The Castle Down the Block

by Raymond G. Neal (from the book “minis.”)

Once upon a time, a large group of women decided they’d had enough of playing house with their husbands and children; that the roles they’d assumed as wives and mothers had been foisted upon them by a patriarchal society that wanted to stifle their independence and hold them back from realizing their full potential. They rebelled against the roles they had assumed. Some cut their hair short. Some burned their bras. Many became…earnest. They called themselves feminists, or women’s rights advocates.

One such women’s rights advocate, Diana, found herself in a predicament. She already had a husband named Dean, but she also had two young children: five-year old Ray and two-year old Heather. Diana longed to reclaim her true identity, but her two young children threatened to hold her back. After days and weeks of serious thought, Diana came up with a plan: she would find another mother, a mother who wasn’t interested in joining the feminist work force, one who had no interest in self-actualizing, one who was happy staying home to bake bread and change diapers. Diana would leave Ray and Heather with this other mother while she herself jumped into the feminist fray. The mother Diana found lived right down the block and had two children of her own. This other mother’s name was Kathy.

Kathy was no feminist, but she certainly was the queen of her castle. She was somewhat short as queens go, but she made up in intensity for what she lacked in size. Her smile was tight, like a fist. Her black hair was styled in a deceptively perky swing cut, which she would flip back over her shoulders frequently, as if she were a model in a shampoo commercial. Kathy’s daughters, Missy and Tiffany, were smaller, unfinished versions of their mother: predatory, misshapen, deceptive in nature.

Kathy may have been the queen of her castle, but it was her husband Rick who ruled it with an iron fist. Rick was a cop, an imposing male figure, and young Ray was in awe of him. Here was a specimen of adult male that Ray had never come across in his short life: large, intimidating, totally unreadable and capable of immense wrath. Ray steered clear of Rick as much as possible, which wasn’t difficult since the man was hardly ever there. Ray admired Rick secretly, and from afar.

On their first day in captivity, Ray and Heather were given a brief tour of the castle by Kathy and her daughters. It was made quite clear from the outset that Ray and Heather were not family, nor were they guests in the castle; rather, they were “other” children in the castle who did not enjoy or deserve full house privileges. Included in the castle tour was the room shared by Missy and Tiffany, which was filled with an overwhelming array of little girl treasures: stuffed white poodles, lace curtains, rampant floral prints and rows of dolls that had vacant eyes and freeze-dried lips.

Flanked by her grinning daughters, Kathy explained quite firmly that the bedroom and its contents were OFF LIMITS to Ray and Heather. In fact, all rooms in the castle, and all contents of said rooms (including toys) were OFF LIMITS, except for the den (a large rectangle with white walls, high windows and a single door), which they were thrown into immediately. Picking at discarded Tinkertoys and Pick Up Sticks, Ray and Heather stared at each other as the reality of their predicament sank in. They were at Kathy’s mercy, and with the full consent of their mother.

One day Kathy beat up Ray in the bathroom. He had arrived home from school and been instructed to change into his play clothes. “But don’t take your shoes off!” Kathy snarled before slamming shut the bathroom door. “I just cleaned and waxed the floor in there!” she barked through the door. Ray sat on the toilet for a moment, wondering just how he was supposed to change into his play clothes without taking off his shoes. He leaned over and looked at the bathroom floor. The linoleum did, in fact, look shiny and clean. Ray came to the realization that there was no way to avoid what was about to happen. It was inevitable, in fact. It was going to happen regardless of what he said or did. He may as well just make the most of it.

Ray very slowly unlaced his shoes and removed them from his feet. Then he very quietly sprinkled the copious amount of sand they contained all over Kathy’s freshly cleaned and waxed linoleum bathroom floor. Ray did this intentionally and relished the act of defying Kathy. Of purposefully stepping into her trap. He relished the opportunity to make her mad, on purpose.

By this time, Ray hated Kathy. He hated her for being an adult who chose to be cruel to children. He hated her for putting him into this ridiculous situation. Most of all, he hated her for not being his mother. And though Ray’s hatred was directed at Kathy, he also harbored similar feelings for Diana, feelings that he avoided thinking about or paying attention to. Diana was the reason he and Heather were stuck in this castle every day, being subjected to Kathy’s mistreatment of them. Diana would rather go to work than protect Ray and Heather. She’d rather be at work than spend time with and take care of them, so she dropped them off at Kathy’s every day to fend for themselves.

Kathy, who had been poised outside the bathroom door, waiting to make her banshee-like entrance, stormed back into the bathroom. “I told you not to take your shoes off!” she shrieked. Whap! Whap! Whap! Ray was getting hit upside both sides of his head again and again. She had hold of his arm with one hand and was wailing on him with the other. Whap! Whap! Whap! Kathy grunted as she continued to hit him, but didn’t speak.

