And leading them like two generals, Gene and Zoe led their troop. Gene looked even worse than last time. Thinner, with twitching eyelid.
But Zoe, conversely, transformed. In simple dark dress. No makeup, hair in modest bun.
Her face showed universal sorrow. She held Gene’s arm, supporting as if he’d fall. Oil painting: unhappy son and his faithful, suffering spouse.
They lined relatives in semicircle like for execution, and Gene, prompted by Zoe’s quiet whisper, began speaking. His voice trembled, but now not panic. It was well-rehearsed sorrow.
Dear ones, Aunt Vera, Oliver, thanks for coming. He began, sweeping all with tragic gaze. We called you because trouble hit our family.
Big trouble. He paused, letting words sink. Relatives looked at me with bewilderment and sympathy.
Our mom, Louise Patricia, she’s unwell, Gene said with anguish. After illness, problems started. With head.
She began forgetting everything, confusing. She imagined conspiracies, some credits. She doesn’t recognize us.
Accuses of terrible things. I stood with watering can in hands and listened to this theater of absurd. I didn’t believe my ears.
They decided to declare me insane. To take everything. So their fraud becomes just fruit of my sick imagination.
We wanted to treat her, Zoe picked up in her mournful, angelic voice, dabbing dry eye with handkerchief corner. We sought best doctors, clinic, but she ran away. Found some abandoned house and hides here.
Refused help. Blocked all accounts so we can’t pay for treatment. She’s dangerous to herself.
We fear she’ll do something to herself. Aunt Vera, kind-hearted woman, gasped and pressed hands to chest. «Louise, dear, what is this? Let’s go home, to city.
To hospital, get treated.» They looked at me like a violent lunatic. Mix of pity, fear, and some disgust.
I saw my verdict in their eyes. Gene and Zoe’s plan was devilishly simple and effective. Who’d believe a lonely elderly woman living in ruins over young, respectable son and his pregnant wife caring so for her? I was silent.
What could I say? Any word, any protest, they’d immediately declare symptom of illness. See? Aggression. Inadequate reaction.
And when it seemed all lost, that I lost this last, dirtiest battle, I heard behind calm creak of gate. May I inquire, what gathering? All turned. On the path stood Uncle Fred.
In his usual work clothes, but held straight like a general. His clear blue eyes swept the delegation, stopped on Gene and Zoe, and finally on me. And you, excuse me, who? Zoe asked haughtily, eyeing him head to toe.
Me? I’m the neighbor, he answered calmly. Cooper, Fred Isaac. And you fine folks who came to the woman in a crowd and scare her? We’re her relatives.
Gene shouted hotly. And we came to save her. Her head’s not right.
Uncle Fred slowly approached and stood beside me. He didn’t look at me, but I felt his solid shoulder. Head not right, you say? He squinted at Gene.
Strange. But I’ve been talking with Louise Patricia a week. And see before me absolutely sane, clear, and very strong person.
A person whose own son brought on birthday and dumped in this shed like useless thing. I saw it with my own eyes. Relatives murmured.
Aunt Vera looked at Gene doubtfully. And I see a person, Uncle Fred continued, voice firmer, who alone, without help, turns this shed into livable house. Kindled stove, tidied, digs garden.
Do crazies behave so? To me, so behave people from whom everything taken but couldn’t take main—will to live. He stepped forward, closer to delegation. And you young people, he shifted gaze to Zoe, you seem strange to me.
Came in expensive car, dressed to nines, but say mother cut off all your accounts. How’d you get here, on last dime? And you don’t look like grief-stricken children. More like raiders come to squeeze last from old folk.
Only instead of soldering irons and irons, you have tears and lying words. Last words he said loud and clear. And they hit bullseye.
Relatives who came with sympathy for Gene now looked at him and Zoe suspiciously. Their well-planned show crumbled before eyes. Aunt Vera approached me.
«Louise, is it true? He kicked you out?» I nodded silently. And that was enough. All their lies burst like soap bubble.
Relatives began whispering, casting angry, condemning glances at Gene and Zoe. Nephew Oliver, burly guy, approached Gene closely. «What scum are you doing?» He growled.
Decided to drive own mother to grave. Gene backed away. Zoe grabbed his hand and dragged to car…
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