November's Child: 2010

Strange, peculiar or just dysfunctional? On a single dirt road deigned to become a paved rural street, Eden Avenue hid many a horror. There was old Mrs. Braune. Tall, strong and broken by a sadness within she refused to reveal. She lived there on an Eden Avenue farm when it was still able to be termed a "farm". But then, there were five farms on Eden Avenue then. The Braune farm was completely ensconced by a fence. The first one was one of those split-rail fences that poor people could easily build from whatever trees they downed on their properties. Mr. Braune was a severe, bald man with a band of white hair just above his ears. His domed pate had only the barest handful of white strands. His eyes were as severe as his demeanor: A strange flash of topaz with a sinister glint of gold.

His wife's eyes were the saddest shade of blue grey. Her hair was dark brown with threads of silver and white running throughout. She was a beaten woman from the day of her marriage, Mrs. Braune. She learned never to speak unless spoken to as all of the children of her generation born before World War II were taught. She never needed to speak. Her expression spoke all anyone would ever need to know. She spent her life being a "good wife". Trailing off in a sidecar of her spouse's motorcycle. Not the Harley Davidson biker type. A modest small motorcycle intended to save money even though a dark sedan, virtually unused for years, sat in a garage painted white with two doors with what, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be two "Xs" painted in black. When Mrs.Braune was fifty-eight years old, her heart gave out. Her soul was vanquished and she dosed herself with rat poison on summer afternoon while Mr. Braune was out in his fields, dressed in his familiar dark blue denim overalls. He sold the farm after that. He vanished just as his wife had into the nothingness existence often becomes.

Then, there was Hannah Brodski. Another Eden Avenue secret. Like Mrs. Braune, she was tall but younger when suddenly her new house appeared on the burgeoning Eden Avenue. It was noticeably intended to be the nicest home on the block and the first that wasn't a small income-supporting farm. Hannah never worried about an income. She never worked even though she had a daughter, Alexia, a chubby, blonde-haired blue-eyed precocious pre-teen. The reason for her good fortune was a short, squatty bald man of fifty to Hannah's mid-thirties. Hannah had been born shortly before WWII in a port city with many bars. She reviled poverty and vowed in her soul to never become its victim. She found solace in a small neighborhood bar in Roseport, a community of men and women who spent their lives in search of the great happiness life is supposed to grant to all who are good and decent. So Roseport men worked in the factories, bakeries and small shops along the major highway. Hannah worked the men in Arabek's neighborhood bar like a woman draining the last drop of Pabst blue ribbon beer from the working man's bottle. Hannah lucked out. She found her mark. Not exactly the dream man she wanted. But at least, she would never have to work. She married him barely a few months after they met. It couldn't be called a shotgun wedding. The lie that trapped Viktor Brodski into marriage to Hannah Czeszlewski was more a blitz than a sham. Alexia was born "late" according to Hannah. What did men those days know about women or maternity anyway? Viktor worked the night shift while Hannah dropped Alexia off at her mother-in-law's home. Hannah always knew her days at Arabek's weren't about to end. It was the only place she could ever feel safe, secure and insulated from a world that she despised. Viktor turned out to be no prize. "Are you ever going to get us a bigger apartment?", she nagged constantly. "Will we have to bunk in with Alexia until she's a teenager?", she harped.

Hannah was one of God's chosen people: a drunk, always protected by everyone but herself, an alcoholic with a deepening sense of righting all of the imagined wrongs of her three and a half decades. One day, when Nick Usollini came into Arabek's, Hannah saw the man she was looking for. Nick spent a couple of weeks remodeling Arabek's and Hannah spent those weeks working her mark like she never had before. She knew big money when she saw it. It didn't matter that she was at least a half a foot taller than Nick. She knew her other assets would be of interest to a man a decade and a half older than her. Sidling up to Nick was like taking candy from a baby. He was smitten the minute this tall, long-legged classically beautiful Middle European woman looked his way. That's really all it took in those days.

