intheheart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
intheheart) wrote2012-05-27 12:10 am
intheheart) wrote2012-05-27 12:10 am
Unforgivable
Author: Kat
Title: Unforgivable
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Irene says something unforgivable.
Date: 1985
Notes: Yes, Ahava and Duncan do in fact do something really horrible.
Warnings: overt racism.
"Little nigger."
--
Irene muttered it under her breath, but not under her breath enough, evidently, because Lawrence was advancing on her, his expression furious, his fists balling at his sides.
"What did you just say?" he demanded.
Irene lifted her chin, and refused to be intimidated. Her older brother had always bullied her-- well, not this time. "Nothing that's any of your business," she replied, icily, and turned away.
Lawrence grabbed her shoulder and spun her back to face him. "Don't try that on me. I heard you!"
She struck his hand off her shoulder and glared at him. How dared he be so rough with her? "If you heard me, then why did you bother asking?"
He ignored that. "How dare you talk about my son that way?"
As if any brother of hers could have a son like that. Irene sniffed. "Please."
"One more chance, Irene." His voice had gone cold.
"If you had to adopt, why couldn't you adopt a... a..." She gestured wordlessly at the black boy on her Persian rug, head down, banging a truck into one of her antique chair legs. "Someone like us?"
Lawrence stared at her for a moment, then turned away. "Maria, can you get the kids?"
"What?" Irene caught at his arm. "Where are you going? You only just got here."
"We're going home," Lawrence replied, without turning around. "And we're not coming back. Don't bother calling until you're prepared to apologize."
He picked up the boy and took the girl by the hand, and walked out without a second glance, his silent wife in tow. Irene stared after him in silent fury and confusion.
Apologize for what?
--
For a moment, Maria couldn't even believe she'd heard it.
She had to be mistaken, or mishearing. It was 1985, for God's sake, what decent person said that anymore?
Apparently Irene Jackson did. About her son. Her helpless, four-year-old son.
If she hadn't been frozen in shock, Maria wasn't sure what she would have done.
Lawrence was ahead of her, already arguing with his sister in low, furious tones. Maria went to her children instead, to Ahava, glaring up at her aunt, and Timothy, his eyes cast down, his enthusiasm for his new toy truck suddenly gone.
"Hey, sweetpea," she said, and smiled at him, not without effort. Timothy looked up, but did not smile back. "What're you playing?"
He shrugged, and did not respond, just went on driving his truck in listless lines, leaving tire tracks in Irene's rug. Maria felt a little spurt of petty pleasure at the sight, and asked, "Can I play too?"
Tim shrugged again, and let her take the truck from him. She glanced up at Irene, now hissing something at Lawrence, and without any shame at all slammed the truck into the leg of her sister-in-law's precious antique chair.
"You like that?" she asked, when Tim brightened at the noise. "Why don't you try it yourself?"
He nodded, and accepted the truck when she handed it back to him, then began enthusiastically banging it into the wood. He didn't achieve quite the speed Maria had, but then, he was still pretty little. He'd make a bigger splash when he was older.
He'd have to make a bigger splash when he was older. If Irene said this now...
God, her poor baby.
--
Ahava didn't know what that word meant, but she knew it wasn't a good word.
Daddy got really angry, to start with. And not sort of angry, like when she spilled water on his favorite tie, but angry angry, like when they almost didn't get Tim 'cause some social worker messed up paperwork. He'd never been angry angry at Ahava, and she hoped, looking at his face now, that he never, ever was.
Mommy got angry too, but she didn't go towards Auntie Irene, she just went to Tim, who got sad and quiet all of a sudden. That hurt Ahava most of all. Her new little brother had only just started being happy and noisy like a little boy should be, and now Auntie Irene made him all sad and quiet again, like he was when he first got to them and didn't know he was going to be her little brother forever and ever.
That was how she knew that Auntie Irene was really, really mean.
Tim looked sort of okay now, though. Mommy banged his truck into the chair leg, which Ahava had been scolded for doing in the past, 'cause Auntie Irene's chair was really old and really special. She told Tim he could do it too, which made him smile, and Ahava figured that meant she could pick little tufts of fabric out of the really old and really special rug Auntie Irene had on her living room floor, which Ahava thought was stupid. If you were going to have something really old and really special it shouldn't be where people could step on it in muddy feet. That was just dumb.
Then Daddy came over and said they were going, so Ahava got up and took his hand. Daddy would make everything okay, she knew. Daddy was a big scary lawyer, and he would make Auntie Irene sorry she ever made Tim sad. Daddy was good at making people sorry.
