would've paid any price to ensure that his grandson had a wonderful time. But not my parents. They thought only of themselves, usually at my expense. Often at each other's expense, as well.
The two of them got on line while Herbie waited on the other side of the entrance. Jealousy was evident in his face as he watched other parents climb into the Twister with their children. Although the ride was designed with both adults and kids in mind, it was rare to see two middle-aged adults riding by themselves.
Then again, I didn't exactly view my parents as adults.
"At least they look like they're getting along," Doc noted. Indeed, anyone who saw them at that moment would've thought they got along great together. But I knew better. Now and then.
"It's the liquor," I said. "And it won't last."
I kept my eyes on the crowd of people coming from the left. At any moment, Dad's mistress was going to appear. And my mother would not to be pleased to see her.
"Did you understand anything about the effects of alcohol as a child?" Doc asked me. "Did you understand why their behavior changed when they drank?"
"Yes and no," I answered. "I knew nothing about addiction back then. But I knew that when Mom drank something I wasn't allowed to have, whatever mood she was in at the time would intensify a hundred times over. If she was happy, she'd become euphoric. If she was angry, she'd throw fits of unbridled rage. More often than not, the latter is what occurred."
"So when you grabbed that bottle from your mother and smashed it in the kitchen, you knew exactly what you were doing?"
"To an extent. I just wanted her to calm down. Dial it back a few notches. I didn't realize that she was hooked on the stuff; I didn't even know it was possible back then. If I had, I probably would've done more to hide the booze or destroy it when she either wasn't looking or wasn't home. If she—" I stopped short as I saw her; Dad's "mistress" had emerged from the crowd. "Here we go," I said, casually motioning in her direction. "Watch that woman. The one with the skimpy pink dress and stilettos."
"I see her," Doc nodded.
I'd almost swear the woman had radar that told her exactly where my father was standing, because her eyes seemed to go straight to him. "Hey, big boy!" she squealed, waving her hands in the air. "I didn't know you were going to be here!"
Now, one might expect that a man whose two lovers had unexpectedly crossed paths might show a bit of nervousness or embarrassment. My father showed neither. "Hey, Stacy!" he shouted, a grin splitting his face. "How's my girl doing tonight?"
The woman, apparently named Stacy, scuttled over to my parents, smoothing her dress and adjusting her hair along the way. Dad gave her a big hug. Mom, on the other hand, stepped back a bit and crossed her arms. The look on her face said she was mere seconds away from a nuclear meltdown. If lasers could've shot from her eyes, they would've burned a hole through both Stacy and my father.
Doc lowered his voice. "I assume that's the woman your mother alluded to in the previous memory we visited."
I shrugged. "It might be. I don't know how many women my father saw behind Mom's back."
"So it wasn't a case of your father being torn between two women?"
"Not to my knowledge," I said, though truthfully I'd never considered the possibility that Dad had actually fallen in love with a woman other than my mother. "But I don't know for sure." I had always believed he was just out there seeking the company of as many women who would give him the time. And their bodies, of course. Each time his promiscuous life crossed paths with his family, he was with yet another woman. But the idea that Dad might have had deeper feelings for one . . . It gave me mixed feelings. If he did, then it meant that he wasn't as much of a womanizer as Mom and I had thought. But that wouldn't change the fact that he wasn't being loyal to his family.
Dad and Stacy were making small talk while Mom's eyes glowed with fire. Dad said something I couldn't hear, Stacy laughed and put her hand on his chest, and that was the final straw.
"Who the hell are you?!" Mom screamed, pushing my Dad to the side.
Stacy was startled, but she didn't back away. "Calm down, sweetie," she said, looking legitimately surprised by Mom's reaction. "It doesn't do any good to get all worked up."
Dad calmly tried to interject himself between the two women, but Mom pushed him away again. "I wouldn't have reason if you weren't putting your hands on my husband!"
The revelation that Dad was married apparently wasn't a revelation at all. "Well maybe if you cared for his needs a bit more, he wouldn't have to be fallin' into my arms instead!"
