“I’m not looking forward to it either. I’m sure he’ll have some comment about the Roger news. We haven’t seen my parents since the story broke.”
***
Kat’s parents were the opposite of mine, not accepting, old-fashioned, and more frigid than a hundred-year-old corpse on Everest. It was hard to believe my vivacious and loving wife came from two such repressed people. Not just sexually, but socially.
Phineas Finn, a dentist, was a dead ringer for Lurch in The Addams Family. Whenever I was in his presence, I had to squelch a desire to say, “You rang?”
Mrs. Finn, in her starched shirts with lace collars, made me think of Little House on the Prairie.
Before the accident we had regular dinners once a month with the Finns at the same Italian restaurant, but over the past year we’d only dined together a few times. I hated the place. Back in the fifties, it was the hot spot. Now it was so run down that even tourists stayed away, yet they acted like it was a Michelin star joint. Today, though, a lone individual sat at a table near us. I could only make out the back of the person’s head, denying me a chance to cast a warning look to the individual about dining at the restaurant.
Within a minute, my throat, clogged with dust, threatened to close. Vegetarianism hadn’t caught on with the chef either, so the only option on the menu for me was a limp salad with rancid dressing.
Phineas and his wife perused the menu like they’d never seen it before, the way they did every time, even though they both ordered the same thing on every occasion.
It drove me insane!
Kat patted my thigh quickly to escape her parents’ eyes. She wore a long-sleeved shirt and an unflattering skirt that fell below her knees. Nonetheless, she looked sexy, and I envisioned getting on my knees and going down on her under the table. Would her parents notice?
I winked at Kat so the Finns wouldn’t see. Her cheeks reddened. Kat hardly ever blushed, but when she was around her parental freaks she wasn’t her usual self.
Phineas cleared his throat. Not because he espied the wink. That was just his cue he was ready to order.
William appeared as if he was a cardboard figure that had popped up from the floor. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
He held his pencil expectantly and waited patiently for each of us. Were Kat and I the only two normal humans in this joint? William had waited on us each time for years. Did he really have to wait for us to say what we wanted? And not once did he say, “You want your usual?” He never cracked a smile. Never joked. I was starting to wonder whether Phineas had kidnapped him and the others who worked here to keep up the façade of Finn family tradition. It was like having dinner at a haunted mansion. Granted, we usually met her parents well before the dinner hour, since they never liked to be out much after dark, but still.
William made himself scarce after receiving the orders. Phineas eyed me and then Kat. Margaret kept her eyes down, which was her norm.
“Cori, I was sorry to hear about your uncle’s passing.”
I nodded, unable to speak. For weeks people had been saying this to me, and I still hadn’t found the words to respond. What could I say? Several times I’d mumbled thanks, but I had no idea what I was thanking them for, and from the embarrassed look on the other person’s face it became clear the best response was no response.
Phineas sat up, looking like someone had just slammed a broom handle up his ass. He licked his puckered lips and blinked. “Times like this remind us how important legacies are.”
Kat glugged her iced tea. I stared at the man, waiting for it.
Phineas had a warped sense of himself. He claimed his family was one of the greatest, if not the greatest, in Massachusetts. I was fairly certain they lived off Margaret’s inheritance; her family connections were truly impressive. The Finns had been privateers during the 1800s—successful, yes, but still crooks.
“And after everything that’s been said about your uncle, it saddens me to say this, but…” He focused on Kat, his only child. “It’s time for you to come home.”
My jaw dropped so swiftly it was as if the lower half had snapped off the hinge.
Kat blurted out, “What?”
He swiveled his head to me, looking more and more like an animated Disney figure on the Haunted Mansion ride. “Cori, I know this is hard to hear, but your family is no good for my daughter. You two have been friends for years, but it can’t continue.”
Friends?
I wanted to scream, “We’re married, you fucking freak!”
He continued, “If I had known the whole truth, I never would have allowed your association with my daughter.”
