Read The Wisdom of Evil Online

Authors: Scarlet Black

The Wisdom of Evil (6 page)

BOOK: The Wisdom of Evil
7.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Chapter
8

 

The years flew steadily along. Glory still spent many a night, lying awake, still having her bouts with Thantaphobia. Now she no longer spoke of it, not even to Michael, afraid that she’d be committed if anyone found out what went on in her head. And he had his own problems right now just being a cop in a changing world. Instead, she focused most of her attention on her children.

Olivia and Mickey, born of imperfect parents but touched by God’s own perfection,
brought her and Michael much joy and sorrow, as children do.  Glory contemplated just how much hope was tied up in humanity’s offspring.

She
wouldn’t trade any of it for the entire world. The minutes of joy at each accomplishment which helped to shape their character were worth the hours of inevitable heartbreak that came with raising children.

Olivia, now age
sixteen, so delicately framed, was as beautiful as any angel in heaven. Her slender fingers, her large, soulful brown eyes, the lashes long and curled by nature, and her flowing auburn hair were her best features. At times, when the brightest sun of the day reached her hair, single strands throughout resembled fine spun gold. Her beauty was matched by a heart that loved fiercely and was hurt easily.

She was
Glory’s treasure. Her temperament was more like Michael’s than Glory’s, calm and patient with all things. Her love for animals pleased Glory, giving them something in common. Olivia hoped one day to become a veterinarian.

Mickey,
who was going on twenty and going to college, majoring in Criminal Justice, was hell on wheels. He was a very intense young man with a fiery temper and a quick mind. Tall, like his father, he had the same beautiful eyes and long lashes as Michael, yet they flashed with the passions of his emotions. Just like Glory’s. His heart was built on honor. He wanted to become a cop, just like his dad. Always outspoken, he said what he meant and meant what he said.

He had two great passions in his lif
e—music and cars. From a very early age, he had been able to hear a song and play it on the piano, and was reading sheet music at the age of eight.

One of
Glory’s favorite memories of him was when he was sixteen years old. Seeing him under the hood of his car while Chopin or Mozart and sometimes rock and roll were blaring out of the portable stereo system he’d put on the back deck of their home.

He was
their difficult child. As strong willed as Glory herself, they clashed on many occasions with Michael having to play referee in their fights.

Michael would shake his head after one of these screaming matches between Mickey and
Glory and comment on how alike they were and that was why they fought so much.

And yet, for all of it, Glory
loved them both and rejoiced that they were so different in their ways. Even with the problems Glory had with love and intimacy, she was able to love
them
. Often times, she was aware that without them, without Michael, she’d surely fall into the dark abyss of madness. She was bone weary most of the time, never sleeping well. The nightmares still plagued her. As the years went by, they became more vivid…and terrifying.

She
never worried too much about Mickey. He was headstrong sure, but he knew when to back off.

However, she did
worry about Olivia. Glory was well aware that Olivia was naïve about people and she was too trusting. Olivia simply couldn’t understand that the world was not fair, that some people did bad things to one another and always had.

“Honey,” Glory
would explain, “the world never was fair and it never will be. That’s just the way it is. All we can do is try to be fair in how we deal with the people that come into our lives, and even then…we can’t predict how they’ll act.”

She did
n’t like that answer and swore she would change things, even if only in her small corner of the world. Glory was proud of her altruism, yet fearful, for she knew firsthand how very cruel the world could be to those whose motives were pure.

“You
should always stand up for what you believe in, no matter what the price. The cost can never be as great as the loss of your individuality.” In hindsight, she’d wished she had never uttered those words to her daughter.

“Why do terrible things happen,
Mom? Does God do it? I mean, look at Sean. He’s usin’ heroin and Uncle Ted doesn’t seem to care! He’s too busy drinkin’ all the time. Every time I talk with Sean, he seems so…mixed up. Why doesn’t anyone help him?”

Olivia was referring to
Glory’s brother’s boy, Sean, now also a young man. Growing up in Boston’s inner city had led him down a completely different path than Glory and Michael’s children. While her heart ached for what her nephew was turning into, she was thankful they’d made the choice to raise their children in a place where there was still beauty in the world. The harsh city streets were not like the city she and Michael had grown up in.

“We tried, honey, but he doesn’t want our help
,” Glory said.

“Why can’t you an
’ Dad make him move in with us?”

“I’ve talked to him about it, and he insists he’d go
crazy of boredom here in Maine. Besides, Uncle Ted would
never
allow it, you know that.”

“Well, I sure won’t turn my back on him, even though it seems the rest of our family has! I
know Uncle Ted is a lousy brother, and father too, but, it’s not Sean’s fault the way his father is.”

“Just be careful
, Olivia. Understand that it’s not up to you to fix. You can’t fix someone if they don’t believe they’re broken. You’re helping him by listening, just…be
cautious
. I know what I’m sayin’ from experience. As much as I wanted my parents to stop drinking, I couldn’t make them stop. Believe me, I tried, and hoped for it to happen. It never did. I love you for wanting to help, but just don’t let him drag you down with him is all I’m sayin’. Do you understand?” Glory asked. She looked solemnly into Olivia’s eyes.

“Y
eah, I get it.”

Addiction
was a dark and twisted road. The addict had the uncanny ability to pull everyone around them into their world. Glory knew firsthand about the insidious ways they dragged a person in, tugging at her or her very humanity. Making one feel guilty for walking away. They could be utterly narcissistic and highly manipulative when it suited their purpose. They often did not care how their actions affected others.

