Silent Keys: Chapter Seven

Don Wilkins was the kind of man who needed to control everything, even the death of his wife, Livi. It didn't quite work out the way he had so carefully planned.

When he opened his eyes, he saw only the ceiling of the bedroom, dimly lit by moonlight. Alas, he wasn't dead. He could move his fingers and toes, feel his body sinking into the memory foam mattress.

It must be very late, maybe three in the morning. Not even a breeze stirred the air, leaving the heavy summer heat to rise. One cricket still sang its lonely call for love, sounding more forlorn as Don listened to it. For some reason, his hearing seemed more acute at this early hour.

Many times when he lay awake in the middle of the night, he would creep into his "ham shack" in the next bedroom. He would switch on his HF radio and turn the tuning dial slowly, hoping to catch someone talking. Maybe he'd be lucky, but only hear one side of the conversation because of the propagation.

A lot of times, though, he would simply listen to one frequency that undulated with the sound of the ionosphere. Like waves shifting in the ocean, it would fade and surge up and down, dense with rasping static. He loved listening to the ionosphere. He knew it had to be the Voice of God, the only time he truly believed in such a being. If there was a god, it was there in the layers of ions circling the Earth, carrying messages beyond infinity.

The image of the afterlife he shared with Livi fed his own hopes for a glorious eternity. Two little balls of energy traveling the universe alongside the whispers of their friends. He could imagine no better fate. If only he could get there. Suddenly, he wanted to listen to the ionosphere again, but his radios were gone. That Voice was silenced at least until he crossed over. It seemed this final passage was the most stubborn of all.

The tea and pills weren't working. Damn! Here he was worried about his heart giving out on him and he couldn't even kill himself. The irony struck him as one of God's little jokes, that is, if he believed in a god. If there was one, it was a trickster, a mean little shit intent on torturing him.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, dizziness overwhelmed him. His body felt like lead. He had to fight it to get more pills or something that would put him out of his misery. Slowly, he rose, bracing himself against the mattress, then the dresser, along the wall to the door. There would be more pills in the bathroom. Lots of pills. His heart pills, aspirin, No Doz, all kinds of stuff. Why hadn't he taken those before now?

Suddenly, a pounding on the front door startled him.

"This is the police! Open up or we'll break it down."

Shit! It's a goddamned swat team. The normal police would be more polite, wouldn't they? At least, that's the way they acted on TV. Then he remembered he told the dispatcher he had a gun. Why did he do that? Now those jackboots were here. He'd met some of them at a fair a year ago when he was passing leaflets about the club. Cocky bastards, all of them. He decided then the club didn't need that kind of people. Now they were banging on his door, prepared for battle. He wondered if they'd brought that MRAP vehicle they bought as military surplus. His bleary mind swirled with visions of a shielded line of SWAT police busting through his door, tripping over Livi in their fevered invasion of his space.

He ducked into the bathroom without calling out to them. He'll just go in here, wolf down as many pills as he could, and let them figure out how to finish this scenario. Maybe he would be lucky to die by cop.

The pounding stopped. Lights flashed through the bathroom window, red, blue, white. He opened the medicine cabinet and thrust his hands onto the shelves, bringing down an avalanche of plastic bottles and tubes.

Prying open the bottles, he dumped the contents of each into his mouth, nearly choking. That only added to the comic irony of this situation. Why not choke to death on a bunch of worthless pharmaceuticals?

He grabbed the plastic glass next to the faucet and washed down the clump in his throat. While emptying the next bottle into his mouth, the front door burst open with a bang. Here they come! He jammed another handful of pills into his mouth and tried to swallow them all, but ended up spewing them into the sink.

Well, where were they? After the door opened, there was nothing. Not a peep! Then he heard a strange creaking, grinding sound. A light danced around in crazy circles on the walls.

Another gulp of water, another bottle of pills. He was making progress now. He was beginning, finally, to feel the effects. His brain dimming, his strength waning. Good, he'll be dead before they get to him.

As light flared the bathroom with a harsh brilliance, he thought of that nurse guiding him down the hospital hall toward the solarium. Was this the end, finally?

