Читать книгу Bad Dad - Alice Shane - Страница 7

Danny and Mary Lou lived a subsistence existence in a trailer park on the edge of Bedford, South Carolina, a reality that surpassed Lester’s understanding, according to Margo’s way of thinking. Certainly, she had heard him complain about it ad nauseam.

On one level, she couldn’t blame Lester for his failure to fully understand Danny’s rejection of the privileged existence he was born into. On the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel their estrangement was Lester’s fault for being so unforgiving.

Dirt poor, working as a lineman for Southern Power & Light, Danny eked out a living climbing power poles and dodging live wires. There was a son, Charlie, born before their marriage, just prior to his graduation from Bridgefield Academy – an exclusive prep school with a tuition to match – a $30,000 a year price tag that prepared students for the Naval Academy, West Point, the Ivy League. Several years later, he eloped with Mary Lou, a girl from the housing projects of Bedford.

What a life, Margo thought. Danny would be a commissioned officer by now – a major, or maybe a captain. But having knocked the girl up, he would not have been accepted by these elite military institutions with policies against enrolling students with children. The illegitimate kid and marrying out of his class, infuriated Lester, culminating in the rupture between them.

“A wasted life – a superb private school education and a family background with Mayflower roots meant nothing to my son, thanks to that conniving girl who believed she would get her grubby little hands on my money,” was Lester’s frequent lament.

“He threw his future away for a fuck, a blow job. He didn’t have to marry that girl,” Lester vented angrily to Margo, barely able to conceal his anguish. “I gave him everything and he gets the little whore pregnant. Well, I hope he’s happy being her meal ticket!” he sputtered, his face reddening, alarming Margo who feared he might have a heart attack. Lester was 57 years old, still youthful, but mature enough to develop a cardiac condition.

His anger was justified, Margo reasoned. Yet, she couldn’t wholeheartedly endorse Lester’s point of view. True, he did make sure Danny had the right prep school education. He also sent Danny to exclusive summer camps that provided tennis, golf, soccer and polo lessons, equestrian training – any and all of the advantages accruing to a boy raised in an upper class lifestyle. But she could see that these benefits did not protect Danny from the clutches of “that girl,” or shield him from his ‘fall from grace’ as Lester sometimes described it.

“If I had known he was shacking up with that girl, I would have pulled him out of Bridgefield and sent him to public school. Of all the girls he could have latched onto – girls from good, fine families – he had to wind up with a welfare slut!” Lester would say to Margo, not once but many times.

“OK, OK, so he didn’t do what you wanted him to do. But that doesn’t mean you should let it embitter you,” Margo said in an effort to calm him, give him another perspective. “I understand, darling. I do understand. But sometimes things don’t go our way.”

“Maybe you’re right. My only son, my only child has hurt and disappointed me. But I shouldn’t allow myself to be consumed by his failures,” Lester acknowledged solemnly, looking sheepish, realizing all this venting was upsetting to Margo who, with the best of intentions, tried to avoid fanning the flames of his pent-up rage.