Thunder and Lightening
Chapter 14
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

Life had settled into a comfortable pattern for Jerry. When the 
weather had turned cold, he had purchased an electric heater that 
kept the living room warm enough to be comfortable. He was 
driving the Camaro to work, to the therapist, and on errands. 

Mondays were spent working on his truck and the bodywork was 
nearly finished. The only real major work to be finished was to 
paint it and to replace the bed of the truck. It was beginning to get 
a little too cold to work on it, but he felt confident that he would 
finish it before the real cold weather arrived.

Tuesday nights were spent late at the store taking care of 
paperwork as Abe worked late stocking the store. The young man 
had really become a hard worker and very thrifty with his money. 
He made the payments on the scooter on time and took a great deal 
of pleasure out of ownership of it. Jerry had feared that Abe would 
spend his money on showy items, but he hadn't counted on the 
boy's mother. Sharon rode herd on the boy, watching him for the 
least sign that he was screwing up.

Wednesdays were spent at the store taking care of personnel 
related issues. Mike had learned his responsibilities as Assistant 
Manager and was now taking charge of scheduling people to work. 
Every Wednesday, Mike hung the new schedule up on the wall and 
worked with him to submit the corporate paperwork. Jerry found 
that Karen was managing the inventory better than it had been 
managed previously. He took those nights as opportunities to eat a 
great meal out. 

Thursday’s lunches were spent at the Crimson Rose chatting with 
Jenny. She had set aside a special table for him with man size 
plates, glasses, and silverware. After the lunch crowed 
disappeared, the two of them would chat for an hour. He was sure 
that she wanted him to ask her out, but he just didn't feel right 
about it. The nights were spent in therapy. To his great surprise, 
therapy was not as horrible as he had imagined and he had 
identified a lot of the triggers that caused his rage to emerge. 

Fridays were spent at the store. He worked the whole day trading 
off the time at the counter with Mike and Martin. At night, he 
usually fixed a simple meal at home spending the time after dinner 
in the company of Henry Buckman. He and the large black man 
had many things in common besides being big. Henry was a 
wonder at working with wood while Jerry was talented with metal. 
Together, they were building a couple of indoor water fountains 
that could be mounted on the wall. 

Saturdays were spent at the store dealing primarily with walk-in 
customers. Taking some advice from Karen, he had installed a 
coffee maker in the display area of the store. Customers were 
invited to take free cups of coffee while shopping and waiting for 
service. Usually Martin and Jerry worked the counter together. The 
experience of fixing a car had given Martin the ability to help give 
advice to customers about their repair work. As a result of those 
minor changes, Saturday business had picked up.

The day of the week that he really looked forward to was Sunday. 
His son would come over Sunday and they would work on the 
truck together while Martin worked on his car. The day always 
flew by so fast that it was over before it felt like it had even begun. 

School had changed in a subtle way for his son. He now had three 
friends with whom he spent a great deal of time, avoiding the 
unpleasantness of his home life. The simple act of thanking Woody 
and Sandy for their support had opened a great friendship among 
all three. Larry had joined the group a little later, thankful to have 
three friends in a new school. Woody and Sandy were both good 
students and the four of them often got together to work on group 
projects where possible.

It was Thursday and Jerry was waiting for Mike and Karen to 
return from lunch so that he could go to the Crimson Rose for 
lunch. His schedule for this day was packed. After lunch, he had to 
go to court about some of the conditions of separation, since his 
wife was not happy that she had to cut back on her excessive 
lifestyle. Then he had his evening session with the therapist to 
address his rage. 

The phone rang and he answered it. After jotting down the order, 
he held it up. Martin pulled the order out of his hand and headed to 
the back to pull the parts. Looking over at all of the packages of 
parts, Jerry could see that business had improved. Howard was 
making more runs a day then ever before. Even with the increased 
number of runs, there were more boxes waiting to be delivered on 
the counter.

Howard came into the store and looked at all of the packages 
waiting on the counter. The number of deliveries was unusually 
high. Carrying another box of parts, Martin came out from the 
back and said, "Hey, surfer delivery dude."

"Hey, preacher man," replied Howard with a grin. 

This was a friendship that Jerry would never have imagined. The 
two of them often took their lunch breaks together and traded quips 
with rapid-fire speed. Mike often commented that unleashing those 
two on the public was more dangerous than letting loose a fox in a 
chicken coup. 

Martin asked, "Lunch?"

