Bonnie Murdock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
is_the_motion) wrote2017-07-27 09:12 pm
is_the_motion) wrote2017-07-27 09:12 pm
(no subject)
Bonnie has the sense to only meet Turtle's new father-in-law-to-be with Alvin waiting in his truck outside the cafe.
She has to admit, the note he sent offering to pay Turtle's back child support made her curious. Even more so than the threatening, poorly-written letters, that have been pushed through her door trying to pressure her to sign the divorce papers.
As it turns out, Mr Hart - Turtle's fiancee's father - looks older than she remembered from the last parent-teacher conference. She wonders if his younger son, Robert, is the one writing the other notes, since they seem to be using the same batch of envelopes. Also Bonnie is pretty sure Robert graffiti-ed her door last year when she got pregnant.
But when she sees his tired eyes, she doesn't demand information on that right away. Still, although he looks tired out, he at least doesn't look completely dishevelled like Turtle does these days. He wears an old suit, which looks like it was once expensive, a long time ago, and a tie even though it's the weekend.
"Mr Hart?"
The man gets up, and shakes her hand.
"Mrs Murdock, thank you so much for seeing me." He says, in a soft voice. He orders them both a coffee.
"Look, yer offer is very generous." Bonnie says, coming straight to the point. "To pay Turtle's back child support. But the reason I haven't signed the papers ain't out of spite, it's because I don't think he will afford the payments he's proposed."
Mr Hart sighs.
"Ma'am, I appreciate that. That's why I've taken matters into my own hands. I've not just written the cheque fer you, I've also paid off Wes's alimony debt to his first wife, and I've sent him and Celia to alcohol rehab to get themselves clean before the baby comes. So please, take it. It's much easier if Wes just works on paying back one person than having all those folks who might break his legs."
Bonnie is taken aback. "Then you must be a great deal more wealthy than I realised."
Mr Hart smiles sadly. "No. I've sold my property, the one my late wife and I lived in fer forty years. Bought a couple trailers, one fer me to live in, the other fer Wes and Celia and the baby."
Bonnie stares at him.
"That was very noble." she says. "You do realise I would never have seen him in jail."
"You wouldn't, but his first wife would." Mr Hart says. "I can't have my grandchild growing up in such chaos. It's been a price. My son isn't talking to me any more. He demanded the same money, but I have nothing else to give him. He's moving out as soon as he graduates at the end of the week, and then I'll be packing up my property to move to the trailer."
Bonnie bites her lip. She's half inclined to give him the cheque back, now. But it won't get him his property back.
"Sir, I do hope you understand, Turtle... Wes, I mean, he won't never be able to pay you back. If he don't get better, he won't live long enough to, fer a start. He's got alcoholic liver disease, it was stable, but with him drinkin' again..."
"Well, I can't take it with me." Mr Hart says. "At least if he gets clean he'll get a fighting chance of seeing his child grow up. And I daresay a trailer will be easier to clean and manage. Please, take the cheque. I'll be all right."
Bonnie sips her coffee.
"When did yer wife pass?" she asks, gently.
"Sixteen years back." Mr Hart says. "When Robert was just a baby. Celia took it very badly." He looks sorrowful. "I did the best that I could, but Celia started drinking at a very young age, and it's been a struggle getting Robert to stay in school. I don't think I did a very good job."
"I doubt it was yer fault. I was much the same after my mom got sick." Bonnie admits. "She died when I was just a girl too. Though I was a little older than Celia."
For the first time, she finds herself feeling sorry for Celia. Even when she taught the girl, she had no idea.
"Are you gonna be okay?" She asks.
"I'll make the trailer my own. I'm sure I'll be just fine." Mr Hart says. "Please, accept the cheque. Wes and Celia will live in the trailer owned by me when they come out of rehab. I think if they stop drinkin' and don't have to pay rent or other debts, he should be able to keep up with his support. They were already evicted from their last apartment anyhow."
"Yer a good man, Mr Hart." Bonnie says. "I'll get the papers signed."
"Please, call me Gerry." Mr Hart says. He hands her a business card. "This is my new telephone number at the trailer. In case he lapses again."
"Bonnie, then." Bonnie thanks him. They look one another in the eye for the moment, bound together by one man's mess. Then Bonnie remembers the other notes.
"You got any idea who's sendin' me threatenin' letters?" she asks. "I know it ain't Turtle, he knows how to spell 'whore'."
Gerry looks at the letters.
