Revenge of Cornelius

by Tanya R. Taylor

  After Bobby left, Mira stood up and faced her mother.

  "You're keeping something from me. What's wrong with Dad?"

  Mira's question was greeted by an eerie silence, then Sara turned away and sat down on the sofa. She patted the cushion next to her and Mira sat there.

  "Sweet pea, there's something I need to tell you."

  Mira felt her heart sinking at that moment. Her gut told her that what she was about to hear would not be good.

  Sara took her daughter's hand into hers and sighed heavily. "Honey, your father is very sick. He's been for some time now."

  She had Mira's full attention.

  "I wanted to tell you and your brother so badly, but your father absolutely forbade me."

  "Tell us what, Mom?"

  Sara's expression revealed that she was searching for the 'right' words. With a look that ushered a wave of sadness in the space between them, she said: "Your father has stage four lung cancer, dear."

  Mira stared back in utter shock.

  "His chance for survival isn't good at all," Sara added.

  "What?" Mira shook her head slowly as if trying to line up the jumbled thoughts in her mind in some particular order. "Are you saying he's going to die?"

  Sara saw the tears quickly forming in her daughter's eyes, the sight of which pierced her heart. "Anything is possible, dear. By some miracle, your father could recover."

  "We're not talking miracles, Mom. At this point of the illness, could Dad die? Tell me straight up 'cause I need to know!"

  Sara shut her eyes, then looked at Mira again.

  "Yes, honey. The tumor is malignant. The disease is terminal. I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry." No longer able to hold back her own tears, she pulled Mira close and they embraced tightly. "I wanted so badly to tell you and Wade what was going on, but I couldn't dishonor your father's wishes. He didn't want anyone pitying him and was determined to only reveal what was happening once his condition started to deteriorate. I'm afraid he's at that point now."

  Mira pulled away. "How long have you two been hiding this from us?" she asked.

  "It's only been a few months since we found out." Sara started to dry her tears.

  "But Dad's been complaining about back pain. Does that have anything to do with the cancer?"

  "Yes. It's because of the size of the tumor and where it's situated. The disease has also progressed to his bones now." Sara explained.

  "But how could he have lung cancer? Dad never smoked."

  "You're right. He never did, but he does have a genetic predisposition to it."

  "This can't be happening." Mira stood up, combing her fingers through her hair. "This just can't be happening! And regardless of what Dad wanted, how could you keep such a secret from his own children for so long?"

  Sara could see that Mira's sadness was now intermingled with anger. She stood up as well.

  "Mira, I know you find this difficult to understand and I'm sure your brother will too, but Michael—your dad—is my husband. We've been married for thirty years and I love him. I've loved him before you and Wade ever came along and I have to respect his wishes above all—no matter how unreasonable they seem to be. He doesn't have much time left with us and he didn't want to cause you and Wade, and the grandchildren so much sorrow before he passed. That's why he chose to wait until the time was getting closer. You may think it was quite selfish of your father, but in my eyes, it's probably the most selfless thing he has ever done. He did it for you all—not for himself. It's okay if you're mad at me, but don't be upset with your father."

  Mira tried her best to restrain the tears, but they kept defying her. She hugged her mother again. "I'm not mad at you or Dad, Mom. I know you would never go against his wishes. I'm so sorry."

  "Don’t be, honey." She cupped Mira's face. "Now look. We'll all get through this together as a family, all right?"

  Mira nodded. "This must have been so hard on you."

  "Your father's the one who's had the toughest time. On top of dealing with the illness, he had to keep up with his 'tough guy routine' to pretend that everything was normal. Yes, it was difficult going along with that, but as I saw how hard he was trying, I couldn't allow myself to be weak, sweet pea. I had to be strong just like him."

  Thinking back, Mira couldn't remember admiring her mother more than she did that day. Her mother's love for her father reminded her so much of Karlen Key's undying love for Andy. She didn’t believe there was any possible way she could love her mother any more than she did already, but in that moment, it proved that she could — and she did.

