Читать книгу The Breaking Point - Mariella Starr - Страница 8

Ales pulled Ricco from the floor and balanced him on his feet. “Upstairs, kiddo.”

“I’m not asleep,” Ricco protested.

“You were snoring,” Ales laughed, giving his son a nudge toward the stairway. “You’ve had a busy day. Say goodnight, and go to bed.”

“Night, Mom, Dad,” Ricco said sleepily, and he trudged up the first few steps. Then suddenly they heard him running the stairs.

“Boundless energy,” Faith said, smiling. “I’m going to miss the quiet, but not too much. Thank you for bringing Ricco to me. I’m sure Jill thanks you, too. She’s home by now, bossing her crew around.”

“How are you?” Ales asked of Faith.

“I’m tired, but that’s become my normal. I didn’t do much today, it was all on you.”

“It’s going to be that way for a while. You’ve been through a major trauma. I can remember how I felt in high school after a rough football game. It’s no fun being hurt,” Ales said. “Tomorrow, you’re going to be busy, too, although most of it will be directing Ricco and me.”

“What will I be doing?” Faith asked.

“Tomorrow there is going to be a huge shipment of stuff coming in from Amazon,” Ales said.

“Of what?”

“It’s another thing I didn’t discuss with you, but it was necessary. A complete art studio is going to be delivered. I went on your Amazon account, and I ordered everything that you’ll need, I hope. I had to guess on a few things like easels, but I ordered the best, and the same goes for brushes, canvas, and paints.”

“Ales,” Faith exclaimed in dismay, although she was inordinately pleased. “What did it cost?”

“I don’t care what it costs,” Ales said firmly. “You can go through the stuff as it arrives, and if I missed something, I want you to order it. We’re not paying the bill on it, either. Mom doesn’t know it yet, but she’s paying the bill. She was responsible for destroying your equipment. You need a studio set up here in Hancock.”

“How? She doesn’t have that kind of money!”

“I’ll sell off something of value if I have to!” Ales said determinedly. “I can’t replace what she ruined, Faith, but I intend to make restitution as best I can. I want you to know that I support your work. If I could trade my talents for yours, I would do it in a heartbeat. My talents may be commercially rewarding, but what you paint and sculpt is a God-given gift that shouldn’t be wasted. I talked to Mr. Cartland at the James Gallery. I told him about the accident and about your concussion. The result is when you think you’re ready, or almost ready, start sending him photographs, and he’ll reschedule a showing for you.”

Faith was silent for a long minute. “We had an agreement that I wouldn’t interfere with your business, and you wouldn’t interfere with mine. You calling the James Gallery crossed that line.”

“I know,” Ales said, and then he shrugged. “I did what I thought was right and fair. I can change a lot about myself, but I’m a take-charge kind of guy. I have many faults, but I have always envied and supported your talents. Realizing that I might lose you has shaken me badly. The accident was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t!”

“You would not have been on the road if you hadn’t felt like you needed to get away,” Ales argued. “That is on me. I’m willing to do whatever it takes, Faith. You have to be willing to do your part too. Ricco says we can’t get divorced.”

Faith sucked in her breath. “What does he know about divorce?”

“Less than the kids that have gone through it,” Ales admitted. “Still, from what he says, half the kids in his class are from split homes. He thinks divorce means the dad has to go away.”

“I don’t want that,” Faith said. “I know we have our problems right now, and the idea of divorce has crossed my mind several times, but I don’t want a divorce to be the answer.”

“It’s not going to be!” Ales interjected.

“As far as the accident goes, you are not at fault. That was my ‘Jesus Take the Wheel,’ moment. Even though it wasn’t my fault, I shouldn’t have been driving. If I had pulled over, until I had control of myself, or checked into a hotel until I calmed down, things might have been different. Unfortunately, we don’t get redos on hindsight. I was there, and all I can do is thank God that I wasn’t killed or crippled. It could have been a lot worse, and I’m thankful it wasn’t. It was a wake-up call for both of us, and I hope you realize there will be changes, and not just from you. I’m guilty of not standing up for myself. I’ve been bottling anger inside me for a long time.”