Suddenly, his knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor. He barely missed hitting his chin on the sink. As he looked into the hall, an odd, little box aiming the light into the room blocked the door. What the hell was that?

It looked like a robotic probe from a 1950s space opera. What was it … War of the Worlds? Only this one didn't have the fancy green and red glowing eyes that scared the hell out of Ann Robinson. Too bad he didn't feel as heroic as Gene Barry.

He couldn't move. His right arm stung with pins and needles under his body. The other flopped like a beached fish. His head tipped to the tile floor at a severe angle, straining the muscles in his neck.

Soon, voices filled the house. Two men bent over him and lifted him from the floor. Then they braced him like bookends as he stumbled out of the house.

Once outside, the fresh air revived him enough so that he shook the men's hands away. He staggered toward a car whose light bar flashed its beam against the neighbors' houses. The officers stayed at his side, but didn't touch him as he stood, bewildered, against the opened car door. One gently pressed his head downward, guiding him into the backseat.

The door closed him into a cramped space with a heavy grid between him and the front seat. He saw the barrel of a shotgun sticking up against the console. A radio buzzed with voices his muddled brain couldn't copy. What language were they speaking? He couldn't make out the individual sounds or string them together into words.

Folding his tall frame along the bench seat, he closed his eyes again. The leather reeked of vomit, urine, and other human odors he couldn't even name. He felt some motion, but couldn't fathom where it was going. He hoped it would take him to oblivion. Death had followed him all his life. The war. He family. His son.

Eddie. Why was he suddenly thinking about him?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Within a year after their wedding, they packed up their car and a U-Haul truck and moved to a Nevada small town just south of Carson City. Wide open spaces, a modest home in a housing tract much like his parents neighborhood. Despite her resistance to moving far away from San Francisco and her beloved conservatory, Livi loved the house and spent her days shuffling their meager possessions to fill the space.

"I want to get a piano as soon as we can, Don. I NEED a piano if I'm going to live in this podunk town."

"What's podunk about it? We'll get you a piano all in good time."

With that reassurance, she settled in. It didn't take him long to string antenna wire around the eaves of the house and spend much of their combined savings to set up his radio station in one of the bedrooms.

It also didn't take much time for Livi to give him a son. Edward. Within another year, Carol arrived, her tiny face scrunched in an angry scowl as the nurse set her upon Livi's chest. Her umbilical chord pulsed with an energy that, Don soon discovered, marked her as a defiant, take-no-prisoners kind of girl.

Eddie was a sturdy boy, growing to be as lanky as his father. His long fingers could nimbly manipulate machine parts in the Camaro he managed to buy when a teenager.

The kid loved that car, driving it all night to who knows where. And there was plenty of where in that desert to the east of town to drive. Eddie would never divulge his whereabouts in those days, but he always had plenty of money to maintain the car. It seemed to Don that Eddie's income far exceeded what he earned from his paper route and stocking shelves at the local grocery store.

The Sixties, the hippies, and the drugs seized Eddie in a way that created a distant, lazy idler from the intelligent lad who aced all his classes in school. Sometimes when Eddie stood up to him, it reminded him of that crazy sci-fi movie where aliens incubated humans in pods to hatch a race of compliant drones. When they met a human not yet turned, the drone would point at them and squeal an ungodly sound that raked every nerve ending in Don's body.

Eddie seemed interested in radio for a time, helping Don string more antenna line into the cottonwood tree in the backyard. Livi raged against Don about that as she watched her son scale the tree's ancient limbs higher and higher until the coaxial cable stretched over the backyard from the house to where Eddie anchored it in the tree. When he finally jumped to the ground with his 12-year-old cockiness at full bore, she harrumphed loudly and stomped back into the house, grumbling louder than either Don or Eddie had ever heard her before. She was rarely one to complain, but Eddie sighed and said, "Gee, why is Mom so upset all of a sudden?"

"Ah, she just wants to get her damned piano. Been rankled about that for years. She's been looking at that damned baby grand in that store up in Reno, for chrissakes! Now where are we going to put a grand piano? Huh?"

Eddie shrugged. "Hey, let's get this antenna hooked up and give it a whirl. I want to do some DX."