Hannah didn't care in the least that Nick was a married man or that he had four sons. He had money. Money Hannah needed to get out of her marriage to Viktor. Viktor earned so little that the thought of another ten years of life with him was unbearable to Hannah. It was a simple matter of showing up drunk at Arabek's when Viktor and his midnight shift crew arrived at the bar. Hannah downed a couple of rye and gingers as a stiffener. Tomorrow she'd be free to pursue Nick Usollini with a vengence. After she had a chance to sober up and deal with the huge hangover she'd have.

Nick knew he'd never leave his wife and sons. Hannah knew he'd have to take care of her and Alexia. Viktor was disappear as if he never existed. Hannah had no intentions of raising her daughter on Viktor's paltry paycheck even if he did remain visible. She had a better idea of what she wanted. Nick could stay married. But if he didn't want his wife to know about Hannah and their trysts, he'd better see to it Hannah had a place to live and enough money to live on.

He built her that dream home on Eden Avenue. His reputation as a building contractor grew to epic proportions and his money and ability to support a wife, four sons and Hannah grew with it. He visited Hannah for those first few years after her built her the home. He took care of all her needs just as she planned. He saw to it her daughter, Alexia, had whatever she needed. Alexia was never allowed to mention her father's name in Hannah's presence. As Hannah reached her forties, she became unable to control her alcoholic addiction. She spent most of her evenings alone while Alexia spent hers in her room.

The once beautiful Hannah was becoming ugly and she knew it. Nick visited only a rare occasions, mostly when she was drunk and made threats to call his wife. During daylight hours, Hannah became like a vampire desperate for an ounce of lifeblood. She would snarl at Alexia, force her to become her handmaiden and didn't much care whether Alexia knew what was going on when Hannah and Nick closed the bedroom door. Alexia knew. She banged on the grand piano she hated to play whenever Nick and Hannah were in Hannah's bedroom. Alexia felt justified in such revenge. After all, Hannah had insisted she learn to play, didn't she? What Hannah never knew was that her now teenage daughter liked little girls...a lot. Too much, in fact. The mothers of daughters in the now over-built neighborhood knew there was something "odd" about Alexia. She seemed to always be trying to get their daughters to spend time alone in her bedroom whenever Hannah was passed out. Which Hannah was now doing earlier and earlier every day. Alexia cleaned the house, mowed the grass with one of those push mowers and waited on her mother whenever she'd call out: "Lexie, get mommy a brew will you?" None of the neighbors knew the extent of Hannah's alcoholism. It was another of Eden Avenue's well guarded secrets hidden behind the walls of the 1950's homes.

Mary Larkin was another matter altogether. Like Hannah, she had a daughter, Cookie. Mary's husband, Traine, was a traveling musician. He was gone more than he was a husband and father. His was the type of Tommy Dorsey band that played on weekends and a few week nights if gigs were available. Traine played saxophone. So well, that every female couldn't resist the charms of his melodies. Mary was no match for them. A plain Irish woman of thirty-eight, she and her family moved into the neighborhood in 1957. They built a large, stylish home that appeared almost sterile set against the background of what had once been a rural, wooded area. Traine didn't earn enough money as a musician. So, they borrowed the money from Mary's parents to build on the large square property that had been completely drained of trees and woods. Their daughter, Cookie, was a thin, dark-haired child of ten when they moved into the sprawling stone ranch-style home. Cookie attended Catholic school in another town. She wore the dark blue uniform of St. Theresa of Avila elementary school for four of the eight years remaining of her education. Mary's dream was that her daughter would attend the finest Catholic girls school in all of the state, St. Dominic's Academy for girls.

The truth was that Mary Larking had come from the same poor stock as Hannah. Mary had different dreams. She wanted only the best. But, she lacked Hannah's aggression to get it. So, she took a job at a local grocery store, working in the cold back "meat room". Her hands grew arthritic. Still, the money she earned helped put Cookie into St. Dominic's. Then, it happened. Mary received a phone call one night while she was sitting at the kitchen table sorting through the mountain of bills. "Answer that will you Cookie?", she asked. "Mom, it's some woman. Says she has to speak to Traine's wife.", Cookie said.

