Family Inheritance (7 page)

She glared at him with anger dancing in her eyes. “Well, at least I'm mothering.
That's more than I can say for you about your fathering.” Those words fueled the
fire flaring beneath the surface. They didn't fight about things concerning themselves.
Helene never mentioned her knowledge of his cheating, their lack of lovemaking, or
her loneliness, but they often fought about Thomas. It was easy to divert their problems
in their marriage to Thomas. They could defend or attack him. They could focus on
him, but their own problems were too muddled and confusing. It was best that those
were ignored.

They continued to fight, scream, and throw damaging words at each other until they
were both exhausted and drained. Helene lay quietly on the bed, half-dressed, with
her arm across her eyes, and Bill sat slumped in a chair, his hands covering his
face. Neither of them had said a word for a long time. The wedge between them had
grown even wider. Helene felt lonely and scared.
Slowly getting up from the bed,
she walked over to Bill and put her hands on his shoulders. “I'm sorry. I never mean
to scream at you.”

“I know.” He shook his head. “I know.”

Helene rested her head against the top of his. “Please forgive me, Bill. Please,
I'm really sorry. I'll try better with Thomas. Honest I will.”

Bill stood up, pulling her arms away from around his neck. “I've got to get to work,”
he answered as he walked out the door.

Helene stood behind the chair and sobbed.

Bill didn't come home for dinner, and he didn't call. Even though his behavior wasn't
unusual, Helene felt abandoned. Her mind raced, and she was sick to her stomach.
Thomas was out again too. She had told him she didn't think he should go out, but
he had gone anyway.

It was after midnight when Helene heard Thomas come in and go to his room. She walked
down the hall and tapped on his door. He didn't answer. She heard him trip, fall,
and giggle. Everything in her world was out of control, and she had no idea how to
fix it.

Chapter 7

Atlanta, Georgia

A week had passed and nothing changed. Bill was distant, and Thomas ignored Helene
and any attempts she made to talk with him.

Helene was just finishing up her breakfast when the phone rang.

“Mrs. Foster, this is Principal Griffin.” His voice was brisk. “Could you be in my
office in half an hour?”

Helene's heart started to race. “Well, yes, I suppose so. What's the problem?”

“I'd rather discuss it with both you and Mr. Foster when you get here.”

“Okay, but half an hour isn't much time. Have you called my husband?”

“I've called him and he should be on his way. As I explained to your husband, it's
imperative that you both get here as soon as possible. We have a situation that has
to be handled now, and delaying could only make it worse. I'll expect you in about
half an hour, and I really appreciate your cooperation on this.” The phone conversation
ended as abruptly as it began.

Helene sat still, staring into space for a moment. Then she grabbed her cars keys
and headed to the garage.

Helene felt like a child as she sat in the secretary's office waiting to see Principal
Griffin. She had already waited fifteen minutes beyond their appointment time, and
Bill still wasn't here. Anger boiled deep within her.

I can't count on him. I can never count on him when I really need him!

By the time Bill finally showed up and they were both ushered into the principal's
office, Helene was so angry she couldn't even look at her husband. It was so much
easier to be mad at Bill than to be scared about Thomas.

Principal Griffin was somber as he gazed at Helene then at Bill. “Mr. and Mrs. Foster,
we have a real problem with Thomas.”

Bill's frustration flooded to the surface as he leaned forward in his chair with
his fists clenched. “What has he done now? Has he skipped class again? If he has,
I'll take care of it this time. His mother babies that boy. She always has. It's
time he grew up. It's time I stepped in.”

Helene reeled toward him with eyes glaring as her hands flew into the air. “Big hero!
Now you step in! Where were you all the years when Thomas was doing well? When he
wanted his father at his baseball games, his science fairs, and all the other activities
he used to participate in? Maybe if he had a father who was involved in his life,
he wouldn't be in trouble now.”

Principal Griffin took a deep breath, then said, “We're here to talk about the situation
with Thomas.” He strongly enunciated each word. “I said we've got a problem and I
mean a serious problem. This is beyond skipping school. Thomas was intoxicated in
one of his classes, and when we searched his locker, we found an opened pint of whiskey.”
He paused and leaned over. “I believe your son has a drinking problem.”

Silence spread throughout the room as Bill appeared dumbfounded. Finally, in a weak
voice, Helene asked, “Intoxicated? In the middle of the day?”

“What?” Bill roared at her. “You mean if it was night, it would be okay?”