With the next antenna in place, they worked the high frequency bands together, placing pins on a world map of all the contacts that Eddie made. His son's collection of QSL cards competed strongly with his own.

There was one QSL card Eddie would never be able to obtain, however. It was a card that Don was especially proud of, even more so than the one from the Pitcairn Islands.

In 1957 when the Russians shot Sputnik 1 into space, Don joined thousands of amateur radio operators all over the United States in writing down the Morse code message sent by the satellite. Then he sent the message along with the date and time of his contact and his address to Box 88, Moscow. As he waited for their response, he wondered if he had just fallen into a trap set by the McCarthy era commie hunters. Would two FBI agents suddenly appear at his front door?

In time, Don received the QSL card from the Russians. He enshrined it in a plastic sleeve on its own separate page in his loose leaf binder. Years later, he realized it was one helluva marketing ploy and a royal kick in the rear for the American government to fund NASA and beat the Russians at this new game. The space race was on.

Thousands of children, Eddie included, were excited about this new frontier. When Eddie saw the QSL card the Russians had sent to his father, he looked at Don with something akin to idol worship. He dad could do no wrong.

For a while at least.

Don had high hopes for Eddie and introduced him with pride to all his buddies. The boy fit right in with all the guys, asking them questions, soaking in all the vast experience the club had to share. Don figured there must've been hundreds of years of collective knowledge between all these men, many of whom had been radio operators from the early days of the 20th century. One man was so knowledgeable, they teased him about knowing Guglielmo Marconi personally.

When he and Eddie built a transceiver from a Heath kit, Don thought the kid was hooked for sure. When Eddie turned fourteen, though, he lost interest in anything having to do with radio, the club, and Don.

The guys had warned him about how boys usually leave home at that age. A strange phenomenon much like what happens with girls. They distance themselves from parents for a few years. It seemed Eddie got hooked on something else that proved far too alluring for him to kick.

Eddie begrudgingly went to Stanford. By then, Don was making plenty of money to send him anywhere he wanted to go. Opening his own accounting business after moving to Nevada, Don eventually built a huge customer base. He repeatedly won Chamber of Commerce awards for best accounting firm in town.

His income provided pretty clothes for Carol, steak for dinner often enough to get sick of it, and something for Livi that finally got her off his back. He even got a bit of a charge the day Livi bought that baby grand piano. It occupied its own space in an alcove just off the living room. She loved it, spending hours playing it and singing. And peace reigned again in Don's home.

Unlike his father, who struggled just to put food on the table, Don could afford to send both his children to good schools. MIT, UCLA, Stanford, anyplace but Berkeley.

Berkeley was off the table. With all the sit-ins and anti-war demonstrations distracting students from their studies, Don refused to let Eddie go there, even though it was his son's first choice. It took quite a bit of argument, cajoling, and even bribes before Eddie would agree to go anywhere else. They finally compromised on the Palo Alto school.

"For chrissakes, Eddie, why wouldn't you want to go to Stanford? It's the best school west of the Mississippi. I would've killed to go to Stanford or MIT or UCLA."  

The boy only rolled his eyes and begged him not to tell that story…again… about how poor his father was and how Don had to struggle after he got back from Korea. How Eddie was so lucky to have a father who could provide him with so many things that Don wasn't able to have. How Don's family dying in that accident had left him totally blowing in the breeze when he returned from Korea. Blahblahblah It became a tired mantra that drove a wedge between the Greatest Generation and the Boomers.

Don reckoned that being a few miles south of all that hippie stuff would appease Eddie's desires, yet give him a better chance to step into a lucrative engineering career. The boy had the brains for it, if not the ambition. While there were interesting scientific things going on at Berkeley at the time, there were also a lot of other distractions that Don couldn't trust the kid to avoid.

Something had changed in Eddie during his nighttime forays. During that last year in high school, Don suspected the senior blues had hit his son with more boredom than most teenagers. He had to push that kid all through that last semester just to keep him from dropping out.

"Eddie, you've got three months until graduation. Three months. Don't lose that now. You will amount to nothing without that diploma. To Don's surprise, Eddie fixed him with a disconcerting smirk, as if there was something Don didn't understand about Eddie's chances for success. It sent a rare shock of fear that he hadn't felt since he and Lieutenant Dante were ambushed in Korea.