“We can have redos,” Ales said. “We have strayed from our root principles.”

“In many ways,” Faith agreed. “We were truer to ourselves when we lived in Baltimore and were going to school at the Institute of Art. We lived in that horrible little two-room apartment that was all easels and drafting tables in the living room.”

“The bedroom without a closet,” Ales said, remembering. “We tried to use rolling clothes racks. One for your side of the bed, and the other for mine.”

“They kept falling over, and you got mad one day and threw them away, and asked my Dad to save a bunch of wooden crates for us. You nailed them together to create open boxes where we stored everything,” Faith remembered fondly. “We were young, but we were honest with each other. Things started going wrong after we moved to Cumberland.”

Ales nodded. “I’ve thought a lot about that, too. We fell into roles after we moved to Cumberland. Those roles were close to what we’d agreed upon when we married, but they started changing. We forgot the foundation of truth between us that we hammered out during the two years we lived together. It worked for us.”

“It did,” Faith agreed.

“It’s been five or six years since we practiced domestic discipline,” Ales said. “Do you want to return to the practices of a D/D relationship?”

“As strange as it would sound to most people, it did work for us,” Faith said honestly. “I’ll probably change my mind the first time you decide I deserve a spanking.”

Ales chuckled. “Did you know both my sisters are in D/D relationships?”

“Well, yes, no...” Faith exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. “Really? I knew about Jill, but Carrie? John believes in domestic discipline?”

Ales nodded his head. “Both of my sisters. As bossy as Jill is, Mack still sets her ass on fire when she goes too far. The same goes for Carrie and John.”

“I didn’t know about John,” Faith said. “I know both of them have had serious marital problems over the years. Isn’t it weird that all three of you are in D/D relationships, but your parents weren’t?”

“I have thought about it,” Ales admitted. “I think we wanted something different from what we witnessed every day of our lives as kids. We were raised in chaos. My sisters and I watched my mother undermine my father with lies and outrageous behavior. I didn’t want that, and I don’t think my sisters did either. We wanted order, respect, and love. All three of us have that in our marriages. How we got there isn’t as important as the fact that we got there. Being in domestic discipline relationships seems to suit us.

“Reestablishing myself as the head of household, means we have to have a lot more communication, from myself and from you. Doing what I ultimately think is best is part of my job as the Head of House, but I can’t be a dictator, and I have become one. I’m in the habit of doing what I think is best, without consulting you.”

“I’ve been shutting down, and harboring resentments,” Faith admitted. “We don’t communicate anymore.”

“That’s going to stop,” Ales promised. “We are a two-career household, and if you drop our artistic temperaments on top of everything else, it’s no wonder we imploded. We need to take a step back and follow the tenets that worked for us, and kept our marriage strong.”

“Can we turn back time?” she asked, as she moved stiffly to sit on the sofa. Faith leaned against her husband’s shoulder, and he tucked her head under his chin gently as he’d done for years. “Can you be the person you were? Can you do what is best for our family above your career, and your ego? As the Head of House, sometimes you have to accept a decision that is best for Ricco or me; even if you strongly disagree with it. In the last couple of years, your concerns have been a higher priority than ours. You have been behaving a lot like a despot.”

“I realize that, and I’m sorry,” Alessandro said. “I loved my father, and I still love my mother, but I never understood their relationship. Dad wanted to be a dictator, and my mother wanted to be a free-wheeling hippie.”

“There’s something I have to tell you,” Faith said, scooting over and distancing herself from him. “I’ve been thinking about this seriously for about a year. I’m going to do it, and nothing you can say is going to change my mind.”

