Paying My Dues by BumblingFool,BumblingFool

Note: Fair warning: there are no graphic depictions of sex in this story.

Chapter-1

I grew up in an upper-middle-class family. We weren’t filthy rich, not like multi-millionaires or anything but we lived in a huge all-brick home with all the amenities. Mom wanted a tennis court, so dad built her one. They both loved horses and owned four, which were stabled on my grandfather’s farm, two quarter-horses, a pinto, and an appaloosa.

My dad, Andrew Davenport, is the COO of Donner Paints, Inc. which manufactures a variety of paint products. Donner Paints isn’t one of the big three paint manufacturers but is still a very large corporation competing in the top ten in nationwide sales with numerous distributors. His annual salary was comfortably nestled in six figures, although I wouldn’t learn what his actual salary was until I was much older. The plant employs close to 250 workers.

I was oblivious of my parents’ favoritism for several years. My older brother by eighteen months, Brandon Andrew Davenport junior, proudly bore my father’s name. I didn’t have a problem with that. My father went by Andrew, so they called him Brandon. My name was less auspicious. I was born prematurely at four pounds eight ounces, with a cute cherub face, I was told. Mom argued that since my dad had named my brother, it was only fair that she name me. To keep the peace, he conceded. I wish he hadn’t. She named me after her mother and her grandmother, proudly saying that they were the two strongest women she knew. I’m Ashley Quinn Davenport and go by Quinn. At least Quinn is a unisex name. I’m not sure if a man has gone by Ashley since the civil war. I remember seeing an Ashley as an important character in the movie ‘Gone With the Wind’ and clung to that image to bolster my masculinity.

By the time I was four, Brandon’s physical prominence was becoming glaringly apparent. He was stout, athletic, and very good-looking. I was diminutive comparatively, not only because I was younger. At my age, he had been a much more impressive specimen than me. Mom and dad’s partiality was obvious to us both. Birthdays and Christmas were exceptionally exciting times for my brother who invariably received more than he asked for while I received about half of my wish lists. But if we were going out to eat as a family, Brandon was asked where he’d like to go, and that’s where we went. When I attempted to preemptively offer a suggestion before Brandon was asked, dad or mom would smile and say, “Let’s see where Brandon wants to go,” and that was that.

For as long as I can remember, my parents invited all of our extended family to our home every spring, summer, and fall for family picnics/parties. I loved to see all my cousins, aunts, and uncles, some of whom worked at the plant under my dad. But my favorite relative by far was my grandpa Davenport. He seemed immune to the bias shown to Brandon and spent much of his time with me at these picnics. It felt immensely rewarding that, of my entire family, I had at least one person in my corner, albeit the oldest member, perhaps but grandpa was the best. He always said he loved rooting for the underdog.

Starting the summer I had turned twelve, mom and dad told me that I was going to spend the summer with grandpa. I mean, I loved my grandpa and all but he lived on and worked a large 400-acre farm consisting of a variety of crops and animals. It was nice to visit for horseback riding and all but after a while, I’d soon be missing family activities, friends, and normal summertime fun. I wasn’t given a choice, so I went. His farm was located in the country outside the city limits. Grandpa treated me like royalty. He catered to my every whim and made sure that I lacked for nothing. He let me drive his old beat-up farm truck anywhere I wanted on the farm even though I was too young for a driver’s license. The emergency brake hadn’t worked for years; the cable was rusty. I once saw him press hard on it with both feet, and it wouldn’t budge. He said it didn’t matter. After the first week, he introduced me to Juan Hernandez, who managed all the farmhands. I was slipped in with the other farmhands doing whatever Juan asked me to do. Mostly I fed the pigs and other barnyard animals and mucked the stalls. The cattle were tended by others, being in a field a mile away from the barn. Juan was a nice enough man but what I liked best was his daughter, Luisa Hernandez. She was eleven, a year younger than me. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen, so I tried to hang around her as much as I could. She helped me better understand and appreciate the way of life as a farmer.

Once our chores were done, Luisa and I would often saddle up two horses and ride the farm boundaries together, checking the fences. We rode the quarter horses because of their easygoing temperament. Mine was the chestnut. We both looked forward to those rides when the weather was nice. For some reason, Luisa looked even better on a horse. We spent a lot of time brushing them down. Aside from horseback riding, Luisa was a runner. I was amazed at how that girl could run. For fun, she’d challenge me to footraces and I never stood a chance. More than a few times, I’d follow her on horseback as she would hone her cross-country running skills. She reminded me of the character in the movie ‘Chariots of Fire’, she was a natural. On rainy days, I’d drive her around the farm in grandpa’s old farm truck for fun.

In junior high school, Brandon played football and basketball. He had several growth spurts that put him at six feet by eighth grade. I had no interest in sports but instead joined the chess club. Brandon was super popular, lettering in both sports. He mocked my chess trophy. I merely accepted that’s what brothers do. What I lacked in physical prowess, I made up with wit and humor. I was quick with funny self-deprecating remarks and everyone seemed to enjoy my company. Bandon resented my growing popularity but knew I’d never rise to his level so he left me alone. Still, every summer, like clockwork, I was banished to grandpa’s farm. Don’t get me wrong, I dearly loved him. He treated me more like a son than a grandson but I wondered why Brandon never had to go to the farm. Life was never fair.

High school was a whole new world. Brandon was now six feet three inches tall with a muscled robust body somewhere between Adonis and Hercules. His chiseled good looks drew the attention of every female within eyeshot. His strength made him the team captain. I must admit, I was jealous of how well-liked Brandon was by the girls. He constantly dated but never had a steady girlfriend. He didn’t need one. Nearly every girl in the school thought he was a dreamboat.

During my junior year of high school, Jenny Creedmoor and I became fast friends working together on the yearbook committee. She was in on planning and design while I was one of two designated candid photographers. She was also a cheerleader. I was surprised to merit her attention in any way. I was barely average looking, unlike my brother. Unfortunately, my growth spurts never matched his. I topped out at five feet six inches. I was only an inch taller than Jenny but still respectable. I’d seen Brandon as a senior ask many girls out casually but I was sweating as I finally developed the nerve to ask Jenny out on a date. I nearly passed out when she said yes. After a couple of months, we were both smitten with each other. I asked her to go steady with me, to be my girl, exclusively. She happily agreed as I slid my class ring on her finger. We frequently went out and talked often about our long-term future together. We agreed that after we both turned eighteen during our senior year, we’d then give each other the gift of our virginity.

At the end of that school year, my parents made a big production of Brandon’s high school graduation. They wanted the whole family to attend his ceremony and honor his accomplishment. Though he graduated with only a 2.4 GPA, when he walked across the stage to accept his diploma, all the girls went crazy applauding and cheering for him.

Later that same afternoon, dad drove us all to the VFW facility where he had rented their huge dance hall for Brandon’s surprise graduation party. Every member of our large extended family was in attendance, along with about a dozen of dad’s close friends and coworkers from the plant but what excited Brandon the most was the presence of thirty to forty of his closest school chums, comprised mostly of girls. He was in seventh heaven. Dad had hired a live band for the event and had the entire celebration luxuriously catered with delectable food. Brandon received several congratulatory cards from those in attendance wishing him good luck for the future.

Right after the evening buffet was served, dad opened a garage door where everyone was herded outdoors. He proudly handed Brandon the keys to his graduation present and excitedly extolled its many features. It was a brand new Chevrolet Corvette Z06 with custom blue Pearlescent Paint. He touted it as the king of American performance cars. It sported 305-Section Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2-R tires, front and back. It had the optional carbon ceramic brake system, and a 5.5 liter V-8 670 HP engine with the quick shift 8-speed dual-clutch transmission. This baby goes from 0 to 60 in 2.6 seconds. My brother was super elated to receive this gift. He immediately took my parents for a spin in it but sternly informed me that I wasn’t allowed to ever touch his new car. I was relieved. I wanted nothing to do with it or anything associated with him and walked away with a grin on my face.

While he was test-driving his new wheels with mom and dad, I looked up his car online with similar features. MSRP was close to 75 grand for the car alone. When all the options and customizations were added in, it easily topped out at around 90 grand. That was encouraging. I aspired to receive something similar when I graduate. I still had one more year to go. The best thing was, I was very much looking forward to spending another summer at grandpa’s farm this year.

For the past three summers, grandpa had surprisingly placed me in charge of the entire farm workforce. Over the years, he’d taught me every aspect of the farm that needed tending to, and trusted that I’d direct everyone to keep the farm running smoothly with my guidance. Juan Hernandez, the farm foreman, who usually operated under the supervision of my grandpa, readily accepted my authority, and we kept the farm running efficiently. It didn’t seem to bother him a bit that a teenage boy, young enough to be his son was the summer boss. I had made fast friends with everyone who worked under my grandpa, and we all got along famously. Summers were extremely busy for us all, with vegetable harvesting, pest control, fertilizing, and tending the orchard. I asked my grandpa once why he asked only for my help every summer and never Brandon. His vague reply was that I was a natural. Brandon doesn’t have what it takes. There were times that I longed to be more than just a natural-born farmhand but I never spoke a word of complaint to my grandpa.

When I returned home from the summer at the farm, Brandon was packing to go to college. My parents somehow managed to get him enrolled in George Washington University in Washington, DC in their four-year degree program in Business Administration. I looked them up. Annual costs would be over forty-grand per year. That ignited my excitement about where I may end up going after I graduate high school. Even if I was sent to George Washington University along with Brandon, it was a big campus. We could avoid each other and both come out with business degrees. That would nicely prepare us both for management positions in dad’s company. I was sure that Brandon was being groomed for that.

My senior year in high school sailed by as smoothly as silk in Brandon’s absence. Even though I wasn’t a jock, I was still exceptionally popular due to my affability. I always showed great interest in anyone I was with at the time and did my best to treat others as I wanted to be treated. Many expressed how different I was from my brother and loved my lack of arrogance that he capitalized on. I had turned eighteen years old back in February. Jenny’s eighteenth had been in April of that year. The senior prom was to take place on May twenty-fifth. Jenny and I had not been intimate yet. We both decided to wait until prom night to give ourselves to each other. It would be a night we’d never forget for as long as we lived.

During our senior year, Jenny and I had a standing date every Saturday night. Very often we’d go out Fridays as well, depending on her family’s plans. They seemed thrilled that Jenny had latched onto me. I had purchased a ring for her and was planning to propose on prom night, in front of her family while we were all dressed up. Of course, the wedding would wait until after we both graduated. I’d already spoken with her father seeking his approval. He gave me his hearty endorsement. After all, I was the son of a well-to-do family, and they were struggling. I had made reservations at a very expensive restaurant for prom night with firm plans to make her my fiancée that very night.

“Hey, Jenny, it’s me. I know I don’t have to because we have a standing date night but I wanted to make sure we’re still on for this Saturday night.” I had purchased the ring that day and was very excited to see her without letting the cat out of the bag.

“Hi, baby. Oh, I’m so glad you called. I almost forgot. Two of my girlfriends are coming over to give me a perm. One of them is trained and the other wants to learn, so we thought this would be a fun opportunity for them to get more experience and for me to save some money. Would that be okay with you, honey? I meant to mention it to you before but it slipped my mind until just now.”

Disappointed, I replied, “Sure. I understand. We’ll have other Saturday nights. I may just call my friend, Bryan, and catch a movie or something that night.”

“Oh, thank you for understanding, baby. I promise I’ll make it up to you on prom night. You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to being with you,” she said enthused.

Saturday afternoon, I gave Bryan a call, “What’s up man?”

“Me? I never hear from you on Saturdays. What happened, Quinn? Is Jenny on death’s door or something?”

“Nah. She’s getting her hair done tonight, so I was looking to see if you wanted to catch a movie or something tonight.”

“Can’t tonight, Quinn. I promised April I’d take her to The Shakedown tonight; you know, that new teen dance club that opened a few weeks ago? It’s an open house tonight, everybody’s going to be there. Hey, why don’t you join us? You could bring your camera and get some awesome shots for the yearbook. I’ll even let April dance with you a few times.”

“Yeah, I heard about that place. I suppose I could check it out. It might be fun at that. I’ll meet you there, what time?”

