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“Oh shit.”
“And then some. It’s all kinds of messed up.”
“Your grandfather refers to that time often as the end of days—the beginning of the end—though I never quite knew what he meant.”
“Yeah… Maclean Enterprises had been a buoyant business back in the day—they made well-known household names. Walk into any home in the country, and they’d have several products made by Maclean Ent, whether they knew it or not.”
“Okay, so what was the problem, then?”
“The problem was that no situation is permanent, especially not in business, and as much as I love him, I suspect that my grandfather was partially to blame for the company’s demise. I think his focus on old-fashioned values and traditional business practices meant they fell behind the times in terms of fabrication methods and processes, and couldn’t keep up with the market.”
“Which is obviously when your father came in to ‘save the day’.”
“Basically. From what Grampsie said, he breezed in with big plans, and big money, and for some reason, he wanted to take on and run the company, rather than break it up and sell it off, which was his normal MO.”
“So what was the difference this time?”
“My mom.”
“They fell in love?”
“My mom fell in love. Honestly, I don’t think Victor is capable of it. My grandfather said something that made me think that he married my mom because it was his ticket into ‘old money’ and bought into certain social and business circles that had previously been closed to him. Plus, being a family man was, and still is, another layer of legitimacy for a thug, who at the time was facing increasing public scrutiny due to certain unsavory business practices and dealings. Basically, marrying my mom and having us kids—my sister and me—was just a PR exercise.”
“Jesus. If that’s true, he’s as much of a piece of work as my mom. My dad was head over heels for her. He slaved away at that job, which I’m pretty sure he always hated, because he was so desperate to provide for us, and to build his career so that we could move forward as a family. She was a piece of work, and clearly didn’t give a fuck…”
“Hmmm…”
“Sorry, don’t mind me. What makes you think your father doesn’t love your mother?”
“Everything. They live totally separate lives at his instigation. I think he wooed her enough for her to fall dangerously in love, and then once they were married, he kept up the presence to father the two of us—Bella my sister, is two years older than me. From what I can tell, just after I was born, the cracks started to show, and my father revealed his hand. I don’t remember a time when my parents were happy, or even when they lived a life that could, in any way, be described as joint.”
“So how did that work?”
“It didn’t really. We kids were packed off to boarding school when we could barely wipe our own butts, and Mom just gradually unraveled. Every time I came back from school for the holidays, she was a little less…whole. She became a shadow of her former self. He’s the ultimate bully.”
“Hmm… and it’s obviously at strong gene.”
“I can see why you’d say that, but whatever you think you know about me, or whatever your opinion is of me—and I’m not trying to change that—I’m telling you that despite outward appearances, he and I are nothing alike.”
“Whatever. So what’s the situation with your mom now?”
“Through a dedicated campaign of undermining and intimidating her, he’s broken her down to the point that she can barely function a times. Not only does he not love her, but I believe he actually hates her. Only someone who despises another person could do to them what he’s done to her, and not give a fuck. More than that, he seems to take pleasure in it. And the part that confuses me the most is, if he hates her that much, then why doesn’t he do the opposite of the song?”
She leaned toward me on the couch in rapt attention, confusion written all over her face.
“What song?”
“‘If you love someone, set them free.’ That’s bullshit. If you love someone, it makes total sense to want them near you, but if you can’t stand the sight of them, the way he clearly can’t tolerate my mother, then why keep her in her gilded cage? Why not kick her to the curb? Sure, he wheels her out for a few events each year, but other than that, they live separate lives. If you can call my mom’s medication-assisted existence a life.”
“You’re right. Surely he doesn’t still need a wife and kids to make himself look good, and if he did, he still has you and your sister.”
“Well, he has Bella. She was always his favorite of us kids. She got off lightly compared to my mom and me. He doesn’t have me, and never really has—I’ve hated him for as long as I can remember. Before, even. It’s my greatest wish to see that asshole rot in hell where he belongs. The sooner, the better. He’s made no bones about the fact that the feeling is mutual.”
“That’s so fucked-up.”
“You don’t even know the half of it. And I’m starting to think that neither do I.”
Chapter 36
