RETRIBUTION AND REDEMPTION

Billy Matthews was a delicate child. Thin of build and sensitive of soul, he was just the kind of young person sought by bullies. And, as one would expect, bullies did find him.

His tormenter, Scott Russell, was a hulking, aggressive boy with a huge chip on his shoulder. With the advantage of having older and younger brothers with whom to fight and play, his personality, confidence and physical skills were forged into a powerhouse. Boys like Scott tended to be charismatic as well, attracting a coterie of followers who feel empowered by being in his presence. To Scott, the sight of Billy Matthews was akin to a steak thrown to a starving man.  

The torture began in 4th grade and escalated throughout the remainder of elementary and middle school. Hardly a day went by that did not involve Scott and his gang shoving Billy down a flight of stairs, slapping his books out of his hands, splashing water in his face, stealing or simply appropriating his baseball bat or glove, bombarding him with spitballs, and humiliating him in every possible way. 

Billy had no allies and no friends. No one sides with a loser. And, because of this, Billy could not even tell his parents about the ongoing abuse. His young life was a living hell. Billy’s only companion was his loving dog, Buttercup, who greeted him every day with kisses and wags.  

Sitting with Buttercup one afternoon, Billy confided his innermost feelings.

“Buttercup, I feel really miserable and sad. What have I ever done to deserve such abuse? I’m a good kid. I would never hurt anyone. Why do they want to hurt me? I just don’t get it. But some day, I’ll be bigger and stronger than I am now. And some day I will be able to defend myself.”

“Some day, I’ll get back at Scott Russell. Some day, I’ll get my revenge. I promise.”

Buttercup looked into Billy’s eyes, wagged his tail, and administered a heartfelt lick on the cheek. And Billy felt at that moment that at least one soul in this world really loved and understood him. 

But time and biology wait for no one, and in Billy’s case, biology granted him a very needed gift. Upon reaching the age of 14 and entering high school, testosterone kicked in, and Billy quickly transformed into a tall, athletic, muscular young man. The years of abuse were finally behind him as he became ensconced in martial arts, football and track, and developed an eye for the young ladies who flitted about. 

But although the physical abuse had ended, the psychological residual was as deeply embedded in Billy’s craw as a sword through the abdomen. No matter how he tried to get past the emotional trauma of his childhood, it continued to prey upon his psyche. Years of psychotherapy had assuaged his anxiety and depression somewhat, and had even given him a formal diagnosis: post-traumatic stress disorder. Tranquilizers and sedatives did help but could not extirpate the cause. 

Billy had lived with his demons for more than 30 years. He had started law school at one point, but received poor recommendations and could not find a reasonable position. He now made a meager living washing cars. His marriage of five years ended in failure and bitterness, Billy simply not able to maintain civility and intimacy. Because of that, he never experienced the miracle of having children. He sat in his home, alone but for his pet turtle. 

After being wrenched out of sleep by another of a long series of nightmares, he sat up in bed and thought, “That’s it! I’ve had enough of this. The only answer is to eliminate the source.”

The next morning, Billy performed a quick internet search on the name Scott Russell, and within seconds, the target was identified. To make matters even easier, he lived only a few miles away from Billy’s home. 

Billy wrote down the address and jumped into his car, heading for a final showdown. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt, loosely fitting to allow for quick body movement, including punching and kicking. His martial arts skills were finally going to be tested in real time. 

During the short 10-minute drive to ground zero, Billy had the opportunity to review and rehearse mentally what was going to happen. He would start with a short introduction to ensure Scott knew exactly who was going to administer the beating, and why. He would remind Scott of all the torment he had had to endure, even to this day. And then, the beating would ensue. Billy imagined the beating should be medium in severity, causing substantial injury but not life-threateningly so. A few powerful punches to the face, a few uppercuts, perhaps even a kick to the groin would all be appropriate. 

Billy pulled up to the curb outside Scott Russell’s house and sat for a few minutes, once again reviewing his initial speech and the followup attack. He was finally satisfied with his own preparation and planning, and opened the car door with a lurch. He walked confidently and stridently to the front door, and despite a pounding heart, knocked loudly and crisply. A few seconds later, a woman opened the door and said, “Yes? May I help you?”

