Family Corners: Their Children Within

By Joan Petrosine

The lives of two Italian families migrating to America around 1900, seen through their choices in living life to become one family that impacts a third-generation descendant with a problem all her own. The families sharing this world's wonders and dangers led to mistakes, failures, and successes that aid a confused young woman on her search for self. Her road finds good and evil fighting to claim her; all within a family knowing love and laughter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645157373

Book preview

Decisions, Decisions

This week’s corner in human time in 1960 returns to Marian and Joe’s pondering about Jean’s meeting today with Bill Perry.

Marian was about to comment but instead said, She’s home.

They watched a saddened daughter come through the kitchen door.

Are you okay? Joe asked softly.

Jean nodded.

Will Bill be all right? asked Marian.

I think so. I hope so. I should have told him sooner. I can be so dense. I just didn’t realize he fell in love with me. I just never thought that would happen. Liar! He was not the first, just the first you really cared about. Fearing their knowing her so well, Jean kissed them and rushed upstairs.

Her need to be alone was obvious.

Marian, seeing Joe’s bother, asked, Hon, are you thinking about Jean’s conversation with Bill?

Somewhat. But with all our remembering of our families and you and me while she was gone, I’m really thinking about the things we carry around inside us that we can’t set aside and how they can destroy what we value most because we don’t.

Marian remembered well their personal problems and almost losing each other, but the mother in her kept reaching for Jean until…

He added, In spite of them, I’ve been very lucky and very human. I hoped the kids wouldn’t have to deal with such problems. They’re five years apart in age, and yet they both have something bothering them, and I don’t know how to help them. Guess it’s simply their turn.

Marian’s smile and thoughts came back from Jean to say, I wonder about that too. What corners they’ll take is a complete mystery. But, hon, we’ve never been spectators. And we’ve earned what we have. So if we can help, we will. But… it is theirs to do.

Marian was determined to see he didn’t take on any excess emotions. His capacity for worry was dangerous because he cared so much.

A warm smile eased Joe’s expression as he took Marian’s hand to say, "I’m glad to have all of us together and home. God only knows what mischief our adults—or to use Jean’s word, adventures’—they’ll get into. Considering our own corners, life is going to get very interesting, again."

Marian laughed and squeezed his hand, saying, That’s my guy, while wishfully thinking, Jean’ll tell us something when she’s ready. A little bit of a sad grrrr snuck into her mind, knowing she probably wouldn’t. Because I taught her independence. And I’m regretting it right now.

Joe almost absentmindedly said, Mar, I’m glad you taught her to be independent. Her generation needs it.

Oh God, you’re right.

*****

Upstairs, torn and exhausted, Jean continued her destructive analyzing, allowing her intellect to recognize why men offered marriage but understanding they wanted a Jean who didn’t exist, one who could exist but maybe never would.

The one who told them to keep their hands off for obvious reasons was ready for marriage and motherhood. That was the Jean full of competence, doing and able to switch from hometown gal to sophisticated lady. None of which mattered because she knew she had no right to any man’s love until she solved her problem. Caring friends have tried to get her stop the analyzing, but she knew she wouldn’t until she had her answer.

As she changed to pajamas, she lingered over a drawer where she fingered a pretty negligee her parents bought her, still unworn. Lovely ultra-feminine items filled the drawer.

Oh God, please help me. I’m going crazy. Why don’t I enjoy love making with someone I care about? The stuttering began. It doesn’t excite. It t-t-terrifies me. Oh, Blessed Mother, wha-what am I, a le-lesbian? Wha-what di… Why a-am I b-being punished? What did I do?

*****

Jean’s muted prayers scurried along a busy byway. Tonight, Jean had reached an emotional limit that was destroying her belief in herself as a woman.

*****

Wherever the Spirits were, they were having a hectic night.

In the land of prayer, the Archers of Light, school their watchers in the disciplines of helping those based on free will. Here, decisions of humans allow watchers to help souls in trouble. Free will, the controlling factor, is a tough assignment because a good decision may not be enough to allow help, especially since their counterparts, the Archers of Darkness, are as powerful as the good guys.

Her decision to send a fine young man away before doing him harm brought her watchers immediate attention. What she had buried so deep and could not find brought this situation, so her watcher, hoping for a new beginning for her, asked the Archer of Light, May we help now?

The Archer sought out the young man sent away and, knowing he could not help the wrong done him unless he accepted her words as truth, reached, took an arrow of light from his quiver, pulled his bow, and loosed it.

*****

Within a sleeping Jean, a hidden door imploded and the dreamless slumber took Jean across a threshold of her mind bathed in a blinding flash of light to find herself standing in a world of perpetual notion where twisting, molding secrets of the person you are can rule and manipulate.

Suddenly the colors and shapes meshed into Jean seeing herself eleven years old. A lanky, skinny frame set on long legs beneath an elongated neck that made much below look clumsy. Bright chestnut hair in a perm doing a Watusi proud bordered a long, freckled face. The adult felt odd watching herself huddled with her friend Dora.

The girls epitomized that age of wonder and finding out about life and a mystery called sex. Dora, now twelve, stood joyous in pubescent growth, already at home with a heating body’s new shape and becoming beautiful and longing to test its merits. Both had yet to leave the realm of a mind’s innocence.

They were laughing at the comparison of their figures while the adult Jean remembered it was at the height of her sexual curiosity, both experimental and excessive, while still awaiting the mysterious body change called puberty. Both were hoping for an adventure.

The scene becomes a handsome young man’s smile. The girls’ experiment in flirting with him was working.

The young veteran, a maintenance man, shined with the sensitive good looks that draw women of all ages. He was working in the laundry room, connecting federal project building 28 to 27 where the girls lived.

The long room had self-locking steel doors in each structure. On both sides of the steel doors were steel-mesh walls, floor to ceiling, designated as storage rooms that narrowed these entry points to four feet with an open area for about ten feet before the room opened from window to window on either side of the building. The children liked to run sticks through the steel mesh as they approached the doors.

