She felt the intense agony of mortification, discovered as she performed some shamefully obscene act, which, of course, she had. Her first instinct was to obliterate the sound, but Josh had restrained her, forcing her to endure the horror of her humiliation.

  Everything was awry, her emotional and mental state barely endurable. She had been responsible for three blatant acts of mindless violence, all totally out of the mainstream of any previous personal experience. She had struck her beloved son, and then lashed out at a symbolic plaster figure as if it had a living presence. Finally, she had deliberately, with malice clearly in her mind, sought to murder an innocent cat. What had she become? These acts went to the heart of her identity.

  Worst of all, she found it difficult to recognize her own children. They seemed to have evolved into hostile strangers. Even the weird alliance with her mother was more aberrational than natural.