by Chris Fraser
“I don’t have the dexterity to roll my own anymore,” he said, almost ashamed. “I’ll tell you what, son, the day I realized I didn’t have the control to execute such a simple task was one of the darkest of my life and the day I knew this disease would beat me. Now, if you would, please roll me one, the weed seems to help my condition.”
I did as he wished, being careful to roll it like the ones I’d seen him pull out before, wondering who rolled those for him. I handed it to him and was eager for his approval of my work.
”Not bad,” he said and lit it up, then offered it to me. I waved it off and waited for his rebuke, but he kept puffing away.
“So we’ll continue tomorrow?” I asked, now eager to hear the rest of the story.
11
The next day, as I walked from my smaller house to the big one, I saw that the storms had blown over, leaving what felt like a crisp early autumn day in its wake. Outside, the weather was bright and clear, but in Preston’s office it was a somber tomb. Preston was in a shitty mood and had already been drinking by the time I arrived at 10:00.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Didn’t sleep for shit last night—muscles kept cramping up on me, they’re dying, you know.”
“Sorry to hear that, anything I can do?”
He gave a slight smile. “Just be good company, maybe join me in a drink or two, and have a smoke with me as we go along today. I think the real reason I couldn’t sleep is I’ve been dreading telling this part of the story—don’t care to relive it.”
“I understand,” I said, and walked over to the wet bar to pour us a couple tall scotch rocks. I handed him his drink and set my tape recorder on the center of the table between us.
* * * * *
“In 1929, the Walkers followed the Kennedys to an upscale neighborhood in the Bronx so Joe and Dixon could be closer to Wall Street, where they were now focusing most of their attention. The stock market was their first concern, but now they were branching out, dabbling in the movie production business, which had my father constantly traveling to California and back. They were leaving the bootlegging and real estate to the underlings. And with prohibition’s repeal in ‘33, they went legit with their liquor operations, but it was hardly as profitable as before, and the Depression basically put an end to real estate for the decade.
“In 1932, in the ultimate irony, President Roosevelt made good on all of Joe’s campaign contributions by making Joe the first Chairman of the SEC. Roosevelt wanted Joe to clean up the highly unregulated and corrupt stock market after the great crash and subsequent depression. When someone asked FDR why he chose Joe Kennedy as head of the SEC he said, ‘It takes a crook to catch one.’
“As far as the Depression went, Joe and Dixon came out smelling like roses. They could see the writing on the wall. Hell, they were the one’s doing the writing and knew a crash was inevitable—pulling out most of their money before shit hit the fan. People thought Joe was a genius, but when you’re working from the inside, cornering and manipulating the market, you know what’s going to happen long before the general public.
“Now the adults got along quite well, but as far back as I can remember, the Kennedy children were spoiled, obnoxious little shits. The only one who wasn’t was Rosemary, and that’s only because she wasn’t all there. The older boys, Joe and John, would constantly rough up me and my older brother, Phillip, and as soon as Bobby was old enough, he joined in too. Mother said we had to deal with the abuse as we owed all we had to the Kennedys, and Father was never around, so we couldn’t complain to him. Philip got it the worst as I was too young to make it worth their while, but he took the abuse silently, stoically, and never said a word. It eventually got to the point where the abuse slowed because Phillip just ignored the verbal attacks and just lay there for the physical beatings. He showed me his tricks so I had it a little easier and the Kennedy boys soon grew bored with us and found other neighborhood kids they could get a rise out of.
“Of course, Joe and John were enamored with Audrey and vied for her attention, but she had no interest in them or any boys, for that matter. She was raised to be a proper southern belle, no matter where we lived. All she wanted to do was read. Looking back, I can’t remember her without a book in her hand. Audrey was nine years older than I was, so she treated me as if I was her baby as well as her little brother. My first memories are of her reading to me in bed. She read to me every night, starting with children’s stories and fairy tales, then onto Dickens and other classics. Dickens was my favorite, and she read his tales so well—did all the voices and everything. I cherished her.