The room held four washtubs back to back with ringer washing machines on both sides of the room. Lines for indoor drying were attached to both sides of the storage areas to stretch across the room for maximum use.

Looking through the laundry room windows, Dora said, Isn’t he cute?

Like a movie star. Jean giggled.

As they sensed his catching their interest, they circled the outside area, strutting their stuff, not sure what their stuff was but it responded to his handsome smile, and drawing them through the laundry room door in building number 28.

Jean saw their awareness become fuzzy as the door slammed behind them. The fascinating young man loomed right before them, isolating them between the storage rooms as the door locked behind them.

His smile, different, frightened them; yet neither knew they should scream.

The man grabbed Dora with one hand, tripping her to the ground. The other hand reached for Jean. She ducked. His hand touched her skin, but her shoulder blade crashed into the storage room wall, allowing her to instinctively bend her knees and slide under his threatening grab. She ran.

Dora could not escape. A vicious strength held her below a hot breath. A handsome face, red with urges the girls knew little about, frenzied her while Jean had panicked and run.

Jean, at the opposite door, saw a two-by-four, holding it closed. She kicked it free, grabbed the knob, and heard Dora’s, Oh no, please, no. The sobs of a friend forced Jean to look back. The man, straddling Dora’s legs, clawed at her panties.

Jean’s hand left the knob and ran back. In desperation she brought clenched fists down on the man’s head and neck again and again.

Suddenly, he came off the ground, his penis erect. Violent eyes grabbed at Jean, as his hands could not because she ran.

He gave chase. Fearing his nearness, she abruptly changed direction to dodge around the washtubs, yelling, Dora, run.

Dora jumped up and pulled at the door while Jean’s nightmare included ring around the tubs. The slamming door distracted the beast, and Jean beat him to the number 27 exit. Fear and need drove her upstairs, running for home, until hearing Dora’s frantic, Jean, wait, please.

Dora caught up and whispered, Don’t tell anyone.

Jean blinked surprise and snapped, I have to.

The imploring friend grabbed an arm. Jean backed away. A sense of self-preservation and training commanded her response to Dora’s, Jean, if you tell, I swear on the Blessed Mother I’ll never speak to you again.

Jean glared at Dora, her nostrils flared in anger as she whirled, shot upstairs, and tore through the door to home.

Joe seeing terror on his daughter’s face came out of his seat like a rocket suddenly free of atmosphere. Jean stuttered and stammered through the tale.

Joe encountered the unthinkable. Honey, slow down. The safety of his hands on her arms slowed the stuttering, as a squatting Dad looked deeply into frightened eyes while his gut full of rage tried to dismantle the father. Still he asked, Are you all right?

Joe’s expression bewildered her as she answered a rasping, Yes.

The sound hindered the father. And Dora?

Yes.

Joe’s struggle continued between hatred and love in a rushing thought, Oh Christ, thank you.

What must be done doused Joe’s urge for violence, so he held his shaking sparrow close and said, Come on, honey, we have to see Dora’s parents.

Later, the police arrived and Marian came home. The girls did not see the man again except from the protection of their windows.

The handcuffed prisoner entered the police car, and the father looked up at his daughter safe with her mother and mulled, Honey, are you really all right?

*****

What she took from the light was, Oh God, I remember… Then the urge to cry rushed her to… I have to tell Bill about this, even though it doesn’t change anything for us. At least he’ll understand why I can’t marry him or anyone. He deserves someone who can love him completely and will never think of him as a bastard by birth. The way we never did. He’s got to believe this.

She grabbed a pen, wrote Bill, and mailed it.

Beyond that she knew that she possessed a child within that had a stranglehold fear on her sexual emotions and decided to secret it within and do battle.

An adulthood guided by family love, laughter, and history of some baddie relatives offered two generations of experience to begin her search for a real answer. There too are the many strange happenings in her life from childhood till now that give her a strength both the Light and Dark Archers understand could make the difference in which of them will have the advantage.

Whether she understood, only time would tell, so she remains a two-sided sharp-cutting tool.

*****

In that Land of Prayer her watcher paled for realizing she considered the child the enemy rather than forgiving her and taking her to a place of loving.

He turned to his Archer, saying, She’s not going to learn quickly. She needs to see herself as she really is.

The Archer smiled and said, "Be patient. There is much to learn, and Jean’s journey to a solution in this family means she will not be alone. Perhaps that will be enough.

"Feel what having Marian and Joe have given her, a couple who long ago turned the corner to love, and being through facing their fears, we can hope she will reach for them.

"And for you there is also her brother Joey, whose search for self parallels her own. While she is in secret, he is very different. His hunt for self in becoming a man at twenty is very open and vocal. He’s sure he’s on the right curve and willing to challenge those who love him for that and does. Only his decisions will tell if you can help there.

"Their good fortune in life has made them aware of their parents love and that they will unerringly strive to aid their young to the point of hurting or failing. That, while wisely pointing the young to confront the doing of a future. Of course, the lines of stop and go are completely guess land.

"And finally, there is Spot, the family animal. To the Prezzemoli family he is human and a source of ease, with exception when chasing. He joined the family as Joey’s childhood pet, and that makes his behavior apropos.

"With all this, Jean now begins her search. Be patient."

*****

The time is early in the year 1960, and Jean is again working though a day’s busy when she recalls another incident before she fell asleep.

*****

Days after the attempted rape, Marian and Joe watched Jean come through the door once again very upset.

Marian stood, asking, What’s wrong?

Joe put aside his paper.

Dora won’t talk to me. She didn’t want me to tell.

Honey, sit down. Dora’s wrong, declared Marian.

Joe took over. Jeannie, you must tell us when someone tries to hurt you. You did the right thing. Suppose you didn’t tell me and next week that man raped, say Regina? Or worse, you didn’t escape.

Jean visualized beautiful Regina trapped on the floor, a handsome monster straddling her, and all doubt vanished.