  Sara took Mira's hand and they sat down again. "On the way here, your father told me that it was time to let you guys know what was going on. I can't tell you how much of a relief that was. I felt a huge burden lift up off my shoulders, though simultaneously, a new one was descending because I had to break the terrible news to you and your brother."

  Mira squeezed her mother's hand. "So when will you tell Wade?"

  "I'll call him when I think he's home from work," Sara replied.

  "What about chemotherapy? How's that been going?"

  "No chemo. Your father absolutely refused. He says he's not going out feeling sicker than he already feels sometimes. After the prognosis and having been told by Dr. Leo that it was a one percent chance that he could survive the disease, your dad decided that he wasn't going to do the treatments."

  "You didn't try to convince him otherwise?" Mira asked.

  "I did, but he totally rejected the idea. Dr. Leo couldn’t persuade him either. You know how stubborn your father can be."

  "Yeah." Mira got up again.

  "Where are you going?"

  "For a walk."

  "When are you getting Rosie?" Sara asked.

  "In a while. You think Dad's asleep?"

  "Yes. He took some of his prescription meds - one of them tend to make him a bit drowsy."

  Mira went to the bathroom and washed her face, all the while feeling like she was in a bad dream. "Rosie…" she uttered softly, looking into the large, oval mirror. "How could I ever tell her that her Pops is dying? How could I?" She covered her face with both hands as tears streamed vigorously through the spaces of her fingers.

  "Are you all right, honey?" Sara was at the door.

  Mira patted her face dry. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine." She opened up and Sara could see the sadness on her face.

  "Are you going to be okay?"

  "Yes, I will. Right now, it's Rosie I'm worried about," Mira revealed.

  "You don’t have to tell her anything right now, Mira."

  "You know she's very intelligent, Mom. With Dad not feeling well and looking the way he did when he walked through that door a while ago, Rosie would know that something's not right."

  "I understand, but listen… your father doesn't want Rosie with this information just yet. He doesn't want to spoil her trip—the precious moments he has left with her. Just be strong for her, please. When it's time for her to be told, we'll all know."

  Mira considered her mother's plea. She ultimately agreed.

  * * *

  The sky appeared completely starless as the moon gave off its light. An eerie stillness had found its way there once again. Lying next to her husband, Andrea Benjamin gazed outside through the open window at the blackness which seemed better to her than closing her eyes to sleep. She glanced over at Theo who had drifted off long ago into a welcoming dreamland or perhaps a dreamless sleep. How unlucky Andrea felt as night-time, as of late, had proven to be one of her greatest adversaries.

  She felt a cold brush of wind sweep past her, then another, then another, but she knew it was no ordinary wind. It was them. They were there again. She inched closer to Theo and pulled the covers up above her chest.

  Another passed by, then another, then another. Her head was darting in all directions hoping to get a glimpse of them, but it was too dark and she was simply too afraid to reach for the light. The last time proved a terrible mistake as
the deep gash had bled profusely for the longest time. Her fear was tangible, thick and debilitating. Then…

  "Ow!" she shrieked in pain.

  Theo was jerked out of sleep.

  "Ow!" Andrea felt another one. She was sitting up now.

  After reaching for the lamp switch, Theo instantly spotted the long trail of blood that had seeped through the back of his wife's nightgown.

  "Oh, no!" he quietly exclaimed. "Andrea…"

  The look on her narrow face was one of consummate terror. Theo pulled the thin straps down from her shoulders and what came into view were dozens of gashes across her back, mostly around four to five inches in length—some of them completely mended, others only partially, and then there was the freshest one. "My God…" Theo was at a loss for words.

  "They did it again, Theo…." Andrea sobbed. "They won't leave us alone!"

  Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream escaped the vicinity of Alex's room and Theo and Andrea pitched up and shot down the hallway in the boy's direction.

  On arrival at the bedroom, Theo switched on the light and Andrea flew right past him toward her son.

  Alex was buried under the thin covers, shaking uncontrollably.

  Andrea threw the covers off and cradled him in her arms. "What's wrong, honey?"

  "I saw them Mama. Even more came this time."

