Trust Fund Baby ~ 8 A Satire

Chapter 8
“Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Father,” I said as I sat down in front of my raspberry Danish and cream colored coffee. I stared at my coffee and saw J’s image swirling around in the cream. Maybe it was an apparition.

Mother interrupted my fantasy, “Artin?”

Artin? What’s an Artin. I did a quick mental check of who sat at the table. Mother on one end. Father, ten feet away from Mother at the other end. And, me in the middle of the demilitarized zone. Did we hire a new cook?

I heard it again, this time more insistent, “Artin. Artin, look at me.”

I took a bite of my Danish and sip of my coffee, then said, “I don’t think he’s here, Mother. Try paging him.”

“Martin, don’t you remember, we’re legally changing your name to Artin?”

“I don’t want my name changed. I like Martin. I didn’t like it at first because when I was in first grade grade, Ronald Cranston called me fartin Martin. When I was fourteen and met Rachael, she let me feel her breasts and she like my name. I’ve liked Martin ever since Rachael.”

“Thank God you didn’t have sex with Rachael Madison. You know, her mother did not go to Holyoke or Smith.”

I thought about Mother’s comment for a second, then decided not to say anything about the sex part.

Mother continued her rant, “The mention of the Cranstons makes me want to have Nicole spray the room with disinfectant. They always thought they were better than everyone else. Can’t say I feel a bit sorry for them when the crash of 2008. They’re no longer listed among the top five hundred wealthiest people in the world. What a pity. But, between us, it looks good to see them left off of the RSVP list for Aspen and Palm Springs.”

The Cranston’s grovel? I had no idea what she was talking about. I thought they owned half the world and Grandmother Houston owned the other half. I said, “I will not answer to the name Artin, Mother. Now, that’s settled, I have some important news to share with you and Father.”

Father set his Wall Street Journal down and pulled his glasses down to the tip of short stubby nose that more appropriately fit on a bull dog than a human head. Mother placed both of her bony hands palm down on the table, her mouth slightly open, and her eyes trying to pierce into my brain and read my thoughts.

Before I could speak, Mother spoke, “Martin, if you’re going to tell us you got Nicole pregnant, don’t. I don’t want to hear about it. How much do we have to pay to keep her quiet and not list you as the father?”

Father said, “Mother, let’s be reasonable. Perhaps he didn’t get Nicole pregnant. Maybe it was Oscar.”

Mother said, “You should see the way Martin leers at her. I know what’s going on in his mind. It couldn’t have been Oscar, he used condoms.”

How does Mother know Oscar uses condoms? I didn’t think it was an appropriate question at the moment. I was watching the tennis match. It was Father’s turn. He said,

“We don’t even know if Nicole’s pregnant. As for our son, he didn’t get his lascivious tendencies from the Sanderstuff side of the family.”

Father took a nasty shot at Mother. He won’t be getting any tonight. Then again, I’m too sure he ever gets any anyways.

Mother returned the salvo, “Martin’s perverted sexual tendencies do come from your side of the family. What about Allison, your niece? You know the tramp who moved in with her boyfriend after college. Everyone knows she lost her virginity when she was in the tenth grade and they took a vacation to Venice and some Italian gondola driver seduced her. She could have been more descrete.”

“Leave Allison out of this, Mother. You know her mother is a Jenkins. The Jenkins worked for their money and didn’t inherit it, so they have no idea how to be rich.”

I thought, no, don’t leave her out of this. I’m enjoying the family gossip. But I didn’t want to be late for my second day of work. Truthfully, I wanted to be in my office waiting for my Venus to arrive. I said, “I didn’t make Nicole, pregnant, although I have many sexual fantasies about her. I don’t think I’m perverted. My sexual interests are normal.”
Mother looked at me and said, “If you didn’t make Nicole pregnant, who did?”

“Is she pregnant?” I asked.

“I don’t know. You brought it up,” said Mother sarcastically.

“I didn’t bring it up, Mother. I said, “I have something important to tell the both of you if you can get Nicole off your mind for a moment. First of all, I have not had sex with Nicole. I want to have sex with her, but she has a boyfriend and I’m afraid he’ll kill me if founds out we’re lovers.”