While she hoped Sean would get help, she wanted him to do it himself.
Glory didn’t want her daughter to get wrapped up in it. If that was selfish of her, then so be it. After all, it was her job to protect her children.

Michael
was mostly unaware of what was going on between Olivia and Sean. Glory was ashamed of her family and rarely spoke about them. He was working so much overtime these days as the crime rate subtly began to climb in Cliff’s End. He was hardly ever home.

Still, he was a great
dad. He’d coached Mickey’s little league team for years, bringing them a championship more than once. Olivia had his heart. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his “little girl.”

Maine was noted as one of the most peaceful states in the entire country. The crime rate was low, jobs plentiful. Cliff’s End, as well as many of the southern Maine towns
, bordered on the New Hampshire line, where many worked.

Michael and Glory
both were taken aback that crime dared to show its ugly head amongst the beauty inherent in their home of choice.

“If it’s
getting’ bad here, imagine what Boston must be like now.” Michael sighed. The job was starting to wear on him and she feared for his safety. That was why she didn’t tell him about her concerns about their daughter. What if he was distracted out there and, consequently, let his guard down and was killed?

Glory was silent. She
knew she had to speak to Olivia soon, tell her she couldn’t go to Boston anymore. Between Sean’s problems and the crime, she was not safe!

Times were most definitely changing, and not for the better.

If she felt Olivia was in danger, she’d be forced to tell Michael, like it or not. Neither Glory nor Michael had been to Boston in years. After Glory’s mother died, there was no reason to go back.

As for Mickey, he didn’t care about the situation in Boston one way or the other.
Whenever Sean’s name was brought up, his only comment was, “What a waste.”

In his spare time,
when Mickey wasn’t tinkering with cars or hanging out with his friends, he visited his Nana Joan. Their relationship was a special one. She loved Olivia just as much, but in a different way. As far as she was concerned, the sun rose and set on him.

He spent many hours after school and weekends at her home, helping her do little things, taking her for what she called “thrill” rides
, commenting that Mickey had “a lead foot.”

Sometimes
, when Glory stopped in on her way home from work, they’d be having a lively game of cards, which she could never seem to win! Joan was an important member of the family.

Having grown up in Boston,
from an Italian Catholic family, it was imperative to her that elders were included, not ignored as she’d seen others do. Family was paramount to Italians.

Even though her parents and brother were addicts and had hurt her in so many ways
, they were not the norm. Still, her mother prayed to the statue of the Madonna and insisted they respect their elders. Nothing made Glory happier than sitting back and watching her own family.

One
lovely day in May; the kind one revels in after the seemingly endless Maine winters, Mickey came home with a peculiar look on his face. Glory couldn’t read it and he did not speak. He hovered around her as she prepared dinner, fiddling with utensils on the counter, shifting from leg to leg. He seemed restless, unsure of how to approach what was on his mind. The look on his face sent a shiver up Glory’s spine. Call it female intuition or just plain anxiety, she knew whatever he needed to talk about was probably not something she wanted to hear.

“Okay,
what’s up?” Glory put the paring knife down, her hands on her hips.

“I
…don’t know. I think something may be wrong with Nana.” He sounded scared.

“Yeah,
she’s got a cold she can’t seem to shake. I know that.”

“Mom, it’s more than that
. You haven’t been down there for almost a week. I have. I think you and Dad beddah go check on her.”


Lemme call her first. Would that make you feel beddah?”


She won’t answer the phone. She told me it took her two hours to get from the kitchen chair to the bathroom ‘cause she was out of breath.”


What
?” Glory was floored! This was the first she’d heard of this, but she knew that Joan wouldn’t call anyone for help unless it was a matter of life and death, and even then she took pride in being strong willed, able bodied, and independent.

A typical Maine
Yankee, born and bred “Down East,” she’d grown up on a farm and was used to hard work and self-sufficiency.

She could be extremely stubborn
, refusing to accept help from even Michael and Glory.

Coming from such a hearty family line,
Glory could not imagine her really being sick. She’d outlive them all. Why, her father, Milton Grover, had received the Boston Post Cane three years ago, a New England tradition honoring the oldest living citizen in the county. He was one-hundred and one now! He still lived on his own and even picked blueberries in season.


I’m goin’ down there right now,” she said. “Mickey…where’s Olivia?”

“Where do yah think? Boston.”

“Jesus H. Christ, this is gonna stop! You wait here for her, okay? I’ll call yah when I get there.”

He looked relieved
. No matter the age, children always believed their parents could fix anything. Glory grabbed the dog’s leash. “Haley, c’mon, boy.” His nose was already at the door; he chuffed, wagging his tail. She took Haley virtually everywhere with her. Joan loved to see him as well.

When
Glory arrived at Joan’s, all the lights were out and the curtains were pulled closed, doors locked.  She let herself in with the key she and Michael had, calling her name softly in case she was napping. She didn’t want to startle her. There was no reply. There was no sound of the television or any noise whatsoever except the slow tick tock of the pendulum on the grandfather clock standing against one of the living room walls.

“Joan
.” Glory’s voice was louder this time with concern and fear.

A feeble, almost unrecognizable voice answered
, “In here.”

There is a
strange sensation one gets when on a roller coaster or is having an unexpected fright; an actual physical feeling, starting in the stomach, flying up to the chest and causing the heart to pound in anxiety. This feeling came over Glory at the sound of that weak voice.

BOOK: The Wisdom of Evil
7.66Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Outcast by Gary D. Svee
Oceans of Fire by Christine Feehan
The Sword and the Song by C. E. Laureano
The Death of the Heart by Elizabeth Bowen
The Wonder of You by Susan May Warren