  Andrea glanced up at Theo.

  "Saw who, Son?" Theo probed.

  "You know who!" Andrea snarled. "This isn't the first time we're having this conversation."

  She turned to Alex again. "Did they hurt you, honey?"

  "No, Mama. They never hurt me, but he wants to… I just know it!" His eyes were glued to the closet.

  Andrea and Theo's followed his.

  "No one's there now, honey. They're all gone." She tried to assure the frightened child.

  "But they always come back, Mama. They always come back!"

  "Everything's fine. Mama and Daddy's here now." She could still see the fear in those innocent eyes of his. "Let me have a look, okay?"

  "Okay," he softly consented.

  Andrea pulled up Alex's shirt and carefully examined his chest, back and neck, then proceeded to the lower extremities. When she was finished, she pulled down his shirt again and breathed a sigh of relief. Theo stood nearby, silently watching.

  "He hates me, Mama," Alex said.

  "Who are you talking about, honey?" Andrea asked.

  "Mister Koney."

  Theo and Andrea glanced at each other, then re-focused on the boy.

  "I don't know why he hates me."

  Andrea was puzzled by the child's claims as she had no idea who this Mister Koney was.

  "Don't worry, I will sleep in here with you tonight, okay?" she said.

  Alex nodded.

  Theo remained in the room as his wife sang softly to Alex. The child eventually drifted off to sleep in his mother's arms.

  "You see what you've caused?" Andrea looked at her husband who had been strangely quiet the whole time.

  "I haven't caused anything!" Theo wasted no time defending himself.

  "I told you we should get out of this house. How much longer must we take this torture, Theo, and what on earth is preventing them from seriously hurting Alex? You see what they've done to me. Are you blind? What kind of man are you?!"

  Theo started pacing the floor. "How do you think we'd look running out of here like a bunch of frightened idiots? What would people say?"

  "You mean after they warned us not to buy this place and you pretty much laughed in their faces, huh?"

  "I think you're blowing this whole matter out of proportion. Look…if this place was really haunted, why isn't anything crazy happening to me? Why am I the odd one out here?"

  Alex was snoring lightly now and Andrea gently pulled the covers up to his waist. She then got up, walked over to Theo and stopped just a few inches from his face.

  "You know what, Theo? I have no idea why nothing crazy is happening to you, but it doesn't make this experience any less real or frightening or torturous for Alex and me. We've been in this house for months now and from the third week, you've witnessed what they've done to me—every single night. You've heard Alex awake with ear-piercing screams and the only thing you can think of is how we'd look? Really? Are you so cold and full of yourself that you can actually entertain denial of the situation even for a second when the facts are staring you right in the face? Do you think I repeatedly slashed my own back while you slept? Do you think Alex and I have invented these stories about what we sense and feel?" Her eyes were welling with tears.

  "We're not leaving under any circumstances, my darling," Theo replied matter-of-factly. "We've come too far in life to just give up on everything now. Look what we have here!" He extended his arms in an outward fashion. "Think of how much we've invested into this place and made it the envy of this neighborhood. How many people like us can say they own the plantation of a former slave master—one who oppressed our people and treated them like animals. Well, I'm spitting in his face now and he's probably turning over in his grave."

  Andrea felt chills creep up her spine as her husband spoke those words, and in his eyes was something she had never seen before: The look of evil.

  "Look at the big picture," he continued. "We've made it this far; we've defied the odds and we're living like the rich, white people now. There's no way in hell I'm giving this up!"

  "I can't believe what I'm hearing." Andrea was completely disappointed. "So, you're saying to me that you will sacrifice your wife and child, the peace of your family, to make a statement to the whole of Mizpah and the world that you've made it and you've made it so far that you should be commended for not only owning, but residing on a former plantation? Theo, in case you didn't remember…slavery is over. It's been over for more than a hundred years. The point you feel the need to prove is senseless, uncalled for and plain stupid! I'm not going to subject Alex to this craziness anymore. If I have to, I'll find a place and we'll leave here for good."

  Theo grabbed his wife by the arm.

