I Don’t Like Sundays

 I Don’t Like Sundays 

Maureen had just secretly finished her lab work ignoring the acid burns on her hands. She was so confident earlier this evening and now guilt riddled confusion was threatening her plan. So far her mission had been proceeding with few signs of delay until tonight. Michael, her twin brother, had been shot during a robbery on a southern California Sunday afternoon in 1969 when they were twenty. Now she was on a mission for revenge against her rapist/abuser. Previous mental clarity was now blurred by the multiplicity of her situation…. murderers…. rapist…. death ….. hatred …. heartbreak. With the Rolling Stones “Emotional Rescue” ironically playing in her earphones….. she forced a smile thinking about the karma of it all. 

“Is there nothing I can say, nothing I can do

To change your mind? I'm so in love with you

You're too deep in, you can't get out

You're just a poor girl in a rich man's house”

  Organic chemistry used to be the bastion of men looking for a career in the petrochemical industry or those who aspire to become medical professionals. Rice University suited her needs. It was wasn’t the monolith like the University of Texas, but Rice was prestigious, small enough for a young woman to evade male privilege towards women. She could not have been more mistaken. Dr. Maureen McNamara carried the baggage of her twin’s death like a mountain climber’s arsenal of equipment prepared for an assault on a mountain. Her tumultuous childhood caused her resilience to be magnified to levels of near impenetrable depths. In many ways she was motivated by the alcohol & cigarette smoked breath of her abuser and the vision of the brass urn containing Michael’s ashes. 

   Maureen was an accomplished glider pilot, avid skin diver, and rock climber. She attacked sports ferociously generally getting to the point where she was satisfied with her ability and skill then moving on toward the next challenge. She could easily “find her lane” and then move on to finding a special little niche that was secretly her own…. satisfying her sanity. Her love life was up and down running in the downward trend. After Michael died she was adrift searching for a close connection with a companion, either female or male, they just needed to be able to communicate with her on a deeper more intimate level. The “twin relationship” being so unique that her expectations were low in filling the void. She usually used the “bathtub” criteria…… would she ever want to have an intimate candlelit evening bath with them? She was introduced to Dr Tyke socially, at a fundraiser. Then everything went spinning off course. She knew him peripherally from their shared academic experiences and some lectures he had given at scientific conferences. The moment when they shook hands, she felt the electricity of a special connection. 

   Maureen had prepared a mixture of hydrogen chloride and water to make the hydrochloric acid. She would squirt the acid onto his face and eyes knowing that the results would be disastrous. The acid in the right concentrations and depending on the time of exposure was known to cause severe burning of the skin, damage and even blindness to the eye. She had purchased the authentic looking dark gray squirt gun from a local toy store figuring it would frighten her victim and any observers nearby. Because of her nervousness tonight and neglecting to wear protective gloves, she had burns on her hands which she quickly washed with water. The result was painful even though the exposure was a few seconds. 

   Dr. William “Bill” Tyke was often described as Teflon smooth. From his early years his father had been distant like the moon traveling through the night sky, appearing in different phases, exerting mild influence over the impressionable boy but damaging him permanently just the same. Bill adjusted by letting hurt feelings seemingly wash away but actually covered by layers upon layers of unexpressed anger, resentment and pain. He knew little about why he would snap into a rage at a moment’s notice and then just as quickly become eerily calm and silent. He was uncannily successful in relationships with other people especially women. Bill was smart, attentive, quick witted, and funny with a million dollar smile…. a lethal combination that was skillfully crafted. 

  His father Marshall, loved to go camping and appeared to enjoy his trips with his son. Unfortunately he wasn’t able to get Bill to make the special connection with Nature and its wonders. He would go hiking for hours, leaving the vulnerable youngster alone, then return to reprimand him for acting so insolent. Texas should have been a great place for a family to plant roots and anchor them together with a sense of purpose and community. Unfortunately the historical impact of patriarchal privilege still flourishes without impunity in the Lone Star State, carried forward from fathers to mothers, daughters and sons. 

  Dr. Bill with wife Stacy and son Bill Jr, standing on the stage with him, he proudly accepted the award as Rice University’s….  “Distinguished Person of the Year 1990 in Recognition of his Outstanding Contributions and Achievements ”. Maureen cringed at the ill conceived award and the unfortunate words used to describe him. Vengeance was coming quickly to Dr William Tyke. She was still having second thoughts about him and her internal moral compass was working against her. The last 20 years had actually been very cathartic in many aspects, from her fundraising work with abused children, and her favorite, working with late stage Alzheimer’s patients. Many therapists have tried to work their magic on her issues and have been reasonably successful….. she would often say “the fact that I’m still alive is proof enough”. Michael had been her biggest supporter, often telling her how smart and beautiful she was….she’d come to actually believe it. God how she missed him.