“You’ve got a Sanderstuff’s brain on shoulders, Son. It’s well and good to have an affair with someone in our class. The worse that will happen is you’ll snubbed at a social event. Discreet affairs are seen as a sign on good breeding, wouldn’t you agree, Mother.”

A shade of pink appeared on Mother’s neck and began it’s slow rise through her face. Fortunately, Father missed this faux pax because he set his glasses on the table when the discussion began.

“You’re so right, Father. Discretion is important in liaisons. Keep that in mind, Artin.”

“Thank you, Mother. Son, one more piece of advice, never, step out of class to have a sexual dalliance. A one night stand every once in a while, why that’s healthy as long as there are no strings attached. By that I mean always use a condom. Never take a lower class woman’s word she’s on birth control. Now, for heaven’s sake, tell us your important news, Son,” said Father.

I almost forgot what I was going to say. I’m sure Mother and Father do not have sex, unless they are totally wasted. Now, I think they’re both getting action on the side. I could use this to blackmail them into increasing my allowance. I saw them both locking in on as if they had a laser and were ready to push the fire button. I blurted,“I’m in love and I’m going to get married.”

Mother hollered, “Victor. Victor. My drink please.”

Father said, “A bit early for gin isn’t it, Mother?”

Here we go again. The tennis match was about to restart. I had to stop it so I get to work.

I said, “I’ve a bit of a problem. I know I’m in love with her. I know I’m going to marry her. I haven’t told her yet.”

Father rubbed his hands together. “I’ve been waiting for this, Son. You’ve come to Mother and me for relationship advice.”

Mother cut right to the chase, “Is she of good breeding? They must live on this side of the city. This is where all the good people live. You can tell by the all the guarded and gated communities. The air is cleaner over here. The better restaurants are over here. And, all our help comes from over there. It’s not that we’re afraid of them. It’s that we want to remain pure. Surely, you understand this, Martin.”

A thought raced through my mind. Am I the sole beneficiary in their will? If I tell Mother and Father J is black, but her skin is the beautiful shade of coffee and cream and her body is as lithe and supple as a gymnasts I foresee three possibilities. One, two massive coronaries; two, a stroke and a massive coronary; or three, they overpower me and send me off the Betty Ford Clinic for rehab.

I looked at Mother and said, “Her lineage can be traced back to ships the earliest settlers welcomed into the US. It may go all the way to Thomas Jefferson and his plantation.”

“Is she one of the Jeffersons? This is too good to be true,” said Mother already thinking of holding a soiree to host J and me.

“What’s her name, Son?” asked Father.

I truthfully said, “She likes to be called by the first letter of her last name.”

“That is delightful. I can’t wait to meet J,” said Mother.

I decided to leave on a high note. Mother and Father told me not to work too hard and let my administrative assistant do it all for me. I confidently strode out the of dining room believing J would be mine tonight. I was soon to learn, I had a lot to learn.

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Today’s Quote by Roald Dahl on Thoughts

If you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.

Roald Dahl

Life’s Mirror ~ Poem by Madeline S. Bridges

Life’s Mirror

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.

Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your work and deed.

Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind;
And honor will honor meet,
And the smile which is sweet will surely find
A smile that is just as sweet.

Give pity and sorrow to those who mourn;
You will gather in flowers again
The scattered seeds from your thought outborne,
Though the sowing seemed in vain.

For life is the mirror of king and slave;
‘Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.

Madeline S. Bridges.