"How dare you!" Mom yelled, shoving Stacy with her free hand. "I can handle my husband's needs just fine, you home-wrecking whore!"
I looked over at Herbie. He was watching with glistening eyes. Although his parents hadn't done much to include him in their activities, he had been enjoying the fact that they were getting along. Now, however, he was watching all of that fall apart again.
Stacy flipped her giant blond curls over her shoulder. "Honey, you obviously don't know how to really please a man! Your little hugs don't satisfy his more intimate needs."
Sadly, little Herbie knew exactly what that meant. He'd known since he'd awoken one Saturday morning to the sounds of his parents having sex in the living room when he was eight years old. The poor boy had no idea what was going on; he thought he was hearing cries of pain. The sight that met him when he went into the living room had been something quite different.
If memory serves me, I had seen it at least four more times before this night at the carnival. And my mother wasn't always involved. What kind of a man brought his affair into his own home with his child asleep in the next room? The more I think about it now, the more sure I am that he was nothing more than a womanizer.
A crowd of spectators was beginning to form a few feet away from the women. Dad stood beside them, red-faced but unapologetic, clearly trying to come up with a way to diffuse the situation.
"If you'd like," Stacy was saying, "I'd be more than happy to have you join us one night. I could show you both how to truly appreciate each other."
She'd pushed it too far. My mother screamed and tossed her beer in Stacy's face, blinding her long enough to land a solid punch to her chin. Before Dad could stop her, Mom tackled his not-so-secret lover to the ground and started wailing away with punch after punch. He tried to pull her off and got socked in the face for it. Stacy was trying to fight back, but Mom was both drunk and furious—a dangerous combination. The crowd of onlookers watched intently, some cheering while others just stared. Stacy's skirt had slipped up to her waist in the struggle. Clearly, that fact was more important than pulling the two women apart.
I shook my head in disgust as I watched it all play out. It's another part of society that angers me to no end. Sex is everything. And I mean everything. Every comedian drowns their acts in sexual references, every commercial and holovision show uses half-naked women to attract attention, and seemingly every male in the world withers at the sight of the female body. It is so much a part of our lives that it drives teenage girls and younger to wear too-tight, form-fitting, skimpy and revealing clothing so that they can be considered "sexy." For the college-aged male, the only goal of any date seems to be to get the girl into bed. Sporting events use half-naked women to attract more men. Books, movies, video games—they all use sex to achieve their goals, and brainless people everywhere buy into it.
And on this night, it made a crowd of people turn into a bunch of useless drooling neanderthals just because they caught sight of a single woman's underwear.
People are pathetic.
I know that God doesn't want me to think that way. But when I see things like this, I can't help it. Here we have a drunk woman who is seriously intent on hurting another, and rather than intervene to help a fellow human being, people just stand and stare because they can see underwear. How can I NOT be disgusted by people?!
Anyway
. . .
As the crowd grew bigger, Doc and I were forced to retreat back toward the pizza vendor a short way down the path. I couldn't see the fight anymore, just the backs of a couple dozen spectators. As we moved away, we were passed by a group of men wearing blue shirts. Wielding steel batons and equipped with communication earpieces, they rushed toward the crowd. When the man in the lead spoke, his voice was projected across the entire crowd. "Everyone move along!" he ordered as they pushed their way through. "Move along, now! Anyone who loiters here will be arrested!"
I could still hear Stacy screaming, but now I heard my mother as well. Security was likely trying to pry the women apart. The scattered boos that came from the onlookers seemed to confirm that.
"I said move along, people!" the voice said again. This time, his anger was evident. "Get going right now!!"
The first person to leave? Herbie. After all, we were taught in school to respect the authority of the police. He didn't know what to do, but he didn't want to get arrested. The police had been summoned to my house on more than one occasion prior to this night, and they always warned me to stay out of trouble before leaving. So when all this happened, I just wanted to get out of there.
"Where were you going?" Doc asked as we trailed a short distance behind him.
"I'm not really sure," I admitted. "If I remember