"It'll take an hour to deliver all of this stuff," replied Howard. He 
bent over like an old man and put an arm on his back as he 
quipped, "You'se workin' me to death massa."

"Life's a bitch when youse workin' for the man!" 

"Lazy man at that!"

"I'll wait for you to finish this run," replied Martin with a laugh. 

"Deal, now help get this junk to the car," requested Howard.

Jerry was laughing as the pair went out the door carrying several 
boxes of parts each. The last thing he heard as the door close was 
Martin quip, "Junk? This here's grade A prime made in America 
parts."

Still laughing at the pair, Jerry saw Mike and Karen enter the store. 
Chuckling as he walked, Mike said, "That was a good one. If 
people like you are making those grade A made in America parts, 
I'd go for those grade C made in La-La Land parts."

Karen said, "Those two are a riot together."

Jerry said, "I've never heard either one of them talk like that 
without the other one there. Martin is usually a pretty serious kid."

Mike replied, "I didn't even know that Howard smiled."

Looking at the clock, Jerry said, "I've got to go. I won't be back 
today. I've got court after lunch."

"I'll close up and make sure that everything is ready for tomorrow."

"Great," replied Jerry as he headed towards the back door. He 
stopped in the bathroom to straighten his clothes and double check 
his appearance in the mirror. It wasn't that he was vain about his 
appearance, only that he wanted to look presentable for Jenny. 

The short drive down the street barely taxed the huge engine of the 
Camaro. He didn't really like breaking in the engine with city 
driving since the stop and go traffic put a significant strain on the 
new parts. He pulled into a parking space between a high-end 
BMW and a silver Jaguar. Standing next to his car, he gave voice 
to his low opinion of the woman that frequented the Crimson Rose 
Bistro. "They had better be outstanding fucks to deserve cars like 
this."

Jenny greeted him with a smile and led him to his table. Leaning 
down, she said, "I've got the makings for a good Caesar Salad with 
slices of steak. Does that sound good to you?"

"Sure does," replied Jerry. Even though months had gone by with 
him coming to her place, he was still amazed at how much care she 
put into making sure that a good meal was available for him. It had 
taken some serious negotiations, but he paid for his meals at price 
that was fair for both of them. 

After she went to tell the chef to cook his meal, Jerry took the 
opportunity to look around the room at the women. His scheduled 
appearance in court had given him a very sour attitude towards 
women that lived off their husband's hard work. It was hard to 
keep his disdain for them off his face. 

Listening to the conversations around him, he was particularly 
interested in a table where the women were discussing their sex 
lives. He listened in shock at the coarseness of their descriptions 
of, and the obvious disdain for, their husband's needs. Two of the 
four women had lovers on the side and were describing with great 
enthusiasm the kinds of things their lovers did for them. As they 
talked, he realized they were doing things for their lovers that they 
weren't doing for their husbands. 

When Jenny returned with his salad and iced tea, he smiled up at 
her appreciating her hardworking ethic and independence. She 
could see the approval on his face and smiled in return. The lunch 
crowd was finishing their lunches. This kept her busy delivering 
deserts and taking care of bills. Between dealing with customers, 
she cleared tables knowing that her customers didn't appreciate 
having to look at a messy table.

Jerry watched her work the room as he ate his salad. He watched as 
one of the women had difficulty paying her portion of the bill. She 
didn't have cash to pay for the meal and two of her credit cards had 
been rejected. Jenny was forced to accept a check after suffering 
from a blistering dressing down by the woman. Jerry could tell that 
Jenny was convinced that the check would bounce and had to 
accept that she would end up eating the cost of the meal. 

Jerry watched the interplay wondering if the woman had just been 
dumped by her husband and was only now waking up to the need 
for fiscal responsibility. He finished his salad as the last customers 
left. It wasn't until then that he actually relaxed. 

Jenny joined him at the table with a sad shake of her head. She 
said, "Stiffed on another bill."

"I noticed you taking a check for the meal," replied Jerry.

"Yeah. It'll bounce. They always do when I have to take a check 
after two credit cards get rejected." She shook her head and added, 
"It amazes me at how righteous they are when it happens. They act 
like I'm supposed to be happy about buying them lunch."

"Do you get many of them like that?"

"I get about nine of those a month and costs me over two hundred 
a month. It would cost more if I had a liquor permit. A lot of them 
drink their lunches when they don't eat here."

