"It's more of a morality tale. It's about two of the commandments. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt not covet another man's wife. And the consequences of coveting anyway. Maybe we should wait until Shawn can be here."
"I'll use my phone as a voice recorder."
"Then I'll have to be careful of my language."
"Just use your ordinary language. Shawn and I have heard it before."
Brian was relieved because, being in his eighties, he often had trouble finding polite words.
---
Brian's Narrative with occasional interruptions by Merilee
---
OK. Here goes. In the beginning, Ellie, your mom, and your Aunt Mairi, and I were born in the late forties, after World War two. We were the first of the baby boomers. Your mom and aunt were raised well-to-do in a protective environment. They were isolated from unpleasantness. Basically, everything in their lives worked out just fine. The only thing missing was your grandfather, who was about 15 years older than your grandmother. He was there. He loved them. He provided for them. But he was distant. He was a combat veteran who apparently had harrowing experiences as an army scout in Europe. Today I think we would say that he had PTSD. He wasn't scary or violent. He was just reserved and insular. He never talked to his children. They never heard a man's opinion or point of view.
Your grandmother was a religious woman. She wasn't a bad mother, but she was more in tune with her interpretation of God's will than the emotional well-being of her daughters. She used God's will, duty, and guilt to control them. So, as often happens when the parents are not accessible, the siblings become very close. They were sensitive to each other's feelings, needs, and wants. They protected each other.
And then your aunt spent a summer in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco. She encountered ideas that were way outside her sheltered life. She came back believing that she didn't have to live a conventional life.
Merilee interrupted, "What's wrong with that?"
Nothing at all. Living a conventional life protects you from some of life's outrages. It's like staying on a well-beaten path. You can put your life on autopilot and not worry about things too much. There're thorns, nettles, rabbit holes, and vipers off the path. You can live an unconventional life, but you need to have knowledge of life and especially men, if you are a woman. Or you need to be surrounded by people that protect you from the consequences of recklessly being unconventional.
"Was auntie a wide child?"
No. She was quite conventional. It's just that she could be manipulated into embracing ideas that a person more grounded in conventions would question.
Now consider my childhood. My mother was abandoned by my father before I was born. I don't even have his last name. I was raised by a single mom and my grandparents. I was unsupervised a lot. Once I got my bicycle, I had tremendous range. I got into fights. I got scammed and conned. I got talked into things that were dumb ideas. I had things stolen from me. I committed petty theft. I kissed some girls and got slapped by some. I got a bloody nose. When I was in high school, I broke another kid's jaw when he hit me first. I have street smarts. I can pretty much tell when I am being scammed. But not your aunt. Your aunt, and to a lesser extent, your mother thought that everybody had good intentions, everything would be OK, and love conquers all. Because in her world, mom and dad made it that way.
Mairi and I got married and had two kids right away. Mairi was overwhelmed, your mom had just turned 18 and wanted out of the house, so she came to live us and help Mairi. It was a good time for all of us. Your mom and I became close."
"Did you ever ...?"
No. We were never intimate or even inclined that way. Ellie was just the sister-in-law that I was fond of. Anyway, we were happy, but your mom wanted her own family. That makes sense. And then she met Simon.
Simon, the bastard, was a slick salesman. People liked him. He was charming. He made people laugh. I even liked him until I hated him. I always knew that he was a disingenuous bullshitter, but it didn't bother me at first because he didn't seem to be causing any harm. He would have been OK except for his character flaw. He was a self-centered narcissistic. He wanted what other people had. He wanted my wife. He already had someone like my wife, but he wanted my wife.
I don't know why. Ellie and Mairi were both pretty girls with sparkling personalities. I loved Mairi, but, objectively, if I had met then at the same time as young women, I would have probably pursued Ellie. And then the story would have had a different ending. But I can understand why someone would want Mairi. She was pretty hot. I guess he thought it wouldn't cost him anything.
He was constantly borrowing my stuff and bringing it back in worst condition than when he got it. I suppose that's a metaphor. It got so bad that instead of lending him a tool, I would just go do whatever needed to be done. But I was doing it for family and especially for Ellie, so if he wasn't competent to perform his manly duties, so to speak, I didn't mind taking care of them. I guess that's a metaphor, too.
So, he continued on as a low-level irritant for a couple of years. And then they moved away. I was glad, but Mairi missed her sister.
