THE BOLAN CHRONICLES: Reading #41

41. Approximate Minutes Reading (AMR): 6

Introduction to Characters

THE BOLAN CHRONICLES

Chapter 3
A Real Live Policeman

**The Summer Descent**

June, 1985

While Kindergarten turned out to be a mostly delightful experience for Dean, over the course of Dean’s first year of school, Jake had gradually become more obsessed with control. At first it was small things, like demands that Dean clean around his plate before he left the table. By the end of Dean’s first school year, Jake’s demands had increased. He required that Dean refer to him as “sir” when answering a question. He expected Dean to make his own bed every morning and without as much as a wrinkle. And ‘Dad’ was now replaced with ‘Father.’

Donna was bothered by the change over the past year and had voiced her concern, but Jake would not hear it. “I won’t raise a pussy for a son, Donna. He’s going to learn the kinds of lessons that so many of the dumb fuckers out there on the street failed to learn all their miserably pitiful lives.” 

Donna was learning the value of keeping her mouth closed. So on the same night of his last day of kindergarten, when he had been asked for the third time to shine his father’s shoes correctly, Jake walked into little Dean’s room. Donna said nothing.

Dean sat at on the corner of his bed, hands folded, legs still, back straight, expressionless and waiting for his father. Dean’s light brown hair was in a crew cut. His unusually pale skin was an attribute given him by Donna and admired by all. His squinty green eyes were set fairly far apart. He appeared smart beyond his meager six years. The top of his ears flared out a bit. A pudgy nose and unusually small mouth were accented with a shallow cleft chin.  

When Jake walked into the room, Dean flinched a bit but kept his composure. Jake stood in front of his boy for a moment, then gently grabbed him at the chin and slowly pulled it up. “We remember what happens after three failed attempts, don’t we?”  

With his eyes locked on his father, Dean replied as any six-year-old might, “Uh-huh.”

“What?”

Dean quickly adjusted his reply, “Yes, sir.”

Jake’s leather shoes were sitting on the floor, just beside Dean’s hanging feet, along with a wooden box. It held a round flat can of black shoe polish, a cotton cloth applicator, and a natural horsehair shine brush.  

His father looked at the box as he released little Dean’s chin. He reached in and picked up the brush. “Everything a little boy needs to get a professional shine.” He looked back at his son, “Did you give them a professional shine this time, son?”

“Yes, Father.” 

“Are you sure, Dean? A professional shine?”

The response was quick and barely audible, “Yes.”

Though he was relatively certain that Dean had finally gotten it right, he took his time inspecting the leather shoes. He then looked at Dean and smiled. “You did it correctly this time, and I’m pleased. Now, go into the kitchen and tell your mother that you would like dinner, but first tell her that you’ve shined the shoes properly.” He paused then continued, “Do you understand?”

This time, with a bit more enthusiasm, Dean replied, “Yes, Father.” And he quickly walked to the kitchen to give his mother the good news. He’d made his two attempts at getting his father’s shoes perfectly shined, and after nearly an hour at it, he was tired and ready to eat. He reached the kitchen and found his mother standing at the sink.  “Mom, can I have some dinner now? Dad said I did his shoes right.”

Dean’s mom looked at her son then at her husband who was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Jake had responded to the demands of his work with daily regimented workouts and was now a somewhat physically intimidating figure. His short brown hair fully covered his head, a sharp widow’s peak pointing to a set of piercing, closely-set eyes. 

Donna noticed Jake’s look of displeasure, his thick, brown eyebrows furrowed in disapproval. “What is it?” she asked shyly.  

“Well, Dean.”  Dean looked at his father. “I believe that I told you to first tell your mother that your shoes were shined properly, then to ask her for dinner. You’ve done it backwards. Do you understand?”

“I…I don’t..”  He glanced at his mother in desperation. 

Jake looked at his wife and said, “Don’t give in to him, Donna. He’ll learn how to follow directions in due time, I’m sure.” He looked back at Dean, and with an edge of sarcasm, asked, “Would you like to try it again?”

Dean looked at his mom, and this time directed his words appropriately and in the right order. He then looked back at his father and timidly asked, “Is that the right way?”  

Jake smiled, “Yes, Dean. That’s right. I’m glad that you got it right the second time. It seems that you’re better at following verbal orders than you are at shining shoes. That took you three times.” Dean looked at his mom questionably. 

Jake continued, “Now, get your dinner, eat it, and then go to bed. That’s three things--Can you follow that?”

Dean nodded, “Yes, Father.” He walked to the kitchen counter, served himself, and headed toward the dining room table.

By now, Donna had turned away and was nervously washing the dishes. Jake walked over to his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. As he slipped one hand down the back of her pants and onto her buttocks, he whispered, “I’m likin’ that tight pair of jeans, woman.” Donna turned slightly and forced a grin. Then Jake squeezed tightly, and with the same whisper asked, “Did you wear those all day?”  

She nodded.  

“Did you get out today?” 

Donna looked over to make sure Dean was out of the kitchen then replied quietly, “Just to pick Dean up at school.”  

“Really?” Jake replied. “And how far out of the car did you have to go in these sexy tight jeans?”

Before his wife had a chance to reply, Jake pulled his hand from her pants and continued, “What I’m really wanting to know, Donna, is how many men saw you in these. That’s what I’m really wanting to know. How many men saw that ass and wanted what’s mine? Huh?”

Donna turned and faced her husband, “I just walked into the school office and asked for Dean, that’s all. The only person in the office was the one secretary, Miss Beth. That’s all.”

Jake backed away. “Are you a whore?”

Donna pleaded quietly, “Please, Jake.”

Jake walked to the hallway door and turned around to face his wife, “I’ll see you in our room in two minutes, whore.”

“Honey, please…” But before Donna could finish her sentence, Jake had reached the room and had slammed the door behind him.

Donna looked at Dean. He had dragged a dining room chair to a corner of the room and was curled up underneath it. “What are you doing, Dean?”

“I’m just sitting here.” He said.

“Do you want to go to your room now?”

He looked across the room, and not seeing his father, answered,  “Yes. I want to go to bed.”

“Okay, Honey. Did you like your dinner?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, Honey. You can go to bed now. Give Mom a big hug and a kiss.”

As she was about to turn off the dining room light, she looked at the table and noticed Dean’s plate--full of food. She wondered if it might be wise to go to Dean’s room and send him back out to eat. But she feared her husband’s almost certain fit of anger from the bedroom. Instead, she grabbed Dean’s plate and fork and took it to his room. “Honey, I want you to eat some of this, okay? I don’t want you going to bed hungry.”

Dean threw the covers off and sat up. He grabbed the plate and began shoveling the mashed potatoes into his mouth. 

“Are they good?” His mom asked.

Dean smiled, but he kept eating.

“Eat some of that meat, Honey.”

Dean grabbed a chicken leg and devoured it in no time. Then he guzzled his milk, handed his mom his plate and glass and pulled the covers back over himself. He turned over and looked into his mom’s eyes.  

Donna smiled pitifully. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.  “Goodnight, sweetie. I love you. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Is Daddy gonna get mean tonight?”

Donna did her best to maintain her composure then thought for a moment, “I don’t know, Honey. I hope not. But if he does, just put your fingers in your ears, like I taught you, and start humming, and you won’t have to hear it. Okay?”

A slight grin formed on Dean’s face. When he heard his father call from their room, he turned to his side and plugged his ears. His mom leaned forward and gave him another kiss then walked out, closing the door behind her.