Hunger Unleashed

Chapter 98: Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson ~ When suppressed desires explode… Fucked up!

***

"Were you able to get some packing done yesterday?" Bradley asked his mother as he wiped the table.

"I packed just one box." A flash of sadness swept across Yolanda's face. "It is for you."

"I don't want anything from my childhood, Ma," Bradley said quietly.

"Oh what I packed, you never really had." She started for the living area, followed by both Bradley and Jean.

Both men watched as Yolanda pointed at a big opened box which had in it various colourfully wrapped parcels. She looked up at her son's face with suspiciously bright eyes. For a moment, everyone remained quiet as they waited for Yolanda to compose herself enough to speak.

"There are..." Yolanda paused and took a deep breath. "There are eleven presents in there. I got you a present on each of your birthdays. I hoped every year that you would come back so...I kept them. I know you don't want anything in this house but I should be grateful if you could at least take these presents. You can give them away after you've unwrapped them."

"I'm keeping all of them." Bradley breathed. "Even if whatever is in there is spoilt." He hugged his mother. "Thanks."

"Well, I hope there are some condoms in there." Jean drawled, making Yolanda laugh.

"Don't remember the last time I saw one." She rolled her eyes.

"Me neither," Jean responded without thinking but the murderous look Bradley threw his way was enough to draw his attention to what he'd said. His eyes bulged and his cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as he stared straight ahead. The woman was a preacher's wife for goodness sake, Jean scolded himself.

"Would you mind if I take them away now?" Bradley said quickly, crouching down beside the box. "I don't want to keep Saul waiting."

"Of course you can take them away." Yolanda nodded. Then she turned to Jean and whispered. "Personally, I hate those rubbers." Her conspiratorial whisper drew a gasp from Jean, followed by uncontrollable laughter.

"I'm not going to ask what brought on that laughter," Bradley muttered as he stood with the box in his hands. "Don't let him influence you, Ma." He kissed a laughing Yolanda on both cheeks. "He's naughty."

"You're just like your Mama then, son." Yolanda chuckled. "We both obviously adore 'naughty'." She gave the word air quotes.

"Aw come on, Ma." Bradley snorted as they all started for the door. "Dad was the most serious person I've ever known."

"He wasn't always like that," Yolanda said. "Hey, I hope he didn't write anything bad in that letter." She said softly.

"Here, give that to me." Jean took the box from Bradley and went to the car, to give mother and son some privacy.

"Well, he said he regretted saying all that nasty shit in my presence," Bradley said gruffly. "The asshole."

"Jeffery Bradley Jackson, you watch your mouth," Yolanda growled. "I don't care how mad you are, you won't speak about your father that way." She visibly shook.

"I'm sorry." Bradley groaned, rubbing his neck in a sign of frustration. "But Ma, saying he shouldn't have said those things in my presence, meant it would have been okay to have said that elsewhere or to others. That's not good enough."

"Your father said those things in a fit of anger, Jeffery," Yolanda stated firmly. "What he meant by what he wrote was that no matter how angry he was, he should have controlled himself and not said that to you. He had every right to rave and rant to me after you had gone to bed or wasn't in the room." She breathed. "When it finally dawned on him...oh and that took some time...the negative impact that those cruel words could have on you, he was never the same again. He died wishing he could turn back time." Yolanda wiped tears of frustration from her cheeks. "So even if you don't like what he wrote, have some respect. Because I believe he poured his heart out onto that paper. See you later." Yolanda turned and went back in.

Bradley stared at the closed door for a moment, then turned around to look at Jean who was leaning against the car, watching him.

"Don't say it." Bradley groaned. He recalled how he'd argued with Jean over that statement of his father's, the night before. Jean had pretty much said exactly what his mother had just told him.

"I won't." Jean shrugged. "But you need to go in there and let her understand why you're so...condemning of her dead husband."

"Why else? He kicked me out of the only home I knew." Bradley snorted, going to stand in front of Jean. "She knows that."

