The Fall of the House of Morgan

Marissa casts Stephen a jaundiced eye when she notices the movie, still playing.

Monique turns toward her daughter. "Rissa, do you want to go first?"

"Me? Start with them first. I didn't throw the chair." Marissa looks adorable, even wearing her lounge around the house clothes, loose-fitting gray sweats and a white T-shirt. She has her hair in pigtails and red ribbons.

"I lost my temper, Monique," Bud says. "Sorry."

"Gee, what a surprise. You're always losing your temper, Bud. What's it over this time?"

"Nothing. As usual, I tend to build things out of proportion."

"I'll say!" Monique points to the broken window. "But that hardly explains what's been going on these last few weeks. Then again, perhaps it does. First start with the thing you built out of proportion."

Bud now looks bored as well as agitated. "It's nothing," Bud says. "My fault, like I said."

Monique sighs. "Not good enough, Bud. There's been something going on between you three and I want to know what it is. Perhaps YOU can enlighten me, Stephen." She folds her arms against her chest.

After a brief hesitation, Stephen says, "I told him to get the hell out of this house."

"Oh really. He pays the mortgage, you know."

"That doesn't give him license..." Stephen shakes his head, looks toward his sister.

"Don't," she says silently, shaking her head and cupping her hands over her mouth, dreading the idea of her mom finding out and the ugly family drama she suspects will follow.

Monique reads her lips. "Don't what?"

No answer.

"Don't what, Rissa?" Monique bounces her eyes between the three of them.

Stepping closer to Monique, Bud says, "Rissa and I got into an argument the other week. Things got heated and, ashamed as I am to admit it, I slapped her."

Monique unfolds her arms. "And you're just telling me this? Argument over what? And what did she say that prompted you to assault your own daughter?"

Silence.

Monique stomps her foot. "Jesus, this is like pulling teeth. All right, Rissa, I'll ask you. Argument over what?"

"Um, well..."

One of the final scenes from "Close My Eyes" distracts her, the scene where an angry Richard chases his sister Natalie, grabs her, throws her over a fence and then down in the middle of a country road as if he's about to rape her. As she did in the drive-in, she shakes as if cold, for the scene is a chilling reminder of what happened with Bud.

Marissa's distraction draws Bud's and Stephen's attention to the screen. "I guess you all find that movie more interesting than what we're trying to do here," Monique says. When suddenly Marissa turns pale and begins to wobble, Monique drops her stern, demanding affect for one of concern. "Rissa, honey, are you okay?"

Marissa eases down on the edge of a black leather love seat and puts her head between her legs. "Sorry, I feel faint," she says. She begins to cry.

Monique sits beside her, drapes an arm over her back. "Honey, what's wrong?" she says, her voice soft and comforting. "Please tell me what's been going on."

Bud, a bundle of barely disguised angst, can't stand still. His flip-flops squeak from the motion of his anxiety jig. He makes little gestures with his hands as if he can't decide what to do with them. One thing he does is stop the video.

Stephen smiles; he's enjoying Bud's discomfort. "Maybe you can help mom out here, dad," he taunts. "Go ahead, tell her what's been going on. Because if you don't, I will. It's about time that somebody speaks the truth in this house."

Marissa picks her head up. Addressing all of them, she says, "Look, I'm just as culpable as dad for what happened. He shouldn't have hit me. But then, I shouldn't have..." She shakes her head.

"You shouldn't have what?" Monique says, once again annoyed. She grits her teeth in frustration. "Would somebody please tell me what the hell you all are talking about," she pleads, close to yelling.

"Mom, this is so embarrassing. But maybe Stephen's right, maybe it's about time for some unvarnished truth, however unpleasant."

Marissa brushes away her tears and tells her side of the story, from the time months ago when she invited Bud into her room when he caught her masturbating and then seduced him, to when he attempted to rape her. She leaves out her affair with Stephen.

Bud leans over and gets in her face. "And what else, Rissa? You conveniently forgot to mention what you and Stephen did at the Valley Drive-In."

Marissa looks up at Stephen in outrage. "You told him?"

"Not exactly." Pause. "Okay, yes, in so many words, I did. Like I said, it's about time for some hard truth around here. All of it."

Marissa shakes her head.

Monique, who's been listening to this with dropped jaw and pained silence, puts her head in her hands. "Now I feel faint," she says. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd swear we're living in one of Edgar Allan Poe's Gothic horror tales. Call it The Fall of the House of Morgan. This makes Peyton Place look like a children's book."

She stands, backs up toward the doorway and folds her arms against her chest. "So let me get this straight. My husband commits adultery slash incest with our daughter. He then almost rapes her because she won't give him a second helping. Meanwhile, my daughter and son have sex at the local drive-in." She spits out a bitter chuckle. "Oh, if the Mantua Estates Improvement Association ever gets a hold of this one!"

"I'd leave them out of it. We'd all be out on the street," Bud says.

"Well, maybe we should tell them," Monique insists. "In vivid detail. Why not? Maybe we could even make a porn video. You're still a big porn guy, aren't you, Bud?"

"The Fall of the House of Morgan," Stephen blurts out. "Coming to a theatre near you."

"So now what?" Bud says. "All kidding aside, what's in store for this family now that we've exposed our dirty laundry?"

"You tell me, Bud," Monique says. "I'm not living in this perverted house of incest for one more day. Not unless you cut me in on the action."

Everybody laughs—everybody but Monique, that is. She barely cracks a smile as she lifts her dress, slow and seductive, to the tops of her plump, white thighs. "You see, I have my own incest fantasies." She looks at Stephen. "Not to steal you away from Rissa, son, but maybe you can do ME sometime. But not at a drive-in. Been there done that with your father."

Monique can't help but be amused at the shocked faces of her family, Stephen in particular, gawking at her legs and crotch. Already, her pink panties are moist with anticipation. From his hungry expression, she has little doubt it will happen.