A Lethal Legacy (3 page)

My father, Stanley,
and his brother, Philip, stood side-by-side waiting for me to join them after I
had received congratulations from all of the other families waiting for their
sons. The contrast between the two brothers was as different as Ypsilanti and
Ann Arbor, their respective homes.

Their personalities
always clashed, but I had never really noticed the physical differences. They
shared some similar features, like the receding hairline and the sandy blonde
hair turning a dusty gray; just enough features in common for someone to know
they were related. However, over the years, those similarities had taken
different courses.

Both were tall men
although Philip was slightly taller now, as my father seemed to be shrinking
before my eyes. Philip wore a dark sports jacket with a pressed white shirt and
bright red tie. His polished loafers provided a stark contrast to the dull
working shoes that covered my father's feet. My father had worn his best
flannel pea coat for the occasion, but it looked old and worn next to Uncle
Philip's flashy attire.

I noticed the
different expressions on their faces as I approached them. My uncle carried the
smile of victory while my father looked at me through squinted eyes and curled
lip. I imagined he would have rather been out with his cronies sucking down a
few beers and bragging about his son than actually being there in person with
me.

My father had never
gone to college and began working in the automobile factories right after high
school. Eventually after the Willow Run plant between Ypsilanti and Detroit
began making automobiles instead of bombers after the war, Stanley managed to
make it as foreman. However, my parents had never known the kind of success that
had come so easily for Claire and Philip. My father didn't know how to manage
his money, or he would have moved us from our small boring tract house years
ago. Instead, he ended up squandering many paychecks at the racetrack and local
bar.

"What a game, Ed!"
My uncle slapped me on the back heartily. "You really showed those
bastards who's boss."

"Philip!"
Aunt Claire said. "Watch your language! People are listening."

"Really, Philip,
keep your voice down," Aunt Susan said.

"Who cares? My
nephew here just played the greatest game ever played in this town, and I'll
say what I want. Right, Stan?"

My father just
grunted and begrudgingly held out his hand to me. "You did all right, son.
I still say you're crazy not to take that scholarship." My father could
never pay me a full compliment.

"Dad,
please." I didn't want to discuss my future right there in the lobby of
the school.

"Stanley, leave
the boy alone," my mother said while reaching up to give me a kiss on the
cheek. "I'm very proud of you, Edward."

"Thanks,
Mom." I smiled down into her hopeful face and winced when I noticed the
moth hole on the collar of her best winter coat.

"You're the
bestest and mostest, Ed." Aunt Claire overshadowed my mother's small frame
as she came into view and grabbed me for a big bear hug. The collar of her fur
coat brushed my nose causing me to sneeze.

"Bless
you," she said.

"Whadda ya say,
Cuz!" Gary came out of the crowd toward me with two girls on his arm.
"Great game!"

"Thanks,
Gar." We shook hands grinning at one another. Even though Gary would have
to suffer through Philip's remarks about my game during the next few days, Gary
was genuinely proud of me. We always banded together against the idiosyncrasies
of our parents in order to survive.

"Bye, Gary. See
ya later, I hope." Gary's girls went off giggling and whispering as we
walked outside toward Uncle Philip's Cadillac parked in front of my father's
plain black Ford.

After our celebratory
dinner, the two families came back to our house for coffee and cake. Philip and
Claire rarely visited us because of our small, cramped home, but tonight we went
to a restaurant in Ypsilanti, so it only made sense that we come back to our
house instead of driving into Ann Arbor to the large sprawling home of the
other Townsend family.

Gary and I took a
long walk around the neighborhood to get away from the badgering of our
parents. Since both of us were only children, in our presence our fathers
wouldn't leave us alone. When Philip and Stanley began drinking whiskey, we
both knew the assault on our shortcomings would be substantial.

"Have you ever
gone all the way?" Gary asked me when we had been walking only a short
while.

"With a
girl?" I asked.

"Of course with
a girl, dummy, what else?" Gary punched my shoulder while smiling at me.

"Have you?"
I wanted to avoid answering as long as possible.