She looked back over her shoulder, past Mommy not-quite-slamming the door (another thing she wasn't supposed to do! Being mad made grownups weird), and saw Auntie Irene, looking angry and confused all at once, like Ahava did when she didn't get something in school. Like she didn't know that she'd made Tim sad. Or didn't care.
Ahava scowled, and decided that as soon as she got home, she was going to get Duncan, and they were going to plan something really horrible.
Just in case Daddy didn't make Auntie Irene sorry enough.
--
Tim knew what that word meant.
He'd been called that in foster care. He knew it meant him, and he knew it meant "you're ugly, you're gross, you're stupid." The other kids used to call him that when he asked for things, or when he couldn't figure something else. They meant it mean, and he felt it mean.
He hadn't been called that where any grownups could hear, though. He thought coming to live with his new mommy and daddy meant he'd never have to hear it again, because there were grownups everywhere, and only his new sister Ahava, who never said anything like that word.
But this was his new auntie, his first time meeting her. He'd wanted her to like him. But she was a grownup and she said the word, and he knew it meant she didn't like him at all.
When he'd first come to live with Mommy and Daddy and Ahava, he thought it was only for a little while, until Ahava told him it was forever and ever. Except Ahava wasn't black like him. Maybe their new auntie hadn't said mean things about her. Maybe now that she had, his new mommy and daddy would send him back, and never want to see him again.
Except Daddy was yelling at her now, in the soft yelly voice grownups used when they didn't want kids to know they were yelling. Mommy was trying to distract him with the truck. He already knew Ahava well enough to know that her scowl meant she was planning something.
Maybe everything would be okay after all.
He held up his arms when Daddy came to pick him up, and cuddled tight against him as they walked out the door.
--
Poor Tim. Poor little Tim.
Maria drove them home, Ahava suspiciously quiet in her booster seat. Lawrence sat next to her, not in the front seat, because Tim wouldn't let go of him, and he hadn't had the heart to put their son in his car seat, not when Irene had just...
He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it, not of his sister, not of someone he'd grown up with. But he'd been right there, and this was his son, and when it came down to his four-year-old son and his adult sister, it wasn't even a question.
"I don't think she should see the children again," Maria said quietly, meeting his eyes for a heartbeat in the rearview mirror as she paused at a stop sign.
"No," Lawrence said, grimly, and cuddled Tim a little closer. "She shouldn't."
Title: Unforgivable
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Irene says something unforgivable.
Date: 1985
Notes: Yes, Ahava and Duncan do in fact do something really horrible.
Warnings: overt racism.
"Little nigger."
--
Irene muttered it under her breath, but not under her breath enough, evidently, because Lawrence was advancing on her, his expression furious, his fists balling at his sides.
"What did you just say?" he demanded.
Irene lifted her chin, and refused to be intimidated. Her older brother had always bullied her-- well, not this time. "Nothing that's any of your business," she replied, icily, and turned away.
Lawrence grabbed her shoulder and spun her back to face him. "Don't try that on me. I heard you!"
She struck his hand off her shoulder and glared at him. How dared he be so rough with her? "If you heard me, then why did you bother asking?"
He ignored that. "How dare you talk about my son that way?"
As if any brother of hers could have a son like that. Irene sniffed. "Please."
"One more chance, Irene." His voice had gone cold.
"If you had to adopt, why couldn't you adopt a... a..." She gestured wordlessly at the black boy on her Persian rug, head down, banging a truck into one of her antique chair legs. "Someone like us?"
Lawrence stared at her for a moment, then turned away. "Maria, can you get the kids?"
"What?" Irene caught at his arm. "Where are you going? You only just got here."
"We're going home," Lawrence replied, without turning around. "And we're not coming back. Don't bother calling until you're prepared to apologize."
He picked up the boy and took the girl by the hand, and walked out without a second glance, his silent wife in tow. Irene stared after him in silent fury and confusion.
Apologize for what?
--
For a moment, Maria couldn't even believe she'd heard it.
She had to be mistaken, or mishearing. It was 1985, for God's sake, what decent person said that anymore?
Apparently Irene Jackson did. About her son. Her helpless, four-year-old son.
If she hadn't been frozen in shock, Maria wasn't sure what she would have done.
Lawrence was ahead of her, already arguing with his sister in low, furious tones. Maria went to her children instead, to Ahava, glaring up at her aunt, and Timothy, his eyes cast down, his enthusiasm for his new toy truck suddenly gone.
"Hey, sweetpea," she said, and smiled at him, not without effort. Timothy looked up, but did not smile back. "What're you playing?"