"It... it could be my son, or one of my nephews." he says, sorrowfully. "The whole family have been pretty upset. I will speak to them. I don't think they will truly hurt you, if so, but call me right away if they give you any trouble."
She thanks him again, appreciating his honesty, and gets up to leave. As she goes down the street to Alvin's truck, she suddenly senses something is wrong.
She quickens her pace. Alvin is on the ground, behind the truck, clutching his middle.
"Alvin! What happened, are you all right?"
"I'm... I'm okay... they might still be here." Alvin wheezes, clearly winded.
Bonnie looks around slightly too late; two young men in balaclavas have grabbed her and slammed her against the truck. She kicks and lashes out at both of them, taking them by surprise, and they scuffle for a moment.
"Sign the papers, you damn whore!" one of them snarls.
"I'm already signin' them!" Bonnie gasps, kicking one of them in the groin. "And if either of you assholes turn out to be students at Rydell I will personally make sure you don't get yer diplomas."
She grabs for a balaclava, and gets hit in the jaw.
Just as she's about to scramble up and finish this off with a quick punch to the diaphragm on each side, she sees Gerry rush in, attempting to haul off the youngsters, which only results in him getting shoved to the floor as well. But with three against two, one of whom, Bonnie suspects, they are related to, the balaclava pair decide to leg it.
"You all right?" Bonnie asks Gerry, wiping blood off her lip and moving straight over to Alvin.
"I think so, are you?" Gerry asks.
"Nothin' that cain't be healed. I woulda' won, you know, you'd have been better callin' the cops." Bonnie says. "But thank you."
She turns her attention to Alvin, who is still on his hands and knees.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Alvin asks her. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't get up, I made a lousy bodyguard."
"Hush you, yer the one that's hurt." Bonnie checks him over carefully. Just winded, nothing broken.
Gerry insists on going with them both to make a police report. Given it could have been his son and nephew wearing the balaclavas, Bonnie isn't quite sure what to make of that. But then again, she knows if any of her boys beat up a woman and a preacher, she'd be he first to drag them by the ear to the cops herself.
"He likes you." Alvin says, when they're finally alone together in his truck again.
"Who?" Bonnie asks.
"Gerry." Alvin says.
"Oh Good Lord." Bonnie says. "Flatterin' as that may be, I cain't think of anythin' that would wind up more complicated than bangin' my ex-husband's father-in-law."
"You could just have dinner with him, Aunt Bonnie." Alvin says, reprovingly.
She has to admit, the note he sent offering to pay Turtle's back child support made her curious. Even more so than the threatening, poorly-written letters, that have been pushed through her door trying to pressure her to sign the divorce papers.
As it turns out, Mr Hart - Turtle's fiancee's father - looks older than she remembered from the last parent-teacher conference. She wonders if his younger son, Robert, is the one writing the other notes, since they seem to be using the same batch of envelopes. Also Bonnie is pretty sure Robert graffiti-ed her door last year when she got pregnant.
But when she sees his tired eyes, she doesn't demand information on that right away. Still, although he looks tired out, he at least doesn't look completely dishevelled like Turtle does these days. He wears an old suit, which looks like it was once expensive, a long time ago, and a tie even though it's the weekend.
"Mr Hart?"
The man gets up, and shakes her hand.
"Mrs Murdock, thank you so much for seeing me." He says, in a soft voice. He orders them both a coffee.
"Look, yer offer is very generous." Bonnie says, coming straight to the point. "To pay Turtle's back child support. But the reason I haven't signed the papers ain't out of spite, it's because I don't think he will afford the payments he's proposed."
Mr Hart sighs.
"Ma'am, I appreciate that. That's why I've taken matters into my own hands. I've not just written the cheque fer you, I've also paid off Wes's alimony debt to his first wife, and I've sent him and Celia to alcohol rehab to get themselves clean before the baby comes. So please, take it. It's much easier if Wes just works on paying back one person than having all those folks who might break his legs."
Bonnie is taken aback. "Then you must be a great deal more wealthy than I realised."
Mr Hart smiles sadly. "No. I've sold my property, the one my late wife and I lived in fer forty years. Bought a couple trailers, one fer me to live in, the other fer Wes and Celia and the baby."
Bonnie stares at him.
"That was very noble." she says. "You do realise I would never have seen him in jail."
"You wouldn't, but his first wife would." Mr Hart says. "I can't have my grandchild growing up in such chaos. It's been a price. My son isn't talking to me any more. He demanded the same money, but I have nothing else to give him. He's moving out as soon as he graduates at the end of the week, and then I'll be packing up my property to move to the trailer."
