Brandon had been away for what seemed like to him an eternity, but at last the biggest parts of his most recent business ventures were completed. He was tired, ready to get home, enjoy some time hanging out, see his sister, and enjoy his wife. He pulled up the long driveway, got out of the car, and walked through the front foyer. It was good to be home.
He'd phoned ahead, and Vonda was there waiting for him, "Brandon, it's so good to have you home again. I got your e-mail. Everything worked out to our satisfaction I see."
Though stiff from the long plane ride and the after airport grind he was glad to see his sister. He gave her an affectionate kiss on the lips, "I'd say pretty much; I'd say everything went well. You said there was something important to talk about regarding things here."
"Come on back where we can talk privately." Vonda started back toward the den. She'd been planning this conversation for some time. It wasn't something she was looking forward to, but she realized, with Brandon home, it was something that had to be dealt with. They strolled back together, arm in arm, as brother and sister are sometimes inclined to do.
They took seats, side by side, in the quiet partially darkened room. Thick leather upholstery, heavy mahogany tables, wall shelves line with volume after volume of richly bound books, many first editions leant the place an aura of opulence.
"Brandon," Vonda began, "You're my brother. I love you more than my life."
He heard the tension in his sister's voice; what was about to come would be serious, "And I love you."
"We have a name in the community; a reputation for fair dealing, honesty, and for charity."
"That we do."
"Nothing must ever be allowed to undermine our good work, our good name, the things we've accomplished, and the things we stand for."
He answered, "Nothing."
"Brandon you know how long we've had our doctors. They're like a part of the family. Why our dentist and personal physician owe their careers, their large practices, their lives to us. You know how heavily dependent they are on our good graces."
Not sure what she was driving at or where this was going he agreed, "That's certainly true."
"I'm afraid our doctors have let us down. Placed us in an awkward position one might say."
"How so?" he asked.
It was time for Vonda to begin to weave her spell, to surround her beloved brother with the things she knew he needed to hear, the facts that would prepare him to understand and accept, even welcome the decisions she believed had been forced upon her. After all, they'd lived together, grown up together stood side by sider together against external forces that had been intent on destroying that special relationship they'd created. All their lives it had been just the two of them; two of them against the world, just she and Brandon.
She was there, had always been there to stand watch, to guard, to protect him. Sometimes she'd had to protect him from things he didn't understand. Sometimes, as had become increasingly apparent with his erratic wife, she'd been forced to intercede and protect him from his own decisions. She had to explain the actions and decisions that had been made in his absence.
"Brandon we both know your wonderful young wife has always had a mischievous, dare I say, immature, even, if I say offhandedly, psychologically questionable, streak."
"Yes, I know Angela's been a handful."
"Brandon she's been more than just a handful. She's become completely unreasonable. Brandon, we've had to go to great lengths to find ways to curtail her increasingly idiosyncratic behavior."
"Please explain."
"Early on Angela became increasingly uncontrollable when we went out in public. It got to such as extreme that I made the decision to curtail all her public access."
Brandon was listening. He half understood, but half doubted some of what his sister was saying. He and Vonda had gone through similar difficulties with their mother some years earlier. Their mother had become progressively more unruly; especially when he wasn't around. During the last months of her freedom she grew violent, insisting Vonda was trying top destroy her. Of course, he'd seen it coming. His sister had kept a written record, supported by their doctors, and underwritten by the comments of the household staff. He hated to think something similar was plaguing his wife, but Vonda's accounts seemed to point to a very similar direction.
"Brandon I conferred with our physicians. I have all the records, their opinions, their suggestions, their diagnoses. They all correspond with what had been my worst fears. I've had to tightly regulate what Angela has been allowed to do."
Brandon understood and agreed with the need to limit some of his wife's more unusual characteristics, but he'd come to understand them, he'd learned to love them. What others might see as oddities, he'd come to see as endearments, "I understand she has an eccentric streak, but I'm sure it's not that out of the ordinary."
"No it wasn't brother; at least it wasn't until she took on the responsibility for some minor surgery."
"Surgery?"
"Yes dear, you remember, everyone agreed Angela had a modest overbite that impacted her eating habits. We all thought, she thought, she needed a minor dental procedure."
Brandon didn't remember any overbite. He thought her teeth had been perfect, but he was open minded enough to accept what his sister said at face value, "I see."
Vonda went on, "Yes, but you see when she had the surgery there was an extreme reaction to some of the medications used to sedate her. No one knew she had allergies. There was a mistake, an accident. What was supposed to have been a minor readjustment resulted in a major overhaul of her dental situation."
Brandon listened with increased concern.
Vonda went into greater detail. She'd known her brother all their lives. She knew exactly what buttons to push, what things to say, and exactly how to say them. It was an old formula; a formula used countless times by countless people for a variety of reasons. First one told the target things they wanted to hear, good things, self rewarding things, the kinds of things that stimulated the production of dopamine. Then one followed it with frightening things, things that might induce the production of adrenaline. Then last, one introduced a solution, something that would restore the dopamine.
Vonda explained, "We had to nearly completely shave her teeth down, down to nubbins, it was a difficult thing to do; that doctor had to shave her teeth to child like sizes." She watched her brother's reaction, "Brandon we had to do it. The medicines, the allergies, the procedures all called for it."
Of course, what Vonda had ordered done had been totally unnecessary. She had ordered the procedure because she knew it would erode her sister's sense of personal well being. She wanted to so undermine her sister so as to render her helpless, childish; completely dependent on others, particularly on her sister in law. Vonda was a cruel woman. Angela was her project. Like a child pulling the wings off of flies, an adolescent setting a cat on fire for Halloween, Vonda saw Angela as her personal toy, and she knew, with the right incentives, the right persuasive techniques, she'd make Brandon her accomplice.
Brandon was only moderately concerned about the teeth, "We can cap her teeth can't we?"
Vonda knew her brother, "Of course we can, and we will, but her reactions to the medications have been extreme. Her emotional equilibrium and her metabolic health have been up ended. We have to be careful."
She hesitated a few second, and then went on, "She's been behaving in very unusual ways. She'll act like a child one moment, and the next she'll be perfectly normal. She'll make unrealistic demands. She's prone to throw tantrums; sometimes she's completely out of control. She makes wild fanciful accusations!"
Brandon had been listening. He was worried.
Vonda closed for the kill, "Sometimes we've had to physically restrain her. Occasionally we've been forced to discipline her with spankings. She responds to that. She responds just as though she were a child; with tears and then contrition."
Brandon asked, "Weren't there other thing you might have done?"
"Yes," answered Vonda, "and with the help of our doctors and our mother's psychiatrist we've made some significant discoveries."
"How so," he asked.
Vonda digressed, "Angela has become very responsive to certain audible cues. She's learned to trust Mary implicitly, and Mary has been able to influence her with certain verbal and dietary rewards."
"What do you mean? What verbal, what dietary rewards?"
"Angela responds well to soft melodic sounds, bells in particular. To facilitate her responsiveness, and her composure we've affixed bells to her neck, wrists, ankles, and we've added belled earrings. Occasionally she's complained, but overall, we've found the soft gentle sounds of the bells very comforting to her, very calming."
Brandon nodded, "I've heard certain sounds have been used to placate, even control, certain genre of simian."