"Yeah, but no matter the hardships you went through, you turned out okay." Jean shrugged. "At least that's what it looks like." He reached up to cup a side of Bradley's face. "But we both know it goes deeper than that, don't we. Tell her. She needs to understand."

"You want me to tell her how fucked up I am in the head huh?" Bradley leaned into Jean's caress.

"It's her husband's fault," Jean said. "She's angry at you right now because she thinks you've disrespected a man who was being a hundred percent honest with his son. Telling her how fucked up you are...because of what her husband said to you, will help her understand you better." He kissed Bradley on the forehead. "Go. I'll be waiting."

When Bradley went back in, he found his mother sitting at the dining table, staring into space with tears silently streaming down her face. He sat in the seat next to her and reached for her hand.

"I hear his voice in my head sometimes, Ma," Bradley said quietly and heard Yolanda gasp. "It is usually so bad I end up having panic attacks. It was horrible when I was growing up."

“Oh, my god…” Yolanda cried softly beside Bradley.

"I was only able to get into the navy after I got it under control with the help of a doctor.” Bradley went on. “I had to make a conscious effort not to think about anything that had to do with...home. On days that I couldn't control my thoughts, I had to discreetly leave my team before anyone noticed that I wasn't okay. That voice in my head can cost me my career, Ma.”

“Christ…”

“No one knows this.” Bradley’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Not even Jean. He knows I get panic attacks but he doesn't know that they're almost always triggered by Dad's voice or that it happens at work sometimes. I've had to live with that voice in my head all these years...telling me I will burn in hell, he regrets my birth, I'm the spawn of the devil...you were there. You heard him."

Yolanda turned and hugged her son, trembling in reaction to what her boy had revealed.

"I've had so much hate for him, Ma. And it has festered over the years. Deep down, I know that he meant what he wrote but...it does nothing for me. If anything, it makes me angrier. So please pardon me if I'm...a little bit rude. I can't help myself. Those memories and hateful words will never leave me."

"Oh baby, I'm so, so, so sorry." Yolanda sobbed but all through her sobbing, Bradley remained stoic. She sat back at a point and watched her son's face. "Honey, don't take this the wrong way but I think you need to talk to someone." She wiped at the tears on her face but they kept coming.

"What happened to me is too horrible and shameful to tell a stranger," Bradley muttered.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Yolanda said shakily. "And you don't have to say what you're not comfortable with. You need to see a therapist, son. Run it by Jean. I'm sure he will agree with me. Maybe he can even recommend a good one, seeing as he's a doctor and all." Yolanda reached out to cup Bradley's face. "Will you please do it for me? Please, Jeffery." She pleaded.

Bradley gave a deep sigh. "Yes, I will."

"Thank you, son." She hugged him again. "Just know that the man is dead. There's no need to waste your anger on him."

Bradley couldn't help but smile at his mother's words. They reminded him of what he'd said to Jean about Wendell, on the yacht. Why waste your anger on a dead person...really? Maybe he needed to take his own advice.

"I have to go." Bradley stood up. "Can we take you out to dinner tonight?"

"What woman in her right mind would pass up a chance to dine with two handsome young men?" Yolanda smiled, getting to her feet too.

"We will pick you up at six." Bradley laughed as he opened the front door. "And please don't leave the front door unlocked. That's dangerous."

"I always lock it." Yolanda chuckled. "I guess I was too upset to."

"Sorry for upsetting you." Bradley leaned down to kiss her on both cheeks.

"You can make it up to me by booking an appointment to see a therapist as soon as possible, baby," Yolanda said sternly.

"I will, I promise," Bradley said as he turned to go. Back in the car, he leaned in and gave Jean a long sweet kiss, totally ignoring the fact that his mother was watching from where she stood on the porch.

"What was that for?" Jean breathed when his mouth was finally released.

"I love you," Bradley said simply. "And you better get me a good therapist."