“I’m picking April up at seven-thirty, so eight?”

“Eight it is. Thanks, Bryan.”

I made sure my compact camera battery had a full charge with a clear memory chip. I imagined catching a few seniors doing some crazy antics. I found April and Bryan’s table in a corner of the room. The dance floor took up most of the floor space with tables scattered around the edges. All the good tables were already taken. Bryan was right. A ton of our cohorts were there. Although no alcohol could be served, they had a great variety of other beverages. I bought drinks for the three of us. April and Bryan shook their booties on the dance floor while I watched her purse. I scanned the room for potential candid shots and managed to take a few from my seat at the table. After they returned, Bryan offered me a dance with April as he had promised. She was game so off we went. I told her I wanted to move about the dance floor to see if I could catch any crazies acting up. As we approached the opposite wall, I saw a dark room with beads draping the entrance.

“What’s that over there?” I asked April.

“I haven’t been in there but I heard it is a large coat room. Since it’s warm out and no one brought any coats, I’ve heard that sometimes a couple sneaks back there to make out sometimes.” She explained.

“Well, now, do tell. Hang on, let me start my camera recording video. I’ll slip it through the beads, and aim it all around the room. Who knows? This might be a great yearbook opportunity,” I chuckled.

The music was very loud with a heavy pulsating beat. You could set off firecrackers and not draw any attention. I sidled up next to the opening, slipped the camera through the beads, and let it adjust to the dimly lit room. Looking at the viewfinder window facing me, I found only one couple in the room. From outside the room, I couldn’t make out who it was, but I aimed it at the couple and held it as steady as I could for about sixty seconds, then slowly retrieved the camera. I chuckled again as I returned with April to the dance floor. She asked who it was in there. I said I had no idea but would check it later after we returned to our table.

April sat down and took a few sips of her drink and revisited the hectic dance floor with Bryan. They were having a lot of fun; everyone was. This place was sure to be a big hit. There were more than a few college students in attendance as well. After quenching my thirst, I decided to check out the video I had captured in the make-out room, as I now called it. It wasn’t clear at first but as the light adjustment and focus features of my camera kicked in, I started viewing crystal-clear video of the action going on. A guy was standing with his back to the camera and a girl wearing a yellow dress was on her knees and appeared to be giving him a blowjob. She was completely into it. I heard him cum loudly as he groaned above the din of the music. After he was spent, I saw him step to the side as he zipped his pants up. He looked familiar from the back; she looked familiar from the front. It was Jenny! Damn! Shit! What was worse is the guy she was with was my older brother, Brandon!

Damn them both! My first thought was that I didn’t even know Brandon was back home from college. His collegiate year must have ended before my high school year ended. My second thoughts were that I had dodged a bullet. The ring in my bedroom sock drawer was going back to the jeweler tomorrow. Jenny lied to me. She lied to me so she could go out on a date with my brother tonight. She thought I’d be at a movie, so they thought I’d never know. Before that revelation, my brother and I got along okay and tolerated each other. That ends right here, right now. I have nothing but hatred for him now. He knew very well that Jenny was my girl exclusively. I guess he wanted to find out how exclusive. I waited until April and Bryan returned to the table. I was responsible for her purse. They could tell that I was visibly upset.

“What is it, Quinn? You look like you lost your best friend,” Bryan questioned.

“I did, and a brother to boot. Jenny’s cheating on me with my brother, Brandon.”

“I can’t believe she’d do that to you,” April uttered. “Brandon’s a big-time asshole, so there’s no surprise there. But Jenny? I just can’t believe it.”

“Take my word for it. They’re in the make-out room right now.” I assured.

“What are you going to do?” They asked in unison.

“What I should have done a long time ago. I’m sorry, I’ll be lousy company tonight. I think I’ll split. You two don’t need me spoiling your night. Have a great time.”

Bryan nodded. “Are you going to be okay, Quinn? I can take April home and be there for you in your hour of need,” Bryan offered.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate that. You’re a great friend. But you and April stay and have fun.”

I made my way across the dance floor back to the make-out room. I slipped inside as unnoticeably as I could. Brandon and Jenny were heavily making out again, this time, his hand was up her dress actively fingering her perhaps to return her earlier favor. I walked up to Brandon with his back facing me. Jenny was so into kissing him that she didn’t notice me until it was too late. I interlocked both of my hands and fingers together making a huge fist of them. With all my might, I struck Brandon on the side of his head knocking him down on the floor. Without wasting a moment, I grabbed Jenny’s hand and quickly slid my class ring off her finger.

As I dropped it into my pocket I asked, “How’s the perm going, Jenny? Your hair looks nice. You did all this for me? We’re done. Don’t ever speak to me again, EVER!” I seethed. “I’m getting the hell out of here,” I said as I made a quick exit.

When Brandon finally got his wits about him, he started yelling. I heard Jenny scream my name sobbing. I wonder what she is going to tell her parents about our breakup. If they press me, I’ll be more than happy to share the video with them. I rushed home and uploaded a backup copy of the video to an online email account that I alone knew about. I knew Brandon was going to complain about me blindsiding him to my parents. Before the golden boy could get there, I preemptively made my case for what little it was worth, so they could see that, in my view, I had a reason for my actions. I showed them the video recording.

“Quinn, that’s disgusting. Are you some kind of pervert? Who records something like that? Delete that memory chip this instant. This instant, do you hear?” My mother demanded.

“Mom, I’ll do as you ask under one condition.”

“You’ll do it because I said so! But what is your condition?”

“If you and dad will both admit that I had a legitimate reason for doing what I did tonight. I was going to ask her to marry me! Not anymore. I’m done with her! Think about it, if it was Brandon’s girlfriend that I sexually seduced instead, would you agree that he would be justified to be just as angry with me?”

They looked at each other, then dad contributed, “Look son, we realize that this is a shock to your system. Jenny is a nice girl, your mother and I agree but she isn’t the one for you. Maybe Brandon did you a favor by pointing out her character flaws. We’ll talk to him when he comes in. I’ll make sure he doesn’t come after you for any retribution. Let’s chalk this up to a big misunderstanding, okay?”

That was as close to an apology by my parents for my brother’s behavior as I was ever going to get. I removed the memory chip from my camera and handed it to my mom.

“Here, mom, you can delete it if you want to. If Jenny calls, I won’t talk to her. Tell her anything you want. I guess you two and Brandon get everything you want, again. I get shortchanged as usual. Tell Brandon he can have her all he wants from now on.”

Then I walked away to my room and shut my door. Mom and dad remained silent, content that they had spared their golden boy the embarrassment of such an explicit recording. Brandon stormed in a while later but true to their word for once in their lives, they prevented his recrimination.

Jenny approached me in school the following Monday.

“Quinn, I feel terrible about Saturday night. Please let me explain.”

“No Jenny. I don’t need any explanation nor would I believe a word you say anyway. Please leave me alone. If you don’t, you’ll regret it. I’ll see that your father finds out how you betrayed me.”

“I know that’s a bluff. I don’t believe you. Brandon told me the recording you made was destroyed.”

“Try me,” I said as I walked away.

And try, she did. Her father called me four days later asking what happened between Jenny and me. She had told him I broke up with her for no reason except that someone was telling lies about her indicating that she was unfaithful to me. She postulated that another girl may be trying to steal me away from her. I sent him a copy of the recording. I never heard from her or her family again.

The last few days of school, Jenny was around but, thankfully, she avoided the crowd I hung out with. I tried to be the bigger person. Although I could have trashed her reputation, I didn’t. When my friends asked why we broke up, I said only that we disagreed on some important issues and left it at that. I didn’t want to destroy her. I just wanted her out of my life.

I realized that for the first time in a long while, I no longer had a girlfriend. Luisa would have occupied that slot nicely but that was not in the cards. I hung out with my friends. Many of us went to The Shakedown Club for a night of fun. I never lacked a dance partner. Other guys trusted me with their girls on the dance floor because they knew me to be a person of integrity. But when it came time for the Senior Prom, I decided to make lemonade out of a lemon. I received Juan’s blessing to ask Luisa to be my date for the event, and we had the most incredible time together. As she matured, she had become a raven-haired version of beautiful athlete Paige VanZant. She was a vision of beauty that floated like an angel. She told me that her amazing dress was a gift from my grandpa. I made a mental note to thank him later.

My high school graduation was only ten days away. I finished my exams and did very well. I focused intently on my studies now that Jenny was no longer a distraction. My parents noticed that I was not speaking to my brother but didn’t make an issue of it. I would avoid both Brandon’s smirks, and running into any of Jenny’s friends over the summer. What I most looked forward to over the summer was seeing my BFF again. Although I had always been the perfect gentleman around Luisa, her father, Juan, came to me soon after I arrived after he noticed that we were hanging out a lot more together than usual.

“Quinn, you’re a fine young man with a good heart. My Luisa is the same, a great girl with a good heart. I wish it was otherwise but the two of you are from different worlds. You come from wealth. My Luisa comes from this farm life, and it will always be so. Your family would never allow the two of you to be together. You have shared with me many times how they run roughshod over you and control your life. It is my job to protect Luisa. I do not want her heart broken. She really cares for you, maybe even loves you. I need you to keep your distance so she doesn’t hope for a future that will never be. Will you help me protect her?”

As sad as those words were for me to hear, I realized that they had a ring of truth to them. I acknowledged Juan’s wisdom and told him I would do my best to honor his wishes. Although Luisa and I both now realized that we would never be together, I made sure that she knew that I treasured her as my best friend. I never once asked her for sex. I respected her and her father far too much for that. Suddenly I was hit with a ton of suspicion. Juan was right. My parents never fully embraced Jenny. Were they somehow complicit in Brandon’s seduction of my girlfriend? That thought rankled me. Am I nothing more than a puppet?

Mom and dad urged me to stay in close contact with Brandon since we were brothers but I had zero interest in doing that. As a result, they constantly updated me on everything that was going on with him. I feigned interest for their sake but never offered comment.

I realize that I should have expected it but it still shocked me that my parents couldn’t make it to my high school graduation. Brandon had returned to GWU for their graduation ceremonies. He was going to be a marshal carrying a flag leading groups of graduates at GWU’s commencement to their seats, and they simply wouldn’t miss that for the world. They nearly insisted that I skip my graduation and ask the school to mail me my diploma so that I could be there to support my brother. They relented after seeing my saddest puppy-dog eyes and left me behind.

I was shocked to see grandpa and every one of the farm hands and families in attendance at my graduation ceremony. They all made me feel loved. Luisa asked me to point out Jenny, which I did. She glared at her until we left. Grandpa treated us all to my surprise graduation party at his farm. In addition to the farm workers, every single member of my extended family was there complete with children, except for Brandon and my parents. Not a single person asked me about them. I thought that was odd. There must have been a hundred people in attendance. The party went on all afternoon and included a huge barbecue dinner. Everyone was stuffed. I received numerous gifts and dozens of cards loaded with money. I thanked everyone for their kindness and generosity. I was the life of the party and kept everyone in stitches laughing at my jokes and antics. Perhaps I should consider a career in entertainment.

When my parents finally returned home from Washington DC, dad called me outside to unload their car. It was then that I saw another vehicle parked there. Mom and dad were beaming as he handed me the keys. It’s all yours, son. This Nissan Versa is only three years old, so much of its depreciation has already occurred. It’s safe and reliable and should hold its value well. We hope you enjoy it, son. Happy graduation! The smallest zephyr would have blown me over. It wasn’t even new! A three-year-old used, white Nissan Versa? Really? That was the best they could do for me? The paint was scuffed and scratched in several places. Now I’m not knocking the car by any means. It looked drivable. But compared to the 90-grand custom car Brandon received last year, I was hoping for a little something more than the 13-grand used car they were giving me. He graduated with a 2.4 GPA while I earned a 3.8. In what world is this fair? I couldn’t help it. Tears pooled in my eyes and ran down my cheeks.

