The War of the Roses: The Children (21 page)

“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 blazing 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?

“
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.

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.

It was only then that she was distracted by the odor of burning. She heard her name being called, and then a hand grabbed her arm and lifted her along violently. Josh holding Emily, was moving past the dining room. She noted that the lace curtains had caught fire.

“It was Michael,” Evie cried. “He must have poured too much cognac on the baked Alaska.”

Victoria's mind barely grasped the idea. A house being burned by baked Alaska?

“Michael! Where is Michael?” It was Josh's voice, echoing through the house. It brought her back to reality.

“Michael,” she screamed. “Michael.”

“Everybody out,” Josh shouted.

Emily started to cry, and Victoria saw Josh caress her head and kiss her cheek. He handed her to Victoria.

“Take her out,” Josh ordered. “I'll call the fire department.”

Emily screamed.

“Mikey!”

“Just leave.” His look was pleading. “Please, Victoria,” he added gently.

She ran out the front door and deposited Emily with Evie, who was standing outside and watching the flames, tears streaming down her cheeks, her body shuddering with sobs.

“He wasn't supposed to light the cognac,” Evie blurted. “Emily was going to light the cognac. God, Victoria, I'm so sorry, so terribly sorry.”

“Don't, Evie,” Victoria said. “It's too late for that.”

“It was no accident,” Mrs. Stewart snapped. She stood beside them watching the flames spear out of the dining room window. “It's all her fault. Her and that stupid concoction.”

“Dammit, Mother, won't you ever quit? Even now?” Victoria cried, shaking her head in despair.

“Whose side are you on now?” Mrs. Stewart shouted. “And don't think I'm ever going to forget about your little Boston caper.”

“I hope not, Mother,” Victoria said, her heart pounding with fear for her son. “I hope you never forget.”

“You see what's happening here? Do you see what's happening here?” Mrs. Stewart exclaimed. “This is a direct result….”

“Will you shut up, Mother?” Victoria shouted, almost on the point of another act of violence. In the distance, she could hear the wail of sirens.

“Find Mikey, Mommy,” Emily screeched hysterically. “Find my brother.”

“Please, God. Find my little boy,” Victoria wailed.

“He's probably already out of the house, hiding somewhere. He knows what he's done,” Mrs. Stewart said between pursed lips.

She saw Josh running from the house. As he came closer, she could see the glistening sweat on his face and his expression of agitation.

“Is Michael here?”

Victoria felt her stomach lurch.

“Oh my God,” she cried. “You didn't find him?”

“I looked everywhere,” Josh said. “I called out. He didn't answer.”

He cupped his hands and shouted in all directions.

“Michael! Michael!”

Emily aped his action, her little voice calling out in futility.

“Mikey! Mikey!”

“He's still inside, Josh,” Victoria screamed. “I'm sure of it. You didn't look hard enough.”

The sirens came closer, drowning out their shouts. Then the big trucks careened down the street and the firemen leaped from the trucks before they ground to a halt. Some ran into the house carrying axes and other equipment. Others unloaded the hose and dragged it to a nearby hydrant.

Victoria sprinted over to one of the firemen, Josh following. The flames were spreading through the lower part of the house and gusts of smoke poured out of the windows.

“My son is in there,” she shouted.

“We'll find him,” the fireman barked as he joined the others to pull the hose toward the house. He shouted to the men inside.

“There's a boy in there.”

One of the firemen raised his hand and made an “O” signal of understanding with his fingers.

The lead fireman pulling on the hose pointed it toward the house and soon a heavy spray was blasting its way through the dining room window.

“Find my son. Please,” Victoria screamed hysterically. The force of the water drowned out her screams. Unable to stand about without taking action, she ran through the open front door into the house. Josh followed swiftly behind her.

The fireman who was controlling the hose shouted a warning to the men inside as they moved further into the house. The smoke was intense as Victoria and Josh stumbled and coughed through the downstairs hallway.

“Michael!” Victoria screamed as loud as she could.

“Michael!” Josh shouted in unison.

A fireman brandishing an axe spotted them.

“Get the hell out of here!” he cried. Then he turned to one of the other firemen, who had now grabbed the nozzle of the hose and was directing the spray onto the dining room walls that were now on fire.

Josh grabbed Victoria by the arm and pulled her into the den, shouting Michael's name. They moved through the smoke. The flames were beginning to crawl up the doorpost at the den's entrance and were making their way forward toward the bookcases like some glowing snake.

For a fleeting moment an errant idea passed through her mind. Save the Victoriana. She looked up at the painting of Queen Victoria over the mantle, and then squinted through the smoke at her leather-bound book collection, her wide-brim hats, and the various knickknacks that had once been her pride. They had little relevance now. Her mother's dictum ran through her mind. At that moment they seemed mere useless objects, junk.

“Michael,” she yelled as they moved through the den. “Where are you? Please, darling. I forgive you, sweetheart! Mommy forgives you. Daddy, too. Where are you?”

“Michael!” Josh shouted beside her as they moved through the room. “Answer us. Please, Michael.”

Again and again they called his name as spears of fire reached the bookcases and ignited the books. She saw her leather-bound sets erupting into flames. Josh's collection of advertising art books joined the inferno. It took only seconds for the straw of her large-brimmed Victorian hats that lined the walls to explode and quickly disappear in the holocaust. The destruction made only a minor impact on her emotions as if it were somehow a necessary act to validate an inevitable ending.

“They're in here,” someone shouted. Then she heard footsteps behind her and two burly firemen blocked their path.

“You have got to leave now,” one of the fireman shouted.

“We have to find our son!” Josh screamed.

“If he's here, we'll find him,” the other fireman said, grabbing Victoria's arm. She tried to shake loose.