Mary grabbed the phone from her daughter's hand. "Are you Mary Larkin?", the female voice asked. "Yes. Who are you?", Mary replied. "I'm Jill Dandridge. Your husband wants a divorce.", the voice said. "Is this a joke? Are you some crackpot?", Mary asked without waiting for a reply. She slammed the phone down hard. Mary's mind whirled. She'd been working overtime and was deadly tired. Cookie was spending more and more time alone in the new house. Traine made one excuse after another why he had another "gig" and wouldn't be home. That did imply suspicion Mary thought. No, I won't buy into some nutty woman's sick joke., she thought. "Who was that, Mom?", Cookie asked. "Just some lunatic. Don't worry about it."

The phone calls increased as phone calls from the "other woman" always do. But other more odd things began to happen too. Flat tires, the other woman's way of preventing the wife from ruining an evening alone with a wayward husband, sugar in the gas tank and more phone calls all hanging up the minute Mary answered. In her gut, she knew Traine was hiding something. She would close the door to their room whenever he was playing a gig and cry and sob until she felt like she was going to die. Mary was never the type of woman who ever learned to fight back when injustice was staring her in the face. The showdown came a few months after that first phone call. Traine had said he was going to be playing "downstate" and wouldn't be home for the rest of the weekend. It was only midweek. Mary asked where specifically he was playing. He couldn't seem to come up with the name of the club as he stumbled through his response. "Why do you want to know? You won't be coming down there with me, anyway.", he said. "I think I'd like a night out. I've been working too hard. Where is this place you'll be playing?", she asked.

"Mary...I...", he started. "Who is Jill Dandridge?", she asked as bluntly and with as much courage as she dared. Traine was never abusive unless indifference and emotional neglect can be considered marital abuse. "I..Mary..It wasn't supposed to happen. I met her at a bar where I was playing. She asked specifically to meet the "guy playing the sax". You know how it is. She was slightly drunk and so was I. It happens all the time with musicians.", he stammered. "How long has this been going on?", she asked. "What difference does it make?", he said. "It makes a lot of difference. What if the shoe was on the other foot? Would you sit back and not care how long?", she asked. Traine Larkin was a short guy two years older than his spouse. He may have been twenty years younger. Traine had always been overindulged. First by his mother. Then, by Mary. Traine never really had to worry about a freefall. Someone was always there to be a safe landing pad. Usually, a woman.

"I want you out of here.", she said. "Mary, that's not necessary.", he responded. "Yes. It is. You'll pay for this Traine.", Mary added. "I'll tell Jill it's over.", he continued. "Don't bother. She's got what she wanted. By the way, she called her two months ago. She said you wanted a divorce. If you wanted a divorce why didn't you ask for it?", Mary hissed, tears filling her dark brown eyes. "Jill misunderstood. It was just supposed to be a fling.", he said. "Well, I guess your fling is now going to make Jill happier. You'll get that divorce. Even though you may not have wanted it. You don't seriously think I'll just continue to work and do everything while you pussyfoot around from one nightclub to the other, do you?", she asked. "Mary, please.", he implored. "You have a choice. If you don't want a divorce, I want you to tell this slut in my presence that you don't. And, you'll have to get a job that isn't in the music business.", she said adamantly.

Traine Larkin was nothing if not a true coward. He knew he couldn't do what Mary asked. While she was at work at the grocery store and Cookie was away at St. Dominic's, he packed his things and left. Mary had had a really horrible day at the store. She was so tired her legs ached. She sat down on the bed. The house was quiet. Too quiet. She saw a note on the top of Traine's bureau. She read it. Traine was gone. Mary hung on as long as she could. She couldn't do anything until Cookie finished her last year at St. Dominic's and was safely enrolled in Vassar upstate. That too was one of Mary's dreams.

Cookie did well all the years she'd been in school. St. Dominic's was a very strict school. Vassar was like a breath of freedom Cookie never knew before. She worked hard for the first year. By sophmore year at the university, she'd built quite a busy social schedule. Her grades began to suffer. She needed more money than her mother's little grocery store income could provide in order to keep up with the other girls at the school. One of her friends, Calista Noridge, told Cookie about a way to earn extra spend money the "folks" didn't need to know about. Cookie was all for that idea. Gone were the braids she'd worn in her deep chestnut brown hair. Now, she was a young woman of nearly twenty with a perfect figure and dark brown eyes set off by black lashes. She never needed a touch of makeup on her peaches and cream skin.