Chapter-2

Mom hugged me, “Oh, Quinn, honey, we can see that you’re choked up after receiving such a nice graduation present. No other thanks are needed. Your father will bring our bags inside. Why don’t you take it for a drive, now, and show it off to your little friends? Oh, and don’t forget. Starting tomorrow, your grandpa expects you to be at the farm for the summer. I’ll go pack your suitcase while you’re out taking a joy ride in your new car.”

I said nothing, not even thank you. Mine weren’t tears of joy as she surmised. They were tears of humiliation and disappointment. Never had the reality of their favoritism toward Bandon been so starkly presented as was demonstrated that day.

“I don’t want to disappoint grandpa, mom, so I’ll go ahead and pack my suitcase now and get going this afternoon. I’m sure you two could use some rest after your trip. I don’t need to test drive the car first. I’m pretty sure it will get me to grandpa’s farm without breaking down.”

Mom furrowed her brow, unsure how to take my comment. It didn’t matter. I was sure they’d rather me be gone today than wait until tomorrow.

“But your father and I wanted to take you out to eat at the Golden Corral to celebrate your graduation since we missed it, just the three of us.” Another slap in the face. Just my parents and me at the Golden Corral versus Brandon’s hundred-plus party at the VFW hall? Am I not their child too? Did someone just abandon me on their doorstep? That might have made sense but I’ve seen my birth certificate.

“No need to go to all that trouble just for me, mom. Grandpa took me out to eat on my graduation day, so it’s already been celebrated. I’ll get packed quickly and be gone before you know it.”

Mom again furrowed her brow at my rejection of going out with them, “Well, if you’ve got your mind set on getting out there sooner, we don’t want to stand in your way. Your father and I have discussed where we think best for you to go to school this fall. We’ll talk more about it at summer’s end when you return.”

After the disappointing car gift, I had no reason to hope of being sent to GWU with Brandon to pursue a BA degree. I pushed all hopes to the back of my mind to avoid thinking about another letdown.

Though I arrived early, grandpa was elated to see me. He was much more of a loving parent to me than mom and dad combined. Not only that but I couldn’t wait to catch up with Luisa IF I could catch her. Her running skills had improved even more. She was the star of her school’s track team and had won many trophies. Sometimes she’d let me win a foot race to assuage my ego. She was the kindest girl I had ever met. We saddled up and were soon roaming the many fields of the farm. That summer was one of the best of my life. I don’t think I drove my Nissan a single time over the summer. Grandpa insisted that I drive his Cadillac anywhere I needed to go. After Juan’s admonition, I played it straight with Luisa. I told her of her father’s concerns and she disappointedly understood. We both avowed to be each other’s besties regardless of whether or not we could eventually marry but we did discuss what we valued in a potential mate. There was no doubt we loved each other but recognized the limitations we both faced. There was an abandoned quarry about fifteen minutes from the farm. Everyone in high school and college had been there to party and make out. The owners got wind of the activity and pumped the water out at regular intervals to prevent its popularity as a swimming hole. They didn’t want liability for drowning incidents. I took Luisa there more than once for a picnic.

All of the farm hands worked their hearts out for me that summer. Grandpa asked me what I had said to them to motivate them to such an extent. Productivity on the farm had increased by nearly twenty percent. I told him that I merely treated them as I would like to be treated myself. His knowing smile and pat on my back were reward enough. I had pleased my grandpa. I didn’t realize how much about life I was learning from this amazing man without taking a single class. At summer’s end, I returned home. Brandon was there, of course, preparing to leave for his second year at GWU. After he said his goodbyes and headed down the road in his impressive performance car, mom and dad finally sat me down for a talk.

“Quinn, your mother and I have given a lot of thought about your continuing education,” my father began. “You’ve expressed your desire to follow in your brother’s footsteps and join him at GWU. Your mother and I fear that you may be setting your sights a bit too high, and think it best that you start off a bit simpler before jumping off the deep end.”

“What do you mean, dad? Didn’t you see my report cards? I made much better grades than Brandon. There’s no way I wouldn’t be able to do as well if not better than him at GWU.”

“Quinn, don’t you think it’s a bit arrogant to point out the differences in your grades? You don’t need to put your brother down to try to make yourself look better. It’s not very becoming, and quite honestly, I’m disappointed that you even brought it up. There’s much more to life than just making decent grades. Your brother has other qualities that will carry him far in life, qualities that you, quite frankly, don’t possess. That’s why he is where he is. Your mother and I have enrolled you in Grandview Community College. It’s local, only fifteen minutes from here, so you can drive to your classes every day and return home where you’ll be safe and sound to do your homework.”

“Community College? Really? That’s the vision you and mom have for me? They don’t even offer four-year degrees. The best they have to offer is two-year associate degrees in a very limited range of programs. I hear they have a great two-year associate degree program in sewing and fashion design. Is that what you had in mind for me?”

“No need to get snippy with me, Quinn. They also have an excellent program for dental hygienists. What about that?”

“Teeth cleaning?” Your lofty career aspirations are for me is for me to clean teeth?”

“Don’t knock the school, Quinn. They offer a great starter program toward becoming a nurse.”

“So, you’re saying you’re allowing me the choice in what kind of feminine classes I can take?”

Mom and dad looked at each other before he continued. “People from all walks of life take those courses, Quinn, not just women. Look, we want nothing but the best for you. We’d prefer that you look seriously at becoming a dental hygienist, or even a nurse if you believe you manage it. We’ve established an account with Grandview that will cover any courses of study you may be interested in for the full two years. Here’s a brochure for you to review. You might be surprised once you see everything they have to offer.”

My head was spinning. “Like Brandon, my long-range plans are to come work for you at the plant, dad. That’s the only career I’ve ever contemplated, to be honest. The courses you suggest I take would steer me away from working there. Are you saying that you don’t want me working with you? Am I not good enough?”

“No Quinn, that’s not it at all. Of course, you’re good enough. Look at it like this, if you start with me at the plant, you’ll most likely start at the bottom, and it may take you many years to work your way up. It’ll be long days of hard work, Quinn, and with someone of your…..delicate constitution, your mother and I aren’t sure that would be the best fit for you.”

“Delicate constitution?”

“Face the facts, Quinn,” my mother chimed. “You don’t have the same physical constitution as your brother. No one expects you to compete against him. It wouldn’t be a fair fight. Life is not about everything being fair and equal from every person’s perspective. It’s just life. We all play our hand from the cards we’re dealt. Give Grandview a chance, please, sweetie?”

I silently walked away from them and shut my bedroom door to keep my head from exploding. So I’m just an inferior specimen to them, huh? At least I’m clear about where I stand in their eyes. I did look through the brochure to see if there was any program at all that might interest me. There wasn’t, so I looked to their home page online for a comprehensive listing of all available courses. In their Academic Programs, they were offering a brand new course program for an Associate Degree in Mechanical Engineering Technology, AS. I bet dad didn’t know about this one. I immediately signed up for the program online and saw that it was nearly full. This might be the only program offered where I might not be the only student not wearing a dress. I decided to not tell my parents what program I was taking. After all, I wouldn’t want them worrying about my delicate constitution.

I applied myself diligently to the coursework. The comprehensive program covered the basics of multiple mechanical disciplines. I found it fascinating. I had visited dad’s plant many times and had seen many of the types of machines and mechanical principles employed there. My first semester in the Community College was flying by. I was flourishing. Even the atmosphere at home was much better for me with Brandon’s absence.

About halfway through my first year, I was seated in the cafeteria having lunch with about twenty friends. I was very gregarious and made friends easily. We were often asked to be quieter because of the constant laughter erupting from our group. I still wasn’t dating other than the group date forays we often took together. Grandview’s enrollment was eighty percent female, and our group was representative. Suddenly, in walked a gorgeous woman, and she seemed to be heading my way. She stopped, standing right between my chair and Kelly’s, who was one of the sweetest girls in our group.

“Excuse me, everyone here seems to be having the best time, so this seems to be THE place to be. Would you mind terribly if I joined your group? I don’t know many people here yet and would love to make new friends.”

Her voice was that of an angel. To me, she appeared to be a golden blonde version of Pop superstar Selena Gomez. She was adorably cute and beautiful at the same time. Her infectious manner immediately drew everyone in, including me.

“Sure,” Kelly replied. “There’s always room for one more. Quinn, why don’t you scoot over just a bit and I’ll do the same?” Kelly slid over an empty chair between us encouraging the new transfer student to take her place among us.

“Why thank you so much. I’m Faye, Faye Dunham. I’m usually nervous about making new friends but somehow I managed the courage to ask if I could join you.”

And that’s how Faye Dunham effortlessly wandered into my life. Everyone else in the group loved her personality. She had a knack for asking just the right questions, proving her interest in others, and was immediately adopted. Even though Faye was enrolled in the Dental Hygienist program, she became ubiquitous after that first cafeteria meeting. Although we only shared two classes, English and Math, she would mysteriously appear at my side as I made my way to my other classes unrelated to hers. I was no fool. Her attraction to me was evident, and every guy in the school, including me, was attracted to her. There’s something infectious when you learn of another person’s interest in you, especially if they’re stunning. She joined our group dates for a couple of weeks but always remained close by my side as if she was claiming me as part of her territory. She never acted jealous of me interacting with the other girls but everyone could see that she wanted us to become an item.

When I finally asked her out on a one-on-one date, she eagerly agreed. Everywhere we went, other guys’ eyes followed her every move, and even a few hit on her in front of me but she politely rebuffed their advances while leaving their egos still intact. Faye was the same height as me, five-feet-six inches, but never wore heels a single time. It was as if she instinctively considered my self-esteem as a man. There were many feminist ladies peppered throughout the campus that didn’t share her view on traditional relationships. That never bothered Faye. She was always comfortable in her own skin, and what beautiful skin it was, too. At times, I wondered why she showed such interest in me but didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. My parents adored her. For some reason, the fact that she was not from money was not the issue it had been with Jenny. It was perplexing but I long since abandoned any hope of ever figuring my parents out. I aced all of my exams and was on the Dean’s list the entire school year.

When summer came, grandpa, once again, requested my assistance. I realized that this may be the last year that I would be able to help him over the summer as once I graduated next year, I would be going to work full time and no longer have the freedom my youth afforded me. However, every weekend I took Faye out on a date. On top of that, we talked on the phone nearly every day. She spent a lot of time at my parents’ place. It was as if they had already accepted her as a full-fledged member of the family. Luisa was happy for me to have found someone serious to potentially become an important part of my life. Faye may now be the love of my life but Luisa will always be my very best friend. The strangest aspect of my life now was the dramatic change in my brother’s behavior. Upon his return for the summer, he made a huge gesture giving me a sincere and contrite apology for how he had treated me over the years. Something must have happened at College because he seemed to be a changed man. It was as if the seed of hope was breaking through the soil and into the light.

Faye and I double-dated with Brandon and his flavor of the week a few times. He was always congenial and respectful toward me. I looked for any signs that Faye developed eyes for him but she remained focused totally on me. Brandon never made any inappropriate comments toward her either. He seemed to be a new man and I was glad of it. Bryan and April tied the knot that summer, and he asked me to be his groomsman. Faye went as my plus one. Although I didn’t ask, April offered that Jenny was going to an out-of-state university, so I didn’t expect to run into her, nor did I care to. Let sleeping dogs lie.

At summer’s end, Brandon returned to GWU and me to GCC. We’d buried the hatchet. I looked forward to absorbing as much as I could glean from the coursework. I remained on the Dean’s list again throughout the year and was inducted into the National Honor Society. Faye was my constant companion on campus every chance she could work it out. Between Christmas and New Year’s, I popped the question, and she enthusiastically agreed to be my wife. We discovered that we were as sexually compatible as a couple could be. It was as if we were born to ring each other’s bells. We agreed upon a mid-July wedding.

When my graduation day rolled around, Brandon was still taking his exams, so he was unable to attend. But mom and dad, as well as grandpa and his whole contingent were there to cheer me on. I was tickled pink to have achieved that milestone. Grandpa insisted on holding my graduation celebration at his farm once again, and it was very well attended. It was a happy time in my life. I pulled dad aside and talked with him a bit about starting work at the paint plant. I was looking forward to making my mark on the world.