“The Kennedy girls weren’t much better than the boys—catty shrews. They mostly ignored Phillip and me. They’d call us redneck or hillbilly every now and again, but that was the extent of it. But they hated Audrey because she was beautiful and they weren’t. They saw the attention Audrey received from their older brothers and resented her for it. They teased her and talked behind her back, spreading rumors about her being loose and easy—which was ridiculous because my sister died having only had sex one time…and it ended up killing her.
“In 1938, all Joe Kennedy’s money and ass-kissing finally paid off. Roosevelt made him the U.S. Ambassador to Britain. Joe was over the moon with his new appointment and was convinced that he would be the sixth Ambassador to England to become President. Joe couldn’t be without his right-hand man on this new endeavor, so the Walkers were asked to come along to England, where Joe set us up in a mansion on Devonshire St—just down the road from the Winfield House at Regent’s Park, where the Ambassador and his family lived. At first, Father originally didn’t want to go—to him the Walkers had already strayed too far from home, and now, England? But ultimately it wasn’t up to him; he adored Mother and it was her call.
“Mother was beside herself; she would now consider herself royalty. She was the wife of the Chief of Staff to the U.S. Ambassador to England. The Kennedys had taken her this far and she would follow them anywhere. We were on our way to England. Phillip and I would be attending a private school in London—Audrey would enroll at Oxford. Mother was starting to consider herself Dame Camille Walker, and Father went along for the ride. I got the impression that he could have used a break from the Kennedys and high society for a while, he often talked about the simpler life back in Mississippi whenever he was around, which wasn’t much.
“All in all, life in England wasn’t much different than back in the states. In fact, for the most part we were all pretty happy. Phillip was about to join Audrey at Oxford. I made the rugby team at school and was kicking ass, if I do say so myself. Mother was busy entertaining society women and hosting tea parties and such, and Father, he was just busy, period. We were becoming really good at adapting to changing surroundings. Not just adapting, but thriving.
“Later that year, Joe Jr. and John finally made it out to London. Joe had just graduated Harvard and John was finishing up there, so they hadn’t come to England with the rest of the family. Phillip and I enjoyed the break from them, but as they got older, they basically just ignored us, and we did the same to them. Soon after John’s arrival, he decided that he had to have Audrey and began to pursue her. The fact that John was interested in Audrey thrilled my mother to no end. The idea of a Walker marrying a Kennedy was almost too exciting for her to handle. So with Mother’s dogged persistence and John’s smothering charm, Audrey agreed to date John. With the caveat that they go slowly and at her pace, John agreed and promised her he’d be nothing but a true gentleman.
“Now, as we all know, old Johnny boy was a smooth motherfucker—a big reason he weaseled himself into the White House. But with Audrey, he kept his word and they did go slow, although I’m sure he had other women on the side. He took Audrey to all the right parties, they ate at all the best restaurants, and he introduced her to the cream of London society. And I have to admit, she seemed very happy during this time, at least from what I can remember, I was only twelve or thirteen at the time.
John truly seemed to care for her, and he promised a future. He proved this by arriving arm in arm with Audrey at Joe’s annual Ambassador Ball, where he announced they were serious. Joe Sr. and Rose seemed to approve—publicly at least.
“Their courtship continued for another six months or so, and although pressured, she never gave in to John’s advances. Audrey insisted she was a good girl and would wait for marriage. Then came the day that would change the lives of the Walker family forever. Now, I wasn’t there for the whole thing, but for most of it, and I will tell it to you as best as I can remember it. I’ll never forget the date, August 26, 1939. In fact, it has become somewhat of an anti-holiday for me—a dark day.”
* * * * *
At that point, I stopped him. It occurred to me that today was August 26. Had he planned to do this today?
“Isn’t today the twenty-sixth?” I asked.
“Yes, the twenty-sixth,” he said. “It’s no coincidence, I wanted to talk about this on the anniversary. This is always hard for me, do you mind if I ask Matador to join us?”
“Of course not.”
