Colleen – chapter 03 – part-06

“Mom, is everything ok? Meghan told me Sharon and Mi Lin are in the hospital.”

Mom laughed. “Didn’t she tell you the rest of it? They had their babies this morning, two new granddaughters. How’s Colleen? Meghan said that Colleen is having her baby too.”

“Had…she already had the baby. Mom, are you sitting down? You have a grandson.”

I could hear the surprise in her voice. “Are you sure? Did you look? I don’t know how to buy presents for a grandson.”

“Yes I looked; the doctor looked too and he was almost positive it’s a boy.”

“Eleven granddaughters and one grandson, the poor boy’s going to have his work cut for him.” Mom paused and I could literally hear her thinking.

“Bobby, what time was your baby born?”

11:07…eight pounds eleven ounces, twenty-two inches.”

There was silence on the other end then Mom laughed.

“They really planned this right down to the minute didn’t they?”

“Planned what, what do you mean?”

“Bobby, Sharon’s baby was born at 11:11 and Mi Lin’s baby was born at 11:17.”

Mom stopped talking to let this bit of news sink in. I was stunned; all three babies had been born within a span of ten minutes.

“Bobby, you need to get back to Colleen. Tell her I’ll call her at home tomorrow.”

With that, we ended the conversation and I went to tell Colleen about the other babies.

By luck of the draw, we had the same nurse three years in a row for the birth of our children. The next day as we were gathering up our things to leave she said, “So will we be seeing you folks again next year?”

Colleen looked at her with a straight face and responded, “I don’t think so, we just found out what’s been causing all these babies.”

The look on the nurse’s face was priceless.

Colleen and I had decided that we had added enough to the world’s population and would take steps to insure that we would not be returning to visit the delivery room any time in the future. During the period that we would not be having actual sex, I would get a vasectomy and Colleen would have her tubes tied.

Although not enthusiastic about getting a vasectomy, I was willing to do it without complaining or whining. However I could not see any good reason for Colleen to go through the process of getting her tubes tied, a much more difficult and complex procedure. But she was adamant.

“I don’t care how many vasectomies you have. If you so much as sneeze in my direction I’m going to end up pregnant. This uterus is going out of business for good.”

The trip home was uneventful. Meghan and Molly were excited about meeting their brother, and Noelle and Brigid were too young to understand what was going on, just another baby in the house. Even with all the excitement around the three births at the same time, it was the next weekend before we could get to Santa Teresa so that Mom could meet her only grandson.

It was quite a family gathering that weekend. We met at Mike’s place because he had the largest house. When you own the construction company, you get a pretty good deal on the house of your dreams. Even Harold Peterson was there. Ever since meeting at the wedding, Harold had been playing golf with the twins once or twice a month. They had forged a friendship that seemed to be based a competition to see who could play the worst round of golf in the history of the game. He was playing with them that morning and they convinced him to stick around and have lunch with us.

When we arrived Mom was already there with Sharon and her kids and Mi Lin arrived just minutes behind us with her kids. We were waiting for the twins to finish their game and get back before starting lunch. The cousins were running in all directions without any obvious purpose, but they were having one hell of a good time. Needless to say, babies were being passed right and left by the adults.

Mom immediately latched on to her grandson and took him into the livingroom. She sat down on the sofa and was rocking him gently back and forth in her arms. She was smiling and rubbing the back of her forefinger on his cheek when she asked her question.

“What did you name him?”

The ship was filled with immigrants as it steamed from Dublin toward New York and Ellis Island. On board were four children named, Brigid, Fiona, James and Michael who had never met before the journey. They were five years old and like all five-year-olds quickly formed an alliance to protect themselves from the older kids. Shortly after landing and then another long day of train rides, they were ecstatic to learn that all four of the families had ended up living on the same block of an Irish neighborhood in Boston.

The four became inseparable and basically indistinguishable to the rest of the world. At St. Catherine’s School everyone, including the teachers, thought of them as a single entity. The future held little promise for people in their position, to be servants or day laborers like their parents. The day after graduating from high school, they met on the banks of the River Charles to discuss what they were going to do. They talked all afternoon and late into the evening and didn’t stop until everyone was in agreement. It was settled.

