AUTHOR'S NOTE: In this short series, Tyler & Trevor explore what make them tick as they discover their "grandfathers" and begin to see their father, "Todd Manning" in a whole new light. The story is rich in the Manning Teens and if you haven't been exposed to them yet, I suggest catching up on their history with "Gifts" "For Her Love" & "His Lonely Heart." All The Best, Dim!
Sins of the Grandfather
Victoria Lord Carpenter was filled with curiosity as her young nephew walked through the door that bright early afternoon. Viki had aged graciously and was active in running her paper, the Banner.
Viki was also very proud of her brother, Todd Manning, who was Tyler’s father. Todd had overcome severe hardship and adversity in his earlier days and was now a settle family man and a successful publisher. Todd’s children also appeared to be well adjusted despite the fact life had thrown them a few curve balls. Two of his children had hemophilia, a life threatening disease in which their blood lacked the necessary enzymes to clot and stop the bleeding.
Tyler took a seat at the island in Viki’s kitchen and she sat down across from him. The island was relatively uncluttered and only Viki’s briefcase was resting on it. “Can I get you a drink Tyler?” she politely asked.
“Nah,” he said, “I mean, no thank you Aunt Viki.”
“I see you’ve been suspended again,” pointed out Viki.
“Did my parents call?” asked Tyler, “My Mom?”
Viki flashed him a sly grin, “Actually your father called me. Last night.”
“He did?” asked Tyler nervously, “What did he say?”
Viki weighed her words carefully before speaking, “Your father loves you very much Tyler. He loves all of you and he’s very concerned about you. This is your third suspension from school this year. He says your temper gets the best of you and it’s like you can’t control it.”
“Oh.”
“Is that the truth Tyler? Do you realize you’re a bit of a hothead?” asked Viki. Her tone wasn’t accusatory or belittling. Tyler found it refreshing.
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I want everything to be perfect,” he said quickly.
“It’s not a perfect world Tyler,” pointed out Viki.
He signed, “So I’m learning.”
“Both your parents want to help you Tyler. Especially your father. I know he’s tried hard to be a strong loving father to you and all and give you what he didn’t have when he was your age,” said Viki.
Tyler sighed as he admitted, “Sometimes I get so mad ‘cos things don’t go the way I want ‘em too. Was it that way for Dad too? Before he changed?”
“Yes,” said Viki, “But your father knew violence all of his childhood. You haven’t.” “Is it in the genes Aunt Viki?” asked Tyler abruptly.
“The anger? The temper? The violence?”
“Yes.”
Viki drew in a deep breath, well aware of the fact that in her younger years she’d been violent as well – killing her own father.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Why did dad have an adopted father who was mean to him?” asked Tyler.
Tough questions…
“I think if Victor had been aware of the abuse he would have done something about it.”
“What?”
“Something. After all, your Aunt Tina didn’t grow up abused,” pointed out Viki.
“Tell me about my grandfather. Why did he give Dad away in the first place? And was he mean?” asked Tyler finally.
“Why?”
“To help me understand,” he said.
“But only you Tyler can make an effort to get your temper under control,” pointed out Viki.
“But I gotta’ understand why I’m like this first!” he shot back.
Viki bought her fist to her lips, weighing her thoughts.
“Tyler, you may not be able to handle the ugliness of it,” said Viki honestly.
“I gotta’ do something!”
“Your father’s father, his biological father, Victor Lord was a cold, mean, unfeeling man. He was heartless. Ruthless in business and a sexual predator. He loved power. He loved being in control and he abused every possession bestowed him. He took things for granted. What he admired he had to posses at any cost,” said Viki purposely trying to paint a discouraging picture for Tyler.
Tyler remained silent and stood up. Even for his age he looked older and mature. He must have been just under six foot surmised Viki.
“I need more,” he simply said.
At that moment Viki saw how much Tyler was like his father. He wouldn’t be sated until then.
“Go to the attic. His things are there. His diaries. His notebooks. The possessions he valued the most. Why don’t you go there and put yourself into his shoes. See the world through his eyes,” said Viki quietly.
“Thank you Aunt Viki,” and with that Tyler went bounding out of the room.
Viki sighed.
************************
An hour or tow had passed. Viki thinking it best she stay at the house while Tyler explored her attic sat down at the kitchen table and worked on her laptop, hoping that whatever Tyler found would answer his questions and he wouldn’t freak out.
Knock. Knock.
The knocking at the door snapped her out of her thoughts. Looking up, Trevor Manning, was standing there. She motioned for him to come in and he did so.
“School out?” asked Viki pushing the laptop away to give her nephew her full attention.
“Yes. Mom said Tyler was over here and I thought I’d come over and check on him,” said Trevor full of confidence, remembering his promise to his father to be there for his brother now.
“He’s upstairs in the attic,” said Viki calmly.
“Do you mind if I go up?” asked Trevor.