He pulled out his cell phone and called. Matador said he’d be right in—as if he’d been waiting for the call.
He arrived quickly and was dressed for work. His dusty overalls stained with sweat. And he smelled just like the insidious odor I’d been overwhelmed with every now and again since my arrival.
“Have a drink, Mattheus,” Preston said. I caught Matador’s reaction—he knew this was serious if he was being called by his real name. He made a scotch rocks for himself and freshened up Preston’s; mine was still full. He handed Preston his drink and sat next to him on the couch.
Preston put his hand on Matador’s shoulder and said, “Today’s the twenty-sixth,” and with that Matador knew the date’s significance.
“Today’s the day, huh?” he said somberly.
I lit up a Camel, they hit the joint, sipped their drinks, and Preston began again.
* * * * *
“It was 6:00 in the morning and Mother had been up all night worrying. Audrey hadn’t come home, no call either. It was a school night and it just didn’t make any sense, this wasn’t like her. Phillip and I were preparing for school and Father was getting dressed for work when, in a chaotic flurry no one could ever have been prepared for, Audrey came bursting in, crying and bleeding from her groin area. Blood dripping down her legs spotting the hardwood floor—a macabre sign this wasn’t dried up blood, it was still flowing, still fresh, still coming. We grabbed her and sat her down on the couch. Audrey was hysterical and my mother was close to joining her.
“‘Audrey! Audrey, darling, what happened! Why are you bleeding, talk to me!’ Mother shrieked.
“‘Audrey, who hurt you? Who the fuck did this?’ Father screamed. ‘Was it John, did John do this to you? Talk to us, please, say something!’
“I ran to get a towel for the blood, and by the time I returned, Audrey was starting to form some words. She finally blurted out, ‘I’m a whore! I deserve this! This is my punishment! I deserve to die!’
“The hospital was secluded and antiseptic—the waiting room was empty. Mother was shaking and praying silently. Father fumed and paced the hallways, muttering curses under his breath. Phillip and I stared blankly ahead, wondering how we ended up in the emergency room on what started out as a normal Wednesday morning.
“‘Mr. and Mrs. Walker?’ said the doctor in white scrubs, addressing my parents with a well-trained countenance that gave away nothing. ‘Your daughter has lost a lot of blood, she’s currently sedated and we’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but only temporarily, we have to act fast. She’s asked for her parents. You can see her, but only briefly. You have a few minutes while we prep her for surgery.’
“We all looked at each other in collective terror.
“The doctor went on, ‘She’s losing blood, we need to get her into the operating room to try and stanch the wounds, but she insists on talking to you first. Please humor her and stress the immediacy of the situation; she’s being quite obstinate.’ Mother tried to collect herself, Father grabbed her hand, and they headed to her room.”
* * * * *
“I need another drink,” Preston said, interrupting the story and prompting Matador to jump up to get it. I was so engrossed in the story that I hadn’t noticed that Preston and Matador were holding hands. I assumed Matador knew how hard this was for Preston and was consoling him, but I still found it a little peculiar.
Preston had tears in his eyes, and Matador said, “We don’t need to do this today Pres, we got time. Trent’s gonna be here awhile.”
“No, now’s okay,” he continued.
* * * * *
“Now, I wasn’t supposed to be in the room with them, but I snuck down the hall and listened outside the door.
“‘Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry,’ Audrey said in a weak, almost inaudible voice.
“‘Sorry, why are you sorry baby, please tell us what happened,’ Mother gently pleaded.
“‘You’ll never forgive me. I can’t even look you in the eyes right now. I’m so ashamed, I’m so sorry Daddy.’
“‘Audrey, just tell us what happened. Who did this to you?’ Father asked, grabbing her pale hand, careful not to hurt her.
“‘I can’t, it’s too terrible.’
“‘Look,’ he said, getting impatient, ‘no matter what it is, we’ll always love you, and we’ll get through this, you’re our little girl. Now, what happened? Who’s responsible for this?’