“Quinn, I’m still unsure if working there is the best thing for your long-term future. But I won’t stand in your way. If you’re certain that’s what you want to do, I’ll speak to the department heads this week and see where the greatest need is that you may be a good fit for.”

“Well, since I have this degree in Mechanical Engineering now…”

“Associate Degree,” my father corrected.

“Yes, since I have this Associate Degree in Mechanical Engineering, and I graduated with honors as everyone could see, I’m anxious to put my new skills to work, and help you with the business anyway I can.”

“Okay, Quinn. I’m disappointed that you have set your sights on work that you may not be suited for, but if that’s what you truly want, I’ll let you know what your options are with Donner Paints so you can make an informed decision.”

“I promise, you won’t be sorry, dad. You’ll see.”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

A week later, dad and mom came into my room with the information I’d asked for.

Mom began, “Sweetie, is there nothing we can say to get you to change your mind about working at the plant? Your dad tells me that it’s awfully hard and monotonous work. You could get hurt easily, and your father and I would never forgive ourselves if something bad happened to you while trying to fit in where you don’t belong.”

“I’m sure, mom. If I ever change my mind, I’ll let you know. But for now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than working alongside my family.”

Dad advised, “Quinn, I think you’re crazy for even considering working for Donner Paints. I’ve got a bet with your mother that you won’t even last a year there. You’ll have to start at the bottom and work your way up. I can’t allow anyone to think that you get special treatment or privileges just because you’re related to me. If anything, it will be harder for you because of our relationship. There are ten positions you’ll need to work through to even get a crack at any kind of management job. You’ll work approximately sixteen to eighteen months in each one before moving on to the next. Your starting wage will be $15.00 per hour. At each move up the ladder, your pay will increase by a dollar per hour. You will start loading labels into the machine working on the conveyor line. The labels are automatically applied to the paint cans as they come off the line. Your job will be to make sure the line never shuts down because you can’t keep up.”

It saddened me that my two-year degree didn’t afford me a better-starting opportunity but I asked for this, so I needed to buckle down and jump in with both feet without complaint.

“Fine!” I agreed as I shook dad’s hand sealing the deal. “I’ll be there bright and early Monday morning to get started.”

“Instead of jumping in so soon, why don’t you wait until after returning from your honeymoon after the wedding? It wouldn’t look good for you to ask off so soon after starting work.”

“That makes perfect sense. Thanks, dad, and mom.”

The wedding went off without a hitch. Faye’s parents couldn’t afford the full expense of the wedding she wanted. My parents happily chipped in whatever funds were needed to make up the difference. I was shocked to see them being so helpful with our life journey together. Brandon proudly served as one of my groomsmen. My grandfather gifted us with a two-week Caribbean cruise for our honeymoon. It was a luxurious affair. I’d never been happier in all of my life.

After we returned, Faye started work at Peterson Orthodontia as an oral hygienist. It’s more tedious cleaning teeth through and around braces but the pay is more than twice what I was bringing in. They started her at $28.50 per hour compared to my paltry $15.00 hourly. But our combined incomes put us at ninety grand per year. She said our disparate incomes did not bother her in the slightest, as long as we were together. We were able to purchase a decent starter home in a suburb between both of our jobs with an affordable $1800.00 monthly mortgage payment. Faye had taken out a student loan to get her degree, so we had to also begin paying that back.

I began cutting my teeth on the labeling process at the plant. I had to stay on my toes to keep up with the line. Dad was right. It was tedious and monotonous work. After three months there, everyone near me on the line was exceptionally friendly. They’d expected me to be arrogant or condescending. They discovered how open, honest, and funny I was to be around. I was one of the gang and was treated with their respect. I came home tired at the end of every day but Faye always managed to rev my motor up until we fell asleep exhausted after our frequent sex sessions. I was truly, a lucky man.

However, the more I worked on hand-loading the labels into the machine, my mind pictured a mechanical way to accomplish the process which would increase speed and reduce labor. I shared my ideas with Stan, my supervisor. I asked him if I could work long lunches in the maintenance area every day on my project to see if I could build my vision to save time and money. He liked me so well, he didn’t even ask his boss. He gave me the go-ahead and shifted another worker to my position while I was tinkering. Within three months, the maintenance staff was so excited about my project that they scheduled their time to integrate it into the machine while the conveyor was down next for its next major cleaning.

To everyone’s amazement, it operated flawlessly. The speed of automatically loading the labels into itself matched the speed of the conveyor. All I needed to do was place a pallet of labels next to the automated loader and off it went. Stan went on to explain in detail, how the other processes worked on the conveyor line. But after 17 months, I was transferred to the receiving department and received my dollar increase. At about this same time, Faye announced that she was pregnant. We had talked about starting a family but had not agreed upon the timing yet. Of course, we were living proof that the pill is not 100% effective. However, I was thrilled to become a dad. Our precious little daughter, Tamara Davenport, came into the world with a full set of lungs on her. Faye and I couldn’t have been prouder parents. Her parents and mine were delighted with her arrival. Tamara was a dearly loved child.

Brandon was graduating with his Business Administration degree from GWU. We all attended his graduation ceremony. After we brought Tamara home, he often brought over many stuffed animals to adorn her baby room and assumed his role perfectly as her adoring uncle. Life was good.

But then came the shock. I should have anticipated it. I should have known from experience that leopards don’t change their spots.

Brandon was given a job within the company as Chief Administrative Officer, reporting directly to dad. He was the head of all of the department managers. His job description was to help our company improve its performance by reviewing processes, developing new policies, and managing projects. In essence, he was my bosses, boss, with a starting salary of $134,000.00, four-and-a-half times my annual income.

When I confronted dad about the contrast between Brandon and me, he simply explained that Brandon’s four-year BA degree made him eligible for the upper management position. He said also that I should be proud of my brother’s accomplishments saying I was over-expecting my ambitions within the company given my limited capabilities. He urged me to look elsewhere if I was unhappy with my present situation. I was determined to prove my worth in my father’s eyes. I don’t know why but I was driven to attain parental approval. Surprisingly, Brandon never lorded his position of authority over me as I had expected him to do. On the contrary, he was always quite nice to me. I have no idea what induced his change for the better but I warmed to his newfound maturity. We grew even closer as a result.

During my time in the receiving department, storage space for pallets of powdered ingredients utilized for paint mixes was at a premium. We had plenty of large tanks in the basement to dump and hold the various latex and alkyd liquid ingredients, about twelve in all. Pallets of bags of chemicals used took up all of the floor space. After several months working in receiving, I convinced my boss to invest in a set of heavy-duty storage shelves, similar to those used in the big box stores but even heavier-duty. He had a budget surplus, so I eventually convinced him to purchase and install them along a back wall. He soon saw the wisdom of my ways and convinced Brandon to spring for more of the shelving units. Doing so quadrupled our storage capacity and sped up production. Limitations of powdered products were no longer the controlling factor in the size of batches we could run. Again, productivity increased as a result.

Next, I was moved to Conveyor can-loading and was now paid $17.00 per hour. Along with three others, I hand-loaded the empty paint cans into the conveyor system to receive the paint product. As before, the lightbulb came on in my head and I was permitted to explore the development of an automated loading system, similar in theory to my label-loading modification. This was much more complicated than the label loader. It involved seeing-eye robotics. I was allowed to build a prototype for the station I loaded. When it was installed, my boss had kittens over it and pleaded for the funds to build three more just like it. Product line efficiency was increased yet again. Faye told me how proud she was of my creative abilities. She made certain that I was well-rewarded intimately every night. I was a happy camper.

Eighteen months later I was moved to Line Flushing and Cleaning. After a batch of product was run, the lines had to be completely flushed and cleaned to ready them to deliver the next batch of a different paint product. It was a time-consuming process to prevent cross-contamination to ensure the highest purity and quality of the product. I asked my supervisor for permission to install a set of parallel distribution pipes. In this way, using three-way changeover valves, the next batch of different product could be run immediately, while the contaminated lines were flushed and cleaned with the product line still running. It was a huge success. With four lines running simultaneously, the previous can loaders who were no longer needed shifted to line flushing on an almost continual basis. Production again was greatly improved.

I loved my family life. Tamara was a handful as a toddler but when she put her arms around my neck and told me that she loved her daddy, I melted into a puddle every time.

My next position was in the Filling Station. I monitored and made adjustments to ensure that the correct quantities of paint were accurately delivered to each can. There wasn’t a lot of improvement I could see in that department but our production runs were now limited by our fill times. I suggested we add four more filling nozzles which allowed the filling of eight cans simultaneously instead of the original four. Doing so on all four lines immensely sped up production yield for each day. Productivity rose yet again. As always, I loved working with each group and made fast friends at every station.

Similar results were achieved in my positions in the Mixing Department, Lab – sample testing of raw materials and paint product quality, the Maintenance Department, and as a forklift operator in the shipping department. I was now earning $23.00 per hour but over the same period, Faye’s wages had also increased from $28.50 to $35.00 now. She was doing very well there and was still the primary breadwinner of our family. Tamara was now thirteen-years-old and had me wrapped around her little finger. The only tiffs Faye and I had about money was the exorbitant amount she spent on clothing. Even though she wore scrubs over her clothes in the orthodontia office, she always purchased very expensive dresses and clothing to wear to work. She bought costly sexy lingerie that I never saw her wear but she just had to have. Some women have shoe fetishes. Faye’s fetish was women’s clothing. I couldn’t counter her argument that, since she earned more than me, she should be able to buy whatever she feels necessary to meet her perceived needs. That notwithstanding, she never left me with any unmet sexual needs. Some couples can get into a rut. We never seemed to do that. She was a tigress in bed.

A year later, I was transferred to Warehouse Product Distribution – trucking, basically. Our plant was located within an older industrial development, and there was no room for expansion. Years ago, three additional large warehouse spaces had been purchased in different parts of the county, beyond city limits to avoid city property taxes. I was paid to train for, and secure my commercial driver’s license credentials. I would make daily runs back and forth between the plant shipping department and directed warehouse locations for the particular product I was ferrying. The paint products would then be redirected all over the country to our various vendors. We’d recently celebrated Tamara’s fourteenth birthday, and she had a slumber party to celebrate it. Needless to say, with a houseful of teenage girls, we received very little sleep that night.

I had just completed a full-load run from the plant to the warehouse and dropped off the trailer to be unloaded as their time permitted. I was on my way back to the plant without a trailer when the truck engine bogged down and quit on me. It refused to restart. It was an older model, and I believed it to be a transmission failure. My boss called a towing service to haul the truck to the service center that we normally use. He sent a runner to drive me back to the plant. Since it was nearly lunchtime, and I had no truck to continue driving, he told me to take the remainder of the day off with pay. Not needing to be told twice, I jumped in my car and headed home, figuring I’d make myself a bite of lunch, relax, and wait for my girls to come home to me.

Our modest home has no garage but it does have a decent-sized carport. I was puzzled to see two vehicles in my driveway. One belonged to my wife and the other, to my brother, Brandon. I thought that perhaps he was dropping something else off at the house for Tamara because he was always dropping by to give her things. But in the middle of a weekday?

Chapter-3

I entered my home expecting to find them in my living room or kitchen which were near the entrance but found no one. Rather than call out to them, I instinctively performed a quiet search due to my befuddlement. As I approached the master bedroom, I could hear the obvious sounds of intense orgasmic release from an enthusiastic amorous couple. The bedroom door was not quite closed. I could see in but didn’t think they could see me through the crack. My wife, Faye, and my brother were finishing up having sex in my bed. In hindsight, I wish I had thought to record the encounter on my cell phone but I was so distraught and upset upon discovering this, my mind nearly went numb. This was reminiscent of him and Jenny years earlier.

As many couples do after experiencing such a passionate release, they rested there on the bed and began small talk. Emotionally, I felt gutted, but my brain wanted to hear anything that was said for clues as to why this was going on behind my back. I knew that Brandon was a snake but Faye’s betrayal cut me to the quick. The two naked bodies were still catching their breath as my brother spoke first.

“I know I agreed to this but I’m getting tired of sneaking around every time we get together to have sex. How many times have you told me you love me more than him? Don’t you love me enough to leave him and marry me?”

