Recently I wrote about my b.i.l. ranting and raving because I refused to watch a tape of 60 Minutes that he said would prove to me that Clinton was responsible for the financial meltdown based on some legislation he passed before leaving office 8 years ago. I refused, he kicked me out. I hugged my sis, told her I would be back when things quieted down.

Don takes total care of my sis. She has phn, is in constant pain, is on constant medication, and was, even before this condition took over, rather spacey. He knew she would be upset that he had ranted at me so set out to convince her I was totally wrong about everything and was, what a nerve, still breathing, when he had ordered me not to. He can be very persuasive. He has done this before.

The morning of the election, I returned from my walk to find an envelope in our mail box with my name on it in Tu’s handwriting. The letter inside, 2 pages, told me I had my nerve trying to divide them, that I was willing to bring “crap” into her house – I had given her the Rolling Stone bio of McCain – but that I had a closed mind and refused to even listen to a two-minute tape that would set me straight. I had told Don many times that we would never agree on political issues and would he please stop bringing them up. I wasn’t willing to be sandbagged or bullied, so I left.

Then, my sis, who cannot even remember why Don and Ed are alienated to start with -- “Why don’t we see Ed?" she asks in wonder. (In 2004 I wrote a letter to the News-Press that was published, saying Bush was a bad president, Don got ballistic, I was out of town, so he screamed at Ed for a half hour, told him what he thought of him – all this was news to Ed, who had thought he had the benefit of the doubt. So Ed’s response was to cut Don out of his life. When Ed decides something like that, there is no going back. Zip, zilch, zero.)

Tu’s letter was full of detail about how they had helped us get our house, how we were driving an old car when we were first coming down here (that, supposedly, was to prove we had no money and therefore their help had been key to our acquiring the house – actually, we were loaded but Ed didn’t want a new car in Queens). The letter went on about how, if it weren’t for Don, we wouldn’t be living high in this Paradise. Don had the option to sell our first house, and arranged for a sale without the commission he would have gotten. And this is how we repay him!! We have minds of our own!! We have no respect for her wonderful husband who has been so good to us!!

I wanted to respond point by point. I wanted to say that in 1994 (about), when they were in financial trouble, I lent them $5,000 without any conditions. This was never repaid. Ed just reminded me to put this in. I never remember! I don't keep score!! It was more than the commission Don would have gotten for the first house if he had sold it to someone else. I wanted to say good deeds done for family aren’t good deeds if payback is expected – in this instance, payback is eliminating our identities to conform with Don’s idea of what these should be.

We didn’t decorate our house to Don’s taste. He laughed at our wish to keep our European antiques instead of turning to Florida modern. Told others how ridiculous this was and encouraged them to laugh at us. Don, in order to prove his point about our lack of taste, told me what “others” were saying. We ignored all this. I wanted to say if we had known the price of Don’s reaching out to lend a hand, we would have stayed in New York. And I wanted to say respect is a two-way street.

This letter was Don, dictating to Tu what to write. She can’t remember what she had for lunch, let alone what car we were driving in 2002. I wanted to say, Don, write your own letter, don’t use Tula. But he knew a letter from her would cause the most pain and keep me away. He has succeeded but I have no choice because I can’t win. My own sis, aimed at me like a rifle in his hands. Finally, I decided no response at all was best. How can you dignify such insane logic? And if I did send such a response, Don would find a way to twist everything I wrote to its opposite meaning.

I think Don’s timing was intended to keep me away a little while longer (he has no clue it might be forever since he has pulled this nonsense before and I always reach out) because he feels humiliated over McCain’s loss and didn’t want to see me right away. I have more class than to rub it in, but Don assumes my instincts are as repugnant as his.

Anyway, I took a very late walk today and was almost home, when they passed me in their car going off the island. They both looked straight ahead, ignoring me. Tu had a half smile on her face. I know this smile. We have known each other all our lives. She feels righteous. She won’t feel that way forever (as I said she has a short memory) but, if I am to believe she cares about me and she has repeatedly told me how much she loves me and is thrilled I am only minutes away, then she will wake up at some point and realize her letter had unintended consequences. If she remembers the letter. See what I mean?

Ed asked me once, during various set-to’s with Don, why she doesn’t stand up for me. Don’t blame her, I say. She has to stay on his good side. She shouldn’t be in the middle. But she’s not in the middle anymore. Don is sitting on my chest and she’s sitting on his lap. All I ever asked was that when Don told her to dump on me, she would remain neutral.

My friend, Leanna, said every time I have the impulse to reach out to her I should recite (1-800-PAIN). I may just do that.

Don once explained to me how grateful I should be about all of the above when I told him I was going to cut my hair the way I liked, not how he thought it should be. He launched into all the above reasons why my refusing to follow his style tips showed how ungrateful I was even though he had helped us with the house. !!??!!

I don’t see any way to save our relationship and I am heartsick.

xx, Teal