“Audrey turned her head into the pillow and cried as loud as she could, ‘It was Uncle Joe! Uncle Joe did this to me!’ Mother and Father exchanged shocked looks. Audrey continued, ‘He made me get an abortion!’
“Racked with anger and a million questions, Father asked, ‘Where would you get an abortion? They’re illegal, and why in the world would Joe be responsible for this?’
“‘It was a back alley abortionist that he knew of,’ Audrey responded.
“Audrey turned to Mother and burst in to hysterics, ‘Mommy it was horrible…they hurt me, it hurt so much!’
“‘Oh, God, Dix,’ Mother gasped.
“‘Who was the father? Was it John?’ Father fumed.
“‘Yes,’ she cried.
“‘Did he force himself on you?’
“‘Yes, I’m so sorry, Daddy.’
“Father couldn’t take it anymore; ready to explode, he sat back in one of the chairs and put his head in his hands, trying to control himself for his daughter’s sake.
“Mother took over. ‘Audrey, did John rape you?’
“‘No, not really. We were going at it pretty good and he’d been drinking. He said I’d gotten him too worked up to stop and it just happened, but I didn’t want to, I swear.’
“‘How did Joe get involved?’ Mother asked, trying to remain calm so she could glean as much information as possible.
“‘When I missed my period, I told John. He felt guilty and took me to their family doctor and he said I was pregnant. Johnny wanted to do the right thing, I swear he did—he even said he’d marry me. We went to see Uncle Joe, so John could tell him. He snapped; he became someone I’d never seen before. He went on about how stupid we were and how there was no way a Kennedy would ever marry so far beneath his status. He called me a whore for letting this happen and seducing his son. John went to confront him and Uncle Joe hit him hard enough to knock him down. He told John this was only going to happen one way—he knew someone who takes care of these things. He said it would be like nothing happened. Oh Momma, you should have seen the look in his eyes, it was like he was possessed. I saw pure evil!’
“I saw my father through the gap in the door; he had his head down, shaking it slowly.
“‘I was stupid to go through it,’ Audrey sobbed, ‘but I was too ashamed to let you and Daddy know. I guess, in a way, I just wanted it to be over with, like Joe said, like it never happened. John took me to a dingy office in the Indian part of town and they stra
pped me to a table. When I saw all the horrible instruments they planned on using, I kicked and screamed and told them I changed my mind—I screamed I don’t want to do this. The man just told me to relax and put a foul smelling cloth over my mouth and nose, and the next thing I remember was waking up bleeding on our front lawn.’
“Two orderlies came into the room rolling a gurney, followed by Dr. Shapiro. ‘We have to move now! Audrey, you’ll see your parents when we’re finished.’ The orderlies lifted her almost lifeless body onto the gurney and started down the hall.
“‘Don’t leave me, Mommy, I’m scared!’ Audrey screamed.
“‘Honey, everything will be all right, we’ll be right here waiting for you when you get back, everything’s going to be okay,’ my mother reassured her. Audrey grabbed Father’s hand, she wouldn’t let go and he had to walk along with the rolling gurney.
“‘Daddy, I’m so sorry.’
“‘It’s all right, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong.’
“Audrey then screamed to both of them. ‘I didn’t mean what I said before, I don’t want to die! I’m so scared, Daddy! I don’t want to die!’
“One of the orderlies had to pull Audrey’s hand from my father’s, and as they headed into the operating room, Audrey’s screams of ‘I don’t want to die!’ echoed through the halls. Mother and Father collapsed into each other’s arms.
“The wait was agonizing—minutes seemed like days since they took her away. The only sound was the ticking clock and our pounding hearts booming in our heads.
“Dr. Shapiro finally came out, followed by two more doctors. All three of them had the same dreaded look on their face. ‘I’m so sorry, she’s gone. We did all we could, she just lost too much blood,’ was all he said, and they walked away shaking their heads. Everything went black. I don’t remember what happened after that, and I’ve never heard anyone else’s account of what occurred after she bled to death that day. Everything just went black.”