One week later, with their families’ blessings, James married Fiona and Michael married Brigid. They packed their bags and headed west, eventually settling in San Francisco, living in houses next door to each other. After a while James and Fiona had their only child, a son they named Christopher. Ten years later Michael and Brigid had their only child, a daughter named Margaret. As the infant Margaret became aware of the world around her, the first face she began to recognize other than her parents was the face of Christopher. For some inexplicable reason it made Christopher very happy every time that Margaret smiled at him.

When Margaret had graduated from college and began her career as a second grade teacher, the agony of waiting was over and Christopher Patrick O’Conner and Margaret Louise Murphy were married. They had four children; Colleen, twins James and Michael, and Robert.

“What did you name him?”

“Mom, this is your grandson, Christopher Patrick O’Conner.”

Mom held him on her lap looking down at his sleeping face, not speaking. Colleen and I watched as two tears fell onto the blanket tightly wrapped around Chris’ tiny body. Mom raised her head and with the happiest smile I had seen on her face since Dad had died, silently mouthed the words, “thank you.”

“Grandma, why are you crying?”

Mike’s daughter Patricia, now five years old, was standing in front of Mom with a look of deep concern on her face. Holding Chris in one arm, Mom pulled Patricia into a hug with the other.

“Because sweetheart, sometimes Grandmas cry when they are happy.”

Patricia’s face showed confusion at this bit of information but accepted it with out comment. She turned her head and looked at Colleen and I.

“Aunt Colleen, can I hold Christopher?”

“Of course you can honey. Sit down right here beside Grandma.”

Patricia sat on the sofa between Mom and Colleen. Mom placed the sleeping Chris onto Patricia’s lap and arranged him carefully to make sure that he wouldn’t slide off. Mom, Colleen and I started talking amongst ourselves when Patricia squealed.

“He’s smiling, he’s smiling at me. Uncle Bobby, Christopher is smiling at me.”

She was literally shaking with excitement. We all looked down at Christopher and Patricia was right. Chris’s eyes were wide open and he was studying Patricia’s face. He had that open mouth, toothless grin that only looks good on a newborn. Chris closed his eyes with a small sigh and began to wiggle around trying to burrow in closer to Patricia. She turned her head and looked at her Grandmother with a tear in her eye.

“I’m happy too Grandma.”

About a year after Chris was born I was promoted to Senior Manager. This made me second in command of the San Miguel office of Willis, Goldman & Reed. One morning Harold Peterson called me into his office. As I walked into his office and sat down, Harold was staring out the window with a frown.

“Harold, you’re not wearing your happy face. What’s going on?”

Peterson slowly turned to face me. He seemed to be studying me for a moment and then he spoke slowly.

“I just got off of the phone with Jamison. Corporate is sending me a new Senior Manager. He will be here on Monday the 17th.”

I opened my mouth to say something but he cut me off.

“I don’t know what’s going on but I intend to find out. We’ll talk about this after I know more, but I wanted to let you know right away because it will directly affect your position here. Right now I need to make some phone calls.”

With that I understood it was time to return to my office.

Jamison was a vice president at corporate headquarters in New York and head of the Human Resources Division. This was a highly unusual move on the part of headquarters. Under normal circumstances, it would be the field office that requested a new senior manager, not the other way around. Something was not right.

That night I told Colleen what was happening and she was as concerned as I about what it might mean to my job with Willis, Goldman & Reed. She pulled me into her bosom and was gently stroking the back of my head when she said, “Try not to worry. Everything will work out all right and we’ll be fine.”

But I did worry, and the next few days were not productive for me. The memories of Derrick Andrews being suddenly thrust into the Chicago office came rushing back to haunt me and sleep was a precious commodity.

The next afternoon, Harold walked into my office and sat in the chair next to my desk. He leaned back and stretched his legs out straight. He clasped his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before he spoke.

“The new guy’s name is Jack Cartwright and is supposed to be a hot shot at management. He’s already been to the Atlanta and St. Louis offices and now some jackass thinks we need to have him here. This corporation has ninety-seven offices and San Miguel isn’t even half the size of most of them. We have the highest profit margin in the company and we’re number eleven in terms of real dollars generated. The idea that we need management help is horseshit. I don’t like what’s going on but I guess that we’ll have to wait until he gets here and see what happens.”