"I asked you
first, but yeah, last weekend."

"Who?" I
asked.

"Just some girl
from school. Cindy's her name. Been all over me all year long, so I thought,
what the heck. What about you?"

"Not all the way,"
I said.

"But
close?"

"Well, I guess.
I know I've wanted to go further, but it never happened. So how was it?"

"That's the
thing." Gary paused and looked at me sideways. "It wasn't any big
deal," he said.

"What do you
mean?"

"I mean I can't
figure out what the big deal is. I never really cared if it happened or not. I
was just curious, and it seemed to mean so much to Cindy, but then
nothing."

"You mean you
couldn’t do it?"

"No, I could do
it, I just didn't feel much of anything."

"Well, maybe
it's just Cindy. You're not in love with her or anything like that, are
you?"

"No, of course
not. She's more persistent than most of the girls I know. Ed, it's like I . .
.,” Gary let out a long sigh and then began sprinting the rest of the way back
to my house.

I followed him
wondering what he had been about to say. When I arrived home, I didn't dwell on
it for very long because Philip and Stanley, both drunk, had begun arguing
about their parents. Aunt Susan decided to drive back to her home in Grosse
Pointe before we got back from our walk, disgusted no doubt with the behavior
of her brothers.

"You're the
bastard that put our mother away," my father yelled at Philip.

"Someone had to;
she was nuts," Philip yelled back.

Stanley tried to grab
Philip's collar, but the whiskey was stronger, and he couldn't lean forward
enough to take hold.

"Let's go,
Philip; you can't settle this tonight." Claire urged her husband toward
the door. "Gary, give me a hand, your father's been celebrating a little
too much tonight. Thanks, Marge, for having us over. I'll call you,"
Claire yelled over her shoulder as she led her husband out the door.

"Leave me alone.
Let that pansy of a son do something for a change," Philip yelled as they
stumbled to the car.

"Gary, drive us
home," Claire said as Gary took the keys from her hand.

He quietly slid
behind the steering wheel of his father's large vehicle. "My pride and
joy," Philip often called it. I looked out the back door and waved to Gary
who looked straight ahead, not noticing me. He waited for his mother to secure
his father in the back seat before putting the car in reverse and backing out
of our driveway.

I tried my best to give Kristina a sense of what it had been like
growing up with a father like Philip Townsend during the 1950s without revealing
everything. Gary remained silent.

"Kris, try not
to blame your father. He did what he thought was right at the time," I said.

"What are you
talking about? How can I not be pissed off knowing my father signed away his
rights to an alcoholic mother who hated me?" Kris jumped up from the couch
and walked deliberately to the balcony doors with clenched fists.

Gary woke up from his
trance and followed Kris, and I watched as the father and daughter, so alike
physically, yet worlds apart emotionally, went out onto the balcony. I saw Gary
speak quietly to Kris. She jerked her head back to look at her father. Then she
shook her head with a sardonic grin looking for a split second just like her
mother.

Gary continued to
talk while Kris listened. I didn't want to intrude on this scene, even though I
couldn't hear what they were saying. I let myself out of the apartment quietly
and took a long walk around the block getting lost in a few art galleries and
antique stores along Royal Street.

When I finally returned,
Gary let me into the apartment. He told me Kris decided to take a nap and
recover from her flight. I thought t she had a lot more from which to recover,
but I kept that thought to myself.

"I think we made
a truce. Fortunately, she knows her mother and knows how unreasonable she can
be at times so that made it easier for her to understand some things. I think
she might be able to forgive me," Gary said with the first grin of the
day.

"I'm glad about
that, Gary. I'm still worried about Kris though."

"Why?"

"She’s your
daughter, but remember Pam and this Oscar guy raised her. Things might not
always go smoothly now that she's back in your life," I said.

Actually, I didn't
tell Gary nearly half of what I was feeling. I didn't tell him about the
nagging dread I felt ever since I arrived. The feeling had only intensified
with Kristina's appearance. I kept my mouth shut because admitting it even
sounded nutty to me.