So, when Eddie packed up his Camaro, Don hoped beyond logic the only problem he'd have to worry about was the kid hanging out at the bars too much. That was normal for most freshman boys. The first year away from Mom and Dad challenged everybody's sense of prudence. Unfortunately, some experiments in independence could damage or even kill some kids. Eddie had a good head on his shoulders. Don hoped he would use it.

Livi constantly worried about her children and was scared to death of Eddie going too far away to school. Lobbying for Eddie to attend UNR up in Reno, she wanted him home for Sunday dinner every weekend with a full report. Don refused to allow Eddie to go anywhere but an Ivy-League engineering school.

"What the hell's Eddie going to learn at UNR? Mining? You want the kid to be a miner? Who needs an expensive education to do that?"

With that dismissal, Don pushed his misgivings about Eddie's attitude way back in his mind.

He didn't acknowledge the changes when Eddie finally appeared at the door after two months. The kid didn't have much to say. Classes were okay. The girls were cool. He was thinking of pledging a fraternity next semester. The usual stuff. Don ignored Livi's concerns and told her to relax.

"Livi, you've got to understand all boys need to push the boundaries when they get away from home. It's all part of growing up, becoming a man."

She glared at him as she retreated into the kitchen, the swinging door thumping the jamb in that irritating way he hated. There was no way to grease or tighten that door to stop that infuriating noise, especially when Livi slammed through it after a heated discussion. It was her passive way of having the final word, as far as he was concerned, and he allowed her to have it.

With Eddie installed at school, Don could devote more attention to his daughter, Carol. Blossoming into a young lady as pretty and charming as her mother, Carol showed little interest in his radios. While he felt the need to include her when he and Eddie hung out with the hams, he hadn't put much stock in that shred of interest of hers. In fact, all her questions irritated him. The guys loved it, though, and doted on the girl; but it was Eddie who Don wanted to be the star of the family.

Then the situation got even more infuriating. About the time Eddie went off to Stanford, Rick showed up on their doorstep.

"Howdy neighbor," Don's old friend dangled a key in his face. "I just moved a couple miles away from you. How 'bout that? Hey, where's Livi and Carol?"

As Don's shoulders bunched up at this development, Livi came to the door from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "Oh my goodness, look who's here? Well, why are you standing out there in the cold? Don, where are your manners?"

"Don never had any manners, Livi, didn't you ever notice that," Rick pushed Don aside as Livi led the way to the living room sitting area.

"Coffee, Rick?"

"Of course. Can't wait to catch up on all the years since I've seen your lovely face. You're looking pretty good for being married so long to this guy."

On her way to the kitchen, Livi called out to Carol. "You'll never guess who's here, Carol."

The girl wandered into the room with all the enthusiasm of a bored adolescent. When she looked up, her whole world shifted to high gear. "Uncle Rick! Ohmygod, when did you get here?" She jammed the phrase together as if it were all one word, lifting the intonation to a shrill pitch.

Don cringed at the teenage abuse of God's name. When was she going to grow out of that adolescent speech? She was nearly eighteen for chrissakes!

"How long are you going to stay? Ohmygod, I have so many questions to ask you. Dad's been so busy with Eddie that … well, can you help me study for my tech license?" She was practically jumping up and down like a kid waiting to sit on Santa's knee.

"Hey, when did you suddenly get interested in radio? And how come you and Rick are so friendly? I didn't think you two even knew each other."

Both Carol and Rick shot disparaging looks at him.

"I've been interested in radio for a long time, Dad, but you and Eddie were always hogging the mic! And maybe you recall Mom and I visited Julie and Rick when I was ten? Rick showed me his radios and I've been writing to him ever since."

Then Carol turned away from him and started asking Rick the same damned questions she asked when she interfered with him and Eddie. He grumbled as he sat in his favorite chair by the window.

"So where's the little woman, Rick?"

"Oh we parted ways a long time ago." He flicked his hand to dismiss the whole subject. "It got so lonesome in Stockton without you all, I just decided to pack up my radios and come find you. Found me a nice little acre property south of here where I can put up a tower for an antenna."

