07/22/98
Sibling Rivalry

Okay, let me break it down one time for you.

My friend James has some family problems. His dad is in the hospital at the moment, but that's not the big problem - dad is feeling better and will be home soon.

The problem is his sister.

James started dating Jen (another good friend of mine) back in December or so, and James moved into his own apartment in March. In my apartment building. Which is cool. Since then, though, relations between James and his sister Marilyn have devolved to shreiking aggression and pure, seething hatred.

I didn't know about the hatred thing 'til last night.

You see, Marilyn found three kittens in a dumpster last year. She bought them home and James' family kind of adopted them. However, since James left the house the cats have spent most of their time locked in a flea-ridden bedroom.

James and Jen liberated one of the cats Saturday - James has already had it fixed and everything. I don't know about the bathroom thing, but that is one happy cat in James' apartment now.

So Marilyn tells James (through their dad, in the hospital) that she's going to put all of James' stuff out on the lawn if he doesn't either: (a) bring the cat back, or (b) come and get the other cats. I'm not sure which - I've heard both.

Mind you I don't believe this fight is about cats - that's just what finally set it off. I think Marilyn's jealous: James has moved out and started putting a normal life together - something Marilyn has failed to do on several occasions. Plus she's stuck at home while James is out doing his thing...it just finally got to her.

And I think she may be crazy.

For what it's worth, James thinks she's a repressed lesbian, Jen thinks she's on the dope and Sonya thinks she's crazy and on the dope.

Anyway, James decides to go get his shit (books, clothes, his bike...stuff he hasn't needed since he moved but that he'd still like to have) so me and him and Jen pile in the truck last night and head to West Memphis. We had some lovely Krystal's and then went to James' house. Marilyn wasn't home. We couldn't get in because Marilyn had changed the locks.

Not a good sign.

I started to realize just how ugly things might get when we saw Marilyn drive by the house...and keep going.

So we went in search of her. We didn't find her, but by the time we got back to the house she had gotten home.

As we were walking up to the front door I heard screams. Crazy screams. The kind you hear on the news when the PLO blows up a busload of Israeli kids or when the Protestants and Catholics in Belfast draw blood. Their mournful, sad screams...but they're also angry and dangerous as hell. I couldn't make out individual words, but I knew the voice was Marilyn. Dammit, I watched her grow up, and I'd seen the family fight before - I'd heard her yell, but this was new.

Hearing that kind of sound while standing in the front yard of a modest house in a working-class neighborhood on a summer night. It was an intensely surreal experience. Surreal is good in a Dali painting, but not in real life. I was ready to get back in the truck. James knocked on the door and his mom let him in.

And then it got ugly.

Y'all, it was awful, hearin' a brother and sister who once loved each other and play together say the shit to each other that they did...but to his credit James really couldn't help it. He was just defending himself against the horrible shit Marilyn was flinging at him. And to Jen.

At one point I stood in the hall and watched Marilyn for a minute or two. She's a pretty girl, really, but her face was just all screwed up with venom and bile and pure, undiluted hatred. For James, for Jen, for their mom...anybody in her path, I suppose.

Curiously, Marilyn didn't look at me or speak to me the whole time I was there. I know she saw me. Or maybe she didn't. I don't know.

After we'd filled the bed of the truck up I went outside to pick the fleas off my legs (I made the mistake of sitting on the bed next to the aforementioned cat-containing bathroom) and have a smoke. Jen joined me. Then James came out. Then we left.

It's amazing how ugly people can be. For no good reason, either. I've never seen anything like it in my life. I can't imagine anyone in my family doing anything like that.

Except my brother, maybe, back in his druggie days. Which I guess lends credence to the dope theory.

I'm going back over there after work to help James get the rest of his shit. Apparently the situation melted down even further in the night. I didn't think it could get worse.

God help us all.





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