"She's going to
stay here through Christmas, and then we're both going to Florida for the
holidays." Gary, in his usual manner, decided to ignore my words of
warning.

"Can you imagine
the celebration Claire and the rest will plan? We better warn Kristina about
the Townsend women," I said as I put my arm around his shoulder and gave
him a squeeze.

"It's going to
be all right now, Cuz, I know it. I'm going to get the chance to make it up to
her, you know?" He looked at me as if asking a question, but soon Gary's
old confidence appeared.

"You'd better
get ready for a night on the town with an eighteen year old girl. Are you sure
you're up to it, old man?" Gary asked.

"I can manage
just fine," I told him as I sank down into the couch brushing aside my
fears about Kristina for the moment. "It's you who might be out of
practice."

Gary wasn't the only
one hoping for a second chance. It's just that I wasn't sure what it was I
needed to take care of during this second go around with Kristina.

I had a new topic for
my journal that night before I fell asleep. A character based on Kristina's
life seemed too tempting to ignore.

She grew into a young woman never knowing what it meant to be
loved. Many looked at her, many held her, many touched her, but no one ever
broke through her hardened shell into her heart. It would take someone with
patience and strength to give her what she had never known.

During the night, I
heard something near my head as I lay on the couch in the living room. At first,
I thought I had been dreaming so I lay there listening with my eyes closed, and
then I heard it again. I reached for the lamp next to me. As light flooded the
room, my eyes made an uneasy adjustment while focusing on Kristina standing in
front of me with my pants in her hands and her hands in my pants. She quickly
dropped them to the floor.

"What are you
doing?" I asked.

"I thought these
were mine. Sorry."

"You thought
your pants were in the middle of the living room floor next to where I'm
sleeping?" I needed a moment to clear my head before dealing with this
confusing story.

" I said I was
sorry. Go back to sleep." She started back down the hallway.

"Wait a second,
Kristina. What were you looking for?"

"Nothing. I told
you. I thought they were mine." She turned to leave once again.

"And I don't
believe you," I said in a voice I hadn't used since I left teaching.

"What're going
to do? Arrest me?" She held her wrists out toward me.

"I just want to
know why you tried to rip me off."

"Look, forget it;
I said I was sorry, didn't I? I'm short on cash, that's all, OK?"

I looked at her bowed
head and half believed she felt contrition for her attempted theft.

"You know if you
need the money either your father or I would gladly give you some."

"I'm sorry, Ed,
really." She looked at me once again with that trapped sense of fear – the
deer caught in the headlights look – not guilty, just scared and frozen.

"Listen, I've
forgotten it already. OK, Kristina?" Somehow, even though she had been
trying to steal from me, I felt the need for her approval and acceptance as I
became mesmerized by her deep blue eyes. "Here, take this," I said as
I handed her a fifty-dollar bill.

"Thanks, Ed.
You're all right." She came closer to accept the money.

She looked so pitiful
that I couldn't help but hold out my arms to offer comfort and assurance. She
pressed herself against me until I could feel her breasts molding themselves
into my chest. I forgot everything except for the sensation of a beautiful
woman persistently pushing against me.

"Ed, hold me,
please. I get so scared sometimes," she softly mumbled into my neck. It
felt as if she was trying to climb inside of me.

I held her, caressing
her back and rubbing her neck all the while becoming aware that her closeness
to me had begun to create confusing sensations within me. She turned her face
up to mine and began kissing me. When I felt her tongue slide inside my mouth,
I came to my senses.

"Kristina, stop.
We can't do this, stop." I pushed her away from me. I looked at her in
dismay as she brought her hand to her mouth and rubbed her lips.

"You can't say
you didn't like it, though, can you? I guess you don't have the same problems
as Gary, huh? And, Ed? It's Kris, not Kristina." She had become the tough
street kid once again, more like her mother than ever.

"You will always
be Kristina to me. I can't call you Kris. Sorry," I said.

Her eyes filled with
tears, and she turned away from me. She sat down on my makeshift bed and wiped
her eyes.