At 7:55 AM on the morning of Monday the 17th Harold and I were in the lobby of the office. The office begins work promptly at 8:00 and we were waiting to greet Cartwright. Mrs. Nelson is a charming lady in her sixties and had been our receptionist for almost forty years. She had already settled in behind the counter and was preparing for the new work week to begin. By 8:20 Harold was fuming when we heard someone walk through the front door.

He appeared to be in his late twenties and made a quick visual survey of the lobby then walked towards us. Even from ten feet away we could tell that his suit was incredibly expensive and with his hair slicked back he looked like he had just stepped off the cover of GQ Magazine. He regarded us with the beginnings of a sneer at the corner of his mouth and stood there saying nothing. Harold put out his hand and said, “Good morning…Jack Cartwright?”

Cartwright looked down at Peterson’s hand but didn’t shake it. “You must be Peterson,” was the only thing he said.

Harold pulled back his hand and I could see the color of his face slowly begin to turn red. He gestured towards me and said, “This is Robert O’Conner. He is the Senior Manager here.”

Cartwright glanced over at me for less than a second then back at Harold and spoke.

“We’ll see about that. Now let’s get started, there’s a lot I want to get accomplished today.” He turned and leaned over the reception counter and spoke to Mrs. Nelson who was smiling sweetly at him.

“Listen sweetheart, why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a cup of coffee. I take it cream no sugar and you’re going to want to remember how I like it.”

Harold was standing directly behind him. He reached out and grabbed the back of Cartwright’s pants at the waist and yanked up as hard as he could. This produced a wedgie of epic proportions. Cartwright went up on his toes, eyes bugging out, and he emitted a shrill screech that began going up in pitch until it reached a frequency of sound that only dogs could hear.

Still holding Cartwright up on his toes, Harold grabbed his coat and shirt collar at the back of his neck and pushed down until his torso was parallel to the ground. Keeping him in that position, Peterson spun him around and began marching him across the lobby towards the front door. Marie from housekeeping was polishing the glass and stopped to open the door as they approached. Harold bodily threw Cartwright out the door and we watched as he bounced once on the sidewalk and skidded towards the gutter. Harold pointed to his left and said, “The unemployment office is six blocks that way,” then came back into the building.

As soon as Harold had grabbed Cartwright, Mrs. Nelson picked up the phone and began punching in numbers. By the time Harold got back to us he was breathing heavy and reached out to take the receiver that Mrs. Nelson was offering to him.

This was obviously a routine they had participated in before.

“Hello, Jamison? This is Peterson…that’s right, your boy Cartwright showed up…no, I fired his ass and threw it out on the street… Jamison, you’re stuttering again. Just shut the hell up and listen…I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think…well whose bonehead idea was it…listen very closely; I have two things to say to you. Derrick Andrews and Tony Patterson…just calm down before you wet yourself…if they’ve got a problem with it, tell them to call me directly…listen; don’t ever send me an asshole like that again. If you do, I am personally coming to New York and explain to the Board why that’s not such a good idea…that’s right, I knew you would see it that way once I explained it. You have just a peach of a day.”

At that moment I truly and absolutely knew that Harold Peterson is one of the good guys.

Harold hung up the phone then rubbed the bridge of his nose, lost in thought for a moment.

“Mrs. Nelson, if you would be so kind as to file a sexual harassment charge against Mr. Jack Cartwright, I would greatly appreciate it.”

During this whole time, Mrs. Nelson had been smiling pleasantly as she watched the proceedings.

“Right after lunch Harold,” she said, and then she smiled in my direction. “Usually they last until at least Thursday. This one was a record.”

By this time Harold had calmed down and turned to me.

“Did anyone else smell liquor on his breath? Robert, I’m going to need you to sign the claim form that you witnessed Jack Cartwright sexually harassing Mrs. Nelson. By the way, I’m playing golf with your brothers on Saturday and we need a fourth, do you think you can make it?”

“Uh…yeah…sure…I’ll have to check with Colleen but I think I can make it.”

