“Stephen—”
“Shut up Nancy!”
Nancy gave him a cold hard look, but kept her tongue at a smooth sugary level, “But Stephen, let’s think about this.”
“I said shut up!” Stephen snapped back at her and then walked over to Suzy; careful not to touch her, he never touched his children. “I knew this was bound to happen,” Stephen sneered, surrounding her with his stern presence and icy veneer. He got in her face however and with a long pointed finger, he lectured, “I knew if I allowed you to date that boy without a chaperone, this would eventually happen. Those people always take advantage.”
Unlike Nancy, Suzette had the guts enough to speak what she felt. She may look like her mother, but she was still her father’s daughter. “Those people?”
Stephen took a step away from his daughter, “You know what I mean.”
“You’ve always hated Ray because he’s Negro, haven’t you dad?” Suzy leered at him.
Stephen’s drink was back in his hand. “Don’t push me Suzy,” he forewarned her, taking a sip of his alcohol.
Nancy believed she needed to come to the rescue of someone and placed her body in between the two of them and stood directly in front of Suzy. After all, she did love her daughter more. “What was the family going to say Stephen?” She asked in a soft, coy voice.
Stephen was calm now after a few more sips of his J&B. “Oh God, I don’t know. Let’s just hope no one will ever find out,” he said, sounding a little insecure. “This will be a major embarrassment to the Steele’s. Maybe we can send her away?”
“Away?” Nancy and Suzy said in unison.
“Away…to where?” Suzy balked, “I’m trying to make this right, dad. I’m getting married to Ray.”
“Oh no, you’re not!” Stephen shouted down at her.
“Oh yes, I am!” Suzy shouted back up at him.
Nancy was suddenly pushed aside by her husband and thought it best to step away from the both of them and walked over to the window while Francine went with her.
“The hell you’re not! We’ll find you a doctor first before you disgrace this family!”
“A doctor?” Suzy said, flabbergasted. “You mean abortion?”
“As long as you live under this roof little lady, you’ll do what I say!”
“Then I’m leaving…” Suzy proclaimed, darting for the door.
Nancy’s head whipped around. Déjà vu.
“You leave now,” Stephen proclaimed, following her backside towards the hallway. “The family will cut you off without a penny to your name. That means no trust fund little lady and if you two were planning on using the family money for support then you’re in for a world of hurt.”
Suzy finally reached the front door and opened it up with no one to stop her. “Fine then; we don’t need it! Ray is obviously gonna go pro, so I don’t need your stinkin’ family trust fund!” She then marched out the opening slamming the door behind her.
Paul surveyed the unharmonious atmosphere and decided that a one-night stand would help out at this point and silently vacated the premises without ever being noticed or given the proper farewell. Francine too feels the pressure of her sister’s abrupt departure and ran up the staircase to cry in her room.
Nancy stood still and wiped the remaining tears that were rolling down her cheeks. Stephen gripped his drink one last time and then hurled it against the wall shattering it into a gazillion pieces.
Stephen then caught his wife’s sickened glassiness and the two unhappy parents turned away from each other bracing themselves for the repercussions of their past.
September, 1967
Instead of running towards her room, Francine opted to run into Suzy’s instead and inside her bedroom, Francine sat quietly down at the edge of her sisters’ canopy mattress.
Gazing around her sister’s room, Francine scanned over all of Suzy’s memoirs: stuffed animals filled the crevices of her queen bed, two sets of pompoms and cheerleading memorabilia crammed the corners of the space, beauty contest trophies of every kind, some so tall nearly reached the ceiling. Dozens upon dozens of beauty contest ribbons, even a diamond studded tiara hung from a bookshelf up above her. Flower printed wallpaper covered one wall whereas musical group posters the likes of the Doors, Rolling Stones, Beatles and The Who covered the rest.
Francine was always envious of her sister and always wanted to be Suzy, period. Popular, well loved throughout the town and at school, last year she won homecoming queen, the year before, Miss Young Connecticut.
Francine then sat up and walked over to a photo Suzy had on her writing desk. It was a picture of Suzy and her boyfriend, Ray Ashford. It had been rumored around town that Ray’s father was a Negro, but his mother was Catholic-Irish and blonde as could be. His father left the family when Ray was a small boy and he’s never known him; Ray was being raised by his paternal grandmother in New Canaan after his mother past away unexpectedly. His grandmother came from old money and was never looked on with shame, but gossip still ran deep and although Ray’s skin was considered ‘mulatto’ he wasn’t altogether as dark as some of the other Negro boys at New Canaan High School and Ray was still grouped in with them by default.