"How Calista? I'm all ears.", she answered. "Can you dance?", Calista asked. "Dance? Well, I've had ballet less...", Cookie started. "Not that kind of dance. Go-go dancing. You know. In bars. A lot of the girls here make their extra money that way.", she interrupted. "I'll take you tomorrow night after your last evening class, okay?", Calista said.

That was the beginning of the end of Mary Larkin's dreams. Cookie found herself less and less interested in a degree from Vassar and more interested in the money she was making at local bars. Three months before she was to graduate, Cookie dropped out of school unbeknownst to Mary. Cookie hadn't heard from Traine in years. It was as if he dropped off the face of the earth. When Mary came to see Cookie at school, she was told that Cookie was no longer a student. Mary felt faint. She went to the room that had been Cookie's. Calista answered her knock at the door. "Oh, Mrs. Larkin. I'm so sorry. I thought you knew. Cookie left school shortly after the winter break.", the girl said. "Do you know where she is?", Mary asked. "Well, I know she's still working the go-go circuit. Try Angel's on the main avenue in town. She was working there a few weeks ago."

Mary made her way to Angel's. Her face paled when she saw the sign outside the bar: "Nude Go-Go Every Night". So this was how her daughter was spending her time. Mary was adamant that Cookie would be returning to school. "Is Cookie Larkin working here?", she asked the seedy looking guy at the front desk. "Cookie? Nah. She's doing Au Bon Temps. It's just across the street. But, ah, she won't be there at this hour of the day. Better see her in all her glory around ten at night.", he said with a grin Mary wanted to slap off his leathery face.

Mary arrived at the Au Bon Temps a few minutes after ten that night. There was her daughter as she thought. What she didn't expect to see was Cookie totally naked gyrating around a pole atop the circular bar. Mary ran out of the place sobbing hysterically. She didn't know what to do. She drove the three hours back home. The drive helped her think about how she would deal with this new crisis in her life. It took every ounce of strength she had to return to her job the next day. She looked like a rag doll and she knew it. Since her divorce from Traine, she'd lost a lot of weight and weighed barely more than a hundred pounds. She couldn't eat or even think of what she would say to her daughter. The silence between them broke when Cookie phoned that following weekend. "Mom? What were you doing up here?", Cookie asked without hesitation.

"The better question to ask is why you are no longer in school and why you are dancing in a sleazy bar?", Mary asked sharply. "Mom, I'm legally of age. I can do what I want. The money I earn is more than I'd ever earn with a college degree. I have a brand new car, a great apartment and all the clothes I could ever want. What more proof do you need that this is what's best for me?", Cookie asked.

Mary tried to calm her nerves before answering. "I want you to go back to school immediately.", was all she could say. "No. I won't Mom. And, if that's all you have to say, it's not enough to change my mind. Goodbye."

Mary heard the receiver bang on the other end of the phone line. She sobbed as if she'd never shed a tear in her life. The truth was, she rarely ever had. She accepted whatever happened and never thought to fight back. Now, she was finally and for all time alone. Everything seemed as black as the inside of a cavern. She fell asleep wracking with sobs.

The next morning, the phone rang. It was her employer, Arnie Levowitz. "Mary, I was going to do this when you came in. But, I think this is best. We have to let you go. Your work has been great but we can't afford to keep the older employees on. They cost too much to insure and their pensions are growing too expensive. You are one of our highest paid employees. We had to make the cuts at the top first. I'm truly sorry, Mary. I wish you luck finding another job.", Arnie said.

Mary was in shock. Cost too much to insure? She'd never cost them a dime in medical bills all of the ten years she was employed there. Pension? A lousy seventy dollars is too expensive? As if in a state of suspended animation, Mary walked from one room to the next. Her beautiful house would fall into ruin, squalor and disrepair without a job. She never had a driver's license. She didn't need one. She walked to the grocery store every day. So she never owned a car. How would she get another job? Who'd hire her when they found out she was already nearing fifty? She walked back into the kitchen.