Trust Fund Baby ~ 7 A Satire

Chapter 7

At noon I told J to take an extended lunch hour until 9 in the morning. She flashed her white veneers, did a pirouette and walked away. My eyes swayed to a Caribbean beat until she was out of sight. I closed my eyes to fight a touch of vertigo. I wish I could talk to a psychologist about office romances. The thought struck me, I am a psychologist. It says so on my door. I sat back up an swiveled my chair so I was looking out the window. I said, “I’m confused.”
“Of course you are. Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“It’s why I’m here. Do you know anything about love?” I asked.
“Love? Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. I think I’m in love.”
“The Sanderstuffs don’t fall in the love. To use the guttural language of today, they hook up long enough to check breeding and get the woman to sign a prenup.”
“You don’t understand?”
“Oh, I understand. I know what’s best for you.”
“You sound like Mother. Mother? Mother? Get away from me. Get out of my mind,” I screamed. I swiveled back toward the door hoping J was gone and didn’t listen to my conversation. It is privileged after all.
I needed downtime and I wanted to center myself to get back on an even keel. I hoped I wasn’t going to suffer from PTSD so I stopped by the tennis club for lunch and drinks. If anything, I’m monogamous. I’m also a male, so I flirted with Judith, she lives two mansions down from us and is ten years older than me. But she’s married to guy twenty years older. I’ll take what I can get. Monogamy can only go so far when your libido is raging out of control. I took my drink from the bar and sauntered over to Judith’s table.
I said with my self-assured smile, “You taking tennis lessons today or did you wear that cute outfit for me?” This stuff comes natural.
Judith took a sip of her white wine, her eyes never leaving my eyes. When she finished her sip, she held the glass in her right hand, her elbow resting on the table, and said, “Martin, of course I wore it for you, if I knew you were coming. Unfortunately, I didn’t know, so I wore it for Vince. He’ll be here in a minute. Maybe next time, sweetheart.”
Ouch, this one hurt. Vince Tomazo, the club tennis pro and stud. My guess is Vince cancelled all his afternoon appointments. I needed a face saving get away, so I bent over and kissed her cheek, and whispered, “Have fun.”
Judith got the last word in, “Count on it, but it won’t be on the tennis court.”
I tossed my drink down, set the glass on an empty table and headed home. I think J will be proud of me for remaining faithful.
I was physically and emotional exhausted. I went home and crashed. I woke up at 9:30 and called Oscar at his apartment and had him make a run for me to Lizzo’s Pizzeria for a sausage and pepperoni pie and then over to Ralphie’s Bar to get two bottles of Wilson’s Golden a locally brewed beer. I didn’t feel bad for Oscar, I went down to Mother’s cookie jar and pulled out a C note, she’ll never miss it. She and Father call it loose change. When Oscar arrived, he handed me the pizza and beers. I handed him the C note. He kept his hand out. I went back to the cookie jar and pulled out another C note.
Oscar said, “Thanks, man.”
Mother disapproves of my informality with the help. She says it makes them feel they are equal to Sanderstuffs. I heard her tell Grandmother Houston, when the old bat was alive, “God must really love us because we’re so much better than the people we hire. Why sometimes I think I am saint because I give them a job and let them do so much for me.” F
or my part, I never saw myself better than Victor or Oscar. I’ll never tell J, but I wouldn’t mind an affair with Nicole. Mother knows all this and says it’s the poor DNA I received from the Sanderstuff’s, If I were pure Featherstone, I’d no such inclination. I could add or passion or fun or a desire to party.
I was sleeping soundly dreaming of lying on lounge chair on a beach in Cancun when a beautiful, black haired and dark eyed señorita, wearing a flowered covered peasant blouse pulled low across her shoulders and breasts, came up to me and bent over and whispered in my ear. She touched my shoulder. Her touch woke me up and I was staring into Nicole’s dark eyes and wet red lips. Love hit me again and oh did it hit me. My first thought was, what will will I tell J when I see her this morning?
“Nicole? Is that you or am I in heaven?” I tossed my best line at her.
Nicole laughed, “Señor Martin I already have a boyfriend, Antonio. You make me laugh. The señora said to wake you up for work.”
“It’s not the weekend?” I asked.
“Oh no. It’s only Tuesday. Chu got three more days after this one.”
“Work is hell, Nicole.”
“Tell me about it,” she laughed and walked out the room. My eyes followed her Latin beat. These women are killing me slowly or is it killing me softly, whatever.

Something to Think About

When something bad happens you have three choices. You can either let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you.

Dr. Seuss

We all faced great challenges. Have you taken a bad event and made good from it? It takes courage. What was the challenge? How did you turn tragedy in something good?

Today’s Quote by Henry James on Kindness

Three things in human life are important. The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind.

Henry James