"Kristina, can
you answer a question for me?" She looked up at me. "Just tell me one
thing. Why did you come here?"

"To meet my
dad."

"Yes, I know
that's what you told Gary. But it's just you and me now. Why did you
come?" I asked.

"I came because
I got kicked out of the house and there was a warrant for my arrest for breaking
and entering, and I didn't have a dime to my name. But if you tell Gary, I'll
deny it and say you're crazy. He's so happy that I've come here, I could sell
him the Brooklyn Bridge, don't you think, Cousin Ed?"

Her tone changed from
a frightened seductress into a tough con artist right before my eyes. She still
looked like Gary, but her physical demeanor had changed along with the tone of
her voice. She tossed her long black mane behind her and held her head at a
defiant angle. I tried to ignore the ample breasts she thrust out for my
attention.

"Listen,
Kristina, drop the act with me. I'm not going to hurt you, but I'm also not
going to let anyone hurt Gary."

"Are you going
to tell Gary what happened tonight?"

"What happened
tonight?" I asked as I sat down next to her. I playfully tugged at her
hair, and she slapped at my hand.

"That's the way
you want to play it, huh?" She reached over and touched my face and looked
at me trustingly.

I leaned down and
kissed her longingly and thoroughly. Shaken by the sudden emotion overpowering
me, I lost sight of everything but this lovely, vulnerable woman sitting next
to me so obviously in need of love. She returned the kiss with equal passion.
When our lips finally parted, we sat and held each other, spent from the
outburst that moved me to forget our age difference, our relationship, and our
reason for being in this apartment.

"Ed, have you
ever been married?" Kristina finally asked me.

I pulled away
slightly and looked at her. "Yes, twice."

"You're not
married now?"

"No, I've been
divorced from my second wife for almost ten years."

"How could
someone as good as you not stay married?"

I searched her face
for a hint of sarcasm in her last words, but I found only a sincere woman
asking a question that puzzled her.

"Let's just say
I'm not as perfect as you might think."

"Gambler,
womanizer, drunk? I don't think so."

"No, it's much
more complicated than that. Funny thing, I've never thought about it much.
Sometimes I think I just didn't care enough," I said more to myself than
Kristina.

I pulled her close to
me once again, and I thought about my first experiences with the opposite sex.

Ypsilanti High School
did win the state football championship in 1959, and I received many offers to
play football at the biggest schools in Michigan, but I refused all of them.

"Are you
crazy?" my father would shout night after night.

"Don't you want
to be a success like your Uncle Philip?" my mother would ask. This
question would send my father into spasms of coughing and yelling and spitting
while fire engine red color rose from his collar to his forehead. It was the
most emotion I had ever seen my father display.

"Like his
Uncle
Philip
! What the hell is that? He's going to be better than my brother.
He's nothing compared to my boy." That was the closest I ever came to
receiving praise from my father.

Most of these
discussions about my future ended then because my mother would spend the next
hour assuring my father that she had meant no harm when she inferred that
Philip had reached a level of success beyond his brother, Stanley.

But compared with my
parents, Philip and Claire had achieved tremendous prosperity, and I wanted to
be nothing like either of them. With their bridge games and country club
memberships, Philip and Claire's lives reeked of superficiality. In a way,
their lives were even sadder than my parents' lives. At least Claire had some
character and personality.

Gary and I talked
during our senior year of many things, but we never talked about the opposite
sex again. Gary continued to date many different girls even though Cindy still
pursued him relentlessly. She gave up her virginity to him, and she needed
something in return for her sacrifice.

Even when I managed
to go all the way with my steady girlfriend, Sally, I didn't confide in Gary.
My experience had been something very different from the description of his
first time, and somehow I knew telling him about my own moment of ecstasy would
make matters worse for him.

After my first
experience, I wanted to shout from the mountaintops, if there had been any in
Michigan, that I had the most wonderful girl in the world. I had already given
her my ring that she wore with strings of Angora holding it in place. We had
talked about marriage; otherwise, Sally wouldn't even have considered allowing
me to become so intimate with her. I certainly felt something for her, and I
wanted to feel it again as soon as possible.