I wished he would stop saying my daughter, like Kat was some type of possession. She was a woman in her thirties with a successful career and had lived outside of their house for over a decade. The man was insane. Clearly insane.
“Association?” I muttered under my breath, but he heard it.
“Yes, association. Margaret and I have always been careful about who we let interact with our only child. We thought you came from a good and decent family. As it turns out, Cori, your uncle was filth.”
I hated how he kept saying my name like he always did. Was that his way of connecting on a human level? “Filth?” I said, much louder than my normal tone around Phineas. “Who in the hell do you think you are?” I gripped my fork at the top, the tines biting into my flesh.
Phineas visibly flinched. It was clear from his demeanor that no one had ever talked to him like that before.
“You think you’re better than everyone. Ha! You, Phineas”—I stretched a finger toward him—“have no clue what it’s like in the real world. You keep yourself locked up in that creepy house of yours on Beacon Hill and pop into your dental office around the corner, which probably sees what… twenty or thirty patients a week? I know.” I rapped my chest. “I used to do your billing. You are so far out of touch, old man.” I was just getting started. “Call my family filth? Not once did you or your wife hug Kat when she was a child. Not once! You kept her under lock and key. And even during all of those years, you never got to know your only child.” I punctuated each word by thumping a fist on the table.
I looked to Kat. “She is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. So loving, kind, funny, intelligent, and a gifted artist. And you had nothing to do with it. You”—I stabbed a finger in his direction and then Margaret’s—“never encouraged her. Never loved her. Never supported her. You treated Kat like a precious object that had to be protected at all costs, like all the other fucking objects you keep in that twisted place you call home.
“My family and I”—I slapped my chest with a palm—“know and love Kat as a person, as the beautiful person she is. My uncle would have done anything for Kat. He went to all of her art shows. How many have you attended? Zero. Not once have you said, ‘Kat we’re really proud of you.’ Hell, Roger helped set up each and every one of her shows. One of her best pieces hangs in the lobby of his office building.
“We invited you to our wedding, but you didn’t bother coming. Your only daughter’s wedding, and you were a no-show. What’d you say? That it wasn’t your type of thing. Thing. Kat isn’t a thing, but you don’t see or understand that. When she was in the hospital, you never visited. Yet she still tries to include you in her life… in our life. We get together to catch up, and to be honest, it’s a waste of time. You never ask anything about Kat’s life. Or about us. You just get on your fucking soapbox and expound on how great you are, how lucky we are to be in your presence.
“You, Phineas Finn, are a blowhard.” I turned his name into at least six syllables. “And you are completely clueless about what it’s like to be a parent or to be human. Yet you still have the gumption to sit here and tell me I’m no good and my family is no good. And you want to whisk Kat away and lock her up in your mansion. What the fuck? It’s the twenty-first century.” I waved to the world outside the window. “Not that you’ve noticed. You’ve b
een living in the past. Not your past, but the past of when great families established Boston.” I waved to the nearly empty restaurant as proof, and then I turned to Kat. “Your daughter is a grown woman. You have no control over her. Not anymore.” I leveled my eyes on his. “So fuck off, Phineas!” I threw my napkin onto the table, stood up, and put my hand out for Kat’s.
Phineas was gobsmacked. His mouth opened and closed, and his freakishly tall, pasty white, scrawny frame seemed to rock in his seat, but no words came out of his mouth. Even Margaret shook a little, but there was an odd glint in her eyes and I hoped she was starting to see the light.
Kat gripped my hand and followed me outside. We walked several blocks without speaking. By the time we reached Boston Common, it dawned on me what I’d done. What I’d said.
My chin dropped to my chest. “Oh, Kat. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. You’re always telling me to rein in my knee-jerk jock reactions.” I collapsed against a lamppost and placed both palms on top of my head. “And I just went Super Jock on your father. On Phineas! Oh, this is bad. So bad!” I struggled for air, like I was hyperventilating. I put my hands on my knees. “Say something, please,” I begged, righting myself.