Mary knew what she was going to do. She bent over and extinguished the pilot light on the gas stove. Then, she turned on the oven. She could already smell the fumes. She leaned closer to the inside of the oven. She felt slightly dizzy. Then, it was over. Another casualty of Eden Avenue.

Two other non-descript women of Eden Avenue would succomb to the brutality of their mundane existences. Sophie Kulkowski was an immigrant of twenty when she came to the United States. Like most other Polish girls, she was raised in an insular immigrant society. But, Sophie was like most other Polish girls. She'd witnessed the horror of the death camps in Poland, the stench of the burning bodies and the German invasion that turned Poland into a skeleton of the powerful country it had been. Polish girls were seen as fair game by the invading tyannical German army. Many Polish girls never reported the vile things the pigs of the German army did to them. What was the use?

Sophie detested German men. Her innocence had been stolen by one of them when she was thirteen years old. She felt safe with her husband, Alexei, a Polish boy who had learned the fine craft of making men's hats. They married in Krakow a few months before the war ended. Alexei, fearing for the safety of his wife and their newborn son, stole away to England and to the land of golden dreams, America. Sophie was raised a good Catholic girl. She had wanted to be a nun. But, she knew now that she was no longer a pure, holy girl, that was impossible. She left her parents behind to marry a man she believed would not expect his wife to bring children into the world. She expected he would understand what the German pig had done to her and avoid the marital duty of a wife to her husband.

Alexei did understand. For a few months. On the night of their first consummation, Sophie lay in tears as she endured the same horror once again. At least, Alexei was tender and not violent. She promised herself that it would never happen again. She immediately took up her rosary and prayed to the Virgin to ask God's forgive for allowing Alexei to force her into sin. For a time, Alexei was able to provide a good home for himself and his little family. He grew restless for a place in the country just like his childhood home in Poland. One lovely summer afternoon, he, Sophie and little Alexei took a ride into the country. He borrowed a car from one of the men he worked with. Sophie seemed pleased that he was trying to find her a real home. Maybe now, she wouldn't be so difficult to persuade where her duties as a wife were concerned. Alexei wanted his son to have brothers and sisters. Alexei was from a large, happy family. His wife was not. She had one sister and one brother. Her mother had died giving birth to Sophie's brother, Anton. "Look Sophie. It's so green and beautiful here.", he said as he pulled the car in front of a large, two-story home. The sign in front said, "For Sale". "Come on, Sophie. Let's see if the owner will show us around our new home.", he said. Sophie smiled broadly. Alexei remembered how beautiful his wife had always been: Honey blonde hair, green eyes and unmistakably high cheek bones. She had long, lithe legs that were athletic and sturdy but totally feminine.

"Good Afternoon, sir.", Alexei began. "I see that you are planning to sell this fine home.", he said. The short, severe looking man grunted, clearing his throat. Sophie saw immediately he was a German. His manner was that of the typical Prussian tyrant. She recoiled behind her husband. "Yes. Are you interested in buying my house?", the elderly man asked, his cold blue eyes narrowing. Alexei was easily a foot taller than this small, shrunken figure., Sophie noted. "Yes. As you can see, my wife and son here need a larger place than our tiny city apartment.", Alexei answered. "And you have the money to pay me in cash?", the man asked. "Yes. My name is Alexei Kulkowski. This is my wife Mary and son Alexei.", he said. "What is your name?", he asked. "Hans Wietermann." was the short abrupt answer. Sophie heard the slight German accent and felt her insides reviling with each syllable. "Mr. Wietermann, I am honored to meet you.", Alexei said. Sophie was in shock. Why would Alexei patronize this horrible man?, she wondered.

"I am wondering if we can work out an arrangement for Sophie and I to view the inside of your home and the surrounding property?", he asked. From the street, the home appeared newly built. "How old is the home?", Alexei asked guardedly. "It is brand new. We have not yet moved in.", Hans said. "Why are you selling then?", Alexei asked. "My sons seem to have married in haste. They will no doubt repent at their leisure.", Hans said.

