All Families Are Psychotic (24 page)

They walked into the living room. Janet said, 'Ted . . . Bryan . . . Gayle is going to read us a letter from Emily.'

'Letter?' They sat bol t uprigh t.

Gayle pratt led on. 'Emily, you sly fox. You even inserted it between plastic sheets to keep it clean. And you labeled it " Mummy" — that's what I used to call my own mother.'

'The letter meant a lot to me,' Shw said, whereupon a crash of cinematic propor tions came from beside Ted across the room; he'd dropp ed a solid brass gazelle statue through a glass side table. The crash had its intended effect. Gayle dropp ed the letter, and Janet dove for it. Gayle stormed over to Ted, palpably on

the brink of shou ting a blue streak. 'I paid
retail
for that table.' 'Can' t be much of a table if it can' t hold a small piece of brass.' 'It 's
ruined.'

Ted looked at the shards and said, 'I think the gazelle's leg looks bent, too,' which sent Gayle into a further fit; Lloyd came over to comfort her, and the others were ignor ed.

Wade grabbed a dummy letter from Janet's purse and flicked it to her, but by mistake he threw tw o letters stuck together; she caugh t both.

Janet then removed the real letter from between the sheets, used her pen to make a blue dot on its top righ t corner, tossed it to Wade and put a fake letter inside the plastic sheets. It was a ligh tning-fast

procedure. The extra dummy letter she slid under the couch seat.

Gayle clucked abou t with a Dustbuster, paper bags and a broom , while Bryan, caugh t up in this family activity, knocked over his Champagne flute to buy an extra minu te or so for Janet and Wade.

Janet said, 'Gayle, don ' t worry, it 'll be just fine.' Things sett led down, although Gayle's ini tial friendlin ess had worn measurably thin.

Janet said, 'You were going to read a letter?'

'Yes.' Gayle picked up the dupli cate, brushed a wisp of hair from her face and turned on her smile. 'From li tt le Emily.' She opened the letter with less finesse than she migh t have before Ted broke the table.

Inside was a card saying To
the Finest of Sons on the Occasion of His Bar Mitzvah.
Inside the card was a coffee cup ring. 'Emily?'

Shw looked at her and said, 'So, what's with the downstairs pink dungeon, huh?'

Gayle and Lloyd's faces at first looked as if they migh t project a sort of chipper
Who, me?
innocence, but they quickly morph ed into blank business-like stares.

'Dungeon?' asked Bryan.

Janet said, 'Yes, we just took a tour — obstetrical chair, handcuffs, leather straps and the cutest li tt le pink bedroom inside a gorill a cage.'

Wade said, 'Hey, Lloyd, hey, Gayle — aren' t
you two
the sick fucks?' Lloyd and Gayle had nothing to say. Janet knew that this was the poin t at which weapons, if they were to be used, would appear. She said,

'Wade. . .Ted. . .Bryan . . . Emily. . . could you please capture Lloyd and Gayle. Perhaps we should lock

them inside their own jail. Kimba, I believe, is in the backyard kennel.' There was a moment of silence, then a bark, as though Janet were addressing Kimba:
'Now! '

... a blur . . . some cussing . . . some thrashing . . . some shiny broken furni ture, and Lloyd and Gayle were downstairs inside the pink room, locked behind bars. Lloyd became vocal: 'You people are fucking
nuts.
I'm going to have every cop between here and Atlanta carving you into fucking steak tartare before you have a chance to even blink . I don ' t care if your daugh ter won the Nobel Prize — any child in your family has to be fucking
crazy.'

Janet, surveying the dungeon at leisure, said, 'Watch your language, Lloyd. Oh, look — my, my, a catt le prod. Obstetrics have come a long way since my own childr en were born. Handcuffs, too. How smart.

Who 'd have though t?'

Shw pulled a chair up to the bars and glo wered at Lloyd and Gayle. 'What was your plan, huh? When was I going to end up in your li tt le Barbie's First Lockup Facili ty?' Bryan stood beside her, spitt ing at the tw o. 'You were never going to be in
here,'
Gayle said.

'You saving the space for someone else perhaps?' 'I can see how this must look . . .'

Shw waved the catt le prod through the bars, causing Lloyd and Gayle to shimmy up against the wall. Wade said, 'Shw, give it a rest. We have bigger fish to fry.'

Shw spun around . 'So what's the deal with that letter, huh? You people probably don ' t even read the Sunday comics, so what's in a letter that's so impor tant to you? Huh? Huh?
Huh?'

Janet said, 'OK. Fair enough . We'll tell you, but you have to promi se not to abor t your baby or go selling it to the highest bidders.'

