Before I begin explaining the events of that August, let me first start off by saying in no way am I undermining the seriousness of the situation.
For as long as I can remember, Brenden has spouted nonsense about being a peak physical specimen, so at some point into my adulthood, the moment my father had mentioned what transpired while Brenden was still in the womb, it became an ammunition of sorts, which we would frequently use against him.
For starters, contrary to the majority of people, my younger brother really didn’t say or do a whole lot of things that could be made fun of; if anything, I respected him on a fundamental level; however, that didn’t mean I was above hitting him below the belt when the opportunity presented itself.
Allow me to set the scene for you…
August 8th, 1993, in a doctor’s office, Amanda is positioned on one of those weird OBGYN tables, shirt rolled up as a female doctor scrolls a small device over her exposed tummy.
Those of you who are rather intelligent would know this machine to be an ultra-sound machine, which is used for imaging the baby while still inside of the mother.
On the opposite side of the room, I sat in my father’s lap, a pacifier in my mouth, watching the spectacle with boredom evident in my eyes, whereas my father appeared nervous.
It didn’t take long for the doctor to break the awkward silence; with a heavy sigh, she put down the ultra-sound receiver and appeared as if she were about to relay devastating news.
’Mr. and Mrs. Jörgensen, I don’t know how to put this gently, but our worst fears are becoming more apparent as time goes on; it appears the fetus shows significant signs of having Down syndrome.
The words were like a bomb being set off on my father and Amanda, but my reaction was far different. My eyes began twitching, fighting the formation of tears, and I struggled not to release a peep as laughter threatened to spill out.
’IT’S HERE, OH MY GOD, DAD WASN’T LYING IT WAS REAL!’ I screamed in my head while remembering back to all the times we had made the joke to my brother.
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’THEY REALLY THOUGHT HE WAS A DOWNY!’ My sadistic side reared its ugly face as my father practically exploded in fury.
"You need to check it again! We are not equipped to handle bringing a disabled child into this world, nor will I!’ Picking me up and ignoring my physical reactions, my father stormed out of the room, leaving a weeping Amanda alone with the doctor.
Now, I know what you are probably thinking, "How could he be so horrible to an unborn baby? And how in the hell are you laughing, Taylor!" well, frankly, I have no problem with anyone who is disabled.
In fact, I have several members of my family with varying disabilities, and if there was one thing I grew used to hearing time and time again, it was to treat them the same as everyone else; thus, I did. I pulled no punches, disabled or not, so it is how it is.
As for my father, don’t forget, he never wanted a fourth child to begin with, and upon hearing that his new son had an extra chromosome and would be extremely difficult to care for, my father wished not to be a part of it.
Adding to that fact, he was already in his late 40s, having been born in the 1940s, and very much a product of being a "Baby Boomer." he was absolutely ruthless when it came to such things; he was, after all, born in the era where you would either drop a disabled baby on the doorstep of an institution or ensured they weren’t born.
Moreso than that, back then, he was a very vain person and cared more about how he was viewed by others than he would later in life, so instead of dealing with being an outcast by the Jörgensen Family, who was pretty much as traditional as it gets, my father chose the path he did.
To cut a long story short, as you can surmise, Brenden wasn’t born with an extra chromosome, so in the end, it was just the doctor being incompetent, and after going to another OBGYN and receiving a second opinion, it was determined that Amanda had a healthy, non-disabled baby growing inside her.
It did, however, cause a s**t ton of friction between my father and Amanda, which I, being on a mission, was never going to miss the opportunity to exploit.
I had spent the last few months sowing the seeds of discord between them, but since the level of control I could take was minimal at best, I needed something larger to leech off.
And this fight was the first among many that I saw a gap in the defenses of Amanda and my father.
Upon leaving the medical office and entering the lobby, I activated my Talent and began speaking directly into my father’s mind.
’Open a new bank account under my name, deposit 80% of your savings into it and 10% of each paycheck every month.’
Twenty-two words took quite a toll on me, but it was enough to finally push me up to 75% in my Talent Growth, making me feel it was totally worth it.
Over the next few weeks, I would proceed to repeat this process with my father until finally, after a month of prolonged coercion, on his day off, he and I went to the bank, and he finally did what I had been requesting.
Since I was fighting against his natural order, it wasn’t easy to get him moving, but with that phrase, combined with a second one of "Don’t spend money needlessly, and do not give in to Amanda’s frivolous spending," I was finally able to begin securing the necessary funds for my plans.
’Amanda can only ever believe this account is locked and can’t be accessed till my 18th birthday.’ Using that final command, I knew that even when it came time for the divorce, the inheritance funds would never be touched by anyone other than myself or Brenden.