"At the time we bought this land, we built a small cement cottage and garage to live in. But, as we had two sons, we needed more room and began building this home.", he continued. It was true. There was indeed a small cement block building where Wietermann and his wife Gerta were stilling living. The larger house was not nearly finished. Only the two bedrooms, living room and kitchen on the first floor were finished. Two bedrooms and the basement remained skeletal. "Of course, we cannot pay you the price of a home that is completely finished.", Alexei put in coyly.

"Polak thinks he will get this home for a song. He'd better think twice.", Hans told his wife. Gerta rarely spoke. Her expressions usually sufficed for answers to questions. She kept an immaculate kitchen and was an excellent cook. That was all Hans really cared about.

Hans and Alexei struck a deal. Alexei would deduct the costs to finish the unfinished rooms from the total sale price. Hans seemed satisfied with that. Thus, the Wietermann's moved out and the three Kulkowskis moved into their home in July of 1955. Sophie would produce five more children in the years that she and Alexei lived on Eden Avenue. Not that Sophie was any less agreeable to her duty as a wife. Yet, every day she did as her own mother always had. She would change her dress, don a new apron and put on a fresh coat of rouge and bright red lipstick.

She was often overwhelmed by her duties as a mother. She constantly carried her rosary with her where ever she went. She never went far. She was to frightened to learn to drive a car as some of the other women moving onto Eden Avenue had done. She had only one other friend on Eden Avenue, Claire Morgan who lived at the very end of the street. They'd met at a Novena to St. Ann at the nearby St. John The Baptist Church. They attended PTAs together and headed the committee for cake sales for the Rosary Society at St. John's. Claire observed Sophie's odd behavior. She tolerated Sophie's leaving her children alone while she visited. Sophie had six children in all. Claire saw that Sophie considered her main duty to her children to raise them with a strict religious fervor. One, Sophie herself had adopted before she "left the old country".

Sophie's older children basically took care of the younger ones while Sophie occupied herself in prayer. Then, at the stroke of four in the afternoon, Sophie would wash up, put on a new house dress and her make-up and wait for Alexei to come home. By now, Alexei had accepted his wife's strange attitudes. She was sweet and kind and did what all good Polish women did: Made him a king in his castle. She was less interested in her children other than providing them with a strong religious program. Had it not been for the distance between Eden Avenue and St. John's, Sophie would have attended Mass every day. She expected no less ardor from her children.

Alexei and Sophie now had six children. Alexei was charged with working the night shift at a hat factory fifteen miles from their home. He often chose to work overtime. The children slept while he worked. Sophie was unused to managing all alone for so many hours. She prayed at the indoor shrine to the Virgin she created in a corner of her bedroom. Alexei found it impossible to achieve any intimacy with the Virgin watching their every move. Sophie was glad for Alexei's awareness of the sins of impurity.

While they attended school, Sophie enjoyed the quiet and kept their home as clean as she could with six children underfoot after school hours. She began to feed her children less and less. She encouraged them to learn to fast and reminded them of how hungry children starved in Poland. She fed them a bowl of cereal for breakfast, a slice of tomato or onion for lunch and supper was usually a bowl of cabbage soup. Cabbage grew well in the soil on Eden Avenue. Along with the tomatoes she grew and a little bit of rice, the meal was sufficient. She prepared her own bread whenever money was tight. The three boys got along well. The two girls, Janina and Maria, despised each other. Janina took every opportunity she could to abuse her sister.

While Sophie was praying at her bedroom shrine, she heard a thud from above her head in Janina and Maria's bedroom. Then, she heard her younger daughter's horrible scream. Quickly, she ran up the stairs. Maria was holding her arm, tears falling from her eyes, while Janina kicked her sister and screamed for her to be silent. The little nine-year old screamed all the louder.

"Janina Sophie Kulkowsk!", Sophie yelled. "What have you done?", she said. "Maria wouldn't stop laughing at me. So I pushed her off her bed. She fell that's all, Mama.", Janina said. Janina was a tall, lithe platinum blonde with enormous blue eyes. Janina was two years older than Maria. But easily a head taller than the smaller girl. Maria was the image of Sophia. "There now, Maria. It's not serious.", Sophie said. We'll just bandage it and it will feel better. I promise.", Sophie continued. She ignored the huge bump that signified a break in the center of the little girl's forearm.