Billy was momentarily flustered, but was able to regain his composure.

“Excuse me, but does a guy by the name of Scott Russell live here?”

ENDING NUMBER ONE

The woman answered, “Why, yes, he does. May I tell him who is asking?”

Billy said, “Um, yes. Tell him it’s Billy Matthews. I knew him in elementary school. I would like to have a little chat with him.”

The woman responded, “Hello, Mr. Matthews. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Scott’s wife. And any friend of Scott’s is certainly welcome in our home. Please come in.”

With that, Billy walked into the foyer of the home, quickly reviewing and replaying the mental image of what was about to transpire. A quick jab to the nose followed by a right hook to the jaw would be the most efficacious greeting. 

The woman continued, “Mr. Matthews, my name is Ellen. I’m sure Scott would be thrilled to see you. You mentioned you are friends from elementary school? My goodness, that’s a long time ago! Have you been in touch with Scott recently?”

Billy stammered, “Um, no, I actually haven’t seen him since we were little kids, from before high school. I had been reminiscing about those times and I just thought I would drop in on him, especially since we live so close to each other. Is Scott here?”

Ellen Russell said, “Oh, yes, he’s here. He stays mostly in the living room by the window. Mr. Matthews, since you haven’t seen him in all these years, I suppose you don’t know about his condition.”

Billy, confused, said, “His condition?”

Ellen spoke. “Mr. Matthews, may I call you Billy? Thank you. Please, call me Ellen. Before you see Scott, I think I had better fill you in on his condition so that you won’t be shocked when you see him.”

“Unfortunately, Scott has had a difficult time of it these past years. He developed depression many years ago following the death of his younger brother. His brother Paul was out in the Hamptons and apparently had had a little too much to drink. He fell off a cross bridge and was swept away by the current. They found his body three days later in a sewage pipe, half-eaten by crabs.” 

“We had been married for about 10 years when I noticed Scott was developing a tremor. The neurologist confirmed it was Parkinson’s disease. It was rapidly progressive, so it also involves some dementia. I’m not sure he will remember you. He has significant memory issues.”

“He has also been falling, which the doctors tell me is part of the syndrome. He fell down the basement stairs a few years ago and broke both hips. He has been in a wheelchair since then. Last year, he fell again, this time into a barbecue pit, and burst into flames. Some neighbors were able to stamp the fire out, but he sustained significant burns. The doctors felt the ointment we use to prevent bedsores may have accelerated the fire.” 

“A few months ago, the doctors told us he was developing a spine condition called ankylosing spondylitis. His spine has become very stiff and hooked forward, in the shape of a candy cane or question mark. He can’t look up, only down at his feet and at his colostomy bag. He developed colon cancer a few years ago and had to have emergency surgery with placement of the bag. It’s frustrating, because he often fidgets with the bag, causing it to rupture open. We can’t seem to get him to stop doing that. His colostomy bag just ruptured a few minutes ago. Fortunately, we have 24-hour-a-day help. We will get him cleaned up for you.”

“So, Billy, before I take you in to see him, I was just wondering, why after so many years did you decide to contact Scott?”

Billy responded, “Ellen, I feel really bad for Scott. All of that sounds absolutely awful. To be perfectly honest, Scott and I didn’t have the best relationship in elementary school. He made my life miserable. Why did I look him up? I think I wanted to get some closure on a few issues. I have to admit I held a grudge all these years. But, considering his condition now, I have only pity for him.”

Ellen responded, “I guess one could pity you as well, living a large part of your life carrying such anger. Perhaps now, through Scott’s suffering, you can ultimately benefit from attaining relief from your own psychological burden.”

ENDING NUMBER TWO

The woman answered, “Why, yes, he does. May I tell him who is asking?”

Billy said, “Um, yes. Tell him it’s Billy Matthews. I knew him in elementary school. I would like to have a little chat with him.”

The woman responded, “Hello, Mr. Matthews. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Scott’s wife. And any friend of Scott’s is certainly welcome in our home. Please come in.”