“Yes, of course, I love you more, silly, and his dinky penis doesn’t hold a candle to your big woman-pleasing wand. You have no idea how many orgasms I’ve faked for him. But a deal’s a deal and we both made a deal and we need to stick to it,” my loving wife cooed.

“I know but how long do we have left? I have a huge house for us with every amenity. I hate seeing you living in squalor here with Quinn in this dump.”

“Tamara is fourteen now. When she turns eighteen and heads off to college, I’ll try my best to let Quinn down easily. I’ll make it look as if he and I are drifting apart. After I divorce him, then I can pretend to discover you, fall in love and we’ll marry. Tamara will see it as a natural transition and only see you in a positive light. If she found out that you are her biological daughter before then, and learned that we betrayed Quinn who she calls her father, she may hate you and draw closer to him. We have to play this out delicately to ensure Tamara’s smooth transition of love from Quinn to you.”

“I know, you’re right. I just hate being called her uncle when in fact I’m her real father. You’re worth the wait, Faye. I would have married a lesser woman long ago had I not had your love and the promise of you becoming my legal wife. Spiritually, we’ve always been married but I want that piece of paper that confirms it legally.”

“And you’ll have it, sweetheart. I swear it. You have almost all of me now. All Quinn gets is leftovers and sloppy seconds.”

I could bear it no more. Rage filled me to overflowing. I was ready to go in there and kill them both. But then I remembered Tamara. She may not be my biological daughter but I’m the only father she’s known since birth. If I killed or even hurt them, I’d go to jail and Tamara will have lost both parents. I decided to act later when I had a cooler head. I silently backtracked to my car, left to get some lunch, and gather my thoughts. As angry as I was, tears still escaped my eyes. This was WAY worse than Jenny. Tamara isn’t my flesh and blood daughter? No wonder he played the loving uncle. He was ingratiating himself in her life readying her for the transition. I was about to upset their precious timetable. I threw my lunch away because I couldn’t eat, even though I knew I needed to.

Although I didn’t want to embroil my grandpa in my family drama, he was the only one whose advice I could trust. I called and told him that Faye and I no longer wanted the same things from marriage and that we’d soon be parting ways. I asked him for a reference for a good divorce attorney without asking me any more questions for the time being. He expressed his sincere sorrow for my situation, thought for a moment, put me on hold to make a call, and connected me via a conference call with Mr. Henry Lockwood of Lockwood and Sons. They were a prestigious law firm in the city, Mr. Lockwood assured me that he would personally handle my case and represent me to the best of his ability. We made an appointment for the next day at noon.

Upon grandpa’s advice, my next stop was the bank. I immediately withdrew half of the cash from both our checking and savings accounts and had my name removed from all joint accounts. The bank wanted me to open another account. I just wanted the cash for now. We had four credit cards, one in each of our names and two in both names. I canceled the two in both names after paying off a small balance that was on one of them.

I returned home at my regular time. Faye was already preparing supper for the three of us. I went straight to Tamara’s room where she was doing her homework. I gave her a loving, reassuring hug and spent my time helping her finish. She was now the only bright spot in my life. After I took a shower and changed, Faye asked me why I seemed so jittery and upset. I explained that my truck had broken down earlier, leaving me stranded for a good while before things got sorted out. I didn’t want to have any confrontation with Tamara present. She seemed to accept that excuse. At bedtime that night, she made no move for sex, and I was relieved. I would never touch her intimately again. When she said, “I love you,” as we laid down to sleep, I merely replied, “Goodnight.”

The next two nights, Faye tried to initiate sex. I said that I wasn’t in the mood. She tried vigilantly to engage me in conversation about what was wrong. I merely acted despondent, which was a valid emotion. I offered no further clarification. Whether she suspected I knew something or not was immaterial. She dressed seductively. I ignored her, something I had never done before, not once.

I took that Friday off from work. I left home early giving the appearance of going to work but returned after Faye left for her job. My first task was to change the entry locks to the house to prevent any unwanted incursions. I suspected she had given my asshole brother a key. Next, I quickly dumped all of Faye’s clothing, toiletries, and personal belongings into large garbage bags and arranged them neatly outdoors on the carport. Mr. Lockwood was both fast and efficient. After my initial meeting with him, he had Faye served that morning at 10:00 am at her work. I had no idea what her reaction would be, nor did I care. I instructed Mr. Lockwood to make sure that Faye understood that I would never talk with her except in his presence, and the presence of her attorney.

It was soon obvious that she paid no attention to that instruction. After I ignored her cell phone calls, she must have called the plant to reach out to me. I feel certain that she followed up with Brandon when I was unavailable. Brandon would quickly discover from my supervisor that I had called off that day. I expected her to show up fairly soon. It was clear that I had underestimated the impact of having her served. Three cars soon pulled up together in my driveway. It was Brandon, followed by Faye, and then my dad, truly a family affair. I went back inside the house and locked the door. Faye tried her keys, then Brandon took his turn at the new locks to no avail. They began pounding on the door and yelling at me to let them in. I yelled back.

“Shut up! SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU! If all three of you will step back twenty feet away from the house, I’ll step out on the porch to talk. If not, I’ll call the police on you for disturbing the peace.”

They received the message and stepped back in unison.

I nervously pressed the door open and stepped out onto the porch, prepared to make a hasty retreat should one be required. The three of them looked both anxious and angry.

Faye started it off, “Why Quinn? Divorce papers? Out of the Blue? Embarrassing me in front of my colleagues? Haven’t I been a good wife to you? What’s this all about?” She argued.

“Why wait, Jenny?” Faye knew that my calling her Jenny was my sarcastic way of calling out her betrayal with my brother as Jenny had done. “I’m merely helping you both by giving you exactly what you want, and saving us all a lot of time.”

“You’re talking crazy, Quinn! Both? Who both? What do you mean?” She urged.

“Now that our divorce proceedings have begun, you can move in with this rotting pile of shit ex-brother of mine, marry him, and never have to fake another orgasm with me. I won’t stand in your way. I’ve tossed all your belongings in these garbage bags. If you don’t take them, the garbage man will. Now get the hell out of here, both of you motherfucking backstabbers! And don’t ever grace my door again!” I yelled.

Brandon chimed, “After everything we’ve done for you, this is the thanks we get? I won’t let you talk to her like that, you useless pansy.”

“Quinn, Quinn,” Faye called out emphatically. “Oh, my God, no, no, no, no!”

“I won’t ever have to talk to either of you ever again as long as I never see either of your ugly faces for the rest of my life. Take your lying, backstabbing, bitch-whore with you, asshole!”

“And dad, please tell this sack of shit that he is forever dead to me! I’m not in the habit of talking to piles of shit. Both of you disgust me. I’ll despise you both until the day I die!” I seethed.

I stepped back inside and locked the door. The three of them talked heatedly among themselves for about five minutes, endeavoring, I supposed, to figure out how I’d come to learn of my wife’s and brother’s treachery. The further surprising revelation to me about this particular encounter was in what was not said. Dad never questioned a single inflammatory remark I made. I thought it telling also that they had not mentioned Tamara either.

When Tamara didn’t get off the bus, I figured that they had already picked her up from the school to pre-emptively lay claim to her. I called the school office. They confirmed that Tamara had been picked up from the school and would be home-schooled from now on. That was unexpected. Was Faye going to quit her job and home-school her now? If so, there’s only one place she would do that without access to this house, Brandon’s. She would never involve her parents in her depravity. Well, now everyone knows that I’m aware of their unholy affair. They don’t know how I discovered it, or that I’m aware that Tamara isn’t my biological child. They may try to use her as leverage against me down the road.

Now that we were technically separated, I grabbed the mattress off our bed, stood it up on its side, and began dragging it outside and around back. I tossed the mattress in the backyard. I soon returned with the box spring followed by the headboard and footboard. I brought out a gas can from the garage, splashed about a pint of fuel all over, and lit it. It was cathartic to watch their tryst bed go up in flames. I took a long hot shower to rid myself of contamination from even touching it. I relocated the bed in the spare bedroom to the master bedroom. It was as if one dark cloud moved away from overhead.

Now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag, I went ahead and canceled her cell phone service and changed the number on mine. I also altered my login and password for the phone account online so she could not use her intimate knowledge of me to access it to get my new number. The silence was golden. I wondered what kind of lies they would feed Tamara. Mr. Lockwood advised me not to verbally engage them until a custody arrangement had been agreed upon. Given the temerity of Faye and Brandon’s betrayal, he advised that we go by the book and take no chances of being further manipulated. I completely agreed.

I returned to the plant Monday morning, fully expecting to be fired at Brandon’s insistence. Dad was waiting for me when I reported to my supervisor’s office for my day’s run assignments. As the COO, he has access to anyone anywhere. Besides, he wasn’t my nemesis, Brandon was.

“Quinn, I’d like to talk to you for a minute, please.”

“Sure.” I tersely answered.

“Quinn, I don’t know what happened to cause you to take the measures you did last Friday and say those horrible things. As you can imagine, tempers have flared all weekend, and we’re all pretty upset about this whole debacle. However, I want you to know that business is business, and personal issues have no place in business. I’ve instructed Brandon to stay away from you as much as possible and avoid interacting with you. I want you to know that, even though I don’t pretend to understand any of this, your job is secure as long as you continue the excellent work you have always given us. Brandon will leave you alone as long as you reciprocate. I don’t want any nasty family matters becoming fodder for gossip in this plant. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I respectfully responded.

A week later, Mr. Lockwood had arranged for Faye and me to meet for mediation to discuss custody arrangements before getting to divorce issues. We were not allowed to have our respective attorneys present during mediation. It was only to be the three of us. As I was headed to the meeting room where the mediation attorney would meet with us, I saw my ex-brother seated in the lobby. He acted as if he wanted to speak to me but I completely ignored eye contact and entered the room where Faye was already waiting. She and I were seated on opposite sides of the table, facing each other while the mediator sat at the head.

Faye opened, “Hi Quinn, you look good. Tamara and I miss you terribly. We both want you to come home.”

The mediator awaited my response to gauge the atmosphere of the room. I remained silent. The mediator had not yet spoken directly to me.

“Thank you both for coming. My name is Sheila Gordon. I’m an attorney empowered by the court to conduct these custody mediation proceedings in an attempt to arrive at a mutually agreed upon custody arrangement that will save time in the courts. I sense that the atmosphere between you is terse. I assure you that I’ve seen it all. We’re not here to settle divorce or personal issues. Our sole purpose is to hammer out how 14-year-old Tamara Davenport will spend her time. In the interest of decorum, let’s start with you, Faye. May I call you Faye?” Faye nodded her consent.

“Thank you. Please explain to me what you would like to see in the way of custody.”

Faye began, “I love Quinn with all my heart. I forgive him for everything. I only want the three of us to be together again. Then he can see our daughter, Tamara, every day. There’s no need for any custody agreement.”

“Faye, I realize you may still have deep feelings for Quinn, but that’s not why we’re here. In the pre-filed petition, as you know, he’s asking for 50/50 shared custody of your daughter. Are you saying you’re amenable to that?”

“If he’d just come to his senses and allow us to return home where we belong, he could see her every day just as I said. He’s the one who kicked us out. He’s the one who needs to put us back together.”

“I’m sorry Faye. What you’re asking is not within the domain of these proceedings. Quinn’s petition requests that the two of you split Tamara’s time by alternating weeks. Do you agree to let him have her for a week, and then you have your week with her, and so forth and so on?”

Faye became indignant. “Send my daughter away half the time? Hell no. That will never happen! It’s either all or nothing, Quinn. Either you take us back as I ask, or you’ll never see her again. Do you hear me? All or nothing!” She angrily iterated.

“That is an unreasonable position, Faye. Let me warn you, if you cannot arrive at mutually agreeable terms for Tamara’s custody during these mediation proceedings, then the court will be forced to order an arrangement that they believe to be in the best interest of the child. Terms that both of you might not be happy with. But once the judge makes a ruling that will be the law. Now, after hearing what I just said, are you open to making Quinn a counteroffer that you can agree with? Give me something to start with, Faye, anything.”