Suzy was in her cheerleading uniform and he was in his football jersey in the photograph, and like everyone else, Ray had had a crush on the infamous Suzette Steele. He was as good-looking as she was and oh so talented. Simply the best running back Fairfield County had ever seen. Ray had already been scouted by some major universities in his sophomore and junior years and was on his way to becoming a superstar. Accepting a football scholarship to Michigan State in the fall, Ray was the only guy left in town that could ever be matched up with her sister; he was as popular as she was, it seemed natural for them to be together. It was just forbidden by the community for them to be romantically involved.
Later that night, Francine pulled out her pajamas and then drew down her pants to put them on. Laying down on her bed face down she changed positions several times before she spun over to her left allowing one of her arms to drape over the side and mumbled, “I can’t believe my sister’s pregnant…” and then rolled over to look up at the ceiling to mumble some more, “…I can’t believe I have to move.”
While growing up, the children all had labels attached to them given by the Steele ancestry. Paul Steele was considered “the brains of the family”, while Francine was “the loud mouth”. Suzy was always considered “the beauty”, but now, after she’s disgraced the family, Suzy Steele will forevermore be considered “the screw-up”.
Los Angeles, California
Endless sunshine, crowded beaches, palm trees, smog and the famous HOLLYWOOD sign. What can you say about Los Angeles?
Nothing yet, according to Francine, she was hot and sweaty, quite different from the atmosphere back in New Canaan and in the back seat of their station wagon travelling at 55 MPH on the 4-oh-5 Interstate, she was as miserable as could be…but who wasn’t in this family? In the front seat, Stephen had the radio turned down to almost nothing while a crossed-armed Nancy suddenly became fixated on a billboard off the freeway that screamed “Luccardi’s Fine Italian Cuisine.”
Nancy quickly turned her head to look at Stephen; he wasn’t paying any attention to her, only concentrating on the drive when Nancy adjusted her position in her seat to turn her head completely around to watch the billboard pass her by. It did read, “Luccardi’s” and she was so incredulous over it; she hadn’t seen that name in such a long time and a twinge of nostalgia filled her heart after being dormant for so very long.
They reached their new house finally and calling it a new house was putting it lightly. It was a tract home situated in a gated community with a security guard at its elaborate front entrance. It was a new neighborhood with newly built two-story cookie-cutter modern style homes with dark brown trim and three car garages. Theirs was a former model home with patches of grass already in its front and backyard with a gazebo built in the far corner of the back. Other
homes surrounding theirs were plush with landscaping; but having been neglected by the former owners, theirs was barren from being in foreclosure and Stephen purchased it for cash for next to nothing.
At the rear of their station wagon, the Steele family began taking their bags out of the trunk. They were not a happy bunch with a bunch of frowns on their faces.
Later that evening, after endless unpacking, washing dirty dishes, placing little knick-knacks here and there, hanging up clothes, putting away toiletries, cleaning laundry and linen and vacuuming the carpet, Stephen ended the day on top of Nancy, reaching an unrequited orgasm. Looking more like a dead fish than a passionate wife, Nancy was motionless with her eyes wide open. Her arms were not even touching him, how could he not tell that she was unresponsive? After finishing, Stephen rolled off her body and showed no emotion towards her as he pushed his body back to his side of the bed.
With twenty some odd years of this routine, Nancy learned to live with the disappointment, developed a thick skin to Stephen’s selfishness and was trained not to cry at the low points such as these.
She waited until she heard Stephen’s self-centered snoring when she quietly got out of bed and headed down the stairs.
Outside in the backyard, Nancy found herself inside the gazebo and sat down on one of its benches in the moonlight. Too wound up, too upset and too emotional, she allowed the tears to finally cave in. She was holding an unopened photo album within her hands for the longest time, and finally opened it up to its first page—a photograph of herself in a wedding dress. Oh, what an unhappy day! And she cried even harder remembering how hysterical she was with her mother and father not even caring how truly unhappy she really was. And thank goodness for her heavy veil covering her tear drenched face! No one seemed to care about her state, and at the altar Nancy recalled watching Stephen sneak a drink from a flask he had stashed away inside his tuxedo jacket pocket…what wonderful memories!
Nancy then turned another page—pictures of her children when they were little. She softly touched a photo of Paul, newly born. She remembered that awful day: She was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth when she turned towards the bathtub. She had made herself a nice little bed with a pillow for her head by the faucet and a blanket covering her poorly positioned body. She was sleeping in the bathroom when she first got married, with the door conveniently locked when suddenly she was woken up from pounding outside the door. “Nancy! Let me in” she recalled hearing him demand, “Nancy, let me in!” Nancy didn’t, and that seemed to anger Stephen even more. The next thing she knew she braced herself from the door being broken down and Nancy tried to get up, but she tripped over the blanket that was covering her and Stephen held her body up from her fall and instead of allowing Nancy to feel relief from nearly toppling over, Stephen began ripping her nightgown away from her body until she felt what she thought was a knife being pushed inside her, she later came to realize, it was Stephen and his assault.