Oh joy! Don sunk deeper into his chair. "How the hell did you find us?"

Just then, Livi entered with a tray of beverages and cake. "Oh, I've been keeping in touch with Rick and Julie ever since we left Stockton. You remember when Carol was ten …."

"Yeah, Carol just reminded me." This befuddling revelation only stirred his anger even more. When they moved away from Stockton, Don hoped to leave all the pain associated with the place behind him, including Rick and his over-protective attitude toward Livi.

"Julie was my best friend in Stockton, Don, and I really missed her after we moved up here. Her friendship held me together until I made friends up here, Don."

"So, how long ago did Rick and Julie separate? Did you write just to her or …?" Livi sighed and said nothing more. Now that really rankled. "So were you writing love letters to Rick!"

"Love letters? Really Don, what's gotten into you." Livi shook her head as she placed the tray on the coffee table.

Rick guffawed at Don's assessment. "Love letters? That's rich, Don. They were addressed mainly to Julie until she and I divorced. Get a grip, old man. By that time, Carol and I were penpals."

"Penpals? So …." Don visualized all kinds of nefarious implications whether they were reasonable or not. The electricity crackling between Rick and his women was like touching a pair of live wires that would have launched him across his ham shack. The surprise … no, the shock of having Rick's overbearing influence throughout his life stunned him into silence as Rick and Livi chattered on and on. He managed to control his rage by digging his fingernails into the armrests.

Rick's influence soon centered on the daughter more than the mother. Carol's lust for radio lured Uncle Rick to become her prime Elmer who tutored and guided her in all ways amateur radio. In no time, Carol was ready to take her exam. She even seemed to enjoy learning Morse code. What's more, the girl didn't even have mic fright. She just grabbed that mic out of Don's hand and started gabbing. And it seemed everybody in the world wanted to talk to his little girl rather than him.

Don paced anxiously while Carol took her test. After an hour or so, she emerged with a wry grin on her face. Uncle Rick squeezed her shoulders as he presented her to Don with a flourish.

"Here's our newest ham. She not only answered every question correctly, but she aced the Morse Code test. First the five words a minute test. Then I asked her if she wanted to try a faster test. Up and up, each speed higher, she seemed to understand it better. Thirty-five-words-a-minute here. Nobody does that on their Novice level!" Rick crushed her against his chest again until she giggled. "I am so proud of you!"

"Oh, Uncle Rick." She looked honestly embarrassed by his attentions.

"Hope you're proud of your girl here. Wish she were my daughter."

"Well, she isn't!" Her father glared at him and yanked her away from him.

Uncle Rick continued his praises. "Congratulations, young lady. You're the youngest ham in this club. Now you've not only earned a ticket to the world, but you have a free one-year's membership to the club."

"Okay, so when do I get to take the General … and the Extra exams?" She and Rick grinned at each other as if a major plan between them had started to gel. Then, she looked at Don, an insolent glare replacing the adoration she obviously held for Uncle Rick.

"Well Dad, I succeeded where Eddie failed. Am I still invisible? Are you proud of me yet?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Five years after he graduated from high school, Eddie received his Bachelor's degree.

"Five years it took him to graduate," Don grumbled under his breath as he watched his son saunter across the stage and limply shake the Dean's hand. Livi elbowed Don in the ribs to shush him as the woman in front of them turned to see who spoke so disparagingly. Don made a face at the woman. "Mind your own business."

Livi elbowed him again, harder. "It was harder for him at Stanford than at high school."

"Yeah, he learned he had to actually study to keep his grades above probationary status", Don hissed. "That kid's had it too easy. I had to take night classes and build my business at the same time." The woman turned on him again, her expression finally doing what Livi's elbow couldn't.

The entire college experience drained all of them. Even Carol was affected by Eddie's behavior. The day she showed up wearing love beads and bell-bottom jeans, Don ripped the beads from her neck and threw them across the living room.

"Don't you dare get pulled into all that flower child nonsense! And take off those ridiculous pants!" he shouted at her, sending her fleeing to her room where she slammed the door and hid out for the rest of the weekend. He didn't even see her leave for school the following Monday.