Faye sat there in stark silence. Sensing the impasse, Sheila commanded, “Here are legal notices I am serving you both. Four weeks from now, you are both to report back here to this same room to give this a second attempt. Faye, I suggest you think long and hard about what I said. If you cannot come to an agreement here concerning Tamara’s custody, then a judge will make an arbitrary ruling for you. At least here you have a say. In court, you will not.”

Faye angrily looked at me and spat, “Get over yourself, Quinn. The only way to see Tamara again is to reunite us all and resume our life together. Why don’t we both set aside our pride for her and do what’s best for her? She needs both of us in her life every day, at least until she’s eighteen.”

I looked at Sheila. “Ms. Gordon, isn’t it customary that ladies go first? Please have her leave and I’ll wait for ten minutes to avoid further confrontation.”

“I must say, Quinn, I wish all of my clients were as poised as you. Yes, Faye. Please leave now. Quinn will wait here with me for ten minutes as a deputy escorts you to your car to leave the premises. There will be no ambushes, not on my watch.”

“Fine! BE an asshole! You never had it so good before me, and you never will again. Think about that!” Faye finally turned and left in a huff.

The next day Mr. Lockwood informed me of mandatory marriage counseling sessions mandated by the court. He indicated that Faye had the backing of a very high-powered attorney with strong connections to many judges. He suspected some palm greasing was going on but could never prove it. He was unable to reduce the number of mandated sessions, ten total, twice per week. But he did manage to wrangle us into choosing the counselor. He gave me the name of one he trusts to be fair, which was the best he could do. I was to report to the counselor tomorrow at 6 pm. He warned me not to become belligerent but not overly cooperative either. Now I have an idea of how a tightrope walker must feel.

Brandon was again waiting in the lobby upon my arrival. He stood and acted as if he wanted to say something to me. When I again ignored him, he wisely remained mute. I have no idea why he would support Faye reconciling with me. It was baffling, to say the least. I sat as far away from Faye as possible, much to her chagrin. She tearfully pleaded her case. Her undying love for me would never be extinguished, yadda, yadda, yadda. She begged me to tell her what I think I know and how I found out. So I calmly recounted the whole sordid story, sparing no intimate detail. She was sobbing uncontrollably as I exited our first session. Brandon rushed to her side when he heard her cries of anguish as I left. Why? Why in the world would my rejection pain her so much when she obviously loves the asshole more? Nothing she says or does makes any sense.

In all of the subsequent counseling sessions, Faye demanded physical proof of my accusations. Aside from the fact that I was an eye/ear witness, she touted my lack of audio-video recorded evidence to support my purported accusations, as mere jealous speculation, an overactive imagination, or even nightmares. When I suggested that Tamara be DNA tested to determine her biological parentage, she said I was crazy, and only wanted to hurt our innocent child, making her a pawn by my unfounded allegations. Needless to say, neither of us made any headway, and the counseling sessions were an abject failure.

With the counseling sessions behind us, my main focus returned to Tamara. Our second and third custody mediations fared no better. All three attempts to break Faye’s blockade proved unsuccessful. She reiterated that she wanted the three of us back together. That was the only way she’d ever allow me to see my daughter again. For some reason, she believed I would buckle, and live with her contemptible betrayal as a tradeoff to be allowed to see Tamara regularly. I will never live with Faye again, no matter the cost. I have no idea why she still suggests reuniting. The only thing that made any sense at all was that she might be thinking reconciliation would be best for Tamara’s benefit, certainly not Faye’s or mine. Out of the blue, Faye handed me a Manila envelope containing a legal quitclaim to her portion of the house and all furnishings, as well as all jointly held cash assets. She claimed it to be proof of her sincerity hoping it would move me toward reconciliation. It did not. Finally, Sheila, our mediator, submitted her opinion to the judge on Davenport vs. Davenport custody dispute. My attorney, Mr. Lockwood, submitted a brief on my behalf in tandem with Sheila’s recommendation.

Faye was ordered by the court to arrange to drop off Tamara at my home every other weekend as an interim measure until the docketed court case was decided by a judge for a permanent custody arrangement until Tamara turned 18. I was happy to have received even this small amount of time with her and looked forward to our first weekend together. He issued an additional edict ordering me to start paying child support in the amount of $400.00 per month until the permanent custody order defined otherwise. Faye and I were ordered to provide verified phone numbers to each other through our attorneys for bi-directional communication concerning the child. The numbers were to be used for no other purpose.

On Friday evening at 5:59 pm, Brandon and Faye were in his car as they reluctantly dropped off a happy Tamara. I was waiting for her outside when she ran toward me and jumped into my arms sobbing. I was just as happy to see her. I tightly squeezed and kissed the girl I had called my daughter for fourteen years. I was thrilled to see that she had not yet been poisoned against me. I was happier than I had been for quite some time. I took her out to dinner at her favorite place to go. We had a nice meal and caught up on the goings on in our lives. She explained that my mother had been driving to Brandon’s home every weekday and home-schooling her for now. She said they were afraid I’d try to take her and run. I explained that I would never try to keep her from her mother. She said she knew that and tried to tell them but they wouldn’t listen. I explained how hard I had fought to have this limited time with her. She seemed pleased to know I still loved her with all my heart.

We watched a DVD movie that night, munching on popcorn and candy to lighten the mood. After the movie, Tamara dropped an unanticipated bombshell request on me.

“Daddy, before the judge worked out for me to be here with you this weekend, I had already made plans to have a pool party tomorrow at my new home. It was going to be an all-day affair. I had invited twelve friends from school, both girls and guys for some fun around the pool, grilling steaks and burgers, and to let them see where I live now. I’m so happy I got to see you today but would you be okay with letting me still have my party? I mean, if you say no, I guess I can call them all tonight and cancel if you won’t let me. Mom says it’s up to you.”

And there it was. I only get four days a month with my daughter and Faye was already influencing Tamara to even cut back on that. It saddened me to see her being manipulated like this, totally oblivious to their machinations.

“Sure, honey, if that’s what you’d rather do. I was hoping to spend the day with you tomorrow, just you and me but if you had already planned this in advance…”

“Oh, thank you, daddy. You’re the best!” She said as she hugged my neck. “I knew you’d understand. I’ll call mom to pick me up in the morning at eight.”

As expected, late Saturday night during her party, I received a call from Tamara. “Daddy, the party is still in full swing. We’ve been having a blast. I really don’t want to leave them high and dry. We may swim until midnight. This pool is so cool at night with the fancy lights and all. Is it okay if I sleep here tonight rather than driving way over there in the middle of the night just to sleep?”

“Sure, sweetheart. I understand. Have fun,” and I ended the call without waiting to hear her gleeful response. I don’t think she cared. Why do I always get my hopes up only to have them dashed time and time again? I must be a glutton for emotional punishment.

Two weeks later, a similar circumstance presented itself. Saturday morning, Tamara excitedly came to me. “Daddy, I know this is your weekend to have me and all but my best friend, Alicia, you remember her, well, she’s invited a few of her very best friends over for a slumber party at her house tonight. Can I go, please, daddy?”

When I looked deeply into my daughter’s eyes, I saw nothing in there that wanted to be with me. I saw only the excitement of a teenage girl wanting to be popular with others of her kind. Had I lost her already?”

“Sure, Tamara. If that’s what you’d rather do. I’m sure that would be a lot more fun for you.”

Did she get the hint? Not on your life. “Oh, thank you, daddy, you’re the best!” And she gleefully went her way living on the phone until she was picked up. That was the last I saw of her that weekend.

Two weeks later, I was induced to abandon all hope.

“It’s good to see you again, Uncle Quinn. I hope you don’t mind but mom and my real dad tell me that I need to start calling you by your correct title now, just to keep things in proper perspective.”

“I see. Told you, did they?”

“Yes, Uncle Quinn. Isn’t it exciting? I’ll be living in that mansion from now on with my real dad who gives me everything I ever dreamed of having. My real dad’s going to take me car shopping next week even though I haven’t even started taking driver’s ed. yet. Isn’t that awesome?”

“I love you, Tamara but do not ever call me Uncle Quinn again. If you can’t bring yourself to call me daddy any longer, then call me sir, or ‘hey you’ but NEVER Uncle! Got it?” I fumed.

“Dad said you might be sensitive about that. I’ll try not to say it again but dad and mom really insisted that I do.”

“Let me know if it’s too much to ask. I don’t want to place an unbearable burden on you,” I said sarcastically. She felt the sting of my response and just walked away.

A few minutes later, I overheard her talking on her phone. Her door was cracked so I stood near the opening to hear what I could.

“Yes, mom, I called him Uncle Quinn just like you told me to.”

“No, he didn’t like it one bit.”

“No, he didn’t curse or call you or dad any names, he just told me never to call him that again.”

“But I don’t want to. You should have seen him when I did it. It killed me to see the pain in his eyes.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand. No, I don’t want to be grounded. Okay, okay, already. I’ll do it, I swear. I’ll call him Uncle Quinn every time I speak to him. But you promise? Really promise? You’ll take me and Alicia shopping at the mall and I can have anything I want?”

“Okay, mom. I’ll do it.”

Chapter-4

I walked away in silence as tears washed down my cheeks. The only ray of sunshine I had left in the world had been taken from me. They bought her. I’d hoped that she knew better than to fall for what they were doing. I could never compete with his money. Tamara, my only child, was lost to me. They won. I give up.

I had made spaghetti for supper. It was her favorite of what few dishes I had learned to cook. We pretty much ate in silence but I knew it was coming. She was intentionally holding off speaking so she wouldn’t have to say it again.

“Uncle Quinn. Is it okay if I go shopping with mom on Sunday morning? She wants to take me and Alicia on a shopping spree at the mall. I’m really looking forward to it. She said she will come to pick me up in my real dad’s new car. It’s awesome, wait until you see it,” she said excitedly.

“I’ll think about it, Miss Davenport. I’ll give it some thought as I clean up the kitchen.”

“I’ll be happy to help clean up, Uncle Quinn.”

“No thanks, Miss Davenport,” I again tersely said.

She walked away sadly having just heard me call her Miss Davenport twice. I don’t think she liked it either. After I completed a painstakingly thorough cleaning of the kitchen, I made some firm decisions. I went to her room. She looked up at me with concern in her eyes.

“Come with me, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise for me, Uncle Quinn? What kind of surprise?

“Let’s go for a ride, Miss Davenport, and you’ll see.”

We jumped in my car and headed out. Neither of us said a single word during the drive. I think she wanted to avoid calling me uncle again. Nor did she wish me to refer to her as Miss. After a 20-minute drive, we arrived at our destination.

“But this is my real dad’s house, where mom and I live now. Why are we here, Uncle Quinn?

“Because I don’t want to stand in the way of your joy and happiness. I know you are looking forward to going shopping with your mom so much, I thought I’d give you the present of more time with her. I hope you have a wonderful weekend of blissful shopping, Tamara. Never forget, I love you,” I said as I kissed her forehead.

“Now go on, go get an early start on your shopping.”

Her expression vacillated between a smile and a frown. She was clearly confused. She walked bewildered to the house, looking back at me occasionally. No one was aware that she was coming. I watched and waited until I saw her safely enter the ostentatious house. Brandon stepped outside and looked over at me as I drove off. Faye called my cell phone within two minutes. I turned my phone off. There was nothing more to be said. She had what she wanted, and I had my plan.

Since I no longer had any reason to stick around and be humiliated on an ongoing basis, I planned to permanently remove myself from the circumstances of my discomfiture. On my way home from dropping Tamara off, I picked up a large number of heavy-duty storage boxes and began packing. Most importantly, I collected those few belongings, keepsakes, clothes, and toiletries that would serve my needs for a good while. I packed them all into a single box. Everything else that I may eventually decide to revisit at some time in the future, I packed up and sealed in carefully packaged boxes. It took me the entire weekend to go through everything that had any meaning to me, which included packing all of Tamara’s belongings that remained at the house into four large boxes and setting them aside.