  She grimaced in pain. "Let me go this second! You're hurting me!"

  Ignoring her cries, he yanked her again. This time, there was a violent glare in his eyes. "You are not taking my son anywhere and you will not step foot out of this house. How dare you defy me and threaten to bring shame to this family? I am a State senator. Have you lost your mind?"

  She was struggling to break free of him, at the same time not wanting to wake the child. "I'm wondering if you've lost yours. Let me go!"

  Theo looked at Alex who had shifted slightly in bed. He slowly released his grip.

  "Get out of this room!" Andrea charged. "And don't you ever put your hand on me again! If you think shame would follow you if your family left you, Mister Senator, imagine the shame you'd feel if they find out that you put your hand on me like that!"

  Seeing that she meant business, Theo turned and quietly left the room. Andrea shut the door behind him.

  Overwhelmed with mixed emotions, she sat on the chair near the door and sobbed quietly. Feeling helpless and defeated, and also dismayed by her husband's aggressive behavior, she knew above everything that she must protect Alex—at any cost.

  7

  _________________

 

  "Wade's going to try and get here by the weekend," Sara said as she and Mira sipped coffee at the kitchen counter.

  "Dad's not up yet?" Mira asked.

  "No. He was up for most of the night and fell off to sleep again at around four this morning."

  "His back again?"

  "That and the wheezing. You didn't hear it, huh?"

  "No, I didn’t."

  "He's much better now after taking some more meds," Sara stated.

  "Mom, what I don't understand is why you're playing doctor here instead of taking Dad to the hospital where he can get some real help," Mira said.

  "He won't go," Sara replied. "Besides, there's really nothing much tha
t they can do for him at this point other than chemo. Like I said, your father's not considering that option."

  Rosie walked into the living room. "Morning," she said tiredly.

  "Morning to you!" Sara quickly met her. "Do you want waffle pancakes this morning or you'd rather some cereal?"

  "Nana, you know I hate cereal!" Rosie answered.

  "I know," Sara chuckled. "I've already mixed a batch and will fry them up for you right now."

  "Thanks, Nana. I'm going to tell Pops 'morning'."

  "Oh no, dear," Sara quickly replied. "He's fast asleep. Let him get a little more rest, okay?"

  Rosie looked at her mother who appeared to be totally out of it, but managed a half-smile anyway. "O…kay."

  "Come sit here with Mom," Mira offered.

  Rosie climbed up on the stool next to her.

  "Did you sleep well, sweetheart?" Mira patted her knee.

  "Yes, Mom. Did you?"

  Mira's first thought was an honest one. However, her reply was determined to be more comforting. "I slept like a baby." She rubbed her nose to Rosie's.

  The child giggled.

  "Did you sleep well, Nana?" she asked as Sara poured the batch of pancake mix into the frying pan.

  "Like a charm, pumpkin." She smiled lovingly.

  Just then, they heard a door crack open and Michael advanced into the room. Sara quickly lowered the heat on the stove and went to meet him.

  "I'm all right." He put his hand up. "Good morning, everyone."

  Rosie rushed to meet him and he leaned over slightly to hug her.

  Sara helped him back up.

  "I think you should lie down a little while longer, honey."

  "No way!" He shook his head in protest. "My back and that bed aren't the best of friends anyway. I've had enough rest. Came to check on my li'l pumpkin." He smiled at Rosie who was still standing next to him.

  "Dad…" Mira started.

  He made a face that silently said: Lighten up! You don't want to worry Rosie.

  Mira got the message.

  "Pops, come sit here at the counter with me." Rosie took him by the hand.

  "Rosie, Dad's gonna sit at the table today. Why don't you join him there?" Mira interjected.

  "I think that's a fabulous idea!" Michael looked at Rosie.

  As they headed to the table, Mira could see that her father's health was rapidly declining. He was obviously weak, yet valiantly struggled with each step. She knew he was doing it more for Rosie—than for anyone else and seeing him like that deeply saddened her. More distressing was the fact that there was nothing she could do to change the inevitable.