After the graduation ceremony, Eddie moved back home. At first, he pitched a tepee in the backyard, sleeping there most of the day and wandering off, as if in a stupor, as soon as dusk darkened the streets. When winter came, Livi pleaded with him to come inside the house.

She and Eddie stripped all of his childhood things from his old room except for the bed and a chest of drawers. He seemed happy with that. Not being reminded of the person he used to be sat well with him. He even dumped all his QSL cards in the trash in such a ceremonial manner that all Don could do was stand there in shock.

"Are you sure you don't want to keep those, show them to your kids some day?"

He gave Don that same disconcerting smirk he had given him when he turned fourteen. Then he swaggered back to his room to finish the demolition.

The bed was the only thing he used. The few garments he owned landed on the floor. The drawers remained empty. When Livi purchased new clothes for him and laid them in neat stacks in the drawers, they went untouched.

He ate little, wandering into the kitchen for snacks occasionally. He would never join them for dinner. Whatever money he had came from unfathomable sources. Don couldn't figure out where he worked or even what his work schedule was. The boy's life was totally off-center from what Don considered normal.

This went on for a couple of years. Eddie never overtly created strife in the family, keeping so closed in and private that barely a word was exchanged with the rest of the family. Coming and going at all hours, he stole out of the house like a thief, not making a sound. Still, Eddie's lifestyle grated upon Don's sense of manhood and propriety. Don firmly believed that if Eddie had a secret life that brought him income of any sort, he should be out on his own.

As a rule, Livi and Don spent every evening in the living room, she at the piano, singing her medley of favorite show tunes, and he sitting in his worn reading chair, newspaper erect in front of his face. Behind it, he listened to each bell-like tone that came from his wife. Just the right amount of tremelo at the end of each phrase. The soft parts pulling at emotions he tried to subdue. These nightly concerts never bored him, never grew stale over the years. Her voice hadn't deteriorated since that magical day he heard her singing in the high school play.

One night, she sighed as she rose from the piano bench.

"What's wrong, my pet," he asked. "Tired?"

She nodded, but an expression of yearning shadowed her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder," she paused and glanced at the floor as if afraid to finish the sentence.

"Sometimes you wonder about what," he encouraged her to continue.

Then she stared at him in a way that unnerved him. She had looked at him several times in this manner throughout their marriage, usually at times when she had finished singing. She never said anything, though. Just glared at him with a quick sting that briefly made him ponder what turmoil broiled in her heart.

This time, however, she took a deep breath to brace herself. "Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I had continued my music studies, actually achieving my career goals."

Don sat, his back pressed into the chair. After all these years, she still thought about a career?

"Well, you chose to marry me instead and we have a lovely home and two … " He paused, thinking of how Carol and Eddie had both failed to live up to his expectations.

Carol's performance at college remained steady in the upper 90 percentile, but why couldn't she push a little more and be top of her class? What's more, she never did much with her amateur radio license. Soon after she got her Extra ticket, she would shrug any time he invited her to talk on the radio with him. Eventually, the only ham she'd talk to was Uncle Rick.

Don coughed and returned his attention to Livi, who was placing her sheet music inside the bench before leaning backward a bit to stretch her back.

"Haven't you been happy with me … with us? We've had a good life, haven't we, Livi? Better than most of our friends."

She gave him that patient smile of hers, placating him to avoid a fuss. "Of course I've been happy with you. What a thing to say. It's just sometimes I think about the lost potential, that's all. Don't you ever think about quitting engineering school and settling into a career keeping other people's books?"

"Settling?" He huffed, crumpling the paper on his lap. "Is that what you think I did? I made a good living off of 'keeping other people's books' as you say. I was able to provide a good …."

Livi raised her hand to stem his temper. Shaking her head, she turned to walk down the hall to their bedroom. Then she looked back at him. "Coming to bed?"

"Not right now. I want to talk to Eddie, so I may be here a while."

Her brow creased with concern. "What about?" A glint of fear flashed in her eyes.

"I just want to have a talk with him. Man stuff. Don't worry your …."

