WATCHING BRAD
Part 103
I didn't wash the twin's hair that Sunday night. As I had done many times before, I made certain they were clean, then left them to play. I returned to the livingroom and sat beside Lindsay once more, hugging her to me as we continued looking through her picture book. My mind wasn't on the book, though. It was on my daughter and her future and what Connie could do to it.
Brad was back in the bedroom, studying, and Mom and Dad were watching
Antiques Roadshow on HGTV. Everything was normal - except, perhaps, for me. The boys were playing in the bathroom. I could hear their cheerful giggles and chuckles and I could hear the occasional splash when they dropped one of their toys through the Mr. Bubble clouds so it could splash down into the water of the bathtub ocean.
The boys were usually pretty good about bathing alone. They enjoyed playing in the water, but they were quite careful about splashing water onto the floor. My mind went back those many months to when they first moved in with me. They didn't even have their own bedroom then. They slept in Lindsay's room, their beds divided by a blanket wall. There was only one bathroom back then as well. There was no Mr. Bubble, and very few toys to play with. Back then, I wouldn't leave the twins alone in the bath. I was terrified they might hurt themselves somehow.
They had splashed me and I had ‘lost my cool'. I had yelled at them. I felt bad for yelling at them over splashed water, but it stopped them from splashing me. They were, after all, four-year-old boys, and that's what four-year-old boys do in a bathtub. They splash.
There was a sudden round of loud laughing from the two which brought my mind to full awareness and away from Connie, and I stood up to investigate. I walked to the bathroom door near the large patio doors and stepped inside. Jeremy stopped walking when he saw me, his little, Mr. Bubble-covered body dripping water and lather onto the floor.
All the anxieties of that afternoon came out in one quick, vicious burst.
"
What are you doing out of the tub?" I yelled.
Jeremy's eyes opened wide and round, his small, cherubic face suddenly full of fear. "I was. . ." he began.
"I don't want to hear it! Get back into that tub!"
Justin, still sitting in the bathtub, became as still as a statue and stared at me. Jeremy began crying and screaming. "But Daddy. . ."
"
I said get in the tub!!"
Jeremy jumped at the intensity of the anger in my voice, tears running down his tiny face, and then he began to pee as he stood there, his tiny stream of urine arcing to the floor and splashing onto the tiles there.
"
What in hell do you thing you're doing!!?" I started forward.
Jeremy began backing away from me, his bladder still emptying itself onto the floor and leaving a trail of urine in his wake. His screams of terror pounded into my ears, echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom and blasting into my brain and raising my fury to yet another level.
"
Theodore!!" It was Dad.
I stopped turned toward the door. Dad was standing right in front of me. Mom was in the doorway and Lindsay was standing behind her, clutching Mom's dress in her hands. She had the same look of terror on her face and tears filled her eyes and began to overflow onto her cheeks.
"This is
my house, Dad!" I yelled. Behind me, Jeremy continued screaming and crying. Justin had joined him now and was crying as well. "These are
my kids! You stay the hell out of it! If you think I'm going to stand here and let the little runt piss all over. . ."
Dad's hand moved so fast that I didn't even see it coming. His palm caught the side of my face with a loud smack which bounced off the tiled walls like a crack of thunder. It spun my head around. When I looked back, Brad appeared in the doorway. He immediately pushed past Mom and came into the room, bypassing both myself and Dad, and headed straight for Jeremy and Justin.
Dad was staring at me and there was no hiding the fury in his own face or in his voice. His eyes buried daggers into my chest. "Listen to yourself, Son!" he screamed at me. "This is not you! These boys are
not the object of your anger! Do not subject them to it!"
My hand came to my cheek. Dad had never hit me like that before, and he would not have done so without a damned good reason. I looked past him toward Mom. Her eyes were filled with concern and disbelief. Behind her, Lindsay's face was becoming moist with her tears as she stared at me. Behind me, I could hear Brad trying to calm down my sons and I could hear sloshing water. I glanced behind me as Justin climbed out of the bathtub and into Brad's waiting arm. Jeremy was already securely clutched in the other arm.
I turned back to Dad. The anger was gone from his face, but he stood there, solidly facing me and letting me know that he was ready to take me on if it was necessary.
