The Man and the Myth: Part 8: When Hate Creates
by: Austine
Author's Note: If you like Sonny at all, you should probably skip this chapter. This one is dedicated to the PENO members - D-Day is here.******************************************************************************
Jax positioned himself in the doorway, watching Brenda sleep. When he was satisfied that she was breathing more easily, he managed to turn back to Keesha. "Maybe I should stay. What if - "
Keesha shook her head in denial of the idea. "I'm here, Jax. I'm not going anywhere. You can't always fix everything, at least not in one day. Tomorrow will be harder for her, I think."
"Tomorrow?" Jax echoed, frantically trying to remember if any important anniversaries were happening.
"She's going to Jay's funeral. She wants to be there for Grace."
"Can she deal with that?" Jax wondered.
Keesha's eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't doubt her, Jax. She doesn't need that from *you*."
"I'm not! I'm just concerned for her." Blue and brown eyes clashed in a momentary test of wills.
"I am, too." Keesha's gaze softened. "Why don't we sit down." She silently closed the door to Brenda's room. She gestured toward some remaining unpacked boxes in the living room. "I'm afraid that's the best I can do. The sofa and chairs won't be here until tomorrow."
They sat on adjacent boxes, each wondering who should be the first to speak. Finally, Keesha began. "Jax, if you love Brenda, it might be best for you to stay away."
"Forget it." The words were crisp and firm.
"I'm serious. She needs to learn that she can stand by herself. She's still so wound up about this Sonny thing - "
"What Sonny thing?" Jax asked suspiciously.
"You don't know?" Keesha sighed. "No, I guess not. It's not my place to tell you, though."
"Sorry, it doesn't work that way. You can't just drop a hint and not follow through."
"If Brenda wants you to know, she'll tell you. I'd tell the whole world."
"You call yourself her friend? Then act like one. Tell me what I can do to help her," Jax challenged.
"That's just it; you can't help. You can support and love her, but you can't deal with these emotions for her!" Keesha reached out and touched Jax's shoulder. "I did the same thing with AJ. I thought that if I loved him enough and gave him enough, that eventually that would truly be enough. I wanted to be the one to complete him; the one to give him peace. But *you* can't fight for someone else. That person has to want to get better."
"So Sonny's the addiction?"
"Not Sonny himself, no. Dependency in general."
"But if she falls - "
"Then she'll pick herself up. We all have to."
"But how can I stand back and watch? How can I just close my eyes and pretend she's not hurting?"
"No one's asking you to," Keesha said. "But you can't jump in. I know it's hard, but I think she's making a lot of progress. Right now, she's not sure about where she's going." She glanced sideways at Jax. "But I'm pretty sure you already know this."
"In my head, I do. My heart is something else."
"I know. But someday - "
"I can't pin my hopes on 'someday'." Keesha saw the anguish in Jax's eyes. "How did you deal with it?"
"One day, one hour, one minute. You're stronger than you think, Jax. You've been holding it together for a long time. Let Brenda have the chance to gain the same strength." A soft smile touched Keesha's lips.
"What's so funny?"
"I was just thinking that I couldn't imagine having this conversation with Sonny. Talk about a control freak. Thank God you're not him."
"I thank Him for that every day, too." The humor in the words didn't reach Jax's eyes. "I once told Brenda she was confusing pain with passion and love with obsession. At the time, all I could think of was how I was right and she was wrong. I *needed* to be right. Now, that doesn't seem as important."
"Nothing ever is once you're in love with someone." Keesha held up her hands. "Okay, we either have to stop this now or form our own support group."
"Sounds good to me. It's not like I can vent to anyone else."
"Well, you can talk to me. Also, for what it's worth, I'm glad you were here tonight. I know that contradicts everything I just said, but it's true."
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~The Morning After~
Brenda tried not to pay attention to the thinning greyness of the sky. In stark contrast from the day before, the morning was chilly and bleak. Grace seemed to find some odd sort of comfort in the atmosphere, as if it were entirely appropriate in keeping with the solemnity of the service. Her uncle, who'd helped her make the funeral arrangements, held Mary in his arms, crooning softly to the fussy little girl.
The minister concluded the passing rites, and motioned to Grace to come forward. She gently touched her husband's forehead, as if trying to smooth out the worry lines that had been so pronounced during his life. She stepped back as the coffin was shut and lowered to the ground.
Grace reached for Brenda's hand. She squeezed it. Slowly, they began to walk away together. Grace didn't want to watch the workers filling in the grave.
"The ceremony was lovely," Grace said almost as an afterthought. Brenda found the comment odd; she didn't quite understand how Grace could find anything pertaining to her husband's death "lovely". She decided Grace was simply putting on a brave face.
They all walked in silence for a few minutes, until Grace's uncle, still singing softly to Mary, suddenly turned. He cursed under his breath, but the swear words seemed to carry.