"…pretty little head," she finished for him. Her lips pressed together. Now she was upset. She walked down the hallway and closed the bedroom door with a bit more force than he liked. It was okay, though. She would cool down and the feathers would unruffle by the time he joined her in bed.

Don waited in the darkened living room for Eddie to emerge for one of his midnight forays. He grew more apprehensive as the hours passed and he rehearsed what he would say. This was the talk that would make or break the boy's relationship with the family.

Finally, he heard Eddie's bedroom door creak. Those sneakers of his squeaking on the wooden floor. As Eddie approached the front door, Don snagged his shoulder. Eddie whipped around so quickly and defensively Don reeled backward in the opposite direction. "Hold on, son, we've got to talk." He reached over to the light switch and flicked the toggle.

"What about?" Eddie stood tense, his eyes wide and crazed, blinking in the bright light. The pupils were dilated, erasing all color from his eyes.

"Your life. I want to talk to you about your life. You're going nowhere. And I'm worried about what it's doing to you. To all of us."

"What's wrong with my life? I'm behaving myself. I'm not causing you any trouble, am I?" It was not a question so much as a challenge.

"That's just it. I don't know whether you're causing trouble or not? I…."

"What do you mean?"

"Well…." Don faltered. He'd had this little harangue all planned out. It was going to be a simple explanation of his concerns and an ultimatum. Why was Eddie turning it sideways? "I … I'm concerned about where you go every night. What are you doing? I hope you're not…."

"I'm not doing a damned thing you should be worried about. Do you see any cops chasing me home? Any weird people hanging around here?" He finally blinked his eyes, which were blood-shot and sunken into his skull. He had lost so much muscle mass, he looked like a cadaver.

"Cops? Where'd that come from? I…." Don couldn't finish. Just what was Eddie involved in that he would instantly mention police. Don recovered and probed that sore point.

"Why do you mention the cops? Just what in the hell are you doing to even attract them?" He voice rose as his worry ratcheted to anger. He couldn't believe how this conversation was veering off on this horrendous tangent. The more they argued, and the more Eddie evaded his questions, the more Don panicked. He could not for the life of him get this runaway train back on track.

By this time, Livi and Carol were peeking around the corner like two children trying to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. Only their faces registered horror.

Both men ignored them, shouting louder and more violently. When Eddie leaned back with his fist aimed at his father's face, Livi screamed and ran between them. She pushed Eddie backward where he sprawled upon the couch.

"What are you doing? What are you both doing to each other? I can't stand this, Don. What is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with ME?" His mouth gaped and his fists curled, his arms pumping up and down. It was all he could do to control his rage. First aimed at his good-for-nothing son, now he turned it upon his wife. "What in the hell is wrong with YOU? Look at this son of yours. He's worthless. Totally worthless. He doesn't even have the bandwidth to dress himself properly. Look at him!"

Livi's brow pinched in a deep furrow as her face reddened. Through clenched teeth, she hissed.  "How many times have I seen this behavior from you. Fists pumping like a child throwing a temper tantrum. Stop it! Both of you! But especially you, Donald! This is one time I'm calling you out! You are wrong! So many times you are flat out wrong. And you've driven our friends away with your … your stupid need to get your way all the time. But this time, you are going to destroy our family. He's not causing us any trouble at all. He just lives here. That's all. Do you really hate your son so much that you're willing to push him away too, because that's what your doing here."

He reared away from her, his fists still poised in front of him. Her scowl darkened as he glanced from her to Eddie and finally to Carol. She still hid behind the archway of the hall, her cheeks glistening. Don wished Livi and Carol would simply go back to bed and mind their own business. This was between him and Eddie. Livi had no place to lay all that blame on him at this crucial moment. She was undermining his authority. Everything was getting out of hand. She should be supporting him in this. He was the head of this house, goddammit!

Don straightened his shoulders and tried to unclench his hands. Turning toward Eddie, he had to deliver his ultimatum or this whole intervention would fail. He gathered his thoughts and took a deep breath. In that moment, even Eddie seemed to relax although he remained spread across the couch as if afraid to move.

Nobody had ever seen Don this upset. They froze in place, waiting for him.