He shrugged, and did not respond, just went on driving his truck in listless lines, leaving tire tracks in Irene's rug. Maria felt a little spurt of petty pleasure at the sight, and asked, "Can I play too?"
Tim shrugged again, and let her take the truck from him. She glanced up at Irene, now hissing something at Lawrence, and without any shame at all slammed the truck into the leg of her sister-in-law's precious antique chair.
"You like that?" she asked, when Tim brightened at the noise. "Why don't you try it yourself?"
He nodded, and accepted the truck when she handed it back to him, then began enthusiastically banging it into the wood. He didn't achieve quite the speed Maria had, but then, he was still pretty little. He'd make a bigger splash when he was older.
He'd have to make a bigger splash when he was older. If Irene said this now...
God, her poor baby.
--
Ahava didn't know what that word meant, but she knew it wasn't a good word.
Daddy got really angry, to start with. And not sort of angry, like when she spilled water on his favorite tie, but angry angry, like when they almost didn't get Tim 'cause some social worker messed up paperwork. He'd never been angry angry at Ahava, and she hoped, looking at his face now, that he never, ever was.
Mommy got angry too, but she didn't go towards Auntie Irene, she just went to Tim, who got sad and quiet all of a sudden. That hurt Ahava most of all. Her new little brother had only just started being happy and noisy like a little boy should be, and now Auntie Irene made him all sad and quiet again, like he was when he first got to them and didn't know he was going to be her little brother forever and ever.
That was how she knew that Auntie Irene was really, really mean.
Tim looked sort of okay now, though. Mommy banged his truck into the chair leg, which Ahava had been scolded for doing in the past, 'cause Auntie Irene's chair was really old and really special. She told Tim he could do it too, which made him smile, and Ahava figured that meant she could pick little tufts of fabric out of the really old and really special rug Auntie Irene had on her living room floor, which Ahava thought was stupid. If you were going to have something really old and really special it shouldn't be where people could step on it in muddy feet. That was just dumb.
Then Daddy came over and said they were going, so Ahava got up and took his hand. Daddy would make everything okay, she knew. Daddy was a big scary lawyer, and he would make Auntie Irene sorry she ever made Tim sad. Daddy was good at making people sorry.
She looked back over her shoulder, past Mommy not-quite-slamming the door (another thing she wasn't supposed to do! Being mad made grownups weird), and saw Auntie Irene, looking angry and confused all at once, like Ahava did when she didn't get something in school. Like she didn't know that she'd made Tim sad. Or didn't care.
Ahava scowled, and decided that as soon as she got home, she was going to get Duncan, and they were going to plan something really horrible.
Just in case Daddy didn't make Auntie Irene sorry enough.
--
Tim knew what that word meant.
He'd been called that in foster care. He knew it meant him, and he knew it meant "you're ugly, you're gross, you're stupid." The other kids used to call him that when he asked for things, or when he couldn't figure something else. They meant it mean, and he felt it mean.
He hadn't been called that where any grownups could hear, though. He thought coming to live with his new mommy and daddy meant he'd never have to hear it again, because there were grownups everywhere, and only his new sister Ahava, who never said anything like that word.
But this was his new auntie, his first time meeting her. He'd wanted her to like him. But she was a grownup and she said the word, and he knew it meant she didn't like him at all.
When he'd first come to live with Mommy and Daddy and Ahava, he thought it was only for a little while, until Ahava told him it was forever and ever. Except Ahava wasn't black like him. Maybe their new auntie hadn't said mean things about her. Maybe now that she had, his new mommy and daddy would send him back, and never want to see him again.
Except Daddy was yelling at her now, in the soft yelly voice grownups used when they didn't want kids to know they were yelling. Mommy was trying to distract him with the truck. He already knew Ahava well enough to know that her scowl meant she was planning something.
Maybe everything would be okay after all.
He held up his arms when Daddy came to pick him up, and cuddled tight against him as they walked out the door.
--
Poor Tim. Poor little Tim.
Maria drove them home, Ahava suspiciously quiet in her booster seat. Lawrence sat next to her, not in the front seat, because Tim wouldn't let go of him, and he hadn't had the heart to put their son in his car seat, not when Irene had just...
He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it, not of his sister, not of someone he'd grown up with. But he'd been right there, and this was his son, and when it came down to his four-year-old son and his adult sister, it wasn't even a question.
"I don't think she should see the children again," Maria said quietly, meeting his eyes for a heartbeat in the rearview mirror as she paused at a stop sign.
"No," Lawrence said, grimly, and cuddled Tim a little closer. "She shouldn't."