A determined Dad continued, See how awful it can be?

Marian added, And what you did saved you both.

Jean’s silence ended with, Why do men do this?

Marian pushed Jean’s hair behind her ear and looked into curiously troubled brown eyes to say, Because they’re sick or wicked. A moment passed. And because such men exist, a girl must be careful. Not all men are good like your daddy.

Her puzzled, I’m not sexy, stifled a father’s smile.

Not yet, you’re not, but you’ll change.

Marian bit her lip before adding, Being sexy or attractive seems to have little to do with a man raping. All women face this danger.

Joe continued with, What should you do when a man grabs you?

Everybody says to kick him in the… She hesitated.

Joe finished the sentence for her. In the balls?

Yeah.

Joe took a deep breath and spoke slowly. Honey, that’s okay, only if you get in a very good kick. If not, you may only enrage him. A better defense is being careful. Be smart. Don’t put yourself in unsafe situations. You have to think. Being scared is okay, but being reckless isn’t. Don’t go along with friends if it feels wrong. Talk them out of it. If you can’t, don’t go with them. Call home. We’ll always come for you. Kick if you must, but you’re better off breaking away and running. Just like you did. You’re fast, but always run to light and to people. Don’t isolate yourself.

Marian leaned over Joe, her hands on his shoulders, and asked, Honey, do you understand.

Yes, Mom.

Joe’s tenseness rose through Marian’s hands. Both felt he should talk to her simply because he was a man, and they felt they had to rebuild her trust and confidence. Joe’s loving effort, slow and deliberate, felt right. Marian just wasn’t sure of a growing daughter. She was remembering her own temptations, and then remembering the mistakes of others made Jean’s temptations her first concern.

Jean’s Yes did little to assure her parents, but it was time to believe in Jean the person and a parental hatchet job was needed. That fell to Marian.

Honey, we want you to do something.

The change of subject took Jean by surprise.

Marian added, We want you to go to Dora and try to straighten this out.

No! I won’t. Even as she screeched, Jean knew they meant business and added, Why? Why do I have to go to her? I did the right thing.

Marian explained, Honey, that’s not the point. You’re friends. Do you want to be stubborn and lose a friend? Has it occurred to you that she’s still upset over what happened? Remember how terrified she was.

The trapped youngster’s eyes filled with tears. There was no getaway, unless… Dad, please.

The turn-Daddy-to-butter tone was Jean’s finest, but Joe had rounded the corner ahead of her with lecture 6,042 about friends who really care.

Appeal denied.

*****

The adult Jean laughed. Our parents set us up. Thanks, folks, the lecture paid off. Dora was waiting on the stairs for me when I came down. It’s obvious now that her parents talked to her too. I’m glad. That lecture paid off. I’ve won many a battle because I could do the going to… That, and Mom taught me to never to choose handsome as a value on my dates. Guess Mom lucked out. Heck, Dad was one of the cute heartthrobs of the basketball team, state champs no less, in high school.

Gee, she told me just about everything I needed to know, and I learned more as I dated, but the kid I was fouled me up.

Needing to understand and challenge to herself in overcoming her fear, she welcomed the memories, however small their measure. The hours before sleeping was her personal time for wishful thinking, fantasizing, and grumbling.

As days passed Jean remembered more and more of her child within and found her way to realizing a childish temper had a lot to do with it. Darn, this kid is the designer of my confusion. She’s gotta go.

*****

Her watcher shook his head, wanting so for her realize the child is not to be blamed. And until she accepted the child as herself, there was little he could do to help.

*****

The quiet of waiting to sleep was strange compared to her athletic way of life. It was more tiring to her spirit and magnified her analyzing without finding a direction.

But in remembering, some things became clearer.

When I was fourteen, two college guys came to where I worked to do a quality check on the ice cream, only when I was having a tough time getting the cap off a huge dairy milk can one of the jerks pinched my rear. I hauled the cap free and flung it at them. It would have killed one of them had it hit them. All I did was cover them with liquid ice cream, but I still wish I’d clobbered them. All I said was a furious, Is there anything else you want. Ah heck, they deserved worse.

Now I realize I had an uncontrollable temper. Like the time I was dragged off a step into a playful game of wrestling, the guys against the girls, by a good friend. Only I lost it when he straddled me. I felt fury and turned dangerously calm. I relaxed, and when he eased, I shouldered him in the groin and threw him to a cement walk where he hit the steel plate in his head. I wasn’t thinking. I was 100 percent vengeful. I love my strength. I learned not to hurt people in my sports, but I almost killed him. He was out of it for a week, and I kept running between dorms to check on him. He thought it was an accident. I just couldn’t understand why. I understand now that that anger killed a lot of good healthy fun.

It’s obvious my temper was my best tool for hiding and still is. I’m an embarrassment when it’s not deserved, but it’s also obvious it’s been needed.

Grrrr. Thank God Mom and Dad don’t know. All this proves is, I’m still very angry. It has to stop. How do I get rid of this kid inside me?

My folks want me safe, but I can’t avoid my helping in dangerous moments. Heck, the things that happen are part of my normal activities. I’m there. I can’t run. Mom and Dad don’t run. They’re always getting involved because it needs doing. Okay, my world is more physical than theirs, but basically, it’s the same thing.

Throwing herself across the bed, she focused on her cousin Fred’s picture, smiled, and her watcher became more alert. Oh, how she remembered him.

Time was passing too quickly, and she yearned for a direction.

One avenue to escape the pounding is her fantasy. It had been with her since thirteen when she concocted a Marine lieutenant, hers alone, from her World War II memories. As she grew, the fantasy became as complex as her learning about sex. She read a lot too. But her fantasy Robert never brought her the orgasms women sought.

At least now I know why not.

Plus, she had seven college roommates and girls do talk. In the dark, they left little to the imagination. And her parents, way ahead of their generation, were not the least bit hesitant when explaining her curiosity.

