Fred & Mary

by Kipjo Ewers

  Mr. Garrett had a frozen confused look on his visage as if it was taking his brain a dial-up minute to process what his son had just said to him.

  “What did you just say to me boy?”

  “How dare you think you can put yourself and me on any level when it comes to my wife and mom?” Fred answered with an ice-cold tone.

  “Again, what do you mean by that, and think very carefully before answering Fred.”

  “I’m talking about the first Christmas mom spent in the United States, alone and in tears while you were out partying and fucking Olivia Spangle. I’m talking about when Judith Hamper came to the house with a butcher knife to stab mom while she was three months pregnant with Veronica, because she was in love with you, and pissed because mom wouldn’t stop having babies. Then there was Estelle Winters, one of your drivers who you were fucking in New York while you were expanding your territory on the East Coast, and then Brittany Mathers and Jessica Ang, two of your former assistants. But the greatest offense was Angela Walters, who gave birth to a half sister I do not know to this day, which broke my mother’s heart because she wanted another baby but couldn’t have one because of how badly her last miscarriage messed her up.”

  Fred’s words stomped out his father’s aggressiveness forcing him to sit back in his seat. His eyes no longer had the strength to look at his son as he stared at his plate.

  “When did she tell you?” He shifted in his seat.

  “She told V and I the whole story when we were old enough, I knew things were not alright when I was ten. You guys weren’t as quiet as you thought you were.”

  “Are you going to listen to my side?” Mr. Garrett swallowed.

  “You stopped having a side after number two,” Fred sneered. “I been trying to decide what’s makes you a more despicable person. The fact that you couldn’t keep your dick out of every little Miss Mary Jane Rotten Crotch you saw, or the fact that you wouldn’t help mom go back to school like she wanted to. You selfish son of a bitch, not only did you have the money, but it was a simple paper you had to sign, and you took that away from her. Instead, you thought it was better that she worked and helped you in the very office you were doing your dirt. You reduced my mother who was a proud, loving, educated woman into a punch line for your employees and whores. I find it laughable that you would give me any advice about matters of the heart when you either don’t have one or don’t have a fucking clue.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean how you humiliated me after Sarah Evans broke up with me,” Fred raised his voice. “My first love, not some crush; the first person I ever loved, before I met Mary. The day she broke up with me and shattered my heart into pieces, I was a mess. So much so that I stood out in the pouring rain of the garage so distraught, Frank and Eddie had to call you to get me. And when you came out there, what did you do? What did you do?”

  His father turned his head looking out the window, clearly uncomfortable about going down memory lane.

  “You came out there yelling and cursing at me,” Fred answered snorting. “You yoked me up, threw me into the car, and called me every single fucking insulting name in the book all the way home. All you cared about was that I was embarrassing you and your business. And you just kept going and going all the way until we got inside the house, till I couldn’t take it anymore and broke down crying. Then you just looked and me, and asked ‘if I needed a shrink.'

  When what I needed was a hug, a pat on the shoulder, a reassurance that what I was feeling and going through was okay, and that it was going to pass. And all I got from you was I should get my head checked.”

  Fred slumped back in his chair as a sinister cackle came over him.

  “I just realized what pisses me off the most about what you did to mom.” Fred wagged a finger at his father. “You pursued her. You convinced her to follow you all the way from yard to the states, just so that you could hurt her. And you think you balanced it out with a big ass house, a maid who I am pretty sure you were also fucking, a new car every five years, some vacations and the finer things in life?”

  Fred leaned in with a visage of savage rage.

  “From her lips, the only joy my mother got out of being with you was when she had Veronica and me. The only reason she stayed was despite it all she still saw a ‘good man’ in you who she knew ‘at least’ loved us, and she didn’t want us to grow up without a father …that was it.”

  The mood of the lunch was arctic cold as Mr. Garrett continued to stare out the window unable to look at his son.

  “So how long were you waiting to unload all of that on me?” His father asked.

  “That’s the problem pop, I was going to take all of this to my own grave until you opened your mouth,” Fred sighed. “But here you go again, being you and never disappointing. I’m sorry, but I could give two shits if you are embarrassed because your son is running around with a doll. I prefer it to putting a gun in my mouth and blowing my brains out, which is what I have felt like doing almost every single day for a year since my wife was murdered.”

  Fred got up from the table going for his wallet.

  “The reason why your son and daughter don’t want any part of the legacy you built is because it was made at the expense of our mother’s misery. We also like what we do, and are good at it. Thanks for lunch; I’ll find my way back to my office.”

