WHEN THE MONSTER IS YOU

 

The formidable Eleanor Roosevelt clashes with the officer to whom she feels superior, Major Richard Blaine.

WHEN THE MONSTER IS YOU

“Stand up for what is right regardless of who is committing the wrong, even if it means you are standing alone.

All through the ages, one lone voice of courage was the hinge which opened the door to a brighter path that never would have been walked had it not spoken up.”

 - Richard Blaine

 

I turned to face the indomitable Eleanor Roosevelt.

As sometimes happened with my quirky mind, I saw the image of her in a bathing suit (modest, of course) diving into her own reflection in the pool of public acclaim, becoming “sealed” in that reflection of adoration, rising from the pool, wearing that “seal” ever after.

Louise murmured, “Major, you suddenly look so sad.”

“Louise, be quiet,” snapped Eleanor.

Curtis gulped, “Now, Major, you look mad.”

She turned to me, and again my mind bled the image of a disapproving Queen Victoria over her.

 “You, sir, are covered in grime and dirt. How dare you bring it here to an invalid like my husband?”

I gave her my best wolf smile, telling what little was left of my better self that murdering the First Lady in front of the President was probably poor form.

“I just came from within the cliffs bordering Omaha Beach. Alas, there were no showers available.”

She waved a dismissive hand.

”Oh, I see that Spartan Helmet, Major Blaine. I, unlike my mystery loving husband, do not believe for an instant all the lurid tales spun of you in that doctored dossier.”

I winked at Curtis, gesturing to first, Eleanor, then to the Major General, and said, 

“See? I now have my own Greek Chorus.”

The President tried and failed to hide his grin.

She wheeled on him. “Of course, you approve of his insubordination.”

Curtis started to speak, but she cut him off. “Buzzie, you are here to be seen AND not heard.”

I said low in a tone that suddenly scared even me, for I knew of what I was capable when I fully lost my temper.

“He prefers to be called ‘Curtis’ now that he is a Spartan.”

Louise tried to defuse what obviously she saw in my eyes. “Eleanor, the young boy has the right to choose ….”

Eleanor snapped, “And you, my dear, are here at my deference ever since that unforgivable broach of etiquette on your part.”

I lost my temper.

 “Of setting the damned table when she was supposed to know you wanted to be in charge?”

Eleanor stormed right up to me, her nose arching up as if to reach mine. “You, sir, do not take that tone to me or use such coarse ….”

A huge roar of thunder rumbled loud so close overhead it sounded as if it were inside the White House. But I’ll give the First Lady this: she had sand.

“Oh, I know what General Eisenhower calls you: Spawn of Satan.”

I shook my head. “No, ma’am, I play for the Other Team.”

Her face became a living smirk. “Then, I have nothing to fear, do I?”

A blast of lightning struck so close, the mahogany floor shuddered beneath my boots, and I smiled with all the wolf exposed.

“But I never said I played by the rules.”

Sentient overstepped as usual as she took possession of my left hand, sweeping it up and over in an intricate swirl.

Eleanor backed up a step.

The ladies squeaked; Curtis yelped; and the men swore.

A misty image billowed and filled the center of the room. I saw it out of the corner of my left eye. I did not turn to view it full on.

I had lived it once.

I needed no encore presentation of the nightmare. I didn’t need it when asleep, but then, I had no control of what I saw.

I still felt the iron fingers of the four boys holding me over Headmaster Stern’s desk. Still felt the stinging agony of the bamboo cane as it splintered across my back over and over and over and over and over.

“Scream, damn you, Blaine! Scream!”

Louise whimpered, “Oh make it stop, Major. Make it stop.”

Missy husked, “He is not doing it. Are you, Major?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the blood begin to splatter and fly through the air.

“Scream, damn you!”

Dorothy gulped wetly, “I-I think I’m going to be sick.”

Curtis ran up to me and tugged on my left arm. “Please. Major. Make it go away.”

I flicked tears filled eyes to his own. “I’m not doing it, son. But for you, I will ask Sentient.”

No sooner had I said that than the image flickered away to slither and crawl into the shadows to eagerly wait for my nightmares later that night.

I blinked back the tears. I don’t know who I spoke to just then. “I don’t intimidate worth a damn. I never screamed.”

I turned to Eleanor.

“First Lady, these friends of your husband gather here nightly to try and give him a half hour of laughter so as to strengthen what hold on his sanity he has left.”

I drew in a deep breath.

“You disapprove of the drinking and the slurred laughter because of your family’s struggle with alcoholism.”

I sighed with old hurts, dead dreams, lost love.

 “Your husband has more on him than any one man should have to bear.”

My eyes flicked to where that nightmare image lived for no one but myself.

“But, ma’am, you know this life doesn’t care a whit for should’s. They just squat on our shoulders like Sinbad’s Old Man of the Sea, refusing to let us go our own way … until we throw them off.”

I walked slowly up to her as she edged to the back of the door and could go no further.

“You beg off these nights, saying you have too many important things to do to attend.”

I shivered with coiled muscles wanting to do things I refused to let them.

“So … ma’am … ma’am … please … please find those other things to do. Now. Please.”

Eleanor Roosevelt left without another word.

"The truth is, we all face hardships of some kind, and you never know the struggles a person is going through. Behind every smile, there's a story of a personal struggle." 

- Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

"Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered, and the courage with which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds."

- Helen Keller