Surprise by the vehemence in her voice, Jerry said, "It sounds like 
you don't like them."

Shrugging, Jenny replied, "In a way, I think of a lot of them as 
though they are high priced hookers. I wonder what they do for 
their husbands that makes them worthy of the money they spend."

Speaking from personal experience, there was bitterness in his 
voice, as Jerry answered, "Nothing, they do nothing."

The tone of voice in which he had made his pronouncement 
reminded Jenny of the situation with his wife. She wondered if he 
was telling her the truth about being separated. If he was, then why 
hadn't he asked her out? Months had passed and he still hadn't 
made any attempt to change the relationship between them. She 
asked, "Are you really separated from your wife?"

The question took him by surprise. Looking up at her, he replied, 
"Yes."

"Then how come you haven't asked me out?" In a way, she was 
hurt by his apparent lack of interest in pursuing a relationship with 
her. 

The question stunned Jerry. He didn't know how to answer that he 
had no experience dating. For a full minute, he stuttered as he 
started with one answer and then changed it before he even got out 
the first few syllables of his answer. Finally, he sat back and, in a 
voice that conveyed resignation, said, "I would like to ask you out, 
but I don't know how."

Incredulous, Jenny stared at the huge man in front of her. It made 
her wonder how someone that big could be so tentative and fearful. 
She asked, "Where would you like to take me, if you were to ask 
me out?"

"That's part of my problem. I have no clue where I would take you. 
A bar doesn't sound right. A restaurant doesn't really make sense 
since you own one. That would be rather like a busman's holiday. I 
haven't even been to a movie since I was a teenager," answered 
Jerry as he stared at his iced tea. After a minute, he said, "I couldn't 
even invite you to my place. You'd take one look around the 
neighborhood and run for the hills."

"Surely your home isn't that bad," replied Jenny.

Smiling, Jerry said, "I live eight blocks from here. Just head for 
ugly and drive for six blocks. Make another turn towards uglier 
and drive two more blocks."

Jenny laughed at his directions, but understood exactly what he 
meant. She drove several miles out of her way, just to avoid that 
area of the city. If his directions were anywhere near accurate, the 
only way she'd go there is with a bodyguard. She asked, "Are you 
kidding?"

"No, I'm not."

"Aren't you afraid of living there?"

"Not really. In fact, I rather enjoy it. You've met Abe and Martin at 
the store. They're my neighbors. I have a friend, Henry, who is 
almost as big as I am and lives two blocks away. Half of the 
neighborhood hangs out in my front yard on Sundays when Martin, 
my son, and I work on the cars."

"Isn't it dangerous?"

Jerry was silent for a moment before he answered, "Well, one of 
the local drug users and, sometimes pusher, was shot the other 
night. A kid by the name of Kenny." It was a shame about Kenny, 
but the kid was headed towards trouble. He had kept his distance 
after Jerry had caught him trying to steal his tools, but Henry had 
kept him informed of what kinds of things the kid was doing. 
Henry had done his best to keep Kenny out of trouble, but that 
wasn't sufficient. Now he was lying in a hospital bed recovering 
from a gunshot wound.

"A shooting?"

"It was a couple of blocks away," answered Jerry even as he 
wondered how he could be so accepting about something that 
happened that close to home. Maybe he was changing to fit into 
the neighborhood more than he had realized.

Nodding, she said, "I guess I can understand why you wouldn't 
invite me to your home."

"So anyway, that's why I don't ask you out. I don't know where to 
take you and I don't know how to ask."

"Well, I like movies and I don't mind eating out on occasion."

"Okay, so I'll ask you to dinner and a movie as soon as I figure out 
how to ask you," replied Jerry. 

Amazed at the direction of the conversation, Jenny stared at the 
large man as he sat across the table from her rubbing the calluses 
on his hands. It was a gesture that she had come to recognize as 
nervousness. It was all but decided that he would take her to dinner 
and movie, it was just a matter of him saying it to her.

Jerry sat at the table trying to work up his nerve to ask her on a 
date. She had been helpful enough to let him know what kind of 
date she would enjoy. He reached, with a hand that trembled, for 
his iced tea glass, needing a sip of tea to relieve his dry-mouth. 
After taking the edge off his sudden thirst, he took care to set down 
the glass. The last thing he wanted to do was spill the rest of his 
tea. Gathering his courage, he asked, "Would you go out with me?"