  Fred pulled out a hundred dollar bill covering his half of lunch and the tip chucking it on the table. He walked out not giving his father a second look.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Once outside his body would not stop trembling as he held out a hand to wave down a taxi. He paused for a minute to look at his watch which violently buzzing on his arm.

  “Are you okay?” She asked.

  “Yes and no,” he answered with a quivering voice as he fought not to break down in public.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because despite it all …I still love the son of a bitch,” He quickly wiped his eyes. “I couldn’t take you looking at him as a monster, even though he deserves it.”

  CHAPTER 11

  A full three days had passed since Fred’s intervention and his meeting with his father. He and Barney were not on speaking terms. Whatever conversations they had was either done through email, their employees, or during meetings with upper management.

  Mary pressed Fred to find a way to reconcile with Barney. Fred, however, remained headstrong and stubborn that he did nothing wrong, that it was everyone else sticking their nose into their business, and they including Barney should be apologizing to them.

  Fred being dogged brought tension back into his home between him and Mary which he did not want. What time they had together was supposed to be spent enjoying one another, not bickering, especially about their friends and family.

  As the work day came to an end, Fred once again rushed out of the office to get home. Mary had barely spoken to him all day, and he wanted to get home to see if he could get back to being just them, and forgetting about other personal problems he would have to deal with himself in the real world when one stood at his car waiting for him.

  Fred slowed his pace nearing the Jeep as the last person he expected to see stood leaning against it with her arms folded waiting for him.

  Veronica’s face turned to one of nervousness the second she saw her brother’s irritated visage coming toward her. Out of nowhere, she reached into her purse pulling out a small white handkerchief which she preceded to wave innocently.

  Fred stopped in his tracks and found it hard to keep the scowl of betrayal on his face.

  “Truce,” Veronica held her other hand up. “Can we call a truce?”

  “When was the last time we called one of those?” Fred asked as he folded his arms.

  “I think it was high school. You tried to kill me when I busted the chain and stabbed holes in the tires of your brand-new mountain bike.�
�

  “Oh yeah,” he rubbed his chin. “What did I do again?”

  “You switched my talcum powder with itching powder. Fucking Asshole,” Veronica scowled. “Everyone thought I had crabs …including Scott Fletcher.”

  The trip down memory lane made Fred burst out laughing. His sister wore a face like she wanted to belt him, but even she could not keep it straight for long.

  “We use to talk about everything Fred,” she got serious again, “Everything.”

  Fred lowered his head and nodded acknowledging her truth.

  “The intervention was a shitty idea, and I wouldn’t have agreed to it if you didn’t shut me out, to hell with everyone else, but me Fred? Even though you can be a dick sometimes …you’re the most important person in my life. All I want to know is what is going on, and that you’re okay, that’s all.”

  “I’m alright V.” He sighed.

  “Then prove it. I know it’s late, but just have coffee with me …right now. Just talk to me, make me understand. As long as you’re not hurting yourself, you’ll get no judgment from me. I swear.”

  Fred huffed and nodded in agreement. She was right. In his mind, everyone else could kiss his rear from one side of the street to the next, but Veronica was his rock, the same way he was hers. It wasn’t fair to leave her out in the cold, especially when she put her back up against his leaning house to keep it from falling and shattering like an egg.

  They drove to a nearby diner; whereas promised she sat down with her mouth shut and listened. She listened as Fred told her everything, well almost everything. He left out the part in which his deceased wife was communicating with him through his devices and using the doll as a body to interact with him.

  “So, you’re both dating and sleeping with a doll.”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay,” she nodded.

  “Okay?” He sat back in his seat narrowing his eyes.

  Fred was waiting for the shoe to drop, but Veronica instead took a sip of her Chive Latte and waited for them to move onto a different subject.

  “Okay,” she shrugged.

  “The fact that you’re taking this so well after two nights ago, kind of worries me.”

  “You contemplating suicide?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Abusing drugs or alcohol?”

  “No.”

  “Having unprotected sex with random people?”

  “No.”

  “Having unprotected sex with random animals?”

  “What the …?” He scowled, “Hell no.”

  “Well then I’m good,” she scoffed. “Like you so forcefully said, you still manage to get up every morning, handle your responsibilities and take on life. Dating and banging a doll while you sort through something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy is music to my ears now that I understand it. Shit, Hank is one step away from me trading his ass in and buying one myself. Who wouldn’t want a man who doesn’t stink, doesn’t scratch his nuts and sniff it, doesn’t say stupid shit, and can put twelve thick inches of rock hard …”

  “I get the point.” Fred held a hand up begging for her to stop the disturbing image she was about to etch into his skull.

