The Flounder Family Chapter 9

Little Billy Hopped didn’t mind speaking with his mouth full of food so his words were a little slurred.” So, did ya see the old jail bird?  How’d she look? It’s pretty snug in those penitentiaries from what I hear – no big deal.  Did she tell you anything, spill her guts and all?”

Jettison’s teeth clenched.  “I did see Mrs. Lawrence, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t refer to her as a jail bird – or any other colorful term you think of.  She is a poor woman who made a horrible choice.  If I pitied her before, I pity her even more now.”

Donald put down his fork. “Why is that?”

Jettison wiped his mouth carefully.  “I don’t think this is the time or place to discuss this.  Marie’s life isn’t a topic for casual conversation and certainly not for all ears.” He looked at Billy Hopper.  “Besides, we’ve got desert coming and I’d hate to ruin the mood.  Dove has worked so hard.”

“Ah, yes, desert!”  Bensen was smiling broadly.  “You do have a talent for making the best pies, Dove!  Did you make my favorite?”

Donald grimaced.  “You have a favorite?  I thought you liked all pies equally – were a nondenominational Pie-Lover.”

Bensen laughed.  “You know me too well, Dad!”

Dove put the two homemade pies on the table. “One is apple and the other is chocolate pudding.”  She shrugged, “I tried to accommodate all tastes – traditional and gooey.”

Jettison smiled and stood up. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee, anyone else?”

Billy stuck out his empty milk glass.  “You can get me some.  I like mine black.”

Donald nudged the boy.  “You’d be up half the night making your mother more distracted than she already is.  Besides, you can go in and help with the dishes.  Dove’s slaved away long enough.”

Billy grabbed the milk on the table and filled his glass to the brim.  Everyone watched.  Then he took his knife and began to slice himself a large piece of the pudding pie.  He took an enormous bite.  Donald merely shrugged his helplessness.

Jettison returned with two coffees and placed one in front of Billy.  Dove frowned.  “Are you mad?  What does hat boy need with caffeine?  He’ll have enough chocolate in him to wind him up till mid-night.”  Jettison shook his head and looked at Kiddo who was watching his cousin with open admiration.  Tasha had long since left the table on the excuse that she had homework.

“You know, after listening to Marie today, I’ve decided that the best thing that can happen to people is reality.”

Bensen swallowed and choked.  “How is that?  Don’t we have enough reality?  After all, I am a perfect victim of reality – nothing ever goes my way.  I could enjoy a good fantasy life – if you know what I mean?”  He nudged his dad in the ribs.  Dove closed her eyes.

Jettison watched as Billy reached for another slice of pie.  He suddenly lifted the pie pan out of reach, took the milk and stood up.  “Here Billy, I’m going to put these in the kitchen and you can eat in there to your heart’s content.” He whispered in Billy’s ear.  “That way no one will be tempted to interrupt you.”  He stepped through the doorway with Billy following in tow, still chewing, his glass held by two fingers.  Jettison came and sat back down.  Dove’s eyes were wide and staring, her hands were over her head.

“What are you thinking?  You know he’ll make himself sick and probably throw up all over my kitchen.”

“The bathroom is right there.  He’ll probably make it.”

Donald shook his head.  “If you think that boy will learn just by giving him his way – you’re all wrong.  It’s been done – and it doesn’t work.  His mother is near despair.  I think she wants to give him to the army.”

Bensen smirked.  “At thirteen?  I doubt he’ll fit in.”

Donald shook his head. “He’d fit in if he wanted to.  That boy is a chameleon.  He can change color faster than any kid I know.  If he wants to be nice, he’s as good as gold, but if he’s in a bad mood, he’d as soon shoot you as look at you.”

Jettison sat down.  “That’s why I thought a little reality might do him good.  Even if he is still a little glutton afterwards – he won’t be stuffing himself with chocolate pie anymore – and that would be a step in the right direction.”

Dove reached out and grabbed Kiddo by the arm as he tried to pass carrying the apple pie.  “Oh, no you don’t.  One sick kid this evening will be quite enough.  Besides, you don’t really want to be like that little savage-”

“Dove!  You shouldn’t call him that!”  Donald was indignant.  “He’s just a troubled boy, like your neighbor woman.  If he does go and shoot someone – it won’t be because he really meant to-”

“Oh, garbage!”  Jettison pounded his fist on the table.  “Dove’s right.  The boy is a savage.  A savage with way too much power.  Did you see the way he waltzed in here?  It’s like he owns everything.”

“Or everyone.”  Dove sniffed.  “He gave me a litany of what he likes to eat and what he doesn’t before I even served the dinner.  Then he went and took Tasha’s place without asking.  And he spent all his free moments on his little I-pad or smartphone or what ever it is.  Lord, I hate those things.  I don’t know what he’s doing but he acts like he has the world at his finger tips.  The way he’d suddenly giggle I couldn’t tell if he was looking at dirty pictures or passing notes to his friends – and not very complimentary ones if I read his expression correctly.”

Donald pushed his empty plate away.  “You don’t know that.  You’re just letting your fragile ego get the better of you.  The boy is a trouble maker – I’ll admit – but it isn’t half his fault.  We made him what he is today.  Really it’s our fault.”

Jettison nodded as he sipped his decaf coffee.  “For once in my life, Donald, I have to agree with you.  We do create our own monsters.  We just don’t like to admit it.”

Bensen looked up absently.  “Hey, where’d the pie go?”