Monday morning, I turned my phone back on and deleted all texts and calls from all family members without reading or listening to them. Nothing could be said to cause me to change my mind, and I didn’t want to endure any more drama. While I was making my first truck run to a warehouse, I called Kendra, a realtor that I knew. She attended GCC with me and was part of my cluster of friends when we were there. She was surprised to hear from me. I told her that I wanted my home sold, lock stock, and barrel in under two weeks. She claimed that would be impossible. I then reminded her that I had seen countless ads and posters from investors looking to pay cash for houses sight unseen, offering quick turnarounds. She said that was a viable option but one that would yield the lowest return. I asked her to get me the best offer she could under the circumstances, as long as all the paperwork could be signed by a week from this coming Friday. She took all of my information and promised to get back to me ASAP. She came by that night, signed me as her client, and picked up a spare key. She said she already had several irons in the fire.

Over lunch, I surfed the web looking for the lowest-cost storage facility within reasonable driving distance. I located one about twenty miles away priced twenty-five percent lower than the others I had researched. I stopped by on my way home and rented a space there as small as I felt would accommodate everything I might need to store. I could always upgrade if needed. Not knowing what the weather would be like, I reserved a decent-size U-Haul truck for Friday evening.

Wednesday afternoon, my stomach began churning when I saw dad waiting for me at the plant as I was turning in my transfer vouchers at the end of my work day. I didn’t want to allow anything to disrupt my planned departure.

“Hi Quinn, how was your day?” He asked without really caring.

“Good. I moved a lot of product today, just dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s finishing my paperwork so I can get paid.” I said flatly.

“Great, I’ve heard nothing but good reports about you. Look, the reason I’m here is that you aren’t answering your phone or responding to any texts. You’ve been dodging your family, Quinn. Is something going on that we should know about? We’re all worried sick about you.”

We both knew that he didn’t want any personal family business openly discussed where ubiquitous ears could start a gossip chain. “I admit that I’ve not felt like interacting much with anyone, just work, eat, and sleep. That’s my life now.”

“Well, I hope your outlook changes for the better on Sunday.”

“Why? What’s happening on Sunday?” I feigned interest.

“We’re having the entire family over for another backyard shindig on Sunday. Everybody wants you to be there. You’ve always had a great time at these things. It starts at 2 pm. And we won’t take no for an answer.”

“If Brandon and Faye plan to be there, you’ll have to. I refuse to be in the same area with them.”

“I wish you wouldn’t be that way, Quinn. But your mother and I figure that seeing them so soon would be too raw emotionally for you right now. That’s why we’ve asked them not to come this time. They talked about taking Tamara to a theme park Sunday. Now that you know that, we expect you to be there. Okay? Everyone in the family wants to see you. Don’t disappoint me. It starts at 2 pm. But you’re welcome to show up earlier if you wish.”

I thought that it might be good to see everyone again before flying the coop. If the asshole and slut won’t be there, then it might be a good experience after all. “Sure dad, I’ll be there, Sunday at two o’clock.

On Friday, using my hand truck I moved everything I wanted to the storage unit and locked it up. Quite a few items were remaining that I donated to charitable organizations as long as they picked them up. As far as my family members are concerned, everything seemed normal with me. After returning the rental truck, I checked my email. I had filled out a dozen online job applications for a trucking job. I have plenty of experience, all the credentials, and the desire to be away from all the drama that was sure to follow. Three serious offers were inquiring when I could start. I informed all three companies that I could start Monday a week.

The house was nearly empty. I didn’t bother doing any painting or cleanup. It was being sold as is. I slept on an air mattress as I made the final preparations for my exit. I didn’t expect to hear from anyone until Tamara’s next scheduled visit. I collected our wedding album and every picture we had in the house, and, during the evenings, I went through each one, cutting every one of my images completely out of them. I held on to three of my favorite pictures of Tamara and placed all of the reviewed and ‘edited’ pictures in with Tamara’s belongings. I didn’t want to leave behind any targets with my face for them to spit on or play darts with.

I called grandpa to see if he would be at the family gathering on Sunday. He said he was unable to go this time because he had already arranged to look at some livestock he was considering adding to the farm. He would be gone for three days to attend the auction. I understood and didn’t expect any problems since the two traitors would be out of the picture.

Mom hugged me forever when I arrived. When I tried to shake dad’s hand, he pulled me into a bear hug and patted my back. They both seemed sincerely happy that I was there. I joined the group and reconnected with other family and friends. The caterer had done an excellent job providing a banquet complete with all the trimmings. Mom and dad made a big show of sandwiching me between them at the table as if I was some kind of prodigal son. After the meal, I excused myself to the restroom. Of course, I knew where it was, having grown up in that house.

It was when I exited the bathroom that I was met with an unexpected shock. Dad and Brandon were waiting out of sight, just outside the door. They both grabbed me. My struggle against them was fruitless. I was diminutive compared to them. I might not escape their clutches but I could certainly make noise. The moment I began yelling, Faye quickly stretched a strip of duct tape tightly across my mouth to silence me. Apparently, she had anticipated my objection. Mom injected, “Be careful not to cover his nose. We don’t want any harm to come to him.”

I was frog-marched to my old bedroom. No one outside would be able to hear anything said in that room. It was too distant. A DJ had already started playing music for the backyard festivities. I’m sure many were already dancing and enjoying the venue, and would never miss us.

As my dad strong-armed me, “Search him thoroughly, Faye, and I do mean thoroughly. Make certain that he has no recording devices of any kind nor an active cell phone.”

As thoroughly as Faye was intimately exploring my body under my clothes with her hands, I almost thought we were going to have sex. “He has nothing but his cell phone, and I just turned it off. He’s clean,” she confirmed.

I noticed a heavy-duty solid oak kitchen chair positioned in the open area of the bedroom. I was unceremoniously shoved into it. As dad and Brandon held me securely, Faye duct-taped my wrists and ankles as they were tightly pressed against the wood frame. When I had been rendered immobile, they all stepped away and looked me over. They could tell that I was not happy.

Mom took charge of my ambushed abduction. “Quinn, Quinn, honey, I’m sorry we had to take these measures to talk to you but you gave us no other choice. We probably have more questions than you do but one thing is certain, you’re going to hear us out and listen to everything we have to say to you. You’ll be free to go after we’ve all said that needs to be said but it’s time you heard the whole truth. Perhaps then, you’ll view things differently than you do now. None of us are ready to give up on you, no matter what you think. Every person in this room loves you more than you can imagine, and that includes Brandon and Faye. Now, what I need to know from you before getting started with what must be said is, do you plan to yell and scream at us if we take the tape off your mouth? If you can contain your anger and talk with us calmly, this will go much more easily for you. Do you promise to be good and remain calm and respectful at all times if Faye removes the tape?”

I reluctantly nodded my head. I figured I might manage to calmly and serenely tell the four of them to go to hell rather than be subjected to a completely one-sided conversation.

“Excellent, Quinn. I knew you could be reasoned with. As Faye takes the tape off, remember, if you raise your voice a single time, she will silence you once again and you will remain that way until we’re done here. Understood?” I nodded again. I had expected Brandon and Faye’s betrayal to continue but I was shocked that mom and dad would be willing participants in this ‘intervention’ if they chose to think of it that way. I decided not to speak until I had something important to convey. Calling them all disparaging names doesn’t qualify as important at this moment. They looked at me expectantly.

“Dad, you lied to me. You lied and said that neither of them would be here. Is that what I’m here for? More lies and deceit?”

Mom became the spokesperson for the group, “Quinn, yes, we admit that we misrepresented the truth to you. You would not have come knowing that either of them would be here. You need to hear some things other than your own misguided interpretation of events. You’ve refused every attempt we’ve made to talk to you, so we were forced to make these unfortunate arrangements to compel you to hear the truth.”

“Whose truth, Mrs. Davenport? The backstabbing slut’s truth? My asshole ex-brother’s truth? Or yours and dad’s truth? You’re all in cahoots together against me, four against one. What about my truth, Mrs. Davenport? Does my truth count for nothing?” I said with an unnerving calm.

Mom winced and pulled back at my invectives. She hadn’t anticipated my boiling anger. Calling her by her married name divorced her connection as my mother and she didn’t like it.

“You’re just as important as any of us, Quinn. Of course, what you think counts. Why else do you think we’d go to so much trouble to get you here?”

“If I’m equally important, why am I the only one restrained in a wooden chair?”

“As I said, you’ll be free to go after we’ve had our say. I give you my word.” She added.

“Right now, Mrs. Davenport, I hope you realize that your word means nothing to me.”

She looked pained to hear my remark. “That may be the case, Quinn, but every word I’m about to say is the unvarnished truth, I swear it on my life.”

Not wishing to delay this any further, I did not respond.

“Very well. Quinn, first, I want you to know that everyone in this room loves you with all their hearts. I realize you may find that hard to believe but you are about to learn some hard truths, truths that you may not want to hear, truths I never wanted you to know but truths you now need to know to help put things in proper perspective. Here goes….”

“You were born prematurely with low birth weight. Shortly after you were born, you were diagnosed with cryptorchidism. We had no clue what that was but we are very familiar with it now. Cryptorchidism is the medical term for an undescended testicle. In your case, it was both. Yours were shown to be fairly high up inside you. The doctors suggested we wait a couple of months to let you gain some weight and strength but also to see if one or both of your testicles would descend naturally. They didn’t. Reluctantly, we gave permission for you to have corrective surgery to put everything where it belonged. We never told you of this because we had no clue at the time about your other situation. While the doctors were inside you to correct your gonad placements, they discovered a small remnant of an ovary that had not fully formed. Although they successfully relocated your testicles, we were told that they were not fully formed either. The doctors explained that this may result in you having a very small penis after puberty. We also learned that you may be sterile as a result, and may experience gender dysphoria or gender confusion as you aged. They were unable to tell us which gender you might gravitate toward naturally as you aged.”

This was shocking news to me. I was stunned. “Why was I never told of this? Why did you or dad never say anything about it?”

“I’m getting to that Quinn. Your father always wanted a boy. That’s why he gave Brandon his name. I, in turn, always wanted a girl. In essence, we felt the doctors were telling us that you could go either way. Not knowing what your natural inclination would be, your father and I argued extensively but he finally agreed to let me try raising you as the daughter I always wanted. As a result of complications from your birth, I ended up having a hysterectomy which ended our prospects of any more children. You were my only hope for a daughter.”

“Daughter?” I murmured in shocking disbelief.

“That’s right Quinn. You may not recall the memories of your early years as my daughter. Your name fits perfectly with the narrative. We have always avoided the use of the words son or daughter with you after you chose the role of male for yourself but in the beginning, you were the daughter I always wanted. I happily dressed you in the cutest dresses and feminine baby gowns. You were the most adorable daughter I could imagine. When you were being potty-trained, we encouraged you not to soil your big girl panties.”

Vague, repressed memories began to trickle their way to the surface in my mind.

“You seemed to love your new panties, and I reveled at your acceptance. We purchased many Barbie dolls, Ken dolls, and tons of Barbie accessories that were left lying around the house. You and I played with them often during that time. Barbie and Ken dolls are sitting on that shelf over there here in your room to this very day.”

“But you always told me they were decorative and I wasn’t allowed to throw them away.”

“I wanted them to remain as a reminder in case you ever gravitated back to that side of yourself. You were such a joy back then, proudly wearing dresses everywhere we went. Up until you were five years old. It was then I made the biggest mistake of my life. I was in a hurry one evening and for the first time, put you and Brandon in the tub together for your baths. It was the very first time that he had ever seen you stark naked. You both ran around the house together in nothing but your underwear for hours on end for several years, but he never questioned his sister wearing panties while he wore little boy briefs. However, in the bathtub that day, when he saw you had the same boy parts as he did, then he began to ask everyone, especially you why you dressed as a little girl and he, a boy. Brandon was relentless and told everyone around that you were the same as him but you wore girl’s dresses anyway. Your father tried to stop him. He punished your brother multiple times to get him to quit.”

Brandon rubbed his ass with his hand, “It still stings to this day,” he chuckled.