Both Grace and Brenda turned around and made out someone standing by the grave. Brenda immediately recognized the slicked back hair. "Sonny."
"How could he? How could he defile Jay's grave when he's barely been laid in it!" Grace spat.
"He probably just wanted to say good-bye. I know you don't like him, Grace, but he hurts, too."
"I don't know how you can say anything remotely civil about him after the other day."
Brenda shrugged. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."
Grace stopped suddenly. "Brenda, I want you to promise me not to get drawn into his life again. The other day, you saw the real Sonny - the one who takes and doesn't care who he steps on to get there. I wouldn't waste any time grieving over him. He's lost."
"Don't worry."
"Just promise me. I'm trying to help you."
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~Evening~
"This is pretty interesting reading," Jerry commented. "I, for one, did not know that Melinda Rowe won the drama prize when she was at Lowens Mill Boarding School."
"Yes, she's quite an actress," Kylie agreed. "Everything she says and does must be part of her character study."
Mac raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Am I sensing some frustration?"
"You bet. I don't understand her motivations. How can I catch her in a lie if I can't get inside her head?"
Jax sighed as he entered the living room, fastening the buttons on his suit coat. "I figured you all would be here still be here, so I avoided getting ready as long as possible. Could you all tell me if this is going to be a daily occurance - I'm almost out of decaf."
"How's Brenda?" Kylie asked him.
"I really don't know." Jax turned away from her inquisitive eyes.
"That's killing you," Kylie ascertained.
"Why on earth would it?" Jerry asked. "The less I know about Brenda Barrett, the better."
"Then why did you tell us about what happened last night?" Kylie challenged him.
"Yet another instance of her pathetic state," Jerry said triumphantly.
"Give it a rest, Jerry," Mac snapped. "You can't do anything but put her down."
"Everyone give it a rest," Jax said crossly. He was more than a little irritated about having to play referee for the three of them. "And could you please put away your homework. I really don't think Melinda would care to see your little research project on her."
"Why are you going out with her?" Jerry demanded.
"Probably to try to forget about Brenda. It won't work," Kylie told him.
"Jax, don't put yourself in that situation," Mac said.
Well, at least they were united in one thing: their intense dislike and distrust of Melinda. Jax was saved from another barrage of comments by the doorbell.
He opened the door to find Melinda standing there with a picnic basket and a bottle of wine. "Hi," she chirped. "I thought that since it turned into such an awful night, we could stay in."
Simultaneously, three voices asked, "May we join you?"
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Sonny spied the lone figure standing at the edge of the docks. The mist seemed to rise from the water and outline the billowing coat tails and long dark hair that whipped in the wind. The rain was pounding down now, but he hadn't bothered to bring an umbrella. He moved forward stealthily, wanting the advantage of surprise. "I heard you wanted to see me."
"And you came alone." It wasn't a question, simply a statement.
Sonny smirked. "Of course. I figured you'd want some privacy when you finally came to your senses."
"My senses?" The two words were almost lost in the violent night.
"It was inevitable," Sonny continued as if he hadn't heard. "You need me."
"Hmm, that's where you're wrong. But that was always your problem. You're too damn arrogant for your own good." With a sudden movement, Sonny found himself maneuvered around so that his back was to the sea.
"Then what's this meeting about?" Sonny suddenly felt a little shaky.
"This meeting is about justice. This meeting is about betrayal. This meeting is about everything and nothing. Guess which category your life falls under."
Suddenly a revolver was trained on Sonny's temples. "Before we part company, I just want you to know how much I loathe you. I despise everything you are, everything you value. You're a killer and a con. You have a sick, perverted idea of what it means to love. I'm sorry for what happened in your past, but what happened to that little boy doesn't excuse the actions of the man he's become. Even hell isn't horrible enough for you, but it'll have to do."
"You don't have the stomach for this. You could never kill." Sonny's words were desperate, and he knew it. This was a plea for life. In truth, the little boy had never grown up; he still feared what he couldn't control. And both of them knew it.
"Did you ever see West Side Story, Sonny? It's one of my favorites. In the end, Maria says, 'You all killed them - all of you. Not with bullets and guns but with hate. Well, I can kill, too, now because I have hate. ' This is what hate creates, Sonny. Your entire life you've been filled with it. You had your moments of goodness, but ultimately, you were too selfish, too rash. You thought you were cool and calm - you never thought you could fail. But tonight, you made your worst mistake."
The silencer on the revolver quietly obliterated the wind's howl, coinciding with the first bolt of lightning that cracked open the sky. Sonny's body fell back into the murky waters, which quickly tugged him under.
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Final Note: My apologies to the writers of West Side Story for that incorrect paraphrase. I hope this wasn't too depressing. I promise to try to write of happier times soon.