With that, Billy walked into the foyer of the home, quickly reviewing and replaying the mental image of what was about to transpire. A quick jab to the nose followed by a right hook to the jaw would be the most efficacious greeting. 

The woman continued, “Mr. Matthews, my name is Ellen. I’m sure Scott would be thrilled to see you. You mentioned you are friends from elementary school? My goodness, that’s a long time ago! Have you been in touch with Scott recently?”

Billy stammered, “Um, no, I actually haven’t seen him since we were little kids, from before high school. I had been reminiscing about those times and I just thought I would drop in on him, especially since we live so close to each other. Is Scott here?”

Ellen answered, “Oh, yes, Scott is here. He just returned from playing golf. “Mr. Matthews, may I call you Billy? Thank you. Please, call me Ellen. Hold on, I’ll get Scott for you.”

With that, Ellen jauntily retired into the living room. Billy was able to hear Ellen say, “Twinkles, you’re not going to believe who just dropped in to visit you! An old friend from elementary school, Billy Matthews!”

Scott came bursting out of the living room smiling broadly, with his right hand out, offering a warm handshake and embrace. “Hey! Billy Matthews! I don’t believe it! How are you, man?” Taking Billy’s right hand, Scott transmitted friendship and exuberance. 

Billy, taken dramatically off guard, wanted to say, “How am I? I’ll tell you how I am! Try this punch in the mouth on for size!” But instead, he was utterly speechless. 

Scott followed, “So, Billy, what have you been up to? Tell me the whole story! How have you been? Are you married? Any kids? Come, Ellen and I were about to sit down for lunch. Please, join us! Let’s catch up.”

With that, Scott put his arm around Billy’s shoulders and guided him into the dining room, where Ellen was already putting out a delicious spread of appetizers and fruit. 

Ellen inquired, “Billy, would you like some wine? We have some nice white sangria, if that’s your taste. Or would you prefer coffee? Do you like caviar? There is a bowl of black caviar on the table. There is also some nice salmon salad and tomato slices with olives. Try the rye bread! Here, help yourself!”

Everyone sat down at the table. Ellen poured the sangria for Billy. 

Scott continued, “Hey, Billy, do you like golf? I love it. It’s my favorite hobby. I just shot my second hole-in-one last week. Why don’t you come out with me and my regular partners next Saturday? I’m sure you’ll have a great time!”

“So, Billy, to what do I owe this visit? To be honest, I haven’t kept in touch with any elementary school friends. It’s so nice to see you! It’s great to reconnect with old buddies.”

Billy was finally able to mumble a few words. 

“Scott, I have to admit that I came here to settle a score. You know, you kind of tormented me in elementary school. You and your gang of followers wouldn’t get off my case.”

Scott furrowed his brow. 

“Billy, did that have such an effect on you? Honestly, it was just childish bravado and horseplay. I didn’t realize what an effect it might have had on you. I sincerely apologize. I’m really sorry if you were left with bitter feelings. I certainly hope I can make it up to you.”

“The funny thing about that is my ultimate choice of careers. I was a school principal in Spanish Harlem, New York. I took on a tough place and, if I say so myself, really straightened it out. I was there for about 20 years. Test scores skyrocketed, attendance improved dramatically, and, by the end of my tenure, the school was cited as a magnet facility.”

Billy briefly ruminated about the moment.

“Scott, it’s really something. Perhaps your aggressiveness and bullying was eventually channeled into a talent for handling difficult kids. But in my case, I have to admit that I was left with some psychological scars. I always felt victimized.”

Scott sat back and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

“Billy, all I can say is that the past is the past, and now we have the present and future to deal with. If you’re willing to let bygones be bygones, we can move on and be friends. Why not? We are adults now. It doesn’t make sense to allow the consequence of childhood indiscretions to linger on, decades later.”

Billy finally felt calm and reassured. 

“Scott, it’s a deal. I would love to play golf with you next week. And, to be honest, I could use a friend.”

Scott smiled and lifted his glass. “To a lifetime of friendship!”