“I want my son.”

“Please, you're endangering yourselves,” the fireman who held her pleaded.

She squirmed out of his grasp and ran through the room to the hallway. One of the firemen held Josh in a tight grip and began dragging him, kicking and protesting, out of the room.

“Get her,” Josh cried as they pulled him through the door. “Get my wife.”

Victoria was halfway up the stairs before she felt the pull on her ankle.

“Michael, where are you?” she screamed, panicked beyond reason now, kicking wildly, trying to tear herself loose from the fireman's grasp.

“You can't, lady,” the fireman cried. “Be reasonable.”

She held on to the banister, still screaming her son's name. Another fireman came forward and grabbed at her hands, loosening her grip, finger by finger.

“You're not helping us, lady,” the fireman pleaded. “You have got to get out of here.”

Finally, her grip on the banister was loosened and she felt herself being pulled down the stairs. Once she began to face the reality of being overpowered, she stopped all resistance.

The fireman led her out of the house to the front lawn, where the others were waiting. Josh put his arm around her shoulder. She did not shake him away. She looked toward the house. The flames had spread to the kitchen and smoke poured out of the now-smashed windows of the upper floors. She noted that Emily, embracing Tweedledee, was whimpering in Evie's arms.

“Please God, find him!” Victoria cried. “Find my son.” She felt hollow and inert as she continued to observe the burning house.

“I'm sure he's okay,” Mrs. Stewart said as she moved closer to them. “Probably just scared and feeling guilty, and hiding somewhere around here.” She waved her arm to take in the street.

“Guilty?” Victoria said, suddenly energized. She turned to her mother.

Mrs. Stewart looked at her and nodded her head.

“Of course, guilty,” she said. “Is there any doubt about that?”

“I can't listen to this, Mother. Can't you just stop?”

“I'm merely stating what is obvious to all of us.”

“I can't stand this anymore!” Victoria cried, turning her gaze from her mother.

“Where are your brains? Haven't you the slightest bit of sensitivity and understanding?” Josh said angrily. He was enraged. “Our son is missing. He could be in there, in terrible danger. What kind of an unfeeling bitch are you?”

“I hadn't meant….” Mrs. Stewart began making a futile effort at contrition. Failing that she shook her head. “You men….” She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, staring at her daughter. “The truth always hurts,” she said.

Suddenly, Victoria balled her hand into a fist, and in a blind fury, swung out. She struck her mother full on the side of her head. The woman went down like a rock. Not satisfied, Victoria started pummeling her on the ground until Josh pulled her away.

“No, Victoria,” he said. “No.”

He bent down beside Mrs. Stewart. The woman sat on the grass rubbing her head.

“Did you see that?” she cried.

Josh tried to help her up.

“Get your hands off me,” she cried.

“Okay. Then just sit there and keep your goddamn mouth shut,” he ordered.

She struggled to her feet. Victoria felt no pity for what she had done. Instead, her eyes were glued to the burning house.

The fireman continued to fight the blaze. It was dying down now. The lower floor appeared in shambles. Smoke continued to pour out of the upper floors.

“It's all my fault,” Victoria said. She had moved closer to where Josh was standing now. “It's punishment for doing what I did.” A sob escaped her. “For making that stupid tape.”

“Not now, Victoria,” Josh muttered. “This is not your fault.”

“I'd forgotten I hid it in my closet where Michael found it. I'll never forgive myself,” Victoria sobbed.

“For God's sakes, Victoria. Not now.” Josh cried.

She glanced at him, her eyes flickering with pain, then turned away, her gaze concentrated on the house. The area was filled with the acrid smell of dampness, burnt wood, and smoke. In the distance she could make out the sound of an ambulance siren. Then she saw a fireman come through the door cradling a small body in his arms. They both rushed toward him.

“Michael!”

The fireman kneeled to the ground and gently laid the child on the grass. Michael lay lifeless, his face cherry red, his upper body wrapped in what she recognized as her plaid pleated skirt, the one she had worn during that fateful day with Mr. Tatum. The memory assailed her like a kick in her chest.

“Found him hiding in an upstairs closet. Damnedest thing, as if he didn't want to get found,” the fireman said, removing his hat and wiping perspiration from his forehead with the arm of his coat. Victoria reached over to touch him. The fireman held her back as the crew from the ambulance came forward.

“Please,” the fireman said gently. “Let the medics take charge.”

“It's the carbon monoxide that makes his face red,” the fireman explained gently. “Smoke got him, but he is alive.”

“My baby. My poor baby.”

One of the medics clamped an oxygen mask over Michael's face. Another brought a stretcher. They lifted him cautiously and laid him gently on the stretcher.

“Will he be okay?” Josh asked the medic.

“We'll do everything we can,” he replied as they moved the stretcher toward the ambulance.

Victoria and Josh followed beside the stretcher. In the ambulance, she kneeled beside her unconscious son.

“May I hold his hand?” she asked. The medic nodded.

She brought his hand up to her mouth and kissed it. It felt cold and lifeless. Josh, kneeling beside her, gripped her shoulder.

“Oh God, please,” she cried, lifting her tear-stained face upward. “Have mercy on this child.”

The ambulance door closed behind them. The siren began to blare and the ambulance moved down the street, picking up speed. They moved to the other side of the ambulance to give the medics room to work on Michael. One of them, a balding young man, pressed a stethoscope to the boy's chest and listened while another medic, a young woman, held the oxygen mask in place over his face. Victoria watched, whimpering, her cheeks wet with tears. Josh sat beside her opposite the stretcher where the boy lay. The medic completed his examination, then prepared an injection and quickly plunged the needle into Michael's arm.