When Gary and I did
get together during our busy senior year, we mostly talked about the future. I
decided I wanted to go to Eastern Michigan University in Ypsilanti. It had one
of the state's best teacher preparation programs. I knew I really wanted to be
a writer, but I was realistic enough to know I would need to do something else
to support myself. By default, I pursued an English degree in secondary
education. I had already applied for a few scholarships and planned on working.
Unlike Gary, I had to figure out a way to pay for my education. And if I stayed
in Ypsilanti, I could still live at home and at least spare myself the expense
of a dorm.

On the other hand,
Gary wanted to leave the area as soon as possible. His father's attacks became
more and more vicious after my triumph in football. Gary really did need to get
away from him. Claire's intervention between father and son sometimes made
things worse so she began to encourage Gary's desire to leave home for college.

He decided to pursue
criminal justice, and with luck, he hoped to attend law school. His father had
no use for a career in law, probably for the simple reason that Gary wanted to
pursue it. When his acceptance to Michigan State came, Gary decided East
Lansing was far enough away, yet close enough to come home when he wanted to
see his mother and me.

My feelings for Sally
began to change within a few months of our first sexual encounter. I found
myself only wanting to be with her if I knew we could be intimate. She thought
we would marry as soon as we graduated from college. It became apparent to me
that I had to break it off with Sally before she left for college, but I
dreaded the encounter. She was what we called a "good girl" in those
days, and she only gave into my pressure because I made vague promises to her
during the heat of my passion.

She bored me
intellectually so conversations were limited. She didn't want to talk about
ideas, except if they had to do with setting up house in four years. She talked
endlessly about the style of houses, color of paint, thickness of carpets, and
type of appliances. At eighteen, none of these things remotely interested me.
In fact, whenever she started her litany of things she wanted when we married,
I felt as if a noose dropped around my neck, and with each mention of her list,
the rope tightened.

Sally was going to
Northern Michigan University in Marquette, 400 miles away in the Upper
Peninsula or U.P., as any true Michigander would say. In my teenage mind,
having a girlfriend so far away was intolerable. If she went to a school
nearby, we would at least have our sexual relationship to enjoy, but the
combination of her uninteresting personality and no sex held no appeal for me.
And I was beginning to feel like a cad for only wanting her for sex. Even
through the fog of my intense hormones, I knew I wasn't being fair to her. And
I didn't even think about the possibility of seeing other girls while she still
wore my ring.

I didn't need to
worry for very long. One night, just before leaving for Marquette, Sally made a
remark about how far away she would be. Much to my surprise, she gave me a
reprieve.

"You know,
Eddie, I'm going to be awfully lonely up in the U.P.," she began.

"It's a long
way, that's for sure," I said.

"You probably
won't be able to visit, and I won't be able to come home except at
Christmas."

"That's
true."

"I've been
thinking, Eddie, honey. You know that I want to join a sorority, and there will
be lots of dances and socials, and I’d hate to go to those things by
myself." Her voice began rising to that high-pitched resonance I had begun
to hate.

"I agree,
Sal."

"What do you
mean?"

"I agree that
you shouldn't go to those things by yourself."

"So, are you
saying, I should date other boys?" She turned to look at me.

"I would hate
it, but I think it would only be fair to you. I'll manage, but it will be
difficult."

"Oh, Eddie, I
knew you'd understand! When I come home for Christmas, we can see how we feel
about one another. You're really the only one I love, but I couldn't stand
being home all alone on a Saturday night when everybody else is out having a
good time."

"I wouldn't want
you to sit home alone, Sally."

I listened to her go
on and on about the new social life she would have and wondered how I ever
thought I could marry this girl who was rambling on about what color she should
wear to the first formal dance. At least, she wasn't decorating our house any
more.

"How about one
last fling before you go off?" I nuzzled her ear. I would do anything to
get her to shut up.