“Anyway, the damage had been done. You suddenly rejected everything feminine. You had the most beautiful long hair I’d ever seen on a child. You took a pair of scissors and nearly skinned your head bald to get rid of it. It killed me to see your long beautiful locks gone. I’d dress you in panties and a dress, and you’d strip, and run around the house naked instead. You demanded boy clothes like your brother. For some reason, you wanted to be just like him, rather than the daughter I longed for you to be. Even in public. If I ever took you out dressed as a girl, you’d strip, and embarrass me in front of anyone regardless of the circumstances. I realized I was losing the battle. I finally compromised by buying you girls’ clothing that resembled boy clothes. The boys’ fruit of the loom underwear was real enough but the pants you wore to school every day were always girl’s pants without flowery prints. Your shirts consisted of plain girl’s blouses. I always buttoned them up for you so you’d never realize they buttoned backward from your brother’s shirts. I let you wear colorful t-shirts during the summer. That’s the way it went up until the fifth grade. I always insisted on keeping dresses in your closet and girls’ panties in your underwear drawer. I wanted them continuously available to you even if you only dressed in them in the privacy of your own room.”

“But you told me those dresses and underwear were kept in my room just in case one of our visiting cousins had an accident and needed a change of clothes,” I recalled.

“I know I told you that Quinn but the truth was they were yours. They were always yours. You never noticed, I’m sure but you didn’t realize that, as you grew, so did those dresses in your closet and panty sizes in your drawer. Regardless of how old you were, every dress in that closet and piece of girl’s underwear in your drawer would always fit you perfectly. I saw to that personally. Oh, you’d push the dresses to the side or to the back of your closet but every afternoon when you returned home from school, there they were, front and center, back where they belonged. But it was when you were ten years old in fourth grade that I took another shot at getting you back as my daughter.”

“I don’t remember anything like that happening in the fourth grade. What are you talking about?” I inquired.

“I could tell that you were in the beginning stages of puberty. I wanted to grab onto any chance that I could to reclaim you as my daughter. I had a very close friend, my former college roommate, Dr. Edith Bentley, who is a well-respected psychiatrist/therapist. She was in a position to prescribe the regimen that I sought for you, and she is also very inclined to help those who desire to transition. I talked her into subjecting you to a single interview. I gave her a list of three and only three questions to ask you. She looked them over and told me that if you honestly answered yes to all three, then she would accommodate my request as your parent who knew you better than anyone and had your best interest at heart. She told me that she was probably the only psychiatrist in the country that would do this for me but after all, she trusted me implicitly. Her one objection that I was unable to overcome, was my being there. I was not permitted to be in the room when she questioned you. She did not want my presence to impact the candor of your responses in any way.”

I was puzzled, “I’m not sure I remember meeting her. What were the questions?”

“I remember them well because I wrote them for her to use, and she agreed that your responses would be sufficient to warrant receiving her backing. The questions were, #1-Quinn, please answer yes or no, nothing else. Answer honestly and truthfully. Have you worn girls’ dresses and panties for multiple years? #2-Did you play Barbie and Ken dolls with your mother for multiple years? #3-Right now, at this very moment, are there girls’ dresses in your bedroom closet, girls’ underwear in your bedroom dresser, and at least one set of Barbie and Ken dolls in your bedroom, the one you sleep in?”

“And I said yes to all three, didn’t I?” I asked sheepishly.

“Yes, you did, Quinn. Even though you hadn’t worn dresses or played with dolls in years, you remembered going through that period for multiple years in your past. I was so happy you were completely honest with her but she later told me what sealed the deal for her was your clothing. When you went into her office, you were wearing a girl’s blouse and girl’s pants. She was certain of it because her daughter had the exact same outfit. She diagnosed you with gender dysphoria as a confused male who secretly desired to transition into a female. Because you weren’t of age, your father and I had to consent to your medical treatment. Dr. Bentley prescribed puberty blockers as annual implants under your skin to suppress your body’s release of testosterone.”

“After two months on the puberty blockers, she prescribed pills for your estrogen treatment which is a feminizing hormone that blocks the action of testosterone. It prevented voice deepening, limited the growth of your genitalia, gave you the start of breasts, likely rendered you permanently infertile, gave you softer, less oily skin, smaller testicles, also called testicular atrophy, reduced muscle mass, more body fat which resulted in weight gain, and less facial and body hair, all of which happened between 3 months to 3 years of you being on the program.”

“You WHAT?!” I remembered, and caught myself, trying to contain my rage. “You put me on puberty blockers, chemically castrated me, and fed me estrogen without my knowledge or consent? I can’t believe this! How could you do that to your own son? I never saw shithead Brandon get any makeovers. Why me? Why didn’t you ever talk to me or tell me? Why was this all done behind my back? Does every member of my family hate me that much?”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Quinn. Nothing could be further from the truth. You are LOVED beyond measure. Don’t you see? Everything we did was out of pure love for you in hopes of you becoming all that you were meant to be. We were merely trying to help jump-start the process. If Brandon hadn’t screwed everything up, you’d be outside in the backyard now with all of the family, happily living your role as our daughter with a wonderful life ahead of you. But despite everything we tried to do to help you, you fought us at every turn. By the middle of your junior high school years, we finally gave up on the treatments or surgical considerations. All they seemed to do, besides the obvious physical changes, was make you irritable and temperamental.”

“Mrs. Davenport, I’m sure you meant well and had nothing but the best motivation for everything you did. I hated every moment of it but all that’s in the past. How in the world does any of this have anything to do with my backstabbing slut wife and asshole ex-brother?”

“I wish you would stop calling them horrible names, Quinn. It’s not very becoming, and it doesn’t accomplish a thing. I don’t want to have to ask Faye to silence you again, nor do I think it would be helpful.”

“I understand, Mrs. Davenport. Please accept my apology. Faye and Brandon are nothing less than the purest Disciples of the Bible. I bet they walk on water every day. We should all be worshipping at their feet. Please continue to regale the myriad of ways they have improved my life.” I said with dripping sarcasm.

“Your sardonic wit, though intended to cut, is closer to the truth than you think, Quinn. There’s even more that you don’t yet know. I’m sorry, what you’re about to learn may hurt the most,” my concerned mother continued.

I couldn’t imagine how anything else could hurt me worse than everything I now knew. All I know is that I wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible. I realized that talking with them only slows things down.

“Just get it over with, whatever it is,” I appealed.

“Sweetie, I know that you didn’t want to meet with your beautiful wife, Faye, or your brother, Brandon, any time soon. But we figured that it would be best for you in the long run if we just ripped the Band-Aid off in one go. Once you hear the rest, you’ll understand. Again I say, Quinn, everyone in this room loves you more than you could ever know. By the time you finished junior high school, I had given up on the prospect of you embracing your role as my daughter. Your recalcitrance was relentless, so our focus turned to help you achieve happiness as the male you seemed determined to become. We felt we had to look out for you even more as the fairer of our two children. You had no idea that you had taken puberty blockers or estrogen supplements for years. You thought I was giving you vitamins every day. You may have had the mindset of a male but you had most of the body of a female.”

Chapter-5

Mom continued, “It was too late to turn you back physically. We had to work with what you had become. We strove to protect you and encourage you to be mindful of your delicate condition, the condition of which you were emotionally unaware. When you reached high school and began dating Jenny, we thought she was a nice girl but we were unsure if we could control her. After numerous conversations your father and I had with her over the time you dated her, we concluded that she was too much of a wild card to become your wife. She might have caused you more harm than good. Then when we became aware of your imminent proposal, we knew we had to do something to make you set her aside. That’s where Brandon came in. We asked him to seduce her. Our plan was to have her fall in love with him and break up with you herself but it was a stroke of luck that you caught them when you did. When you caught them at that club, that wasn’t the first time they were together but it was the first time you caught them. Your brother truly liked and respected Jenny but he loved you more, and seduced her as we asked, solely for your long-term benefit. Of course, he dropped her right after you broke it off with her.”

I sat there stoically and silently. A tear ran down my cheek as I realized how deep and pervasive all of my family had repeatedly betrayed me. Jenny, I truly loved that girl. They set her up to ruin her for me simply because she was on my side and not theirs.

“After you graduated, we sent you to Grandview Community College in hopes of you adopting a career more suitable to your inferior male body than working at the plant. We tried our best to steer you into a feminine career that we knew you could handle. We allowed you to take engineering courses against our better judgment. We wanted above all, for you to be happy, Quinn. In hindsight, had you listened to us and gone with the Dental Hygiene program, you’d be making the same or more than your wife does instead of her becoming the primary breadwinner. You refused to listen to reason, so we allowed you to work at the plant. As you can see, that hasn’t taken you very far in a career even after all these years.”

“During the summer after you graduated high school, while you were at your grandpa’s farm, your brother met and dated Faye. We fell in love with her quickly after he brought her here for us to meet. It was then that we had a brainstorm. What if you met her innocently through GCC, fell in love, married, had a child with her, and lived many happy years as a man and wife? Faye and your brother had already fallen in love before you ever met her but they both could appreciate the bigger picture. Brandon felt so guilty for robbing me of my daughter, he was willing to make nearly any sacrifice for you, to make it up to us both. He decided he’d share Faye with you, and let you live your dream as a male. You never would have landed a beauty like her but we made that happen for you. You were sterile, so you never could have fathered a child, so your brother stepped in and gave you a baby to call your own.”

“Yes, they were in love; they still are. They have been very discrete with their numerous trysts. You were never supposed to discover what was happening behind the scenes. Faye told her employer that she had disabling migraine headaches at fairly regular intervals. She applied for FMLA leave so that she could fake migraines, call into work, take half days off, never get fired for it, and meet her lover, Brandon as often as he could arrange to be away from the plant. After nearly a year and a half into your marriage, it became obvious that you were unable to make a baby, so Brandon stopped using condoms. That’s when Tamara came into your life. The look on your face the first time you held your daughter made us all realize it was worth everything we had done to achieve your happiness.”

More tears ran down my face as I realized that my entire pathetic existence had been carefully mapped out by puppet masters.

“Quinn, you may wonder why Faye agreed to do this. We offered her a million dollars to get her to persuade you to marry her, then another million to successfully pass off Tamara as your child, followed by a third million to remain married to you until Tamara turned 18 and became an adult. Faye could then divorce you with our blessing and marry Brandon. Tamara would then always be your daughter. Then Faye would have three million dollars banked waiting for her the day Tamara turned 18. We wanted you to have a wife you knew loved you, and wanted to be with you no matter what deficiencies you may have as a man. During her marriage to you, her role was to ensure that you were the happiest husband alive. Her only stipulation was to always be able to be with Brandon every time it was feasible for them to come together, which averaged three times a week. However, she couldn’t help but fall head-over-heels in love with you after living with you intimately every day. Faye agrees that you have a heart as big as the sky. She is completely committed to you in every way as your wife but she also loves Brandon, perhaps a bit more because she belonged to him first, and he is the one who put a baby in her. Don’t you see? All four of us did everything for you, for YOU, Quinn, out of pure love!”

Mom took a big breath after rendering my pathetic life story. “It all boils down to this, Quinn. The way we see it, right now you have three options. Number one is to forgive and forget. Return to your home where you belong with Faye and Tamara until Tamara turns 18. Yes, Faye and your brother will remain intimate as always but it will never be flaunted in your face. They will always be super discrete. That is the overall best option for you.

Option number two is to move back home here with me and your father. You can become the daughter you were always meant to be. If you look inside your closet this very moment, you’ll still find dresses that will fit you perfectly, and ladies’ undies in your drawer to make you look exquisite. Just think, we could all go shopping together and buy all the nice things that ladies such as yourself like to have. If you choose this option, you will never have to work another day of your life. You will be taken care of in every way, living here with us. When your father and I pass on, we will leave you this house, paid for, as well as enough funds to last you to a ripe old age. Option number two is MY personal favorite,” she giggled.

“Then there’s option number three. None of the four of us wants that for you, Quinn. If you insist on divorcing Faye, the three of us will help her fight tooth and nail for full custody of Tamara. She’ll let you keep your puny little house to live in abject misery for the rest of your life, cut off from all of us as your lifelines. None of us will support you in any other way. If you end up in poverty, so be it. It would be a result of the life you chose for yourself. You’d have no one to blame for your misery but you. Well, that’s pretty much it in a nutshell. Does anyone else have anything to add?” Mom asked.