"Sure," replied Jenny with a smile. It was amazing at how difficult 
that had been for Jerry despite the fact that she had basically made 
it as easy as possible for the man. Now the trick would be to get a 
day and time for the date. She asked, "Did you have any specific 
day in mind?"

Jerry considered when he would be available. Tomorrow he was 
meeting with Henry to work on the fountain. The first chance 
would be on Saturday. He asked, "How about Saturday night?"

"That's fine."

It took her ten minutes to get all of the details about the date from 
Jerry. The process had been almost humorous and she really had to 
restrain herself from laughing at him. Each question that she had 
asked was answered only after a minute of careful consideration. It 
was easy to tell that he wasn't a married man seeking an affair. No 
man seeking an affair would be so awkward when asking a woman 
out on a date. 

Jerry left a little late, but made good time in getting to the 
courthouse. His lawyer had briefed him on what he could expect to 
happen. In particular, the judge would want to see their financial 
records to determine what their real financial needs were. He 
handed his books over to the lawyer having documented his 
expenditures with great care.

The proceedings were a disaster for one of the participants, namely 
his wife. She had lost control over her hatred and disdain for men 
while the judge was reviewing her financial records to see what her 
real economic requirements were. The judge had examined her 
records with great care, pronouncing that two thousand dollars a 
month for eating at restaurants was a little excessive. Because he 
had questioned her expenses, she had told the judge that he had no 
right to dictate how she spent the money owed her by the lazy 
gorilla that had been her husband.

After calling the judge a typical male chauvinist pig, he had 
warned her to that he was going to find her in contempt. Her rant 
then turned to focus on Jerry. As she unleashed a vulgar stream of 
nasty comments in his direction, the judge couldn't believe what he 
was hearing. In his opinion it was spouse abuse. Jerry had stared at 
the ceiling, remembering what his therapist had told him about 
insults, "They tell more about the person saying them than the 
target."

By the time the hearing had finished, the judge had ruled in Jerry's 
favor and awarded him more money a month by reducing his 
payments to his wife. It wasn't much more money, but it helped. 
His wife had been found in contempt when she protested the 
decision in very crude terms. He had left with his lawyer while her 
lawyer was arranging bail.

Dinner had been a short stop at a burger joint where he ate at a 
booth next to a window. He watched as dark, boiling clouds 
gathered overhead shutting out the sunlight an hour before sunset. 
The light turned an eerie green color that brought a shudder down 
his back. Throughout the meal, the clouds got thicker and darker 
moving closer to the ground.

He left for the therapist wondering when the storm was going to 
bust loose. When he arrived at her building, the sky looked even 
more threatening and the air was dead still. Remembering back to 
the night when he was nearly struck by lightning, he raced into the 
building not wanting it to happen again. 

The time spent with the therapist concentrated primarily on the 
events of that afternoon and how Jerry had managed to keep the 
rage at bay. He felt good about how he had reacted to her tirade. 
She had managed to say every trigger phrase that normally 
released his rage from its cage. The therapist was quite pleased 
with his progress, but warned him not to get too confident. 

Leaving the therapist’s building, Jerry was surprised that it hadn't 
begun to rain. He looked up at the sky amazed as lightning flashed 
across the sky rather than downwards towards the ground. Little 
funnels hung down from the clouds, precursors of tornadoes. 
Driving home, he kept an eye on the road and one on the sky. 

Driving down the street where he lived, he noticed all of the old 
folks standing on their porches watching the sky. He parked his car 
and went to his porch to watch the boiling clouds wondering when 
it was going to start raining. The tension in the still air was 
unbearable. Martin, Abe, and Sharon joined him on his porch 
staring at the sky the entire trip from their house to his. Abe gave 
voice to the thought that was on everyone's minds, "This ain't 
natural."

It was ten minutes later that the sky burst loose with everything 
that it had. A horrible gale nearly blew them from the porch while 
torrential rains fell. Lightning bolts reached down to the ground, 
lighting up the sky enough to illuminate a funnel cloud that ripped 
though buildings several miles away. The wind was hard enough to 
blow the rain horizontal. The four ran into Jerry's house to wait out 
the storm and listen to the news reports.

As Sharon sat on the futon between Abe and Martin, Jerry turned 
on the television to the local news station. A tornado was being 
reported to the north of the city and another was headed towards 
the city. Martin said, "Shit, if a tornado comes through this part of 
town there won't be a thing left."

Sharon nodded her head and said, "We're fucked."