As much as I get nauseous from the mere thought of playing golf, at that moment I would crawl on my hands and knees bare assed naked across a field of broken glass for this guy.

I begged Colleen to not let me play golf but I ended up going and actually had a blast. For the first time in my life I scored below 220 for eighteen holes and still won the match. Mike and Jimmy spent the entire morning laughing after I told them what Harold had done to Cartwright.

Mom and Dad were each the “only child,” so Colleen and the twins and I grew up without any aunts, uncles or cousins of our own. Because we live in San Miguel and out of necessity had to limit our contacts in Santa Teresa, our extended family grew through adoption.

Miss Jennings and her partner SaraJane became the sisters that Colleen never had growing up. When we are at the office she will always be Mrs. Lopez but our kids love their Uncle Ray and Aunt Connie to death. And Harold Peterson…

Harold is a smart businessman with a gruff exterior and when the need arises, can exhibit a take-no-prisoners approach. But he is fair and gracious in all his business dealings, highly respected by his peers. He is an intensely private person with a crusty exterior as a public face, but in reality he is a considerate and compassionate man, especially regarding his employees. When Linda Stewart’s husband was injured in an industrial accident and hospitalized for eight months, Harold authorized a ten thousand dollar third quarter bonus for Linda that kept their home out of foreclosure.

But his particular weakness is children.

Harold has spent countless hours pulling strings and calling in favors to get the children of his employees into the college of their choice or arranging scholarships for those that had no hope of going to college at all. Every three year old that wanders into the building knows that Harold is a soft touch and keeps a dish of chocolate drops on the corner of his desk.

But there is a special connection between Harold and our kids. Even with the grumpy look on his face and his habit of barking out his sentences, the kids knew instantly that on the inside Harold is as tough as a chocolate soufflé. The second time she met him Meghan called him Uncle Harold and he has been that ever since.

Mom and the twins had met Harold and the two Sara’s at the wedding and accepted them as part of the family. Mike and Jimmy immediately bonded with Harold over an irrational love of the game of golf. Mom and Sharon and Mi Lin simply pulled the two Sara’s into their circle as if they had always been there. After Connie and Ray moved here from Chicago, the circle grew a little bit larger. With law enforcement as a commonality, Jimmy and Ray instantly connected and as always, Mike came along for the ride.

One day the twins and Harold cornered Ray and was trying to harass him into playing golf with them. Ray did not have a look of amusement on his face when he said, “I shot the last guy that asked me to play golf with him.”

There was a brief moment of silence until Mike responded, “So-o-o…can we take that as a maybe?”

You would think that living in a house with five kids would be sheer bedlam twenty-four hours a day but this was not the case. From the very beginning, all five worked together, running like a well oiled piece of machinery. I have never seen another group of sisters and brothers establish a set of relationships quite like theirs. Colleen and I did not overtly push them into any particular behavior pattern; they just worked it out on their own. There were squabbles and the typical sibling flare ups, but the pouting and hurt feelings never lasted more than a couple of hours and then the participants were back to helping each other finish the household chores and struggle with tonight’s geometry homework.

Meghan and Molly were inseparable, constantly finishing each others’ sentences. Noelle and Brigid are the same way. Two pairs of best friends completely devoted to each other. Meghan and Molly took their role as older sisters very seriously. They were constantly there for Noelle and Brigid, holding hands, kissing boo-boo’s, offering comfort and teaching them how to fold napkins for dinner. All four of them insisted that Meghan and Noelle share a room and Molly and Brigid share the other. They wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t think anyone of us would have survived if the Gang of Four had not had the bond that they do.

The Gang of Four absolutely adored their brother and worshiped the ground he walked on. But they were not at all hesitant to slap him on the back of the head and tell him to “stop acting like an idiot!” This kept him from developing any exaggerated sense of self importance.

With the Gang of Four paired up this left Christopher as the odd man out but it never seemed to affect him. One day when he was about four, Chris was sitting at the dinning table, deeply engrossed in drawing pictures on the back of some used sketch paper that Colleen had given him while his sisters were having a conspiracy meeting in one of the bedrooms. As I sat down next to him, I studied him for a moment wondering how he fit in as an individual into this web of best friends.

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