"We will clean this up and take care of your sons, Theodore," he said quietly. "I think it best if you leave this room."
"Dad, I. . ."
His hands came to my arms and grabbed them tightly, giving them a slight shake. "Please, Ted, leave this room."
I looked at my family, then turned to look at my sons as they clung to Brad. They were still crying and the water and lather from their bodies were soaking into Brad's clothes. Dark, wet stains spread out around them on Brad's shirt and jeans. Brad's eyes bore into me, and I knew in an instant that he, too, would do everything necessary to protect my sons from me.
"I'm sorry," I said finally. "Oh, God, I'm sorry!" And then I ran past Dad, my Mom and daughter, and into my bedroom where I fell face-down onto the bed and cried.
In only a few hours, Connie had worked her evil magic.
It had begun.
* * * * *
The screams of my two boys slowly faded, but the sobs and whimpers continued. I could hear people moving about outside my room, but I paid them no mind. I was too busy hating myself for what I had done. There had been no excuse for my actions. Not only was I losing control of my life, I was losing control of myself and it terrified me.
Brad came into the room to change his wet clothes. I didn't even look up at him. He said something to me in a soft, concerned voice, but I didn't respond. He finished changing and left the room again.
Gradually my sobbing and sniffling stopped and the thinking began. I remembered my father's words to me: "Listen to yourself." He had been angry, and rightly so. When I recalled what I had called my son, I almost began to cry again. How could I have been so insensitive? How could I have allowed myself to say that to him? I couldn't love Jeremy more if I had created him myself with my own flesh and blood. Yet I had called him a runt. I squeezed my eyes tightly against the rising tears and curse Connie once more. Already, my life and my family were turning to chaos.
There had been a reason for Jeremy being out of the tub. I knew that. He had to use the toilet. That was clear to me now. He had tried to tell me and I had refused to let him. Instead, I had frightened him into doing on the floor what he would have been doing in the toilet had I walked into the bathroom a few seconds later. And I had held him responsible and insulted him by calling him a name I should never have called him.
I deserved the smack on the face I got from Dad. I had lost control of myself and my mind wasn't my own. Dad had to get it back for me. My fingers raised once more to my cheek where Dad had hit me. It was still tingling. He had not been gentle. Yet, had he not hit me, Jeremy's little bum would most certainly have received the same treatment with one very frightening exception. I wouldn't have hit Jeremy only once.
I began crying again at the thought of what I had almost done to my son.
You know, when I was a little boy of Jeremy's age, Mom could fix any hurt on the outside of my body, but Dad was the only one who could fix the hurt inside me. If I was upset, I would go to Dad. He always knew exactly what to say to me. He would hold me in his strong arms and take away all my pain and fear and worry. There was so much strength in him back then.
I mention this now because someone entered my bedroom and sat on the side of my bed, and I felt a hand come to rest on my back. I knew that touch immediately. It was my father. I turned over onto my back and sat up, and then, just like he did when I was four years old, Dad took me into his arms to take away all my pain and fear and worry. There was still a lot of strength in him.
He pulled me against his chest and I rested the cheek he had slapped against it. I could feel his body living and I could hear his heart beating - just like when I was a little kid. This time, though, I was so afraid to let go of him.
"What have I done, Dad?" My voice came out in a raspy croak, barely louder than a whisper.
"What you have done, Theodore, is to allow Connie to win."
I jerked myself away from him. "Oh, no I haven't," I told him sternly. My voice had returned.
"Yes, Theodore," Dad said quietly and he gently nodded his head. "You have." His hands moved to my shoulders. "Listen to me, Son. You have already made up your mind about Connie without knowing her true intentions. You view her as a terrorist intent upon making your life miserable and disrupting your family. If that is her intention, she has already succeeded, and you have done it for her. A frightened man wins many battles for the enemy."
Dad's hands moved down my arms to my hands. He took them into his own and held them as he looked straight into my eyes.