  “We keep forgetting that there’s no official rule book to life, Fred,” Veronica said while leaning forward a bit. “The second we come out and are smacked on the ass we’re given rules and guidelines of how everyone before us ‘thinks’ we should act, but it’s not something written in stone. Because A) everyone is an individual, and B) life sadly is unpredictable. So, anyone who’s out there says there’s an official ‘manual’ is an outright bullshit artist.”

  “Someone would say the Bible is an official Handbook.”

  Veronica choked mid sip on her Latte while attempting to get out a chuckle due to his response.

  “The same Book responsible for the Spanish Inquisition, the Crusade, slavery here in this country, as well as other atrocities throughout history including sexual child abuse? Whatever good intentions God had for It were tainted the second he put that Book in the hands of man, damn Thing’s got more blood on It than any other weapon ever created.”

  “That’s kind of atheist – like,” Fred raised a stunned eyebrow.

  “I’m not an atheist …I’m a realist,” she defended herself. “And back to the topic at hand. Are you happy?”

  He thought about it for a minute. He didn’t notice his sister’s wide-eyed reaction to the sizable smile that appeared on his face.

  “Yeah …I am.”

  “Then as long as you don’t shut me out again,” Veronica smirked. “We’re good. I also approve of your selection.”

  “You do?” He grinned.

  “I think she looks hot,” Veronica nodded. “I went on the website that same night to check out the product line, and she looks way better than some of the busted bitches on there, especially the ones they molded from porn stars. I’d also kill to have her rack, being human sucks sometimes.”

  “Hank isn’t happy?” Fred furrowed his brow.

  “Ain’t got a damn thing to do with Hank,” Veronica snorted while grabbing her chest. “I got aunt Flo’s boobs, which are nice for now until I hit forty and they get National Geographic on me. I wish I got mom’s; hers were nice, full, and perky. I saw plenty of dude’s neck snap during the summer time, even in her covered up white blouses. Church was the worse. Probably why dad stopped going, remember poor Mr. Barker?”

  “I remember dad asking him the probability of God giving him back his eyes after he ripped them out of his skull,” Fred grunted. “I think he went to a different church after that.”

  “Mom was a looker,” Veronica sighed. “Dad didn’t know what he had. I’m glad I got her ass though.”

  “Okay, changing the subject from you and our mother’s boobs and ass. Fred rattled his skull to force the disturbing images out. “What’s going on with you and Hank?”

  “Being a dick as usual,” She rolled her eyes. “We got into another argument.”

  “New York again?”

  “He tried to give me an underlined ultimatum,” she snorted, “Forgot I’m the wrong chick to do that with. We’re going to end up breaking up, it’s inevitable.”

  Fred cleared his throat preparing to choose his words carefully towards his sister who was not judging his current life choices.

  “You know V; Hank is a good guy. You two are clearly crazy about each other, and it’s not like you couldn’t get a permanent transfer to your company’s New York office …”

  “I’m not moving my entire life across the country for any fucking man,” she glared at him. “I’m not going to end up like mom.”

  Fred nodded dropping the subject before he ended up with scalding hot coffee on his face.

  “V … can I ask you something?” He began to trace on the table with his pointing finger.

  “That’s a stupid question. Shoot.”

  “Do you believe in God?” He glanced up at her. “Do you think there’s a heaven somewhere?”

  She leaned back giving it a serious thought.

  “Despite my issues with religion,” she answered while biting her bottom lip. “Yeah …I do. Why do you ask?”

  “I want to believe Mary and mom are in a better place,” Fred answered while staring out the window. “I got to believe …I’m going to see them again.”

  “Not anytime soon?” She asked with some concern in her voice.

  “I told you I’m not suicidal,” He gave her a side-eye. “You can’t go to heaven if you kill yourself remember?”

  “Oh yeah,” Veronica nodded. “Constantine …John Constantine…asshole.”

  Her movie reference brought a smile back to his face as he continued to start out the window while feeling his sister’s hand covering his own giving him some sibling comfort.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Minutes later, Fred and Veronica drove together back to his apartment. Fred g
enuinely wanted to catch up with his sister after not seeing each other due to their crazy work schedules. It was also a tactical move. He wanted to show Mary that he was making some progress in mending the fences with the people who were important in their lives.

  “So, you don’t feel weird taking her out on dates?” Veronica inquired as she followed him up the steps.

  “Not at all,” Fred shrugged. “At first glance, people think she’s a real person. The looks usually come when we’re sitting somewhere for a long time. A lot are generally friendly, some even ask to take pictures with us, well more with her than me.”

  “What about people asking you why you do it?” She asked with a hint of concern in her voice.