Henriad (History Plays, Book 5)

3: where they did spend a sad and bloody hour

Harry

Before I know it; it's nearly noon. And I still have a sibling left to care for. I sigh, getting up from my three laptops, and saving my work. I took the time to change and shower. Now I wish I hadn't bothered, or I should have gotten up earlier. There's a lot still needs done, but it can wait till the kids are in bed.
"Sir, Mr. Percy called, again, he says your father had intended to meet with him," Gadshill, our loyal butler, says, coming in my study.
"And my answer is the same. I do not trust the man, and his entreats will not change my mind," I'm well aware my father trusts him. I don't care. I know I'm right. "His routes stay the same and I'll take a letter if he wishes to state his case."
"Very good, sir."
I head out to the garage. I got my legal license earlier this year and have made excellent use of it. Thomas and I need to practice driving this weekend, Jon can come if he likes. But Thomas needs to get more confident. I make a mental note to do that with them. That'll be good brotherly bonding time for us and should do for the weekend. Our father will want the quiet anyway and then he can fulfill his time with the girls. Does our father know I have scheduled out time he and I spend with the little ones? Certainly not, it would stress him. I tend to. But it's good for him, and I see he follows it.
I take the Bentley. I like how it drives best, I think. I didn't get a car or anything dramatic when I got my license. I'd known how to drive for years so my father gave the general stipulation that I had to let someone (him) know where I was going. I do not do that as a rule, but we'll move on.
I drive to poor side of town, then deeper into the worse side of town. Cracking sidewalks, people standing outside of trailers. Avon likes to pretend its all rich and clean pavement and fountains but no. This is here too. And we cannot forget.
I turn around to park on the proper side of the street going the proper direction so that I can leave quickly like I'll want to. I get out, locking the car and slinging my bag over my shoulder.
The front lawn is overgrown, and the front door is damaged, that's new. There's foil on the inside of the windows.  The front door, I find is unlocked. Little inside worth stealing, I assume, however.
I open the door, leaning in the doorway quietly.
"Christ, don't do that, Harry."
"Don't leave your door open," I say, not moving, "You're not looking good, Eve."
"You come in my house---"
"I'm not in your house, I'm in the threshold. I can come in. Want to talk?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.
"Close the door," Eve mutters, going back to scrubbing the sink like she was. Her black hair is coming loose from a tie and she's wearing a slightly too large stained tie-dye dress dress. Her eyes are dark rimmed and her collarbone sticking out painfully. The kitchen itself and house are a mess, with dirty dishes stacked by the sink, dirty stains obvious on the carpet, the worn furniture barely fixed with tape.
"How are things?" I ask, neatly stepping over a few broken toys.
"Why are you here?" she asks, folding her arms.
"Child support?" I ask, raising an envelope between two fingers.
"Your father quit," she says, wiping her hands on her skirt.
"I'm not my father, where's Eddie?" I ask, calmly. My final sibling. The product of an affair of my father's, a couple of years ago. The affair is long since over, but his bastard child of course still exists. This sounds very sordid and that's because it is. For a such a devout, pious person my father is no stranger to affairs. I keep tabs on his former mistresses, of course he doesn't know about it. It works. Eve was a bartender after dropping out of college, turned dealer, turned unwed mother, last two courtesy of my father. All right, this is making my father sound like a dirty old man which is wrong I suppose, but we'll leave it. It is what happened.
"He's finally asleep," she sighs, coming to take the envelope.
"I want to see him," I say, looking around.
"Does your dad know you're here?"
"What do you think?"
She sighs again.
"How are things, really?"
"I'm fine, I'm clean," she sighs, heavily, "He going to be around asking for this back?"
"I shouldn't think so. It's from my private accounts," I say.
"Why?"  she folds her arms.
"Let's call it familial affection."
"I call bull. You never don't have an angle," she says, glaring a little at me.
"Call it housekeeping, then. I don't like loose ends."
"That's what we are to you? A loose end?"
"Would you prefer not to have the money?"
"You're such an ass."
"So I'm told. Where's my brother?"