"You are stronger than she is, Ted. You always have been stronger. She tried to beat you down when you went through your divorce, but you stood up to her. It was only through some wild machinations and sleight of hand by her lawyer that you lost custody of Lindsay. You have her back now, and if you intend to fight in order to keep her, you must not allow yourself to lose battles which are never fought. You must keep your head and you must maintain control of yourself. You must not allow yourself to give over to Connie the control that she requires to defeat you."
"But there's too much, Dad," I said in a whimper. "There's the wedding and Warren and you and Mom, and now Connie. There's too much for me to handle. I don't know if I can do this."
Dad thought for a long moment, staring into my eyes as he did so. Then he spoke. "Bradley and his parents and your mother can handle the wedding," Dad said wisely. "You can forget the wedding. There is nothing you can do to make Warren well again. Don't try to deal with his future until it arrives. If your Mother and I are too much for you to handle, we will go to a motel until the house is ready, so forget about us. And, right now, there is nothing you can do about Connie, so forget about her as well. There is nothing you can do about tomorrow. You must do what you can about today."
As if on cue, a tiny voice sounded from the doorway. "Daddy?" Both Dad and I turned our heads to look. It was Jeremy, and he still looked very frightened and concerned. His eyes were still moist and glistening with the tears he had shed. Justin stood beside him, holding Jeremy's hand, while Brad stood behind the two, resting his own hands on their shoulders. The twins were now dressed in their pyjamas.
Dad looked back at me. "This is as good a time to begin as any, Son. Do not allow the moment to pass you by."
I hugged him and said, "Thanks, Dad." I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Dad stood up as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. He stopped long enough to give each of the twins a kiss, then stepped around them and took Brad by the arm. "Come, Bradley. We are not needed here." As he guided Brad out the door, he pulled it closed behind him.
Jeremy and I looked at each other for a short time before he said, "I'm sorry, Daddy."
I held out my hands to him and said, "I'm sorry, too, Jeremy."
My son looked at my outstretched arms, then into my eyes once more. He didn't move. "Are you going to hit me?"
"No, Jeremy," I said softly, "I won't hit you. I promise."
Justin started forward, still holding his brother's hand. Jeremy had no choice but to follow. I picked up Jeremy, setting him astraddle my right leg and facing me. Justin climbed onto the bed and straddled my left leg by himself. I wrapped my arms around them and hugged them close. Justin came quickly, but Jeremy was a hesitant. He held me, but he didn't hug me back.
When I finally released them, they sat back. Jeremy looked at me, still frightened and still concerned. His eyes stared deeply into mine and he squinted slightly. His hand reached up and brushed at my cheek. He looked at his fingers, seemingly surprised to find left-over tears there.
"Were you crying, too, Daddy?" he asked.
"Yes, I was, Jeremy."
"Why?"
"Because I yelled at you and I almost spanked you when you weren't doing anything wrong."
He thought about that for a long moment, then said, "I'll sorry I peed on the floor, Daddy," he said. "You scared me."
"I know I did, Jeremy, and I'm very sorry for yelling at you. That was very wrong of me."
He blinked away the moistness still in his eyes. "Are you going to give me back now?"
"Give you back?" I asked. "Why would I want to give you back?"
Jeremy's finger hooked his lower lip. "Because I was bad," he said sadly. "The other people always gave us back when we were bad."
I reached out for Jeremy's hand and gently wrapped my fingers around it. I pulled his finger from his mouth and moved his hand toward my lips and kissed it.
"Jeremy," I said as I held onto his hand, "you had an accident and it was all my fault because I yelled at you. I scared you. You're my son now. And so are you, Justin. I'll
never give you back. Never. I love both of you very much." I looked directly into Jeremy's eyes. "I'm sorry I called you a bad name, Jeremy."
"I didn't know what it is," he said.
"It was a mean thing to say and I shouldn't have said it. But I promise you, I'll never call you that again."
"What does it mean, Daddy?" Jeremy persisted.
I knew I had to give him an answer. "It's a mean way of saying you're small."
"But I
am small, Daddy," he replied. "I'm just a little boy. I'm ‘posed to be small."
"Yes, you are," I smiled.
"We'll get bigger, Jeremy," Justin said encouragingly. "Daddy said we would."
"Yes, you will. Now, I really need a hug from both of you."