Bonnie bites her lip. She's half inclined to give him the cheque back, now. But it won't get him his property back.
"Sir, I do hope you understand, Turtle... Wes, I mean, he won't never be able to pay you back. If he don't get better, he won't live long enough to, fer a start. He's got alcoholic liver disease, it was stable, but with him drinkin' again..."
"Well, I can't take it with me." Mr Hart says. "At least if he gets clean he'll get a fighting chance of seeing his child grow up. And I daresay a trailer will be easier to clean and manage. Please, take the cheque. I'll be all right."
Bonnie sips her coffee.
"When did yer wife pass?" she asks, gently.
"Sixteen years back." Mr Hart says. "When Robert was just a baby. Celia took it very badly." He looks sorrowful. "I did the best that I could, but Celia started drinking at a very young age, and it's been a struggle getting Robert to stay in school. I don't think I did a very good job."
"I doubt it was yer fault. I was much the same after my mom got sick." Bonnie admits. "She died when I was just a girl too. Though I was a little older than Celia."
For the first time, she finds herself feeling sorry for Celia. Even when she taught the girl, she had no idea.
"Are you gonna be okay?" She asks.
"I'll make the trailer my own. I'm sure I'll be just fine." Mr Hart says. "Please, accept the cheque. Wes and Celia will live in the trailer owned by me when they come out of rehab. I think if they stop drinkin' and don't have to pay rent or other debts, he should be able to keep up with his support. They were already evicted from their last apartment anyhow."
"Yer a good man, Mr Hart." Bonnie says. "I'll get the papers signed."
"Please, call me Gerry." Mr Hart says. He hands her a business card. "This is my new telephone number at the trailer. In case he lapses again."
"Bonnie, then." Bonnie thanks him. They look one another in the eye for the moment, bound together by one man's mess. Then Bonnie remembers the other notes.
"You got any idea who's sendin' me threatenin' letters?" she asks. "I know it ain't Turtle, he knows how to spell 'whore'."
Gerry looks at the letters.
"It... it could be my son, or one of my nephews." he says, sorrowfully. "The whole family have been pretty upset. I will speak to them. I don't think they will truly hurt you, if so, but call me right away if they give you any trouble."
She thanks him again, appreciating his honesty, and gets up to leave. As she goes down the street to Alvin's truck, she suddenly senses something is wrong.
She quickens her pace. Alvin is on the ground, behind the truck, clutching his middle.
"Alvin! What happened, are you all right?"
"I'm... I'm okay... they might still be here." Alvin wheezes, clearly winded.
Bonnie looks around slightly too late; two young men in balaclavas have grabbed her and slammed her against the truck. She kicks and lashes out at both of them, taking them by surprise, and they scuffle for a moment.
"Sign the papers, you damn whore!" one of them snarls.
"I'm already signin' them!" Bonnie gasps, kicking one of them in the groin. "And if either of you assholes turn out to be students at Rydell I will personally make sure you don't get yer diplomas."
She grabs for a balaclava, and gets hit in the jaw.
Just as she's about to scramble up and finish this off with a quick punch to the diaphragm on each side, she sees Gerry rush in, attempting to haul off the youngsters, which only results in him getting shoved to the floor as well. But with three against two, one of whom, Bonnie suspects, they are related to, the balaclava pair decide to leg it.
"You all right?" Bonnie asks Gerry, wiping blood off her lip and moving straight over to Alvin.
"I think so, are you?" Gerry asks.
"Nothin' that cain't be healed. I woulda' won, you know, you'd have been better callin' the cops." Bonnie says. "But thank you."
She turns her attention to Alvin, who is still on his hands and knees.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Alvin asks her. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't get up, I made a lousy bodyguard."
"Hush you, yer the one that's hurt." Bonnie checks him over carefully. Just winded, nothing broken.
Gerry insists on going with them both to make a police report. Given it could have been his son and nephew wearing the balaclavas, Bonnie isn't quite sure what to make of that. But then again, she knows if any of her boys beat up a woman and a preacher, she'd be he first to drag them by the ear to the cops herself.
"He likes you." Alvin says, when they're finally alone together in his truck again.
"Who?" Bonnie asks.
"Gerry." Alvin says.
"Oh Good Lord." Bonnie says. "Flatterin' as that may be, I cain't think of anythin' that would wind up more complicated than bangin' my ex-husband's father-in-law."
"You could just have dinner with him, Aunt Bonnie." Alvin says, reprovingly.