Mom and Dad did a good job. I’m the idiot child.

Having sent Bill away time became a crucible in need of a release from punishing thoughts, so she went for a run. Her era was one where few females ran city streets, and she was a target for dirty comments by passing jerks, like Eww, honey, let me bounce those tits around for you.

Since she was well-endowed, such remarks turned a run hot, with anger feeding the stress, bringing more self-abuse. But today an instinct whipped her around. A German shepherd was charging. She yelled, Down, boy, and froze.

His glare met hers, and the charge stopped. The human and the furry mass had every muscle poised. One continued to snarl with lips curled back. Jean thought of snarling back but remained passive.

The dog’s owner stood in a yard, calling, Hercules, come here.

Jean could not take her eyes off those bared teeth but raised a level voice. Lady, come get your dog. I’m kicking his head in when he springs. The dog kept tip pawing forward as she firmly said, Down. Stay.

The woman still did no more than call precious Hercules from the yard.

Instinctively, Jean kept her hands down to avoid a four-leg interpretation of a threat, but saliva dripping from bared teeth bought exhausting emotions. Oh God, his gums are purple.

Without warning, a man past the woman, grabbed Hercules, and pulled the powerful animal away without a word. There wasn’t an analyzing thought in her head except, Oh what a pair of oozing fangs can do for a girl!

*****

At home, the telling over, she asked, Why I didn’t do it in my pants, I don’t know.

Marian asked firmly, Who are they?

Sorry, Mom, I don’t know. Besides the lady’s too puny for you to take on. Jean had to smile since Marian’s petite frame only came to Jean’s chin for her five-foot-eight-inch height. I wouldn’t mind Spot taking a bite out of Hercules though. She rubbed Spot’s head in her lap, knowing he’d do just that.

Short-lived relief fell to a highly competitive social evening at a singles bar. A slob put squeezing hands on her rump. She shoved him into a table and walked away from the crashing-to-the-ground sounds, hearing, You’re crazy, lady! The words wrapped her around her forehead like a tightening noose. He’s lucky I didn’t get real angry. A quick look, a smiling Good night, gave the appearance of quiet and untroubled; but a headache made her squint.

*****

On Election Day, all four of the Prezzemoli family marched out of the house to lever their ballots. Americans were gambling on tomorrow in a nuclear atmosphere to vote for a president, and the Prezzemoli family always voted, and later had a diner breakfast that saluted Jean’s birthday.

Presidential debates had drawn Jean to Kennedy, but mistrusting the man’s good looks and rumors, she voted for Nixon. That smiling young veteran explained why she never relied on good looks to make a decision about the worth of a man. Actually, a good thing, except she felt she may have been wrong by not voting for Kennedy while fueling Joey’s teasing because he had.

Can’t get it right, sis? You’re always choosing a Navy team, and Kennedy’s Navy.

She just waved away his look of pure devilment.

*****

This first year of the sixties continued the human gauntlet with the Berlin Wall creating two people of the same birth and heritage that mimicked the wall within Jean’s mind.

Some recalling was laughable, like bouncing off door frames or coming home from grammar school with a box of balloons, one of which she blew up, amid mocking laughter. That day being Marian’s day off, it fell to her to explain the use of a condom.

Then she remembered Jay, an older man of nine, chasing away the candy man.

Oh, the crush I had on Jay. A thought hit her. I’ve been in danger often. Why? Do I look for it? Her expression changed as she saw the candy man stretched across the front seat of his car, the engine running, and offering her candy, only that scene jumped to three high school classmates cornering her.

The bedroom air turned chilly, only her mind zipped right passed that to bring childhood friends Alberta and Netty out of hiding. Jean remembered reaching for revenge for the many gotchas they pulled on her. One day, walking home from junior high school with them, she noticed an older man of at least seventeen pass in long determined strides. The height and blonde good looks made Netty and Alberta openly wonder how to get his attention. Jean acknowledged his good looks but completely withdrew from their effort, except to create an impish setting.

Preoccupied with drooling, Jean’s flamboyant wolf whistle caught Alberta and Netty flatfooted. The handsome young man whirled around, knowing it came from one of the girls.

Jean said, Alberta, how could you? Really, that’s embarrassing.

Before Alberta could respond, Jean spun to the young man, smiled, and shook her head in a very adult fashion. The young man laughed heartily while a flushed friend screamed, I hate you. Netty and Jean were too busy laughing to pay attention to beautiful Berta’s dismay.

The good memories, too long buried, became a hand in a parent’s pocket keeping her warm. She sensed an instruction but didn’t understand how to use it.

*****

One weekend, reaching for a respite, she decided to try a new climbing club. As Jean entered the meeting, she shied and bullied a knotted stomach into cooperating. The group leader suggested an overnight trip after the meeting.

I’m sorry, I have no clothes with me.

You can climb in the jeans you have on.

Like I have unlimited movement in these dungarees. An instinctive hesitation meant no, but wanting, she remembered, Oh, I do have my boots and my sleeping bag in my car for traveling.

Quick thinking led to a phone call.

Aunt Carmella, you’re only a couple of blocks away, may I borrow a pair of Uncle Dick’s work pants, a belt, and some cold weather underwear? I’d be back tomorrow and return everything.

After calling home she joined the caravan to the climbing site where her hillbilly look led too much enjoyable razzing while she was happy that Uncle Dick’s long johns warded off the December chill.

She was paired with a big first timer, so they filled a pup tent to the brim. The innocent proximity of a pleasant, unassuming male brought the usual dread and discomfort until the tent filled with his growling snores. Again, fright turned to anger, leaving Jean to wrestle her own fury to finally escape into sleep.

After breakfast they climbed, but shoddy safety practices drew a Sorry, I need more practice from Jean. Others joined the minor rebellion and practiced longer.

A ninety-degree belay descent would close the day. This was fun, so she checked her partner’s knots and set the belay, fully ready when he called out, On belay, and stepped over.