They hugged me, and there was no hesitation in Jeremy this time. He grabbed me in his arms and hugged me as hard as his little arms would allow. I wrapped one arm around each of my sons and hugged them back as I kissed their hair.
"I love you," I told them. "Don't ever forget that I'll never stop loving you."
We held each other for a very long minute before I finally released them. They sat back and looked at me.
"Do you feel better now?" The twins nodded their heads and even smiled for me. "I feel better, too." I glanced at the clock beside my bed. It was almost nine o'clock. "Now, it's way past your bedtime. Are you ready to go say nitey-nite to Ouma and Oupa?"
Again they nodded, then grabbed me in another hug.
* * * * *
The three children were in bed and asleep. Brad was once again in our bedroom, studying. I sat with Mom and Dad on the sofa in the livingroom. They were watching some home redecoration programme on HGTV, which seemed to be their favourite station. I wasn't really paying attention. The blondish, Scottish guy with his dark-haired friend grates on my nerves. I have no idea how the dark-haird guy can stand to be in the same room as blondie, let alone share his bed. I turned myself off to them when they began talking about removing the ‘skid mark wallpaper' in someone's poorly-decorated kitchen.
I sat there sprawled out with my legs crossed at the ankles and propped up on the coffee table. My head was propped against the back of the sofa. I had been thinking. I hadn't realized I fell asleep until Mom shook me awake.
"Teddy," she said, "go to bed, Dear."
"I'm not sleepy," I said as I straightened up and reached for my coffee mug. The coffee was cold.
"You were snoring, Son," Dad said. "We could not even hear Justin and Colin talking."
"I don't want to go to bed," I objected. "It isn't even ten o'clock yet."
"Go to bed," Mom repeated.
I was tired - both physically and mentally. I was just too stubborn to admit it. Besides, I was too old to have my parents tell me it was past my bedtime. But I went anyway after giving both of them big hugs and kisses and many, many thanks for their help that afternoon. I peeked in on the twins and Lindsay one last time before making my way to my bedroom. Brad took a short break from studying to help me undress. I let him.
"Are you okay, Pops?" he asked as he put his forearms on my shoulders and cupped my neck in his hands..
"I'm just tired, that's all," I said.
"Do you want to talk?"
"No," I replied. "Maybe later on this week, but not right now. I'll just lie down and think for awhile and wait for you to come to bed."
"You sure?"
I smiled at him. "Yes, Brad, I'm sure."
Brad hugged me hard, our bodies separated only by the clothes he was wearing. I could feel him pressing against me, and his scent filled my nostrils. It felt good to be hugged by him, of course, but I was oddly unaffected by it, and that surprised me. I passed it off as being the yet another result of the stress of the day. Brad sensed it.
He leaned back from me and his eyes squinted as he stared into mine. "Are you sure you're okay, Ted?"
"I'm tired, Brad. My brain is almost fried. I just need some rest, that's all."
He gave me a smile of understanding, but it wasn't big enough to show me his chipped tooth. "Yeah," he said, "I guess it's been quite a day for you. Do you want me to get you anything?"
"No, thanks. I'm fine."
"Well, you park yourself in bed. I'll only be another hour or so." He paused for a moment, scanning my eyes. "You're sure you're okay?"
"I'll be fine, Brad. Don't worry about me."
"It's my
job to worry about you," he replied. "
You don't do it."
I actually chuckled and I gave him a kiss for it. "Go finish your studying. I'll wait for you in bed."
"Okay," he said. "I'll be right back. I have to take a leak first." He gave me another kiss, then pulled down the sheets.
I climbed into bed and pulled the sheets over me. "Thanks, Tiger," I said as I settled back into the soft, welcoming pillows.
"You're welcome, Pops." He leaned down and gave me another kiss. "I'll be right back."
I blinked my eyes and nodded in acknowledgment and smiled up at him.
Brad turned and left the room on his way to the bathroom. I was asleep before he came back into the room.
To Be Continued
](/images/smilies/bang.gif "Brick wall ](*,)")
How easy is it for us "adults" to forget how vulnerable they are, and yell at them and scare them? The upside is that Ted genuinely does love them, as do those around him.
Thanks mate! 