“Now, you’re giving me ultimatums?” Ales asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I am. You haven’t been receptive to listening to me for a while. When school starts in the fall, I’m only going to be teaching three classes, which changes my status from a full-time teacher to part-time. I’m going after my Masters. I’ve already talked to admissions at Frostburg, and most of the credits I’ve earned will transfer. I can take a few of the required courses online at my own pace, so I can get those done and out of the way.

“It will take me about eighteen months to earn the credits I need. Dr. Lingburgh, at the college, said if I wanted to continue teaching at Frostburg, he would do his best to keep me on staff. Mr. Hadley, of the Art Department, is talking about retiring, and with a Masters, I could possibly step into his position, although I’m not sure that’s what I want.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a year?” Ales asked.

“More like three. Every time I’ve mentioned it, you’ve shut me down. It’s time for me to finish what I started, and it’s fair. I postponed my studies to work full-time so you could finish your degree. I postponed my studies to be a full-time mother during Ricco’s baby years.”

“I agree, and I don’t have an issue with you getting your degree,” Ales said as he got to his feet. He walked over and faced the window again, looking out over the yard. “I do have an issue with you not discussing it with me.”

“I tried!” Faith exclaimed.

“I know, and I’m sorry about dismissing it and not listening. I was acting like a macho ass,” Ales admitted. “In my head, I turned it into you not being around the take care of Ricco.”

“The last time I suggested returning to school and getting my Masters in Fine Arts, you said it wasn’t necessary. You said my responsibility was to my family,” Faith said, swiping at tears that came into her eyes. “That has become your fallback position every time I want to do something that you disagree with. What you meant was I had to be available to handle all the household problems, take care of Ricco, and keep your mother from going off the deep end because you were too busy to deal with her. Cybil made the leap into crazy years ahead of your father’s demise, Ales. I resent that my life has to be affected by what she thinks and how she acts.”

Ales nodded and took a deep breath. “All I can do is apologize and promise that I will not allow her to interfere with our lives again. She may try to interfere with mine. I can’t avoid it. I am her son, but I will protect you and Ricco from her irrational behavior.”

He went to his wife and hugged her gently. “Don’t cry. We are going to fix this. You have my word. I think it’s time for you to go to bed. Where am I sleeping? If it’s across the hall, I’m okay with it.”

“There’s no need for two rooms,” Faith said.

Ales hadn’t realized how much strength Faith had lost. She was halfway up the flight of stairs when she had to sit down. Her face had drained of all color, and she looked exhausted.

“Faith!”

“I’m okay,” she claimed.

“Like hell!” Ales growled. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the door of the bedroom they would share, and set her on her feet.

“I need help undressing and dressing,” Faith said quietly. “I’m not up to anything physical yet, but I’ve missed you.”

“Can I hold you in my arms?” Ales asked.

She nodded.

“That’s all I need.”

“Wow!” Jill exclaimed, turning in a circle. “This is fantastic! My bonehead brother thought of this?”

“Yes, and give Ales come credit,” Faith said. “He said turning these third-floor rooms into a full studio made sense. He and Ricco set this room up for oil painting, and the smaller room next door is for watercolor.

“Ales wanted to set up the third bedroom for sculpture, but that’s not feasible. Clay is heavy and messy. Unless you work with it, you have no idea how much strength it takes. Working in clay also requires special filters in the air conditioning and special drains in the piping. That’s why I do most of the sculpting at the art studios at Frostburg. We stored most of the extra stuff Ales ordered into that room for now.”

“Well, I think this is terrific,” Jill said. “You’re painting again!”

“Yes,” Faith said. “Although your brother sets a timer, and when it goes off, after an hour, I have to stop and rest. I hope to get a clean bill of health when I go to the doctor on Friday.”

“So, how are you two getting along?” Jill asked.

“We’re working through our issues,” Faith admitted. “Ales came with a written list, but I think my mental one was longer. I gain some, he loses some, and vice-versa. Marriage is supposed to be about give and take. I’ve decided to stop caving in when I don’t agree with him. We still have things to work through. He hasn’t been here that long.”