When Alexei Jr. came home from school he saw what Janina had done. "Mama, I think Maria's arm is broken. She needs a doctor.", he said. Alexei had the signature high cheekbones of his mother. "We have no way to take her to the doctor. We have no money for a doctor.", Sophie answered. "Her arm will grow crooked if it isn't seen to.", Alexei insisted.

When her husband came home and saw the state of his young daughter's arm, he was livid. "Sophie, why didn't you ask one of the neighbors to take her to the hospital? Now, they will think you did this to her. You could go to jail if they find out.", he said. Sophie's expression took on a hang dog appearance.

Alexei bundled his small daughter in a blanket and took her to the county hospital in the nearby town. He endured the sidewise glances of the nurses. "How did this happen?", the doctor asked of little Maria. "Janina pushed me off my bed.", she said. "Why didn't your wife bring her to the hospital when this happened?", he asked Alexei. "She doesn't drive and there are five other children at home. Privately, Alexei fumed that Janina was responsible. He would see to it she never did this again.

Maria left the hospital with a cast on her arm. When she arrived home that night, she proudly showed it to her brothers. Janina was furious that Maria was getting so much attention. "Janina, I want to see you in your room.", Alexei said. Alexei was not a strict disciplinarian. He expected his wife to handle this because of all the overtime hours he had to work.

The defiant Janina stood before her father wondering what her punishment would be. "Your new bike will be given to Maria. You do not deserve a birthday present if you cannot control your temper. Janina, I've warned you about this before. I will not do so ever again. Do you uncderstand?", he said sternly. "But Daddy, she was laughing at me.", the girl protested. "I don't care. That's no reason for you to break your sister's arm." he said.

Sophie decided the best punishment for the two girls was time before the statue of the Virgin. "You will pray for forgiveness for the mean way you have treated each other.", she said. The two girls spent the next week on their knees praying for forgiveness for two hours each day. Alexei Jr. tried in vain to maintain control of his three younger brothers, Gregory, Peter and Anthony. Each of the three had their own ideas about what they wanted.

Their father saw that his wife was less and less alert to the needs of their children and totally unconcerned about his. He took on the job of seeing that each had daily chores. Sophie barely dressed herself most days. The household was in tatters except for the sound of Sophie's praying. It went on for hours and hours every day. By the time each of the children finished grade school, their early emancipation was clear. Alexei could give orders. The children learned to circumvent them. Sophie would pray for them. The children would continue their rowdiness and lack of control.

It was with great relief when Anthony reached eighteen years old. Sophie had the house to herself. Alexei worked as he always had. Now that her daughters were both in possession of driving licenses, they drove Sophie to Mass, novenas and religious events. Janina drove herself into the arms of a neighbor before she left for college. The neighbor was an attractive Italian dock worker who had only recently moved into the home two houses from the Kulkowski home. He was Janina's first, but not last, conquest. Sophie saw the glances between the two and ignored them. Janina would be leaving in a month., she reasoned. Whatever was between them would end and no one ever need know., she thought. Maria stayed behind to care for her mother. Sophie loved the attention Maria showered on her. She remained with her mother at every Mass. Sophie tried to encourage the girl to consider a vocation in the convent as she had with all of her sons. She hoped that Maria would be the one who would fulfill her mother's dreams.

When Maria told Sophie she wanted to consider such a vocation, Sophie immediately took her to Father Szczepanka at St. John's. He made the arrangements for Maria. A strange thing happened as it always does to young girls. Maria was sidetracked by a young man with whom she became totally enamored. "Mama, I've changed my mind. I don't want a vocation.", she said. Sophie began to cry. "Mama, you wanted this for you. Not me.", Maria said. "I want to do with my life what you could never do with yours.", she said. "Maria, you will long regret this. Nothing is more important than a marriage to God.", she told her daughter. "Then, why didn't you become a nun, Mama?", Maria asked. Sophie turned and walked out of the room.