They huddled together watching while the weather radar showed 
the progress of the storm as it moved in their direction. Jerry 
thought about the cars under the tree in the front yard and said, 
"This wind is liable to cause the tree out front to fall, even if we 
aren't hit by the tornado."

"Shit, that'll destroy our cars." Martin sounded more upset about 
the chances of the Caddy getting destroyed than about the 
possibility that he could die in this storm. 

Jerry shook his head at the irony of it. He had tied his recovery to 
the restoration of the truck so that now he felt that if something bad 
happened to the truck it was as if it happened to him. In a voice 
that didn't convey confidence, Jerry said, "We'll make it through 
this storm all right and so will the cars."

A weak knock on the door surprised everyone. Jerry went over and 
opened the door only to find a soaking wet Bill collapsed on the 
porch shivering from cold and shock. Picking up his son with a 
gentleness that contrasted with his size, Jerry carried him into the 
house. Abe closed the door behind him and stared at his friend. 
Martin asked, "What the fuck is the matter with his arm? It's bent 
the wrong way."

Jerry looked down at his son taking in the arm, bruises on his face, 
and lack of proper attire for this time of year. As fear for his son 
grabbed him by the heart, he shouted, "I better get him to a hospital 
right now."

Abe held open the door while Martin ran into the rain to get to the 
car. Jerry carried Bill in his arms and set him in the front seat of 
the Camaro while Martin held the door open for him. Soaking wet, 
he got into the driver's seat and started the car. Martin had run back 
to the house and waved from the door.

Jerry's stomach was twisted into knots as he steered the Camaro 
down the dark street trying to avoid the potholes. The windshield 
wipers couldn't keep up with the rain making if feel as though he 
were driving through a solid wall of water. The electric power to 
the entire area went out before he reached the main street casting 
the road into darkness. With hands clenched tight on the steering 
wheel, he navigated down the dark roads avoiding downed power 
lines and fallen trees. 

Tears flowed down Jerry's cheeks as he kept glancing over at his 
son. The kid was pale and shivering from the cold even though the 
heater in the car was on full. The only other sign that he was alive 
was the occasional groan of pain. When lightning flashes 
illuminated the interior of the car, he could see new bruises 
developing on the Bill's face. He tried to talk to Bill to let him 
know that everything was going to be all right, but each time he 
looked at the boy he wondered if he would survive.

The half-hour drive to the hospital took nearly an hour. When he 
finally reached it, he was drenched in sweat from tension. He 
pulled into the emergency room and carried his son into the room. 
He shouted, "I need help here."

The hospital was fully staffed to provide emergency services to 
victims of the storm and moved with great efficiency to take care 
of Bill. Jerry followed behind them saying, "I don't know what 
happened to him."

The doctor examined Bill and then looked up at Jerry with anger. 
Turning to the nurse, he said, "Call the police. This child has been 
abused."

The words struck Jerry dumb as he tried to process what the doctor 
was saying. For a moment he stood glued to the spot, staring at the 
doctor with a blank expression on his face. Someone had abused 
his kid? The worry about his son and the tension of the drive had 
sapped his strength. When his rage tried to emerge he had nothing 
left to give and toppled over in a dead faint.

Jerry woke on a hospital bed looking up at a police officer. The 
first words from his mouth were "How's my son?"

The officer looked down at Jerry and didn't answer the question. In 
the flat factual tone used by police everywhere when interviewing 
a suspect, he stated, "So tell me what happened."

"I don't know what happened to him. I was at home with my 
neighbors watching reports about the storm on the television when 
I heard a knock on the door. When I opened it, he was laying on 
the porch," replied Jerry.

The officer asked, "Do you expect me to believe that story? You're 
telling me you didn't know your son was out in the storm?"

"He doesn't live with me. He lives with his mother about fifteen 
miles from my house. I don't even know how he got to my house," 
replied Jerry. He rubbed his forehead feeling a huge bump where 
he had hit it when he had fainted. He asked, "Can you tell me how 
my son is doing?"

"The doctor will have to do that," answered the officer, as he 
looked at Jerry with a thoughtful expression. He left the room to 
talk to the doctor to see if the kid's condition agreed with the story 
that Jerry had told. As Jerry tried to get up to follow, he collapsed 
back on the bed feeling as weak as a kitten. 

It was almost thirty minutes later before the doctor came into the 
room where Jerry was stretched out on the bed. Jerry asked, 
"How's my son?"