Bryan's face li t up.

Shw asked, 'Is there money in it for me?' 'I suppose.'

'Deal.'

Janet said, 'I think it 's best we find evidence to build a solid blackmail case. Don' t you think?' And with

this, her family began sift ing through drawers and cupboards ferreting out more information abou t Lloyd and Gayle's baby factory cum dungeon.

Wade was aware of the fact that his family was immersed in a world of cheese, cruddin ess and illegalities from which they migh t never emerge. Was there any going back? Was there anything to go back
to?

Wade had slogged in the crud for over tw o decades and that was his li fe, his father maybe just as long. Bryan? Fifteen years. Sarah? As the past week had revealed, maybe a year or so. But Mom? So pure and crud-proo f, now seemingl y born to the role of navigator through the warm, farty waters of sleaze —

upstairs, scooping out the potpourri s and emptying vases looking for dir t. She called to Wade, down in the ki tchen going through the cupboards.

'Yeah, Mom?'

'There's a beautiful shir t up here, and it looks like it 'd fit you perfectly.' ' Mom, this isn' t Abercrombi e and Fitch. I don ' t need a new shir t.'

'But you do, and this one is so soft, and a tattersall check, which is always so flattering.' 'I don ' t want Lloyd's shir t, Mom. The karma alone . . .'

'You wouldn ' t be so Mr. Karma if you'd gone through the Depression and the war, buster. This is a good shir t. Well-made. And I only want you to try it on.'

'I am
not
trying it.'

'Then
don' t,
but don ' t come crying to
me
when the soup ki tchens reopen.'

Ted, in the den, called out, 'Take the eff ing shir t, ferchrissake. A good deal is a good deal.' 'Dad, that's stealing. I can' t believe
you'd
be so casual abou t swiping other people's stuff.' 'How can
you
of all people say that?'

'What are you calling me?' Wade charged off to the den.

'I'm calling you someone who can' t spot a good deal when he sees one.' Ted was going through a drawer full of ball bearings.

Wade said, 'Oh, I see — that coming from Mr. Chapter Eleven. It 's because you're in such deep financial shit that we're even pursuing this stupid mess further.'

'Oh, like you're not gett ing cash out of this? Well, if
you
hadn' t gone and shat away your li fe doing God only kno ws what garbage, we wouldn ' t have hooked up with that lousy kraut who gets spanked by his nanny on Sundays.'

Ted seemed to be anticipating a reply that, historically, would only escalate the situation into a brawl. But instead Wade went quiet. 'Uh-oh.'

'Uh-oh
what?'

'Howie.'

'What abou t
him?'

'I, uh . . . just that Florian probably kidnapped him.' Wade recalled Florian's penchant for Danish-buil t radar and data moni toring systems. 'I used his phone at the Brunswicks'.'

'Serves him righ t.'

Wade sat down in a green leather captain's chair, and Ted across from him on a stool. Janet came into the room. 'Did I just hear you say that this German fello w's kidnapped Howie?'

'You did.'

'Oh.' Nobody seemed overly troubl ed by this news. 'You don ' t think they'd
hurt
him, do you?' 'Florian? Eventually.'

Ted said, 'This could solve probl ems for us, couldn ' t it? We can simply tell Sarah he was there for the launch. She'll be up in the shutt le, so how's she going to kno w?'

Janet seemed to mull this over.

Wade said, 'I can' t believe I'm hearing this. What if launch time comes, and instead of Howie standing with us in the VIP bleachers, we only have Howie's pancreas inside a picnic cooler?'

Ted, with a rich lack of self-awareness, said, 'Wade, don ' t be such a bore. He's a philandering putz.' Janet added, 'I don ' t even think Sarah likes Howie much.'

'Yeah,' said Ted, 'Good riddance. Where's Shw?'

Bryan walked into the room, eating cold ravioli out of a can. 'She's in the garage. What's Dad so razzed abou t?'

'Howie and Alanna's affair.' 'Gee. Tell me something new.'

Janet looked at Bryan's snack. 'Bryan, how can you eat that stuff? They put
cat food
inside those raviolis.' 'Thanks, Mom.' He stopped eating.

The Drummond family sat around Lloyd's den, posed as if modeling for a Burda kni tt ing catalogue. The off ice was an oak fantasia filled with electric doodads purchased in the wacky electrical doodad shop at the mall. Ted said, 'I say let the kraut turn him into ravioli filling .'

Janet said, 'We'd all like that, but I think for Sarah's long-term happiness we'd better rescue him alive.' Bryan said, ' Maybe we can let Florian torture him just a li tt le.'