God, his feet are big. Jean chuckled, but the soles of his shoes caught her eye.

The climb up had been unusually difficult for him, and Jean thought it his bulk and being new.

Dear Jesus, I don’t think he has climbing boots on. No one is that dumb. Wait a minute, why didn’t the instructors catch that?

The belay went taut as her buddy fell, jarring her middle, as she applied the properly secured line to break his fall. It was the first of many jolts. The need to catch the flaying weight again and again strangled the fun, and she realized she was too advanced for this group. What the he— Her simmer spilled over, and she called the group leader over to tactfully say, I think he’s falling because he’s not wearing climbing boots. He shouldn’t be climbing if he isn’t.

The leader’s sarcastic, Do you want to come off belay? made her bite her tongue.

No, I’ll hang in. But I won’t climb with you idiots again.

Prepared for the next fall, she took it easily, yelping, Oh no.

The borrowed belt broke, and the wide waist let the pants slip slowly down long legs to crumple high at her ankles.

Bared in long johns, looking like an un-hung male, she joined the hearty laughter of craning anchors sneaking a peek.

His descent finished, she tied shirt points to belt loops and left the cliffs to change

Minutes later, the happening’s distraction led to, Oh God, where the hey am I? The lack of response irritated her. St. Christopher, don’t you dare leave me alone. She tried to back trail, something she knew existed but couldn’t do.

Stress gripped her still sensitive throat and brought a sense of loss much closer. A recent tonsil operation had dramatically led to almost dying, so to shed the remembering, she called out to others, but only heard the soft wind in the trees in answer.

That makes sense. High ground towers between me and climb site.

She ran around the cliff side and fell. Scared, she grrr’d, but the surroundings were new, giving the woods an unsettling feel about them. She shook it off and ran, until calling out, Hello, climbers.

Hello, below?

It’s Jean. I’m lost. Please keep calling, so I can try line up on your voice. Using the line of sound, she tripped over a sleeping bag, felt more idiotic, and chewed on the stupidity of getting lost. Her training included contour maps and a compass, but these unmarked trails saw little use, and the leaders hadn’t furnished any area maps or equipment. I’m staying with the Adirondack Club. They know what they’re doing. At least that decision is easy.

She quickly changed to her jeans, rejoined the group for her descent, to bounce from side to side while filling with pleasure bypassing rock pockets too narrow for footholds. Her partner proved an able and cautious anchor. With her skills returning, she knew climbing was definitely part of the future. Her illness deprived her of more than two years of activity, and she was enjoying getting back to fun and excitement.

She joined the first group leaving, sharing a satisfying hike. After a while someone asked, Shouldn’t we be back to the cars by now?

Jean checked her watch and agreed. ETA had been two thirty, and it was now almost four. The guide called the group together.

Jean asked, Are we lost?

The young man was too honest to lie. Yeah, we are. I’m sorry. You’re my first group.

The Oh shits, Goddamns, and What do we do now were off and running.

Someone asked, Does anyone know the area?

Good question, no positive response.

The small clearing they were in allowed a good view of the sun. Knowing the cars were next to the thruway told they were still east of it. The sun, securely in a western phase, made it safe to head due west to intersect with the thruway.

The young guide correctly insisted, We have to stay together.

A couple of hotheads took off, going in other directions.

Jean listened to one of the guys as he gave voice to her own thoughts by saying, You’re right, kid. It’ll be dark soon, and we’re not prepared for another night out here.

Let’s get going, was the kid’s welcome command.

Forty minutes of hills, dales, and wet feet in creeks under leaves found them in the dark, irritable but within sound of the thruway. In minutes an alert hiker checked the nearest mileage marker. We’re a couple miles north of the cars.

As the ignition key turned, she thought.

Once home and the overnight shared, bed and reality took her away. She rolled over to look at Fred’s picture.

Darn, I’ve got to make some decisions now. First, I have to be honest with myself, and then I have to be honest with the men in my life. That means I’ll spend lots of evenings at home. Freddy, where’s all this taking me?

Though long gone, calling on Fred still made her heart sigh.

Bored with the self-analysis, she thanked God for generous friends who tolerated her tendency to analyze everything.

Out of nowhere she remembered an invisible friend. Mom said I was lonely as a baby. I suppose I even wanted a brother. What a dirty trick that was. Then she laughed out loud. What if Joey had been twins?

*****

After a draining day of telephone company customer complaints, Jean checked the darkened back seat of the car and the surrounding dark parking area in preparation for backing out. A few cars away a woman had a flat tire. Jean started to get into the car feeling annoyed. She looked again and saw the lady was about Marian’s age, turned, and called out, Hi. Can I give you a hand?

In minutes Jean had changed to dungarees, changed the tire, and saw the woman on her way after she insisted on knowing who Jean was, explaining she would have been frightened to stay there alone until her family got there to help.

Jean waited till the lady pulled away, thinking of Marian being alone in similar circumstances, rubbed her cold hands for warmth, jumped into her car, and whistled her way home.

*****

The day before Thanksgiving was hectic with Jean putting a mother’s teachings into mince apple and pumpkin pies. Succulent inhalation periled their existence when Joey tried to cut a piece from those nesting in the open window to cool, but she chased him off with, I didn’t work this hard for you to eat them, go. Joey’s smile made her realize what he was about to say. And you don’t have to remind me your pork chops are enjoyed more than mine.

His burst of laughter, so like their father’s, was a pleasing sound. His return from his stint in the service brought him back six feet tall, handsome as the devil, and cock sure of himself but unknowing of what he meant to do with his life.

That night Jean blushed when Joe said, Honey, that was nice the way you helped Mrs. Kopko with that flat tire.

Don’t tell me, she’s one of your customers and she snitched on me.

Sure did.

Joe, she’s my age, isn’t she? asked Marian.

She is.

Marian smiled at Jean, who said, Holy smoke, I’m an adult and I still can’t get away with doing anything is this town without you two finding out about it.