She glares at me but goes to fetch him. The baby is, of course, not asleep, and upon seeing me he giggles and holds out his hands.
"Hello you," I say, taking him from her though she glares at bit at that. The boy has insect bites on his fat arms, and a new bruise on his head, "What happened here?"
"He's trying to walk, he fell."
"You take him to the doctor?"
"He's fine," she sighs.
"Still, want to watch that," I say, letting the baby play with the zippers on my coat.
"Where's your dad?" she asks, going back to the kitchen.
"Not here, which I guess pleases you," I say.
"You're such an idiot," lighting a cigarette.
"Oh and you might want to save part of that check for a lawyer," I say, coolly, rocking my brother a bit, "My legal team will be in contact with you sometime this week."
"What?"
"Custody rights, it wouldn't be very hard to have you declared an unfit parent I'm thinking 50/50," I say.
"What the hell----your father doesn't want custody," she snarls.
"I know. But the thing is, I believe in keeping our problems in the family and I do want custody," I tell her, "I thought it only fair to warn you you might want to clean the place up a bit. Get him some new clothes."
"You'll never---your dad already dropped it he's not on the birth certificate he doesn't care—"
"But I care."
"So---???"
"I get what I want," I say, shrugging, "I'm sure my lawyers will work something out that's agreeable for me. He's not growing up in this hellhole and causing me problems fifteen years down the road when he wants part of his inheritance."
"Why give me the support payments then?" she asks.
"Were you going to let me see him if I didn't?"
"No," quietly.
"There it is. "
"How do you even plan on—your father doesn't want anything to do with him," she says.
"I am aware, so I'll claim him; close enough DNA match I should think," I say.
"What---that is---there are about fifteen reasons why that wouldn't work---?"
"Oh? Name them," I say, coolly.
"Okay, for one thing, you're like fourteen."
"I'm going to be seventeen---"
"In like two years---"
"One. I am old enough to father him," I inform her.
"For another---I know ----no you cannot possibly---"
"I'm quite certain I can. I'll be telling my siblings that they have a new sibling. You can do this easily or not but I'd recommend you retain custody by acting as sanely as possible and going along with it. If you fight this then I'll ensure you never see him again," I say, as she comes to take her child from my arms. Eddie clings to my coat, sticking his face into my shirt. 
"You're insane," she says, taking him. He starts crying, "He's my---"
"Not for very long if you keep the insults up. I'd recommend a maid service," I say, glancing around disdainfully. "That check should more than cover it. This place needs to be habitable by the time CPS arrives."
"Go to hell," she says, holding her child tightly, tears in her eyes.
"I'm from there. I'm not going back," I say, going to the door. "I'll be seeing you."
She curses me as I leave. Hopefully she can channel that anger into being productive. It's a good scare and I'd rather not have to act on it. CPS are pains to deal with, and it would be less expensive to settle things between us without involve them though I'm not above it. She was smoking around the baby and that house was disgusting at best.
I suppress a sigh as I get back in the car. That's that done. I wonder what possessed my father to ever be with a woman like that.  And then I wonder if I'll be that impulsive someday. I expect not, we're night and day he and I. I just can't imagine doing something, for the pure gratification of it, when it could endanger everything else I love and everything I've ever worked for. No, I don't think I would ever do something like that.
I drive to the gym on auto-pilot, lost in my own thoughts. I recognize Ned's car in the parking lot a heartbeat late, and find myself smiling.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, upon getting out.
"Waiting for you, thought you might need some company," he says, coming over to embrace me. He's still wearing his Globe Prep navy blue uniform and gold and navy stripped tie, but the tie is getting crooked and his hair is messed from the wind. He embraces me quickly, kissing both of my cheeks.
"You would be correct, as usual, my friend," I say, giving him a squeeze.
"You go see her?"
"Yeah, hence looking for something put my fists into that isn't my father," I say, shaking my head.
"We are all fools in love, dear Harry," he says, an arm around my shoulders.
"We all don't have an illegitimate child we decide not to claim or support," I growl.
"I understand your frustration. How did she take the custody case you're starting?"
"Not well at all."