'That makes sense,' said Ted. 'Yeah, I like that,' added Wade.

'Does Florian use physical or psychologi cal torture?' Janet asked Wade. 'How should I kno w?'
If she knew, she'd freak.

'Call him on the speakerphon e.'

'He'll kno w we're here at this phone number.' 'Phone him
now,
Wade.'

Mother knows best, and it does get me off the hook.
Inside a minu te Florian was on the line, and Wade put him on the speakerphon e with Janet. She asked, 'Is this Florian?'

'It is. And who migh t this be?' 'I'm Janet, Wade's mother.'

A Teutonic cackle burst from the other end. 'Oh, this is too rich,
far
too rich. Wade, whoever this actress is, please spare her having to play an impossible role.'

Wade said, 'That's my mother, Florian, you be nice to her.'

'Oh
gawd, Wade —
you're serious, aren' t you? Very well, I shall indeed mind my manners. Hello ' — Florian adop ted the manner of one addressing a child 's imaginary friend —
'Janet.'

'Yes, well, we migh t as well do our business. How much will you pay for the letter, and how much do we pay to get' — a freigh ted pause —
'Howie
back.'

'Yes, your son-in-law. A charmer.'

'You can imagine how thrill ed we are to have to actually pay to retrieve him. You should see him at

Christmas. He has to have the floor to himself to sing Christmas carols. Here's an impersonation—' Janet

burst into a mock soprano: '
" Frawwwwwwww
sty the
snnnnnnnnnnno wwwwwww
man
. .
. " And on. And on.'

Ted burst in, 'He's a goddamn pain in the butt.'

Florian was genuinely curiou s. 'And who migh t this new speaker be?' 'It 's my dad, Florian. Be nice.'

Florian seemed insulted. ' My manners are always good, Wade. Who else is there in the room with you?' ' My bro ther, Bryan.'

'Are you playing Scrabble? Pick-up Stix?'

Janet said to everybody in the room, 'Please be quiet.' She turned to the speakerphon e's grill e. 'Florian, let's play " garage sale". Whatever you're charging for Howie, we want a hundr ed thousand more for the letter.'

Florian said, 'I want a billion dollars for Howie.'

Janet said, 'I want a billion dollars plus a hundr ed grand for the letter.' 'I've already tracked you down via call display, you kno w.'

'We'll be gone in five minu tes. And then what? Big deal. We'll shred the letter. A hundr ed thousand, Florian. That's one one-hundr edth of the origin al asking price.'

'Fifty thousand.'

Janet said breezily, 'You kno w what, Florian? No. A hundr ed, firm. I'm an old lady dying of aids, my ex- husband's an old man dying of liver cancer—'

Wade and Bryan froze and stared at their unconcerned father. Janet continued on: '—and Wade's not looking too hot, either.'

'So I hear. Are you in pain?'

'Yes. A bit. Mouth ulcers, but I can take medications for that. But these pill s, Florian, good God, they swallo w up my entire li fe, thinking abou t them. It 's making me more crazy than anything.'

' My mother had breast cancer. She lived on pill s, too.' 'Oh, you poor thing. When?'

'When I was younger.' 'Did it go on for long?'

Florian sounded though tf ul: 'With what she had to go through , a single day was too long.' 'You poor lamb. How did your family take it?'

'Daddy dearest was embarrassed, and you kno w why?' 'Why?'

'Because here he is, the world 's leading maker of pill s, pill s, pill s, and he can' t find a single pill to save my mother. He took this failure as a personal disgrace, and the disgrace overshadowed my mother's death.' 'People respond to dying in unpredictable ways. That was his.'

'But Janet, you must understand that after the funeral services were over, did he bother to thro w money into research? No. He drank himself into the gutters of Nassau. Disgusting.
Cochon.
And then he got

Alzheimer's.'

' My father had Alzheimer's. Four years of hell.' 'How do you deal with it?'

'I don ' t kno w if I did. Did he recognize you at the end?' 'No.'

' Mine neither. It 's so cruel. It robs you of everything. Do you have any bro thers or sisters?' ' My bro ther was killed in an avalanche in Klosters in 1974. So I'm the end of the line.'

'So do
you
put more money into research to make up for what your dad lacked?' 'Research is my passion.'

'Then your mother would be proud of you.' 'You think so?'

'Oh yes. I'm sure she's listening in on this phone call righ t now and thinking what a good boy you are. And have you discovered anything that migh t help people with liver cancer now? My ex-husband, Ted, has liver cancer.'