“Mack and I were in a similar situation a couple of years ago,” Jill admitted. “It takes time, and it takes patience, and sometimes it takes fighting. Unfortunately, the fighting usually ends up with me having a sore bottom!”

“We haven’t gone there yet,” Faith admitted. “I do appreciate the time Ales had set aside for us. I don’t like fighting, and I don’t have your temperament. There are times that I wish I did. I think that’s how I got into this situation in the first place. I don’t like conflict, and I hide from it,” Faith said. “Ricco and I are going to spend the summer here in Hancock, while Ales and I work our way through our problems. When Ales returns to work, he’s going to be working a four-day week, and taking three-day weekends with us. Truthfully, he has never really stopped working. He has been working into the early morning hours, designing, and doing whatever he does at his office.”

“Are you thinking of living here permanently?” Jill asked.

“Someday maybe, but not now. When school resumes, I’ll be going to Frostburg, as both a teacher and a student taking post-graduate studies. The one-hundred-mile round trip was vetoed. I tried to float the idea, but Ales said absolutely not, and he said he wouldn’t be changing his mind.”

Jill made a face. “I have to agree with him. That’s too much on anyone. I hate having to drive to Hagerstown or further.”

Faith shrugged.

Jill hugged Faith again. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better, and you’re working on your problems. I was worried.”

“I’m still worried, but like you said, we’re working on it,” Faith admitted.

“I don’t want to bring up something that is going to cause a problem, but...” Jill said hesitantly.

“But?”

“I went through your things in the garage,” Jill admitted. “Not everything was destroyed. It looked like it from the top of the pile, but because some of your paintings had those dropdown canvases over them, they were protected. The pieces that didn’t look to me like they’d been damaged are in Carrie’s van. I borrowed it to bring your stuff to you. A lot of your paints, and brushes, and tools weren’t damaged either. At least that I could see.”

“Okay, let’s bring them in,” Faith said, taking a deep breath. “We can store them in the empty room and I’ll go through them.”

“Oh, no,” Jill said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to let you tramp up and down those steps and stairs. Even getting them as far as the living room, requires doing all the steps from the sidewalk. My brother would kill me for overtaxing your strength. We’ll wait until he gets back from the grocery store with Ricco. Living here is like doing several cardio workouts every day!”

“Cardio workouts are good for you!” Faith said, teasing her sister-in-law. Jill was thin and trim, but she hated any kind of physical exercise.

Jill left to go home, and Ales and Ricco made trip after trip to the third floor. Even Ricco’s eight-year-old legs began to flag. He was taking box after box of carefully packed items Jill had salvaged. Ales was carrying the paintings.

Faith scrutinized every piece of her artwork. She saw flaws that Jill’s untrained eye couldn’t see. She was admittedly a perfectionist when it came to her work.

“You’re not destroying this one, are you?” Ales said, looking at a painting that was a landscape of a lake with a background of woodland in almost abstract strokes.

“It’s damaged,” Faith said, and a tear ran down her cheek.

“If it is, I can’t see where,” Ales said, looking over the piece carefully. “May I have this one for my office?”

“Yes,” Faith whispered, and her voice alerted her husband that she was crying.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Alessandro said, wrapping his arms around her. “The destruction of your work is something I can’t fix, but I can make sure it never happens again, notwithstanding a natural disaster.”

Faith nodded and wiped her tears away again. “Your mother is a disaster. What kind of secrets are you keeping from me? I saw you in a deep conversation with Jill today?”

“Mom? Are you okay?” Ricco appeared in the doorway.

“Of course!”

“Then, why are you crying?”

“I’m a girl. Girls get emotional, and we cry,” Faith said, wiping her tears away. “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything is wrong. Girls even cry when they are happy.”

Ricco looked from his mother to his father. He didn’t see any anger on either of their faces. “If Byron and Jayden help carry the rest of the boxes upstairs, can we go to the park and ride our bikes?”

“If you walk your bikes to Main Street, yes,” Ales said. “As I’ve warned you, this hill is too steep to ride, and I don’t want you losing control.”