*****

Meanwhile Joey was on his way home thinking about a lady he had spotted in Getty Square just days before. He remembered well his reactions to the female, around nineteen, tiny, and exotically attractive. Once again he felt the appreciating flush her appearance had brought him. She had a wealth of full wiry tresses that framed her Mediterranean dark features with succulently full lips and large brown eyes that melded to bring his libido a hankering and a tongue to reaching.

Suddenly she was just standing there, and refusing to miss a prospect, Joey said, Hey, miss, how about a date with a guy having fantastic taste in women?

The young woman’s quiet expression held while she looked him up and down.

Sorry, but this woman has better taste in men.

Joey roared. You got me, miss.

The girl’s sarcasm hid her deliberate wait, with an almost secretive exchange that told Joey he’d see her again. Initially, he actually could read the ladies, but the talent never went below superficial workings of a lady’s needs.

Pleasantly, he added, Have a good day, miss.

She heaved a deep breath and then took a final look. Good looking, broad shoulders, set high on a cocky walk eked the wish, try again. She’d wanted his attention for some time, so her conspired bait and wait was worth it.

Joey wondered why he hadn’t noticed her sooner. I’ll look for her again, but right now I have another lady to please.

*****

Thanksgiving morning Marian had an eighteen-pound turkey in the oven by 6:00 a.m. striped in salt pork in preparation for a bountiful all-American meal flavored in fall colors without a macaroni in sight. It was a day of favorites, but Joe’s craving for pasta was easily deferred to America’s wonderful bounty.

Jean’s guest, Millicent, a friend from work, sweet, generous, and in her forties, appeared a doll made up by a child. She proved a thoroughly enjoyable and appreciative guest who joined the young adults at a Saunders/Roosevelt High School football game to shiver and cheer.

Meanwhile, Joe watched the Macy’s parade on television and called out, Hon, remember taking the kids down to see the parade?

She answered, That was always fun.

Marian kept track of the parade as she brought Joe tastes of portions of the meal. In this instance, the broccoli salad, so he gently hung on to the fingers that fed him and laughed while they shared, remembering the racing for a curb seat and the excitement of heading for the automat.

Later, the younger generation arrived ravenous, and though dinner was eaten practically in each other’s laps, it added a positive teasing to the feast. Much of it started with Joe, who always loved to tease Jean’s friends while Joey did much to make Mildred feel at home by baiting his friend Barry.

Get your fork off my turkey breast, Barry.

Good thing your sister didn’t say that or Mr. P. would beat me with his turkey leg.

A laughing Mildred coaxed Jean’s jumping in. Forget Dad, I’d flap you with my turkey wing.

Joey said, You’d protect me wouldn’t you, Mildred?

His warm smile and charming wink left Mildred agog with pleasure since her life had little to favor her with following a childhood she never discussed while her loneliness gave much away to those tuned into people.

Marian’s favorite part of Thanksgiving came later. With the guests gone, she made a sandwich. She smoothed one slice of bread with butter and another oozing with mayonnaise and placing turkey, tomato, and lettuce between. The fun began while watching Marian, always the lady, struggling for a bite of the huge sandwich.

Joe and the kids turned to watch the effort, and feeling their merriment, she said, All right, all right, so I can’t fit it into my mouth but it’s going to be delicious.

Within minutes of the mayonnaise dripping down onto Marian breast, already covered with a large napkin, she got her bite and smiled. The rest of the family headed for the kitchen, making their own version of a Prezzemoli turkey special.

*****

Time was passing quickly as the days began to rush toward Christmas fun, and Jean was still without a direction.

*****

One early December morning Marian put a quarter on the table, saying, The Army-Navy game is today. I’m betting on Army.

Everybody anted up, with father and brother betting on the home team too while Jean again took Navy.

Joey noticed a full back called John something made Navy’s plays click and, as a confirmed Army supporter, said, "If that guy isn’t an all-American, something’s not kosher, but I’ll bet you Army will wipe them out.

The losers earned Jean’s smug, Ta-da, as she picked up her 75 cents of winnings. Navy won 17 to 12. Jean remained true to her affections for the Marine Corp by choosing Navy each year.

*****

In December Marian and Joe followed Joey into a Christmas party chortling at feline reactions. A tight butt and slender body in a well-fitted jacket made him more tempting. Unlike Joe, he had cheeks.

Mar, did you give him anything of me? He even has a Manfredi tush.

She tightened her grip on his arm and said, Hon, what I gave him of you can’t go public.

Joe was well satisfied with his contribution to his son’s essence and his wife’s compliment.

Joey’s Manfredi good looks stood above a pair of broad shoulders on a long, trim body. Like his sister he dipped into a small waist that required tailoring. Neither inherited Grandma Tess’s curly hair, so Joey required eons in the john to plaster and sheen. It was now worse than before his going into the service because he felt his looks were the key to scoring a win with the ladies. He was right.

The very fact he proved a ladies’ man clouded his parent’s hopes for him. Since his user attitude didn’t bother the ladies, they wondered about the young women of today. Nothing new about this generation’s gap.

A twenty-one-year old unable to decide what he wanted to do isn’t unusual. Losing something, the singing group he sang with while in the service, the Heartbeats, drew a starting line at the rest of his life and the choice the group made denied his hearing the starter’s gun. Marian and Joe would try again and again to help him hear it, but until he finds his way, they continued to enjoy his male friends haunting the house. Still they worried. He seemed to be relying on his good luck acquiring real needs, and it wasn’t working.

Jean enjoyed being among all the fine young men visitors but never wished herself younger. Her dates often attended family backyard events, while Joey never brought a girl home or talked about any particular one while the phone rang incessantly for him.

To a sister, Joey was now a man of conflicting designs. While he was to her a charming, graceful guy, he was unschooled in working’s arts and conversations. She never told him because he remained an unceasing tease who was her brother both loved and dreaded.