"He woke, but I sedated him after a short conversation with him. 
He's been seriously injured, but they aren't life threatening. It 
would appear that his mother hit him with a baseball bat breaking 
two of his ribs and his arm. The rest of his injuries would appear to 
be as a result of falling off his scooter in the storm."

A thousand questions raged in his mind. Could his son have 
actually driven his scooter almost an hour from home with a 
broken arm and in the middle of a storm? Why didn't his son go 
over to the home of one of his friends? How could a mother 
actually do that to her own son? Jerry tried to sit up, but couldn't. 
He asked, "What's wrong with me? I feel weak."

"We administered a muscle relaxant," answered the doctor. When 
Jerry had fainted, the doctor had been positive that the big man had 
hit his kid. Everyone, including the policeman, agreed that it would 
be better if the guy couldn't get up once he came out of the faint. 
He added, "It will wear off shortly and then we'll let you see your 
son."

Jerry asked, "Could you send the police officer back? I want my 
ex-wife arrested."

The doctor looked down at Jerry and said, "That's already in 
progress. A counselor will be here shortly to talk to you."

Jerry felt like he was tied to the bed although the rope that bound 
him was gravity. Never in his life had he felt so weak. It was even 
tough to adjust the light blanket that covered him. He was far more 
exhausted than he thought possible. Unable to help himself, he fell 
asleep.

Eyes struggling to make out his surroundings, Jerry realized that he 
was still in the hospital. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and 
looked around. Bill was asleep in the bed next to his. Sleeping in 
the visitor's chair, Martin emitted soft snores. He sat up and 
climbed out of the bed. Moving over to his son's bed, he looked 
down at the boy taking in all of the bandages and the cast on his 
arm. 

A half an hour passed with him looking down at Bill. The snoring 
had stopped and the silence in the room was broken when Martin 
said, "How are you doing?"

Jerry turned and gestured towards the door feeling that it would be 
better to talk in the hall than take the chance of waking his son. 
Martin understood and went into the hallway with his boss and 
neighbor. Jerry looked at Martin and asked, "What are you doing 
here?"

"Shit, I couldn't get the sight of that poor kid out of my mind last 
night. We waited for you to get home, but you never returned. I 
just had to see how he was doing," answered Martin. 

"I appreciate you coming all the way here," replied Jerry. The fact 
that Martin came to the hospital touched him far more than he 
knew how to say. This was the first time in his life when he had to 
face something unpleasant without being alone.

"We figured he rode his scooter to the house. Abe and I looked for 
it, but we couldn't find it anywhere." Martin looked down at the 
floor knowing how devastated Bill would be to loose the scooter. 
Abe had talked about that most of the evening.

"Don't worry about finding the scooter. I'll get him another one 
even if I have to tie that bitch of an ex-wife to a bed and charge 
people a dollar to fuck her." The anger in his voice was difficult to 
miss. 

Martin trying to get a lighter tone in the discussion asked, "A 
dollar?"

"You think that is too much?"

The black man laughed at the question. He said, "By the way, I 
talked to the cop last night and told him what we knew. He said 
that I verified what you told him."

"Did he tell you what happened?" asked Jerry.

"No."

A moan from the room brought a halt to the conversation. Jerry 
went in and stood by the bed. Bill opened his eyes and looked up at 
his father with a weak smile. He asked, "How did you find me?"

"You made it to the house," answered Jerry realizing his son didn't 
remember getting to the house. He asked, "Why didn't you go to 
one of your friends?"

Bill looked away as he replied, "I was too embarrassed."

"Why?"

As tears appeared on Bill's cheeks, he answered, "A guy has to be a 
real loser to have his mother beat him like this."

A sound of disbelief came from behind him as Martin reacted to 
the words. He didn't know his father and his mother might be poor, 
but he knew his mother loved him. The thought came to mind that 
a dollar might be too much. 

His rage flared as Jerry heard the answer. In a very stern voice that 
allowed no argument, he answered, "Don't ever believe that. Your 
mother is a sick bitch that hates everything male. She's a sick 
twisted woman and you're a victim of that."

Turning to look at his father, Bill said, "Thanks, dad. I just have to 
learn how to believe that."

The words tore at his heart, as he understood that it was the truth. 
As gentle as possible, Jerry leaned down and hugged his son, 
making sure that he didn't stress the broken ribs or arm. He knew 
that it was up to him to make things right for his son and that it was 
going to take time. 