We heard about their problems with having a baby. Simon tried to cheat on Ellie to get a child. Somehow, Mairi got the idea that she would punish him by spreading her legs for him. I never really understood her thought process.
They called me on a conference call to announce that Mairi was going have Simon's babies. I was dumbstruck. Before I could object, they hung up. My call back was unanswered. I wanted to drive up to Annapolis to make my objection, but nobody would be home for Gillian and Ben. So, I sucked it up.
I presumed that they were going to use in vitro fertilization. It is no big deal. The guy jacks off into a soft cup like a diaphragm, and then they put it in like a diaphragm. It is clean and effective. But for love of family and other bullshit garbage, they had to do it the "old-fashioned" way. I guess that they were in a hurry. And they were going to keep doing it. It made me sick.
Mairi had fucked him. They had manipulated me. They hadn't given me a chance to object. Fait accompli. Mission achieved. Of course, she was right. I would forgive her. I wouldn't divorce her. I wouldn't give up my kids. They thought they had me boxed in. But there was something that I would give up: Simon. And I wouldn't forgive him, either.
There was one woman whose love I never doubted: grandma. I went to visit her. That always eased my mind. Before I left, I went to the barn to see if grandpa's tools and implements were still there. I was looking for a particular pair of pliers. It took me a while, but I found them.
When I got home, Mairi informed me that we would have dinner with Simon and Ellie at their place on Saturday to "clear the air and restore the family love." It made me nauseous to hear it, but I made sounds of acquiescence. When the day came around, I shook hands with Simon and acted like I was over it. The bastard smirked when only I could see it.
But I just maintained my pleasant demeanor, as I noticed that they were slowing down. They were all just sitting quietly and starting to sleep. You see, I drugged them. I still had plenty of pain and muscle relaxer pills from my injury. I never throw anything away that might be useful later. Just like grandpa. Those pills may have lost some of their potency, but they still worked.
Once they were out, I was able to get Simon on his feet enough to walk him to the guest bedroom. While he was up, I told him that he was drunk and that he needed to take the aspirin that I was offering. It was another pain pill. I left him alone for about thirty minutes, and then I removed his pants and shorts. I tied his hands and feet and gagged him. I wasn't expecting him to wake up, but I didn't want to take any chances.
I went back to my car and got those pliers out of the trunk. I spent my summers out on grandpa's farm; neutering animals was just one of the jobs. The jaws of the pliers are flat. They don't quite come all the way together. One side is tapered down to a very narrow edge. It's not a knife edge. It won't cut, but it will exert tremendous pressure. You put it on the ball sack the right way and clamp down for five seconds. It damages the tubes and vessels to the testicle. I don't know if it breaks them or if it fuses them. But that testicle is effectively isolated from nutrients. It will stop producing sperm and hormones. There is no cut, no bleeding, no wound, no scar, and no evidence.
I grabbed his balls and positioned the pliers. That was where he might wake up. It's not like getting kicked in the balls, but it hurts. It's like getting pinched with pliers. When I applied the pliers, he stiffened up and moaned into the gag but didn't wake up. I did the same thing on the other side. I repeated the process on each side, just to be sure that bastard was gelded.
I let him rest while I put the pliers back into the car and then untied him. I rolled him onto his stomach in case he vomited in his sleep; I didn't want him to die. It would have attracted too much attention. Then I threw a blanket over him. All I had to do was wait. Without blood flow, his balls would be useless in about eight hours. I just needed for him to stay out until six o'clock Sunday morning. About halfway until six, I gave myself a dose of pills so that I would be drugged like the rest of them.
I woke up to Mairi tugging my arm and talking to me with her angelic voice. She was telling me that I had had too much to drink. It was about nine in the morning. Simon's balls were as good as dead. I pretended to have a headache and a hangover. There was just one more thing to do. Once Simon woke up, he might begin to realize that his balls were hurting. I didn't want him to panic and think he had cancer or something and go to the doctor. He needed a reason for his balls to hurt.
Ellie found Simon in the guest bed and rousted him out. He looked pretty rough. I smiled and walked over to help. I waited until the right moment when he had his legs spread and kicked him in the balls. He screamed and collapsed. I only kicked him once, and not as hard as I could, because I didn't want him to go to the emergency room with busted balls.
I yelled at him, "That, motherfucker, was for fucking my wife!" I kicked him again, but this time in the shins. I just wanted to punish him a little bit more.