“We all walk our bikes to the bottom,” a boy said, flanking Ricco. “The last time I tried to ride it, I lost my bike for two whole months.”

“Good for your parents, Byron,” Ales said in agreement. “Sure, grab a box, but be careful with them. No throwing them around. Treat them like you’re carrying glass.”

Three boys hiking two flights of stairs made quick work of the stack of small boxes. Then there was a thundering of running feet through the kitchen as they grabbed cookies and sodas and were gone with a loud slamming of the kitchen door.

“If we could bottle that energy,” Faith said from a comfortable position on the sunroom furniture. “Now, will you tell me what is going on?”

“My sisters and their husbands have been on a mission,” Ales admitted. “One of Mom’s neighbors complained to Jill that Mom was throwing liquor bottles in her trash, and in her other neighbor’s trash. The neighbors want it stopped. Mom denied the claim, so Jill and Carrie have taken their investigations a step further. They have been going over when Mom wasn’t home, and they have been going through her trash. The empty bottles are there, and there have been plenty of them. They have been stuffed into paper bags, empty boxes, and a variety of things to disguise them. They are collecting them as proof.

“I know it sounds terrible invading Mom’s privacy, but it’s not breaking in if you have a key, and we all have keys to Mom’s house, and we need to learn the truth.”

“Is that why she’s been so unstable and acting crazy?” Faith asked.

“We don’t know for sure yet, but we think alcohol is the culprit,” Ales said. “By the way, her horrible debilitating injury has already healed, and she’s walking around without a boot, crutch, or a cane.

“Mack and John have been doing vehicle surveillance, and following her from liquor store to liquor store. John followed her to Frostburg, where she bought four cases at a discount liquor store. He filmed her on his phone. Even at a discount price, it was two hundred and forty dollars a case.”

“There is an amazing amount of alcohol hidden in her house. By the number of bottles they’ve been finding in her trash, the estimate is that she is spending over sixty dollars a day on booze. Her poison is Jose Cuervo Tequila, the gold label.”

“Last Christmas when I bought a bottle for our party, it was thirty-two dollars,” Faith said, and she snapped her fingers. “That explains the half bottle that disappeared.”

Faith furrowed her eyebrows together, trying to do the math, and Ales smiled. Even simple math was his wife’s weakness. “That’s roughly two thousand dollars a month,” he said.”

“We’ve been contributing to that,” Faith exclaimed angrily, getting to her feet. Your mother said she couldn’t make her expenses because your father’s pension had been cut by his union! We’ve been contributing to her drinking! How many drinks are in a bottle?”

“I don’t know, and I guess it depends on the size of the bottle and the glass,” Ales said. “We all know mom has been drinking more as she gets older. Now, we suspect she might have become dependent on it.

“Carrie is talking with a woman from a recovery center, getting advice from her on how to handle the situation. We’ve decided to hold an intervention, and we’ll see where we go from there.”

“It explains a lot,” Faith said. “It explains her claims of poverty, and her accidents. Cybil isn’t clumsy or weak; she’s a drunk! That explains her mood swings and her aggressiveness. It might be considered a reason for her bad behavior, Ales, but it’s not an excuse for all of it. How long has this been going on?”

“We don’t know, but we suspect since my father died, although it might have started sooner. That’s been a while,” Ales said. “I know you’re not fond of my mother, Faith, but she is my mother. I do love her, and no matter how badly she has behaved, I have to deal with her. God knows you have your reasons for not wanting to help, and I do understand, but I don’t have a choice.”

“Ricco is not going anywhere near her until this issue is resolved,” Faith said fiercely. “I won’t have it! Good, God! How many times has she been in a car driving with him while under the influence? She was driving him home from his Little League practices!”

“I thought of that, too,” Ales admitted. “I’m also worried about what she’s doing to herself. I’m not asking you to get involved with this. Not after what she did to you. You won’t have to deal with her. I promise.”