"How'd your father take it?"
"Oh, I've not told him," I sigh. That'll be an interesting conversation. But he'll see it my way. He has to. It is his son, for God's sake.
"Right, I'm gonna need front row tickets to that."
"I'm going to need a sound proof room built at the manor before I do tell him so you know, it'll be a bit, but we've got to spare little Blanche's ears."
"Not Pippa?"
"No, she swears."
"You okay?" he asks, clapping me on the shoulders and studying my face. Ned always knows my thoughts as well as I do myself. He always has. We've know each other since we were four years old.
"I know it's hard, when no else thinks the way you do," my mother said, sitting next to me in the grass by the highway. I don't recall why we were there.
"You're like those cars going sixty miles an hour and the rest of us are walking," Richard, completely out breath. Again, I don't recall why we were there.
"I hate school; you said it would be fun," I guess we were there because I hated school.
"I know. I wanted you to meet kids your own age. But we're just going to have to find you kids your own age who are like you," my mother said, brushing tears from my face. "All right? Give us time."
"Yeah, there have be Mensa meetings for five year olds don't there?" Richard, still not breathing correctly.
"Are you all right?"
"Do I sound all right? Ever? Not only did I have to run for the first time in like ten years but I did it while picturing everything Henry would do to me if I lose that kid," coughing and trying to breath.
"Oh hush, I wouldn't let him, Robert and I are used to you," my mother said, hugging me, "Now Harry, do you promise to give school another try if I find you a friend who's like you?"
"How are you going to do that?" I asked.
"Never said this friend would be four," Richard, mumbling.
"Shut up Rich—you're not alone. Okay? You are never alone even if we're way behind you sometimes," she said, kissing my forehead. "I'll find you a friend. I promise."
She found Ned. Ned has a eidetic memory, can hear colors, and is probably cleverer than everyone else on the plant combined and doubled. We've been best friends since the day we laid eyes on each other and are mostly inseparable.
"I honestly need to punch something," I admit, squeezing his arms, his ice blue eyes studying me carefully.
"I'll come over if I need to supervise you sleeping," he says, touching my cheeks delicately. It's his way of understanding the world, everything. He touches it so gently with the tips of his fingers. When we first met he walked right up and put his hands very gently on my face, frowning. I laughed. Apparently that wasn't the normal reaction and he imprinted on me immediately.
"I'm well, I swear. It's just that visit to that hell hole," I assure him.
"What'd she say?"
"Nothing complimentary, but I just handed an ex-junkie two grand. I expect CPS will be calling me by nightfall to take custody of the kid. We already have an Edmund and my father doesn't care. I'm thinking we rename him and am currently taking suggestions," I say, as we walk toward the gym.
"Harry---you cannot keep a child in your house without your dad knowing," he knows how I think.
"Watch me."
"He's going to find out---!"
"Is he though?"
"Harry!"
"He's ill, there are multiple wings, he's never laid eyes on the kid worse case scenario we tell him it's mine—or yours. Boy honestly looks more like you than me—"
"I've taken a vow of chastity!"
"This is my dad, not the Church of England we're talking about, Christ."
"Stop talking about Jesus when you're kidnapping people and framing them for child abuse."
"I'm not framing. I'm enabling, completely separate things, Ned."
"Is there a special reason you talk about these things in front of me?" Oddcastle grunts from where he's sitting at a desk, fixing a set of gloves and drinking directly from a bottle of wine. He's an actual drug dealer, so yeah, the comment is very rich. He's one of my employees and he has worked for my father for years despite being older than him. He's neither smart nor great at self preservation, ergo I can't help but be passingly fond of him.
"Unless you're speaking to your wine the complaints fall on deaf ears," I say, stripping off my jacket and going to get wrap for my hands. He works for us, but specifically I know Oddcastle because at some point Anne and my mother got concerned that I needed to know how to defend myself from the children I angered on a daily basis at school, and they enlisted Richard who laughed for twenty minutes then went and found Oddcastle and said 'teach the verbal scrap how to throw a punch'. Turns out I'm rather good at it. I have made that the world's problem.