My wife gazed into my eyes, shell-shocked.
“Do you want me to apologize? I will. I’ll get down on my hands and knees and beg for his forgiveness. I’ll even kiss his ass—literally. Just tell me what you want me to do. Please. Tell me what you want me to do to fix this.”
Kat rested a hand on my chest. “Never.” She hesitated. “Not once has anyone ever spoken to my father like that.” Her voice was completely devoid of emotion, not giving me a clue about what thoughts swirled inside.
“I know. I’m so sorry.” Tears blurred my vision.
“I don’t know what to say…” Her eyes widened, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Except thank you.”
I swiped my eyes with my sleeve. “Thank you?”
“Thank you.” Kat yanked my head to hers and kissed me. I paused, but then kissed her madly, fairly certain we were making a scene in the oldest park in the United States and not giving a flying fuck. I thought I’d lost Kat, that she’d leave me for humiliating the Finn patriarch. She’d always pleaded with me to just stay quiet around Phineas and not ruffle his feathers. Just pretend for one hour once a month that he was as great as he thought. Go through the motions for her sake. She recognized Phineas wielded some power over her, but she never hinted at walking away—not entirely. Her request wasn’t much, really. Considering all the time she spent with my family, it really didn’t seem like she was asking too much of me. And now I’d gone ballistic on him, and she didn’t even hate me for it.
My legs almost buckled. “You aren’t livid?”
“No, I’m not.” Sensing I was struggling to stay upright, she gestured for us to sit on a bench. After we settled, a swan boat cruised by, and Kat didn’t let it out of her sight. “I grew up minutes from this spot, and not once did my parents bring me here. We never went on one of these boats, never had a picnic here. Never did anything.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “When I was little, I would sit in my room and peek through the closed curtains, wishing someone would rescue me. Like in the fairytales, you know?” She smiled wanly. “I was the princess and I prayed someone would climb through my window and ferry me away on a magic carpet or something.” She laughed, and a bit of snot shot out. Kat rummaged through her bag until she retrieved a small packet of Kleenex. She dabbed her eyes, her mascara running. “When I busted out, I thought I’d left it all behind. But today, when my father demanded I move back home, for a brief moment, I thought I had to. Panic seized me. And all those memories… those dark memories…” She lowered her chin to her chest to gather her thoughts.
When she raised her head again, she gazed at the people milling about. “And then you…” She paused and cleared her throat before continuing. “You stood up for me. Rescued me.” She batted her lashes. “My hero.”
Neither of us spoke. Kat’s attention returned to the swan boats.
“When I was a kid, I wrote a report on these boats. We had to write about something iconic in the city.” She waved to the water. “Did you know they started back in 1877? Robert Paget started them. His descendants still own and operate the business.” She smiled. “Lohengrin, an opera by Robert Wagner, was the inspiration. A swan pulls a boat carrying a knight, and do you know what his mission was?”
I shook my head.
“To rescue a maiden.”
I chuckled. “I had no idea. I never thought to find out about them; they’ve always been here during the summer.”
“I remember writing that report and then begging Mother to let me ride one. She never did. We were both terrified of Phineas and his rules and ways.”
“What do you say, Mrs. Tisdale? Want to ride one now?” I stood with my hand extended. We’d legally changed our names after our wedding. Now I was Cori Tisdale-Finn. I never considered it as taking Phineas’s last name, but as taking Kat’s. Professionally, we both used only our maiden names.
“I’d love to, Mrs. Finn.” She laughed and motioned for me to wait a second while she pulled out a compact to fix her makeup. When presentable, she clasped my hand and we made our way to the line of tourists and families.
We sat in the back of the boat, on a wooden bench. The driver, located in a large fiberglass swan, was directly behind us.