Her hidden problem made reading him easier but not the why of his doubts about himself. Socially, she wished she was more like him for he usually fit in. Still it was nice having him home, after his self-inflicted army hitch spent in Europe becoming the ladies’ man. They remained, as they had in childhood, still at odds.

*****

Her nights before sleep were still filled with searchings.

But one night the phone rang, and it was Bill on the other end, saying, I’ve called to say good-bye. I’m leaving for California to get a fresh start.

She had to work hard quelling a fierce sadness. Still, it sounded right for him; and she said, Bill, promise me something?

If I can.

Do something with your electronic training. You’ve always wanted to and now’s the perfect time.

I plan to. The struggling huskiness of his brusque voice led to a silence that said good-bye in a way his words could not and Bill closed with, Good luck, Jean.

She wished him the same, and as she hung up, her mind brought her to his sharing his dreams and leaped to dancing with him and his saying, God, Jean, my chest hurts.

Daring the crink in her neck from another adventure, passing out, and careening off a stairwell to land in a freshly manicured lawn, she had met Bill’s merry blue eyes and blurted out her concern.

Let’s stop dancing?

Bill seemed to grimace. Naw, it’s just that it feels like I’ve two weights on my chest, and I can hardly breathe.

In confused hesitancy, Jean was about to get tough and insistent but Bill’s face exploded into a little boy expression that became a sneaky grin and a rousing masculine laugh. After all, 36 Cs are heavy, and through a beautiful blush, she joined the genuine laughter, something the child within could not prevent in a Prezzemoli, fun-filled, home-trained female.

It was a fond memory lauding the value of laughter and triggering a process of learning for her troubled mind. Amid a deep sigh, she suddenly understood it was her turn. Having hurt Bill so unfairly when he told he loved her, the caring for him as a comrade forced the truth on her and brought her needed clarity.

Thank you, Bill. I guess it’s time to try my wings. Oh, how I wish I could afford to learn to fly and work at that. A challenge loomed. I guess I should just have sex? It’s a simple enough solution. Sure, then I’ll get pregnant and have a new problem. No, thanks. I can’t kill a child for my mistake, and I’d make a lousy mother. I certainly won’t marry just because of a baby, and I wouldn’t be able to give it away.

Out of nowhere she remembered—the Pill. A mind reeled with its new chance for safety.

My God, we can have our cake and eat it too. She doubted the Blessed Mother would agree, and though avoiding some man-made rules of the church, faith had a real hold on her heart and mind.

Oh, what if I can’t do without it? That would really foul me up. She was angry again. I’m not ready to deal with the pill, so I’m wasting time again. Fed up, she conjured up her fantasy, only to suddenly stop to sit up again. This is ridiculous. Fantasy is fine, but it’s a substitute. I have to live this to lick it. Okay, I understand my daydreaming has to go.

As though her mind was on autopilot, her fantasy and Robert were instantly gone and went into an irretrievable bin and her mind opened wide to seek wise or unwise decisions.

I’m not kid anymore, so there is no more hiding. But I’m not going to a psychiatrist. I’m not crazy or a basket case. I got myself into this mess as a kid. I’m an adult now, so I’ll figure it out. But eerie things keep happening to me. They’ve been happening to me all my life, and I thrive on them, especially the sharing of them. What’s it all about?

*****

Her watcher sighed, She tries so hard, but it won’t work. She can’t see how she needs the child.

The Archer’s soft voice said, It may help in another way. Watch, there is much to understand.

The Archer noticed the watcher’s soft smile at her refusal to harm a child and placed a cautioning hand his shoulder.

There is much, much more. Keep in mind your visit with the Ancient.

The watcher remembered the red man Ancient, who watched one of his heritage and the knowledge that his charge might one day touch Jean’s life, depending on their decisions.

*****

Christmas shelved Jean’s delving. As was usual, for weeks, Joe walked in laden with gifts from his bank’s customers that remained unopened until Marian came home while generating in the younger generation a hope that some of the goodies would fall to them. It made every day Christmas, but most gifts were geared to Marian and Joe. Marian treasured the expensive cosmetics, and when the gifts did not include her favorite bath oil, Joe was happy to buy it himself. And when Jean acknowledged her preference for the same Mimosa, he again became his daughter’s hero by buying it for her. By now his experiences shopping for the women of his family had become a pleasant passing of time.

*****

Jean and Joey readied the cellar to accommodate holiday attendees, putting larger boards on table tops to accommodate more people and for days passed through a mother’s evening kitchen filling their nostrils with stomach tickling aromas.

Joe banked the old-fashioned potbelly stove he’d had put in for such occasions to furnish a steady glow, generously heating the cold cellar. When everyone arrived, Marian graced the table with seafood delights.

There were two exceptions. Marian’s sister Carmella and Jean both disliked seafood, and Marian made them a huge serving dish of polente, poured a rich sauce over the top, and handed the girls two tablespoons, theirs alone to eat from that one plate. Dish towels around their necks was a must.

This Christmas Eve, forty relatives and friends would be sharing the meatless meal and no one left the table until about eleven fifteen when it was time to head for midnight Mass.

Joey joined his cousins while Jean preferred the morning mass with Marian and Joe because the crowding of Midnight Mass was more unpleasant than enjoy. Actually, she dreaded passing out as she had as a youngster.

*****

Representing the bank at holiday affairs advantageously used Marian’s business acumen and feminine presentation much to Joe’s pleasure, and the events were enjoyable for both. What Marian had learned from Joe, she expressed wisely and smartly when joining in banking conversations. This year Joe took great pleasure when she added her social skills to making a chauvinist associate of Joe’s bite the dust while the man’s wife lowered her smile to scoop another bite of whatever to avoid her husband’s quick retreat.

Over the years Joe learned too, because Marian joined friends and family in activities Joe really didn’t enjoy. Joe’s destructive jealousy had evolved into a pattern of deep concern for her safety, and he kept it that way by truly understanding his childhood fears. He now took pride in a wife’s capacity to put a wolf in his place and concentrated on her everyday well-being. However, as with all his concerns, it weighed heavily so he paced when she was out until she returned and then he never mentioned it, being sure to be sitting relaxed and comfortable in his favorite chair when he heard her coming to wait for her loving touch.