Neither did Ray. In fact, he didn’t make a sound. He did not once cry out in pain or surprise. He just let her do it. He went limp and eased into her blows as best he could. Ray figured, this’ll end soon enough, and it did. She dragged him out of the bathroom, down the hallway, through the kitchen and out the back door. She plopped him down on a lopsided chair, went back into the house and slammed the back door shut. Ray sat there while his head spun in twisted circles, his face tingling, his ears ringing and his vision rocking from side to side. Ray felt a sense of accomplishment as he sat there and regained his senses. He hadn’t given her the satisfaction of tears or an apology or of pleading for her to stop. Ray was satisfied, very satisfied indeed.

On another day, Missy and Tiffany were eating Kool-Aid from the packets and not letting Ray have any. As their sugar buzzes intensified, so did their taunts. “Mmmmmmm, this is so gooood,” they teased, “but you can’t have any!” Girlish cackles followed, sounding like the squawks of newly hatched buzzard chicks. Having tried the tack of asking nicely, and being fed up with groveling, Ray snapped, “Fine! I don’t want any of your damn Kool-Aid anyway!” Missy’s eyes widened in naked shock, as if Ray had just pulled his pants down and dumped a big brown one right there on the patio. Then she ran toward the house, with a confused Tiffany in tow, yelling, “I’m telling my daddy on you! You’re in trouble! My daddy’s gonna get you!”

The back door slammed shut and they were gone. Ray was left alone in the sunlight to think about what he had done. Missy sounded very sure of herself, and it made Ray nervous. Rick was inside (a rare occasion) and he was sleeping. Ray was suddenly overcome with dread. His big moment of defiance was about to be wiped out by that huge man, who would stumble out the back door in a blind rage and rip Ray to pieces while Kathy, Missy and Tiffany watched and cheered him on.

After a nearly unendurable period of silence, a loud bellow emanated from inside the house, which caused Ray to freeze in terror. Certainly, Rick was about to come crashing through the back wall of the house, pounce on Ray and kill him! But after the loud bellow came nothing but silence. Ray stood still, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. No one came out the back door, no one made a sound.

Ray finally decided that it was Missy and Tiffany who had been the objects of Rick’s rage, not him. Rick had yelled at them! Ray ran across a few feet of lawn, picked up a torn open and discarded Kool-Aid packet and licked the insides of it, dancing a jig and humming to himself. He felt vindicated by Rick’s rage, and great satisfaction in picturing the terrified faces of Missy and Tiffany as they cowered in their dad’s menacing presence. Ray was thankful to Rick for being able to see how mean-spirited and petty his little heathens could be.

There was only one time when Ray and Rick were alone together. They were in Rick’s sports car as Rick drove back to the castle. The day was dank and gray, and Rick was pointing to some clouds in the distance. He told Ray that, if you looked closely, you could see the rain coming down out of them. It looked like straight black lines coming out of the sky. Could Ray see them? Ray couldn’t, but he said that he could because he didn’t want to disappoint Rick. That afternoon, Ray observed a relaxed tenderness that Rick held in check when Kathy and his daughters were around. Ray imagined the two of them going off somewhere and living together as father and son. He had a sense that Rick would appreciate and love him in a way that his own father never had, because Rick only had his two bratty daughters to go home to, and they were no fun. What Rick really wanted was a son.

Ray and Heather’s last day at the castle started out like any other. Late in the afternoon, however, Kathy and her daughters ridiculed Heather for pooping in her diapers. Now, Heather was only two, and Ray felt that teasing her for pooping in her diapers was in poor taste and not something he could just let go. He rubbed Heather’s shoulder and consoled her, telling her not to listen to them, they were just being mean, and Mom would be there to pick them up very soon. That night he told Diana what had happened. One revelation led to another, and before long, Diana was marching down the block so she and Kathy could have a talk.

“And how does this tale end?” you’ve asked me. You tell me you can’t remember. Well, Heather, what can I say except – it doesn’t. Not really. We get older, we’re shuttled to other castles in the neighborhood, most of them more pleasant than Kathy’s, a few of them not. I’d like to tell you that Diana came to her senses after that first time; that she realized her mistake, made us the centers of her universe, and that we all lived happily ever after.

But you wouldn’t believe me.

Would you?

🖋️CONJURE ME THIS: Describe a castle that you’ve spent time in, and the character you played when you were there. Were you rescued? Did you escape? Or did you hold the keys to the dungeon in your pocket?