Nancy then brought her hands up to her face. A tear rolled down her cheek and then some more as she continued wiping them away. She sustained turning the pages and went on to caress a photo of Suzy, age two. With her fingers spread out, she covered the photo entirely: Nancy was putting Paul down for a nap; Stephen was drunk just outside the door watching her motherly deed and waited until Nancy dropped the baby into the crib when he walked in towards her. By then, she knew what drinking a bottle a day could do to a man and with Stephen, it was just plain self-interest. Nancy begged and pleaded with Stephen to take her somewhere else but he didn’t listen and pulled down her skirt at the base of the crib.
Nancy now stood up from the bench and walked over to the side of the gazebo and gasped for breath and remembered…the two toddlers in their Sunday best. Nancy ran back into the bedroom to get her hat when she bumped into Stephen hogging the doorway. With a selfish grin and a sneer in his eye he grabbed Nancy’s body and forced her down to the carpet. Nancy recalled being so incredibly worried about her two babies left alone in the front yard. They could have wandered into the street and been hit by a car! They could of roamed into a neighbor’s backyard and gotten bitten by the neighbor’s angry dog! Anything could have happened, what the hell was he thinking?
Fully weeping now, Nancy fell to the first step of the gazebo nearly tripping down to the next step as she wrapped her arms around the white pole for balance. Looking up at the stars she tried to take control of her emotions but they took over like a typhoon rushing in and she collapsed in agony.
She instantly brought to mind all the wonderful memories she had up until her marriage to Stephen. Those few, short glorious months wrapped inside the arms of someone who adored her as well. Recalling that short-lived passion caused her heart to swell up and hurt beyond recognition. God, she missed him. To this very day, she still missed him and everything he had to offer; security, warmth, passion, friendship, laughter and undying love for her. She wondered where he was…still wondered where he was or if he was even alive. No, he was alive; she could feel so in her heart. But where was he? Was he married now? Where did they live? Was he happy? Did he ever stop to think about her? Has he ever once thought about her? Or did he just consider them childhood sweethearts?
October, 1967
Francine’s senior year, her first day in a new high school and she sat alone on the grass, reading a book. She noticed no one and no one noticed her as she unraveled her sandwich and looked up…hundreds of students gathered together in small clumps, “clicks” they were calling them now and she was suddenly envious of all their friendships: having fun, laughing, talking about whatever.
“God, I miss my friends,” she said under her breath. Francine then eyed a group of cheerleaders, every other girl a blonde with a tan. “Look at that girl, she’s disgustingly pretty. I hate girls who look like that. All the girls here look like that. God I hate California!”
Sickened at the sight, Francine glanced away in the opposite direction and observed a group of jocks playfully tossing a football back and forth and instantly recalled her sister’s boyfriend Ray. He was an awesome athlete and she became envious of her sister as well, of their happy life together, with a baby on the way. She then looked across the grass again and unexpectedly noticed in the corner of her eye, a football spearing towards her, but before she could react, one of the jocks missed the catch and the ball landed right smack in her lap!
Her milk exploded into a volcano of cream sending liquid everywhere: her blouse, neck, face, hair, arms and crossed legs! Francine didn’t mean to make herself the center of attention, but she did and screamed out, “Oh God, look at my books! Look at my skirt!” Frantically searching for something to wipe off the goo, Francine quickly found her stance and bent back down to thumb through her purse for a Kleenex, handkerchief, something.
Just then, a lunch napkin was shoved in front of her face—like that would really wipe everything away—and Francine raised her eyes and then followed the lines of the young man’s tanned arm up along to his athletic shape. The jolt she received from his eyes alone leering down at her was frightening, the fellow was really-really good-looking, but her attraction for him however was instantly doused by the anger he seemed to ignite by his apparent lack of sympathy.
The Jock shoved the napkin in her face again, “Here, just take it, I feel bad.” He then stepped away from her side for a moment and snatched the football back up. “To the left you ditz-heads,” he yelled back to his fellow teammates. “Will you listen to your quarterback for once? Look what you did to this poor girl.”
Kids around them were laughing now as the Jock unintentionally brought about more attention to her plight. Still upset, Francine looked straight towards the back of the Jock’s dark head and yelled, “Don’t do me any more favors!”
The Jock doesn’t immediately turn around, but when he does, he was about to say something in his defense and instead slowly closed his mouth to look directly into her eyes this was where it got interesting.
Francine had nev
er experienced the unexplained before and yet, extreme heat washed over her skin, it was magnetic, it was magical and as soon as she tried to wiggle out of the signs of intense physical chemistry she noticed the Jock blink out of his gaze as well. “You could have broken my nose,” she spat out, trying to ignore her heart pounding so fierce.
Magnet & Steele Page 5