Joe realized how obvious he was when one evening Jean rolled over on the couch and said, Relax, Dad. Mom will be home soon. It irked him, but hearing Marian in the sound of Jean’s voice brought him a rush of humor in remembering a daughter’s goofing by pretending to be Marian when he called for he had amorous intentions. I’ll be darned now, both of them wrap me around their fingers.

Joey, who chuckled from the floor, said nothing, stroked Spot’s head on his stomach, and thought, Mom and Dad are still great with each other. Everybody notices.

*****

Winter mornings became hateful for running, so Jean began a dance routine in the cellar while Joey lifted. One night they watched a classic Cary Grant-Deborah Kerr film. There was no conversation, but the last scene brought tears on and off the screen.

Jean asked, Shall I get you a towel?

No, I enjoy a good cry once in a while.

Accepting some things had changed between them, Jean tried to find his whys in not seeking career needs.

Joey, there is a world of things to do out there. Why not try some of them?

Joey avoided her effort. The strange part of it was, he didn’t leave in anger but rather as though he hadn’t heard a word she said or as though she was talking to herself in an empty room, which now was.

Well, I’ll consider myself lucky he’s not teasing me about my being home again. Avoidance, Jean understood; but the strange silences made her shake her head, wave her hand at him, and give up. She had enough on her mind and didn’t need this.

*****

Her war with her brother’s attitude made her watchers, both light and dark, flinch or pay more attention in a continuous circle of mind-changing decisions.

Job Be Gone

The year 1961 flew in, leaving a trail like the new jet planes whizzing overhead. Time, an elusive contrary friend, was moving on; and Jean still lacked the next step to answering her problem.

*****

On January 21 John F. Kennedy took the oath of president of the United States. The sincerity and strength in his peace-seeking speech impressed the four Prezzemoli.

Jean said, Maybe, I should have voted for him. The personal parallels of Kennedy’s speech took her away from national interests to her own.

A celebration of freedom symbolizing an end, as well as a beginning, signifying renewal, as well as change…

That’s me now. Even more of his words invaded her private sanctum.

Let both sides unite to heed all corners of the earth, the command of Isaiah to ‘undo the heavy burden and let the oppressed go free…’

Any adult with a controlling child within carries an unfair burden, so I can’t let her be boss. But how? How do I know what corners to take? I have to free myself of her.

Other avenues of possibilities were opening to her searching mind, and she sent for information on the Peace Corp.

I might have what it takes.

*****

The young men attending United States Military Academies soon to accept commissions in the armed services listened to Kennedy intently. At Annapolis, the Class of l962 knew this Commander in Chief held their lives in his hand. A good leader with an understanding of military needs. Some hoped; others believed. A disturbed world promised the class very little, except a job that might get them killed or maimed for the privilege of guarding freedom.

While the Middies waited for their turn, others were already reacting with action. The South American members of the Organization of American States made appropriate changes in military setup and communications that included asking a new major and his father, a retired colonel, to accept an assignment that would take them from their South American home to Washington, D. C., one a consultant to their ambassador at their Washington embassy and the other to another nearby Marine base for additional officer training, as a cover for other co-American military assignments as needed.

*****

Millicent is dead!

Jean sat among the stunned office group, silent, as their supervisor, Peg, continued, She committed suicide. The apartment superintendent hadn’t seen her in days. When the mail piled up, he found her. The police will release the body in a day or two. There’s no family, so the company is making the arrangements.

The silence became oppressive. Everyone waited, but there was nothing more. Jean felt as empty as the gray table before them was devoid of bright color. She asked heaven why and remembered their excited guest at Thanksgiving dinner. The return to their desks and telephones ringing endlessly interrupted her thoughts of a suddenly gone Millicent, causing Jean to nag herself with, Should I have done more? I should have invited her to Christmas Eve. What was one more?

At lunch she learned some depth of Millicent’s sadness. No loves, no intimates, and abused by people taking advantage of a love-starved human. She had been raised by abusive foster parents.

Millicent’s desperation dove deeply into Jean’s anger, bringing a clearer perspective.

My God, I never wanted to hurt myself! Guess I’m good at feeling sorry for myself. Oh, Millie, forgive me for not doing more. Tears flowed unfelt, and she prayed. Dear God, please help her. Her death can’t be a sin. A mind cancered by loneliness blinds the soul. Please take her home.

Jean’s telephone rang again. Marian’s hello turned Jean hoarse. She explained, but the rude clacker announced no personal calls.

Mom, I’m sorry, the clacker is howling. I have to hang up.

Are you all right?

Nodding but realizing her mom couldn’t see, answered, I’m fine. Our ESP still works.

Mother and daughter knew coincidence played no part, it occurred to often.

*****

Days later, the words, May I help you? were answered by a course masculine voice crashing through Jean’s earphones.

Damn you, I’m not taking any more crap. I want this fucking bill changed now.

The cursing attack triggered a revolution in her bruised mind. Her stomach pinched, creating a reaction a minuscule from exploding, and she stood up, facing her desk in ramrod posture as her voice went intrusive.

Excuse me for a moment, sir. She pulled the plug, stepped away, took a deep breath, and walked to her supervisor’s desk and said, Peg, I quit. I’m giving you three months notice because it takes that long to train someone. She nodded with a reassuring smile at Peg’s surprised silence and rushed back to her desk, jacked in, and said, Now, sir, if you’ve calmed down perhaps I can be of some help to you? The smile in her voice was untouchable.

Five o’clock came. She stood up again, only more sheepishly this time for having to tell a mother and father about quitting without thought for what’s next, only to break into a smile for realizing that wasn’t true.

When Marian and Joe asked what was next, she hit them with a totally new idea, turning Joe into a very protective father.