Viki smiled, “No. Go ahead.”
Trevor acknowledged her smile and went to find his brother.
************************
It’s true what they say. War is hell. The stuff I’ve seen would make the boys I grew up cower behind their mother’s skirts.
We fought our way passed Verdun. German bastards flung everything they had at us. I got shot in the arm and as the platoon advanced they left me behind for the medics. I was pissed. The bullet had grazed my left arm, my non-firing arm! I sat there for a bit, tired, dirty, my arm heavily bandaged, the bleeding stopped but it still hurt. I was weak.
I could hear the gunfire as the platoon advanced. I was an officer for God’s safe! I needed to be with them instead of being babied – waiting for a damn medic! I got up and stumbled forward. Damn things. I ached like a bastard and as I passed over those dead German krauts I made sure they were dead by shooting them again with my gun. I saw a village in the distance and walked toward it, shooting the dead pathetic German bodies in front of me.
****************
Tyler was fascinated by this particular dust journal of Victor Lord. Victor was in his early 20’s and had fought in World War II. He was an infantry platoon lieutenant and he was one of the many soldiers dropped on the beaches of Normandy. It was an earlier journal. Tucked in the front cover of the journal was a young man, dressed in the military fatigues of the time and Tyler assumed it was his grandfather. The man in the photo had a strange resemblance to his father. Tyler contained to lean back against the wall of the attic near the window, his legs at a 45-degree angle. H e was going to start reading again when the door opened.
“Ty? You up here?” came Trevor’s voice.
“Trev? That you? What are you doing here?” he said putting the book down.
“Mom said you came here,” said Trevor standing above his seated brother and for the first time Trevor saw how vulnerable his younger brother could be.
“Mom told you to check up on me, didn’t she?” questioned Tyler, “She’s worried about me.”
“No. Mom just told me where you where,” Trevor answered.
“Oh,” said Tyler pausing, “So why are you here?”
Trevor knelt down next to his brother, “I just want to make sure you’re doing all right.”
Tyler looked into his brother’s hazel eyes, eyes so expressive and different form his own and recognized Trevor’s concern was sincere. For once the roles were reversed. Trevor was watching out for Tyler and Tyler had to admit he liked it.
“What are you reading?” asked Trevor pointing to the journal.
Tyler gave Trevor the picture, “It’s Victor Lord, Dad’s father. He found in World War II. It’s his war journal.”
“Oh,” said Trevor studying the picture, “It does look like Dad.”
“Want me to read out loud?” asked Tyler.
“Sure,” said Trevor sitting down next to his brother.
Tyler read out loud, picking up where he left off.
**********************
When I got to the gutted out village there weren’t to many people and those who littered the streets wore tattered clothing and eyed me. They didn’t know what to make of me, a stumbling American soldier barely able to keep his wits about him.
I sat down at the fountain in the village square when finally a woman approached me. She looked clean but her garments were dirty. She spoke French. But I understood enough. She was a nurse. She led me to a makeshift hospital and attended to my wound. I was there for a while. The wound I sustained had gotten infected and I began running a high fever.
She wasn’t bad looking. I dreamed about her. I felt her attending to me in my fever. I could smell her scent. Her damp, musky perfume and I could feel myself wanting her. It had been so long since I was with a woman. My cock grew heard. I lusted for her.
Tyler paused and looked at Trevor.
“He used that word so casually,” said Tyler.
“What?”
“Cock.”
“He’s just being crude,” said Trevor.
Tyler said nothing but he never thought of his manhood like how his grandfather described his – like a tool or an instrument. He drew in a breath and continued reading.
It was late. We were in a house and there were two others she was attending to in the living room. I stumbled up, exploring the house – finding the kitchen. There was a bottle of brandy on the table. I took my arm out of the makeshift sling. It was still weak but I raised the bottle to my lips taking a gut warming drink.
She found me there. No words were spoken. They didn’t have to be. She was as curious about me as I was about her. I motioned for her to come to me and I kissed her. She wanted it. She wanted me. She responded to my kisses, my caresses. I tore at her clothes, desperate to posses her. She eagerly wanted me. My cock. My sex. That’s what all girls want. A man with a big cock who knows how to use it. A powerful man. A man with money.
She was on her knees before me suckling me. Making me hard, going back and forth. I felt like I was flying as my hands guided her mouth. When I was close I shoved her away, pulled down my pants and pushed her against the window of the kitchen finally taking her – fucking her, holding my hands over her lips so she wouldn’t cry out. When we were done, I went back to my bed and went to sleep. The next morning, I got up, collected my things and left.
Tyler noticed his hands were shaking as he put the journal down. Trevor could tell his brother was upset. And certainly the language he used was crude. Just then Trevor was glad for his father. His tact. Tyler’s troubled eyes found Trevor’s.
“You want to talk about it?” asked Trevor.
“Yeah,” answered Tyler.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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