The entire time we were on the swan boat, I couldn’t take my eyes off Kat. I didn’t even bother to take in the sights. Sheer delight sparkled in her eyes and her smile. From the moment I’d met Kat, she came across as a free and loving spirit, but there was always a hint of darkness inside. After the accident, the darkness deepened. On the swan boat, that darkness leached out entirely. Beautiful wasn’t the right word to describe her. Serene didn’t cut it either. The only word that came to mind was Kat. She was Kat—pure and simple.
The ride ended, and I gripped her hand in mine, steering her away from the crowd. “Do you have any plans tomorrow?”
Kat’s eyes crinkled as she thought. “Not that I can think of. Why?”
“Because I have an idea. When’s the last time we had a break from everything? Writing, painting, family?”
“But I have meetings on Wednesday.”
I put up a palm. “I know. It’s Monday night. Let’s check into a hotel and go to a ridiculously expensive restaurant. And then tomorrow, let’s pretend we’ve never been to Boston and explore for the first time.”
“I’ve always wanted to have dinner at the top of the Prudential.”
“That’s perfect!”
“Can you get reservations for tonight?” Her voice was dubious.
I laughed and put a hand on my chest. “Me, no. But Nell Tisdale can finagle a table at the Top of the Hub.” I whipped out my cell phone. “Mom, I need help.” She was all ears, and I rattled off what I wanted.
“Consider it done,” was all she said before the line went dead.
Ten minutes later, I got a text: Nine tonight.
And Phineas had badmouthed my family. Pfffft! I blocked that thought from my head.
“Darling, let’s go get some clothes for our date.” I bent an arm at the elbow for her to hook her arm through.
Kat rested her head on my shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I have ulterior motives.”
She withdrew playfully. “Really? What are those?”
“Just you wait.”
***
“Oh, my God, it’s stunning.” Kat leaned closer to the window and took in the lights of the Back Bay, more than fifty floors below.
Even I was giddy. “It really is. I haven’t eaten here since I was a kid.”
The waiter set our cocktails down. I ordered the Boston Bee, with Absolut wild tea vodka, lemon juice, agave nectar, and ginger beer. Kat’s drink, the Boston’s Bully Boy Smash, had Bully Boy White Whiskey, lemon, mint, and
sugar cane.
I hoisted my drink. “To visiting Boston with the most beautiful woman on the planet.”
Kat grinned and clinked her glass against mine. “The planet? I think you’re exaggerating.”
We stood at the window by our table to soak in the view. I eyed her red dress, which had a slit up the side that almost reached her crotch. I made a show of peering down the front. “Not exaggerating. And just in case you didn’t notice, I think three couples may be getting divorced after tonight. Did you see that one man who was ogling you? He nearly fell off his chair! I feel like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman, when he escorts Julia Roberts to the opera. Except you’re hotter.”
“Than Richard or Julia?”
“Both!”
Kat snorted and quickly covered her mouth. “That probably dampened my hotness factor a smidge.”
“No way. You could fart and belch at the same time and you’d still be the most beautiful.”
“You do have a way with words.”
Our appetizers arrived: French onion soup with vegetable broth for me, and clam chowder for Kat. We retook our seats.
“How’s the chowder?” I asked after a minute.
“I believe they pronounce it chowdah here.” Kat was really taking to the idea that we were pretending we’d never been to Boston before.
“Is that so? What other Boston-speak do you know? So I don’t embarrass myself.” I played along.
“Water fountains are called bubblas.”
“That’s wicked,” I replied with a wink.
Kat sampled her chowder and closed her eyes. “No, that’s wicked.” She pointed to the bowl with her spoon.
Her foot inched up my leg, under my dress, and didn’t stop until it hit the spot. I glanced down at my lap and muttered, “Check, please.”
Kat slapped my arm. “No way! You have to sit there and behave while I devour my two-pound lobster and then the Boston cream pie.”
Her toe continued to massage me.
“Do you think anyone would notice if I came at the table?” I asked.
“I would,” she said with a sexy look in her eye. “And I’m the only one who matters.”
Confessions From the Dark Page 20