Principal Griffin turned to Bill. “Mr. Foster, can we stick to the issue?” Then he
turned back to Helene. “I'm recommending Thomas for alcohol counseling. This boy
has a drinking problem. We've noticed indications of it before, but today it crossed
the line. I don't know if alcohol is his problem or if he's using it to deal with
his problems, but I'm going to give you the name of a counselor. I suggest you contact
him right away.” Lowering his voice for emphasis, he continued, “Thomas is suspended
from school for two weeks for drinking on campus, and before he can re-enter, I want
written verification
from his therapist that Thomas has seen him at least twice and
is set up in a steady counseling program.”

Sitting back in his chair, Principal Griffin looked squarely at Bill and Helene.
“I sincerely hope that the two of you will participate in this.”

“Why wouldn't we participate?” Bill ran his hand through his hair, stood up, and
began to pace behind the chair he had been sitting in.

Principal Griffin gazed at Bill for a few moments before responding. “Sometimes parents
don't want to look at behaviors that may be contributing to a child's problems.”

“Are you saying that we're the cause of Thomas's problems?” Bill stopped pacing.

“I'm simply saying that I hope you will both participate with Thomas in his counseling,”
Principal Griffin calmly reiterated.

Helene's voice quivered as she reached out her hand. “I'd like the name of that counselor,
Mr. Griffin. I'll see to it that Thomas goes to see him.”

A lump lodged in Helene's throat. Was he trying to say that the problems between
the two of them had something to do with Thomas's behavior?
It can't be. I've been
so careful to keep my thoughts and feelings away from him.
Her stomach churned as
she remembered her childhood and the pain of listening to her parents fight, watching
her father slap her mother and belittle her with his words. Thomas had never seen
anything like that. But how much had he heard from behind closed doors?

Her son had an alcohol problem? It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. There must be
another answer, another reason. There had to be. She would figure it out and fix
it no matter what it took.

Thomas rode home with her. He was quiet. But when they were all inside the house,
Bill exploded in anger. Thomas stomped up the stairs, slammed the door to his room,
and didn't come out for the rest of the night. Helene and Bill spent the evening
in silence.

The next day, Helene called the counselor. It was agreed he would meet with Thomas
once later this week and then once next week. Then, she assured herself, Thomas would
be back in school and everything would return to normal.

Everything will be okay. I know it will.

A few weeks went by and life settled down. Thomas had seen the counselor and was
back to being himself now. He was getting up for school with no hassle, going to
classes, coming right home after school, and spending time with her and Lily before
doing his homework. Helene assured herself that it had just been the pressures he
had been experiencing that had caused him to drink.

Tonight was a rare occasion with Bill home for dinner. Conversation between Helene
and Bill was limited. They were like two strangers sitting across from each other,
but they were not fighting. For right now, that was enough for Helene.

Thomas was at the library, studying to try to catch up with all the classwork he
had missed. The meal they enjoyed was superb—chicken breasts stuffed with herbs and
cheese, steamed vegetables fresh from the farmers' market, a salad of mixed greens
with goat cheese, and strawberry pie for dessert. Lily seemed to be trying to fix
things through good food. Tonight it felt like it had worked. Peace permeated the
room and the house, and Helene began to relax.

After the meal, Bill and Helene went into the family room with its large, comfy chairs
and sofa that she loved to sink in to. Music softly filled the room, and the gas
fireplace was peaceful. Helene curled up on the sofa, and Bill was comfortably relaxed
in one of the chairs. They were attempting to carry on a conversation like two people
who really cared about what was going on in each other's life. They were beginning
to make some headway, and Helene warmed to the idea. When the phone rang, they didn't
pay much attention to it. Lily, who was cleaning up the kitchen before she left for
home, answered it. Her steps were slow as she approached.

“Mr. Foster, it's for you. It's the police. It's about Mr. Thomas.”

Helene's throat constricted.

Bill's face was white as he picked up the phone. As he listened, color returned to
his skin and flushed his cheeks. Then he hung up, slamming the phone down. “Damn
him!”

“What's wrong, Bill?”

“Thomas has been picked up for a DUI.”

Helene collapsed back against the sofa as her stomach rolled toward her throat and
nausea took over her body. Her mind circled and silently screamed as reality crashed
headlong into the fantasy she had been trying to hold on to. She reached for Bill's
hand as he walked back toward her. “Don't” was all he said as he heavily sat down
and held his head in his hand.

After a few quiet minutes, Bill studied Helene with emotionless eyes. “We need to
go deal with this.”

After getting Thomas released into his custody, Bill had asked for a referral to
a family therapist. The therapist, Raymond Welsh, had agreed to see them the next
day. Now, they sat facing the middle-aged balding man. After several minutes of asking
numerous questions and receiving reluctant replies and long moments of silence, Raymond
sat back in his chair, surveyed them one more time, then asked, “Thomas, are you
an alcoholic?”