"Eddie, you need to move out. You're nearly thirty years old. You're a grown man and a well-educated one, I might add. We sacrificed a lot so we could send you to Stanford. Now you've got to go out and prove our investment was worth it." He nearly collapsed with relief after having said his piece. My god, I actually got it out all in one breath.

Eddie stared at his father with those crazed eyes, but Don could see malice shrinking them to narrow slits. Slowly, Eddie pulled himself from the couch and stood, defiantly. His breath beat against Don's face with an acrid stench that blended with sweat and the accumulated filth of his unwashed clothes.

"I'll leave all right. If that's the way you want it. You'll never have to worry about me sucking at your tit ever again. Go to hell, you old bastard!"

Before Don could react, Eddie banged out the front door and into the night. The air in the room hung thick with Eddie's body odor and the turbulence of rage. No one breathed for what seemed like an eternity. Don could almost hear Livi's heart pounding. Her eyes darted back and forth between his and the door as if she hoped Eddie would come back. It was a joke, right? A dream? A nightmare. This couldn't be happening.

"What have you done?" she finally whimpered, covering her face with her trembling hands.

The next three days blurred in the monotony of their daily routine. Livi moved robotically, serving his meals without looking at him, performing her chores with all the enthusiasm of a robot.

Carol slipped around them carefully, not wanting to attract attention. During the years of Eddie's residence, she had become a ghost, coming and going in her own secret life that, for some reason, never aroused any fear in Don's heart. As long as she didn't stir the air too much, he seemed fine. Despite her education, he held different expectations for her future. If she only achieved an MRS. Degree, he'd be fine with that. She'd be out of his hair.

On the evening of the third day, a police car parked in front of the house. The officer walked up the walkway, reluctance in every step. Don could see there was only one reason why this cop was on his doorstep. Eddie was finally caught in something big.

The message was about Eddie all right, but Don clasped Livi firmly to his side as the officer delivered his well-practiced speech. Body found in car.  Coke residue on a mirror. Toxicology report would be a few weeks but it looked like an overdose. Sorry for your loss.

Livi's body hung in his arms. He could barely hold her and himself up at the same time, but he refused to break down in front of the officer. As soon as the door closed, Don laid Livi on the couch. When her back touched the cushions, she burst out wailing like a banshee. It was beyond his endurance. He stood over her, helpless.

Suddenly, Carol kneeled next to her mother and buried her face in Livi's bosom. She dug one hand under Livi's waist and wrapped the other around her hips, enfolding her mother as best she could to comfort her. The two women sobbed so pitifully Don retreated to his radio station in the back bedroom. Their cries and screams still filtered through the door as he turned up the volume on the HF radio, trying to drown them out. The headphones cut the decibels considerably, but he could still discern a trace of hysteria coming through the earphones.

Waves of static oscillated as he tuned through the frequencies. As he leaned his face into his hands, he listened to the distorted voices of hams rag-chewing, sounding like they sat inside tin cans. Their mundane conversations about how they fixed their antennas or why they had surgery a week from Tuesday eased his shock as he visualized Eddie in that car. Coke. How much did he have to snort to kill himself? Why did he have to…. Don couldn't stomach the thoughts that invaded the comforting transmissions of his buddies.

Suddenly, he heard the door squeal behind him. His face had been buried in his hands so long his elbows ached where they had pressed into the tabletop. He felt a presence behind him, one that was not comforting at all. Someone hovered malignantly behind him.

Peeling away the headphones, he swiveled in the chair and faced Carol. She stood a few feet away, her countenance blank, yet her breaths came in jagged spurts. He couldn't tell if she was still sobbing or enraged. She only stared at him. She held his attention long enough to make him uneasy. Oh god, don't tell me something's wrong with Livi.

Finally, her mouth hung open, ready to speak but unable to release the words. Her head shook slowly, her eyes condemning him with that glare that always unnerved him. Just like her mother. Which malevolent ancestor on Livi's side of the family sent that trait down to stab him whenever he crossed his women? She didn't do it often, but when she did, he was incapable of movement.

"Well Dad, Eddie did what you wanted him to do. He went out on his own. Are you satisfied yet?"