As each of the Kulkowski children married, Sophie saw all of the opportunities for a member of the family to have a vocation falling away. Maria divorced the young man she had been so in love with. Once again, Sophie tried to convince her daughter that she could still become a nun. Once again, she took Maria to see Father Szczepanka. This time, he flatly refused to even consider it. "Sophie, the time has long past for Maria to consider a vocation. Perhaps, she would be better off to consider a career.", he said, shaking his head.

Sophie could not accept that her church, her beloved pastor and her religion would deny her the one thing she always wanted. She could stand no more. She spoke few words after that. She walked about the house like a zombie, eyes vacant and movements aimless. She barely spoke to her husband. Alexei shook his head sadly and tried to understand the mental illness he recognize for years. What could he do? Send her away? Who would have cared for the children? What choice was there? She could remain at home even now. No one needed to know their family business. Soon, Sophie began speaking in short, strange bursts. The opposite of these outbursts was total silence for days at a time. She barely ate. But, no one who lived on Eden Avenue saw Sophie anymore. What difference could it make if Alexei allowed her to remain here where she was most familiar? Their children were all busy with their own lives. Alexei accepted that. When they did notice the strangeness of their mother's behavior, they treated it as an amusement to be ignored. Sophie Kulkowski, another hidden secret of the dysfunctional Eden Avenue.

Like Sophie Kulkowski, Irene McCalley, had six children and a philandering husband. Matthew McCalley liked a "wee nip of the scotch" now and again. He and Irene were just teenagers when they met. They waited the appropriate year until Irene reached eighteen to marry. There's was a shot gun wedding. Literally. Irene's father threatened to kill Matthew if he didn't give a name to his first grandson. Matthew was trapped and he knew it. He always liked the girls. He saw more and more of the years of his life in a dull routine of waking, working and worrying. They bought their home on Eden Avenue by the time Irene was pregnant with their fourth child in six years. She'd had a child every year of their marriage - almost. Irene knew her handsome husband was a charming man who could have any woman he wanted. She felt lucky he married her. So busied herself with taking care of their children while he worked. She recognized that he had freedom she didn't. Where could a young woman in her twenties go with four children, soon to be five? Her belly was already beginning to give an indication of another pregnancy. Irene was the product of a large family and thought it was expected of her to sire a brood of children while she was in her productive years.

Matthew was the son of a Scottish laborer who procreated, boozed and allowed his cancer-ridden wife to take care of the four McCalley sons until she was too weak to do so. Matthew adopt his father's attitude that children was "women's work". How could he be expected to dishonor his own father?

It was a snowy night on Eden Avenue. Irene had put the sixth of their children to sleep in his crib. She felt an unusual pain on the left side of her body and a peculiar dizziness. She collapsed into a neaby chair to catch her breath. It was after midnight when Matthew finally arrived home from a night at the local bar with his friends. He found Irene on the kitchen floor, barely breathing. He quickly called the local emergency squad. They arrived too late. She was gone within seconds of Matthew's arrival home. Now, he was a man with no one to care for his six children. At first, Irene's sisters and brothers each took one of the children to live in their homes.

Soon, they expected Matthew to take care of his brood, something he had never been willing to do. Irene's sister, Annie, let him have it. "Matthew, grow up. You have six children to raise. You can't keep pretending someone will do your job of parenting for you.", she said bruskly.

When Matthew lay in his bed that night, he knew Annie was right. He also knew he could never find a wife to care for him and his six children. No woman would want a man with a ready-made family. There was only one thing he could do. The next morning he called the orphanage of St. Benedict in a neighboring state. He packed up all six children, drove them to St. Benedict's and left them on the front step. Matthew never looked back. He had a new life, a new chance to be a happy man. He gunned the engine as he saw a nun startled at the sight of the six children.

Eden Avenue, two suicides, one case of insanity, alcoholism, pedophilia, abuse and brutality. One single street in the middle of a rural town. One huge example of secrets in an age where what happened behind closed doors was rarely revealed. Only the whispers, the scars and the history attest to the truths about Eden Avenue.

November's Child

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Barrow House Now Available At Borders

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Barrow House Now At Barnes & Noble

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Finally! A Book Published

Monday, January 11, 2010

The Eden Avenue Dysfunction

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